#honestly never understood fascination with height

[darkfictionjude]

How tall are Ros and brothers?

You know what I find interesting? How much the ROs are conflated with the brothers in asks? Usually it’s a separate thing especially when considering how less presence the brothers have compared to the ROs very interesting indeed 🧐

Imre: 6’1

Nia: 5’9

Lorcan: 5’9

Sally: 6’0

Percy: 5’9

[hedaswarrior]

I love how Echo and Bellamy are a touchy feely couple. The holding hands and hugging. And yes, you were right, the forehead nuzzling and face caressing is a pattern with them. I'm just loving them.

I KNOW!!!! It’s totally canon!!! it’s so soft too!!! Height differences are a thing of the past, same height forehead touches are IN!

[alfredosauce50]

The anatomy of the obsessed artist [2p! Italy x reader]

Synopsis: You have the golden opportunity to display your art at a newly opened gallery. Nobody stops to look at your work until an eccentric connoisseur praises it, even asking you if he can buy it. Touched and fascinated by his personality, you agree to meet him over coffee. Now that he’s no stranger, he keeps inviting you over to his lavish estate until he realizes it’s not the art he’s so obsessed with. It’s the artist. Wordcount: 3, 686 The reader is referred to as she/her. “Nihilism represented a crude form of positivism and materialism, a revolt against the established social order; it negated all authority exercised by the state, by the church, or by the family.” - Encyclopedia of Britannica

“It's hideous.” He murmured, his eyes narrowed with contempt. They were a hot magenta hue, quick-moving and critical of everything they fixed on. How much he wished to say he was standing back to admire a masterpiece. Tossing his paintbrush into the kitchen sink with a sigh, he sauntered to the couch and plummeted down on it.

A loud clang was heard, but it never fazed his companion, who barely dodged the trajectory of the brush. “Oh, really?” They snorted. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done.”

He whipped his head to him and glared.

“Like you'd have an eye for these things, Lutz.”

Said man gave a shrug. This was probably the hundredth time they had this conversation, so he could practically predict what Luciano was about to say—and how he would wind up listening unwillingly to his passionate spiels.

“Just listen to me speak for once.”

Lutz scoffed and poured himself a hot cup of coffee. “Here we go again...” He grumbled with a distinct droop to his features.

Rolling his head back to the pristine, white ceiling, Luciano threw his hands up in emphasis. “It's the only damn thing that gives this room some color. I need to do better, Lutz. Otherwise, I'll tear this whole place down!” Even then, his animated movements were minuscule compared to the tall walls that surrounded him.

The other sipped on his mug. “If you're so stuck—” He smacked his lips. “—how about going to the new art gallery downtown? Anything to get you to shut up.” Lutz grinned at that, half-expecting him to launch a few throwing knives his way. But he never did. Instead, he jumped up and extended an index to point at him accusingly.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo? Well, I might just go. Just to prove you wrong.” Grabbing his coat hanging over the couch, he threw it on and marched downstairs. As the echoes of his footsteps faded, he gave one final reckoning. “You can't rush art, dumbass! I'll turn the place upside down, and I still won't find anything worth my time.”

The volume of his thoughts had never been so loud. It was the only thing he heard in this quiet institution during its downtime. Nobody was around, save for him, but that allowed him to ramble to himself--whatever he was staring at, it was everything he had been looking for.

“This was definitely worth my time.” He muttered with a pistol grip on his chin. As he scanned over the canvas to take in the brushstrokes, he shook his head. “I hate to think he said something smart for once.” They were so violent, yet so gentle. A unique balance of nihilism and faith. Reaching up to his dark maroon hair, he dug through it and laughed in awe. “This is magnificent. Bellisima!”

“I hope you mean what you say, sir. That means a lot to me.” He turned to the voice ended up gawking at a woman. As he processed the words, he was at a loss for his own.

“Oddio--you don't mean you painted this, do you, signorina?”

She nodded coyly, much to his delight.

“Mhm. The name on the label is mine.”

At the sound of that, he gleamed and took both her hands into his own. “How much?”

She blinked, unsure of whether she heard him correctly. Was he offering to buy her work? “Sorry?”

“How much do you want for your painting? I'll pay you handsomely. One grand. Ten grand. However much you desire! I just need this in my living room. Whatever you ask for, it's a done deal!”

In your short career, you never imagined capturing someone's attention so passionately with your work. Your initial impression of the man was a rich art collector of some kind--an eccentric enthusiast--and not a connoisseur by any means. He even dressed the part, having adorned himself in a loose, silky blouse with a coat tied around his waist. His fashion was flashy and exuded confidence, though nothing else could have suited his personality.

As you talked to him over a coffee, however, it became clear to you he was much more than that.

“I've never seen somebody use color like that! You must've done lots of practice to get that good, eh?” He mused, watching you light up at his praise. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, so you couldn't help being drawn to him and his zeal. “I'll be honest with you, bella. I'm not letting you run off before we settle on something.”

He could tell from the way you leaned in so subtly, never once breaking your eye contact as you listened to him. And knowing this did wonders--he slowly found himself drawn to you.

“Thank you, Luciano. I'm really flattered, but I can't just sell it to you. It's part of the gallery now.” You smiled gently, curling your fingers around the cup handle. Even as you sipped on your beverage, your gaze on him never faltered. And before you could catch any disappointment on his part, you waved your hands at him.

“I don't mean anything by it, honestly. I'm glad that you understand what I'm trying to say--like, you could've interpreted it completely differently. I wouldn't be able to stop you, either. But the fact that you didn't...” He followed you attentively with those sharp and mysterious orbs, but you were strangely comfortable under his scrutiny.

“Maybe we have similar minds.”

The man had been studying you as you spoke. While he did, this one, singular thought occurred to him. There was nothing in the world he loved more in the world than being heard.

“Hearing you talk is the same as being listened to,” Luciano admitted with a small laugh. Deep inside, he knew Lutz always listened. Unwillingly, that was. But being heard and understood was another story. “You take the words right out of my mouth, bella. I don't know how you do it, but you have to stop reading my mind. It's invasive.” He darted his eyes over your expression that morphed into dumbfoundedness--which served as a prelude for embarrassment.

So he couldn't help but smile flirtatiously. “Take me out to dinner first. Only then will I let you finish my sentences.”

You furrowed your brows together, but his smile was far too contagious to be staved off. The end result was an endearingly stupid face that was a cross between a frown and a grin. “Does lunch count then, you impossible little man? I mean, it's around noon.”

He shook his head, amused. Luciano expected you to pull away, but it seemed like he bit off more than he could chew. You were a handful. He was never a fan of handfuls or really anything that required his energy, but he'd be damned if this was the last time he saw you.

“But seriously, (F/N). I need your paintings. And it doesn't have to be something you've already painted.” Standing up at that, he neared your side lowered himself to your level. He settled a hand on your shoulder, much to your surprise. But you never tried to pull away. “I want you to paint for me at my place. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll drink my weight in this mediocre coffee if I have to.”

With his intoxicating personality, all he needed was a few more espressos to do the convincing.

“I can tell from your taste that you're pretty nihilistic.” You commented with a hint of disbelief. “But this is just crazy! What do you even do for a living?” All the expensive decor and extravagance of his stupidly large mansion must have costed a fortune! Lifting your head to take in the sheer size and height of his living room, you then shot him an incredulous look. “Well? I'm curious.”

Luciano leaned against the couch and folded his arms. “Oh, you don't want to know, trust me.” He grinned devilishly.

“What, are you in the mafia or something?” You joked.

He craned his head from right to left.

“Eh. Something like that.”

You blinked, not expecting him to be so frank. Then, you laughed sheepishly, suddenly feeling as if you've walked right into a trap. “... Are you serious?” The man sensed your uneasiness and walked over promptly. Before you could react, he held your arm, but it was much too gentle to stir any panic.

“Don't worry. Nobody would go after an artist I hired.” He leaned in to keep you hostage to his piercing eyes. The close proximity only heightened the tension you didn't know existed. What he said next, however, would have you blushing like a bride. “To have a target on your head means you're a liability. So unless we were an item--”

He smiled contently at the sight of your reddening cheeks. “--nothing will happen.”

Fortunately, your mortification was short-lived as you remembered your circumstances. Giving him a light shove, you walked off to his hallway. While your back was turned to him, he bit back a sharp grin, but to no avail. Man, were you feisty.

“Stop being such a womanizer and show me your studio, Luciano.” You mused, pausing in the doorway to glance at him over your shoulder. Was that playfulness he saw in your eyes?

“It isn't very professional.”

He hung his head and threw his hands up. Being scolded and ordered around was his worst pet peeve. But when you did it, he was only more compelled to misbehave.

“Mi dispiace. But I was only kidding. If I was part of the mob, my windows wouldn't be this big. Nor this abundant.” Making his way to your side, he walked with you to the said studio.

“And Luciano is a bit of a mouthful, no? You call me Luci.”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, someone else had entered the kitchen to pour themselves a drink. And boy, were they in for a show.

“You got it, boss. You call the shots.” A voice spoke in a gravely-exaggerated mobster accent.

“You're milking it...”

“I'm just joking, Luci. Let me have this moment.”

“Fine. Maybe I should've kept pretending. That'll get you to be a little more obedient.”

“And where's the fun in that?”

“Hmph.”

Lutz narrowed his eyes once the voices faded into silence. And he thought he hated being called Luci.

A mischievous smirk plastered across his face.

“Looks like somebody's found their inspiration.”

A few hours later, he appeared in the studio with a canned beer in hand. Even in such a lavish estate, no form of entertainment could beat pestering an old friend. Waltzing inside like he owned the place, he grinned toothily at what he saw. You and Luciano were busy working on a painting. But rather than using brushes, you both used your fingers.

“Hey.”

Luciano glanced at him and immediately felt the beginnings of anger simmer inside. “What do you want?”

Lutz laughed breathily. “Heh. No knives today?”

“If you don't get out, there will be!” The other whisper-shouted.

You stopped painting and turned to the newcomer with nothing short of curiosity. “... Hi. Are you Luci's henchman?” The joke was probably long dead, but you couldn't resist. Not when the stranger was built on six feet of pure muscle. “Nice to meet you.”

So this was the mysterious artist who managed to tame the bastard, huh? Lutz flattened his lips thoughtfully. “... In a way.”

“No, he's not. Now, get out. Your presence is ruining the mood... And killing my brain cells.” At the sound of that, you exploded into a burst of hearty laughter. Seeing Luciano push him out and leave colorful handprints on his tank only intensified those laughs. Once he managed to get his henchman out of the room, he whipped his head to you with a flustered glare.

“What's so funny?” He frowned. For one, he was rather taken aback at how he wasn't annoyed at you. At all. If someone like Lutz pushed their luck by teasing him, there would be more than one scar marring that punchable face of his.

“Nothing, nothing. I just thought... Maybe we could ask for his top and sell it. That was definitely a masterpiece.” You sighed, catching him off guard yet again. “It's the best work you've done today...”

The blush on his face deepened. A comment like that should've ticked him off, but he only found himself thoroughly infatuated. But that was preposterous! He was only letting this slide because you weren't that German bastard of a bum. That had to be it. But no matter what you did, he didn't have a single mean bone in his body for you. And he was about to test that theory.

“If you thought that was a masterpiece, I'll make you some more.” Marching over and undoing your apron, he wiped his fingers all over your once crisp white shirt. Looking down with a gasp, you weren't prepared for him to clap your cheeks and leave two brown handprints.

“You bitch!”

In his whole life surrounded by the worst potty-mouths, himself included, he'd never heard somebody cuss with so much sincerity. So the most logical reaction was to return the favor, if not be a little annoyed. But even as you ruined his blouse, which happened to be more expensive than everything in the room, he was cackling hysterically.

By the time you both calmed down, he had settled his chin atop your head and wrapped two arms around your neck. The paint on his face was drying up, but he was in no hurry to wash it off. Giving you a squeeze, he leaned down and pressed his cheek to yours. “You're coming tomorrow, aren't you?”

“Mhm.”

“And the day after that?”

“I don't see why not.”

“Then what about the day after that?”

You faced him and pinched his cheek affectionately, but he never complained. “If I was, what's the point of leaving, hm? I have something on that day, but I'll update you.”

Standing up at that, you felt his arms slide off of your shoulders. Luciano pulled away reluctantly, and as you left his studio, he found himself trailing after you against his own will. As quiet as he was, inside, he was tearing himself apart, torn between asking you to stay in the guest room and driving you home. But in the end, he got in the car.

Once he arrived outside your house, his body acted out unexpectedly when he shot his hand out to grab yours. The sudden contact startled you, though you could only gleam at his paint-smeared face that stifled back a thousand words. “What, do you miss me that much already?” You chuckled, much to his pleasure.

“You're just missing me too less.” He closed his eyes for a satisfied look. When he opened them again, he added this. “I'll pick you up here. Same spot. 9 am. If you don't show up in five minutes, I'll break inside and pull you out of bed.” Only then did he let you go.

“You got it, boss.”

With that said, you waved at him and made your way inside. Once the door clicked shut, he returned his gaze to the dashboard and shook his head with a defeated smile. “Oh my god.”

When he climbed the flight of stairs to appear next to the kitchen, the hiss of an espresso machine was heard. Rolling his head to it absently, he dropped his keys on the island and dug his hands through his sticky hair. Without addressing the blonde, who took an obvious interest in his disheveled appearance, he sauntered to the couch and flopped down on it.

“... Luciano.”

“What do you want?” He muffled his voice into the cushion.

Lutz walked over with a mug in hand and sipped it. Pointing to his own face, he swirled his index in circles. “You have a little something there.” When the other rolled his head to him, so did their colorful face.

The next two days saw steady progress in the project he paid you to do. While the painting moved closer to completion, he cared less and less about the finished product. At the same time, his eagerness for you to come grew exponentially. He could never admit it, but that didn't mean Lutz couldn't see right through him.

A single glance at him working in the studio was more than enough to deduce the conclusion that he was hopelessly head over heels for you. For one, it wasn't right to say he was even working anymore. Instead, he was staring at you, and sometimes, for twenty minutes or more if you were particularly immersed in your art.

This was only confirmed in due time.

Trotting downstairs to the cellar, he discovered that over ten bottles of wine had disappeared. And the culprit promptly made an appearance when he returned to the living room. Luciano was holding an empty bottle when they bumped into each other, the contact on his shoulder causing him to drop it. When it shattered on the marble floor, so did his patience.

“What the fu--watch where you're going, you fucking idiot!” He hissed, giving the other a strong shove back.

Beer fizzed out of the can and splashed onto his white tank. Lutz couldn't care less about ruining his clothes, but wasting beer? He pulled back with a growl. “I could say the same for you. I'm not the stumbling drunk here cuz' I can actually hold my weight.”

Luciano rolled his eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

“You know what, just leave me alone.” He huffed, kicking the shards on the ground. Once he scattered the glass all over the hall, he stormed off to his studio. Letting out a frustrated string of colorful words, he tore through more canvases than he cared to count. Punching a hole in one, then using another as target practice, half of the artwork was completely destroyed by the time Lutz showed up.

“I don't get it! Why am I so angry? Why can't I paint something like this?” Luciano exasperated, gesturing forcefully to the painting you were working on. Then, he marched up to the man and gripped the front of his tank. “Am I just that shit? But that can't be!”

At this point, Lutz was done with arguing.

“... You know what I'm about to say.”

Luciano threw his hands up as they chorused the same line simultaneously. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done--yeah, I know! I didn't really expect you to give me any useful advice. I just wanted you to listen to me.”

“Don't I always listen to you?”

“No--”

“Wasn't it me who suggested for you to go to that art gallery?”

“Yeah, but it's not like--it's not like you knew she was gonna show up! (F/N) being there only happened once in a blue moon. You were just lucky, so don't think you're a genius or anything, ha!”

Lutz scoffed, but his unimpressed expression quickly morphed into a shrewd one. “Accept it, liebling. You're down bad. Down astronomically. Just invite her over, and when she comes, you'll know what I mean. It's not the paintings you're making a fuss over.” He watched Luciano's hair spike up like a cat, then him light up like a Christmas tree. That little man was many things, but an honest person was not one of them.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo?” Luciano pointed at him accusingly. “Well, I might just do it. Just to prove you wrong.”

