#eye puns as a coping mechanism

[the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes]

The always amazing and talented @lustylita drew this captivating and mesmer-eyes-ing Theia for my birthday! I am blown away and I will forever be floored by this breathtaking image. Theia is from my fanfiction, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes. It's on AO3 with the same name, or the Tumblr masterlist can be found here.

[the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes]

"I want one!" *Theia is jumping up and down* It's so cute! I *sight* even want *view*! Where do I *eye* one?"

[issdisgrace]

Slashers with a person who uses comedy to cope with stressful situations? Like cracking jokes when they literally just fell down the stairs or nearly just got mugged and makes a pun out of it. Specifically Asa or Jesse please I’m desperate for them. Please and thank you 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

SLASHERS WITH A S/O THAT USES HUMOR TO COPE

WARNINGS: None

ASA

At first Asa was put off by the fact that you used humor to cope. But slowly over time it became a weird thing he loved about you. Also your way of coping rubbed off a little on him and on the rare occasion he will crack a joke or two about him being an orphan.

BO

Bo will forever give you the side eye when you use humor to cope. It doesn’t matter how long you are togeather. He will always think that you using humor to cope is weird. But his mindset is very why joke about when you can just not in-knowledge it and push it deep down inside.

JESSE

Jesse is very much of a toss up. At times he doesn’t care about the fact you use humor to cope. And can/will find your jokes about whatever situation funny. But then other times he is worried that you use humor to cope because it isn’t a all to health coping mechanism. And will ask you if your alright or to stop.

LESTER

Lester doesn’t mind that you use humor to cope. In fact Lester is right there with you using humor to cope. Lester really started using humor to cope when he realized that his parents hitting him and his brother was not normal. It helped him a lot to deal with the abuse and it still does to this day.

MICHAEL

Michael quite literally doesn’t pay any attention to the fact you use humor to cope. He met a couple of people when he was in the Smith’s Grove that used humor to cope with the fact they were in the sanitarium.

OTIS

Otis is no stranger to using humor to cope with things. When he was a child that was how he coped with a lot of things. But then as he got older he started using torturing and killing people as a way to cope with things. So he doesn’t mind at all about the fact you use humor to cope with things.

PATRICK

Patrick doesn’t notice at all. He is in his own little world. He probably won’t even catch on to you using humor to cope unless someone directly says something about. And even then he kinda just shrugs it off and is like eh everyone copes differently.

THOMAS

This poor baby doesn’t understand at all. He has never been exposed to people using humor cope with stressful/difficult situations. So he is really really concerned for you. He sits you down is like why are you joking about this, this isn’t funny. You need to stop.

VINCENT

Vincent doesn’t bat an eye at you using humor to cope at first. But then you continuously use humor to cope with stressful and/or difficult situations. And he becomes concerned to the point he sits you down is like please stop baby it’s not healthy way to deal with your emotions all the time.

[mal0nneiiii]

The tags you put on the reblog gave me ideas hehe

Could you write something with Edd where he’s fucking himself on readers strap and she’s super sweet and praises him a lot? I’m sorry this is my second request in a week if I’m asking stuff too much please tell me 🫣 your writing just gives me life! And inspo for my own writing 💪🏻💖💋

girl, don't EVER apologize for requesting!! im more than happy to write for my moots, especially if it's over our favorite character!! i apologize this took so long, the last few weeks have been SWAMPED with work as i near the last of the semester my coping mechanism is writing my favorite fat boy getting dicked down lmao <3 content warning: sub!edd, dom!reader, strap-on, sloppy kisses, hand-holding, edd has a raging praise kink, puns during sexy fun times, post coital cuddles

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"oh, eddie.."

your voice is sweet like dripping honey, smooth as a finely woven silk. it's the only thing he can truly register while you plow deep inside him. his head feels like it's full of cotton, so delightfully fuzzy and blissfully unaware of everything else. all he can do right now is feel you. hear you.

nothing else matters to him. your hands are perched on his thighs, keeping them nice and wide so you can see everything. he has nowhere to hide. there's this adorable pink flush coloring his cheeks, even the tips of his ears. his unkempt hair is even messier than usual, sweaty strands cling to his forehead.

an image just to die for. you give him a sweet little kiss on his nose.

"you're so handsome! my big sweet boy.."

he preens under the praise, hips twitching off the bed as the head of your strap grazes his prostate. he gasps your name with a quivering moan. his big hands are fisting the sheets, nails seconds away from shredding the fabric. you halt your ministrations if only for a moment to lace your fingers together. he holds onto you with a grip so tight it feels like he might just crush your bones. but honestly, you couldn't care less. those pretty brown eyes of his roll into the back of his head with a particularly deep roll of your hips, pleasure-ridden tears wetting his lashes. he whines when you stop moving, pawing at your hips and thighs. "w-wha..? why did you-? love c'mon, don't stop now, i was so--" he's babbling now, that pretty little head of his reduced to mush. and the only thing on his mind is chasing that release. a swift kiss is more than enough to shut him up. he chases you when you pull back, much to your amusement. "what'd i say about closing your eyes, baby?" you reach up to gently brush his hair out of his eyes so you can see him a little better. "s-sorry.." he mumbles, "just, heh.. feels really good." you reassure him that all is well with a kiss on the forehead. "keep those pretty eyes on me from now on, 'kay? wanna see ya." "huuoohhkayy.." edd's voice wavers, but he manages to crack a cheeky smile that trembles at the corners a bit. you know that look. that's the expression he has when he's about to do/say something stupid.

"no."

his grin only widens at your dismay.

"eddie, i swear--"

this little shit.

"eye'll do anything you say long as you keep fucking mE-! h-holy ffffuuuuckinnggg--!"

you can't help the shit-eating, slightly mean grin that appears on your face when that strangled cry is forced from his lips. you've sheathed the entirety of the dildo back inside of him, buried right to the hilt. his head is laid flat against the pillows, fingers trembling. god, he's pretty.

"you make another pun while we're banging, and i'm gonna gag you." the threat is empty. you like the sounds he makes too much to actually go through with it. he knows it too, but then again...

the pace you set is brutal, every thrust slapping against the back of his thighs. you're thankful that the house is empty right now.. none of the others would ever let you live it down for making so much noise. it doesn't take long to bring him to that brink again. you know he's close when his voice starts to break. he calls out to you, pitchy and breathless. "g-gonna.. cu-hum! 'mgonnacumlovepLEASE--!"

you silence his needy whimpers by capturing his lips once more and slipping your tongue into his mouth. he lasts maybe a few more pumps of your hips before he's falling apart in your hands, painting his pudgy belly in his own release. you slowly ease him off the high, coming (heh) to an easy stop. he's gone boneless on the bed, all blissed out from the post-orgasm glow. "good boy.." you murmur against his lips, "there ya go, easy does it." you carefully pull out of him and unclip the harness from your hips to deal with later. a grimace appears on your face from all the chafing, but oh well. for now, you're cuddling next to your dopey boyfriend who's got this stupid grin on his face as he looks over at you. he wastes no time reaching out for you and pulling you into his sturdy arms. you giggle when he starts leaving little kisses all over your face and down the side of your neck. "you big ol' baby." you mutter as he nuzzles his head against your chest. that earns you a playful nip to the tit, which you respond with a light tug at his hair. he snickers and holds you a little tighter. "you love me." a smile spreads onto your face as you smooch the top of his head. you comb through his disheveled hair, those brown eyes you adore staring back at you with so much affection it could make you melt.

"yeah. yeah, i do."

[st4rryyynight]

✷ — headcanons: rise!turtles with a reader that uses humour to cope !! (requested by a user on quotev)

★ — summary: how the turtles deal and react to the reader using humour as a coping mechanism !!

★ — can be seen as both platonic and romantic.

★ — warnings / tw:  mentions of depression and self-worth issues.

★ — content warnings: canon x reader, androgynous reader, depressed reader, headcanons, short headcanons, angst-y (??), usage of humour, coping mechanisms, concern, the turtles may be occ, repeative vocabulary

★criticism and advice are advice are always welcome !!★

❤️ — raphael x reader that uses humour to cope !!

☆ — okay, your comedic way of deflecting the sad parts of your life is.. worrying- and although he doesn't want to offend you by not laughing or at your jokes, he doesn't exactly find it funny when you turn your struggling in life into something that's to be laughed at. sure he is glad that you are using a somewhat healthy way of expressing your negative emotions but yet again, hearing you reduce your  life trauma into nothing but a humourous remark is still concerning, isn't it ??

☆ — still, he'll throw a little laugh here and there, as to not bring you down, even if you just spat out something horrible about yourself. but that laugh is awkward, force- and you can see the reluctance in his eyes while he does crack a laugh.

☆ — so he kind of tries to be supportive of the way you choose to deal with your issues- but just.. can't really bring him to. though he is a bit reluctant about just saying straight at your face that 'hey, the things you are saying are NOT cool'. no, he's scared that if he does so- he may come off as too sharp, and that may dwindle down your mental state further- and he doesn't want that to happen.⁠

☆ — still, he is tempted to confront you about your coping mechanism. and he does- somewhat. he starts by making little remarks to every one of your quips, with the goal of reminding you of the worth that your life has, the worth that you have. he's there to remind you that whatever you're going through shouldn't be viewed as humourous quip, and that "uh- raph is willing to hear ya' out, if you wanna talk !" 

💜 — donatello x reader that uses humour to cope !!

☆ — oh god, not another leo situation, please not another leo situation. or at least, he thought that was the case- fearing that you will, as well- throw cheesy one liner's and puns that have been repeated over and over again.. but you- you throw dark one-liners that revolve around your life that are repeated over and over. it's definitely a cause for concern.

☆ — "what. what do you mean by that."  he questions, before giving you a firm look after you make a self deprecating joke about yourself. why are you laughing at yourself, it's not funny. matter of fact- it's frustrating seeing you demean your self like that.

☆ — congratulations, since you couldn't keep those dark-humoured comments about your life in, now you have a agitated softshell asking that you word out a whole essay as to why you would make fun of your struggles, urging you to tell him what that so called 'joke' that you made meant.

☆ — he may not be the best with handling others emotions- not even his own, but don't take him for a fool when you try to hide your inner struggles behind a comedic display, he knows you are hurting- you make too obvious, even when you put up your humourous facade.. yeesh, maybe you are a little too much like leo. Nonetheless, even if he has difficulty when comforting others, he is still willing with helping you out- maybe bringing out a whole statement as to how important it is to.. ewwwgh.. express your feelings instead of turning them into something funny.

💙 — leonardo x reader that uses humour to cope !!

☆ — WAIT ! waitwaitwait, he uses humour to cope as well.. but his way of joking around isn't so self-demeaning, despite him having self worth issues and such. but you struggle with said issues as well- so how about you two joke about your lives together ??

☆ — oh how fun.. he finally found someone that won't dismiss or talk down his oneliners. even if his humour is at times self-doubting and may be used at inappropriate. well- to be fair, your humour is equally as self demeaning as his.. maybe a bit more so.

☆ — when you two are around each other, it's like a battle of who can make the most self deprecating remark possible and you- concerningly, always seem to win. and it gets leo feeling down.. though he can't if he down about this situation because his sense of humour just got doubled down, or because you might actually need help.. spoiler alert: he figures that it's the second one of those options.

☆ — oh uhm. that's a bit awkward.. what he thought would be a friend that is willing to crack jokes with him, now views those little remarks that you make about yourself as warning signs. though, he sympathises with you. you aren't the only one here who puts up a mask to hide their issues- and he is there to let you know that- to empathize with you.

🧡 — michelangelo x reader that uses humour to cope !!

☆ — hah !! you're so funny.. or that's what he tries to tell himself - trying to sympathise with you in a way before jumping in to help manage your emotions. he is happy that you are not taking out those negative feelings in more destructive ways, but c'mon, belittling your own difficulties like that- laying off as something be entertained by- instead of treating them accordingly isn't exactly healthy for your self-image either. 

☆ — while this boy is all about fun-loving and humourous situations- that is not to be said for you downing your own worth as such, no matter how funny you try and make it out to be.

☆ — he in fact, gets sad when you to talk about your struggles as if you are a comedian on a stage, and if he was in the crows- he would constantly raise his hand to butt in and yell encouraging things at you, reminders that whatever you are going through matters, and that it bothers him when you throw your self deprecating jokes.

☆ — no but really, what made you think it was a good idea to joke about your issues while the heart of mad dogz is around ?? don't you know that he has a whole power-point prepared about loving your self ?? don't you know that he is going to sit you down on a chair and have you communicate about your struggles ?? 

[solarflaresdaddyissues]

More of my TSBS Headcanons

Solar and Moon have lists both on them and in their workspaces on all times covering all commonly known (and uncommonly known) weaknesses and cures for different cryptids since the whole “Vampire’s Thralls” incident

Solar hates counting and feeling sick every time he does it because of, once again, the Vampire’s Thralls incident

Creator kept the faceplate of Acolyte’s mechanical body after Rez had left and keeps it somewhere hidden in his robot suit thing.

Kerian likes and collects shiny things like an actual raven or crow does. Rez gets annoyed by it constantly

Kerian is like Dazzle (the Beast), Noctyra, and Kray’s silly, cool uncle // stepfather role. Rez is the tired dad who hates his life and his kids

(Dark) Sun misses his Moon immensely and harbors a hatred to Ruin for killing him, even if he hated his Moon too (there’s a reason he couldn’t kill him himself, after all)

Cetus and Taurus are in an ex-courtship. That’s why Taurus felt more emotional about it than anyone else.

