#cat is still harassing me shes like grabbing onto me and biting me and it HURTS

[hacksawboy]

gotta say the design decisions for the dude between postal 3 and postal 4 are kind of funny. im postal 3 he was a hot 20 something with transmasc swag but the game ended up being so shit that they decided to do a complete 180 and make him an old man with gray hairs. honestly i was a hater at first but yeah. you go girl. you go old man postal dude.

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Nine (Loki x fem! Reader Series, A Court of Thorns and Roses Hiddlesverse AU)

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters- Especially the events in the second book: A Court of Mist and Fury. England. 1885. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him.

Chapter Summary: The Weaver strikes. And a signal is given from Jonathan...as Stella enters the world of Asgard with you. Then, finally, the circle moves to Vanaheim to begin to locate the spellbook.

Chapter Word Count: 7K

Chapter Warnings: Discussions of kidnapping and attempted sexual assault and harassment, but no actual attack, and the victim gets saved. Violence and some blood. Thirst, but no smut. Jealousy. And we get some cameos from of course Crimson Peak and the characters of the Loki show!

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69

You could have pissed yourself from the way her nose tilted towards you and smiled before she ran at you again. Like a hungry cat finding an injured mouse beneath a trap. She reached her hands forward, her nails seeming like claws. Screaming at last you dodged the attack again. You ran over to another place in the room. She was quick, listening to your every move. Her white nightgown making her look all the more ghostly. Beautiful and Terrible.

The Weaver charged at you. Her eyes, free of pupils, yet at you. Her smile was already so wide, teeth bared, ready to bite into you. You narrowly dodged her yet she landed on her feet. Perhaps you could use your fire magic? No! Not in a wooden cottage! You would burn this cottage down! Blast it!

“Delicious-delicious morsel,” she grinned at you. She turned around and in a heartbeat she grabbed your wrist and arm, twisting it.

“Thomas! Thomas help!” you cried. Not caring if she could hear you.

Thomas took a step forward as if to charge, to move. The Weaver’s ears perked. She sensed him and turned his way. Where his feet fell. Her voice became softer, but her grip was tighter on you.

“Thomas…Thomas…” the Weaver pleaded. Her face pitiful. She was an excellent actress.

The baronet kept blinking rapidly. He was shaking like a leaf. The Weaver raised a dark eyebrow of hers, her voice ringing and clear. Though she could not look at Thomas, there was no doubt she was speaking to him in her gently yet mocking tone. She grinned again, baring her teeth.

“Ah…never getting your soft hands dirty, Thomas…you had…such trouble standing up to her. What a pity...Not for me.”

You had no choice. You willed a little of your fire out of your hand onto hers. She let out a scream as you ran out, away. Free from her grasp. You turned towards the door. You were going to leave immediately and-

But wait! Where was the box?!! You couldn’t leave without it! You would have failed! But if you stayed here- you were dead! And Thomas was just standing there like a statue doing nothing! What on earth was going on with him? Did it have to be entirely you?

You went around to a corner, willing yourself still. Muscles tight. A hand over your mouth to keep from making a peep. So she couldn’t hear you as she searched around. Slowly-her long black hair fell over her face as her head turned around to look.

Yes… She was blind! You could use that to your advantage! What else could you do?

You looked over at the bookshelf right next to her. She passed by it. Hands out. Ready to grab. Devour.

“Fall over,” you asked it silently.

The Bookshelf beside her fell down. It crashed down with a thud as beams came apart and books tumbled to the floor. Dust came in a puff and you could have sworn a spider scurried from there to holes beneath The Weaver jumped. You made items fall around- she followed the sound. You had to create the illusion you were moving, fleeing. Leading her away from you. but you remained still- so she would hear the commotion at the other end of the room. Then she paused calmly.

Her hand reached out. Feeling the top of a certain box under a white blanket. In a second - so quick- she reached beneath it with a free hand. To your horror, she got a knife by its handle. It was raised up, the blade ready to carve you like a roast.

“This will be perfect…now another woman is going to die under these pretty hands…and Thomas again will do nothing to stop it,” she boasted.

She hurried forward with her knife. Picking up her pace, sensing. Her nostrils flaring quietly- to smell you.

You looked over and began to scramble on the floor. You got on all fours, looking around, Trying to be quiet. Where was the box, where was it?

You willed your magic, your senses to help you.

Your senses reached out. Finding, crawling everywhere and feeling the barely open door and Thomas shutting his eyes. a square shape. Glittering- like you could already see it! The same place by the fire! Keeping an eye on her as she searched, sensing for you. You crouched over. Your feet were wide as you crawled slowly. You saw it had indeed tumbled before the crackling fireplace. You reached your arms wide-grabbing it. The texture of its sparkle grazing your palm. You set a hand down to the floor. Ready to get up. Ready to run like hell.

Then the Weaver’s foot came down and crashed on your arm. You let out a scream in pain, Your fingers loosened and released the box.

The Weaver grabbed you by your shoulders. You tried to struggle. You then tried to crawl away on the floor-to the far corner. Test be damned. But she grabbed you by your feet, twisting you- turning you. Looking up, you saw her face. Serene, calm. But with that small smile of triumph-her pupilless blue eyes wide. She held you down.

Though her hand was red with burn marks, she could still use it. raising her knife. The blade right over where your heart was. You squirmed and kicked- but she was so strong, she held you down.

You grabbed her nightgown- willing your fire to go, to move. She only smiled, the flames going over her dress as if they were merely decorations. Her face showed no pain at all.

Dear lord, this was it! This was how you died! Your mind was scrambling. Replaying memories. Thinking of impossible ways out.

You awaited then for the blade to strike, for the pain, and oblivion, for death-when-

SHLICK!

A sword went through her stomach. She gasped her mouth wide in a breathy scream. The air already leaving her mouth, her lungs. The blade over your face. The fire stopped from your hands in surprise.

You saw Thomas behind, the sword he was given thrust forward. His knuckles popped out as he held the handle. Despite the tears in his eyes, he gritted his teeth in determination. He then retreated the sword back through. A giant stain of blood in her middle. Like a puddle. It dripped down, a few drops landing on your face.

You looked at the knife in her trembling hand. Threatening to drop with its blade still forward towards you. You willed it to move, It floated in the air and then you made it toss and skitter away. You freed yourself from the grip of the Weaver and scrambled away. She then leaned over, falling into a ball of pain. Tears in her eyes.

“Thomas…Thomas please…” she pleaded.

You saw the Baronet swallow. He was in pain, but he was going to focus now. His eyes were down and away from her as he leaned down and picked up the golden box, putting it in his pocket.

Thomas helped you up as you held onto the box with your other hand

“Hurry- let’s hurry now!” he pleaded.

As the Weaver went around searching for her knife, you kept sending the junk of the cottage around to barricade her. She got up, stumbling and weak. Wheezing, trying to regain her breath. Jars broke open- the pickled limbs littering everywhere and breaking glass into shards across the floor. She got up, struggling to stand. She stepped over one and screamed so high you jumped.

You and Thomas ran for the door.

The light there was so bright, so blaring, you welcomed it. In three seconds you were both out. You slammed the door shut. Would she escape? You didn’t want to find out. You both went out of the front porch and back into the forest, letting your hands go to increase your pace.

But out from the trees hurried Loki, a dagger wielded in one hand.

“Y/N! Thomas! What’s going on? There were screams!” he cried.

You both went up to meet him. Thomas retrieved the box from his pocket and showed it to him.

“We got lucky- we did it,” Thomas replied.

“Well then! I think our job here is done!” Loki said. There was another rattling scream from the cottage. You winced, but Loki only tightened his lips.

“Can she leave?” you asked.

“Let us not discover if she yet,” Loki said before wielding a flash of golden light and transporting all of you back to Asgard.

All of you landed safely in the heart of a hallway with tall columns everywhere. You had to catch your breath, your heart still racing. Still on the high. Processing that you were alive. Safe. Successful, even. Loki gestured for the golden box, which Thomas placed in his hand.

“All right, now let’s have a look,” you said.

Loki opened it up easily. The inside was lined with silk the color of cream. Like a jewelry box. Fitting, as one of the items tucked inside had a glittering green gem. The other one was grey and dull-made of steel. They were tucked into the silken insides like any piece of jewelry.

Loki got out the duller one- a gear. It shone in its steel as if new. Fresh from a factory. He handed it to Thomas.

“The Cottage must have known you are our clever inventor,” he said. “So the other one must be for our lady.”

The other was a ring. It was carved of gold for the finger. The gem on it was an emerald that shone so bright and beautiful it would make diamonds pale in comparison. You let out a soft gasp. Loki gave it to you. You took the ring and slipped it on your finger, it fit perfectly.

“They’re pretty…but I wonder why those items? Is there a purpose to them?” you said.

Loki shrugged.

“Well, who knows? But, yes, the ring is quite pretty. What about your gear?” he turned to Thomas.

The Baronet smoothed his thumb over it.

“I think I could use it,” he answered. Though his face was still pale and his voice had a quieter tone.

“Alright- now, my curiosity was peaked. What form did the Weaver take?” Loki asked.

“A woman. A woman with long, dark hair and pale skin,” you answered.

“Oh, Sif already!?” Loki asked.

“No, I didn’t know who,” you answered. Then you gestured to Thomas.

“He got her- he saved my life, Loki. She had me and was about to get me- he stabbed her. Probably killed her. And retrieved the box! He was a hero!”

“My! We will make a warrior out of our baronet yet!” Loki replied.

Thomas stepped forward, his shoulders raising up, clutching his gear like a child clutching a toy. Then he turned up, observing Thomas’s face. His eyes softened.

“I think…I might have a guess whose form she took…it was…” Loki wondered.

“Yes. Her.” Thomas answered.

The god put a hand on his shoulder. Thomas looked so shaken- hardly the picture of a triumphant hero. So the woman’s form was someone Thomas knew. And all those things the Weaver said to him…she knew something about Thomas and this lady, whoever she was. What happened with her and Thomas to make him react like that? But his lips were quivering. Thomas was not in a state to discuss what happened.

Suddenly, there was a sound like little chimes. Loki reached into the pockets of his pants. From the opening, there was a green light that glowed so bright it lit up his face. His eyebrows shot up and from his pocket, he retrieved a pocket watch, glowing green.

“Well then!” he said with a grin.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Jonathan gave us a signal-”

“For aid or success?” you pressed.

“I will find out. Get the others in case they are needed- I will be back, don’t miss me too much,” he said as he vanished in golden light.

Word spread around the others to the circle. Jonathan gave the signal, Jonathan gave the signal! All of you hurried to the meeting room. Thomas was moving, though he still looked pale as a ghost. Robert hurried out into the main meeting room, adjusting his grey suit jacket. Hal went out to see as well, groaning as he kept a cold towel pressed to his head.

“What if..what if we all need to fight? What if they outnumber us and we all die!?” you fretted out loud.

Robert looked around, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Then Loki will appear and no doubt take us all, I hope you have your weapons read-”

The Doctor never finished the sentence.

Loki’s magic fluttered in a golden light before you all. A portal opened up. Out hurried Loki. And right after him was Jonathan, and in Jonathan’s arms- Stella. A bundle in her blue dress. Her hands were bound together with rope as they positioned around Jonathan. Her bound feet dangling over the Night Manager's arms. She had stains of tears all over her face, and her dress had dirt stains, but she was fine. And alive.

You let out a cry and ran over to them first. Jonathan held her as easily as you once held your favorite doll in your arms when you were a child. He let Stella gently go to her feet. Loki raised his hand towards the rope bindings.

“Allow me, my dear,” he offered.

With a flick of his hand, the ropes that bound her hands and feet vanished, leaving red marks across her ankles and wrists. One hand went to clutch the blue beads she wore around her neck- charms for protection, for luck. It seemed maybe they worked this time.

“Oh gods, Stella!” you cried as you grabbed her shoulders, pulling her into a hug.

“YN! YN where-where am I?” she asked, letting go to look into your face. Her face seemed a little gaunt, drained, shrunk into herself.

“You’re in Asgard!” you explained. “The very place Loki lives in!”

Her eyes brimmed again with tears.

“YN I…I…” she babbled out.

She burst into crying.

“I was so scared!” Stella sobbed.

You hugged her again, both of you sobbing it out. Feeling her finally wash out her terror, her experience, trembling hard as she wrung out the crying. She clutched onto you. You let her. Once you felt your own tears ebb down, you began to smooth her hair and rub small circles on her back.

“It’s going to be fine- you’re safe now. You’re far away from Grendel. You’re here. Shhh-”

She looked up. Her face was red and twisted from crying. She wiped it off with her hands.

“You got the…the note?” she asked.

“We did. I got it. And we figured out it was a trap made for me. It was Jonathan and Loki who volunteered to help bring you to safety,” you explained.

She let go. She then turned to Jonathan. Then back to you.

"Yes…he was going to use me. Had me out by a tree. They tied me there. Put a gag in my mouth- and kept it in all the time. Waiting for you to arrive…so he could capture or kill you there and then. It was always changing which one it was, YN! And if not…if you never arrived…Grendel was going to…keep me there. He was going to have me be his…his…prize when he got back. Then he’d let his soldiers...take turns with me if they won battles for him…after he broke me in…” she explained, more hot tears falling down her face.

A cold, sudden dread hit your core at your words. You could have murdered them all, you could have. But that was only for later- now what mattered was her story, her pain, her experience needing a listening ear.

“Grendel left to meet with some others. They left me in that tent. Kept taunting me. Teasing how much I’d like his bed, their bed…talked about what they were going to do to me when Grendel was done….and then…he appeared- Mr. Pine appeared. He dressed like the other soldiers. He found my tent. Said he was here to help me. Then he just took me in his arms and ran out to the woods. They were chasing us but…but Loki appeared and…and then we were here…” she finished.

Jonathan nodded his head, still tight.

“Yes. Everything she said is true,” he confirmed.

Loki placed his hands on his hips, tilting his head.

“Why, you’re bleeding, Jon!” he cried.

There were a couple of cuts through the sleeve of his shirt. Fresh, bright blood spilled out. Stella went over and gestured to one, reaching a hand. Jonathan did not flinch away from the ghost of her touch.

“Will you be…alright, Mr. Pine?” she went to her skirt to tear up a bit for a bandage but he put a hand up to stop her.

“You don’t have to do that. It didn’t get anything vital, Miss Harris. There are healers here with plenty of bandages. Right now…you need to get some food and water and some rest after all that.” Jonathan told her.

She went up to Jonathan and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” Stella said.

The Night Manager turned bright pink and smiled at her in response. She went to Loki.

“Thank you too…I always sensed there was just a little bit of good in you…” she said.

The god smiled and made a theatrical bow like an actor.

“Please, the pleasure was mine,” he said.

Servants appeared towards your friend. A guest room was provided for Stella. It was quite dull and plain compared to the other grand rooms- white, grey walls and base furniture. But that didn’t matter now. Loki told the servants to find her a place to sit and to get her something to drink or a small plate of food. Stella was brought to sit on a chair and you knelt next to her, squeezing her hand. She was also cold as ice, Loki added that she needed a blanket. Perhaps a hot bath too to wash out the grime and dirt and the disgusting feeling of being in a disgusting place with such disgusting men.

When a healer arrived to check on Stella, she said other than the burns from the ropes and a few minor scrapes, she was fine. The healer brought out a pot of ointment that she put over Stella’s rope scars. A blanket and a platter of food were brought before her upon a tray set on the table. One maid began a fire for more warmth. Once he made sure everything was met, what wisdom Loki had made him leave. Giving you privacy to be with your friend.

“Did…did they…try to…to…you know. Did they actually…attack you?” you asked.

“It didn’t happen but…they said they were going to…I thought, feared that they would get impatient and- and-” Stella said, her voice breaking off.

Her eyes welled with tears.

“It’s alright. You are safe now- you can cry as much as you need to. Grendel won’t get here- won’t get you.”

Stella gulped down her water and devoured her food. You had never seen her so unladylike when she ate- they must have starved and dehydrated her to weaken her. Weake her resolve and lure you further, the bastards.

“I swear to you, it will never happen again! It won’t! But right now…this is why I’ve been staying here. I am learning how to fight. I just passed a test- I’m going to be considered a warrior. I told you about the training and magic- remember? It’s getting better every day, Stella! I’m becoming a warrior so I can help fight Grendel. Stop his invasion of all the realms. Bring him to justice.”

Stella wrapped the blanket further around her. Her plate and cup were empty. She stared into the fire. Then she spoke with a fierceness, a tone, an anger you had never heard from her since the start of your friendship.

“I hope he and his army burn in hell.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next day, you checked on Stella once she woke up. She was still shaken. Still bursting into tears. Jumping at shadows. She heard a loud noise down the hall (perhaps Thor ambling down to practice his hammer) and she curled into a ball and cried. You had to assure her it wasn’t Grendel or his army. Making sure she ate her food. Reminding her Grendel wasn't here, not here to get her. As you walked Stella around Asgard, you showed her the library. She didn’t want to look at the books, saying she wasn’t in the mood to read. She only wanted to stare out the window onto the city. You brought your embroidery to work on as she sat and merely looked outside. To pass time in comfortable silence. To see her soothed in whatever way she needed.

There was a soft knock on the door, and you both turned. Loki appeared there. Stella said her hellos, then returned to staring out the window. Sad, blank. You could see in her face- she was safe now. But still shaken by what happened. By what almost happened.

“YN, I was thinking…we should return her home,” he suggested quietly.

“Return her? To get kidnapped again?! Didn’t you hear what they were going to do to her?” you hissed.

“Well, I did, but…”

He folded his arms, letting in a deep sigh at her.

“I don’t think she should be made prisoner. Trading one cage for another. She should decide for herself…” he offered.

He leaned against the wall, folding his arms as he watched the scene. You went over to the window and touched her arm. It broke her out of staring as she looked at you.

“Stella…what do you think? Would you like to stay here a little longer…or would you like to go back home?” you asked.

She looked at you.

“I…I’m not sure what I want…I just…I only want…I want not to be scared,” she confessed.

You placed a hand over hers. Loki walked forward, his voice vibrant, almost presentational.

“You are welcome as a guest here as long as you want. If not, Say the word, and I shall be glad to return you back to your home. We will at least need to tell your dear mother and father you are safe here,” he said.

“Could I see…more of the palace?” she asked.

“Oh yes- why don’t you both take a little turn about!” he offered with a smile.

He held the door gallantly open as you both walked out. Then Loki and you exchanged a look. He then smiled at you before he headed into the library.

Stella turned to you.

“Why do they all look and sound like…like…you know…him?” she asked.

“They’re all variants,” you answered. You then briefly explained the concept of variants and that these men were gathered from different timelines to help Loki stop Grendel. Stella asked no questions but only listened. Walking slowly beside you.

There was one hallway where the sunlight draped across from the wide, open windows. She looked up at the tall pillars, chin tilting. Your footsteps made echoes across the hallway. You saw she relaxed her shoulders more. She didn’t seem as jumpy or as teary. Servants came and went. Some eyeing the new mortal woman curiously. In no doubt, Thor would be barging in to meet her like an excited, overgrown puppy any minute.

“Y/N- what about you? Your parents have been so worried about you. They keep fretting about what is happening. I worry about you sometimes,” she asked.

“ I’ve cried my tears over my heartbreak- sometimes still do. I’ll be fine in time! Don’t worry about me!” you assured.

“I’ve noticed. You seem happy here. Happier here than you were at your own wedding,” she commented.

You gave her a smile.

“I…I’m growing more content. And not everything is easy…but…I have a purpose. All of my life, Stella, has been around my family, the people here, and then Will….”

You paused your steps, looking into her eyes.

“When…when I found out what he did, I wondered who I was without him. Then when I was brought here, I wondered who I was without my family. Without my friends. Or anyone back home. And here…I’m finding out exactly that. Finding out what I can do with no one to hold my hand. Finding out how far I can go and what I am capable of- and how it can potentially help so many others,” you said.

“I’m still not sure if I…want to stay here or not…” Stella mused softly.

As you walked out, you heard grunting from outside. Looking out the window, it was a sunny, cloudless, warm day in the courtyard. Both of you turned to look out to spy the source of the grunting from below.

Jonathan and Robert were sparring in the courtyard. Shirtless.

Muscles gleaming from the sweat. The only thing on their upper bodies were the fingerless gloves wrapped around their hands to guard them. You heard Stella’s breath hitch in her throat as she turned to look too.

How many abdominal muscles did they have between them? And their pectorals were so…so wide! And their biceps you were sure could crush steel easily. They let off grunts as they exchanged jabs and crosses. Robert kept a little smirk on his face, a bit of his hair coming undone. Jonathan’s eyes were still forward, determined. Not that you were staring too long at their faces, anyway. And was that…a little bit of hair on their chests? You couldn’t decide which one was better or more beautiful. Something inside you twinged, itched, ached. If they were variants…then did that mean that’s what…they all would look like beneath their clothes? Thomas? Hal? And… And that means…beneath his leathers that hid so much of his body…that’s what…what Loki would look like? You felt saliva gather in your mouth. That forbidden shiver running through you.

You both stared at them as they fought. Then as Robert beat Jonathan, he let out a small laugh. But Jonathan merely smiled. They shook hands and dried off with towels before heading to the shadows.

You and Stella looked back at each other.

“So yes, I’m staying here,” you said.

“I think I’d like to stay a little longer, too,” Stella said, her face bright red.

.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you trained with Robert the next day, he had his shirt on. Unfortunately and fortunately. The intense exercise stifled your brief moment of lust yesterday. You kept focused on him and your movements.

“Now- think quick! Yes! Now Hook!” he had ordered.

You had been reminiscing over the recent events. It all bubbled up. The sting of Will’s betrayal-it’s memory. You thought it was done but…the visit brought it back. Your parents flat out saying you still should have married Will. To look over his wandering with a smile and say it was better he was happy. Then Stella’s abduction. What they would have done to her had Jonathan not interfered in time. That they were going to trap and kill you- or have you be kept to be a prize alongside your friend.

“Now- jab! Cross! Hook!” Robert instructed.

In the corner- you saw Loki again. He wore lighter training clothes. A bit damp with sweat. But he looked at you and smiled. It felt like a sting- a sweet sting and something inside you kept buzzing when he did that.

And Loki there- his smile. His bright eyes. And who knows what he looked like under those leathers, and if he looked like Robert and Jonathan did- Damn that look on his face! That stupid smirk! You hated yourself. Hated your attraction to him. Hated that you were so drawn to him even when you were dying in that sickbed! Damn Loki, so full of himself and effortlessly charming and beautiful and-

You gave a huge, solid hook to Robert into his right hand. It landed with such force, that it got his hand. He let out a cry of pain and jumped back. You froze.

“Are you alright!?” you asked.

