#he is not above a little street brawling

[voidartisan]

i really really need a scene in star wars animation post-o66 where some inquisitor or bounty hunter or whatever has disarmed ahsoka and they're like "i thought someone who trained under the legendary kenobi and skywalker would be better with a lightsaber" and she just says "yeah well master obi-wan also taught me how to do THIS" and kicks them in the face

[bunnys-kisses]

hii! brownies with a side of martini with lando for me please 🤭

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? look at the menu! i'm constantly writing up orders! i even accept for fandoms outside of formula one!! as for this suggestion, i am really liking that people really want mafia au lando, it's very nice and allows me to think a little more outside the box with the au! i just don't want them all read the same, right? this won't be the last time you'll see lando in a mafia au!! i hope you enjoy this!! <3

brownies ("you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours.") + martini (mafia au) served by lando norris (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, enforcer!lando, baker!reader, kitchen sex, oral sex (reader receiving), affectionate!lando, mentions of au typical violence

"these are amazing, honey." lando groaned as he took a bite of the warm brownies you just made. it was comfort food in a way. you always know how to make them perfectly.

you leaned against the counter of the kitchen, you watched your boyfriend devour a piece of the treat with excitement, you sighed, "i don't know. i think it's a little too sweet."

"no way, impossible." he said, "these are going to sell like crazy at the shop. can i have another one?"

you chuckled, and leaned towards him. you wiped a bit of stray chocolate off the corner of his mouth, "you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours."

he beamed at you, "well of course." he then snaked an arm around your waist and kissed you on the cheek, "anything of yours that goes into my mouth would shut me up.

this would look like a true domestic scene. a young couple in love, sharing a late night treat on a thursday. but if someone looked closely at the tattoos on your lover's arms. they would know that he wasn't the prince charming on a full rise scholarship to a university. he was an enforcer for the mclaren family.

lando could fight. that was his whole job, he told you about growing up and the brawls he'd get into. he always told you how many he won and told you not to worry at the number his loss.

when he walked down the street and people saw the tattoos along his arms and the cigarette tucked behind his head. they thought he was big trouble, when you two walked together you often got double-takes from people. why was someone like you, with someone like him.

and while you'd go into detail about how much of a caring lover he was. how much he adored you, all the times he brought you home flowers and kept a polaroid photo on you in the back of his jean pocket. there was something undeniable about lando that made you blush.

he was really good in the bedroom.

not that it was the only good thing about him! he went above and beyond anything any other boyfriend had done for you. he was your ray of sunshine. he made sure his woman was taken care of.

you got up onto the counter after you got your sweatpants and panties off. you knew you should be heading to bed soon for another long day at work. but lando was insistent that he made sure that the love of his life got a proper thank you for making him such a nice treat when he came home.

"double chocolate is great and all." he as he got closer to you. bent over to get between those thighs of yours. he held your legs open and licked his lips, "but, it's nothing like your pussy." he chuckled before he pressed a kiss at your slit.

you held onto the edge of the counter while he started to lick at your sex. his tongue between your pussy lips. he groaned against you as he held onto your hips.

lando was a dangerous man, you had heard whispers through the area you lived in about how evil he was. there was a story about him taking out a guy's teeth tooth by tooth and then smashing his jaw.

he could be intimidating, those eyes could go from friend to sharp in mere seconds. his hands were lined with scarring from other the years and many of his tattoos covered up the other scars.

he'd walk around the main street in nothing but a tank top, loose jeans and a gold chain, his face card never failed and his wit was unmatched. but when he stumbled up the bakery you worked at one day, it was like his entire life changed.

now he was between your legs with his tongue up against your pussy. his nose rubbed against your clit which made you clench up. you held onto the back of his head and guided him up against your pussy. the pleasure was a steady throb that made you flushed.

he was in love with you, if he had to describe the feeling. it was like his heart was whole. that the pieces of him were glued back together by your love. and he in turn wanted to give all his love to you.

"please, lando." you said softly as you ran your fingers through his hair, "you know exactly how to do it." you shuddered at the pleasure in your body.

"only the best for you." he said softly, "only the best." before he gave your thigh a little love tap before he continued to lap at your pussy. you held onto him tighter and his cock twitched in his sweats.

you held onto his curly hair tightly and whined a little. you tensed up as you came, finishing on his tongue. the noises you made had lando feeling good all over. he worked quickly to send you right over the edge. when you nails grazed along his scalp his brain turned off for a moment.

"shit." he grumbled against your slit.

you relaxed after a few moments and panted heavily. you rested up against the cabinets behind you and clung to your boyfriend for a moment longer.

he lazily licked at your sweet slit as he nosed at your clit. he was insatiable when it came to you. you then stroked the back of his head lovingly. he groaned a little at the soft touch.

lando was a mafia enforcer, he hurt people for a living. but his true weakness was his baker girlfriend and her lovely desserts. <3

[ellecdc]

hi! this is my first request but i was wondering if you could do poly!marauders or any characters with reader who’s in a wheelchair? i saw your mute!reader and loved it so much! i’m a wheelchair user myself with limited mobility in my hands and i never see readers that resonate with me. if you can’t, that’s totally understandable though!

side note; but i can literally picture sirius and james trying to push the wheelchair and popping wheelies or even racing LMFAOOO

this is so cute! thanks so much for the request, I hope I did it justice! & the second part is absolutely not based off of a frequent scenario when me and my friend who is a wheelchair user go to restaurants 😅

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is a wheelchair user

CW: fluff, simping marauders, Remus advocating heavily for reader's independence, James just wanting to spoil reader, Sirius being the master of deduction, subtle/casual ableism

“Do you want a break, dove?” Remus asked pointedly; mostly making a statement to James and less concerned that you weren’t speaking up for yourself. 

“I don’t mind a break.” You said easily as you smiled up at James above you.

“Yes, but dove, do you want a break?” Remus asked again, moving to stand in front of you so you were forced to stop and look at him.

“My arms are a little tired, and this street does seem to have a bit of an incline. I’m happy to have James push me for a bit, Rem.” You assured him, though you hoped that your gratitude for his staunch defense of your independence shone through. 

“She knows I just like spoiling her.” James gloated as he bent overtop of you, pressing a ‘spiderman kiss’ to your lips before straightening up and speeding up the street. 

“It’s less that you like to spoil her and more that you like trying new tricks.” Sirius commented as he fell into step with Remus.

“It can be both!” James argued; laughing as you squealed when he ‘popped a wheelie’.

“Prongs, if you break her wheelchair I swear to God.” Remus threatened.

“I’m not gonna break it!” James argued before bending down to murmur into your ear. “I’m not gonna break it, am I?”

You chuckled as you leaned to press the side of your face to his cheek. “No you’re okay; just don’t get too rowdy.”

“Yes ma’am.” He agreed readily. 

“God I’m starved.” Sirius grumbled then. “Are you lot hungry?”

“I could eat!” James offered.

“It’d be nice to sit down for a bit; are you hungry, dove?” Remus asked. You looked up and down the street; happy to notice that even in this older part of town, there were plenty of wheelchair ramps. 

“Yeah, I think that should be fine.” You offered; though Sirius seemed to sniff out your hesitation as he quickly rushed over to plant his face against the window of a nearby establishment. 

“Not to worry, doll; this one looks good!” Sirius’ shout was muffled from where he was pressed up against the glass of a restaurant he deemed worthy of the four of you.

“They’re likely not going to allow us entrance with a hellian like you.” You teased half-heartedly - feeling really quite thankful for his easy deduction and thoughtfulness that not everyone put into finding accessible venues - as you took over guiding your chair and James relinquished his hold on your handles. 

“Why not? I thought they had to allow service dogs?” James taunted, causing Sirius to scoff indignantly and launch himself at James which quickly turned into a playful brawl right outside of the restaurant. 

“Good lord, we really can’t take them anywhere, can we?” Remus muttered as he came over and rested his hip against you, watching with a look of ill-hidden admiration for your two somewhat chaotic boyfriends.

“Oi!” You shouted, causing the two of them to split apart hastily, not unlike naughty school children caught scuffling on school grounds. “I thought I was being promised food?”

“Sorry angel!” James called at the same time Sirius said “and food you will get, princess.” 

The four of you headed towards the restaurant; James running up to hold the door for you all and Sirius patting his arse on his way by, followed by you and then Remus. 

Sirius, in all his casual panache, sauntered up to the hostess desk to ask for a table for four.

“Sounds great!” The hostess chirped back, visibly excited for the attention of a very attractive man. “Would you like a table or a booth?”

All three boys slowly turned to face you; Sirius fighting the urge to shake his head in second-hand embarrassment, James looking at you with a sort of frustrated bemusement, and Remus who shared a knowing smirk with you as they all allowed you to field the question.

“Erm, I think perhaps a table would be best, if you didn’t mind?” You asked the hostess with a smile, trying to bite back a chuckle at the way the blood seemed to drain from her face.

“Oh! Yes! Of course; terribly sorry, I- erm, right this way!” She sputtered, turning on her heel and walking - quite briskly - towards whichever table she deigned to seat you lot at as if she were hoping to quickly rid herself of this awkward situation. 

Remus, tapping your shoulder first to ask permission, took over driving for you so as to keep up with the rest of your party.

You felt a little bit bad for the hostess who kept turning to offer you apologetic smiles as you and Remus tried not to laugh at her expense. It wasn’t really her fault; she was simply reciting a script she likely had to ask nearly 100 times a day. 

But the way you saw it; if you had to deal with society’s subtle ableism, you were entitled to a few chuckles at their expense. 

You made sure to thank the hostess as she removed the fourth chair from your table before she left.

“I love watching people squirm like that.” Sirius commented as he sat down.

“Don’t be mean.” You admonished. “She didn’t know.”

“Well she ought to know.” James grumbled then. 

“I’m not that fussed; it’s kind of funny.” You said then as you reached for a glass of water; James quickly leaning forward to grab it for you.

“She can grab herself a glass of water, bubs.” Remus chided tiredly then, shooting you an apologetic look. 

“Yes but she shouldn’t have to, Rem. Don't act like I don't do the same for you when your joints are acting up.” James responded as he handed your drink to you carefully before pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek.

You winked sympathetically at Remus as his face flushed in embarrassment. 

“The only difference is that she gets the princess treatment 24/7.” Sirius added with a wink as he pulled Remus roughly into his side. 

And though you’d likely never admit it out loud, you couldn’t deny that you sort of loved the princess treatment.

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

Hank with nine feet tall!reader but reader is actually the new sun, and they have a smiley face like: =) but reader just chills around and eats hotdogs

Plot twist: hank accidentally created them when they killed the actual sun

Energy simply is. It cannot be destroyed. It cannot be created. It always is, and always will be. With the death of the Sun, her energy shot out into the sky, seeking out the most viable host in the area. It found a strong grunt, one with grit and will, a power to persevere even in the hardest of times.

A body capable of withstanding power, one of kind and sound mind, reasonable and in need of light. Pain struck your spine between your shoulder blades, splitting down your back and rushing into your bones. Heat followed, sunspots burning into your skin from the inside.

Light filled your eyes, bright beams extending to the sky, a calling to return to where it belongs, up above in the heavens, silent observer of the peaceful world below. The pain faded slowly, your new shifted form complete.

A crown of light floated around your head, warm toned silks enrobed your body, and intricate little sun patterns covered parts of your skin. Your slender fingers touched the silk, much softer than the cotton smock you'd been wearing mere moments ago, an- when did the ground get so far away?!

You caught your reflection in a window, a gasp escaping your lips. "W-what is this?" Warmth filled your being, emanating from your sternum, the heat rolling off you and warming the air around you. Bright, warm, tall. A freaky change, a far cry from the normalcy you'd lived until now. And yet....

You couldn't help but smile. Joy flooded your system, energy and love flooding from your being, the urge to twirl in your new robes was irritable, and you did, feeling the fabric moving with you.

Yet with all this energy burning from you, it left a deep void in your guts, an insatiable hunger taking over, mouth salivating at the mere thought of something tasty on your tongue.

A grunt with a hotdog cart was walking past, and you waved to him in excitement. "Helloooo~" You skipped over and beamed down at him. "May I have... Hmmm... Many hotdogs?" You couldn't pick a number, just intent on eating until you could feel full and ready to burn brighter.

He craned his neck to look at you. "You're a tall one, aren't you? Now how many hotdogs do you actually want? I need a number buddy."

You picked your wallet from your pocket, and you placed it down on the side. "As many as the money in there can buy!" He shrugged, and opened your wallet, taking your cash before starting to prepare your feast of pulverised meat. An important question left his lips.

"Mustard, or ketchup?"

After an intense brawl and interrogation, Hank had made progress on his journey to hunting down and executing the Sheriff. It'd be a cold day in hell before he forgave that bastard for eating his pie.

They paused when they noticed a familiar giant in the street, one he was absolutely positive he'd killed not an hour ago. "What. The. Fuck." You turned to look at him, half a hotdog in hand.

"Hiiiii! You want a hotdog too?" You held out the untouched one in your other hand, and Hank looked beyond livid.

"How the hell are you alive? I just killed you!" They patted their body, realising they were out of weapons. Fists would have to do, he's done it before, he can again.

"Huuuh? I don't know what you mean. I've never seen you before in my life. I think I'd remember. I'd definitely remember dying." You took another big bite, waving the hotdog at him. "Offers still open!"

He gritted his teeth, stomping over. "What are you playing at? What kind of game is this?"

"I don't follow. One moment I was walking along, the next I was bursting with joy and feeling so light! It's like I'm a whole different person! Well, I mean I guess I am. I didn't look like this earlier." You gnawed on your hotdog in thought.

"You're... not the sun that crawled down from the sky?" They questioned, incredibly cautious.

You shook your head with a smile. "Don't be silly! The sun is right th-" Where the fuck was the sun? "Uh.." Realisation started to dawn on you, perhaps.. it could be true? It would explain your sudden attitude shift, and physical shift, and the urge to just float into the sky.

"... Maybe I am the sun?" Your smile vanished for a moment, before it came back. "But isn't that wonderful? I can brighten up the world now. I think that's something powerful."

You sat on the curb, and Hank eventually sat with you. "At least you're not trying to kill me." They grumbled, a sour look on their face. "Feels like everything is against me right now, just 'cause one guy screwed me over." Their stomach growled. "....Is the offer for that hotdog still open?"

A giggle left your lips, and you handed them the ketchup slathered dog. "Eat up, I'm sure bright things will be coming your way. After all, when you hit low, the only way you can go is up, right?"

He swallowed his mouthful and sighed. "I sure hope so."

[daemon-in-my-head]

Past Life Dark Urge Asks - 9th Edition:

OK but how does Durge actually view relationships and romance?

What does their room look like? Describe it to me. Neat? Messy? Organised mess where everything has its place?

What's their favourite spot to hang out at after a long day of temple managing and murdering in Father's name? Is it by the altar, their desk, a certain someone's office or by the docks?

Gorion's Ward was a hero and a Bhaalspawn that defied Bhaal. But they're also a powerful person who rose far above many, as well as the reason Sarevok once returned. What does Durge think of them? Is he an idol or a villain to them? When did their view of them change or do they perhaps even feel pity for the sibling which had been led astray?

Durge loves efficient killing, but what was their one little indulgence whenever they did it? I don't mean getting loot, keeping trinkets. Did they perhaps draw out the hunt or play with the mouse unfortunate enough to fall into their trap?

There's this funny bit that Durge refused to clean themselves, but is it true for yours? Did they indeed always carry the scent of entrails or did they bathe regularly? After all, Bhaals Scion has a reputation to uphold.

Speaking of Water, Baldur's Gate is a Port City. What did Durge think of the sea? Did they long to sail or do they prefer solid ground beneath their feet? Did they feel any connection, or was it just a body of water, perfect to drown some innocent souls?

Durge is clearly a skilled master of their craft, but would they ever consider taking an apprentice? Perhaps they already did? Or would they absolutely detest those who yet lack skill and prefer they attain it on their own?

Orin makes for a great spy and even the Bhaalist Temple relies on intelligence to survive and operate more efficiently. Did Durge ever try to help out Orin in attempts to gather intel? What was it like? Did they charm their way into hearts and minds, or did they rely on the thing they did best, a skillful killing?

