#but I doubt she got passed down lady bones powers

[jek11]

Lego Monkie Kid Top Tier Chart: except im being brutally honest

🏆S: you gave it your all- Lady bone demon.

🥇A: your given potential led to your position- Posessed wukong, Mei, Mayor.

🥈B: you had potential, but your a fucking pussy- Nezha, Macaque, (Samadhi fire) Mei.

🥉C: you’re only here cause you’re hot- Spider queen, princess iron fan, Syntax.

💎D: you spend more time on talking than fighting/you’re annoying as shit- sun wukong, red son.

💰E: You’re pretty useless/very little potential- little girl, mk.

🪙F: just throw the whole damn character away/below useless- Tang.

[shinaa-fictions]

Roses on a grave (1)

Universe : Withered/Crystal Rose (fanskins)

Characters: Katarina, Garen, Tianna

------

Rain was pouring its sad lamentation over the luxurious garden of pale roses. From her balcony, the headmistress had a perfect sight on the endless bed of crystal flowers of her domain: their radiance, yet beautiful, was fading day after day, fated by the destiny of one family shattered by ambition and conspiracies.

             But today, a carriage had been traveling from the city to bring a solution. A radical one.

             Katarina sighed, enjoying the few hours of freedom she had left. When her father was still around, this topic was like hot lava in everyone’s mouth; even the famed Marcus Du Couteau avoided coming to these grounds with his daughter. She used to reject this idea with such violence… and now she would sign the wedding papers herself.

             The noise of waving gravel indicated the imminent arrival of the carriage everyone was waiting for. The good servant rushed at the door, eager to see the faces of their saviors. Their prestigious name allied to the history of the Du Couteaus house would –without any doubt– resonate until the hills of the borderlands.

             Lady Tianna Crownguard stepped down on the land of the Du Couteaus for the second time of her life. She had never considered them worthy to ally with their powerful family, but now that the elder daughter was left as the only heir, their lands and name’s glory were to be sold at fair price. And what was best than a convenient marriage that would plunge the city into a state of celebration and euphoria, what would certainly please the Rose.

             However, her presence here would not bring her any joy. She was questioning this alliance from the start, and though she had already discussed the terms with the other family members, she did not trust the Du Couteaus who were famed for their ruthless methods, as in wars as in treaties. Furthermore, the sudden and mysterious disappearance of the headmaster was casting another shadow on the mystery of their kind.

             Lady Tianna was greeted with a channeled enthusiasm as she passed the giant doors of the domain. She stopped a moment, glancing at the state of the roses, a symbol everyone had kept growing in their garden to show the strength of their name. These ones were withering… Of course.

             ---------

             “This section.”

             Tianna’s authoritarian finger was pointing the paragraph she was referring to for Katarina to read. The lady in purple approached to have a look, an eye still carefully watching at Tianna’s every move. This wedding contract would bury every chance of leading these lands but at least she could keep her name and her family’s fortune. A lot of other points were favoring the Crownguards, obviously, but for the main part she could still consider herself lucky this opportunity once knocked at her door.

             This new condition, added to the last minute, had left Katarina incredulous. So she asked:

             “Is this about what we discussed earlier?”

             Tianna crossed her arms on her heavily decorated chest.

             “My brother and I refused your suggestion. This paragraph got rewritten by our scribes to my demand.”

Katarina took her time to read I twice, but as the words became clear in her mind, her thoughts came off blurred.

             “Chained… until the end” she thought out loud, her eyes lost on the inky crusts that would decide her destiny.

             “Idleness is sometimes preferred to regrettable initiatives.” Tianna Crownguard commented, eager to end with this affair.

             Katarina did not need to hear more: she knew the Crownguard was referring to her younger sister, another victim of the Rose’s thirst.

“I’m not like them. I’ll keep battling so this house and garden recover their past glow. But how could I if you lock me in a faraway city far from the lands I’ve inherited”

She was becoming more vindictive, like a pooch holding on to its bone. Tianna was looking at her with disdain, keeping her back straight like justice and her eyes as cold as the faraway Shield of ice. A part of her enjoyed watching  this cocky brat getting her dreams crushed and restricted to the conception of a healthy heir for the sake of both families.

“We have a lot of trustworthy lords who would be glad to govern in your name. But this decision will belong to your husband, not to me”

The way Tianna was looking down on her was really pissing Katarina. Even if she was riding on dangerous waves, she refused to see her ship sailed by a stranger. She faced the intimidating woman with the rage of a wild lioness.

“And where is he anyway?! Wasn’t he supposed to come with you?” she asked with anger.

Tianna never lost composure, calm and uncompromising.

“I took the lead in order to validate this last point. A Crownguard may waste their time, but not two of them”

Katarina submitted, her fighting spirit abandoning her. She knew how little noble houses cared about griefs and emotions, they who only relied on the strict and clear words curved in the whip of allegiances.

She signed despite everything, sealing her fate in black ink.

-------

The following hours were spent in a mourning silence. In spite of the relief such a union would bring, the headmistress showed no happiness. The maids who had raised her knew well about her need for independence so they could not imagine how a simple contract could convert their lady into a perfect housewife. Besides, nobody knew what this husband would look like: the only known information were his name and the nature of his prestigious blood.

Garen Crownguard, son and heir of the headmaster of the Crownguard’s family.

Eyes lost on the fog covering the hills, Katarina kept reminding herself the events of the day, turning them in all the ways possible to convince her rebel self she did the right thing.

 A few steps in her back warned her someone was joining her on the balcony -hopefully someone of trust. But all she got from this friendly figure were bitter words and uncouth accusations.

“This is it? You’re selling your name and you hope that’s going to save us?”

Katarina blinked slowly. She was not the only one who felt insulted by the Crownguards offer. Her adopted brother, Talon, was rarely to be seen at the domain, but this day was the one his sister threw their honor to the hounds.

“I thought you’d die in this house. Just like me, Cassiopeia, or even Father” Talon added, obviously agitated.

Katarina kept composure, trying to muffle the storm inside her for now. She was waiting for this kind of reaction, even if a part of her would have hoped a bit of support coming from the last member of her clan.

“Seems like the Rose had other plans for all of us” she simply answered with an enigmatic smile.

“The Rose had not picked this decision for you” Talon replied, reaching the edge of the balcony to confront Katarina who was clearly avoiding eye contact. “The Crownguards are directly connected to the highest levels of power. They almost decide of everything alone!”

“And this is why I need their support”

Katarina’s tone was blunt, more like the leader she needed to be than the rebellious girl who used to mess up the house. Talon felt obliged to listen; he had respect for his sister and understood what kind of burden she had to bear now. But some of her decisions were still hard to swallow. After all, the fate of the Mistress was the fate of all.

“Father had left me with a great debt and as the headmistress of the family, my hand could no longer be negotiated for a dowry. All I have left is the prestige of our name and the vast dying lands of the Northen realms.”

Katarina’s eyes never left the landscape as she talked, her voice slowly fading as words flowed. Not only Talon noticed the weakness in her stance, but also the withering rose pinned to her left eye. He snorted, discouraged.

“If you were stronger…”

Without letting Katarina the chance to answer, he jumped across the stony edge and flew away like the wind.

The lady stayed waiting at the balcony, enjoying the chilling breeze coming from the mountains. Like a beast waiting to be slain, Katarina laid her arms on the cold stone and buried her head in between. When had she started submitting? It took her a whole year to accept the idea her father would never show up again. After his betrayal… So when the good lords with their smile full of teeth came with offers, Katarina felt like a piece of meat on the public market. She started refusing attending to the festivals or receiving guests in the house, sheltering the only goods she had left from the envious world. This feeling of constant state of siege drove her paranoiac, until the best opportunity she could have hoped for showed on a letter marked with the purest of the roses, an offer from one of the most powerful families in the country.

This almost felt like a trap considering the Crownguards had nothing to expect from such a wedding. Katarina had thought about asking the question but she feared her curiosity would be misinterpreted. But now that the contract was signed, it did not matter anymore.

Her thoughts were lacing around each other as she sank more and more into slumber, but the furious steps of a stallion took her out of her vegetative state. Someone had penetrated in the domain and, worse, her servants let them pass. It could only mean one thing: her consort had arrived.

-----

Garen Crownguard bowed to the butler who opened the way, giving the old man chills in his legs. The young’s man was nothing like the usual visitors, large shoulders with deep brown hair curled on his forehead right above a sea-like gaze. But the most remarkable feature was this rose of crystal shining on his chest.

Everyone in the household wanted to quit their current task to have a glance at the blinding light emitting from the rose, symbol of a family's reputation. Garen felt observed from the moment he left his stallion and walked to the main door with a smile of embarrassment.

“Is the Lady Du Couteau home?”

-----

The young man entered in the main hall, one of the most impressive rooms of the house. His eyes were caught by the fabulous chandelier made of black steel and the double alley of elegant stained glass windows where all kind of flowers were painted. Her aunt who preceded him had warned him about the withering rosebushes but she had forgotten to tell Garen about the beauty of the indoors.

A frame he did not notice was hiding in the shadows right beside the doors he had just passed. Katarina stayed silent, observing his large shoulders with a bit of concern. At some point, she made a few steps ahead and the sound of her heels betrayed her position.

Garen flipped her way, a great agitation budding on his face as he discovered the features of his future wife.

“I… I’m honored to meet you ma’am” he first spoke, words coming without ease. “This house is a real wonder”

He presented his hand so she would give him hers. Hesitation first held her back but the protocols had to be respected for the sake of this damn contract. As soon as she allowed him to, Garen left a soft kiss on the back of her hand that looked so small in his: he acted so cautiously and with such tenderness Katarina felt a bit confused. This man had everything of the perfect husband, tall and nice looking coming on his stallion to save her family from a terrible fate. Was he performing? Testing her to make sure he could tame her the way he wanted? Katarina would not swallow this handsome smile that was certainly hiding a lot of pecuniary interests.

She quickly removed her hand, giving Garen the idea he had just made a mistake.

“Inspecting your new goods?” she asked with a dull voice.

Garen felt a bit lost, not sure if she was referring to her or to the house. But she was certainly not submitting to his charms.

“I apologize if I allowed myself to come in. Your people said I would find you there and… I was eager to meet you”

Katarina stayed quiet. So far, Garen did not sound or act like he already owned the place, but his presence alone was giving her bad itching.

“I know all this is sudden, even for me.” Garen stated, well aware of Katarina’s discomfort. “But I wanted to travel here just to see if you were the same person and… it seems you are”

As his face lit up with the warmest smile Katarina had ever seen, the young lady felt a trail of saliva running down her throat. Had she met him before? Probably. But when, where? This kind of radiance could not be forgotten. Or maybe, this had happened years ago.

“I don’t think we’ve met before. You’re mistaking me with someone else…”

“There is no way I’m wrong,” he answered firmly, but with extreme kindness.

Garen’s eyes had never left the young lady’s face since they first made contact. This face, this hair, this gaze… They had haunted him for so long he had played the scene a thousand times in his head.

“It was long ago, at the festival. Your glow was much brighter but…”

Katarina clenched her fists as Garen talked, the remembrance of the old times reaching her like a blow in the guts. However, Garen did not think of talking down on her: to the contrary! This day remained like a precious picture he had kept hidden in the depths of his mind.

“You were so elegant, barely gazing at the other ladies dresses, like you had nothing to prove. I remember you had left the party as soon as the king ended his speech and I’ve tried to reach for you but…”

He paused, embarrassed by the lack of ambition he had back then. 

“I’ve lost you in the garden. I’m not even sure you had noticed me” he chuckled, avoiding her gaze with a simple-hearted smile in the corner of his lips. 

The stern lady of the Du Couteau’s domain had heard him well. This confession barely made her raise an eyebrow: she was used to these kinds of lyrics and the fact they were coming from such a handsome face would not make any difference. In this world, you were taught to falsify any kind of truth in order to keep control over your interlocutor: this man had a very similar education, born among the sharks. 

Her cruel lips opened to give him a rough appraisal of her memories from this day. 

“I did notice. I just never minded you”

She took a few steps back, speaking louder as she walked along the mosaic of the floor tile.

“I’ll be honest with you: I’ve accepted this proposal only to save my family from the ruin of withering”

Her voice was strong and irreverent, like the sound of a bell ruling the encounter. Garen felt less and less at ease, his first impression suddenly kicking back: this woman was not willingly accepting the contract. Whatever she acted by interest or by need, this did not make any important for Garen. He wanted to get to know her by all means. But her resistance was slowly altering his euphoria.

“This I know” he answered.

For now, he would just let her talk and see what kind of grudge she was holding against his family. And as expected, Katarina’s tongue would not get any less sharper:

“I’ve signed the contract yet so there is no need to come and flatter me with your pretty stories.”

Garen bowed his head, keeping a defensive position for now.

“This was not my intention…”

At the border of a nervous crisis, Katarina turned back to him, slamming her heels on the tile. The belts on her dress tinkled like cheap metal chimes. 

“Besides, your family had planned to have me move to the city, based on my husband’s decision. This condition had been added to the last minute and was only made to throw me into the grave!”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t read all the terms” he answered, frowning.

Pitiful. Katarina could not believe how lightly this well groomed consort was taking her fate. Without any effort to hide the wrath coloring her cheeks, she spilled her truth out:

“Of course, why you’d care? You’ve been offering a compliant wife with a prestigious name. What else a rich noble born like you would expect anyway?”

Garen got struck right in the chest. This introduction was turning sour and he did not feel like he violated the protocole. His attitude changed for a moment, letting out his defenses countering her accusations. 

“If this agreement disadvantaged you so much, why even signing it? You’re not the kind of woman who gets her world ruled by letters on paper.”

Katarina blinked, feeling outraged. She did not have a choice… did she?

Talon’s words came back in her mind. She had complied to an easy resolution and yet she was not accepting the consequences when they literally walked inside her house. If she was stronger, maybe…

She bit her lips and bowed in a strange spasm. 

“I have nothing else to tell you” she said with a neutral tone, as if all combativity had left her small body. “So we will meet at the ceremony. Before then, I would be glad to enjoy the comfort of my house while I still can”

Garen watched the headmistress quitting the room, and as much as he would have hated admitting it, he enjoyed every swing of her hips as she walked away. The place was dark even in the clear daylight. The bushes full of roses were crawling on the windows, casting a threatening shadow on the checkered floor. 

This rose was surely full of thorns. But thorns exist so the fragile flower would defend from its assailants. Even after such harsh treatment, Garen believed her cruel behavior could be explained. His aunt had not always been the most subtle when the family’s honor was involved: and these particular terms Katarina referred to were a problem we would need to solve. As the next leader. As a Crownguard.

[davids-cartoon-corkboard]

Now that we know the Not-Mayor is celestial, I doubt he has truly and permanently been Brought Down to Normal. His title before working for White Bone Spirit was “Chief of War”, so he must have been pretty powerful even without assistance from her Spooky Ghost Nonsense.

WBS probably wanted to keep him dependent on her, so whenever he needed power she’d have him draw from her reserves instead of his own. This caused his own reserves to atrophy like an unused muscle, such that he’d be too weak to betray her should he have second thoughts or should she, y’know, no longer consider him useful and yank her Spooky Ghost Nonsense out of him to implant into someone else.

It’s curious that he’s still loyal to her- is he just brainwashed, from being under her control for so long? Or did she never actually control him? Did he genuinely serve her of his own free will?

As the Chief of War, he was probably giving orders far more often than he was actually fighting- and he may have been in the Celestial Realm guarding the Emperor far more often than that.

The man has a second form clearly for the express purpose of Extreme Violence. I imagine being only rarely able to commit Extreme Violence frustrated him.

Ivory Lady took notice of his ability and frustration, deciding to "persuade” him to work for her. When she found an opportunity to speak with him alone, she started on her whole “imperfect world” spiel, trying to put doubt in his mind so he would be easier to control. But before she even got the chance to do any Spooky Ghost Nonsense, he was like “YES I am tired of being nice, YES I just want to go ape shitt, YES I want to destroy everything, can we start with the Emperor? I fucking hate that guy.”

How fortunate! She wouldn’t have to expend energy keeping him under control if he was already in agreement with her. Pleased that they were on the same page, she tested him by giving him a sliver of her power- and with his murder of the Emperor, he passed with flying colors.

His “loyalty” to her came later as she gave him more and more bits of her power, worming her way deeper and deeper into his brain. Now that she’s gone, it will likely fade over time- though I’m not sure he’ll start to have negative feelings towards her. If he truly was Evil All Along, he might be like “yeah, gradually messing with my head over time was a clever way to keep me from getting bored and leaving whenever she didn’t have anyone for me to kill at the moment. And de-powering me in exchange for controlling Sun Wukong was a solid strategy, I would have done the same thing.”

He may well be furious at the heroes, however! He had a good thing going and they ruined it. I doubt he’ll just sit around and sulk, so I propose that the Not-Mayor will be the main threat of either Season 4 or 5.

Season 4 seems most likely; as the former right hand of someone who’s already been defeated, he’s “old news”. Since Season 4 will probably only hint at the next arc threat, it’s the Not-Mayor’s best shot at relevancy.

On the other hand, Spider Queen was a one-episode threat in Season 1 and got upgraded to a season threat in Season 2, the same happened with Macaque in Seasons 1 and 2 before getting upgraded in Season 3. Perhaps the Not-Mayor needs some time to regain his strength and will wait until Season 5 to start Causing Serious Problems.

I have some ideas for what that might entail... but I’ll save them for my next post.

[the-broken-truth]

The dimitrescus, Donna and Mother Miranda x 👨 reader. Reaction when reader is working out shirtless? (Love your works by the way, can't stop reading all of it!💕)

Broken Truth (Looks at Ask): This is interesting...LET'S GO!!!

- Alcina Dimitrescu -

Alcina was walking around the castle, looking for her lover.

When she woke up - he was not in bed.

When she went to the kitchen - he was not there either.

She searched the garden (He loved tending to the flowers), the library (He would read there with Bela), the armory (Daniela loved showing her father figure all the weapons she had), and the study (He would pat with Cassandra) - he was not in any of those places and none of the girls had seen him.

Then she remembered that her lover had been having a hard time lately when Mother Miranda commented that he didn't look like much and wasn't worthy of being by Alcina's Side.

He spent most of his money on him - none of Alcina's - to purchase metal contraptions to 'become worthy of his wife'.

He had been in that room for hours on end for about 5 months now.

'He might be in there.' Alcina wondered as continued down the hall to her Husband's Workout Room.

The closer she got to the room - the door was open and the light was on the room - the sound of grunting and metal clanking together got louder and louder.

She ducked her head a bit and walked into the room - holding her hat to make sure it didn't fall off - and rose to her full height. She opened her mouth the speak but once her sight was no longer obscured by the brim of her hat, her jaw dropped, her face began to warm up, and her body tingled.

Before her - her husband stood: his back was to her and he was wearing nothing except his boxers - his very tight boxes; she would see his defined butt and it was amazing.

In his hands were large weights that he lifted and flexed his muscles - Alcina could see every muscle flex.

His skin was shining with sweat and the smell of his musk was driving Alcina crazy - she wanted to jump his bones. So very bad.

What she didn't know was that her beloved had developed a sense to detect her and knew she was watching him...so he decided to tease his Lady and Mistress.

He dropped the weights in his hands and raised one of them opened palmed to the sky before summer suiting forward and landing on that hand to where his feet were pointing to the ceiling before beginning his set of one-handed push-ups. This time - facing her.

Alcina's eyes widened at her lover's chiseled body - the drops of sweat flowing through the cracks of his abs and biceps...then she made the mistake of looking up and saw the large bulge in his tight underwear.

That's it - she had enough.

"Beloved." She called out, making the man look at her with a smirk - her face was bright red and she was biting her bottom lip.

"Alcina, My Love. When did you arrive?" He asked faking confusion.

"That doesn't matter. I need you to accompany me to our bed chambers. Now."

"Our Bed Chambers?" The man asked as he flipped him to stand upright. "It is breakfast time, is it not?" He raised an eyebrow as he walked closer to the tall woman - his scent flooding her nose.

"Well..." Her eyes glowed dangerously, "I'm having Blood Sausage for breakfast."

She grabbed his wrist and marched to their room with him in tow, locking the door, and refused to leave that room until she was pregnant with the Latest Dimitrescu Spawn.

- Bela Dimitrescu -

Bela was bored and in need of some cuddles so she went looking for her lover - the only man-thing her mother and sisters approved of.

She looked at the grandfather clock and saw it as around 9:45 - her lover would be in his workout room to burn off any extra energy before showering and going to bed.

She floated down the hall to her husband's workout room and walked into the room without knocking - it was her man and she could do whatever she wanted regarding him.

What she wasn't prepared for was the sight on the other side of that door.

Her Husband was boxing with the sandbag.

In nothing but his boxers.

She could see everything - from the singular drops of sweat that ran down his sculpted body to every single flex of muscle with every move he made.

If the sight didn't have her done it - it was his smell.

The room was filled with the smell of musk that he was giving off and it was intoxicating - it radiated power and it was making her hungry.

"Darling?" His deep voice returned her from her fantasies of all the ways she wanted him to rock her world but the fact she could see his imprint from his shorts sent her mind back into the gutter. "Bela, is there something wrong?"

"Do you always...working out like this at night?" She questioned as she walked slowly to her man.

"Yes, it's hard to move in clothes; I keep my boxers on just make sure I don't scar any maids."

"Scar Them?" Bela tilted her head with a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well...the one time I worked out naked, a maid came in without knocking and she looked like she saw a ghost."

Bela was pissed.

"A maid saw you naked?!" She hissed. "Where is that harlot?!"

"Your Mother turned her into wine 3 nights ago."

'Good, I won't have to kill her myself. As for you..."

"NGH!" He clenched his teeth as Bela's hand wrapped around his throbbing manhood.

"You're going to learn to lock your door when in this room...and punishment for failing to inform me about that whore."

The Next Morning - Bela & [Y/N] weren't at breakfast.

- Cassandra Dimitrescu -

Cassandra would already be with her beloved because they were each others' sparring partners.

Cassandra would be doing push-ups while her beloved would be jumping rope.

She would look at him and smirk - she loved the way his body moved during intense workouts and the smell he gave off was perfect; it made her hungrier and hungrier with each passing moment.

When it would be time for the spar - her lover would use one arm to test himself more than he needs to for he wanted to be worthy of dating a Dimitrescu Daughter.

While sparring - Cassandra would try to pin him and have her ay with him - whether that would be drinking his blood or having him devour her like a full course meal.

This time - it was different.

She threw a punch at him but it was grabbed by his free arm and used against her to wrap around her neck, once he was behind her, he used his knees to the back of hers to make her fall to them and then lay on the mat.

Once his other hand was free, it snaked around her body and into her shirt, where it grabbed and twisted one of her nipples - making the girl squirm under him.

"D...Darling? What are you...?" She began but was cut off when his teeth locked into her neck.