“Oh! I am! Well, then- That was quite a punch!” he laughed.

You looked up at him.

“Sorry I…I got distracted and…and carried away…” you confessed.

“It’s funny…your anger made you punch a little harder, fight harder…I don’t see why you shouldn’t be carried away sometimes.” Robert grinned at you, clearly alright.

Loki applauded as he walked up from his corner.

“We could need you getting carried away, YN! Oh! Spread the word to the others! Meeting in an hour! So let’s review your hooks next and use a new combination…you’re going to use it,” the god announced before he waltzed out the door.

You nodded. Then punched away again. Any minute of training might make a difference. Make you better. And make you more ready for your first real task. Not test. Task.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

In an hour, everyone gathered in the meeting room. Loki was waiting, in his usual fine dark, green, and golden leathers. His arms crossed behind his back as if he was pacing all around. He turned and smiled.

“Well now! My dear little circle! Today we embark to retrieve the book. The spellbook is in Vanaheim as you all know. I paid the Prophet another little visit yesterday and he said that the book is in two parts and where they are kept. One is in the smaller Kved palace. And the other is located in the larger Nott palace.”

“So, we should split up. Find the halves. And return.” Jonathan suggested.

“Well, yes, but…”

Loki then looked at all of you.

“I’ve never been to the Kved Palace, but the Nott one I have visited several times. I must tell you…there are more variants of me that stay there,” he announced.

“Zounds, more?” Hal gasped, tilting his head.

The god let out a little laugh.

“Yes! And they all call themselves Lokis! Kved seems to be lighter. Fewer people in there- still guarded. I don’t know who. But…in the Nott palace, they’re guarded especially by two certain variants. A handsome face that looks much like yours truly who they call The President, and a woman variant- the only one.”

He gestured for all of you to gather around. His eyes were determined.

“Here is the plan. Hal, Jonathan, and Robert shall go to Kved to sleep the night. The rest of us shall go to Nott. We are all just visiting. Cause no trouble or suspicion. Figure out where the book halves are and who guards them. We must be ready- but not let them suspect anything. And there is one tactic I find especially effective- flirtation. Especially with our beautiful lady among us...”

He gestured to you. You lowered your jaw, placing a hand over your heart. Loki continued.

“Y/N, you must flirt with this variant of mine. They call him The President. He is rather…high on himself. And feeding his ego will only distract him more, especially with that pretty face. So charm him, seduce him if you must to disarm him.”

“I’ve never seduced anyone! I’m a decent woman!” you cried in objection.

“Well- then only as a last resort! To break his guard! Only if nothing else works! Just…mere flirtation! And the female variant who guards. I will flirt with her. They do not call me Silvertongue for nothing.”

There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Now…any final questions between all of you? None! Well then- how ready are we!? Very!” he announced.

Everyone agreed. Loki conjured weapons to be discreetly hidden. Thomas, Jonathan, and Robert beneath their jackets. You had a white cotton day dress. To seem innocuous, sweet, even charming. But one dagger was hidden to be in the bustle of your skirt. Steel kept just inside the softness.

“Remember-violence is a last resort. And we do not know what obstacles await us to find the book,” Loki reminded all of you.

He conjured a portal and in there all of you walked- ready to search for the book halves and the first key for Grendel's defeat.

You weren’t sure what it would look like, but Vanaheim was mainly made of forests. Beautiful, peaceful forests. Nicer than the Weavers forests.

As all of you walked along the path, the air was cool and fresh. It cleared out revealing a lake as clear as a mirror. So long and wide it went down. Turning your head, it was led to a kingdom. It looked like the ones from storybooks.

The high walls easily let you inside from the smiling, armed guards who merely shrugged as they let you in. The kingdom was a rustic, medieval town compared to the more Romanesque Asgard. Hal looked like he fit right in as he practically strutted down with a smile on his handsome face.

The two palaces were far too tall to miss. A larger one in the center with a flag of the moon. A smaller one to the east waving a flag with a sun on it. Both were made of a cream-colored stone that made them shine like seashells. The Kved palace was almost tall and thin, like a tower. But the Nott palace was like a large rectangle with high, rectangle windows and what seemed to be statues of other Norse deities. None you could name.

“All right, we shall meet up here by this time, tomorrow,” Loki announced. “Though- if one needs more help…send one to the castle to announce it.

It was set and each of you split up into groups. Jonathan, Hal, and Robert headed for the Kved palace. Thomas, Loki, and you took strides toward the large Nott palace. You headed up the steps to the large, dark wooden doors with golden knockers. Thomas lifted one and had it knocked against it.

Who opened the door but an old man in a silly-looking costume. Like a replica of Loki’s- only bright and garish complete with yellow horns on his head and green pants.

“Ah! Dear Loki Good to see you!” he wished, wrapping the God of Mischief you knew into a hug.

“Oh-Classic Loki! I’ve missed you as well!” he wished with a smile.

And they were all called Loki as well! Oh, dear heavens- this was going to be dizzying! At least the variants you knew had different names! You were going to get very confused!

“Do come in! It’s been nothing but parties here lately with all of the variants!” the old man explained.

“What is the purpose of a Loki than to cause Mischief!” your familiar Loki replied.

They laughed and patted each other on the back. You all walked inside the entryway. The palace inside was downright ethereal. Ivory walls and laughter echoed. You swore you heard a harp playing.

“Here- they call me Classic Loki.” The old man introduced himself.

Thomas smiled and shook the old man’s hand.

“Sir Thomas Sharpe, esquire.” he introduced himself.

Loki swirled over to pat Thomas’s back

“He is another variant- isn’t he handsome? No doubt, because of his similarity to me, hm? Sir Thomas Sharpe is a Baronet, Inventor, and a natural dancer to name a mere few. And this here…”

He swept over to you.

“This is another companion of mine. A mortal lady from Midgard, but as warm and lovely as this Vanaheim itself- this is Miss Y/N,” he said.

Butterflies emerged in your stomach from his words. In a way, they never had before with his flowery statements. You swallowed it back. You made a curtsy, giving a smile to greet Classic Loki.

“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance,” you greeted. Classic Loki ebbed his head and acknowledged you.

“All of you-join us! You are in time for the vintage wine!” Classic Loki invited, waving all of you in.

Inside the palace were long wooden halls. Lamps that glowed golden. Art, vases full of flowers, and statues passed by- it felt almost like a nice museum.

He then turned and there was a ballroom. Tall windows, chandeliers, and light, bright walls that almost made your eyes water.

Though as nice as the palace was, so many of the Lokis in the large dining hall ranged from clean to dinghy. There was a scruffy little boy with long, brown hair stealing small cakes to stuff into his face. As you walked out there was a garden full of hydrangeas with a little fountain in the center. The fountains pool, much to your surprise, had a small alligator with little golden Loki horns on his head as a helmet floated about. It got out, passing by your feet-docile as a dog, friendly and harmless. It reached up at you, pawing lightly at your skirt.

“Please don’t bite me,” you whispered.

You leaned down to pet it, and it only smiled. Well, as nice as a crocodile could smile.

But ah, yes. The mission! You turned around, trying to find it. Thomas was already being poured a little glass of wine as he talked to a Loki who wore furs. The Loki was telling a story with a large, dramatic voice, and Thomas smiled at him and sipped. You walked back inside the ballroom. The laughter and the sound of an off-key piano from the corner. The chaotic conversations…that of course only a room full of Lokis could provide. There were tables full of refreshments of round, thick breads and creamy pies.

Thomas seemed focused. But where was…was…

Then you found your Loki…and the woman variant. For, of course, she stood out as the only woman here besides you. Short blonde hair and slender. The woman variant- one of two guards of the book.

There was a back corner where there was a large, clumsy, giant target set up on the wall. The woman had a little table with several knives.

He was leaning against the bar of the table. Close. He was smiling in a way that…that…that you didn’t like. She tested the weight of one and then turned to him. He kept smiling. You felt so stupid. You knew this would happen. Yet why...did you not like it?

She folded her arms. Guarding herself. Tilting her chin. Frowning. But he kept the dreamy look he would give. You could not make out what words he was saying but you knew Loki well enough to know that he was probably oozing with charm, compliments, and smooth words. Complete with that velvet, baritone voice in that tone he always liked to use with flattery and flirtation.

The lady was focused on a target. She kept throwing the daggers. It hit the target- or close to it. There were already at least five other small daggers near the center- never missing. She gave him a glare with one in her hand. Perhaps considering if her next target should be his face. Then kept throwing and hitting her marks perfectly as he waxed poetic to her.

There was a woman back home…

You felt something in your stomach drop and twist.

Another woman who had blonde hair.

A heavy lump gathered in your throat, your eyes feeling hot.

And who wore a grey coat…and when she went about she didn't wear her corset...

The nasty cruel voice in your head was running rampant.

A woman who had a smile on her face. Hid her past bruises with her scarves and collars...

A perfect woman. Another one. Never falling. So any man who ever showed interest in you would no longer as soon as she stepped into a room.

This variant was like…like…

Hot tears threatened to form in your eyes. The self-destructive impulses and thoughts and bitter memories spiraling.

“It’s always some woman, stronger, smarter, better than every other woman…and that’s who you will always lose to. There is always a Cora. Every time you even consider that…that…someone, a gentleman might like you…she will come along again, that bitch. Like a Gorgon growing another head when you think you’ve chopped it off. Y/N, Think of what happened moments before your own marriage…your almost marriage…it will always happen…you will never win, never be wanted, because there will always be someone better. What were you doing letting yourself melt a little to Loki’s charms?! He’s a trickster god! That’s what he does! Plays tricks!”

You forced your eyes away, trying to deepen your breathing. Forcing your eyes on the floor. The off-key music and laughter in your ears.

You then lifted your chin and began to walk away to the crowd. Scanning for this other variant.

Why should that matter? Loki was the kind to flirt to get what he wanted! This was a part of the mission! You hated the feeling of pettiness and jealousy in your stomach. You hated that you grew to like his compliments, his flirtation, for lack of a better word. They flattered you. And yes he was attractive…but nothing more. Yes, nothing more. It didn’t matter. You have plenty of new friends now. That was enough. Men became monsters when it came to matters of romance, and that included gods. And Loki was such a scoundrel and arrogant. Let him be in his environment.

He can flirt with whoever he pleases and I do not care one bit, you thought to yourself, holding your head high.

You continued on your merry way. Then you saw him- The President.

It was obvious- he was wearing a dark, slightly torn suit with buttons that read “PRESIDENT” in large letters. The bright eyes and dark curls and handsome smile.

Loki was doing his part, and now it was time to do yours.

You came up with a smile, as he noticed you. He looked and sounded exactly like Loki. Which was a curious thing- so many different Lokis who all looked different. But this one could be his twin. Even in his voice.

“Ah-now, who are you?” he asked.

“Take a guess,” you said.

He smiled, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Hmmm…perhaps…a beautiful lady who is a little bit bored with her home and has come here for a bit of danger…a bit of excitement…” he smiled.

“I don’t want to be in any danger,” you replied coyly.

He walked up to you. A smirk formed on his lips as he drank you in.

“Then why are you here?” he asked.

“I only wish to…enjoy myself,” you answered. Feigning bashfullness. A slight push to keep him wanting more.

“Then….no doubt I can provide that to you…excuse me, gentleman,” he said, dismissing the other Lokis behind him to see you. His smile having a hunger to it.

Good- now he was in the palm of your hand.

“You did forget the part about my name, good sir,” you said greeted with a little curtsy.

“Then-mystery woman. Relieve my curiosity. Tell me your name.” the president replied.

You gave him your name. He then took your hand and gave it a deep kiss on your knuckles- eyes never leaving. The happy, excited flutters went through your stomach

“It’s a pity you shouldn’t refresh yourself while you’re here- would you like some wine?” he asked.

“My! Quite gallant! Is that how you won so many votes?” you asked with a smile.

“Through some persuasion, campaigning, gaining trust…and a few hearts as well.”

He gave you a wink.

“Why, you’d have my vote!” you responded.

You burst into some giggles. He put you on his arm as he led you forward to the table where drinks were being poured and food served. Glowing in the attention that the President Variant was showering on you.

It seems like this is working. We should have it in no time, you thought.

As you glanced over, you saw Loki beside the woman concentrating on her dagger throwing. Loki looked at you with this copy of him in a tattered suit.

You glanced back into his eyes. This was the plan. Flirt with the variants. It was working extremely well on your end. This should lower the guard of the President at least to discover the location of the half of the spell book.

Yet Loki was not smiling.

[darthwheezely]

high noon - g.w.

summary: your favorite ranger of the West doesn’t take too kindly to people that try to take what’s his

pairing: cowboy!george x saloon dancer!reader

warnings: NSFW/SMUT MINORS DNI: unprotected sex, gun kink, oral sex (male receiving), mentions of possible prostitution, alcohol, gun violence, brief non consensual touching, pet kink (being called a foal and a mare), breeding kink, rough sex, fingering

THIGHS ARE LABELLED AS MILKY WHITE BECAUSE WHITE -ISH FULL BODY MAKEUP WAS V COMMON FOR CANCAN DANCERS

a/n: i actually wrote this back in february for my friend mads @lumosandnoxwriting and i just also wanted to share it here - also she gave me an idea for a part two so - hopefully that’ll be a thing sometime soon!

The saloon was crowded. A bit too crowded.

George didn’t like crowded,the amount of people in the saloon (really men, let’s be honest) always gave him a bit of a case of the jitters, his hand always sliding to his holster just to make sure his gun was still intact. He hated having witnesses in case something (or someone) went wrong.

Right now, his eyes were glued to you up on that stage, his hands shootin’ whiskey as he watched you on stage, your deep crimson dress flicking up as you kicked your legs. This was George’s favorite time, watching you in your tight corset and dress, kicking up and bending over and flashing your skivvies as his rum brown eyes focused on you like a hawk.

He had long thought about the way your chest was all the way pushed up and your thighs milky white and pulsing with vitality, and in fact had many a round with you in that state. Maybe it was the garish rouge on your cheeks or the way your hair bounced as you heaved in breaths, or maybe the way you smiled cheekily at the audience: but by God, you were doing a shit ton more than dancing tonight.

Your usual nights of lovemaking and fucking were upstairs above the stage and the saloon itself, the cheap beds in the inn and the smells of sweat and gunpowder in the air as you spent hours bouncing on him, your garters and corset the only things left on your body as you rode him like a bronco.

Tonight, though, things were a bit different. George had noticed you being sought after and stared at by none other than Sherriff Diggory. The boy had had an eye on you since he discovered you an unmarried woman, unable to keep his pockets and mouth away from the saloon owner, Mr. Carrow. Carrow saw you as the prize winner, and because of that, was incredibly forceful of Cedric’s advances.

George knew this, but tonight?

Enough was enough.

You had been kicking up your skirts and doing your usual routine, flashing an O shape of your mouth for extra spice at your lover, a smirk dripping from his mouth. However, his opponent Diggory decided he’d make a bold move as he watched you dance. With a flick of his tongue, he got on the edge of his seat and waited until you were all the way bent over, slapping your ass, the crowd roaring in hilarity. It was then that George snapped, your face tightly smiling to recover from the pain you’d been caused.

George fingered his holster and took another shot of his whiskey.

-

You made your way back to the front of the saloon with the other dancers, all of them cooing and laughing at Miss Y/N, the girl who got touched by Cedric Fuckin’ Diggory.

How grand.

The men had started to paw at you from the moment you got the gig. You were gorgeous, a light afresh in a dark corner. And the men knew that. You had locked eyes with George, you began to make your way over to him, when Cedric stepped in front of you.

“Miss Y/N, could I have a word?”

“Mr. Diggory, please I need to be on my way-“ you started sheepishly before he grabbed your arm.

“I don’t think you have the right to say no to me do you, girl?” He growled, before you heard the familiar click of a gun.

“I’m sorry, fella, what was that?” You turned to see your lover, your only man you willingly accepted into your bed with his pistol cocked directly at Cedric’s temple. Cedric dropped your arm and held his hands in the air.

“George, p-please it was just a-“

“Now, Ceddy, I think we both know a comment from a harassment and you’re a rich boy, and certainly not a dumb one,” he began to push his head and therefore, his body, towards the stage. All was silent in the saloon, the familiar piano and cleaning of glasses no longer a symphony. You watched your boyfriend, angry and tense, his arms practically bursting out of his button up shirt with the gun to your harassers head and had to bite your lip from groaning at the sight.

“Go on, pardner, dance for me,” George said stepping back behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed a kiss to your neck as he again motioned for Cedric to dance.

“Go on. Dance.” George spat. When Cedric refused to answer, George nodded to himself, smiling harshly, and firing shots all around Cedric’s feet, causing him to jump violently as to avoid getting shot at. The crowd in the saloon hollered with laughter at the man on the stage jumping frantically and screaming at the violent noises, and you felt your core tighten at the way George was holding your waist with one hand and ruining this man with the other. Your knees buckled at the feeling of George’s mouth on your neck before he finally slid the pistol back into his holster, and took your hand, sliding you away from the crowd.

Time to take you for a ride.

-

From the minute the door shut to the inn room, he was on you like a cat, his mouth angrily and roughly moving against yours while his calloused and adorned hands pressed you against the wall. He needed to claim you, his jealousy and anger swelling in his chest the entire night.

“Was my little foal excited to see me?” He murmured in your ear, his hands sliding up the back of your thighs to pick you up, his eyes drawn to the way your breasts heaved and were practically exposed to the entirety of him. He found your mouth again as he lifted you and brought you to the bed, his hands already working at the stays of your dress, pulling the bodice and skirt off completely - leaving you in only garters, skivvies, and your corset.

“Y/N, you liked that didn’t you?” He chuckled running his hands along the smooth skin of your thighs.

“Liked what, Georgie?” You whispered breathily. He looked directly at you and slapped your thighs, your gasp and the reverberated noise echoing in the room.

“Don’t be cute, you liked how I was firing my shooter at Cedric, didn’t you?” His lips curled in a sly grin as he watched your eyes widen in embarrassment.

“N-no, Georgie, of course not,” you whined shaking your head vehemently. He tutted and dragged a finger up your clothed core, watching your eyes flutter close.

“Hmm. I think you’re lying, baby,” he purred, his hands picking up from her legs and to his holster, toying with the gun in his hands.

“I think you liked it.” He grinned wider as you shifted, the embarrassment that your thighs had indeed been soaked to the brim with arousal, clear to George as he dipped his fingers into your dripping cunt, his thumb orbiting on your clit as you arched your back.

“Go on, princess, tell me how much you love my gun,” he pressed his thumb harder onto your clit as you cried out weakly.

“Y-yes, Georgie, love your pistol so much, love when you cock it, please” you weakly tried to pull yourself up but George was always faster. In an instant he pressed the unloaded gun to the center of your chest.

“You trust me, baby?” He cooed.

“Always, Georgie.” You whimpered, nodding. He licked his bottom lip and began dragging the pistol around your breasts to your nipple pushing and flicking the hardened bud lightly.

“George, touch me, please” you gasped, your back screaming from how far you were pushing it up. He just shook his head and chuckled the barrel of the gun drifting until it was dipping under your panties, a high whine eliciting from your throat.

“Y/N, baby, you want these off?”

“Mhm…”

“Then you gotta beg, baby.”

“George, please, I need you to, been wanting and waiting so bad,” he began to toy with your skivvies, slowly pulling them down.

“Who were you dancing for up there, baby? Was it Cedric? Or Carrow? Or Adrian? Or Fred even?”

“No, Georgie, just you, only ever for you - oh” George had dipped the gun into you, your pussy finally clenching around what it needed. His pistol was warm, temperature fresh from being shot at the Diggory bastard not but an hour ago. George was moving it deliciously in your cunt, moving you like a stand up doll, controlling every mechanization of your body with every thrust.

“George, please, let me suck your cock,” you moved to sit up and this time George let you, immediately pulling the gun from your cunt and letting it hang on your bottom lip. His mouth was watering as you immediately began to lick the barrel, tasting yourself on the pistol, before he sank it into your mouth. He’d swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful, his woman with his gun in her mouth, sucking like it was a lollipop. Her hands crept to his pants and he didn’t say no, he wanted it, needed it even, to have his cock freed. Your hands went to his bare cock and used your thumb to draw tight but soft circles on his tip. He threw his head back and moaned and pulled the pistol from your mouth.

“Got another barrel I need you to suck, baby cakes,” he winked and your cunt clenched around nothing at his lewd joke. You began kitten licking his cockhead, watching as a line of saliva pulled from your mouth before sliding your lips further down where he needed you. Your hands came to wrap around the flesh you couldn’t reach, and the sounds of his sinful groans and gasps only spurred you on. You bobbed your mouth around him, taking in the taste of him, he tasted like he always did, of Amber whiskey and cheap spice - but to you he tasted like the finest wine you’d ever drank. Sucking on George was a luxury experience, and you relished it everytime.

He started fucking into your mouth and throat, his massive length pushing further into you where you needed it, but gagging around him nonetheless. He loudly gasped and fisted your hair, pulling you harder.

“Fuck, Y/N, just...just taking me so good, love how sinful you look, sucking on me like that.” You hummed around him, the vibrations thrumming around his body. He quickly took one of his hands from your hair and picked up his pistol, bringing it to your clit.

“Babygirl gets a treat, ain’t that right?” He chuckled breathily, his pistol pressing harder on your clit as he was pushed on by your whines. The pistol was toying with you like the man in your mouth, but you could feel his release coming, his telltale signs and sounds erupting all in front of you.

“That’s it, my precious mare, good job,Y/N, good fucking job,” he praised harshly, his hips sloppily jolting in your mouth.

“Oh God, oh fuck, Y/N” he groaned, and with a cry of your name he had barely enough time to pull back and shoot his ammunition down your throat, both his guns pressing where you needed them, bringing you to your release as well. He watched you swallow all of him, his cock already more than half hard at the sight alone, plus his pistol was soaked with you, bringing it to his mouth and sucking it clean, his eyes on you the whole time.

When he was done he began to undress, his shirt coming off and bearing the brand of when he was imprisoned for dueling in the streets, and the number 5 in Roman numerals - a sign that he was the fifth son of the Weasley clan, a harbored and hallowed family of the West. There was never a time where you didn’t let your eyes drape over every scar and bruise from his daily fights and duels and scuffles. He was a fallen angel, and you his demonic love.

You feverishly helped him strip, giggling at the way your hands pried and peeled clothes from his body, and when he was completely naked, he pinned you back on the bed. His mouth began to suck unholy bruises and marks on the tops of your breasts (“so everyone knows who’s dancing for me”) and his finger trailed a delicate line down the center of your torso to your clit, you whining at the overstimulation.