Eclipse kept his glow feature in case it gets dark or the power suddenly turns off (especially in his lab). He claims it’s so he can see and fix it, but it’s really for two reasons:

1. So Jake and Drew can find him and don’t get scared

Because he’s scared of the dark himself

Ruin misses his Monty the most. He has a small tattered picture of them together from right after the merge.

Sven and Felix are were married for “tax reasons”

Everyone thinks Rez and Kerian are in a courtship. Rez is painfully aware and threatens to kill anyone who mutters anything about it near him. Kerian is absolutely oblivious to even the idea.

Kerian likes bad puns (Once made a “Early bird gets the worm” joke and pecked Rez on his helmet hard only to be promptly attacked)

Creator and Felix watched (some of) the Barbie Movies with Earth. Earth showed them to Taurus

Eclipse once saw a kid walking around with a furby in the Pizzaplex and was painfully reminded of Tattletail. The moment the kid set the thing down and wasn’t paying attention, he took, broke, and burnt the thing. He doesn’t want to risk it just crawling out of the trashcan like a little demon

Dark Sun feels slightly bad for what he does to Neptor, but won’t rebuild him because there’s no point, in his eyes

Jack found old Security footage from before Sun and Moon were separated when he was trying to hand out with Puppet and found some recordings of Moon singing lullabies. That’s how he knew how to sing so well for Solar’s Christmas present

Eclipses V1-V3 are all in a separate Uno Hell game arguing for all eternity. Old Solar, Lord Eclipse, and (the dead version of) Swap Eclipse sometimes join too.

Molten had trouble sleeping and sometimes has flashbacks to what happened with his old code, which sometimes even leads to panic attacks or nightmares. Moon is always immediately by his side to help him, before anyone else (besides maybe Solar, who’s still coping with Jack and doesn’t want to lose another kid) (Yes, maybe I think of both Solar and Moon as Molten’s fathers. I do not ship Solar and Moon.)

[br4inr0tx]

headcanons for dating sheriff newlon?

Yes ofc! Since I just watched the movie I have a pretty good grasp on him already, and I’m excited to write for him! I’m from Massachusetts so idk..I kind of resonate with this movie lol.

Tw - MASSIVE THANKSGIVING 2023 MOVIE SPOILERS, manipulation, loss of loved one, cannibalism(?).

Eric Newlon…

• Sheriff Eric Newlon. The good looking, friendly and dependable guy. He loves those who are close to him, and does anything he can to help a person out. He’s honestly, a great guy.

• Though as we all know, he has an intense sense of revenge from a woman he loved very much.

• No matter how you identify he at first would use you as a coping mechanism for Amanda’s death. It might be the smallest thing, like the same name, same laugh, same eyes, same personality..something about you just reminds you of a good time back in his life, and he can’t seem to let it go.

• The guy is manipulative, and it’s easy for him to pull the strings. If you don’t already like him, he can easily make you fall in love and join his side with the snap of his fingers.

• He’s genuinely charming, down-to-earth and caring anyway. Why wouldn’t you want to be with him?

• I’d assume you’d help him get through cases and cope with his loss in return. If he REALLY likes you that might not matter, but if it’s a genuine connection just someone caring about his well being is enough.

• I think Eric would also like someone who’s willing to talk about revenge. He’s bottled his feelings for so long, so someone that is willing to listen to and discuss harsher topics he’d enjoy; mostly for his own comfort

• He showers you in compliments pretty often. Sometimes he even babies you. It’s just a habit he can’t help but indulge in!

• Eric helps through hard times too. Though, watch out if it’s an issue with another person. I can’t guarantee they’ll make it out alive, especially considering how hellbent Eric is on the whole "revenge" gig. (I need a dollar for every time I say revenge.)

• He’s a pretty creative guy as we know. I’m not just talking about kills either. Dates and gifts are very creative and thoughtful, within reason an budget of course. I’d like to think giving gifts is as simple as you’d think either. He’d be the type of boyfriend to hide it in a funny spot or specific area for you to have fun finding.

• So, I’m not sure if this is just an act in the movie to get Jess in his side, but he seems really protective. Not just because he’s a cop either. If anyone talks shit about you he’d be one of the first people to stand up for you even if you don’t need it. Golden Retriever boyfriend mentality.

• Now..considering the more John Carver side of things..

• He wouldn’t kill you, he’d just let you enjoy the show. You’re technically a part of this now.

• Though be weary. Even if he acts nice and does nice things for you, he’s EXTREMELY hostile (pun intended) in his John Carver persona. Don’t do anything funny like escaping if he chases you, he won’t hesitate to hurt you just to put you back in place. Sometimes living with the pain is more harsh then just dying, remember that.

• Even if John Carver is a bit mocking, it’s in no way fake love. He’s simply giving you a happy thanksgiving with a glass of revenge, for the both of you.

• Also, remember how I mentioned he wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone that harms you? Well, they’ll be guests at the table on the livestream! Now everyone’s together, on the day of togetherness.

• Overall, you fill in the void he was missing after Amanda’s passing. That’s not to say he doesn’t appreciate you for you, I’m saying that you keep him from going absolutely insane and killing everyone in Plymouth there and then.

[tsams-and-co-memes]

LAES Earth Canon Info

Updated - 3/7/25

Earth's likes:

Pink

Barbie movies

Nature

Animals

Tiny things

Love stories

Princesses

Storybooks/fairytales

Phantom of the Opera

Broadway shows/musicals

Beaches

Lilac flowers

The Powerpuff Girls

Wicked

Hair accessories and makeup

Tim Allen

Aquariums

Anime

Tea

PB&J's and grilled cheese sandwiches

Playing with makeup sometimes

Mac n cheese

Soap Operas

Learning other languages

Chinese dramas

Lethal Company, even though it scares her

Garlic bread

Geese

Skyrim

Fries

Gudetama (she has lots of little Gudetamas around the house and she's named them all)

Baking sweets

Cottagecore

Drawing

Earth's dislikes:

Violence

Bloodmoon (based on the way she acts towards/with them)

Eclipse (also based on how she speaks to/acts towards him. She gave him chances to be better than he was currently being, and instead of trying, he opted to keep being a jerk) ((This is subject to change))

Driving

Dora the explorer

Sleeping while shrunk down (it feels restrictive to her)

Snapple

Sad movies/shows

Bugs (They freak her out. More specifically, she doesn't like ants and spiders)

Superhero or monster movies

Miscellaneous:

Unlike Sun and Moon, Earth is capable of eating food (partial retcon. Sun and Moon have apparently started eating food)

She used to prepare food for the creator and have dinner with him

She primarily works with children who have disabilities, and children who require more one one one attention

She has a system/database thing in her head that’s loaded with nothing but puns and jokes

She prefers baths over showers

Earth is a silent rage sort of person when she gets angry

Earth has ADHD

She uses a lot of emojis when texting

Her comfort/coping mechanism is saying “pretty ballerina” and/or singing Barbie Girl

She has 5 journals that she's written in as a coping mechanism

Earth starts her days off with morning yoga (the yoga involves screaming), then from there, she goes to work at the daycare. After she's done for the day, she cleans up the daycare, then goes home and cleans every square inch of her room/Monty’s house. After that, it's bedtime, but if she wakes up in the middle of the night, she may go cook an entire meal

She's a clean freak like Sun, and she needs to start her day off by screaming like Lunar

She's pansexual. Maybe demisexual. We're not sure about the specifics yet. She's more drawn to a person's personality than their gender or appearance (according to info in a video, she doesn’t really identify as anything and is more or less unlabeled) (<- according to Solar, she's probably pansexual)

Earth has very good balance

Earth has been ice skating

She watches Bluey

Earth has eagle eyes

Earth's mouth can open

Earth sleeps with her crocheted bunny

[the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes]

The always lovely, skilled, and talented @hurthermore drew this sweet, almost cornea art of Theia and Al for my birthday! Thank you so much for this, luv, and keep doing everything you do! She always has her eyes on him, her 'mon point focal', so it's only fitting all those eyes would be looking his way!

Theia is from my fanfiction The Demon of a Thousand Eyes. It can be found on AO3 or on my Fanfiction Masterlist.

[gareleia]

EPIC THE KNITTING SAGA AU

update: my co-writer friend FINALLY got a tumblr account, so I can tag them now!!

next: part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

An AU my friend and I fleshed out a bit while chatting, where Athena and Hermes become Telemachus' god parents (pun intended)

first of all, the AU is called that cause Athena, as a goddess of arts and crafts as well as arts of war would totally knit socks and/or sweaters for Telemachus. I literally do not care that it's probably always too warm in Ithaca, it DOES HAPPEN and he PUTS THEM ON or ELSE

also, she's his great great auntie (cause hermes is the great great grandpa) DUH

and she would try to teach him crafts too, like:

Athena: think, Telemachus, think! Telemachus: BUT I CAN'T DO THIS STITCH

and then there's crying and Athena has to deal with it even though she's emotionally constipated and had definitely taught Odysseus some unhealthy coping mechanisms in his youth (and now she's forced to realize that, maybe Penelope even elaborates on it for her)

meanwhile, Hermes HATES being called grandpa (but secretly learns to enjoy it sometimes)

he's the type who teaches Telemachus all the "wrong" (read: fun) things in life, like talking to girls, playing pranks, lying out of his ass to get out of trouble, etc.

and then BOTH get in trouble with Athena, while Penelope just shakes her head at all of them.

Hermes obviously runs off, leaving Telemachus to deal with the scolding alone

Telemachus: hears giggling from behind a tree Telemachus: GRANDPA, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU LEFT ME THERE! ( -`д´- ) Hermes: Awwww, now, now, champ! Don't you remember the first thing I ever taught you? Come on, gimme lesson number one! Telemachus, sighing heavily: 'Every man for himself'

Hermes gives Telemachus lessons on what Not To Do. And he gives those lessons hands on.

Hermes: I subscribe to practical learning!（´∀`）ｂ

And that's their go-to excuse for when Athena finds them

Telemachus: Heeeeey, Athena? Theoretically— Athena, already popping a vein: What. Did. You. Do? ༽◺_◿༼ Hermes, from the bushes, with tears in his eyes (probably from laughing): He's going to the run, run Angel~

[meet-the-net]

Meet the Net (thoroughly) 🐋

Character sheet/Masterpost. Continuous. Fun and not so fun facts about Ned. ⤵

𓆝 Facts 𓆞

General 𓇼 Frode 'Ned' Havn, born 25th of August 1934 (34 yrs at time of employment with TFI) in Selbyen, Norway 𓇼 Received the name "Ned" after signing with Team Fortress Industries, after his class name "The Net" 𓇼 Support class 𓇼 Only child of parents Frida and Emil 𓇼 Brown eyes, black hair, 5'6 𓇼 Ambidextrous 𓇼 Trans man; voice went from this to this vocal range 𓇼 Pansexual 𓇼 Medium-heavy smoker 𓇼 Has stick and poke tattoos of aquatic animals Language 𓇼 Norwegian accent. Tries hard to use fancy words, but doesn't always get the grammar right 𓇼 Mumbles and stumbles over words a lot 𓇼 Uses metaphors that nobody else uses and mostly the long version of words (I'm → I am, won't → will not, etc.) 𓇼 Will use the occasional fish pun if in trusted company

Hobbies & Interests 𓇼 Fishing, also used as a coping/emotion regulation mechanism 𓇼 Hand-crocheting, mostly tying knots. He makes his own fishing nets that aren't really more effective, but he thinks the fish will feel the love he put into them and approach quicker 𓇼 Seal care. Has been watching Silvia grow up, he thinks of her as his free roaming pet 𓇼 Listening to Jazz and the Blues, which became more popular than folk music in 1950s Norway. Has a few "Fats Waller" vinyls and a record player Traits 𓇼 Will occasionally whistle a made up tune when further from the shore, as to not disturb the aquatic life. Can't do a finger-whistle though 𓇼 Enjoys sea sounds, whether it's the roaring waves, squawking seagulls or honking seals. Falls asleep on the docks quite frequently 𓇼 Loves idly standing in the ocean with his pant legs rolled up. It gives him an immense sense of autonomy 𓇼 Tries desperately to get into working out, but it bores him to hell. Isn't big on running but has a surprisingly strong core 𓇼 Fidgets with the hems of his clothes to the point they become frayed, but refuses to replace them. Insists it "gives them a soul", interpret that as you will

𓆝 History 𓆞

𖦹 In 1940, when Ned was 6 years old, Nazis invaded the country and occupied the village for their resources, such as fish and metal. Many villagers stayed behind and were forced to work for and host the scum. But because dark hair and eyes were traits that could, at that time, get someone killed, and the Havn family happened to possess those, they fled into a hidden nearby mountainside bunker for self-preservation. Unfazed by the fascism, and as an act of defiance and a sign of love, the village people took turns sneaking them dried and durable foods, water and other necessities. After years of silence enforced by his parents, near-total darkness, and enough time to learn the reasons for their hiding, Ned emerged from the bunker at age 11 a reserved, anxious, and brutally self-aware kid. His hatred for the war, its participants and the injustices done to his family festered deep within his core, along with an extreme sense of righteousness and fear of separation. 𖦹 The act of fishing helped him develop a strategy for regulating his feelings and calming himself. His silence could finally serve as an advantage instead of a survival tactic, since sound would only scare the fish away. Getting taught this by his father helped create positive memories with him after such a strenuous time. He also helped provide food for the villagers who were still busy patching up the bullet holes in their homes – pay back his debt to them, so to speak. 𖦹 As a consequence of spending five years in an enclosed space, he gets uncomfortable in small rooms and even too tight of a hug. 𖦹 Occasionally, his animosity would manifest itself in isolation and little outbursts of self destructive behaviors. Among them would be things such as taking his sailboat out to sea in horrendous conditions. Or spending continuous days and nights at the docks, fishing until exhaustion, overstocking his shop and eerily observing the piles of fish enact their last living squirms. 𖦹 Due to the frenzies, tension and Ned's claustrophobia, he started saving up the little salary his father gave him for helping out, moved out of his parents' tiny home at age fifteen... and right into the building around the corner. There, he gradually filled the spacious apartment with locally crafted furniture and continued selling his fish to the community from his kitchen.