"Every time we train, you make me submit to you. This time - you're mine, Cassandra Dimitrescu."

And his was exactly what he made her.

Daniela walked down the hall looking for her sister when she heard moaning coming from behind the door leading to the training room - she leaned in to listen and went to find her mother.

"Mother?"

"Yes, Dear?" Alcina asked as she looked up from the book she was reading.

"Why didn't you tell us Daddy was coming to visit & he brought presents?"

"Darling, you don't have a father."

"Then why did I hear Cassandra saying "More, Daddy! More!" in the training room?"

Alcina went wide-eyed as the glass in her hand shattered and the one thing she thought was...

'I'm too young for grandkids...'

- Daniela Dimitrescu -

CHOMP!!

"OW!!!"

She smelled something delicious and followed that smell to her lover's training room and found him completely naked with the exception of his undergarments, shadow boxing himself.

He looked like a full snack with the sweat making his body glaze and his muscles looking like beefcakes - he was just begging to be bitten and that's exactly what she did.

"Daniela? What was that for?" He asked her as he looked over his shoulder at his wife - who was clinging to his back like a koala with her fangs in his shoulder blade.

"I couldn't help it, love. Your scent was driving me crazy and I was in the mood for a snack." Daniela tried to say but her fangs were still in his skin.

"Dani, I was training, and as much as I would move to be your mid-morning meal; I need to get back at it if I want to keep the form you love so much."

"I love you for who you are - the body is just a plus. I don't want you to train, I want you to take me to bed and cuddle me."

"But..."

"Do you love me?" Dani asked.

"Yes, without a doubt." He answered.

"Would you do anything for me?" She asked again.

"Without question." He said.

"Then I want you to stop training and take me to our bedroom so that we can cuddle and make little vamp-babies."

"...Okay."

- Donna Beneviento -

Donna would be walking around Beneviento Manor - looking for the man who stole her heart. Who accepted her and her dolls and loved them all equally.

He wasn't in his normal spots but she did remember that he recently got interested in getting in better shape and asked her if there was anywhere in Beneviento Manor she would be alright with him making it into a workout room - she gave him one of the rooms on one of the floors under the house floor.

Donna walked down the hall without Angie as she followed the sounds of something grunting in effort echoing down the hall's walls.

She reached the opened room but didn't want to just walk in and disturb her love so she peeked around the corner and her eye widened while she let a gaspy moan escape her lips,

Her lover was laying on the weight bench with a long metal bar in his large hands - giant iron circles on each end.

She looked closer at the circles - 500 Pounds. That made her shiver - she knew he was strong but to be able to bench that much was...alluring.

She looked at his shining skin.

Listening to her man's grunts with each lift of the bar.

The define lines in his muscles with each movement he made.

It made her hot. She rubbed her legs together before she hid behind the wall completely and pressed her forehead against the cold wall.

She needed to get a hold of herself - she was like she had no control of herself but when she was around him, it was like she forgot all she was and wanted nothing more than her man.

She was so focused on keeping herself from relieving herself right then and there that she didn't notice she was no longer alone until a familiar weight pressed against her back and she was completely pressed against the wall.

"It looks like you have a very serious itch, My Love." his voice growled as his hand moved closer and closer to her throbbing organ.

"I...I can explain..." She blushed in her weak, gasping voice; she was embarrassed but having her lover so close with his body radiating power made her weak.

"Let me...help you with that, My Lady." He growled before one hand reached the buttons on the top of her dress and the other was cupping her womanhood while she bit her lip in hopes of being silent.

A few moments later - he had her on that same bench that was still drenched in his sweat and scent, her hands gripping the metal poles that held the long rod over her head' sweat dripping from her body as she was stretched apart.

She was pleading for him to continue to Beneviento Bloodline with her.

Begging him to make her family's bloodline stronger than it ever was before.

Crying for him to make her a mother.

Who was he to deny his lady what she wished?

- Mother Miranda -

Miranda stood n her lab, looking at the results from the latest experiment and possible host for Eva but once again - it wasn't good enough and it makes her angry.

Once again - so close but so far away.

"Miranda? Love?" A familiar male voice called out to her.

She looked up at was met with the shirtless, bare-chested, sweaty body that was the man she entrusted her heart to.

He stood there in the doorway with a towel around his neck while one hand used an edge of the towel to wipe the sweat from his face.

The Village Leader blushed but then looked away from him to keep from looking upon her face.

"[Y/N]. Darling. I thought we talked about you walking around the lair like that. It's rather...distracting." She said.

"I do hope you'll forgive me but I sensed that something was bothering you and I wanted to make sure you were alright." The man said as he walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her stomach and pulling her back into his bare chest.

"Your...concern for me is welcomed, Darling, but I must return to work. Please, do prepare yourself for dinner; I shall be down in a moment." Miranda said as she reached for a book, only to her lover's hand to stop her.

"Miranda." He turned her to face him - worry and compassion in his eyes. "You've been working on this for over a week straight; you haven't taken any time for yourself...or for me." He was sad - afraid his lover had forgotten about him.

"My Love, I'm sorry I have made you feel this way but...I'm so close, Darling. I can return her to us and...MPH!" She was cut off by a deep kiss. She melted into it before he pulled away from her.

"Enough of this for one night, My Love. Let me take care of you...and make you see you don't need to Cadou for a child. Just...me" He kissed her again and she wrapped her arms around him; submitting to his command and desire.

It would be a year later that Miranda would invite the Lords to meet Eva and Ethan Winters arrived in the village - only for his wife and child to be given back to him and escorted out of the village; never to be seen again.

[smells-like-mettaton]

Rating: T (for inherent neutral ending angst)

Summary: Toriel's old house feels like a mausoleum. She will gladly ignore chisp crumbs and lumpy mattresses for a place that feels more like home.  (Queen Toriel ending fic for Soriel Week 2021.)

Word Count: 5211

XXX

The bedroom was exactly how she left it. Her bed pushed up against the gray wall. A book about snails on the wooden desk. A knit sweater with the embroidered words "Mrs. Mom Lady" in the wardrobe.

Even after all this time, she could barely look at it without her soul splitting in two.

She'd known this wouldn't be easy. She hadn't seen this house in over a century. Still, she wasn't prepared for how Asgore had sealed up her old room like a tomb, a photograph of the day that everything went terribly, horribly wrong.

At least the last child was safe. They should not have had to take a life to save their own, but she doubted Asgore had given them a choice.  Her own soul felt more numb than anything.  To her, Asgore had died a century ago.

What was done, was done. And as usual, she was too late to do anything but sweep up the dust.

She backed through the doorframe, shutting the door with a quiet click. She would have to return eventually, but for now, she yearned for a place with fewer painful memories.

"Hey, Your Majesty." A voice startled her as she attempted to escape the foyer. Luckily it was a voice she would always recognize.

"Hello, old friend." She turned and smiled at the monster leaning against the stair railing.

He was smaller than she expected, with that deep voice. Not that that was a bad thing. As for him being a skeleton, that had been apparent from the abundance of bone puns.

"You know the formality is unnecessary," she told him softly.

"Is it?" He shuffled from foot to slippered foot. 

In all her time of joking with him through the door, she had never expected him to be so cute. 

"Didn't want to assume, old lady."

He winked, and she felt a weight lift from her chest. At least one monster would still treat her like a person, and not like a mythical figure returned to save them.

"Toriel," she introduced herself for the first time. He had to have heard already, but between rushing to the palace, scattering Asgore's dust, comforting their—her people… she hadn't had time to seek out her friend.

He seemed to feel comfortable walking right into her home, though. Did he ever visit Asgore when he was here? Her friend seemed like the type of monster who went wherever he felt like, and Asgore, for all his flaws, had never turned a monster away from his home.

"Sans." He held out a bony hand. "Sans the skeleton."

"Nice to meet you, Sans," she tested out the name and clasped his hand with her paw.

A loud pthbbbbbt echoed through the empty hall. Her eyes widened.

"Wow, Toriel. That's, uh, some way to make an introduction." He winked.

She squinted down at the inflatable object in his hand, the source of the farting noise. Then she pretended to ignore it.

"It certainly is. I was not aware that skeletons were capable of flatulence."

His eyelights gutted for a moment before he burst out laughing.

"Your jokes are even better in person," he said once he composed himself.

His laugh set her soul fluttering. In all their conversations through the door, he'd never laughed like that. Maybe she should have tried fart jokes sooner.

"I am always happy to tickle your funny bone." She smiled, and his face tinged blue.

"Happy to be tickled. But, uh. I guess that's not all I'm here for?"

Her breath caught in her lungs. Of course he would not visit without a reason. 

"I suppose not. Would you like to have a seat?"

"It's nothing that serious," he assured her quickly. "I just thought you'd want an update on the kid."

"You've spoken with them? They are still here?"  She tried to keep the hysteria from her voice.

How could they have taken Asgore’s soul and not returned home?  Had the Barrier proven too powerful?

"No—geez, I'm making this sound worse." He ran a bony palm down his face. "They’re definitely gone.  Papyrus tried to call them nonstop.  Besides that, you know the big stuff. The king's dead."

Her lips drew to a thin line, pulling tight across her fangs.

"I can hardly fault them for that."

"Right." He stuck his hands back in his pockets. "I gotta be honest. The way the kid looked when I last saw them… I don't think they did it."

Her brow furrowed. She was inclined to hope that the child had not chosen violence.  They had been so sweet, so eager to talk and joke with the monsters of the Ruins, so quick to hug her even after she’d fought them.  It was hard to imagine them striking down Asgore.

"But… then what do you think happened?"

Sans shrugged. "Wish I knew. I kept watch best I could, but…"

"I could not expect you to come between them and your king." As much as she wished he could have. She had hardly expected him to agree to watch over the human at all.

“Couldn’t have even if I wanted to.  These bones aren’t as sturdy as they look.  Maybe I shoulda listened to my bro and drank more milk...” He grimaced and glanced away.  “Anyway.  Like I said, I don’t know what happened.  Just.  Be careful, okay?”

“Careful?” She blinked.

“Yeah.  You never know.” His gaze flickered to a potted golden flower on the end table next to the stairs.

“Sans.  If I did not know better, that would sound like a threat.” She crouched down, so she could better meet his eyesockets. “Is there something you are trying to tell me?”

“Man. First I rip one in front of a lady, then I threaten her.  I’m makin’ a great first impression.”  He rocked back and forth on his slippers. “Look. Toriel. I don’t wanna scare you, ‘specially since today must’ve been hard. Real hard.”

His eyelights bored into her irises. She found herself needing to look away.

“It has certainly been… interesting. Moreso than any day since I last saw this place.” She suppressed a shudder.

Change. Her life had been constant for so long.  There would be no more of that, now. Hopefully that would be for the better, but only time would tell.

“Yeah. Being flung away from everything you’re used to… don’t imagine that’s a cakewalk. Don’t want you to worry about freaks hiding in the shadows on top of that.”

Somehow, she felt he made more sense when he was on the other side of a door. Knock-knock jokes had a formula. Just another normalcy she had forfeited, she supposed.

“Please, Sans. If you believe I am in danger, you may say so.”

“Fine. So.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help a snort.

“Alright, I suppose I walked into that one.” She smiled, despite his warning. “Under normal circumstances, I would say I could handle myself. But I must admit you are more updated on the state of the kingdom than I.  Do you have any information that could help?”

“...Not really?” His grin turned sheepish.  “You look like a tough lady. I bet my bones are rattling over nothing.”

“I would still humer-us you.”

He gave her a funny look. “You’re actually taking me seriously?”

“Why would I not? You are my friend.  Perhaps… my only friend, at this point,” she admitted.  It would be foolish to ignore a warning, even if it was based on gut feeling. Or, whatever skeletons had in place of a gut.

“Well.  Uh.  If someone, something, was behind the king’s… yeah. If it wasn’t the kid, whoever else it was might still be around. So.” He coughed. “Sounds stupid when I say it like that, huh.”

“It does not.  I think it is sweet that you are worried.” He wouldn’t be able to see her blush, thankfully. It had been a long time since anyone had looked out for her.

“Geez, Toriel.” He rubbed the back of his skull. “You’re gonna ruin my reputation.”

“What reputation? Are you typically a monster with a heart of bone?” she teased.

“Nah. I just don’t worry. Too much work.”  It was difficult to tell if he was joking.  “Guess I can make an exception this once, though.”

“Why, thank you, my friend.”  She had the sudden urge to reach out and squeeze his hand.  It would be more for her own comfort than his, so she did not act on it. “To be honest, your words are a relief. I do not mind the excuse to avoid this place.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised. “You got somewhere else you’d rather be?”

She both did, and did not. How could she explain without sounding like a clinging child?

...Perhaps that was the wrong metaphor. She would have preferred her children to be a little clingier.

“‘Cause, uh, if you don’t mind a bit of mess… my door’s always open.”

She blinked at the offer. Had he felt the thoughts stirring in her soul?

She didn’t want to be alone. Not again. And she had told him the truth: there were unlikely to be any other monsters she knew still around. Perhaps Gerson; she and Asgore had always joked that he would outlive them.

That joke seemed awfully morbid now.

“Sorry. Was that too forward? Our friendship’s built off closed doors; guess we should just take 'em one at a—"

"No," she interjected too forcefully. “No. I would love to visit your home.”

Though she had never set foot there, she already suspected it would feel more like a home than this place.

“You really—? Great.” His skull tinged the faintest blue. “Just, uh, know that it’s nothing fancy.”

Toriel smiled. “‘Nothing fancy’ sounds wonderful at the moment.”

Perhaps wherever he lived would be out of the way enough that news of her return would be delayed. If she could be lucky enough to pass for an ordinary monster… well, that was likely too much to wish for. It certainly wasn’t becoming of a queen to hide from her subjects.

Stars, there was so much to get used to. So many formalities to reacquaint herself with.  She hoped such things would wait until tomorrow.

Sans returned her smile.

“In that case, I know a shortcut.”

XXX

She handled the shortcut well for a first-timer. No stumbling on the other end, no complaints of nausea or dizziness. Of course, she was a Queen. A Boss Monster. Why would a magic trick ruin her composure?

Sans wanted to laugh. All this time, he'd been joking with the Queen. She didn't seem to mind, but she could just be “humerus”ing him.

...Nah. She had every excuse to ignore him if she really wanted to. Instead she'd actually taken him up on his offer.

He almost forgot to drop her hand once their feet landed in the soft snow. Heh. Who was he kidding? It was just nice to feel her fur under his fingers. To touch her, and know that she was real.

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up, reflecting the gyftmas lights strung haphazardly around the house's columns. "I remember this place!"

"You do?" Sans's browbone furrowed.

"I saw it while travelling from the Ruins to…" she trailed off.  To stop the kid from fighting Asgore.

Sans felt stupid for not trying to stop them himself.  Not that a kid that determined would’ve listened, anyway.  Still… he’d believed in them.  Hoped that by some miracle, they’d get ‘em out of this mess.

Heh. That was too much pressure to put on a kid, even a determined one.

"Yeah." He coughed quietly. "Guess we're hard to miss. Papyrus did something to the Gyftmas lights—even when the CORE lights go out for the night, ours stay on. Never figured out how he pulled that off."

Toriel laughed before seeming to realize something.

"I will get to meet your brother!" She clasped her hands together. "I wish it had not come about for such an unhappy reason, but I am excited nonetheless."

He chuckled. Her excitement was contagious. That was something she and Papyrus had in common already.

He pushed the door open, called out for his brother—and noticed the monster sprawled out on his couch.

"Oh." Sans blinked at Undyne, who was snoring so loudly, he should've heard it from outside. Guess he'd been a little distracted. "Uh. This is awkward."

"What is it?" Toriel hung back, her head ducking through the doorframe. "Is your brother sleeping? I would not wish to wake him. You said he rarely sleeps, did you not?"

"Nah, it's not him. Forgot his pal's house burned down. Actually, I'm sure you met her. Undyne? Captain of the Royal Guard?"

"I… yes, we met." Toriel edged inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. "She looks far more peaceful now than she did this morning. From what I understand, my ex-husband was something of a father to her."

"Something like that." Sans nodded in agreement. There hadn't even been a Royal Guard until Asgore created the position for her. Sans wondered if Toriel would keep it around now that Asgore was gone.

Welp. It wouldn't hurt, what with his suspicions about Papyrus's friend "Flowery." 

(Maybe Sans should let Toriel sleep on the top floor rather than the couch anyway. No dirt for stray flowers to get into up there.)

"Should we be staring?" Toriel said with a soft chuckle.

Sans shook his thoughts away. "Sorry. Just thinking. I, uh…"

There wasn't room on the top floor. Sans's lumpy, crumb-dusted mattress was out of the question. That left only Papyrus's bed, which while rarely in use, had too much sentimental value to give to Toriel without asking. Where was Papyrus, anyway?

"Undyne!" His brother practically kicked in the door. "I have returned with nutritious—oh!"

Papyrus's sockets blinked at Toriel. Then at Sans. Then at Toriel again.

(Undyne let out another loud snore.)

"Sans?”  Papyrus dropped his groceries on the table next to the pet rock. “Why didn't you tell me we had another guest??"  

Because he was an idiot who hadn't planned past one impulsive offer. His face went a little blue.

"I guest you would figure it out," he managed to joke. 

Toriel let out a bleating laugh at that. The suddenness of it was enough to jolt Undyne awake.

"NGAHH!!" She tried to leap off the couch, but ended up rolling onto the floor. "I'm here, Asgore! I won't—oh."

Her single eye blinked up at Toriel. 

"Papyrus?" Undyne hissed through her teeth. "Why didn't you tell me the Queen was coming??"

"Because I didn't know!" Papyrus replied brightly. 

"I, uh, promise I'm usually more professional than this." Undyne summoned an energy spear and used it to push herself to her feet. The attack left a small char mark on the carpet. "I am at your service, Your Majesty."

Sans thought she looked real professional in a pair of Papyrus's MTT-brand crop top pajamas. Toriel didn't comment on that though, instead opting for a matronly smile.

"There is no need for that, Captain. I am not here on business, but as a friend."

That smile turned towards Sans, and he fought back a blush.

"Yeah. I was just gonna, uh, make some dinner. Y'know, welcome our queen back with some Snowdin hospitality."

"Dinner?" Papyrus squinted suspiciously. "You don't cook dinner. I cook dinner."

"First time for everything, right?" Sans winked to hide his embarrassment. 

Of course Papyrus wouldn't buy his excuse. But he really didn't want his brother and Undyne worrying on top of Toriel. Granted, it was Undyne's job to worry about security threats… but she'd tear up the house's foundation if she thought an enemy might be hiding anywhere in a five-mile radius. 

"Sans," Toriel chided him. "You do not owe me that."

"Wowie! You must be a great influence on him, Bald Asgore!"

Toriel blinked before bursting out laughing. Sans's grin widened. 

"Her name is Toriel, bro."

"Of course!! Where are my manners?" Papyrus bustled past him to shake Toriel's paws. "I am the Great Papyrus! It's an honor to meet you, Queen Toriel!"

"The honor is mine. Sans has told me so much about you," she said, and Papyrus blushed pink.

"You? Know the new queen?" Undyne whispered to Sans while Papyrus and Toriel got acquainted.

"You know me. I know everyone." He winked.

"She came out of nowhere."

"Yeah. My bro and I know what that's like."

Undyne huffed, but Sans didn't offer a more thorough explanation.

Papyrus's affronted shout signalled that Toriel had dropped her first pun.

"I take it back! This is the worst day of my life!!" 

Sans met Toriel's eyes, and they both laughed.

"I suppose I will have to help Sans in the kitchen as my pun-ishment," she said with a coy wink.

"Normally I would object to a guest cooking, but in this case I will make an exception!" Papyrus turned on his heel and grabbed Undyne's arm. "We will clean up the living room in the meantime! Try not to corrupt the queen any further, Sans!!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, bro."

He gave a quick wink to Toriel behind Papyrus's back, and they moved to the kitchen.

"Did I actually upset him…?" She asked once they were out of earshot.

"Nah. He's just dramatic like that. He'll drop three puns per sentence when he thinks I'm not listening."

He turned away, rummaging through the fridge for something edible they could cook.  Discreetly, he tucked his empty chisp bag behind Papyrus’s spaghetti-filled tupperware.

“Oh, good.  I would not want to make a bad first impression.”

“Pfft. You’d have to try real hard to do that, Tori.  My bro sees the best in everyone.”  He smiled and pulled a “pupperoni” pizza out of the freezer.  It wasn’t anything fancy, but at least it would be edible.

He turned around, pizza in hand, and found Toriel staring at him oddly.

“What?”  His sockets widened.  “Uh, you’re not vegetarian, are you?”

She shook her head quickly, her gaze skimming off of his like oil from water.

“Pizza sounds lovely.  It has been quite some time since I had one.”

Sans didn’t pry, but he couldn’t help wondering what her expression had meant.  Had he said something weird?

...Oh.  He’d called her Tori, hadn’t he?  He should know better than to use nicknames without asking.  Papyrus hated them.

“Please, allow me.”  She held out her paws, so she couldn’t be too upset.

He handed over the pizza, and he jumped when fire flared to life in her palms.  For a moment he thought the fire would scorch the pizza beyond recognition, but the flames were just pleasantly warm.  He’d never known a monster other than Grillby to have such careful control of fire magic.

“Heh.  I didn’t know you were so hot, Toriel.”

As soon as he said it, he clamped his jaw shut.  Geez, how stupid could he be?  Making bad jokes was one thing, but flirting with bad jokes?

The fire went out.  She looked up abruptly—er, looked away from the pizza.  He was still a good two feet shorter than her.

“Tori was fine,” she said, her voice soft.

“Uh,” he replied intelligently. 

She suppressed a giggle, and he was pretty sure his face burned hotter than her fire had.  He could stand to take notes from Alphys and throw himself in the trash.

“Or not.  Whatever is comfortable for you,” she reassured him.  “Now, should we eat dinner before it gets cold?”

Eating was hardly something he could screw up at.

“Sure,” then after a pause, he tested, “Tori.”

Forget her fire magic.  Her smile could’ve heated the pizza all on its own.

XXX

For once in a hundred years, dinner was a warm and energetic affair.  In addition to the pizza, Papyrus had tossed together a salad from his fresh groceries, and Sans had briefly stepped out to grab a few orders of wings and fries.  In the end there was plenty of food for four hungry monsters.

Papyrus apologized for the lack of seating, but Toriel didn’t mind sitting on the couch squeezed between Sans and Undyne, eating off of paper plates.  She couldn’t imagine anywhere she would have felt more comfortable.

Before long, though, the day’s fatigue caught up with her.  She supposed it was to be expected—she wouldn’t regain her social stamina all at once.  

Sans caught her eye, and he nodded towards the stairs as Undyne and Papyrus “owned” each other in an MTT-Brand fighting game.

“Sorry.  I know they can be a bit much.” Sans rubbed the back of his skull.  

“They’re lovely.  I wish I had the energy to keep up with them.”  She smiled.