“Georgie, Georgie need your-“

“I know, baby, I know,” he said softly, prsssing a kiss to your mouth, nibbling on your bottom lip. He took his cock in one hand stroking it three times before lining himself up at your entrance, enjoying how you squirmed your hips to try and get him inside you as much as you could.

“So needy, aren’t you?” He quipped, pushing just his tip in her and gasping at the connection.

“Seems you’re just as needy as me, Georgie” you smirked and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in halfway from the pressure. You both moaned lewdly, and it took everything in to pull him out and slam back in, finally fucking into you the way you needed it.

The pace he set was violent, a symphony of skin slapping, you could feel every throb and pulse of his cock inside you as he fucked relentlessly into you. He was hitting every nerve, every sensory bud in your body, and with every thrust and snap of his hips you gasped for breath. He hiked a leg up on one of his shoulders.

“You want me to fill you up, baby? Give you a big fucking litter of my colts?” He growled into your earlobe.

“P-please, George, need so many colts” you whined, him switching arms as he brought up the other leg to his shoulder.

“Yeah? Gonna fill up a whole fucking ranch just with my litter? My babies prancing around in your tummy?” He grunted, circling your clit again. He was close but he would do everything in his power to send you over the edge. He braced your thighs and slapped them hard.

“C’mon, my pretty mare, buck those hips. Gonna prove to me you can handle all my little foals.” You cried out loudly as your stallion sent the last of your strength out the window, your legs and cunt squeezing in a crescendo around him. It was electric, your body seeming to pull him in as fast and hard as you could go. Your nails dug into his back, leaving blood dripping with the brunt force of you.

He continued to fuck into you, your cunt growing sensitive with every push. You knew he was inching you towards your third release, and his his second, his hips and thrust growing sloppier by the second.

“Gonna fucking breed you, need to, baby, please-“

“Yes, George, yes, give me all your colts, love” you cooed. He cried out a loud and rough bark of your name and painted your walls with his release. At the feeling of being filled and being filled alone, you came with him, your juices mixing as you both clutched each other’s bodies. You drank in his warmth of his body, kissing the side of his neck as he slowly rolled his hips forward to accommodate your highs. He went to pull out but you stopped him.

“Not yet,” you whispered. He slid his hands to your cheeks and stroked the apples and kissed you gently.

“Guess we’re gonna have to ride out to the preacher than huh? Can’t have my girl dancing in a cancan house forever, not pregnant.” He whistled softly, his jaunty smirk settling into a soft smile.

“Honey, I-“ you stopped him by taking his hand and pressing it to your tummy.

“Get ready for a ranch, Weasley. You’re gonna need it.”

He chuckled and leaned in.

idk whoever might enjoy this rn: @wandsandwheezes @amxrtentias @lupinsclassroom @harrysweasleys @pandaxnienke @whizboingies @wzrd-wheezes @loony-loopy-lupinn

[bansheeoftheforest]

OC Masterlist

————————————

Welcome to my OC masterlist! I have a lot of ocs! I hoard them like a goblin and I will never stop! SO!!! OCS!!!! So far we got two collections of OCS; The O’Jekylls, which is Dr. Jekyll’s fam, and my very own DND character who I turned into a Lodger! <3

All OCS can be found under the tag #Banshees OCS!

————————————————

               --Lodgers--

——————Humans——————

Cederic Beumont

Cederic Beumont is a French artist (and prostitute) turned mad scientist throughout multiple events happening in his early adulthood. He is the oldest twin out of him and his sister, Cassandra, and the two of them were raised by their single father in a small village in France. After the death of their father by the age of twenty, Cederic and his sister travel around Europe until they move to America, where they lived for five years. During those five years, Cederic and Cassandra-- previously inseparable-- have a falling out which ends in Cederic storming out and leaving Cassandra to run the hotel they had set up on the coast of Florida. The falling out, combined with a lot of other stressful and dramatic things happening around him, manages to make Cederic’s mental health crumble until he practically goes insane. Previously an artist, Cederic turns to science in hopes of being able to achieve something that would make him “more” than his sister, who always has been the “smarter” one out of the two of them, which ends up in him studying Frankenstein’s life like the Holy Bible. He gets obsessed with the study of lightning and he gets obsessed with the idea to one-up God, as he previously had been born and raised Catholic, and he feels like he would be able to do everything that Frankenstein failed to do (take care of Creature, own up to the responsibilities, keep the innocent safe, etc) despite having no proof of him being able to do everything differently.

With the help of his boyfriend, Wilhelm, and Wilhelm's biology studying friends, he manages to continue his experiments. He moves between calling himself a Fulminologic Necromancer and a Necromantic Fulminologist, depending on the people he surrounds himself with, as he studies lightning as a whole and applies the knowledge to necromancy. His early experiments involves reviving dead animals with the use of electricity, although he does dabble in alchemy and chemistry when it’s needed.

Around the time he is 30 years old, he hears the word upon the street about the Society For Arcane Sciences in London, England. His boyfriend helps him scrap in enough money for a one-way ticket to London on the promise that they will still hold contact, to which Cederic immediately agrees. He travels to London by ship and marvels over how fantastically dirty and gross the entire city is, there is slums everywhere! So many animals and mythical creatures!! The moment he is within the city walls, he manages to find Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire and pleads for him to show Cederic the way to the Society. Brokenshire is, of course, very put off by this hyper-energetic bastard he can barely hear over his (normally trained away) french accent, but Brokenshire does not get paid enough to care. He basically just grabs Cederic by the collar and drags him like a stray cat over to the Society and to Dr. Henry Jekyll’s office, to which he basically dumps him on the doorstep and leaves. As Jekyll practically collects scientists, and as they already have a necromancer in the Society, Jekyll welcomes Cederic with open arms and shows him around, unaware how Cederic... is an actual mad scientist, not just using that word as a moniker.

Cederic quickly becomes friends with Sinnett and Luckett, all three of them having a knack to blow things up and play with fire. Cederic also loves to harass Tanis, the local necromancer, as he loves that they practically study the same thing and did you know this and that and wouldn’t it be cool to blow up a corpse? You know Moreau might actually have been onto something with the animals and yadeyadeyada-- Tanis does not like Cederic. Cederic thinks that they are best friends.

Cederic joins the Society sometime before the events of TGS, however, immediately jumps all over both Jasper and Frankenstein like a yappy dog excited to have new friends. He is absolutely in love with Frankenstein, much like everyone else, but quickly has a change of heart as he feels she is a wimp, because he could do this and that so much better and why would you do x y and z when you could have done a b c instead. He has a massive ‘R.I.P to them but I’m different’ complex and feels like Frankenstein can’t own up to her work and her legendary image like she should. He thinks he can one-up her, and basically tries to snatch her stuff and studies when she isn’t looking. Creature would very much like to bonk him over the head with a frying pan.

Cederic also has a pet ghost cat-- or more or less spirit cat as she has never actually been alive-- that he has had since he was a baby. He named her Adelaide-Antoinette because he is french and extra like that, and the two of them are actually inseparable, as Adelaide is connected to Cederic through a bunch of magical hijinx. Adelaide can talk to Cederic, however, no one else can hear or see her, making most people think that Cederic is genuinely insane as he is not afraid to walk around talking to himself. The only one who knows about Adelaide is Maijabi, who saw her in one of his ghost mirrors one time, but he thinks its fun to see the other Lodgers thinking that Cederic is insane, so he doesn’t say anything.

Random Trivia: Cederic is originally my DND character, played in a specific type of campaign called Scion. It takes place in the real life world, and our campaign is set during the 1960′s if WW2 had never ended. Cederic and Cassandra were originally forced to flee by the outbreak of the war and the invasions of France. Scion is also based on mythologies, were the player characters (the Scions) are children of the ancient gods. Cassandra and Cederic are children of the egyptian god Bastet, ergo, the ghost cats.

Tags: #Banshees Cederic

Art of Cederic / Original Info dump on Lodger!Cederic

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——————Animals——————

Adelaide-Antoinette

Adelaide-Antoinette is a spirit and companion cat connected to Cederic. She has been by Cederic’s side for as long as he can remember and her, her sass, and her snobbishness were many of the core influences that shaped Cederic into the person he was before his mental breakdown he is today.

Adelaide is a Birman and lives up to the snobbish reputations of such breeds. When she is particularly feisty, she likes to sit on top of Cederic’s head and use him as her steed, and also loves to call him a peasant. She is also very territorial, and very protective of Cederic too. She is basically the epitome of “No one is allowed to bully him but me”. She is also very vocal and loves to have Cederic seem like he is talking to himself. Cederic has a knack to recite Hamlet and other Shakespeare plays to her, and while it’s fun for him, Adelaide wish she could bite his tongue off after the 10th recitation. After so many years, the recites might be up in the thousands.

Adelaide also did not like all the other creatures in the Society immediately, but quickly realized that it was either them or Cederic forever, to which she quickly began to force herself to warm up to them. Her favourite is Jasper’s unicorn, who most likely share her snobbishness, but a close second is Zosi and Griffin’s cat. When she is particularly mad at Cederic, as he tends to neglect her a little once he gets caught up in his work, she likes to hang around Maijabi as he is the only other living person who can see her. Cederic also uses her to spy on the others sometimes, as she can go through walls and can’t be seen.

Tags: -

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        --The O’Jekylls--

——————Humans——————

Collin O’Jekyll

Collin O’Jekyll is Henry Jekyll’s “paternal uncle” and also his make-shift father. Collin and Henry loved each other from day one and the two of them often spend most of their free time in the pastures with Collin’s horses. Collin is an artist, who dabbles in both writing and art, but mainly breeds and sells horses for income, despite not really needing it due to his inheritance. He has always been supportive of Henry’s scientific interests and was the one to take him out to all of the scientific plays that Henry watched as a child, as his parents were less than supportive of the boy’s interests.  While mainly breeding and raising horses, Collin also buys and takes care of every animal he can get his hands on. One of his oldest pets is a male calico Maine Coon named Paddington, who got dumped by his breeder for being male. All of Collin’s animals seem to hate everyone but him, and of course, Henry. Collin also bred and gifted Henry his own horse once he turned 15; a dapple grey Clydesdale named Mayhem, named after her fiery temper. Much like Paddington, she hates everyone but her owner.

Random Trivia: Collin has a very weak immune system and therefore always wears a scarf, no matter the season or weather. He also knows how to sword fight and taught Henry a few tricks before he left Scotland. He is mainly a very cheerful and optimistic guy but won’t hesitate to throw hands if you try to hurt those he loves.

Tags: #Banshees Collin, #Collin O’Jekyll

Art of Collin / Art of Collin and Paddington

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Douglas O’Jekyll

Douglas O’Jekyll is Henry’s “biological” father and Collin’s older brother, but dislikes his role as both father and brother. He is a policeman and known for his ruthlessness and hatred for those he deems have done wrong, and he also has a massive superiority complex. He has always disliked Collin greatly and the two of them have always had a rivalry between them, however, that rivalry got to it’s boiling point when Douglas and Collin were in an accident as kids, mainly caused by Collin unintentionally during a riding trip in the Highlands, which made Douglas earn some of his scars and bred the resentment between the two of them even more. Douglas has always been disapproving of Henry’s... Well, he has always been majorly disapproving with anything that comes to Henry. He dislikes Henry’s love for his uncle, his scientific interests, Henry’s friends, his wish to become a doctor... Douglas dislikes pretty much everything with Henry, which might have its grounds in Henry looking like and taking after a lot from his uncle. As Henry grows older, Douglas’ dislike for both him and Collin grows stronger, and Douglas starts getting outspoken of his hatred for Henry. He also gets physical every once in a while, which was one of the reasons for why Henry left Scotland completely despite Collin doing his best to protect him.

Random Trivia: His scars are either from the Accident, from his work as a policeman and also from many of Collin’s animals. He has a family pedant made out of emerald with a ‘J’ for Jekyll in it, as he is the first born and the heir of the family. He has always felt like Collin was the favourite with everything, both by their parents and by the fact that Douglas’ own son and wife likes Collin more than him, which just bred his resentment for his younger brother even more.

Tags: #Banshees Douglas, #Douglas O’Jekyll.

Digital art of Douglas / Traditional art of Douglas

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Abigail O’Jekyll (Née O’Haggins)

Abigail is Henry’s mother and Douglas’ wife. She comes from a long line of Scottish non-aristocratic nobles and she is the oldest out of six sisters, making her the main heir of the O’Haggins as she has no brothers. In her youth, she was very sought after by many bachelors, and met the O’Jekyll brothers during a ball hosted by her parents. She immediately took a liking to Collin and during the dances, they fell quite in love. However, as the first born, she was forced to marry Douglas instead due to pressuring from her parents who deemed Douglas more worthy than Collin, but she and Collin continued their relationship in secret. Both Douglas and Abigail knows that neither really loves the other all that much but they play their parts due to societal expectations, even if that doesn’t make Douglas any happier when the suspicion of Abigail’s and Collin’s relationships arise. Abigail is, too, not very supportive of Henry’s scientific interests due to all of its stigma and consequences that it can bear, not to mention that she is quite afraid of Douglas’ reactions to Henry’s continuous love for science, but she allows Henry to pursue non-harmful studies in secret to keep him happy, as his happiness is the most important thing for her. She does her best to be a good mother and succeeds in that, although everyone has their bad moments. Random Trivia: While Henry looks more like Douglas and Collin, Hyde takes after Abigail’s side of the family. She wears a locket with an ‘A’ on it with a picture of Collin and Henry inside, which needs a lock to be opened (mostly to keep Douglas from discovering the photo). While she is indifferent to most animals, she loves cats (that are well behaved, which rules out all of Collin’s cats) and she likes horses, although she will never, ever ride one ever again after she fell into a hay bail when Collin tried to get her to ride one of his horses. Tags: #Banshees Abigail, #Abigail O’Haggins.  Old Art of Abigail / Updated Art of Abigail

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——————Animals——————

Paddington

Paddington is one of Collin’s most beloved cats. He is a male, calico coated Maine Coon that got dumped by his breeder for being a male calico (therefore, sterile). He lived in the streets for a while until Collin found and adopted him, to which Paddington immediately became a little diva who hates everyone but Collin and Henry. He is the cause of some of Douglas’ scars and have torn more than one of Abigail’s dresses, but is as good as gold to Collin and Henry.

Tags: #Banshees Paddington

Art of Collin and Paddington / Written description of Paddington

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Mayhem

Mayhem is Henry’s own horse that Collin bred and helped Henry to raise. She is a dapple grey Clydesdale named after her fiery temper and knack for chaos, much like most animals that Collin has been responsible for. She is quite spoiled but very well behaved when needed to be, and she often thinks that she is the mother of those she likes, such as Henry, Paddington, Zosi and Collin. Once Henry left Scotland, she was one of the few things he took with him, and he still owns her to this day; allowing her to live her best, destruction-bringing life in London, striking terror in every stable boy in the entire city.

Tags: #Banshees Mayhem.

Written description of Mayhem

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 81.6

Round Two: New players join.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Reawakening Part 6

           “You’re all alone.”            Squee sits doubled over on the couch, his forehead pressed into his knees and his arms wrapped around his head. He digs his fingers into his scalp as tears quietly drip down his cheeks.

           “You have nobody left,” Squishy Pete says, his unnaturally wide smile somehow even wider. “Why keep fighting? See, if you join us, you’ll never feel lonely. You’ll never have to worry about anything. You could do whatever you want. Even kill. And you’ll never die. Why keep fighting?”

           Nugget meows, catching Squee’s attention. He turns his head as the cat nudges him and he lowers his arms.

           “Vengeance,” he says.

           “What?” Pete questions.

           “Vengeance,” Squee says again, standing up and glaring down at the stress toy. “If all my friends are gone, like you say, then it’s because of you. And that’s even more reason to keep fighting. For revenge.”

           He draws his knife and Pete’s smile wavers.  

           “Uh b-but you can’t possibly fight us forever,” he points out.

           “Then I’ll die fighting,” Squee growls, pointing his blade at the toy. “All so you can lose.”            Pete stammers fearfully as Squee starts to swing, but gets interrupted by a sudden voice.

           “That’s my boy.”

           The kitchen closet suddenly blows open and random objects clatter onto the floor. Squee watches, bewildered, as something climbs out of the pile.

           “I can’t believe they just shoved me into the closet,” it grumbles.

           Squee’s knife slips from his hand as his eyes well up with fresh tears, but this time not from sadness.

           “Sh…Shmee…?” he croaks.

           The teddy bear looks at him, smiling warmly. “Hello, Squee.”    

           “You’re back,” he breathes.

           “You’re back!?” Pete squeals fearfully.

           Shmee’s smile drops into a furious glare as he faces the squishy toy. “That’s right, you rodent.”

           “B-but it’s not possible!”

           Shmee hobbles across the floor and hops up onto the coffee table. His body is in worse shape than ever before, water-stained and his seams coming apart. But he still looks intimidating as he towers over Squishy Pete.

           “You have some nerve, encroaching on my territory like this,” he snarls, “talking like you own the place. You need to learn some respect.”    

           “You…you don’t scare me!” Pete barks, “I have the power of the Nightmare on my side. I don’t sense the Daydream backing you! You’re all alone!”

           “I don’t need those bureaucrats,” Shmee growls as a shadow starts to grow around him. “I never have.”

           The teddy bear goes lifeless as a light brown aura rises out of it. It towers over Pete, grinning with a mouthful of fangs and narrowed white eyes. Pete can barely squeak in fear as Shmee picks him up with his large claw. He opens his mouth and bites down on the stress toy’s neck, ripping off its head. Shadowy black tendrils spill from the body and Shmee sucks it all up like spaghetti. When there’s nothing left, he drops the lifeless toy onto the floor.        

           “Wow,” Squee croaks. Shmee looks at him and grins brightly. Squee cracks a smile back.

           “Squee!”

           The moment is ruined as the front door slams open and Zim, Dib, Gaz, Tak, and Pepito burst in. They stop when they see Squee on the couch and the shadowy Shmee hovering over him.

           “It’s the nightmare!” Dib exclaims.

           “Relax,” Shmee scolds, “it’s just me.”

           “Shmee?” Pepito questions, “wow, so that’s your real form.”

           “What are you guys doing here?” Squee asks as he stands up.

           “We’re here to help,” Zim states.

           “Help?” he questions and glares at Pepito accusingly. “You told them?”

           “I had to,” Pepito insists, “Squee, you don’t have to handle this alone.”            “I don’t want you guys getting involved,” Squee argues, “it’s too dangerous.”

           “Squee,” Zim says sternly, “remember when Pepito’s dad attacked the city to try and get him to be the Antichrist? We all helped fight him off. And we helped Gaz when she was being harassed by that weird gamer cult. And you all helped me when I left for Irk. And we help Dib with all of his new, weekly obsessions.”

           “Hey,” Dib snaps.

           “The point being, we’re a team,” Zim states, “we help each other, no matter the danger.”

           Squee stares at him, speechless as his eyes well up.

           “They’re right, Squee,” Shmee says, “you’ve never been alone and you don’t have to face this like you are.”

           “Right,” he croaks, wipes his eyes, and smiles. “Thanks, guys.”

           The others smile back and they all squeeze together into a big, group hug.

           “So,” Squee says as they split up. “What now?”      

           “Uh, well, Johnny’s fighting that Zoli girl,” Dib says.

           “What?” he exclaims, “we gotta help him!”

           “Agreed,” Shmee nods, “but I can’t travel around in my true form and this old body of mine isn’t stable anymore.”            Squee turns to him. “So…what are you saying?”            He smiles. “I’m gonna need you to make me a new body.”            Squee blinks with surprise. “Uh…well, I haven’t written in a while…but I guess that’s a good place to start.”

           “Hang on,” Shmee says, “there’s someone else you need to help to. But uh you might wanna put on some gloves first.”            He quickly explains the situation and Squee gasps. After putting on a pair of gloves, he goes into Johnny’s room, where an old rabbit corpse is still nailed to the wall. He carefully takes it down, the remains threatening to turn to dust in his hands, and carries it back to the living room.

           “What the hell is that?” Gaz gags.

           “Nailbunny,” Squee replies as he rests the body on the coffee table. Then he sits on the couch and grabs a notebook and his favourite fountain pen.

           “Alright. Let’s see if I can still do this.”

           Meanwhile, the fight between Johnny and Zoli is still in full swing. He charges her, swinging his knives. Nightmare tendrils spread from her back to try and block the attack, but he cuts through them with ease. Before he can reach her though, she leaps back.

           “Why you running?” he snarls. Zoli can only growl in response.

           Johnny gets ready to charge again but stops when four figures suddenly drop down next to Zoli. Jimmy, Krik, Dillon, and Edgar stand next to her, staring at Johnny with surprise and horror.

           “About time,” Zoli snaps, “wait. Where’s Tess?”

           The zombies are too petrified by Johnny’s glare to answer.

           “Hey!” she barks.

           “Whu-huh-what?” Jimmy stammers as they look at her.

           “Where’s Tess?”

           “Oh, she uh she betrayed us,” he replies plainly, still somewhat distracted by Johnny’s eyes.

           “Dammit,” Zoli spits, “I knew it was a bad idea to bring her back. Whatever, we’ll deal with her later. Right now, we have to destroy him.” She glares at Johnny. “Don’t hold back. Show no mercy.”

           “Uh, r-right,” Jimmy grunts and the Nightmare tendrils burst from all five of them. Johnny snarls and grips his knives. But before anyone can move, four more figures drop from the rooftops, this time next to Johnny.

           The Night Terrors stand next to him, glaring at Zoli and her zombies.

           “Hey, Nny,” Eff says, “you look…different.”

           “So do you,” Johnny replies, examining their nightmarish changes.

           “You didn’t defeat them?” Zoli barks at the zombies, gesturing to the Night Terrors.

           “W-we tried,” Jimmy whimpers, “but-but they…they’re stronger than we thought.”

           “Unbelievable,” she growls and looks up as Tess slips off Reverend Meat’s back to sit on the ground. “And you! You will be punished for this betrayal.”

           Tess gulps and trembles.  

           “Leave her out of this, Zoli,” Reverend Meat snaps, “this is between us now.”

           “Fine,” Zoli snarls, “we’ll destroy you all at once then.”

           “Alright, now this is a party,” D-boy grins.

           “Just stay out of my way,” Johnny grunts.

           “That should be our line,” Sickness retorts.

           The Nightmare appendages lunge from Zoli and her zombies. Johnny and the Night Terrors charge them head-on. The mass of fangs and tentacles cut and slash them, but together, the five of them tear through.

           The Night Terrors clash against the zombies. Reverend Meat shatters Jimmy’s torso; Sickness slices Edgar in half; the Doughboys rip off Krik and Dillon’s heads. And through the shower of severing limbs, Johnny swings at Zoli.

           She draws a pair of machetes from her coat and barely manages to block his knives. The blades clang against each other and they both swing again.