Bhaalspawn are pretty similar to Aasimar in every aspect, well except that Aasimar are children of celestials and good aligned powers while Bhaalspawn hail from the Lord of Murder. What did Durge think of their goody-two-shoes counterparts?

Bhaal is widely hated or feared, as are Bhaalspawn, but what does Durge think about that notion? Would they hunt down anyone who dares speak I'll of their father, or could they not care any less? Do they perhaps revel in that fear and hatred?

If Durge knew they'd lose all their memories in the future, what would they think? Would they weep for their treasured moments or perhaps even feel delighted about forgetting a dreaded past?

Name a personality trait of theirs which is, in theory, something great, but they've taken it to such extremes it became something negative.

How is Durge handling failure? Do they handle it at all or do they just refuse to acknowledge any?

Would Past Life Durge like for their life's story to be told and remembered? Why or why not? In what way would they have liked it to be remembered?

In general, how does your Durge cope with stress, life, and the things that happened? How did it affect them? Are there any lasting effects from an outburst once?

On a scale of 1 to 10, how easily does your Durge snap? 1 being the world could end, and they'd barely be mildly inconvenienced, and 10 being somebody looks funny in their direction, and the next minute, they're in a nasty brawl.

What is their favorite spell? It doesn't have to be one they themselves know or learned. Just a spell they think is neat, handy, cool, etc.

If there happened to be a street fair in the Gate, would they attend? Yes or no, who would they go with, what would it be like visiting one of those with them?

Bhaal was a netherese arcanist. Does Durge, considering they're made from Bhaals flesh, consider themselves to be netherese? Have they ever thought about these things or do they simply not care?

I totally forgot I had these I'm sorry lmao. They've been rotting away in my drafts the whole time.

[after-witch]

That Great Triumphal Arch [Yandere Sephiroth x Reader]

Title: That Great Triumphal Arch [Yandere Sephiroth x Reader]

Synopsis: Sephiroth took you. And now all you know is pain. FF7R-verse. 

Word count: 2096

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, physical abuse and violence, noncon and sexual abuse, unwanted pregnancy for reader

You’ve been hurt before. You’re not some dainty thing, kept in a tower all your life.  You knew the streets. There were arms broken in alley tussles, noses bloodied through a drunken bar fight, and lately--far more lately--cuts from blades and the edges of Turk bullets and all those aching wounds that come with willingly signing up for a fight far bigger than yourself. You were under no illusions, when you joined with Cloud, what might lie ahead.

Though perhaps, being kidnapped by Sephiroth was not in your visions for the Could Happen in the Future. Getting hurt, yes. Being wrapped up in some insane plot to save the world, sure. 

Being targeted by Sephiroth? Not so much. 

Yet it happened. It happened so fast that if you were asked to recall the specific details, you couldn’t say. You remember the blow to your stomach, the blow to your head. You remember looking up and seeing Sephiroth staring down at you, a smile on his face, the grayness of your vision blurring with the glimmering silver of his hair. You remember, or at least you hope it’s a memory and not just something you imagined, hearing Tifa shout out something, hearing the clash of blades. 

But then there was nothing but grayness and fog and an awful, dreamless sleep. 

When you woke up, he was there.

Smiling.

Speaking words that felt like black tar in your ear. How you were his. How you were a gift. How you were meant to be there.

And he hurt you.

So, so much.

He hasn’t stopped.

The pain is relentless, fresh, raw. You can’t get used to it, not like you might eventually get used to the ache from a broken rib from a single ill-timed bar brawl. It’s ever-changing, day by day. 

Maybe that is why it’s taken you out so completely over the past few days (and just how long has he had you, in all?); got you weak and speechless, barely able to breathe much less think much less fight back much less--

“You’re beautiful, you know.”

The voice from above you is grating to your ears, like gravel being rubbed right into your bleeding, sore kneecaps. You’ve heard that damned voice so often lately, and sometimes you swear--you swear--that his lips aren’t moving when he speaks.

But why is he above you, again? You remember him hitting you this morning, you remember the kick that broke your ribs. You remember spitting in his face. And then, quite clearly, you remember the tip of his sword puncturing right through your wrist, leaving an almost disgustingly clean wound behind.

That was the last clear memory before all this.

So why is he above you, hair almost shimmering, eyes bright and piercing--what is that sensation, that awful, awful sensation? Like being pierced from the inside out. 

“Beautiful… when you’re bleeding for me.” His voice is just a little breathy. A practiced sound, you think, because he doesn’t break so much as a sweat when he spends hours hurting you. It’s not like sex was going to knock the wind out of him, like his boot connecting solidly with your stomach once or twice or umpteen times did to you so readily.

Unwillingly, reality finally comes back to you, sore and sticky and painful, with his gloved hand tapping at your cheek; with the realization that he’s inside you, again, thick and intruding and insistent. It’s like a drum beat in your lower body, a rhythm you’ve come to understand after all this time--and it makes you feel sick, still, no matter how familiar it’s become. 

A gloved thumb runs along your lower lip, catching on a scab healing over. 

“Everything you do is for me… bleeding… breathing… your very existence.” There’s a sticky coolness to his voice that makes you want to peel your skin off even more than the ever-present sensation of his body above yours. 

His voice continues, no matter how much you wish it would not. 

“When will you come to accept that?”

You ignore the content of his words (you so often do, when you can get away with it) and merely squint your eyes, desperate to make sense of things despite your aching body. But you still can’t tell. 

Did his lips move… or not?

His thumb presses down on the scab. And it’s such a small pain, really, compared to what you’ve been through. But you groan nonetheless, and squeeze your eyes shut to block out the stinging sensation spreading across your mouth.

“Answer me, and I may grant you mercy.”

You laugh, or at least you think it’s a laugh. A hoarse stuttering sound that wheezes out of your used and abused chest. In response, he thrusts harder, and your fingers curl on the sheets underneath you, desperate to gain purchase.

Above you (and inside you)-- there are signs that he is human, that he is not some infallible granite creature. Sweat on his naked chest. The movement of his hair, tickling your skin, as he begins to thrust quickly enough to signify his end. 

A soft, low sound as he pushes inside you so deeply that it hurts, and then warmth--a burning warmth that shouldn’t feel like it does, stinging and slick. Is it because he’s fucked you so often, creating tears? Or is there something wrong with him, to make his seed more unpleasant? Or--the thought comes, unbidden, awful--something wrong with you? 

His gloved hand taps your cheek again. It’s like being chided by a friend for dropping off in the middle of a conversation, but nowhere near as lighthearted. 

“Where did you go, I wonder?” 

You can’t answer him right away. Not without sacrificing dignity. So you keep your mouth shut and wait until your breath isn’t coming in so hard, and your heart rate has regained some sense of normalcy. 

You look straight at him, at the eyes that seem to glow from within now, something awful inside them. You wait until he’s raised an eyebrow, just a little, a sign that he’s expecting you to speak.

And you do.

“I’ll never accept whatever delusion you’ve created about me.” 

Yes, your voice is tired and hardly filled with the bravado you might have spoken with before he took you. But at least you got the words out. At least you know you spoke them with your own damn mouth.

His thumb returns to trailing gently on your lips. Almost soft, almost kind.

“But you’ve already accepted so much…” 

You don’t ask what he means, exactly. 

Later on, you’ll wish you had.

--

Your head lolls side to side. The pillow underneath, damp with your sweat, does nothing to ease your discomfort or the gnawing ache inside your chest. 

“Do you really think they’ll come for you?”

Yes, you want to say. They are my friends. We would never give up on one another. But you press your lips tight. 

“Don’t you know how long it’s been? How far they’ve traveled? They haven’t even tried to retrieve you.”

He’s lying. They would never just give you up, let you stay in his clutches. If they traveled, it was out of necessity, to find help or create a plan or get a better vantage point. Yes, that would be it. He’s… lying. Isn’t he? 

“They’re concerned with far greater things than you, aren’t they? Do you think they’ll choose you over this world’s pretended sanctity?” 

Yes, you want to say. Yes, yes, yes! But even you can’t pretend that wouldn’t be a bold, ridiculous lie. One life--or the world? Even if it was you… Even if it meant you were trapped here, with Sephiroth.

His voice continues to drip honeyed poison straight into your ears--straight into your mind. Soft whispers in the dark, over and over, reminding you, taunting you, telling you things that you must surely admit (deep, deep, deep down) are likely the truth. 

But he can’t be doing this to you. It’s impossible. Because he’s not speaking. You’re staring right at him, right at his detestable face, a face you could now describe with uncanny certainty… and his lips are not moving.

You weren’t sure, before; you’d wondered at the way his whispers seemed to squirm right into your ears, no matter how far away he was or how fuzzy your vision got from pain. 

You let out a confused groan that covers up whatever vile thing he blows into your ear next, though it doesn’t stop the awful sensation that comes with hearing him inside your skull. 

“I don’t understand.” You practically moan the words out, like a sick child on a feverbed. The damp sheets and your clenching fingers, rubbing the sheets raw, are much the same. “How are you doing this?”

“Oh, darling.” He says--but doesn’t say--as his hand skims down your chest and rests on your stomach. The feel of the leather is cold and harsh, like a ragged seam dragging down your skin.  “Don’t you know?”

You don’t know. You don’t know what he means, or why he’s doing this, or how the fuck he’s talking inside your head.

His hand doesn’t move, exactly, but presses down in a remarkably gentle gesture.

“Don’t you know what I’ve put inside you?”

There’s a terrible, long moment where the world drops out from underneath you. And then you’re back above with no air in your lungs, because you’ve screamed--you didn’t even know it.

He stares down at you with a patient smile until your breathing comes back, ragged and uneven.

“You’re lying.” Hot tears prick at your eyes, because you’re not stupid and you know what he means now, and you know that it’s the awful truth. You can deny a lot of things (and have done so at every opportunity) but this? This was real. It was sick and real. 

“I never lie to you,” he says, lips still unmoving. 

You know. You know. The calmness in his tone terrifies you more than any of his sweet poisons, than any of his bruising grips or swift strikes to your vulnerable body. 

“It’s remarkable, what her cells can do. And you took to them so quickly.” His smile has an almost edge of ecstasy to it that turns your insides sour. “It’s destiny. Even you must admit that.”

You think the word “no” comes out, but you can’t be sure you actually said it. Maybe you’re talking without opening your mouth now, too. Maybe you’re losing it, like frayed edges of an old blanket, just waiting to be pulled out. 

Sephiroth, if he notices your growing inner hysteria, chooses to ignore it. Instead, he leans down, taking a moment to rest his cheek against yours. He inhales softly through his nose.

“I thought you were at your most beautiful before, but this?” The hand on  your stomach trails up until he’s grasping your chin, keeping you in place. “This might be preferable…”

“Stop.” The words come out soft and perhaps pitiable to anyone but the man above you. 

He doesn’t even acknowledge them. Maybe you didn’t say them at all. 

There’s something determined in his eyes now, as he stares down at you. You’re almost afraid to find out what it is. 

“Mother has given me two gifts,” he says, softly, with reverence. “And I now will prove myself all the more worthy to her.”

He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. It could be chaste, if anything Sephiroth ever did might ever be called that. The kiss tastes of his breath and your own tangy blood. 

This time, when he speaks, his lips move--cruel and hot against your own.

“Do you think Cloud will be able to look you in the eye, once he knows what’s inside you?”

Hot tears slide down your cheeks and join the sweat already dampening the pillowcase. 

His hand returns to your belly, cupping the skin there. There is warmth--he’s removed his gloves now--and the sensation makes you shudder. 

“Do you think you can belong to anyone but me now?”

This time, his lips don’t move.

[poraphia]

"The Battle of His Teal Hoodie."

➵ PAIRING! cc!wilbur x student!reader

➵ CREATING! 10.5.23 | 751 words

➵ CONTAINING! oversized hoodie, facetime calls, reader is a university student

➵ SAYING! literally so self-indulgent. ive been studying for like an hour straight in the library and im still THINKING ABOUT THAT HOODIE BRO IM GONNA GET IT ONE DAY WATCH BARKABRKARK btw if u wanna be in my taglist feel free to message me okay mwa mwa enjoy

——————•°•✿•°•——————•

When your boyfriend is over six foot and has an entire collection of merch where his name is plastered over cozy polyester hoodies,

you bet your sweet ass I was going to steal at least five of them.

College life wasn’t as romanticized as I thought it would be. Sure, the warmth of a coffee during a chilly morning while endlessly typing on my laptop sounded good on paper, but I guess I forgot to mention the endless due dates and upcoming exams I had to study for. I found myself buried in the corner of the university’s library on the quietest floor. I looked through my schedule, crossing out any assignments I already completed and also checking back on my classes to see if I needed to make any event adjustments.

My eyes felt heavy as I took another gulp of my caffeinated drink. My headphones shielded my ears comfortably as gentle sounds of a guitar strumming and a buttery voice filled my senses. A deep sigh escaped my nostrils before I sat back in my seat, slightly rolling away from the desk I was sitting at.

Bzzz! Bzzz!

I looked over to my phone on my desk before picking it up. I was welcomed by a picture of Wil with lipstick marks all over his face. Smiling, I swiped open the call to see my beautiful boyfriend walking around the busy streets of Brighton. I propped my phone up against my laptop to give him a full angle of me and the bookshelves behind me.

“Hey, darling, I missed you!” He smiled brightly.

“I missed you too, Wil. How was studio recording?” I asked. I pushed my laptop a little further back to make space in between me and my notebook. I took a colorful highlighter and started to go over my notes as he spoke.

“Studio was fine. We’re almost done recording a whole song for the new EP, so that should be exciting.” He chuckled. “I’m just heading over to Tom’s until you get out of school. Do you wanna get some lunch together after I pick you up?”

“Yeah, I could go for a sandwich and pretzel honestly.” I smiled, imagining the salty and buttery taste of the pretzel in my mouth already.

“Sounds good,” he confirmed. He took a glance of me briefly before doing a double take. “Hey, what are you wearing?” He asked. He held his phone closer to his face, only giving me an angle of his mess of curly hair and forehead.

“Hmm?” I hummed. “I’m just wearing my usual clothes.” I answered, oblivious.

“Now you’re just lying to me!” He laughed. “I see you smiling! Go on, stand up and let me that hoodie.”

With a defeated sigh, I stood up with my back nearly against the bookshelves so he could get a full angle of my outfit. I was wearing white tennis shoes, black shorts, but most distinctly of all, I was wearing Wil’s teal hoodie from his “Wilbur Soot ‘96” collection. The hoodie was nearly two sizes bigger than me with the sleeves going past my fingertips and my shorts just barely showing from how long the article of clothing was.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “So you decided to steal my merch, huh?”

“It’s comfy!” I exclaimed, hugging myself with the long sleeves wrapped around my waist. “Plus it smells like you, and it has your name on it! Wearing this is like screaming I’m the best partner Mr. Soot could ever ask for!” I went over and picked up my phone before holding it above my head.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He chuckled. “I’m going to steal that back once I pick you up.” He threatened, waving his finger into the camera.

“Over my dead body.” I stuck my tongue out at him. Wil scoffs, holding his hand to his chest as if offended.

“Oh, we’re going to brawl, just you wait.” He held his camera close to his eyes before bringing his lips to the camera. “Love you though!” Before I could say anything else, he hung on me.

I stared down at my phone. I smiled, tilting my head a little as I fiddled with the strings of my— or rather— Wil’s hoodie.

Maybe I should run to the gym a bit after class as a warmup.

——————•°•✿•°•——————•

a / n ~ hiii hope u enjoyed! reblogs, replies, and likes are super appreciated! im almost at 200 followers and im so excited!! seriously, i wanna get to know my followers better so if anyone wants to be an anon or just drop a hello please feel free :)

[ikkosu]

So you know when you wear shorts in summer in a car with a leather seat that your legs stick to it sometimes? I've actually almost fallen out of car bc of that. And because of this experience, may I request this happening to the reader with any autobot of your choice?

THROUGH the glaze of the windshield, traffic churns at a slow, steady pace. Pistons chuff, creak and groan; beaten down by the glare of the sun, little by little the mottled blurs of car start to file out.

Everytime, you think you're going to wrangle out of this hellhole — a wide gap-like opening, blaring out like the heavens for freedom — you find yourself stuck in another junction, relapsing in the same fucking problem.