He leaned against the banister, smiling down at them.  Papyrus had gotten the upper hand this time, and was punching the air with joy.

“Me too,” Sans said, still looking away.  “I was thinking.  If you want a place to rest for the night, my bed’s open.”

She blinked.  Her face seemed to catch fire.  That was rather more… forward than she was expecting.  Sure, she had enjoyed his lighthearted flirting, and much as she tried to deny it, feelings had been growing in her for a long time.  But to have him return those feelings? And so boldly? It was as unfathomable as it was unlikely.

“I can get ya some fresh sheets, and I’ll crash in the shed.  My bro set up an, uh, guest room there when the human was in town.”

Oh.  She rubbed the heat from her face while he wasn’t looking.  How foolish could she be, to think he would be implying…? Well.

“I would not force you out of your room,” she said.  “If your brother prepared a guest room, I am sure that would be adequate.”

He let out a quick laugh.  “Uh, you’re not used to my brother’s… decorating.  Seriously, I don’t mind.”

She sighed.  If he insisted, she supposed it would be rude to deny his hospitality.

“Alright.  Thank you very much, Sans.”

“Great.”  He smiled back at her, then went into his brother’s room.  She waited patiently, and only jumped a little when he suddenly reappeared from the right hand door.  Perhaps the two rooms were connected in the back by a bathroom.

“Hotel Sans, one vacancy.”  He winked while holding the door open.

She chuckled behind her hand.  “You really did not have to resort to this.”

“Heh, I wouldn’t call it much of a resort.  The bed’s not even queen sized.”  He rubbed the back of his skull.

The bed was smaller than she was used to, but it did have fresh sheets.  That was the only fresh thing about the room.  Chisp crumbs had been brushed under the dresser, and… that was a tornado.  A self-sustaining trash tornado.  Though at least there was a pine-scented air freshener suspended in it.

“Sorry, it’s… really not much.  Uh.  Probably kinda insulting, expecting the Queen to sleep—”

“It’s perfect.”

He blinked.  “Huh?” 

“I am no stranger to a few crumbs, Sans.”

She remembered days that bled into weeks that bled into months.  Months where she couldn’t bring herself to clean, could hardly bring herself to care at all.  Months that had grown fewer and farther between since she’d met a friendly voice behind a door.

“I would’ve vacuumed,” he said sheepishly, “but I suck at it.”

More embarrassingly loud laughter burst from her.  In front of Sans, though, she didn’t feel the need to curtail her joy.

“Thank you.” She poured as much sincerity as she could into her voice.  

“‘S no problem, Tori.”  A light blue tinge warmed his cheekbones.  How could he possibly look so adorable? “Bathroom’s down the hall if you wanna wash up or anything.  And Undyne’ll be on the couch, so this is probably the safest place in the Underground right now.”

Her brow furrowed.  Sure enough, there was no bathroom door inside the room—he must have used one of his “shortcuts” to move from his brother’s room to here.

“So, uh.  I’ll be in the shed—uh, guest room if you need me.”  He flashed one more tense grin before turning to leave.

“Wait.” She stepped towards him without thinking.  

He looked up, one brow ridge raised.  She found herself biting her lip, wondering if she dared ask what her soul wanted.  It was silly, really.  She’d been on her own for years, decades.

Maybe that was why she was so hesitant to lose this one taste of companionship.

“I would feel… safer, if you would stay too.”  Her face burned beneath her fur, but she projected her usual composure.

“...Welp. Can’t say no to that, huh?”

She was about to reassure him that he could say no—that she was asking as his friend, not as his queen—but the soft smile on his face told her he already knew.  

He briefly left to grab a few things, then returned with a few pillows and, for some reason, a dog bed.

“You are not going to sleep on that,” she said in disbelief.

He flopped the dog bed in the middle of the floor and started fluffing it.  “Why not?  Gotta throw a dog bed a bone, right?”

“Sans.”  

The outdoor lights dimmed, as if at her command.  Only the colored Gyftmas lights outside and one dim indoor bulb lit the room.

Her confidence waned with the light.  What had she expected him to do?  She’d asked him to stay.  Unless she wanted to…

Oh, to hell with it.  She was too old to be so shy about these things.

“If you are not opposed,” she swallowed, “we could… share this mattress.”

When he looked up, she couldn’t make out his eyelights at all.  Their glow returned slowly, like the rising of the sun from her memories.

“Heh… you sure?  You don’t even know if I snore.”

She laughed and sat on the bed, patting the space beside her.  “You do not know if I snore, either.”

“Fair enough, Tori.”

They took turns cleaning up in the bathroom—she was imposing on Sans enough without adding the smell of dirty fur to his bed.  Then she did her best to ignore the flutterings in her soul as he slipped off his hoodie and climbed up onto the mattress.  She insisted he stay under the sheets; her fur would keep her warm enough with just the light blanket on top.  

The sheets were a barrier in name only.  There was only so much space on the mattress, so no matter how he adjusted and apologized, she could still feel the curve of his spine against hers.

It felt amazing.  It felt terrifying.  It felt like a mistake.  It felt like the only thing she’d ever done right.

The one saving grace of the whole situation was that it didn’t stir memories of Asgore.  Her royal beds had been triple the size of Sans’s lumpy mattress. She and her ex-husband had rarely slept back to back, and if they had, the feeling would have much different.

“...Tori?” Sans’s voice was just above a whisper.  “You, uh, still awake?”

As if she could sleep while enduring the wonderful agony of friendly touch for the first time in a century.

“Yes,” she replied softly.  “Am I taking up too much space?”

“No, ‘course not. I was just, uh… geez.” He sounded embarrassed.

Risking their precarious balance, she rolled over to face him.  Or to face the back of his skull, at least.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Doin’ sans-sational.” He chuckled to himself.  “Sorry.  Never got to use that one with you before.”

She would have laughed, had she not worried about shaking the whole mattress.

“It was sans-tastic,” she joked back, and he laughed again.

Then abruptly, his laughter cut off.

“Thanks, Tori,” he said in a quiet but firm voice.

“What for?” She wished she could take his hand, see his face, learn what thoughts were passing through his skull.  Instead she gave him as much space as physically possible… which still was not much.

A long, silent moment passed.  Had he fallen asleep?

“I know it’s not how you wanted,” he finally said, “but I’m glad I got to meet you.  So.  Thanks.”

Warmth spread outward from her soul to fill her whole body.  Sans could probably feel it radiating from her.

“Thank you, Sans.  If I had to return, knowing no one…”

He rolled to face her.  His eyelights were mere inches from her pupils.

“You would’ve been fine.  All you had to do was tell a few of your amazing jokes, and the whole Underground would’ve been linin’ up to be your pals.”

She suppressed a laugh.  “I hardly think that would be appropriate, under the circumstances.”

“Eh.”  He shrugged.  “Plenty of monsters in town cope with jokes.  You’d just be relating to the common folk.”

She stared into his sockets a little too intently.  At this distance, it easily made her dizzy.

“Would you be included in that demographic?” she couldn’t help asking.

“When I first met you?  For sure.” His gaze darted away.  “But it’s crazy.  Between you and the kid… I’m startin’ to think there’s more to life than good food and bad laughs.”

“Really?”  She and the child had made such an impact on him?

“I know.  Don’t tell Papyrus.  He wouldn’t believe you, anyway.” He winked.

“My lips are sealed.” She smiled.

Silence hung between them.  It should have felt awkward, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn away.  In the end it was Sans who yawned in her face and then hurriedly flipped back onto his other side.

She laughed, and clearly she was exhausted too, because she pressed a kiss to the back of his skull without thinking.

He froze.  She froze.  There was no way to play that off gracefully.  And there was no way she could fall asleep and pretend that it had not happened.

“Heh… those didn’t feel very sealed to me,” he finally rasped out.

It took her a moment to process what he meant.  Meanwhile her embarrassment only burned hotter.

“I am so sorry—”

“I’m not.” When he rolled back to face her, his face was bright blue.  “You’ll still be here when I wake up, right?”

His question was tinged with desperation.

“Of course,” she answered automatically, despite the many responsibilities that she would have to attend to in the morning.  She was the Queen once more.  If she had to, she could adjust the schedule of meetings and speeches to accommodate… this.

Whatever this was to be.

“Remind me in the morning,” he squeezed her hand, “that this is real.”

His hand quickly went limp.  She was worried for a moment, before she heard the faint snore escape his nasal cavity.

She gave him a fond smile, and allowed her own eyes to close.  She did not know if sleep would come or not.  She did not know what challenges the new day would bring, or what old challenges would continue to rear their heads.

But she did know that she was not alone.  For tonight, that was enough.

[yourmypenguin]

AKDJDHSHSJDBDGDJ I LOVE VIRGILS VIET OUTFIT ITS SO PRETTY!!!!!! Also your tags for that post got me thinking about a Vietnamese Cinderella story with prinxiety and Virgil gets to wear the pretty outfit you made him and I’m so excited to see romans outfit aaaaaaaaaaaaa

-blue

Thank you so much Blue!!! And because I'm excited, little story telling now. I'm just gonna tell you our own version of Cinderella because it's super fun and it haunts me ever since i heard it

(cw: long ass text, death, murder, violence mentions, animal death)

Basically Tấm is the Cinderella character, she's a poor orphan who lives with her stepmom and her stepsister Cám, and they abuse her by forcing labors on her. One day Stepmother tells the two girls to go fish at the ponds, whoever gets more fish will be prized with a red yếm (uh, an old kind of bralette, looks pretty). Tấm of course works her ass off but then Cám just tricks her so that she can steal all of her fishes, runs home and leaves Tấm to cry at the ponds. A Budha appears and instructs her to take the only single little gobie fish left inside her basket and keeps it as a pet fish in her home's well. He gives her a magical fish calling spell, she just gotta say it, the gobie would rise above the water, and eats the rice she feeds it. She has a cute little pet fishy, but Cám and Stepmother just can't stand Tấm being happy and kill the gobie for food. Tấm is sad again, so Budha appears and instructs her to bury the fish's bones into 4 clay pots, and bury them under her bed.

It's festival arc! Meaning Stepmother is an asshole and force Tấm to sort out the lentils stuff, so that she and her daughter can go to the festival. Budha is having none of that shit so he just appears and let his magical birds do that for Tấm, and now Tấm you can go dig up the pots under your bed, there you shall find, ooooh! Beautiful clothes to wear to the festival, and a pair of pretty shoes, and a horse too!!! Tấm reigns the horse and gets to the festival, but she drops her shoe into a pond on the way. The KING!!! Coincidentally passes by that same area later on and picks up the shoe and declare that whoever fits it would gets to be his wife. And the classic story goes as you might expect it, Tấm gets back her shoe, becomes the Queen, and Stepmother and Cám is pissed.

But holy shit it does not ends there. No. Tấm is too much of a good girl and returns happily to her abusive home to attend her father's death day anniversary, and climbs an areca palm to get the fruits for the altar. She does not doubt her stepmom at all when she sees her at the foot of the tree, chopping the shit out of it, and lets Tấm (and the tree) fall to her death (areca palms are really tall). Stepmom takes that opportunity to bring her daughter into the palace and just like, hey, your wife is dead, how bout her sister for a replacement? The king just fucking goes along with it. Cám lives her life in luxury, unknowing that her stepsister reincarnates as an oriole bird and meets with the king again. The king loves his birdie a lot and it sings to him, he asks it if its his wife then it should cuddle up into his sleeve, which it does. Cám is pissed, she kills the bird and bury its feathers in the palace's garden (these people have no problems killing animals lmao)

There in the place of the feathers grows two magnificent trees, and the king likes it so much he brings his cot there to lay. Fucking Cám can't get over her jealousy and cuts down the trees and makes a cloth weaver out of them. But the thing fucking curses at her when she tries to use it like the weaver just tells her that "don't you fucking rip my husband's clothes or I'll gouge your eyes out". Cám and stepmom burn the thing to the ground for good. Still, the spirit is resilient as hell as it follows the ashes of the burned weaver to a faraway land, and a tree grows where the ashes blew. The tree bears beautiful golden fruits (Diospyros decandra if you wanna know the specifics)

An old lady who sells beverages, passes by the tree, amazed by the golden fruits. One drops into her basket and she brings it home, let it lay around and heads off to the market, only to return home, and find... a girl?? A pretty young lady who's so polite and kind and offers to do her chores? Oh she'll take her as her daughter now. They live happily in their little house. One day, mr King appears again, passes by the old lady's shop and orders something. Noticing the placement of his food is familiar, the king asks old lady to let him meet the preparer of his meal. Old lady brings him to meet her daughter, who is, holy shit Tấm, his loving late wife holy shit you're still alive??? He takes her back to the palace after she says goodbye to her adopted mom. Cám and Stepmom is so fucking blown out of their brains.

You think it ends there? Oh no, Tấm is back and more powerful. She meets up with Cám, three times her murderer, and just tells her: Hey, you wanna know my secret beauty tips? Just go sit in a ditch and tell the servant to pour boiling water down onto you. Now I'm just gonna assume that Cám is spoiled into stupidity and does not know that when hot boiling water pours onto you, you fucking burn to death, and she does exactly that, no joke. And Tấm fucking takes her dead stepsister's body and makes her into fish sauce, and cooks it into a meal for Stepmom. Stepmom is at first "Hey, this meal is good? What's the secret ingredient?" and looks down into the fish sauce pot, and there she sees her own daughter's skull. Stepmother dies of a heart attack. End of story.

[free-falling-grenade]

Imagine Raya being all cocky once she accepts her feelings for Namaari, they are walking down the palace in Fang and raya goes "i will fight anyone and everyone for your love" or something like that, and Virana is nearby and says "I accept the challenge" and both girls are like :o *insert pikachu meme here *

HA. Omg, Virana totally would accept the challenge. AAA Here’s a mini ficlet for it: “I accept the challenge”

Raya blinks owlishly at the Chief before leaning in to ask Namaari if her mother is secretly a skilled warrior. But she herself doesn't actually know how well the Chief of Fang can fight. Never given the opportunity to see, so when she says that she accepts Raya's challenge, she's quite taken aback.

Namaari just stares wide eyed and shrugs because she can't tell if her mother was just joking or if she was serious, her expression too neutral to guess.

Raya stands there almost faltering from the Chief's challenging stare but she shakes away her fear and nervously nods, "So be it"

Namaari just turns to her utterly shocked, because she can't be serious right now.

They're right outside the throne room, at the bottom of the steps. Fang soldiers and merchants alike have gathered to watch out of curiosity after overhearing the challenge.

Virana just steps forward, and casually asks for the spear General Atitaya is holding. She hands it to her in a daze, not quite sure if the Chief will pull through. She fears for her well being. She knows how well Raya is with her fighting skills, having had the opportunity to witness Namaari's and her spars, and being offered to spar against her as well.

Raya draws out her kris slowly, stepping forward herself, a few feet distance between her and the Chief. She gulps thickly, "Okay. We're actually doing this. Cool, cool." She mostly says to herself.

Virana just raises an eyebrow smirking, "Don't tell me you are backing out, Princess Raya." She taunts as she weighs Atitaya's spear in her hands, flipping it around seamlessly.

Raya just scoffs a little offended, "I never back out from a challenge, Chief Virana. Especially not when it's for Namaari's hand"

Meanwhile the Fang princess stands there glued to the floor, the crowd staring at her, some expecting her to stop the two before literal blood is shed. But the problem is, Namaari knows three of the most stubborn people in her life: one of which is herself, and the other two? The ladies in front of her seemingly ready to cut each others throats out. There is literally no stopping them once their mind is made.

She runs a hand through her hair, keeping it in place as she watches Raya and her mother, who she still has no knowledge of how well her fighting skills are, position themselves into a fighting stance.

In any other day, Namaari would laugh at the comical idea of it all, her mother in her signature white dress, and Raya in way too formal clothing to be comfortable in a fight.

"Just a warning, Chief. I don't plan on holding back" Raya warns, if she's going to this, might as well not let her guard down.

Virana just grins, "I didn't expect you to" she says then charges, skipping the pleasantries. Her dress limiting her steps a little but enough for her to move around smoothly.

Raya, caught of guard, hastily blocks the spear coming at her face. She huffs away her shock, a playful grin coming to her face at the realization that this is definitely not a game. It's indeed a legit challenge the Chief had agreed to and she will treat it as such.

She swings her own blade towards the Chief, her mind consciously pulling back her strength, afraid she might hurt the princess' mother. However, Virana seems to sense this, using it to her advantage to nick the skin on her shoulder. This elicited a loud gasp around them.

Raya backflips away, glancing down at the cut. She looks up at the Fang Chief's face who wore a smug look, "I thought you said you weren't going to hold back?"

The Heart princess can't help the amusement to show on her lips, she now understands where Namaari's infuriating taunts came from.

Instead of replying, she charges with complete intention to hurt, not caring that she is facing the Chief of Fang anymore. She swings aggressively leaving no space for the older woman to strike. She sees her struggling, her dress limiting her movements as she backs away trying to block each of her powerful strikes.

Raya for a second thought to give her a break, so she swiftly pulls the leg under the dress with her own, tripping her backwards. She lands on her back with a loud thud, her white dress now soiled and damaged.

She doesn't notice Atitaya holding back some of the Fang soldiers who were about to step in and help their Chief. Namaari who's rendered speechless stood ramrod stiff. The crowd wore wary expressions watching their beloved Chief on the floor.

Raya turns away for a second to catch her lover’s gaze but she regrets it almost immediately hearing the shuffle from in front her. She fails to react fast enough, feeling the long metal spear swiftly hitting the back of her knees knocking her off balance then the edge of it meeting her stomach.

She huffs out in pain, mustering the energy to roll away quickly when the spear lifts again to hit her.

She doesn’t get time to spit out a witty retort when the Chief starts swinging at her with surprising precision and tentative strikes. The hits as powerful as Raya's previous swipes earlier. She blocks them effortlessly though, looking for a way to knock her out again but the speed is seemingly too distracting to even think of a way.

She grunts in frustration, deciding to put a physical distance between them instead as she uses the Chief's leg that's pushed forward to step on her thighs and jump over the tall woman. She uses the distraction to step back a little, recollecting herself.

She breathes out to calm her thoughts, risking another glance at the other princess who stood way too dazed and in shock to even glance at her back. She huffs out an amused laugh at her face. The Chief charges at her noticing the distracted moment, the end of her spear managing to graze the side of her cheek. She hisses out in pain.

She slides down dodging her next swing but as if predicted, the older woman's knee collides with her face harshly. She sees white spots temporarily as she falls on her knees disoriented. She feels the sharp edge of the spear by her neck.

"Do you yield, Princess of Heart?" She hears the Chief say sounding a bit too winded.

Raya takes in a deep shaky breath, her eyes closing. She exhales out with a grin, "Never."

She doesn't let the older woman react before reaching out and pulling her spear forward, letting it slice the surface of her neck lightly. She uses the close distance to throw a dirty punch on the Chief's midsection. She inwardly cringed at that, her mind still hoping she didn't hurt her too much. But her body reacting by itself, stood up to kick the bent over Chief that sent her skidding backwards.

She waits for a few more seconds to see if the woman would stand again but when she remained on the floor coughing, she walks over pointing down her sword at her opponent's throat.

"Do you yield, Chief of Fang?" Her tone surprisingly serious as Virana stares back at the Princess' determined eyes.

She lets the silence lapse between them, the hushed whispers of the crowd barely audible as she tries to find any ill intent and malice in the young girl's eyes. However, she sees nothing but love and devotion.

A tender smile graces Virana's lips, her arms lifting up in surrender, "I yield, Princess. You win"

She hears Raya's sharp intake of breath before seeing her sword clatter beside them and bending down to pull her up into an embrace. The crowd around them breaks into an applause, clearly entertained from the intense fight.

She grunts in pain at the bone crushing hug the Princess has her in, "You have my blessing, sunlight. But if you could let me breathe, that would be great" she manages to murmur out. 

Raya pulls back instantly, an apologetic look on her face. There are tears that brimmed her eyes, "I'm sorry"

"I'll be fine. You left this old lady pretty bruised but you are quite a fighter, Princess."

Raya bashfully grins, "You left me some pretty nice cuts too. But, who knew the Chief of Fang has hidden skills up her sleeve" “I’m no damsel in distress, Princess Raya. I am a well capable Chief” Virana states half heartedly. 

Raya snickers lightly, not doubting it for a second. She stands up offering a hand for the older woman to take. She willingly accepts, pulling herself upright. She staggers back a little but the feeling of strong arms catches her quick.

Namaari stands behind her mother supporting her. She shakes her head vigorously, a smile of disbelief tugging on her lips, "You both are actually insane and out of your minds"

Raya smiles softly, "Just for you, dep la"

Virana nods in agreement then latches on to her daughter's hold, visibly exhausted. Raya lifts the older woman's other arm behind her neck to support her other side. 

"Let's get you to the healers"

They help the beat up Chief walk, the merchants and guards bowing in respect as they passed, all of them beaming with pride and joy as if she had won the fight.

"You definitely gave them something to write for Kumandra's history books" Namaari comments eliciting a genuine laugh from the older Chief.

"The only time I don't mind being defeated" Virana tenderly says. The two lovers on each of her side supporting her. She really doesn't mind another daughter in the family. -x- This got so long omg. Thank you, anon? Also you can’t possibly tell me Virana doesn’t know how to fight. I doubt she’s all bark and no bite. That woman is hiding her skills coz she doesn’t wanna get her dirty. Should i post this on ao3 or just leave it here LOL

[penguinkinggames]

“Cerebos: The Crystal City” Actual Play Part I: Introductions

This is the first in a series of posts recounting a session of actual play from Cerebos: the Crystal City, currently crowdfunding on Kickstarter. If you’ve been wondering what on Earth players actually do in a game of Cerebos, read on!

This session was conducted on March 20th, 2021, with Matthew Dorbin as GM, and Amelia Gorman, Ashley Flanagan, Will Mendoza, and Kevin Snow playing. The events of play were recorded by Zach Welhouse.

Preamble

For this session of Cerebos, the GM volunteered to run a session with the Adventure! Conductor. The conductor’s Atlas Obscura power invites the players and GM to work collaboratively to create a Stops table unique to their journey. They exchanged a few ideas over e-mail, which the GM codified. He added this new Stops table, which was heavy on the hells, to five other Stop tables to create an Atlas. Then he selected six Event tables to create an Almanac.

Everybody met in Discord and talked about unrelated matters for a bit. Then it was time to introduce characters. Each character clings to three touchstones: objects that represented their past in the City by the Sea. Each touchstone has a single Trait.

Dramatis Personae

Tinderling. A woman who looks like a burnt match.

Iron rail spike (Odd Jobs)

A single match (Burns at Both Ends)

Bird bone sewing needle (Piercing Insight)

The Unqualified Robot. A mechanical figure with a light projection screen for a head. It indicates expression by placing a large slide with the image of an emotion on the screen.

