#but I quite enjoyed it once I manage to get the nonsense generator running

[lixenn]

You wanna write a little thing and ocs are okay? Then I’m curious on how you’d write Chief/Dan and Celeste interacting :3

If you want help with it I’m right here for ya!

Me: I won't promise more than a few sentences!

Also me: Writes a scene that's over two pages long

Here we are, one Dan and Celeste interaction fresh from the nonsense generator, please enjoy (also tell me if my try at Celeste is okay)

Tagging my buddy @myrmyrtheorca because she needs to know how worried she should be about Chief.

---

Dan has read the same sentence more than five times in the last ten minutes, and he still hasn’t made sense of it.

What was this report about again?

Something about the budget? Or property damage? He squints at the page, willing the words to stop dancing across the document. There aren’t enough numbers for this to be a budget report and he can’t spot any curses, so he doubts it’s from the Reps department.

Does he even need to check this? Has someone flooded his inbox with unnecessary paperwork again?

Well no, Dave sorts the documents landing on his desk by priority and this one was in the red folder, so it requires his signature.

…

What is he supposed to do again?

Dan sighs, rubbing his hand across his face.

He needs coffee.

No, scratch that. He craves coffee with his entire being but getting it would mean dragging his body out of his comfortable office chair and that sounds like an insurmountable chore right now, so he is stuck with his exhaustion. And paperwork. He’ always stuck with paperwork. Damn Squalo and his meddling ways. Damn his past self for being tempted by the pay raise and accepting the promotion.

A dull clunk distracts him from him from cursing Squalo’s whole bloodline.

There’s a cup of coffee on his desk.

Dan frowns and pokes the cup with his pen. Surprisingly, the pen is met with resistance.

Not a hallucination then.

…

Why is there coffee on his desk?

Dan shakes his head. No that’s not important. Better question: How is there coffee? Is he secretly a Mist and hasn’t noticed it? Can he just magic coffee out of thin air now? Why wasn’t he informed of this power years ago? Could have had access to magic coffee the entire time?

What a waste.

The tantalizing scent of the black ambrosia drags Dan away from his musings. Who cares where the coffee came from, it’s here now so he might as well benefit.

He reaches for the cup and takes a sip. The bitter aroma of ground beans fills his mouth. Dan closes his eyes and hums.

Yessss, that hits the spot.

A chuckle fills the room. “You looked like you really needed that.”

Dan’s eyes snap open but that’s the only sign of surprise his tired meatsuit would allow. There’s a person in his office. Since when? How long have they been standing there, watching him?

Wait, are there two of them? Dan blinks several times trying to get his vision to focus. The two blurry outlines combine into one. Just my shitty eyesight fucking me over again I guess.

Now, that he’s looking closer.

“Aunt Cel?” he murmurs, still too tired for showing any kind of enthusiasm.

The woman smiles at him, gentle but full of worry. “Hello there, dear. Having a rough time?”

Dan snorts. “Always,” he glares at the mountain of documents which haven’t had the decency to catch on fire while he was looking away. “What are you doing here? I thought you wanted to visit Skull this week.”

Celeste gives his messy office a brief once over and raises one of her neatly trimmed eyebrows at him.

“Yes, I was planning to depart today, but then I heard from poor Luss that you weren’t sleeping again. So, I figured it was time for a check-in.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he grumbles, miffed about Lussuria calling him out. Traitor. “I can sleep when I’m dead.”

“Honey, that kind of talk is the exact reason why I’m worried.” Celeste steps closer to his desk and cups his face between her hands. “When was the last time you had a full night’s rest?”

“I don’t know. What month is it?”

Celeste clucks her tongue at him, but she is still stroking his cheeks with her warm hands, so Dan will forgive her for the slight. “You’re going to bed, young man. Right now.”

“What?” Dan reels back from her touch, affronted and now slightly more awake. “No! Do you have any idea how much work there’s left to do? I need to finish these reports, then there’s the meeting with Squalo about,” he frowns, trying to remember the mail, “the panthers, I think? Well, anyways I have a meeting and I still need to go check on Bel, because he’s been awfully quiet lately and we all know that’s never a good sign and-“

Celeste holds up her hand, interrupting his babbling. “Stopping you right there. The only thing you need to do right now is get out of this stuffy office, lay down in your bed and sleep. I will take care of the rest.”

Dan gave his aunt the best glower he had in his arsenal. “No.”

“Daniele Costa.” The woman’s voice drops into a warning tone. “Don’t make me call your mother.”

He narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

The smile on Celeste’s face is as angelic as it is terrifying. “Try me.”

…

Fuck.

Dan knows when he’s beaten. Alerting his mother needs to be avoided at all costs. She will storm into the Varia compound, bury him under mountains of food and scold him about his sleeping habits in front of all the Executives. Again.

He shudders. One time is more than enough. Dave has been teasing him about it for months afterwards.

With that horrifying memory in mind, he heaves himself up from his chair, bids his aunt tired goodbye and trudges to his room.

It's only when he's finally tucked under his blanket, his heavy eyelids falling shut, that he realises:

She gave me fucking decaf.

---

Hope this makes sense, because I kinda reread this so many times it words have lost all meaning lol

KHR writing prompts

[pens-swords-stuff]

Character Intro // The "Witnesses"

"In our world, it's all about the results. Do whatever you need to get there; finding the killer is your top priority."

"And this time, 'do whatever you need' means getting married to each other. Don't worry, we'll pay for the wedding."

Name // Jada Swift

Age // ??

Gender // Cisgender woman; she/her

Sexuality // Bisexual

Occupation // Founder of Swift Investigations, former private detective

Role // Major supporting cast: Boss, mentor, matchmaker

The field of private investigations wasn't always as lucrative, popular or as wide-spread as they are today. Jada Swift was one of the detectives responsible for popularizing the career with her no-nonsense attitude, keen investigative skills, and sharp tongue that cut through all the waffling police detectives and guilty suspects attempting to profess their innocence. Not only did she close a staggering amount of cases back in her heyday, she gained her renown by overturning the conviction of an innocent man and finding the true culprit for one of the biggest, high-profile cases in years.

A living legend like Jada was never going to just disappear quietly. After retiring from being a full time detective, Jada transitioned into building up Swift Investigations, a private investigator agency, to train and employ younger generations of detectives. With Jada's name riding on her employees, her standards are extremely high, and she demands excellence.

Though she is a strict mentor who works everyone hard, people who work underneath her quickly discover that despite her steel backbone, intimidating demeanor, and sharp eyebrow that raises itself like no other, she's a huge softie.

Oh, and she is definitely enjoying the predicament that she is putting Victoria and Nathan into.

Name // Daniel Park

Age // 43

Gender // Cisgender man; he/him

Sexuality // Bisexual

Occupation // Managing Partner of Swift Investigations, former private detective

Role // Major supporting cast: Boss, mentor, matchmaker

Though Daniel never quite reached the same level of fame and notoriety that Jada did, he is no less capable. In fact, he prefers that he's a nobody (relatively speaking. People in the field are very aware of who he is). Daniel's style of investigation relies on him being under the radar, observing people as he lingers by the wall or carefully tailing after someone without catching their attention.

As Jada's partner, right-hand man and most trusted confidant, Daniel has been by Jada's side for most of their careers providing a second perspective, picking up on things that Jada didn't see, and also making sure that she wasn't overloading herself with cases. Daniel was Swift Investigation's first and only employee for the initial years, but eventually transitioned into becoming part of management after he also retired from full-time detective work. Daniel is undeniably the business brains of the operation who makes sure that everything is running smoothly. Though he seems too intense and serious sometimes, he has a remarkably dry sense of humor that is excellent at breaking the ice and he's rather friendly.

Sometimes, the staff speculate whether Jada and Daniel are "a thing". Both of them are single, they spend more time together than most married couples and it is abundantly clear that they are the most important people in each other's lives. But no, their relatonship transcends romance.

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[Character Introductions] [WIP Introduction]

Reference image 1 | Reference image 2

[duskholland]

ok imagine that you are always seeking tom out for cuddles when you're cold (even when he's in meetings), but then finding out that he keeps the mansion at a cold temperature on purpose just so that you always have an excuse to cuddle him alwaysssss im softtttt

this is such a cute idea I think my heart exploded when I wrote it :’)

—soft!mob!tom monday—

It’s perplexing, really. Given Tom’s wealth and his riches, you’ve never been able to figure out why his house is always so chilly.

You’re sure it never used to be like this. When you’d moved in over winter, it’d been warm - the mansion running warm due to a very complex heating system. Granted, even that had never been enough to keep you completely happy. Over January and February, you’d frequently found yourself trailing the corridors, searching for your boyfriend and his warm, warm arms. You’d made a bit of a habit of it even - somehow always ending up in his lap in the office, or sprawled across him in the study, clinging to his heat. Once spring had rolled around, you’d thought your case of the chills would stop, but no.

If anything, the mansion only feels colder now that it’s late spring. You’ve asked Tom about it before, only to be met with a suspicious level of reassurance from your boyfriend, who seems to flush every time you mention the heating situation. You’d learnt to drop it and deal with it, realising that it’s just one of those things that don’t quite make sense, and besides - there are far worse things to complain about than the temperature of your boyfriend’s mansion.

But you’re cold. It’s 4pm, and you are so cold, and there’s only one thing you can do to help the situation. Forget jumpers and extra layers - the only thing that ever manages to bring the warmth back to you is the feeling of Tom’s arms wrapped around you, so you set off on a mission, walking from the library in the general direction of his office.

Rocking back on your heels, you knock on the door, pulling the sleeves of your jumper down and holding them in the palms of your hands, your teeth almost chattering. After a moment, you hear the sound of Tom’s voice, drifting through the door as he calls out, “Come in!”

You slip into the room, raising a hand in greeting. “Hi,” you say, glancing around the office. Tom’s not alone - there are three other men settled in the chairs in front of his desk. Two of them you don’t recognise, but the third is Harrison, Tom’s best mate, and he smiles at you.

“Hi, darling,” Tom says. He pushes back from his desk, tossing down his pen as he stands up. His inquisitive eyes take you in, zeroing in on the way you’re rubbing at your arms, drowning in an oversized hoodie. “Are you cold again?” He asks, lips quirking into a soft smile.

You nod as you step forward, sinking into his hold easily. Immediately you sigh, your cheek pressing against the crisp white shirt that covers Tom’s chest. He runs hot, constantly, and whilst that can prove troublesome when it’s a warm evening, right now, there’s nothing you enjoy more than his body heat.

“Thanks,” you murmur. You bite your lip, remembering about the other people in the room, and reluctantly you pull away. Tom’s hands slip down to your waist, and he looks at you, eyes softly caressing the curves of your face. “I should let you-”

“Nonsense.” Tom pecks your cheek before taking your hand and leading you back over to the desk. As you’ve done a thousand times before, he slips into his seat and pulls you down with him. You settle in his lap, looping one arm around his neck, settling sideways over him as your other hand reaches out for his desk and picks up your book - your favourite book, which you keep in his office, for occasions such as these. “Comfy?” He asks.

You hum, enjoying the feeling of his hand holding your back and the warmth of his shoulder against your cheek. “Yeah,” you reply, biting your lip as you look up at him gratefully. “Thanks, baby.”

“Any time.”

Tom gets back to his discussion with his men, and you enjoy stealing his body heat as you rest in his lap, flicking through the pages of your book with ease. It’s relaxing, listening to the background hum of his voice, feeling the vibrations that shoot out from his chest as he speaks. Whenever the volume gets a little too high, you feel his eyes flicker over you, and then he corrects himself, lowering his voice and rolling a hand over your back in smooth apology. You’re like a well-oiled machine, so familiar with these late-afternoon snuggle sessions that they’re second-nature.

After about half an hour, the meeting seems to conclude, and the two men leave the room. When only Harrison remains, you bookmark your page and sit up a little straighter, looking over at your friend as he stares at you and Tom, an amused expression on his face.

“You’re both very funny,” Harrison says, standing slowly from the chair.

Tom wraps both of his arms around your middle, pulling you nearer protectively as he kisses your temple several times in quick succession.

“What do you mean?” You ask, amused. One of your hands shifts to rest in Tom’s hair, toying gently with his soft brown strands.

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Every day you end up doing this,” he says.

“Because it’s always so bloody cold in this house,” you reply.

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” Harrison replies cryptically.

You furrow your eyebrows, sitting straighter. “What?” You say, looking around at Tom. When you see the sheepish look on his face, you furrow your eyebrows. “Tom, what is he talking about?”

“Harrison!” Tom grunts, a flash of irritation passing through his eyes when he looks at his right-hand man.

Harrison winces, throwing both of his hands in the air before rapidly walking to the door. “Bye,” he says, scurrying out before another word can be said.

You turn on Tom, pushing up from his lap and repositioning yourself so you’re straddling him, a leg hanging either side of his thighs.

“Tom?” You say, looking at him curiously. You cup his cheeks in your hands, smoothing a thumb through his ruffled eyebrow as you stare him down, a soft smirk on your face. “What’s Harrison talking about?”

Tom sags, biting his lower lip. His cheeks tickle pink, and he looks away as he mutters something incomprehensible.

“What was that?” You ask, grinning. It isn’t often you see him so bashful, so shy. Tom’s tender with you, always, but you’ve never seen his facade drop so low in his office like this. You coax him around, kissing him softly and slipping your hands back to his hair as you press your forehead to his. “What’s going on?”

Tom sighs.

“I might’ve got them to set the thermostat really low,” he mutters, “Because I like it when you come in and interrupt my meetings so we can cuddle.”

You just about melt, right there and then.

“Aww,” you coo, pouting softly. You run your hands through his hair, lifting your lips to kiss his forehead. “Mr Tough Guy likes his cuddles.”

Tom scowls, squeezing your hips. “I like your cuddles,” he counters, before bringing your lips together in a warm kiss. “You’re making me soft,” he whispers against your mouth.

You smile, pressing your nose to his. “Do you mind?”

Tom shakes his head. “Not at all.”

[displacedentities]

Night Out

My quickfic for @doodledrawsthings​ Coffee Shop AU! In truth I had this in the books for months and just never got around to finish it ;u; Unfortunately only the muse can decide when it’s time to slap me with enough serotonin to work on this, so I rode the high from recent art and wrapped it up! It’s not as clean as I wanted, but you know what, have it anyway.

-Myst -----

Finally. Another shift in the books.

With a heavy sigh, Luka stretches his back as the clock chimes up on the wall over the glass doors. Deft fingers untie the back before he slips the fabric apron over his head. A light snap of magnets punctuates the white noise of steaming coffee machines, and Luka stuffs his nametag into his pants pocket.

Luka was embarrassed to think about how much of a struggle it was to steady on for the entirety of the workday. Stress ate at him all the time, over so many things. Harriet was priority number one - did he remember to prep her meals for the day? Was she still ok, back in the apartment? Was Professor Popcorn in need of more repairs? Luka would happily handle such a task, of course, but...

He wasn't guaranteed to have thumbs when the evening finally came. There was his time limit to think about.

"Hey Luka?"

Damn, but being cursed was such a pain. Chopping vegetables was a particular bane of his existence. How could he trust himself with a knife like that? Ugh. He hated to make Harriet do it - no child should be wielding a knife before the age of 13, for any reason. He'd just have to MacGyver a solution or something.

"Luka..."

And on top of that, he had the upcoming bills to fret over. Rent was due in a few days, and he'd made a decent amount in tips, but they could not afford to have their upstairs neighbor burst a pipe again. He and Harriet had spent the entire afternoon toweling up their poor carpets to avoid getting mildew. Or worse, bugs. Luka was a fan of bugs, but not in his carpets, or sneaking into the mattress where they could bite his daughter.

"HEY!"

This time, the voice manages to pierce the haze of worry writhing in Luka's brain. Jolting to attention, the auburn-haired adult turns around, blinking owlishly at his colleague, Clover.

The braided redhead is giving him a wan smile, her brows furrowed in worry as she sets down a large bag of coffee beans under the counter.

"You spaced out again, buddy. Did you hear a word I said?" the barista asks, folding her arms over her stained apron.

"Uhh... you said my name," Luka replied, feeling a bit awkward as he chuckles once. "Sorry, I probably missed anything you might have asked me."

"I was asking if you ever go out."

"Ah- what?"

That was unexpected. Go out?

"You know-" Clover holds up her hands to gesture to the world in general, and beyond the coffee shop doors "-out! Like, with friends or anybody?"

Ah.

Luka laughs once, rubbing a hand on one side of his face.

"You mean since I moved into town? Nah, not really. Me and my daughter have only been here a few months - can't say we made many friends just yet."

Nor was that a risk they could take. Who knows how long they could stay here, before he was inevitably found out? One could argue it was a risk just- doing what he was doing now. Trying to hold a job, staying in an apartment; a semi-permanent living situation. They'd been on the road so long, old habits were quite hard to break. And if he was entirely honest with himself, Luka didn't know yet if he felt safe, even six months past the first day he arrived in the rural town of Subcon.

Clover's frown deepens, her arms dropping back to her sides. Her dropped guard betrays her worry, before she tries to play it off with another lighthearted smile and upbeat words.

"Oh come on, it can't have been that long since you've just done something fun for the sake of it. When was the last time you went out with friends and enjoyed yourself?" she asks.

"Why is this important?" Luka asks, his own guard slowly rising. He didn't quite see where she was going with this, but he wasn't sure he'd like it.

Oops- maybe not the most polite way to phrase that, as he sees an awkward flinch on Clover's face. Quick, recover! Luka chuckles once, also trying to lighten the mood.

"You and MJ never really asked me that kind of stuff before. I thought I was hired to serve coffee, not tea."

"We serve both, ya doofus," Clover smirks, rubbing one of her well-muscled arms with the other in a self-conscious gesture. "You should know that, since you've been working here almost four months now. And uh- well, MJ just kind of noticed you always seem very tired whenever you leave work."

Luka smiles back, but it's forced. Careful. Don't give any hints that it's anything serious. Don't be suspicious.

"Oh, that? I uh- I'm not used to the retail scene. I'll probably adapt to it soon."

Clover doesn't seem convinced. Still, her expression is sympathetic, rather than judgmental or suspicious. She leans her back on the counter, looking over Luka's exhausted demeanor and baggy eyes with a skeptical smile.

"I'm sure you will." She rests her hands on the counter. "In the meantime, you should go out for bowling with me and MJ! We were planning this outing for about a week, and maybe you'd wanna come with?"

Luka stops mid-folding of his apron. He turns toward Clover with surprise.

"Bowling? As in- knocking over pins in an alley, bowling?"

Clover rolls her eyes, amused. "No, as in rolling cereal bowls. Yes, that kind of bowling, Luka. It'll be fun! Eat some cheap pizza, knock over pins, watch the uncanny valley animations on the TV screen, the whole shebang. You up for joining us?"

"I uh- I didn't know there was a bowling alley here?" Luka says, his voice pitching up as he gives a sheepish laugh. "I- I don't know..."

Shit.

He could already feel the first touches of his curse starting to well up. A quick glance to his hands- okay, no purple yet. But it was coming.

Luka tucks his hands behind his back just in case.

"I'm not sure, I have Harriet to worry about..." he fumbles, rushing to think of excuses. It hurts his heart a little when he sees the disappointed expression Clover wears.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her tone gentle. "It'll only be a for a couple of hours - I could ask Cookie next door if she'd be willing to handle your daughter for the night. She's a fantastic sitter, and your daughter would have Mu to play with."

Luka opened his mouth, preparing to turn it down- then closed it again, brows furrowed as he chews over the thought.

Only a few hours... hm. His curse's current time limit was somewhere a little short of eight hours, he was sure. As long as he didn't have to pick up a shift at work, he would have most of his day free to spend out of the motel. An outing to a bowling alley couldn't possibly last eight hours, though he'd... never actually gone bowling before.

"I.... don't know... I've never been bowling, I'll just hold you back-"

"Nonsense," Clover says, waving off his excuse immediately. "MJ and I aren't professionals or anything, Luka - it's just for fun! You've never been?? That means you've gotta try it, at least once. Please?"

...mmh. Luka would be lying if he said he wasn't very tempted. But he had so much to worry about! His daughter, his curse... keeping his job, being able to support the two of them. Not to mention, getting used to his slow camaraderie with Clover and MJ. That sort of outing would throw their friendship into first gear.

"It's ok," Clover interrupts his thoughts, standing back up straight as she grabs a rag and finishes wiping down the counter. "You don't have to come, we just thought... you know, it might be fun. You look like you need some serious time to unwind, dude. All we ever see of you is showing up to work, dealing with customers, then you leave. And hey, if you change your mind, the offer's still open."

Luka curls his fingers, foot tapping the floor in small fidget.

"Well, I'm gonna start closing up the back," Clover says, tossing the rag into a laundry bin next to the employee break room. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!"

Clover stops, turning around with the laundry basket.

"What day were you planning to do it?"

What am I thinking?? I can't go on an outing with them!

Unaware of Luka's silent stresses, Clover beams, her smile lighting up once again.

"Saturday! Would that work for you?"

"Mnhg- maybe?" Luka concedes, forcing his own sheepish smile despite his brain screaming No nO this is a bad idea! His mouth continues to run away from him. "Saturday is my errand day - me and Harriet go out for groceries in the morning, and eat out at whatever lunch restaurant she picks. I wouldn't be open until the evening, and Sunday's game day for me and my daughter."

Bad idea, what are you doing?!

"That's perfect!" Clover says, delighted and still not privy to Luka's inner struggle. "If we close the shop at five, we can drive to the bowling alley around 5:30, play a game or two and eat. Should go until about... eight-ish? How's that sound?"

Say no, say NO!

"Sure, sounds fun."

AGH!

"Great!" Clover says, a skip in her step as she lopes off to the back room with the laundry basket. "I'll text MJ to let him know - he's already gone back to his apartment."

"Yeah, I'll uh- I'll text him too," Luka chuckles, scratching behind his head with one hand- and immediately putting a stop to that action, as he feels the points of sharp claws dig at his scalp. Both arms are dropped and tucked behind his back, a big smile on his face. "Gotta give him the full details and everything, haha..."

"No problem- see you!" Clover bids Luka goodbye, waving one hand as she cheerily hauls the laundry bin off into the back.

"Bye!" Luka says, his voice cracking from nerves.

Oh thank god she's gone.

Luka pulls his hands back out into view, and sees the telltale purple staining begin to creep up his flesh. Peck. It was already starting- Clover left just in time. He could already feel the sharp ends of his canines starting to poke into his bottom lip. He didn't have much left of the day in human form- he had to get home right now.

Snatching up his belongings from his locker, stuffing his work apron inside, Luka loops his bag over his shoulder and leaps over the service counter. He missed the rack of sugar packets this time, thankfully, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor as he bolts out the door. The bell rings as the glass entryway opens and shuts, signaling his departure. Car keys are whipped out of his bag, a slowly deforming finger just managing to push the button to unlock the vehicle as he clambers inside. Just five minutes- he could make five minutes.

The engine of the car roars to life, and Luka zips off out of the employee parking space, trying his best to ignore it as his fingers swell and fuse together, and his eyes reflect golden light in the rear view mirror.