𖦹 A company, run by outsiders of the village community, called Dyr Her & Der Animal Relocation emerged out of nowhere to monitor and manage the rapidly increasing seal population. When they started offering guided tours of the seals nesting grounds as a marketing strategy, the number of tourists in Selbyen rose exponentially. Ned welcomed the strange visitors, as they acted respectfully to their symbiotic lifestyle with the marine life. Neds fish sold much faster than before, so he began expanding his market place to outside of his front door and managed to officially open his shop called Frodes Freskfisk. Later he renamed it to Frode's Fresh Fish, to accommodate the international tourists. 𖦹 The tourist population dwindled by 1957, at which point FFF had expanded into the neighboring building and consisted of a whopping four employees – and one proud yet humble boss. Due to the lack of customers, he let everyone go and continued his career as the community's fish salesman. 𖦹 In early 1968, a company called Team Fortress Industries knocked at their gates, or rather marched right through them, and announced that they had bought the entire plot of the land. From whom and what for, they would not answer. Despite vocal protest, the pacifistic population of Selbyen accepted the small paycheck, packed their bags and got into the designated busses, headed inlands. Except for one angry and frightened fisherman. 𖦹 Hiding underneath an upside-down fishing boat, in one hand a harpoon, in the other a fishing net, Ned waited for dawn to browse the area in search for workers of the strange invasive industry. After spotting a tent, he prepared and executed an entrapment via fishernet and threat via harpoon towards the surprised woman in purple. His willingness to harm, to attack someone over distressing people he cared for, struck her as useful enough to offer him a contract to work a very vaguely described job in the village. For the companys good alone, of course. Not entirely convinced, Ned released her and barricaded himself in his home, waiting for the woman to return with a written contract as she had suggested. 𖦹 Meanwhile, she took the little time she had to reignite telephonical contact with TFI, asking for background information on Ned. Workers, or rather henchmen of the company took it upon themselves to torture any and all information out of some of the village people who'd been there for the war and knew what happened to the Havn's. They could relay to Pauling that he posessed great capabilities for violence, if pushed into the right direction, as he'd spent his entire life building up his walls, his frustrations. They'd stumbled upon a time bomb. 𖦹 Upon receiving the contract, Ned was shocked by the conditions of having to be an active participant in a war disguised as a publicity stunt for Dyr Her & Der Animal Relocation. Until he reached the paragraph that disclosed his payment. Each capture OR killing of an enemy would exponentially raise the extent of his pay – as a little motivation, a nudge in the 'right' direction by the industry. 𖦹 Using the knowledge that he'd do anything for the safety and comfort of his people worked tremendously. Ned signed away his life to be able to send his fellow villagers and family the money to actually monetarily survive being evacuated from their homes. 𖦹 Furthermore, the chance to overcome his, very unreasonable, feeling of guilt for not having stood up for his family more during the world war, seemed too great to pass up. Finding an outlet in the bloodshed was never in his plans, but they were in the industry's, and they wouldn't halt at any form of manipulation to break and bend him into a perfect machine. 𖦹 In the first few weeks, he was amidst not only the mental preparations, but also the preparation for his teammates and ultimately the opposition to arrive in Selbyen. He's been supplied with weaponry needed in this war and has had minimal gun practice on a makeshift range by the beach, for he has never shot a weapon in his life save for his harpoon.

To be continued.

[penvisions]

the melting point {chapter 11}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: You share the hardest parts of your path with Frankie and offer understanding to his own. 

Word Count: 5.1k 

Warnings: narcotics, recreational use of narcotics, addiction, recovery, nicotine, cigarettes, mentions of smoking, descriptions of injuries, blood, gun violence, brief description of a shooting scenario, readers past is revealed, medical jargon, trauma, ptsd, ptsd triggers, reference to use of alcohol, alcohol used as a coping mechanism, emotional vulnerability, kissing, Frankie’s skilled mouth, baking puns to lighten the mood??

A/N: HEAVY CHAPTER!! please, please proceed with caution, while the chapter is balanced it is very emotionally heavy. i do not take anything described in this chapter lightly, having been a victim in a school shooting myself at a young age, i still carry it with me to this day and it affects how i feel about crowds and small spaces. readers past is something i’ve had to deal with but thankfully there were no deaths in my experience. 

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist 

Frankie was seated at a booth in an empty diner. He had been sitting there alone for hours, staring into the mug of black coffee the waitress was kind enough to refill before it was truly empty. After the third time, she had brought over a plate of toast, to help settle his stomach. It was late, well past midnight.

Midnight. Midnight.

He could’ve sworn he was supposed to be somewhere, but his mind was so foggy from the hours-long conversation he had with someone he had never thought he would encounter again. They had gone in circles, only to come to a mutual understanding of what happened. But it still didn’t take any of the emotions away; if anything it had brought them all back to the surface. There was so much pain, remorse, regret, weakness, desperation filling him to the brim and his mind had flowed out along with what he couldn’t handle. Down the river and into the whitewash that was the rapids of his life. One mistake after another, one bad move after another…

‘I just…I kinda like you and want to see where this goes beyond today?’

‘I’d be up for that, because I kinda like ya too.”

“Fuck!” Frankie stood with a jolt, rustling the table in front of him with the movement. He took his wallet out and fished out a bill, threw it down on the table before he peeled out of the diner.

-

A shuffling sound roused you from your deep sleep, but your eyes were still too heavy to open. You lifted your head from where it rested on your arms atop your pillow. You had collapsed onto the bed on your stomach, hips canted up slightly as your legs spread in a way to relieve tension on your injury and you had scrunched a pillow underneath your arms and laid your head atop them. Your hair was loose and long around your face, fanning out over your bare shoulders. There was the sound of the cats chittering at someone and you lifted your head up more to peer through the open bedroom door. You saw the shadow of someone standing in your living room through bleary eyes.

The shadow moved a bit and the bill of a cap was visible. You deflated back into the mattress, knowing you were safe, and sleep curled its tendrils around your mind and pulled you back under. You hummed into the quiet as you felt warm arms wrap around your middle. One had moved underneath you, brushing the bare skin of your chest in passing as the other laid gently on your back. You felt a nose nuzzle into your hair, near your neck and a gentle kiss was placed there before a head rested on the pillow beside you. Legs carefully situated around yours, skin on skin where they touched just slightly.

“Lo siento, estoy aquí ahora, cariño.”

You were already too far down underneath the hold of sleep, a quiet murmur leaving your lips at the words before you were out completely.

Frankie lay there, down to his shirt and briefs. He cuddled around you as close he could without agitating your injuries or waking you up completely. Guilt and shame eating away at him in the darkness of your room. He watched the shadows of the cats as they jumped up and settled around you both for some sleep themselves. A sigh heaved itself into its chest and caught, choking him as he realized you felt good in his arms. You were good. He was good with you. You were good together.

-

The sun was just beginning to rise for the day, casting gentle light into the bedroom where it seeped in from the other rooms of your space. Frankie lay awake, his mind not letting him fall into a slumber that was really sleeping. He was watching the way your lashes fluttered as you dreamt in your sleep, you had been snoring lightly, though he was sure you would deny it should he feel like he could tease you about it. Words and apologies and reasons flitted across his mind, mentally exhausting him as he had no clue what to actually say to you once you were awake. He had seen the bottle of vodka, emptied, on the coffee table. He had seen the bottle of your pain medication next to it. The smooth cursive of your writing turned messy and illegible to him on a notepad beside them both, recipes and ideas for the bakery scribbled out in your altered state.

You had numbed yourself in his absence.

Because of his absence. When he had specifically promised his time to you.

But it had been the page that had been torn out and crumpled that worried him the most, thrown in what he could only picture was a moment of overwhelming emotion. It had been on the floor, beside your dead phone, halfway under the coffee table. The words ‘I’m sorry’ scribbled all over the page, filling it until there was no space with overlapping letters. The words of Tom echoing in his ears, ‘Kids tend to end up in graves around her’.

Frankie worried his bottom lip between his teeth, his heart stuttering and his chest getting tight when you shifted in your sleep with a tiny huff. Your face scrunched up in a rather adorable way before a sneeze racked your body. What wasn’t adorable was the spray of blood that resulted from the sneeze. With a rather loud groan you were opening your eyes and bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose to stop any flow of blood that may follow.

“Fuck,” You shimmied from the blankets, oblivious to the man beside you. Frankie had moved away from you in the night, especially when you had begun to shift a lot, seemingly unable to get comfortable. You were rushing to the joined bathroom and Frankie averted his eyes at your naked form. He wasn’t sure were you stood, where he stood….

The sound of the water was a quiet hush that allowed him to recenter. The blood spotting his face was cold, the spray of it causing unwanted memories to blip in his mind but he pushed them down. He was safe in your room, safe in your bed, safe with you. He startled when you called his name, bringing him out of his thoughts.

You watched him from the doorway to the bathroom, arms pulling on an oversized t-shirt. He could see the flash of tan lace you had pulled up your legs to cover yourself and he felt a strike of arousal. You slowly made your way back to the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge of it, eyes on him the whole time.

Your face felt weird from the sneeze and your mind foggy from the night before, but you were sure you weren’t hallucinating the handsome man in your bed. The one that had stood you up for your date last night. Your heart was torn between being angry that he had made such a big deal about showing you how serious he was about this then bailing and wanting to melt at the prospect of him using the key for the first time and slipping into bed with you.

You didn’t say anything as you leaned over him a little, placing a hand on his chest to balance yourself as you reached over with a damp washcloth and wiped the blood from his face with the other. Your skin tingled where your hand rested on him, despite only feeling the heat of him through the shirt. His eyes tried to catch yours but you ducked your head as a deep blush rose to your cheeks. You were about to pull the washcloth away from him but a hand came up to grasp your wrist gently.

He didn’t say anything as he brough his other hand up and notched a finger underneath your chin to tilt it up. His brown eyes caught the light and turned amber in the morning sun, causing your already fast heartbeat to pick up at the sight of this beautiful man in your bed. His eyes were worried, as you chanced making contact with your own. You could feel tears race down your cheeks as you watched the emotions swirl in the brown depths. You were overwhelmed, your own emotions a whirlwind.

“Tell me you didn’t change your mind,” Your words were whispered, your fear of breaking the moment all too real. Vulnerability winning out against the anger and worry and had turned into hurt. Tears continued to fall, your face growing hot with them and your breathing beginning to shift into a weird staccato as you tried to keep yourself together. “Please tell me, Frankie, please tell me you still want me.”

When he was silent for a beat too long, you were ducking your head, eyes clenching shut and you drew in a shuddering breath. You had never felt so willing to ask such a question, for once you didn’t dwarf your needs and worries in favor of someone else. You’d reached your melting point and you needed to know if redemption was possible. Because you wanted it, by god did you want it, to be redeemed and feel like you were worthy of good things. Of being good with the man who made you feel like you hadn’t in a long time. To be wanted by him just as much as you wanted him.

During a time past, you might consider this pathetic, but circumstances change. People change you, people become more important than coming across as weak and vulnerable, the love you have for people changes you.

“I need to-“

He swallowed the rest of your words as he kissed you, his tongue delving into your open mouth and tangling with your own. Both of his hands came to cup your face, his fingers light on your cheeks and you melted into him. You kissed him back fully, taking what he was willing to give. Worried it was fleeting.

When he pulled back, he had tears of his own shining in his eyes.

“Of course I want you. Oh, sweet girl, you’re one of the only things I’ve ever wanted this much.”

Your heart swelled at his words, warmth flooding your entire body and making you feel wanted. But his actions had wounded you, brought up feelings of inadequacy, and while realistically a part of your brain knew it wasn’t intentional, it did send a message. It did lend to facts that had to be faced, questions that had to be answered. For both your sake.

“Then….then why do you make me feel like you don’t?” You couldn’t look at him, gently leaning back from him, your hands wringing in your lap. Frankie sat up from the pillows, reached out and pulled you to lay along his side. It took a minute for you both to get comfortable, his right arm around you as you leaned heavily into his side with your head resting high on his chest. His hand traced up and down your back smoothly, comforting. “I understand, please don’t mistake that, but…I just, I just need reassurance and I know that’s too much for some people and I-“

“No, no, sweet girl. It’s just that…I’m bad at this, I realize that. But please don’t let it make you feel like I don’t want this.” He sighed, jostling you with his breath. “I know words are just words, but querida, I really do care about you.”

“You stood me up, I called and texted and felt so foolish.” You hid your face in his chest, smelling the scent of him that was a combination of something woodsy and warm. Reminiscent of early autumn hikes in the forest, it smelled like home. “I feel like a damn fool, Frankie…I waited up for hours, wondering if you were okay…”

“I wasn’t okay. I’m still not okay. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay, sweet girl.”

“You will be, you are.” You reached a hand out and gripped his free one that had been resting on his middle. You intertwined your fingers with his own, his hand dwarfing yours. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as you contemplated your next words. Not wanting to make him feel seen or that he was transparent with the things he was hesitant to share with you. “Recovery isn’t linear.”