Expression slides (Toxic Positivity)

Backpack of unsold gadgets (Abandoned Junk)

Flask of motor oil (Guzzlin’)

The Lady in Blue. A woman who is as regal as she is soot-stained: exceedingly.

Gun with a single bullet (Single-Minded)

Feathered hat (Life of Luxury)

Burned handbag (Lost Sister)

The Lonesome Seafarer. A sea captain far from shore.

Patchwork coat (Coat of Theseus) (“I like it because it’s vague and we’ll find out what it means during play.”) 

Blue tricorner hat (Air of Authority)

Spyglass with broken lens (Grizzled Survivor)

Some players came to the table with their whole starting concept, while others were less certain about their starting Traits. Everyone helped brainstorm starting Traits for the players who were less certain. This early riffing was the first sign of the collaboration to come. 

One player noticed they gravitated toward useless items or objects of purely sentimental value. The travelers themselves were quite worn, so we were already establishing a contemplative mood. These were travelers who had been beaten down by the world, but hadn’t given up yet. Their stories would be ones of struggle and inspirational determination or grim warnings about challenging forces larger than themselves.

Goals

Based on these introductions, each player determined why another traveler was headed to Cerebos. They shared the goals with the GM over DMs, so no one knew why their traveler was on the road. The truth revealed itself over time through flashbacks

Tinderling: Her newly unionized shop got shut down by union busters. She’s looking for a place with less draconian labor laws.  

The Unqualified Robot: Cerebos is home to a famous scientist who specializes in reprogramming obsolete robots for new jobs.  

The Lady in Blue: The Lady in Blue's sister, the Lady in Red is a criminal ringleader in Cerebos. The Lady in Blue aims to kill her and take over her crime empire.  

The Lonesome Seafarer: The Lonesome Seafarer is looking for someone lost at sea, and old rival/loved one who was believed to have perished but was seen alive in the City by someone the Seafarer trusts. They have something they want to ask them.

Based on their answers to the GM’s initial questions, the players were interested in telling a story about labor, power, and human connections.

For example, the GM asked the players if they intended to pay for passage on the train. One player suggested they might have company scrip from Tinderling's employers. The GM asked if the company had a name, at which point Inferno Heavy Industries was born. It had just opened its newest station for business, to (according to the fresh posters) was "bringing luxury to a land with so little of value".

The Journey Begins

When the travelers arrive, workmen are still unloading plants and doing their best to landscape the surrounding wasteland. The local ecosystem will probably recover. Tinderling notices a panhandler passing among the large crowds, who she recognizes as a scab from the City by the Sea.

The train still has that new train smell. It has fancy cushions and a conductor who’s knowledgeable and friendly, but not pushy. Only the best for the engine’s maiden voyage!

The Lonesome Seafarer follows the automated snack cart from car to car, loading up on the bounty of the rails. The Unqualified Robot, never having been on a train before (presumably), keeps getting in the way until Tinderling recognizes a proletariat in need and guides it to a seat. The Unqualified Robot slides a winking face into its project slot, gladdened by the kindness.

The train sets off and the GM rolls for an Event in the Almanac. The train plows through the desert, passing through a region of low hills and hexagonal pits that seep gas into the air. Plague doctors patrol the perimeter, keeping pit owls from approaching the train. 

This terrain is a Danger 3 Event. If the Danger level (that is, the total Danger of all active Events) is 4 or greater by the time the train reaches a Stop, the Stop will be especially dangerous. If the Event’s individual Danger is reduced to 0, one of the travelers will receive a keepsake of the encounter.

At this point, everybody takes an action with comments, suggestions, and general role-playing filling the space in between.

First Round of Train Actions

Tinderling is familiar with gas from mines and factories. It may be dangerous! She suggests people put on wet masks. She takes the Engage Event action and rolls a Success to lower the danger to 2. Several passengers see the wisdom of this advice and mask up.  

The Lady in Blue shares a story with whoever’s sitting next to her (it doesn’t matter, really) about the importance of staying calm and composed during times of danger. Take it easy, eat a little food. It will all work out. She uses the conductor’s Easy Confidence Train Action to understand Tinderling. Just a little. She gains a bonus to the next time they work together.  

The Lonesome Seafarer believes the unruly owls to be a problem. She shouts out the window and waves her hat at them: “Hey! Owls! Listen to those plague doctors! They have good medical advice!” Another Success. The Event’s danger lowers to 1.  

The Unqualified Robot, shocked by all the action, takes the Lady in Blue’s advice. It tries creating a meal from the snack cart, mashing snacks against its face until it’s a custardy mess. The Lady in Blue offers a napkin and they talk through the comedy of manners. Next, the Robot tries its flask. Empty. The Lady in Blue suggests whiskey for the both of them. They both Share a Meal and earn a keepsake: a tasty beverage that provides a one-time reroll of a 1 or 2.

The first round of Train Actions has ended. The train speeds on into the evening. A few owls follow, hovering just out of reach.

Second Round of Train Actions

Tinderling asks the Lonesome Seafarer about her spyglass. The Seafarer has a flashback to a terrible sea battle against a kraken. She orders her crew to battle stations!   Second mate Scurvy doubts her, shouting, “Are you mad, captain? We can’t fight this!” The captain disagrees, jumping into action and fighting back the kraken almost single-handedly, saving the topsman from a tentacle that may very well be an arm. After the battle, Scurvy is nowhere to be found.   During this flashback, Tinderling set up most of the action, while the Lonesome Seafarer filled in with her actions. Everyone else offered suggestions, commentary, jokes, and bit parts like sailors screaming in terror. Everybody spitballs ideas about what this scene reveals about the Lonesome Seafarer and agrees: the spyglass gains two ranks of the Tunnel Vision trait.  

The Unqualified Robot sees passengers all around it talking, and emulates them by asking the Lady in Blue a nice, innocent question about the gun she’s carrying. It seems like a safe conversation opener, but draws her into a flashback!   The Lady in Blue is playing cards in a seedy tavern. One hand is on her gun, which she’s holding under the table and pointing at her opponent. It’s a game of chance, but the Lady in Blue is exuberantly talking about her masterful strategy. Her opponent throws his hands in the air in disgust, knocking over several drinks. He goes to pick his mug off the ground, narrowly missing as the Lady in Blue passes her gun off to an accomplice who walks past. Her name isn’t Margaret and the Lady in Blue’s name isn’t Angela, but that’s how they refer to one another.   The Lady in Blue’s player had no idea how this game would turn out while it was happening. The accomplice was probably the lost sister alluded to in her Lost Sister trait, but only future flashbacks would tell. Everyone talks about what they learned about the Lady in Blue, and her gun gains two ranks of the Nick of Time trait.

At this point in the journey, two flashbacks have flashed back. The GM rolls on the Almanac for an Event, prompting an announcement from the conductor: “Hello passengers. It’s rare for a train to get lost, but we have.”

Inferno Heavy Industries hired several competing rail gangs for its line, leading to a labyrinthine snarl of tracks. Worse, the turbulence woke a swarm of chandler beetles that had been roosting in the overhead bins. Their waxy secretions have a way of ruining any train ride or picnic, most immediately threatening the Lady in Blue’s sippin’ whiskey. This is a Danger 3 event, which raises the Danger level on the train to 4.

The second round of train actions then continues:

The Lonesome Seafarer continues her conversation with Tinderling, ignoring the beetles for the time being, prompting a flashback. Encouraged by the Lonesome Seafarer’s tale of adversity, Tinderling recalls a time she had to stitch up a friend in the mines with her bird bone sewing needle. Inferno Heavy Industries at fault. That’s when she got the idea to blow up the mine and let those hateful ghouls know their workers had dignity.   Everyone decides the bird bone sewing needle gains two ranks of A Rough Patch.  

The Lady in Blue decides needs must. She sacrifices her hat to scoop up the chandler beetles that are threatening her drink. It’s a snap decision that she instantly regrets. That hat was a link to who she used to be, and possibly who she would like to continue being. It was an exclusive. A very nice hat.   The Lady in Blue rolls an 8 on her roll to release a touchstone. It’s an Ugly Break, so one of her other touchstones gains one Momentum. Even though her luxurious hat has been tainted by insects, she still has her fancy bag.   On the bright side, she gains one Contemplation for taking a step away from her all-controlling past. She doesn’t know much about who she is or who she wants to be, but her hat and the memories connected to it certainly aren’t going to hold her back.

The second round of train actions has now concluded! The Danger level is still 4.

Third Round of Train Actions

Tinderling finishes her conversation with the Lonesome Seafarer and looks across the car to the Unqualified Robot. It’s sipping whiskey from its refilled flask, watching the Lady in Blue go after the beetles with her hat.   Tinderling notices the flask looks like an oil can. The Unqualified Robot notices it’s being watched and becomes self-conscious.   It thinks back to when it liberated the oil can from an Inferno Heavy Industries factory. It was scrounging for oil, always finding just enough to keep it going. Even though the factory was out of commission, automated guards were still protecting its assets. The guards were large and dystopian, while the Unqualified Robot was small and scrappy. It scraped oil off the silent factory machinery with a tiny spoon. It listened to messages on the foreman’s answering machine. The electricity bill is due in three days. The Robot dutifully writes down the messages from the answering machine and takes a sip of oil.   Everyone agrees the Unqualified Robot’s story is going to go some dark places. The oil can flask gains two ranks of Drowning Sorrows.

Two more flashbacks have occurred, so the GM rolls for another Event. The players recognize the Danger is adding up, but are cavalier about it. “How bad can it be?” That’s how they get ants. Ants that are crossing the tracks in a line that stretches to the horizon. They’re carrying the components to build a death ray. Components that look suspiciously similar to the inner workings of a robot. The Event’s Danger is 1; the train’s overall Danger is 5.

The third round of train actions continues:

The Unqualified Robot Engages the Event. The ants know Morse code, as does the Robot so communication is not a problem. Understanding is more difficult. The Robot slides a diplomatic slide onto its projector screen and solemnly taps out, “Please don’t build a death ray with the components of robots. They are living creatures, demanding of dignity.” It rolls a 1 and a 2. A Setback.   The Robot takes a long pull from its whiskey, using the meal keepsake to reroll the 1. Its new results are a 2 and a 2, which is still a Setback. Worse, it’s rolled doubles. If the Robot chooses not to reroll at this point, it’ll gain a point of Momentum in addition to the penalty from the Setback. However, it still has several Traits it could use.   The Unqualified Robot decides a Setback makes more sense. It receives one Damage and gains a point of Momentum to its face plates. Everyone shares a good-natured laugh at how unlucky the robot is and how it will receive a Bad End at this rate.  

The Lady in Blue feels a looming sense of dread and takes a Stop the Train Action. The conductor cheerfully reminds everyone that due to paperwork they signed when purchasing their tickets, the train will be making a brief, unscheduled stop to investigate several findings of industrial importance. Naturally, the NDA also applies.  

Ordinarily, after calling for a Stop, any travelers who have yet to take their train action for the round would receive the opportunity to do so before the train pulls into the station; however, in the group’s eagerness to get away from the assorted owls and insects, the Lonesome Seafarer’s turn was accidentally skipped!

The First Stop

Inferno Heavy Industries scientists unload delicate instruments and set up camp. This is a burial ground, but the skeletons interred in the sands have beards and wigs made of precious metals. If they could determine how to extract metal from living bone, profits would be sure to follow.

In normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be an especially dangerous Stop. However, the travelers let the Event Danger pile up. The last remaining owls have lost interest and the conductor deals with the chandler beetles, but bad karma and the ants remain -- and they’ve decided to complement their death ray with silver and gold, both fine conductors..

In fact, the silver and gold threads are so conducive that several of the skeletons spring to unlife, animated by the scientist’s tools. They give of sparks and judder through the sands, inconveniencing scientists, passengers, and ants alike. Passengers watch the train in shifts, keeping the electric dead at bay with long poles.

The Stop has Danger 5. Since it’s so high, the travelers are unable to rest and take in the sights. Moreover, they’ll need to be very lucky if they want to leave with a fond keepsake or without suffering Damage. The train will remain for one round of Stop Actions. Tune in next time to find out how the travelers fare!

[marvel-sluts]

Christmas with the avengers

pairing: avengers x teen!reader, Peter Parker x reader.

warnings: maybe some swearing?

summary: your first Christmas with both the avengers and with Peter, what could possibly go wrong?

a/n: merry Christmas everyone! this is absolute shit but I wanted to write something Christmassy, I hope you all like it!

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

you hadn't been part of the avengers long when you started dating Peter, causing this to be your first Christmas with the both of them.

you get dressed in the matching Christmas jumpers you and Peter both had, because apparently it was tradition in the avengers tower to wear Christmas jumpers on Christmas day, so you had both agreed to wear the matching jumpers. (see gif)

you pulled on a pair of jeans and tied your hair up in a ponytail, with a small peice tinsel wrapped around your hairband. you did light makeup with f/c (fave colour) of eyeshadow.

you walk out of your room in the avengers tower and bump into Thor and Loki, heading to the kitchen.

"hello lady y/n, you look ravishing. I love your jumper." Thor said smiling at you.

"thanks Thor, you look good too." you say smiling at him.

"I like the tinsel" Loki muttered to you on the way past. you and him had become quite close over the past few months you have spent at the tower, but it still shocked you that he would say something like that with Thor around. normally he was a lot quieter in the shadow of his older brother.

"thanks loki." you say cheerfully, getting into the lift with them.

when the three of you get to the living room and kitchen you go your separate ways. Thor to the kitchen, no doubt to raid the cupboards of poptarts and you and Loki to the living room. you take a seat next to your boyfriend and smile at him.

"you look amazing" Peter says, looking at you lovingly.

"so do you." you say giggling.

"I know" he said, pretending to do a hair flick. but failing miserably and accidentally hitting himself in the face.

you laugh at him, and he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes that you can never resist. "sorry love" you say before kissing his cheek where he hit himself.

both of you head to the kitchen and after collectively deciding on cereal for breakfast, you go back into the living room with bowls full.

just as you both sat down on the sofa at your previous spots, Tony came in with Morgan trailing behind him, also wearing matching Christmas jumpers. "Merry Christmas everyone!" he says, sitting next to Steve and Bucky on the sofa.

Morgan runs over to you and attemps to scramble onto your lap. after realising what she was trying to do you help her get up and she sits on you happily.

Morgan had begun to like you in the short time you had been here, you were good with kids and would often play with her causing you two to become immediate friends. she was your little partner in crime and the pair of you would often adopt Loki to help prank Tony and Steve.

"I know its Christmas but there is a lot to get done, Pepper, Wanda and Bucky are on cooking duty first and then we will rotate, check this peice of paper that was kindly provided by Bruce for the timetable. everything else should have been done already."

"I can't wait to see what I got from Santa!" Morgan squealed excitedly, eyeing the pile of presents under the tree.

"I'm offended" you say dramatically, "are you not exited to see what I got you?" you asked laughing.

"yep, I'm exited for all the presents!" she said before getting off of your lap and running into the kitchen to 'help' with the cooking.

after half an hour of chatting and crimes cookies Nat decided she was bored.

"who wants to play Christmas games?" she shouts holding up a box. you glance at the box before bursting out laughing.

"o-deer! really?" Sam said, laughing at what happened last time you played it.

"do you remember Rhodes last time, he looked like he was going to take off." Scott said laughing.

"erm, excuse me. but who won?" Rhodes said pointing to himself. "this guy, so don't get ahead of yourselves." he said.

"I personally think I'm gonna win this time" you say sticking your tongue out at Rhodes.

"not gonna happen doll" Bucky called from the kitchen.

"just watch me win" you say.

everyone comes in from the kitchen and takes a break from cooking to play.

you all take turns having the antlers and throwing the hoops, when both you and Peter had finished you both collapsed on the sofa. he put his arm around you and you nestled your face in his chest, breathing in his warm sent.

after Nat announced that the winner was Wanda (everyone thinks she used her powers, although she swears that she didn't) you changed around kitchen duty, next up it was you, Peter and Steve.

Vision had mysteriously disappeared from the cooking rota, despite the fact that Wanda had been helping his cooking skills he couldn't seem to get any better.

you got started on the brussel sprouts, how anyone could eat them was beyond you but apparently some people *cough* Sam *cough* liked them.

Peter had gotten started on the stuffing, making the mixture and rolling it into balls. whenever he would walk past u he would kiss you on the forehead, or whatever part of you that was facing him at the time. Steve was watching this behaviour and wasn't sure to find it cute or disgusting.

Steve was getting busy with the mashed potatoes and checking on the turkey every once in a while.

a gasp echoed through the kitchen as you burnt your hand on the oven attempting to check on the turkey per Steve's request.

"what happe-" pete asked trailing off when he say u nursing your hurt hand, "oh baby, are you okay? did you burn it? don't worry it will be okay. I'll get some ice for it" he said, completely freaking out.

you watching him frantically searching for some ice for a minute before saying "don't worry petey, it's fine. it's only a burn. and it doesn't hurt that badly" you say giggling at how concerned he was.

"but what if it gets infected? or if it swells up?" he asked finally managing to find some ice and putting it on your hand.

"honestly, you kids." Steve says rolling his eyes and chuckling. "are you sure you are alright y/n?" he asks, his eyebrows knitting in concern.

"yeah I'm sure" you say, smiling up at him.

"okay" he says checking on the turkey himself.

you checked the clock "our shift ended five minutes ago! those little fuckers didn't tell us!" you say taking off the apron. you go into the living room and find Morgan and Loki laughing on the sofa.

"I'm truly sorry Lady y/n, it was my shift next and I didn't want to do it." Loki said, smirking at you.

"your not sorry" you say.

"no, your right, I'm not" he said, grinning again.

you roll your eyes and resume your earlier position on the sofa, Peter sitting next to you.

"secret santa!" came a shout from the doorway, you looked up to see that it was Tony. he was carrying the secret santa presents in his arms and Clint and Rhodes were behind him also carrying armfuls of presents.

Morgan jumped up from her seat next to Bruce squealing excitedly.

"don't we have to wait for our special guests to get here?" Pepper asked eyeing Tony.

"oops I forgot, yes we do" Tony said putting down the presents bashfully.

"what special guests?" you ask, having not heard about this at all.

"you will see" Tony said, with a shit eating grin.

about ten minutes later a knock was heard at the door.

Vision gets up to answer it and you soon here a shout from the doorway.

"do not fear, Christmas is saved. for the overrated king of wakanda and his amazing and beautiful genuis sister is here!"

"SHURI!" you and Peter both yell in unison.

"it is I" she said flicking her hair (and actually succeeding) before running to hug the two of you.

"not that anyone has noticed but I'm also here" Doctor Strange says from the doorway.

Tony and Bruce look up from talking to T'Challa and go over to shake hands with Strange.

"presents now?" Morgan asks, tugging on Tony's trouser leg.

"yes sweetie, go over and open some of them." Tony says. patting her on her head and sending her on her way.

everyone gathers around the tree and watches Morgan open her presents from santa. when she has finished you give her a wrapped package with some art supplies in. she jumps up and hugs you with a massive grin on her face.

then someone (you guess Scott but your not sure) yells secret santa.

everyone gets the presents they had gotten for their secret santa, you had gotten Thor and after asking for help from Peter you ended up making him something. when it was time for you to give thor his present you presented a wrapped up package. it was a knitted jumper with tiny hammers and lightning bolts on it.

he opened the present with a massive grin on his face and pulled you into a bone crushing hug.

"thanks you Lady y/n, I couldn't have asked for anything better."

"your welcome Thor" you said, smiling up at him.

when everyone was done with the secret santa, you had received a few scented bath bombs and a silver snake ring from Natasha, some people trickled out to go and help in the kitchen.

you handed Peter a package wrapped in red paper, "here you go Petey" you say.

he takes it and opens it, you had given him a watch with the millennium falcon on the inside of it.

"thanks baby, I love it!" he says hugging you tightly and kissing you square on the lips. "you will get yours tonight" he says with a grin.

not even five minutes had passed when a yell was heard from the kitchen.

"you idiot, you were meant to take out the turkey while we were opening the presents!" Sam yelled.

"well its not my fault that the timer didn't go off!" Clint yelled back.

"FRIDAY, did you set the timer like I asked you to?" Sam asked.

"you never asked me to set a timer sir" FRIDAY replied.

"shit" Sam muttered kicking the table in frustration.

after a few minutes of chaos Steve managed to find a ham in the back of the fridge, everyone decided that the ham was the best thing to have so you cooked it up and it didn't get burnt.

everyone gathered around the table, the food was delicious, and you almost couldn't tell that there wasn't a turkey.

"hey Bucky, could you pass me the potatoes please?" you asked. piling your plate high with good food.

once everyone was done eating you all sat in the living room and put on a Christmas movie.

you and Peter wanted to watch the muppets Christmas Carol but you both were outvoted and you ended up watching the Nightmare before Christmas.

Tony got the movie set up and you curled into Peter. an hour later when the movie was finished you were still in the same position, you were very happy next to Peter with him stroking your hair lovingly. you buried your head further into his chest until you had to upstairs to bed.

Peter offered to carry you and you glad fully accepted, completely worn out from the chaos filled day.

when you had both gotten up to your bedroom he presented a wrapped up gift from his pocket.

"I'm not done with you yet y/n" he says with a grin on his face.

you open the package and inside find a box. upon opening it you find a beautiful silver heart locket. you open up the locket to find that Peter had already put a picture inside, it was a picture of you and him on Valentines day, on the date that he had set up for the two of you.

"omg, Pete I absolutely love it!" you say with a massive grin on your face, "can you put it on me?" you ask.

"turn around" he says, taking the necklace from you and clasping it up. "all done"

he spins you around and you land in his arms, he kisses you passionately and you kiss back just as fiercely. the kiss was filled with passion and promises.

that night you fall asleep in his arms, with a massive grin on your face.

you couldn't have wished for a better Christmas, even if it did include burnt turkey.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Love on the Line - Part 6

A/N: It’s finally here!!!

MASTERLIST      P1         P2           P3          P4          P5

Henry Cavill x Reader

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: heartache, language, angst, a pinch of lovey dovey fluff, cliffhanger 

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

“Ohhh myy god…it’s official. This is the best burger of my life, hands down.”

What could easily be perceived as orgasmic music delightfully made its way to his ears. Seb chuckled studying the beautiful girl across from him admiring her combination of burger grease, ketchup, and mustard staining her chin. Y/N was too lost in the delicious meal to notice Seb gleefully watching her. In an instant his hand wiped away the condiment catching Y/N by surprise. She smiled bashfully blushing.

“Told you I knew a place.”

She sighed genuinely happy in them moment; “I could die a happy girl tomorrow because of this sweet, juicy perfection of a burger. All thanks to you.”

“What can I say? I have good taste.”

“And how did you run across this wonderous joint? Kinda feels off the beaten path.”

“Well, when you fly as much as me you learn to ask around. I never trust the internet when it comes to what I put in my body. I like to know what and where the locals scavenge for a tasty meal.”