           They swing and swing and swing and cut into each other, slicing their faces, arms, and chests. Johnny’s blood mixes with Zoli’s as they splatter the road.

           Suddenly, Johnny throws down his blades and catches Zoli’s arms. She’s briefly caught by surprise before he smashes his head into hers. He lets go of her arms as she flies back and skids down the road.

           “M-m’lady,” Jimmy croaks as his body regenerates before Reverend Meat crushes it again.            

           Zoli lies on the ground, coughing up blood. Johnny stands over her, panting as blood drips from his various injuries.

           “This ends now,” he growls.

           Zoli flinches back as he steps forward, then scowls.

          “No!” she shrieks. A humungous mass of tendrils burst from her chest and crash into Johnny. The same thing happens with the zombies, knocking back the Night Terrors. They all roll down the road and look up in shock as the appendages mold together, forming a giant cloud of writhing fangs and tendrils that looms over them, nearly blocking out the sun.

           The appendages strike and Johnny and the Night Terrors brace themselves.

           But nothing happens.

           They look up to see a person standing in front of them. They’re holding their hand forward, emitting a light blue force field from their hand. The Nightmare smashes against it but the shield doesn’t give.

           “Who the-?” Eff questions.

           A second person drops down next to the first. The force field is lowered and the Nightmare is absorbed into their mouth, like they’re sucking up spaghetti. After a couple seconds, the entire mass is gone, leaving Zoli and the zombies lying on the ground, and the person sighs with content.

           “Wh-what?” Zoli gasps, out of breath.

           “Who are you?” Johnny asks.

           The two people turn towards him and his eyes widen with surprise. They don’t look familiar, really, but they have a very familiar feeling.

           They’re both tall, slender men. One of them has short, brown hair. He’s wearing simple brown pants and a matching t-shirt with a brown trench coat. There’s a long scar cutting diagonally down the middle of his face and he has a single bucktooth.

           The other one has short, blue hair. He’s wearing blue jeans with a white shirt that has a cartoon nail in the middle. Both of his eyes have matching scars in the shape of ‘X’s and he has two buckteeth, like a rabbit.

           Johnny stares at the blue haired man, too stunned to say anything. The man smiles at him but before he can say anything, Zoli shouts angrily.

           “You!” she snaps as she stands up. “Who are you?”            The brunette clears his throat. “I’m surprised you don’t know me. Although, I guess we never were officially introduced.”

           He nods at the blue haired man. “After you.”

           He bows his head with respect. “I am Nailbunny. I block out evil.”

           “And I am Shmee,” the other smirks, “I absorb evil.”

[thebeautyofdisorder]

Dracula/Zoe- 68!

68. You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.

Ooh, excellent choice for Drac. Loads of pun opportunities. Ha, okay. I tried to keep this short as possible, but my intentions were thwarted by them wanting to be snarky bitches to each other for too long, alas. Bonus for you, extra time and effort for me. Enjoy ;) Backstory equivalent to my fic, if that’s easiest

Words Count: 1145

Rating: I’m going to say right on the EDGE of an M rating

Prompt list can be found HERE

Turning the knob to end the steady stream of hot water pouring into her bathtub, Zoe was prepared to shed her dressing gown up until she heard a suspicious rustling, followed by the sound of footsteps from elsewhere in her flat. It was times like this she really wished she had a cat to blame these things on - confronting a burglar was not high on the list of things she felt like doing tonight. Though frankly, if all they were doing was shuffling through her pantry, she was tempted to let them.

Heaving a sigh, she tightened the knot around her waist and moved quietly down the hallway, only to quickly see the tall and distinctive form of a 500 year old war lord standing in the middle of her kitchen with a look of baffled confusion on his face.

“You know, just because you can enter a home without invitation doesn’t mean you should,” the doctor scoffed wryly, her stance losing some of its tension.

“What in screaming hell are ‘potato flakes’ and why do you own them?”

“Because I’m a shite cook,” she defended flatly, and approached him just to grab the box he was studying with growing concern out of his hand, and toss it back onto the counter. It was only then did Dracula give her a true once over, dark eyes lingering over the thin material of her robe, causing her to cross her arms over her chest.

“Now what are you doing here? It’s late, I was about to have a bath.”

“Lucky me,” he self-congratulated, and was quickly met with a glare. Finally he rose his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I was bored.”

“Aren’t there other people you can harass, I just finally got home.”

“The city has been remarkably dead, and not in the fun way, so no not really.”

Suddenly the Count stepped closer, and Zoe forced herself to stand steady and look up at him as opposed to scurrying back, as she was almost certain he wanted her to. If he was looking for someone to frighten, he had really come to the wrong place. There was a foreign intensity in his gaze, though, that wasn’t of the bloodthirsty sort she was used to, and it made her fight not to squirm in the face of it.

“You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in,” he remarked with a growing smirk.

Her eyes rolled. “We both know you’re not going to try to feed from me, it never exactly works out in your favor. If you’re hungry-”

“I’m not,” he corrected quickly, before she could even finish.

Her mouth shut as quickly as it had opened, subtle realization dawning on her features, followed by a stifled laugh.

“Is that really your line right now?”

He lifted an innocent brow. “Is that a refusal?”

“I...wasn’t aware the 15th century was so ‘nontraditional’,” she couldn’t help but comment, curiously.

“Oh it wasn’t.”

It was her turn to lift a brow. “So this is an experiment. I see. Well, in that case, don’t let me keep you from finding another willing participant.”

He glanced upright at the ceiling, as though in consideration tracing his lips with his fingers in a rudely distracting gesture of thoughtfulness.

“Hm. No, see I’m not sure anyone else would be as forthright as you are.”

“Hm, no I see your problem. I would take great joy in telling you that you’re terrible at anything,” she agreed, mostly just for the sake of mockery.

“Knowledge of the scientific method would of course be ideal,” he added, advancing on her further, and she finally felt the need to take half a step back, only to feel the kitchen counter pressing into her backside.

“Seems a bit much, I think,” she corrected flatly, though hadn’t exactly made a move to leave either. Whether it was morbid curiosity or a three year dry spell holding her in place, she couldn’t be sure. Bizarre amusement?

“Perhaps, but ‘a bit much’ is sort of my area.”

“I deeply regret introducing you to the internet,” she sighed, finally breaking eye contact with him just to roll her eyes skyward.

“You still haven’t said no,” Dracula observed keenly, gently cupping her chin and urging her gaze back to him, breaching physical contact with surprising subtlety.

“Must be the razor sharp fangs and the sedative saliva,” she made a point of sarcastically emphasizing, doing her best to ignore his fingers as they trailed down her throat slowly.

“Oh that only happens when I want it to, Zoe.” He paused as she rose her brows in disbelief. “Okay, and when there’s an excess of human blood. Irrelevant. You’re practically undead, you’ll survive. I can’t say the same for anyone else-”

“Fucking hell, at least it’d stop you from talking,” she snapped, though before she could move to regret her consent, the Count’s mouth had already crashed against hers, and she found herself sitting atop the counter that had previously been at her back, so quickly she almost felt dizzy.

Her nails dug into his shoulders for support on her new perch, though they worked beneath the strain with utter indifference, shifting under her grip as his hands ran up her thighs under the quickly separating fabric of her dressing gown, urging them apart so he could stand between them, pulling her forward against his still be-suited form. His tongue was, much to her annoyance, already doing some rather impressive things as it invaded her mouth and curled against her own. She pulled back, though, just as one of his hands cupped her centre, with a bite of his lip. The soft growl that erupted from him in response was almost hilarious.

“Foreplay is cheating, if you’re running a proper assessment,” she corrected with a breathy attempt at sounding stern, a tone borne of academia and apparently hitting its mark regardless of her debauched appearance.

He looked for a moment like he would protest, but it faded into a strange sort of obedience just as quickly, his only move of defiance coming as he stroked his hand down the length of her exposed sternum and sliced the tie of her dressing gown with his thumb nail, splitting it in two and getting it out of his way entirely.  

“As you were, Dr. Helsing,” he agreed roughly, and she watched him sink onto his knees before her in what was probably the most fascinating sight she’d ever beheld.

“I’m banking on this being a disappointment,” she challenged stubbornly, even as she felt him approach with baited breath, unable to resist a last jab even as she felt his lips brush against her mound with mocking lightness.

“Place your bets wisely,” were the finally words she had to hear from him for quite a long while.

--------

Tag List: @hoefordarkness @allis143 @festering-queen @lets-talk-about-claes-baby @river-soul @dracula-s-bride @vanhelssing @punk-courtesan @gabesprincess @skeletalremainswithinme @chelsfic @alma37 @break-free-killer-queen @mephdcosplay @camille-stark @leah-halliwell92 @bang-and-a-blintz @chrsitophwaltz @carydorse @lady-of-the-wolves @charlesdances @crazytxgradstudent @imagineandimagine @my-fanfic-library @angielandon @onyxthevampire @serindiyoza @kandomeresbitch @bellamortislife @fuukonomiko @hyacinth-meadow @guardianbelle @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @claesbangme @draculaclaes @girlonfireice @pullthedamnlever @lamourcommecesttoujour  @hopipollahorror @jangleprojet @hiphop-gir @ss9slb @littlemessyjessi @flyingleapdisco @le-fay-87 @crowley-needs-a-hug @bloodspatteredprincess @malkaviangirl @mitsukatsu @katwoman06 @tanja2306 @myst-l-vie @gatissed @mood-adlock @gettingcrazyforlife @drsherlockmoffat @alhoyin @xis23 @dreamer2381 @profiler-in-courage @garlicbreakfast @the-sign-of-tea @rheabalaur @ombradellaluna @feralstare

I’m sure there’s more of you, but spread it around, my dears, if you like. Requests still open, time constraints apply, for various fandoms. Ta.

[rae-is-typing]

Scars

Original request from @sorrybutimtrying: Can you do one where Chris Evans or Paul Rudd meets a fan, sees her scars and tries to help her. Or something like that

Description: You win one of those contests where you and some other people get to meet and fraternize with a celebrity. This time, it’s Paul Rudd. He notices something you wished he hadn’t.

Characters: reader, original female and male characters (Sophia the Marvel person, Olivia the other teen girl, and a lot of unnamed men and women), Paul Rudd

Warnings: swearing, implied self-harm, self-harm scars, being sexually harassed at work, mentioned cat calling

Word count: 3.8k

See Ant-Man three weeks early, hang out with the one and only Paul Rudd, play laser tag, and pizza together on an all expenses paid trip to LA! Enter now! 12 lucky fans will be chosen. Entries close in three hours. 

You take a moment to stop scrolling. Your heart speeds up; it always does when opportunities arise. You always apply, but you never win. Glancing at the clock, you see you still have ten minutes on break. 

What the heck, might as well enter. There's nothing to lose. 

Entering takes the rest of your break. You were asked questions, and had to enter your phone number and email address a few times. You submit your entry as soon as your break ended. Sighing, you push yourself to your feet. Back to serving customers and getting yelled at by your manager. 

------------------------

Life gets hard and you completely forget that you ever entered in the first place. 

You aren't proud of what you do to cope. Hell, you've managed to stop doing it completely for a few months. But sometimes it's so hard. Too hard to do anything else. 

You don't show off your scars. By sticking to long sleeve shirts, concealer, and strategically placed bracelets, you can easily make it seems like there are a few birthmarks on your wrists instead anything self-inflicted. 

Unfortunately, you can't afford to see a professional. Both you and your mother are working multiple jobs so you can eat and have a place to live. Deep down, you know you should tell her. Deep down, you want to tell her. But you can't bring yourself to. It'll only stress her out. Between two jobs and going back to school to finish her degree, you don’t want to bring her more stress. But your always hopeful for the day where she'd be able to help you through your hard days. 

Speaking of hard days, you hate being a waitress. You work in a particularly sleazy part of town where the guys like to call out anything resembling a female body. Walking down the street brings you one cat call after another, and waitressing isn't any better. You get called every pet name under the sun. Sweetie, babe, baby girl, jujubee. Someone even called you, a 16-year-old wearing some of the baggiest clothes imaginable, sugartits. Your manager had fun with him. 

After getting home, you flop on your bed and fight the urge to cry. You made a whopping fifteen dollars in tips that night for working 4 hours, a customer yelled at you for giving them iced tea with ice in it, and a guy started following you home until he got bored. It was not a good night. 

Then your phone starts to ring. Maroon 5 reverberates in your room, simultaneously annoying you and making you feel a tiny bit better. Without looking at the caller ID, you pick up the phone. 

"Hello?" You ask, voice muffled by the pillow your head is still buried in. 

"Hi there! I'm looking for a Y/N Y/L/N." A feminine voice chirps through the phone.

"Yeah, that's me." You roll onto your back so you can speak clearer. 

"Great. My name is Sophia Ramsey, I'm the one organizing the event with Paul Rudd. I'm so excited to let you know that you won! You will be one of twelve to be flown out to LA to meet with him and spend the day with him."

A huge smile tugs at your lips, so much so your face starts to hurt. "What?" You laugh. "Are you serious?"

"I sure am! Some blank documents have been sent to the email you provided in your entry. I need you to fill them out and either fax them to the number listed on them, mail them to the address listed, or scan them and email them to that same email address."

"I-I can totally do that!"

"Now this event is an all expenses paid, so everything will be provided for you. You'll be flown out the day of and flown back home after it ends. It will be held June seventh."

"Thank you so much!"

She laughs at your enthusiasm. "Of course. Once we get those documents we will be organizing your flights. We will be in touch."

"Awesome, wonderful. Thanks so much!"

"You're so welcome. Bye bye now."

You pull the phone away from your ear, sporting a grin that could rival the Cheshire cat himself. You won! You won you won you won! You're going to meet one of your favorite actors!

You pull up your email on your phone immediately. Spotting the email, you skim through the PDFs quickly. Since you're a minor, there are a lot of things your mom has to sign. 

I need to print these. You think, biting your lip. You don't want to wait for the next at school, you want to fill these out now. Grabbing your wallet and apartment keys, you run (yes, run) down to the library that's a few blocks away. A lot of students gather there for studying and the free wifi.

You wave at a few of your classmates, and they nod back. You print the documents off quickly, paying a small fee for the paper, and you run (yes, run) back home. 

You bounce into your apartment, still giddy (and sweaty). 

"Mom! Mom, you'll never guess what happened!" You exclaim upon seeing your mother sitting on the couch in the living room. 

She looks up from the book she was reading with a tired smile. "What happened, sweetie?"

"Remember that thing I entered? That event Marvel was hosting?" You ask, vibrating with excitement. 

"I do."

"I won! I won Mom! I get to meet Paul Rudd!" 

A grin broke out on your mom's face. "Oh, Y/N, that's awesome."

"I know! I have to fill out these documents. Do we have somewhere we can fax things? Do you know how to fax? I don't know how to fax."

She laughs. "I'll teach you how to fax things, don't you worry." 

------

You get everything taken care of the day after. After another call with Sophia, you manage scheduling flights and times for the drivers (you get a driver! how awesome!)

In the weeks leading up to the event, all your extra effort is put into a gift for Paul. You have a knack for art that you don't have much time for anymore. Between school and work, it's also hard to find energy to put into it. 

However, you said 'screw school' and began an art project: a hand-drawn collage of all Paul Rudd's characters, including Ant-Man. It takes all the time leading up to the event, but you manage to make it look amazing. Along with the collage, you write him a letter. You don't believe it to be anything very special, but you hope he will appreciate it. You detail your own struggles and how much looking up to him has helped you. 

Then the day comes.

You barely sleep at all the night before. Adrenaline and an unhealthy amount of caffeine replace any semblance of rest you may have gotten. 

The driver arrives at your apartment at 4:30 AM to take you to the nearest airport. After triple checking your stuff and a quick goodbye with your mom, you're off.

The car is so nice. You have no idea what make or model it is, but you're sure it very expensive. The drive doesn't take a long time; the roads are practically empty and there is little traffic, which is great. 

However, you're left on your own in the airport, which is not great. A lot of zombie-esque people are there, a few crying children, and some drug dogs even joined the party. You bite your lip, scratching at your concealed wrists. It's something you always do when you're nervous. 

You don't have any bags other than a backpack, so you don't need to check anything. Looking around, you try to spot someone that looks like they know what they're doing. You eventually do, and follow them to security.

The line is long, and after moderate hassle with the agents, you're through and on the way to your gate. Once you get there, you closely examine your ticket. First class. Your eyebrows shoot up. The first time you're flying and you get first class. Damn. Okay, you'll take it.

The flight was good: no babies cried, the flight people were all super nice, and you even got the entire row to yourself.

After the flight, you're off to the venue. You meet your new driver at the exit and get to another very expensive looking car. 

LA traffic is everything you've heard and more. The streets are packed, and it takes quite a while for you to get where you're supposed to be. But when you do, it is incredible. 

The building is huge. It's wall to wall one way glass. The sun bounces off the silver accents, almost blinding you. Out of pure impulse, you take a picture. You almost don't believe that you're here. 

After thanking the driver, you hop out of the car and walk into the glass building. The interior is even prettier. 

It's clean, with dark oak floors and chairs and tables lining the wall. A small group of excited people are gathered by a longer table full of stuff. Your anxiety spikes. This is actually happening. You're going to meet one of your heroes and give him some of your art. This cannot be happening. You nails find your wrist again.

After making your way to the small group, they immediately welcome you into the circle. They each introduce themselves for probably the millionth time, and one of them informs you that everyone is here. 

After a few minutes of pure small talk, a woman walks into the lobby area. 

"Hi everyone!" You all turn to her. She's dressed in a red sleeveless blouse, black slacks and high heels. Her face is done up nicely, as is her hair. She stands proudly with a charismatic smile gracing her face."I'm Sophia, the manager of this event. I'm so excited to get started! First things first, we'll start with the meet and greet. Each one of you will get 15 minutes with Paul. After that, there'll be a few games of laser tag, and finally, the screening of the new Ant-Man movie! We at Marvel ask that you keep all the movie details to yourself so everyone can enjoy the movie when it comes out."

Murmurs of agreement spread through the room. 

“If you all follow me, we can get started," Sophia leads the group to a different room. Paul is sitting at a table with an empty chair next to him. 

Excitement spreads through you. He looks so much more real in person, as weird as that sounds. You bite your lip, keeping your mouth shut. Excited calls from the other fans make him smile widely. 

You keep your place near the back, slowly building up courage and thinking out what you're going to say. You certainly don't want to look like an idiot when you meet one of your heroes. 

"Nice bracelets." The voice of a girl pulls you from your thoughts. 

"Oh, thank you." You say, turning to see her. She has short black hair, blue eyes and pale skin. 

"Yeah. I love Panic! At the Disco. Their music is amazing."

"For real, they're so good!"

The two of you share small talk until it's her turn. For twelve people each getting fifteen minutes, time went by very fast. She talks to him excitedly, something that he reciprocates. Another wave of anxiety comes over you. Your heart speeds up, your hands get a little sweaty. Holy shit! You're actually meeting him.You fight the urge to scratch at your wrist.

Finally, it's your turn. 

You go up to the table with an anxious smile on your face. He smiles back. 

"Hi there!" He says. "I'm so glad you won."

"Thank you!" You say, sitting down in the chair. "I actually brought something."

"Oh thank you! That's awesome."

You pull out the small framed collage, placing it on the table with the enveloped letter on top. There's a small stack of stuff on the other side of him. He carefully sets the envelope to the side, now examining the poster. 

"Wow! This is so good!" He exclaims. "Did you draw this?"

You can only nod shyly. 

"This is great, really. Thank you." 

"You're welcome."

The two of you talk for the rest of the time. He signs a couple of things for you, and you take a few pictures. At the end, you want to take a funny selfie for your instagram. While taking the picture, your bracelets slide up your arm. Your heart stops for a split second when you see a fresher scar. You pull back the bracelets immediately, and play it off as soon as possible. 

But it was too late, Paul saw some of the scars. His face falls into something more solemn, concerned almost. He opens his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted. 

"Alright everyone! It is time to move on to the next event."

Paul put a smile on his face, but he gave you a worried glance at you while he stood up. He walks by Sophia as you're led through the building. The interior continued to take your breath away. Postmodern design flooded your sight as everyone crams into an elevator. 

You're taken up a few floors and the elevator opens to a small room with vests and guns attached to said vests. A blank scoreboard hangs proudly above everything. You glance around. Everyone is sporting grins. 

"Let's do girls against boys!" Olivia, the girl you were talking to before, exclaims. 

"You sure?" One of the guys pipes up. "I think there are more guys than girls," 

"There's like one more guy. We should do at least one battle of the sexes." She grins. 

"I'm cool with it," A woman in her mid twenties smirks. 

"Me too," You shrug. More murmurs of agreement spread through the group.

“Alright, suit up everyone. Girls will be red and boys will be green." Sophia says. 

"I will leave you to Ralph, he is our resident lazer tag expert." 

"Alright everyone, your goal is to destroy the other team’s base. You do that by destroying the power supply in the deepest part of the opposing team’s base. It looks like a dinosaur egg off of Jurassic Park, and it lights up. I have a few ground rules. No fighting, no sprinting, no food or drink near the equipment. But most importantly, have fun! There are large towers on each side where you have to charge your gun. Your vest will beep at you when you need to recharge. Good luck. Boys, enter to the left, girls on your right." With Ralph ending his spiel, everyone hustles into the room. 

You follow behind one of your teammates to the back of the base. The room is absolutely massive. There's a large structure running through the middle of the floor with at least four sets of stairs. The supporting poles are lit up by green and red lights. You clutch your gun to your chest. It's not the very first time you're playing laser tag, but it is the first time in a long while. 

You go off on your own, jogging up the stairs on the large structure. You speed walk quietly, ducking behind large foam covers that were spread sporadically throughout the entire floor when you suspect one of the boys had spotted you.You climb to the top. You hold your gun by your thigh, keeping your finger on the trigger. Slowly walking in circles, you try to spot the egg like power supply that Ralph had described on the ground below. 

Suddenly, someone bumped into you. You jump, barely holding back a yelp. 

"Oh, my god. I’m so sorry." Olivia quickly apologized. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, you just scared the shit out of me though," You laugh. 

"I'm sorry... Y/N, right?" 

"Yeah yeah yeah, and you're Olivia, right?"

"Mhm, what are you looking for?"

"I'm trying to find the power supply." 

"Same girl. I think I saw it over there." She says, gesturing to your left. "But I'm not sure."

"Let's go check it out."

The two of you venture to the left, moving as quickly and quietly as before. Soon enough, you're able to spot the power supply through the guard rails. Only one guy is standing guard. You share a small low-five and split up to attack it. 

Olivia jogs down the stairs to ground level and you go to the second floor for better range. 