“…you know.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, an understanding. He knew that you knew. You knew about the parts of him that he tried to hide and cradle in his own hands, that he tried to resolve in the form of swapped vices and managing triggers. He worried for a second, panicked really, that you were about to tell him that it was something you could help him with. While it would be appreciated, he didn’t want to drag anyone down with the gritty details of what exactly he dealt with.

Of course you knew he was in recovery, you had seen it enough times out in the field, with your friends, with your family. His triggers, the smoking having replaced some other vice, the way his nose would twitch when he was agitated, the way his fingers would tap when he was anxious. The meetings he wouldn’t tell you details about, the way he was hesitant with certain foods, with certain places. The way he devoured anything sugary and inhaled fruit anytime it was in front of him.

All signs of someone fighting a battle that would take the rest of their life to overcome. You had been present and a part of the recovery when the battle was lost, both on the clock and off…

“Frankie, I was an EMT for a decade. I didn’t want to pry because you hadn’t said anything, and your business is your own. I’m not one to shoulder their way into anything, I’ve been humbled beyond comprehension on that, believe me.” Self-depreciation saturated your words, turning them bitter in your mouth. You weren’t brave enough to glance up and peak at Frankie’s expression, but you felt him tense up as you lay against him.

Your name sounded in the air, bathed in a tone you had yet to hear from him. You tensed at it, not sure what was going to happen next.

“It’s not an excuse. I was getting you flowers down the way last night when Alexia’s mother approached me. Didn’t even know she was still in town after all these years. She spooked me to hell and back, my mind went blank. Nothing was anything and before I knew it, I was running.”

“Frankie, you don’t…”

“I do, I do have to. I want to. I want you to know.”

You pushed your cheek into his chest, hiding your face. Not sure if you were ready for what he was going to say. Would she want to be a part of his life now? Would she want to see her child? Frankie’s daughter was only someone you interacted with once, but you weren’t willing to share her with the woman who walked out on her. You weren’t willing to experience the heartbreak it would bring Frankie to share her.

You listened. You took what he wanted to say and you held it close. You grasped it and kneaded it into yourself the way you worked bits of chocolate and fruit into dough. You folded the hard pieces of him into yourself and took them on, helping to soften the burden of them. You gave them a smoother edge so that he could handle them easier.

He explained the last night he had her, what her name was. He explained the challenge of attempting to raise Alexia together and get clean at the same time, how it was easier for him to let go of the substance than it was for her even throughout her pregnancy. That she never seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of their child and what they created together. He told you how he had offered her his hand in marriage and how she had said no.  

How determined he was to be a good father, to provide everything for his child. To offer her anything she might want or need or even think about in her life, how he wanted to be able to give her the time he had to devote to work in order to prove to her.

“Our bill was settled when I dropped her off yesterday.”

Your hand had been tracing patterns across the fabric of his shirt stretched over his chest. You fingers stilled for the barest of seconds before continuing their movement but you were aware that he caught the action. There was a question in his words that you knew was aimed directly at you, he was looking for confirmation of a hunch he had. You hummed a curious sound, knowing you weren’t fooling anyone.

“Thank you,” He murmured lowly, his chin resting atop your head for a moment before he laid it back against the pillow.

“…I wanted to.” You spoke carefully, unsure if you had stepped over a line. “You said you were worried about the bill and how she was so excited. That you didn’t want to let her down and her miss out on being away with her whole class.”

“She drew you something, we brought it the other day before everything hit the fan. I brought it with me, it’s on your fridge.”

“She’s sweet. Thoughtful like her father.”

“She’s a lot of things I’m not too. And so genuine in them. So understanding and forgiving, so easy going. So eager to try new things and to get out of her comfort zone.” He fell silent. You could sense he was thinking something over. He clicked his tongue before his next words. “I told her about you. About liking you and taking you out on a date.”

“Oh?” This curious sound was genuine. You felt your heartbeat quicken at his words, nervous.

“She was so excited she wouldn’t have to give up treats from the bakery because I would be dating someone else and was sure you’d be upset about it.”

“She is smart. I would definitely cut you off from treats if you dated someone else.” You quipped, words holding no real heat as you chuckled at the stern look you pictured her pinning him with as they talked this over. He huffed a quiet laugh.

You listened as he told you how he lost his license, due to his addiction. How it scorned him to this day that he let it take such control over his life and how sometimes it’s all he wanted still. You were quiet, letting him get it all out, not pressuring him with comments and thoughts you had in response. How he worked so hard to get it back and took every class and course they offered him to keep up to date with protocol and regulations, so he could keep flying the way he always wanted to.

You cuddled closer to him, trying to melt into him as he talked, offering him comfort in a quiet way as spoke. His voice would crack every so often as emotion got to be too much for him. He would clear his throat and hold your back firm so as to not jostle you too much when he did so. He fell quiet and you both just took the moment for what it was, not saying anything as you both processed the steps you were taking together.

“Tell me.” You felt his arm tighten around you, pulling you closer to him. A kiss was pressed to the top of your head. Followed by another and another, his facial hair hushing against your curls as he rested his face there. “You know about my worries. Tell me about yours. About what Tom was talking about, please. If you still want to, I’ll listen. I’m here, I’m with you, I’m trying. You have me.”

“You…you won’t like me anymore…”

Your name was a whisper, a plea.

“You, um, you heard the nurse mention a shattered hip?”

“I did, you were so overwhelmed, and I was not having the best day so I didn’t ask. I don’t like I’ve ever faced so many goddamn triggers in the same day as yesterday, but we’re focusing on you right now. You are important. You mean so much to me.” His hand trailed down to grip your waist, warmth seeping into you underneath it. It gave you the courage to continue, his quest reserve calming you. “I hadn’t wanted to get into anything heavy with both of us so worked up. I know better than that now, too much experience with doing the opposite.”

Quiet enveloped the room for a moment, the both of your just laying with each other. The morning sun rising and bringing light to the new day, revealing the world much the same way you were both revealing things about yourselves to each other. Memories and emotions flooded you, and you tried to concentrate on the best wording to explain the worst day of your life to someone who wanted to help you bear the weight of it.

“It got shattered when I got hit by a round from an automatic assault rifle. I was the first on the scene of a shooting and had run into the shooter in the building. I think we both startled each other. But he had the upper hand to my pistol.

He, uh… he was young, maybe late teens? I don’t even remember that now, it was about six or so years ago now. But I remember what he looked like, what he was wearing, the expression on his face…the blood splatter that marked his entire body. The squeak of his shoes as he ran down the halls of the building and stalked from room to room, leaving bloody footprints in his wake…

It was a school, an elementary school. I don’t remember the motive, I don’t remember the time of day the call happened, but I remember feeling the fear and anger emanating off of him, the heaviness of the air all throughout the building, it was suffocating. It was terrifying. I remember how warm the blood was as I tried to stop the bleeding on more than five children, only successful with two of them…

They were so panicked, they had been so scared, so worried about their parents and friends not knowing they loved them…. asked me to save them, to help them, but I couldn’t. Those guns do so much damage, they do too much damage to fix. I- I tried, I did everything I could, and it wasn’t enough.

I wasn’t enough, all of my training and all of my experience and I couldn’t save those kids while they begged me and pleaded with me to help them. It doesn’t matter how many people I had saved until that point, I had failed them, I didn’t do my job. I couldn’t do my job.

I was put on medical leave for the duration of my recovery, the shooter passed away during his. My shot had been placed well, but it had taken too long for him to succumb to it, allowing him to fire shots into two more classrooms before he collapsed. I needed multiple surgeries to repair my hip and ended up getting a replacement a year down the line. That’s why I don’t bear as much weight on it, it’s…foreign to have something so vital taken away from you and replaced in the wake of such an emotional tragedy.

I lost more than just a part of myself mentally that day, but physically as well. And it’s a constant reminder every time it twinges, or I feel the dull ache that never seems to quite go away.

I was put on suspension pending two investigations that went to trial. One from the shooter’s parents for wrongful death and one from the parents of one of the children I couldn’t save for failure to administer appropriate medical treatment. I got harassed and blamed for the death of the shooter who had done the killing and then called a killer myself. I had been painted in the same light as the shooter, as if I was the one that pulled the trigger and fired on those innocent children.

Everyone was looking to place the blame in the wake of his death. And it landed on me.”

You were crying, tears dampening the fabric of Frankie’s shirt. You felt your bottom lip trembling, sure you had stuttered over words and that your voice was an octave higher than normal. Your hands were shaking too, but Frankie had on in his grip and was holding it firm, his warmth seeping into you, grounding you as you shared with him the worst chapter of your life.

Your ears burned in the silence that followed your words. All you could hear was the blood rushing in your veins and the faded memories of gunfire. The gunfire hushed and was replaced with quiet murmurs of consolation from the man cradling you. Frankie pulled you carefully over to lay atop him completely, both of his arms wrapped tight around your frame. His chest was rising and falling in a way that mimicked yours, telling of the tears he was fighting back. You buried your face in his neck, hand going to rest over his beating heart to ground you.

Your name fell from his lips as he buried his own face into your hair.

-

It was hours later, you having trusted the shop to Louise for the day. You had baked enough stock for her to get through yesterday and today, business picking up enough to warrant double batches of everything. You had an untouched Sunday paper from the past week on the kitchen island, secured underneath the leather journal you kept all your recipes in. You admitted to Frankie over getting coffee brewed that you were afraid of reading the blurb that had been written about your bakery in the article about the first summer farmer’s market. The second had gone as well as the first. You had more applicants, more business, more interest in the things you created and were willing and happy to share with the world.

He carefully pulled you into his arms and leaned against the counter, the sound of the coffee pot brewing turning into background noise. You had been feeding the cats their dry food, their chittering and meows filling the air in such a domestic way. Your back was warm against his chest and he reached for the paper to hold it in front of both of you. He read the words printed on the pages to you, his lips close to your ear as he did so. The praises printed in ink felt were comforting coming from his lips, his smooth voice giving them life that you refused to give them yourself. He placed the paper back down on the counter and made sure it was safely tucked back so as to not get ruined. His arms came back around you and he spun you so you were facing him.

He was about to say something but you leaned up and captured his lips with your own. Your hands coming around his shoulders. Before you could register where his own were wrapping underneath your bottom, he was lifting you to carefully set you on the island. He leaned into your space, delving his tongue into your open mouth and pulling a moan from your chest. His fingers trailed featherlight paths across your skin underneath your shirt. Sparking warmth and tingles in their wake.

You took a moment to catch your breath before you mouthed at the hinge of his jaw, tongue trailing the shell of his ear. You placed sucking kissed down the column of his neck and revealed in the feeling of him hardening against you where he was pressed to you as closely as possible. He vocalized his appreciation at your attention, his hands continuing their exploration and coming to thumb at your nipples.

You arched into him even more, a gasp smothered into his heated skin.

“I’m falling for you.”

All you could do was hide the wide grin that broke out over your face in his neck, tightening your arms around his neck.

“I’m going to take you against this counter and then again in your bed. We’re going to go to the store to get stuff for dinner and I’m going to take you back to mine. Where I’ll take you again and again until you’re satisfied.” His words rumbled in your ear, causing pleasure to settle between your legs and you tightened your thighs around his waist, grinding yourself against him.

“I’m going to show you just how much you mean to me, over….and over….and over again.”

He kissed you deeply, again and again until the coffee was finished brewing. He stepped away to ready two cups and handed you one. He watched as you cupped both hands around the ceramic, taking his own in one and bringing it up to sip. He reached out and trailed his index finger along the front seam of your underwear as he bracketed himself back between your dangling legs. Your eyes widened and you whimpered into your cup at the pleasure that sparked. Legs opening more as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Just enjoy your coffee, sweet girl. Let me take care of you.” He was placing his own mug back down on the counter. Watching the way you watched him as he lowered himself to his knees. He leaned close and licked a hot line to mimic his finger just seconds before. His large hands gripped your waist and pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, his tongue hard and flat against the front of your underwear. He looked up at you, seeing the way your fingers were white where they gripped your coffee. He pulled away for the barest of seconds.

“Drink, sweet girl. And I’ll do the same.”

previous chapter || next chapter 

taglist:

@tanzthompson @clevergirl74

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Hello, folks, welcome. I write Baldur's Gate 3 fanfiction sometimes. If you're interested, check them out :)

UPDATE MAY 2025: Because AI keeps stealing people's works, including fan fiction, I decided to delete my writing from tumblr. From now on, it's only available on AO3 and only for registered members/users. I'm truly sorry about this, but I don't want my work to be stolen by bots and then used and capitalised by some multi-million companies.

You can read my fics on AO3 and find a list below.

MASTERLIST (newest to oldest)

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil [COMPLETED]

The reason why Astarion doesn't know how his scars look like.

Trigger Warning (18+): Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic Description of Torture, Astarion Does Not Have A Good Time, Headcanon

On AO3

My Leaking Blood Bag [COMPLETED]

Nurse Gale has a crush on his new patient, the anaemic lawyer Astarion.

It was a snowy day in January when Gale met a new patient who immediately caught his eye. Astarion Ancunín suffered from celiac and Crohn’s disease, which caused iron-deficiency anaemia. As a result, he heavily relied on regular blood and iron infusions. Gale developed an immediate crush on him.

