#but it was surprisingly fun to write

[solarmorrigan]

Silly idea I talked about ages ago with @azure7539arts, inspired by a similar event my workplace hosts every year. Would minors be allowed to participate in such an event? Probably not! But then again, it was the 80s, who can say for sure. Anyway, it's my birthday and I'll post nonsense if I want to <3

-

“I need you to buy me.”

Eddie looks up from his notebook, effectively jarred from his campaign-plotting fugue state by Steve’s declaration.

Steve is standing at the other end of the dining table, staring at him expectantly.

“Y’know, this is the part where someone usually follows up their completely bonkers demand with an explanation,” Eddie says slowly.

“At the charity auction,” Steve clarifies. “I need you to bid on me, and I need you to win.”

Ah, yes, that weird Rent-an-Athlete charity auction the school runs every year; anyone on any Hawkins High sports team could volunteer to be “auctioned” off in order to raise money for said sports team, to spend a day at the beck and call of the highest bidder (within reason, supposedly). It’s generally restricted to students, but occasionally, prominent alumni are invited to participate – and Steve certainly fits the bill, especially after the story the government spun about his heroism in the face of “serial killer” Henry Creel last spring.

“And what, deny all those pretty girls a chance to get at you?” Eddie asks drily (he’d never turned up at previous auctions himself, but you could hardly avoid gossip in a school their size; it had usually been some cheerleader bidding with daddy’s money who won a date– that is, a day with Steve Harrington).

“It wasn’t always a girl who won,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest. “One time it was Mrs. Dalton – you know, the lady on the school board who lives on my block? I just spent the day doing yard work for her. She gave me lemonade. That was pretty cool.”

“Right,” Eddie drawls. “And I’m sure she definitely didn’t sit outside and stare at your ass while you were working.”

“She did not– she– I mean she was on the porch, but, like– she wouldn’t have– she’s, like, seventy, Eddie,” Steve splutters, and it’s all Eddie can do not to laugh.

“Older gals have needs, too, Steve,” Eddie says, giving in to a smirk. “So she was checking you out from the porch, huh?”

Steve goes red. “Shut up, that isn’t the point. I’m trying to ask for your help.”

“Right, right, your absolutely reasonable request for me to buy you at market. Why, again?” Eddie asks.

“The kids are planning to bid on me,” Steve says gravely.

Eddie blinks at him. “Okay?” he says, when no further explanation is forthcoming. “You basically do most of what they ask, anyway, so…?”

“Okay, believe it or not, I actually say no to at least half of what they ask me to do. I would literally never get anything done if I gave in to all their demands.” Steve jabs a finger at Eddie, who holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Anyway, this is all Henderson’s fault.”

“It usually is,” Eddie agrees, nodding sagely.

“He decided that he was going to bid on me and then use that day to finally make me play your nerd game with you–” Eddie snorts, and Steve shoots him a look, “but Wheeler doesn’t want me to play, so he said he was going to bid against Dustin and make me do anything but sit in on a session with you guys.”

“So let Wheeler win.” Eddie shrugs.

“No! I can’t let fuckin’ Mike win, he’ll probably make me do something even more ridiculous!” Steve exclaims. "He’ll make me play chauffeur for him and El on a date, or something, and he’ll probably include the stupid hat.”

“Wait, I thought El broke up with him,” Eddie breaks in.

“No, they’re on again,” Steve says absently, shaking his head. “Which is why Max has been in a bad mood lately.”

Eddie bites back the reflexive need to ask “How can you tell?”, going instead with, “I thought she and Sinclair were on again.”

“No, they are. That’s why no one’s been actively murdered,” Steve says.

“How do you keep track of all of this?” Eddie asks, squinting at Steve.

“It’s a natural skill. And we’re getting off track,” Steve says quickly. “Normally, I wouldn’t be that worried, because Dustin regularly blows his savings on weird science gadgets or whatever, but then Lucas and Will started taking sides.”

“This is getting very involved,” Eddie says.

“So you see why I’m stressed!” Steve insists, smacking a hand to his forehead (personally, Eddie thinks Steve is stressed for many other reasons, but he figures pointing that out just now won’t be appreciated). “Lucas is on Dustin’s side, and that kid does odd jobs like nobody’s goddamn business; he actually has shit saved up. And usually I’d have faith in him being more, like, sensible than to spend it all on this, but the little shit is really fucking competitive.”

“Wonder who he got that from?” Eddie mutters.

“Okay, we do remember that I’m not actually biologically related to any of these idiots, right?” Steve snaps.

“Well now we’re just getting into nature versus nurture–”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry, continue.”

“Well, Will took Mike’s side–”

“Shocking.”

“Right? But anyway, I don’t know if the kid has much saved up, but between him and Wheeler, they might be able to win.” Steve sighs, looking far more world-weary than Eddie feels the situation really warrants.

“You know you don’t actually have to do what they ask you to, right?” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If an auction winner complains to the school that the person they bid on didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain, they can get their money back. It’s a whole…” he waves his hand vaguely, “thing. Happened once when I was a sophomore; Deacon McNab. Lost a good chunk of change for the football team, and they vandalized the shit out of his car.”

“Ah, right. Forgot we went to school with literal psychopaths,” Eddie hums.

“So, I just need you to bid on me and win, so I’m not stuck wasting a Saturday on whatever the hell the kids are going to try to make me do. Or not do. Or– whatever,” Steve says.

“Okay, not that I don’t understand your predicament here, but I think you’re forgetting something kind of important, Steve,” Eddie drawls.

Steve’s brows draw together in question. “What?”

“I’m fucking poor.”

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t mean– no, I will give you the money, you don’t have to spend a dime, man, I just need you to get me out of this.”

“Why not have Buckley do it?” Eddie asks.

“That was Plan A, but she actually has a date that night, and it’s kind of a big deal, so I don’t want her to cancel,” Steve says. “But I assumed you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Wow, rude,” Eddie scoffs, and Steve sighs.

“Fine, sorry, I just really hoped you wouldn’t be busy.” Steve gives him the most lethal set of puppy dog eyes Eddie has ever seen, as if there had been any chance from the beginning that he’d be able to say no. “Please?”

Just for show, Eddie lets out a long sigh, falling against his chair and letting his head flop over the backrest like he’s deflating.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Steve groans, sounding so genuinely relieved that Eddie almost feels bad about how quickly his thoughts dip into the realms of the inappropriate. “Oh my god, I owe you.”

Eddie glances back up at Steve, tongue darting out to wet his lips almost unconsciously. “You know I’m not as easy to appease as a couple of fifteen-year-olds, right?”

Steve’s eyes drop for just a second—maybe down to Eddie’s lips, maybe not; who can say?—before he looks back up, cocking an eyebrow at Eddie. “I think I can handle it.”

Slowly, Eddie grins. “We’ll see.”

[rainbowlack]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Why would you—That's not—I just wanted to ask for help, why did you have to go and make it awkward???

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[edgeray]

Arlecchino is a cold person.

(Arlecchino x Reader Blurb)

It's no suprise to anyone. It is simply an objective fact of the matter. She is aware of this. The House of the Hearth is aware of this. The Fatui are aware of this. It's ironic given the nature of her vision, but it nonetheless rings true despite the fire she possesses on her blackened fingertips. She is callous and curt, and underneath her skin there is nothing except frigid ice that envelopes her being like a fitted coat. She speaks with no warmth, acts with the absence of heat, exists in a constant state of cold emptiness--a state in which there is a void inside of her, as if sucking all that is human of her.

Years ago, when she was just a child of the same orphanage she headed, she had naive thoughts of finding companionship, someone who would provide the warmth she sought on lonesome nights. She was barely just an adolescent who dreamed of lying in someone's arms, feel the heartbeat of another so surely, it would remind her that she was indeed alive. For even the briefest of moments, she yearned for someone who would, if not shield, then distract her from the cruelties of this world. She had shed those foolish wishes aside. In the House of the Heart that she was raised in, such notions were admonished, in fact, the wishful thinking was one of the reasons she had nearly lost her life. Never again, she had promised to herself, when she mercilessly beat the backstabber. It was then that she believed when the time came, her tale would end the same way as it began for her: alone. As the years of being a Fatui, then becoming a Fatui Harbinger, hardened her, there was comfort in that view.

That is what she believed in. Until you came.

Iciness wraps her being. It is present in her expression, in her words, in her touch. But that is exactly why she finds solace in your being. Her vision could only grant her a synthetic flame, but, you, you're an everlasting hearth. She melts in your embrace every time she slots herself in your arms, as it feels like a kindling ignited in her heart. It is only with you, that she learns how warmth can be found in.

Arlecchino is a cold person.