When he left, Lutz clicked his tongue with raised brows.

“That's what you said last time...”

And invite you over he did. When he spotted a silhouette on the other side of the blurry glass, he sprung up from the couch and swung open the door with great gusto. There you were, as effortlessly charming as he remembered, and a little startled. You never had the chance to knock, nor process his scruffy appearance.

“Luci--hey! You look... A little more tired than I remember.”

Without a shred of hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to his bedroom. Yet again, his body was acting against his will, but perhaps, this was what he wanted in the first place. He just never admitted it. As he slowly came to terms with it, his eyes widened to dinner plates, and his heart pounded obnoxiously in his chest.

“Hey, what're you--”

He pointed wordlessly to the bed.

You shook your head, unable to figure out what he meant. “What do you want me to do?”

Luciano glowered at you, but it served as a stark contrast to the softness in his voice. “I'll pay you. As much as you want. Just stay there.” Seeing that you had yet to go along with his requests, he marched over to you and laid you down. Before you could object, he threw the blanket over you and tucked you in.

Sliding himself in from the other side, he scooted in and coiled his arms around your stomach. “Now, sleep.”

Breathing out a soft sigh, you rolled to him and brushed his mussy bangs back. “For someone so straightforward, you're not very honest, are you?” Sitting up to unzip your jacket, you proceeded to take your shirt off. When you stripped down, blood rushed to flush his cheeks as he came to realize he was completely love-struck.

“... Holy shit.”

Climbing onto his lap, you laughed over his lips and squeezed his neck. “You're really bad at hiding things. But like you said, I can read your mind.”

Luciano knitted his brows together. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth. “And it's very invasive. Please stop it.”

“Only if you promise to pay me in the morning.”

“... You're not a prostitute.”

“Oh, but you are one too. We're all whores, if you think about it. We just sell different parts of ourselves.”

“Go to sleep, idiota.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[runwithwolvcs]

You Know I'm No Good - t w o

Temptation vs Freedom

Warnings (future chapters): Drugs/Alcohol, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Jealousy, Mental Health, (Mentions of SA, but no details)

I don't like memories because the tears come easily, and once again I break my promise to myself for this day. Its a constant battle . A war between remembering and forgetting.

Back in her darkened bedroom, Tallulah still couldn't wrap her head around her current situation. The rest of the night consisted of her being introduced to people who seemed to know more about her then she had wanted, clearly word spreads fast around La Push. Josie had introduced her to some of her friends that had arrived later, after the tribal stories. Clearly only there for the party. They seemed nice, but they were definitely not the type of people she would choose to be friends with herself.

Lenna had made herself scarce throughout the entire, to which her twin stated was typical behaviour. But Tallulah figured it had more to do with her presence than anything else. Tally couldn't help but look for the tan boy she had locked eyes with, something about him was so alluring. It was almost frustrating, Tallulah Forester doesn't get captivated by anyone, not ever. She was the captivating one, at least that's what Xander had always said. “You're like a tornado, with pretty eyes and a heartbeat. Luring in bystanders until you’ve ruined their lives..That's what I enjoy so much about you”, that was the last thing he had said to her before she had left his house party the night she had been caught. Their relationship was a mess, both of them struggling for control, even if it meant hurting each other in the process. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but it was all she ever had. She craved it in an almost masochist way.

Tallulah's phone had been off all night, not in the mood to deal with the onslaught of messages she was sure to get, now that she had a moment to breath by herself she figured she may as well read them, 1 5 messages from Lina and 3 missed calls, her best friend, was more than likely freaking out, consumed by guilt over the fact that their lies to their parents had been crossed. 7 messages from Kit, who she figured was already trying to plan how to spin this to make herself the victim, as Kit does, and 1 lone message from Xander, the only one she read before she shut off her phone to go to sleep.

That sucks :(

Was all that it said.

-

After a lot of tossing and turning in the bed that was almost too soft, mixed with the pillows that weren’t soft enough, Tallulah drifted off to sleep. She dreamed of the boy who had taken her by storm, his smile seemed brighter than the sun and the way he laughed was like music to her ears. They were on a cliff overlooking the ocean, she could see that he was talking, but couldn't hear what he was saying, she watched as he stood up and walked towards the edge of the cliff, looking as though he was about to jump, she stood up in a panic--

Tallulah startled awake to Kira shaking her shoulder gently, a soft smile graced her face. It was raining, but Tallulah could tell it was early morning.

“Tally, sweetie, you’re dad and I would like to speak with you before he goes to a meeting” she said quietly, “Get dressed and meet us downstairs in ten minutes,” she spoke, the smile never leaving her lips. Tallulah groaned, not one to be a morning person in the slightest, she swung her legs out of bed, toes touching the cool hardwood floors. She could hear low murmurs outside her door as she heaved herself out of bed, still not used to her surroundings she walked to her two duffle bags and sifted through the clothes before settling on an oversized, green long sleeve to cover the stick and poke tattoos that littered her arms, with ripped, loose, blue jeans. One disappointment at a time, she thought to herself as she got dressed. She grabbed her hairbrush from her bag and ran it through her hair, leaving it to lay in its natural waves down her back before quietly heading downstairs to whatever talk she was awaiting.

She was met with Kira and her father sitting at the kitchen table next to each other, and as they beckoned her over to sit, she noticed the thin, blue rectangle laying in the middle of the table. The same blue rectangle she had so carefully hid in her room back in Seattle, or so she thought. She could feel anger begin to bubble in her belly as realization dawned on her, her mother had been through her room.

She sat expectantly, waiting for her dad to chastise her for using drugs, or even alcohol, as a minor and how that could affect her future, but he looked to Kira to begin. The gentle smile that was near permanent on her stepmom was almost comforting in the moment, almost. “Tally”, She starts, “We are aware of your.. pastimes, in Seattle, however, we will not be encouraging that same behaviour here.” she sounds like a damn counselor, Tallulah thought to herself. She’d honestly prefer being yelled at. “We have a few ground rules that we expect you to follow, as we do Lenna and Josette.” Kira continued, “Under no circumstances, will we allow drugs under our roof, including nicotine,” she says referring to the vape sitting in between them, “Or alcohol that does not belong to your father and I. If you are to partake in these activities and are caught you will have consequences.” She looks at Joseph, as if they had rehearsed their own parts, looking towards her dad expectantly, “Secondly,” He speaks up, “As we expect with the twins, any boy, or girl, that you are,, having relations with, we expect to meet, no sneaking them through bedroom windows.” Tallulah cringes internally, it was one time, she wanted to yell. “Curfew will be 11:00 pm on school nights and midnight on Fridays and Saturdays, no exceptions.. Understood?” he asked, looking at his eldest daughter. She wants to argue with them, tell them that policing her life won’t make her change, not the way that they wanted her to at least. That was something her mother learned the hard way. She had taken the door off her bedroom when she had found out she was sneaking out in the night, which only caused Tallulah to start sneaking out the front door instead, right in front of her.

“You done?” she asks, yawning, this wasn’t new to her at all, and she really didn’t care to be frank. The two adults look at each other, Kira nodding her head in Tallulah's direction, Joseph sighed before tossing a key chain on the table next to her vape. A small house key was connected to what looked like a car key. “Choose one.”

Temptation or Freedom?

Tallulah spent the rest of the day running errands with Josie, who had offered to show her around the reservation. They had stopped at Monets, the local cafe, run by the Littleseas, its the go to hangout spot, according to Josie. Who happens to be friends with Colin Littlesea, the eldest son of the owners.

Tallulah picked at the half eaten muffin sitting in front of her as she waited for Josie to return with a refill of both of their coffees. They were so different from each other, Tallulah drinking hers black, while Josies consisted of mainly cream and sugar, just like their personalities, but for some odd reason they clicked.

The car her father and Kira gave her was originally supposed to go to Josie, so that the twins no longer would have to share their current one. Finding out that alone made her reconsider her choice, at least a nicotine addiction only really affected her, but with a lot of reassurance from Josie, and the simple ask that Tallulah help run her errands eased her guilt. She didn't want to upend the twins' life, it wasn’t their fault her parents decided to force her to move to La Push. While Josie seemed to enjoy her presence, Lenna did not, and it's clear now she was avoiding her.

Tallulah gazed around the quaint yet homey cafe, its hand painted walls consisted of the same trees that surrounded the reservation, it was peaceful. She looked towards the door as it chimed, alerting the staff of new customers entering, a group of extremely tall, good looking men walked through the door, causing the calm energy to shift with their booming laughs, everyone seemed to be used to this behaviour, considering she was the only one to look in their direction.

Her eyes followed the group of boys, taking each one in, by the time she reached the last, he was already looking at her. Paul Lahote. The largest of them all, in height and muscle, she thought to herself as her eyes raked his body.

Josie setting her coffee down in front of her broke her concentration on the boy, her attention fully shifted to her half-sister. “What do they feed the men here? They are all so tall” Tallulah asked jokingly, to which Josie laughed, shaking her head. “Not all of them. Just the ones who hang around Sam Uley. Some people say he's giving them steroids but dad swears against it. So does mom.” She watched Josie grimace, and cut her off before she could correct herself, “--I’ve seen boys roided, they look nothing like them.” she spoke before taking a sip of her coffee. Josie nodded, an almost fascinated look on her young face, “So it's true then..” At this, Tallulah raises her eyebrows, “ what's true?”

“Your mom sent you here because you got mixed up with some guys who did drugs or whatever. At least that's what Lenna said she heard dad say”

Of course she did, so much for a fresh start, she thought.

Tallulah rolled her eyes, “Sort of, I guess --”

Now she was being interrupted, a large looming figure was now standing at the edge of their table, greeting Josie, she watched as the younger girl blushed in response, before saying “Hey, Ethan. Uh, this is my older sister, Tally or um, Tallulah,” Josie fumbled over her words as she introduced her. Tallulah looked up at the towering boy with a half smile, nodding her head as a way to say ‘hey’ , Ethan nodded back before asking, “I didn’t realize you guys were sisters. Do you go to school off the rez?”

Tallulah shook her head, “I did but I just moved here from Seattle. I start at the rez school tomorrow.”

He nods before engaging with Josie in conversation about some project they were working on and she can’t help but look over at the boisterous table in the far corner, she can see Paul and another boy glance at her as they talk, she excuses herself from Josie and Ethan, the coffee in her mug no longer appetizing and itching for her little blue rectangle in that moment.

Tallulah makes her way up to the bar-like counter, the waitress coming to take her order almost immediately. She orders a sweet tea, hoping to wash some of the lingering bitterness from her mouth, hoping it would help curve her cravings. She can feel someone come up next to her but doesn't bother to look who it is as she fiddles with a napkin, the waitress comes to take their order and their voice sounds like velvet in her ears despite the hint of gruffness to it.

“You're Joseph Forester's daughter, right?” She hears him ask, she looks in his direction to see he's already looking at her, a small cocky, smirk toying on his lips. He already knows the answer clearly. She wants to roll her eyes and tell him to fuck off, but she can’t bring herself to do so. So, she nods and softly says, “Yeah, Tallulah.” This causes him to actually smile, like he's thankful she didn’t just blow him off. That hot, cocky persona is nearly untraceable now,

“I’m Paul Lahote.”

[whatisgoingonpaul]

Lost boys backstorys

I made a post while ago on my ideas of the boys past but now I want to update it. I just want you to know I’m still a firm Prequel lover/follower however we don’t get much info on the boys Pre 1906, so that’s what this is for! However personally I would have had more Max so this is going to be both pre 1906 but also include relationship with Max a bit.

I am also including my personal ideas on Last names and age. However I am under the idea that they wouldn’t know/take their last name seriously if the did know it cause- ya know. Orphans. This is going to be lengthy and I’m going to pin it, not just because I want it seen but also to remind myself in fic writing (when I don’t follow these ideas in a fic it’s gonna be Marked as Au- as I’ll probably be messing around with a different past.)

I’ll be doing appearance but only physical as there’s some stylistic changes. For clothing? Honestly so thinking workers clothes/cowboy esc

Also! Their stories are all going to kinda intertwine so I’d there’s not enough info under one theirs a solid chance there’ll be more for them under someone else’s!

David Hardy-

Age(as of 1906): 19

Born: 1887

Appearance: Average height, his hair a dirty blond- near reddish and is around shoulder length. Bearded. (Think doc but with slightly updated clothing)

Backstory:

David Is the only of the boys to grow up with at least one of his parents, living with his mother until her death when he was around 7. They lived in a decent, though cramped little space in San Francisco, by the docks. His father worked on and off- a not so stable style ending in him getting involved in not doing saviory things - getting arrested. His mother worked as a washerwoman. David worked the streets awhile, as a young child now left alone, he learned to pickpocket and live off what he could manage. It was around this time he had found Marko- doing the same thing he was - though arguably less effectively do to his more sporadic nature. At around age 10 the two became extremely close and rather inseparable, Marko even looking up to him despite being the older of the pair. However david wasn’t one to living completely criminal like... he did NOT want to be his father, which lead him to not drinking , EVER. (Even as a vampire he still doesn’t do alcohol.) he poked towards more honest work, also forcing Marko into doing the same , which he wasn’t exactly thrilled about- but did anyway. Tried. David did a lot of work on the docks, odd jobs and stuff like that- but it never paid even half as good as nabbing a wallet or cheating at cards. He wouldn’t be his father- he’d be better- better then all the nobody’s. More level headed then Marko though  ambitious, big headed and still wildly child like- eventually Paul , Dwayne and Jasper joining the pair. Well now, David had himself a full on gang. Never robbery, not that far. The group pickpocketed , cheated at any sort of game or match, that sort of thing... they were still young after all. Smart enough not to go wild like some famous bandit (Though David will admit to his slight admiration of Billy the kid.). He’s a quick learner, and when he learns something- he learns it well- becomes a damn near expert. When he is good at something he is good at it. He is the leader out of the groups mutual respect towards him , quick thinker. Notable flaws: Huge ego, hopeless romantic.

Marko Connelly-

Age(as of 1906): 20

Born: 1886

Appearance: on the shorter side, golden - darker brown hair in this fluff of ringlets it’s long about just past his shoulder blades and typically tied back. Usually dirty somehow (Think Poli but with longer hair and updated clothing)

Backstory:

Born to a rich family , one of those who moved from east to west and actually did make it big. He was a pretty little thing, more a doll to his mother then particularly a child- only taken from Nanny to be dotted over or photos taken. However around the age of 3 or 4 things had tipped, scandal! Missing. That is what the newspapers said anyway he was found missing- was it that he was given away? Or stolen? He was never particularly a child to be quite or sit still or anything such as that... so who is to say? Marko doesn’t remember a lick of that either way as he was far far to young for it but he does remember being alone. This is how he had grown his attachment to birds, they always stuck around. He grew comfortable with being alone, having himself to depend on, getting good at grabbing what he needs- A mansion is stark contrast to dirty winding alleyways. He was always cursed with his looks- even filth covered at 6 he could make sad eyes and tend to swindle whatever he wanted... but he wasn’t completely quick. He’d get in trouble, his face memorable he could rarely pass the same trick again. At 11 David came across him, the two started working and living together (that is where they could find a place to sleep.) he sort of gained this complex. He felt he owed David , in some strange sense he became attached at the hip- a helper, a second- almost servant like the guy had saved his life and he is now the others. It didn’t help that at a young age, Marko had developed what was come to be understood as a deep crush- at times as teens this was reciprocated. As loyal and loving as he was to the other male he wasn’t nearly as cautious, as rule following... he had come to despise authority, to despise the fancy, the rich all of the crowd. He was never sure why. Even regular work got on his hate list... but he gave in and would try to do a normal amount pf work.. it never really worked as there was something, how he would sass, how he looked or smelled or spoke (neither him nor David really spoke ‘proper’ English - meaning no slang or accent). Around when Paul came things started to shift in the group, more mouths- more work and more thinking. Oh yea David and his thinking. Marko is a bit hostile right off the bat when it comes to people he doesn’t know, eventually he cracks and will be more loyal to you then to anyone you’d ever know. He opened up to Paul, a lot sooner then he would have thought the guy was funny and sweet - lil stupid too. David had this grand idea of a little gang, naturally Marko was all for it because illegal activity is fun- it was like a game to him. A liked stealing from pockets and playing distraction for David, as time grew he began to hate how young and gentle his face appeared to be. He LOATHED absolutely appalled the pity glances he would get, the hand outs the whole “oh you poor fragile little dear 🥺” he hated being babied and still does. He hated the stares he got on the opposite direction ... at first, it was funny, it was nice to be wanted in that sense rather then some baby. However... it grew creepy, it wasn’t women or a fella his age...it was more the gaze of older men. Marko detested it so much- he KNEW he’s seen what some of the guys... even younger then him ended up doing- he could see the occasional look in david’s eye. No he would never really consider....no. Paul was more his shoulder to cry on, someone to go to , to ramble to to speak with and just be with. The two were touchy, always leaning against eachother or grabbing their arms, laughing or sleeping or- eventually it became more then casual, it was serious. The two started ‘dating’ at some point- none of them were ever serious on titles but it was good to put a word to it.