Trigger Warning (18+): Alternate Universe - Modern Universe, No Magic, No Vampire, No Wizard, Lawyer Astarion, Nurse Gale, Astarion Is Anaemic, Meet-Cute, Foreplay, Blow Job/Fellatio, Hand Job, Semi-Public Sex, Allergic Reaction, Vomiting, SickFic (kinda), No Beta - We die like Astarion after eating pasta

On AO3

Stay Safe? Stay Safe. [COMPLETED]

Star is cold and hurt. Feels unsafe. Gale has warm, dry cave. Feels safe. Maybe Star can stay?

On AO3

The hand that feeds is the hand that's loved

Astarion's an aspiring lawyer, who's running from his past and suffers from a long list of food allergies. Gale's a former culinary prodigy, who's going through a nasty divorce and suffers from cooking fatigue. They meet in the snack aisle.

Trigger Waring (18+): Alternate Universe: Modern Setting, No Magic, No Vampire, No Wizard, Lawyer Astarion, Cook Gale, Astarion Has Food Allergies, Gale Is Depressed, Astarion Everything Is A Transaction Ancunin, Tara Is Not A Cat, Morena Dekarios Supremacy, Old Women Yuri, Elminster Is The Weird Uncle, Mystra Is Faerûn's Gordon Ramsay But A Proper Bitch, Cazador Is A Piece Of Shit, Cheesy Food Puns, Unnecessary Cooking And Food Details, This Is Basically A Culinary Show, Author Constantly Thinks About Food, Food As A Love Language, POV Astarion, POV Gale, Angst, Emotional Rollercoaster, Feelings, Overthinking, PTSD, Dissociation, Past Domestic Abuse, Past Non-Con/Rape, Attempted Murder, Satanic Cult, Slow Burn (but not too slow), Eventual Smut, Unsafe Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanism, Anal Sex, Blow Job/Fellatio, Fingering, Hand Job, Rimming, Frottage, Face-Fucking

On AO3

Last Days of Our Lives [COMPLETED]

Life was rather special at the Circus of the Last Days. It was a surprisingly uneventful, tranquil lifestyle - despite dying clowns and fucking monsters.

Trigger Warning (18+): The Origin Characters Are Side Characters, The Circus Crew Are The Main Characters, No Tav, Rarest Rare-Pairs, Monsterfucking, But Sweet? Crack (kind of), Canon-Typical Violence, Slight Gore, Slight Body Horror, Graphic Description of Sex, Anal Sex, Vaginal Sex, Blowjob/Fellatio, Handjob, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Semi-Public Sex, Orgy, Threesome, Depraved Carnal Lust, Slice Of Life, Circus Life, I don't Know How To Tag This Weird Shit

On AO3

Bon appétit [COMPLETED]

[Astarion/Gale]

It's 2 a.m., Gale's tired and wants some food. Astarion, the cute barista/waiter at the Emerald Grove knows how to sate his cravings.

Trigger warning (18+): Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, No Magic, No Vampire, No Wizard, Graphic Description of Sex, Smut, Anal Sex, Cum Eating, Cum Feeding, Fellatio, Fingering, Rimming, Unrealistic Refractory Period, Food Puns, Food Porn, Cheesy Dialog (Pun intended), Improvised Lube & Sex toys (don't try this at home kids), Gale is tired and hungry (literally), Astarion eats Gale (figuratively), Waiter Astarion, Professor Gale, Slight Angst, Feels, Panic Attacks, Felching, Semi-Public Sex, Frottage, Past Abuse, Mentioning of Past Addiction, Face-fucking, Role-play Breeding, Vomiting, Negative Self-talk, Blowjob, Handjob, Thigh-fucking, Gale's Creaking Knees, Depraved Carnal Lust

On AO3

Bon appétit – Holiday Special: Snow Cone [COMPLETED]

[Astarion/Gale]

Astarion & Gale enjoy a walk in the fresh snow. Shenanigans occur, freaky ideas are tried, dirty fantasies get shared. Who knew snowmen were helpful for... other forms of entertainment?

This belongs to the "Bon Appétit" universe, but can be read as a stand-alone. There are spoilers regarding Astarion & Gale relationship status and Gale's job situation though.

Trigger warning (18+): Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, No Magic, No Vampire, Graphic Description of Sex, Smut, Anal Sex, Fingering, Sex In The Snow, Unorthodox Use of Icicles, Misuse of Snowmen, Improvised Sex Toys (don't try this at home kids), Accidental Voyeurism, Overall Mandatory Snow-related Activities, Domestic Fluff

On AO3

Confusing Cruising [COMPLETED]

[Astarion/Gale]

Astarion's pissed - seething with rage, really - since his abusive ex-boyfriend/boss/most influential lawyer in Baldur's Gate had taken everything from him. So, naturally, he self-medicates by drowning himself in work and running on the treadmill. While at the gym, he sees a cute guy and decides to have some fun. Nothing serious, of course... And Astarion's fucked.

Trigger warning (18+): Alternative Universe - Modern Setting, No Magic, No Vampire, No Wizard, Graphic Description of Sex, Smut, Anal Sex, Anilingus, Fingering, Rimming, Switching, Cum Eating, Past Abuse, PTSD, Unhealthy Anger Management, Food Aversion, Gale's Low Self-Esteem, Exercise instead of Therapy (don't try this at home, kids), (Failed) Cruising, Car Sex (Author strongly advises against this irl) Hand Creme as Lube (Don't try this at home kids), Dissociation, Lawyer!Astarion, Professor!Gale

On AO3

Sweet Little Treats [COMPLETED]

The tadpoled adventurers meet Harleep, and it goes a little different than expected...

Warnings: graphic description of sex, M/M, F/F, M/F, switching, orgy, incubus sex magic, spell-bound, non-consensual sex, Depraved Carnal Lust, Gale's creaking knees

On AO3

Cock: Lost and Found [COMPLETED]

Karlach lost her cock. Chaos breaks out.

Warnings: crack, dumb & silly, idk wtf this is but here you go

On AO3

Lavender and Starflower (Mobster AU) [COMPLETED]

[Astarion/Gale]

The Dekarios Clan reigns over Waterdeep as the city’s protector for centuries. Suddenly, the Clan gets challenged by Cazador, the head of the Szarr Clan that rules over Baldur’s Gate. Of course, such an attack won’t be tolerated and the intruder must be forced back and out of the City of Splendors. While fixing destroyed protection sigils, Gale, wizard prodigy and heir of the Dekarios Clan, meets a charming stranger called Astarion. And Gale makes the biggest mistake of his life; he invites the pale elf into his home.

Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, graphic description of violence and torture, non-con/rape, derogatory language, dissociation, smut, gore, vomiting, angst, emotional rollercoaster, claustrophobia, PTSD responses, panic attack, Mobster AU

On AO3

Tav & her merry little bunch of weirdos

[fem!Tav/Astarion, fem!Tav/Gale, fem!Tav/Halsin, fem!Tav/Shadowheart, Astarion/Gale, fem!Tav/Multi]

Sex, love, and... feelings? The adventures of Tav and her merry little bunch of weirdos during and after the events of 'Baldur's Gate 3'.

Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, smut, fluff, the feels, character study

On AO3

Hear my pleas [COMPLETED]

[Astarion/Gale]

This one’s different from my usual fics and set in an alternative universe where all the worst-case scenario outcomes had happened (set post BG3):

Astarion has ascended, his vampire spawn lover Tav, a Bhaalspawn, is dead, Gale reached godhood, Shadowheart was killed by her Sharran kin, Karlach's beheaded for the sword of Tyr, Wyll and Halsin are dead along with the tieflings and the grove, Lae'zel and Minthara had been killed in the last battle against the Netherbrain.

Astarion's lonely and tired. He has no one. Thus, in his desperation, he builds an altar for the God of Ambition and prays to him despite not expecting an answer. – His prayers are heard though.

Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, smut, angst, anilingus, anal sex, nonconsensual blood drinking, blood, biting, cum-eating, choking, dom/sub power dynamic, derogatory language, dubious consent, fellatio, face-fucking, violence, vomiting, spanking, sprinkle of praise kink, these men have trauma, character study, emotional rollercoaster, happy ending (I wouldn't stand it otherwise), unnamed Tav, they/them pronounce for Tav, original character, OC, post-canon

On AO3

Deep like water [COMPLETED]

Prequel of our favourite nerdy wizard Gale. The story's about his life before the game, how he was groomed by a literal goddess, and how he was praised and put under pressure as a 'gifted' kid.

Trigger warnings: angst, depression, life crisis, graphic description of evil magic that tries to consume the human body, teenage smut, masturbation

On AO3

Baby, the stars shine bright [COMPLETED]

Prequel of our favourite and fabulous vampire spawn Astarion. The story's about his life before meeting Cazador, being turned into a vampire spawn, and all the 'pure shit' he went through while being under his master's thumb.

Trigger warnings (18+): angst, canon-typical violence, graphic description of assault, gore & violence, grooming, non-con/rape, psychological horror/terror, torture

On AO3

[raregcms]

Francis headcanons

prefers his friends call him Hawkeye. Does NOT like being called Frank -- if you call him by name, it's Francis. He'll also accept Ace.

saw his mother die. he doesn't remember how old he was, but believes he was roughly 4-5. she went down fighting so clint and Francis could get away.

his middle name is Jay. Yes, it's both a bird pun and a Simpsons joke (which he doesn't understand bc he's never seen the show).

had almost white hair when he was a baby. as he's gotten older it's gotten darker, now it's closer to a rusty auburn.

his eyes are gray, not blue. like his mother's.

learned ASL while learning to speak. acted as his father's ears from around the same time they lost Bobbi, due to anything technological being hackable by the Ultrabots. occasionally will emphasize his speech with signs, usually unconsciously; will deliberately use sign when on missions to cut chatter.

carries a lot of resentment for the other Avengers whose kids Tony raised. this mostly stems from a sense that they didn't do enough, since bobbi and clint were basically human and the rest were either born or made superhumans.

does remember meeting Torunn and James at least once in childhood; he was a toddler both times, though slightly older when he met baby James.

smokes as a stress coping mechanism; it isn't very often, and not nearly as much as he did in the Underground. nowadays he either chews gum or sticks a toothpick between his teeth to cut the urge, but he will have a cigarette now and then if he starts having flashbacks.

definitely has PTSD. suffers nightmares. doesn't sleep much; when he does fall asleep it's usually in the couple of hours between moonset and dawn.

francis is ambidextrous, and can pull his bow with equal strength from left or right. he tends to write with his left hand though.

more as i think about it im tired

[the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐸𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 40 Sight a Proposal, Plans Go Awr-Eye

Pairing: Alastor x F!OC (Theia, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes)

Chapter Summary: You, Alastor, and Ombre get your dance to 'We Three' by The Inkspots, Alastor gives his proposal speech, and friends get to give their congratulations. Even 'Uncle' Noctua makes a surprise appearance. It's not the only surprise in store, however…

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: Implied Cannibalism, Alastor talking for fucking waaaaay too long, kidnapping

A/N: I haven't finished writing 43 and I suspect I might never complete it, but I will give you all what I have left, and at the end of the chapters in the notes, you can find what my initial plans were for this story, as I've had it for quite some time. Find me in the after chapter notes for an explanation as to why I have decided to leave this story as a mostly WIP despite knowing the entire story's ending.

It’s late into the afternoon by the time you’ve finished your postponed meal at the cannibal café with Alastor, and you feel quite full and satisfied. A complete twenty minutes later, and the two of you are in the town square. The sun is low in the sky but it’s not dark enough for the streetlights to come on just yet. Every part of the square is still covered in those bows of red ribbons with the black lacy overlay topped with an eyeball bead. They stare at you from every street lamp, bench, tree, and hydrant.

In the gazebo, there is a full piece band, and they’re ready to play any song that you choose. Alastor, remembering your request for ‘We Three’ by The Ink Spots, relays the message to them, and pulls you into a waltz.

The three of you are gliding simply, Ombre about your shoulders as usual, with just a simple box step over and over again and you let him lead, always will let him lead if he’ll let you follow.

Your gaze is locked on his as Ombre begins to murmur the words in your ear, singing the song with which you’re so familiar.

“We three, we're all alone

Living in a memory

My echo, my shadow, and me

We three, we're not a crowd

We're not even company

My echo, my shadow, and me.”

He pulls you into a dip and you sigh with a smile on your face, pleased to meet him nose to nose once more as you come back up again to continue the simple box step.

“What good is the moonlight

The silvery moonlight that shines above?

I walk with my shadow

I talk with my echo

But where is the one I love?

We three, we'll wait for you

Even till eternity

My echo, my shadow, and me.”

He leads you into a spin and you know it’s coming long before it begins. You know his steps before he takes them, and you’ve learned the way his body directs you. As Ombre’s voice speaks the words spoken in the song, you shiver and nearly swoon as Alastor pulls you close to spin you gently in a circle.

“‘We three, we're all alone. Seems like we're livin' in a memory.

That's my echo, my shadow, and me.

We three we ain't no crowd.

Fact is we ain't even company.

That's my echo, my shadow, and me.

You know I been wonderin' 

what good is the moonlight 

that silvery moonlight that shines way, way up above?

Yeah, I walk with my shadow, I talk with my echo, but where is that gal that I love?’”

The look in Alastor’s eyes tells you that the gal is right in front of him; it’s you, and your eyes are full of love and devotion. He starts you both in on a simple box step again as the song continues and Ombre starts to sing again,

“We three, we'll wait for you

Even till eternity

My echo, my shadow, and me.”

Alastor spins you once more, and then as you meet him, he kisses you fiercely. As you break apart, Alastor murmurs, “While that song reminds you of us, nostre fiancé, it reminds us of you.”