“You continue to surprise me …I admire your style, Seb. Original, classy, and you no doubt just about charm the pants off any person who walks your way.”

“Is it working now?” He flashed his most flirtatious smile devouring another sweet potato fry.

Quick on her feet, she shot back with wit and attitude; “Should it be?”

“I gotta say Y/N, I’ve never been happier to wake someone up on a plane until I met you.”

“Damn, you’re suave, Seb. Fucking suave.”

Her eyes bulged from their sockets at her crude choice of words; “Shit, I’m sorry. Ah, fuck.”

His laugh flew through the air like wind on a crisp fall evening; her cheeks flushed.

“I’m not usually such a sailor. Guess you bring out the best in me.”

“I don’t mind a bit. In fact, I kinda like that I fluster you if I’m being honest.”

“So smooth. Are you sure you’re not from LA?  I get the sense that’s a requirement in these parts?”

He shook his head in stark disagreement; “Nope, sorry to disappoint you. Just a common foreigner.”

“And a handsome one at that.”

Shocked at her boldness, Y/N stared down at the remnants of food moving her fries as a distraction from his adorable gaze.

“I haven’t felt this at ease in …well I can’t remember. It’s nice.”

“Couldn’t agree more. I never actually asked what brings you here?”

Seb nervously scratched the back of his head; “Uh, work. Like I said, I travel pretty frequently. Hollywood is a hub of sorts for me. What brings you here?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take the hint and pry later. Well, I’m a writer and some big exec wants to discuss the rights to my book series. So, yeah.”

“Y/N, that’s amazing! Are you secretly a super hero, part of the Avengers maybe?”

“Hahah, flattery will certainly get you far. No doubts there.”

“You’re too kind, Y/N. I’m definitely far from perfect.”

“Good. Perfection is overrated. Flaws are attractively imperfect. I mean at the end of the day we’re only human.”

“Consider me intrigued. I’ve gotta stop by a bookstore and check you out now!”

“Oh, hush! If you must know, I try to keep a low profile. So, uh, how long are you here for?”

“A couple days. I’ve got a bit of free time after my meeting tomorrow and thinking of hitting some trails while I’m here. Don’t get me wrong, LA is cool and all, but kinda suffocating. I try and maintain my distance if possible.”

“Oh, you’re preaching to the choir. The hustle and bustle of London is the literal definition of overwhelming. Countryside getaways were my one true savior. Sometimes London feels like an overpacked sardine can just waiting to explode.”

“So why did you stay?”

Y/N bit her lip trying to keep quiet. She hadn’t once though of Henry since meeting Seb. The lump in her throat appeared by just the mere mention of her subconscious. A part of her wasn’t ready to reveal the ache left beneath her exterior.

“Friends and family. What else ties a person to one place?”

“Love? A relationship?”

His coyness was flattering. She gave into his curiosity.  

“Are you asking if I’m single?” Her feigned expression was enough to send him into a fit of harmonious laughter.

“Maybe, maybe not. Depends on your answer, I guess. Part of me believes you’re too good to be true which usually means taken.”

“HA, no. Relationships and I are not on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Ah, sounds like heartbreak hotel is just around the corner….”

“I recently got out of a long-term relationship. So, to answer your question; Yes, I’m single and so not ready to mingle.”

“Are you assuming I’m hitting on you?” His shocked appearance made her question their entire encounter and if she’d been reading the signs wrong all along.

“Well, good thing I’m only here for the coffee and platonic company, hm?”

Seb raised his mug in salute as her stress magically melted away; “Break-ups suck. But allow for a real opportunity to see who you really are. Pain can be a bitter reminder of sadness and strength.”

“Wow, philosophizing so soon into our newly found friendship? A man after my own heart!”

Y/N playfully placed her hand over her heart, smiling for particular reason.

“How about if you’re interested and only 100% positive you aren’t sick of my company; we do dinner or even drinks? Whichever the lady chooses.”

Seb motioned in jest. Y/N tried to remember the last time she’d felt so carefree unable to pin down an exact memory. For far to long Y/N trapped herself in a fog allowing Henry to rule over her even when he wasn’t physically there. It had to stop, she had to quit placing him on a pedestal if she had any luck of moving on from their failed love affair. One torturous long minute passed as Seb’s nerved ramped up.

“Shit, I’m that weird dude, now. Forget I asked and let’s chalk it up to an amazing afternoon as strangers who leave this diner and head back to our own separate lives without consequence?”

Again, Y/N was speechless contemplating what she truly wanted to do next.

“First things first, stop blubbering, you seriously are ungodly handsome. And on second note, our chance meeting was unexpected but kinda sorta awesome. I’d love to see you again. I can’t recall the last time I’ve felt so free…and don’t even get me started on the belly aches due to your comedic skills.”

“Damn, a woman that speaks her mind. Are you sure you’re not in politics?”

“Nope, never, no thank you. Sooo, it’s a date?”

Seb furrowed his eyebrow in pleasant surprise; “You said it, not me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes; “Yeah, yeah. What do the kids say nowadays…. YOLO?”

“Yes, and please never say that again.”

A napkin holder was placed strategically resting against the window sill. Seb signaled to their middle-aged waitress; “Pardon me, do you have a pen handy?”

“Course, darling. Anything for ya.” She winked dropping the pen on the edge of the checkered table leaving them to privacy. He scribbled his number on the grainy piece of paper and slid it her way.

“I’ll leave the ball in your court and pass the privilege of reaching out to confirm details.”

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead? Obviously not in Romania.”

“What fine establishment do they have you shacking up in?”

“Chateau Marmont. Long story short, my publisher fully embraces and understands my introverted nature and love of historical hotels. Call me an oddball.”

“Oddball.”

They snickered like school children slowly understanding their time was coming to a close. A power, a force of sorts gravitated Y/N towards him. He felt the same way.

“I happen to think women who especially history buffs are so incredibly magnificent. I haven’t met many as beautiful as you.

Their flirtation skyrocketed like flicks of fire firing between them.

“Knowledge is like your super power…. also, intelligent women are a complete turn on.”

She swatted his arm smiling like a kid in a candy shop.

“Come on, let’s get outta here. I’ll drop you off.”

He offered his hand helping Y/N to her feet. She lingered a second too long. With Seb a couple steps behind her, she missed the clinch of his fists and Seb’s reddened cheeks.

---The Next Day---

No luxury was forgotten as Y/N observed her decadent hotel room, but no matter how comfortable the memory foam or high thread count sheets, Y/N tossed restlessly the whole night. Her anxieties attacking her mind at every possible angle. Worry engulfed her clutching on her own insecurities. Her fear? 

That she’d walk into David Fincher’s office and leave very humiliated and very far from home. Henry’s ghost loitered just out of reach. A ghost can be many a thing; a memory, a daydream, a secret, but most times, a wish. Old or new. But that was the past, memories she must let go of.

Y/N stared at the ceiling wishing her bed to open up and swallow her whole finally dozing off to her temporary dreamland. But sunlight painted the walls like a colorful painting. She stretched and moaned at the sensations of her waking bones.

Making her way to the bathroom, Y/N’s phone chimed forcing her to circle back towards the obnoxious device.

Seb: Buna dimineata prietene! (Good Morning, friend)

Y/N: Romanian? So early in the morning. How dare you sir?

Blinking dots ran across the screen as Y/N waited impatiently for his witty response.

Seb: Never too early for greatness. As they say in the theater, break a leg! But not an actual leg because I might be looking forward to our date. Okay, good luck with the meeting!

Y/N: Thanks for the good juju. Same to you! Call you later.

She unconsciously rubbed at the tender swell in her chest, the fluttering in her belly kicking wildly. Butterflies. It’d been ages since she’d been this excited and it surprised Y/N. Maybe she was ready for something more…Y/N shook her head ridding herself of such silly thoughts. She knew better than to rush full steam ahead.

    ---Later that day---

The fourteenth floor was decorated to architectural perfection. Every space had its purpose and the décor elegantly stylish.  There she stood in the presence of cinematic greatness! As Y/N was about to pinch herself, she heard an echo of a name. Looking up, she searched for the unknown voice before landing on an enthusiastic figure waving her direction.

“Y/N! So nice to finally see you in person. I’m Meg.”

“Meg, so glad to put a face to a name. Thank you for having me.”

Both women walked down a hallway lined of glass walls smiling at those who looked up.

“David has talked nonstop about your series. So much so that I ended up devouring your books in three days. You’re freaking brilliant!”

“You really think so? I worked my ass off to get it through any publishing house. I was on the verge of chucking my ideas in the trash and getting an actual job that paid real money if it wasn’t for a last-ditch effort.”

“I’ve blocked off a thirty-minute window before his next meeting begins. He’s booked back-to-back today but by no means feel rushed. He hates when I push him. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Her head bobbed nonchalantly taking notice of the stunning scenery from the 17th level.

“Alright, here goes nothing.”

“Best of luck, Y/N.”

Meg knocked; “Come in!”

“David, this is Y/N.”

“Thanks, Meg. Close the door behind ya, we’ve got loads to discuss.”

David extended his hand towards Y/N’s shaking firmly. Y/N reminded herself to breath and to quickly find her manners.

She stuttered trying to remember common speech causing David to laugh aloud.

“Ms. Y/N, you okay?”

“Yyess—just a tad shell shocked. I mean, I can’t believe I’m standing in a room with the David Fincher. Unbelievable, really. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

“I should be the one thanking you. You wrote one hell of a series that I trust can be transferred stunningly over to the silver screen where it can be fully appreciated. I’ve never seen someone mold together so many genres with such ease yet adding a layer of complexity. You, young lady, kept me guessing every twist and turn. That doesn’t happen too often if you catch my drift.”

“I-I, it’s just nice all those late-night writing sessions and waiting tables paid off. I’ll have you know I was on the verge of giving it all up and going back to school.”

“So, let’s get down to details. My team and I have come up with an offer that is totally open for negotiations.”

David slid a piece of paper into view. Y/N stared at the parchment gob smacked. Her jaw fell open at the written proposal.

“Holy shit.” Her eyes snapped up at her vulgar language; “Shit! I don’t mean to be impolite.”

“Ha, it’s a bit flabbergasting upon first glance but I promise you I want to do everything in my power to make this work for both parties.”

“Am I…am I reading this correctly?”

“Indeed, $10 million for the first two films, advancing to an additional $13, $15, $17 million for the last three. Of course, aiding us in the writer’s room to make sure we bring your story to live through your eyes. This will undoubtfully increase book sales across the board, I’d say upwards of $60 million if all goes accordingly. Also, I didn’t forget about making you an executive producer.”

“You’re kidding me, riight? Am I dreaming?”

“You’re gonna be a big deal once the tabloids get their sticky fingers on this. I mean this is going to skyrocket you to the likes of Stephenie Meyer and Suzanne Collins status. I mean, I had to outbid Peter Jackson just for a chance at directing this masterpiece. Darling, you’re all Hollywood can talk about right now.”

“Wow, I’m, uh, seriously grateful. I guess I’ve been shacking up in London far too long. I don’t really read celeb gossip so needless to say I’ve been in my own bubble.”

“A huge thank you goes out to Henry Cavill for pitching the initial idea. He helped get the recognition you deserve. Nice fellow, that one.”

Momentary shock came over her face, mouth still agape; “He—Henry had a hand in this?”

“Most certainly. He was the one who brought it to my attention. Of course, he mentioned the desire to work with me was motivation enough, but genuinely, he seemed passionate about the project.”

“I-I had no idea.” Switching gears as fast as possible Y/N trotted forth; “So realistically, when can we get the ball rolling?”

“Once the proper documents are signed and stamped, we’re good to go. If negotiations aren’t necessary, I’d say within the next month or so we can start casting calls, booking air fare, figuring out destination shoots, getting a manuscript going. It comes together faster than people think. How about this; you mull it over, call whoever you need, and get back at me in the next couple of days. Sound good?”

“Sounds more than good! I think I’ll be forever be in your debt, Mr. Fincher.”

“Please, call me David. We have a long road ahead of us that has truly stoked a fire in me, all thanks to you.”

Her nerves triumphed pushing Henry to the back of her mind. Y/N had bigger fish to fry.

“May I be frank with you, David?”

“By all means.”

“As you probably know Henry’s my ex-fiancée. Is it true you’re possibly considering him for the lead role?”

David looked around quizzically composing himself.

“I figured we’d have to address the elephant in the office. Yes, I was aware and I didn’t consider him to be malicious. He’s a genius actor and I figured it was worth a chat. But if you’re worried about anything, just say the word.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize his successes. I agree, he’s an untapped actor full of surprising talent. I’ll be okay.”

“You promise?”

“Yep.”

“Great! Rest assured he isn’t even in the country. Believe he’s still galivanting about London.”

Silently pleading to change the subject, Y/N snapped out of it as quickly as she flew in to.

“This is a dream come true. I’m really looking forward to working with you and bringing my story to life.”

The squeaky hinge of the door alerted her to Meg’s foreboding presence. Taking a cue, Y/N stood up shaking David’s hand beaming like a child on Christmas Eve.

“I’ll be in touch, Y/N. Until then, enjoy your stay. Venture out. You’ll find LA isn’t all plastic and bullshit.”

“Oh, thank god. For a second I was getting nervous.”

“Haha! Meg, next appointment here?”

“Yes, he’s right around the cor--.”

“Y/N?”

She searched for the familiar voice unable to pin it down.

“Seb!? Wha...what are you doing here? I thought you had that big meeting today?”

“Uh, I do. That’s why I’m here.”

Sebastian nervously scratched his neck. Bewildered and thoroughly confused Y/N pushed on; “Wait a minute…. Are you an ...?”

“Actor, yes.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. Wait.”

“Holy shit. You’re Shirley Lovecraft. Catchy pseudo name. So, you’re the brains behind this witty madness. What an interesting turn of events if I do say so myself, a happy one.”

“Agreed. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. Kinda embarrassing.”

“Don’t. A perfect afternoon with someone who wasn’t using me for fame or money? Did I mention you look breathtaking today?”

Her cheeks fumed with heat stirring her butterflies back to life. Seb’s hand stilled on her waist unwilling to let go as they continued gazing at the other.

“Earth to Seb?

Seb broke eye contact first glancing over at David. Y/N was too busy memorizing the glimmer of his cobalt blue eyes.

“Yes, ah! So rude of me. Hello there, so great of you to squeeze me in. I appreciate it.”

He directed his attention towards Y/N once more leaning close to the shell of her ear; “Still on for drinks later?”

“Definitely.”

His wink sparked a jolt to her core leaving her weak in the knees. Somehow, some way, Y/N mustered enough confidence to walk without tripping. She glowed the whole walk to the elevator. Y/N pressed the button too lost in thought to hear the quiet ding of arrival strolling straight into a hard chest. Enormous hands grasped her shoulders; “Oh! Apologies Ms.”

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying atten—oh shit.”

Only one particularly charming British accent that could send a chill down her spine, one very distinguishable voice indeed. 

“Y/N?”

Time froze icily still.