------

MJ's car putters up to outside the bowling alley, fixing his blue-dyed hair with a sigh. Clover, in the passenger seat, drums her hand on the door handle with excitement.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she says, turning to look over her shoulder at the stiff and uncomfortable Luka in the backseat. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Luka- we'll show you the ropes of bowling!"

"Great," the young man says, putting up another shaky smile as his fingers tense around his kneecaps. "Can't wait!"

"That's the spirit," MJ speaks up, giving Luka a quick smile of his own before twisting the key in the ignition. The car's engine dies down, the doors unlocking as MJ shifts the gear into park. "Clover told me you were nervous about hanging out, and that's completely fine by me - if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to stay, just let us know, ok? We'll drive you back to the apartment building, no hesitation."

Luka inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh from the back seat of the car. It felt like his nerves were trying to shake him apart. A glance at his watch-

Was he really going forward with this?

...Yes. He was. As much as Luka worried, Clover had been right. It'd been far too long since he'd taken 'me' time.

Luka puts a hand on the door and pulls the handle, stepping out of the car before he has a chance to psyche himself out.

It's just a couple hours. He still had plenty of time, after his midday outings with Harriet.

Stay calm. You can do this.

The sign above the brick building shines with neon lights, saying 'Pins & Cushions' in bright blue and red. The backdrop is a painting that Luka can swear was painted in the 80s, displaying a bowling ball as it barrels into pins and knocking them askew with a cartoony impact mark.

"Pins & Cushions?" he says aloud, smirking a little bit.

"Kind of silly, right?" MJ speaks up, locking the car behind him with a click. "Sounds more like a sewing parlor than a bowling alley."

"It's because they boasted having cushioned chairs," Clover says, snickering. "You've never been, but most bowling alleys have these awful plastic chairs that hurt to sit on for too long."

"You mean like the chairs in high school?"

Luka's joke earns a quick bark of a laugh from Clover.

"Couched seating areas in a bowling alley was, sadly, a craze that never caught on," MJ says, ascending the concrete steps up to the building. "But this one did, and the place is like forty years old and too stubborn to change, so your butt will thank you later."

When the doors open, Luka is immediately washed with a cocktail of smells he didn't think could- nor should- ever go together. First and foremost is the thick smell of plastic and rubber, followed by the chemical odor of cleaning sprays, and the sizzling smell of burning cheese. Air conditioning blasts them from above as the three young adults enter the bowling alley, the doors sliding shut behind their backs. The sounds hit next - a cacophonous mix of rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, heavy objects falling and rolling, and the clatter of pins falling into the trap at the far end of the establishment.

It was loud, smelled strange, and the carpet looked lifted straight out of an arcade.

Luka was torn between anxiety, and a strange sort of excitement he hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was something new, something unfamiliar- he had hours to enjoy himself, and spend time not worrying about stresses of life. Harriet had a sitter, paid in advance with an alarm for when he would return, and he was out with- friends? Had him accepting this invitation solidified their friendship at this point? ...the thought made a happy butterfly flutter in his stomach.

This would be a great evening, he could feel it.

"Earth to Luka." MJ's amused tone causes Luka to jump. "Something on your mind? You're smiling."

"Oh- uh- nothing," Luka says, scratching behind his head sheepishly. "Just- thanks. For inviting me. I think I really did need this a lot."

"YEAH you do!" Clover thumps him on the back with one hand. "Come on! You have to give your shoes to the clerk so they can give you your bowling shoes."

"Ah, what? I have to take off my shoes on this carpet?" Luka complains, lifting a foot with distaste. "I feel like I'm stepping on twenty-year-old candy."

"It's part of the charm!" Clover sings, already removing one of her sneakers. "It's either this, or slip all over the place on the actual alley floor. You're getting the full bowling experience whether you like it or not, coffee boy."

"Ex-CUSE me!" Luka says with a dramatic gasp, hopping on one foot as he works to remove his own shoes. "I think you will find I'm a coffee man, thank you."

"Coffee twink," Clover counters.

"No, that's MJ."

"HEY! I will call lion's share of the tips for that one," MJ shakes a sneaker at them both in a mock scolding gesture.

"YOU'RE BOTH COFFEE TWINKS," Clover declares to the entire establishment as she fights off her last sneaker, racing for the counter before the others can catch up. "HURRY UP, COFFEE TWINKS, WE NEED TO PICK OUT BOWLING BALLS."

"I have dibs on the galaxy patterned one!" MJ yells after Clover.

Clover gives MJ an evil grin as she takes her bowling shoes and pays the rental fee, tying them before sauntering over to the racks of bowling balls. Her hand hovers over the selection, giving a teasing pause over the bowling ball made with swirled star plastic.

"Don't you dare," MJ hisses from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clover as he hands over the money for both his and Luka's rental shoes.

"It's either the tips share, or the bowling ball! You decide!" Clover yells back, drumming her fingers on the coveted starry bowling ball.

"Fiiiiine," MJ says with a dramatic tone, though his smile gives away his mirth. "You know I wasn't going to take the tips anyway, Clo."

"I know~" she says, giggling while she moves on to a different rack of bowling balls. "And you know I wouldn't do that to your poor weak arms, either, Moonie."

Luka finishes tying his rental shoes, thanking MJ before he makes his way down the small stairway to the alleys. It's very bright in this section of the building, with cushioned couches surrounding tables and standing consoles. Metal railings and a chute of some kind were positioned at each alleyway, some with bowling balls sitting idle atop the metal racks.

"So, what now?" Luka asks, the excitement of wading into unknown waters welling in his chest again.

"Pick a bowling ball!" Clover says, gesturing to the racks of heavy plastic spheres. "You'll want a heavy one, but not too heavy for you to lift and throw."

"Go easy on us, Clover." MJ shakes his head as he picks up his favorite starry ball. "Ms. Gun Show and her fourteen-pound bowling ball."

The redhead leans over and scoops up a swirled green bowling ball, hefting it on one arm and pumping it like a weight.

"You might get some guns yourself if you helped me landscape and move sod around my garden, Coffee Twink #1," she says, flexing a bicep.

"I refuse to acknowledge that nickname."

"Sorry, it's our team name now," Clover laughs, "the Coffee Twinks!"

"Hey, I thought our team name was the Comets?!"

"That was before Luka joined the team - now it's a 2-to-1 twink majority, I don't make the rules."

Luka just has his face in his hands, laughing through the whole exchange as he leans on the metal racks.

"You're just as bad as Harriet!" Luka laughs, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand. "I don't even know where she learned that word - Cookie's daughter, probably?"

"Definitely," MJ says with a thousand yard stare, earning more laughter from Luka. "Go pick a bowling ball, I'll get the console up and running for our game."

Wiping tears from his eyes, chuckling under his breath, Luka turns to the racks and peruses the selection. The bowling balls come in all colors - most are black or dark brown, but there's a rather delightful mix of brighter hues like pink, blue and yellow. Some are marbled, some have glitter in the plastic, and a few very beat-up bowling balls have graphics of cartoon characters that were popular in the 90s. Well-loved by the children who patronize this establishment, he was sure. Harriet would love the Scooby-Doo ball - oh no wait. The one themed after a Pokeball, for sure was her poison of choice. And clearly the pick of the litter for many other children, as it was covered in scratches and dents from decades of use.

Ah- there was one themed after a jack-o-lantern! How fitting. He loops his fingers into the grip holes of the bowling ball, and heaves it off of the rack- only to almost crush his toes as the weight yanks his arms to the floor.

That was- heavier than expected!

"Oooooh, nice pick," Clover says, spinning her own bowling ball in her hands. "You sure you can carry it, though? That's a 10-pounder."

"I'll be fine-" Luka says, grunting as he lifts it back up with both hands this time. "Just- caught me off guard, is all."

"Alright, game's all set," MJ announces from the console.

Above their heads, a large tube television flashes blue before displaying a score board.

A loud k-chunk k-chunk k-chunk of machinery draws Luka's eye toward the other end of the alley. Metal rigging and machinery descend from the covered roof of the pin trap. Resembling a large soda crate, the rig drops an array of ten white bowling pins, before unclamping and ascending back into the darkness of whatever creation of god resided in that ceiling.

"You're up first, Clo," MJ says, waving a hand to indicate she should move forward.

"Watch and learn," Clover throws Luka a smile, the competitive taunt dampened by her genuinely helpful tone. "You want to throw the ball so it rolls like this-"

Stepping forward onto the squeaky, smooth polished wooden platform, Clover lifts her bowling ball to her chest. With a quick inhale, she lopes forward two steps, swinging her arm back with the bowling ball, before reeling it forward on the last stride and underhand throwing it into the aisle. The heavy green bowling ball lands with a tHDD before skidding its way down the oiled track, rolling in a long, smooth line. The swirled green sphere smacks into the bowling pins with a loud tHWAKK!!, sending all but one of the pins flying into the darkness beyond. The ball disappears into the hole, and Clover puts her hands on her hips with a huff.

"Damn, almost got a strike." Clover snaps her fingers, shrugging. The green bowling ball clatters back up the chute. She grips her fingers into the trio of holes again, and goes for another throw.

The bowling ball rolls down the course, straight as an arrow for the last pin. The pin spins off the wooden platform into the darkness, earning a whoop from Clover.

"Nice, got a spare!" Clover declares, throwing her arms up in triumph. She sashays her way back to the couches. "Who's up next?"

"I'm up," MJ says, standing from the console. Looping his fingers into his own starry bowling ball, MJ rolls his shoulders and steps up onto the oiled wooden planks. "I'm going to get the first strike of the day, just wait."

"Sure you will," Clover snickers as MJ winds up.

When he releases the ball, it rolls at very high speed- before curving halfway down the track, the topspin he put on the ball causing it veer off course and land in the gutter.

Face flushed, MJ coughs into his hand, suddenly very invested in fixing his shirt as Clover grins. The galaxy ball returns to the trough, and MJ pointedly picks it up again, winding up for his second throw. The bowling ball rocks down the course, and knocks over about six pins, leaving a corner of the triangle still standing.

"Woo!" Clover cheers, clapping as MJ returns to the seating. She reaches over and nudges Luka on the shoulder. "You're up, Luke! Show us whatchu got!"

Heart in his throat, Luka stands from his seat and steps up.

The bowling ball grins up at him, daring him to chicken out. It was heavy in his hand. Still, he walked up onto the polished floor, feeling the rubber on the bottom of his shoes as it grips the oiled surface.

Fighting the weight of the heavy bowling ball, Luka takes a step forward, swinging his arm back before bringing it back around like a pendulum. The ball hits the track with a heavy thDD as it’s released, sent rolling off down the track. Around the halfway point, it spins off course and lands in the gutter with a clunk.

“Aww,” Clover says, leaning over the chair cushion. “And you had such good posture, too.”

“It’s ok,” MJ speaks up, seeing Luka’s visible embarrassment. “It’s your first time bowling! Nothing to be ashamed of. You have another shot before we rotate players.”

Disappointed, Luka rubs at his arm. Well, that was a less than encouraging performance. But he noticed the angle of the spin on the ball. Maybe he could fix that.

The ball clatters up the chute back into the return trough. Luka picks it up with a huff of breath, holding it to his chest as he does mental calculations. If he turned his wrist at just the right point...

Stepping forward, Luka swings back and releases the ball, putting a top spin on the ball at the last possible moment-

The jack-o-lantern face rockets down the alley, the path straight until the very last second. It curves to hit the front pin from the side, knocking every single pin into the abyss beyond.

"OHHHHH!" Clover and MJ exclaim, clapping with enthusiasm as Luka looks stunned.

"You got a strike!" Clover says, applauding with a big grin. "You were totally pulling our legs about being a newbie to this, huh??"

"I think I just got lucky," Luka tries to play it off, feeling an uncommon shyness as he smiles.

Clover shakes her head, not having it.

"Luck nothing! That was pure talent, and you got a strike, dude!"

"Technically that was a spare, but still a strike in my book," MJ says as he rotates the turn order on the console, giving Luka a smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh let him have it, Moon Moon," Clover laughs as MJ throws her a pout. "Our new boy's got game!"

Luka hunches his shoulders, an awkward smile curling across his cheeks as he walks back over to the couches. Clover jumps to attention and makes her way to the track, picking up her green bowling ball for another round as he sits down.

This was... much more fun than he had expected it to be. The background noise of the bowling alley was surprisingly pleasant. He found he could get used to the dull odor of plastic and cleaner- and honestly, that hot cheese smell from what must be the pizzeria was tempting his stomach. But best of all was the camaraderie he could feel sparking between him, Clover, and MJ. Were they officially friends now? Or had they been already, and he was just- in denial? If Luka was entirely honest with himself, probably the latter. MJ and Clover had been nothing but kind and understanding, to him. His sporadic hours and excuses had done nothing to faze them with regards to their treatment of him at work. They still offered him drinks and invited him on this outing, offering even to pay for his expenses, didn't they?

"Hey Luka!" A call from MJ breaks him out of the small reverie. "You're up, again."

"And after this round, we can hit the arcade! I bet I can out-dance you on DDR, Coffee Twinks," Clover smirks.

"No betting. I know you can."

Maybe- maybe he had nothing to worry about.

---

The evening is going fantastic.

The first bowling game had been a pretty close match between Luka and Clover. Clover had the arm strength to pull off some mean and fast throws, but Luka had developed a system. Figuring out how to spin the bowling ball just the right amount had made up for his noodle arms and less weighty bowling ball. It wasn't long before he figured out how to roll a pretty straight record of spares and strikes, with the occasional 7-10 split. After bowling around, they went into the arcade section, with an entire paper roll of quarters to blow on games. A vicious Ms. Pacman multiplayer match had led to MJ smoking all three of them, and as predicted, Clover out-danced both of the boys on the DDR and Stepmania machines. Luka had to collapse over a nearby chair with exhaustion after his matches. He'd finished off the arcade run with a very lucky pull from a claw machine, winning a black cat plush with big yellow eyes that he was definitely going to enjoy giving to Harriet.

The three of them sat around their table at the bowling console again, laughing over a hot cheese and pepperoni pizza.

"No way, you didn't!" Luka gasps, wheezing for air.

"I did! I punched his goddamn lights out!" Clover laughs, slapping one knee. "The guy was being a huge creep, so I introduced him to my fist."

"I hope you didn't get in trouble with the cops or something for that." Luka tilts his head, giving her an impressed and worried look.

"Can't get in trouble if nobody reports it," MJ chimes in, smirking past his soda cup. "He complained to me, but I had the security tapes AND plausible deniability because I wasn't on the floor. Corporate took our side on this."

"Nobody from the city wants to drive all the way out to podunk Subcon for a random dudebro's complaint." Clover sits back on her cushioned seat, chomping into her pizza happily. "Mmmmm- delicious melty cheese."

Luka chomps into his own pizza, exhaling and blowing on it as it nearly burns his mouth.

"Easy, tiger!" MJ smirks around his own mouthful of pizza.

"I know, it's just so good," Luka says, laughing into his hand as he sips some of his cola. "But in like- the way you know it's not that great? Does that make sense?"

"Night in the Woods taught me the Pizza Scale, and I stick by that," Clover says, crunching through her crust to grab up another slice, washing down the bread with some soda. When she reaches for another piece of the pie, she pauses, and lets out a huff. "Oh, that sucks. I guess they didn't clean the bowling balls that well this time. Gross."

"Hm?" Luka says through a mouthful of pizza.

"Your fingers are all oil-stained from the finger holes on the bowling ball, Luka. Big Al needs to wash the bowling balls properly."

Confused, the law student shifts his attention down.

The ends of his fingertips are discolored with ebony purple.

Luka can feel as his brain zeroes in on the first sign of his impending transformation, and begins to shift into emergency mode as it relays the steps he must take in order to avoid further exposure. He'd gone over this information with himself many times over the past five years. It was ingrained in his mind, what he had to do, the information practically screaming at him. But he can't hear it. His ears are filled with buzzing as reality breaks into the facade he'd slowly built up over the course of hours.

No-

No no no-

His pizza slice drops to the paper plate as he fumbles with his bag, pulling out the cell phone from the liner pocket. Shaking fingers tap the screen with frantic speed, trying to turn the damn thing on-

9:17?

They'd been here nearly four hours?!

He'd spent the morning out with Harriet, doing their grocery shopping and walking around the town's outdoor mall as much needed father-daughter time. Eight hours of being in disguise had long since passed.

His time limit was up.

This couldn't be happening. Yet the numbers stare back at him from the glare of his cell phone screen. They even have the nerve to tick over to 9:18 right before his eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! It wasn't fair!

"Luka, you ok? You're turning pale..."

Clover's question just barely manages to pierce the haze, causing Luka to jolt in his seat. Posture stiff and breath shallow, he lifts his head to meet Clover's questioning eyes. She's staring at him with building concern, her smile becoming a frown of worry.

The tension is palpable in the air as Luka struggles to find words. Finally, he manages to say something.

"It's- it's a quarter past nine-"

"Oh shoot-" Clover says, sitting up abruptly as she grabs her own phone.

MJ checks his watch, wincing. "Oof. Sorry, Luka. I guess we lost track of time passing. I'll apologize to Cookie for the overtime, we can finish this round and go-"

"Don't feel good- going to the bathroom-" Luka wheezes, scrambling to his feet as he scoops all of his belongings into his bag and races past MJ's seat.

"Luka!" Clover yells after him, her heightened concern audible in her voice. "Ok, we'll- we'll start cleaning up! Let us know if you need-!"

Her words are cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. Luka's bowling shoes slip over the slick tile floor, his hands gripping onto the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink to steady himself. He brings his shaking hands up to view in the mirror. The blackening purple skin was spreading up his finger joints, reaching his palms.

No- not now! Why now?

Luka clenches his fists and his jaw, focusing every ounce of his will on making the purple go away. He can almost feel a vein pop on his forehead- if he still had veins, anymore- as he strains to make his unwilling body follow his desires. The purple starts to recede at a caterpillar crawl... but it slows. And the harder he tries, the more he can feel his arms struggle to hold their shape - becoming less solid.

"No- no!" he whimpers, clenching his hands into the sink again. The action splatters small droplets of purple sludge against the porcelain, which vanish moments later as the purple staining once more consumes his fingers - and now his palms. "Stop it! Just- let me be human! Please!"

He lifts his head to the mirror. Despair fills his gut as he sees amber eyes staring back at him in the reflection, and the beginnings of an inner glow fighting to come out from the back of his throat.

Luka lets out a wordless sound of sorrow, lifting an arm to pound one fist against the mirror in vain. The reflection is unfazed in its destitution, tears beginning to gather at the edges of its eyes and mouth set into a sob of clenched teeth. The reflection's canine's lengthen several inches as the eyes stare back, accusingly. The purple was starting to spread up its neck, just poking out the collar of the shirt.

"No..."

This wasn't him. But it had been, years ago. This was SUPPOSED to be him.

He curls his fist, watching as the fingers start losing their shape. Fusing together, becoming single digits and his thumbs vanish back into the purple sludge of the limb.

"I was finally-..." Luka whimpers, "...I finally felt human again."

-bang bang bang-

The sound of a fist knocking on the bathroom door causes Luka to yelp and jump back from the mirror.

"Luka? You ok in there?"

It was MJ.

Peck!

Grabbing his bag, Luka books it into the furthest stall of the bathroom. He slams the metal door behind him, fumbling to lock it with his swelling mitten fingers. Alarm shot through his gut as his shirt felt tight around his torso. Already?? This was faster than usual! Had he really pushed it that much?

"Hey man, are you sick? Clover and I are really concerned. Do you need any help in there?"

"NO! NO I'M GOOD!" Luka yells from the bathroom stall, clapping a two-fingered hand over his mouth as he hears the slight reverb echo to his own voice. Dammit! "I'M JUST- I'LL BE FINE!"

He was not fine, he would most certainly not be fine!

"Luka, you sound croaky." It was Clover this time, probably a short distance behind MJ. "Dude, are you sure? MJ, maybe you should go in and check on him-"

"NO!"

No, the reverb was stronger!

"Luka, I'm coming in."

"MJ it's fine!"

Luka could hear the seams of his shirt starting to stretch and strain. The seconds were ticking by as strings started to pop at the neck.

Shit, shit!

Luka turned left and right, the stall cramped and uncomfortable as the ruff of fur around his neck thickens and threatens to burst his shirt open. He needed a way out!

Aha! A small window, to the outside! Wow, that was probably the worst location for a window. And it was so small-

The door creaked as MJ started to turn the handle.

NO TIME!

Luka makes a dive for the window. His fingers catch on the sill, and he hauls his body up onto the tiny ledge, his head pushing up the glass and emerging out into the open air. Squeezing through the narrow space, he struggles to pull his feet through, kicking off the bowling shoes and hearing them clatter to the tiles below.

The door comes unlatched, and MJ enters the bathroom, looking around with a frown.

Luka was gone. And for some reason, his bowling shoes were abandoned on the questionably cleaned bathroom floor.

Just outside the window, tucked next to the wall of the alleyway outside the bowling alley, Luka is panting with adrenaline. He can feel his chest expand further with each breath, the fur mane around his neck already splitting apart his shirt. His fingers had fully lost their human shape by now, coalescing back into the familiar mitts he hated so much. A reminder that, no, he wasn't human. No matter what those people in the bowling alley thought of him, and what he thought of them in return... no matter how much he wanted to be human, again.

"Luka?"

His entire torso now fully drenched in purple, Luka hangs his head, listening as he fights to strip off the shirt suffocating him.

Footsteps, in the bathroom.

"...Luka? What the-... Clover, he's not here?"

"What?? But he- went into the bathroom! He was just-!"

"His shoes are here..."

"His shoes??"

Luka forces himself to stand, wobbling a bit further away from the window as he focuses all of his efforts on keeping his legs. He can't lose his ability to walk, not in the middle of town!

God dammit... god dammit! Why couldn't he just enjoy his night? Now he was wandering alleyways, half transformed, and MJ and Clover were no doubt worried to hell and back. What could he even say? 'Sorry, had to take a break to wolf out in the bathroom'?

-brrring brrring-

The buzz of the phone in his pants pocket- which was getting tight against his waist, he noticed. Luka quickly extracts the phone before it can be damaged by the fabric.

MJ's caller ID stares back at him from the screen.

The decision to trust these two with his information was biting him in his rapidly purpling behind. He'd been so careful not to slip up, and the ONE TIME he makes a mistake... He had another decision to make. He could not respond, and just be a complete asshole, but he could protect his secret a little safer, for just a little bit longer. Or he could pick up, and... he didn't know. Bullshit something? Would they even believe whatever malarkey he could cook up in seven seconds for bailing out of a bowling alley restroom? God, he was terrible at improvised excuses! He was a lawyer, not an actor! But if he answered the phone call, maybe- maybe he could hold on to that feeling again. The warmth of companionship of peers his age, that he hadn't felt since law school. Since... Vanessa. But he couldn't think about her right now. What mattered was his safety- his daughter's safety.

Peck. He didn't even think about that part. Could he really rip Harriet out of a somewhat stable home life, again? She was just starting to get along with Cookie's daughter, and he didn't want to take that precious first friendship from her.