Then the clapping begins, and you notice the whole town plus all the guests Alastor had invited have all gathered around the edges of the dancefloor, waiting for you to finish. You flush at the attention and wave.

Alastor summons his microphone, and declares, “Thank you all for joining us for this momentous occasion. Due to unforeseen circumstances—”

“—that honestly should have been foreseen given the nature of how the two of us work—” You cut in, and Alastor chuckles then continues,

“—my dear Theia has already accepted my proposal.” A round of groans before he waves them down. “Now, now, before we get all upset, my dearest has already agreed to let me give the speech I had written and she will say yes again so as to not upset all of you who took the time to make your way out here tonight. We both sincerely apologize for ruining the surprise but are grateful you came to enjoy the party and the festivities nevertheless!”

When Alastor is done with his announcement, he pulls you into his arms for another searing kiss. In the distance is Charlie, Vaggie (with her new eye) standing beside the princess, Angel, Husk, Sir Pentious, and Niffty at their feet. You see Rana, a small gathering of imps, one of which you recognize, a hellhound, and not far from them, you think you might see your ‘uncle’ as well.

Alastor manifests a piece of paper, winks, then begins. “Long before I met you for the first time, Rosie talked about you constantly, talked about the strange woman with so many eyes and a penchant for eating them. When she insisted I come to meet you, that you’d become incredibly depressed, of course I came at her behest. I’d longed to meet you, intrigued by the woman she’d spoken so highly of on so many occasions. 

“You fascinated me from the moment you introduced yourself, deliberately choosing an alias instead of your real name, and announcing it so distinctly as such. You were just as witty as I’d anticipated, and amusing to boot. Conversation with you was easy, despite your reluctance for it, and you spoke as if you knew of me, despite the fact that you’d claimed to never have purchased a radio. At least you hadn’t said you preferred TV.” 

The crowd laughs as tinny canned audience laughter escapes from his microphone; he winks, and then continues, “When Rosie spoke of redemption, it wasn’t that you didn’t believe in such nonsense, in fact, you made it quite clear you believed it could be possible, but that it never could be for you. While one could assume this was because of the choices you’d made, from what little I understood of you from what Rosie had said, it seemed to me it was quite the other way around. Your actions were dictated because of the impossibility of your redemption, not in spite of it.

“Needless to say, I was entranced. You were an enigma wrapped inside a riddle, and I wanted to understand your secrets. Perhaps a little too eager, as Rosie knew as well as I that you had many you were refusing to share with the world, and as you came to the hotel, I was curious not just of what your secrets entailed, but who you were underneath that cool exterior and near-perpetual smile you chose to wear.

“When you told our Angel Dust in confidence that the smile you wore is something you’d picked up from watching me ‘all these years,’ I was stunned. We’d only just met, and yet you seemed to know so much more about me than I’d ever anticipated. I teased you about it, but you were quick on the uptake, and banter seemed to flow between us as if we’d known each other for decades. 

“Calling you ‘dear’ and ‘darling’ started as a joke. Something to tease you about, ruffle your feathers. I liked to watch you flush, see your interesting reactions. Back then, I didn’t understand why. Now I can tell you it was because I had  the first inclination of budding attraction in all my life or death.

“Our first date was truly on accident. I had wanted to impress you, take you to the fanciest restaurant here in Cannibal Town, but I’d forgotten that Tourniquet is known for being a place exclusively for couples.” The proprietors of Tourniquet whistle at being mentioned, and you give them small smiles as they do so. Alastor then continues, “Not only was our conversation interesting and the meal delicious, you continued to intrigue me when you pushed back against my insistence to pay for the meal and somehow coaxed me into agreeing to take you to see my radio tower and to another meal together, with the threat that if I refused, that you’d tell Rosie I’d taken you on a date.

“While technically true, I was trapped, caught with the realization that I’d done so on accident, but with the knowledge that I still wanted it to be one. When we made our way to Rosie’s afterwards, as had been the plan, she saw through us immediately, as to be expected.” Your eyes find Rosie in the crowd and she smirks. You giggle behind your hand as Alastor continues, “You kept your end of the promise you’d made even though you didn’t have to; no deal had been struck. I threw caution to the wind when I saw you debating over choices that required refrigeration. I wanted you closer to me, so I had Niffty move your things to the suite beside mine.

“On the way back, when you saw that knife in the window, I knew it met the criteria for exactly what I’d described. It was somehow perfect for you, as if it had been made with you in mind, despite its location in a random innocuous shop window. A knife, sheath, and belt all adorned with eyes of gold and silver—it had to belong to you. So I took you inside, and purchased it. Calling you ‘dearest’ was a slip of the tongue, but seeing the way you responded, it felt like I’d done something right. 

“Then we went up to my radio tower, and somehow, it all fell apart. As part of our arrangement, I was allowed to ask you a question, and if you refused, I could choose another. I was greedy and curious, wanting to know about the powers you’d so eagerly kept to yourself as part of your deal with Vox, so of course that was my first question, which you immediately shot down. Then I asked you about what you’d been thinking about before you’d discovered the knife, and you turned sour when I asked you if you’d been thinking about kissing me.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out harsh and cruel, but as I’d told Rosie not an hour before, I was terrified at how I might respond if you showed real interest in me, had real interest in me. I wasn’t supposed to start finding you more interesting than your secrets, but you are quite funny when you want to be, and you expressed genuine interest in my work, and my mother, and even my choice of food, despite it being unpleasant or even unpalatable to others. 

“You grew cold with me, bitter, and pulled away from my side, talking of how you should have known it had just been a ploy for you to reveal all your secrets, that it was a trap and you had nearly fallen inside it, going so far as to insinuate that Rosie might have had a hand in it herself.

“You told me I didn’t have to pretend to have interest in you to learn your secrets, that bringing something to the table as equal trade for a deal would have been sufficient, but I was too stunned to answer. It was then, in that moment, as you told me I didn’t have to pretend that I realized I wasn’t, and it was seemingly already too late. When you spoke of keeping your agreement with me, about sharing a meal and even taking the knife’s first victim in front of me, I grasped at them like they were the key to survival, already drafting versions of an apology in my head.

“The next evening, when you were so inebriated you could barely stand, waxing poetic and using so many puns I could barely discern your meaning, you found me of all people in that hallway, collapsed in my arms and I carried you to your room, had Niffty dress you, wrote you a letter, and told you how utterly captivated I am by you. Little did I know that you were fully aware of it the whole time, aware that I was apologizing to you as you lay unconscious, thinking you were asleep.

“I had Ombre look after you but only from a distance, as you’d been so careful to include them in your insistence for space, not knowing that they too, were hurting, perhaps even more so, as they’d known from the beginning that they were intrigued and fascinated by you, and I was the one slow on the uptake for once.” 

Everyone chuckles, and he gives a sheepish smile as Ombre rumbles amusement as well, then he continues, “So when Ombre appeared on the awning above you as you left to go see your dear friend Rana and you encouraged me to appear, I did so, and you called me ‘Al’ again, like you’d done before. I didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, why you were suddenly alright with me, as if the events of two nights prior had never occurred, even as I called you Theia, respecting your boundaries and wishes, even as I saw that you winced when I did so. As you walked away, my thoughts were focused on continuing to draft that apology letter, revising and editing it over and over again in my mind.

“When the day you’d planned to make the meal we were to share together arrived and you’d told Niffty you needed an apron and oven mitts, I nearly broke at the thought of seeing you in one, all dolled up for me and serving me a meal.” He says sheepishly.

Angel calls out, “He fuckin’ bleated! Twice!”

The crowd laughs, and Alastor, a blush on his face, continues, “While we were on uncertain terms, I’d do anything to appease you, anything to give you what you wanted and needed, so when I saw you sit on the floor, I made my move, coaxed you to a chair, and went off in search of a very specific apron and oven mitt set, with trivets to match. I had it designed out of fabric I found, and was pleased it only took half a day to complete. Afterwards, I put on the suit I’d had my tailor perfect days prior, and prepared my room for our meal—our second date.

“I will never forget how you looked in that moment. You stole my attention and my breath in an instant. I have a detest for cameras, but then, in my room with you looking the perfect picture of a nineteen-thirties housewife, I wanted to capture your image to look upon at my whimsy, to never be rid of that wonderful display you’d chosen to make just for me. Then that dress, that little housedress changed before my very eyes into something stunning and elegant, and I thought once again that I’d lost my mind, even as you told me that I could call you those pet names that I so longed to call you again. I didn’t understand of course, but you said I could, and I would, had longed to call you them from the moment you’d told me to stop.

“Then I tasted the meal you prepared. The best meal I’ve ever eaten in my death. It reminded me of my mother, of the care in which she’d put into her meals, but it tasted like us, like a future we could have together. I didn’t understand why you were so easy and open and honest with me after our gross misunderstanding only two nights prior, but I accepted your explanation that I’d forgotten my rather embarrassing first draft of the note, riddled with little pet names and affections for you that I knew I had to leave out. You asked me about what my intentions were, and I was flummoxed, unable to answer.

“Just as I told you then, I had no idea what I wanted, was so focused on apologizing to you, on telling you that I just wanted you to no longer feel disdain for me, that I didn’t even conceive of the notion that you already had long moved on from forgiveness. The words you spoke, telling me that it was alright that I wasn’t sure what I wanted, that you’d let me have whatever I was willing to offer you no matter what that might be and at whatever pace that I wished nearly broke me again.

“When the meal was over, I gave you the candied eyes I’d bought, and you spoke words that hurt my heart at the very notion that you would think so lowly of yourself. I was determined to explain to you that if anyone else had said those words that I would gut them at your feet. Those words still hold true to this day. No one should ever say such things about you, ma très chère, least of all yourself. I must have made you uncomfortable, which upset me, but then you moved on to discussing how your first kill with that knife of yours would go, and I was fascinated when you told me you were aroused by the idea of killing someone in front of me. Of course I was fascinated. Arousal had never been something that enticed me, intrigued me, even as I yearned for you in ways I had never understood.

“So the next morning, after I’d escorted you to bed, you decided to be a little minx and turn on the radio. Of course I came to you, lured like a sailor to the rocks, and you coaxed me into breakfast after I coaxed you into dancing with me, and we spent the morning in the ballroom, dancing a lovely foxtrot to a song I’d never had the pleasure of dancing to while I was alive. Afterwards, I saw you off with a smile and affectionate kisses everywhere but your lips. I was starting to become acclimated to your touch, to touching you, and I have always been grateful that you allowed me to take things at my pace.

“When I came back to the hotel after tracking down your future prey, Niffty told me she found you in Angel’s room, and I didn’t even mean to, didn’t need to, but I found myself jealous. When you told me that it had just been to see his pet pig, that you’d been in there as his friend because of course you were. You are good to everyone around you—even to me—I grew bitter, furious, furious I no longer had a justified reason to be upset, and somehow, impossibly, you understood, spoke French to me, and broke me in an instant, broken for the first time of many.

“Yet even as you broke me, shattered me to pieces, you were careful with your precision to put me back together, carried the pieces of me that fell into your lap and took me to my room in the blink of your eyes. You let me hold you, communicate with you in a way you’d designed so that I didn’t have to speak, didn’t need words, and you curled into me in a way that just felt right. You told me about how your powers work, showed me how they work, told me that you saw how I took care of you that night when you were drunk, heard my apology and confession from my lips. I was shaken, to be sure, but pleased to know that you had heard it, for it had always been genuine. I encouraged you to tell me about how your deals work, since you’d been so eager to tease me with the notion before, and then you told me words that nearly broke me to this day. 

“You told me that when you made a deal with me, that you’d mark me, leave me with a gold eye with a silver iris, that you’d put it under my chin, so that anyone who looked up to me would know that I was yours. I will always be yours, bien-aimée, but in that moment, right then and there, I knew I wanted to be yours. So of course I kissed you, my first kiss to anyone besides my own mother. It was awkward at first, but you seemed to understand what I wanted, and helped make it better, made it perfect, just like you.

“Not long after, on that rooftop in front of your prey, you told me your name, let me carve it into your victim, then unleashed your demon form and I almost broke a third time. I didn’t know how much better it could be with you, but seeing you in your true form, two stories tall and shrieking, hungry and out for blood, was the best spectacle I have ever witnessed. You are radiant, ma beauté monstrueuse, and I was entranced, captivated, and aroused for the very first time as I watched you watch me as you slayed that sinner. Of course I made love to you for the first time that night, soaked in your victim’s blood. You were perfect, are perfect.

“I wanted your mark on my skin, and jumped at the chance to have it when you said I had to keep your name a secret. Of course I did.” He intertwines his fingers with yours and the deal glows once more. “I wanted everything with you, would have it in a heartbeat, but Ombre insisted, they wanted to be a part of this too. How could I say no? They had known from the start that you were the one who would be perfect for us both. The least I could do was give you the ability to understand them too, even if no one else can understand them.

“The next morning, we ate breakfast together; you broke me again, put me back together, showed me what the rest of the hotel was up to, and coaxed me into inviting you to the Overlord meeting. We made a laughing stock of the Vees once more together, learned some valuable secrets, and discovered a flier seeking you in a way that had you in a panic. I took you back to our rooms, and you called it ‘home’. It broke me to see you like that, but it also felt like I was taking you home, taking you back to the place that the three of us shared.

“You left me with a note the next morning, and it scared me at first. I thought you’d left forever, that you’d decided that this wasn’t enough, and I nearly screamed. You can never leave me, Theia. The deal we made prevents that, but in that moment, I was terrified, terrified you’d changed your mind, terrified that flier had sent you packing, running. Ombre, for that is what you named them, reassured me that you would return, that you had simply woken before I’d arisen and that you were participating in the day’s activities.