Stuck in the same place. Between mesh metal of blistering, practically burning from the sun, hot cars.It also doesn't help how raw to the bone hot the weather is.

Heat is seething through the Aircon. You're practically drenched, and the discomfort of having an already wet shirt matted to your wet spine is exacerbated by the goddamn ire before your eyes.

There's a truck, in front of you.

A very old truck.

And, fast?

Not it's greatest virtue.

A lump of irritation bites its way through your teeth. The backside of the truck sputters with black fumes. You're about to relinquish the title of an honorable citizen, when the radio warbles with a staticky breedle.

"You're getting sweat all over the seats, pipsqueak." Comes his sardonic chuff. The insignia lits up with every sass induced spool of his words.

At that you lift up your thighs, a kind of schlap followed after as a result of very sweaty skin latching on leather.

"Suck it cop-bot," You pat the steering wheel. "That's what you get for having shitty air conditioning."

A growl revved up from the engine. The wheel whirls away from your touch three-sixty at max speed.

"You can't expect me to accept the blame, can I? When all there is out there under that— that blisteringly — whatever you call that slag of a weather, is hot fraggin' air."

You blink at the sudden venom in his tone. Prowl's usually, eh usually, the type to keep it down when he's about to lose it : a scowl and a sharp tongue is good enough for lacerating the source of his ire.

For him to snap? Yikes. That takes a lot. A hefty lot. Even with Smokescreen, concierge of shenanigans — worst he's got is a swift chuck to the brig and cleaning duty for a year. And, that's just with a scowl and a low, steady tone.

Guess Cybertronians aren't immune to hot days, either huh. Sun's that bad.

"Is it getting to you too, Prowler?"

"What do you think?" He bites back. "Look at the thermometer. It's exceeding above the usual range of what a normal temperature should be. It's draining up the power in my cooling fans which drains up my fuel, which drains up energon. Which, at this moment, is scarce."

"Hard times, Prowler." You shake your head solemnly. "Hard times."

"You don't get a say in this." He grits out.

The car leers forward with a sudden jerk and your forehead kisses the steering wheel. Not the flat surface where the insignia lies but the edge. You know, the round handle? Bubbles of pain shoot out from the spot and you groan.

"What?" You whined. "It's already hot enough with my ass sticking to your seat — you can't leave me with any more bruises worse than this, alright?"

"Then keep that mouth shut. Or I'm shutting it off for you."

" We're stuck in traffic, though." You grope the steering wheel, grinning at the irritated growl of an engine when he tries to steer it away.

"Will you cut it."

"Hunkering down on a quick brawl in the street doesn't really contribute to the whole," You waggle your hands. " bots in disguise, kind of thing. Not really your style. Doesn't fit you, prowler. Doesn't seem to fit the muse of a..." You trail off, playful and purposeful with your tone. "...law enforcer."

He's quiet for a moment.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh."

He laughs : a quick sarcastic 'hah' and a chuff.

"Get out."

Yep. There, it is.

"Duly noted."

Your fingers wrangle the door knob. And, as soon as you struggle to pry it open you realize Prowl is keeping it locked.

"Where'd the angry coppa go?" You huffed.

"Oh, you'll see."

"Open the—huh?"

Your fingers grasps the open air, twitching around nothingness. The momentum propels you to slide off your sweat-lathered seat, lurching forward and face first into the hot, concrete road.

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

III. the tower.

parts: previously / next plot: funny what a near-death experience can do for motivation. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, you are put in a Situation, batman is there to pick up the pieces, you’re not thinking clearly, stop suppressing your emotions goddamn it, hurt/comfort, gang violence, guns, blood and surface wounds, dealing with the effects of trauma. words: 4.7k.

It starts out simple enough.

It’s 11 at night. You’re working late. Way up here, your office is quiet—Gotham quiet. There’s still rain battering the windows and police sirens distant and close and distant again, but it’s quiet enough. It becomes the backdrop of your night, a familiar melody. Your meager little lamp is all the company you have as you scribble away at paperwork you’d left to the last minute, and there’s a nagging in the back of your head about missed dinner. You think, if you can finish this up quickly, that you might treat yourself to the 24-hour diner down the street before heading home.

Only a few minutes pass before the nagging is accompanied by a stomach growl. You decide to make paperwork tomorrow you’s problem.

You grab your things and lock up your office and you’re getting off on the first floor when something snaps in the air like a firecracker. You’re no stranger to the sound, but you can’t recall the last time you’d heard a gunshot this close.

Down the hall, through a spattering of ER nurses with their hands above their heads, is a man with a gun pointed at you.

They train you for things like this in medical school. How to identify tattoos, clothes, and demeanor. How to say the right things so that you don’t get caught in the crossfire. How to deescalate until security guards are in the room with you.

Every once in a while (because it’s Gotham, because it’s your chosen hellhole), a gang war breaks out and the ER floods with members of all affiliations. Bloodied and brawling, it trickles into the waiting rooms and operating rooms. No matter how much they all hated each other, they all bled the same.

You wonder how this one will end.

The man is frenzied. You can see through his tattered pants leg that he’d been slashed or maybe shot at, it’s hard to see from so far away, but he lets you get a closer look eventually. He’s limping as quickly as he can down the hall toward you, gun never wavering. Some nurses behind him turn and whisper about what to do. If you strain to hear over the ringing in your ears, you can make out more commotion coming from the ER still.

“Where the fuck is he?” The approaching man spits at you. He’s feet away now, and if it weren’t for his arm outstretched, he’d be right in your face. “Where the fuck is Ghost?”

He says the name like you ought to know this “Ghost”. You raise your hands carefully to show you mean no harm, shaking all the while. You consider what you can say that won’t anger him further, “I don’t know who Ghost is,” you stammer, “did he come through here?”

“Don’t fucking play with me. I know that motherfucker cut a deal. I’m not letting him outta this hospital alive.”

You’re careful not to look around lest it alert him, but you’re struggling to put together a response on the little context you have. Staring down the barrel of his gun is all you can think to do.

The longer you take, the more agitated he becomes. He steps forward and presses the gun against your temple and that’s when the words start jumping out of your mouth, “He was badly injured, right? Worse than you?” His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t correct you, “he’s probably in surgery if they took him somewhere. GCPD can’t interfere until he’s stabilized. He’s still in the building.”

Whatever you’ve said seems to be the right thing because the gun isn’t cutting into you anymore. You can pick up movement behind him in your peripheral, nurses corralling other gang members and keeping the hallway clear. Some calling for more guards, the police, anyone.

You share a few breaths with the man. He’s taller than you with an army buzz coated in droplets of rain. He’s soaked to the bone and still freshly bleeding from his thigh. He neither shivers nor buckles, driven by pure adrenaline. You watch his jaw clench and unclench as your words settle in. He must believe you, at the very least, because he’s not pulling the trigger.

You’re gonna have to remember this face later when the GCPD asks. You try to soak in each detail with the optimism that you will, that you’ll make it out of this alive. You try to be present and not with your stomach that’s grumbling or your brain short-circuiting on too little sleep and too much fear.

You think about what you’re gonna say to Em in two days time; not tomorrow, no, they’d probably tell you to take the day off. She’s going to hear about you being held at gunpoint just days after being offered a job at Wayne Enterprises and you’ll actually be able to laugh when she says “I told you so”. It would be funny, then. In two days time. You’d get to live to see that.

“Take me to him.”

Ghost, you gather, is a dead man. If not him, then you and everyone in the SICU.

You don’t dare speak without being spoken to, even as the elevator ride leaves nothing but labored breathing between you two. It’s a miracle he keeps his gun at his side the whole time, but with his back pressed against a corner, it would take him only a second to put a bullet through your skull if you tried to make a move.

You wonder if the police have arrived yet. What’s going on over the radios? Has all hell broken loose downstairs? What is your captor, Ghost’s executioner, going to bring down upon this hospital when he pulls the trigger? And you, the one who led him to his target... what would that mean for you? When it came to situations like this, you didn’t find people very forgiving.

“Fucking slow...” Your captor hisses near you, eyes glued to the steadily ascending floors to pass the time. “What floor is he on?”

You see the counter tick to 12. “18.”

You’d celebrated too soon. The gun is back, digging into the back of your head now, and one of his hands is gripping your upper arm tight, “When those doors open, you’re gonna walk me to where he’s at. If you try anything, I’m blowin’ your brains out.”

There’s a good chance that he will regardless, but you were being optimistic, remember?

The next six pass by at an excruciatingly slow pace. Your captor’s annoyance is tangible, coating the already bloody air with tension. Your heart hammers angrily. There’s a moment where you think that you might keel over and vomit up all the fear pooling in your belly, wrapping around your hunger and squeezing until there’s no room for food even if you could eat. But your jaw is locked. If it came up, you doubted you’d have the courage to open your mouth for fear your life would end much quicker.

At floor 18, the doors finally part.

You’ve never seen it like this. Half the lights are off, the other half flickering as if struggling to connect to the power. A floor usually bustling with life is completely dead. There are ominous beeps from comms left unattended and machines once in use, now abandoned. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that everyone on this floor had vanished into thin air.

Your captor shoves you out into the eerie hall while you’re forced to stare forward. You step over scattered files, nearly roll your ankle on a pen that you missed.

“Where the fuck is everybody?” He snarls, as if you and every doctor in this hospital have some kind of hive mind to tap into.

You frantically search with the limited movement his gun at your head gives you, but come up empty. With each room you pass, doors are thrown open with no one inside. You pass by a window and make out a helicopter hovering over the building, flashing its light through. You can’t make out if it’s GCPD or the news.

You’re jolted back to reality when the gun digs painfully into your head again, “You said he was up here.”

“He’s supposed to be. The ER probably alerted them. They must’ve cleared out.”

“Where else would they take him? You said GCPD can’t book him ‘til he’s stable.”

“They might have moved somewhere we wouldn’t know to look,” it’s agony trying to rationalize with someone so keen on killing you while keeping a steady walk, “somewhere they can finish up before the police come looking for you.”

Your captor curses. You can tell he’s starting to feel cornered, and that didn’t spell anything good for you. He couldn’t finish off Ghost like he wanted, but he had a hostage now. You deigned to think of the demands he could make with your life on the line.

Maybe you’d get two days off.

The dark humor isn’t appreciated, even as your mind betrays you with it. Passing by a larger grouping of windows shows the utter chaos beginning to gather outside. There are more helicopters shaking the building, police cars lining the streets below.

Perhaps it’s the fear, but your mind subconsciously drifts. You can’t see much from up here but your eyes still scan for that darkly clad figure. You wonder if he’s gotten those stitches out by now, and if he’s somewhere in the building watching you on security cameras and planning the perfect way to get you out of here alive. You imagine, for your sanity, that he’s somewhere on this floor now. Watching you. Waiting for the moment to strike. You search the shadows for him but come up empty.

“Alright, change of plans.” Your captor announces. Before you can turn to look at him, he’s shoving you hard into a wall and pressing his gun up into the soft flesh of your chin. This close, you can see his eyes speckled with blue every time the light above you flickers on. Blue. You’re looking for him again. “You’re getting me out of here.”

“What about Ghost?”

“Don’t you fucking worry about it. I’ll take care of that later. If you’re good, I might even make it quick.” It being the gun nestled just so, perfect for a swift death.

Oh God, your mother might be watching the news. You’d dropped your phone downstairs after the gunshot. It was probably ringing like crazy. She must be so worried.

And Metropolis would have been so nice. Sure, the rent was higher but it was worth it. And who didn’t leave medical school drowning in student loans? And it was less humid there, more sunny days. You would have better things to worry about, like what you’d say to Superman if you ever got the chance to get his autograph. What would Bruce Wayne say when they found your dead body in a back alley just days after he’d last seen you? What would Em say? Your boss? Your mother?

You don’t understand why he looks so uncomfortable all of a sudden, not until you feel the tears rolling down your cheeks. Fuck. You were crying, too. The adrenaline was wearing off.

Your captor opens his mouth, grabs you by the neck of your scrubs, and is about to yank you back onto your feet when the gun is torn away. You don’t know what it is but there’s a commotion in the dark beside you, a fight with your captor, and you flinch away as bullets fly off all into the ceiling. You hear glass shatter, metal ricocheting. The lights flicker on and off, on and off.

Your body collapses to the floor without his weight supporting you. You’re breathing harder and faster and gulping in air that doesn’t smell so overwhelmingly of blood anymore. You can pick up on something else instead. A fresh wave of rainfall.

Through the tears and lights flashing on and off, on and off, you see him.

He’s fast and heavy. You realize that you’ve never actually seen Batman in action, just photos and blurry videos from afar that hardly did what he left behind justice. You’d seen the gaggles of gang members left hanging by their ankles on streetlights and wondered just how strong a man had to be to do that kind of damage.

Every punch is forceful, personal. It doesn’t take many after the gun is kicked away for him to put your captor to sleep. He falls into a nearby cart and the clatter of metal shakes you, makes you let out just the smallest whimper.

And Batman’s head snaps to you.

He’s crouching before you can register it, a hand on your shoulder. The air displaced around his sudden movement carries the scent of rain and the city. “Hey,” he calls, his voice an octave or so higher than it was on the fire escape, “are you hurt?”

Your arm is probably bruised. The back of your head too, now that you think about it. It doesn’t help that his hand on your shoulder rattles you when you take too long to reply.

Your mouth opens, trying to think of what to say. You croak around his name and cringe at how dry your throat has gotten. Crying and missing dinner would do that, you supposed.

One of your hands reaches out to him and lands on his chest, then weakly falls to his thigh, searching for something warm and human to hold onto. Something other than your scrubs slick with sweat. You can’t even ask for it.

But something clicks in his eyes when the light flickers on. He takes your hand and pulls you—practically dragging you—until your hand is wrapping around his back and buried in his cape. Your other hand follows suit and if you weren’t so panicked, you’d take the time to properly lose your mind when his hand cradles your head to his chest. With the way he’s crouched, you’re shielded from the hallway by the dark expanse of his shoulders.

Your captor’s body is out of sight, and so is the broken glass and the bullet shells and the gun. It’s just you and the Bat. His warm breath, the scent of him along his exposed jaw, the faint beat of his heart beneath his armor. You feel his thumb brush your cheek ever so slightly. He shushes you as you choke on a sob, “I’ve got you. You’re safe. He won’t hurt you again.”

Maybe when all this settles, you’ll believe him. But for now, you hide your face in his neck and he lets you.

You can’t remember the last time someone had carried you. You’re weightless, his arms hooked under your knees and around your back as he rises—slowly, as to not shake you—and begins the trek back to the elevator. His armor is difficult to grasp onto; you struggle as such to find something and seize the back of his neck, finally, fingers pressing into the soft give of his cowl. You feel his head shift above you, eyes weighing on your person, but you keep your head low and tucked.

Blood pounds in your ears. Batman’s hand flexes under your knee. Gravity lowers you 18 flights into the chaos of the ER.

It’s all so sudden. The noise of ten times the people from before forces you further into the calm of Batman’s body. You can pick up on police radio, a chorus of your savior’s name and yours the minute the doors open. Even as the warmth of other bodies begin to surround you, Batman keeps his steady pace well until your foot is bumping a stretcher.

“...hurt anywhere?” A voice distant to your ears asks, and then four more hands are helping you onto the cushion. It takes you a moment to figure out that the question isn’t directed at you.

“Shots were fired, none of them hit.” The deep rumble of Batman’s voice makes you cling to his neck further. When a latex hand takes hold of your wrist, you come to instantly.

The ER is just as crowded as you expected. GCPD and trauma nurses bloat the hallways, stumbling over each other to do their jobs. Two nurses are looking over you and Batman is hovering beside your stretcher, leaning with your hand still cupped around the back of his neck. He doesn’t ask you to let go, doesn’t pull away from you.

“Open wounds on your calf, seemed to have cut a vein. We need to get the glass out.” One nurse tells you.

“Where is he?” A cop appears by Batman’s side, frantic.

“18th floor. Unconscious and armed.” Batman answers.

“Stretch your leg this way, hon.” The other nurse commands, pressing wet cloth to burning skin. Batman moves it for you when you don’t react. The other nurse starts running in the other direction when a new wave of patients enter the room.

A shard catches on your torn flesh just as another cop appears, “We need you out there, Batman. It’s a bloodbath.”