“What the fuck? Henry??”

~~~~~~~~~~

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[bluebellhairpin]

The Bane of Zeke Jaeger

Zeke Jaeger X Fem!Reader

A/N: It’s like an enemies to lovers but they’re both still enemies at the end. (Bonus to anyone who can spot the cameo btw.)- Nemo

Summary: You and Zeke have been at each others throats for years. A time comes when he takes it a little too far, and ever since then - with your new power - you decide to start plotting his downfall. 

Warnings: Blood. Violence. Character Death. Needles. Attempted Murder. Insanity (? idk, reader get’s a little unhinged). 

Listening to: ‘Beautiful is Boring’ by Bones UK - ‘Give me scars and stripes. It does not please me to be easy on any of your eyes.’ 

Masterlist 

There was something about Zeke Jaeger. From how calculating he was to how he simply existed. But whatever that something was - it never failed to piss you off. 

From the moment you both met in the Military, you were at each other's throats. You more so than he. The fact you were both candidates for becoming titan shifters sure didn’t help. He was always so condescending, he knew he was the smartest person in the room and he acted like it too - if only to just rile you up. His only redeeming quality in your eyes was the fact he was so useless in physical training. 

Many times in your younger years did you want to simply pop a bullet through the back of his head while you were out. 

No one would know it was you - that you were sure of. 

You see, that's the thing you always had the upper hand in. You never got caught doing anything - it was always Zeke tattling on you that got you into trouble at all. Bastard. 

And now that you were older - yourself entering your late twenties - that same child-like distaste for each other hadn’t changed. If anything it turned, rearing its ugly head to reveal spite, and resent in the form of a very large grudge. 

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

“I’ve been away for how long and you still haven’t removed the stick from up your ass, huh?” 

“Shame on you, Ezekiel.” you gritted, purposefully changing his name, grabbing a fistfull of his beard and tugging in down, “All that time spent alone to think and you still can’t speak to a lady properly.” 

He reached up a hand, squeezing your wrist hard enough to hurt, but you didn’t let go, only held onto his facial hair even harder. 

“Let go, you fiend.” 

“You let go.”

“I told you first.”

“And I told you second.” 

“Are you finished flirting yet?” Reiner said, his head resting on his hand from across the table. You immediately sent a glare over to him, your grip on Zeke as firm as ever.

“He started it.” 

“I was not talking to you, (y/n).” Reiner huffed. 

You whipped your head back to Zeke, now grabbing his ear and on it tugging it too.

“You asshole, you need to stop playing up so much!”

“Stop it, that hurts!”

“That’s the whole point!” you said, “Apparently having your ass handed to you by that Ackerman guy wasn’t enough!” He had the audacity to pout at you, and you let out a groan of disgust before letting him go. Finally. 

“Now that you’re both done, can we get on with it?” 

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

You felt very lucky - very, very lucky - to have such a prime spot for such a lovely show. 

While Zeke had grown between the boy back in training until the man he was now, he still lacked when it came to non-titan fighting. And right now, Reiner wasn’t. Even though the younger male was mentally struggling since he came back from Paradis, he had all that experience up his sleeves that Zeke did not. 

“Having fun?” Zeke said, only now deciding to take off his glasses and set them beside you on the bench. 

“The only thing lacking is the satisfaction I’d get in having my own foot in your face.” 

“Naturally.” he grunted.

“Reiner’s going to go for your face next.” You said, a sly smile creeping up the edges of your lips. Zeke squinted at you. 

“Sure he is.” Your smile only broadened when he turned. 

He didn’t trust you - even though you never once lied to him - and that only made it sweeter when Reiner had managed to kick Zeke’s face into the dust with just five moves. You meandered over to him, crouching next to him as he sat up. 

“Good thing you took those glasses off, hey Ezekiel?” Now he scowled at you, and you winked at him before setting off again. But you felt a hand wrap around your ankle and pull. 

You landed face-first in the dirt, palms grazed and nose now sore. As you sat up you saw as red as the blood that leaked from your nose. You faintly remember hearing Reiner call for Porco before you flung yourself back at Zeke, immediately clawing at his neck and eyes before someone tried to get behind you and pull you off him. 

“You’re such a pain,” Zeke spluttered, “No wonder you're not getting a titan.” 

The arms around you held even tighter as you thrashed and yelled about killing Zeke. 

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

A moment presented itself to you - much as it did every night. 

Sneak to the kitchen. Grab a knife. Loiter back upstairs to Zeke’s room. Cut his throat while he slept. 

You fantasized about that far too often to be considered healthy, but never in your life had it been as tempting as it was right now. 

Zeke had never once brought up your rejected application for becoming a real, proper warrior - one with a titan to call your own. Even he knew how touché that subject was for you. 

You made it so far as the kitchen, even picking out a nice knife, before being stopped at the doorway on the way out.

“Who’re you?” 

“I have an offer for you.” They said, stepping forward.

“No salespeople please.” You countered, even thought this clearly was not a salesman. He laughed.

“What I have won’t cost you anything. Much.” he said, “But I heard you want a titan.” 

“And?” you said, quirking an eyebrow up at him.

“I have one, just for you.” 

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

You thanked whoever decided you’d be this titan that this place was so far away from any city. But you also wondered why there was a proper viewing area. 

Across from you was a woman whose posture mirrored your own, however there were chains on her wrists and ankles, keeping her limbs stretched. Unlike you, she was also unconscious, her head lulled forwards and her long braid had fallen over her shoulder. 

You’d been given strict instructions to wait until the viewing box was full before you were to puncture yourself with the needle you were given. In passing they’d muttered something about a war criminal and a thief, and you wondered where exactly this woman had come from. Surely not Paradis. 

You glanced up at the box again, and decided it was full enough. But you did a double take. Zeke was here.

Of all the people, why him? 

You plunged the needle into your arm, and injected the serum. Then your mind blanked, and nothing. Nothing until you felt something in your mouth, and a warm dribble going down your throat. A jolt of electricity went down your spine, and you grew. 

Then you saw everything. 

Black steam clouded the edges of your vision, and you rose to stand on your new feet. You felt a yell rise in your throat, and as it let go you were met with a deafening scream - no doubt one heard from miles. 

There was another flash of lightning, and you turned to see a rather underwhelming version of Zeke’s beast titan. You felt yourself letting out a chuckle, the sound coming out much deeper and distorted than your proper voice. You bent down to his eye-level, almost needing to bend your knees properly to get a proper look. 

“Hey shortie.” 

“Hey big girl.” he said, “You going to stop being a bitch now?” 

“To you?” you asked, and he hummed a yes. You feigned thought for a moment before laughing again. “Of course not. Plotting your demise is much more fun.” 

And plotting his demise you sure did. 

[tatticstudio55]

Let’s look at these famous “parallels” between Dany and Cersei

(Because I’ve been re-reading AFFC and ADWD simultaneously and couldn’t help noticing these. This list might be expanded btw)

Dealing with a guest who’s pissing them off

CERSEI:

"Aye," her uncle said, "and from what I saw of Joffrey, you are as unfit a mother as you are a ruler."

She threw the contents of her wine cup full in his face.

DANY:

"Be that as it may, they do not trust you. The men of New Ghis feel the same. Words are wind, as you yourself have so oft said. No words of yours will secure this peace for Meereen. Your foes require deeds. They would see us wed, and they would see me crowned as king, to rule beside you."

Dany filled his wine cup again, wanting nothing so much as to pour the flagon over his head and drown his complacent smile. "Marriage or carnage. A wedding or a war. Are those my choices?"

Dealing with war refugees

CERSEI:

A hundred gold cloaks with staves and swords and maces could clear this rabble quick enough. That was what Lord Tywin would have done. He would have ridden over them instead of walking through.

[…]

"High Holiness," she said, "these sparrows are frightening the city. I want them gone."

"Where should they go, Your Grace?"

There are seven hells, any one of them will serve. "Back where they came from, I would imagine."

DANY:

"It shall be done, Magnificence," said Reznak mo Reznak. "What of these Astapori?"

My children. "They are coming here for help. For succor and protection. We cannot turn our backs on them."

Ser Barristan frowned. "Your Grace, I have known the bloody flux to destroy whole armies when left to spread unchecked. The seneschal is right. We cannot have the Astapori in Meereen."

Dany looked at him helplessly. It was good that dragons did not cry. "As you say, then. We will keep them outside the walls until this … this curse has run its course. Set up a camp for them beside the river, west of the city. We will send them what food we can. Perhaps we can separate the healthy from the sick."

Dealing with people who knows too much

CERSEI:

Qyburn arrived before the food. Lady Falyse had put down three more cups by then, and was beginning to nod, though from time to time she would rouse and give another sob. The queen took Qyburn aside and told him of Ser Balman's folly. "I cannot have Falyse spreading tales about the city. Her grief has made her witless. Do you still need women for your . . . work?"

"I do, Your Grace. The puppeteers are quite used up."

"Take her and do with her as you will, then. But once she goes down into the black cells . . . need I say more?"

"No, Your Grace. I understand."

"Good." The queen donned her smile once again. "Sweet Falyse, Maester Qyburn's here. He'll help you rest."

DANY:

The Shavepate had urged her to put the man to death. "At least rip out his tongue. This man's lie could destroy us all, Magnificence." Instead Dany chose to pay the blood price. No one could tell her the worth of a daughter, so she set it at one hundred times the worth of a lamb. "I would give Hazzea back to you if I could," she told the father, "but some things are beyond the power of even a queen. Her bones shall be laid to rest in the Temple of the Graces, and a hundred candles shall burn day and night in her memory. Come back to me each year upon her nameday, and your other children shall not want … but this tale must never pass your lips again."

Dealing with criticism and thinly veiled accusations

CERSEI:

"The Red Keep has had no master-at-arms since Aron Santagar was slain," Ser Loras said, with a hint of reproach in his voice. "His Grace is almost nine, and eager to learn. At his age he should be a squire. Someone has to teach him."

Someone will, but it will not be you. "Pray, who did you squire for, ser?" she asked sweetly. "Lord Renly, was it not?"

"I had that honor."

"Yes, I thought as much." Cersei had seen how tight the bonds grew between squires and the knights they served. She did not want Tommen growing close to Loras Tyrell. The Knight of Flowers was no sort of man for any boy to emulate. "I have been remiss. With a realm to rule, a war to fight, and a father to mourn, somehow I overlooked the crucial matter of naming a new master-at-arms. I shall rectify that error at once."

**

"Night soil can be washed away more easily than blood, Your Grace. If the plaza was befouled, it was befouled by the execution that was done here."

He dares throw Ned Stark in my face? "We all regret that. Joffrey was young, and not as wise as he might have been. Lord Stark should have been beheaded elsewhere, out of respect for Blessed Baelor . . . but the man was a traitor, let us not forget."

[…]

"War is a dreadful thing. These atrocities are the work of the northmen, and of Lord Stannis and his demon-worshipers."

"Some of my sparrows speak of bands of lions who despoiled them . . . and of the Hound, who was your own sworn man. At Saltpans he slew an aged septon and despoiled a girl of twelve, an innocent child promised to the Faith. He wore his armor as he raped her and her tender flesh was torn and crushed by his iron mail. When he was done he gave her to his men, who cut off her nose and nipples."

"His Grace cannot be held responsible for the crimes of every man who ever served House Lannister. Sandor Clegane is a traitor and a brute. Why do you think I dismissed him from our service? He fights for the outlaw Beric Dondarrion now, not for King Tommen."

DANY:

The weaver raised her head. "Every day we told each other that the dragon queen was coming back." The woman had thin lips and dull dead eyes, set in a pinched and narrow face. "Cleon had sent for you, it was said, and you were coming."

He sent for me, thought Dany. That much is true, at least.

[…]

"Others blamed Daenerys," said the weaver, "but more of us still loved you. 'She is on her way,' we said to one another. 'She is coming at the head of a great host, with food for all.' "

I can scarce feed my own folk. If I had marched to Astapor, I would have lost Meereen.

[…]

"Even then some said that you were coming," said the weaver. "They swore they had seen you mounted on a dragon, flying high above the camps of the Yunkai'i. Every day we looked for you."

I could not come, the queen thought. I dare not.

[…]

"It is good that you have come," she told the Astapori. "You will be safe in Meereen."

The cobbler thanked her for that, and the old brickmaker kissed her foot, but the weaver looked at her with eyes as hard as slate. She knows I lie, the queen thought. She knows I cannot keep them safe. Astapor is burning, and Meereen is next.

[…]

"These are not apples, Ben," said Dany. "These are men and women, sick and hungry and afraid." My children. "I should have gone to Astapor."

Dealing with prophecies

CERSEI:

She promised me I should be queen, but said another queen would come . . ." Younger and more beautiful, she said. ". . . another queen, who would take from me all I loved."

"And you wish to forestall this prophecy?"

More than anything, she thought. "Can it be forestalled?"

"Oh, yes. Never doubt that."

"How?"

"I think Your Grace knows how."

She did. I knew it all along, she thought. Even in the tent. "If she tries I will have my brother kill her."

[…]

It was a pity that Maggy the Frog was dead. Piss on your prophecy, old woman. The little queen may be younger than I, but she has never been more beautiful, and soon she will be dead.

DANY:

When Reznak and Skahaz appeared, she found herself looking at them askance, mindful of the three treasons. Beware the perfumed seneschal. She sniffed suspiciously at Reznak mo Reznak. I could command the Shavepate to arrest him and put him to the question. Would that forestall the prophecy? Or would some other betrayer take his place? Prophecies are treacherous, she reminded herself, and Reznak may be no more than he appears.

Dealing with sneers or matters of disrespect

CERSEI:

"One more thing. A trifling matter." He gave her an apologetic smile and told her of a puppet show that had recently become popular amongst the city's smallfolk; a puppet show wherein the kingdom of the beasts was ruled by a pride of haughty lions. "The puppet lions grow greedy and arrogant as this treasonous tale proceeds, until they begin to devour their own subjects. When the noble stag makes objection, the lions devour him as well, and roar that it is their right as the mightiest of beasts."

"And is that the end of it?" Cersei asked, amused. Looked at in the right light, it could be seen as a salutary lesson.

"No, Your Grace. At the end a dragon hatches from an egg and devours all of the lions."

The ending took the puppet show from simple insolence to treason. "Witless fools. Only cretins would hazard their heads upon a wooden dragon." She considered a moment. "Send some of your whisperers to these shows and make note of who attends. If any of them should be men of note, I would know their names."

"What will be done with them, if I may be so bold?"

"Any men of substance shall be fined. Half their worth should be sufficient to teach them a sharp lesson and refill our coffers, without quite ruining them. Those too poor to pay can lose an eye, for watching treason. For the puppeteers, the axe."

DANY:

"We are all dead, then. You gave us death, not freedom." Ghael leapt to his feet and spat into her face.

Strong Belwas seized him by the shoulder and slammed him down onto the marble so hard that Dany heard Ghael's teeth crack. The Shavepate would have done worse, but she stopped him.

"Enough," she said, dabbing at her cheek with the end of her tokar. "No one has ever died from spittle. Take him away."

Views on torture

CERSEI:

Even in the black cells, all they got from him were denials, prayers, and pleas for mercy. Before long, blood was streaming down his chin from all his broken teeth, and he wet his dark blue breeches three times over, yet still the man persisted in his lies. "Is it possible we have the wrong singer?" Cersei asked.

"All things are possible, Your Grace. Have no fear. The man will confess before the night is done." Down here in the dungeons, Qyburn wore roughspun wool and a blacksmith's leather apron. To the Blue Bard he said, "I am sorry if the guards were rough with you. Their courtesies are sadly lacking." His voice was kind, solicitous. "All we want from you is the truth."

DANY:

"If he is not the Harpy, he knows him. I can find the truth of that easy enough. Give me your leave to put Hizdahr to the question, and I will bring you a confession."

"No," she said. "I do not trust these confessions. You've brought me too many of them, all of them worthless."

 MISCELLANOUS

Dealing with adverse political faction(s)

CERSEI: gleefully send Loras off to Dragonstone to be killed, frame Margaery and Margaery’s cousins for adultery, publicly shame Mace Tyrell at Tywin’s funeral, insult the Tyrells at every turn.

DANY: marries one of their highest members, try to reach peaceful agreements.

Priorities

DANY:

“The Tolosi had replied to her request for an alliance by proclaiming her a whore and demanding that she return Meereen to its Great Masters. Even that was preferable to the answer of Mantarys, which came by way of caravan in a cedar chest. Inside she had found the heads of her three envoys, pickled.”

CERSEI:

Can’t think of a specific passage here, but we know enough of Cersei to guess that if she were in Dany’s place, it would’ve been written more like this:

The Tolosi had replied to her request for an alliance by way of caravan in a cedar chest. Inside she had found the heads of her three envoys, pickled. Even that was preferable to the answer of Mantarys, that proclaimed her a whore and demanded that she return Meereen to its former rulers.

[sevfanfic]

A Touch in the Dark - Chapter 13: A Different Perspective

Word count: 1,964

(This first part is Irma’s POV)

A gurgling croak sounded overhead from a raven that soared high in the sky. The bird circled above a cluster of buildings before nose diving into a dark alley. The passage was narrow and cluttered with garbage. A cluster of dark feathers formed a swirling cloud as the shape of a woman emerged. Irma straightened her neatly tucked shirt and stepped out of the alleyway and into a bustling crowd of people. She approached the cold white edifice across the street. Her thin frame weaved between the pedestrians with ease, her face a mask of indifference. Her path led her through a heavy revolving door. The sound of her footsteps echoed sharply against the white walls of the entrance hall. She approached a closet at the end of the hall, inside stood tall shelves lined with assorted office supplies. 

“Revelio.” She waved her wand in a small arch in front of her, the shelf began to tremble. A door revealed itself as if a mist was being blown away. Irma entered through the opening and proceeded into a dark corridor lit by dim blue hues emanating from large sconces.   

“Mrs. King, you’re early. The Minister isn’t expecting you for another hour.” A short man with a stout frame seemed to emerge from the air. 

“I will see him now,” Irma swiftly passed the man and continued speaking as he struggled to keep up with her pace, “where is he?”

“I must insist that you wait, he is in an important meeting and is not to be interrupted.” The man spoke rapidly, attempting, unsuccessfully, to stop the tall woman. Irma continued to make her way through the winding corridors of the Ministry of Magic. She mulled over the Minister's possible whereabouts and concluded he’d most likely be in his favorite conference room. Her determined footsteps could be heard from inside the room she was approaching. 

“Ah, Mrs. King,” Kingsley Shacklebolt turned from his spot at the head of a grand table, “I will be done shortly. Please wait in my office.” He turned back to the circle of confused faces. 

“It’s. Important.” The severe look in Irmas eyes sent a shiver of realization down the spine of the minister as he glanced at her again. He promptly stood and neared the silver haired woman. 

“We shall resume this meeting when I return.” 

The Minister’s office was furnished with cushioned chairs with large pillows and tall framed paintings. No windows meant the only light came from small lamps and candles. It was cozy and Irma’s frigid statuesque demeanor cut into the warmth. She reported her findings and spoke adamantly about further interrogating the newest professor of Hogwarts.

“She has the support of Severus Snape. We cannot trust either of them.” Irma spoke firmly.

“She has given us no reason to mistrust her,” Kingsley shook his head, “I agree we must keep an eye on her but there is no need to turn to extremes at this time.” He paused and then stood from his chair, “And as for Severus, he was given immunity and has proven his true loyalties.”

“We are to wait for the inevitable then?” Irma raised a brow, “you know what she’s capable of, Severus is also highly skilled.”

“I understand your concern, but we have no evidence to justify taking any action. We will watch them and the others.”

“Very well.” Irma gave a nod of defeat as she watched the man leave the room. She knew she couldn't go against orders but had a pang of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. The Minister had put together a task force to track down any potential threats, such as witches or wizards with unexplainable powers. Irma King was named head of the force, a general of sorts. She was pitiless and calculating with a taste for authority. 

Irma instructed two of her best practitioners to keep watch at Hogwarts. They were to report back with any new developments or interesting findings. The two, a witch and a wizard, were both animaguses so staying hidden was not an issue.

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

“What if I were to substitute boom berry with powdered bone?” You picked up a few glass vials from the shelves against the back of Severus’ classroom. As you walked back to your table you noticed him standing over your bubbling cauldron. 

“It’s possible that could work.” Severus turned to you as you approached him. You set the supplies down and began to measure out a gray powder. Severus watched you with a fond look in his eyes.   

“You’re so pessimistic, Severus.” You grumbled sarcastically. It was late in the evening and the moonlight trickled in through a small window. The chilled air lingered with the faint smell of the potion you were working on. Severus placed a hand on the small of your back.  

“Maybe you’re just too optimistic,” he whispered, “however, I do enjoy watching you experiment.” Severus spoke close to your ear in a husky voice that sent a shiver down your spine. You smirked and nudged him away playfully. 

“Don’t patronize me.” The teasing lilt in your brought a smile to Severus’ face. He kissed your cheek softly and made his way back to his desk. He began to work on some grading. Occasionally he would look up at you and watch you concentrate. A small smile remained on his face as he worked.

The evening went on in silence, you focused on your potion and when you began to clean your area Severus got up to help. When you finished he walked with you back to your quarters. 

“Would you like to see this new crimson asphodel I’ve been growing?” You asked Severus with a smile. He looked at you suspiciously and you pushed open your door. 

“Does such a thing exist?” Severus watched you carefully.

“It might,” you giggled and took his hand, “but I definitely haven’t seen one.” You then pulled him through the doorway. He let you do this but then he took you into his arms and kissed you. When he pulled away from you he brought his hands to your cheeks. His thumb grazed against your bottom lip. 

“If you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask.” He murmured. The warmth of voice brushed against your skin.

“It’s that easy, hm?” You pursed your lips.

“Yes.” Severus smiled and kissed you again intensely. 

 Severus woke before you. He ran his fingers lazily over the bare skin of your back, tracing small scars and worshiping the curves and dimples of your body. It was early in the morning, the sun had barely risen above the horizon. He watched the slow rise and fall of your breaths. He admired the mess your hair had become, having become fond of the unkempt look that you always woke up with. These moments gave him the most peace, he felt his heart swell with love. The softness of your skin reminded him of satin sheets. He moved closer and kissed your shoulder. 

“Venus in her shell was never so lovely, and Diana in the forest never so graceful as my Lady when she strides through Paris.” Severus whispered in a low breathy voice, his lips hovered close to your skin. The verse resonated with him and he imagined holding you in his arms like this for an eternity. Your sleep was deep but the warmth against your shoulder pulled you closer to a wakeful state. You shifted towards Severus. His arm found its way around your waist. 

“That was beautiful.” You groaned sleepily. 

“I thought you were sleeping,” he moved a lock of hair from your face, “I said it because you’re beautiful.” The tenderness in his voice lulled you back to sleep with a small smile on your lips. He kissed your forehead and pulled you against his chest. With your cheek against his skin you listened to his heart beating rhythmically. 

The winter swallowed the countryside and the students were preparing to leave for holiday. You cleaned your classroom and helped some of the younger Slytherins get their belongings together. You began spending most of your free time with Severus. One evening after most of the students left, you invited him to have dinner. You asked the elves for permission to use the large Hogwarts kitchen and set up to cook. 

“Do you like Italian?” You asked while chopping a small onion.

“I suppose,” he replied, “I didn’t know you could cook.” 

“It is one of my many talents, Professor.” You twirled the knife in your hand before dumping the onion in a hot saucepan. He followed your movements with a raised brow. When you finished cooking you handed Severus a plate and he smiled gratefully.

“Thank you.” He watched you fondly as you ate. Over dinner you two spoke about the visit from the Ministry. Severus expressed his distaste for their obvious lack of discretion and self-restraint. 

“Maybe she just wanted to be thorough,” you spoke carefully.

“Doubtful,” Severus scoffed, “they’re watching us, that is how thorough they like to be.” He pushed his empty plate aside and took your hand in his. With an earnest look in his eyes, he brought your hand close and kissed your wrist. “Nonetheless, I will protect you. I promise.” He kissed your wrist again then pressed it against his chest just above his heart. 

“And you call me a hopeless romantic.” The redness in your cheeks made your face warm and you smiled brightly. Afterwards, Severus helped you clean up the mess you had made. He walked beside you down one of the many shadowy corridors that you learned to memorize. You came upon his door first and he stopped. 

“Would you like to join me for tea?” 

You agreed and he invited you in. You sat at the small coffee table where you first had dinner together. It was lit by three small candles that rested upon a stack of books. Soon he brought two cups of hot tea and handed you one. He sat across from you, his index finger tapping relentlessly against the cup. You noticed this habit of tapping his finger occurred when he was nervous about something. 