It is why you, as a warm one, is perfect for her. You whisk away the most depraved thoughts, ease her of any emotional and mental turmoil, and you do not treat her with the same coldness as the world seems so fond of doing to her. You are her flame, the one that sparks her being and reminds her that she is alive because her heart beats with you, beats for you.

Except you are cold now. It is unfathomable to her how you can be this way when your entire being exists to warm her, but when she touches your skin, you are unbearably frozen. Your body does not tremble like it does when her clawed fingers ever so gently trace your skin. The corner of your lips doesn't quirk up into the usual small smile of yours when she appears in your sight, but they remain ever rigid like the rest of you. Uncharacteristically, your expression doesn't soften with her presence.

You are cold, just like her. And that makes her afraid. Her hand searches for it, prodding your skin for a familiar thumping that is nowhere to be found. You continue to stare at her, unblinking. Here would be the moment where you give her a beaming smirk and you'd cup her face tenderly as if she was glass. And she would let you, because you are her beloved, who has watched her shatter so many times before and wordlessly each shard back together, and it is for that reason that she would lean closer towards your touch.

Because you lie broken in her arms and her hands are stained again with the familiar color of red. Your eyes are glossy and gaze unblinkingly at her. Frozen. Even when you are covered in your blood, you are beautiful, she notes, but oh, so cold that it makes her doubt if you were warm to begin with.

She misses your warmth. Where has it gone? Or has it died along with you?

Her hearth is gone. And as she clings onto your form, her body wracking with a fear and desperation she's never known before, two revelations come to her: that there is no such thing as an everlasting fire, and even after so many years ago, she was right along.

Arlecchino is a cold person. And she will remain always cold.

[bekolxeram]

Human remains as props — the Billy Boils of old horror movies

In this week's Halloween themed 9-1-1 episode, Buck rented a mummy replica from a Hollywood prop shop which turned out to be a real human body. This set off a series of misfortunate events for the firefighter, that might or might not be the result of a curse. Once again, the writers have surpassed themselves in terms of over-the-top silliness that has become the trademark of our beloved weewoo show. There's no way someone can accidentally get their hands on a real corpse... right?

Oh, you'll be surprised. You too may have seen a real cadaver or two on the silver screen.

The Economics of prop dead bodies

Using real human remains as movie props was such a common practice back in the days that prop masters working on the 1979 Vietnam war epic Apocalypse Now were totally unfazed when body broker (later revealed to be a grave robber) brought several dead bodies to the set. The plan to use those bodies as props for maximum authenticity was only scrapped after a producer ruled against it.

Source: The Independent

Interestingly, films that ended up actually featuring real bodies were the low-budget, fake looking ones. In the age before 3D printing, creating a set of realistic human skeleton was a very labor intensive process. That combining with the cost of the material used, the price of a plastic replica was in fact more expensive than a real skeleton.

A special effect make-up artist who worked on the 1982 Spielberg classic Poltergeist explained the film's decision to use actual human remains on a podcast:

Source: Snopes

Eerily, two young actresses who worked on the Poltergeist trilogy passed away unexpectedly shortly afterwards, leading to the urban legend of a curse on set.

The story of Elmer J. McCurdy

In late 1976, the production crew of the TV show The Six Million Dollar Man was filming scenes at the Pike, a then amusement zone in Long Beach, California. While shooting a scene at a thrill ride, a member of the prop department spotted a wax mannequin covered in fluorescent paint dangling from a noose. Worrying it would get in the way of the camera, they gave the dummy's arm a tug in an attempt to remove it, but instead of the whole thing coming off, only the arm broke off, exposing a human bone and muscle tissues.

A penny from 1924 and ticket stubs to the "Museum of Crime" were found in the body's mouth. Investigators contacted the museum owner's son, who identified the body as Elmer McCurdy, an outlaw killed in 1911 in the middle of a shootout with police following a botched train robbery in Oklahoma.

Unlike the fictional McCurdy in 8x05, the real McCurdy was a simple petty criminal looking for some extra cash to support his alcohol habit. Utilizing the skills he learned from the army, his robbery method of choice was explosives, but he was very terrible at it.

Source: KCRW

His body was subsequently taken to a funeral home, where he laid unclaimed for the rest of his stay. The undertaker embalmed the body, shaved his face, dressed him in a suit, but refused bury him until someone come forward to claim it and pay for the service. As time went by, the owner of the funeral home decided to dress the body as a gunslinging cowboy and allow visitors to see "the Bandit Who Wouldn't Give Up" for the price of a nickel, in order to fund his burial.

5 years later, two men claiming to be McCurdy's long lost brothers came forward to take custody of the body for a proper burial. End of the story, right? Well, of course they were travelling carnival owners lying to acquire the body for their shows. In 1922, the body was sold to yet another travelling exhibit called "Museum of Crime", which featured wax figures of other famous outlaws in history.

For the next 3 decades, McCurdy's body travelled all around the country as an attraction. He even had a brief film career. He was once used to promote the 1933 film Narcotic!, then he had a small cameo in the 1967 B-movie She Freak. In 1968, the Museum of Crime owner's son decided to sell his father's exhibits to the Hollywood Wax Museum. There, McCurdy's body started getting mixed up with other wax figure, and his origin story long forgotten.

Following over half a century of voyage, McCurdy eventually became fully mummified. The wax museum believed that the body was too gruesome and unlifelike to be showcased anymore, so he was finally sold to The Pike, an amusement zone in Long Beach, where he began his new life as a thrill ride decoration dummy.

After the shocking revelation by TV crew in 1976, McCurdy was transported back to Oklahoma, where he took his last breath 66 years ago, and finally laid to rest after a graveside service attended by 300 people. (Under 2 feet of concrete, to prevent grave robbing)

Source: Atlas Obscura

[illarian-rambling]

Gonna be a shit day at work today, so if y'all would like to reblog this with something sweet that happens in your stories or a fun fact about your ocs, that'd just make my day <3

[star--anon]

Minho, who moved into Gally's childhood house

unknowingly also moving into an active War Zone™

it's Gally VS Thomas

they're both ghosts

they're fighting over who gets to haunt the place

both of them have attached themselves to the house already and are trying to convince the other to un-attach themselves

attaching oneself to a place is a simple procedure

In fact, it's so simple it can happen on accident for a lot of ghosts

like Thomas, who thought the house was cute and spent so long there that he just woke up attached one day

meanwhile, Gally grew up in the house as a living human and has haunted the place for three years

So he's not about to let some silly accidental ghost take it away from him

any number of ghosts can be attached to a property, but traditionally, only one ghost haunts it

the others just kind of... meander

most ghosts lose interest in staying connected to the physical world

and enjoy floating mindlessly in some forgotten corner of an establishment, wandering in their waking dreams

but Thomas and Gally aren't those kinds of ghosts

Minho isn't even aware of the fight between the two at first

Thomas and Gally don't really pay attention to Minho either

He's not really a "human being with feelings"

he's just another part of the house

that the haunting ghost gets the right to mess with

until Minho starts tearing down the old wallpaper, renovating the showers, replacing the mirrors, etc.

the two ghosts quickly set their rivalry aside to drive away the parasite that's demolishing their precious haunting place

they start off small

Minho can't find his keys, his TV remote is always missing, why is his toothbrush in the toilet, where did all the windows go, was this area of the house always this dark, why is it so cold, why are his blankets trying to strangle him

(okay Gally went too far with that one)

Step 2: ants start stealing his food, faces appear behind Minho in the mirror, rats drown themselves in his morning coffee, the doors open and close loudly at night, the basement stairs try to chew off Minho's feet

(okay Gally went too far again)

before they can get to Step 3, Minho catches on

he guessed that there was a ghost in the house at Step 1

Step 2 made him realize the ghost might be more malicious than he thought

he starts tossing food into the campfire as offerings for whatever spirit is messing with him

a ghost is kind of like a vampire. They need permission to do certain things

such as eating physical food

Thomas, who died last week and is unused to no longer being able to eat, eagerly accepts whatever Minho throws out of the flames

he stops messing with Minho

Minho notices the decline in ghostly antics and increases the food offerings

Gally is offended that Thomas is so easily swayed

"This is why you would've never made a good haunting ghost"

"Okay but you haven't tasted his pasta. He makes really good pasta."

as respectful and knowledgeable as Minho is, he's wrong on one thing: He thinks there's only one ghost

He buys a larger bed and another pillow, inviting the ghost (just one) to sleep. He puts out a second toothbrush (just one). He makes a second dinner (just one) and buys a second kitchen chair (just one)

for all his kindness, Minho only ever invites one ghost

so of course, Thomas and Gally fight over who gets to be Minho's ghost

(at some point you have to wonder if maybe they just like fighting)

"Just haunt the house. You love this house. You've haunted it for three years or something."