“How many are there?”

“Too many. If they’re not in here and they’re not dead, they’re out there.”

Another shard removed has you flinching into him, drawing his attention away from the officer. “Almost done,” the nurse working at your leg is careful with the last few, “then I can give you something for the bruising on your arm.”

“Batman.” This time, his name is said with urgency. The cop is staring you down. You felt certain that if it wouldn’t be frowned upon, he’d have yanked Batman free of you by now.

Your rational brain was aware that you should let go. You were one person in the midst of tens of them, most worse off than you in every way. He was better off saving lives out there. You were fine. You were... you were physically fine.

And you’d be back to yourself in a few hours, right? You’d be fine.

You don’t realize the warmth of Batman’s hand leaves your knee until it’s curling around the side of your throat. His firm thumb props your chin up until you’re both face to face, until you’re swimming in that blue you’d been searching for. Your lips part; they were just as stunning as they were the first time you’d seen them up close.

The ER is quiet all of a sudden. You swore, even with the tugging in your leg, that you and him were utterly alone.

“I have to go.” He leaves no room for argument, but the openness of his expression shocks you. As if he was asking you. As if he’d stay if you denied him.

It keeps happening like this. Him leaving when he gets too close, you letting him go when it’s never what you want.

But your head nods on its own, assuring that you got the message. All too soon, he’s tugging your hand away and storming out of the ER and back into the streets. One second, his cape is catching in the wind. You watch, blinking for just a second. The next, he’s gone.

It’s enough to awaken you, get your left brain kicking again. You slip your fingers past the nurse’s working to slow the blood flow on your leg and press them into the gauze, stinging wound and all. She stares up at you, startled. You try your best at a smile, “They need you in there. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

She only pulls away from you when your hand steadies on the gauze. She starts to tell you how to wrap it, forgetting your position, then thinks better of it and leaves you there.

Besides your calf beginning to throb, it’s a minor cut. Worse than nicking yourself shaving but nothing to cry about. You wrap it like muscle memory. It’s not that bad. You can help while you’re here. No doubt the trauma team is swamped as it is.

But as you slide off the stretcher, the throb burns up your leg and you gasp, a new rush of tears following suit as you collapse back against the cushion. Try as you might, the tears refuse to stop.

It’s not that bad. It’s barely anything. It’s nothing.

It could have been worse. So, so much worse. Maybe that’s why this paralyzes you. You’re watching your colleagues rush by saving lives, there are countless others out in the streets right now giving theirs to stop a senseless war, and you’re standing here shaking because you thought that for just a moment, this is where it all ended for you. A little glass in your leg. A bruise on your arm. What could have been a bullet in your brain.

A pair of cops pass by dragging someone with them. Your captor, conscious and in cuffs, is stumbling between them sporting a black eye that blots up into his hairline and down into his lopsided nose. With the one eye that can open, he looks over at you, just as quickly flinching in the other direction as they bring him out into the rain. You doubted it was guilt that made him look away. Your tears didn’t do shit the first time, why would they now?

But when you cried the first time, he showed up. As if the sky had opened and delivered him to you. Right when you needed him.

You take a few more minutes to breathe through the pain.

You get your two days off.

It’s two days of sitting on the couch, two days of poking at your bruises to feel something other than boredom, two days of phone calls and texts about the bloodiest gang war in Gotham City since Falcone was kingpin. Your captor had been identified and put away in Arkham along with the famed Ghost. If vengeance couldn’t be had in Gotham General, it would be had in the prison yard.

You punctuate your feelings with the sharp flicks and loops of your pen on paper, just thankful the nap you’d gotten in had curbed your anger for the most part, “I said I’m fine.”

“Well, you don’t look fine.” Your mother is only one woman but she suffocates the room with her presence. Your father, on the other hand, has confined himself to the couch with his head in his hands. “Honestly, I don’t know where you get your bullheadedness from.”

You restrain your tongue behind your teeth in fear you might say something that’ll get her even angrier at you, “They checked me over. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, and you’re lucky for that. Did you know the man that held you hostage had a warrant out for his arrest? First-degree murder of a cop! He could’ve killed you too.”

Your mind flashes back to the memory of his gun digging into you. You squint to push it out.

You’re thankful for the silence after that, but only seconds pass before your mother is fussing again, pacing the room as if she might just explode. Your father’s head is now perched on his fist. He makes no move to defend you or her, just stares off into space with a glass-eyed look. “You know what? Pack your things. We’re moving you out of Gotham.”

“Mom, no.”

“Yes. I told you months ago to find a new place, do better for yourself, and then I hear you’re caught in the middle of a gang war—on TV no less—and- no, no. You’re coming to stay with us in Jersey until we can get you a job with our PCM.”

The house in New Jersey that your parents had moved to as soon as you’d graduated was perfect for them. They’d made their life there, had crafted their happy ending away from Gotham. They had expected you to follow, but that had been years ago. You’d hoped those expectations had died along with whatever version of you they’d been holding onto. Clearly not.

God help you. If you could go back in time to last night, you’d cave that fucker’s nose in just for giving your parents the perfect argument to make you go back home. To their home.

You continue signing off paperwork as if you hadn’t even heard her, a skill you’d perfected in your teens when you stayed out too late and courted the city in ways that “just weren’t safe” for a kid your age.

Except this time, you weren’t just being a kid. You had almost lost your life last night.

Your mom is complaining to your dad about you, you can just kind of hear it as you continue to tune them out. You’re just about to cut your vacation short and head to your office for quiet when someone knocks at your front door.

Your mother is the fastest, rushing to the door with all the fury of a woman scorned. She yanks the door open just a fraction and demands that your visitor leave you be. Before you can even think to admonish her, you notice her hand go slack on the doorknob.

The door opens. You see flower petals before you see a face, the vase of flowers in their hands standing tall and wide, so much so that it brushes the door frame on all sides on its journey to your coffee table. When it’s set down before you, finally, you’re greeted by the delivery person and an envelope dangling in your face, your name an uncertain question as they wait for you to accept.

You stare, dumbfounded. You’d already made all the calls, had reassured friends and distant family alike that you were fine and alive and that you’d appreciated the concern. No one had mentioned sending you anything.

You take the card gingerly, ignoring your mother’s curious “who’s it from?” in favor of admiring it. Your name is printed in fine, midnight black calligraphy. Just by turning it to the light, you can tell it was truly handwritten. You poke beneath the seal flap until it gives way. A neat card sits inside.

Some color to resemble sunshine, something we Gothamites don’t get enough of. Hopefully you’re not deathly allergic like me.

Take care.

Sincerely,

The office of...

“...Bruce Wayne.” Your mother finishes over your shoulder. The disbelief is clear in her tone. For once, she has nothing to say.

The delivery person, who you’d thought would have made a break for it already, hovers in your living room with a wobbly smile. You wonder if it’s their first delivery. You couldn’t imagine the pressure. Your turbulent expression must not help because they’re stumbling out of there the minute you make eye contact.

“What’s Bruce Wayne sending you flowers for?” For the first time, your father chimes in, examining the bouquet with a critical eye, as if he could tell the difference between a rose and a peony.

You stare down the card once more, touch delighting in the feel of the high-quality card stock and the smell of flowers clinging to it still. The bush of orange and yellow is refreshing with all the rain. You notice that the writing inside the card is handwritten too. Had... Bruce really written it himself?

You imagined Bruce Wayne, the Bruce whose ludicrous job offer you’d rejected days ago, personally writing you a get-well soon card... on top of a bouquet of the most wonderful smelling flowers you’ve ever seen.

You couldn’t imagine why for the life of you. Was it sincere? Was it mocking, poking at your brush with death days after claiming you would rather remain here than up in the safety of his tower? Had he even known it’d been sent, or had a personal assistant called it in? Why would he care? Why do you care? You’d almost died.

“Where are you going?” Your mother’s voice feels far away, underwater when you come to. You’re standing at the front door all of a sudden, bag slung over your shoulder and card gripped in hand. Your parents are staring at you like you’ve grown a second head. Or a third, more grotesque than the last.

You haven’t explained anything and right now, you really don’t care to, “Call me when you guys make it home. Love you.”

[snippychicke]

Cats & Ships Chapter Six

Title: Cats & Ships

Overall Rating: Teen for now, will go into mature at a future date

Trigger warnings: Nothing beyond what's in the live-action series. I mean, Kuro's still manipulative and paranoid. It gets better tho? Slowly?

Pairings: Captain Kuro (Klahadore)/Reader; hints of Kaya/Usopp

Summary: It started out as a means to get information as Khaladore. Who would be better to provide information regarding the high seas than Syrup Village’s Harbormaster? Except, for the first time in a very long time, Kuro found himself trusting, and even liking, the young woman he shared tea with every week. 

And then the Straw Hat Pirates arrived and ruined his plans. Except fate decided his story wasn’t done there. 

Nor was yours.

Masterlist here! | Read on Ao3!

You were fed up with the Jones Pirates. The town you had fallen in love with had changed for the worst over the last few weeks, becoming a virtual ghost town. The streets that had been full of life as merchants peddled their goods, children running up and down as they played games, chased by the group of dogs that wandered and served more or less as guardians for the town. 

Now the streets were lifeless, just like the tavern.

No one in Maple Town was really a fighter, and the Marines didn't often sail in this stretch of water. Sure, there had been pirate raids but many of the pirates that visited would cause a ruckus and then leave, or even do business to sell and trade their stolen treasure for Berry or other goods.

Not the Jones Crew. They decided to take the town and bleed it dry to the last berry, using it for their base of operations and charging the townsfolk for living under 'their protection.' 

There was a plan to escape, though it was slow moving. Shuttling people little by little to nearby towns, slowly emptying the town. You stayed, both stubborn but also knowing that as the barmaid of the tavern, the pirates would notice your absence. 

And then the Black Cat Pirates returned to town. 

There was a shout from the occupying pirates that woke the lazy town, and you watched from the tavern windows with morbid fascination as the Jones Pirates rallied their barricades. Once the black and red ship appeared on the horizon, the cat-faced Jolly Roger flying high and proud, you couldn't deny the burst of hope in your chest. Of relief. 

It was foolish, of course. Why would pirates fight other pirates over a worthless spot like Maple town? There were no special resources here. Nothing that was worth fighting over. 

“Turn back!” Captain Jone had shouted through the snail-amplifier as the ship drew closer. Close enough you could see the black cat-shaped bow.  “This is our territory! Touch land and you will meet your maker!” 

Apparently, Kuro did not like being told what to do. Despite the destruction the cannonball suddenly fired at the pier caused, your hope grew. Other townsfolk stuck their heads out of their windows as dinghies approached the shore, full of Black Cat pirates with their swords, guns, and whatever else raised in a violent war cry.. 

By the time the fighting spilled into town, your own instinct had taken hold. You had been a Harbormaster, after all. You did not pick fights, but you weren't one to sit back when a fight broke out either. 

If the Black Cats were going to fight the Jones crew for whatever reason, so were you.

The tavern had a pair of old swords from a former owner hanging above the fireplace that you grabbed before rushing out to the street. The Black Cat pirates thankfully had some kind of cat-themed bandanas distinguishing them easily from the other pirates. 

And once they saw you parrying blows with the Jones, they left you alone. Even they recognized 'an enemy of my enemy is my friend', after all. 

More of the braver townspeople took your lead and started joining in the brawl until it was a true free-for all in the streets. You had taken more than a few hits, but carried on, drunk off the battle-high and finally getting these damned pirates out of your home. 

And then suddenly your current opponent had ten blades sticking out of their chest. As they crumpled to the ground, you found yourself face-to-face with a man you had thought, (for the third time, to be fair) you would never see again. 

Kuro was glaring at you as he skillfully fixed his glasses, the blades of his cat claws dripping blood. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here, remember,” You snarled in response to his cold question, your adrenaline running high enough to frankly not care about the consequences. 

His eyes narrowed more as he mindlessly swept his blades towards an encroaching Jones Pirate, slashing five deep wounds into his chest. “I recall. But why are you out in this.” 

“Because I live here!”  You said, lunging forward and stabbing the man that had been aiming for Kuro’s back as the pirate captain dodged your (presumed) attack. “And I can fight!” 

"Poorly." He finished the man you had impaled with a swift and literal upper-cut. "You did better work with that mallet back in Syrup Village." 

"I'll fucking hit you with a mallet!" You spat as you turned back towards him. Why was he so insistent on pushing your buttons? And in the middle of a fight to boot! "And here I was happy to see your flag! The hell are you doing here?" 

He was silent as more Jones Pirates surrounded you, apparently seeking a chance to take down the infamous Captain Kuro. Or they had a death wish. 

Probably the latter, considering how easily they fell between the two of you. (Well, more Kuro than yourself, but you did manage a few.)

"I wanted to be sure my namesake was safe from these idiots," He finally answered after the first wave, making you pause. You watched him fight against the next wave. You had heard of the deadly Pirate Kuro. Fast. Vicious. Who seemed to take delight in his own deadly dance.

And most of it was true. You could barely follow the dark blur as he cut through men like they were twigs. But there was no delight in his expression when you were able to catch a glimpse. Just pure determination. 

"Your namesake, huh?" You shot back after a moment when he paused to push up his glasses, his hair falling down around his face. "I have to admit, even after all these months, he's extra whiny on Thursday afternoons. Like he's upset you haven't come to visit." 

There was a twitch of a smile on his face as his gaze met yours across the battlefield. “I highly doubt his caretaker would approve of such visits.” 

“I might be a little jealous," You admitted, hoping he would take it as a jest when it was anything but. You struck down another as he finished off at least three more. "But he does seem to miss you.” 

You swore you saw him stumble slightly, though he quickly caught his balance and darted to his next target. “Jealous?” 

Thank the seas your face was already flushed with exertion. But the same exertion made you speak without really thinking. “I can admit it. You wanting his friendship but not mine hurts a bit. But you already said you never actually trusted me, so I guess that’s nothing new.” 

You looked around, looking for another target as you last fell… and found none. It was just you and Kuro and a few other villagers or black cat pirates who were slumping with relief at the victory. 

“... I did not say that,” Kuro stated after a moment. “I said a pirate cannot trust anyone.”

“You’re a pirate, and I’m anyone.” You shot back, avoiding looking at him as you surveyed the damage to the town.  "How am I wrong?” 

His arm was suddenly wrapped around your waist, the blades of the cat-claw skillfully avoiding cutting you as he roughly pulled you back against his body. “You are hardly just anyone,” He whispered harshly in your ear. “All of this was because I heard you were in trouble. I didn’t even think before commanding my crew. No plan, no nothing. Merely the sole thought that I had to get to you.” 

Your pounding heart traveled to your throat, your mouth suddenly becoming dry. Was… was that true? “Y-you’ve been gone for over a month,” You tried to reason--more with yourself than him. “You’re Kuro of the Thousand plans. I’m noth--” 

“You’re always on my mind,” He cut you off once more, pulling you closer. Part of you was scared he’d accidentally cut you with his blades, the rest of you was too scared of the feelings, the thoughts in your head to care about being sliced by the bloodied blades. At this point, it might have actually proved to be a welcome distraction. “I’ve tried to do everything I could to forget you and I couldn’t.” 

“You’re always on my mind too,” Your mouth allowed your heart to confess before you could even think. You could feel him tense behind you, and it only compelled you to continue. “Especially since your bounty came out. Every day I worried that the news that you had been caught--or worse-- would come through. I kept telling myself I shouldn't care. But I did. I do." 

For a long moment, silence hung, broken only by his breath in your ear as he processed your words, and you tried to internalize his. 

Eventually, he broke the silence with three words. Three words that shouldn't mean as much as they did, but…

"I trust you." 

It meant everything. 

You raised your hand, placing it on the furred glove that held his claws. He shouldn't trust you, you shouldn't trust him. Not after everything. 

And yet… "I trust you too." 

[fnaf-is-awesome201]

The Golden Princess and the Little Knight

Vanessa and Gregory have grown very close in the months since the events at the Pizzaplex. Today she has a big announcement to share with him. Will it go well? Read on to find out.

Hey, back again with another one. This one kind of ties into Baby Steps, and also has a bit based on idea 15 from @halogenrobotics ‘s idea list. It also has a bit of a tie in with Haphephobia, but it’s more of a very brief mention of it than anything else. Just a bit of a warning, it’s pretty long (not nearly as long as Baby Steps, though), so you have been warned. Most of it will be under the read more as always.