“Are you okay?” You asked between sips.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he looked down at his hands then slid them into his lap. He gazed down at the cup and then sighed softly. 

“I need to tell you something.” Severus spoke up and you nodded for him to continue. You heard him tapping against his leg, then he went on, “You have shown me that happiness is attainable even with the darkest of pasts,” he looked into your eyes, wanting you to see that he was opening his heart to you, “It would make me even happier if you would grant me the privilege of being your partner, in this life and the next.” 

You felt your heart flutter in your chest as you looked into Severus’ dark eyes. At that moment nothing else mattered, only how much you wanted to kiss him and tell him that you'd love nothing more than to be with him. Your movements were brisk as you stood and closed the distance between you two. He was quick to notice your movements and pushed away from the table creating a space for you which you gladly filled by straddling his lap. You then took his cheeks in your hands and pressed your lips against his. He grasped your waist and kissed you back passionately. You pulled away and admired the man who had stolen your heart. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Yes.” you smiled and pressed your forehead to his. The smile on Severus’ face beamed and for the first time in his dreary life, he was genuinely happy. 

TAGS: @ayamenimthiriel @marvelschriss @debiraquel @mitsuhkai @the-not-so-iconic @darkthought15 @rubym13 @4everflowercore @otherxstories @thottywithoutthebody @setsuna-meiou31

[too-scared-to-do-this]

Prestige

Chapter twelve - No

Sanders side fanfiction

Idea by: @hestianerd1

Wordcount: 3490

Pairings: Prinxiety (as always)

TW: cursing and a bunch of friendly competition, also there is this thing about being forced to wear clothes that they are not totally comfortable wearing... I feel like that’s all, but as always, do let me know if anything bothers you :3

The summery of the whole story: Prestige. Such a simple construct. All you have to do is act the way you want people to perceive you, keep up the image, wear a big proud smile and never ever dare make a mistake. That’s why Weltingston Heights University is such a well known school. Everybody knows that anyone who got in must have some prestige tied to their name. Educational records, family history, or even literal fame. So why not treat students the same way? Because what’s a little more pressure on their young and strong bones?

But prestige and image are precious things. You slip up even the tiniest bit, step out of the line you drew for yourself and it’s all gone. So now that the pressure is on, and everyone already knows their place in this small circle of society, only one question remains. How far are they willing to go to keep the false image up?

(Or: Very over-dramatically with a noticeable amount of sarcastic undertone: "Oh my god! They were roommates!")

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

Chapter twelve - No

“No.”

“Come on maaan. You can keep the hoodie for all I care. Just put it on.” Cassie sighed exasperatedly. They were currently standing in her room, Virgil staring at the clothing hanging from her hands.

“What even makes you think that it’ll fit me?” Virgil razed an eyebrow and pointed at the material with a doubtful finger.

Cass looked at it, then back at him with a confident smile. “Well. You’re like my height. Skinnier than me, so… It’ll probably hang a little, though.”

V’s eyebrows knitted together in whatever emotion he was currently feeling. Not even he could tell what that was, but it wasn’t excitement. Turning to the mirror by his side he eyed the make-up Ro’s little sister already forced up on him. Not anything too much, just some mascara, shades an eyeliner. She even went with the emo look he was sporting thanks to his deep eye bags. (Let it be known, that they’ve gotten a little better since he’s been living with the Velez’s. A few good nights of sleep next to Ro and they suddenly seem to be disappearing. Who would have thought.)

To be honest, he kind of liked it - the make-up, he means. Cass was really great with a brush for someone who hadn’t warn make-up once since they met (which wasn’t that long, to be fair). Even the tiny details she did - the magical way the liner curled; not in a ‘normal’ way, but rather in a what seemed like a teeny-tiny butterfly wind. And of course, the glitter. The small amount of glitter she used did it for Virgil. He’s eyelids freaking sparkled!

He looked back at her with lowered lids. “I’m not doing it.”

“Seriously?” her shoulders sunk. Expression all ‘I’m so going to force you into this if you don’t wear it willingly and I so don’t feel like doing that…’.

Honestly, our boy should have been shitting his pants at this point. Because he knew she would go through with it. There is not a single person scarier than Cassandra Velez when she wants something. And believe me, she will get it. No matter the cost. But our boy was just as much stubborn as stupid. So he set his jaw and said: “No.”

The almost taller girl pinched the bridge of her nose tiredly. Then looked up at V, sad resignation in her eyes. “You’re choice dude.”

There’s no way to describe what went down in the next ten minutes… Virgil had no idea what was coming his way.

He ended up standing perfectly still, eyes wide with full on terror, in front of the mirror, as Cass perfected the hem of the dress and some random details on him. Whistling and smiling as if a fifteen-year-old girl force-dressing a twenty-three-year-old man into a dress was a normal part of her day.

He didn’t even dare to speak after all the horror that just went down…

Cass stood up, grinning widely. “Great! My work here is done.” she dusted of her hands as if there was actually something on them. Virgil was pretty sure there wasn’t. “What do you think?”

She stepped away and for the first time Virgil saw himself in a dress. A very fancy rufly dress, might he add. He swallowed. “Ahm… I think it’s… nice?”

“I do too.” The girl nodded proudly. But then her eyes fixated on something above his face. Another wave of fear run down V’s back. He froze as she slowly walked over to him and wordlessly played around with his purple locks.

She pulled her hand way and smiled. “Now your perfect.” she nodded to herself. “I’ll go announce the beginning, stay here until I call your name, got it?”

V bit his glossed lips and nodded obediently. Cass did too and walked over to the door. Pulled it open, stepped out and just before the wood would fully fall closed, she peaked her head back in. “Oh and one more thing.” she looked straight at V, look as seriously (and menacing) as before. “Don’t you dare fuck up my work.” And with that she threw a giggly smile, as innocent as a six-year-old and with an ‘Okay, bye.’ left.

Virgil stood there for a long while until his heart finally stopped trying to murder him by escaping through his chest.

Meanwhile both brothers were in they separate rooms doing all the stuff they needed to feel as beautiful as possible. Not that Remus cared how he looked, but this was a competition after all. And who would pass up a chance to crush Roman’s massive ego a little?

Roman was more focused on getting his liner right. He was ready half an hour ago, but then he noticed that his right eye had a thicker red line then his left. And all hell broke loose.

Makeup-wipes all over the ground, brushes and liners and lipsticks and shadows all around the place. Literally. They even ended up on the ceiling-lamp (don’t ask Roman how that happened).

So when Cassie called out for everyone to gather, he was just so-so done. He told her off and asked for five more seconds, but the little annoying monster barged in - no regards for privacy - and literally dragged him away from his make-shift make-up station. He just barely managed to pull out the line (thankfully perfectly) and drop the closed bottle of liquid-liner onto his bed.

His little sister dragged him out into the living room, instructions being, everybody ways with closed eyes. Because we love dramatics in this family, don’t we? Oh and, V still wasn’t allowed out of her room, obviously.

But now, that they were all here, Cass stepped aside, sitting down at the bar and grinned. “Let the games begin.”

Both opened their eyes, surveying the competition, before sitting down on the prepared stools.

The self-acclaimed judge walked into the middle of the room (questioning why the hell did she sit down in the first place) and gave a big grin. Holding onto a hair-brush she gave an expert TV grin. “I welcome you to the fifth annual Velez fashion show! Another wonderful year has passed and here we are gathering again on the beautiful occasion.”

Roman looked around a little nervously, trying to find his roommate. But he had no idea where he was… His shoulders sagged a little, but this was a competition. He could let anybody know he was off his game.

“Today are competitors are the always charming, always smiling fairytale-like prince, Roman Velez!” she called out, pointing to her brother, who stood up with a big TV-grin of his own and waved at no one. Remus clapped enthusiastically, following Cassie’s lead.

“And give a warm welcome to our next competitor! You know him, you love him! It’s the murder-driven always laughing crazy green monstrosity, Remus Velez!”

Roman clapped a slow dramatic clap. Remus turned a playful glare at him.

Cass just smiled at this even more. She knew what was coming next, but they didn’t. And that power was something she lowed immensely. “But that’s not all that we have for today, ladies and gentleman and everyone above! No.” she shook her head seriously. “Today, on our yearly show, we have a special guest. He’s always broody, always moody, loves his hoodie and purple - give a big applause for our special guest, Virgil Riet!!!”

 That’s when the door to Cassie’s door opened and a very self-conscious Virgil stepped into the living-room light. Ro’s hoodie pulled tight around his chest to cover him up as much as possible.

Roman’s eyes widened. he didn’t expect V to look that great in a dress. He didn’t even expect him to be wearing a dress let alone a full face of make-up! his tiny form fully swallowed in his hoodie, the bottom of cases dress peaking out. Stocking covering his slim legs. And the make-up. the make-up! (He wondered if v was scared for life from that experience…)

“Come in, come in! Sit down with us.” Cass ushered him to his prepared seat. “You’re our special guest today, boy, don’t shy away from attention. Our show will begin shortly.”

V pulled hard on the zipper-lines of his new-found-favorite-hoodie ad walked over to sit between the staring twins.

“You look like a hooker!” Remus observed with a happy grin.

“No he doesn’t!” the remaining siblings piped up, both a tad bit too defensive. One because this was her work Rem was insulting and the other because this was his friend/roommate/possibly-giant-crush he was insulting.  

And Virgil just shrunk into himself even more. He didn’t even dare to look up. Otherwise, he would see that both boys looked just as much fancy as he did. There was no need to be ashamed.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen and everyone above! First up is our lovely nut-job, Remus. Show us what you got.”

rem immediately got up, walking the space of the living room as if it was a runway.

“Our beloved green monster, never seems to not surprise! This special day he went with his signature color-combo, wearing a black spiked leather jacked over a purposefully torn dark-green V-neck. Chains are a must with this man, hanging from his neck just as from his bedazzled black-washed torn jeans. Combat-boots to top it off. And let’s no forget the plethora of leather bracelets and of course the make-up he is sporting.” Cass commented.

Remus did a pirouette, meant as a mockery of Roman, obviously and bowed deeply, signature grin not missing.

“Great round today, Remus. I loved all the details - the drumstick in you pocked especially. You get an eight from me. Virgil, our guest judge -“ she turned to him. “-what do you say?”

Virgil blinked a little, trying to figure out what role he was playing in this insanity. “Ehrm…” he cleared his throat. “Seven…?”

“Aaaalright! You, Rem, gained fifteen points! Great job! Let’s see out next competitor.”

Rem sat down proudly, smirking at his brother. “Top this bro-Ro.”

“Oh, just wait and see.” he smirked back a little too confident compared to how he felt inside. he was about to go parade his ass in front of Virgil. His Virgil. this was going to be the end of him…

“Roman Velez, come up here, dude! Let’s see what you’ve got!” Cass stepped aside.

He stood up, as graceful as ever and glided over to the big carped - the designated cat-walk.

“Oooh, nice. Today our fairy prince came up with the perfect outfit to represent him. Dress as flowy as ever, red like his fierce fiery eyeliner! And the white stilts! Love the boa Ro, but that was the winners two years ago - are you recycling ideas, bro?”

Ro gave a triumphant grin and stretched his leg out from the thigh-slit that run ap his long sparkly dress. “Not at all, Cass. No angels today. We’re playing dirty.”

“I see, I see. The devil today then, hah?” she grinned at the fishnets that pocked out. On the sidelines, Virgil went completely red.

Ro ran a hand through his perfectly stilled hair to reveal small horns and grinned at the judge. “Full-on, sis.”

“Nice touch. I like it.”

Ro did a fancy stop, posed, and blew a kiss at Virgil. Very much feeling himself in the element. The poor short guy almost fainted at the sight. You have no idea the confidence that radiated off of Roman. The happiness. And Virgil reveled in it all, trying to swallow as much of it as possible.

“Alright people. Time for judging! I love you Roman, but today was a little disappointing. Although I loved the never-before seen make-up on you and the fishnet twist, I just don’t see you winning today, I’m sorry. I give you six points.”

“Thank you judge Cassandra.” Roman nodded solemnly. It gnawed at him a little.

“But don’t sweat it, dear, because there’s one more judge waiting for his turn.” Cass winked at V. He was a little (a lot) out of it, jaw almost literally slack open. “So, what do you say? tell me, what did you like about this contestant?”

“I-“ he swallowed. “I liked the slit…”

Jesus! did he just say that?!

Remus burst out laughing next to him, cackling his ass off.

Red as a bell-pepper Virgil shrunk back into his seat. “Nine.”

“Uuh, look at this, ladies and gentlemen and everyone above! For the first time in years, we have a tie!” Cass stepped back into the middle, moderating the whole thing as before. She would be an excellent moderator, Virgil though.

“I congratulate both contestants! they both did a great job! But don’t go anywhere, people, because we have our guest here to show off my stilling job! Come up here, Virge. Let’s see what the contestants have to say!”

Roman was already gone the moment he walked into the room. But seeing V take a deep breath and standing up onto the ‘runway’ in his loose jacked draped over a black sport-dress with a white strip on the sides and his black sneakers he might have just died right on the spot.

“Today, our lovely college boy sports my favorite tube dress, hugging him in all the right places. I’m literally jealous how good it looks on him! Better on him then me! Unfair! But look at his gorgeous face and the black butterfly-winged liner. I even stilled your hoodie in, Ro.” she winked at him.

Ro just wordlessly nodded, ogling V with big dreamy eyes. “I…can see…”

“Also, notice the earrings. I want praise for that, because getting those on him was a fight!”

“Oh my fuck! Did she pull the whole thing on you?” Remus burst out laughing once again.

V was already opening his mouth to deny all of it, but the little snitch beat him to it: “Yes. Yes, I did.” His head fell low, cheeks pricking red. This was too embarrassing…

Cass cackled at the sigh, as the witch she was and turned back to their audience. “Alright boys, our shy contestant won’t stand much longer. Show him some love - how many points would you give him?”

Remus leaned in, hands on knees. Eyes thin as slits, running over every Cassie-made detail of his attire. He then looked at the expectant designer/moderator and leaned back all un-Remus-like (all serious and shit). Twirled his mustache between two fingers. “You look like a bitch.”

“That’s what I was going for, thank you.” Cass smiled. “Points?”

“Nine.”

Little sister literally jumped up with a happy fist in the air. This was her best outfit by far. And she was too happy to dwell on the fact that it looked way better on his tiny ass then it ever would on her.

Don’t get her wrong, she was almost as skinny as Virgil, but as curvy as humanly possible. And although the dress looked good on her, this kind of combo just wouldn’t. And that made her sad. But then again, she wouldn’t pull of her brothers’ outfits either. You needed that personality for those. And boobs. She didn’t have those either. (Not that the boys had any…)

Roman sat in his chair too scared to even open his mouth. Blatantly standing at the slowly crumbling V. He could see the tiny rapid movements of his fingers even through the fabric layer of Ro’s hoodie. And the evading looks he gave everything else but the ‘judges’.

He wondered what he was thinking. Because Roman sure as hell wasn’t thinking straight. No PG13 thought in his head.

But he couldn’t say that out loud now, could he? So, he decided to do the best thing he could - act. He leaned back just as his brother did, legs and arms crossed, a surveying look on his face. “You did well today, sis. But I feel like those shoes could have goon a different way…”

Not really. he liked them a lot. He wished V would wear dresses more often. It really looked good on him.

“None of mine fit him! this man has impossibly small feet!” the designer protested exasperatedly. Virgil turned a deep red at that. She was right… She made him try on he heals but they ended up being a bit too big…

“Hon, we both know it’s not his feet that’s the problem. Your elephant shoes wouldn’t even fit me.” Remus chimed in as always. His comment very appreciated.

“Go to hell, Remus! My feet aren’t that big!” Cassie glared at her brother.

Roman just smirked. “Alright. Otherwise, I like your combination. I give you a nine as well.”

“Oh my god, ladies and gentleman and everyone above! I guess we have a winner then! For the first time in three years, our humble moderator wins the annual Velez fashion show, placing her design at a towering eighteen points!” She grinned at no-one in-particular. then she turned back to her brothers and smirked. “You can suck it losers! Ha!”

By the time she was doing her little victory dance, Virgil had scrambled back into his seat, folding back into himself.

“And this is why we never let her win.” Roman grumbled to himself, watching his little sister dance around like a maniac.

“She get’s it from you.” V shrugged.

“What?” Ro turned on him with wide, fake-surprised, fake-offended eyes.

But the darkling just shrugged. “You heard me.”

It wasn’t long after that the four had shared a trophy ice-cream bowl (Cass didn’t want to share, but she was still the youngest and didn’t have much choice). Now they were all in their respective rooms, trying to get rid of the make-up and all the unnecessary layers of clothing.

Virgil was pacing around Ro’s room, too hopped up on nervous energy and embarrassment to sit down. Already out of the dress, but still in Ro’s oversized hoodie and comfy joggings (also Ro’s, by the way - they scrunched up at the bottom in the most adorable way). He was barefoot so every step was audible on the hardwood floor.

Roman was at his little make-shift station washing off the make-up. Virgil had already done so - even though it was done kind of shitty-ly.

“You looked really grate today.” Ro commented, smearing the beautiful liner he worked so hard on.

His roommate froze in his tracks. Cheeks pink. “You think so?”

“Very much. You should wear dresses more often. And make-up suits you, though I think your face is pretty enough without it.”

He just threw that out there, while looking like a panda from the smudges. As if this wasn’t one of the nicest things a human being has ever said to V. The guy couldn’t even wait to be finished with what he was doing!

Virgil stood there, shell shocked, face redder than a tomato for the hundredth time today. “Thanks… I guess…?”

“Oh, you’re very welcome!” Ro turned around in his stool, grinning brightly. And that’s when he noticed the very obvious smudges that were still on V’s pretty little face. He bit back a snickered. “Come over hear.”

Virgil immediately went even redder and that made Ro laugh. “Oh, don’t be stupid. Just come here.”

The shorter did as he was told, carefully walking over to his friend. Ro patted the bed next to him and v sat down obediently. “You obviously never wore make-up before.” he snickered.

V didn’t even dare as much as take a breath. Because Ro’s hand was inching towards his face. A cotton swab in his hand. And suddenly he was holding his chin so delicately, washing off the remains of his black mascara and liner.

Electricity sprung from the pales their skin connected. And Virgil couldn’t help but stare at those beautiful green eyes that were so focused on his hands.

His gaze slipped from them to the dark, lipstick bit lips, caught between Ro’s teeth. He was chewing on them subconsciously, the way he always was when he was focused.

It scared Virgil how much he waned to taste those lips. To ease the pain they were in with his own. And it also scared him how much of his attention he wanted the moment he walked out on the make-shift stage. How his focus was solely on his words and face and eyes and expression and what he thought about him.

Oh, how it drove him crazy, the thought that Roman could like him in a dress. And that he thought his face was more beautiful without make-up.

How easy it would be just to lean in and steal that sweet kiss. How easy it would be to just place his hand on his, stopping the careful motion and take what he’s been wanted for weeks now.

How easy would be to just-

Virgil’s lips collided with Roman’s and everything around him ceased to exist.

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

Oooooooooooh! Thins are going downnnnnn!!!! (About time after twelve chaps XD)

I won’t even apologize because this disappearing will be somewhat normal from now on. (School’s kicking my ass...) Let’s just be happy I finished this chap :D But as compensation, I’m making art for this one. Three pieces of (hopefully) colored art, so stay tuned ;D

But I do hope you enjoyed this mostly meaningless chap XD <3 

Read ya <3 ;*

Tag list:

@a-formless-entity

@cirishere

@ray-does-stuff

@lovelivingmydreams

@mothman-juicy-ass

@akatsuki-no-katira

[boxoftheskyking]

Something Good, Part Twenty. The End.

I don’t know how cultivation works and I’m not about to learn now. There’s some blood here.

I can’t believe it’s done. Thank you everyone who has been reading, and everyone who’s left beautiful comments here, on AO3, in tags, yelled out a window. I’ve never finished a piece this long or in this way, and I would not have gotten further than 2 chapters without yous guys

Let’s get to it.

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

--

On the last morning of peace, Lan Wangji wakes up in Wei Wuxian’s arms. He smiles before opening his eyes, small and instinctive, and Wei Wuxian can’t not kiss him for it.

“Did you sleep?” Lan Wangji’s voice is rough, soft as raw cotton.

“No.”

“Hmm.” He presses his face back into Wei Wuxian’s chest.

“What are you thinking?”

“It’s foolish,” he mutters against his collarbone.

“Tell me.”

“I am afraid.”

Wei Wuxian holds him tighter. “That’s not foolish.”

“I keep waiting for someone to come and fix everything. Wen Ruohan shouldn’t be allowed to do what he is doing. I want someone bigger than him to come put him in his place. I feel young and stupid and weak and I want someone else to be in charge.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s foolish.”

Wei Wuxian kisses his hair. “If we get all the sects together. Maybe all the sects and the citizens as well, we’ll be bigger than the Wens.”

Lan Wangji looks up at him. “What if we’re not?”

“I don’t know.” Wei Wuxian runs his thumb lightly under Lan Wangji’s eye, over his cheekbone, over his ear. “I don’t know, Lan Zhan.”

The Wens come as the children are changing into their play clothes after lunch. Wei Wuxian is waiting at the door when the older disciples come running to their room, eyes wide and confused. Lan Xichen follows.

“The Wens are here.”

“Fuck!”

“They’re commanding the disciples to leave today, now; they’ve got at least thirty armed men. We can’t fight and win.”

“Fuck, fuck, what do we do?”

Three Wen soldiers come up behind the running teenagers. “Hurry up! You should be packed already. Didn’t the Sect Leader tell you you’re going for indoctrination?”

Lan Wangji joins them, jaw so tight it looks like his bones are about to crack.

“Brother. What do we—”

“I can get the little ones out,” Wei Wuxian whispers, brain spinning faster and faster like a wheel heading down a hill. “I don’t know about the older kids.”

“We’ll have no choice; we have to send them.” Lan Xichen watches the flurry of activity with such profound regret that Wei Wuxian grabs his arm and turns him away from the soldiers. 

“They’ll be all right. They’ll be hostages, right? Technically you still have an alliance, so there’s no reason to harm them.”

“We can’t just—” Lan Wangji cuts off as a little hand tugs on Wei Wuxian’s shirt.

“Wei-qianbei, what’s happening?” Lan Feifei asks, big round eyes tracking everything.

“Shhh, here, come back inside. Lan Zhan, I’ll get them to the back hill, okay? Just meet us there, with food if you can.”

Lan Wangji grabs his wrist, a question on his face, but he shakes him off and goes back inside. With luck, the teenagers will take a bit of time getting organized, but knowing the Lans it won’t be much.

“Disciples!” he says in a stage whisper, waving them all over. “Come here, we’re going to play a game.”

“A game?” Lan Ting asks, doubtfully.

“Yes, yes, gather around everyone. Now we have some visitors, and they want us all to go on a trip. So everyone will grab your bag and pack up everything you can. Clothes, blankets, whatever you have. Wen Ning, Lan Bin, Yao Hualing, help the little ones.”

“How is that a game?” Hualing asks.

“I’m getting to that part. What I want you all to do while you pack is to pretend to be the most badly behaved children in the world. I want you to whine and cry and yell and stamp your feet. Make a mess. When I ask you to do something, I want you to say that all you want is to see your bunnies. Can you do that?”

“I still don’t see how this is a game.”

“It’s a trick. We’re playing a trick on the visitors.”

“But how is it—”

“Then when I say the word, you’ll be your wonderful obedient selves again. It will be so funny! They’ll be so surprised.”

“That’s funny?” Lan Bin says, wrinkling his nose.

“Yes, yes!” Wei Wuxian tries not to seem desperate. “They’re very strange men, very strange sense of humor. Trust me.”

“Isn’t that lying?” Su Meiling asks. “Lying is forbidden.”

“Not lying, no, it’s a joke, just a joke. Hanguang Jun says it’s fine, okay? Trust me. When I give the signal, start crying, okay?”

The children look around at each other, still not convinced, but Wen Ning says, “Okay, Wei-qianbei,” and that seems to be good enough for them.

“Okay, go!”

It’s silent for a long moment. Then Ouyang Zizhen gives a tentative, “No, I don’t want to?”

“Good, good, louder,” Wei Wuxian whispers.

“No!” Su Ming yells, stamping her feet. “I want my bunnies!”

“Yes, the bunnies!”

“I won’t go! No! No! No!”

“Beautiful, excellent! More!” Wei Wuxian lets the racket build, encouraging them, before messing up his hair and running to the door.

“Ah, Zewu Jun!” he says, loud enough for the soldier to notice. “These children are so willful! I can’t get them to pack their things.”

One of the soldiers comes over. “What’s the problem?”

“No, no, no, NO!” the kids yell from inside, and someone throws something against the wall.

Yes, perfect! He thinks.

“Oh, sir, I’m so sorry. These children, they won’t travel without their bunnies.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the man sniffs. “Just get them packed.”

“I mean, I’m trying, sir. You’re welcome to try.”

The soldier grunts impatiently and pushes past him to the door. He opens it to utter chaos—someone has flipped their mattress, half of the kids are lying on the floor and wailing, and Lan Jingyi has no clothes on. I guess this is what’s hiding behind three thousand rules. Behind the soldier’s back, Wei Wuxian gives an encouraging smile and conducts them louder and louder. The soldier turns and he schools his expression back to overwhelmed as he runs over to wrangle Jingyi into his pants.

“What is wrong with these children?” the soldier demands.

“It’s their bunnies, sir, they never travel without them. They’ve got cages and everything.”

“Well, go get the damn bunnies then.”

“You know, I would,” he says, shoving a shirt over Jingyi’s screaming head. “But I can’t tell them apart. These children, they’re very particular. You know some bunnies are more energetic than others, some have favorite foods, or special—”