Luka was only pulled out of the downward spiral by the vibration of the phone, which he only now realized had registered a missed call, and was now on the second call. It was still MJ, the picture of him in his Horizon employee cap still smiling from the bright phone screen.

He had to do something. He could feel his legs protest the form they was struggling to hold.

Survival instinct set in. First, he had to get away from the scene.

Stumbling to his malforming feet, Luka jogs away from the alley, ducking away from the Pins & Cushions and avoiding the bright neon sign on the side of the building.

As he walks, a headache hits, and Luka just knows his face was losing more of his familiar features. Didn't need a mirror to know that he was definitely the shade of a bruised plum, and that his eyes were glowing like gold beacons. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth were digging into his bottom lip as he dodges and weaves to avoid line of sight from storefront apartment windows.

The woods were so close by, just a few more blocks.

Faster. He had to run faster. But his legs- were fighting him! Already he could feel his steps become lighter, movement more fluid. It was a struggle to keep a walking stride, rather than just- leap into the air. No way was he going to fly a block from pecking main street.

His phone continues to vibrate, threatening the call to drop.

Right when he reaches the sidewalk, Luka pants for breath, collapsing beside the pole for a street lamp while avoiding the amber spotlight. Taking one last rueful look at his phone, he sighs, and presses the answer button with a doughy purple finger.

"Luka?" MJ's voice patches through. The reception isn't great, but it's sufficient. Maybe that was a lucky break, considering what his voice was going to sound like in a second.

"Hey," Luka answers. Yep. He sounded like a toad that swallowed a brass tube. "Sorry- about that."

"Dude, are you ok?? Where did you go?" MJ spoke so quickly it almost interrupted Luka, concern clear and evident in his voice. "You ran or something and- you left your shoes at the counter, and the cat plush for your daughter. Clover got them for you-"

"It's ok," Luka says, wincing. "I can pick them up tomorrow. I- don't feel well, and I have to go get Harriet."

"Luka, we could have driven you home for that," MJ responds, a hint of hurt and confusion. "You know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable, and want to leave, right?"

"No- this- I was having fun," Luka responds, cupping a hand over his mouth to try to muffle the echo. He had to wrap this up. His voice was getting less natural by the second. He really hoped the poor reception would mask it. "Look- I'm sorry MJ. But I really had to go."

"You're not getting kidnapped or something are you?" Clover's distant voice suddenly patches through in the phone. MJ must have his phone on speaker. "Because if you are, I'll hunt them down! Just yell where the car is taking you!"

"I'm not- look, I'm sorry, but I just had to go, ok?" Luka says. "Harriet needs me."

"I thought you were feeling sick?" Clover says, her worried tone now tinted with... suspicion. "You ran to the bathroom, and we were all worried about you, dude." Her voice becomes just a bit distant, as she turns to speak to MJ, but the phone picks it up. “Actually, did we ever hear anything from Cookie...?”

"No- I am-" Luka can feel his lies crumbling, nearly becoming true as he experiences a sensation similar to his stomach heaving from the anxiety. "Thanks for the wonderful evening, I'll pick up my stuff later- bye!"

"Wait-!!"

-click-

MJ's protest is cut off, and Luka set the phone down on the grass, putting his head in the other hand. That was terrible. But he couldn't back out on it now. He would just have to deal with the consequences of that phone call tomorrow.

Not like having shoes or not bothered him, anyway.

Exhausted and resigned, Luka slides away from the lamp post into the chaparral, and begins rapidly pulling his shirt over his head. No way was he going to lose another shirt, not after the last one. This was his last nice shirt, and he intended to keep it as long as possible!

A quiet gasp jolts him out of his frantic folding.

Luka whips around, shirtless, half de-pantsed, and his body a full shade of deep shadow purple. His golden eyes glow in the reflected street light as he freezes on the spot, making eye contact with another human being across the road. It was the stocky mustachioed man from the coffee shop- the regular who came by and sketched quietly in a corner. Pinstriped suit- which seemed to be the only outfit anyone ever saw him wore- an apron, and grey khaki pants. The thick glasses would make it difficult to tell where he was looking, if the man wasn't standing with his square jaw hanging down at his chest, head angled directly toward Luka. Everyone dismissed him as a paranoiac, a hermit who stopped by for his morning caffeine fix and quiet atmosphere to indulge in his imagination. Rumors flew that he used to work for some sort of tabloid magazine, and was fired- or promoted?- for how crazy his stories were.

Whatever the reason, this man was now standing, groceries dropped to the pavement, and staring at Luka. A very half-naked, absolutely not human-looking Luka.

Face suddenly burning hot with embarrassment and fear, Luka grabs his belt loops and bolts into the trees.

The movement causes the man to only gape more, making a wordless noise of astonishment before the forest breaks their line of sight and Luka retreats into the safety of the woods. Luka just barely remembers to grab his shirt and belt from the bushes. Vanishing entirely from sight, stumbling over debris as his transformation takes full hold of his body, Luka wheezes as his heart beats in his chest. After all that, he was seen! Peck! Did he just ruin everything because he wasn’t paying attention? But- but it was just the local hermit, the resident conspiracy nut. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? This wasn’t as catastrophic as being spotted by a teen with a cell phone open. Surely, this was the safest possible person in town to accidentally spot him mid-transformation. Repercussions would be minimal.

Thank god the man didn't have a camera.

[stargazer-balladeer]

Hi can I ask for B, C and N from the SFW Alphabet Edition for Kaeya and Diluc(Genshin Impact)? I really love your writing!❤️❤️👌🏻👌🏻👀

Characters(s): Kaeya Alberich and Diluc Ragnvindr

Notes: Aww. Thank u bery much 🥰🥰 I actually don’t like how I write HAHAHA I feel like there’s much more better writers than me, so why am I wasting my time writing this nonsense? Hope you’ll like this!

Warnings: none

| MAIN PAGE |

Kaeya Alberich

B= Bestie (Do they act like best friends while dating? How comfortable are they with you?)

♡Yeah, a little bit. He’s still himself afterall, flirty, coy, and mysterious. In Kaeya’s dictionary, the term “best friend” means “worst enemy”. So he might not consider you as his best friend, only his lover that he wants to be with forever.

♡Of course Kaeya’s comfortable with you. Do you know how hard it is for Kaeya to trust someone? Many still wonders to this day how on earth did you manage to let Kaeya befriend you and date you. He’s not really willing to share his secrets with you, since he still likes to keep it a secret. Hope you don’t mind it.

♡If there comes a time where Kaeya revealed a secret to you, please don’t share it with anyone else 🥺 The reason why he told you is because he trusts you alot. Don’t break that trust (or else Kaeya wouldn’t trust you again..)

C= Cuddles (How often do they cuddle? How are they when they cuddle? What cuddle position do they like best? Are they the Big Spoon or Little Spoon?)

♡Kaeya likes cuddles. He likes pulling you and just hold you in his arms as he takes in your scent. He’ll most likely to drift off into sleep while cuddling. He loves cuddles especially after a hard day of venturing out, duties as Cavarly Captain and other stuff. He just wants to sink in your arms and stay there.

♡Cuddles are not that often, but its still considered a normal thing for both of you. He just wants to be in your presence after being gone for atleast a few hours (or days or months).

♡Unlike what most people believe, Kaeya isn’t really talkative while cuddling. Around this time, especially after a hard day, he remains silent as he bask in your presence. This is the only time you’ll ever get to see Kaeya so.. soft. Like previously stated, Kaeya most likely would doze off while holding you. Also Kaeya doesn’t tease while cuddling, he just wants to enjoy this moment with you.

♡Like most people expect, he’s hella cold. How is his temperature so cold?! (He’s a fucking ice-user of course). Since Kaeya is aware of how cool his skin is, he likes trailing his hands behind your back or your arm, which makes you shiver.

♡Kaeya isn’t that picky in cuddle position. His only condition is as long as he can hug you. Kaeya’s the big spoon, no doubt about it. But if he has a bad day or tired day, he will become a little spoon as he nuzzle his face into your neck (hopefully you’re not ticklish there 😢).

N= Nicknames (What do they call you? Do they call you these in public as well? How often do they call you in nicknames?)

♡Kaeya would generally call you, “babe”, “love”, “flower”, and all those cringy nicknames. Most of them are for teasing you though. Now, what does he call you if he’s in a loving mood? Simple, your name or given nickname :) It might not look like much for a outsider (No, not Aether or Lumine) but to those close to him (COUGH Diluc COUGH) can clearly see how his eyes shone with affection when Kaeya calls out your given name. Kaeya doesn’t know the reason why he loves your name, he just does.

♡Yeah, even those love-sickening nicknames. He calls you in those nicknames quite often, I assure you. Everyone, including Jean & Diluc (unfortunately), already knows atleast 50 different nicknames that Kaeya gave to you. Some may gag, some may swoon, some may glare. It doesn’t matter. Kaeya doesn’t really care about other people. He just wants to see your face burst in red in embarrassment (a forever amusement of his...)

♡It’s not often that he calls you by your given name, but when he does. He just wants to let you know he loves you. He might be all talk and talk, but when declaring his love for you, it ain’t that simple. So you two have a unspoken rule that whenever Kaeya calls you by your name, it means he’s telling you those 3 words.

♡”[Y/N]..—“ “I love you too, Kaeya.”

Diluc Ragnvindr

B= Bestie (Do they act like best friends while dating? How comfortable are they with you?)

♡Diluc is closed off, he never lets anyone near his heart. I don’t think he has that many friends, but if he has, it’s only limited. For him to see you as a partner and friend, well, that’s a bit hard for him. Since in his view, treating your s/o is different with how you treat your friends. But nevertheless, Diluc is happy to lend a shoulder if you need one.

♡For him to enter a relationship to you is already quite surprising in itself. He won’t be comfortable right away, heck, he might be awkward and embarrassed all of the time. But over the time you two spend together, Diluc would eventually be comfortable with you.

♡Unlike his adopted brother, Diluc is willing to share his past with his s/o if they ask for it. If they don’t ask, then Diluc wouldn’t mention it. Afterall, why stay in the past when you have something right here in the future?

C= Cuddles (How often do they cuddle? How are they when they cuddle? What cuddle position do they like best? Are they the Big Spoon or Little Spoon?)

♡Diluc is always busy, being the head of the Wine Manor, running the tavern, being a vigilante in the night, yep, busy alright. But surprise surprise, cuddles are quite frequent. Especially after a busy day, all he wants is to bask in your embrace.

♡Cuddling with Diluc usually results in him passing out from exhaustion. But if its a normal day, he still remain quiet as he cuddles with you. He’s not much of a talker, even with you. It’s either you talk or stay quiet as well.

♡Like Kaeya, Diluc’s body temperature is based on his Vision. So his body temperature is higher than the usual body heat. After a cold chilly day, you dubbed him as your personal heater (much to his amusement and embarrassment). He likes running his fingers through your hair and playing with strands of it.

♡His favorite so far is when you sit on his lap and hug him. It might be embarrassing for him but he loves it. The first time you did this, he was so flustered and embarrassed (much to the maid’s amusement). Another favorite of his is when you two are laying on bed while holding each other. He loves placing his head on your head and smelling it (not in a disgusting way, mind you 😒). He loves your scent very much and has a calming effect on him. These are only his favorites, though he doesn’t mind any cuddle position.

♡Diluc’s definitely the big spoon, no questions asked. He just likes the feeling like he’s protecting you as you two cuddle. It makes him feel safe and calm, knowing he can protect you immediately if danger comes.

N= Nicknames (What do they call you? Do they call you these in public as well? How often do they call you in nicknames?)

♡Diluc isn’t too fond of nicknames, preferring to call you by name or a short-cut of your name. But there is a few nicknames he can call you, like “love”, “darling” and “goddess”. He calls you these by accidents actually, which promptly results into a red Diluc. After that, he calls you these absentmindedly. Like, “love, can you get that for me?”, “darling, that’s enough drink for tonight.” and “you need to watch your steps, goddess.” (These are all accidents since he’ll never call you these normally).

♡He may or may not have called you the nicknames above, once or several times. Even if he doesn’t realize it, everyone is bound to hear what he said. Everyone was patting him by the back and congratulating him (much to his confusion and, later, embarrassment). Donna can also be found crying in the corner 😢

♡Accidentally. So quite often actually since it’s like a instinct for him to call you these. He always scolds himself for calling you that. It’s either you step in or watch this poor man suffer (please choose the latter, he might die from constant embarrassment).

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

↝ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: y/n pinning them against a wall - prompt inspired by this twitter post

↝ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: kuroo x f!reader + sakusa x f!reader 

↝ ᴡᴄ: kuroo - 1000+ sakusa - 900+ 

↝ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing, aggressive behaviour-ish. 

↝ ᴀ/ɴ: I’ll be doing this prompt for Osamu, Akaashi and Yaku too soon ~ I just like it a bit too much haha. also I edited this 3 times so if there are still errors, I am sorry pls ignore. lmao. 

Kuroo Tetsurou

A low rhythmic hum vibrated inside of your throat, to accompany the track playing from your phone. Those who were fortunate enough to catch the melody trailing along with you, would often find a smile on their face. Between the tranquility of the sound and the bliss warping into your aura – your presence accidentally had an impact on many. Those in your university only knew you as the kind singer who would offer sincere smiles, free of cost. It was a reputation you did not mind adhering to – maybe it was better that they did not see the darker shades that coloured your soul. So, generally, a smile would remain sewn into your visage – unwavering until you were within the safety of your home. Where you could release the other parts of you that were deemed “not school friendly.”

Though, today your calculated barrier between the two worlds would disintegrate, due to the careless words of your best friend, Kuroo Tetsurou.

Upon reaching the corner that would connect you to the hallway where your class room was situated, you plucked out an earbud and placed it back into its case. Since this was a course you shared with Kuroo, the two of you held an uncommunicated agreement to wait for the other before entering the room. The thought of your close friend twisted a knot inside of your chest with threads of adoration, excitement and hope. It was quite clear that your relationship was not merely platonic. The issue was that neither of you had initiated the first step to test the boundaries.

But you would try today. You would try after class.

“So, what’s going on between you and l/n?”

Hearing your last name, you paused before switching hallways. How many other l/n’s were at the university? It was certainly a conversation about you. 

So the question was, who was the one posing the question, and who was the one about to answer it?  

“We’re just friends.”

Okay. Easy. That was Kuroo. 

The nonchalance laced into his answer fueled the flame igniting in the pit of your stomach, yet you continued to conceal your presence from the pair. 

“So you don’t mind if I ask her out?”

“It’s not my place to say anything.” Even without a visual, you knew your best friend would have added a shrug to accompany the statement. Somehow, that irritated you more. 

Rolling your eyes, you stepped past the corner for your grand reveal. “Hi there, boys. You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed Tetsurou for a second, would you?” 

Your sudden emergence had startled Kuroo, but what had his chest constricting was your use of his first name and the hallow laugh that was spilling from your lips. 

“Uh, sure…”

It took you a second to realize who the other male was – he was an acquittance of yours, one you shared two classes with. One who was mostly forgettable not due to a lack of charm, but solely because he wasn’t Kuroo.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Curling your fingers around your best friend’s wrist, you dragged him down the hallway, not caring for the confused glances thrown into your direction by those around you. When you reached the area between the staircase and corridor, you gently pushed him against the wall before placing both of your palms on either side of him. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you were quick to drown out his voice with your own.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Just friends? That’s bullshit.” The concoction of emotions weaving into your bloodstream had given you a headrush. But at the center of the varying feelings was fear. Because you wanted more than a friendship, and you were about to risk your entire relationship for that desire. You tried to suppress it, but over time it became overwhelming. And now – his words had awoken something inside of you. Something you could not contain.

The black-haired male blinked down at you, his irises moving from your arms walling him in, to the death glare your eyes were partaking in. “Isn’t that what we are, y/n? Friends?”

Out of the options available to him, Kuroo had selected the one for a coward. Or perhaps, he was testing you. Either way, your irritation with him had increased tenfold.

“Fuck you.” Lowering your hands on either side, you stepped away from him before turning back into the direction of your class.

“I wasn’t done yet.” A sigh left his mouth as he caught your wrist with his hand, tugging you towards him. Once your back aligned with his chest, he repositioned his arms to curl around your stomach. Heat spread throughout your entire body, and you were unsure whether it was from your anger or due to his close proximity. “We are friends, y/n. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be more. You’re right, it is bullshit. But I can’t exactly go around telling everyone in the school that I’m in love with you, now can I?” Feeling you become incredibly still in his arms, he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss against your head. “But if I had known you would get that pissed off so easily, I would have said something stupid earlier. Because pinning me against the wall – that was hot.”

“Shut up.” Breaking away from his hold, you spun around to face him. A half smirk was tugging at his lips, one that communicated how much he enjoyed the situation. “You are horrible. What would you have done if that guy asked me out and I said yes? Hm?”

“I’d probably cry and then say on to the next one!” To further instigate you, he dipped an eyelid into a wink.

“Really. Horrible.” With your passion deflating, exhaustion crept into your muscles, bringing a groan to sound. “Let’s just get to class.”

“Nuh huh. We can ditch one class. Plus, you still haven’t said it back.” Tilting his head, he proceeded a step forward to close the distance once more. He then tapped on your chin, allowing your gazes to connect. 

Inhaling a deep breath, a faint smile was presented towards him.

“I love you too, idi-.”

The remaining half of the insult did not leave your mouth, rather it was replaced with a muffled protest as Kuroo gently caught your lips with his. As you tried to break the exchange, he tangled his fingers in your hair, keeping you secure against him, before mumbling. 

“That’s boyfriend to you.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi 

The repetitive interaction between the laminated flooring and the leather training balls had resulted in a dull ache in your temples. As the manager of a professional volleyball team, you were well accustomed to the noise but today, your patience was running thin. Practice had officially ended two hours ago, and yet your boyfriend, Sakusa Kiyoomi continued fine-tuning his serves. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you scanned the male for any indication of exhaustion – something you would have capitalized on, in order to reason with him. Except the outside hitter’s reserve of energy was far from being depleted. It often surprised you how resilient he was, he certainly did not have Bokuto or Hinata’s stamina, but that did not keep him from pursuing his goals. Whenever he would discover a new technique or target, he would work on it relentlessly. It was an admirable trait, one that made him one of the best players you had ever seen.

And let it be known, supporting him was always your intention. But at the moment, you were passing your own limits and remaining calm and composed was not an option. Between the throbbing on either side of your head and the acids chewing away at your stomach lining from hunger, you were seconds from raiding Bokuto’s secret snack stash.

“Omi, you’re done. Go take a shower.” After swapping your clipboard for a towel, you proceeded across the court, before offering it out to him.

The outside hitter stared at you in response, indicating that he heard your commands but was electing to ignore them. Returning his attention to the volleyball within his grasp, he began prepping for another serve. A sigh mixed with a growl rattled inside of your throat as you twisted the towel in frustration. When the ball landed on the opposite side of the court, an eerie grin stretched onto your mouth.

“Omi. You little shit.”

With each step you took forward, Sakusa intuitively took one step back until his back was met with the padding attached to the wall. You were quite aware of your height difference, although that did not matter. You planted your hands on either side of him, purposefully caging him in. Knitting his brows together, confusion swam in his dark irises.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing? I’m not asking you to finish up. I’m telling you. We finished practice two hours ago, and I am starving. If you do not go into there and take a shower this instant, I will not be responsible for what happens to you. You know what they say – you’re not yourself when you’re hungry.” After gesturing to the locker room with your head, you squinted at him, attempting to seem menacing. However, you were only met with amusement.

“Are you saying you will eat me?” The question had Sakusa battling a smile. Was he really supposed to find that scary?

“We both know someone like you would taste delicious, so I’m not saying that isn’t a possibility.” Maintaining a deadpan expression while spouting nonsense was not a task for the weak – but after having countless conversations with actual idiots, you had mastered it. You would not provide your boyfriend any satisfaction.

“Okay. I’ll go.” His admittance of defeat was joined with the raise of his eyebrow, communicating that he expected you to “release him” now. You were about to comply with the silent request when he dipped down and placed a fleeting kiss onto your mouth. The sudden display of affection had erupted a volcano of butteries inside your stomach.

“What the …”

Leaving you there baffled, the MSBY player slipped past your defenses, smiling to himself. 

Two could play at this game.

Later that night:

After gifting you an apology meal at your favourite fast-food joint, you both elected to walk home rather than taking a taxi. His fingers were intertwined with yours loosely, and since the streets were mostly abandoned, he had removed his mask, permitting his lungs unrestricted access to the fresh air. Now that your mood had elevated significantly after satisfying your human needs, you were ready to question your boyfriend on what occurred earlier inside of the arena.

“So, why’d you kiss me?” Kissing was generally an activity he preferred to engage in after showering. And therefore, you were puzzled by his recent actions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shifting his gaze to the row of streetlamps that framed the sidewalk, he lifted his shoulders into a shrug.

“You liked that I threatened you, didn’t you?” A gentle laugh danced past your lips as you shook your head. That seemed to be the only explanation you could think of in the moment.

“No. You looked cute trying to seem scary.” He joined his retort with a scoff, although it was evident, he was suppressing any physical indication of joy.

“I am scary!” Resisting your urge to pout, you squished his hand to reinforce your statement.

“Yeah, sure you are.” Refusing to bestow upon you his full attention, his eyes travelled to the sky above. While he would not vocalize it, he found most of your antics to be ridiculously adorable. It was what he loved about you. And there was no denying that you could certainly scare others when deprived of food – but not him.

“I will eat you. Don’t tempt me.” A small pout forced its way to your lips to display your mild annoyance. Though, the emotion was easily defeated when Sakusa in a quick swoop, stole another kiss. This time, however, he lingered, enjoying the taste of your lips. 

It turned out that maybe his rules around kissing required some amending. Because he wanted to kiss you, whether or not some of his pre-conditions were met. Guess that was a consequence of being in love.

Once he pulled away, he exhaled a chortle.

“Yeah? I’m looking forward to it.”

General taglist: @haikyuufairy​ @newfriendjen​ @lvoejimin​ @moonlightaangel​ @gyozaaaaa​ @byun-nies​ @thevillagehiddenintheinternet​ @amberalisa​ @graykageyama​ @yourstarvic​ @chaichai-the-weeb​ @chibishae34​ @haikyuusimp91​ @volleybloop​  @rajablast​ @idiot-juice-enthusiast​ @melonmayhere​ @cuddlesslut​  @athenarosaline​ @memes-and-money​ @coconut-dreamz​   @elianetsantana​ @tsumume​ @tsukkismamagucci​ @the-golden-jhope​ @camcam1617​  @elephantloser​ @dreamstormings​ @anejuuuuoy​  @fantasycantasy​ @aquariarose​ @bloody-bella​​ 

[mearcatsreturns]

/whispers/ So maybe I now have to ask for Ivan and the No Good Terrible Very Bad Day Attempting to Babysit a Grisha Child Who Can Summon Light and Shadow. How could this possibly go wrong.

Once again, this got long, so here's the first chapter of A Day in the Life of Ivan, Or: Ivan’s Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day.

The worst day of Ivan’s life begins years before the fateful day itself, if that’s possible. He’s grateful not to know the precise day, but he knows who—or what, rather—is to blame.