WARNINGS: This story contains blood, death (sort of), descriptions of violence, and emotional manipulation/abuse. If any of that is something you’re not comfortable with, feel free to scroll past it. You have been warned.

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

Vanessa let out a tired sigh as she stared blankly through the windshield of her car, lost in thought as she slowly made her way through the busy traffic. The road noise buzzed like endless static in her ears as she looked out over the river of colorful cars, all in a hurry to get somewhere yet all stuck on the same busy street, baking in the intense sunlight. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed again.

“At least most of the paperwork is finally taken care of. Just need to talk to Gregory about it, then there’s only one more meeting to sign a few more things and we’ll be all set…” Vanessa rambled to herself, brushing her hair back and out of her face.

After driving for a while, Vanessa could feel her heartbeat going faster as she approached her neighborhood. Her thoughts started racing as she could feel her anxiety rising in her chest.

"What if I’m not good enough? What if I mess it up? What if-"

Vanessa slammed on the brakes as a car pulled out in front of her, the jolt of the car stopping shocking her just enough to get her out of her anxious spiral. She took a few deep breaths, driving slowly as she continued to think to herself.

"Breathe… Everything’s going to be fine. Remember what Freddy said. You shouldn’t worry so much. Gregory doesn’t hate you. You aren’t inadequate."

Vanessa continued to repeat Freddy’s words in her head, focusing on her breathing to calm herself down as she pulled into the parking lot in front of her apartment building. She got out of her car and began walking towards the building that towered in front of her. She took a deep breath before unlocking the door to her apartment.

“Everything will work out.” Vanessa said calmly under her breath before pushing open the door. As she walked into her apartment, a wave of cool air rushed around her, providing a welcomed break from the warm weather outside. As she set down her keys by the door, Vanessa could faintly hear Gregory and Freddy in the other room playing a video game together. She peeked around the corner and chuckled, a smile spreading across her face as she watched them play.

They were playing Faz Brawl, a game that had never officially been released due to the threat of copyright lawsuits. Gregory was sitting on the couch, furiously pressing different combinations of buttons on his controller. Freddy’s remote control Freddy doll was on the couch next to Gregory, clumsily trying to push the buttons on his own controller with his bulky plush paws. Gregory let out a mischievous laugh, and with a final flurry of button presses, the game was over. Freddy’s avatar exploded and the words “Player 1 Wins!” flashed across the screen in bright, colorful letters.

“Awesome! I won!” Gregory cheered, raising his hands above his head in triumph.

“Yes, I do believe I am currently getting ‘dunked on,’ as the kids say.” Freddy stated.

Gregory cringed slightly at Freddy’s words, awkwardly scrunching up his face into an incredulous expression as he looked over at Freddy.

“Freddy, nobody says that…” Gregory grumbled through gritted teeth, somewhat embarrassed, before quickly starting another round of Faz Brawl.

Vanessa tried to hold back a laugh as she continued to watch them play. She thought back to when Gregory first came to stay with her. He had changed quite a bit since then. For a while after they had escaped the Pizzaplex, Gregory maintained his stoic persona, cautious and skeptical of just about everyone and everything. However, after some time and a bit of effort, he started to change. He finally felt safe enough to start to relax and show his true colors, becoming more playful, chaotic, and carefree. He was still usually hesitant about showing his feelings, but he had made significant progress.

“I win again!” Gregory laughed gleefully.

“I am glad you are having fun, superstar!” Freddy said, his ears wiggling happily as he watched Gregory celebrate his victory.

“Me, too.” Vanessa chuckled. Gregory and Freddy quickly turned to face her.

“Vanessa!” Gregory smiled.

“Hey, kiddo.” Vanessa walked over and gently ruffled Gregory’s hair. “How’re you doing?”

“Pretty good! I won the last 5 rounds in a row!” Gregory replied, excitedly drumming his hands on the back of the couch. “What about you? How was your day?”

“It was good. I took care of some pretty important stuff.” Vanessa paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “Speaking of which… Gregory, there’s something really important we need to talk about.” She glanced over at Freddy, giving him a subtle nod. Freddy’s eyes went wide as he realized what Vanessa was talking about. After a moment, he gave a silent nod before dropping down off the couch and toddling off down the hallway, quickly disappearing in the dense shadows.

“... am I in trouble for something?” Gregory asked hesitantly, tensing up as he glanced down the hallway before looking up at Vanessa.

“Oh no, no, you’re not in trouble!” Vanessa quickly reassured him. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

Gregory breathed a sigh of relief, slowly sliding back down into his seat on the couch. He paused for a moment before looking back up at Vanessa, confused.

“Well then… what is it?” Gregory said as Vanessa took a seat next to him.

Vanessa took a deep breath and then let out a sigh, hesitating only for a moment before she turned towards Gregory.

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for quite a while now, since I started fostering you.” Vanessa said, her voice calm as she continued. “I’ve already taken care of almost all the paperwork and the other boring stuff, so everything’s pretty much ready to go. But…” She paused. She could feel herself becoming anxious again, so she took another deep breath, giving herself a moment to calm her nerves.

“Just spit it out Vanessa, just ask.” She thought to herself.

“I’m still confused…” Gregory said quietly.

Vanessa remained silent for a moment, attempting to steady herself so she didn’t sound as nervous as she was.

“I want to go through with adopting you, but I want your permission first. So… is that okay with you?” Vanessa finally blurted out before anxiously waiting for Gregory’s response.

Gregory said nothing at first, sitting in stunned silence, wide-eyed and with a skeptical expression on his face. But, as soon as he realized Vanessa was serious, his skepticism melted away as his eyes began to well up with tears. He tried to keep himself from crying, causing him to scrunch up his face into an unreadable expression.

“Oh no…” Vanessa whispered to herself; her panicked voice quiet enough that Gregory couldn’t hear her. Worried that she had made a mistake, Vanessa quickly began to speak, stumbling over her words as she tried to salvage the situation. “I-it’s fine if you don’t want to-”

“A-are you sure?” Gregory interrupted; his voice strained as he wiped a stray tear from his cheek.

“Yes, of course I’m sure! I’ve never been more sure of anything! I’ve thought about it for quite some time, and I’ll absolutely take on this responsibility if you’ll give me the chance-” Vanessa was interrupted once again as Gregory launched himself at her, wrapping her in a tight hug as he buried his face in her shoulder and quietly cried, his tears soaking into the fabric of her shirt. She sat there for a moment, stunned, before she hugged Gregory close to her.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes?” Vanessa said softly.

“Y-yeah… I would like that please…” Gregory murmured; his voice muffled as he continued to cry into Vanessa’s shoulder.

The two of them sat there on the couch for a while, Gregory enjoying the comfort of Vanessa’s hug. It felt safe, calming, and familiar in a way. Eventually, he calmed down, wiping the last of his tears from his face with the back of his hand. A few more moments passed, the room nearly silent, before Gregory hesitantly looked up at Vanessa.

“...Vanessa?” Gregory said, barely loud enough for Vanessa to hear him.

“Yes?” Vanessa responded, concerned with Gregory’s sudden change in tone.

“Does… does this mean…” Gregory’s voice trailed off after a moment. He paused, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts. “Can… can I call you ‘mom’ now?”

Vanessa froze in shock. Gregory never really talked about his life before the Pizzaplex, but from what he did talk about, Vanessa knew he wasn’t happy.

Vanessa replayed Gregory’s question repeatedly in her head, tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

"He… he wants to call me… mom?" She thought.

A big smile began to spread across Vanessa’s face as a stream of tears began to slowly roll down her cheek.

“Yeah… you can call me whatever you’re comfortable with…” Vanessa said happily as she pulled Gregory into another tight hug. Gregory hugged her back, a content smile on his face.

“Thanks mom… for everything…” Gregory said quietly, hugging Vanessa tighter.

“I should be thanking you, my little knight.” Vanessa replied, carefully brushing his hair back out of his face.

Vanessa turned towards the hallway as she heard Freddy chuckle quietly. He was peeking around the corner, a look of pride and happiness plastered on his face as he watched them.

“I knew everything would go well!” Freddy exclaimed, joyfully waddling over towards Gregory and Vanessa. “I cannot wait to tell the others about this!”

Vanessa chuckled, amused by Freddy’s excitement. Her laughter was cut short as a contemplative look crossed her face.

“That gives me an idea…” Vanessa said. She gently nudged Gregory to get his attention. “How about we go to the Pizzaplex to celebrate? It’s a Saturday, so we can stay as late as you want, and I’m sure Freddy and the others would love to celebrate with you.”

“YEAH!” Gregory cheered as he jumped up on the couch, unable to contain his excitement. Vanessa smiled at his response.

“Alright! I’ll call Luis to see if he wants to join us, and then we can get going!” Vanessa quickly got up off the couch and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“I will get everyone together for the celebration!” Freddy said excitedly. The doll slumped over on the floor as Freddy disconnected from it to tell the others the good news.

Gregory grabbed his backpack and Vanessa grabbed her keys as they rushed out the door. They quickly arrived at the Pizzaplex, with Freddy and the others waiting for them in the main lobby. After being briefly swarmed with congratulations from the excited animatronics, Freddy led them all to where the party was being prepared.

It was an unusually quiet day at the Pizzaplex, so they had access to the biggest party room available and all the party supplies they could possibly need. The animatronics continued setting up, occasionally taking breaks to chat with Gregory and Vanessa. Not long after everything had been set up, Luis finally arrived at the Pizzaplex. As everyone walked over to greet him, Chica quickly snuck past him and slipped out the door, unnoticed in the chaos of the moment, and began making her way to the kitchen while giggling to herself about a surprise. The others continued to celebrate for a little while, chatting and playing and helping themselves to the array of snacks that had been prepared, before Chica burst back through the doors, holding a large platter of cupcakes. A large portion of the cupcakes were decorated to spell out “CONGRATULATIONS!” in the center of the platter, while the rest of the surrounding cupcakes were covered in colorful sprinkles and pieces of candy made to look like balloons.

The celebration lasted for the rest of the night, occasionally migrating to different attractions across the Pizzaplex. Throughout the night, Sun and Moon made several drawings to celebrate the occasion, most of them depicting the celebration itself in amazing detail. At one point, Monty and Roxy decided to have an arm-wrestling competition, which eventually turned into a full wrestling match. It ended in a draw when they got a little too close to an arcade machine and ended up breaking it, resulting in stern looks and some angry beeping from the staffbots who had to be called to clean up the mess.

By the end of the night, most of the snacks in the party room were gone, and Gregory’s backpack had been filled with prizes from the Prize Counter, which were redeemed after several trips to the arcade. Vanessa glanced over at Gregory, smiling as she watched him tiredly rub his eyes, a big grin plastered on his face as he wearily dragged his backpack on the floor behind him. Vanessa chuckled quietly as she gently picked him up, hugging him close.

“I’m glad you had fun today, kiddo.” Vanessa said quietly.

Freddy walked over to Vanessa and Gregory, quickly scooping them up into a big hug.

“I am very happy that everything went well!” Freddy said gleefully, his voice filled with pride. He gently set them down and took a step back. “And I am glad that you finally talked to Gregory about this, Vanessa!” He paused for a moment. “The wait was almost unbearable.” Freddy chuckled.

Gregory groaned irritatedly, rolling his eyes, while Vanessa stifled a slight chuckle, amused both by the pun and Gregory’s reaction. Freddy chuckled slightly as Gregory grumbled quietly to himself.

Eventually, the group made their way over to Rockstar Row. With a final wave of congratulations, Monty, Chica and Roxy said their goodbyes before retiring to their respective green rooms for the night. Vanessa, Luis, and Gregory went to hang out in Freddy’s green room, sitting on the couch and chatting for a bit before they had to leave. Vanessa was still holding Gregory, who had fallen asleep in her arms. Vanessa smiled and hugged him more closely.

“It’s good to see you being like your old self again, Ness…” Luis said quietly, scooting a bit closer to Vanessa and gently nudging her arm. “You’ve made a lot of progress. I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks, Luis.” Vanessa smiled as she looked over at Luis. “I didn’t think I’d ever get this far…” She glanced over at Freddy, who was busy putting up some pictures from the celebration on his wall. “I had a lot of help, though, and I’m very grateful for that.” She looked at Gregory. “I just hope I can return the favor someday.”

Luis paused for a moment, his gaze shifting from Vanessa to Freddy on the other side of the room, and then back to Vanessa. He smiled, carefully draping his arm over her shoulders.

“I think you already have.” Luis said calmly, before gently planting a kiss on Vanessa’s cheek.

Vanessa smiled, quickly and quietly pulling Luis into a side hug, and resting her head on his shoulder.

“I hope so…” Vanessa said, gently ruffling Gregory’s hair as he slept, a content smile on his face.

-------

The next few days passed by fairly quickly. Vanessa quickly set up the final meeting and signed the rest of the paperwork, finalizing Gregory’s adoption. And much to Gregory’s dismay, school returned just as swiftly, and he was burdened with homework once again.

Gregory sighed tiredly as he closed the door to Vanessa’s apartment behind him, dropping his backpack in the entryway. Vanessa walked out of the other room, a smile on her face as she went to greet Gregory.

“Hey, kiddo! How was school today?” Vanessa asked. Gregory groaned, tired, and irritated from a long day at school.

“It was so BORING.” Gregory rolled his eyes with a huff as he continued. “I already know all this stuff! All the classwork is too easy, so I end up just sitting around waiting when everyone else is still working!” He crossed his arms, giving another frustrated huff.

“Glad to know my kid’s a little genius.” Vanessa chuckled as she ruffled Gregory’s hair. Gregory let out a tired sigh and smiled, his frustration slowly dissipating.

“At least I can take harder classes next year, right?” Gregory asked, looking up at Vanessa with a hopeful expression.

“Yeah, I think so.” Vanessa responded.

“Good.” Gregory huffed. “I don’t think I can deal with another boring year of easy classes.”

Vanessa chuckled as the two of them walked towards the kitchen.

“Why don’t you go wash up?” Vanessa suggested as she walked into the kitchen. “I’ll get started on dinner soon, okay?”

Gregory grumbled quietly in protest but wandered off to wash up anyways. After dinner, Gregory and Vanessa sat down on the couch to watch some TV, taking some time to wind down before going to bed.

As the credits rolled for the movie they had been watching, Vanessa reached for the remote, turning the TV off for the night.

“Alright, time for bed, kiddo.” Vanessa said, gently placing a hand on Gregory’s shoulder. Gregory huffed as he reluctantly slid down off the couch. He rubbed his eyes, clearly fighting sleep.

“Can’t I stay up just a little bit longer?” Gregory protested with a yawn. Vanessa smiled.

“Sorry, but you’ve already stayed up pretty late.” Vanessa responded as she gently guided him to his room. “You need to get some sleep.”

Vanessa gently tucked Gregory into bed, giving him a small kiss on his forehead.

“Goodnight. See you in the morning.” Vanessa said quietly as she turned out the lights and walked out the door, closing it behind her as quietly as she could. Gregory, unable to fight sleep any longer, closed his eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.

-------

Gregory noticed the sound of an all-too familiar laugh echoing around him, slowly getting louder and louder. He gasped in shock, sitting bolt upright as his eyes snapped open. An intense feeling of dread permeated to his core as he recognized his surroundings.

Gregory was back in the Pizzaplex, the neon lights and smiling faces plastered on the walls and screens of the main lobby only making him feel more uneasy as he looked around the empty building. He turned around towards the exit doors, but the security doors had already been closed and locked for the night, the grinning faces on the door seemed to be mocking him as they blocked his only escape.

“No, no, no!” Gregory said quietly, his voice panicked. “I can’t be stuck here! Not again!” He looked around anxiously, trying to find another way out.

The quiet music playing over the speakers suddenly cut out, being replaced with loud static as all the screens in the lobby went dark. The screens slowly flickered back to life one by one, but instead of colorful pictures and advertisements, all of the monitors now displayed Vanny’s mask, the glowing red eyes almost seeming to burn through the screens. Gregory could feel his heartbeat getting faster and the blood drain from his face as Vanny’s glitchy, maniacal cackling played over the speakers.