You crouch close to the floor, poking your gun through the guard rails and wait until you see Olivia come up behind the guard and start shooting. You join her immediately, and together you almost destroy it. However, your gun runs out of charge. 

Cursing under your breath, you jog as fast as you can (almost running) down to a charging base, where you run into Olivia again. 

"Dude, that was fucking crazy." She laughs. "We almost had them."

Laughing breathlessly, you agree. "For real though. We got them this time. Same plan?"

"Hell yeah,"

"What plan?" A new voice cuts in. The woman in her mid twenties pops up out of nowhere. 

"We found their supply. I went low and she went to the second floor. If we have one more person, I think we got this. We'll have to hurry though."

A grin spreads on the woman's face. "Let's do it. I'll head to the first floor on the other side."

The three of you jog together back to the same place as before. You show the woman where to go, then you leave to go up one floor. 

Once again, you start to shoot when Olivia does. The woman joins in soon after. 

You hear the guards frustrated cries as he tries to fend off all three of you at once. A few of the other guys come running back, but it was too late. Girls won! 

You laugh, throwing your hands up. "Hell yeah!" 

Olivia cheers, and the woman whoops. The lights come on, making you wince.

"Game over. Red team has claimed their victory! Congratulations, ladies!" Ralph's voice comes over intercoms you didn't know were there. 

You make your way down to ground level, meeting up with the other women. You congratulate each other. 

"Let's do it again! Same team?”

The lot of you end up playing three more games: girls vs. boys, old people vs. young people, and Paul vs. Everyone else. Boys won, young people won, and the last one was a tie. (You and Olivia ended up teaming up with Paul anyways, but no one else needs to know that.)

After that, everyone was crammed into an elevator yet again. This time smelling a lot less pleasant after running and sneaking around.

All of you are lead to another floor. This one resembled a movie theater more than anything else. A huge table of food is set up in front of the door to the screening room. 

Everyone begins to get their dinner, most of them being hungry from the hour and a half spent running around in the dark shooting at each other. 

Before you could grab a plate, however, someone places a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see Paul standing behind you.

You smile up at him. "Hi."

"Hey. I wanna talk to you, could we step out?" That look of concern from before is etched onto his face. 

"Sure," You say, the slightest bit of hesitation seeping into your voice. You step into a smaller, unoccupied corner of the hall. Before you can ask any questions, he starts speaking. 

"Look, I don't know your situation, I don't know you, and I don't know what you've been through, but I saw your wrist. I know what it's like to be low, and I just wanted to tell you that it gets better. Everything is going to work the way it's meant to. Everything is going to be okay. And if you need help, don't be afraid to ask. Mental pain is just as serious and debilitating as physical pain is. I hate to see anyone go through this, especially my fans."

Tears prick at you eyes at his words. No one has ever taken you aside and spoken to you like this before. All the anxiety and trepidation leaves your body, and your left with this warmth and reassurance. 

You can only bite your lip and nod. He smiles again and opens his arms. You hug briefly before leaving the corner and getting your food. 

Everything after that is all smiles and laughter. The food is some of the best you've ever had; they certainly spared no expense. 

The movie is incredible. You have no doubt in your mind that you'll save your tips and take your mom to see it one night after it comes out.

Truth be told, you're sad this is over. You want to do more with everyone, but you're so undeniably grateful that you got this opportunity. More pictures are taken, social media is exchanged, and soon you're all on your separate ways home.

When you get home, you pass out on your face, shoes barely kicked off your feet. You never expected to wake up to what you did though. 

A DM from Paul Rudd. 

Hey Y/N! It was so nice meeting you! I'm so glad you had the opportunity to attend the event. It's always so wonderful to spend time with fans. I wanted to tell you that your collage is amazing! You have a real knack for art. You should definitely keep it up if you can. Thank you for sharing your story in the letter. It really moved me. I also wanted to let you know one last time that things do get better, things do improve. Stay strong for yourself and your future. You got this.

[dekatsu]

part 4 of our little adventure with Kuri. click for part 1, 2, 3

Katsuki arrives at his home only to hear shouting in front of his door. He dreads turning the corner and finding Enji Todoroki in front of his apartment, again. The man has the bad habit of stalking his son. 

It’s the worst downside of rooming with Todoroki; every now and then his father will appear in front of their door and demand entry only to be completely ignored by his son. Sometimes Todoroki will shout something back or play music on blast or call the cops when he’s feeling especially gleeful. And sometimes, he’s miserable and hiding and wants nothing to do with the man who continuously abused him. 

It must be Katsuki’s lucky day though because Enji Todoroki has his back turned to him and is busy arguing about whether he has the right to break down the door or not, with a not very impressed Midoriya.

When Katsuki silently approaches his door, hoping no one notices him so he can pass by without incident, Midoriya’s eyes fall onto him. Then Midoriya looks pointedly at the door behind Enji Todoroki before looking back at him again. 

Katsuki gets the hint and hurriedly unlocks the door before he gets inside and slams the door shut, just as Midoriya tries to explain that Todoroki is in fact not home and Midoriya, too, is waiting for him, how about we grab a bite together to catch up?

Katsuki would rather eat shit than spend any time alone with Enji Todoroki. He can appreciate Midoriya taking one for the team though, even if he dislikes the guy.

“Shoutoooo,” Enji Todoroki shouts as soon as he hears the door slam shut. He pounds against the door like an entitled little shit. “I heard you go in! Open the door, we need to talk!”

“Todoroki-san,” Midoriya says, doing something to stop the man from breaking down the door. “That wasn’t Shouto but his roommate. Let’s go get something to eat. I really wanted to catch up with you on a few things.”

“That damn Bakugou brat, always ignoring me! I have the right to visit my s-”

Katsuki doesn’t bother to hear the rest, already out of his shoes and on the way to the bathroom to wash his hands. He sees Todoroki sitting in the living room slowly munching on some treats, headphones on and oblivious to his arrival. 

Kuri is looking at Todoroki, sitting right in front of him, her stare unwavering and unnerving. Once Katsuki gets cleaned up and changed, he joins them in the there and picks Kuri up to pet her. She gives a small hiss but settles in his arms as Katsuki settles on the couch next to Todoroki. 

He waits for thirty minutes after Enji Todoroki is long gone, before he reaches out and plucks the new bag of snacks out of Todoroki’s hands. The guy is a stress-eater, a comfort-eater and generally someone who enjoys stuffing his mouth. Katsuki doesn’t do it often but on days like today, he can’t help but intervene. 

“That’s enough before dinner,” he says once Todoroki actually pays attention to him. “I ain’t sharing food if you're too full to appreciate it.”

“I was only munching a little.”

“It’s your fourth bag, I ain’t blind,” Katsuki remarks, pointing at the trash on the table. “You are cleaning that up and vacuuming the shit out of this place.”

Todoroki stares at him. Katsuki stares back and tries real hard not to comment on his bloodshot eyes. It’s none of his fucking business. So he leaves for the kitchen and prepares a little something for his cat before he starts on dinner for himself. 

Twenty minutes into it, the doorbell rings. Two seconds later, the door to Todoroki’s room slams shut. Katsuki sighs and walks over to the door, checking that it’s not the old bastard before he opens the door to an awkwardly smiling Midoriya. 

“Hello,” he greets. 

Katsuki wants to slam the door shut again but holds it in and goes right back into the kitchen. Midoriya invites himself in and looks around the living room before he joins Katsuki in the kitchen, sitting on an empty stool. 

“Did you think it over?” Midoriya asks, fingers tapping a rhyme against the kitchen table. 

“I did,” Katsuki admits and turns from the oven to look at the nuisance. He crosses his arms and gives his most sarcastic smile. “And I came to the conclusion that you need to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Think about the rent.”

“I’m looking for a second job.”

“This place is way too huge.”

“I’m sure I’ll find someone else.”

“Who would want to room with you?”

“Shut it, Fuckface,” Katsuki snarls, actually offended by that. “I’m a perfectly agreeable person.”

“The words you use,” Midoriya whispers, shaking his head. “I’m continuously impressed by your creativity.”

“I could impress even more. I could stuff your face down the trash.”

That makes Midoriya frown and Katsuki grin. Midoriya is about to open his mouth again but stops when the door to Todoroki’s room opens and he appears in the kitchen, fully dressed and ready to leave. 

“Midoriya,” he greets and walks in to sit on a stool next to the green mop, hands held tight in his lap. “I’m sorr-”

“I came by to talk about the moving arrangements,” Midoriya interrupts him, patting him once on the shoulder, an easy smile on his face. “But Katsuki over there is as stubborn as always. Help me out, Shouto. I just can’t win against him.”

“And you won’t ever. So shut up and leave,” Katsuki tells him and turns away from the frown Todoroki directs at him. He doesn’t care that Todoroki wants him to respect Midoriya. The ass has done nothing but piss him off.

“He loves Kuri,” Todoroki says, which makes Katsuki bristle but he refuses to rise to the bait. “Actually, I was about to leave. I won’t be having dinner with you but I’m sure Midoriya is still hungry. Not like anyone can actually eat with that as company.” The last part was probably supposed to go inaudible but Katsuki hears it clearly and he supposes so does Midoriya, who's closer to Todoroki.

"I'll bite the bullet. What did he do?" 

Katsuki cringes at Midoriya's question but doesn’t turn to look at them. There is silence for a moment before Todoroki stands up to leave. 

Once at the doorway he stops to say, "arranged a marriage for me."

With those parting words, Todoroki leaves them in awkward silence. Katsuki hates it and hates the fact that he doesn’t know how to deal with this shit. It’s not like he can take any cues from their past interactions. To say he doesn’t care at least a little, would be a lie. He’s grown kind of used to his plant and now Todoroki is moving out and Katsuki is still none the wiser where he's concerned. 

So Katsuki plates dinner for two, slams them down on the kitchen table and says, “twenty on him visiting his lover.”

“I’m not betting when I know I’ll lose. Thanks for the food,” Midoriya replies and starts eating. “Don’t worry about him. He's gotten better at dealing with this. He just needs time."

"I ain't worried,"Katsuki mutters around a mouthful of food and ignores Midoriya’s replying hum.

Kuri approaches him when they are done eating so he picks her up and puts her on the table, idly wondering if she gained some weight or if he’s imagining things. He’s been careful with her diet though.

“Kuri really likes you, huh?” Midoriya observes, staring at Kuri. Katsuki snorts, giving her scratches and grinning when she avoids Midoriya’s hand and jumps down the table.

“What’s there not to like? I’m basically playing servant for the little princess.”

“And you like her.” Midoriya is staring at him, fork resting between his lips. Katsuki doesn’t like the contemplative look he’s getting. “I would hate to force you two apart.”

“You little shit,” Katsuki grits out, slamming his hands on the table as he gets up. “This is how you repay me for my food? Threatening to take my cat?”

“Technically it’s my cat.”

“Technically, you’re trespassing. Your damn apartment doesn’t even allow cats.” 

“Yeah,” Midoriya says, handing his plates over when Katsuki stretches his hands out and demands them. “But my lease is ending at the end of next month so I could look for an apartment which allows pets.”

“Why the fuck are you harassing me then?” He angrily scrubs the plates clean before rinsing them out, purposefully turning the tap on to max, to tune out Midoriya’s voice. For a working adult, he sure got a lot of time to harass Katsuki.

“I was going to take some of Shouto’s furniture anyway and then he decided to move out and suggested I could just take his place,” Midoriya tells him, a sheepish smile playing on his face. 

Katsuki makes an annoyed face at the man, pushing his hands away when he tries to reach out and dry the plates. “This is my fucking kitchen.”

“I’m trying to help.”

“Did I ask?”

“You’re being really difficult.”

“‘S why you shouldn’t move in with me.” Katsuki grins at the glare that gets. Midoriya has stepped out of his way, obviously realizing that he won’t let the man help. He’s standing behind Katsuki, arms crossed and mouth pursed. “What? Got something to say?”

“Aren’t you cute.”

That catches Katsuki completely off guard. He turns, angry frown on his face. “Fuck you!”

“Behaving like a petulant little child just because you found out the cat is mine and then screaming all on your own every time you see me because I stepped on your imaginary tail. What? Are you going to hiss at me next?”

“You fucking asshole.” Katsuki stalks towards him, one fist in his shirt as he drags the damn parasite closer by the collar and shows his teeth. “I’ll kill you right here.”

The smile Midoriya gives him doesn’t reach his eyes at all. Instead he reaches for Katsuki’s hands and holds them down with his own. The fuckface is stronger than Katsuki expected and even though Katsuki’s fighting it with all his might, Midoriya manages to easily loosen his hands around his shirt and step back from Katsuki, both his arms in Midoriya’s hands. 

“See, I’m only trying to talk but you keep on throwing insults around and picking fights all on your own.”

“I told you to leave me the fuck alone,” Katsuki shouts, pulling his arms back, his anger boiling so hot, his vision burns red for a second. There is tension in his shoulders, a pull at his neck that speaks of a brewing fight he’s not eager to take. “You keep bothering me like a fucking stalker and what? Expect me to play house with you? Get the fuck out of my apartment, you damn shit stain.”

“Right, my bad.” He says, pulling on his collar, eyes not straying from Katsuki’s own. “I won’t bother you anymore. I will pick Kuri up next week. If that’s not okay with you, I will have Shouto bring her to me instead.” Then he finally turns around and stalks out of Katsuki’s kitchen, his hallway, his apartment and hopefully his life. 

As soon as the door slams shut behind Midoriya, Katsuki leans back against the kitchen counter, a headache already making itself at home instead of the tension that had made him struggle to breath just seconds ago. 

Katsuki doesn’t actually mind fighting. It’s the damn knowledge that he pushed too much and too far that kept him from punching Midoriya in the face the moment that asshole had spouted all that nonsense. He rubs at his forehead, painfully aware that he might have provoked that little standoff. 

Then he stares down at his feline little roommate, as she carefully approaches him and gives a questioning little mewl. 

“Sorry, Kuri,” he tells her, sitting down on the ground and gathering her in his lap. “I fucked that one up royally.” When she mews, he gives a tight little laugh, thumbing his head back against the counter. “Don’t worry, I’ll pack all your toys for you.” And the food, the litter box, the little bowls he bought her. Hell, even the damn cat tree and his old shoe box. He will make Todoroki carry it all. 

Fuck it, Katsuki thinks as he gets up and carries Kuri to bed with him. “I’ll figure something out.” And then he doesn’t cuddle Kuri. She just lies next to him as Katsuki replays the earlier confrontation over and over again in his head. 

“Magic thing my ass,” Katsuki grumbles. Kaminari is a fucking liar. The only magic Midoriya possesses is the magic to ruffle all of Katsuki’s feathers.

Damn it.

[theramseyloft]

You probably already get this question alot, but could I have some care tips (Cage requirements, food, basic care) and anything that might repel me from them? (Especially for a racing Homer - which is what I'm assuming they have here since pigeon racing is quite a big industry in my country) (I'd love to adopt but sadly that's not an option here since there's barely even dog rescues here) Thanks so much in advance!

I’ll start with what might repel you, starting with things inherent to the species, and then to potential effects of their personal history.

First thing’s first; DUST!!! 

If you, or any one in your house hold, has dust related allergies or any respiratory issues at all, pigeons are not the pet for you.

They are dust monsters! For their size, the Columbidae produce more dust that any other domestic bird.

It is also a much finer dust. It floats in the air like thin smoke and takes a long time to settle, so you will breathe more of it with a group of pet pigeons than you would with parrots, chickens, quail, or song birds.

Definitely more than any mammalian dander that I know of.

Pigeons are only really territorial over what they consider a nest space. Away from their nests, they are social and quite friendly, but the fiercely defend their nest from all comers.

If they are in a loft, or have free flight of a room, that aggression is constrained to the actual nest itself and anything with in about half a body length from the lip of it.

But if they are in a cage, the entire cage is space that they feel a powerful instinctive drive to defend.

Any uninvited entry is seen as an intrusion either by a predator or a rival, so I usually advise people not to attempt to physically interact at all with the pigeon in their cage. 

Talking to the birds is fine, but all physical intrusion is seen as aggression that they have to defend against.

So, when you want to begin physically interacting with them, it’s best to invite them out into your room in the evening.

I’ll go into coop and home interaction training after the basic housing part.

Unless they are out of a sex linked pair, or you get them as fully mature adults, pigeons are absolute hell to sex.

Homers do become dimorphic as they age.

Karen is an adult racing homer cock.

Bird-bird is an adult hen of the same breed.

Look at Karen’s wattle (The thick skin above his nasal slits, at the base of his beak)

Now look at Bird-Bird’s.

His wattle is much bigger and more intricately developed than hers. 

Her face is much finer featured than his.

He stands more upright.

She stands more horizontal.

But as peeps, they are nearly impossible to differentiate.

This is important, because the social behavior of cocks and hens and how it translates to humans tends to be VERY different.

Hens are VERY cuddly! Even into adulthood.

But adult cocks are platonically touch repulsed.

A flock mate is likely to make physical contact with a cock for one of two reasons: Another cock starting a fight, or a hen asking for sex.

They even make friends with flock mates through combat.

Until it sinks in otherwise, all attempts at physical contact with a cock is perceived as a challenge to a fight.

Non-aggressive contact with a cock is seen as an invitation for him to be your mate, and cock love is VERY pinchy!

Pigeon courtship consists of a three part ritual called Driving.

In the Chase trial, A cock will harass and bite a hen until she flees. If she was interested first, she’ll flirt to get his attention, and then fly off.

He HAS to chase her, keep up with her, and out maneuver her, all while herding her towards his nest so that she dives in when she’s too exhausted to continue to fly.

If he cannot out maneuver her, fly faster, and stay in the air longer than her, then her peeps will be more likely than her to be caught and eaten by a predator, and she will refuse that cock the opportunity to fill her eggs.

After she inspects the nest and has rested, she will try to leave. The second courtship trial revolves around blocking her exit and physically wrestling her back in until she is too exhausted to keep fighting him.

If he cannot block the generally smaller, weaker hen from leaving and fight her to a stand still, then he can’t hope to block another cock trying to force his way in, throw him out if he manages to pop in by surprise, or keep fighting him until he gives up.

Only after proving his stamina and strength to the Hen directly may he offer her a sample of the contents of his crop.

This is the sweet kissing part of courtship, after which they preen and cuddle and he’s allowed to step up onto her back and tread her.

This translates very poorly with a human partner, and if you have a cock as a companion, you have to be ok with a LOT of love bites before you can get to the soft cuddly part of the relationship.

Suddenly running up to you and biting out of nowhere is NOT aggression. They give LOTS of warning when they are upset.

Running up to attack you out of nowhere is a misguided attempt to begin Driving you, and he will go WAY over the top with it, because he is trying to impress a COLOSSUS with his physical strength, stamina, and tenacity.

You can understand how this could translate poorly to a human partner!

There are ways to respond to minimize the bitey bit, but we’ll get to those in another ask. This one is going to be VERY long as is.

Now, what we have just discussed is base line pigeon, with no outside components making anything more difficult.

Racers old enough to fly have been through daily training tosses; where they are grabbed, put in a basket, and released every day at increasing distances from the loft.

The best case scenario is a strong fear of hands from being grabbed and stuffed into the basket and occasionally restrained and injected with a vaccine. 

The luckiest individuals have only had to navigate for miles every day to return to safety, food, and family.

Racing birds can also have to dodge hawks, or fly through inclement weather during training flights.

Some can even make it home severely injured.

Understandably, adult racers of either sex will need to be patiently worked through a STRONGLY reinforced fear of hands.

We have lots of posts discussing how to work with fearful pigeons, and I’ll be happy to go into it again in more detail, but that’s another for a different post.

Basics of care for pigeons are very simple.

They are strict granivores. Seeds are all they can digest, but they can eat a very wide variety of seeds. The more variation, the better.

Pigeons do not hull their seeds. They swallow them whole, and depend on the hulls as vital dietary fiber, so don’t give them seed that is already hulled.

Their diet should involve as much variety of seed, grains, and legumes as you can get your hands on, the size of an unpopped kernel of popcorn or smaller (Most breeds can;t swallow seeds much bigger than that) with some source of calcium available.

You can have a separate dish of oyster shell, or you can sprinkle powder in a single birds daily meal, or add liquid calcium to their water dish.

NOT all of those at once! Calcium can be overdosed!

Which ever method works most easily for you and your bird.

Pigeons are intensely social birds that get most of their enrichment from interaction.

They are happiest as free roaming house pets, like a cat or dog, that can come see you or go do their own thing as they choose.

Pigeons are smart enough to learn house rules.

Understandably, that is not an option for every one, and free roaming unsupervised before they learn the house rules can be dangerous.

If you cannot let the bird free roam their own room, you can easily modify a dog crate to house them comfortably.

They need square perches. Because they are cliff nesters, round perches put painful pressure on the ball of their feet, making walking painful.

I like to cut garden stakes to length and wire them into place.

A corner bunny litter pan is a decent nest box, but not necessary. They will nest just as happily in a cheap dog food dish.

Pigeons are ground foragers, so they prefer a shallow dish of food on the floor of their enclosure.

Ideally, the modified crate cage for the pigeon should be used like it would be for a pet dog; That is not where the animal lives full time. That is where it sleeps at night or hangs out when you aren’t home to supervise it, until it learns the house rules.

Toys are very simple, because their interaction tools are very limited.

Pigeons can recognize themselves in mirrors and love to play with them.

They enjoy bathing in a dish of water about hip-deep.

They can have sand or straw filled forage boxes to hunt for treats like safflower seeds in.

Stick-shaped, Shiny, and Jingly is their holy trinity of toy characteristics.

q-tips with the cotton tips cut off, tooth picks with the points clipped, wicker kitty balls with jingle bells inside, bread ties with jingle bells that are too big to accidentally swallow  twisted to either side, or made into a jingly ring, are all cheap, simple toys that a single pet bird will have fun playing with.

I mentioned coop training earlier, and it’s super simple.

Starting in the evening, open the door to the cage and invite the bird out.

Don’t hang around waiting for it to come. Go settle in to do something quiet and sedentary, like reading a book or surfing the net.

Pigeons are naturally curious, and the best way to work then through the fear of people they may have developed is to be as nonthreatening as possible and reward their curiosity.

Talk to them to desensitize them to your voice and start teaching them how you communicate.

They will eventually grow brave enough to come explore you yourself. 

A quiet, pleased greeting will reward them by not startling them.

Have safflower seeds available, but don’t try to reach out to give it to the birds.

Let them discover that you have them, and be still and non-reactive when they take some. Offer verbal praise, but don’t start trying to move until they ease away from automatic flightiness.

I specify beginning this process in the evening because trying to get a bird back into the crate before it trusts you is very difficult and your best bet to avoid making it afraid of you despite your friend-making efforts is to avoid having to chase it back into its pen at the end of flight time.