Paul campbell-

Age (as of 1906) : 18

Born: 1888

Appearance: tall and lengthy, he has a mole on his left cheek, he has stubble/shadow opposed to a beard. He’s also usually dirty, dirty blond , long hair think Buffalo bill with volume and his hairline not receding

Backstory:

Grew up in a orphanage, hundreds of kids all stuffed together into a few rooms, often sharing beds and everything else. He was never a still child, he would always figit and move and shift - whenever he’s supposed to be quite or still like lessons or Mass he just couldn’t. This - got him most of the attention from the mistresses and overseers- much more quick to slap then to explain... he was docile , quick to flinch and try and stop. Never worked well. Once you get to 7-8ish you work if not adopted by a decent age. Sweeping, factory work he tried it all. He was particularly desensitized to violence at a extremely young age while working in a textile factory- he’s seen a kids arm come clean off. Terror turns to fascination eventually. At some point he’d stopped returning at night finding David and Marko at 15, he started hanging with them- it was safer in numbers that sort of thing- Paul could read a bit , David could write a bit- the three worked it out together. always so distracted- the others learned right off the bat he wasn’t built for pick pocketing no matter how hard he begged about it. Instead he’d do real jobs- sweeping , fighting, placing crooked bets that sort of thing. He always complains. A massive softie since he was young, Paul can’t quite handle being on his own- he’s used to having at least one other person around him at all times causing him to get quite hooked onto the other boys. He hovers around the same places. He is also a fan of dancing- Paul- is music obsessed the moment he heard the first noise of any sort of music he was hooked. He is one about fun- being restrained from it for so long as a child- always to sit out and watch or to think about whatever he did.. oh. Dancing, drinking, drugs, clubs, all of it is his kind of deal- he would drag the others with him when they had a bit of extra cash to deal with. Dwayne and his brother, when they joined on he was instantly accepting, unlike Marko he didn’t have the deep seeded trust issues, he was immediately touchy and happy to share a joke or a comment no matter the glares. He is the one to get Dwayne to lighten up a little bit, to smile he loves to see that smile :). He got around to dating Marko, when they finally put a label on it he was really giddy about it, making jokes and comments- he adores the little names like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘bo’ - he eventually gets around to just plain ‘sugar’ . Marko is the one who really entertains Paul’s love for dancing, the two of them trying to get the others to do something lighten up- eventually their pawing would bare fruit. Paul makes the best out of the worst situation, even if they end up sleeping on the beach more often then not- he somehow makes it seam alright. Except that one time he had gotten sand in Dwayne’s eye and all hell broke lose. He is the current youngest member of the group after Jaspers passing.

Dwayne Maher

Age (as of 1906) : 22

Born: 1884

Appearance: Tall, muscular , tanned(I will establish this now but Dwayne is Native American.) long Black hair with burnet highlights, reaches half down his back.

Backstory:

Born out more Midwest unlike the others he was not born in San Francisco, eldest son of a decent sized family of four kids. Do to conflict he and his younger brother skipped town, skipped state and fled to California.. better options you know?. He’s strong built, hard working and good with his hands though, rather playful most of the time. He looks after his younger brother closely, when there is work they work the same place, when there is not they both still do the same. Quickly took to David and the gang , having a tight knit bond with each of them. He was sort of the muscle - if there was trouble, he knew how to fight and it would likely work better then the knives the boys carried around or the gun David could barely shoot. It was Paul who got him to open up more, about himself and just to speak in general, he’s much more under his breath and jokingly commenting then he is saying something out loud- however if he dislikes something or thinks it stupid you WILL know it. Like David he carries the occasional thought of caution, however he’s not nearly as quick to worry. Maher is not his actual last name , nor does he ever mention it- he simply uses this one when it’s needed as some sort of identification or document. He’s surprisingly good at money, he ends up counting with David and is better at budgeting no matter how he may want or need something. He doesn’t speak on his past as he tries to make it seam he has little of one, he likes to make things mysterious he finds it amusing.

Jasper Maher-

Age (as of 1906) : 16

Born: 1890

Died: 1906

Appearance: shoulder length black hair, typically tied back and braided , tanned, string bean.

Backstory:

The younger brother of Dwayne who is much much more open on how he grew up, casually mentioning things he learned from his parents of his brother (he doesn’t remember his parents that much.) young hot shot sort of kid who’d much rather have action then he would some serious job, loud, energy filled and one for violence- however he’s surprisingly sweet. He often got himself and his brother into trouble. He was a quick and fast young child who grew surprisingly closest with Marko, the two having a habit for breaking every possible rule they could manage together. Their close friendship lead to Marko naming one of his birds after Jasper long after his passing.

Max-

Unknown age but he is seen as extremely old and powerful

Relationship with the boys:

After finding them he has decided to take them under his metaphorical and physical wing, acting as a sort of guardian. Food, clothing, shelter, he was everything the boys didn’t have and was surprisingly inviting in the beginning. ‘I do this for you, you on occasion do this for me’ sort of deal. He wasn’t a leader so much as he was a usual figure, the boys knew and understood him to be above them... so they followed you know? The whole new vampirism thing and the clueless kids- he had to explain and show nearly everything... especially to David, he wasn’t so much harsh to him as he was strict- more of a lead by example sort. Honestly he was father like in a strange sense- that someone is almost like a parent but very much your boss. See... with Max’s strength, there’s this almost automatic level of control- you can’t say no to him. You literally can’t not do what he asks (some supernatural level messing-). There’s something dark about him, in him that the boys still don’t understand in the 80s- but it scares them. It’s strange, it feels unlike him... he seams just like a Dorky , sweet man until...

Some random thoughts that don’t really fit anything

The boys are explicitly religious, past what you’d hear in passing or remember from growing up. Saying “oh god” and respecting religious officials are about what you’ll get

Whoopsies! This was a extremely long post lmao. Sorry for the long read but I could go on and on about them this was just a small blurb to all of it. If you ever wanna hear more do tell me. Also tell me if I should add tw for anything as I know I got a little dark at some points.

[hahanoiwont]

Okay, hear me out: Sans gets a job as a physics professor on the surface.

I hear uni professors are super lazy.

okay tbh I think Sans would be like. a great and terrible professor. let us explore this idea let's play in this space

like his first year teaching. horrible. He's used to being a cryptic little gremlin and now he has to give away information? all of the time?? that's supposed to be a good thing??? no. He doesn't take it seriously and the students complain about how he's always late, his lectures are so obscure as to be meaningless, and he seems more interested in making fun of them than teaching.

Then I feel like maybe he gets a baby post-grad student who tracks him down from half a country away. They've read his extremely niche paper. It sneaks in clever but not mean-hearted academic mudslinging at the old stagnants in the field. It makes groundbreaking points from a unique perspective. It's positively made of jargon but the jargon is explained concisely and understandably. Baby postgrad has stars in their eyes--they had the exact same idea (it is not the exact same idea. but to their credit it is close and they would have gotten there if they knew more about magic) and he explained it so well. He's a genius, they say. Can they please sit in on one of his courses. any of his courses. They'll be a TA if he promises to read over this paper they've been writing, it's not done yet but they think it could really be something and he's the only person in the field to legitimize their theory...

Sans is not into this at all. He's a little weirded out, honestly. Or, he's trying to be. But also, he does remember being a baby physicist who wanted his physics idol to notice him...so sure, he'll throw them a bone. They can put in all of the work for organizing his classes and grading things and all, and he'll get coffee with them and talk theory once a week.

More fool him. Sans is microdosing on being a professor.

Baby grad student talks in their office hours about their "lecture hour" with prof sans and how he was actually just explaining something to do with... and to Sans's chagrin, people start actually attending his coffee hour. And then they start bringing their homework questions to coffee hour. And then x student has work but can y student record... and then Sans's lessons have just moved to a coffee shop. He is still teaching his class he's just not doing it when he's supposed to. There is an email chain going around with recordings for each lesson, and since Sans has never bothered with taking attendance, his coffee lessons quickly become his main curriculum, while his alleged lesson times are just times when his TA previews the material with the students and Sans makes jokes.

Reviews become mixed. About 6 students swear by his classes and will rearrange their schedules any which way to be in his class next semester. At least a dozen have dropped his class and refuse to take another from him. Baby grad student is actually getting somewhere with their research, which Sans absolutely did not expect. He starts actually using the lab time he was given to work with them on that, and since everyone knows prof sans doesn't care if you walk in or out of his classes, a couple of undergrads filter in to poke at diagrams and try to understand what's being said...boom. lab section of the course. It's not remotely covering the same information as, say, physics 101, but the students are getting experience and gaining confidence in a lab environment. And you're only allowed to skip lab safety if you have a provable ability to evade or survive multiple kinds of explosion and acid burns, so they learn lab safety, too.

I feel like at this point Sans's classes are less actual courses and more really informative interest clubs that students join for credit. You sign up, disregard the course information listed, and if you ask leading questions he might explain a particular theory or branch of pretty much any scientific discipline (since monsters have like 3 scientists, they try to cover everything). This works great until Sans gets annoyed with having to explain calc 2 a million times because someone has obviously failed in educating his undergrads. It's just in the name of efficiency and therefore laziness that Sans proposes a remedial study group.

So. Twice a week, prof Sans will teach physics 101, and once a week a rotating schedule of math, chemistry, or a handful of other subjects on request. If nothing is requested, he will do stand-up or magic tricks for 2 straight hours and then go home. (sometimes students organize and agree to not prompt him for anything so that they can see the show. it's pretty good stand-up and very good magic tricks). Twice a week, his undergrad duckling will cover mostly remedial calc and help with homework for whatever science/math class they can. Baby undergrad is finally hired by the school and no longer paid in food and research tips (some of which are cash but most of which are advice) from Sans. Sans is still allegedly teaching several courses, which he usually covers the material of; but only when cornered, bribed with coffee, or at the expense of one (1) joke. Most of his classes are just study groups under his or their own loose direction.

Strangely, this does seem to help students discover their own interest in the material, since it feels much more based in what they want to learn (because they have to put so much effort into getting their professor to actually teach them). Students take his courses for a laid-back semester, but actually end up learning a lot of diverse skills and shortcuts in a variety of fields. Sans is absolutely not preparing them for any kind of curriculum, but he is creating baby scientists in much the same way as he was taught--here is All of Science, what do you want to learn? We'll fill in the backlog of what you need to know as it comes up.

Magic allows for fascinating demonstrations, not only of how things work, but how it would look if it didn't work, or worked differently. Gravity is a universal favorite because Sans will sometimes let students jump from irresponsible heights and experience zero gravity for a while. Conservation of mass and energy has him summoning things out of thin air. When astronomy comes up, he'll take them out and let them use his own telescope to see exactly how this theory was first observed, or what it looks like when that theory comes into play in such and such a way. So Sans does not get fired for being a horrible professor. It's generally understood that any freshman who took Physics 101 with Professor sans M.S. may not have any idea what they were supposed to learn, but he turns out competent scientists who are willing to testify that he's the best thing that's ever happened to their science education.

Anyway I think Sans would end up as a wonderful professor--despite his best efforts.

[honeyitallreadydid]

I want Dream and Techno to place all the TNT above L’Manburg and laugh at all those fighting underneath, as there is no way they could lose

I want Tommy to realise this, and look around him. At the friends and family who’ve betrayed him, ridiculed him. At Tubbo, the boy who loved bee’s and laughed with him and Wilbur. At the boy battle weary and broken, angry and vicious, both cruel and weak willed. And he won’t recognise him. He isn’t Tommy’s Tubbo. And this isn’t Tommy’s L’Manburg

Dream will give a speech, ranting about everything he’s done, how foolish they all were, how weak tommy has been. Technoblade is silent,crouched away on top of the walls, staring at Tommy, his expression unreadable.

This isn’t L’Manburg. Not anymore. For starters, Wilburs gone. He was a murderous, inanse, unpredictable son of a bitch, who’s both cold and wild nature made him a caricature of a villain. But he wasn’t. He was funny and loud and teasing and Dream fucking broke him. Broke him with his demands, broke him with his laughter, his taunts. If dream had stayed away, maybe Wilbur would still be here.

My L’Manburg he said. My. It was his, his and Tommy’s. It was never Tubbo’s, never Fundy’s, and sure as shit not dreams. They never laughed in the caravan, never hid away in the ravine. The sharp stab of Erets betrayal was nothing but a sting to the others.

Tommy looked at Dreams frustratingly calm face, his smile just visible under the mask. Victorious, cruel, mocking. He aimed his bow at Dreams neck.

“You think you can kill me Tommy? Really? You can’t even follow sime instructions. Stay away from L’Manburg. Don’t go in the nether. Don’t go against me. Tubbo agrees with me. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, couldn’t stop Wilbur, couldn’t keep me away. You aren’t shit”

Tommy paused, hesitating, rethinking. Was his impulsiveness the reasoning for all the wars? Was it his own insolence, his own betrayals that broke his old home?

Yes. He knew the answer. He knew what he had to do.

He looked at the TNT, overshadowing the city, obscuring the sun. He thought of the hundreds of wither skulls at technoblade disposal. He thought of the crater, the explosion, the terror that had already once before encapsulated the nation.

“If I can’t have L‘Marburg, then no one can” Tommy muttered, but Dreams gloating and the pleads from Niki and Tubbo let his declarartion go unheard.

He focused back on Dreams broken mask,his once Sandy hair turned deep and matted from when he pulled at it with his blood stained gloves.

Technoblade stands tall, no longer crouching. He looks prepared to fight, but there is weariness in the way he unslings his crossbow, fatigue weighing down on the cracked crown upon his head. Where did he get it? Was it stolen from a vanquished foe, or perhaps commissioned from a blacksmith. Was it a point of pride, a spoil of war? Or just an accessory, with no more meaning than a bracelet or necklace. Tommy would never find out.

He looked away from Technoblades intimidating form, and back at the TNT. Slowly, as if not to draw attention, he notched in a flame arrow and aimed towards the center of the canopy of dynamite.

He cast his eyes at the shield Dream had worn. It was a gift of good faith from Technoblade, it was in the style of the Aegis. The branded face of Medusa had quickly caught Technoblade eye when they were younger, and Tommy remembered seeing a 14 year old Technoblade(who was in the height of his mythology obsession) having to beg and plead Phil for the shield. The distorted reflection revealed Ranboo, standing at the back of their group, staring back at Tommy. Ranboo had seen the red embers that encase the arrow’s tip, he had seen where it was aimed. He knew the destruction and death that would follow. He had seen Tommy’s mind, his intention.

Black eyes met blue, and in a moment of silent resolution they both understood. L’Manburg was once there home, but without Wilbur, it was no more than a bargaining chip. Something to hurt others with. L’Manburg was just like the discs in that respect. And you can’t have freedom with a collar around your neck.

Tommy let the arrow fly, and all hell broke loose.

Hellfire reigned down upon the houses, the wood alight and the stone blast open. The explosives ricocheted in every direction, several breaking through the walls, and a few going over.