It’s the damn heterosexuals. They just won’t stop fucking, and they’ve made it everyone else’s problem now.

The heterosexuals in question are, of course, Kirigan and Alina, or as they’re known now, the Tsar and Tsarina.

&&&

About three years before the Worst Day™, Ivan is minding his own business, just trying to find some decent food after returning from a mission to the northern border. It wasn’t a bad trip; Fedyor had been with him and they’d enjoyed the opportunity to spend some time together outside the political games of Os Alta.

Nevertheless, Ivan is eager to eat some food that isn’t dried and to sleep in his own comfortable bed. He’s already debriefed with the Tsar and bathed, so he’s delighted to find it’s time for dinner. It’s to be a small group tonight, just the king and queen, Nikolai, Zoya, Tamar, Nadia, Fedyor and him. He can tolerate them all (except Fedyor, who of course is the light of his life), though Alina remains permanently on thin ice. She makes the Darkling light and happy, and it’s just unnatural.

They settle around the table and fall into comfortable conversation. Tolya is on an assignment and intends to travel to Kerch after this. Tamar and Nadia are beginning to formalize their union and are looking for a house. If their bickering and the obscene looks Zoya and Nikolai are giving each other are any indication, Ivan expects some kind of announcement from them any day. The Tsar intends to invite some dignitaries from Novyi Zem to the palace in a few weeks.

And Tsaritsa Alina is pale and...unwell. She looks queasy, and Ivan feels a moment of alarm. Grisha can’t get sick, not unless they don’t use their powers. Given that Alina is the Sol Koroleva, the renowned Sun Summoner, that seems unlikely. Few things lead to such ill appearances. Maybe some kind of poison? If she or her food are being poisoned, they need to know as soon as possible.

Ivan does his usual first step; he counts the heartbeats, checking their speeds. One, two, three, four, everyone is normal, five, six, seven, eight, nine...ah, the ninth is faint and fast.

Wait. Nine? There are only eight of them here at dinner, and the attendants have long since departed.

It hits Ivan like a lightning bolt, and he gasps aloud in shock and horror. The most reasonable explanation for the extra heartbeat and Alina’s ill looks is—oh, saints protect them all—a baby.

Everyone turns to look at him, as though he is the one who’s done something strange and dangerous.

Ivan gapes at Alina and points a finger accusingly, “You’re pregnant! With a baby!”

Beside him, Fedyor closes his eyes and shakes his head, letting out a sigh. Tamar and Nadia exchange a knowing, amused look, though they manage not to laugh. Zoya raises one shapely eyebrow.

Nikolai grins. “One generally is pregnant with babies, as opposed to anything else. Except perhaps with genius ideas, in my case and David’s. Alina, moi tsar, congratulations to you both.”

Alina glares at Ivan. What? He’s not the unholy saint about to unleash terror onto the earth from their womb.

Once he glances at Kirigan, though, Ivan stills. The Tsar is ashen and looks as though someone has dropped an iron on his head, or told him that his beloved horse is Grisha too.

“Aleksander, I wasn’t sure. I was waiting until I was to tell you,” Alina says, one hand on her husband’s forearm. “Are...are you all right?”

The Tsar opens his mouth, but no sounds come out.

Tamar and Nadia stand, hand-in-hand. “We, ah, think we’ll take our leave now. Thank you for a lovely dinner, Sol Koroleva, my King,” Tamar says, and she and her fiancée flee.

Zoya clears her throat and gives Nikolai a look that is very different from the hungry one Ivan so despises on faces that aren’t Fedyor’s.

With a nod at her, Nikolai stands and helps her to her feet. “Indeed. Your hospitality is, as always, boundless, though I can’t help but feel we’re trespassing on it every second we linger here. Erm, do let me know when I can get you a gift.”

“Congratulations,” Zoya says, and to Ivan’s disgust, she actually sounds sincere. He watches as she and Nikolia leave, one of the Lantsov pup’s hands at the small of her waist. One would think the heterosexuals would have learned from this evening that touching each other is dangerous, but apparently some of them are just utter fools.

Fedyor elbows him, and Ivan turns to scowl at his beloved. “Wha—”

A point of his head in the direction of the Tsar and Tsaritsa quiets Ivan.

Alina is kneeling beside her husband’s chair, stroking his arm. Aleksander Kirigan, King of Ravka, Shadow Summoner, the Black General, sits still as a statue, eyes wide with shock.

“We’ll head out now too,” Fedyor says.

Ivan nods, grabbing Fedya’s arm and hauling him from the room. Over his shoulder, Ivan yells, “Good luck!”

Fedyor smacks him, whispering furiously as they close the door behind them. “‘Good luck’?! You’re supposed to say ‘congratulations,’ or ‘have a nice evening,’ you utter troll.”

“I’m a troll now? See if I give you a massage when we get back to our rooms,” Ivan grouses. He pulls Fedyor along, pulling him away from where he seemed inclined to linger by the door. Eavesdropping, pah. He can’t believe he’s married to such a busybody.

Who would want to stay to hear whatever nonsense the Darkling and his wife are about to say or do? He’s had enough of that for one lifetime, thank you very much.

Ivan shudders. The two most powerful Grisha on the planet, one a sun summoner and the other a shadow summoner, having a baby? The world is definitely doomed.

&&&

The next day, Ivan receives a summons to go see the Tsar. Dread churns in his stomach, and he rubs his eyes. He hadn’t slept well, especially after he and Fedyor had a tiff about “inappropriate behavior and outbursts.” And now he’s to see his boss, probably about said outburst the previous night.

He accompanies Anton, the young oprichnik to the Tsar’s quarters, and the boy brightens with excitement to be talking to one of the Tsar’s most favored Grisha. “Thank you, Andrei. I’ll make my way from here.” The boy’s face falls, but Ivan dismisses him with a nod. If the oprichniki got any more friendly, they’d start calling him Vanya without his permission. Appalling.

Ivan takes a deep breath, then knocks at the door. He’s long since learned the value of knocking after Alina and the General got together, especially now that they share their quarters. Unfortunately, no healer has yet to find something to wipe certain sights from his brain.

“Come in,” Kirigan’s faint, disembodied voice commands.

Ivan lets himself into the room, waiting while the Tsar steps around the corner from the bedroom he shares with his queen.

“Good morning, Ivan.”

“Good morning, moi soverennyi. I hope you rested well,” Ivan replies, tone funereal. Saints, he prays he’s not about to be sent to Tsibeya permanently. He runs his hand under his collar, annoyed to find he’s actually sweating.

Kirigan’s face gives nothing away. “I did, thank you. The Tsaritsa is with Genya and one of the healers.”

“And she...she is well?” Ivan gulps.

“Yes. She was apparently a bit surprised last night herself, as she’d only just begun to suspect she might be pregnant.”

As much as Ivan hates when the Tsar’s feelings show—it’s usually him making soppy, annoying faces at Alina—he wishes Aleksander would just say what’s on his mind.

“My apologies, sir, I was also surprised. She seemed unwell, and I wanted to make sure she wasn’t, say, being poisoned.”

“You thought someone might be poisoning my wife?” Kirigan is incredulous.

“Things have been very calm with Fjerda lately. I don’t trust it.”

The General mutters under his breath, something about not trusting anything.

Ivan waits. Finally, Kirigan breaks the not-so-silent silence. “Well, thank you for your concern. And, ah, the surprising news.”

“You’re most welcome,” he replies gloomily.

“You don’t seem thrilled.”

“Forgive me, moi tsar, but I don’t see a need for excitement at a natural result of your conjugal activities. Sir.”

Oh, saints, is Kirigan frowning at him? Ivan mentally starts packing his belongings when the frown becomes a smile and then a laugh.

Perhaps Aleksander still isn’t quite recovered from the shock of his impending fatherhood.

He’s not paying attention to Ivan anyway. Kirigan makes his way to the table, shuffling the papers there unseeingly. “I didn’t think it was possible, you know.”

“I did not.” And Ivan would like to keep it that way.

Alas, Aleksander seems inclined to continue talking. “In all my long life, longer than you know, I’ve never fathered a child.”

Ivan grimaces. The world is probably grateful, though now it has much to fear. “It would have been challenging to have had a child during the wars, sir.”

Kirigan waves this aside, and unfortunately continues speaking. “Still, for it to happen with Alina...I’m so thrilled, Ivan.”

“And I am...happy for you, General.” Make it stop. Ivan is queasy.

“Of course, it’s probably for the best that it didn’t happen when Alina and I first got together, especially now that I know how possible that was.”

Ivan wants to cover his ears and sing “la la la la la,” but the implications of what his boss is saying finally sink in, and his horror at this whole situation increases exponentially. “Wait. Do you mean to say you weren’t using, ah, preventative measures?”

Kirigan’s face grows sheepish. “Until my conversation with Alina last night after you all departed, I wasn’t aware there was such a thing. In my day, one simply planned around the time of the month or withdrew from—”

“I beg you to stop talking. Moi soverennyi,” Ivan adds as an afterthought.

The Tsar falls silent, and Ivan sighs with relief.

But something bothers him. “Did you not get any sort of talk about how to prevent pregnancy when you were training? Even I did when I was young, before everyone knew I wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

“Like I said, there weren’t those kinds of options when I was young, as far as I know,” Kirigan says with a shrug.

Ivan begins to realize that his boss is, in fact, much older than he thought. That explains the herring and rye, too. He hesitates before venturing to speak. “Do...was Alina—the queen, that is, did she explain the different kinds of birth control, or…?”

“Well, I can’t get her more pregnant, Ivan.”

It’s too horrible to even contemplate, and Ivan shudders.

Kirigan laughs and slaps his shoulder. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to give me The Talk. Alina was so upset I didn’t know that she told me everything last night.”

Ivan’s lips twist in dismay at Aleksander’s rapturous expression that indicates there was a demonstration of some practical applications. Ugh. “Small mercies.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll consider this next a mercy: I want you and Fedyor to stay close through Alina’s pregnancy, especially once word gets out.”

Staying in Os Alta won’t be so bad, but the idea of dancing attendance on Alina, all while some parasite hijacks and distorts her body...well, hopefully he’ll get a good field assignment once this pregnancy is over. “Of course, moi tsar. And when will it end? I mean, ah, when is the blessed event?”

“In seven and a half months or so, perhaps eight. She’s about five or six weeks along, the healer says. And that, well…” Kirigan smiles at what is clearly the memory of this child’s conception.

Ivan fervently wracks his brain, desperate to keep his boss from offering more information that will give him nightmares about heterosexual intercourse. “And is there any way of knowing whether the babe will be a shadow summoner or sun summoner? Or both?”

A stricken look comes over Kirigan’s face. “Both?” He clearly hasn’t considered this possibility yet. “But that…” He doesn’t continue, instead going to fall into his chair and stare into distance.

It’s going to be a long few months.

&&&

It’s roughly eight months after that when Ivan is rudely pulled from sleep by Genya bursting into his and Fedyor’s room like she has the right.

It’s obscenely early in the morning, Ivan is, as is his usual habit, sleeping on his side facing the window. Fedyor, as is his usual custom, sleeps with his arm slung over Ivan’s waist and his head buried between his shoulder blades. It’s very soothing, normally.

Not today, though. The door opens with a bang, and Genya yells, “It’s time! She’s here!”

Ivan, suddenly wide awake, goes to jump out of bed. Instead, he finds that Genya has slowed their heart rates enough that hurrying is impossible. He glares at her. “What the fuck are you doing in our room? Who is here?”

“The baby is here. The tsarevna.”

“It’s a girl?” Fedyor asks with a smile.

Genya grins back. “Yes. She’s adorable.”

Ivan does not smile. “I’m glad she’s arrived. But why are you here in our bedroom at—” he glances at the clock and continues, “4:52 in the morning?”

“Everyone is going to see here. You’re the Tsar’s right-hand man, Ivan, so they’ll be expecting you.”

“Well, Genya, darling, you’ll have to let our hearts do their normal thing if you want us to do that,” Fedyor adds.

She shakes her head and drops her hand. “Of course. Sorry. See you there in fifteen minutes, and please be wearing pants. And shirts.”

Ivan grumbles, but gets out of bed. It’s difficult to want to leave when Fedyor is looking over him like that, but Kirigan probably will be upset if they don’t come to fawn over his spawn in what he deems a reasonable amount of time.

He and Fedyor make their way down the halls of the palace to Aleksander’s and Alina’s private apartment. The door is open, but Ivan nods at the guards and knocks anyway before stepping inside, Fedyor on his heels. He walks back to the bedroom, where he can hear hushed, happy conversations.

Alina is lying on the bed. She looks sweaty and disgusting, but in a radiant and maternal way that the Tsar seems to find beautiful, since he can’t look away from her. Typical, and exactly what got them into this mess.

The mess in question is wrapped in a blanket in her mother’s arms. Ivan glances at the small bundle, which seems to be sleeping. It is certainly very red.

Kirigan sits in a chair beside the bed, as close to it and his wife and new daughter as he can. He’s resting one hand on Alina’s shoulder, while the other trails along his daughter’s tiny head.

“The tsarevna is lovely,” Fedyor says, smiling down at the family.

Ivan thinks that’s a bit of a stretch, but he nods. “She looks like a baby. A healthy one.”

Fedyor elbows him, but Alina just rolls her eyes. “Thank you, I think.”

“She’s beautiful,” Aleksander says firmly, his face still disturbingly dreamy. “We’ve decided to call her Anastasia.”

Nastia. That seems about right.

Just then, the wee girl stirs and starts to wail. As her cries grow louder and Alina shifts to be able to feed her, shadows creep into the room. Then through the darkness, Ivan sees little flashes of light coming from the baby.

Fuck. This tiny child can summon shadows and light.

Nasty little Nastia indeed.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Opening Night

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: When Loki scores the lead in a production of West Side Story, the two of you become fast friends. You help convince him to face his fears and invite the Avengers to see the show. Warnings: a bit of innuendo, fluffy, and extremely self-indulgent A/N: It isn’t necessary to know the plot of West Side Story to read this, but I still recommend you guys check it out. They made it into a movie that’s pretty much the same as the stage version. And if you’re interested in the songs I used in this, they’re here and here. Also, idk if this is common knowledge, but a stage manager is the person in charge of tech, set changes, and all that jazz. Theater has always been a huge part of my life, so I definitely wrote this with myself in mind but I hope you can all enjoy too!

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02​​ @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​​ @lokistan​​ @lowkeyorlokificrecs​​ @gaitwae​​ @whatafuckingdumbass​​ @castiels-majestic-wings​​ @kozkaboi​​ @cozy-the-overlord​​ @birdgirl90​​ @myraiswack​​​ @mythicalgarlicknot​​ @what-a-flammable-heart​ @mlqcikemenmc​

Disclaimer: Picture not mine.

He looked so beautiful up there on that stage, you thought. He almost didn’t get the part either; Auggie, the director, had been worried that putting the God of Mischief in the lead role would be bad for business. You’d fought for him, though, and you’d been right; tickets were nearly sold out once people found out an Avenger was performing. Besides that, Loki was extremely talented, and you were certain no one else could have carried the role quite so well as he had been. It was a definite plus that he had become a very close friend, too. And you maybe, just maybe, had a tiny crush on him.

“It’s getting late,” you said once he finished singing, applauding as you walked out of the wings. Everyone else had already gone home, so it was just you and Loki. He’d wanted to stay and practice a bit more, and as stage manager, you had to stay to lock the place up. “Are you ready to head out?”

He looked out at the empty seats in the audience of the community theater. You wondered why he hadn’t tried out for off-Broadway, or even Broadway itself; he was certainly talented enough. Somehow, he didn’t see it. You could still remember the look of excitement on his face when you officially met him for the first time. How he’d told you he hadn’t been expecting the lead role. It hadn’t been what he’d tried out for, after all. You assured him that in this production of West Side Story, it was a clear choice who should play Tony. Him. Your friendship moved rapidly after that.

“I do not know, darling,” he replied. “Opening night is this week, and I want to make sure I am as good as I can be. If you would like to lock up and leave, I can just teleport home.”

“No. If you’re staying, I’m staying.” He smiled as you put your bag down and sat on one of the wooden blocks you’d painted weeks before. “Don’t you think you should give your voice a break, though?”

“Ah you forget darling, I have the stamina of a god,” he replied with a wink. You averted your eyes, hating where your mind went after that statement. “Besides, I have been resting it at home.”  

“Fine, but I swear if you lose your voice, I’m not helping you break the news to Auggie,” you giggled.

He chuckled, “Fair enough, darling.”

Convinced that he could handle it, you let him play the track and start singing. As he practiced his part from the Quintet, he walked over and knelt before you. You were certain the expression of complete adoration on his face was just good acting, but it still made your heart flutter. As the music crescendoed, he stood up and offered you his hand, taking you to center stage. He kept singing to you the whole time, his hand coming to caress your cheek as was dictated by his choreography. Again, you knew that’s all it was, but the butterflies in your stomach didn’t care.

As the song ended, he didn’t immediately move to turn off the music like he usually did. Instead, he stood where he was a minute more, one hand cupping your cheek, the other on your waist. A kiss most certainly wasn’t supposed to happen here, but you swore he started to lean in towards you. Afraid to break the spell, you didn’t say anything. When the next song started playing, he came out of whatever trance he was in and moved back, clearing his throat.

“Sorry,” he apologized, the faintest of blushes coloring his cheeks. “I just got lost in the song, I suppose.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you replied, rocking back and forth on your heels, disappointed. “It’s fine, I totally get it.”

After turning off all the lights, the two of you finally left, stopping for a coffee on the way home, as had become tradition. You laughed as he told you a story of his childhood on Asgard, animatedly waving his hand about. Waiting for a light at a crosswalk, your phone chimed, and you checked it.

“Shoot. I got to go, Loki,” you informed him. “The copy place finished with the playbills, and I should run to pick them up before it closes. I don’t wan’t to hold you up, though.”

“Nonsense,” he said, changing direction to walk back the way you’d came. “It would be my honor to accompany you.”

You made it just in time to pick up the box, which was heavy enough that you swallowed your pride and let Loki carry it. Since it was cheaper to just fold and staple the pages yourself, you had quite a bit of work ahead of you. Sure, you’d get the rest of the crew to help you tomorrow, but you wanted to get a jump start tonight. You told Loki as much when you’d started the trek back in the direction of your apartment, and his answer surprised you.

“Why not come to the Tower? I can help you put them together,” he offered.

“Oh,” you replied, the butterflies in your stomach returning. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It would be no trouble to have you, darling. Really.” It was already dark out, making it hard to see, but you were pretty sure he was blushing again. “It is much closer than your home. Of course, there is no pressure to say yes.”

You shyly smiled at him. “Thank you, Loki. That’s very generous. I would love to come.”

The smile he gave you could have lit up the whole city, it was so bright. It was probably silly to be so happy that you could make his face light up like that, but you couldn’t help it. That was when you realized that your little crush had turned into something much, much more. You were falling in love with him. You were convinced it was unrequited though, so you wouldn’t say anything. You just hoped that you’d stay in touch once the show was done and rehearsals stopped.

Everyone knew of Avenger Tower, of course, but few had ever been inside. You marveled at the massive lobby as he led you to a private elevator that said “Avengers Only”. It made sense, you thought, that they should have their own if they lived here. And of course it was so high tech that it had to scan his eye to start working. He chuckled a little at the amazement on your face, thinking you looked absolutely adorable.

“Ok,” he whispered as you stepped out of the lift. “I am sure most of the team is asleep by now, so if we just slip past and-”

“Brother!” Thor boomed, cutting off Loki. “There you are! You’ve been gone all day- Oh. And who is this?” he asked, noticing you.

You introduced yourself, and Thor shook your hand with a firm grip. Even though you’d already known Loki for months now, you were still freaking out a little at meeting another Avenger. Really, how many civilians could say they knew not one, but two superheroes? You nearly lost it when Iron Man and Black Widow rounded the corner.

“Hey, Reindeer Games. You made a friend,” Mr. Stark said. Then he wiggled his eyebrows and added, “Or maybe something more.”

“Oh, shove off, Tony,” Nat said, flicking the side of his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

You introduced yourself to the newcomers, and they asked you to call them by their first names. The only other time you’d been this star struck was, unsurprisingly, when Loki had shown up at the audition. You looked over at Loki, who seemed rather uncomfortable. Though you wanted to chalk it up to him just being nervous his two worlds were colliding, you could tell there was something more to it. You worried for a second that he was embarrassed of you, but you didn’t really think it was that either, certain that notion was just your insecurity getting the better of you.

“Well, we should be going then,” Loki said, ready to retreat to his room.

“Oh, come on,” Tony replied. “That’s no fun. Why don’t you guys join us for a drink in the kitchen?”

You were tempted to say yes, but Loki shifted the box in his hands, reminding you of why you were there in the first place. Besides, if Loki wasn’t feeling up to it, you didn’t want to subject him to socializing. Not to mention an evening alone with him sounded absolutely magical.

“No, it’s fine,” you answered, and Loki sent you an appreciative smile. “We’ve got work to do, anyway.”

“Oh?” Thor questioned. “Does it happen to have something to do with the mystery box my brother is carrying?”

“Actually, yes,” you told him with a smile. “See, they’re playbills for-”

“For the show that they are a stage manager for,” Loki interjected, looking absolutely panicked. “That is all. No more questions needed.”

“Oh, that’s so exciting!” Nat smiled. “Are the tickets available yet? Can we come see it?”

“No, sorry, it is sold out,” Loki replied before you could, an expression of utter befuddlement on your face. “Maybe next time. Now, as we said, we have work to do. Alone.”

“Hey, it’s alright, Reindeer Games,” Tony said, winking, and ushered the others away. “I get what you’re saying. You two kids have fun now.”

Loki’s face was burning from embarrassment as he led you to his quarters. Your mouth dropped open at the sheer size of it. You guessed that after the lobby it shouldn’t have surprised you. Besides how vast it was, it somehow screamed Loki. The green furniture with black and gold accents. The numerous floor to ceiling bookshelves that didn’t have a single inch unoccupied. The carefully crafted decor, often featuring snakes subtly carved into it. And you were completely surrounded by his scent that you could never exactly figure out, but was very distinctly his.

You were brought back to reality by the light thud of the box on a table. As you walked toward him, Loki kept his eyes averted, focusing on taking the stacks of paper out. Standing beside him, you worked in silence for a few minutes until you couldn’t take it anymore, and finally had to ask what was on your mind.

“So, uh, what exactly was all that about?” you inquired.

“Oh, they are just very animated people,” he replied with a shrug. “And Stark is, well, Stark, so he has basically no filter. I am very sorry if they bothered you, darling.”

“That’s very sweet, Loki, but I didn’t mind it at all, actually,” you replied, folding the first playbill together. He snapped his fingers and a couple of staplers appeared on the table. “That’s not really what I was talking about, though.”

“Oh? Whatever did you mean then?”

“Please don’t play dumb,” you begged. The light clicks from the stapler filled the silence of the room as you waited for him to reply. When he didn’t say anything, you sighed. “I mean, why didn’t you say you had the lead in the show that these are for? In fact, why haven’t you told them about it already?”