"You're just saying that because you want to haunt Minho"

"You want to haunt Minho too!"

"He's in my house! He's mine!"

"I literally died last week! I deserve some sympathy! I'm vulnerable and sad right now! You have no sympathy!!"

"You can get the pasta that he throws into the fire"

they draw hearts in the mirror (Thomas erases Gally's)

they helpfully write grocery lists for him (Gally tears up Thomas')

they drive away pests from his garden (both try to take credit for what's technically a team effort)

Thomas coaxes a stray cat into the house and is heartbroken when Minho tosses the cat back outside, not knowing it's a gift

Gally offers his old childhood toys (memories are the most precious thing a ghost can give) by putting them on Minho's bed and then sulks when Minho doesn't touch them

(he's afraid of angering whatever put them there by messing up the toys)

Thomas irons out Minho's clothes

Gally steals clothes from random passerby's and gifts them to Minho

(definitely Gally going too far again)

(Minho is frazzled by the increase of naked people outside his house)

they TOTALLY fall in love with him during the process

this is important and 100% normal

they start worrying when Minho takes too long to come home from work

Gally and Thomas even detach themselves from their beloved house to go looking for Minho

(who fell asleep at work 'cause his boss overworked him)

(picture that scene from Ratatouille)

Gally drapes a blanket over Minho's exhausted body while Thomas angrily goes to find his boss

he spends the rest of the night terrorizing him

(Gally is impressed by Thomas' ferocity. He doesn't tell him that, of course)

Minho is losing his mind

because he is the receiver (the victim, really) of a ghost's affection

unbeknownst to him, he is in fact the victim of TWO ghosts' affection

and how is he supposed to maintain his reputation as a normal person... if he's starting to feel affection for a ghost

it ends with all three of them kissing btw

[derangedanomaly]

How would the boys react to a reader who's low key stalking them, They never do anything to them, they're just always nearby

THE BOYS REACTION TO A STALKER READER

NIGHTMARE:

He's gonna feel somewhat flattered

You mean you're spending your time following him around?

As you should. He's your king 🙄✋

Nightmare would probably get SO quickly annoyed though 💀

Long story short-

You're dead by the end of this.

CHAOS:

CHAOS WOULD FREAK OUT SO BADLY 😭

He literally doesn't know how to deal with this

So he does the first thing that came to his mind-

He's gonna approach you, and talk with you about your.... stalking. 💀

Good luck lol

ACE:

He dipped.

BLADE:

He's gonna immediately assume you're in love with him-

Yeah- now you're stalking each other.

It's a weird situation tbh. 💀

You're gonna have to talk to him to somehow resolve it.

TED:

Ted would know about you. Instantly.

He knows you like to watch him when he's taking care of the little ducks he found all alone, injured in the rain :(

He knows you like to watch while he's chopping the wood. Trust me- he knows.

But he doesn't do anything about it. I mean- you're not posing a danger- so for now... he's just gonna let you be.

[teddybasmanov]

You know how it is.

[gingermintpepper]

Day 1: Apollo

Interpretation notes and trivia under the cut!

His interpretation for my work is based very much around the concept of his manifestation as the Radiant God of the String. Because of this, quite like Hecate, he’s triple-fold and occupies three major spaces; the string of Fate and therefore prophecy, the bowstring and therefore distance and destruction and the lyrestring and therefore music and order. He’s a somewhat melancholy figure all things considered - Fate and following Fate’s tennants is something that he struggled a lot with as a child and even now as a more mature deity, the only solution he’s truly found is to take things one day at a time. Very diligent and fastidious, he’s a hard worker and tends to put his everything into completing any task set before him which also tends to work to his disadvantage since he’s prone to becoming tunnel-visioned until he’s finished what he said he would finish. His family orchestrated his winter breaks because he had the nasty habit of working himself sick when he was still very young.

Apollo is generally represented by circles in my work - priests of Apollo will be marked with at least three circles on their face and usually wear triangular jewellry (typically earrings or necklace charms) to reflect the triple-nature of their god. His favoured colour is a rich, deep blue and while he typically wears elaborate eye paint, he rarely uses face powders. Wears gem-toned blues for his lips unless in mourning where he will leave himself unadorned and unpainted out of respect.

Some quick trivia: 

Was born identical to Artemis even though they were born (years) apart. Had brown hair, wolf’s ears and fangs and horns when he was a child but never manifested those features again after his penance for slaying Python. If he’s very stressed or angry, sometimes his fangs will show. The brown of his hair grew out to blond naturally as he developed and matured as a god.

Proficient in all instruments but has always especially preferred stringed instruments. Truly unmatched with a kithara but only uses it for special occasions and official meetings. Generally prefers his lyre for every day usage

Really good at sewing and braiding strings together due to the exercises he had to do while under the tutelage of the Moirai sisters. Can’t weave since Athena banned him from touching a loom but he does like watching her spin. The one time she caught him trying to replicate her patterns with a needle and thread, she complained to Zeus that he had broken his oath. He teases her about that even now.

Was the last of the Twelve to learn how to read and write because he hates letter systems and finds it too arbitrary. Prior to the collaboration that resulted in written letter systems, everyone was perfectly fine with remembering the important stuff and encoding the rest in artistic format such as tapestries, pottery, furniture and jewellry. Apollo himself has a truly formidable memory since he’s been composing and immortalising the events and histories of the world in song since he was very young. He finds written books very dull but Clio’s very insistent about written histories being important and convenient so reluctantly, he’s given permission for his songs and poems to be -gags- transcribed and written down.

Is only called Apollo by his parents, Artemis and Dionysus. Hermes rarely calls him by name in general and the others, including other siblings like Ares and Athena, have always called him Phoebus. Interestingly, Zeus usually calls him Phoebus but will call him Apollo when they are alone or when he’s being especially serious. Apollo is completely comfortable with either name but he does see Phoebus as a bit more formal than Apollo. (Despite his best efforts, both Calliope and Clio also still stubbornly call him Phoebus though he’s fairly sure it’s mostly because they know it bothers him.)

[shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck]

Legend And Glasses 👍

(With more of my modern au.)

"I still don't see why we're here." Legend grumbled. "It's because you can't see A road sign if it smacks you in the face." Wars was starting to get tired of being the default adult in these situations. They where just here for an eye exam for Din's sake. "It's not like i'm ever going to get around to learning how to drive anyways." Cane the disgruntled reply. "Come on it isn't that big a deal! Don't you like finding Items that help you with things?" " Those are magic." "The difference will feel like magic though." Legend was about to think of a retort but at that moment He heard his name get called out. "Link Alphonson?" Legend seemed to deflate a bit. Wars just nudged his brother towards the Doorway to the exam rooms. He heard Legend mutter something about his eyes not being that bad. Seriously He was being dramatic. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Legend had reemerged awhile later and walked over to Wars with a defeated expression. Wars couldn't help but grin "So how'd it go?" "You where right" "HA-"

[box-dwelling]

Imagine if Astarion made one joke about virgin blood while he and Wyll are still courting and wyll gets a weird thing in his head that he's going to want to stop feeding on him as much after they have sex. Which shouldn't be a problem, he can just get live animals but also, you know the monster fucker in him is very much into that and he'd be very upset to lose it.

Then when it finally gets raised astarion basically recites the wwdits "imagine if you had a sandwich, you'd feel much better if someone hadn't fucked it" bit but then adds on "but if you fucked it then it's just kinky"

[myers-meadow]

Rolan and/or Gale each wanting to show off for Tav with a display of magic but, instead of just doing it Tav in front of Tav, he puts on a little show of his magic for a group of people (the boy is nervous); he makes sure Tav gets the best spot in the audience, up towards the front and closer to him. However, when he inevitably glances over to gauge Tav's reaction, he catches Tav not looking admiringly around his display but instead admiringly at him.

ah such a cute one!

I do see Rolan easily getting startled by Tav's admiring gaze... Tips of his ears get a lil hot maybe ✨. Also, did he do all this work to impress them for nothing?? At least they seem impressed...

The nail in the coffin of being down bad for Tav, would be them coming up to him afterwards and hugging him, before showering him in compliments. He boasts about his techniques, enough to have Cal and Lia roll their eyes, but you listen💕🌻. Catch the two of you ending the night later than anyone else, under the star light he shows you magic that's only meant for your eyes;;

[writing-with-gremworm]

Envelopment of the Hydro Dragon

NOTES:

Yandere Neuvillette

Very very brief mention of the second Yandere character

Mild fluff

Memory interjections/flashbacks

"Hello my love, did you sleep well?" Neuvillette whispers gently, brushing your hair aside as he smiles down at you. A warm smile crosses your lips and you giggle. This warmth was comfortable. Safe. You felt loved and even forgot how you got here.