Starting these in the evening allows you the option to avoid chasing entirely just by turning off the lights.

At the end of out time, give a verbal warning like “Lights out” or “Bed Time”, and then wait a minute or two before actually turning off the light.

Pick the bird up in the dark, and return it gently to its enclosure.

It will begin to associate the “Lights out” or “Bed time” warning with the lights going out, and eventually learn to fly back to the pen in the space of time before the lights actually go out.

That’s about the skin and bone basics of care.

Please, by all means, send more asks for more information on any aspect or detail of pet pigeon keeping.

I am always happy to answer. ^v^

[bethhxrmon]

do flowers exist at night? -chapter three

Chapter Three: Don’t Lose Your Head

Pairing: Steve Harrington x OC

Chapter Summary: With rumors still flying around, things have yet to get any easier for Annie. Coupling that with her terrifying illusions, it’s easy to see why it is difficult for her to not fall apart underneath everything.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Swearing, sexual harassment, Billy is the literal worst still, horror

A/N: I’ve never tried to write anything scary before so I hope that aspect of this chapter really shows! If you like this story, please let me know! Also, if you’re looking for an earlier part you can find that here. In other news, I had to publish a bit later due to technical difficulties so please send your love!

~*~*~*~

“Another book already?” Steve asked as Annie got in his car.

She shrugged, “Yeah… I only had a little over a hundred pages left so I kinda went for it.”

“I think that’s gonna take you a bit more time to get through,” he said, glancing over at her as he pulled out of her driveway.

“It’d also take a bit more effort for some asshole to rip it apart.”

“Ah, you got me there.”

Annie laughed a bit, “It’s whatever. I’ve been meaning to read this for a while now. Like, my dad’s this big, fancy literature professor. He said War and Peace was the biggest waste of time and space, so I’m gonna see if he’s right or if he’s full of shit as usual.”

“So you’re reading out of spite?” he asked, furrowing his brows, “Is he gonna say anything?”

She fidgeted with the corner of the hardcover book, “Well, I’m not sure he’s ever gonna know. He kinda stayed in New York. I haven’t seen him in… almost a month I think.”

“Oh.”

Annie shrugged, “It’s not a huge deal, my mom and I are figuring it out.”

The rest of the car ride was filled with a rather awkward silence. Maybe if she hadn’t said anything about her family, the remainder of the ride would have been better. At the same time, there were more awkward things she could have easily brought up, but didn’t.

Soon enough, Steve pulled into a parking spot at the school. Annie thanked him before getting out and going off to the school. Maybe it was abrupt, but she didn’t think Steve wanted to talk to her too much.

Not that she took that too personally, he had plenty of issues of his own. Then again, so did she. That was evidenced by the lack of makeup on her face and the clothes she wore. After all, flipping up overalls was impossible. With a flannel and shirt on top of all that, she was sure she would be fine today. Maybe all the rumors stopped overnight and there was something else going on.

However, as Annie walked, she could hear the whispers still. Just like yesterday. She carefully dodged a couple guys in the hall as she went to her locker. If she just laid low, it would blow over. It had to blow over at some point. Then she saw her locker.

"PROPERTY OF MISTRESS ANNETTE HARDWICK, A COCKSUCKING SLUT" was scrawled sloppily on the locker. Her eyes widened and immediately she rushed up to it, trying to rub it off with the sleeve of her flannel. When none of the black sharpie came off onto her dark green sleeves, she clenched the grip on her book. This simply wasn't happening.

A part of her wanted to curl up and cry right then. Everyone was staring and she could feel the eyes boring into her back. She bit the inside of her cheek to the point it almost drew blood.

"I don't think that's gonna come out, real shame," said a voice belonging to Billy Hargrove.

Annie crossed her arms, "Go fuck yourself."

"Shouldn't you be doing that for me?" he asked, leaning in close.

She swallowed hard and backed up before turning and walking off. It had to have been him. The way he looked at her made her wish she could have turned invisible. Why hadn't she said something? There had to have been some biting remark she could have given, but nothing came out. Soon enough, she found herself sitting under a stairwell.

A moment later, Steve ducked under. It was clear he was more cramped in the space than Annie was.

He crouched down next to her, "Hey, Annie, I'm so, so sorry-"

"It's not your fault," she said, staring at the white linoleum.

Steve sighed, "But isn't it? Look, I can try and help you paint over it or something or request another locker. I just... I'm sorry."

"You don't have to do any of that. I'll just get through today and maybe everyone can find someone else to poke fun at over the weekend," she replied.

"Hey, just take the help, okay? And maybe I can rip that Hargrove guy a new one for your trouble."

She let out a small laugh, "I'd love to see that, but I can take care of myself."

"I'll do it, can't have some asshole picking on my friend," he said right before the bell rang, "But seriously, are you sure you can hack it today? I can take you home or something and I can try to clear everything up."

Annie nodded, moving to get up, "I can take it, okay?"

At least, that was what she thought as she went to biology. It was just a few hours and then she was free for a whole weekend. Surely she could get through the knots in her stomach for the day.

Nothing let up, though. A few notes asking her if King Steve could still "get it" was the tipping point for her. Maybe no one touched her today, but the notes managed to hold the exact same sentiment. It made her want to run and wash her face despite the fact nothing was on it.

Having decided to then blow off the remainder of the day, she slipped a note into Steve's locker so he knew she went home. Maybe he cared, maybe he didn't. She wasn't really sure. That didn't stop her from shoving her headphones from her Walkman on and turning up the music all the way as she left the school.

The walk home was rather uneventful, and before she knew it she was right back in her house. A part of her was tempted to reach over to the phone and call up her mom. Except, she was probably doing important work at the conference she was at and Annie stopped herself. Although, this felt like the sort of emergency her mom said to warn her about.

Then again, so did the illusions she kept seeing. They only seemed to get worse with every passing day. It wasn't like she could tell anyone, though. Had she told someone like Steve or a teacher, she would be written off as crazy.

Maybe that was it, she was just going crazy from the loneliness. When her mom got back, it would all be fine. Sure, she had Erik, but he hardly counted as a conversationalist. She dropped her backpack and flopped on the couch with a sigh. A whole day left in front of her and nothing to do for it. It wasn't long before Annie got to her bag and dug through for her copy of War and Peace.

There wasn't much else for her to do other than to get lost in the story of a few Russian families going through trials and tribulations as Napoleon threatened to invade their country in the backdrop. So she found herself getting wrapped up in the beginning of the story. Though, with how comfortable she was in the position she was laying in, she soon drifted off with the book in her hands.

How long she had slept for was beyond her. It felt like something was moving on top of her. She slowly opened her eyes, expecting to see it was her cat, sprawled across her stomach. Instead there were all kinds of slimy creatures crawling on her. They almost looked like slugs but they had hind legs. For a moment, all Annie could do was stare. Then she realized they were all over her arms and her hands and legs and on her face.

The slime was all over her hands and she felt one on her mouth. She was quick to try and slap it off only to realize the whole living room was covered with the same creatures.

"This isn't real. This isn't real. This can't be happening," she repeated, her voice cracking before she started screaming.

Her screams echoed throughout the house and it felt like her throat was being scratched raw. Annie shut her eyes tightly, wishing they would just go as she screamed. And just like that, nothing. When her eyes opened, there was nothing on her. Instead there was a rapid knocking at the front door and the sound of it opening.

On instinct, she grabbed her book and hurled it at the tall figure that rushed into the room. There was a sound of the novel colliding with someone and then hitting the floor. Upon realizing who ran in, Annie put her hands over her mouth.

"Ope!" Steve exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder that had gotten hit, “What the hell was that for?”

Annie got up from the couch and rushed over to him, "I-I'm so sorry, I didn't... I didn't realize it was you. I mean, you kinda broke into my house."

"Um yeah 'cause you were screaming bloody murder," he said before looking at her, "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" Annie asked, knowing she wasn't covered in the slime she had to have imagined.

He pointed at her nose, "You're bleeding."

"Oh... shit, I'll um... be right back," she replied before going to the bathroom.

Sure enough, there was a bit of blood coming from her nose. She grabbed a couple squares of toilet paper to clean it. For some reason it wasn't bleeding anymore. She mentally cursed herself, sure that Steve was going to want to know what happened.

Annie walked back out, "Sorry about that... kinda had a bad dream or something. Um what's up?"

"Or something... are you sure you're not gonna tell me what's got you freaked out enough to hurl the biggest book I've ever seen right at me?" he asked, still rubbing at his shoulder, “You’ve got a good arm.”

She shook her head, "It doesn't matter, like I said, it’s just a bad dream. What do you need?"

"Well, I didn't tear Hargrove a new one, that's for sure," he muttered, sitting on the love seat, "I know I've kinda asked a lot from you already, but... I need to get Nancy back."

Annie raised her brows, "Ah... hey, do you want some tea or something?"

"Um sure," he said, "Look, I already heard she's running around with Jonathan. I love her too much to just let her go like that, and they guys won’t stop giving me shit for it."

She nodded, listening as she put water in the kettle and put it over a burner, "Well, for all you know it's not what you think. I mean, look at us. Speaking of us, what the hell was with the mistress shit on my locker?"

"Oh that... they think they're being clever. You know, King Steve, they call Nancy a princess, that stuff."

"So I’m the Anne Boleyn to your Henry VIII... Christ that's fucked up," she murmured before shaking her head, "Anyways, do you know what you wanna do?"

He sighed, "I'm probably gonna just do the usual: flowers, an apology, the works. If that doesn't work, I don't know what will."

"Hold up, why do you have to apologize?" she asked, grabbing a couple mugs and finding some chamomile tea.

Steve shrugged, messing with the zipper of his grey bomber jacket, "I don't know, 'cause I called her bullshit while I was sober? It doesn't matter. You've just been really helpful so far, and I know it's a lot, but I just want you to help me out a bit here."

There was a long pause as Annie thought about it. If Nancy really didn't love Steve, wouldn't that just hurt him more when she rejected him? Or even worse, what if she just got back with him despite not having feelings for Steve? No, she didn't know the guy super well, but he had already been so kind to her. All the same, Annie had a good feeling that Steve was going to do this with or without her help.

She sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter, "Alright, fine. I'll help you out with all this."

"You're the best!" Steve replied, grinning, "You know, I think this might just work. She really likes red roses, they're her favorite, actually."

A little while later, they were both sitting in the living room, drinking tea. Granted, Steve probably didn't need it, but she would have felt awkward trying to calm down by drinking tea while Steve just sat there. Besides, there was no reason to rush going anywhere since he came over around lunchtime. If they jumped the gun, who knew where Nancy would have been. Though, what really seemed to grind Steve's gears was that Nancy ditched with Jonathan. Something that had to have been a point of contention in the past. Not that she had any idea.

It wasn't her place to ask. She figured that Steve would talk and open up about things when he felt it was a good time. Asking pressing questions wasn't going to do her any good.

"So... are we gonna talk about your… um... episode?" Steve asked, breaking the silence.

Annie swallowed some of her tea, "What about it? I had a nightmare."

"You threw a book at me. If you had a nightmare that seemed real... that's not good," he said, running a hand through his hair, "Look, I uh... if you need to talk to someone, I kinda get it."

She arched a brow, "How could you get it?"

"Uh... it's not important. Just, you've already done a lot for me, you can talk to me, okay?"

"It's um... so it's this recurring nightmare," she started, staring at her almost empty mug, "I'm in the house and the power kicks off and then things get weird. Like, one time there were vines everywhere and it was all cold and slimy. It looked like it was snowing. And um... well, the one I just woke up from I was covered in these slugs? But they weren't slugs, they had legs and they were crawling all over me and um... yeah."

Steve set his cup on the table, "Annie... are these things actually just you in your sleep?"

"Uh... um yeah, of course," she lied, "I'm probably just stressed being alone all the time."

He sighed, licking his lips, "You're absolutely sure? You're not seeing this stuff while you're awake?"

"Well... no... but um, but what if I did?" she asked, starting to grip her mug tightly.

How did he know she was seeing things? This had to be some elaborate prank. Or maybe the house really was haunted. That stupid kid could have been right.

Steve frowned, "Then we need to get you the hell out of here. Your cat too."

She blinked and sat back in her chair a moment, "What do you mean? Why?"

"I can't tell you... not right here, we gotta get you out. Come on, you can stay over at my place, my parents are never home. You can have the guest room, I'll help you get some stuff," he said, already standing up.

Whatever it was that was going on, Annie had absolutely no idea. All she knew was that Steve seemed to have an air of tension and fear that she hadn't seen before. A part of her wanted to call his bluff and say that he was just screwing around in some super technical and sadistic prank. However, as they rushed to get her things together, she started to realize he was being serious. Which made everything she had dealt with the last few days all the more worrying. If she wasn't hallucinating, then what was going on?

What were those things that crawled all over her? She wanted to ask Steve, but he was busy helping get her cat so they could get out faster. Before she could comprehend any part of what was happening, they were in Steve's BMW. Erik meowed periodically as Steve sped off.

He sighed, obviously trying to not appear more freaked out than he was, "Look, I... I don’t know if I can explain all this to you without getting us both killed... fuck I thought we figured this out already."

"What're you even talking about? I'm playing along with all this, but I really need you to explain everything," she said, clutching her fidgety cat close to her chest.

Steve shook his head, soon pulling up to his house, "We don't have much time for that. Come on, let's get your stuff inside."

"Um... are we gonna still try and get you back with Nancy?"

"What? No, we don't have time for that!" he exclaimed, getting out of the car, "Wait, she might know what to do, actually."

Annie rolled her eyes, "Then get the damn flowers, apologize, get back in her good graces or whatever, and try to figure out what the hell's going on!"

"Will you chill out? I'm trying to put all this together!" Steve exclaimed, "Sorry... I know this is probably really stressful for you."

She huffed, setting a dufflebag and then Erik down before shrugging off her backpack, "You know, it might be the tiniest bit less stressful for me if you would tell me what the ever-living fuck is going on! I tell you I'm seeing stuff that’s apparently real and you tell me to get out of my house without telling me why! Now are you gonna tell me what's wrong?"

"Fine, fine, you're right. I just don't know how to explain it quickly. But all you need to know is there's another dimension and there's people-eating monsters in it and your house was flip-flopping back and forth for whatever reason… at least, I think that’s what you were talking about. That's really dangerous, but we'll figure it out," he said, going to put a hand on her shoulder, "And um... you can't tell anyone else otherwise the government's gonna kill you and your parents and your cat and anyone else you care about."

Annie stepped back, crossing her arms, "You're kidding, right? Please tell me you're joking. That doesn't even make any sense! Do you realize how little sense that makes?"

"I know... but if you didn't believe me then why did you let me do this?"

"Um... I... fine, maybe there's something to all this. Let's get the fucking flowers."

Perhaps Steve had a point, she did kind of believe him. Mainly because it was the only explanation, albeit convoluted, to all the things happening in her house that didn't make her seem crazy. He seemed concerned enough for her and for himself for saying all the things he had. They made a quick stop at the grocery store so Steve could pick up the roses. After that, Steve pulled up to what she assumed was Nancy's house.

She gave him a small, assuring smile, "You've got this. Make up with your girlfriend and we'll go from there."

"Yeah. I can do this," he said, getting out of the car and closing the door behind him.

Now Annie was rooting for him more than she originally had. Mainly out of hope that Steve was right in assuming Nancy would know what to do. However, as she watched, she watched their plan grind to a halt thanks to some kid.

Tag List (let me know if you would like to join): @dungeons-and-demodogs​ @jxnehxpper​ @ilovebucketbarnes

[ofendlesswonder]

#50 for the prompt thing. Supercat please ♥️

50. “People are staring.”

Kara isn’t exactly hoping to run into Cat when she’s summoned to Washington D.C. for a missiondebrief, but when she spots her as she’s leaving the Oval Office, she can’t exactly say that she’s disappointed.

Cat looks as amazing as ever, dressed in a pair of dark pants and a white blouse, a black blazer thrown over the top and her hair perfectly curled, striding down the hallway like she owns the place and, Karacan’t help but wonder, as she watches her approach, if one day she will – she wouldn’t be surprised if Cat was planning on announcing a presidential bid,come the next election.

“Supergirl.” Cat doesn’t look surprised to see her asshe pauses in-front of her, hands slipping into her pant pockets as she tilts her head up to meet Kara’s gaze. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you, Ms Grant.” It feels like an eternity sincethey’d last seen on another in person (Kara tunes in to the White House press briefings, sometimes, because Cat’s running commentary is always anentertaining one), but the years fade away into an easy sort of familiarity that only working so closely together for so many years can bring. “How haveyou been?”

“Oh, you know.” Cat lifts one shoulder in a delicateshrug. “Always busy putting out the next fire. Though I’m sure you can relate.”

Kara hasn’t exactly been short of those, lately, andshe’s sure that her wish for a quieter 2020 won’t be granted.

“Ms Grant,” a woman appears at Cat’s shoulder, atablet in her hands, “here are the last minute changes you asked for.”

Cat’s new assistant, then, and Kara can’t help butsize her up as Cat scans over the words on the tablet screen. She’s a similar age to Kara, and she wonders, hiding a smile, if she’d changed Cat’s opinion onmillennials. She looks nervous as she waits for Cat’s response, and Kara wonders how much the poor girl has already been yelled at today, or if Cat hasgrown mellow since she’d left CatCo for pastures anew.

“Good.” Cat’s voice is brusque as she hands the tablet back to the woman. “Tell them I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“Yes, Ms Grant.” The woman scurries away withoutanother word, and Cat sighs as she watches her go.

“Good help is so hard to find,” she mutters, eyes onher retreating assistant’s back, and when she turns back to Kara there’s the hint of a knowing smirk on her lips that Kara pretends not to notice.

(Even though the last time she’d seen Cat, the ‘go get them, Supergirl’ had been perfectly audible).

“I should let you get to your briefing,” Kara decides,because as much as she’d like to spend the rest of her day with Cat, she knows the other woman probably has a busy schedule ahead of her.

“If you have an hour or so to spare,” Cat seemsreluctant to let her go so easily, “you could wait in my office for me? It’d be nice to have a drink. Catch up.”

“I… okay.” She’s surprised by the invitation, but shecan’t bring herself to turn it down, not when seeing Cat again has been like a breath of fresh air – she’d pushed all thoughts of her former boss down deep(and even deeper still when she’d sold the company, because that, as irrational as she knew it was, stung like a betrayal) when she’d left, and she’d almostforgotten how much she enjoyed spending time with the other woman.

When she wasn’t being yelled at, anyway.

“It’s this way.”

Kara falls into step beside Cat as she sets off down the hall at what can only be described as a march, Kara struggling to keep up even with her longer legs. The halls are bustling with people, who fall silent asthey pass them by, curious eyes watching them go, and Kara shifts uncomfortably under the weight of their gaze.

“Something wrong, Supergirl?” Cat asks, as she pauses beside a heavy wooden door, the plaque beside it indicating that this is Cat’s office,and when Kara glances through the open doorway, she finds quite a different space from the one she’d occupied at CatCo, but one that is distinctly CatGrant, all the same.

“I… yeah, it’s just… people are staring.” Kara glances over her shoulder as she says it, and the huddle of people opposite them quickly look away.

“Because it’s not every day that Supergirl walks down these halls,” Cat replies, ushering Kara inside the room and pulling the door shut behind them.

“But… the President walks these halls every day.” Surely the person wielding the most power should garner the most attention. Political power, anyway – Kara’s pretty sure she could beat the President in a fist fight even without her powers.

“Yes, well, people do tend to expect that to happen in the White House.” Cat looks amused as she grabs something from her desk. “Superheroes, on the other hand, are a bit harder to come by.”

Kara supposes that she’s right, but that doesn’t really set her more at ease, and she’s glad she’s now hidden from view.

 “I really should get going – feel free to make yourself at home,” Cat says, heading towards the door, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. “I’ll be back soon.”

She shuts the door behind her, and silence echoes around her as she glances around the room. There’s a screen behind Cat’s desk, an echo of her wall of screens from CatCo, muted but showing the podium that she knows Cat will take her place behind shortly. The desk is cluttered, like Kara remembers, and she smiles as she catches a glimpse of a framed photograph of Cat and Carter, her son now towering over her, his blonde curls unruly as he grins atthe camera.

The view out of the windows is much less impressive than Kara is used to, looking out into the White House grounds rather than the city skyline, so Kara settles for watching Cat’s press conference, instead, easing herself down into one of the chairs behind Cat’s desk, and resisting the urge to kick her boots onto the top of it.

The sound of the door opening startles her, and Kara whirls around to find the girl from before frozen in the doorway, blinking at Kara with stunned surprise.

“Oh, sorry.” Kara jumps to her feet and throws a reassuring smile her way. “Cat said I could wait for her in here.”

“T-that’s okay, Ms Supergirl.”

“Just Supergirl is fine, thank you.” The girl could barely look her in the eye, and Kara wonders how someone so meek could survive as Cat’s assistant – but then, people had probably thought the same thing about her, when she’d started. “You work for Cat?”

“I’m her assistant.” She runs a nervous hand through her hair before inching further into the room and dropping down behind the other, smaller desk in the room, and Kara wonders how well she would have fared, sharing an office with Cat. “Sophie.” She holds her hand out towards Kara, and she takes it, shaking it firmly. “Could I… would it be alright if I asked foryour autograph? My little sister loves you, it would literally make her year.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” It’s been years, but she still isn’t used to this side of her job, and doesn’t think she ever will be. “What’s your sister’s name?” Kara asks, as Sophie scrambles for a pen and a pad of paper.

“Emily.”

Kara scribbles a quick message before signing her name, and she’s handing it back to Sophie when the door is pushed open, Cat striding through a moment later – Sophie jumps at the sound, and Cat pauses when she sees Kara hand back the pen.

“Sophia,” Cat begins, and Kara tries not to smile, because it’s nice to know that some things never get old, “are you harassing my guest?”

“N-no, Ms Grant.”

“Oh?” Cat arches an eyebrow, arms folding across her chest. “Then what’s that in your hand, hm? Because it looks suspiciously like anautograph.”

“It’s fine,” Kara interrupts, because Sophie looks like she might be about to cry. “Honestly.”

“Hm.” Cat purses her lips, but she doesn’t press. “Here.” Instead, she reaches into her pocket before brandishing a twenty dollar bill at her assistant. “Take this, and go and buy yourself something nice for lunch.”

“Ms Grant?” Sophie looks highly confused, and Kara bites her lip so she doesn’t chuckle at the look on her face.

“Are you deaf, Sophia?” Cat sounds exasperated, a tone that Kara is more than familiar with. “Go, before I change my mind. Oh,” Cat calls out when Sophie is almost through the door, “and bring me back a latte, please.”

“Yes, Ms Grant.” She scurries away, closing the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone, and Kara takes the opportunity to sink back down into the chair she’d been sitting in before.