“When you returned to the hotel, I could tell that something was plaguing your mind, that you felt like something was weighing on your heart, but Niffty, our dear sweet Niffty, had decided that Boring Closet Stuff was to be explored. You seemed eager to have something distract you, and I was pleased to be in close proximity to you, even as I saw the new eye on your skin as soon as I’d set mine on you. I didn’t mention it, thought it best to wait, as Niffty led us into the mysterious room and all the fascinating objects inside. I collected that book that fell from the trap door and into the tunnel to the side, and I could never have known then how valuable it would become.

“We sat and shared time with Niffty in her little Hidey Hole, and you were eager to explain that you’d made a deal with me when Niffty asked about the eye underneath my chin. When she’d assumed we’d gotten married and you’d said it was more of a promise and she’d said it was like a proposal, I reassured her that it would be far more grand.” He looks up from the paper and into your eyes for a moment. “It was then that I had already started planning this evening.” Then he returns to his script, this love letter he drafted to you to read aloud to all of Hell.

“That night, you told me who you are, how you came to be Theia, the one who eats the eyes of her enemies, the one who takes charge and steals the gaze of anyone who sees her in an instant. You told me of the filth of a man who you rightfully removed from life after what you discovered he’d done to your friend, and you did it so creatively, I might add. I understand why you did what you did, Theia. I removed filth from the streets myself when I was alive. You told me of the curse that plagues you, and we vowed to remove it, even as we hadn’t yet discovered that it truly is a curse. The three of us made love for the first time that night: Ombre, you, and myself, and while you slept, Ombre and I poured over the book we’d discovered.

“We knew your whole story, the story you hadn’t shared, but perhaps you were unable to let your lips form the words, scared to say your family’s history. We were going to tell you what we found when you awoke, but a terrifying nightmare had you rising far earlier than anticipated. When you told me that it wasn’t a nightmare, that you see the true events that take place in Hell and gave me a perfect example of an event I already was aware of, I held you as you made sure that our Angel Dust was safe, that he and Husk were alright, together and happy. I reminded you that no matter what happened you were not to blame for the actions taken by another, and certainly not one as horrific as Valentino.” 

Your perfect vision around you refuses to deny you the look of shock and what you pray isn’t pity on Angel’s face. Husk takes and squeezes one of his hands. I’m glad one good thing came out of that horrible night, you decide as Alastor continues. “We coaxed you back to sleep, and in the morning, your dear friend Rana was eager to call you. We had a lovely talk, and we joined her and Rosie for tea. You had a surprise visitor, that with your impeccable eyesight, you saw before any of the rest of us did. Ombre and I would have lost it if it weren’t for Rosie and Rana. You terrified us, disappearing without a word like that. When you returned, we were so grateful, so joyful to know that you were alright. You spoke of a family member you hadn’t seen in years but were happy to be reunited with, and we were pleased to know that not all of your family was terrible, that you had someone in your life who treated you with respect.

“Afterwards, we discussed what I found in the book, about your curse, about the angel that performed it, about Boring Closet Stuff again, and about the possibility that you could be pregnant. You were panicked, crazed, dazed, and furious. You threw caution to the wind and announced that you would tear Valentino apart for what he’d done to Angel, and that you wanted me to watch you do it. Of course I said yes, as long as I was there to keep you safe, could watch the show. What a show indeed. You never cease to impress. It’ll be days before he respawns but when he does, I look forward to watching you do it all over again.

“That time we made love it was the most ravenous, primal, needy, and desperate I have ever been. I will never forget it and hope to do it again sometime, but not in your current condition.” Both his and Ombre’s hands move to your abdomen in unison, and you let them, placing your hand, your left, the one with the engagement ring, on top of both of theirs. “When Lucifer arrived at Charlie’s discretion, I made sure to keep your distance from him for as long as I could manage, knowing that you feared that if he saw you, he’d insist that you leave the hotel and never return.” Charlie’s face looks shocked and upset. Alastor doesn’t notice as he continues, “I wanted to distract you with killing the loan sharks, and while it was fun, it set you up to be seen by him as we returned. So the time came for us to sit down with The King of Hell about why you were here, about what could be done.

“I would never, will never allow anyone, not even Lucifer himself take you away from us, Theia. You are ours and we will never let you go. When you made that deal with Lucifer to protect the hotel to the best of your capacity, none of us knew you were pregnant, and much less with twins. Lucifer saw the twin souls in you, and I knew, in that moment, that the three of us were to be parents for sure.

“It was upsetting, to see you so terrified of motherhood, but after you allowed yourself to relax, I was grateful to know that you were reassured by Ombre and my abilities to father and rear our children at your side.” He lets the notes disappear back into his shadows, pulls you close, and looks into your eyes as he holds the microphone with one hand and, with his arm wrapped around yours, his other on your belly. “This morning, when you killed the sinner who started Theia’s whole story, you jumped into my arms, told me that you love me so impossibly much and then jokingly asked me to marry you.

“It was a challenge, and you know how I like those. I couldn’t let you just get away with saying that. I had a ring burning a hole in my pocket, even as I knew that Rosie was making sure the town was putting the finishing touches on this little event, even as I knew that all of our friends would be in attendance. So I fished out the ring box and proposed at your feet next to the corpse. I called you by your name, the name given to you at birth, and I asked you for your hand in marriage.

“Now, I will do the same, but I will say the name you chose, the name that matters far more to me because it is yours. Theia,” He says as he drops down to one knee again, simply for the sake of formality, “nostre reine, will you give me the pleasure, the honor, and the blessing of being my wife?”

Tears prick your eyes you didn’t know were coming, for even as you stood and listened to all of these words that he’s been speaking, you never expected your reaction to be like this. “YES!” You declare with a yell as you lean into the microphone, and he kisses the ring already on your finger.

The applause begins as a quiet thudding and escalates into a roar, loud yells and cheers and people jumping. Everyone is thrilled, and so are you. You see everyone deeply moved and overjoyed at the beautiful speech he delivered. When he takes a bow, you hear a click as the broadcast ends, and you smile through the tears that threaten to fall.

One by one, your friends approach you. Rosie first, as hostess, pulls you into a gentle hug, whispering, “Congratulations, dearie. I look forward to the wedding.” You kiss her cheek.

“Thank you, Auntie Rosie.” You give her a delighted smile.

Charlie is next, Vaggie beside her, and after Charlie almost picks you up and swings you around, a look from Alastor makes her change her mind. She sets you back down gently, and Vaggie offers you a hug, her arms open. You take it, smiling back at her.

It is a short embrace, and when it is over, she steps away from you. “Congratulations Theia!” Charlie declares excitedly. “When you’re ready, come to me and we’ll start planning your wedding! I already have a few ideas!”

“She has filled pages and pages of a notebook already.” Vaggie says, amused. 

You look to Alastor. “Didn’t you tell her just yesterday that you were going to propose?”

“No, nostre reine. This morning, actually, mere hours before you awoke.” He says, amusement in his eyes.

“So much already, why that doesn’t surprise me, Charlie; you’re always full of ideas!” You say easily, a little intimidated by how enthusiastic she is about the idea of planning your wedding.

Vaggie, sensing your unease, coaxes Charlie away, and Niffty runs up next. “When I said we’d talk later, Theia, I didn’t think it would be at your proposal party!” She giggles as Ombre makes room for her to crawl up and sit on your shoulder. She gives you a hug. “Congratulations!” She says and leans over to give Alastor a hug too, who looks surprised but pleased. “I expect to be a part of the wedding. One of the bridesmaids, maybe.” She thinks for a moment as she kicks her legs. “While I’m small enough in stature to be the flower girl, I’d really rather not.” She says with a chortle, and you chuckle along with her. 

“That’s understandable, Niff.” You say easily, and she gives you both another hug.

“I’m going to go see if Rosie needs any bugs killed! I’ll see you later!” She declares as she scurries off elsewhere.

Sir Pentious comes up to you both next.

“I don’t see why I’m always last to find out about these things.” Sir Pentious declares, irritated. “It appears the entire hotel knew you prefer to be called Theia despite The King calling you ‘Iris’ and that you’re pregnant except me?!”

“Sorry, Pen, these things happen sometimes.” You say sadly, feeling a little bad that you hadn’t managed to talk to him yet but glad he’d been able to make it anyway. “I’m glad you came, though, and I’ll be sure to spend more time with you soon.”

“Coming from anyone else that would be doubtful, but as it is you, I anticipate many talks with you in the future, Theia!” He says excitedly, and you smile as he slithers off into the crowd.

Angel and Husk walk up next. You delight in seeing them still holding hands from earlier. Angel drops the hand to pull you into a four-armed hug, but makes sure to hold you loosely and above the waist. “Congrats, Occhi!” He exclaims, and you wrap your arms around him. 

When he steps away, Husk pulls you into a hug, the first of its kind. You smile into his fur and wrap your arms around him too. He’s soft, far softer than you’d anticipated. He smells like family. “Congrats, kid.” He says affectionately, and pats you on the head. You chuckle. He turns to Alastor. “Congratulations, Sir. May she be good to you.”

“You’re too kind, dear Husker.” Alastor says with a knowing smile, and you frown at them both.

“Alastor, don’t put words in Husk’s mouth. He does enough for you already.” You pinch him on the ass, determined to prove a point. He bleats, his ears pinned back against his head.

Angel barks out a surprised laugh. “Do it again, Occhi!” He chortles, and you shake your head.

“Once was enough.” You say easily, then kiss Alastor on the lips gently. “Be good to your souls, Al. You know what happens to bad boys who don’t play well with their toys.” You say with a teasing smirk. “Though I would never cut you up, of course. I’d just deny you sex. After all, if you want me to find other ways to teach you a lesson, all you have to do is be good.”

“Kinky!” Angel says with a smirk, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t you have elsewhere to be, Ange?” He laughs, but takes the hint.

“See you later, Occhi.” He waves, takes Husks hand, and leads him away.

“Later, kid.” Husk says with a wave of his own, his eyes never leaving Angel’s delighted face.

You don’t have much time to pay attention to how cute their new love is before Rana, Blitzø, a pair of imps you don’t recognize, and a hellhound step forward to see you. Rana pulls you into a fierce hug before she steps back to introduce everyone. “You already know Blitzø, of course, but the rest of the gang you haven’t met yet. This is Moxie and Millie, the other two members of I.M.P., and this is Loona. She works there too.”

“She’s also my daughter!” Blitzø supplies, and Loona groans and pulls out her phone. You giggle. Teenagers these days, always staring at their phones. “Where did—he was just here a fuckin’ minute ago.” You suspect you know who he’s talking about but don’t comment. 

“Pleased to meet you, Theia!” Moxie says with a soft bow.

Millie smirks, “Charmed, I’m sure. Rana’s told us all about ya.”

You laugh and offer your hand for them to shake, much to their surprise. “A pleasure to meet the both of you. When we’re not so busy, I actually have a task for I.M.P. No murder this time, unless that comes as a side benefit. I have a package I need delivered, and I’ll need it delivered to someone on Earth. I hear you’d be the ones to speak to about such matters. I’ll pay extra, of course.”

Blitzø brightens at the idea of more money. “We’ll talk later.” He says, and then looks around again. “Where the fuck did he go? He was so goddamn determined to be here, and now he doesn’t even bother to show when we finally get a fuckin’ chance to talk with the newly-engaged couple? He fuckin’ loves this sappy ass shit.”

You see your ‘uncle’ in the distance, see him hold a single finger up to the hood of the cloak he wears, and you understand, keep your head level. You’re not sure why he’s insisting on being stealthy, hiding from everyone, but he is.

“Maybe he went to get some refreshments.” You suggest as a means of distraction, and everyone takes it easily.

“I could go for some food.” Rana says, understanding your desire to get them to peel off on their own. Blizø follows behind, bitching the whole way; Loona stares at her phone as she leaves, muttering a half-hearted ‘congrats,’ and Moxie and Millie give their congratulations before they take up the rear.

After they are long out of earshot, your ‘uncle’ walks up to you gracefully. Keeping the hood up, he opens his arms, and you run and jump into his embrace. “Uncle Noctua!” You exclaim. “You came! How did you even know this was happening?”

“Word got around, as it always does, little nebula. Why you insist on calling me ‘uncle’ I’ll never understand, Iris. I’m only six years older than you.”

You laugh, resting your head against his chest. “You’re so much taller than me, silly. Besides, you’ll always be an old man in my eyes. You’ll live to see the end of time itself.”

“Don’t say such devastating things, little nebula. You’ll see it too, someday. Now that the book has been uncovered we can begin the task of breaking the curse.” He says easily, and lifts your chin to look into your eyes. “You’ve done so well so far. There’s not much more, I’m sure of it.” His gaze turns to Alastor then. “Now, Iris, introduce me to the man who has captured your heart.”

“Alastor, I give you permission to call me in front of Prince Stolas, son of King Paiman, Lucifer’s most loyal. Noctua, I’d like to introduce you to the man I have chosen as my better half. This is Alastor, The Radio Demon, and his shadow, Ombre. They are two sides of the same man, and the two halves of my better half.” You say, and Alastor smiles, offering his hand to shake as you step back into Alastor’s embrace.

“Iris, or Theia as she prefers to be called these days, has told me about you, your highness.” Alastor says with his ever-permanent smile, but it’s genuine, his words sincere. It is rare that he speaks to someone with more power than him with respect and decency, you suspect. “She speaks kind words about how you are the only family she considers truly hers. Thank you for showing her how family ought to treat her, so she has someone to think of how she’ll want our future family to be treated.”