Truthfully, you were running from something. But the warm embrace of a water dragon filled your mind with calm. Some say that the water remembers emotions. In a sense, it may be able to mirror those emotions too. Perhaps that is why Neuvillette fell for you.

"Good morning Neuvie." You smile, leaning into his hand as his fingers play with your hair.

You hoped that serenity would last forever. So when you were put on trial in front of all of Fontaine, you felt like everything was falling apart. Neuvillette's gentle smile was replaced by a calm and cool neutral expression as he sat in the judge's seat. Your bag was taken from you to be searched and you had no defendant on your side.

--

"Love, are you alright? You seem lost in thought." Neuvillette asks, looking into your eyes with his cool pearlescent ones. His gaze is gentle, it's as if he can tell you're worrying, though he did not directly state this.

"Yes, I'm okay. I'm just thinking about something from the past that wasn't the most pleasant, but it's okay now." In truth, it was something that wasn't so easy to brush aside. In the past, you'd had many moments where you were betrayed by someone you loved. This was one of the reasons you felt like you couldn't say as much to Neuvillette. You were afraid he would see what was wrong with you and he too would push you away as if you were nothing.

"Alright, if you don't wish to discuss the matter I won't make you. Hm, ah, why don't I obtain some macarons, you do seem to like them quite a bit." Neuvillette suggests. You flush, realizing he'd caught on to your habit of snacking when something stressed you out.

"T-That-! Alright. Thank you." You smile softly.

--

"We stand here today for the trial of (Y/N) (L/N). They have been accused of vision theft and illegal information dealings." Neuvillette states coldly, turning to face the prosecutor, "You may elaborate on the event in question."

"Of course. Ahem. I was surprised to hear of such flagrant crimes in a time as dire as this, though I was presented with irrefutable proof. Three nights ago four different reports came in discussing Mx. (L/N) entering an illegal information guild. Further, one of the key witnesses, Cicely Fauxbear, heard the conversation Mx. (L/N) and the cloaked figures had.

"Cicely Fauxbear, come to the stand."

"Ah, yes. I was shocked. Mx. (L/N) had been so close to Mr. Neuvillette, so I was assured of their character. I had intended to ask for some advice, but I instead overheard them telling cloaked figures 'I've mapped out the schedules of Neuvillette, our archon, and the other officials you requested to know of' But not only that, they started talking of Fontaine as-as Oh dear, it's to shocking to say- They said that Fontaine would soon fall according to plan." Cicely sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

Your eyes widened. You hadn't met with any shady figures, nor had you given scheduling information to anyone. You weren't sure where these accusations came from, but something felt off about this.

"Ms. Fauxbear, where was the location of this incident?" Neuvillette asks.

"I-It was simply a worn down Café, it didn't seem to have many patrons, so it was hardly notable." Cicely fidgets, brushing her hair aside as she looks down apologetically.

"I see. Mx. (L/N), as you are your defendant, what do you say to this?"

"This was stated to be a few days ago, as such it could not have been me. Forgive me for being somewhat crass, but I have not left your abode for anything but the shopping trip for essentials and an excursion to get the package Wriothesley sent me to give to you. However, there is no way to confirm this since no one went with me." You admit sincerely, biting your tongue since you realize you'd been too honest and left an opening for the opposing side to use against you.

"Your honor, that is clearly an excuse! They're trying to use personal feelings to sway this accusation!"

--

"Hm? You want me to grab a package? Of course, it'll give me a chance to explore a little too! You said the package was from Rizzley?" You ask, looking at Neuvillette. He smiles and chuckles softly.

"It's pronounced rise-lee, though I suppose Rizzley is close enough. He'd be miffed by such a nickname though. Ah, it is spelled a little strangely. Here, allow me to write his name down for you." Neuvillette hands you a small slip of paper with 'Wriothesley' written neatly on it.

It takes a bit before you locate the post office, but you manage to acquire the package Neuvie was talking about without much hassle since he'd mentioned he might get someone to pick it up for him beforehand.

"Hm, the box smells kind of floral, I wonder what's inside." You ponder, looking at the box before shaking your head and heading back. It hadn't been too long since you went out, but during that time Neuvillette must have become rather busy since he wasn't home. You leave the box on the counter and decide to try and bake something for Neuvie since he always buys you Fontaine specialty sweets.

--

"I can assure you that my personal feelings will not sway my judgment in this matter. The role of the judge is something I do not take lightly Ms. Fauxbear." Neuvillette assures Cicely, "Mx. (L/N), you state you did not go to a café, but on one of the days that fell within the expected timeframe you presented me with sweets, can you elaborate on this point?"

"Yes, of course, your honor." You smile sadly, "Those were sweets I baked personally, they're not the sort of delicacies you can find in Fontaine, they're much less refined and difficult to replicate with Fontaine ingredients alone. I can present evidence of this simply by baking them again." You state confidently.

"Understood. The day you baked sweets you say you acquired a package for me, what else did you do while you were in town?"

"I walked around and took in the architecture. The buildings here in Fontaine vary from those in Mondstadt, so I was inclined to observe them." You state simply.

"Your honor. I have something to say." Someone from the audience says, standing up.

"It is against protocol to include someone without good reason. What reason do you have to interrupt court proceedings?"

"I have collected statements noting (Y/N)'s whereabouts during the past three days, most notably statements from all cafés and post offices around Fontaine listed on the first page. I would like to submit this document for review." Neuvillette furrows his brow but quickly adjusts his expression.

"Understood, but if this proves to be falsified you will be tried in this court as well," Neuvillette states, motioning for the stranger to hand over the documents mentioned before.

--

"When I look up at the stars I remember the night we met. Do you think about it too?" You ask softly, a bit drowsy.

"Hahaha, yes, it was certainly a unique encounter. One does not often fall from the sky into my arms you see. Perhaps it was foreshadowing. It was certainly a dramatic introduction to the most lovely spring I have ever had the chance to touch." Neuvillette smiles, enjoying the soft flush that coats your cheeks.

"It was like a fairytale, aside from the fact it was because of a glider malfunction I mean." You state, clearing your throat and hiding a grin behind your fist.

--

"We will begin the proceedings again tomorrow once this evidence and the baking skills touted by Mx. (L/N) have been confirmed," Neuvillette states. The gavel slams down, announcing an intermission in the court proceedings. A few guards accompany you to a kitchen and permit you to bake the dessert for Neuvillette. Once it is complete Neuvillette is gathered and he confirms that the treat tastes the same as the ones he had previously.

The document was more time-consuming to check, but by the next Morning they managed to confirm the validity of the statement. The trial continues and it is decided that you did not trade away information. A separate trial begins regarding the vision theft. A stolen vision was found in your bag.

You looked surprised. As you should, you had never had such a thing, nor did you place one haphazardly in your bag. You had no idea how something like that would have ended up in your bag. Further, it was a Fontaine vision, which gave the claim that you'd stolen it more validity. You were at a loss for words, how could you combat this? Your bag had always been at home, in Neuvillette's home, it should have been safe.

--

"Your bag is always full, do you move often?" Neuvillette asks before taking a sip of tea. His nose wrinkles a bit, Wriothesley had sent a rather unpleasant floral tea this time, but at least you seemed to like it.

"Ah, I suppose. I guess I just haven't found somewhere to stay completely. I do best when I can travel. So I don't stay in one place too often." You state. Though, that was only partially true. You did do better when you traveled, but less because of an inherent ability to do better in new environments, and more because you were always safe for the first few months in a new place.

It isn't something you discuss often, but it's difficult to explain why you're being chased by new people because they always give you this look. Some even think you're lying.

"I see, well, I hope you find your stay here pleasant. I'll have a cup of tea ready when you return." Neuvillette smiles gently. That was the one time someone had expressed their desire for you to visit again. Of course, it was the first time you'd gained a friend this quickly.

Maybe it wasn't that surprising that such a friendship quickly became more. His lips were soft, they made you forget your worries with every gentle motion. His warmth seeped into your flesh and flushed your skin.

--

"If there is nothing more to say, then it is time for your judgment. I find (Y/N) (L/N) guilty of vision theft." Neuvillette slams the gavel down and the machine whirs as it weighs your judgement. Despite knowing the truth, the machine lies and blames you. You can almost hear its laughter, but you know it chose to lie. For once in a great while, it lied and only you and two others knew this.

--

"If I never came back, would you be sad?" You ask, looking up at the ceiling as exhaustion sets in. It was drawing too close to the time 'he' usually found you. It was time to run away again.

"Yes. I would be sad. Would you not feel the same if I suddenly vanished?" Neuvillette asks, looking at you with a sorrow in his gaze that feels unfamiliar.