Dream, who had been standing underneath the explosives, was immediately trapped as fire and sound broke the ground around him, immediately submerging him in the rubble below, the floor collapsing so fast that Tommy wasn’t sure if a sinkhole had spontaneously erupted. But no. It was him. Good

I hope your fucking dead

He saw Fundy and Quackity fall through the gaps in the paths, the water catching theyre fall but not healing them from the wounds that covered there torso and faces.

Ranboo had teleported at the first assailant, and had taken Tubbo and Niki with him. Thank fuck tommy thought, relieved. Throughout all Tommy’s anger, his rage, his betrayal, he still couldn’t stomach the idea of them being hurt. There clothes were scortched and Nicki’s hair was mostly seared off, but they looked to be mostly okay.

As the final blasts went off, and the fire truly began catching, he looked down into the abyss he had created. Iron and other metals had emerged from the blast, and a slow stream of lava was visible, lighting up the bottom of the pit.

Dreams crumpled form was just barely visible, but what Tommy could see didn’t look good. His armour had somehow fused into him. What remained of the netherite was connected to his chest, the skin around it blood soaked and damaged beyond repair.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Dream groaned. No Tommy thought, No no no no no

Please just fucking die. It wasn’t mean to be like this. It was never meant to be-

Technoblade elegantly climbed down from the wall in which he stood,observing that battle like one would watch an ant farm. Amused, intrigued. Maybe a little proud at the ingenuity, but otherwise removed.

Then, unsheathing the Axe Of Peace from his belt, he threw it like a tomahawk and buried it in Dreams neck.

Silence.

Time had frozen as everybody gathered around the pit with morbid fascination as they all watched Dreams death, as his neck was cut with blood spewing out of him, thick and hot, staining his face and trademark green hoodie a deep rich brown.

How do you move on from this? What was there to do?

“I-uh, well, I...” Quackity stuttered, unsure of what to say

“L’Manburg is gone.” Tommy stated, his voice loud and authoritarian. “L’Manburgs been mutilated beyond repair, by me, by Wilbur, by Technoblade, by all of us. Use the land for whatever you want, but your not going to rebuild. Not now, not ever. Cover it up, make it a monument, I honestly couldn’t care less. But let L’manburg burn.”

Tommy looks down into the crater and on a ledge not too far from the top, he sees them. His discs. One has a crack down the side, rendering it unplayable, and the other surely is scratched beyond repair. He climbs down into the gaping hole, ignoring Dreams charred remains. He picks them up, softly caressing the indentations, and fondly remembering the times he and Tubbo had listened to them on the bench, gazing at the warm setting sun.

He throws them down, down into the rubble, down past the crumbling houses, and into the lava from the exposed cave system below.

He watches them burn, takes a moment to calm himself, then climbs out.

He ignores the gobsmacked faces that stare at him, eyes wide, jaws slacked. He nods at Tubbo with a tight lipped smile and move on, walking determinedly to Technoblade.

“L’Manburg was fucked the minute it became independent. The war, the exiles, the executions, it was all so pointless. So fucking pointless. Cause everybody’s now dead, and nothing has been won. There are no good guys here Technoblade. No battle, no hero’s, no moral to the fucking story. It was pointless violence fuelled by greed and corruption.”

“I knew you’d agree with me in the end” Techno’s monotone voice betraying him as you could hear the start of a smile behind his helmet.

“I don’t agree with you. You’re destructive and unreasonable and I can’t trust you anymore.”

Tommy walks closer to Technoblade, and with a start Technoblade realises that this isn’t his brother, not now. Tommy isn’t playing hero. He isnt the soldier who had fought in multiple wars. Not the boy who no matter how high the stakes were, no matter how powerful the competition, the boy who would always fight for what is right.

That boy had died. He’d been dying for a while now. Since burning the discs, abandoning technoblade, spending weeks alone with only Dreams honeyed lies filling his ears like wax, unable to hear anything other than what Dream wanted him to hear. Maybe it was Wilburs death, or even before, the moment they were exiled the first time.

Whatever the case, Tommy was gone, and had been replaced by an empty shell of who he was. His eyes were so dark they were almost grey, his hair damaged and his face gaunt. There was no twitch of a smile on his lips, no glint of trouble in his eyes. There was only a poorly concealed grimace of both anger and pain.

He leaned in his mouth tight and his words short. Technoblade clenched his jaw in anticipation of a shouting match, but Tommy’s next words were barely a whisper.

“L’Manburg wasn’t yours to take” his voice was hoarse and his words sharp, and the moment he had finnished speaking his stepped back quickly and walked away from the ruins of the fallen city.

[dolphintreasureart]

A New Friend

Jack's phone was about to die. He felt really stupid for not charging it when he had the chance. But then again it was his fault. He's been watching too many videos and checking social media. All in all, he wondered what life would've like without phones. He honestly couldn't imagine it. He relied on them too much. A lot of people did nowadays. With that in mind, Sean turned off his phone not wanting to waste anymore battery. He pocketed the phone before wiping at his nose. A sudden flash of light and a clap of thunder crackled above him causing him to raise his hoodie over his head. He was just out for a stroll not knowing rain would be coming. It sucked, too, because he was miles from home and buses had stopped running. Plus, he had wandered into an open park with no shelters to speak of; just a few paths, a few benches, and lots of grass and trees. He sighed to himself when he felt the ping of rain drops hit the back of his hand.

"Shit," he sighed.

He just kept walking as the pings turned into a light mist. Jack looked up at the black sky catching a few drops on his cheeks before he scoured a look across the park to see if there was anything he could take cover in. Luck would have it that just within a short walking distance that a flash of lightning overhead illuminated a stone bridge with a short tunnel underneath it. The rain picked up again coming down a little faster. Quickly, Jack ran straight for the cover. He decided to stay there just until the rain let up. He wasn't prepared to get drenched.

Just as the rain came down torrentially, Jack barely scraped underneath the bridge listening to the hollow echo of the pounding rain above him on the pathway. The rain was so dense that it looked like a heavy fog had rolled in. As a joke, Jack brought his hands to his mouth and mimicked the sound of an actual fog horn, slow, droll, and deep. He just wanted to amuse himself.

That is, until the sound repeated from behind him.

Jack whirled around to see where the noise had come from. The tunnel under this bridge was not long at all. He could make out the large opening just fine a little ways from him. He glanced as far as his eyes would let him see and came across nothing unusual. He appeared to be alone, but he knew what he heard. He knew he was not alone.

Bravely, Jack cupped his hands to his mouth again repeating the fog horn sound. He lowered his hands and waited.

There was silence in return. Maybe he did imagine it. Jack turned back to the heavy rain clambering outside the tunnel mouth until, although very faintly, he heard the sound echo behind him in the same pitch he released, again. Jack’s body immediately wanted to run, fight or flight as his heart rate increased and his blood ran cold. Then again, another part of him was curious.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but this was Jack they would be dealing with. Whatever was in this tunnel with him had a lot ahead of them if they wanted to start a fight.

Jack pulled out his phone and turned it on. He reminded himself of the amount juice it had left, but it was his only source of light at the moment. A quick scroll of his flashlight over the pebbles in front of him and it'll be over.

Jack showed the light on the ground ahead of him as far as it could go. It startled Jack when the beam of light hit a foot and a leg retreating into a small door way in the tunnel. Jack held his breath as he proceeded forward wanting to know who it was. Slowly Jack approached the small door way and peaked into it. All he saw was darkness and a flash of lightning above didn't help much. Jack raised his dying phone focusing the light beam into the void and gasped at what he saw. It was a fellow about his height crouched on the ground hiding its head in his hands making small whimpering and crunching sounds.

"H-hello?" Jack said stupidly.

The being ceased its crunching sounds and turned towards the man staring straight into the light. Jack gasped as he was met with dull clouded eyes, grey flesh, and what looked to be dry bits of blood covering the man's scaly chin. The man was moving his jaw carefully up and down while making sporadic breathing noises as if he was choking. Jack just stared at him mesmerized by the state he was in. The man wore very tattered clothes: a dingy black striped shirt, and some dark jeans. He was barefoot, apparently, when Jacks eyes traveled over his figure.

In his hands, Jack noticed a spongy looking thing that had a long tail on it. It was a large dead rat with entrails hanging from the man's fingers. Jacks heart dropped in pity as he realized that this man was dead. He was just hungry and probably didn't have a family to go home to. Hell, he probably didn't even have a home, but Jack didn’t want to judge just yet. It was no secret, though, that Most Deadies didn't. That’s what the living called them, anyway. It was more of a derogatory term. Once the deed was done, and they roamed after a funeral, families rejected them letting them wander in the wild. Some families were kind, but it was a rarity. Jack had never actually met a dead person before. Not until now, at least! When his own family memebers passed, everyone made sure that they wouldn’t come back. He never really understood why families let it happen to begin with. Why did they allow it? Why not keep them in the grave so they can be at peace once and for all? Poor Jack has heard tales of them being beaten mercilessly. It appeared on the news every so often and it hurt Jack to his core. He never heard of a Dead attacking a Living. And this poor chap was hiding under a bridge, in a park, chewing on a rat. It’s probably been awhile since he’s had a real meal. Jack suddenly felt embarrassed realizing he'd been staring this whole time without introducing himself.

"Hello," Jack repeated softly hoping the Dead would answer him.

"...hello..." the Dead wheezed back.

“Was that you mimicking me?” Jack inquired softly not trying to sound angry or anything.

That caused the man to stiffen like a scolded child as he looked down back at the rat in his hands. He dropped it onto the rocks and sat on the ground drawing his knees to his chest. Jack knelt down and sat with him. He didn’t want to seem untrustworthy. He wanted to show that he was a friendly man. The dead man nodded his head as an answer.

“…sorry…” he said with a deep gravelly voice.

"No, no need to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. Are you alone?"

The Dead hesitated, but nodded his head again not looking Jack in the eye. In fact, the poor man looked like he was about to cry, like he was afraid of him. Jack sighed and furrowed his brows together at the quiet confession. His heart filled with a pang of hurt noticing the reserved behavior. Jack didn’t want to pry, but he wanted to show that he wasn’t going to hurt him.

"Oh. Well, my name is Jack. Do you have a name?" he asked gently trying to show his more good nature hoping the man would open up.

The Dead looked up at him cocking his head like he didn’t expect to be asked a question. Carefully, he lifted his head chancing a look at Jack as he replied, "Robbie."

"Cool ass name, dude. It's nice to meet you," Jack smiled at him as he saw the man’s face. Jack sighed internally thankful that he came across as nonthreatening. This poor man was scared for his life and Jack felt the urge to help in any way he could. He never met a Dead, before, but he believed in basic human decency to be compassionate.

Robbie nodded at him and actually smirked at him opening up a little bit to Jack.

Jack smiled back at him. "Hey, uh, if you're still hungry, I can take you some where to eat. You like steak?"

Robbie smiled wider at him like a child and nodded vigorously. Jacks heart was going wild in his chest at the delight he saw in the Robbie’s eyes.

"After rain..." Robbie said in a gravel voice.

"Of course. Don't wanna get soaked," Jack giggled as he offered a hand to help Robbie up. Robbie hesitated before taking it and helped Jack heave him off the ground carefully. Jack didn't want to risk a limb falling off of he accidentally pulled to hard. "C’mon. Let's go get some fresh air." The pair headed out into the open under the bridge together with Jack still holding the Robbie’s hand as if the creature was going to get lost. Robbie shuffled forward along with him smiling to himself.

They reached the path under the bridge and Jack took a big breath to clear his lungs of the musty smell of the water. He let go of Robbie's hand and stretched out. Robbie watched in some weird fascination before mimicking the movement. Jack turned to him and chuckled as he heard some pops in his shoulders. Robbie dropped his arms and giggled too.

The rain had finally stopped and Jack led both of them back out into the dark park. He fished his phone out of his pocket pulling up the nearest steak place.

"That looks good. Ready to go?" Jack asked the man next to him. Robbie nodded again and they started walking to exit the park. ***** The streets were pretty quiet this time of night as Jack and Robbie made their way down the street. They met gazes of some passerby some of them greeting them, or just stepping around them and some just glaring at his new friend like an unwanted cockroach. Jack frowned at the people who weren’t keen on having the Dead around. Granted this was his first time meeting a Dead in person, but he hated the negativity that followed them. Jack just ignored those who scowled at them as they walked by. Jack wanted to take the high road.

He stopped in his tracks letting Robbie catch up to him. Robbie didn't see that he had stopped and bumped into his back with a grunt. Jack just giggled at Robbie's embarrassed face.

"Sorry..."Robbie murmured.

"It's fine, dude. No worries. Ah look! There it is. I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Jack said as he pointed at the restaurant.

They came up to the door as Robbie curiously looked into the windows. He saw people eating, talking, laughing, and fully alive. It had been a long time since he’d been in a restaurant. It looked like a nice place. Dim lighting for atmosphere, big heaping helpings of food mainly containing meat, and it smelled really good. But, there was one thing he didn’t see: dead people. Everyone inside was alive. He started getting anxious as they approached the door.

"Bad news, buddy," Robbie heard Jack say. "'Deads' not allowed.’ Fucking hell, man." Robbie frowned in disappointment as he read the sign, too. His stomach growled as he looked in the window again watching meat disappear into people's mouths. "It's okay, man. We'll find a different place to eat. C’mon."

Jack took Robbie's hand again and pulled him away from the door nearly avoiding two patrons scowling at him in disgust as they walked into the restaurant. Robbie kept his cool, but he badly wanted to tear their faces off.

After a bit of wandering and some phone googling, Jack found a bar that allowed Deads inside. They even had steaks on their menus! Jack kissed his phone thanking the google gods at Apple and Robbie busted into a joyful murmur as Jack led him in the direction of this new place.

They arrived outside a hole in the wall door all black and with a single neon sign pointing to the alleyway around the corner.

"Ohhh! Spooky, huh Robbie. Looks like we're going on an adventure!" Jack laughed as he pulled Robbie by the hand carefully stepping them both down into the alleyway. They came upon a door where they heard music and stepped inside. The first thing they saw was a hostess stand and the bar was open with darkened themes all around. It was a horror themed bar splaying different cut outs and life sized figures of horror icons like Freddy Kruger, Leather Face, PinHead, and so many more. Jack was giddy in glee.

"This is awesome! What do you think, Robbie?"

"...yes!" He replied with a nod.

"Hey guys!" A friendly female sounding voice greeted them. "Welcome to Horror House! Will it just be two tonight?"

"Yes, thank you," Jack replied with a smile a growl of his stomach. Robbie looked around at the life sized figures completely fascinated by the macabre décor.

"And where would you gentlemen like to sit? Does he get spooked easily?" She asked politely, referring to Robbie.

"Oh, uh. I don't know, actually. We just met tonight. I don't know if he has a preference, or not," Jack replied sheepishly.

"I see. Sir? Are you okay to sit with other people, or would you like a quieter place?" She asked Robbie.

"...quiet, pl-please..." he replied as he looked around. Jack just realized they were still holding hands. He didn't mind.

"Follow me, please!" She smiled grabbing two menus for them.

They followed the nice lady through a maze of tables and booths all which were occupied by both living and dead people. Jack noticed some of the dead were chowing down on large chunks of bloody meat dripping it onto their shirts. They passed a couple holding hands on the table smiling at one another; one alive, one dead. Jack smiled and thought it was adorable.

He never released Robbie's hand until they arrived in a booth that was towards the back of the bar behind some curtains to muffle the music and bar noises of people laughing, talking, and getting drunk. They sat opposite of each other and the lady gave them their menus.

"There ya go, darlings. I'll send for your server," she said with a smile and then left the pair alone.

"Thank you!" Jack called to her before opening his menu. Robbie grabbed his studying the food, he didn't realize he was beginning to drool until it dropped onto the plastic. He put his fingers to his mouth blushing horribly hoping his new friend didn't see that.

"...shit..."he murmured loudly.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked with genuine concern feeling bad that he was looking down.

"...need...napkin..."