“While Theia has not told me about you to the same extent, I know that she has chosen the right one for her, for only a man who knows her secrets, knows her story, knows her royal lineage and chooses to see past that could possibly live up to the standards set by both her and myself for what we hope to attain.”

You interject, curious. “Do you believe you’ve found that with Blitzø?”

“I think I have, little nebula, though there are times when I wonder about things.” He says with a sigh, and you see worry in his eyes.

“Time will tell, Noctua. I suspect it will all work out in the end, even if it’s a bit of a rough start. He was looking for you earlier. He cares about you, even if he has difficulty showing it. I’m familiar with these sorts of things.” You say as you squeeze Alastor’s hand. He squeezes yours back.

“I should be leaving now, little Nebula.” Stolas says, and you give him a sad smile.

“Are you still coming by the hotel tomorrow?” You ask earnestly, hoping to see him again.

“Absolutely. There is, I’m afraid, quite a lot to discuss. I hadn’t planned on coming tonight, but when dear Rana mentioned that your engagement party was tonight, I couldn’t stay away.” He opens up his arms again, and you leap into them once more. “Good night, little Nebula. Congratulations on your engagement, and I will see you soon.” He kisses you on the forehead, and you wave goodbye as you step once again back into Alastor’s embrace.

“Goodbye, ‘Uncle’ Noctua!” You call with a tease, and he laughs, his laugh echoing into the darkness as he retreats.

“He truly is a good one, Iris darling.” Alastor murmurs into your ear. “I’m glad you had someone as kind as him in your life growing up.”

“I am too.” You sigh into his ear as he pulls you close.

As the band strikes up something lively, Alastor asks with a bow, “May I have this dance, mon fiancé?”

“With you? Always.” You reply with a curtsy, and he pulls you into his arms to lead you in the complicated footwork required for the dance at hand.

It’s simple; it’s expected, and it’s soothing. This is a dance for lovers, and a dance for just the three of you, even as others partake beside you on the dancefloor. You finish the night with more dancing and refreshments, wrapped in his embrace.

It is so wonderful to have a night as quiet as this one, you think to yourself, I hope many more are just as enjoyable, just as calm.

Several dances and conversations later, everyone says their goodbyes to you and heads out into the night. Soon, it’s just Alastor, Ombre, Rosie, and yourself. It is dark. The streetlights have all come on to illuminate Cannibal Town in their glow. The square is empty, save for the beautiful wrappings on every tree, streetlamp, bench, wreath, and gazebo. It’s cool, and the air is impossibly still.

“Well, dears, the guest room is available for the night should you choose to stay.” She winks. “I changed the sheets already, so feel free to get a good night’s rest.”

You flush, realizing that she knows about your earlier escapades. “Thanks, Rosie.” You reply as you try to calm your breathing. As she walks away, your hairpin slips from your bun. As it clatters to the ground, you bend down to pick it up, and accidentally pierce your finger. The blood drips onto the pin and a few fall on the ground, soaking into the dirt.

“So thoughtful as always, Rosie dear.” Alastor replies, not noticing your little mistake. “We’ll gladly take you up on spending the evening in your guest room. It’s been quite a long evening and I’m sure Theia is exhausted.” You pick up the pin with your uninjured hand. A yawn escapes you before you realize it, and Ombre chuckles. Alastor kisses your forehead. As blood drips from your fingers, they remain unaware. “Right on cue. Let’s get you into bed, hmm?”

You nod, and he uses his shadows to materialize into the guest room again. Blood drips onto the carpet. Alastor’s eyes dilate as his nose catches the scent of your fresh blood. “Bien-aimée, have you injured yourself?” He lifts your hand to inspect it, sucks the finger into his mouth.

“I pricked myself on my own hairpin by mistake.” You say with an embarrassed laugh. “I’m just so tired.” 

He tsks and you let yourself be chided. “Ma très chère, you must take better care of yourself.”

“At least I have the two of you to take care of me.” You murmur, then realize where you are. “You know,” you say in between yawns as he closes the wound with his tongue. If I weren’t so tired this might have started something, you think with a shiver,  “we just as easily could have gone home. The effort to materialize here versus there is virtually nothing. I of all people would know.” 

“Yes, ma très chère, but it would be rude to have said ‘no’.” He says with a kiss to your finger and then your forehead. “Now are you awake enough to dress yourself, or shall I do it for you, bien-aimée?”

“In what, Al?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you going to send Ombre for my nightdress?”

He chuckles, and manifests a wrapped present. “The first of many gifts, mon fiancé.” He says as he hands it to you.

You sit on the bed and inspect it. It’s not very large, clearly a garment box, wrapped in gorgeous red paper and an equally stunning black bow to match. There is elegant threading work on each. You take the time to undo the bow carefully and open the wrapping so as to keep it intact and avoid reopening the wound on your finger.

He chuckles, bemused, as he sits beside you, watches your careful and deliberate motions.

Finally, the wrapping falls open and you lift the lid. Under tissue paper, you find sheer red lace. As you pull it out of the box, you find a bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and a robe to match, all in a stunning red and black. “You don’t have to wear it all to bed, of course,” he says with a nip at that mark on your neck, “but just know that you’d look ravishing in them.”

You shiver at the thought and Ombre pools onto the bed from your shoulders as you tug at the collar of your dress. It splits open, and you find yourself doing a sort of reverse strip tease as you stand, sliding off your plain white panties to slip the sheer red ones up and over your hips, followed by the stockings, one foot and then the other. Next is the bra, up and around your breasts then over your shoulders. Lastly, you take the robe, slide it over one arm and then the other, and lastly, cinch it at the waist with the belt.

Ombre practically leaps against you and you laugh as you wrap your arms around them, collapsing onto the bed with them next to Alastor, who pulls you tight against him with fierce kisses to your face as Ombre nips at your neck.

You laugh freely, pulling them each into a kiss one after the other and again, then Alastor slips down your torso to untie the robe. You laugh harder as he does so. “Was the point of wearing this just so you could take it off me? Otherwise I don’t see much point in wearing it in the first place.” You stifle a yawn, and he kisses your forehead.

“We shall have to save divesting you of these delightful garments until the morning, bien-aimée, for we really ought to let nostre fiancé get her beauty rest.” 

You yawn again and slip under the covers as Ombre curls into your side. Alastor settles on top of the covers in his suit and you raise an eyebrow. “Surely you’re not going to lay there and fall asleep on top of the covers, Al.”

“I don’t need to sleep, ma très chère.” He says with a half a shrug as he lays down on his side to stroke a hand through your hair.

“No, but you indulge sometimes, or is that just after we’ve made love?” You say with a raised eyebrow. “Will you indulge for me, mon fiancé?”

He sighs, but you can tell by the sparkle in his eyes that his smile is still genuine. With a snap of his fingers, he is naked save his boxers. His suit jacket and pants hang over a chair, his boots at their feet. His shirt is neatly folded on the seat. You pull back the covers and he slides underneath them, wrapping his body and legs around you as he pulls you flush against him. He nips at your neck and you whine, then yawn again.

With his hot breath on your neck, you relax as the two begin to snore in purrs and static. You find yourself drifting into slumber.

At first, all is still. It is a boring dream, you curled into the embraces of your lovers, your fiancés, the two halves of your better half, in Rosie’s guest room. You roll over to stretch your fingers, and as you do, the wound re-opens and a single drop of blood falls onto the sheet before it heals completely.

In an instant, a towering figure that nearly touches the ceiling appears at the far end of the room. As he walks towards you, recognition hits your features. It is your father, looking far older than the last time you saw him, but of course, sixteen years have passed. He grunts and glares, but says nothing as he shoves Alatstor aside and rips Ombre from you. As he lifts you from the bed and into his arms, he catches sight of the ring on your finger and you see his jaw tighten, gritting his teeth. His four eyes darken as he snatches it from your finger and sends it into his void.

You are furious but motionless as you lay limp in his grip, his clutches, and he disappears in a flash, a blink. The room shifts to the one that has felt like a jail cell ever since you were small. If you could shiver in fear, you would, but you are limp, motionless other than your calm, even breathing.

As your brain emerges from the dream, you whimper out, terrified by the images you’d seen, “Al?” Hearing no answer, you blink your eyes open and let out a scream. 

You remember that you don’t dream.

You’re alone. Your father snatched you in the night.

This is your childhood bedroom.

He took your engagement ring.

Just as soon as I get my ring back, I’m out of here, and I’m never returning again. He can keep his castle, his throne, his perfect son as his perfect king. I want nothing to do with any of them. I just want my peace, my husbands, and my children.

May Prince Seere rot in his little hole in his pathetic corner of Hell.

A/N:

Is this a better cliffhanger, or worse? cackles

In all seriousness, I have two and a half chapters left for y'all. You can have them, and then after if you want, I can tell you how the rest of the story was intended to go, as I've devoted myself to writing an entirely different story.

So in a surprising but welcome turn of events, I have fallen in love with a clown and created a circus with them.

Theia--Hellaverse Theia, that is--is a sweet child who I adore, but she isn't the same as my new favorite Theia.

Theia, The One Who Sees, is a fortuneteller gifted with The Sight. Her arms are littered with tattoos, one for each year of her life. She is cursed to have only a hundred years, has known this since she was seven. Her nanny took her to the circus to comfort her, and there she met the ringmaster she would focus on to get her through the next eighty-seven years of her life.

At such a young age, she has access to none of her powers until thirteen, when the entire world appears to her, is able to see everything everywhere all at once except for that small circus she longs to view once more. Trapped by her parents and forced to live in cramped, horrific conditions, she focuses on the music from the circus and the memories she has of that one magical night to keep her comfort, along with her addiction to peppermint candies she discovers she has.

This ringmaster, who would eventually take the name Peppermint Patches, realized his life's calling when he saw a young girl with eye tattoos terrified to go home. He devotes it to seeking her and all other children who are terrified to return to the place that should be comfort to him. In the years that follow, he forms a circus that is his family, and while he blames himself for never finding the girl with the eyes once more, fate and The Sight have other plans.

They meet once more as adults, and The Sight shows them the promise of a future completely and utterly devoted to each other. Her tentacles, The Ones That See, have known he was the one from the moment they awakened along with The Sight.

See them and all the rest of their magnificent circus in

The All-Seeing Circus!

First || Chapter 39 || Chapter 41

[bnha-more-like-bnh-gay]

So, for a couple of years now, I've been reading the old X-Men comics of the 70s & 80s, and a few recent issues from '87 have given me a great idea for an AU.

Ready?

Dazzler!Izuku 😀

So, Izuku is born with a quirk that allows him to transform sound into photonic energy. Anything from generating benign blobs of light that move, pulsate, and change color in relation to whatever music he's listening to (tho, this can be weaponized too; during the sludge villain attack, Izuku overwhelms the villain's eyes with a fantastic light show that leaves him catatonic), to concentrating a single, loud noise into a laser beam that deals concussive damage.

Izuku would, of course, gravitate towards Present Mic as a mentor. And he would team up well with Jirou.

So, what do you think?

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO REPLY TO, SCHOOL AND MY MENTAL HEALTH FUCKED ME OVER. I have had half of this in my queue for about 3 months, ya bitch was just burnt tf out 💀

But dude, I absolutely fucking love this 😭😭

Heads up, my knowledge of physics is limited so I’m not going to be talking much about the actual details of his quirk until after I learn more about it, but I hope you enjoy!!!

Izuku who makes physics jokes.

He has shirts with physics puns on them. A shirt that says, “the photon checked into the hotel and was asked if it had any bags, it said, “no thanks, I’m traveling light!”

Reminds me of the time I was dual enrolling and in my psychology class, I said, “I once asked the librarian if she had a book on Pavlov’s dog and Schrödinger’s cat. She said it rung a bell but she wasn’t sure if it was there or not!”

I thought I was so funny, but everyone else hated me.

Izuku is that kid. He does that shit

Inko loves it, she thinks her son is hilarious. Mic loves it. The little lister is so smart! Nezu has a goddamn field day. Aizawa is so tired, but secretly likes the jokes. He face palms every time and acts like it’s the end of the world, but he does like them. Midnight thinks it’s great, she asks izuku for more jokes/puns all the time. Mainly to annoy Aizawa. But still. BRUH, MISS JOKE. SHE LOVES THIS LITTLE SHIT. I honestly feel like all might wouldn’t understand most of them, but he’d love them anyway.

Izuku: I was studying frequencies, but now my brain Hertz.

He accidentally freaks people out the first few weeks in the dorm because they’re not used to it/expecting it.

The number of times mina asks for mood lighting

I really want to drive home that he makes an unholy amount of puns

He doesn’t even try to, it just happens so naturally. Shouto has theorized that it’s a secondary quirk.

You have spoken directly to my soul with mentor mic (and Jirou/izuku friends)

They’d all work so well together though

Mic brings him to Put Your Hands Up Radio not only to work with his quirk, but to help with his nerves

It is no secret that izuku is a nervous lad, but I raise you, mic was also a nervous lad (personal headcanon, but you cannot tell me that lad doesn’t have generalized anxiety)

Mic helps izuku gain some coping mechanisms (or coping mic-anisms if you will (thank you, thank you))

Mic is a nerd, izuku is a nerd, Jirou is cool, but a nerd. Jirou, similar to Aizawa, rolls her eyes at the physics puns, but does she think they’re funny? Yes. Yes, she does. They defends izuku when people mock his puns

Mic couldn’t be prouder of his children

Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoyed! Sorry it was kinda short 😅