"Yes, I would be sad. But I guess I would expect it. That's sort of been the default, I find I'm alone more often than not." You smile sadly, leaning close to him and closing your eyes.

"I would never leave you by choice. If I could promise you safety, would you stay beside me?" Neuvie inquires, his voice thoughtful and warm.

"Hm, that would be nice. I ... like the idea of that." You smile a bit, not realizing that Neuvillette had a strange smile on his face since your eyes were closed.

"Then I promise, as long as you are my lover, you will always find safety in my arms." He kisses your forehead, holding you closely and running his fingers through your hair.

--

You open your eyes and realize you're not being taken to a prison, nor are the guards from earlier the ones beside you, they feel distinctly different. They feel familiar.

"Where are you taking me?" You ask carefully. They do not respond, they simply continue to escort you to an unfamiliar place. It takes you a moment to process why they feel familiar. It was because they felt like hydro Eidolons, they took the form of people they were not. You look a bit surprised but ultimately realize this is your chance to escape.

Hydro Eidolons had a predictable pattern when they fought, so it would be easy enough to weave past and make a run for it now that you'd been led to an isolated place near the waters. However, being in this place also meant it was possible for whoever orchestrated this to catch you, so you had to be on guard.

Weaving through the attacks of those who harbor hydro-elemental energy is much like dancing. It matches the theatrics of the court and noble life in Fontaine, so it seems fitting that this escape was like a musical. Though many of the musicals you had seen had been tragedies, hopefully, this would not also become one.

As you sway and bob, swirling through the ribbons of water splashing around you, you dive into the crashing ocean waves and dive into the water. As you were not a vision holder, you did not have the luxury of breathing underwater for long periods of time, but you had plenty of experience with swimming to escape places until you found a wave rider you could take.

As you plunge into the water your vision is covered with darkness as something wraps you up, perhaps expecting this escape. You almost gasp, but manage to hold your breath. You feel yourself getting pulled deeper into the waters and your throat aches, begging for air. You gasp and choke as water fills your mouth and lungs and darkness consumes your vision.

--

Bubbles float to the surface, caught on the seafoam of faded expectations. They showcase moments once filled with laughter.

"Wow, you have so many stories." You remember this. Neuvillette had just finished telling you about a musical he liked. Looking back at it now stings a little, did he betray you? It couldn't be. He was a judge, and he had to be impartial. But surely he knew you weren't guilty.

"You ... want to braid my hair? Well, as long as you don't mind teaching the Melusines to braid it, as I'm sure they'll ask, then you may." Neuvillette seemed so happy then. The small moments always seemed to be the times he had the gentlest smile. You wonder if you're dying and if that is why you remember these things now.

"(Y/N), I promise I'll keep you safe. You just have to trust me." That wasn't just Neuvillette's voice, that was someone else too, the man you were running away from. His crimson hair flooded your vision like the blood of the Fatui debt collector who had gotten just a little too close to you.

Something twists in your gut. You trusted Neuvillette, though, of course, you had never told him about Diluc. So why did he sound so similar when he said he'd protect you?

'Did Neuvillette rig the trial? That's impossible, he would never do something like that.' But it seemed to make sense. After all, he would have been able to plant a vision in your bag as well. He was hosting you in his home. Your heart sank. A cold but burning sensation crept through your throat and chest.

--

"Ah, you're awake. I was worried you'd not wake up my love." Neuvillette says softly, kissing your forehead gently.

"N-Neuvie?" You stutter, your voice is a bit hoarse. You look around, letting your eyes adjust to the dim light.

"Yes love, you must have been so scared, but I'm here now. He won't find you here." A smile is evident in Neuvillette's voice, with one hand his fingers lace through yours. He holds you gently with his other hand.

"... He?" You hadn't specified it was a man looking for you had you? No, had you even said someone was following you? When did he find out you were being chased? Why didn't he say anything?

"That stoic Mondstadt noble, you have expensive tastes." Neuvillette laughs a bit, "Though I'm delighted that those standards include me." He kisses your knuckles.

"Y-You're being a little more affectionate than usual." You stutter, cursing the nervousness in your tone.

"But of course, I have to take extra care of you since you've had such an awful moment, no? It was hard for me to judge you guilty, my love.

But it had to be done."

...

[nancyheart11]

Dads in a dungeon part 2!

They entered the next room and Abel had to close his eyes against the crime against architecture. There were pillars everywhere, going every which way, colliding smoothly before splitting gracefully like carved tree branches. It was horrible to look at, especially with the red, green, and blue intermingling with no rhyme or reason.

Wait… red, blue and green? Abel pulled out the triangle held within the delicate looking metal orb and held it out squinting.

“Well? The colors match up pretty well at least?” Rusl gave him an encouraging grin. Abel huffed at him, how helpful.

He turned the sphere and watched as the whole room, multiple large intersections as well as free floating pillars, moved–or at least the red ones did, which was the color the triangle inside now had facing downwards. Abel rubbed the spot where his growing headache was worst and walked onto the now conveniently placed pillar, walking up the somewhat steep incline until he got to the end, where he had to jump to another pillar. His foot slipped upon landing and Abel scrambled not to fall off the cylindrical object.

Heart pounding and feeling cold sweat run down his neck, Abel sat in place for a few precious minutes squeezing his eyes shut against the drop so long that it simply faded to black below him, with no end visible in sight. Rusl was calling something worriedly to him, and even Fierce’s loud rumble joined in, but Abel stood up and ran up the rest of the pillar.

Rusl and Fierce joined him on the now rather tight platform and upon realizing that there were many different nooks hidden around the room, had Abel stand in the middle and turn the triangle to whatever side was needed to get to the next platform for his companions. Abel was grateful they said nothing about him falling on the very first pillar, but by Rusl’s pat on the back he was sure they had noticed.

After far too much spinning of the room and a lot of backtracking that Abel was glad not to participate in they were finally able to leave the room with more rupees, arrows, and knowledge that the ‘twister,’ as Rusl had named it, was able to not just change orientation of things, but moved space as a whole. Abel was already planning on how they could use it to get to Link.

The next room was filled with lizalfos and easily taken care of by the trio; they didn’t even have anything besides pots to camouflage with! Once they were defeated, the hallway split in two directions. They took one and opened the door to many moving platforms that, after watching for a while, emerged a pattern. Rusl went across and came back with bombs and a smear of blood on his cheek, telling them there had been a Deku baba on the other side. The living, biting plant he described made Abel shiver, trying to imagine having to watch the very plants around them for attacks–taluses were bad enough as it was.

They went back through the split and found the door needed a key, which they quickly inserted. The room opened up, yawning wide, and on the other side was an enormous staircase. Only problem was, the staircase seemed to start melting only a short distance from the top. The first steps to be affected looked like chocolate that had been left in the sun on a hot summer day and then moved somewhere cool and dark to resolidify. Then they distorted step by step until the last clinging drips of stone stair led the eye towards the ground where a pile of what was likely once the rest of the stairs sat, utterly unrecognizable.

Why? Who would build stairs on such a grand scale only to then destroy them in such a strange manner? It made no sense to Abel. The shrines were bad enough, and those had the explicit purpose of training the hero for trials ahead.

Before he could think much more on it, skeletal hands pushed themselves out of previously unnoticed alcoves and revealed stals which attacked them in droves. Fierce took one side and Rusl and Abel took the other. Soon they discovered that those bombs were needed to keep the stals from simply reforming once defeated, though when Abel glanced over it seemed Fierce had no such trouble, figures.

After cleaning his sword and sheathing it for the time being, Abel began to explore the room. He hoped this one would have obvious clues, his head still ached from the pillar room. Eventually he realized there was a triangle motif cut into the ground reflecting the one he held in one hand, with a seed on one side, a healthy looking tree on another, and a stump on the third. He looked at the images and tried to figure out what in the world they meant!

Abel decided to simply turn the triangle blue side down to see what happened. He noted that like the other times he held the object, sides only seemed to shift when intent was involved, or else he’d have likely been flung off into the abyss when he slipped on the pillar earlier. So caught up in these thoughts he nearly missed the stairs moving, though not in a way he wanted. The stairs now dripped like melting snow rather than staying solid.

When he turned the red side to be down, the stairs flowed in reverse. It was almost beautiful to watch and see how they constructed themselves before him, looking as solid as any stone structure he’d known once every grain was in place. There was a click and Abel, remembering how the other stairs here had treated him, gingerly put one foot on the bottom step, hoping it wouldn’t be soft as sand to step on. To his relief it was solid, and together the group ventured up.

As it turned out the stairs continued beyond what they had been able to see from the floor below, though once they got out of the lighting from the last room, an alarming amount of webs started appearing, and they grew in size the further they went up. Rusl was happy enough to use an iron lantern to burn away the webs, but Abel couldn’t help shivering at how large a spider would have to be in order to make a web so thick.