“You always this hard on your assistants?” Kara asks, lips twitching as Cat leans back against her desk and kicks off her heels, as she’s been known to do after she’s been on her feet for too long.

“Only when they deserve it,” Cat answers smartly, and Kara grins. “So, Supergirl – how are things?”

“Busy,” Kara sighs, glad that J’onn and Alex have assured her that National City will be safe during her absence, meaning that she doesn’t have to rush back. “If everyone could just stop being evil for aminute, that would be really, really nice.”

“Have you tried asking the criminals nicely?” Cat snipes, and Kara had forgotten how much she enjoyed this, the easy way that Cat spoke to her when she was shrouded in the cape.

“No, but maybe I’ll try that next time.”

“See that you do.” There’s a soft smile on Cat’s lips, atwinkle in her eyes, and Kara wonders if she’s missed this as much as she has. “And how is CatCo?” Cat’s gaze turns challenging, then, a single eyebrowraising upwards, and Kara swallows.

“Ms Grant?”

“Are we still playing this silly game?” Cat sighs, liftingherself onto her desk in one easy movement, eyes never leaving Kara’s face. “After all this time?”

“I…” Kara trails off, worrying at her bottom lip, and she knows that Cat already knows, that she isn’t going to do anything untoward with her identity (because she’s had more than enough chances, over the years), and surely it shouldn’t be this difficult to admit it, when there are no consequences? “CatCo is fine,” Kara manages to force out, eventually, and Cat’s eyes flicker with interest. “Different, since you left. There have been a lot of changes.”

“For better or for worse?” Cat asks, and she almost looks like she’s afraid of finding out the answer.

“Definitely worse,” Kara murmurs, her voice soft. “It hasn’t been the same since you left.” She can scarcely remember what things were like, with Cat at the helm, it’s been so long, but she knows that it was definitely more interesting with Cat prowling the halls. “Do you miss it?”

“Every day,” Cat sighs, her voice sad. “Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do now, but… it’s just not the same.”

“You could come back,” Kara offers, but Cat gave a slow shake of her head.

“No, I couldn’t. Selling it saw to that.”

“Why did you sell it?” She has to ask, because it’s bothered her ever since she found out.

“So I wouldn’t give in to the temptation to come back,” Cat explains, fingers tapping against thesurface of her desk. “It would be a step backwards, and, much as I might miss it, there were reasons why I left, and none of those have changed.”

“Like?”

Cat purses her lips for one long moment, her eyes locked on Kara’s, an unreadable expression on her face. “I told you – I wanted a change.”

“Is that all?” Kara has to press, because she’s sure that hadn’t been what Cat was planning to say. “You said reasons. Plural.”

“So I did,” Cat replies, a note of finality in her voice,and Kara decides that’s the most she’s getting out of Cat on that particular subject.

“How’s Carter?” Kara asks, instead, watching as Cat’s lips twitch into a fond smile.

“He’s wonderful,” she answers, that light in her eyes that she gets whenever she thinks about her son. “It took him a little while to come around to the idea of moving out here, but he’s flourishing in his new school.”

“That’s good. He must be what, almost sixteen, now?”

“Next month, yes.” Cat looks touched that she’d remembered. “He’s all grown up – he even has a girlfriend.”

“And you?” Kara finds herself asking, even though she’s positive she doesn’t want to know the answer – her feelings for Cat had faded over time, but that doesn’t mean that she wants to hear about her falling in love with someone else.

“Forever single,” Cat answers, curtly. “I learned a long time ago that I don’t need to go home to someone else at night. Besides, I was never exactly very lucky in love.”

“Maybe you just hadn’t found the right person,” Karamurmurs, and Cat’s smile is soft.

“Or maybe I let them slip away,” she replies, and Kararaises a curious eyebrow, but Cat just shakes her head. “What about you, Supergirl? Got a guy waiting for you at home?”

“I haven’t exactly been very lucky in love, myself.” Her relationship with Mon-El has been her one and only, and it hadn’t exactly been easy for her to recover from him leaving. She’s had offers, since, but she’s yet to meet anyone that really sets her alight, makes her feel alive, even though she desperately wants that happiness that she’s seen her sister have,first with Maggie and now with Kelly. “And I’m not the safest person to be with,” she shrugs. “Maybe I’ll be forever single, too. We can start a club – spinsters only.”

“Watch it,” Cat cautions, but there’s a smile on her face.

“What, you don’t want to be in a club with me?” Karapretends to be offended. “How rude.”

“We’re already in a club,” Cat fires back, “of ‘mostpowerful women in the United States’. I may no longer be the queen of all media, but I still hold some sway.”

“How can you not, working in this place?” Kara gestures to the space around them. “Although the view is slightly less impressive.”

“Yes, well, some sacrifices did have to be made.” Cat looks out of her window more than a little wistfully. “Although, I - ”

The ringing of Kara’s phone interrupts whatever Cat had been about to say next, and Kara throws her an apologetic look as she pulls it out of the hidden compartment in her suit. “Sorry, but I have to take this,” she murmurs, when she sees Alex’s name on the screen. “Hey, is everything alright?”

“Uh, not really,” Alex answers, and Kara hears the sound of something explode in the background, justas the screen behind Cat’s head flickers to life on a news story – Kara recognises the city skyline immediately and jumps to her feet. “We have a situation.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” The monster fills half the screen, enormous in size, and Kara isn’t surprised that Alex had called. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Go,” Cat tells her, eyes wide as she takes in thedestruction being wrought in her former home. “Be a hero. And don’t be scared to come by again – perhaps the spinster club could start having monthlymeetings.”

“You got it,” Kara chuckles, and she surprises Cat bypulling her into a quick hug, allowing herself a few precious seconds to breathe the other woman in, to remember the feeling of her, warm and soft anddainty in Kara’s arms. “I don’t suppose that window opens?” She asks, when she steps back, and it takes Cat a moment to blink away the dazed look in her eyes.

“Ah, no. Security hazard.”

“Of course.” Kara turns toward the doorway, pausing before she speeds away. “Goodbye, Cat.”

“I’ll see you soon, Supergirl.”

She shoots Cat one last smile before darting down the hall, launching herself into the air as soon as she’s cleared the building and hurtling back towards National City, vowing, as she turns to take one last look at the White House before it disappears on the horizon, that she’ll make a return trip sooner rather than later.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #318

“what can you do, where can ya go, when your mama is a burnout, and your daddy is a pyro?”

Do you have your ears pierced more than once? Yeah. Do you use an electric toothbrush? Yes. When was the last time you changed in front of someone? Oh, I have no idea. That's something I avoid like the plague because I loathe my body. When was the last time you got high? Never. Do you get along with your parents? Yeah. How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? None. Have you ever used a Ouija board? No, I don't fuck with that stuff. Have you ever met anyone who claimed to be a witch? Yes. Do you go along with prank-callers, or just hang up? I don't answer numbers I don't recognize to begin with. Would you ever tattoo a lover’s name onto your body? Nooooo. Do you own any version of Guitar Hero? I have a lot of 'em. Do you use mouthwash every single day? No. Do you know anyone with asthma? Yeah, my mom. Have you ever walked through a forest at night on your own? Uh, no sir. When was the last time you were in a graveyard? It's been many, many years. Do you know what an ‘AMV’ is? Yep, used to make 'em. How many items are in your recycle bin? (On your computer!) Oh yikes, probably loads. I haven't emptied it in... I don't know how long. Would you rather be a bird or a fish? A bird. What’s one award show you have to watch every year? None. Who do you like more: the Batman or the Joker? Joker. Heath Ledger's is my favorite. Have you ever had a pet rock? No. How much do you weigh? Yeah, no. If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Taking nature photographs. Have you ever lost your luggage at an airport? No. Have you ever been on a rollercoaster that actually scared you? I don’t do roller coasters to begin with. Have you ever gone in a sauna? Ugh, hell no. Has a stray dog ever tried to bite you? No. Have you ever had an eating disorder? No. Are you attracted to people outside of your race? Yes. Are you in love with anyone at the moment? No. Have you ever dated someone more than once? No. Best cough drop? Those creamy strawberry ones. If you have a pet, does it make a lot of noise? One's a snake, so she's silent as could be. My cat is generally quiet, but he has his times where he just walks around meowing, normally for attention. Are you a fan of eyeshadow? If I actually wear makeup, yeah, I like black eyeshadow. Can you tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi? Absolutely. I don't like Pepsi. Would you feel funny if you kissed somebody of the same sex? Done it before, didn't feel weird. Besides furniture, what’s the biggest thing in your bedroom? A Silent Hill poster. Which of your friends makes you laugh the hardest? Girt. Have you ever been in a Catholic confessional? Yeah, as a kid. What color was the hair of the last person you kissed? Brown. What was the title of the last song you listened to? So today I've really been digging dark synthwave/cyberpunk-ish music, and right now I have a playlist on that's currently playing "DNA War" by Absolute Valentine and Billy Mays. How far away is the closest Walmart? Not even five minutes. Can you do a backflip? No. Who is the lead singer of your favorite band? Well, Ozzy is the lead singer of Ozzy Osbourne, haha. When was the last time you went fishing? Not since Sara visited and we went catfishing with my dad one night. What brand of deodorant do you use? Secret. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? Yes. Do you regret it? Nah. Who was the last person to buy you a drink? My mom, lmaoooo. Who was the last person to buy you dinner? Also my mom, haha. How old is the oldest person you’ve dated? Juan's maybe like... 28 or something by now, idk. Have you ever run a stoplight? No. Have you ever dated someone & then dated their sibling? YIKES, no. That sounds miles beyond awkward. Are both your parents still living? Yeah, thankfully. What’s something that makes you feel more creative? Music, for sure. Do you collect Mason jars to use for crafts? No, but I do find those super cute. What gives you a quality of life? Not much nowadays, idk. What would give you a high quality of life? A sense of purpose, direction, and worth. Do you have any rugs on top of carpet in your home? We have a big one in our living room, yes. I don't get it. Do you have a mattress cover on your bed? Yeah. Do you hate taking naps during the day? No; naps are normal for me. Who has the best personality on YouTube? Maybe I'm biased, but I genuinely do think Mark for a multitude of reasons. He's just extremely likable imo and sincerely a fucking spectacular human being. Do you have any vinyl records? No, but I would love to collect classic rock and metal ones. Which serial killer(s) do you find most fascinating? I'm quite honestly not well-informed in serial killer stories. I think they're interesting, but not enough for me to learn about them. Have you ever visited any celebrity gravesites? No. How do you feel about archaeology? It's fuckin dope. Any animals whose behaviors you find particularly interesting? ALL OF THEM AHHHH!!!!! But I particularly love learning about social animals, like meerkats (mongoose in general, really), African wild dogs, wolves, etc. What are your thoughts on gun control? I don't support the idea of banning firearms altogether, but I am very much in favor of some reform. There needs to be a much, much more strict and complex system in order for you to legally own a gun, and I also support periodic "check ups" to ensure you still fit whatever criteria is laid out. "Bad people will still find guns;" yes, some most certaintly will, but you can't convince me that the numbers wouldn't decrease. It would take a serious villain to put so much effort into pursuing obtaining a firearm. Do you like animals better than most humans? Sure do. Have you ever had to block people online for harassing you? I've blocked people to prevent that. If you collect anything, what is your favorite piece of that collection? I cherish the plush meerkat Jason gave me most, probably; out of my Silent Hill stuff, the limited edition Revelation flyer I have in Japanese. Are you friends with anybody you didn’t like at first? Hi, meet my best friend lmao. Are there any musicians you didn’t like at first, but grew on you? Probably. Do you have any favorite books you’d like to have signed by the author? Not really. Well wait, Ozzy signing my copy of his autobiography would be pretty damn cool. Do you like any board games or card games? I'm not really a board game fan, but Magic: The Gathering is fun as far as card games go. What historical figure(s) are you most interested in? I'm not incredibly interested in any, but I do think Pharaoh Hatshepsut was a bad bitch. She was one of the extremely few female pharaohs, and if my memory serves me right, one of the most successful. Do you like Breaking Benjamin? I sure do. How many people of the opposite sex have you told you loved them? One. Have you ever had to change your phone number? Yes, because I was getting strange texts from numbers I didn't know. Have you ever played bingo at an actual bingo hall? No. What’s your favourite comic book/graphic novel? I don’t read any. What is something you take pride in? How far I've come as far as my mental illnesses go, particularly depression and PTSD. What’s the biggest magnet on your fridge? I'm not getting up to go look. Have you ever eaten a Big Mac? No; I hate lettuce on burgers, so. What brand is your vaccuum cleaner? Dunno. Do you believe in sex before marriage? Sure, but I don't believe it's a must for everyone. Plenty of people don't even want to get married. Be intimate once you're comfortable with the person, and be safe and smart about it. Are you for or against abortion? I'm pro-choice. Do you feel like you need to lose weight? It's fact that I need to. My body just doesn't want to, afuckingpparently. All I seem to be capable of is either maintain or gain nowadays. Is summer your favorite season? It's my least favorite, actually. Do you wear glasses? I'm basically blind without 'em. Can you say the alphabet in more than one language? Yeah, in German. What do you want out of life? To feel like I made a difference, even if it's a small one. Do you ever get carsick? No. Do you groom your eyebrows? Not really anymore, no. Have you ever liked someone who treated you badly? No. When was the last time you went in the car past midnight? Oh boy, probably not since I had my cyst in I think '16. I was in so much agony and we had no painkillers, so I had to wake up Mom to go to Walmart to grab some. They barely even helped at all. God, I couldn't imagine dealing with that again. Were your last two kisses with the same person? Yes. Do you have alcohol in your house? I don't think we do right now, no. Do you have any personal fashion rules that revolve around your own preferences/body type (e.g., you never/always wear a certain color, sleeve type, or length of dress)? Yeah; I don't wear anything that shows my legs unless I shaved, but I will never wear a dress that isn't at least past my knees. Do you remember any celebrity whose style you admired when you were a teen? What do you think of that style now? Avril Lavigne was/is an ICON. I still think she looks badass. So, is it gif with a hard G or soft G? I used to say the opposite, but I say "gif" now. Apparently that's how the creator of the term says it anyway. When you are invited to things like wedding showers or baby showers do you tend to go or skip? What about graduation parties? If Mom is able to take me, I'll try to go to the first two if they're my closer friends. Do you like spicy chips? Oh FUCK yes. What’s the last movie you watched at a friend’s house? Elf with Sara's fam. Can you remember your parents’ birthdays? Mom's, yes. Dad's, only the month. Do you read your friends' surveys? Yep, I love learning about them. Do you know anyone with a glass eye? Not to my knowledge, no. Do you ever use the n-word? Absolutely not. What piercing do you like most on the opposite sex? I tend to like lip piercings. Do you prefer beef, chicken or steak? Chicken. Ever spent the night in a tent? Yeah, multiple times as a kid, "camping" in the yard with Dad, haha. What do you call your grandparents? I called both sets just "Grammy" and "Grampa." Have you ever cried while reading a book? Oh, certainly. How many college degrees do you want? I got none, and I'm not going back to college. Do you know how to play pool? What about foosball? Yes. Have you ever attended a professional sporting event? Yeah, hockey with my dad a few times. Do you own any jerseys? No. Were you born with naturally straight teeth? No; that's why I had braces. If you were the opposite gender, what name would you like to be called? Maybe like... Victor. Idk. Do you prefer original or sour Skittles? I love both, but sour. Do you like bacon bits on your salad? Yeah. What is your favorite kind of soup? I'm not a soup person. Did you learn to type through a computer program for kids? Yeah. What do you take for pain? Advil/Ibuprofen. What is your favorite place that you’ve lived? My pre-teen and teenage years house: in the woods on a dead-end road and down a gravel path that everyone always missed when learning where our house was. The actual road itself had very, very little traffic, and there was a large expanse of cotton fields. I loved it and miss the house itself, but it's got a lot of bad memories rotting in it. Who are your favorite kids that you’ve babysat? My niece and nephew. <3 Who is your favorite cousin? I don't have a favorite. We barely interact at all. Does one side of your family live in another state? Literally none of my extended family (or half-siblings) live in NC. What states did your parents grow up in? New York and Ohio. Have you ever had an allergic reaction to an insect? No. Is there a good hospital where you live? God no. It is notoriously awful. When was the last time you were asked out? Did you accept or decline? Mid-2017. I aceepted. Does your job allow piercings or tattoos? N/A Do you want to get married? If so, what color will your dress be? Yeah. Probably white/ivory or black. Ever had a caricature done of yourself? How much was it, and were you satisfied with it? No. Do you like peanut butter and fluff sandwiches? No, I don't like the texture. If you got married and then got divorced, would you want to re-marry? Probably not. What’s your favorite amusement park? I haven't been to nearly enough to know. Do you play video games? If so, what kind? Yeah. My favorite are horror games, but I also love me some story-driven survival games like The Last of Us, and then there's "kids" games like Spyro, etc. I like a looot of different kinds. Would you buy used clothes? I don't think so. I know it's easy to wash clothes and stuff, I'd just still feel kinda... grossed out by it.

[multifandomhaven]

Tip IV

A/N: There is a slight WARNING for this chapter - there's some unwarranted touching in this one - nothing explicit, but it is workplace harassment.

Nacho Varga x OC

Sarah and Tessa, her favorite young, broody co-worker covered the evening rush, and although Sarah kept her cheer about her, Tessa's had quickly soured. She wasn't one for appeasing anyone, but the customers that came in demanding their food in an untimely fashion drove her to the brink of insanity. Sarah was supposed to train her - show her the ins and outs, groom her in the art of customer satisfaction, but it seemed the teenager had other plans.

Sarah had already lost count of how many times she chided her for openly rolling her eyes in the face of the customers.

Days turned to weeks, and, little by little, Tessa warmed up to the older woman. She started cracking jokes, sinister and a little dark, but they made Sarah's day all the same. She really liked Tessa - it was a shock, initially, at how fast they bonded, but it was more than welcome by the owners. They were serious advocates for 'Teamwork makes the dream work', so to say they were pleased might be the understatement of the century.

Doug, on the other hand, detested the young girl - and he made it painfully obvious. Sneering at her every word, snapping at her for the smallest of things.

It made Sarah's blood boil, and although she didn't want to get on his bad side she wouldn't stand for him bullying the newest team member.

"You're in an good mood," Tessa observed from her seat behind the register. She blew a big, pink bubble then popped it loudly. "Like, an eerily good mood."

Sarah kept her eyes on the table as she scrubbed the worn rag over it, her ears rising with her grin. She chanced a glance up at the young girl who was looking at her with an expectant gleam in her eyes and shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about, Tess."

"You're practically beaming," Tessa shot back. "It's kind of disgusting."

Sarah shook her head lightly and moved the the chairs to the side so she could do a through sweep of the floors. "You have a very overactive imagination."

"Oh my God, you go laid." Tessa made a noise in her throat, as if she couldn't believe Sarah existed outside the diner. "What's his name?"

"Tessa!" Sarah gasped in shock but couldn't fight the blush that crept up when she thought of a certain pair of brown eyes. The very same ones she'd been lost in just a few days prior. "You're insane. I don't know what or who exactly it is you're referring to."

"Him," Tessa said pointedly, gesturing in the general direction of the door. "That's him, right?"

Sarah's head shot up and she glanced out the door, her eyes instantly locked to the shop across the road from them. Her brows were furrowed and she turned back to Tessa who was looking like the cat who cat the canary. "What are you-"

"Well, well," Tessa drawled, her inky lips curling on one side. "It's guy with the snake earring, huh? The one that comes in and flirts with you on an almost daily basis. I mean I guess he is kinda hot. If you have a thing for bald guys."

Sarah couldn't help the laugh that bubbled from her. "You're an idiot."

"Hey," the girl grinned and held her hands up in defense. "I'm not here to judge your middle aged mistakes."

A loud bang from the back made them both startle. Sarah turned to see Doug staring through the window of the kitchen, his wide eyes locked onto her own. The muscle in his jaw ticked as he grit his teeth before speaking. "That's enough gossip, ladies. You're at work, not in the hen house."

"There's nothing else to do, Doug," Tessa argued blankly. "The diner is empty. No customers, no running of the register. And hen house, really?"

Doug didn't blink, but his face grew red. "Then find something."

Tessa sighed dramatically and then turned on the stool, her gaze back on Sarah. She mouthed 'asshole' before she strode off to find something to clean.

Sarah walked slowly over to the window, a small, friendly smile on her face. She leaned against the wall beside the window before she spoke. "Don't be so hard on her Doug, she's just a kid."

"She's working in my diner," he said, puffing his chest out. His eyes roamed over her face, and then down to her chest. "Besides, she's distracting you."

Sarah instinctively crossed her arms over herself, clearing her throat. "She's fine, I'm training her, remember?"

Doug nodded, his eyes hooded as he drank her in. "I remember."

"Okay, then," Sarah said, uncomfortable with his gaze on her. "I'm going to get back to it."

The rest of the day was uneventful. Tessa made quick work of the orders, sliding in a rude comment or dramatic sigh where she could, and Sarah was sure to clean each table as soon as the customer left. It was a good system they had going, and before they knew it it was closing time. Tessa had already counted down the register and Sarah was nearly finished with the windows.

"You can go ahead and leave," Sarah told Tessa lightly. "I only have to mop and I'm out of here, too."

Tessa paused by her side, eyeing her through her thick fringe. "You sure?"

"I'm sure," Sarah assured her with a pat on her arm. "You're a teenager, it's a Friday night. Go have some fun."

"Wow, thanks Sarah." Tessa said, almost sincerely. "Maybe you're not so bad. For an old lady, anyway."

"I'm twenty-five," Sarah exclaimed, swatting her with the clean cloth she pulled from her apron. "Get out of here before I change my mind."

Tessa laughed her way out of the diner, waving to Sarah as she drove away.

Sarah finished the windows in record time and then, reluctantly, went the back to fill the mop bucket.

While she ran the water she looked around for the antibacterial cleaner the owners insisted she used on the floors. She knelt and rifled through the bottom set of cabinets, raising her brow at the insane amount of window cleaner they'd somehow stockpiled - she had lost count after the twentieth container. She stood back up, her knees cracking with the movement, and Tessa's jab at her made her wonder if she really was becoming an 'old lady'.

Sarah's lips twitched - the girl's spunky attitude reminded her so much of her sister back home.

Sarah let her mind wander back to her hometown as she scanned at shelving over the counter, straining her neck to look for what she needed. She stepped back just a bit and it was then she saw it - sitting there on the top shelf the bright yellow container almost smiled back at her.

Sarah raised onto her tiptoes, arm reaching out for the top shelf of the cabinet where the bottle of cleaner sat. Pushing herself closer against the wooden doors below she grazed the sleek bottle with her fingertip, cursing loudly when it fell with a loud thump.