He shrugged and made a noncommittal mumble, focusing on the repetitive task in hopes of distracting himself. You stopped working in favor of resting your hand atop his. It made Loki stop, too, and he finally looked you in the eye.

“Look,” you began. “You obviously don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to; I understand, and I’d never want to pressure you into something that would make you uncomfortable. But I know you bottle a lot of things up, and that’s not really healthy. So if you do want or need to talk... I don’t know, I guess I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”

Then you hugged him. The simple action seemed to startle him so much that you feared it was unwanted and you’d been too forward. But when he hugged you back, you could feel the gratitude in his embrace, easing your worries. It was like he was holding onto you for dear life. As if you you were a lifesaver, and he was adrift at sea. It was a tense sort of desperation leaving his body, you realized, as he sank against your touch. You gently rubbed his back as his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You’d always thought he might be touch starved, but now you could feel it in the way he practically molded his body against yours, obviously trying to make the most of the contact. You wondered if that may have something to do with why he kept West Side Story a secret. Maybe he’d been neglected too many times in his life, now thinking the things he does don’t matter to anyone.

“I suppose I am just scared, darling. Scared that they would not want to come, that they would make fun of me, that I would fail in front of them,” he sighed. “Perhaps it is silly. I am sorry.”

“Oh, Loki, there’s no need to apologize. I meant what I said, I’m here for you.” You didn’t think it was possible, but he held you even closer. “Everyone gets stage fright from time to time. And you’ve never even performed before. Whatever the reason, it’s still perfectly valid and understandable.”

“Thank you, darling,” he sniffled, and you realized he was crying.

Leading him over to the couch, you sat and continued to hold him. You whispered and cooed calming things in his ear. He tried to apologize for the tear stains marking your shirt, but you were having none of that. Everyone deserved a good crying session every once in a while, and you told him as much, encouraging him to let it out.

“Better?” you asked, wiping away the last few tears from his cheeks when he did finally calm down. There were some stray locks of hair sticking to his wet face, and you brushed them away, too.

“Mhm,” he nodded. He looked so fragile in this moment that you wished there was something more you could do to help him. “Thank you so much, darling. I think I needed that.”

You were worried that kissing the tip of his nose would be too intimate an action, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were very happy when he preened under the attention. “You’re very welcome, Loki.”

“I must ask, you are not going to tell them, are you? That I have the lead, I mean.”

“Well, no.” You ran your fingers through his hair as he sighed in relief. “But you should.”

“Do I have to?” he asked, giving you puppy dog eyes that made you chuckle a bit.

“I mean, it’s not required. I think you’d feel better if you did, though.”

“I suppose.”

“From what I can see, they love you, Loki,” you comforted him. “They’re your family, don’t you think?”

“How is it that you always know what to say?” he smiled up at you.

“I guess I’m just magic,” you laughed. He made to get up, but it seemed like it was a chore to tear himself away from you. You gently pulled him back down to you. “You don’t have to get up. You know, if you don’t want to.”

“I do not, but we hardly put any of the playbills together.” Even as he said that, he cuddled into your side. “I feel guilty taking up all our time.”

“Believe it or not, I’m perfectly happy to spend our time like this,” you reassured him, reaching for a blanket and covering your bodies with it. You’d been so concerned about Loki’s well-being that you hadn’t really contemplated the situation you were in. Now you couldn’t help but wonder if this snuggling was a normal thing for friends to do, or if it were a sign of something more. “I’d much rather help you through whatever’s on your mind than put together some playbills. There’s still plenty of time for that.”

“Thank you again, darling,” he hummed as both of you began to doze off, tired from a long day of run-throughs. As sleep claimed you, though you felt it must have been a dream, you swore you heard him whisper, “I love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the week leading up to opening night was so hectic, you barely even had a second to dwell on that night with Loki. It was probably better that way, for if you had thought too hard about that morning, waking up in each other's arms, you were certain your heart would burst from happiness. So, no, it was better that you were focusing on the show.

“Guess who, darling,” Loki whispered in your ear as you reviewed the script in the wings, making sure everything was set for top of show.

“Loki,” you smiled, spinning to face him and throwing your arm around his shoulders. One of his arms encircled your waste. When you stepped back, his other came around from behind his back to present you with a bouquet of flowers. “Thank you so much! I actually have something for you, too.”

You grabbed the arrangement that you’d bought and gave it to him. You nearly melted under his soft gaze as he expressed his thanks. His makeup was already done, accentuating his already striking beauty. A large part of you wanted to lean forward and kiss his plump, pink lips.

“I have some news,” he declared. “I have told my fellow Avengers about the show. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” you asked, cocking your head.

“Well, I left tickets and a note for them to come tonight.” He nervously shifted his weight. “They do not yet know that they will be watching me perform, though. It was too hard to tell them, so I figured why not show them?”

You beamed at him. “That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you. You’re going to do amazing.”

There was a slight hesitation behind his eyes, as if he was contemplating something very carefully. “Darling, there is something I have to tell you.”

“Yes?”

Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, the director burst into the wings. “There you are, Loki. I’ve been looking all over for you. Mic checks in five,” he said.

“My apologies, Auggie,” he replied before turning to you and resting a hand on your arm. “We’ll talk later, ok? Have a good show.”

“Thanks. Break a leg,” you nodded as he left, agonized by not knowing what he was going to tell you. You noticed Auggie giving you a look. “What?”

“I swear, you two better kiss before this week is over,” he muttered, leaving the wings shaking his head.

The remainder of the day passed in a blur, and you could hardly believe that it was already time for the show. You’d peeked out before it started and noticed the Avengers sitting in the front row. Those tickets had been sold out for weeks, and you smiled, realizing that Loki had wanted to invite them all along. He just needed a little push to actually do it.

Before Loki walked out onto the stage, you gave his hand a little squeeze. Despite how nervous you knew he was, he gave his best performance yet. After his first song was done, you glanced out at the audience to see the Avengers already giving him a standing ovation. You could see in his eyes how taken aback he was. He waited around in the wings until your set change was done so you could share in his joy. He gave you a quick, tight hug, absolutely radiant.

The rest of the show went perfectly, and Loki stunned the audience every time he stepped on stage. You were beyond happy for him, especially when he received thundering applause during bows. He came and hugged you again as soon as you finished closing the curtain.

“Loki, you were amazing,” you told him.

“Thank you, darling. And your set changes were flawless,” he complimented you in return. “I cannot believe the first show is done already.”

The two of you talked for a minute more before he had to go change out of his costume. You looked out from the stage a little bit later to see the Avengers hugging him and giving him more flowers than you could count. Even from a distance, you could see happy tears welling in his eyes. It made you grin uncontrollably to see him happy like that.

Later that night, you’d told the rest of the cast and crew to go ahead to the diner to celebrate without you, that you’d catch up later. You wanted to stay behind and touch-up a set piece that some paint had slightly chipped off of. Suffice it to say, you were a little startled when a voice cut through what you had presumed to be an empty theater.

“Always you. Every thought I’ll ever know,” Loki began singing his part from Tonight, walking down the aisle towards the stage. “Everywhere I go, you’ll be. All the world is only you and me.”

You chuckled as he ascended the stairs and took your paintbrush from your hand, setting it down on the tarp. He skipped to his next part in the song and began twirling you around the stage. After hearing so many rehearsals, you knew the words by heart and joined in, singing the duet with him. When you reached the dialogue breaking up the song, you stopped dancing, both panting a little.

“Loki,” you laughed. “What are you still doing here? I thought you went to the diner with everyone else.”

“Yes, well, you were not going to be there yet, and I have not had the chance to tell you what I have wanted to all day.”

“Oh my goodness,” you gasped. “I nearly forgot about that in all the excitement of the day. But you have my full attention now. What’s up?”

“I love you,” he said plainly.

You weren’t convinced that this wasn’t a dream or a hallucination of some sorts. But no, he’d said it, clear as day. He loves you. Loki loves you. It was shocking, to say the least. Of course, it was completely welcome, though. In your surprise, you took long enough to formulate a response that his smile faltered a little. His worries were erased when you kissed him, however. The god responded immediately, kissing you back with just as much passion as you did him.

“I love you, too,” you told him just as simply as when he’d said it to you.

After finishing up in the theater, you exited the building. Once outside, Loki couldn’t resist kissing you again before meeting up with the rest of the company. And, being the fluffy sap he was, he absolutely had to tell you he loved you again, this time referencing the show.

“Te adoro,” he said.

You beamed at him again. “Te adoro, Loki.”

[karama9]

Mini Fic time

Or "not so much a theory as something I find entertaining to think about, in prose". Follows Rocketear so spoilers ahead! Hurt Comfort fic, but before you get any idea, in a strictly emotional sense.

Long post, so story under the read more.

Despite Plagg's attempt at soothing him, Adrien could not shake off the day's events.

It was bad enough that he'd found out who Rena Rouge and Carapace were from someone else than Ladybug, even if it was from Carapace himself.

It was bad enough that he'd found out THEY were allowed to know each other's identities. Nino associated it with the fact they shared everything... was he right? Was it because they were close that Ladybug had been ok with that? Weren't he and Ladybug close enough for that too? Sure they weren't a couple, as much as he wished they were, but there are other kinds of closeness.

But when he paired it with Nino's assessment that Ladybug found Cat Noir annoying... when he thought about the fact Nino's assessment was from time Carapace spent with the two of them and probably also reflected his own feelings...

It hurt.

He was not new to pain... a lot of things that happened in his civilian life hurt, in fact heartache was pretty much the norm since his mother had gone, broken only by bright moments with friends, which were few and far between as Adrien but had been more recently mercifully combined with outright glee when he was Cat Noir. Cat Noir was freedom and fun, but he was also one of an indestrutible pair and sometimes, one of a fantastic team. And above all that, Cat Noir was Ladybug's partner, and being Cat Noir meant being with her. For as long as he could remember, that had been the best part of being Cat Noir.

Knowing she found him annoying, as apparently was obvious to anyone but himself, was heartbreaking. He knew she didn't always enjoy his jokes, but it was usually the timing she didn't like. She'd tell him to be serious because she needed him to be at that moment, not because she generally disliked him. Or so he had thought until today.

Even with Rena Rouge being called upon more often and sometimes appearing to know more than he did, sometimes DEFINITELY knowing more than he did to the point that the two girls would make action plans that didn't include him at all... he had been annoyed, angry even, but he had still convinced himself that Ladybug valued him and that times where he couldn't help were isolated incidents that couldn't be avoided. He still didn't like it, and he had intended to have a talk with Ladybug about it because it was starting to feel like back when Master Fu only communicated with her and he couldn't stand the thought of his Lady distancing herself from him that much. But that was what that issue had been in his head... something to talk over with Ladybug so it could be fixed.

After today, he saw it all in a new light. His relationship with Ladybug wasn't going to be fixed by complaining to her because what he saw now was simply the result of Ladybug having the luxury of relying on others more now. The annoying Cat Noir didn't have to always be the one by her side now, the team could be bigger and well, not everyone on a big team is needed all the time, right? So he could be sidelined and she could get a break now and again, she didn't have to put up with him all the time.

His throat tightened and he felt tears flooding his eyes at the thought. He had tried to move on from Ladybug. He had even loved Kagami, but it hadn't worked out because he had to lie to her all the time. Except maybe he hadn't HAD to? Alya and Nino had been excused from that. Either way, it hadn't worked out and to his surprise, what had upset him the most had been that Kagami was hurt, not the fact he was losing her. He'd quickly realized that he was still in love with Ladybug, regardless of any feeling he'd had for Kagami as well.

That love being unrequited at the moment was not great, but at least he'd had Ladybug's friendship. She still loved him, cared for him... and that was good enough. Romance would have been nice, but what was there was still wonderful.

And it hadn't been there at all. He'd been deluding himself. They were partners, yes. But Ladybug was just dealing with an annoying partner very professionally. He was just a nuisance that made being a super hero that much less fun for her, something she just had to put up with.

He started sobbing, staying as silent as possible not to be heard by anyone, and ignored all of Plagg's attempts at comforting him with cheese nonsense. He eventually fell into an uneasy sleep and when he woke up, he wanted nothing more than a friendly face.

Nino was out. Adrien realized that Nino had been speaking out of anger and was a genuine friend, but right now Adrien couldn't even look at him without hearing that Ladybug found him annoying again. He stayed outside of the class, avoiding his best friend and everyone else in there he didn't want to see, from Lila to Chloe and even Alya. Alya was Rena Rouge, she was the one allowing Ladybug to take breaks from having to deal with her nuisance of a partner Cat Noir... he supposed he should be grateful on his Lady's behalf but he couldn't quite manage it.

Marinette came running down the hall towards class, last one here as usual, and Adrien's eyes widened even as his mouth automatically lost its pout to form a smile. At this moment, Marinette was nothing short of a lifeline. He waved at her, trying to think of an excuse, when she tripped and fell flat on her face.

He rushed towards her but she was already jumping back to her feet, stammering that she was fine. Reassuring as it was, Adrien wasn't about to lose such a great opportunity to spend a few more minutes with her and away from class.

"I don't know, Marinette, that really looked like a bad fall. Let me walk you to the nurse's office. Please?"

Marinette turned bright red but mercifully nodded. Adrien grabbed her arm and 'accidentally' turned the wrong way. The building was a square, but the nurse's office was much closer if you went in the direction opposite the one he had taken.

"Er..." Marinette said.

"I actually really need to talk to you," Adrien admitted.

Marinette stopped walking. He turned and was faced with a worried expression on Marinette's face.

"You do? What's wrong? Are you ok?"

He automatically started to say yes but his voice caught and nothing came out but an undefined strangled sound.

Marinette's eyes widened. "You're not!" she said, a note of panic in her voice. She had a quick look around and her features morphed into a determined expression that was so much like Ladybug's it was downright eerie. "Forget the nurse's office, come with me!"

And suddenly, she was dragging him along. They ended up in the deserted art room. She closed the door and turned to him, her expression once more nothing but concern.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

For a second, he thought he wouldn't be able to say anything for not knowing where to start and how to not give away his secret identity, and then everything came flooding out in a blur. By the time he was fully aware again, his cheeks were wet, his chest was aching and he was in Marinette's arms.

His eyes widened and he tried to push himself away, embarassed and horrified at having dumped everything on her, along with hysterical crying by the feels of it, and had he told her he was Cat Noir? He wasn't even sure.

She tightened her grip and he noticed it had already been rather tight. He managed to pull his head away to look at her face and mentally kicked himself: he'd made her cry too.

"Marinette... I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I don't even know what I said but..."

She swallowed and when she answered, her voice was far calmer than he would have expected.

"You said you were only ever happy when you're Cat Noir because even though you wish she was more, you're still happy to be with Ladybug as a friend and partner, but now you think she hates you because you keep being left out and you found out Rena Rouge and Carapace can share their identities with each other even though she won't share hers with you, and now you think she finds you annoying so you're heartbroken and you think it may be best for everyone for you to give up your miraculous."

Adrien's eyes widened. He'd broken the secret, he'd told her everything, even about Nino and her best friend Alya. He groaned. "At least now Ladybug has a good reason to hate me."

Marinette tensed again. She took a deep breath and then pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes.

"No," she said firmly. She finished pulling away and opened her purse. She nodded at the content and before Adrien could even begin to guess what that was about, Tikki peeked out, not looking either of them in the eye.

"This was MY fault," Marinette whispered, "not yours. I can't believe I hurt you t his much, and I never even would have known if..." she shook her head. "You said my name, Marinette that is, a few times, so it's best I don't transform. You should, though: nothing you said identified you as Adrien so your identity will still be safe if someone comes in or sees us leave. Thankfully you didn't blurt out anyone's civilian names, not even Rena or Carapace's, you were much more careful about talking in tongues whenever you were talking about them. You're a great friend even when you don't know what you're saying."

Adrien barely registered the words, staring at Tikki. He tore his eyes away from the kwami to look at Marinette. More than anything else, she looked sad. She started talking again as soon as she had his attention.

"We'll talk more later but this can't wait," she said, still whispering, "I do NOT find you annoying. Your friend was angry, and he was wrong. Adrien... Cat Noir... I love and appreciate you SO much. I'm sorry I so completely failed to show that lately, and I'm sorry I left you out. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry, I didn't even notice and it happened more than once. I'm sorry. You're my friend, not just my partner, and I never, EVER want to lose you. That's never changed and it never will."

Adrien was reeling. Ladybug. Marinette was Ladybug. He'd been crying in Ladybug's arms. And she didn't hate him at all, and she was sorry.

"Why did you let them know each other?" he said, clinging madly to something that hadn't dramatically changed in his head in the past two minutes. "Why was it okay for them but not for us?"

"I'm worried about being interrupted," she whispered, her tone business-like. "There's a really good chance some people heard you, they need to think it was Cat Noir talking to me. I'll deal with people wondering why he would, but you need to transform."

"Wait," he said, an important fact suddenly dawning on him. "You had a crush on me at one point!"

"Kitty..."

"Right. Plagg," he whispered, "claws out."

Marinette sighed in relief. The timing was spot on, they heard voices coming down the hall, with Alya's ringing over the others trying to steer them away by saying that Cat Noir deserved some privacy if he wanted it. It was to no avail, the door burst open to several students staring at Cat Noir and Marinette.

He hurriedly got up.

"Oops, looks like my rehearsal was overheard! Sorry about the disruption, everyone! What did you think, Miss Dupain-Cheng? Was I convincing?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She giggled. "Not bad," she teased. "Kind of too hammy, as you might have guessed from how I was crying laughing, but I think you'll be alright if we practice tonight. "I will await you on my balcony, Sir Cat!"

Cat Noir chuckled and nodded, understanding the rendez-vous as real even if the reason was a lie. He bowed to the gaping students and jumped out the window, bounding away.

He still needed a long talk with Ladybug, but the pain of the last 24 hours felt like a dim memory. He knew for a fact that they'd work it out, because that's what friends and partners did, and above all else, he knew one thing beyond all doubt: Marinette was his friend.

[nurgletwh]

If you do decide you want prompts in the end — I adore the way you write Ogrim and Quirrel interacting, and something fluffy from their younger days could be fun!

Hints, Allegations, and Things Left Unsaid

- - -

Summary

Ogrim is handed an assignment in theoretical diplomacy and practical investigation, recruiting his best friend for assistance.

- - -

This is from the Ghosts That We Knew universe, although it set approximately fifteen years before the Hollow Knight is Sealed in the Black Egg Temple (rather than the in-game time that the other works are currently set in). This is complete and utter silliness with a side of nonsense, but it technically canon for my universe. xD

- - -

Ogrim

- - -

Ogrim snickers as he walks down the hallway through the White Palace. This is going to be fun. The Pale King had given him a faint smile when Ogrim had laughed at the assignment, and stated that he expected his orders to be followed implicitly.

Snickering again, he rounds a corner and heads out across a courtyard. He grins and waves at the two guards on duty, who nod back as he passes by. Reaching the other side, he crosses another hallway and heads through an archway to head down the sweeping stairs circling a fountain. He beams as he catches sight of Isma, waving when she notices him bounding down the stairs.

He diverts from his intended destination to greet her. She’s on duty, so he nods as he steps up beside her.

She smiles back as she finishes up her current discussion, and he waves at Lorial as they take their leave.

“Alright, spill it. What has you grinning like a fool?” she asks him with a smirk.

“I have an assignment. From the king!”

She turns to face him, one hand on her hip, the other on her chin as she gives him a mock once-over.

“That generally isn’t a cause for glee,” she says. “Frustration, yes. Curiosity, yes. Dread, frequently. Are you certain you are feeling well?”

She steps over and places a hand against his cheek. “You don’t seem to be running a fever.”

Ogrim chuckles as she stretches up to look into his eyes. “Your eyes might have a little extra gleam, but I diagnose mischief and not illness.”

He laughs and captures her hand for a moment, squeezing gently before releasing it. “Ah, Isma! The glee is not only due to the assignment, but also because of what it is, who it is for, and whom I am going to rope into helping.”

She snorts. “This should be entertaining. I’ll bite, who’s it for and what are you going to be doing?”

He pulls a folded letter out of his armor with a broad grin. “The Pale King has, and I quote, ‘no clue’ what Lord Furzkopf is trying to locate. I can only imagine how many questions he had to ask; see for yourself!”

Isma shakes her head as she takes the letter, and he smiles, bouncing on his feet as he waits for her to get to the best parts.

He sees her eyes widen, and she gasps, “No!”

“Oh, yes!” he says, knowing she has only made it about halfway through.

She snorts, and jams her hand against her mouth as her eyes crinkle up in glee. He watches as her shoulders start shaking, and she finally bursts out laughing as she reaches the end.

“Stars above, Ogrim! Are you certain the Pale King didn’t know exactly what he was trying to get Lord Furzkopf to describe!?” she laughs.

He shakes his head. “I am not! That makes it so much more exquisitely wonderful, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, gods, Ogrim. I don’t know which to hope for. Lord Furzkopf is an ass and this?” She waves the letter back and forth. “Knowing he had to describe this in such particular detail is a joy unto itself. Because you just know, whether the Pale King knew what was being described or not, he would have taken these notes with exactly the same intensity.” She grins at him. “Lord Furzkopf would have no way to know for sure if it was sincere ignorance, and I’m sure our king just kept asking in that deeply focused way he has.”

She starts snickering. “Not that I didn’t already know who you were going to be grabbing to help from the bounce in your step, but for once I completely agree. This is right up his alley, and one should always consult with the appropriate experts.”

“I am glad we are in agreement!” Ogrim laughs, and Isma smiles at him as it echoes around the fountain courtyard.

Her eyes crinkle and she captures his claw in her hand, squeezing lightly as she says, “Enjoy your assignment, I’ll see you this evening.”

He takes the letter as she hands it back, touching her face lightly with his claw before stepping back to give her a small bow. “As always, my lady,” he says softly.

She scoffs, but he sees the faint flush of white as she turns away, and smiles.

Time to go find his victim… er, partner.

- - -

Ogrim strides through the barracks, grinning widely. It’s late enough in the afternoon that the second shift is waking up, and he watches bleary-eyed guards stumbling around as they try and get enough stimulants into their systems to begin functioning for their day.

He knocks on one of the doors towards the end of a hallway, eliciting a quiet groan and “Go ’way!” from within.

He chuckles and knocks again, eliciting further incoherent mumbles. Figuring he’s given plenty of warning, he opens the door and walks in with a bright “Good morning!” as he heads for the window.

“Gods, Ogrim, what do you wa—don’t you f—argh!!” comes from the bed as he gets to the window and opens the blinds.

Turning towards the bed, Ogrim is greeted with, “You ass!” and he laughs.

“No, my friend!” he says, as he heads towards the bed. “This makes me an ass!” he says as he grabs a corner of the top blanket and yanks it away, uncovering the bugs hidden beneath.

The larger of the two bugs ducks and hides against the pillbug, who puts his arm over them as he glares blearily at Ogrim.

Ogrim smiles and retreats to lean against the desk. “How’d you get Galien out of here? He seems fundamentally incapable of condoning transgressions.”

“Ugh; you would be correct. I found him a date of his own, that’s how.”

Ogrim snorts. “Surely it couldn’t have been that difficult.”