"Oh, uh, here," Jack said as he reached behind the salt shaker grabbing them. "Haha, you must really be hungry. Rats aren’t very filling...not that I've had them or anything." Jack started laughing at his own joke and Robbie joined in as he wiped his mouth clean. He smudged the dry rat blood away from his mouth and chin cleaning out his beard and mustache while he was at it.

"...chewy...too...not enough...meat," Robbie joked back with his new friend.

"I figured as much. It must be hard hunting them in the wild like that. They're so fast! Again, not that I would know, haha."

Robbie giggled again at the charming fellow. "...they...are...but I'm...faster."

Jack laughed again and just then their server approached. Jack ordered a glass of wine while Robbie ordered a Bloody Mary. This was a special Bloody Mary, too. Made with real pigs blood; no tomato juice in it.

They sat for a while chatting about different things like their hobbies, jobs, and interests. They laughed and joked like normal live people. Jack so relaxed around the charming young Dead he was angry with himself for not getting to know any at all until now. They lived normal lives as best they could in death. They still retained speech, cognitive thinking, motor function, and memories of when they were actually alive. Robbie in particular loved playing video games when he was alive. Jack loves video games, too. He even worked for a video game development company. Robbie also went to the local library to read, or study on the computer until he was kicked, or literally, pushed out. That hurt Jack to hear about Robbie’s abuse. He was such a cool guy. Sure, he was dead, but that didn’t mean his feelings didn’t exist. He’s such a sweet person. A bit shy, but very comfortable, like he would never hurt a fly. Jack was so glad he was a more open minded person, now. The old him would've shunned this guy like every other stuck up living asshole. But he really enjoyed his company. And Robbie was enjoying his.

All throughout, they had ordered their food. Robbie was eating a raw steak right off a cow’s leg while Jack chowed down on some fat tender barbeque ribs. Both men were messy eaters, but each paid no mind as they enjoyed. Robbie savored what tastes he could get not knowing when he'd ever have a chance like this, again. Truth be told, he was scared of Jack at first thinking he would just hurt him like everyone else had, but now he was so grateful. He made a new friend and he was so happy. He wished he could return the favor, but he didn't know how.

It was towards the end of their meals and both of their bellies were bulging in delight stuffed to the gills with delicious food, drink, and company.

"Whoa man. Good thing we're walking," Jack chuckled as he rubbed his stomach. "I'm stuffed. I'm gonna fall asleep here in a second. Didn't realize how late it was."

Robbie's heart sank. He'd been enjoying himself so much he'd forgotten about the time. This was where they'd part ways to their respectful homes and possibly never see each other again, or every so often. And there were two problems with this: one, Robbie didn't want this night to end and two...he didn't have a home of his own. During their dinner chat, Robbie did mention not having a job. He explained that it was difficult for Deads to find jobs. He didn’t have the courage to tell Jack he lived under that bridge in the park.

"...yeah...um...Jack?" He asked timidly.

"Yeah?"

“…are we…friends?” Robbie asked as he tilted his up to look at Jack.

“Of course, Robbie. We’re friends,” Jack replied with a smile and a nod of his head.

"...can I...stay...with you?"

"What you mean like, at my house?"

"...yeah...I don't...have...a home..."

Jack took on a serious face not realizing Robbie was homeless. He felt so dumb for not putting two and two together. No job, yeah he knew about, but that would usually mean… "Oh Robbie...do you..live under that bridge?"

Robbie looked down ashamed of himself. He almost felt sorry for telling Jack he was technically homeless. He nodded nonetheless before replying, "If...I can't... it's okay...I...understand."

"No, no, no I didn't mean it like that. I was just surprised is all. But yeah. Yeah. If you need a place to stay for a couple days, I'd be happy to have you."

Robbie smiled at him. "Are you...sure? I don't want...to...impose..."

"Nonsense! You deserve to have a fresh bed to sleep on, food in your belly, and a fresh shower. You don’t deserve anything that I don’t. I hate to think you under that bridge by yourself. We’ll take it one day at a time, but I can help you find a job, if you'd like. I can talk to my boss and see what she says. She's been looking to hire a new game tester."

"You...would.. do that...for me?" Robbie sat up and leaned forward smiling wide at Jack.

"Sure. I like you, Robbie. You deserve to be happy. You deserve better than living in a gutter eating rats. Thank you, though, for controlling their population, haha!"

Robbie laughed with him too before staring into Jack’s eyes. It seemed like forever since he has experienced compassion from a Living that his heart warmed in his chest. Not even his own family wanted him back now that he was dead. His heart swelled and he really wished it could beat, but it didn’t. That didn’t stop Robbie from feeling so happy to be with Jack. Jack just smiled back at him.

"I'm ready to go."

"...same." **** As soon as they entered Jack’s home, Jack led Robbie straight to his guest room. Robbie followed gingerly looking around the beautiful home. He trekked closely behind the young man not wanting to seem intrusive.

“Okay, I’ll have you sleep in here,” Jack told him as they stepped into the room.

Robbie looked at the decently sized room looking at the soft blankets on the bed. There was only a single side table, a dresser of drawers, a small closet, and a small table lamp for light. Jack rubbed the back of his neck as Robbie stepped into the room slowly approaching the bed.

“I know it’s not much, but at least you’ll be comfortable tonight. Hate to think of you sleeping on the ground,” Jack said. He stopped moving as he just watched Robbie slowly reach a hand out placing it on the pillows and top of the blanket. Robbie smoothed his fingers over the bedding taking care to feel every fabric fiber glide across his palm giving him a strange blissful sensation. It had been so long since he’s slept in a proper bed that his aching body was so thankful just to even touch a blanket. If he could cry, he would. Robbie just settled for a smile instead as he removed his hand.

Jack watched fascinated by the simple touch like the bed was made of gold. Jack scolded himself internally realizing that Robbie was appreciating something that was considered a luxury to him while it was salvation for the sweet Dead.

“…soft…” Robbie said

“Yeah, it is. Um, if-if you need the bathroom, it’s down the hallway and feel free to take a shower. I don’t mind. I’m gonna head to bed, but before I do, do you need anything?” Jack asked as he walked up beside the other man.

Robbie hesitated before he looked up at Jack. He smiled bigger as they locked eyes, suddenly overcome with emotion. Robbie raised his arms and wrapped Jack in a gentle hug resting his cheek on the man’s shoulder. Jack froze for a minute before returning the gesture carefully.

“Thank you, Jack,” Robbie whispered. “You…have no idea…how grateful..I am…”

“Hey, no problem, man. You’re welcome,” Jack said as he parted them both from the hug. “Get some good sleep. You can start fresh tomorrow. Night, buddy.” Jack walked away.

“Night, Jack.”

Jack shut the door behind him and made for his own room not wanting Robbie to hear him sob, or wipe at his eyes. Once he was safe inside his own room, he sighed out loud before changing into his night clothes. Once he brushed his teeth, he stepped back into the room and froze before he got into bed. What should have been a normal routine now seemed like a new interest. This thing in his life that made him comfortable night after night was suddenly the greatest thing he had. Thanks to Robbie and his genuine appreciation for the smaller things in life, Jack reached out his own hand smoothing it over the silky fabric taking in every sensation that he could. He’d been taking this whole thing for granted and he was in turn grateful for Robbie to make him realize his own luxury and how much he should really appreciate his own life. Jack slipped into bed thankful for his new friend. Tonight was the beginning of a fresh tomorrow for both of them.

[shibalen]

Hi! I’d like a match up for Kuro please!~ I’m bisexual, non-binary (leaning a little more towards the masculine side most of the time), and my height is 5’9. My zodiac sign is leo and I’m INTP if I remember correctly. I love to write, draw, and read more than anything, though I’m also trying to make my own video game in my spare time, and I absolutely love anything horror related or really dark/gothic. Outside of that, my interests and tastes tend to vary so I’m pretty flexible. (1/2)

My fashion sense is sort of all over the place too, but I usually dress really edgy, mostly just in black or other dark colors. I’m not bilingual (yet~) but I’m trying to learn languages like French, Latin, and German. I have no self control when it comes to desserts or any sort of candy. I also own five dogs! I’d prefer a romantic match, but platonic is okay too if that’s easier. ^^ (2/2)

♡︎ matchup for @blank-envy

hello! i assume you meant Kuroshitsuji? if not, please correct me. thank you for waiting so long, i've finished your match!

and five dOgS?! god i wish that were me

|| kuroshitsuji: i match you with . . .

joker

• Joker is an aries (one of the best matches for leo) and an entp (one of the best e's for intp, imo)

• you two are a quite a pair! you're both easy-going but have a flame of passion in your hearts that strives to make a change. this dynamic immediately makes you click with each other.

• your views on the world are quite similar too, and your conversations can take a lot of interesting turns, seeing as both of you prefer meaningful discussions over small-talk.

• Joker is more extroverted than you though, but no need to worry about that. he cares for you deeply and respects your boundaries. at the same time, he's an effective communicator and knows how to minimise any misunderstandings you two might have.

• you guys met a high-class costume party (let's say for Halloween, it's spooky season). the moment you spotted Joker in the crowd you were amazed by his skeleton arm (oﾟ▽ﾟ)o

• of course, you first assumed it as a part of his outfit, and it was a bit embarrassing when you went to compliment him on it and he just laughed . . .

• after giving you a quick explanation, Joker expected you to be weirded out, but knowing he actually had a prosthetic arm made it all the more facinating in your eyes. it was creepy but in a cool way!

• not only was Joker thrilled and amused but also entranced. he knew right there and then he wanted to learn more about you.

• he was drawn to your creative side from the very beginning. he too is an artist, and an entertainer, so it was thrilling to meet someone who understood him so well.

• soon he came to trust you enough to introduce you to his family. everyone was so happy for you! Beast was kinda jelly at first but even she saw how well you fit together, like two puzzle pieces.

• your fashion senses are on the opposite side of the scale, but that's what makes it exciting! he jokes that you could use some colour in your wardrobe.

• shopping with you two is a real rollercoaster. you search for clothes representing your tastes but have a blast having the other try out the clothes of your choice.

• pssst Joker is slowly converting you into the same style as him so you can wear matching items🤡

• thankfully your interests are flexible because Joker will want to try out new hobbies with you. anything that looks mildly fascinating draws his attention. you'll have a fun learning about so many new things.

• he's especially into anything he can make a show out of in the circus, so next time you're meeting up with friends you'll have a few party tricks up your sleeve. Joker proudly grinning in the background

• but honestly? he loves the feeling of you braiding his hair before a show. he insists you do it for him because it's his good luck charm ♡︎

• after another successful performance he treats everybody to a big dinner. for you there will be a row of desserts. the twinkle in your eye when you see all thise sweets is irreplaceable to him.

• the only condition is that you have to feed him some as well, tehe

• now, when it comes to romance, Joker is a natural, hands down.

• acts of service, physical touch, words of affirmation—he has so many love languages you'll feel loved 24/7

• he's a huge tease though. can and will pull the cheesiest of lines and actions in public and still wear that innocent grin. personally, he sees them as fun more than anything. if you get embarrassed, that's just more in it for him.

• his favourite tricks are making flowers pop out from his hand and gifting them to you, as well as the "coin behind your ear" trick because he loves leaning in close to you and making you flushed.

• "oh, what's this? the coin was here all along!"

• "you know, you've done this same trick a hundred times already."

• "and i'll do a hundred more for you, my sugar cube."

• he's so smooth it should be illegal, but as i said, he lives for your reactions.

• coming up with all those sickly sweet petnames for you is also right up his alley. he takes inspiration from desserts and languages because those are some things that remind him of you.

• a few of his personal favorites to call you by: honeybee, sugar plum, ma fraise (my strawberry), and honigkusse, (honey kiss) + a classic when all else fails: my love

• compliments, compliments, compliments! expect them from Joker every other sentence. he never runs out of them, as he always sees the good in you ♡︎

• you two are seriously such a fun couple! the type to appear chaotic at first but also the one that share the deepest bonds. Joker loves you (and your five dogs) very much.

runner up: Grell Sutcliff

i had fun with this one since he's one of my faves! i hope you enjoyed it too, have a great day (◍>ᴗ<)ﾉｼ

if anyone hasn't noticed i make the matchup a bit longer if you only request one fandom ♡︎

[bellemorte180]

Wanderlust Chapter Two

Chapter Two:

Much like the police station, Mystic Falls General was small. It was sufficient enough for the town’s population and needs. However, Klaus could tell that some areas where outdated and operated with a small staff. It was a trend Klaus saw in small towns; they lacked the resources of bigger cities but always made do with what they had. He admired them for that. However, that did not stop Klaus from hating hospitals in general. They always felt far to sterile and clinical for his taste. Although, part of his hatred could steam from the fact that he never had good experiences in one; especially as a child. Then most of his time spent in hospitals as an adult were interviewing trauma victims. Mystic Falls General was no different in that regard.

The halls had the same soulless white industrial walls that Klaus always felt sucked his soul away. The floors were made of unimportant, sterile tile that was designed for easy cleanup. He bypassed the front desk, flashing his badge as he went, and wondered down the hall towards the room he knew Caroline was in.

It had been twenty-four hours since she brought herself into the station. In the time while Caroline was going to the hospital with her mother, Marcel and Klaus interviewed April Young’s father. Klaus came to the determination that Pastor Young was a worthless human being. If he did not have an airtight alibi for Caroline’s disappearance, an evening bible study that had at least twenty people in attendance, he might consider him a suspect. However, despite the fact that he was willing to disown his pregnant adult daughter, Klaus did not believe he was capable of killing her.

So, while Marcel went to interview Andi Star’s parents, Klaus made is way to the hospital in order to speak with Caroline; who had a police officer standing outside her door at all times of the day and night. Liz spent the evening with her daughter, sleeping at the hospital, but was back station first thing in the morning.

And Liz was pissed.

Gone was the distraught mother who was facing the loss of her daughter and replaced was a mama bear who was out for blood. While she knew that she had been removed from the case, it did not stop her from wanting to know everything about what was going on. Klaus and Marcel told her what they could, but they knew better than to reveal certain details. Klaus worried that if Liz discovered who the culprit was, that there would be no one to arrest if she got their hands on them. Something Klaus could not blame her for.

“I’m here to speak with Dr. Fell.” Klaus asked the nurse behind the counter in Caroline’s ward. The nurse smiled a little too widely at him and her eyes drifted over him. The nurse had to be in her late twenties with light brown hair. She was pretty but the ring on her finger clearly told Klaus that she was taken and her unprofessionalism at her ogling turned him off. His eyes flickered down to her name tag and had the urge to roll his eyes. In annoyance, he pulled out his badge. “Special Agent Klaus Mikaelson, page Dr. Fell please. Thank you, Jules.”

He sat in the small empty waiting room, waiting for the doctor. He pulled out his phone and began scrolling through communications that April’s employer sent over. She had turned in her notice prior coming to Mystic Falls. Her resignation indicated that she intended to move home in order to raise her baby. While Klaus had no concrete evidence, he could only assume that the disagreement she had with her father changed her plans. Either way, she was not expected back in Richmond and no one realized she was missing.

“Agent Mikaelson?” Klaus looked away from his phone to gaze at the doctor. She was of medium height, brown hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, olive skin and a square jaw line. She was in the typical white lab coat and had a stethoscope hanging around her neck. She had what appeared to be a file in her hand. She held out her free hand for Klaus to shake and he stood, taking her hand. “Dr. Meredith Fell. You were asking to speak with me?”

“Yes. I was hoping to discuss Caroline Forbes’s injuries.”

“I figured as much. Would you like to go in here?” Dr. Fell pointed to a small room just off the waiting room. “It will be more private.” Klaus agreed and followed Dr. Fell over to the small room. Inside, there were only two ugly armchairs in the room and a small coffee table. The florescent lights that rested in the ceiling caused the room to appear far smaller and darker that it was actually. “This is typically the room we use when we have to share bad news with patient’s families. I’d take you to my office but Dr. Maxfield and I are sharing and there is not much privacy.”

“This is perfectly fine.” Klaus sat down on one of the chairs, Dr. Fell following suit. She flipped open the folder and pulled out a piece of paper; handing it to Klaus. He looked over it and could see what he assumed was Caroline’s signature on the bottom. “What is this?”