He noted idly how even the webs were twisted by the dungeon, being circular, swirling things with twists and folds that hurt to look at too long instead of the normal patterns of sagging boxes Abel was used to seeing. He shuddered at the implications that any being within a dungeon long enough was changed by it, and felt his desire to leave increase to a painful degree, making his skin buzz uncomfortably.

They got to the top and torches lit up upon them stepping foot on the floor. Abel took two steps forward, felt something drip onto his head, and had the sudden overwhelming feeling that he was about to be attacked. Before he had finished turning around, Fierce had pushed him out of the way and a simply enormous spider was skewered on his sword. Abel shuddered but saw webs on the edges of his vision vibrating, so he stood up to defend against the beasts three men tall and very, very angry at being disturbed. Abel slashed and stabbed but his sword continued to bounce off the hard carapace of the thing.

“You have to hit them underneath! It’s the only place they’re soft!”

With that, Abel was finally getting in hits that pierced and caused sticky fluid to come out, until finally the spider could no longer hold itself up and he managed to decapitate it, watching its legs curl up so that he was sure it wouldn’t get back up for another round.

He fought another with Fierce, finding it almost laughably easy when the Deity simply flipped the thing over and stabbed into the floor before backflipping off with as much ease as he did anything.

When the last of the spiders was vanquished, a chest appeared in a burst of life, this one noticeably bigger than the other and decorated with horns at its corners. Fierce lit up, his eyes glowing brighter in his visible excitement as he went to the chest, pulling it open and presenting a much larger key than the ones found previously, the blackened metal twisting sharply around what appeared to be a ruby, managing to look both dangerous and wasteful at the same time.

Abel was not impressed.

Regardless, Fierce pocketed the key and they moved to the next room, which was empty. Immediately Abel looked up, wary of attacks from above after the last room. He found nothing. The room was almost painfully plain after the sheer obnoxiousness or feigned grandeur the others had offered, with only some plain ceramic pots in each corner to prevent it being entirely empty. That and the multitude of giant chains on the door, leading to a centralized lock that only Fierce could comfortably reach.

With a lack of anything better to do, Abel began looking in all the pots one by one. The first held a green rupee, which he grabbed and put in his pouch carefully. Pottery this old should be preserved after all, and he wouldn’t put it past the dungeon to have something horrible happen if one were broken. In the third group of pots he checked he found a fairy, napping at the bottom of the thing!

Abel dug around in his pack and found a spare bottle from something or other. He went to scoop up the fairy and hesitated. He knew it would be so helpful to have one, but could he really trap such a creature? He thought of Link’s scars that covered far, far too much of his boy, he thought of Tilieth’s absolutely gorgeous smile, and before he could second guess himself the fairy was bottled and being shoved inside his pack where he didn’t have to look at it.

Once all the pots had been checked, Rusl suggested they rest before going to the next room. Abel’s aching bones and head agreed, so he spent some time with his cloak over his eyes just breathing. Rusl came over and pushed him to sit. Abel grumbled minimally before–

Oh sweet Hylia, that felt amazing, no wonder he had a headache when his neck was so tense. Rusl continued to softly rub circles in the muscles and Abel could feel his shoulder come down from where they had moved up around his ears without him noticing. By the time Rusl stopped and shook out his hands, Abel was nearly slumped against the floor from the sheer relief the supposed farmer had provided without complaint or asking for anything in return. (He still remembered with dismay how much lighter their rupee pouch had been when Fierce came back from Gerudo Town.)

“Better?”

“Much, but uh how did you…?”

“You got that pinched look Link gets when he’s spent too long without a proper break, and you seem to carry your troubles on your shoulders, jus’ like him.”

Abel decided they have been in here for more than a day because such a simple sentiment had no right making him feel like chu jelly inside.

Then Fierce came over and glanced at Abel and Rusl.

“How did you do that, little Farmer? Is it possible to learn this? My Link could certainly do with that more often.”

Abel felt a flash of fear at the thought of the Deity trying to give anyone a neck massage; his back ached just thinking of the ‘pat’ Fierce had once given him.

Rusl’s sudden interest in the floor had Fierce huffing as he stood to his full intimidating height and pulled out the key. He inserted it into the lock, and Abel watched the waste of metal clatter to the floor before the large doors were pushed open and they entered, wary of danger. 

Standing in the center of the room was a pillar much like the ones they had set the stones in earlier. Where the others had shown a smooth dip in the middle for the stones to rest in, the one before him now had curving grooves carved into the bowl-like hollow that met smoothly in the middle. Abel pulled out the cage holding the triangle and felt a pang at the fact that he was about to give it up, but it seemed this was the clue he had on what to do next for the dungeon.

He gently set the thing down into the basin, having to twist it a bit to get the spindly metal aligned with the grooves of stone. There was a strange sound, like someone had taken a wind chime and thrown it at a wall. The sphere expanded impossibly, growing larger and larger until it filled the stone room and the pillar that once housed it had vanished. Abel nearly fell as the metal beneath his feet started turning, finding it hard to stay on his feet with the now constantly changing terrain.

He managed to find his feet among the swirling and turning just in time for the very walls to begin peeling away. The stones making up the walls churned and changed. For a moment Abel was worried they would be fighting some sort of talus! He watched as once the walls had created four legs and a body, with a blocky curled tail, the floor strayed towards the beast being made, to make the head. He felt a small shiver of relief amongst the heart-pounding fear as the spirals slowed, then stopped as less and less floor remained, leaving only a gaping, yawning black almost hungry in its completeness around them. Abel didn’t like his chances of having been able to jump from piece to piece, much less fight while doing so!

Finally the stone being was completed. It shuddered, glowing. Then horrible yellow and red eyes opened, glaring balefully at the group of trespassers. They drew their swords and began to fight. 

Immediately a rather large problem emerged. The lizard of sorts had used its tongue against Fierce, but in dodging he had fallen neatly through the gaps in the metal. Abel felt the whole structure shudder as a horrible screeching cry rang out from what he suspected was Fierce stabbing at the floor itself to stay airborne. The very tip of the double helix blade poking out of the metal proved his theory, but it was so smooth that it started slipping as fast as it had appeared.

So now they had lost their best fighter, had to fight in a hazardous battlefield–which would become more so the longer they took with the way another hole in the floor near the first puncture mark was made– and the lizard was made of stone, with no obvious weak point of ore like a talus.

Great.

Rusl jumped the gap and pulled out his golden cucco, hovering in the air with one hand and slashing at the creature’s tongue when it flicked out to try and harm him. Abel grimaced as he got out his bow, since Tilieth and Rusl were both better shots than him, but he truly couldn’t make himself even try to cross the gap. He’d noticed that the monster kept its eyes barely open until its tongue shot out, at which the lids flew wide open and the eyes nearly seemed to bulge, making them the perfect target to incapacitate the thing.

He missed twice before his third arrow landed right in the pupil of the giant lizard. It thrashed and stone blocks came flying off in all directions. Abel had to duck and weave around the shrapnel, coming dangerously close to the edge more than once in the effort to avoid getting hit. Rusl had dropped on what counted as the floor to avoid the flying rock, but once things settled he ran up the slope until pushing back into the air with his cucco.

“Now we just have to keep doing that! Good work Abel!”

Abel wondered at the complete trust Rusl was putting in him, and at the confidence that they would defeat the thing, Fierce or no Fierce. Abel pulled out another arrow and brought up his bow.

He ducked on instinct to avoid the tail sweeping his way while the tongue once again went after Rusl in the air. He blew some hair that had fallen over his eyes in annoyance, of course the monster was smart enough to try and prevent them from abusing its weakness the same way once more. This meant Abel had many more false starts, where he had to drop to avoid a tail swinging his way, but it was only the second arrow he fired that landed in the eye.

The rocks were more numerous this time, and faster too. He panted with the exertion of trying to dodge them all while staying on the narrow strip of metal that kept him from the abyss. He stumbled after a particularly tricky dodge and watched with a numb sense of impending pain as a stone came at him faster than he could move.

Suddenly the ear-splitting screeching of Fierce’s sword rending metal was much closer than heard previously, and Abel’s vision was overtaken by the large blade, only inches from his face. The rock plinked harmlessly off of the strange metal and the sword retreated back below the ground as the last of the rocks flew by.

Abel hoped that had been on purpose. He suspected that not even the mythical healing of a fairy would save him from Fierce’s disgustingly effective sword.

With the return of their ability to fight came a new challenge, because why would things stay predictable? The lizard would, after Rusl got a slash on the tongue, turn the color and texture of the metal and abyss, moving around and only regaining its stonelike state when it was about to attack them both again. So it took Rusl and him a considerable amount of both time and arrows to manage hitting the third time. Both acquired some cuts and bruises along the way.