Quirrel sighs, hugging his bedmate and whispering something to them. They relax, but don’t uncurl from their position of hiding.

“No, not particularly. It was more a matter of getting things moving along in such a way that he wouldn’t be here, which meant arranging for Delian’s roommate to be somewhere else, which meant… you get the idea, I’m sure,” Quirrel says.

“I most certainly do,” Ogrim chuckles. “You can be quite determined to entertain your companions. How on earth do you manage not to get caught?”

The companion in question flinches, and Quirrel says, “Technically, we just got caught, didn’t we?”

“True enough! However, in the grand tradition that has existed for centuries, since I am not your direct superior or even their direct superior, I don’t actually have to cope with this particular aspect of your shenanigans.”

Quirrel snorts, getting up onto one elbow and then leaning over his companion again, whispering to them. They shake their head, and he chuckles softly as he kisses their cheek and hums quietly. Pushing himself up and over, he deftly snags the blanket back and throws it over them, once again hiding them as he stands up.

“And for what glorious reason am I being subjected to your over-cheerful presence?” Quirrel asks.

“Ahhh, that’s the joy! Although the orders are to be kept quiet, so I’ll meet you in the commissary in five minutes, and we can head back to one of the offices from there.” Ogrim snickers. “It was lovely seeing your carapace, Miranda.”

The lump under the blanket twitches, and she throws the blanket back to glare at him.

Smiling at her, Ogrim sketches a small bow as Quirrel glances at the ceiling and shakes his head.

Ogrim stands up, calling back as he leaves the room, “Five minutes! Don’t be late!”

- - -

Having located a small empty conference room, Ogrim holds the letter aloft. “We are to locate a missing possession, as requested by the Pale King.”

Quirrel looks at the letter dubiously. “The Pale King has lost something, and – out of all the available options –” he waves his hand around in a vague circle, “he asked you?”

Ogrim shakes his head with a snort. “No. A visitor has lost something, claims it has been stolen.”

“I’m still stuck at the Pale King having asked you.”

“My heart weeps at your lack of faith!”

“Ogrim, the Pale King has at his disposal the entirety of the Guards, including the Investigators. Your job, last I looked, was to beat shit up, not find shit.”

Ogrim chuckles. “Ah, but you see, this visitor has requested… let me think… how was it put.” Ogrim thinks for a moment before continuing, “requested ‘the utmost delicacy and discretion regarding the item that was lost.’”

Quirrel crosses his arms and give Ogrim a flat look. “Now I am definitely calling stagshit. Unless the Pale King has suddenly become feeble-minded and forgetful?”

“My friend! I am hurt – nay, wounded – that you would question my ability to be quiet and careful!”

“…right.”

Quirrel ducks forward, snatches the letter, and opens it to start reading.

After a few seconds Quirrel asks, “So who is this theoretical illustrious guest that has not only managed to lose this whatever, but has the clout, courage, or outright idiocy to actually ask the king to be personally involved in the hunt for a thief or – far more likely, knowing most of the nobility – find it wherever they… uh…”

He stumbles into silence, and Ogrim starts grinning.

Quirrel boggles at the letter, bringing his other hand up to feel it and no doubt check to make sure it is real. He flips it over and looks at the back, then goes back to staring at what has been written.

He finally looks up and meets Ogrim’s eyes.

“Nice forgery. There is absolutely no way that you of all people were asked to investigate this as a favor requiring ‘discretion and delicacy.’”

“I assure you; it is quite real! And I was specifically requested by the Pale King to investigate this in ‘my usual thorough fashion.’”

Quirrel crosses his arms as he stares at Ogrim. “You. He requested you.” Ogrim beams. “My friend, you are a wonderful person, but you don’t have a single fiber of discretion anywhere within you. Every single rumor in this place makes it to you, through you, and is redistributed by you with extreme glee. Everyone knows this. The Pale King holds himself above most things, but he is not unobservant; he is, in fact, quite the opposite. This is not something he doesn’t know. And you are trying to tell me he specifically requested you to find this!?”

“Yep!”

“Does he know you are recruiting me?”

“Yep!”

Quirrel stares at him in silence, and Ogrim smirks back; he was right – this is fun!

“…I suppose the only person I could ask to get confirmation of the assignment is the Pale King?”

“Yep!”

Quirrel slaps the letter against the middle of Ogrim’s chest with a groan, and Ogrim grunts as he grabs it. Most definitely fun!

“Who asked for this help?”

Ogrim grins broadly. “Lord Furzkopf.”

Quirrel stares at him, his whole posture lighting up with unholy glee as the situation finally sinks in.

“You don’t say,” he murmurs.

“Oh, I most certainly do.”

“Utmost discretion,” he purrs.

“Indeed.”

“As provided by one of the Great Knights themselves.”

“You are now seeing the picture!”

Quirrel laughs. “I am indeed, my friend; I am indeed!” He points at the letter and asks, “We get to go interview the victim, I hope?”

“Last I knew, the proper investigative protocol involves verifying the witness statement by any investigator taking over the lead on an investigation.”

“Wonderful. It is a lovely day to be a horrible investigator, is it not?”

“It has turned into one,” Ogrim snickers as he grabs Quirrel’s shoulder. “I trust you can ask the appropriate questions and not giggle? Because there is no way I will make it through this interview.”

Laughing, Quirrel grabs the letter again. “My friend, if Lord Furzkopf stammered through this description of his ‘enhancement aid’ as awkwardly as this letter indicates, while the Pale King laughed his metaphorical ass off behind the guise of a sincere desire to properly ensure his investigators can find the item in question? I am going to assume I have implicit permission to bring the full force of what I am so well known for to bear, in the same way that your discretion is implicitly understood.”

“It is good to see you understand what the Pale King desires from this investigation! Shall we go find Lord Furzkopf?”

Grinning, Quirrel nods as he hands the letter back. Ogrim tucks the letter into his armor and heads out the door, Quirrel following behind.

- - -

They find the Lord in question lounging in one of the gardens, entertaining himself by attempting to… flirt with one of the gardeners working nearby. She looks up and meets Ogrim’s eyes with a pained expression. He nods at her as he says, “You’re excused for now, Gaiea. We need to speak with Lord Furzkopf privately.”

“Yes, of course,” she says as she dumps her tools haphazardly into her bucket.

Lord Furzkopf sputters as she stands. “Now just wait a minute! We were having a friendly discussion and we weren’t done; you can’t just interrupt like that!”

Quirrel steps around Ogrim’s side, breaking into Furzkopf’s line of sight to Gaiea as he says, “We are here regarding your missing figurine?” He turns and blasts a charming smile at Gaiea, who has just stuffed her rags over the top of her tools and is ready to flee. “I’m certain she would love to stay here with you and offer comfort.”

Ogrim sees her grip the handle of the bucket and worries that she is ready to chuck it at his friend. Quirrel turns a little further – making sure Furzkopf can’t see – and starts to sign something Ogrim can’t see either.

Furzkopf shakes his head and says, “Figurine?”

Gaiea relaxes as Quirrel signs, so Ogrim turns to Furzkopf and says, “Yes, the one you reported missing to the Pale King. We have some questions about the descri—”

“Oh!! That figurine, yes, quite so! No, my dear, no need to fuss about this, I’ll be simply fine; don’t you worry!”

Ogrim turns back to see Gaiea shake her head, and Quirrel turns to speak to Furzkopf again. “Are you certain? I can see how losing such a precious item would be hard to bear, how you might need a hand to hold in your time of need. Ogrim can go ask—”

“I am absolutely certain that I can remain… strong during these trying times, there is no need to go to all of this fuss! She may go!”

“As you wish,” Quirrel says, and turns back to Gaiea to bow slightly as he says, “Your time will not be required today, thank you for your enduring patience.”

She scoffs quietly and returns the bow before fleeing down the path.

Quirrel waits until she’s disappeared around one of the trees before turning back to Furzkopf. He holds his hand out to Ogrim as he says, “I just have a few questions about your descriptions.”

Ogrim pulls the letter out and hands it over.

“Are you certain that there is suitable privacy here?” Furzkopf asks, his voice quavering.

Quirrel looks around, startled. “You didn’t seem to think there would be an issue in what you were suggesting Gaiea do for you, I don’t see how this is any different. This is fairly secluded, as you were mentioning.”

Ogrim almost snickers, but catches himself. Quirrel had heard what the ass had been suggesting; good. Ogrim had been planning on making sure that she didn’t need to work anywhere near this end of the palace for the rest of the week – and he still will – but getting Quirrel worked up would generate additional solutions that were usually far more entertaining.

What Ogrim can do is make sure the White Lady is aware she needs to temporarily double or triple the garden staff, so that the seclusion is no longer available.

“I… suppose, if you are confident we won’t be interrupted?”

Quirrel shrugs and gestures around vaguely without saying anything.

“Go ahead then.”

“As you wish,” Quirrel says, unfolding the letter. “From your description, this novelty figurine is made from gold, onyx, and emerald?”

“I made it very clear what the materials were when describing it, I don’t know why you need to be asking me this again!”

“It’s standard procedure, my lord. Please bear with me, I know it can be quite hard. From these notes, I understand that it’s about this long?” Quirrel asks as he holds his hands a little ways apart.

“Not quite, well, more like this,” and Furzkopf holds his hands apart, but much closer together – although they keep wavering about, refusing to settle on a specific distance.

“Ahhh, ok, I’ll note that then. Accuracy is important.”

“I’m sure, quite sure, yes.”

Quirrel skims down the notes again, tapping his finger near the bottom of the letter. “Is this a downward or upward version?”

“…I am quite sure I have no idea what you mean.”

Quirrel looks up at Furzkopf, innocently puzzled. “Do you put it in upwards or downwards?”

“This isn’t… it doesn’t go into me anywhere!”

Ogrim nearly gasps, trying to keep from laughing. He grabs his claws together behind his back, and stares off into the trees just over Quirrel’s head. He knew he had chosen the right bug for the job.

“Really?” Quirrel looks back at the letter. “This description is fairly straightforward for a standard model. Barring the materials involved, I don’t see anything particularly special about it.”

Lord Furzkopf stares at Quirrel, speechless.

“You have the hinged version, which I must say is a wyrm to keep clean – honestly, I’m impressed by your dedication on that front – and the little protrusions are definitely a bonus in my experience—” Quirrel has taken to moving his hands as he describes the… novelty figurine in question, demonstrating the various… options he is describing “—but being made from metal and stone means that it will stay cold for quite a while. Which in itself can be quite pleasurable, but… well, that’s a whole different topic, of course.” He looks up and smiles at Furzkopf, holding his hand out slightly, palm up.

“Of course,” Furzkopf whispers.

“Regardless, I suppose whether it goes upwards—” Quirrel curls his fingers up and then tweaks his wrist to rock them forward as Furzkopf watches, stunned, “—or downward—” Furzkopf whimpers as Quirrel rotates his hand and curls his fingers again, providing another helpful demonstration, “—doesn’t matter so much as we search. Hmmm. Where was the last place you saw it?”

“Ahhh, that would be in my rooms of course,” he says faintly.

Quirrel skims the letter and nods. “You wouldn’t have happened to take it with you while visiting Vashnia?”

Ogrim looks at Quirrel. That wasn’t in the letter. He knew Furzkopf was doing his level best to get into Vashnia’s bed, but in addition to his naturally repellant personality, he continued to harass anything that moved in an attempt to get it to move on him. Last he knew, Vashnia wouldn’t do much more than taunt him.

Quirrel is assiduously reading the note, as if the answer to his questions were present somewhere within. Which they are not, because Ogrim has re-read the note several times in absolute amazement.

“…I perhaps may have happened to have it in my robes when she suggested we have drinks, to show her, you know, simply as an amusement of course.”

Quirrel nods, “Of course, as one does.”

“Yes! As one does, certainly there was nothing meant by it at all!”

“Well, it obviously means something, or we wouldn’t be here having this conversation, would we?” Quirrel says, looking up and smiling brightly.

“No, of course not… I mean yes, it does!”

“Right! Thank you for your time, Lord Furzkopf. I believe we have enough information to get a firm grasp on the situation. We will be sure to keep you updated of any changes or progress. Have a nice day!”

“Yes, of course, please do that,” Furzkopf replies weakly.

Absolutely positive he won’t be able to say anything without laughing, Ogrim simply nods his head at Furzkopf, and follows Quirrel out of the gardens.

- - -

“I’m going to shove his novelty figurine into him sideways,” Quirrel growls once they are out of earshot.

Ogrim grabs his shoulder and shoves him into one of the sheds, wedging the door shut behind him.

“No, you will not.”

Quirrel glares at him, crossing his arms.

“Vashnia knows how to handle creeps like him, she’s been doing it for years. He’s making a fool of himself.”

Quirrel snorts. “And Gaiea?”

Ogrim gives him a tight smile. “The White Lady will have a report of my observations by the end of today. I know she’s been lightly monitoring him; it won’t be so light after this.”

“Good.”

He stares at Ogrim for several moments before grinning. “I know where his blasted novelty figurine is, by the way.”

Ogrim laughs, and grabs his shoulder. “I was wondering! I take it Vashnia has it?”

Quirrel nods with a snicker. “Miranda is her cousin, and has been staying with her the last few weeks. Vashnia has taken to spiking his drinks and then flirting with him shamelessly.” He gestures back towards the gardens with a sigh. “Unfortunately, the side-effect of that frustration seems to be an increase in his harassment of others. My guess is that the White Lady missed it simply because it’s only stepped up in the last two or so days. Your report may not surprise her all that much, to be honest. Her staff seem quite comfortable reporting up to their supervisors, it may just have been the normal delay of bureaucracy in inaction.”

Ogrim scoffs. “That doesn’t help Gaiea much.”

Quirrel grins wickedly. “Gaiea was armed with trowels, at least two pruning shears, a turning fork, and a trimming saw. Two of those items you never saw, because she had tucked them into her shell when he started getting suggestive. She’s strong, she’s fast, and volunteered to be the one in his presence today. If he’d done more than talk – which is all he’s ever done, according to Miranda – he would have been missing parts faster than you or I could see.”

Ogrim stares at him.

“My friend, never piss off a gardener. They have tools and chemicals, and are not afraid to use them.”

Ogrim shakes his head. “Duly noted.”

Quirrel snickers. “Let’s go talk to Vashnia and see what her plans were for this… toy, because I’m guessing it’s far more entertaining than anything either of us could come up with.”

Grinning, Ogrim follows his friend out of the shed and into the palace.

- - -

Several days later, an interesting novelty figurine was found in the hallway outside of Lord Furzkopf’s door, laying as if dropped from the pocket of a robe.

The cleaning staff considerately placed it on a towel and gave it to the serving staff, who placed on his tray as they brought him breakfast, lying beside his fork and knife.

- - -

Do a Google Translate on Furzkopf. ;-)

[itsclydebitches]

Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first: 

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense. 

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go. 

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3 

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. 

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it. 

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit. 

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world. 

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

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

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.  

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.12}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

The time before the actual welcoming feast seemed to stretch on forever this year. The sorting took longer than usual, or at least it felt like that, and Dumbledore's speech seemed even more repetitive and boring than it always had. Robin guessed that it was the 48 hours without a meal that had her desperately looking forward to the beginning of the feast, and seeing as nobody else seemed to be bothered by how long it all was taking, she probably was right to think so.

In her impatience, she started fiddling with whatever cutlery she had within her reach on the table, tapping her feet, nibbling on her bottom lip… until the people around her were starting to be seriously irritated by her behavior, upon which she forced herself to stop. Instead, she went for her usual inspection of the staff at the head table. What was sitting up there like? Did they ever feel observed, or were they used to it from all the time they got stared at in class? She should ask about it, at some point.

Other than a few more wrinkles here and some new robes there, things really hadn't changed; they never did. While Dumbledore was speaking in the front, the teachers behind him were unsurprisingly not paying all too much attention. Sure, they all made the impression to be listening, but when Robin followed the line of faces, she could see Sprout quietly chatting with Hooch, Trelawney taking more interest in her goblet than in her colleagues, Hagrid and Flitwick having a very subtle argument about something… and then there was McGonagall, talking to Snape as if there wasn't even a speech she ought to be listening to. Robin inevitably had to smile when she saw the two; McGonagall being very much focused on whatever she was saying, while Snape was listening carefully but pretended to be entirely uninterested at the same time. Robin realized that he might very well do that to everyone who tried to talk to him about anything of minor importance. Then again… he was always listening to whatever she was rambling about, without a single spark of indifference. The thought made her smile even more. Perhaps he simply didn't bother with the facades around her anymore because she knew better anyway.

When the meal finally started, Robin was more than happy to indulge in the different kinds of food, and somehow everything tasted better than she remembered it to. But after weeks of living off whatever was cheapest in the store that day, a fully cooked meal like this was the most luxurious thing she could think of in the first place.

"I don't think I've ever seen you enjoying your food that much." Jorien remarked after a while, and Robin had to fight the embarrassment that wanted to paint her face.

"Yeah, didn't you get any breakfast at home?" Cas chuckled while she again picked the mushrooms out of her mixed vegetables and moved them over to Robin's plate. Some things just never changed.

"Good question, you've certainly lost some weight over the weeks of summer…" Jorien added, and both girls looked at Robin expectantly for an answer.

"I had quite a bit of exercise during the holidays, more than I usually get. Running through nature all day, every day, is a workout in itself. Perhaps that's where the weight went." She only shrugged in return, putting it off as nothing like she did so often when she didn't want the girls to know the truth. "I'm sure I'll be back to normal in no time now that we're back at school."

"You should eat dessert, too, then. Your robes look too loose like that, the fit needs some curve!" Cas replied in an expert manner, and Jorien only snorted while rolling her eyes. Robin however didn't mind, and when the time came, she had dessert indeed.

When the feast was over at last and the students started filing out of the hall to head to their common rooms, the three girls were among the very last to leave, as were Simon and his friends. The group split up into three segments in the entrance hall, Cas and Jorien heading to the Slytherin common room and the Ravenclaw boys to their own, while Robin wanted to tag along with her roommates for the way down to the office. But she didn't even get to the staircase before she was whisked away from the two girls –who were accustomed to her sudden disappearances by now– and she found herself in a gloomy ground-level hallway she hadn't even known existed up to this point, with a racing heart that only changed the reason for its speeding but not its pace itself when her eyes fell onto Snape two steps away now. Bloody hell… he shouldn't do things like this if he didn't want her to just lose it at some point.

"Was that really necessary?" She huffed in amusement, and couldn't help smiling up at him anyway. "I was just on my way down to the office to find you!"

"That is precisely why it was necessary." He replied calmly, with the barest hint of a not-smirk. "I have to patrol the castle grounds tonight, Minerva asked me to switch places with her. So no sitting in the office for now."

"Lovely." Robin sighed under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned back against the cold stone wall behind her. "And here I was, thinking that I would finally get to have coffee with you again after a week of being alone."

"We still can, after patrolling. Are you accompanying me like always?"

"Obviously." She gave him a small smirk once more, leaning her head to the side. "Are you making me coffee afterwards as a fair compensation like always?"

"Obviously." He rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance, which only made Robin grin more. "I must admit, a week without your insufferable self really turned out to be quite dreadful after all."

"Good. I missed you too."

"Is my house still standing?"

"Would it annoy you more if I said yes or no?" She asked innocently, rising her eyebrows once more, and her heart skipped a beat when he actually smirked for real in return. Always a delight to see, no matter how frequently it happened by now when they were alone.

They started sauntering through the hallways then, like they had done in the past school year as well, in search for students breaking curfew or any other inconveniences they could only hope not to encounter. Patrolling really was something Robin couldn't help but wonder about. Usually it meant for one professor to wander the castle alone, in the dark, without anything to do other than trying to make the night pass by as soon as possible. How dreadfully boring that must be; she was glad that she could make the dull task a little better for Snape by joining him in the misery of it at least. That way, they at least could chat and joke and bicker like always, only a bit more quietly. The portraits still grumbled at them from time to time, which however they simply ignored as they moved along. After an hour, they had caught up on the week's few events on either end, and Snape was quite obviously annoyed by the fact that Robin had spent two days without a meal. It took her a good twenty minutes to convince him that it was fine, and even more importantly, that it was in the past now and thus didn't matter anymore. Still, he seemed to be rather upset with himself about the issue, but Robin knew better than to push him, so she merely changed the topic, and eventually they were back to the usual. Other than that the night was considerably eventless.

It was only when they were passing through an almost empty sixth floor hallway when Robin picked up on a noise to her right, thus stopped walking abruptly and listened instead. Snape followed the example an instant later, and they stood in the middle of the hallway for a moment to listen to the silence, until the odd noises picked up again, from behind an inconspicuous door on the wall to their right a bit further down the hallway.

"Isn't that�� just a broom closet?" Robin asked in an irritated whisper, frowning to herself first and then at Snape, until her brain made sense of the circumstances and she felt the heat creeping up her neck. "I, uh… I don't think I want to open that door."

"Neither do I." He grumbled in return, glaring at the door as if it would change anything about the awkward situation. "But as it happens to be, I will have to and you do not. So go ahead and spare yourself the embarrassment if you wish to."

"Nonsense. I'm not letting you suffer alone." She was quick to reply, then made the final few steps to stand with her back against the wall across from the door, and the very second Snape had caught up with her, she opened it with a wordless spell. It was ironic, really, that she didn't mind doing uncomfortable things in his place for the sake of sparing him from it.

The door flew open with a start, two startled yelps could be heard, and Robin's eyes fell onto two kids she had never seen before, which meant they had to be in the years below. They were still mostly dressed, it seems, and she was honestly glad for that at least. No need to make things even more awkward for anyone involved. Both the boy and the girl, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff respectively, quickly snapped out of their shock and straightened their clothing before trying to stammer out poor excuses for what they were doing in a broom closet at this time of night. Honestly, Robin just wanted to snort at their words and actions every other second, but she kept a perfect straight face of neutrality as always while Snape held his usual speech about rule-breaking and improper behavior that she had been a witness of often enough at this point. Never on the receiving end, obviously, but they had encountered enough students out of bed during their patrols that by now she could almost mouth along with his words. She only started actually listening again when Snape turned towards her.

"Could you accompany Miss Parlow to Professor Sprout's office?" He asked neutrally, but without the scowl he had directed at the two students a mere moment before. "I will see to it that Mister Sterling finds his way to Professor Flitwick."

"Yes, of course." Robin found herself replying before she thought, and only once she had agreed so easily, she thought that he had never asked her to do this before. It definitely was an act of trust rather than a burden, she knew that, and that's why she was all the more determined to see even this easy task through.

"Who exactly are you anyway?" The Hufflepuff girl eventually asked, as Robin led her through a few more empty hallways. "No offense, but you look like a fifth year, maximum. Why on earth are YOU escorting ME?"

"That isn't of your concern." Robin replied indifferently, and she was glad that she had decided to take a shortcut to Sprout's office. Perhaps she would ask Simon about the girl, they obviously were in the same grade.

"And why on earth would you wander around with Snape at this time, or at any time really? Is this your detention or something?" The girl asked on, and Robin sent her a glare that shut her up instead of answering the questions.