“Are you having fun yet?” Vanny taunted, tilting her head slightly as she laughed. “You can’t hide from me now…” She hissed, the mask’s sinister grin seeming to get wider as she spoke.

Vanny cackled again, the sound getting louder and louder through the crackling static, as the bright lights throughout the Pizzaplex began to flicker and hum, glowing brighter and brighter before going dark with a loud popping noise. The speakers slowly fizzled out, Vanny’s laughter now so loud that it was too much for the speakers to handle. Vanny’s face on the monitors slowly dissolved into static, before the screens cut to black once again. The building was plunged into almost complete darkness, with only a few dim lights still left working across the entirety of the Pizzaplex.

The only sound Gregory could hear was the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness that now surrounded him. As his eyes adjusted, he could see swarms of staffbots now moving about in the shadows, completely silent as they wandered about, their arms outstretched and twitching wildly. Gregory quickly found a place to hide, narrowly avoiding getting caught by a group of staffbots.

“Okay, okay… I’ve done this once; I can do it again. I hope…” Gregory whispered, trying to calm himself down so he could think of a plan. “I need to find Freddy. I know he’ll help me.”

Gregory carefully made his way to Rockstar Row, dodging patrols of staffbots the entire way there. When he got there, he noticed that it was deafeningly quiet. He kept walking, making his way over to Freddy’s green room. The curtains were slightly pulled back, the light inside flickering on and off. Gregory quietly made his way over to the window, and peeked through the curtains. His heart dropped at the sight that was laid out before him.

Freddy’s room had been destroyed. Furniture was overturned and broken, the walls were covered in long claw marks, and the window had been cracked. “You can’t hide” had been written on the wall in purple spray paint, next to a crudely painted outline of a rabbit. Displayed in the center of the room was all that remained of Freddy. He had been torn apart, pieces of him scattered about the room in every direction. Purple x’s had been painted over his empty eyes, and a big smile had been painted across his unmoving face. Freddy was gone.

Gregory froze, holding his breath as tears began to form in his eyes, distorting his vision.

“Freddy…?” Gregory’s voice was weak and shaky as he spoke, his eyes locked on Freddy. “No…” His voice trailed off as his breathing started to get faster, streams of tears now cascading down his face.

As Gregory began to back away from the window, he heard quiet laughter beside him. He whipped around, coming face to face with Vanny, her knife raised high. Gregory fell back as Vanny slashed at him, her knife cutting a deep gash into his cheek. Gregory quickly got to his feet, running off towards the door to the maintenance tunnels, a trail of blood following him as he ran.

“Run, rabbit. I love a good chase.” Vanny laughed before taking off after him.

Gregory ran through the tunnels, Vanny’s cackling echoing closer and closer behind him. Everything started to blend together as he ran, his surroundings looking like nothing more than a hazy blur through his tears. The cut on his face burned and stung as tears flowed across it, but Gregory hardly noticed in his panic. He could hear the other animatronics growling and taunting as they helped Vanny search for him, their voices coming from every direction. He turned a corner and ran right into a gate blocking his way. He turned back to see the shadow of Vanny’s rabbit ears at the end of the hallway as she slowly pranced down the main hall, searching every possible hiding spot.

“Little rabbit…” Vanny hummed gleefully as she skipped along down the dark corridor. “Where are you?”

Gregory dashed into a side room, shutting and locking the door behind him, piling some boxes in front of it to make sure it stayed shut. He slowly backed away from the door, venturing further into the room. It was musty and dark, with boxes stacked almost to the ceiling on either side of him. He attempted to wipe the tears from his eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself from crying. He covered his eyes with his hands as he cried uncontrollably, unable to hold it back. He backed up against the back wall, slowly sliding down to the floor as he continued to cry.

After a moment, he could hear Vanny giggling to herself as she pranced down the hallway, coming to a stop in front of the door to the room Gregory was in. She turned the handle and pushed against the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Gregory immediately jumped up off the floor, his eyes wide in terror as Vanny tried repeatedly to open the door. He could hear Vanny talking to someone on the other side of the door when she realized she couldn’t open it.

A second of silence passed, before there was a loud thud against the door. Gregory could hear Monty on the other side, growling angrily as he relentlessly hit the door over and over. After a few more hits, the lock snapped, and the door violently flung open, nearly tearing itself off of its hinges. The boxes Gregory had stacked in front of the door flew across the room, spilling their contents onto the floor. Monty stepped through the door, his eyes glowing faintly purple behind his glasses, his jaw hanging open like an animal about to pounce. He growled; his gaze locked on Gregory as he took another step forward, before he suddenly stopped. He stepped aside, allowing Vanny to get past him into the room. Monty went back to the door, guarding the exit as the other animatronics crowded the doorway behind him.

“Nowhere left to run, brat.” Vanny chuckled, the room now blanketed in an eerie red glow as she stepped closer to Gregory. She towered over Gregory, the light from the eyes of her mask casting shadows along the mask’s surface, making the smiling face look even more disturbing and menacing than it had before. She held her knife at her side, turning it over again and again in her hand, causing reflections of the dim light to dance across the sharp blade.

Gregory backed up against the wall, looking all around the room for another escape. His gaze landed on an open vent on the side wall, hidden away behind some shelves. The small space leading to it was barely big enough for him to get through, but it was the only other exit that he could see in the room.

Gregory made a break for the vent, but Vanny grabbed his arm as he tried to squeeze behind the shelf. She laughed at him as she hurled him back against the back wall, knocking the wind out of him as he hit the cold concrete. She walked over to him, picking him up by his shirt collar and pinning him against the wall by his neck, high above the ground.

Gregory struggled to breathe as he clawed at Vanny’s hand, trying to get her to let go. Vanny merely laughed at his attempt, completely unbothered. Gregory continued to cry; his eyes filled with fear as he stared deep into the glowing eyes of Vanny’s mask. Vanny paused for a moment, reaching up and removing her mask to reveal Vanessa’s face. Her eyes had the same purple glow as Monty and the others, and her gaze seemed to pierce through Gregory’s soul as she stared into his eyes. Her smile was too wide, her face twisted in an unsettling expression of rage and pure joy.

“And to think,” Vanny chuckled, “your ‘mom’ called you her ‘little knight’.” She scoffed, her words dripping with venom. “Now, look how scared you are.” She sneered, laughing quietly. “Pathetic.”

Vanny started cackling hysterically, her voice so loud that it hurt Gregory’s ears.

“Do you really think she’d let you stay if she saw you now?” Vanny hissed. She paused for a second, letting her question seep into Gregory’s thoughts. She chuckled as Gregory slowly stopped fighting against her grip. “I didn’t think so…” Vanny hummed wickedly. “You know as well as I do that she would kick you out, you weak, cowardly, worthless little runt.” Her smile disappeared, twisting into a perturbing grimace as she paused for a moment and watched Gregory cry.

“If you think about it,” Vanny said, her disturbing smile returning as she raised her knife high over her head, “I’m doing us all a favor…”

Gregory stared at the knife in Vanny’s hand, watching in horror as she raised it higher, ready to strike. He started struggling to wrestle free from Vanny once again, her laughter echoing in his ears.

“No! Let me go!” Gregory cried out. “Somebody help!”

“No one can help you now.” Vanny laughed. “Bye bye, Gregory!”

Gregory screamed as he felt the knife bury itself deep in his chest, the searing pain radiating through him, before the world around him slowly started to fade away. As he felt his blood seeping through his shirt, all he could hear was Vanny’s laughter.

-------

A soft sound greeted Vanessa as she opened her eyes, looking around her room for a moment. She sat up in her bed, glancing over at the clock on her bedside table.

“4 am…”

Vanessa rubbed her eyes, wondering why she had woken up so early. She looked around, carefully observing her surroundings and listening for anything out of the ordinary. She froze when she heard Gregory’s muffled voice coming from the other room. He was murmuring and muttering incoherently to himself.

“Is that Gregory?” She thought to herself, “Wha-”

Vanessa nearly jumped out of her skin when Gregory started screaming at the top of his lungs, his cries echoing throughout her apartment. She clumsily fell out of bed, crashing to the floor before quickly getting to her feet and rushing out of her room. She burst through the door of Gregory’s room as his screaming turned into loud sobbing. Gregory had his face buried in his blanket, slightly muffling his terrified cries as he hugged his knees close to his chest.

“What happened?! What’s wrong?!” Vanessa asked in a panic as she rushed over to Gregory.

“I do not know, Vanessa, I have just connected! My sensors detected distress.” Freddy replied worriedly, quickly waddling over to Gregory as well.

Vanessa stood by Gregory’s bed, frozen as she panicked. She didn’t know what to do at first, as Gregory had never been this upset about anything before. She hesitantly knelt down beside Gregory, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, and holding his hand.

“Woah, kiddo, hey, calm down! It’s okay, everything’s okay! You’re safe, it was just a nightmare…” Vanessa said, her voice calm and soft as she tried her best to comfort Gregory.

“Breathe, superstar. You are safe.” Freddy said, looking at Gregory with a worried expression.

At the sound of Freddy’s voice, Gregory lifted his head to look over at the Freddy doll standing next to his bed, its eyes filled with concern. He quickly pulled it up onto his bed, hugging it close to his chest as he leaned into Vanessa’s arms and cried. Vanessa and Freddy hugged Gregory, holding him close as he cried, until eventually his sobbing was reduced to little more than quiet sniffles.

“Are you alright, kiddo?” Vanessa asked quietly, still hugging Gregory close to herself.

Gregory said nothing for a few moments, still shaking as he tried to catch his breath.

“I-I’m… fine…” Gregory stuttered between shaky breaths.

“You have never had a nightmare this bad before, Gregory… are you sure you are alright?” Freddy asked, concerned for Gregory.

“I’m fine…” Gregory insisted, louder this time as he hesitantly pushed away from Vanessa and slightly loosened his grip on the plush doll in his arms.

Vanessa let out a worried sigh as Gregory turned away from her. She knew he didn’t really want to be left alone, but something from his nightmare scared him so much that he decided to push everyone away. She knew because she used to do the same thing when she had nightmares.

“Do you…” Vanessa said hesitantly, pausing for a moment before she continued. “Do you want to talk about-”

“No!” Gregory cut Vanessa off, shrinking in on himself as he heard the fear in his voice. “No… it’s fine, you’ll just think it’s dumb and get mad or something…” He mumbled, looking away before wiping the tears off of his cheeks.

“Look at me, Gregory.” Vanessa said calmly.

Gregory slowly turned back towards Vanessa, hesitantly looking up at her.

Vanessa’s soft green eyes were filled with concern, and she had a gentle, comforting smile on her face as she carefully brushed Gregory’s hair out of his face and wiped away his tears. Gregory couldn’t help but notice that even though they shared the same face, Vanessa looked so unlike Vanny in every way.

“You can talk with me about anything, okay?” Vanessa reassured, gently holding Gregory’s hand. “I promise.”

Gregory hesitated for a moment, sniffling quietly as he rubbed his eyes. He was still scared, but he trusted Vanessa. He let out a defeated huff as he looked back up at Vanessa.

“... okay… fine.” Gregory murmured; hugging Freddy tighter as he took a deep breath before continuing. “I-It was about… Her.”

Vanessa flinched ever so slightly at the mention of Vanny. Vanny’s face flashed in her mind, her cruel laughter faintly echoing in her head. Vanessa shook her head slightly, refocusing her attention on Gregory.

“I see…” Vanessa glanced down at the floor for a moment before looking back at Gregory.

“I was trapped in the Pizzaplex again… It was so dark and quiet…” Gregory’s voice started to waver as he continued. “I-I tried to go to Freddy for help, but… he…” He hugged Freddy even tighter, tears starting to flow down his cheek once again. Freddy wrapped his plush paws around Gregory’s arm, holding it close to himself as Gregory hugged him close to his chest.

“It is okay, Gregory.” Freddy promised, gently patting Gregory’s arm.

“Then, She showed up and chased me…” Gregory paused, his heartbeat thumping faster in his chest. “I-I didn’t have anywhere to go… She caught me and…” He tried to hold back his tears, but it was no use. “And… she…” He put his hand on his chest where Vanny had stabbed him, clutching his shirt in his fist as he choked on his words, unable to continue.

“Gregory…” Vanessa wiped the tears off of Gregory’s face with her hand. “You don’t have to continue… it’s okay…”

“She…” Gregory hesitated for a moment, scared of what would happen if he continued. “She said I was worthless and pathetic because I was scared… knights don’t get scared…” He muttered, barely loud enough for Vanessa to hear him. Vanessa gently squeezed his hand, unsure of what to say as he continued. “She said… she said you would get rid of me if you knew I was scared…” He quickly looked over at Vanessa, clearly only barely holding himself together as tears streamed down his face seemingly endlessly. “Y-you’re not gonna get rid of me now, are you?!” He cried, his voice fearful and shaky, his face twisted in a heartbreaking expression of anguish.

Vanessa quickly pulled Gregory into a hug as he started sobbing. She hugged him tightly as he cried, his tears soaking through her shirt.

“I would NEVER do that to you, Gregory. Nothing you could ever do would even make me consider it.” Vanessa assured. “It’s okay to be afraid of these things, you’re a kid.” She paused, gently rubbing Gregory’s arm to try and comfort him. “Everyone gets scared sometimes. It’s okay, I promise.”

“Really?” Gregory sniffled.

“Really.” Vanessa responded with a nod. “You’ve seen how scared I get about my nightmares sometimes, right?” She paused for a moment as Gregory nodded in response. “It’s okay to be scared, kiddo.”

“But knights are brave… How can they be brave if they get scared?” Gregory mumbled under his breath.

“Being brave doesn’t mean you never get scared. It means you keep going, even when you’re scared.” Vanessa gave Gregory a gentle kiss on the top of his head. “You’re a very brave kid, Gregory. You always have been. That’s why you’re my little knight.”

Vanessa cradled Gregory in her arms, softly humming a comforting tune. Gregory calmed down quickly, feeling safe and secure as his mom held him close. He fought to keep his eyes open, as he was still wary of having nightmares again if he fell asleep. He stayed silent for a moment, thinking to himself.

“... Mom?” Gregory said hesitantly. “Can… can you tell me a story?” He paused, feeling slightly embarrassed. “... Please?”

“Of course, kiddo.” Vanessa smiled. She sat on the edge of Gregory’s bed, carefully shifting Gregory onto her lap. “Let’s see… what should this story be about…?” She paused, a contemplative look on her face as she tapped her chin, trying to think of a story.

“So many things to choose from… what should I go with…?” Vanessa thought to herself, looking around the room for inspiration. Her gaze landed on Gregory, still hugging Freddy, both of them looking up at her with curiosity in their eyes.

“I think I’ve got an idea.” Vanessa smiled. She cleared her throat before she continued.

“Once upon a time…”

“...there was a beautiful kingdom, surrounded by a magical forest filled with mythical creatures. The kingdom and the forests were ruled over and protected by a golden princess. She was a kind and caring soul, so she had been told, and she was loved by all who met her. The gates to the kingdom were never closed, always welcoming to weary travelers and passersby.

One day, the princess went out exploring far beyond her kingdom’s reach. She found herself in the ruins of an unknown castle, the kingdom’s name lost to history. As she wandered through the ruins, she found artifacts from this ancient kingdom, all of them surrounded by the same purple aura. She collected them all, not knowing what they were or if they were dangerous, and brought them back to her castle. She carefully assembled the artifacts, unknowingly releasing a great evil upon her kingdom.

The purple aura that surrounded the artifacts began to grow rapidly, the artifacts themselves forming into a monster that took on the shape of a purple rabbit-like creature. The princess remembered too late the old legend of a demon destroyed long ago, one whose description matched the creature now standing before her. The demon laughed, his corruption quickly enveloping the kingdom and the surrounding forest as the castle’s doors slammed shut, trapping the princess inside.

The demon set his plans into motion, using his control over the mythical creatures of the forest to bring more travelers to the kingdom. As he trapped more people, the demon grew in strength. And as time went on, the kingdom slowly lost hope, believing that the demon’s plan would be successful.

Then, one day, a little knight ventured into the forests surrounding the kingdom. Though this knight was only a child, he had experienced more hardships than knights many times his age. Surviving on his own at such a young age had taught him to be more observant than most others around him, so as soon as he set foot into the corrupted forest, he knew something was wrong. He wandered deeper into the forest, determined to stop this corruption, for what the knight lacked in size, he more than made up for in bravery.