Then the lizard rolled up, moving through the air like a wagon wheel from a particularly violent cart crash. Abel hit the floor as it came whizzing by and only cautiously peeked out from his hair when the sounds of displaced air stopped. 

It appeared that the lizard had changed tactics, for now it curled up and hid, sending bits of stone out that remind Abel eerily of pebblits to fight them. He had no blunt weapon with which to attack the annoyances, but when he caught a glimpse of the lizard out of the corner of his eye, it looked soft.

He managed to dig out a bomb while dodging the rocky pebblits, lobbing it almost desperately at the creature. He hit! Then the pebblit gave him what was sure to be a nasty bruise on his shin before retreating.

When the lizard was done moving violently through the air, the pebblits sent this time were noticeably more aggressive, and Abel found himself panting to keep up and dig a bomb out of his bag. He threw it, missed terribly as he had to jerk at the last moment to avoid getting clobbered again, then watched as Rusl was hit with a flying stone from the pebblit attacking him.

Rusl crashed to the ground, and instead of hopping up and going at the wall again like a madman, lay as a puddle of red grew beside him. Abel felt his eyes widen as he scrambled, what could he do? He had no hope of taking on this monster by himself–

The fairy!

But, in order to give Rusl the fairy, he would need to cross one of these gaps. He shuddered, but the pebblit charging at him gave him no time to fear as he leaped, his heart pounding in his ears and his stomach in his mouth. He nearly slid off the other side and scrabbled for purchase. A quick bomb was thrown at the approaching pebblit and he pulled out the bottle, trying to undo the cork with shaking hands. 

The fairy, apparently impatient, went through the glass bottle (why had they stayed in the first place?) and started flying in tight circles above Rusl, dropping glowing pink dust as they went. Abel held his breath, and only let it out when Rusl began to sit up.

“Wha? Oh! A fairy. I didn’t know we had one.”

“Oops.” Abel winced.

Rusl sent him a knowing look before clasping his outstretched hand and heaving himself up. With determination, they fought anew. It was hard and scary, but finally after two more bombs successfully detonated, the lizard separated into every individual stone, each vanishing one by one. The metal strips joined together to create a solid platform in the abyss with a strange door on one side. 

After the constant screech of metal and stone, arrows and bombs whistling through the air, and Rusl’s eye-burningly bright cucco’s cries, the silence was eerie, with only heavy panting breaths daring to be heard. Until Fierce’s head popped over the edge with a loud bang as his sword skittered away from where he was holding on with white knuckles to the platform and both Rusl and Abel were quick to help him up.

“I think… A nap is in order.” Fierce sounded strained, which was so strange coming from him that Abel blinked to make sure he was seeing things right.

“Cheers to that, Fierce!” Rusl only took the time to peel off his bloodstained clothes and use them as a pillow before he was asleep.

Abel couldn’t agree more, though before he joined his companions in the realm of dreams, he pocketed once more the strange, seemingly impossible triangle that had clattered to the ground in the middle of the platform.

@skyloftian-nutcase here's part 2! with a huge thank you to @bluevaractyl for helping me parse through my soup filled brain in making this much better!

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Reckless fun in the jungle

It's a fine day beneath the subtropical sun, deep within the scorching heart of a treacherous jungle. A team of elite operatives—Tequila, Marco, Tarma, Eri, Ralf, and Nadia—have been sent to the southern part of the Amazon Rainforest by the Regular Army for a perilous mission. Their objective is to infiltrate and dismantle a ruthless guerrilla group suspected of human trafficking, illicit arms dealing, and narcotics smuggling. Intel suggests a possible alliance with the notorious Ptolemaic Army, a terrorist cult infamous for its brutality and corrupting influence. With precision and skill, Marco and his team must track down the guerrilla group, gather crucial intel on a possible alliance with the Ptolemaic Army, and execute a swift and decisive takedown to shatter the organisation's grip on the region.

The hypervigilant Tequila leads the group with awe-inspiring courage, his grenade launcher at the ready. Marco follows closely behind, his usual stoic demeanour masking a deep longing to return to the Sparrowhawk Operations Base and reunite with Perifa, whose dramatic flair he misses dearly. Eri, who had previously instructed her fellow Ptolemaic Army deserters to scout for a secret base and any suspicious activity, stands ready with her trusty explosives at hand.

Ralf is pumped for action, his senses heightened as he drinks in the jungle's symphony of natural sounds and feels the adrenaline coursing through his veins like liquid fire. Tarma walks alongside Marco, cracking jokes to ease the tension, but Eri and Tequila remain unamused, finding his humour unprofessional. Meanwhile, his queerplatonic partner, Marco, struggles to maintain a straight face, stifling a couple of laughs in an effort to stay focused. Ralf, however, revels in Tarma's lightheartedness, while Nadia giggles, lost in romantic thoughts of her best friend, Trevor.

Before they can proceed further, Marco suggests splitting up, a plan that Tequila endorses. Marco and Eri meticulously outline the stealth mission, assigning Ralf, Tarma, and Nadia to reconnaissance duty, tasked with identifying potential enemies and hostages. Meanwhile, Marco, Eri, and Tequila will continue searching for the guerrilla group's headquarters. After a brief strategy session, the group divides: Ralf, Tarma, and Nadia head out separately from Tequila, Marco, and Eri.

As they stealthily tread through the jungle, Nadia's focus wanes, and she starts to feel restless, yearning for something more than this mission. Just in time, Ralf spots a secluded hideout, a fallen tree shrouded in dense greenery, where they can lay low for a couple of minutes. The group swiftly settles in, remaining vigilant and on high alert. Ralf, Tarma, and Nadia anxiously await any news from Marco's group via walkie-talkie, hoping to pinpoint the elusive guerrilla group's current location. Ralf and Tarma remain vigilant, scanning their surroundings for potential threats and innocent bystanders, while Nadia's gaze wanders, her attention drawn to the lush jungle foliage and beautiful birds.

As Nadia leans against the tree trunk, she pulls out a blue bubblegum ball from her square-shaped pouch adorned with kitty ears. She pops it into her mouth, chewing and savouring the sweet blueberry flavour. As her gaze continues to wander through the gorgeous sights of the Amazon Rainforest, she spots some enticing swinging vines and her lips curl into a playful smile. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she elbows Tarma…

Tarma jerks slightly, caught off guard by Nadia's elbow to his right arm. He swiftly turns to face her, his head tilted in curiosity, and asks, "Huh? What's up, Nadia?"

She nods towards the hanging vines, her grin growing bigger, and blows an impressive bubble before it pops. Tarma quietly looks at them, adjusting his red-tinted sunglasses and squinting slightly.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Nadia asks, spitting out her chewed-up blueberry bubblegum, as Tarma's smirk forms, accompanied by a low, amused chuckle.

“I so do,” he replies, flashing a charming smirk, his response coming easily and without hesitation.

He watches as Nadia stands up and joyously skips over to the vines, catching Ralf's attention. Ralf raises an eyebrow at Tarma, but before he can say a word, Tarma swiftly stands up, stretches briefly, and confidently strides over to Nadia. As Ralf's gaze follows Tarma to the hanging vines, he grasps the hint and decides to join in on the fun.

Meanwhile, Marco, Eri, and Tequila are cautiously navigating the jungle, vigilant for any signs of the guerrilla group's members. They're also awaiting crucial intel from Ptolemaic Army deserters regarding the location of the group's headquarters, where their illicit operations are allegedly taking place. To pass the time, Tequila decides to strike up a conversation to break the monotony of the deafening silence. He has a strong hunch that Marco will remain his usual taciturn self, but he's certain that Eri will definitely respond.

“I hope these guys aren't affiliated with those cultish dumbasses from the Serapion Fellowship,” Tequila says, his voice dripping with disdain, his face twisted in a mix of anger and revulsion as he recalls his past run-in with the group.

“You mean the Ptolemaic Army?” Eri asks, her voice laced with disdain, accompanied by a tired scoff. “The Serapion Fellowship was decimated when the Ikari Warriors tore through them.”

“The Ikari Warriors didn't finish the job,” Tequila interjects gruffly, his tone respectful yet firm, catching Eri off guard. “My old comrades and I had to clean up the remnants. I'm telling ya, Ptolemaios and his devotees are like blind, stubborn leeches… Those motherfuckers never know when to quit!”

He pauses, fishing out a cigar from his right cargo pants pocket and lighting it with his metallic blue-green lighter. As he takes a slow drag, he eyes Eri with a hint of uncertainty, "I assume you haven't heard about the Arms Deal Barrage?"