“A release form. I had Caroline sign it this morning. It states that she is allowing me and only me, discuss her case with either you or your partner.” Klaus raised an eyebrow at her in question. Typically, he had to fight tooth and nail to get a doctor to speak with him about victims who were still living, the issues of doctor patient confidentiality, while important and necessary, was a difficult obstacle for law enforcement to jump over. “Liz, I mean Sheriff Forbes, explained to Caroline that you would be coming to ask questions. I think you’ll find that Caroline is going to be very cooperative. She is very angry right now. Among other things.”

“I can’t blame her for that.” He looked over the release form again, silently thanking Liz. Dr. Fell handed over the rest of the file and Klaus flipped through it. Inside was a detailed report from Dr. Fell and several photographs showing her injuries. “How is she?”

“Honestly, she is focusing on anger right now. When she came in yesterday, she was in a complete state of shock. It took a while for the nurses and I to get her to let us clean her up. Liz held her hand the entire time. Once we were able to complete the physical exam, she started screaming and crying hysterically.” Dr. Fell closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Dr. Maxfield was the original physician who was going treat her, she refused, and we thought it would be best for a female to help her. Whoever had her, was most definitely male.”

“Rape kit?”

“Came back negative.” Klaus let out a breath that he had not realized he was holding. However, a theory he had been silently thinking on was just confirmed. At the very least, Caroline had been spared that torment, but it did not ease the sickening feeling pooling in Klaus’s stomach. “Mostly, she was malnourished and dehydrated. She had some drugs in her system, Dilaudid. I think it was used to keep her compliant, but they must have worn off if she was able to get away.”

“When she came into the station yesterday, her feet were bloody, and she appeared to be cradling her left hand.” Klaus asked and Dr. Fell nodded. “And her head seemed to have a cut that appeared rather fresh.”

“Yes. Her feet are pretty cut up but that had to be from running in the woods while not wearing shoes.” Klaus nodded, making a note of Dr. Fell’s use of term woods. He gave her an odd look. “I asked Caroline how each of her injuries happened. She told me that she was running in the woods.” Dr. Fell reached over and pulled out one of the pictures of Caroline’s wrists. “Her left wrist is broken.”

“How?”

“Self-inflicted.”

“What?”

“He kept her handcuffed to something. When Caroline realized he had been gone for a while and that the drugs left her system enough for her to escape, she knew if she broke her wrist, she would be able to slide her hand out of the cuffs.” Klaus took a deep breath. “There are also scrapes from the cuffs that indicate some of her skin was left on the metal.”

“Jesus.” He looked over the photo and the report; the more he learned about Caroline he couldn’t help but respect her more and more. She was fighter; a survivor. She was willing to do anything to save herself, even if it meant causing herself harm in the process. It was rare that Klaus saw that kind of strength and it fascinated him. He could only hope that this event did not diminish the young woman who was so full of light in her photos. “Anything else?”

“Her arms were covered in bruises which I believe came from him injecting the Dilaudid into her system improperly. The head injury she obtained when she fell in the woods, but it appears that her kidnapper didn’t want to harm her too much, just to keep her. The drugs he had her on where substantial. I plan on keeping her here for a few days to make sure she doesn’t suffer from withdrawal and she might have a rough few days ahead of her.”

“It will be a lot longer than a few days for her to recover from this.” Klaus muttered and Dr. Fell nodded in agreement. “Thank you, doctor. If you notice anything else, please call me.”

“Of course.” Dr. Fell held out her hand and Klaus took it. They left the small room and Dr. Fell turned back around. “Agent Mikaelson?” Klaus stopped and turned to look at the doctor. “I used to babysit Caroline when she was little. She always had such life in her. Seeing her the way I did yesterday…you find him. You find who did this because I don’t want another person going through what she did.”

“You have word.” A look passed between them and Klaus’s memory flashed back to his childhood. He could understand the protectiveness Dr. Fell felt, because he felt something similar before. He understood the need to hold someone close after a tragedy. What was going on in Mystic Falls would either pull this community together or tear them apart completely.

Klaus turned and walked down the hallway towards, thinking on the doctor’s words. It was a small town so it was no surprise that Caroline would know the doctor who treated her. He calculated her wounds in his head and the relief he felt at the negative rape kit; no matter how puzzling that fact was to him. Clearly, this was not about sex or the power over women, it was something else completely and Klaus was at a loss as to what it could be.

He was pulled from his thoughts quickly when he heard a commotion coming from down the hospital wing; directly outside of Caroline’s room. He turned a corner quickly and saw one of Liz’s deputies standing between a man with broad shoulders, jet black hair and expensive clothing. A smaller woman with chocolate skin, short brown hair and a furious look on her face was screaming at him. If it wasn’t for the officer holding her back, Klaus was certain she might have attacked him.

“You’re a piece of shit Tyler! She doesn’t want to see you.”

“Bonnie, she is my fiancé-.”

“Ex-fiancé! You lost that right a year ago. Leave. Now. She said she didn’t want to see you.” Bonnie hissed through clenched teeth. “You know that concept?! When someone asks to be left alone, you do the right thing and leave them the fuck alone.”

“Is there a problem here?” Klaus asked, his hands in the pocket of his jeans. He nodded to the police officer, whose name card read Deputy Martinson, and stepped between the two of them.

“Who the hell are you?” Tyler asked with narrowed eyes. His dark eyes evaluated Klaus’s appearance as though he was sizing up competition. In the back of Klaus’s mind, he remembered Liz telling him that Caroline had called off an engagement with the Mayor’s son and given the fact that this man reeked of entitlement, that only made sense to him.

“Agent Mikaelson with the FBI.” He pulled out his badge and flashed to the man. The woman, Bonnie, smirked and crossed her arms. He cocked his eyebrow at her, for intense and purposes, she was the one causing the scene but given the circumstances, Klaus wasn’t going to make a fuss as long at Tyler left the hospital. His first concern is Caroline and if she does not want him there, that was that. “Who are you and can I ask why you’re causing a scene outside Ms. Forbes’s hospital room?”

“Tyler Lockwood; Caroline’s fiancé and I want to see her.”

“From what I understand, according to her mother and from what-“He looked towards the woman “what is your name miss?”

“Bonnie Bennet.”

“From what Sheriff Forbes and Ms. Bennet have stated, your engagement has ended.” Klaus replied, looking Tyler directly in the eye. “Now. Ms. Forbes has been through enough. If she does not want you here, I will have you escorted out of this hospital if you refuse to leave. The same goes for you Ms. Bennet. I understand your desire to protect your friend but now is not the time to cause a scene.” Bonnie nodded in understanding but continued to shoot daggers with her eyes at Tyler.

“Look man, I don’t want to cause a scene. I just want to see my girl. That’s all.”

“Mr. Lockwood, it’s not about what you want. I don’t care what you want. I care about Ms. Forbes well-being and catching who did this to her. If that means she does not want to see you, then you need to leave. Now.” Klaus looked towards the deputy. “Please escort him out.”

The deputy nodded and gripped Tyler’s arm; who immediately pulled it out of his grasp. He watched them go and turned towards Bonnie, who was still standing there with her arms crossed. She watched Tyler being escorted out of the hospital. She turned to see Klaus observing her; studying her. It was unnerving and it felt as though he could see right through her.

“Are you alright?” Klaus asked her and she nodded.

“Yes. Sorry about that. He just makes me so angry.” Bonnie replied and Klaus nodded. He could see the protectiveness in her eyes, and he admired that about her. It provided some relief that Caroline would be surrounded by people that would help her through because she had a long haul in front of her. “Caroline asked for him to leave. He wouldn’t.”

“He does not seem to be someone who takes no for an answer?” Klaus asked; making a mental note to pull Tyler’s criminal history, if there was any, and look into him further. Bonnie nodded but glared at him with suspicious eyes. “I’m not the enemy here. You and I want the same thing. Now, go cool off. Get a cup of coffee or something. I need to speak with Ms. Forbes.”

Klaus could see the hesitation in Bonnie’s eyes. She did not want to leave Caroline, but she could agree that she was still very angry. She pursed her lips and nodded. She looked back at the open door and turned inside of the hospital room; Klaus following behind her. When he entered the stereotypical hospital room, he saw Caroline resting on the bed; but she was not alone. Sitting beside her was another woman with long brown hair and big doe eyes. Caroline’s head was resting against her shoulder and being held close to her.

“Caroline, Elena? I’m going to grab some coffee. Do you want anything?” Bonnie asked and Caroline shook her head in the negative. “Elena?” Bonnie looked at her other friend and Klaus could see something pass between them. Elena’s eyes flickered to Klaus, who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“Go Elena. I’ll be fine.” Caroline’s voice, which sounded stronger than it had the day before. Klaus took in her appearance. Her hair had been washed and pulled up into a messy bun. The color of her hair was lighter than the day before. She had been cleaned of the dirt, debris and blood that was etched onto her skin. She wore a light blue sweater due to the freezing temperatures the hospital staff kept the air-conditioning at. He couldn’t help but notice that the color suited her, bringing the blue of her eyes. “Stop staring at me. It’s creepy.”

Her sharp tone caused Klaus to break from his trance. Her eyes were narrowed at him, but they seemed more annoyed than angry. He could not explain it but there was something captivating about her; her strength and the way she didn’t back down from him made him understand how she was able to fight to stay alive.

“Caroline? Are you sure?” Elena asked, her eyes darting between Caroline and Klaus. Caroline turned to her friend and nodded.

“Go. I’ll be fine. He won’t hurt me.” Caroline’s voice sounded determined and forceful, causing Elena to nod. Elena crawled off the bed and she went to pick up two bags resting on the window seal. She handed one bag to Bonnie and the two women left the room; eyeing Klaus as they did. Once alone, Klaus walked over to window and grabbed the armchair that was stationed against the ledge. He pulled the chair up by her hospital bed and sat down; Caroline’s eyes following wherever he went.

“My apologies about staring, Ms. Forbes. I sometimes get focused on my job and I wanted to ensure that you were well.”

“Caroline.”

“What?”

“Not Ms. Forbes. Call me Caroline.” This caused Klaus to smile widely at her, his dimples protruding. Caroline narrowed her eyes, but he could tell that she wasn’t angry at him. If anything, she was amused with him. “And who are you? British secret agent guy?”

“My apologize Caroline, I am Agent Niklaus Mikaelson but please, call me Klaus.” Caroline nodded, but he could tell that she already knew that. Between the commotion in the hallway and the forewarning Liz had given her, Klaus could tell that she had been preparing herself for this moment. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, that is a loaded question.” Caroline muttered, looking down at her hands; her fingers tracing over the cast on her left arm. “Physically? I’ll heal and once I can stop shaking and stop having these damn chills, I’ll be okay.”

“You were on a hefty dose of drugs. Your body is going through withdrawal.” Caroline shot him a look, letting him know that she knew exactly what was causing her symptoms. “But I want to know how you’re really doing Caroline. Yes, your injuries will heal but that does not mean that you’re fine.” Caroline stayed silent but had gone very still. “You’re strong and the fact that you’re sitting up, holding a conversation with me tells me that you’re stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for; but it’s okay not to be fine right now. It’s okay to fall apart.”

“Yeah? Who made you the expert?”

“I’ve been doing this job for a long time.” Klaus replied. “And I’m no stranger to trauma.”

Caroline looked at him, searching his face. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her but that did not mean she could trust him. Trust was something she did not have for strangers, or anyone, at the moment. Yet, there was something in his face, the way he spoke; it was as though he genially understood the pain she was in. This went beyond a simple job for him. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind; Liz was trusting this man to catch the monster who lurked in their town and that meant something to Caroline.

“Right. Sorry.” Caroline whispered and Klaus nodded. “And thank you for what you said in the hallway…and sending Tyler away.” Caroline bit her lip; thinking on what to say. “I’m not okay, but I will be. I refuse to let this break me. Whoever he was; I won’t let him win.”

“You didn’t see him? Or recognize him?” Caroline shook her head. Klaus suspected as much. Between being drugged and the trauma, there was a good chance that Caroline would not be able to point out who her attacker was. “What can you tell me?”

“I was coming home from work. I remember being on my porch, hearing Enzo barking more than normal. I didn’t think anything of it. Then I felt a pinch in my neck, and everything went fuzzy.” Her right hand went up to her neck as though tracing the spot he assumed her assailant punctured her neck. “Next thing I know is I’m waking up in a small cell. I was chained to the railings.”

“Did you ever come in contact with your attacker? Ever see him?”

“No. He always came in with his face covered. Typically, with a mask, like the ones you always seen the bad guy wearing in movies. He would inject me with something, I don’t know what it was.”

“The tox screen Dr. Fell provided me showed that you had traces of Dilaudid in your system.” Klaus replied and Caroline gave him a confused look. “Some people on the street call it drug store heroin. One of the main side effects is drowsiness. It is what he used to sedate you.” Klaus paused, a thought occurring to him; a fact Dr. Fell mentioned when she briefed him on Caroline’s injuries. “You said he injected you? He never forced you to take a tablet or consume anything?”

“No, well, he would give me some food on a few occasions but he always injected me with something.” Caroline paused, seeing that Klaus’s mind was working in overdrive. His eyes glanced over her again and he slowly reached out, indicating that he was going to touch her; Caroline nodded her head, allowing him access. Klaus never took his eyes off her. He was gentle and slowly pushed the light blue fabric up her right arm. Her skin was covered in bruises up and down her arm; especially on parts of her arm where she had easy access to her veins. “Is that helpful?”

“Possibly. Can you think of anything else?”

“Yes.” Caroline looked at Klaus and he could tell that she was uncomfortable. “I never saw him but when I would get drowsy or tired, he would take the mask off. My vision was so hazy I could never see him clearly but, he would hold me. He never was violent with me. He would just take me in his arms and just…rock me? He would beg me not to leave. Over and over again he said that I had to stay with him.” Caroline’s voice cracked and she brought her knees up to her chest. Tears started to fall and her chested began to heave. Klaus could hear the sharpness of her breath in her chest and knew that the memories were causing her to panic.

“Caroline, it’s okay. Let it out.” Klaus reached for her hand and held it tightly. Seeing her cry, it tore at him and he wanted nothing more than to fix it. He wanted to track down the monster who did this to her and cause him physical pain. Klaus could feel that pure fury bubbling under his skin. A woman with so much light inside her should not be touched by such darkness.

“He was going to kill me, wasn’t he?” She sobbed out; her hand clutching Klaus’s tightly as though it was her lifeline. Klaus was unable to answer, torn between being truthful and not wanting to hurt her further. The silence however, told Caroline everything she wanted to know. Her tears only started falling faster. “My mom told me about the bodies by the Falls. He was going to do the same to me. Wasn’t he?”

“I believe so, yes.” Klaus’s voice was low and sad. Caroline’s face grew red and Klaus could see the anger bursting through. He was getting whip flash from the change in her moods, but it was to be expected. She almost died. She was drugged and held against her will and Klaus knew that her emotions were going into overdrive. Caroline started to move to crawl out of the bed causing Klaus to jump to his feet. “What are you doing?”

“I need to get out of here.” Her voice was hard as she kicked the covers off her legs. Klaus noticed that her feet were bandaged and assumed she should not be walking on them. He ran around the bed and caught her quickly as she slid out of the bed. He lifted her up bridal style into his arms. She didn’t’ resist but instead wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burring her face into his neck. Klaus couldn’t help but enjoy the feel of her body resting against him; mentally scolding himself for the thought.

“You need to stay in bed. It is only for a couple days and then you can go home.” Klaus whispered in her head, feeling the tears hit his neck. He sat down on the hospital bed, pulling Caroline close. “Nothing is going to happen to you Caroline. I will find who did this. I promise you. I will not let anything happen to you.”

“I believe you.” She replied, her face still buried in his neck. She pulled back and looked at him in the eye. Klaus could see it; she did trust him, and he felt a deep urge to protect her; to erase all the pain that she was feeling. He had interviewed hundreds of victims in the last six years of hunting predators and he never felt such pull. There was something inherently good about her that made him angry that such darkness touched her. “I want you to find him and I want to look him in the eye. I want to tell him that he didn’t beat me.”