Not long after he had entered the forest, the little knight encountered one of its many inhabitants: a friendly, if somewhat naive, talking bear. Somehow, the bear had managed to avoid the corruption that had infected the other creatures. The two quickly became friends, teaming up together as they made their way towards the castle.

As they made their way through the kingdom, being careful to dodge the corrupted citizens, the bear and the knight found various clues and stories that helped them figure out what was causing the corruption and how to stop it. They learned that to defeat the demon, they needed to find 3 keys to unlock the special locks that the demon had placed on the castle doors. Only after all three had been unlocked could they banish the demon forever.

The bear and the knight set out to find the keys, facing many trials and dangers along the way. Eventually, they were forced to confront the bear’s friends, who had all fallen to the demon’s corruption and were under his control. After they had collected all the keys, they made their way to the castle. The demon tried to fight back, attempting to corrupt the bear and make him turn on the knight. However, the knight fought back as well, and with the bear’s help, he was able to destroy the demon and free the princess and her kingdom.”

“The end.” Vanessa hummed softly. She looked down at Gregory, who had fallen asleep on her lap during her story.

“I am very proud of you, Vanessa.” Freddy said quietly, beaming with pride as he looked up at Vanessa.

“Thanks, Freddy.” Vanessa smiled appreciatively with a quiet chuckle. “Well,” She yawned, “I think it’s time we all tried to get some sleep.” She smiled at Freddy. “Goodnight, Freddy.”

“Goodnight, Vanessa.” Freddy said, nodding in agreement. He gently hugged Gregory’s arm before he continued. “Goodnight, superstar.” He whispered, trying not to wake Gregory, before the plush went limp as Freddy disconnected for the night.

Vanessa carefully moved Gregory off of her lap and onto his bed before trying to get up from the bed. As she tried to stand, she noticed there was a lot of resistance keeping her from doing so. As she looked down, she realized that Gregory was hugging close to her side in his sleep and was showing no signs of letting go. She sighed and smiled as she carefully picked Gregory up and held him close to her as she walked to her room. She carefully got into her bed, gently tucking Gregory in as she gave him a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Goodnight, my brave little knight.” Vanessa whispered as she drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

[originemesis]

@ophidianthoughts xxx

The crescendo of doors cracked halfway off their hinges only serve to elicit the twisting of a smirk as wide as it is cruel. Not that there's anything particularly cruel in the truth- it just hurts. And it always would no matter how many illusions the devil would entertain just to convince himself it didn't have to. The man can think of few others that he'd enjoy watching that passing pain possess other than the someone who claimed to care - from one extended apple to a helping hand given above the grave it inadvertently dug for him. The audacity he had to spit in the other's face like this then? With his wings hurriedly hacked off and mounted above the fireplace- where was this devotion he apparently owed? Adam would tell the clown to try looking for it up his ass if he wasn't so sure that Pride Ring's proudest didn't have the room for it what with his head rammed up there and all -

And there's not even the slightest hesitation for that well past festered feeling, so when yet another 'catch' presents itself in the other's so called merciful act, he's not surprised. Annoyed- sure, but the white room searing his eyes doesn't help with that either. "You enjoy being a predictable prick, don't you?" He grumbles. Would even go so far as to go over every instance the other has dangled the idea of something more over his head just to yank it away when he jumped. But before he can lay into him, he's flung out- barreling through the long corridor and out into hell. The less enclosed version of it anyway.

"Fuck that clown bitch, this is definitely an upgrade." As much as a street full of brawling and blatant fucking is concerned compared to a room with apple themed everything. At least that's what he deems his truth to be. If the goal was to get him comfy with the idea of being some palace poodle, he's already decided it's not going to work. And it's with that attitude he totes as his only luggage. Well, until that quaint little nugget of information gifted to him about how no one would recognize him with an identity under devilish intervention is also yanked out of his almost grasp.

"Yeeeeah- I don't think they're over it. Fuck me." An out of breath remark taken halfway slid down a blood spattered brick wall of some back alley 'murder made dirt cheap' operation. Whether or not sinners recalled him by his clearly angelic attire or they just caught some whiff of needing to bash his kneecaps in past whatever Lucifer was suppressing, he doesn't know and frankly wouldn't care. If it didn't make getting a bite to eat such a fucking hassle. And it's not like he can just whip up a disguise out of nothing without his powers. Grimacing at the idea of being forced to find his way back to the Pride Ring dictator's pad just because he's sure there will be another fucking apple pie for him to contest with, he decides a much better option is to drag his ass to some bat inclusive bar since the lights are turned down so low, and get fucking wasted while filling up on the free bread. Yeah!! Easy shit. He makes sure to chew loudly too as a 'fuck you' to his long distance captor, figuring he's tuning in for another round of sinners relentlessly mobbing him.

Drinking in hell seems more appropriate than the reverse, though he's accustomed to a splash of wine here and there, so ordering something 'that'll fuck me up' probably isn't the best course of action. Not that he has one except avoiding that so called 'inevitably' in crawling back to scratch at a closed door. No way in hell is that fucking happening. But also there's no way in hell he's not getting jumped again once he's eventually kicked out of the bar. He needs a disguise... and apparently bat demons don't need coats because there wasn't a rack at the door for them. Mind already fuzzing around half-baked ideas by the time he's halfway through the second whiskey sour, he groans and face plants into the bar counter. There is that one thing he could- well...could he even? More importantly did he even want to when getting run down by riots seemed...far less cringe in comparison?

Mulling over it as another patron he can't see finishes up a screeching rendition of Limp Biskit on the only lit device in the establishment (save for his mask) - the kareokee machine, he sideways sips the new drink. Truth be told he's not even sure if he can manage the shift in hell regardless of Lucifer's meddling with his 'essence' or whatever the fuck. Still, it's not like forcing an archangel through a sinner shaped hole is going to change the result into anything other than what in it, so technically it could work...if he wasn't surrounded by everything that he hates. It's just fucking tragic that such a big dicked alpha Chad like him had to come into power that required a level of self reflection most would assume him incapable of, or at least unwilling to try- covered up and smothering all indication that a man still lurked behind a beast's hunker. And they'd be right...three whiskey sours that he can't pay for ago.

Oh well- at least the room's dark?

Some how it amplifies the fuzzies he's feeling along with the buzz of the microphone jolting up his wrist once talons close around it. A moment spent poking around the play options until it settles on 'CRINGE' later, he blows a raspberry to test the volume - which a resounding hiss from ceiling hung sinners confirms it's just loud enough. Whoever thought giving angels access to their fiercesome forms through pounding out power ballads- he'd like to find and exterminate them on the spot.

Resisting the urge to spit on the mic again, he begins with a flourish of talons and a "this one goes out to my dead, whore ex wife ~ whatever pit of hell she's locked in." And it's with that sentiment and the gentle rock of the sound leered at enough that someone would label it 'cringe' on the damn machine, the gathering of fuzzies in his chest just on the surface of the soul with its lock pad in place begins to commence.

"I might do this to myself Only made it worse, but I just can't help it-"

Slow crooning emissions like the frequency in a mourning dove's duress boom with the familiar bass he's used to emitting himself, but now relies on the machine's machinations to give him a pulse beyond the limits of the devil's whims weighing him down.

"Listen every day til the dark is back- now I pine for phantom pain..."

She really had to go and eat that shit, huh? Too bad she looked pretty while doing it. Of course anything made of him would be.

"It's the only time that I see your face."

As the tone in the timbre shifts, so do the fuzzies all latched onto his soul like millions of dandelion seeds all aquiver for the slightest chance to catch a ride on any hint of a breeze, though the hissing of bats overhead does little to stir one. "So just hold quick- you're fading right in a cold trick... of the light ~ "

They don't have to wait long for their chance once he blows with enough force to free each embedded pod and they begin their journey outward in the form of sparkling pollen-like particles that illuminates the darkness around him with the consistency of mist. The hissing grows fearful and retreats further back into the darker corners of the room as he rakes talons up in waves of flourishes through the glittery emission- each section of his arms burning with a platinum heat over every patch the dusting lands.

"I'm just so sick, I thought you might be here but you d-disappear." Without wings to catch all the lights, he twists and turns in place as if showering beneath the smallest spigot.

"Now I wake up and I forget that you are gone Phantom limb is all that I am hanging on So don't stop-" Drenched in gold, he sings as it consumes him.

"no stopping it yet. What if the the one true love's the only one that you get?"

Slowly the casing of sunbeams begin to shift and alter the man's rather unorthodox shape- stretching it longer and thinner in the neck, extending limbs and thickening paws in place of talons. The shape of a tail drops off the stage and trails off into the dark, pushing more of the bats back even further in their ceiling corner sanctuary. Once the form has nearly reached the rafters the light cooking it quickly disperses in one expelled bass boom sending vibrations through the cramped structure. The feet of a griffin dig in to the floorboards, leaving scratches that beguile the viciousness afforded a beast so long of neck and...fluffy.

"One love ~ one love...you get one love. One love, you get...one love, one love- you get..."

Soon the darkness of the bar is replaced with the all white sear of the featureless room he'd been cast out of however many weeks ago- the one he'd been warned he'd return to for any attempt to make contact beyond the veil of his extended prison, though he's yet to notice as he tops off the performance to seal the transformation, dragging claws sensually up through the silver tipped edges of bristled white fur and into the fluffier neck down splashed a shade of the A usually riding around on his gut, the hint of a frozen over pond at the peak of dawn present.

"One love...one love you get- One love." A golden gaze set in the same shade of his mask flit open, pupils immediately dilating to nothing at the harsh contrast from blackened bar to overly sanitized holdings. A weary blink or two later, he's plopping on the floor, head cocked carefully to one side as the tip of a spiny tail flicks side to side intermittently.

"Guh, what?" He finally snaps at the nothing, figuring it's not just nothing. "I wasn't asking for help- least of all at the fucking Bat Cave, loose Bruce. What gives?"

[rapha-reads]

Ignorance is Bliss, a Mercutio/Tybalt story

MERCUTIO

"They remember his loud laughs, his blinding smiles, his sharp wits, his cunning swordplay, his abandon in drunken brawls. They think he was never sad or lonely, ever cheerful, foolish, the prince of an adoring court."

"Romeo could have told them that sometimes he was afraid, on the edge of a panic attack, losing himself in dark thoughts."

"Benvolio could have told them all about the nights he slipped into his friend's bedroom because he did not want to - could not - sleep alone, tormented by the monsters lurking in the deepest recesses of his mind."

"Sweet, pious Rosaline could have told them all about their long conversations on faith and sin, redemption and love."

"Valentine knows all about the darkness in his brother's heart."

TYBALT

"To the people of Verona, Tybalt was a spectral shadow. He was a sword drawn out in the streets, a sneer so condescending and cold his opponents would shiver and tremble, and words drenched in acid that cut to the bone."

"They never saw that every time he fought, nobody was hurt. Every time he drove the Montagues away, he also led the enraged Capulets back to safe streets. They did not understand that he was a keeper of peace and balance, that his violence kept everyone else under control."

"They did not understand that he loved peace and tranquillity. No one knew of his love for poetry, or his extensive knowledge of literature and history."

"Sometimes, Juliet could see below the surface, she could reach out to the real Tybalt. She knew how to make him laugh, and she knew which books to ask and leave for him."

"Sometimes Rosaline took her place, and Tybalt and she discussed History and literature at length, though always behind closed doors and shut windows. Those were their secrets, and nobody could ever learn of them. All the city could ever know was the fighter, the dark shadow stalking its streets."

TYBALT AND MERCUTIO

"Because the thought of Tybalt loving Mercutio with all his heart, and Mercutio loving Tybalt above anything else, is so alien, so unlike anything the good people of Verona has ever known, that it could never be fully comprehended - even more so in light of the events that shook the city and painted its streets red."

"There is someone else who could have told them that behind the smiles and the laughter, the puns and the innuendos, laid a deeply ingrained melancholy, a fear and a self-hatred the kind of which they could not even begin to fathom."

"Where Mercutio was day, Tybalt was night. Where Mercutio was light and heat, Tybalt was darkness and cold."

"No one knew Mercutio better than Tybalt knew him, no one understood Tybalt better than Mercutio understood him. In the eye of the people, the association of the red-haired buffoon who would spend all his time in taverns always surrounded by the Montagues, with the infamous Prince of Cats, shunned heir of the proud Capulet family, the fighter blinded by anger and hatred, was completely unfathomable. If the people of Verona knew just how much they relied on each other, how they would run to the other after a bad day, how they could fight and insult each other during the day and murmur promises and endearments into each other's skin at night, then they would grieve a little less for Juliet and her Romeo and a little more for Tybalt and Mercutio."

Read the rest of the story on AO3 here.

[sixpennydame]

The Better Man | Chapter 1

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Read in AO3 here

Contents/Warnings: Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader, NSFW, MDNI, canonverse levi, aot canon divergent, angst, romantic smut, soft couple sex, former lovers, lost love, love triangle

Author’s Notes: I started this story as a one-shot, but when several people asked for a next part, I started writing. Now I have several chapters planned! I hope you’ll enjoy this - and by enjoy I mean feel like your heart’s being ripped out. 

Suggested Music:

“Please wait here in his office. Captain Levi should arrive shortly,” the officer replies as he leads you inside and closes the door. The room is spacious enough: a bookcase with various books and trinkets, a sofa, and a large desk piled with papers and files, all neatly organized, of course. You wouldn’t expect anything less from Levi.

You sink into the sofa. “This is crazy,” you sigh, placing your head in your hands. Your wedding is this week and you have a mountain of things to do, but you’ve convinced yourself that you have to do this today. So you’ve taken the journey outside Trost District to the Survey Corps headquarters. It’s now or never, and you’re nervous as hell about it. You haven’t seen Levi in over three years; in fact, until a few months ago, you’d thought he was dead.

_____

Since the moment Kenny Ackerman brought a small, malnourished child into your father’s tavern in The Underground, Levi had been a part of your life. You were both about the same age and your father barely took interest in you, so your shared loneliness made you instant comrades. Kenny would leave Levi for days at a time and it was you who would bring him food and company. Sometimes he would even sneak into your  room through the window at night, and you’d read him stories about heroes and damsels in distress. Eventually, you taught him to read those stories himself, with the little schooling you’d had. 

But Kenny had a different education for Levi in mind. With Kenny’s tutelage, Levi changed from a timid and sensitive boy to a young man who could handle any violent situation that came his way. By 16 years of age, he was one of the most feared people in The Underground. He’d stopped visiting you for years before that though, after Kenny suddenly left him and The Underground without a trace. When you were 18, your father was killed in a bar brawl and you had nowhere to go but the streets. Once again, loneliness and abandonment brought you and Levi together, and he invited you to live with him and his small gang. Years passed as his group clawed its way to the top of The Underground’s most powerful crime organization, but something else was forming. Your feelings for each other had grown past your childhood friendship, and you became known to everyone as, “Levi’s girl.” Love was a luxury that few knew in this dark city, and although neither of you had confessed these feelings to each other, both of you knew it in your hearts. Neither of you were good with words, and some things were better left unsaid.

The years went on as Levi ruled the streets and evaded the MP’s, always returning to you and the apartment you two shared together. Despite living in the hellhole that was The Underground, you were content just being with him. And then everything changed. Word spread quickly that The Survey Corps had arrested Farlan, Isabelle, and Levi. You ran there as fast as you could, but by the time you arrived, they were gone. A few hours later, men forced their way into your apartment, blindfolded you, and took you above ground. Without any explanation, they gave you fake identification papers and enough money to live on for the next 6 months. 

You tried in vain to find any information on Levi and his whereabouts as you searched from town to town, taking any odd job you could find along the way. After two years passed, any hope you had of finding him was gone, and you tried to move on with your life. You weren’t expecting to have any feelings for Lars, the handsome Survey Corpsman who frequently visited the tavern in which you worked. His personality was a complete opposite from Levi but his charm and wit slowly worked their way into your heart. When he asked you to marry him, you said yes; you were ready to have a companion again.