"Need some help?" A voice croaked behind her.

Sarah gasped, her heart leaping into her throat. She turned and nearly shuddered. "Doug, you scared me."

He grinned and placed his yellow latex covered gloves on his hips, crinkling his filthy, damp apron tied haphazardly around his waist. His eyes were narrowed onto her heaving chest, a hungry look on his face. He inhaled deeply, his eyes never leaving her. "Mmm."

Sarah blinked, not aware as to what she should say so she simply swallowed the lump in her throat at the noise he made, and turned to reach for the cleaner once more. She stretched her hand out, her fingers brushing the bottom of bottle just so when she felt him press against her back, filthy wet apron and all, trapping her tightly between the counter and his own body.

"D-Doug, I've got it." Sarah's hands came down between her hips and the wood and she tried to push back to no avail. "Doug, move."

"Let me help you," his breath puffed against her ear as he whispered. "I can help you."

"Move," she ordered again, pushing back against him again in an attempt to get a little space between her hips and the wood that bit into them. Doug made a grumble in his chest and grabbed her waist, his gloved fingertips moving slowly to the hem of her shirt, biting into her skin, his hold so tight it made her eyes water.

"Doug!" Her heart beat erratically in her chest as panic seized her mind. Her arms felt like lead and she found she no longer had the energy to shove away from him so she sunk limply onto the counter, tears pooling in her eyes but never falling. "Doug, move. Please."

The man laughed, removing his hands from her, then he reached up to the cleaner she needed just a few moments before. "Here ya go."

Sarah plucked it from his hand and dashed back to the front, her legs trembling with every step. She poured almost the entire container into the bucket, her breath still leaving her in short, heavy puffs. With every breath she took she willed herself to swallow her emotions - only a few more minutes and it would all be over. Sloppily, she raked the mop over the floors, uncaring of how the water pooled on the floor in big puddles.

She just wanted to be home.

Once she finished she hastily dumped the dirty water down the drain, leaving the bucket sitting behind the counter. She pulled her dark apron over her head, tossing it onto the bar and all but ran to the door, desperation filling her. She almost slipped on a stray puddle, but righted herself with a table by the door.

Footsteps sounded from the back and she bit her lip to keep from sobbing. "Leaving?"

She stilled, her grip like iron on the table she clutched onto for support. She didn't turn as she spoke. "Yes."

"See you soon, Sarah," he crooned. "Have a good night."

Sarah shivered and rushed out the door, the warm summer breeze nearly stealing the breath from her lungs. She fished her phone out of her pocket quickly, flipping it open and clicking on Nacho's name faster than she even thought was possible. She kept her gaze trained to the inside of the diner, not wanting to risk Doug sneaking up on her again.

He answered on the second ring. "Nacho."

Sarah inhaled nosily, her chest tight. "H-Hey. It's me."

"Sarah?" He asked quietly. "You finished with work?"

She shivered, her eyes trained on the inside of the diner, making sure Doug wasn't near. Her hands were still trembling and she felt her heartbeat in her fingertips. "Uh, yeah... I-"

"Sarah, are you good?" She heard him shuffling around, then the sound of a sewing machine. "Do you need me to come over?"

"Could you take me home?" Her voice cracked and her bottom lip trembled violently. "Please?"

"I'm coming over now," he said softy. "I'll be right there."

Sarah sniffed a thank you and disconnected the call.

And then she sobbed.

[lizzy-bennet]

I’ll Make Myself at Home (And He’ll Want Me to Stay)

Fandom/Pairing: Gotham / Batcat

Length: 1.6k

Warnings: None, except for the fact that this is the first fic I’ve ever written.

Summary: Bruce doesn’t expect to find Selina in his kitchen, kneeling on the countertops, and rifling through the upper cupboards.

But the thing about stray cats is that they tend to remember who was nice to them and who fed them. They keep track of things like that.

Or: Selina breaks into Bruce’s house and he cooks for her. It’s a thing with them.

When Bruce Wayne comes home from a meeting at Wayne Enterprises he doesn’t expect to find Selina Kyle in his kitchen. And he certainly doesn’t expect to see her perched on top of the counters, rifling through the upper cupboards.

But nevertheless, there she is, with her black leather jacket and wild, rain-dusted curls, irreverently resting her worn boots against the expensive granite countertop and pawing through the shelves like an unimpressed cat.

He enters the kitchen soundlessly, and though she doesn’t bother to turn around, they both know that she knows he’s there.

“Do you not have any cereal in your house?” she asks in lieu of an actual greeting.

“Hi to you too, Selina,” he says, slipping off his coat and hanging it on the back of a kitchen chair.

Part of him wants to ask how she got in without triggering his newly updated security system, but he doesn’t bother. She was never one to give away her secrets, and if knowing her for years has taught him anything, it’s that if she’s determined to, she can get in even where smoke can’t.

So instead he says, “What are you looking for?”

“A snack. One that’s not weird,” she clarifies, pausing to turn her head toward him for the first time since he entered the kitchen, and he feels his breath catch ever so slightly, like it’s stalled somewhere behind his collarbone, like it always does whenever her green eyes land on him. “Do you have any cheese that doesn’t stink or is in a freaking wheel? Why is it even in a wheel? Is it a rich person thing? Doesn’t really smell any better than the kind you can get in a can.”

Bruce frowns. “You can get cheese in a can?”

“Yes, Bruce,” she says, rolling her eyes as she swivels around to fully face him. “Some of us are normal. Not all of us can be billionaires who can afford Italian castles and fancy cheeses.”

“Chalet. In Switzerland,” he says almost absently as he takes her in. He’s corrected her so many times he knows she must know the difference by now and is just messing with him. It’s become something of a comfortable old routine for them.

“Wow, I stand corrected,” she says, and he can practically hear the sarcasm dripping off her voice as she twists around again to continue her rummaging. “Chalets definitely fall under normal guy territory.”

She picks up some kind of box from the right side of the cupboard and looks it over, but whatever it is, it not must not impress her, because she wrinkles her nose and unceremoniously chucks the box back in.

He rolls his eyes.

“Get off the counter,” he says. “I’ll cook you something.”

There’s a slight sparkle in her eye that suggests that this was her plan all along, but Bruce can’t really bring himself to care if he’s taken the bait and walked right into her trap. They never seem to be able to spend enough time together lately. An hour here, a minute there, a handful of late night meetings on rooftops. All of those add up, he supposes, but not to as much as he’d like.

He stands there, waiting for her to get off the counter, his dark eyes staring into her light ones, until finally her lips curve up into a smirk and she slowly slides off the counter without breaking eye contact, as if she wants him to know that she’s only getting off the counter because it’s her choice, that she’s humoring him because it amuses her.

Such a cat, he thinks, and isn’t at all surprised when she hops up to sit on the edge of the kitchen table instead.

“You don’t really have to, you know,” she says after a moment, and there isn’t any trace of guilt or sheepishness in her voice, but there’s something in her gaze, or maybe in her tone, that tells him that she only wants him to cook for her if he really wants to, not because she’s goaded him into it.

“It’s fine,” he says as he rolls up his sleeves and heads to the fridge. There’s very little that he won’t do for the girl currently sitting in his kitchen. She really doesn’t have to orchestrate breaking into his house and rummaging through the cupboards to get him to cook for her. All she needs to do is ask, and there’s a small part of him that aches at knowing that she still isn’t used to that, isn’t used to just being able to ask and have someone willing to help. But he will. He always will for her.

One day, he thinks, glancing back at her, one day he’ll make her realize it. # There’s something nice about watching Bruce cook, Selina decides, watching as he flips bacon with a spatula and listens as it sizzles in the pan. It’s soothing. Soothing enough that she actually finds herself sliding off the kitchen table and onto a proper chair at the end of the table just so she can get a better view. The thing is, no one has ever taken care of her, not really. Bruce grew up with three people who loved him and cared for him and, well, Selina didn’t. She’s been looking out for herself for as far back as she can remember. Normal things, like having someone to cook for her or protect her, seem like luxuries she’s never really been allowed to have. She still remembers how shocked she was back when Bruce first cooked for her. To know that he cooked for her specifically. And though she’d rather carve out her tongue than admit it out loud, she’d be lying if she said she hasn’t taken every opportunity since then to get him to do it again.

Like today.

Bruce places the bacon onto a bed of crisp lettuce and fresh tomato and some kind of bread that she doesn’t know the name of but looks fancier and more delicious than the kind of cheap pre-sliced white bread she normally gets for herself, and slides the plate over to her. For a moment she lets her carefully crafted poker face slip and beams at him as she grabs the BLT.

She’s used to people doing her favors only because they want something in return, knows that most kindness comes with strings attached, but Bruce isn’t like that. She bites into her sandwich content with the knowledge that it was freely given, that she doesn’t have to worry about what he expects back from her. You can’t always count on that in her world, but she knows she can count on this boy. This boy who’s willing to cook for her when she shows up out of the blue to harass him, this boy who came into her life by chance and turned everything she’s ever known on its head since then, this boy that she...that she lo-

She can’t finish the thought. Can’t fully form it in her head. But it’s there, just the same. She feels it like it’s something physical, and she knows it like a fact. It’s scary and exhilarating all at once, like the first time she ever jumped from one roof to another. She remembers the exact moment she was first airborne, and it felt like time had slowed down and suspended her in the sky, and then how it felt like she was falling, even though she was really just landing. She had wanted to scream and laugh all at once and her heart had pounded in her chest and a smile had spread across her face because she’d never felt so alive.

That’s how Bruce makes her feel. She glances up from the sandwich to him, to find that he’s watching her with a slight smile on his lips and softness in his eyes. He has no business looking at her like that, she thinks. Gazes like that are meant for girls who are made of silk and softness and light, not girls like her who are made of sharp edges and dark nights and who literally wear claws at the tips of their fingers.

And yet he is looking at her like that. And there it is again, her heart pounding in her chest like she’s making her first jump again, and there’s something electric in her blood and a smile that’s threatening to spill across her face.

He cocks his head, and his eyes search hers. “What are you thinking about?” he asks.

She’s thinking that the world is full of rotten luck and unhappy endings. She’s thinking that the entire city is a flaming wreck, but if she’s happened to meet him and they’ve managed to stay in each other’s lives this long and he looks at her like that, maybe it’s proof that there are miracles after all.

But she doesn’t say that. Doesn't say she sometimes feels like he’s the only good thing left in the sordid city. Doesn’t say that he feels like a light in the dark.

It’s too soft, too open, too vulnerable. Three things she’s never been and frankly doesn’t see the point in being. Girls like her had more in common with feral cats than they ever did with doves.

“I was remembering my first jump,” she says instead, pausing to lick some bacon grease off her thumb. “That feeling you get where you feel yourself falling, and it’s amazing, you know?”

He smiles. “Yeah,” he says, and from the way he’s staring at her, she wonders if he’s not strictly talking about rooftops either, just like she wasn’t. “I know the feeling.”

[sinfulwonders]

👀

Ahhh here’s a Neko Ouma story I gave up on :P I’m not a huge fan of the neko thing, like it’s alright, but it’s often overdone. BUT that being said I still wanted to try writing it. :P

Catkichi Ouma

“How the hell did this even happen?” Kokichi glared at the mirror, examining his furry cat-like ears sitting on the top of his head. They were adorned with dark, violet tipped fur, identical to the color of the hair on the boy’s head. They were also infuriating, but not nearly as much as the tail swishing behind him.

Kokichi Oma was part cat, and he had absolutely no idea how this had happened.

“Unless…oh fuck.”

The previous day he had chosen to harass the sleepy Himiko in her lab, forcing her to do a magic show for him, with the assistance of Tenko. He had a grand time watching the magician saw the aikido master in half, stick swords through her, and even pull birds from her ears. It was a great show, but noticeably lacking in the real magic department. So it certainly wasn’t Kokichi’s fault when he whined to the mage to show him the real stuff and she begrudgingly gave him one of her prized “potions” as proof. The supreme leader drank it and it tasted suspiciously like Panta, which was not a fact that he hated by any means, but it did lead him to believe that the potion was decidedly non-magical.

But I guess I was wrong.

Kokichi stared at his ears and tails and wondered how the hell he was supposed to go outside looking like a weird human-cat-hybrid without becoming the laughing stock of the killing game.

Laughing stock of the killing game. Jesus, what a title to hold.

It was true that Kokichi was pretty much the social pariah of the group, but that was according to plan. He needed to be feared and hated for his plans to work, and adorable cat ears and a tail were absolutely not according to plan. So here Kokichi would sit, away from everyone else, until this wretched potion wore off.

DING DONG

“Oma-kun, are you okay? You didn’t come to breakfast…” the soft voice permeated through the door, hitting Kokichi’s ears with enhanced ease.

I guess my hearing is better. That’s a plus at least.

The voice belonged to Shuichi Saihara, the boy detective that Kokichi adored most of all.

“Oma-kun, I know you’re in there. I brought you some food. Also some milk at Yumeno-san’s suggestion…”

Damn that witch bitch!

“Go away! I’m dead!” Kokichi shouted at the door, stomach growling almost as loud as he was talking.

Shuichi sighed, “I know you must be starving, so please, let me give you some food.”

Kokichi slowly made his way to the door, speaking in a much softer tone, “Just…promise not to laugh.”

“Laugh? Why would I-”

“Just promise, okay?” Kokichi pleaded to the detective.

Shuichi sighed, “I promise.”

“If you break it I’ll be forced to kill you,” Kokichi slowly opened the door, seeing Shuichi holding a plate of food, and his eyes widening. He rushed into the room and Kokichi slammed the door behind him.

“Oma-kun, what happened?”

Kokichi slank to the bed, not realizing that his movements were becoming more cat-like by the second until he literally curled into a ball on the blankets while tucking his tail along his body. He didn’t even feel like lying, “Ugh. Yumeno gave me a potion.”

“Wow. I suppose Yumeno-san really is a mage…” Shuichi mused as he walked over to the bed, holding the tray out, “Now, you should eat. Do you need anything else?”

Kokichi frowned, as he glanced at the tray of food. Shuichi noticed this, and slowly sat down next to Kokichi with the tray in his lap. The supreme leader stretched and crawled over, sniffing the bowl of oatmeal, before gingerly licking the contents inside. Suddenly he recoiled as he realized his actions.

“Shit. Can I not use a spoon now? Degrading if you ask me…”

“I’m sorry, Oma-kun, but don’t feel bad, you can’t help it. Would you prefer the tray on the ground? Or-”

Kokichi’s eyes lit up as he smirked, “Oh I know! Feed me Saiharrrra-chan!” His voice came out in a purr and he slapped a hand over his mouth, “Well this just gets better and betterrrr doesn’t it?”

Shuichi, cheeks dusted with a light pink, grabbed the spoon and scooped up a bite of the warm oatmeal, “Umm, here…”

“Oh wow, Saihara-chan actually did it! I’m thrrrrilled!” The supreme leader leaned over and took a bite of the rolled oats, purring as he tasted them.

After finishing the food, Kokichi let out a giant yawn and stretched, sitting up on the bed. Shuichi set the tray on the bedside table, and glanced as his now cat-hybrid friend, “Do you need anything else?”

Kokichi turned and stared at the detective for a moment, face blank. Shuichi let out a squeak as the supreme leader curled up in the detective’s lap.

“Sleepy…” Kokichi closed his eyes.

Shuichi stared at the small boy now curled up on him, “U-umm-” the detective stammered but then stopped himself. He figured Kokichi probably couldn’t help this in his state, and even if it was a joke the supreme leader probably needed the sleep. So Shuichi didn’t attempt to move the boy, but instead reached down and gingerly scratched behind his purple ears.

Kokichi let out a massive purr. The boy’s face instantly reddened as he muttered, “That was a lie…” It was unconvincing, but the boy seemed too relaxed to try any harder and instead just allowed himself to melt into Shuichi.

“So cute…” Shuichi muttered to himself reflexively, and the two boys blushed in silence, Shuichi continuing to pet the other all the while.

 --------

Shuichi awoke to something tickling his nose. He slowly opened his eyes and saw a purple tuft of fur in his face, as one of Kokichi’s newly acquired cat ears rested on his cheek, the fur barely brushing against the bottom of his nostrils. It seemed that Shuichi had fallen over onto the bed in his drowsiness, and now Kokichi was cuddled up to him, softly snoring. The supreme leader’s head was nestled into his chest, and his tail curled around the detective’s waist. Shuichi repositioned his face away from the soft ears, but that small movement was enough to wake the sleeping leader.

Kokichi let out a loud yawn, “Nyaaaaaawnn,” and he flinches at how annoyingly cat like it sounded, the events from the day quickly flooding through his brain.

Shuichi saw this, and started to comfortingly scratch the boy’s ears, “Hey, Oma-kun. Don’t worry, I’m here.”

Kokichi blushed at the comment and the soothing pets, but mostly at how easy he had been to read, “How annoying, Saihara-chan doesn’t even know that I hate my ears being touched the most,” he glares.

Shuichi instantly stops, “Oh um s-sorry Oma-kun, it just seemed like it c-calmed you down.”

Kokichi shakes his head, “Nope, hate it,” but before he can help it, the supreme leader is nuzzling against Shuichi’s hands for more. The supreme leader frowns and mutters, “Damn it.”

“I won’t pet you if you don’t want me to, Oma-kun,” Shuichi stated, staring into the supreme leader’s large purple irises.

Kokichi let out a whimper that surprised them both, and let out a small whisper, “…please…”

Shuichi gave the boy a sympathetic smile and began to pat the boy once again, “Don’t be embarrassed. You can’t help it. But, we really should go talk to Yumeno-san to figure out how to fix it.”

[southsidewrites]

What’s Your Passion?

A short, sappy little drabble about Sweet Pea writing his college application essay with the help of the Serpents. Written for @southsidearchive‘s daily prompt, “passion.”

994 words || no pairing

Read on A03 Here

What are you passionate about?

Sweet Pea stared at the computer screen, the bright blueish-white light starting to make his head hurt.  It went this way every time, though.  He’d open the rickety old laptop—a hand-me-down from Jughead—open the document, and just stare at the screen.  No matter how many times he stared at the damn prompt, though, he couldn’t seem to come up with an answer.

And Mrs. Lewis, the ancient guidance counselor, hadn’t been much help.

“Well, what are you passionate about Nathaniel?” she’d asked, once again ignoring his request to call him Sweet Pea.

It had taken every ounce of self-control Sweet Pea had not to snap at her.  If he knew the answer to that, he wouldn’t be sitting in her cramped little office that smelt like stale coffee and cats in the first place.

He wracked his brain through the list of topics she had rattled off: sports, clubs, hobbies, jobs, achievements.  It just made him more frustrated.  It’s not like he could write all about being a member of a semi-illegal street gang to the college admissions department, after all.  What else did he know, though?  What else did he have?

Sweet Pea let out a low sigh and slammed the laptop shut.  Why was he so concerned about it anyway?  It’s not like he wanted to go to college—it was just what everyone seemed to expect.  Even F.P. had been bugging him about it.  He couldn’t even walk into the Wyrm these days without someone harassing him about how his essay was going.

There was a knock on the door, and Sweet Pea had to bite back a sharp response. “Come in,” he called.

The door creaked open, and Toni walked in.

All she had to do was look at the laptop closed in front of him to know what was going on. “Working on your essay again?”

“Not anymore,” he grumbled. With a huff, he got up from his chair and flopped onto the couch. “I think it’s about time I called it.”

“How far did you get?” she asked, taking a seat on the chair across from him.  Her dark eyes were narrowed with concern, and Sweet Pea really didn’t appreciate the oddly gentle tone she was taking with him.

“I copied the prompt into a Word doc.”

Toni’s eyes widened, and she bit her lip awkwardly. “Oh, well, um—”

“Don’t even say it, Topaz,” he snapped. “I know.  It’s due in two days, and I’m fucked.”

“You’re not fucked, Sweet Pea.” Her concerned expression shifted into an annoyed one. “Seriously, dude, you need to get out of your own head and just write something already.”

“What the hell am I supposed to write?”

“What do you love?”

He groaned, throwing his hands up as he flew off the couch to pace. “If I knew that, I’d have written the damn essay already!”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Just answer the damn question.”

He rolled his eyes, looking down at her with a steely gaze. “My friends, the Serpents, my bike—but none of that is exactly a passion.”

“Oh my God, Sweet Pea, it’s like you’re being intentionally dense.  Just write about your friends, you know, the people you care most about in the world?  That sounds pretty damn passionate to me!”

He bit his lip, his eyes narrowing as he considered her words. “You really think that’ll work?”

She groaned loudly, getting up from the chair and starting toward the door. “I do, and I’m leaving.  Feel free to send it to me when you’re done if you want a proofread.” With a final stern look, she walked out the door, letting it fall shut behind her.

~

“So, kid, you planning on opening that anytime soon?” Hog Eye asked, glancing pointedly at the envelope sitting on the bar in front of Sweet Pea.  The simple white envelope was emblazoned with a very prominent Sweetwater College logo. “I’ve given you one beer to calm the nerves, and that’s really all I can justify before five o’clock.”

Sweet Pea clutched the now-empty bottle tightly, his knuckles turning white. “What am I going to tell people if it says no?”

Hog Eye let out a low breath.  Glancing around the bar, he tossed aside a towel and leaned against the bar top. “Listen, kid. I didn’t go to college, so I don’t have much advice.  What I can tell you, though, is that you’re a bright kid, brighter than you give yourself credit for.  Even if that college is dumb enough to say no, you’re going to find something else.” He smiled softly. “And hey, know that you always have a place here. I may not be able to give you great hours, but we’ll make sure you have enough.”

“Thanks, Hog Eye.” Sweet Pea’s lips curved into a barely-perceptible smile. “Really, thank you.”

“Anytime, Sweet Pea.” He reached over and slapped the younger man lightly on the shoulder. “Now, open your damn letter.”

Sweet Pea took a deep breath and picked up the letter.  He squeezed his eyes shut as he ripped open the seal.  Then, he slipped the letter out, and his eyes widened.

Across the bar, the door slammed open, and Toni, Jughead, Joaquin, and Fangs walked in.  All of them were laughing at something, and Fangs was trying to grab Jughead in a headlock.  When she saw Sweet Pea, Toni’s eyes lit up.

“Sweet Pea, is that—”

“Yeah,” he choked out, turning around to face them.  He could barely contain his grin. “Guys, I made it!”

They all erupted in cheers, closing the distance to pull him into a messy tangle of hugs, fist bumps, and laughter.

“I knew you would, man,” Joaquin said, grinning. “Congrats.”

Sweet Pea just shook his head, still in awe. “And it’s all thanks to you guys.”

“Us?” Fangs asked, perplexed. “What did we do?”

He smiled softly. “Everything.”