“You will. I promise. You will.” Klaus whispered, vowing that he would move heaven and earth to give her that vengeance. Caroline nodded and moved to sit back on the bed. She brought her knees to her chest again. While she was still clearly shaken, there was a fire that lingered under her skin. Klaus suddenly remembered Dr. Fell’s words about Caroline being angry. Memories of her home invaded his thoughts. The life he knew she had before everything changed was in the forefront of his mind. He enjoyed the woman he learned about from those photos, habits and memories from third parties; but this woman in front of him was far beyond what he expected. “There is one other thing I need to ask you before I let you rest.”

“Okay.”

“I need you to tell me about Damon Salvatore.” Caroline startled and cocked her head at Klaus. She did not expect him to ask her about her high school boyfriend. She studied his face. His face was expressionless, showing nothing behind his grey-blue eyes. Gone was the soft and gentle man who held her moments ago; replaced by the FBI agent her mother told her about.

“Why?” Caroline asked in a quiet tone. The second the question left her lips, in clicked in her mind. “Damon? You think he did this?”

“We are looking at all avenues.”

“I’ll admit that when I was in that cell, there was something…. familiar about the man that had me, but I can’t say that it was Damon.” Klaus didn’t reply but he kept looking at her. He wanted to tell her more, but he could not say much. He did not believe that Caroline would jeopardize the investigation into her kidnapping and these murders, but it was a small town and people talk. “What do you want to know?”

“Your mother said that the two of you dated in high school?” Klaus asked and Caroline nodded. He remembered the dark tone Liz used the day before and got the feeling that the relationship was a toxic one. From how Caroline shifted in her seat, it only confirmed Klaus’s suspicions. He had yet to meet than and he could already say that he did not like him.

“Yeah. For almost two years. Um, it was in the beginning of my junior year. He was a senior.” Caroline shook her head. “It all started because I was insecure and shallow. My best friend, Elena, was dating Damon’s brother, Stefan. I was jealous so I thought dating the older brother was the way go.”

“Go on.”

“Quickly I came to realize that Damon had feelings for Elena.” Klaus nodded, thinking back on the young woman who was in the room earlier. He was completely focused on Caroline that he had not noticed her beyond observing her interactions with her friend. “However, instead of walking away, I stayed. We fought all the time. He called me shallow and useless; and I just took it.”

“What are you not telling me Caroline?” Klaus asked. Her eyes were downcast, as though she did not want to look at him. She picked at her nails and he could tell that memories were replaying in her mind. He thought on Liz’s reaction and how she appeared to hate Damon. “What did he do to you?”

“Before I tell you, please understand that I’m not that girl anymore.” Caroline whispered. “I was very self-conscious, and I tried so hard to please everyone. I thought that I didn’t deserve any better.” There was a slight tear in her eye, and she raised her hand to wipe it away. “He would get angry if I didn’t do exactly what he wanted, or if I said something that upset him. I was about eight months into the relationship when he hit me for the first time.”

“The first time?” Klaus asked, his hand clenched at his side. He knew how domestic violence worked. It was slow. They built up to their abuse; gaslighting their victims and slowly removing them from their friends and family. “This happened more than once? Your mother did nothing?”

“My mom didn’t know. She worked a lot; my dad was gone, and I was really good at hiding things. She didn’t even know I was dating Damon until the end of my senior year.” Klaus seemed surprised by that fact. Liz seemed very astute and noticed everything around her. The fact that she would miss something so important happening right under her nose baffled Klaus. “He got very angry one day. Something with his brother and Elena. He put me in the hospital. Mom arrested him and he was charged with assault and battery. The Salvatore family is rich, and he had a good lawyer. When I say our relationship ended at that point, that is an understatement. When mom realized what was going on, she put a end to it.”

“What is your relationship like now?” His tone was clip; anger cursing through his veins. Looking at Caroline now, bruised and injured, he could only imagine how a teenage version of Caroline being hurt in such a way would be like. Klaus tried to clear his mind, trying not to allow his personal experiences with domestic violence get in the way. He needed to remain objective.

“Honestly? I avoid him as much as possible.” Caroline looked at him and gave him a humorless laugh. “But it is a small town and no matter how often I go out of the country or duck and run at the sight of him, Damon is impossible to avoid. Given the fact that Elena is engaged to Stefan and I’m a bridesmaid in her wedding and Damon is the best man, I’m sure you can understand how avoidance is difficult.”

“Your friend is putting you in the same wedding party as your abuser?” Klaus was baffled but his respect for Caroline continued to grow. Her strength did not just come from the woman who raised her, but her life experiences made her to be able to stand on her own two feet. “She sounds like an awful friend, love.”

“Ten years is a long time. It’s ancient history.”

“Not that ancient. Not for something like that.” Klaus replied and they shared a look. He could see the relief pass through Caroline’s eyes; finally feeling heard. Not having to put on a fake smile and ignore the blatant disregard for her feelings. “You deserve so much better than that.”

“No wonder my mom likes you so much. You share a lot of the same opinions.” Caroline stated, attempting to tease him but her voice lacked the conviction. He gave her small smile; not wanting to admit that the idea of earning Liz’s respect pleased him. The woman was terrifying, but he couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. “God, you must think I have terrible taste in men. There’s Damon and you’ve already met Tyler.”

“What happened there?” His voice dropped his special agent tone for a more curious one. Caroline laughed humorlessly again. Klaus wondered what a genuine laugh from her would sound like.

“The age of old tale of infidelity. I came home early from a trip to France. Found him in bed with another woman.” She rolled her eyes. “Kicked him out that night. He has been trying to weasel his way back into my heart and bed ever since. However, if Damon taught me anything; it’s that I’m worth more than that.”

“You’re right. You are worth more than that.” They shared a look, but it only lasted a second when a knock on the hospital door interrupted them. They both turned to see Bonnie and Elena standing in the door. Bonnie had two what appeared to be very sugary coffee drinks in her hand; Elena carrying her own.

“Sorry. Are we interrupting? We thought you would be done.” Elena replied, her eyes darting between the two of them. Klaus stood from the hospital bed and smiled at the two of them before looked back at Caroline. He pulled out his wallet and handed her his card.

“We’re all finished. If you think of anything else, let me know. Call me anytime, even at midnight, okay?” Caroline nodded and took the card. She looked at his name on the card before giving him a small smile. She thanked him and he just gave her a dimpled filled grin. Bonnie walked around the bed to stand by Caroline and handed her one of the drinks in her hand.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I picked you up something anyway. French vanilla Frappuccino, full fat because we are not having any of this healthy, fat free nonsense with whipped cream on top.” Bonnie said and Caroline smiled, taking the drink from her. Elena curling up in the chair that Klaus had just vacated.

As he headed towards the door, Klaus looked over his shoulder. Caroline was sipping on her sugar filled drink and giving her friends a smile; but Klaus could see it was forced. She was putting on a show and building up a wall; enclosing herself from those she cared for. It was painful for Klaus to see. There was just something about her that got under his skin.

Klaus continued to watch her for a moment and caught Caroline’s eye. Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly but her smile seemed sincere when she looked back at him; as though she did not have to hide behind the wall that she was trying to construct around herself. Klaus knew he needed Caroline to trust him in order to solve this case; what he wasn’t expecting was the desire to earn that trust for himself.

Klaus walked out of the room and strolled down the hallway; pure fury spawning in the pit of his stomach; threatening to claw its way out of his chest. His mind racing towards a thousand scenarios and possibilities. Knowing what would have happened to Caroline if she did not escape her prison, sent chills down Klaus’s spine. He thought back on Camille, the fourth victim. They looked similar. Both tall and blonde. It wasn’t hard for him to imagine Caroline in her place. Klaus imagined what the killer would have done to her body once he strangled the life out of her.

The thought was sickening.

Klaus’s phone vibrated in his pants and he pulled it out to see his partner’s name flash across the screen.

“Done at the Star residence?” Klaus asked, trying to sound neutral. He had been working with Marcel for well over two years, having trained him when he started in this department. Marcel knew him well and could read him; the last thing he wanted his partner to know what that he found their star witness captivating.

“Yes. Her parents are distraught, but they had already come to terms with the fact that their daughter is dead. Doesn’t make it any easier though to have it confirmed. I got them to agree not to contact her former employers for the time being. Last thing we need is this turning into a media circus.” Marcel chimed in and Klaus was unsurprised. Andi had been missing for months with no hint of being found. Disappearing for that long typically only meant one thing. “I found out something interesting though.”

“Well don’t leave me in suspense.”

“Remember how officer Donovan mentioned that his sister had a thing with Damon Salvatore? And how Liz mentioned that he was also Caroline’s high school boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Guess who was in a long distance, on again off again relationship with him?”

“Andi Star?” Klaus asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway. He read Andi’s file and the investigation into her disappearance. She had been reported as single and having no boyfriend. Unless, they kept the relationship private or were on a break, no one knew she was in a relationship. He went back and forth with the scenarios.

“Yup.”

“I think it is time we went and had a chat with Mr. Salvatore.”

[renaroo]

Telescopes and Ladders

Disclaimer: Batman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics Warnings: lighthearted nonsense Rating: K+ Synopsis: Alfred leaves for England on business and leaves the Manor to Bruce and a young Dick for a week. Bruce realizes he doesn’t know how to Adult for a child on his own.

A/N: I’m honestly fascinated by the time between Bruce taking Dick in/solving the Grayson family murder and when Dick became Robin. I always tend to lean on the B:TAS tradition of there being a gap of years between the two (8 for Dick’s adoption/guardianship and 12 when he became Robin officially), but that leaves a lot of very important years of development. Not just for Dick but for Bruce and Alfred, too. That really doesn’t have that much to do with this story because I also am a pushover for family fluff and there’s not enough of accidental!parent Bruce fluff ever.

Few things could strike fear into the heart of a man who had faced some of the world’s greatest evils and come out to the other side. Few things could make a shudder break through the rigid back of a man who had already lived through losing absolutely everything.

But the prospect which faced Bruce Wayne was too horrible, too frightful to fully comprehend.

By the time Bruce realized the full gravity of what he was about to face, it was too late to make any changes.

He stood, helpless, in the doorway as Alfred finished packing up his things. The number of clothes was a staggering reminder that this was a two-week-long trip.

Losing Alfred for any amount of time was hard enough for Bruce, even as a man in the prime of his life. But losing Alfred after the last six months of drastic changes was an inconceivable terror.

“Master Richard prefers his sandwiches cut into triangles,” Alfred reminded Bruce as he folded his fourth identical suit. “The crust remains, but the triangles are essential.”

Bruce squinted at Alfred and then looked down to his notepad, jotting down the detail. “He never mentioned that to me before.”

“I don’t imagine he ever saw you in a kitchen, Sir,” Alfred said dryly.

Unable to repress it, Bruce felt a frown tug at the corners of his mouth. One day he would have a witty retort that Alfred would not be prepared to immediately smackdown. Not in the foreseeable future, but one day.

“His school uniforms are pressed and hung up for the coming school week, but there is not a rotation for two weeks in a row,” Alfred continued. “I would recommend laundering them over the weekend.”

“I am fairly certain I could have figured that one out, Alfred,” Bruce replied, writing it down all the same. He slowed his pencil toward the end, thinking. “By launder—“

“I have put the name, address, and phone number of my preferred local dry cleaners on a note on the fridge, along with other contact information,” Alfred answered.

Crinkling his nose, Bruce looked at Alfred. “Alfred, it couldn’t possibly be that difficult to just… leave instructions for the machine, could it? It’ll look ridiculous to take all of our clothes to a dry cleaner for two weeks. I think I should be capable of at least doing that much.”

Never once in all the time that Bruce had known Alfred — which had been his entire life — had the man rolled his eyes while still within Bruce’s line of sight. However, the careful and methodical way that Alfred slowed his packing to a crawl and slowly looked into Bruce’s direction was about as humanly close as one could get to a full-body eye roll.

“I had once thought, in all the time it took for one to travel the world, train in a hundred forms of combat, perfect studies of chemistry, art, and history… that in-between moments of developing an engineer’s penchant for invention and a detective’s mind for compulsory criminal actions, that penciling a laundering cycle into the schedule could have happened,” Alfred mused out loud. “The fact that it hadn’t should be evidence enough of why, should you touch the washing machine before my return, I will take it upon myself to never touch your unclean wears again.” His mustache twitched almost testily. “Including a particular rancid suit. I should like to see that taken to the dry cleaners with a proper explanation.”

Bruce’s eyebrows could not have reached further for his hairline. Nodding slowly, he then looked down and dutifully wrote in his notepad as he said out loud, “Don’t… touch… Alfred’s… washing machine.”

Alfred’s gaze did not drop until Bruce had finished punctuating the machine, then he snapped shut the final suitcase. He seemed satisfied.

There was not much left on the particulars. Even if Alfred hadn’t left detailed notes on how to run the washing machine, it was one of the few parts of the Manor’s livable space that didn’t have precisely written notes on it. Alfred’s were taped to the relevant surfaces. Bruce’s were in his notepad, carefully inscribed and yet still leaving him woefully underprepared for whatever came next.

The air was stiff, and they were seemingly out of stalling tactics.

“Dick is going to miss you,” Bruce said, filling the silence.

“I imagine nearly as much as he does you during your travels, Sir,” Alfred said.

Bruce furrowed his brows. “That isn’t fair.”

“It seems our lives never are,” Alfred admitted.

They weren’t that far apart from each other. Perhaps arm's length for Bruce.

But Alfred didn’t come forward and neither did Bruce.

Instead, he hoped Alfred understood what was there. That Bruce would be missing him too.

Dick was a good kid. And saying even that really seemed to sell him short.

There was hardly anything Bruce had to say to him during the time Alfred was gone and Dick knew his times and appointments for everything, and even how many times to remind Bruce. Which, given, was more than it should have been. On instinct, Bruce’s responses tended to be rather unhelpful.

“There’s a school thing in thirty minutes,” Dick called from the top banister, standing on his hands without care.

Bruce, who had been walking through the foyer on his way to the kitchen for a snack paused and looked up at his young ward. It had been six months and his heart would still seize when he saw Dick using the Manor as a jungle gym. Dependent on the stunt it was either for Dick’s safety or for the Manor’s.

“Is that necessary?” Bruce asked.

Dick blinked owlishly and tilted his head, albeit upside down. “The school thing?”

“No,” Bruce said before gesturing unhelpfully, “the…”

Without really emoting, Dick shifted to a one-handed headstand and Bruce thought of all the bones that could break from a fall at that height depending on the angle of landing.

“So it’s in thirty minutes,” Dick reminded him again.

“Okay,” Bruce answered, not following because his ward — his responsibility — was dangerously close to paralyzation. If Bruce closed his eyes he could practically see it unfolding before them.

After another agonizing moment, Dick lowered his free hand and then somersaulted easily backward onto the third floor’s top stair. He didn’t even take a moment to pause as he looked over Bruce with severe skepticism and judgment.

“Do you want me to take a cab?” he asked seriously.

Smacking his own forehead, Bruce cursed under his breath and shook his head. “You need me to take you.”

Rolling his head to one side, Dick shrugged. “Not really. I can take a cab.”

“You’re eight,” Bruce reminded him like he needed to.

“I used to ride in the back of a truck with a petting zoo,” Dick argued back.

Bruce squinted at him, considering the option. “Is it normal for eight-year-olds to take cabs to school?”

“I don’t know,” Dick answered honestly. “Should you call Alfred and ask?”

It didn’t take more than one iteration of that phone call playing out in Bruce’s head for him to realize that it was a poor idea. And that Alfred would be very disappointed in the world’s greatest detective for his deductive reasoning skills.

He preferred keeping the phone calls short and reduced to good reports. On both sides.

“I think I should drive you,” Bruce said far more decisively than the precluding conversation should have allowed.

Dick casually walked down the long staircase of the foyer. He was walking down them upright, but Bruce had the terrifying feeling that even a blink would allow Dick to slip into another acrobatic feat that could endanger lives and fancy artisanship that Bruce pretended to pay homage to.