A few minutes later they reached the herbology professor's office, and Robin knocked three times, then waited while the girl by her side grew more and more nervous. When Sprout opened the door at last, Robin gave her a polite smile, then explained the situation shortly and to the point upon which the girl was ushered into the office.

"Thank you, Robin, I will take care of the issue from here right away." Sprout gave her a smile in return at last, while the girl in the office behind her now looked positively startled. "Tell Severus my thanks too, will you?"

"Wait, YOU are Robin? The girl who everyone's been talking about for years?" The girl in the office asked incredulously a second later, and finally she just seemed absolutely horrified. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry about what I said! Please forget I ever said anything at all, I honestly didn't mean to upset you!"

"Seems like you have inherited some of Severus' reputation after all, huh?" Sprout snickered quietly, and Robin almost had to smirk at her words in return.

"Actually, I believe that this was mostly my own doing." She replied under her breath. "Ever since that incident in my fourth year, people have been weary of me, and as it seems, rumours and legend grow stronger over time. I doubt that any of the lower years even knows what it all is about anymore, but that doesn't stop them from believing in my reputation."

"Take it as a gift, dear. It is hard to come by their respect in any way, especially when you're that young yourself." Sprout sighed quietly, then gave Robin another encouraging smile. "Well, anyway, I hope you two have a good night!"

"Likewise, thank you." Robin returned, and only when Sprout shut the door behind herself, leaving Robin alone in the hallway, she frowned at the herbology teacher's words for a moment before finally making her way back through the hallways to where she would meet Snape in the ground-level hallway they had started out in.

But again, Robin didn't get that far; Somehow, people seemed to take joy in disrupting her plans today, and it left her feeling less in control than she would've liked. This time, how could it be any different, it was Morgan who stepped into her way out of nowhere.

"Miss Mitchell, what a delight to have you back at last. For the new term, of course." He smiled at her brightly, and the hairs in Robin's neck stood on high alert in an instant.

"Professor…" She greeted him politely, but when she tried to walk around him while keeping her head low like she ought to, he blocked her way again, this time getting way too close for comfort.

"And where would we be headed?" He inquired in a bright tone as he moved in even closer, making Robin back up until her back hit the wall. Well… damnit.

"I was just on my way back from Professor Sprout's office." She replied truthfully but quietly, in an attempt to keep her facade up and play the submissive little girl. The act still made her feel sick, but she hadn't forgotten their encounter at the ball; it was very much necessary to refrain from fighting back, and she had done a fairly good job at it ever since adoption this strategy.

"I see." He sighed softly, but still refused to back up even a step. He clearly didn't mind invading her personal space, which became all the more obvious when he traced a single finger along her collarbone and down her shoulder. Robin would've very much liked to break his arm for doing that, but such a behaviour unfortunately wouldn't count as laying low. So she only stared at the ground a few steps behind him and tried not to break her act while he spoke. "After making it to honours in herbology and even giving a lecture in front of renowned professionals in the field, I'm sure you can teach Pomona one thing or two…"

"You… you know about the lecture?"

"It was in the news, darling." He purred with a sickening smile. "I still have the article in my rooms… And the picture, of course."

The thought that Morgan had kept a picture of her made Robin feel even more sour than the situation did anyway, and she honestly just wanted to hex him further down the hallway with a single spell and then dash off like her body and mind were telling her to. But that would count as attacking a teacher, and without any witnesses or proof of her story, she would always end up on the losing end of that scenario. Whatever she did, people would believe Morgan's version of it more than hers, more than the truth.

"You have lost some weight since the picture was taken…" He finally spoke on, in a nonchalant tone that still had a cutting edge to it, and at last he removed his hand from her arm. "Say, doesn't Severus feed his little pet enough?"

A cold shudder ran down Robin's spine, at the same time as her stomach churned and her heart stopped for a moment, then started racing. She felt sick now indeed, scared and sick and far too close to panicking. Morgan was obviously playing with her, trying to get a reaction… but she wouldn't give him one. At least not the one she wanted to give, which was precisely the one he wanted to see.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She breathed in sincere fear, which was working in her favor for once. Why cover up something that was helping the act?

"Oh, I'm sure you do." He smiled at her in a mixture of humour and some twisted kind of adoration. "What do you get out of it, huh?"

"I have no idea what you're implying, but whatever it is, you're absolutely wrong. Sir."

"I mean, Miss Mitchell, that he gets a beautiful and spectacularly talented woman all to himself, devoted as you clearly are. But what do you get from him in return?"

"You're wrong…" Robin croaked out in a whisper, but she couldn't even think of anything else to say to defend herself without starting a war right here, right now.

"Don't tell me I wouldn't find his fingerprints on your skin if I were to take a look… Don't tell me you don't want him to save you right now." He hissed, and his hand was back on Robin's shoulder, squeezing painfully like he had all this time ago down by the forest. She winced involuntarily, and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to keep the gathering tears from spilling over. Perhaps it wasn't so difficult to play scared after all… not when she really was terrified out of her mind for real.

"Let go of me. Please." She tried to get out as calmly as she could, but her shoulder was hurting enough to make her grit her teeth. The pain didn't suffice however for her to miss how his other hand traced her collarbone once again, only to move towards her neck this time. Her urge to fight back grew to the unbearable, and she had to ball up a bunch of fabric of her robes in each hand to keep them at her sides. "You have no right to touch me, nor to threaten me. So, Let. Me. Go."

"You were supposed to be mine, you know…" He sighed sadly, and his fingers traced down Robin's neck, following the thin silver chain of her necklace across her chest to the point where it ran beneath her blouse. Then he tugged the chain up until he held the locket between his fingertips. "It was supposed to be you and I until the end. But Severus just had to get in the way, didn't he? I shall make sure he sees the error in claiming what is mine."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Robin's emotions were finally gaining the upper hand, and her voice shook with anger and fear alike. "But if you try to harm him in any way, I shall make sure that I will be the very end of you."

"Ah, there you finally are again, my dear… I have missed you." Morgan held her gaze with a smirk for a moment, then his eyes traveled down to the locket and inevitably also to her cleavage. "So fierce… So full of passion." With a start he yanked on the necklace, and the thin chain bit deeply into Robin's neck before coming undone.

Damnit, her act was blown, her neck hurting and her shoulder was still trapped in his punishing grip. Robin had given him exactly what he wanted, she knew that, but it was too late to change that now. Even her facades had a breaking point, and Morgan had found it at last. Yet, he still kept her pressed into the wall by her shoulder as he inspected the locket in his hand curiously for a moment, then looked back up at her with a sneer.

"I'm sure you won't mind if I keep this for a while, will you? As a reminder of what ought to inevitably be…"

"Fuck off." Robin hissed in return, dropping every hint of submission to glare up at him in pure hostility. "If you truly believe yourself to be entitled to me in some sickening way, you're even more eaten up by insanity than I thought."

"Insanity is such a vile word, darling… I am dedicated, just like you are. We have more in common than you think."

"You're nothing like me."

"No, I'm certainly not." Morgan chuckled softly and took the last step closer to press Robin into the wall with his own body now. "But that doesn't mean we have nothing in common."

"Get away from me right now or you will regret it." Robin said coldly, and finally released the balled up fabric from her hands. Witnesses or not, she would rather get expelled for attacking a teacher than letting herself be assaulted like this.

"Oh please…" Morgan scoffed in a dismissive tone, and after slipping the necklace into the pockets of his robes, he placed his now free hand against the wall next to Robin's head. "I'm not scared of Severus. And I'm certainly not scared of you."

"You should be." Robin stated under her breath, then focused her entire energy and willpower into a wordless spell that had Morgan flying through the hallway indeed, a good twenty feet even, before he came crashing down on the ground with a gruesome cracking sound.

For a moment he merely groaned and hardly even moved, but Robin still drew her wand from her sleeve and pointed it at the professor in determination to do whatever was necessary to defend herself. No matter what he was about to do now, she wouldn't let him catch her off guard. Not again. But she also wouldn't be the one to attack, not even when he deserved it quite so much at this point. But to her surprise, Morgan simply sat up after a while, hissing in pain, but with the biggest smile on his face.

"This should suffice to get you expelled." He chuckled to himself, overly happy at the prospect, so much so that he simply wouldn't stop grinning.

If anything, this proved Robin right in her assumption that he had been trying to coax such a reaction from her. But then again, she was absolutely certain that his behavior, his words and actions, hadn't been just for show. He wouldn't have bothered to keep her locket if it had been, he merely could've destroyed it or tossed it aside. But he wanted a trophy, and he wanted HER, that much she was certain of now. Only didn't she know what he wanted her for, or why. He certainly despised her, he had absolutely hated her for all these long years, and yet, now, he still wanted her in some twisted way… Robin didn't understand. Not even nearly, not when his behaviour was so different all of a sudden, and yet so very in line with everything that had been in the years before. No, Robin didn't understand at all. But when Morgan scrambled to his feet and limped back towards her, she didn't get the time to think about it any longer.

"A broken bone or two are quite the lovely evidence you presented me with. I shall thank you, my dear." He smiled at her sweetly once more, but stopped a few steps away now that Robin kept her wand pointed at him and bowed ridiculously low before her. How could anyone be like that?! She didn't understand, none of it, but Morgan didn't cease to scare her beyond reason anyhow.

Robin was just about to reply when she heard footsteps approaching quickly from her left, and Morgan seemed to notice them too, for he turned to look right into that direction as well. Three seconds later, Professor McGonagall stepped into the dim light of the few candles that lit up the partial crossing Robin and Morgan were standing in the middle of.

"Oh, Minerva!" Morgan went straight at it, his smile suddenly gone and replaced by a brilliantly feigned pain stricken expression. "Thank God you are here… You have to stop her! I… I think she broke my leg, perhaps my wrist as well, when… when she attacked me!"

McGonagall inspected the scene with wary eyes, taking in Robin's unfaltering grip on her wand that she still kept pointed at Morgan, then her colleague's pity-evoking appearance and pleading eyes. Robin knew that it looked beyond bad for her; what an ironic repetition of the event that had started it all six years ago. The same people, the same situation overall. Morgan was making Robin the villain of his story, himself the obvious victim, and McGonagall had no clue about what had really happened, but she was made to be his judge either way. But honestly, Robin didn't have it in her to defend herself like a bloody child caught in the act anymore. If she was asked for her version of events she would gladly provide it, but she wouldn't try to change opinions that were already forged in stone. If this would mark her fall from grace, she would at least fall with some last scraps of dignity.

______________________________

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[lumilasi]

Finished her pretty quick, I just got an idea surprisingly fast. Also this confirms Ryuu has a type: Redhead, intelligent, wears lot of black and red lmao. Also her pose is a bit wonky, but eh. it shows her outfit well enough.

....This reminds me, I should rewrite Reidou’s bio somewhat, I don’t quite like her BG story yet. 

Anyway, further info below:

Age: 27 (she was 20 when she met Ryuu)

Sexuality: Bi

Ezuko’s QUIRK EXPLAINED

BASICS (Pros in normal, cons in bold)

Quirk name: Living ink

Ezuko is able to create ink-like substance into any surface she touches, basically allowing her to create tattoos and art pieces without needing tools. She just needs to imagine what she wants the picture look like, or have a reference to look at. She can also turn liquids into this inky substance.

Ezuko tends to need more time and proper focus if she wants to create larger and more intricate designs. For her to create these images or change a liquid into ink, she does need to be touching the object/liquid.

TATTOOING/ILLUSTRATING

She can easily create tattoos for people with her ability that is pretty much pain free, or graffiti or even basically change the color and design of an entire building, piece of clothing, etc.

The image she’s made, she can shift and change and make move however she wants, even after a long time. She can use these moving images to even temporarily blind people by making the image shift around their eyes.

The process in some cases take even longer than doing the same tattoo traditionally would take, at least if the image is complex and large, and she doesn’t have proper references for it.

For her to be able to make the pictures move, she usually requires having been touching the object/person minimum of five seconds.

Her quirk ultimately is not meant for combat, and she can’t really use her drawings in a fight, only disorient them to either flee or find a chance to use her liquid shifting ability.

LIQUID SHIFT

Ezuko’s ability to change liquids into ink can allow her (accidentally or on purpose) to turn a person’s blood into ink and basically poison them to death near instantly. 

She can neutralize liquid based attacks as well by turning them to her ink, which will automatically start to listen to her commands.

She is immune to most acids and poisons (non-digested ones) because she automatically turns these things into ink when they touch her. It’s not her quirk being passive however, but rather a survival reaction she has developed. 

In order to do this, she needs to be able to touch the liquid she wants to change, which means in a case of a fight, she needs to either make the person bleed (or get them to spit or whatever, she prefers the blood as its “easier.”)

PERSONALITY SUMMARY

Ezuko tends to be fairly blunt, no nonsense type of person. She’s mostly pretty calm and level headed even in tight situations, but when her temper flares it can be pretty bad. She’s gonna let you hear where you screwed up exactly, in other words. 

Ezuko tends to not like people with “strong” quirks by default, because the whole obsession over quirks let to her family disowning her for not having a “good enough” power and wanting to do something else than be a hero or have some other profilic career. She can change her mind about you (like she did with Ryuu) once she gets to know you better, and sees you’re not putting all your value as a person on your power. 

She’s quite intelligent and enjoys reading and learning about a lot of different things, partly because it helps her imagination run wilder and thus makes it faster to create her images. 

BACKGROUND STORY (A quick summary, details may develop)

Ezuko was born to parents who were all about status, and quite disappointed to find out her quirk wasn’t suitable for heroism. They then tried to push her for something else that could rise their wealth and standing in society. Ezuko herself didn’t want to do this, dealing with a lot of arguments and abusive language from them, up until she moved out at age 18, heading to study arts. After that her family basically disowned her, refusing to even answer her calls. Ezuko quit trying to reach them, figuring she’d be better off without.

Then, when she was doing an apprenticeship in a tattoo parlor, she ended up having to deal with an abusive customer one evening, where he started harassing her. In a panic, she ended up discovering another, unfortunate side-effect of her quirk, where during the struggle she managed to make the guy bleed, and then swiftly turned his blood into ink, killing him near instantly. Some local residents came to see the commotion, and instead of asking her side of the story just automatically began to call her a murderer as the customer was a regular, forcing her to flee the scene. 

The local press and everybody around there started to exaggerate her temper and further paint her in a bad light, forcing Ezuko to flee the place altogether. She tried to reach for her parents for help, but they refused to help her, believing the media that she’d done it on purpose.

Sometime during her runaway spree she ran into Ryuu, who’d only recently gained lot of notoriety, though the girl was unaware of this. He helped her in a fight against some thugs, and she brings the injured Ryuu into her hideout to fix his injuries. They stick together for a bit, and Ryuu even brings her to a person he knows that generally tends to help out with people like her - a broker named Giran. Giran let’s her work in his bar, also making sure that everybody knew not to bother her as that’d be a bad idea. He even helps her to get a place to stay in eventually. Sometime during these years, she hears rumors about “Frostbite” having potentially died, which makes her a little sad initially, though Giran cheers her up be stating that there was probably more to the story than that.

Some years after that, she finds out about Ryuu being alive through Giran, as he sends her to bring something to “an old acquaintance” as the man put it. This said acquaintance turned out to be Ryuu.

Few more extra details;

- She’s the only person out of the people around Kain who actually understands his more scientific talk. They can end up having long conversations about a subject that none of the others have a clue of.

- Her name translates to “Paint” (Pandoru that she pronounces as pandora) and “illustration lake.” (Ezuko)

- The world she lives in is based on my fic Reanimate, which basically means there’s no league of villains, as Tenko never became “Shigaraki.” Giran is the only important member (outside of afo) that is still a criminal in this AU. Because of Kain’s dimension hopping ability, this doesn’t mean she doesn’t get to interact with the more villainous versions of the gang, though. 

- Ezuko made Ryuu’s dragon tattoo as a thank you for helping her.

- Her surname is bit of a pun, as it’s written as “Pandoru” aka paint, but after leaving home and her parents behind, she began saying it as “Pandora” referring to Pandora’s box as a bit of a darker joke about her choosing to go against her parents and thus unleashing a lot of bad things into her life. This proved to be even more accurate after the parlor incident. 

- Her parents wanted her to either find a way to become a hero with her quirk, or go into some other highly respected profession for status and money, when Ezuko just wanted to do something artistic.

- Ryuu actually didn’t start crushing on her until after they met again years later after their first meeting, when he and Kain returned from another eventful dimension hopping trip to visit their little sanctuary corner and friends, Wasabi and his mums. Up until then he’d seen her just as a friend/acquaintance

- Wasabi digs her a lot because they have similar hairstyles.

- The vine tattoo represents her quirk and spreads around her arms and shoulders more when using her quirk. When using it in extreme amounts (Like turning a large body of liquid into ink for example) her skin around those parts gets so covered it looks like she just has one large pitch black tattoo covering those areas, and you can no longer see the vine details. 

Also, the ref sheet base was made by yourultraarchive as usual

[thepancakeboi]

112. “Quit looking at me with that stupid expression. You’re pissing me off.”

“I’m going to kill you for this, Ren.”

“Will you really?” Ren, my overly smug boyfriend, asks as cheekily as possible.

I scowl up at him, knowing that I won’t. Even if the situation I find myself in is not one of my choosing.

I had woken up this morning to the sound of my phone’s notification sound at around nine. To my surprise, it was Ren texting me. He’s not the type to wake up early when it’s not a school day. It read: “Come to Leblanc quick it’s urgent”.

A little concerned, I replied: “I am on my way”. I wondered why it was so imperative that I go to Leblanc. Hopefully, nothing serious happened. I quickly prepared for the day and changed into my typical uniform before leaving my apartment in Kichijoji.

When I arrived about forty minutes later, I was shocked to see the sign was still flipped to “closed”. That was odd. Leblanc was usually open by now. Tentatively, I opened the door and peeked in. Sojiro Sakura was nowhere to be seen, and Ren wasn’t there either. “Ren?” I called out, looking around the empty cafe.

“Up here,” Ren’s voice replied from up in the attic. I climbed the stairs, wondering what he wanted that required me to come here.

Nothing had me prepared for this.

Ren was sitting on his bed dressed in what could best be described as a policewoman’s outfit. He went so far as to wear a black wig and pantyhose...and he even had handcuffs hanging from his waist. Where he got any of this, I had no idea, nor was I going to ask. I raised an eyebrow at Ren’s getup. “What the hell is this?”

“What’s what?” he asked, dark red lips twisted in a teasing smirk at my startled expression. Yes, he was wearing lipstick. Of course. “Your...outfit.”

“Oh, this?” He stood up and walked over to me, slinking an arm around my waist. I instantly noticed he was taller than me. Of course, that was only because of the heels on his knee-high boots. He just had to be taller. “I’m arresting you because you’re criminally gorgeous.”

My face flushed, only made worse as his free hand fiddled absentmindedly with the handcuffs. “Aren’t you worried Sakura-san will be back soon? Does he even know about...this?”

“No. He took Futaba out to Akihabara for the day. They won’t be back until tonight.” He grinned. “It’s just the two of us...anything could happen.”

“What did you want?” I asked while backing away, wanting to change the discussion before I became too flustered by Ren’s incessant flirting. “You said it was, and I quote, ‘urgent’. I hope it wasn’t just to show me this.”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“What is it?”

“It’s important.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m not doing anything unless you tell me what it is.”

“Okay. I need you to crossdress for me.” “Wh-What!?” I sputtered, flabbergasted. Surely I misheard him, right?

“Akeppi, darling, love of my life, I need you to crossdress for me,” he repeated as he pulled me close to him once again.

“Why would I agree to such an inane suggestion?”

“Cuz you love me.”

“No. I’m not crossdressing. Anything but that.”

He gasped as if seeing a perfect opportunity. “Does that mean you’ll finally admit to being a bottom?”

“Absolutely not,” I growled. “Especially when it’s completely untrue.”

“Mmm...keep telling yourself that. I totally believe you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what you think.”

That was it. I had enough of this nonsense, especially when it wasn’t as urgent as Ren made me believe. “I’ll be leaving now.”

“Wait, at least let me explain-”

“No,” I interrupted, trying to push away from him. However, he refused to let go. “Get off!” Of course, he didn’t listen. I squirmed, trying to get free. The struggle itself was a blur, but it ended with us on the floor, Ren straddling me and my arms pinned down by his hands holding my wrists.

Given the current situation, I think my false threat to kill Ren is justified.

I’m not going to kill him, though. I know it. He knows it. Hell, I’m sure just about everyone knows by now. “Ren, please get off of me. If you do, then we can discuss this.”

“You’re lying.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll run as soon as I do.”

“You bastard,” I snap. He’s correct, of course. I would have bolted as soon as my arms were free. He sees right through me and my lies so easily. I hate it. My scowl deepens as he gives that self-satisfied little menace smile of his. “Quit looking at me with that stupid expression. You’re pissing me off.”

“But I’m enjoying seeing you like this. And I think you’re enjoying it, too,” he adds in a low whisper.

“Bullshit. I’m not.”

“You’re wrong,” Ren says in the smuggest tone imaginable. “If you weren’t, wouldn’t you have kept fighting?”

I simply glare up at him, refusing to answer that question. Instead, I say, “Go ahead. Explain. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Ryuji lost a bet to Ann, and he asked Yusuke and me to join in. I thought it would be fun.”

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: you have a twisted concept of fun.”

I pay for that comment when he playfully ruffles my hair. He remembers that day as vividly as I do. For a split second, I have the opportunity to try and escape again. It’s at that moment when Ryuji walks in, looking absolutely ridiculous in what is clearly an attempt to imitate Ann. “Speak of the devil,” I hiss, shoving Ren off of me while he’s distracted by Ryuji. “I refuse to have any part in your shenanigans.”

“Wait, you told him!?” Ryuji asks.

Ren nods happily. “Yup!”

“What the hell, man!? Why’d you do that?”

“I wanted Akeppi to join us. I was trying to convince him.”

“For real!?” The grin that crosses Ryuji’s face is nothing short of terrifying. “Sounds good to me.”

“Absolutely not,” I interject, finally pushing myself to my feet. “I will not be joining you three in this escapade.”

“No way, man. If I have to do this, then so do you!”

“I’m not the one who lost a bet. You can forget me being a part of this.”

“Renren, help me out here,” Ryuji says, turning to Ren.

A look passes between them, one full of silent schemes and unspoken commands. I need to move...now. I make a mad dash for the stairs just as the duo lunge at me. Ryuji manages to grab me just as I pass by him, pulling my arms behind my back. I thrash and squirm as erratically as possible, trying to throw Ryuji off. He’s stronger than I give him credit for. All I’m managing to do is tire myself out.

I fight fiercely against Ryuji’s hold for a solid minute, cursing all the while. Ren, meanwhile, just watches in mild amusement. Fucking traitor. “Want me to use these?” Ren asks as my struggles start to grow weaker, gesturing to the handcuffs. I don’t miss the mischievous smirk hiding behind that mask of neutrality.

“Dude, no. I got this!” Ryuji replies. His grip tightens as he pulls me back. My endeavors cease. This is getting me nowhere. “Just do your thing.”