Eri exhales a heavy sigh, her gaze dropping to the jungle soil as she falls into a silent reverie, feeling a tad foolish for nearly overlooking a seemingly insignificant event in the Regular Army’s history.

“Yup! Your Lothario son spilled all the details to me,” she replies, her voice involuntarily tinged with a chill as she crosses her arms, oblivious to the fact that Gimlet has kept a dark secret regarding the Regular Army hidden from her.

“Really?” he says gruffly, his right eyebrow shooting up in skepticism, amused by the thought of Gimlet being her informant on this particular matter.

Marco's attention is suddenly diverted by the distant shouts of thrilled excitement from a girl and a man, who enthusiastically belts out Tarzan's iconic jungle call, echoing through the air. He swiftly interrupts the conversation between Eri and Tequila, clearing his throat awkwardly, his interest piqued by something in the commotion.

“Uhhhmm… Guys, I think we have a problem,” Marco says, his voice low and serious, nodding discreetly towards the source of his concern.

“Tsk! What is—” Eri starts to say, her voice tinged with annoyance, but her words die on her lips as her jaw drops in stunned astonishment at the scene unfolding before her.

“What the fuck is happening?” Tequila exclaims, his voice laced with confusion and incredulity as he glares upward at the reckless spectacle above him, his eyes widening in shock.

Marco, Eri, and Tequila watch in stupefied awe as Nadia, Ralf, and Tarma swing from vine to vine with reckless abandon, their movements eerily reminiscent of carefree, playful monkeys. It's as if the entire jungle has become their personal playground, and they're oblivious to the fact that their unprofessional antics might jeopardise their mission. Tequila can only hope that the three impulsive adventurers don't alert any nearby enemies to their presence. Eri's right eye twitches with suppressed rage, clearly unimpressed by their foolishness. Marco lets out a deep, exasperated sigh, smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand and shaking his head in dismay, his gaze cast downward.

“Weeeeeeeeee! This is so much fun!” Nadia squeals, her voice bursting with exuberant joy.

"You're absolutely right, gurl! This shit is amazing!" Ralf exclaims, feeling nostalgic for the good times he had with Clark on mercenary missions in the jungle.

Tarma unleashes a thunderous Tarzan yell, utterly shameless and fearless about attracting the attention of the guerrilla group members. However, his triumphant cry is abruptly cut short when he accidentally swallows a fast-moving insect, causing him to cough violently. He stops swinging from vine to vine and lands on a branch of a kapok tree, gasping for breath and reaching for his water canteen in his citron load-bearing backpack. Nadia can't help but burst out laughing at the unexpected turn of events. Meanwhile, Ralf stops by to check on Tarma, concern etched on his face.

"You okay, man?" Ralf asks, gently patting Tarma on the back with a hint of worry in his voice.

Tarma coughs some more, takes a long swig from his canteen, and clears his throat before calmly responding, "It could've been worse..."

Tarma's gaze wanders to Nadia, who’s still swinging with carefree abandon, then drops to Marco, Eri, and Tequila, clustered beneath the kapok tree's sprawling canopy, far below where he and Ralf stand. He swallows hard, the sound of his gulp audibly echoing through the air. Ralf's gaze follows, his expression contorting into an uneasy frown as his sunburst amber-sage eyes slowly lock onto Tarma.

“Maybe we should get back on track…” he suggests, wincing at the prospect of facing Eri's icy stare and scornful disapproval.

The thought of facing Clark's lecture at Sparrowhawk Operations Base makes him wince even more, especially if Eri shares the story of their impulsive escapade. Tarma silently nods and begins to carefully descend the kapok tree, using the vines for support. Ralf closely follows, keeping a watchful eye on Nadia as she continues to swing from vine to vine without a single care in the world. Her swift movements radiate pure joy, accompanied by thrilled shouts, squeals of excitement, and punctuated by a hilarious, off-key Tarzan jungle call.

After a few minutes of climbing down, Tarma and Ralf approach Marco, Eri, and Tequila, their heads hanging low in palpable shame. Marco's disapproving gaze settles on Tarma, who shifts uncomfortably, his hand drifting up to rub his upper arm in a telling sign of nervous humiliation. However, Marco's expression soon softens, his frustration easing as he realises he can't stay angrily disappointed at Tarma forever. Eri is furious with the two, her anger evident in a harsh puff of breath and her crossed arms, which seem to radiate a menacing aura. She's prepared to unleash a scathing tirade, especially once she discovers who sparked this entire debacle. Tequila appears relieved that they didn't attract unwanted attention, but his expression betrays frustration with their decision to slack off.

Luckily, Nadia soon returns from her vine-swinging escapade. However, her excitement is short-lived, a fragile vine snaps beneath her weight, sending her plummeting downwards. She lets out a blood-curdling scream, but Ralf swiftly swoops in, catching her small body in his arms. As he holds her, Nadia's trembling subsides, and she gradually calms down from the fear and exhilaration of her fall. Once she's composed, Ralf carefully sets her down on her feet, offering a reassuring pat on the back as she takes a deep, prolonged breath to calm her nerves. Now, Nadia braces herself for a scathing lecture from Eri, likely amplified by Tequila's disapproval. She fidgets with her thumbs, gazing up at the sky with an unconvincing attempt at feigning innocence.

Eri's gaze sweeps across the group, her eyes blazing with a fierce intensity as she growls, "Which one of you thought it was a fucking brilliant idea to act like reckless retards in a situation like this?"

Nadia swiftly deflects the blame, her finger pointing accusingly at Tarma as she twirls her raspberry red locks with her free hand.

"Tarms is the one who started it," she claims, her tone dripping with false nonchalance.

However, Tarma's and Ralf's unflinching, deadpan gazes effectively debunk Nadia's attempt at innocence, their silent incredulity speaking volumes. Eri's hand flashes up, poised to deliver a sharp slap to Nadia's face, but Marco swiftly intervenes, firmly grasping her wrist to prevent the blow. He wisely knows that escalating the tension will only make the volatile situation worse.

Marco's expression turns stoically resolute, his brow furrowing as he sternly suggests, "Let's call a truce for now and concentrate on our mission."

Eri lets out an irritated snarl, ripping her wrist from Marco's grasp and rubbing it lightly. She turns to Tequila, seeking validation, and receives a discreet, affirming nod, signalling his agreement with Marco's suggestion. Whirling around, Eri confronts Tarma, Ralf, and Nadia with a twisted face, mocking them with a scornful snort. Deciding to lecture them later, she spins on her heel and strides away, refocusing on their mission to track down the guerrilla group's base deep in the Amazon Rainforest, hoping it's within a reachable distance. Tequila exhales a tense sigh, hastening to catch up with Eri, while Ralf follows quietly, ready to take on the guerrilla forces. Nadia falls into step behind them, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face, pouting silently like a sulky child.

Tarma pulls out a cigarette from his saffron-yellow vest, and Marco retrieves a cigar from his left khaki-green army cargo pants pocket, seeking to calm his frazzled nerves. As he approaches his queerplatonic friend, Marco extracts a gilded lighter from his crimson vest pocket and kindly lights both his cigar and Tarma's cigarette.

"Nadia... She never fails to amaze me with the creative ways she manages to stir up bullshit," Marco mutters, shaking his head in amused disapproval.

Tarma's expression turns mischievous as he sarcastically remarks, "I have to admit, she's quite the firecracker."

As he speaks, Tarma accompanies his words with a soft, affectionate squeeze of Marco's right hand, eliciting a gentle smile. Marco basks in the warm, carefree presence of his best friend and recent queerplatonic partner, enjoying Tarma’s breezy attitude on life. He could linger in this cozy moment forever, but he's keenly aware that pressing matters demand their attention.

After a few moments of adoring eye contact, Marco breaks the comfortable silence with a soft clearing of his throat, and suggests, "Shall we get going?"

Tarma exhales a stream of cigarette smoke and responds with a subtle nod, then quickly falls into step beside Marco as they catch up to Eri, Ralf, and Tequila, who are already some distance ahead. The team is eager to complete their mission, apprehend the criminals, and return to the Sparrowhawk Operations Base in one piece. Marco looks forward to reuniting with his calico cat, Perifa, and enjoying some snuggle time. Tarma can't wait to get back to restoring Clark's custom-built Velocette MAC motorcycle after this mission is complete.

Nadia is eager to spend quality time with Trevor and challenge him to another round of Dance Dance Revolution. Nadia is also looking forward to indulging in some of Fio's delectable baked goods. Tequila hopes that Red Eye is keeping Gimlet in line, ensuring he doesn't succumb to his typical laziness and womanising ways. Tequila and Eri can't wait to unwind with a well-deserved drink and good company back at the Sparrowhawk Operations Base, while Ralf hopes that Clark is doing well in his absence.