“Shut up, fool, just take the children and get them. I won’t listen to whining all the way to Qishan.”

“Right away, sir!”

Wei Wuxian shuts the door in his face and waves the children over. “Good job everyone! We almost have them fooled. Bags all packed? Excellent. Now we’re going to go to the back hill, so just keep crying and yelling until we get there. Okay? Good work.”

He leads them out, wailing and sobbing, and the older disciples freeze, staring at them.

“Oh no!” Wei Wuxian yells over the racket. “Such willful children! Shame on you all! We’ll be right back, sir!”

They pass the infirmary, where Wen Qing is waiting in the doorway.

“What the fuck, Wei Ying?” she hisses at him.

“Ah, Lady Wen!” he yells. “The most gifted rabbit catcher in Gusu! Please come, help us!”

She glares at him, but then sees the soldiers behind him and her face goes carefully blank. She follows.

When they reach the back hill, he gestures them all quiet and close.

“Excellent work, everyone! A-Ning, I need you to keep an eye on the path, let me know if someone is coming.”

“That was fun, Wei-qianbei!” Jingyi shouts. “I want to misbehave all the time!”

“Yes, you’re a prodigy, but it’s time to be quiet now. We’re going to go on an adventure, okay?”

“With the soldiers?” Lan Yixian asks.

“No, we’re going somewhere else. Okay? But we need to be quiet and fast.”

“Wei Ying,” Wen Qing murmurs. “You’d better have a plan. There’s no way we can outrun them through the forest on foot.”

“I need your knife.” He holds out his hand. She looks doubtful, but gives it to him. He cuts a long strip from the bottom of his shirt, leaving his stomach bare.

“Wei-qianbei, your belly!” Zizhen yells, pointing at the scar.

“Shh, Zizhen, it’s okay.” He spreads the cloth on the ground and makes a deep cut in his finger, starting to write.

“It’s a talisman?” Sizhui asks, leaning over his shoulder.

“Yes, A-Yuan, but it’s very complicated, so please be quiet.”

“Wei Ying,” Wen Qing says, one hand on his back. “I can’t power this kind of—”

“It’s not for you, it’s for me.”

“You’re not strong enough.”

“I have Chenqing. It’ll help.”

“It’s too risky.”

“Wen Qing, unless you have a better plan right now, let me work. I need you to go through first, make sure they land okay. Will you do that?”

She’s quiet for a long time while he writes. “Don’t make me watch you die,” she finally whispers.

“If I do, you won’t be here to see it.”

He finishes, rises, and holds the talisman in his hands, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He’s been shutting off the pull towards resentful energy for so long, it takes a moment to find it again, to open himself up to it. Chenqing isn’t a source of energy, but it’s a good conductor, so once he attunes himself to it the rush begins. It’s harder to feel the pit inside of him—he’s been too happy, too content, but if he pushes it’s there. He thinks about Wen Zhuliu, Wen Ruohan. He imagines Jiang Cheng’s face, Jiang Yanli’s, feels the pain of missing them. He sees the frightened eyes of the older disciples being marched away from home, Lan Xichen’s clenched fist, Lan Wangji’s rough voice saying I am afraid. He feels Wen Qing’s solid hand at his back. He opens his eyes and sees the children gathered around him, thinks Mine, mine, mine.

He flings the talisman out in front of him with a burst of flame, and it explodes into a swirling black portal a few feet off the ground.

“Go. Wen Qing. Go,” he grits out, already feeling his reserves of energy running thin.

Wen Qing takes a breath, nods once, then runs and leaps through the opening.

“Lady Wen!” Lan Bin cries. “Where did she go?”

“We’re all going,” Wei Wuxian says, fighting to get the words out and hold the opening. “Help the little ones.”

He has a vague idea of where the portal might lead, an open field in another part of Gusu, but he’s trusting Wen Qing to make a plan from there. He may have sent her off the side of a cliff or in the middle of a lake, but he has to believe it will work. It has to work.

Lan Bin looks doubtful. 

“Please,” is all Wei Wuxian can say. The portal shimmers for a moment, losing stability, and Wei Wuxian shuts his eyes to focus again. He feels his feet root into the soil and deeper, into the mountain, the stone, veins of power eons old, power that sees all of human life come and go like a single drop of rain against a roof tile. Resentment grown centuries before there was a word for it, before there was reason, a time before logic. 

It hurts. He’d forgotten how much it hurts. 

When he opens his eyes again, Lan Bin is passing Jingyi through the opening.

“Wei-qianbei, I’m scared,” Yao Hualing says.

“I know. Me too. Just.” He groans through another burst of energy. “Get them through.”

Something rips inside him, a sail ripped from the mast in the middle of a hurricane, and resentful energy floods him. He feels it in the spaces between his heart and lungs, the invisible gaps between each drop of blood, his pores yawning open like canyons. He can’t see, can’t hear over the whispering, roaring, wailing that’s tearing through him. Hold on, just hold on he repeats in his mind, and the darkness answers give, give, give. 

“Wei-qianbei!” Wen Ning cries, running from the road.

He forces himself to see, in flashes like a series of paintings. The last child’s foot disappearing through the portal. Wen Ning, appearing at his side. Lan Wangji coming down the path, followed by two soldiers. Sizhui, running for his father with arms outstretched. 

“A-Yuan!” Wei Wuxian screams, but it’s too late. A soldier grabs him around the middle and holds him, sword unsheathed and held to his wailing throat.

“No!” Lan Wangji shouts, but as he takes a step closer, the soldier tightens his hold.

“Baba!”

“What do I do, what do I do?” Wen Ning gasps, crying, hands clenching.

“Go. Through.” Wei Wuxian manages.

“I can’t, I have to—”

“A-Ning. Go. Now.”

With a last look over his shoulder, Wen Ning dives through the portal. Wei Wuxian plants his feet and shifts his focus, transferring the current of power into his left hand, holding the portal open. 

“Let him go,” he growls.

“Close the portal now, or I swear I will kill him.”

“Last chance.”

The soldier nicks Sizhui’s neck and his screaming cuts off with a tiny gasp that hits Wei Wuxian like a thunderclap. His vision goes red, dark at the edges, and his mind snaps.

MINE roars the darkness, and for once it’s in unison with the rest of him.

He lashes out his right hand and a cord of darkness, thin and strong as a whip, shoots out from his palm, curls around the soldier’s arm, and slices through. The man screams and tumbles backward, sword and arm together falling to the ground, blood spurting out and soaking Sizhui’s blue shirt to black. Sizhui shuts his eyes and freezes where he stands, little hands clenched at his sides.

The second soldier lunges forward, but Wei Wuxian flicks the whip back the other direction and catches him across the face, slicing open his cheek until half of his jaw and teeth are exposed.

“This is mine,” he says—it feels like nothing, just like breathing, but it echoes through the forest, shaking the trees and  frightening the rabbits to run around them like a river current, screaming like ghosts. “You dare touch what is mine.”

The soldier stumbles upright and holds his face, half raising his sword, and Wei Wuxian pulls the whip back into the air, hovering in front of him. The blood soaking into the ground rushes up through him, the soldier’s pain. Sizhui’s terror hurtles through him, making him stronger. He feels hot blood against his neck, in his hair, as clearly as if he were in the boy’s place.

“Give me a reason. I dare you. I beg you. Give me a reason.”

Before the soldier can move, the tip of Bichen bursts through the center of his chest. Lan Wangji shoves him off the blade to flop onto the ground. Wei Wuxian watches his life wink out like a lamp and drinks it in, spinning it into darkness. Lan Wangji doesn’t wait to sheathe the sword, just grabs Sizhui up with his free arm.

“Wei Ying,” he says urgently, which shakes Wei Wuxian back to the moment. The fear, the death, it all gives him a burst of energy, but he can feel the end of it coming near, like stitching a torn cloth back together with the last few inches of thread. Hold, just hold, please just be enough to hold. He pulls the whip back into himself, dissolving harmlessly into smoke, and throws his right hand back to the portal.

“Go.” It’s still not his voice. He tries to get his voice back. “Lan Zhan, please, hurry.”

“Wangji!” Lan Xichen runs down the path behind them, taking in everything, the portal, the bodies, the bloody sword. “Wei Ying, your face—”

“Go!” Sweat is rolling down his cheeks, or maybe tears, or blood, or maybe all three. Lan Wangji looks back at his brother for a long moment, then steps through the portal.

“Zewu Jun, hurry, jump through.”

“No, I— Wei Ying, I can’t, the soldiers. They’ll burn it all down, they’ll kill everyone.”

Wei Wuxian groans and the portal starts to shrink.

“We’ll find you. We’ll go—”

“Go to Yunmeng.” Lan Xichen grabs Wei Wuxian’s wrist and forces a current of clean energy through him. He’s nothing but a conduit, hollow, but it holds the portal in place, blue light weaving in between tendrils of black smoke. “The rebuild has begun. Jin soldiers are there for defense. Lanling is preparing for war, and they will protect you. Stay off the roads.”

“You’ll meet us there? The older children—”

“I’ll look after them. I’ll make some excuse for you—”

“Tell everyone I took them. Demon Wei Ying. Tell them I tricked you, all of you, I stole them away. I’m an unknown, I’m on no one’s side. Say I killed them. The worst things you can think of, tell them, they’ll believe you.”

Lan Xichen nods once, face going tight with pain. “We’ll clear your name, after—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll hold the portal. You go.”

Wei Wuxian takes a halting step towards it, legs heavy as through iron chains were wrapped around them.

“Wait,” Lan Xichen says. “I”ll need— It needs to look like we fought. If I use my own sword—”

Wei Wuxian nods. “I’m sorry.” He lashes out—the whip is smaller this time, weaker, but it cuts up the side of Lan Xichen’s face and down across his shoulder, red blooming on his white robes. He winces, but his energy doesn’t falter. Shouts ring out through the forest, the sound of dozens of men crashing towards them through the trees.

“Take care of them,” Lan Xichen pleads.

“They’re mine.”

Wei Wuxian takes a step and throws himself at the portal, just as it begins to close. He hears Lan Xichen shout “Wei Wuxian!” behind him, then feels himself pulled in all directions, torn into pieces and slammed back together. His lungs are flattened, his stomach is missing, his eyes are backwards, his hands are multiplying like a flock of crows around him, choking—

And then, in an instant, it’s over. He hits the ground and lays flat on his back, gasping.

“Wei-qianbei!”

“Wei Ying!”

“Wei-qianbei!”

“Wei-qianbei!”

He’s surrounded by a flickering, moving mass that half blocks out the sunlight. He can’t see shapes, can’t see colors. Little hands on his face, his body, pulling at his clothes.

“I—” his mouth is dry, his tongue thick and heavy. “I—”

“Back, back, step back.” He knows this voice, these hands on his forehead. They feel his neck, his stomach.

“W— W— Wen—”

“Shh, shh, don’t talk.”

“ ‘vryone? Ev— ‘ryone?”

“Yes, yes, shh.”

“Where?”

“Other side of the mountain. Miles away.”

He relaxes into her hold. Time flickers, disappears, and reforms around him. He sits up, coughs, spits blood onto the ground.

The figures around him are still blurry, but he recognizes them. The children. Wen Qing and Wen Ning at his sides, propping him up. Lan Wangji is standing, staring at him, holding Sizhui. Wei Wuxian squints. Sizhui’s blue shirt is gone and he’s wrapped in red. Wen Qing’s outer robe, he realizes. His hair is soaked, drying stiff against his back, and there’s blood smeared across his cheek. His eyes are still closed and Wei Wuxian can see him shivering in Lan Wangji’s arms.

“A-Yuan,” he breathes, reaching out one hand.

“Wei-qianbei,” it’s little Lan Feifei. She reaches out and touches his cheek with one tentative finger. “Your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“They’re not . . . right.”

“Oh.” He touches his face as well, as if he could feel the difference. “What do they look like?”

“They’re red. And your face, it’s so white. There’s black, here.” She traces uneven lines up his neck, across his temples, his cheeks.

“Is it scary, Feifei?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, sweet one. You’re being very brave. You’re all so—” he’s suddenly finding it hard to talk, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “So brave.”

“We need to move,” Lan Wangji says, not unkindly. “It’s too open here.”

Wei Wuxian struggles upright, a dozen little hands reaching out to hold him. They look wary, staring at his face, but they aren’t scared to touch him. He loves them so much he’s about to dissolve in it. Mine rumbles through him, not violent this time, but low and satisfied like a purr.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, and reaches out for his hand.

Sizhui suddenly turns his face and opens his eyes, staring over at Wei Wuxian. His face is blank, and Wei Wuxian wishes he had a scarf, a mask, something to hide his appearance.

“A-Yuan,” he starts, “I’m so—”

But then Sizhui reaches out and grabs his shirt, pulling hard enough to make him stumble. He crashes into father and son and wraps his arms around both while Sizhui hides his face in his neck.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian breathes, sweeping a hand over his hair and kissing the side of his face over and over. “I’m so sorry. You’re okay. It’s all okay now.”

It isn’t. It’s not okay now. But for a brief moment, as Lan Wangji holds all of them upright, they can breathe.

“We have a lot of traveling to do,” Wen Qing says. “It’s going to be difficult, and we’re going to have to be very sneaky. Can we do that?”

“Yes, Lady Wen,” a few children chorus.

“Where are we going?” asks Ouyang Zizhen.

“It’s a surprise,” Wei Wuxian answers at the same time Lan Wangji says, “It’s a secret.”

“But where—”

“How would you like to see your Wei-qianbei’s family?” Wei Wuxian says, meeting Wen Qing’s eyes. She smiles slightly and nods. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Your family?” Jingyi pipes up. “I want to go!”

“Good. Then we will. It’ll be a surprise for everyone.”

“What about my big brother?” Lan Hua asks.

“Yeah, and my cousin?” 

“My brother too!”

Wei Wuxian looks at Lan Wangji, unsure.

“They will join us later,” Lan Wangji announces, the voice that allows for no doubts and no arguments. “We have to go our own way for now, but we’ll see them again soon. For now, we need to stay together and take care of each other. We are a family, aren’t we?”

“Yes, Hanguang Jun.”

“Yes, Baba,” Sizhui whispers. Wei Wuxian kisses his cheek again.

“Let’s get moving,” Wen Qing says. “At least down to the tree line, then we can make a plan. We should be able to go a few miles before dark.”

“If we find a graveyard for the night, I can—” he stops himself, looking at the children. ”We can be safe in a graveyard.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Wen Qing warns.

“I never overdo it. Come on, everyone. Gather your things.”

He presses his forehead into Lan Wangji’s shoulder for a last moment, then lets him go and bends to pick up Jingyi. The weight is too much for him, and he ends up back on his knees in the dirt.

“I’ve got him.” Wen Ning comes up and hauls Jingyi up on his hip. “It’s okay, Wei-qianbei, let me help.”

Wen Qing gets him upright again and they move off through the grass towards the trees. 

They will walk for as long as the children can stand it tonight, and Wei Wuxian will call corpse puppets to watch over them through the night. He can see it all in front of him. It’s like reading a score and hearing the song come together in his mind. There will be rivers to cross, mountains to climb, caves and ditches to hide in night after night. They will be frightened and exhausted and starving. But they will arrive in Yunmeng, at Lotus Pier. He will row them all across the lake, and they will lean out of the boat to pluck lotus blossoms. Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli will meet them at the gate, and Wei Wuxian will fall into their arms. Jiang Cheng will protest, will yell, but he’ll catch him. And Yanli will take his ruined face in her cool hands and tell him that he’s home. 

He tightens his arm around Wen Qing’s shoulders and gets an answering squeeze around the waist. As if he can hear their thoughts, Lan Wangji turns back and catches his eye. Wei Wuxian looks at him, singing the song in his mind, showing him the way. Lan Wangji nods, and Wei Wuxian smiles.

The End.

[conaionaru]

Woman’s game (Ivar the Boneless/Hvitserk)

Does that make me crazy

Synopsis: Skuld is alone with herself and reflects back on her past. Passes the time thinking about murder (as we all do) 

Warnings: insanity, slow descent into madness, toxic relationship, prisoner, flashbacks

Tags: 

@youbloodymadgenius​

Sometimes, time passed slowly; other times, Skuld felt like she had been inside the room for years. She floated above the feeling of consciousness, thinking about everything and nothing at once. She lived her life the best she could, enjoying men, women, money, and alcohol.

In her eyes, there was nothing wrong with her lifestyle. Mother always said to do who and what you love. Being someone's pretty little wife and housewife wasn't for her. She was to be worshipped like a queen and live the happiest life. With Ivar, she could have it all. He looked at her as if she hung the moon and ate out of the palm of her hand.

Give it time, and they would become the most powerful couple alive—Ivar's anger and mind, combined with Skuld's ability to manipulate and flatter. She felt the smile pulling at her lips when she imagined their future—the King and Queen of the World. "All Hail Queen Skuld Ylvasdottir. The most beautiful and powerful of them all." She giggled and brushed through her greasy birdnest of blonde hair.

The grime and dirt were sickening to her, her own waste not that far and no food or water in sight. If they wanted to starve her or were waiting for something, she had no idea. When she wasn't thinking about her future, she planned out Lagertha's downfall, how Skuld would kill her, if she would drag it out or not.

Death and murder were such easy things if you were surrounded by them your whole life. While her brothers were trained in the bolder approach of battle and war, Skuld was taught how to wage war in secrecy. Undermining people, whispering things into their ears, and making them believe it was their idea all along. Her mother taught her five brothers, and life taught Skuld.

The first time she killed, she was not even eleven. Balancing between childhood and womanhood, the girl ran around with the other children. Haldor ran after her like a loyal puppy, the pink-cheeked boy hacking at everything with his wooden sword, saying he will protect her from everything.

The truth was, Skuld didn't need protecting even then. She found out that if you glare at a boy long enough, they will get intimidated and leave. Pretend to be better than them, and their egos make them stutter and curse. Afterward, they are easy prey to ridicule and leave you alone. If not, just threaten them. Years later, the more persistent ones were disposed of during the black of the night and ruled off as an accident.

So at eleven, she ran around carefree, the other shrieking children playing ball. Skuld loved to throw the ball further than the kids could reach or with full force. The stunned face of the child that got hit was always fun, but the crying was annoying. So when the third child broke down crying and run off home, she stopped playing and looked around instead.

The faint chirping of a baby bird could be heard from her left, so she followed the sound till she found the culprit. A baby bird laid under the tree, its wing broken. The mother wouldn't come back for the birdie.

Skuld leaned down to the little thing and cradled it in her palms. It peered up at her, making wounded noises as she looked the wing over. The bone was out, and some feathers were gone. It would survive, but what was it worth if it can't fly. That all a bird is meant for.

It would slowly starve to death and die. What a cruel fate that would be. "Skuld, come on!!! I don't want to play alone." Haldor yelled at her exited, the ball in his hands. The girl's blue eyes watched the distressed animal in her hands. There was no way to help him. She can't just raise it till it dies of old age. 

"Skuld!" She could hear footsteps approaching and her mother's voice calling them for dinner. So Skuld tutted at the small bird in a soothing voice and closed it in her palms. The bird pecked at her soft hands, trying to get free. She tightened her hold and slowly squeezed the life out of it. "Skuld, come eat!"

When her mother found her and looked into her hands, she found the bird with its snapped neck. Her daughter looked at the animal with empty eyes. "Why did you do that?"

"Mercy. It would die anyway. Why let it suffer?"

Skuld chuckled at the memory and looked down at her arms; bloody scratches ran down her arms. She doesn't really remember giving them to herself. She recalls hugging herself from the cold and then the blood running down her arms. 

Maybe she was as broken as the bird she killed. Mercy, that's what she called it. Who would show her the same favor? Would they let her slowly lose her mind before she starved to death? Putting her out of her misery would be nicer. What did she ever do to deserve this treatment? She was a royal guest to Aslaug. What reason does Lagertha have to lock her up and slowly kill her?

Skuld was like a crippled bird trapped and doomed. She killed him, and he got a proper Viking burial. Would they do the same to her? 

"Don't you ever laugh as the hearse goes by,

For you may be the next to die." 

She giggled at the song that she heard when she was small. It was sung by some slave that was sacrificed in her father's honor. The old woman seemed at peace with death, so serene as they cut her throat. Would Skuld die the same way? Without putting up a fight when her body was too weak to save her? She doubted it, all the conflict in her way too stubborn to let go. Fuck them all; they won't take her dignity and sanity. She won't let them win. 

Revenge was something her mother despised. Maybe that's why Ragnar Lothbrok survived, or perhaps Ylva gained more than she lost. After all, an Earldom for a husband was a fair trade. Even if it left you with six children, you have to raise on your own. But no matter who wronged Ylva, she gave them a quick death and never mentioned it again. 

The faster it was over, the better. She would gather her warriors, wage war, and win the battle. Quick revenge, expected, but easily won. Skuld wasn't like that. When someone wronged her, no matter how dire, she would wait and then strike. 

When she was a child, not younger than ten, a boy made fun of her for not having a father. Carefully she made her plan and waited for her moment. Within the year it came. The next winter, the boy was an outcast, ridiculed for his destroyed reputation. 

Destroying a man's reputation was essentially harder than a woman's. Call her a whore, pay off a few people to say she did bad deeds, or was a witch, and she was done for. With men, it was more difficult. Loose morals were, for some reason, praised in boys and men. The more women he slept with, the better. But if he has no honor and no fighting skill, then he is shunned.

So she set him against Haldor, dressed as a commoner. The twelve-year-old boy believed he lost against a smaller thin farmer's child. Haldor had better training and thought the fight to be a game. A good excuse to be as dirty as he wanted. 

The other boy was laughed at, and when news came out to the young girls of Yugar, he couldn't charm any girl for years after. The other men and boys ridiculed him, and the rumors grew worse. Now he fights alongside Skuld's brothers in the shield wall. Sometimes she still wonders if he ever found out it was Haldor who beat him and not a farmer. 

Skuld's revenge on Lagertha would take time as well. She had all the time in the world to plan it. Undermining the bitch and killing off her shieldmaidens was a good start. Make her doubt her security and allies till she went grey from worry. Skuld giggled at the thought and hid her face in her hands.

The door to the hut opened, and the sun burned her eyes. She hissed at the bright light and shielded her eyes with her hand, till a figure did the job instead. Lagertha stood before her in a red gown, surrounded by her shieldmaidens. "Lady Skuld of Yugar. The little lion cub. I am sorry for the lack of hospitality. I had a lot to do."

"I am sure overtaking a kingdom is a lot of work. You could have spared yourself the responsibility and stayed Earl Ingstad." Skuld mussed with a shrug, looking up at the Queen from her spot on the ground. She shakily stood up and glared at the shieldmaiden.

"I took what was rightfully mine."

"And what do I have to do with it? I didn't take your kingdom or husband. All I did was fuck his son. Not yours, of course. I do have boundaries." Skuld chuckled and watched Torvi glare at her. What's her problem? I said I didn't fuck Bjorn. 

Lagertha smiled at her and signaled with her hand. Two shieldmaidens walked in, one holding a dress and another a tray with food and drink. Neither was fitting for someone of Skuld's status or hunger. "It is simply a precaution. Your mother may be on good grounds with Bjorn, but she hated Ragnar. I do not know how she stands with me. Keeping you safe is my priority now."

Skuld chuckled and stepped closer, the shieldmaidens moving to protect Lagertha. What do they think I would do? Throw shit? Now that's a thought she could save for desperate times. "Ah yes, and starving me in a dark room with no chamber pot or water is so nice of you. If you think this will help your relationship with my mother, you are an utter fool."

"You haven't been exactly compliant either. You killed my shieldmaidens. Two, to be exact." Astrid answered for Lagertha. Skuld scoffed and shifted on her feet to seem less threatening.

"I come from a line of warriors. So I tend to attack and kill those who try to kidnap me. Sorry." Skuld obviously meant the last word to be mocking as she wasn't sorry at all. 

"You were close to Aslaug and her sons. Keeping you secluded is the safest option, especially with you acting out. It is better for everybody. With your history." She sat down in her old spot and raised the cup of water to her cracked lips.

She looked at Lagertha with a raised eyebrow. "My history? Are you calling me a whore?"

"I am calling you a dangerous woman with love for violence and death. My actions didn't warm your heart to me either. So it is best to keep you in here till your mother returns."

"That could be months."

"So you better get used to your new home." Astrid mocked, causing Skuld to smirk and sip at the water. 

"I hope you will mention my actions to your mother. After all, I could have had you executed."

Skuld chuckled and leaned back against the wall. In a fast movement, she threw the cup at Lagertha. "Get out, you hateful bitch! I hope you rot in Hel for eternity!"

The Queen turned on her heel, offended, and left with some of her warriors. The door closing behind them. Skuld sat there for a while, breathing heavily. Astrid looked at the girl with soft eyes, frowning at the dirty state she was in. "If you do as you are told and reign your temper in, you will get out of here faster."

Skuld chuckled and looked at the female with disdain clear in her eyes. "Manipulating me into liking you isn't going to work, Astrid. It wouldn't work either. It isn't my mother, Lagertha fears. She fears me." Skuld hissed, leaning forward, spit flying out of her mouth as her blue eyes grew wild. She looked like a rabid animal about to pounce.

"Nonsense."

"I fucked Aslaug's favorite son; I won her favor and Ivar's interest. I got my claws into Kattegat's population, the very people that your precious Queen wants to rule over. If I willed it, I could make them overthrow her. Which is no intention of mine, but Lagertha can't be certain of that. So she locks me up, maybe to starve me till my mother returns. Until then, she will gather a big enough force to beat an Earl."

Astrid smirked at her deduction and turned on her heel to leave. "You would have never been a hostage if you just didn't sleep with Ivar. Lagertha would have never noticed you if you didn't strive so high." She laughed, and Skuld shared her amusement.

With a creepy smile on her dirty face, the Earl's daughter sung the verse that gave her hope. 

"Don't you ever laugh as the hearse goes by,

For you may be the next to die." 

Astrid frowned at the threat and left the room, closing Skuld in the darkness again. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling to calm her racing heart. "Since when had getting laid such a high price? I should have gone to bed instead." She groaned and collapsed back on the floor to catch some sleep.