Ren immediately grins, knowing it’s his time to shine. All I can do is give him a glare full of malice. He remains unfazed. “Come on, Akeppi. Please?” Ren whispers softly and seductively in my ear.

I avert my gaze as I respond, “No.”

“Please?” He’s still using that damn sexy tone of voice, only now he’s running a hand through my hair. It’s distracting. A deadly combination that is...completely...utterly...distracting-

“Fine, fine,” I say before it becomes any worse. Ren nods, signaling Ryuji to release me. I stalk off to a different corner of the room, looking pointedly at Ren as I add, “But no pictures. Got it?”

“Aww.” Ren pouts, but he’s not going to persuade me that easily.

“I’m gonna wait for Kitakita,” Ryuji says, heading downstairs. “He’s prolly still doin’ his makeup.”

Satisfied that it’s just the two of us, I unbutton and shrug off my jacket, placing it gently on Ren’s bed. I freeze as Ren comes up behind me and loosens my tie. He tosses it unceremoniously next to the jacket, coming around to be in front of me. He starts to undo the top few buttons of my dress shirt only to stop partway through. What is he even planning? With a smirk, he starts to run a hand along the now-exposed skin, sending my nerves haywire. “Wh-What are you doing?”

“Just admiring my prisoner,” he hums, continuing to feel up my body. With a roll of my eyes, I undo the rest of the buttons since clearly he’s no longer helping.

After nearly an hour of Ren getting me dressed, doing my hair, and doing my makeup, the deed is done. I glare at the proffered mirror, snatching it with a lace-gloved hand. There are so many layers in this pastel blue dress that fits surprisingly well, and that’s not even including the gray petticoat peeking out from underneath. Ren had added in hair extensions to make my hair look like twin drills. The hair color matches perfectly. It’s almost unnerving. I give Ren a cold look as I hand the mirror back. “Was the black lipstick truly necessary?”

“Yes. You look absolutely adorable!”

“Shut up,” I snap, looking away from him.

“Aww, look at my little tsundere pancake~”

“Your what!?”

“You heard me. You’re my little tsundere pancake.”

I’m about to argue against that, but I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. This time, Ryuji is accompanied by Yusuke. Besides the taller boy’s ninja-inspired outfit, I notice the two of them are holding hands. I’ll have to ask Ren about this later. “I’m sorry I’m late,” Yusuke apologizes. “I got off a stop early to try and save money.”

“Yusuke, just let me give you money,” Ren whines. “You know I have plenty from our time in the Metaverse.”

“You know I could not accept such a generous offer.”

“You complete, utter fool,” I mutter.

Ryuji gives me the evil eye as he yells, “Shuddup, Akechi! You’ve no right to say anything!”

“Excuse me!?”

“Hey. Be nice,” Ren says before we can escalate this argument further.

“Sorry, man,” Ryuji says. I just stew in silence. I’m not wrong. Yusuke should just accept Ren’s offer rather than continue to reject the aid. “Hey, shouldn’t we call Ann?”

“I’ll do it,” Ren replies. He pulls out his phone and walks downstairs, leaving me with his two crossdressing accomplices.

“So, what did Renren get you into?” Ryuji asks with a sick smirk.

“I have no idea, nor do I care,” I snap.

He shrugs before turning to Yusuke. “Kitakita, you know what it is?”

“Ah, yes, the Hime Lolita style! Its elegance suits him quite remarkably.”

“The what style?”

“Hime...it means ‘princess’,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

“Ooh!” Ryuji laughs as he adds, “Detective Prince? More like Detective Princess!”

“Shut it, Sakamoto,” I reply, still irritable from earlier.

“Nah, this is fun!”

“Your concept of fun is almost as bad as Ren’s.”

“Hey, at least my boyfriend’s okay with it.”

“Indeed, I am,” Yusuke responds. I guess I don’t have to ask Ren later about the two of them holding hands.

Ren comes back upstairs a few seconds later. “Ann will be here in a few minutes. She doesn’t know about Goro, though.”

“You didn’t tell her?” Yusuke questions.

“No. I wanted it to be a surprise. We should probably go downstairs,” Ren adds, holding out a hand to help me out. I smack his hand away. There is no way I am accepting his help. I push myself to my feet, a little unsteady due to the heels on these stupid shoes. They still don’t make me taller than Ren in his boots, though. Of fucking course.

“Are you both really wearin’ heels?” Ryuji asks skeptically.

I shake my head, looking at Ryuji as I reply, “Remember that this wasn’t my choice.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

We all head downstairs. This time, I do reluctantly accept his help with wobbling over to the stairs. I’m not Ren. I didn’t run around fighting Shadows in the Metaverse in heels. As soon as we reach them, Ren grins and picks me up bridal style, walking downstairs in heels with unnatural ease. For once, I’m not complaining. The less I have to walk in these heels, the better. I do give him an unamused look when he refuses to put me down, but I don’t say a word.

Ann arrives a couple of minutes later. “Hi!” she says in greeting. “Oh my god, that’s great, Ryuji!”

“What about those guys? Kitakita and Renren were more eager about it than me,” Ryuji grumbles.

“I couldn’t believe it when you told me they were doing it, too! You two are looking good as ever, and-” At that point, two and two seem to click in Ann’s brain. The genuine shock on her face is priceless. She stammers, “W-Wait, Akechi? Is that you?”

“Hey,” I sigh.

“Wow, you look amazing! Did Ren help?”

“Help?” I scoff. “He’s the only reason I did this.”

“I can be quite persuasive,” Ren adds, nuzzling me. “Doesn’t he look cute?”

“He does!” Ann agrees.

“I do not,” I shoot back. I scowl, but I’m sure I probably look like a pouting child.

“Adorable,” Ren repeats, beaming.

I sigh in annoyance, crossing my arms as I look pointedly away from them. Despite my outward irritation, I can’t help but feel...happy. Yes, I’m happy that he finds me cute and adorable. His loving remarks hold some power over me, a power that I know Ren won’t abuse. He’s not Shido. Ren actually means each and every compliment he gives. “Ren, give Ann your phone. I’ll let you have one picture.”

The grin on Ren’s face could make even the most despondent of individuals smile. Maybe I could live with this.

Prompt list

[hermannsthumb]

Gonna request some camb0y newt who has Hermann as a regular follower who may or may not be requesting used clothing from Newt...😳

this one is less h0rny and more dumb and I died every time I typed newt’s screen name but (ALSO THE FACT THAT TUMBLR KEPT BLOCKING THIS MESSAGE....unbelievable) 18+/not sfw below cut

-------------------

The whole thing only started because of the kaijus.

It seems foolish to place the blame on them, considering the severity of the damage they’ve caused in every other aspect of life, but it’s the truth. Hermann was never brilliant at romance even in the best of times; he never knew quite the right words to say, or quite the right way to kiss, and certainly not how to keep men interested enough to come back for more than a date or two. Then the end of the world came, and the jaeger program ate up what little free time Hermann had, and dating simply fell to the very lowest tier of his priorities. He had work to do. He had lives to save.

Unfortunately, his libido continued to run rampant.

Masturbation could only get one so far, though Hermann was undeterred and tried almost anything: dildos, vibrators, expensive lubricant, a paid subscription to a high-quality pornography website. He cancelled this after a week, when he realized none of its featured men--though undeniably good-looking--fit his particular area of interest. Besides, it was far too impersonal. Hermann did not like spending half of his time watching a video or scrolling through a photo gallery wondering what that man was doing now, or whether or not he’d enjoyed himself, or what he was like in person... In a fit of desperation, Hermann picked up a subscription to another website that promised live men 24/7. And, well. To make a long story short, Hermann is pretty sure he’s in love.

The object of his affections is twenty-something and stocky, a good few inches shorter than Hermann (he’d wager, anyway), with a chestful of tattoos and a voice that’s almost high enough to be grating. Hermann has seen his face only fleetingly, but it’s enough for him to know it’s a highly agreeable one. He’s got a nice sense of humor, seems intelligent enough, and the glimpses Hermann’s caught of the bedroom he streams from (at the perfect time of day, late enough that Hermann’s inhibitions are entirely nonexistent) indicate a healthy love of science fiction. 

Hermann is mostly in love with him because of how good of a show he puts on, though. Where Hermann fails in his use of dildos or vibrators and other nonsense, the man succeeds, and indeed excels, and he’s endlessly creative with dressing in lace and other funny little costumes. It makes for some very inspired jerking off on Hermann’s end. More importantly, it makes for a calming of his libido.

Hermann doesn’t know his real name, only his chosen screen name, though it doesn’t really matter: kaijulover69 is most certainly the man of his dreams.

Well. Nobody’s perfect.

“Tonight’s stream is dedicated to a very special fan for all his support,” kaijulover69 begins. He’s wrapped in a bathrobe, though Hermann has a feeling he knows what’s beneath it, and he flushes pleasantly with warmth at what’s soon to come. “And for what I’m wearing right now. You know who you are. Thanks again, dude!”

His lips are just visible on camera, and he grins coquettishly before slipping the sleeve off his right shoulder. Then the left. “That very same fan requested a strip tease tonight,” he continues, “and--well, I’ll let the rest be a surprise, huh?”

The belt is undone. The robe slips down to the bed, revealing the object of Hermann’s affections clad in nothing but a rather small pair of lacy black undergarments. (And a bloody expensive pair, at that--cost a third of Hermann’s weekly salary. It’s worth it.) You look very attractive, Hermann types encouragingly into the chat box, and hope it’s visible between the pleads for kaijulover69 to flash his face or pull his genitalia out already. 

He doesn’t appear to see any of them. “My week was pretty lame,” he continues. He begins to idly run his hands up and down his bare chest; Hermann mirrors the action on his own, enjoying the shiver he manages to elicit from himself even through two layers of shirt and sweater. “Work stuff has been kicking my ass. And--” His fingers falter. “Well, there’s this guy I really like, and we’ve kinda been...seeing each other, but I just found out he’s actually seeing someone else. So I guess it’s like, I realized I’ve been making all this shit up in my head?”

Who would ever turn down such a marvelous specimen of human? Hermann’s temper flares with a mingling of both righteous offense on the man’s behalf and a little bit of jealousy that he’s not the one who’s so captured his heart. He would like to knock some sense into them, whoever they are.

“But you don’t care about that,” he says, and forces a laugh. “You want to see me mess these up, don’t you?”

His hand drifts down to his panties, and he gives himself a squeeze through them.

“Please,” Hermann says happily, though he knows there’s no one to hear.

------

There’s an email from Newton waiting for him in his inbox the next morning. No subject.

Hey, dude-

Sorry I left you hanging yesterday. I was just a little shocked. Not shocked that you have a partner or whatever, of course you do, that’s totally normal, just that you never told me about them until now. I read over your latest article, and I just wanted to say what an utter load of--

“Hmph,” Hermann says, and quickly scrolls up and away from Newton’s annoying little rant.

Even as he does so, he feels a pang of guilt he doesn’t quite understand. Newton is shocked he has a partner: so what? And, er, so what if that partner isn’t quite as real as Hermann is pretending? The question came at him fast, and unexpected, and so very quickly into the switch from letter correspondence to email; kaijulover69 on his mind, Hermann panicked and wrote yes, I do have someone in my life. It’s not entirely a lie. Though Hermann holds no illusions about the nature of their dynamic, the man has certainly taken up the same amount of Hermann’s time and money that a real partner would. And besides--it’s easier. Less messy. Newton would probably try to set Hermann up with someone, or pester him about his sex life, or even--God forbid--try to offer him advice. (Once I blew a guy in the bathroom of this shitty dive bar, try that, he told Hermann a few weeks ago, and I always take my dates to the aquarium so I can talk about shit and look smart.) 

It’s also helpful in dissuading Hermann from his daydreams and illusions of dating not kaijulover69, but Newton; that, he fears, is an even grander pipe dream.

He skims Newton’s--rather poor--critique of his work, ignoring entirely his comments on Hermann’s partner, and types up a fast rebuttal. Kaijulover69 has another stream tonight, and he doesn't want to miss it.

--------

“The trick,” kaijulover69 pants, “is to just, uh, relax your muscles as much as possible. It’s easier when you’ve got someone doing it for you, obviously, but...”

His chosen method of masturbation tonight is a frightfully large tentacle dildo, wider and longer than any prick Hermann’s seen in his life. Hermann’s not sure if such a dildo would fit inside him; he’s not even sure if it’s going to fit inside kaijulover69. The man is rather compact. It’s stopped about halfway into his body, and even from the rather distant angle Hermann can tell it’s stretching him tight. 

“...I might’ve jumped the gun a little,” the man says, and bursts out into breathy laughter. “Should’ve, uh, should’ve gotten the smaller size. Or worked up to this one.” He works another centimeter into himself before his body goes taut. “Go--go big or go home, I guess?”

One hand moving steadily around his prick, Hermann uses the other to type an encouraging message: Excellent effort.

Kaijulover69 pulls the dildo out to the thinnest section, then once he relaxes, begins a rhythm of short, shallow thrusts. Each time, it goes in a little deeper. It’s very good to watch, and listen to as well; his little gasps, the creaks of his bedsprings, the spread of his legs widening. Hermann briefly considers how badly he would like to be the one pushing it into him and dragging out those sounds, and is surprised to find himself orgasming.

He tips generously once the stream is over: he does like to consider himself some sort of gentleman, and he likes seeing how excited it gets kaijulover69.

-------

The package arrives on an entirely ordinary Tuesday some three weeks later. Autumn has come, bringing with it a rather heavy series of rains, and Hermann is drenched and shivering when he finally ducks into the relative warmth of his flat. The knowledge of what the box tucked under his arm contains warms him considerably; he rented a P.O. Box for one reason and one reason exactly, not even daring to have his name attached to it. It’s gauche, he knows, but--isn’t it a bit like recycling? Kaijulover69 gets a fresh, exciting outfit from Hermann, and Hermann gets it back after he’s--well.

Hermann needs to unwind somehow. There’s nothing wrong with it!

The black lace undergarments are wrapped neatly up inside the box, with a sweet little pink bow on top. Attached to that is a simple handwritten card: To my number one fan! ❤️ There’s plenty more where this came from...

Simple, and innocently flirty. And so familiar it makes Hermann’s blood run cold.

“It’s not possible,” he says.

And yet--isn’t it? Hermann’s never seen his face--either of their faces--and the screen name--

There is no return address on the package, but a frantic search of its wrappings reveals its origin: stamped in black ink over frog-themed postage is BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS. “No, no,” Hermann mutters to himself, even as he reminds himself (unhelpfully) that plenty of people are from Boston. He tosses it to the bed and clacks over to his desk, clutching the card so tightly it crumples. Newton’s letters are all in the top drawer--he just needs--

The handwriting is a perfect match.

“Bugger,” Hermann groans.

[joonsdiary]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝒕𝒂𝒆𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒈

a regency au that absolutely nobody asked for. (please pray for my countless untouched wips that will never see the light of day.) rated e for extreme fluff with a slight hint of humour, because what else is new around here. blame this kim taehyung for the existence of this drabble. 1,870 words. enjoy!

     “Another correspondence,” your sister whispered in the dead of night, candlelight gently flickering against the bronze of her skin. You laid still against the silk of your sleeping clothes, underneath the warmth of your cotton quilts, unsurprised by her quiet outburst into your shared room. Her eyes met yours and at that moment you wished nothing more than to be buried six feet well below the ground, sleeping amongst the worms and maggots and ants alike—

“Would you like me to read it for you this time?”

—and be rid of this world once and for all. What joy that would bring you. It’s quite the dramatic disposition, as your mother would often point about yourself, but an understandable one, nevertheless. Because it had the faintest of truth in it: You’d rather die than face the embarrassment of possible rejection.

The floorboards creaked as she moved to place the chamberstick on the bedside before making room for herself beside you, tucking her legs neatly beneath her. You have an inkling as to who he might be, but your heart assured you that it wasn’t the person you’ve been desperately waiting for—the one whose disapproval would possibly shred your heart pieces. In hindsight, you should have known better than to place your trust in a man. No matter how handsome they might present themselves, they’re all the same.

“Is it Sir Jeon again?”

Jeon Jungkook was an esteemed young bachelor, no less. The grandson of a wealthy colonel, who owns a large estate in the next town over. But his reputation precedes him as a ladies’ man through and through, having asked the hands of several women in marriage, only to break the arrangement before nightfall. He’s been the same tireless charade for the past summer months, and you happen to be the unfortunate target that has caught his unwarranted attention.

Yes, he might bear more money that you will be able to comprehend, but you refused to allow yourself to be the next name stricken in his long list of women.

“What if it is?” she gave you a playful grin and a soft push on the shoulder. “Will you finally say yes?”

“I’m not vapid, sister. My answer hasn’t changed in the twenty-four hours since he last sent his letter.”

“Rumour has it that he hasn’t pursued anyone for this long.”

“So that’s what this is then, a challenge to him,” you rose from your position, pulling the covers tight against your body. “Then he’ll tire of this charade before the parchment’s ink runs dry.”

“Will you not at least entertain his company?”

“Was the dance he persuasively requested from me at the ball not enough amusement for him?” you said, exasperated.

“You have to admit, he can be quite the dancer,” she marvelled, eyes mooning in obvious adoration.

“He stepped on my foot twice,” you said wryly.

“To which he apologized for, both in person and in the last three letters he sent.”

“You can read the letter if you so desire,” the softness of the bed welcomed you back into its warmth as you made space for her. “I’m tired and I wish to sleep.”

“Tired from what, playing the pianoforte all day?” she mocked, sighing when you don’t reply with your usual banter. You rolled to your side, facing away from her, unsure if she heard your quip: What else am I to do with my time? It’s not like I can take the horse and ride it to where he is.

The sound of paper rustling echoed against the silence of the room as the bed moved, and you could only picture her holding the letter against what little luminance the candle provided. She didn’t say anything for a while and you concluded that the contents remained the same as Sir Jeon’s previous ones: The tactless You are the lucky maiden bestowed the chance to meet me once more along with your beauty outshines even the moon herself. He’s not quite Shakespeare, but reading what he wrote allowed you an insight into the inner workings of his mind and how he managed to rope in so many women in such a short period of time. Flowery words carefully crafted by The Hedonist himself; only a fool would cave in to such whims and a fool you were not.

She suddenly gasped, and you turned just in time to see her hand as it slowly went and covered her lips in apparent astonishment.

“What is it? Has he asked me to wed him?” you mused, half in jest. Her eyes moved back and forth, scanning each and every letter meticulously. “Well?”

“I feel as though I’m being intrusive by reading something that’s not meant for me,” she turned to the next page and glanced it over quickly before pushing the papers into your hands.

“That hasn’t stopped you before,” you sighed and slid up the headboard. The expression she wore made you somewhat fearful—just what nonsense had Jeon Jungkook written this time around?

You prepared yourself for the worst as you took a deep breath.

           Dearest Flower—

The introduction already had you rolling your eyes to the ends of the earth. You continued, nonetheless, but not before noting the difference in handwriting.

          I hope this letter finds you in good health. I am aware that I promised to write to you immediately after our encounter, which is still engraved deeply in my mind, never to be forgotten. That evening, you held countless stars in your eyes that twinkled at every quiet giggle — I am still stunned that I was able to pull a burst of enchanting laughter from your lips, as I am told by my confidants that humour is not my forte. Were you being too generous, perhaps, inflating a weak man’s ego like you had done mine? I can only imagine that you permit no one else to see the beauty hidden beneath your smile but me, selfish as that may sound. 

“Did he really pen this, Sir Jeon?” you wondered audibly. Your sister begged for you to read the rest aloud, and you relented. “There isn’t a dreamless night that goes by where I do not see your face the moment I lay and close my eyes. You’ve bewitched me, Dearest Flower.”

You paused to glance at your sister, who merely motioned for you to continue reading the letter. She wore an almost-teasing grin as the apples of her cheek rose to meet the corner of her eyes.

“You must know that I am writing this against the unspoken will that binds me in the hands of my cousin. I know you are aware, as most people in the town are presumably, that he has been charmed by your unwavering wit, as have I. When he made it known to me — his longing for you — I knew I had to step back and hand him the reins. For how could I possibly compete with him?”

Your heart galloped against your chest at the sudden realization, and with bleary eyes, you read the next words with a different perspective than you had previously.

“Therefore I want you to know that I write this without the knowledge of your affection; only with the cautious optimism that you do not share the same feelings as he has for you. I am once again reduced to nothing else but greed with soaring hopes that you have cast away the letters he has written you. If by chance I am mistaken and have disillusioned myself with such thoughts, I shall suffer in endless affliction with the knowledge that I should have reached out sooner and without fear.”

With heat slowly rising to your cheeks, you turned the page over to the next and continued.

“If there is still but a tiny amount of chance for me, then I can only assume you’ll read this letter in its entirety. But please know that I will assume no ill will if you choose not to entertain my company. I have been fortunate enough to receive your hand in what will be your final dance that evening, so the least I could wish for is a lasting impression.”

Gone was your wistful feeling of dreaded rejection, replaced by pure, unadulterated bliss. You cleared your throat, and with bated breath, you proceeded.

“However, if your desire is the same as mine, then I would like for us to meet with no one else’s company but yours and mine. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire you, and there is not a single waking moment where I do not yearn to get another glimpse of your captivating eyes. Perhaps much longer than fate allowed us to the last time.

“I will be waiting in the garden by the old church just before the day breaks. If your heart truly doesn’t belong to Jungkook, or anybody else by then, come indulge in my endeavour. For I bear no intention other than to shamelessly claim your heart as mine for keeps.

“With love and devotion, Kim Taehyung.”

Your sister squealed in delight, much to your chagrin, possibly waking the entire household. Your horrors were confirmed when you heard the padded footsteps of your mother along the hallway, prompting you to shove the letter underneath your pillow. By the time you placed your hand in her mouth at an attempt to silence her, she’d already knocked at your door before it promptly opened.

Hair dishevelled and unkempt, she asked, clearly displeased, “What in god’s name are you both up to this late at night, disturbing everyone’s sleep?”

“We thought we—uh—saw a rat. She just got a little spooked, is all.”

Your mother narrowed her eyes at you, then your sister, who nodded belatedly in agreement.

“From countless years of witnessing your shenanigans, do you think I’m easily fooled?”

The tension in your mother’s brow eased as she chuckled, shaking her head. You released your sister from your clutches as your mother approached. She bent over to dispel the lights from the room, and you welcomed darkness as you blinked it into familiarity.

“Stop wasting candlesticks and turn in for bed now.”

You willingly followed her instructions and quickly felt underneath the pillow for the presence of two parchments. Renewed with a sense of promise tomorrow will bring, you closed your eyes as the door clicked shut.

At the faded echoes of your mother’s foot carrying her away to your room, your sister whispered, “Will you meet with him?”

For once, your heart and mind are in synchrony, humming the tune of an acquainted melody.

A short pause before a confident, “Yes,” escaped your lips.

You vowed not to be persuaded by the fragrant sentiments a gentleman presents because all too often they stay like that: Mere words, unaccompanied by actions. But from the moment he plucked you out of the sea of women that vied for his attention, you knew you’d willingly sway in any direction he guided you — as long as it’s within his arms.

If a fool was what became of you from this correspondence alone, then you’ll wilfully submit to becoming town’s jester.