A few months later, Lars told you that he’d been promoted to an elite group of Survey Corps, and that he would be moved to the main headquarters near Trost. He brought you to the welcome party that was being put on for him and a few other members and introduced you to his new comrades. “But this is the man I really want you to meet.” He walks you toward a short man with dark hair. “Captain Levi, I’d like to introduce you to my fiancée.” 

He turns to look at you both, and you can feel your body go numb. Everything slows down around you and all you can see is him, your former lover. For a moment, you see a spark of emotion in his eyes, but it’s gone in an instant, and only an unfeeling stare remains. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says coldly as he shakes your hand. You hear Lars say something about how the Captain is the strongest soldier in the Survey Corps and what an honor it is to serve under him, but you’re barely listening. 

“Are you ok? You’re suddenly pale,” Lars says with concern. Levi watches silently.

“I just…it’s hot in here. I’m not feeling too well. I’m going to go back home to lay down.”

“Yes, we should go.”

“No, you stay here and celebrate with your comrades. I can make my way back,” you force a smile to Levi. “It was nice meeting you, Captain. Good luck with all your future endeavors.”

As you step outside, you stop to catch your breath. You feel like you’ve just seen a ghost, and your whole body is shaking. 

“Y/N” you hear Levi’s voice at the entrance of the tavern. He begins to walk toward you. 

“No..” you put your arm out in front of you, “…I don’t…I can’t do this,” and you turn to walk away. Levi doesn’t follow.

Since then, it’s as if a cloud follows you everywhere. You know you won’t find any peace until you confront the man who left you all those years ago, and so while Lars is out of town on family business, you find yourself at Survey Corps Headquarters, waiting in Levi’s office. 

_____

There’s footsteps in the hallway and then a pause. Levi opens the door and looks genuinely shocked to find you sitting on his sofa. You stand to face him.

He quickly composes himself. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the wedding?” He says with venom in his voice. He must have had some formal business to attend to today as he’s in his dress uniform of a long green overcoat belted at the waist, instead of the brown cropped jacket and ODM straps typical of the Corps. Levi takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. He doesn’t look at you as he crosses the room to his desk.

“I should. But I needed to talk to you.”

“Alright, talk then.” 

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. 

“Why did you leave me?” 

He turns, his steely grey eyes finally looking at you. “I was arrested with Farlan and Isabelle and made to join the Survey Corps. It’s not like I had a choice.”

“But that’s not the whole story, is it Levi? The same day, some men grabbed me, brought me to the surface, gave me new papers and some money and told me I was free to live above ground from now on. That was your doing, wasn’t it?”

He says nothing. You step closer. “And it doesn’t look like you’re being forced by them now, Captain,” you say sarcastically, trying to get a rise out of him, but still no response. Your voice softens, “Levi…after you were taken by the Survey Corps, they told me you were dead. Please..I just want to know the truth.”

Silence envelopes the room and you wonder if you should just leave, then Levi lets out a deep sigh. “It was better if you thought that. If I could get you to the surface, that was enough for me. I wanted you to find a better life, and I knew I couldn’t give you that. So I took a job and made a deal: I’d get arrested and join the Survey Corps if you were free to live above ground.”

There’s so many questions swirling in your mind. ”A deal?…Where are Farlan and Isabelle?”

“They’re dead.” He’s silent for a few moments, deciding how honest he should be. “They were eaten by titans because I couldn’t save them in time.”

“And yet you stayed with the Survey Corps?”

“I made a decision. It’s complicated.”

“And your decision was to disappear from my life completely? I’ve heard nothing from you for the past 3 years, and this whole time you’ve been here. You could have come looking for me.”

His body becomes tense. “Did you not hear what I just said? People live or die now based on my skill. This isn’t some fairy tale like we used to read when we were kids - where I whisk you off and we live happily ever after. The cold reality is that everyday I risk my life and see those around me get eaten by titans. I had to let you go. It’s easier….if I’m not attached to anyone.” Levi sighs, then turns to walk towards the window. “You got your answer. You should leave now.”

The coldness in his voice is like a knife to your heart. This can’t be the same man you spent countless nights with, dreaming of freedom and escape. The man who defended and took care of you all those years. You know you shouldn’t be here and that you should turn around and walk through that door, get married to Lars, and never see this man’s face again. But you want to hurt him the way he hurt you. 

“You’re a coward, Levi.”

It takes him only a few seconds, and he’s standing right in front of you, the frustration growing in his eyes. “What did you just call me?”

 “You are afraid to make any real connections to anyone. Afraid they’re going to leave you. Yes, we live in a shitty world where people leave and betray us, maybe even die. But through it all, we had each other. I gave you my whole heart, but that wasn’t enough for you.” Tears start welling up in your eyes. “Did you ever even have feelings for me? Or are you a liar as well as a coward?”

Levi grabs the back of your neck hard. “I am no coward.” His grip on your neck becomes tighter. Your pulse quickens at his touch and you can hear his breathing getting heavier. “I loved you then.”

He pulls you in closer and he can’t hold it in any longer. “I love you still.”

Your lips crash together with desperation and you feel him pushing you backwards towards the desk. When his mouth starts moving to your neck, you finally object. “Levi, we shouldn’t do-“

“I’m not concerned anymore with what we should or shouldn’t do. In this moment, in this room, you’re mine,” his low voice whispers in your ear.

For years, you’ve ached for his voice, for his touch, and you know you can’t resist him. Levi starts unbuttoning your blouse as he continues to kiss on your neck. “I won’t leave any marks.” He pulls your blouse down off of your shoulders as he kisses you clavicle, his hands moving to your back to take off your bra. 

As your bra falls to the ground, he stops to gaze at you. He says nothing - he doesn’t need to. You can see the desire in his eyes.

You pull him into you and he kisses your soft breasts, gently at first, but his kisses become harder as his eagerness for your body grows. You lean back slightly on the desk and let him kiss you all over. His hand starts lifting your skirt to find your bare thigh, slowly moving up until he’s touching you over your underwear. Your body reacts to his touch.

“Oh Lev~” you stammer, as his hand slips under the thin fabric. His touch sends shivers down your spine and your breath hitches. After all this time, he still remembers exactly what makes you feel good. He continues kissing your breasts and touching you as you moan in pleasure

His fingers move faster and your heart races. You’d forgotten how good it feels to be touched, to be desired by this man.

“Levi, I want you,” you say breathlessly. He lifts you up and takes you to the sofa. Standing over you, he begins to unbutton his crisp, white shirt. You grab the waistband of his pants and he positions himself above you.

His naked chest is like a long lost map newly recovered, so familiar yet foreign. There were new landmarks: a long, deep scar across his chiseled chest, a gouge on his right side, permanent marks from the ODM gear. You kissed each one, memorizing them as he lays you down.

Suddenly, there’s voices in the corridor. You both listen attentively as they fade away into another room. “We don’t have much time,” Levi says, still alert for any other noises.

You undo his pants and see the bulge in his underwear. He looks down at you and for the first time, he looks vulnerable, as if you have broken down all his defenses. He wants this as much as you do. So many nights he lay awake thinking of your smile, your body underneath his. And now, for one fleeting moment, he can have you again.

You move his underwear down and he positions himself on top of you. “You’re sure?” he asks gently. “Yes, Levi, please,” you respond, and with that, he lifts up your skirt. You feel his girth as it works its way inside you. He starts slow, then begins to pick up the pace, your head caged in by his arms as he kisses you passionately. You want him even closer to you, so you hug his chest into yours, as if you're afraid he’s going to disappear at any moment. You can feel his heart racing and his chest expanding; not an apparition, but flesh and blood. Neither of you say the words you want to say to each other. The only sounds in the room are your deep breaths and the sound of skin thrusting into skin. 

Levi is so in tune with you and without a word can see you’re ready to climax. He reaches down to touch you and his thrusts become deeper. Suddenly your body is drowned in pleasure, as if a wave has crashed over you. You give into the wave as it transports you out of this place and time; a place where you and he made it above ground, together. Your hand shakes as it cups his cheek. It doesn’t take long after that for Levi to find his own end and he releases on your stomach. 

You both lie on opposite ends of the sofa, in various stages of undress, unable to look at each other. Levi finally breaks the silence. “I was an asshole to not look for you, at the very least to explain myself. But I’ve chosen something here that is bigger than me, and I’ve got to see it through to the end.”

“Levi, I…” 

You want to take his head in your hands and tell him you forgive him for everything. That a part of you will always love him, no matter how much he hurt you or how far away he’ll be. But what good would any of those words do, for either of you? You decide to lock your feelings away, deep in your heart. Some things are better left unsaid. “This won’t happen again,” you say as you button up your blouse.

“I know,” he replies, pulling on his pants. “It’s better this way. For both of us.”

You refuse to let him see the tears running down your cheeks, so you keep your back to him as you walk to the door. 

“Lars is a good man. He’ll take care of you.”

Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you decide to face him. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that tells you he’s being sincere, but there’s something else: a look that tells you this is truly the end. 

“You’re a good man, too. I hope someday you’ll see that.” You open the door, leaving the woman you once were behind, to step into your new future. 

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[greypetrel]

essentials 2, life 3 and 8, party 4 for any/as many blorbos as you'd like! c:

Hi Laya! :D

Aaaaah thanks for asking!

Tis the prompt list

Essentials - 2. What class do they belong to? How did they initially train and learn their skills?

Alyra: Double-wielding rogue. Trained in her clan following the master-hunter. Very talented and quick-witted from the start. Raina: Double-wielding rogue. Learnt it on the go, mainly in tavern brawls and fighting thugs, through trial and error. She's a self-learner, Isabela gave her some proper training. The lack of style and picking up whatever works from the street made her pretty unpredictable in a fight. Garrett: Mage/Healer. Learnt the basics and some elemental magic from Malcolm. Picked up Spirit-healing from Anders, but he's just good with bones for that. Merrill taught him blood magic. Aisling: Mage, Learnt from Keeper Deshanna, weather/storm spells come the most natural to her. Knight-enchanter style was taught to her by Commander Helaine, but she asked Cullen to for training with a regular sword to have some extra exercise. Radha: Double-wielding rogue. Learnt as a hunter as well, as Alyra. Observant enough to pick up techniques and forms from whomever she faces.

Life - 3. How many languages do they speak? Do they have any sort of accent?

Alyra: Elvhen, Trade. She learnt Orlesian as soon as she realized she was actually entering politics and the bigger Warden organization was from there. Has an accent on Orlesian and Trade. Raina: Trade. She picked up Elvhen from Merrill, and some Rivaini from Isabela, she can form some sentences and understand it, but don't ask her about grammar. And a couple of sentences (mainly insults) in Tevene (she asked Fenris specifically for insults), but she couldn't speak it nor understand it. She picks on accents very quickly, so she has a little accent. Garrett: Trade. Started learning Tevene to impress Fenris, on his own had terrible results. Fenris later on took pity and helped him. Some sentences and words he picked up in Elvhen from Merrills, but he couldn't understand it nor speak it. Has an accent. A strong one. Aisling: Elvhen, Trade, Tevene. Learnt Tevene on her own after the clan was chased up to Hasmal by a group of enslavers. Picked up a grammar, started to study it, had the whole clan learn the basics in the worst-case scenario. Has some basics of Orlesian because of the Inquisition, and asked the Augur to teach her Avvar, but wasn't there for long enough to know more than the very basics. Has an accent on everything that's not Elvhen. Radha: Elvhen, Trade. Some basics of Tevene (see above why). Asked Bull to teach her some Qunlat out of boredom on the way. Has an accent on everything that's not elvhen, lighter than Aisling's.

Life - 8. What sort of education did they receive?

Alyra: Trained as a hunter and in Elvhen history and lore by the hahrens in the clan. Started studying history and law when she got in Denerim and realized that not knowing that was severely impairing her in the political schemes. Kept Nathaniel so close because he had a proper education in politics and how to run an Arling that she lacked and picked up from him. Raina, Garrett: Leandra homeschooled them, taught them to read and write and calculate herself. Raina never got much further, she likes reading but her memory is selective and she won't retain informations she isn't interested in. She's curious, but will prefer to listen to someone speaking. Garrett started to pick medicine and anatomy books as soon as he started to learn healing magic. Aisling: Deshanna taught her history and lore and rituals of their people, magic and herbalism, reading and writing. Dorian taught her some better Tevene and maths -she's talented for it but lacks some basics. Josephine taught her history and genealogy, but she found it hard to remember all the names she wasn't interested into. Radha: Taught hunting and how to navigate woods, elvhen history and lore in the Clan. She is the daughter of the Keeper, the First and Second are her siblings... She picked up some magic theory as well along them. Not that she can put it in practice. She loves to read and loves non-fiction best. Picked up every single book she could get her hands on. She loves history the best.

Party - 4. Are there any companions (or advisors) they don’t get along with? Have any of them ever left the party?

Alyra: No one ever left the party, but she never got along with Wynne. She meddled in her own life too much, she didn't like the constant wining about being old and decrepit when she's 50. Never made it a mystery that she didn't like her. Raina: Sebastian. She recognizes it's Elthina's fault and blames her... But leaving his country in need to be a priest is not the kind of prince she likes. Tried to push him towards claiming his throne back, but she insulted Elthina one too many times and he didn't listen. Both him and Anders left the party after the Chantry exploded. Sebastian on his own willingness, Anders she kicked out. Garrett: Anders. He didn't like how he treated Fenris and Merrill. When he told Anders he was learning from Merrill, they actively quarrelled, and something broke. The moment he defined Fenris an animal was the moment Garrett took all his trust away. He didn't leave, he made him stay in Kirkwall to fix his own shit (and take responsibility for all the lives lost), but it wasn't out of liking him. Aisling: Vivienne. They're antipods, there's a mutual respect over abilities, but no friendship. She actually considered kicking Cassandra out of the Inquisition after the Arbor Wilds and her comments in the Temple, but refrained out of all the time she helped her. They made up, but she was close. Radha: Blackwall. Spotted he was hiding something soon. Didn't trust him one bit after he was of no use with the Wardens, couldn't give them insights... She defined him as "all mouth and no trousers" before the big reveal, with that all her suspicions got confirmed and all his big speeches had no hold on her. Gave him to the Wardens as he wished, he left the party. (the Iron Bull admitted he was a spy and was reporting to the Qun. It was more sincere and he never played behind her back.)

And then we have Friar Hawke who basically gets along with Isabela and Fenris alone. For now, who knows by Act 3, maybe he'll manage to disgust them both as well.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for trying to send my girlfriend a posthumous gift?

For context, I (25+M) met my girlfriend (25F) when I was in a pretty tough spot. My dad had technically disowned me and my mom before I could remember my childhood, but she held onto the belief that she could ask him for support and acceptance later on. I was practically raised by the streets, barely made enough to survive. Subsequently, as a teenager I was depressed and suicidal, and when we (me and my girlfriend) met I was dying from hypothermia. She gave me food and warmed me up, took me to places I had been to before but changed the way I looked at them completely. She was radiant and eccentric, and she made me feel alive for the first time in my life. We hung out for only a short while, before we accidentally got into a brawl and her family came to take her home. She left me a gift, which helped me hold on for a long while.

Speaking of her family, they were pretty renowned in the neighbourhood, and had a very non-traditional dynamic. Even so, she was still treated as an outcast, that was why she ran away and met me. I think they guarded her or some sort, thus made us unable to meet for a long while. As for me, I got really motivated to turn my life around and turn over a new leaf after meeting her. For years I tried my hardest to rebuild myself. My dad and mom rekindled their relationship, thus gave me the chance to join my girlfriend's family function and that was where we met again.

I was ecstatic, and we once again hung out. Her family was still protective, so I ended up frequenting their place. I was on good terms with them though, especially her brother. They usually welcomed me in. There was still a lot of things about their business that I didn't know about, which was of course not for me to interfere. The problem is their business involved my girlfriend, and one day I dropped by her brother informed me that she had passed away. It was heartbreaking, but already settled. I think her brother was also grieving, but he put the responsibility of being the breadwinner above her. When I told him about my plan, we got into quite a commotion, her entire family were against me. I got a little aid from the younger members and my girlfriend's devise, and was almost able to send her my gift. They marked me their archnemesis after that.

To be honest I think her family was a bit too stiff about the whole thing, and if they had never stuck to their way like that my girlfriend could have been alive. Now I just want to honor her memory, she brought the world to me, so I don't see anything wrong with me doing the same for her. AITA? I'm gonna try again though.