“I’m okay with that,” Dick reported as if it was up to him to provide permission for it. “Do you have time for it?”

Bruce Wayne had all the time in the world, but Batman was in between important and pressing cases that the commissioner had given him to look over the night before. There was also a new APB out for Poison Ivy the was concerning. A stack of forensic science publications had been delivered that morning which covered technology and theories that Bruce was hoping to pilfer through to keep up to date on his own methodologies and equipment. Not to mention the tune-up that the Batmobile desperately needed he had put off in favor of working on the training facility he was putting together for Dick.

Dick’s school was a fifteen-minute drive one way, which meant at least thirty minutes lost to taking him, dropping off, and coming back to the manor. And that was only if Bruce threw Dick out of the window while looping past the school.

“What is this thing?” Bruce finally asked, realizing it was something the start of their conversation properly required.

“Stargazing,” Dick answered, beaming. “I joined the astronomy club! Remember?”

A faint recollection rested on the horizon of Bruce’s memory. “Yes,” he answered instead.

“Tonight’s the first night. Jimmy’s dad is making hotdogs while we watch, and Mrs. Gupta is giving extra credit to everyone who comes!”

“They give extra credit in third grade now?” Bruce asked, genuinely surprised.

Dick raised an eyebrow at him. “Your third grade didn’t?”

Despite his best efforts, Bruce couldn’t help the automatic withdrawal he felt. He bit back on his molars and glanced away from Dick’s earnest gaze. He couldn’t remember much about the third grade at the end of the day. He didn’t finish it in regular school with other children, he was homeschooled. By Alfred.

Alfred who left him with another little boy that had his time as an eight-year-old changed forever. One that Bruce, admittedly, took in himself without any clue what he was doing for the boy other than “more.”

It was six months, and Dick was going to a school thing. Perhaps it was working.

“Okay,” Bruce said again. “How long are we going to be at this school thing?”

Genuinely surprised, Dick shook his head. “You don’t have to go. You’ve got the stuff.” He glanced around cautiously before bringing up his index fingers to poke out by the sides of his head. His fingers wiggled. “You know. Your stuff.”

“I’m aware,” Bruce said. “I’ve got some folders I’ll be taking with us but… We’ll be fine.”

Dick’s entire face lit up. “Oh! Okay!”

Alfred would have thought to bring blankets, like many of the other parents had. But Dick liked laying in the grass, and Bruce didn’t mind it, too.

After a long, wet night on patrol, Bruce collapsed into his bed for what he felt was a much-deserved sleep. He had positively no intention of waking up.

Until an alarm went off on the other side of his bedroom, of course.

At first, Bruce only vaguely recognized the noise. It was a dull throbbing that was interfering with the only thing he could think to desire — sleeping in. But as it persisted, his disbelief gave way to anger. He threw his pillow at it. Then another pillow. Then another.

It wasn’t long before the noise was continuing and there were no more pillows within Bruce’s reach.

Throwing his sheets off, Bruce leaped to his feet and stormed over to the alarm clock, ripping it out of the wall with the same force he had used just hours ago to punch out one of the Riddler’s neon green question marks. That, at least, had been enjoyable and profound in its moment. The alarm clock’s cord nearly jerked the socket out of the wall.

Having never been one for alarms before, Bruce tried to fight through the fog of early morning to figure out why he had set the damn thing to begin with.

Then he noticed, on the dresser beside the alarm’s former place, was the notepad full of Alfred’s instructions.

He was supposed to take Dick to school. The school started in fifteen minutes and was a fifteen-minute drive from the manor.

A string of Not-Dick-Friendly words escaped Bruce as he grabbed sweat pants lying on the floor and rushed out the door.

Bruce had one leg into the sweats and was struggling with the second as he slid down the hall. “DICK!” he called out loudly, facing down the dark hall. He should have set it earlier — should have known he needed to wake Dick up and get him ready. Did he dry clean Dick’s uniform? Did they have extras?

He should have picked up the notepad while he was at it, too.

“I think I’m going to be late,” Dick yawned from the opposite end of the hallway.

Skidding to a halt, Bruce turned with relief to see that Dick was standing, backpack already over his shoulders, rubbing his eyes wearily.

“We’ll be fine,” Bruce declared, finishing putting on his sweatpants. Without even a thought of getting more than that for his attire, Bruce raced down the hall, scooped up the third-grader, and was headed down the stairs and through the foyer. They would use the Maserati still parked in the circle just outside the main entrance. That would be quick — and the drive quicker given Bruce’s lead foot.

“I can walk,” Dick grunted, unhappily squirming in Bruce’s arms. “I’m not a baby!”

“I’m faster and we’re getting you to school,” Bruce snapped a little harsher than he meant to come off, pushing the entry door open with a broad shoulder. “Good,” he muttered as he began down the stairs, “it’s not raining—“

Perhaps it was Dick’s squirming, perhaps it was the distracting way the sunlight was peaking out from the approaching dawn.

Maybe Bruce was off his game from no sleep.

Regardless, his shoeless heel hit the edge of the stone step’s puddle at an angle just so. The water, pouring over the gutters just above the eaves of the entrance, was running over the steps and Bruce’s entire body went running with them before hitting hard on the cement that he and Dick tumbled down together. Bruce more than Dick after the barrel roll he maneuvered them into.

They landed at the base of the stairs, Bruce flat on his back and Dick on his chest, feet from the wheels of the Maserati.

“Dick,” Bruce said, shirtless and cold.

“Um, yeah, Bruce?”

“You’re not going to school today,” Bruce informed him. “We’ll come up with something.”

By noon, the water had stopped pooling around the grounds of the manor. Instead, they stayed collected around the bushes and shrubbery that Alfred had kept expertly in line like a moat.

The moats were not a part of Alfred’s design. Or, if they were, it had been a request made when Bruce was distracted and noncommittally responding to requests from the butler. Both were likely, despite Bruce’s discomfort with the latter upon some self-evaluation.

Going on the leap of faith that his mind had not been so distracted in the last few weeks that he wouldn’t completely forget a request like building moats in the garden, Bruce began examining how the morning’s incident came to be.

It took nearly an hour to finally realize that in some areas of manor’s roofing, water was still pouring over the concrete gutters.

That was not how they were designed. Bruce was certain of it.

Going out to the uninhabited stables, Bruce found a fifty-foot ladder collapsed together. He folded it under his arm and carried it out promptly to the sites of the manor where water had escaped the gutters the most and set to work. He unfolded the ladder, secured its every latch, leaned it carefully against the manor walls, and began to ascend the great height between himself and the eaves of his home.

Halfway up the ladder, he wondered, idly, why he hadn’t just used a grappling hook. It seemed far more practical.

Reaching the gutter, Bruce glanced down both ways. There was not much of an inspection needed to see it was backed up with debris from the storm.

Curious, Bruce looked around for where the branches and leaves could have come from nearby, but the largest trees within twenty feet were spruces. That didn’t match his culprit in the gutters at all.

For a brief, irrational moment, Bruce thought of Poison Ivy and wondered if she had a reason to be near the manor during the storm. It wasn’t nearly as logical as the winds carrying tree limbs from the further trees in the rather large and sprawling Wayne estates, but it at the very least made it more of a Batman problem than a Bruce problem.

Bruce was really wishing, the longer he went without Alfred, that there were some less Bruce problems in the world.

“What’re you doing?”

Bruce startled with surprise. Then, as he glanced down below the eaves and toward the third-floor window nearest him. He could see it was opened with a curious eight-year-old hanging out of it.

More Bruce problems.

“Dick, get down from the windowsill!” Bruce snapped.

Dick blinked at him, almost surprised at the tone. “Are you still mad about falling?”

“I was never mad about falling,” Bruce lied through his teeth.

“I won’t ever tell anybody,” Dick offered, a genuine smile on his face. “Even though it was really funny.”

Bruce felt a strange and worrying tightness in his chest as Dick leaned out further and craned his neck to look up and down the ladder. The eight-year old’s feet dangled on the inside of the window as Dick’s center of balance migrated toward his hips. He was teetering back and forth — closer to forth and the perilous drop to the shrubs and impromptu moat with each moment.

“I don’t care!” Bruce yelled, thinking of cervical vertebrae and swelling brains. “Get back in the house — feet on the floor.”

Dick gave him a look. “That’s the least interesting place for feet to be.”

If Dick wasn’t so precariously close to getting himself killed, Bruce could have sworn that the boy was trying to get Bruce killed of a heart attack.

“It is the only place your feet are going to be in the next ten seconds or I’ll ground you from everything,” Bruce strained to get out. Then, thinking the threat wasn’t making much of an impact, added, “For life.”

It must have sounded as lame as it felt for Bruce to say because Dick looked at him, rather unimpressed. All the same, he dipped back into the manor and out of Bruce’s line of sight.

Exhaling strongly through his nostrils, Bruce forced himself to calm down. His heart really had felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest for a moment there. It was arguably more exhilaration than he had received from even his grandest case.

Unlike cracking a case, he hated every moment of that particular moment.

Shaking his head, Bruce tried to think of his task at hand again. The gutters.

Even though his gloves were thick, the cool splash of murky stagnant water felt uncomfortable for Bruce. He hadn’t realized that rainwater was capable of collecting so much soot and rust in its travels. There was positively nothing clear with the gutters’ collection.

Bruce could only assume that was normal for gutters. He honestly had no idea.

He was elbow deep in dragging his gloved hands through the gutters, clearing out leaves and branches with a splash before he was interrupted again.

“You never said what you were doing,” Dick’s voice came like an accusation.

“Clearing the gutters,” Bruce grunted in reply, less taken by surprise that time around.

At least, there was less surprise until it registered where the voice was coming from. Then Bruce looked not down to the window, but up over the gutters and toward the rooftop itself. Dick was sitting on his haunches, balanced in the middle of the roof itself.

For a moment, Bruce’s mind short-circuited as he stared at Dick. He couldn’t register when Dick got there, how Dick got there, why Dick got there. His mind was entirely consumed with vivid images of the sweet little boy tumbling out of reach, falling to certain doom. Forget cervical vertebrae, there were punctures and broken things and cracked skulls and subcranial hemorrhage—

No words came out of Bruce’s mouth but a wide range of noises ripped their way from his throat.

In return, Dick tilted his head to the side with the innocence of a labradoodle. “You okay, Bruce?”

There were many things Bruce could have said to inform Dick that he needed to get down, that he was in a dangerous position, that he was doing something bad and unspeakable, or that Bruce was back on the brink of a heart attack. But they involved words and Bruce was short on them.

Instead, without a second’s reflection, Bruce flailed out his free arm and brought it down on Dick’s knee.

The boy jerked in surprise, looking at Bruce’s hand, but was unprepared for Bruce to use his vice grip to drag him down the roof and tuck him under his armpit. Instead of a physical escape, Dick hung like a sack and called out a muffled, “Bruce!” that his elder hardly detected with the blood pumping in his ears.

With all the swaying and lunging and panic-inducing, the ladder began to sway uncomfortably beneath Bruce’s feet.

“What’re you doing?” Dick demanded angrily.

Bruce didn’t answer, his attention shifted to holding onto the ladder with his free hand while looking down to the ground where the feet of the ladder were. The ladder continued swaying further and further to one side, aided by its rapid sinking into the muddy moat below.

“You didn’t close the window?” Bruce demanded sharply, already in motion hoping for the best answer.

“Huh?” Dick answered unhelpfully.

Leaping from the ladder, Bruce aimed for the third-floor window which was still open. It was at least one less window to replace.

The momentum that carried them into the window forced Bruce to tuck into another roll with Dick — his second for that day — and it took them across the entire stretch of the guest room Bruce was fairly sure he’d never been in before.

By the time they came to a stop, hitting the opposing door, they could hear the timely crash of the ladder outside.

Bruce was panting, still keeping Dick coiled up against his side.

Dick was quiet for a long time before finally uttering, “You sure have a lot of accidents, Bruce.”

Alfred had said he would be back in the morning, and Bruce had honestly never felt such relief in his life.

There was no mention of the previous day’s watery catastrophes. There was a hint of detecting something based on Alfred’s line of questions, but he was never specific enough that Bruce had to outright lie. And, therefore, Bruce didn’t have to offer up any stories either.

Dick had not said anything either. Perhaps he had meant it when he said he wouldn’t tell anyone.

Bruce squinted at the bottom of the takeout box and poked at it with his chopsticks. The Thai food had been satisfactory, the portions had not after a rough week.

Perhaps he was simply missing Alfred’s food.

Dick was staring at him. Then, slowly, Dick lifted up his own box and began poking at it with his own, much messier, chopsticks. Of course, without the finesse of an experienced takeout consumer, Dick did poke rather hard, ripping a hole through the bottom of his takeout container.

If the eight-year-old noticed he didn’t say anything before setting the box down.

Feeling a small smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth, Bruce set his box down as well. “Are you happy Alfred is coming home?”

Dick’s eyes shown brightly for a moment. “Yeah!” He then glanced away, pressing his mouth closed.

Curious, Bruce raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked.

“I kind of liked it being us,” Dick sighed.

Bruce took a moment and then furrowed his brow. Everything that had happened in the past week had felt like a fairly unmitigated disaster in his book. He had only assumed how much worse it had been from the place of a lonely, fearful child.

“Really?” he asked.

Looking mortified for a brief moment, Dick straightened up in his seat. “I miss Alfred a whole lot,” he assured Bruce. “But you’re lots of fun, Bruce.”

That only served to confound Bruce even more.

“No one called me fun. Ever,” he told Dick. “Not even in kindergarten.”

That seemed to take Dick by surprise. “Huh,” he said. “I guess they didn’t get you like I do.”

“No,” Bruce said slowly, “I suppose not.”

When Bruce glanced over again, Dick was searching his face carefully, eyes shining with some gentle curiosity. “Did you have fun this week?” He asked timidly.

It was a remarkable question because of the timidness. Timidness was not something Bruce saw in Dick often.

The boy had climbed up to the roof of a three-story manor without blinking.

“Fun in what sense?” Bruce caught himself asking.

Immediately, there was some deflation of Dick’s esteem as he settled back into his seat. And Bruce knew he had made a mistake that needed to corrected immediately.

“Obviously it has been fun in every important sense but one,” Bruce made up on the spot.

Dick’s disappointment gave way almost immediately to bright curiosity again as he sat up in his seat, wide-eyed and attentive toward Bruce. “What way?”

“The Alfred kind of way,” Bruce answered. “Hard to do that without Alfred around.”

A warm smile spread across Dick’s features. “But he’ll be back tomorrow,” Dick took his turn to comfort Bruce. “But I do hope we get to do more Bruce and Dick stuff in the future. Just us two.”

“You know, Dick,” Bruce chuckled, “I have the feeling we will.”

The rain returned on the same day that Alfred had.

Trips back from England were not abnormal for Alfred to take, which meant he and Bruce had worked out a rhythm even in their care. Namely, Alfred took a cab back to the manor and Bruce met him there. The butler positively protested any other arrangement.

Which meant, with rain pouring, Bruce and Dick sat in the manor. Waiting.

Dick’s eyes followed the hands of the grandfather clock in Bruce’s den. He was laying on his stomach with his chubby cheeks propped up by tiny fists. His interlocked ankles swayed to and fro to the rhythm of the clock.

Bruce was thumbing through his forensic magazines at long last, pretending to be buried in their knowledge and development. It took a great effort to not simply join Dick in staring at the grandfather clock expectantly.

“I think we should get a dog,” Dick announced without prodding.

“No,” Bruce answered easily enough, flipping the page.

“Well, what if we want to have Bruce and Dick adventures while Alfred’s still here? Wouldn’t that be lonely for him?” Dick whined keenly. He looked away from the clock just long enough to make pleading blue eyes in Bruce’s direction.

In what could only be considered a mistake, Bruce made eye contact. It was too late, even as he immediately ripped his eyes away from Dick’s gaze.

“Maybe,” Bruce answered.

“What’re we gonna name the dog?” Dick asked, satisfied.

“Dick,” Bruce said, a smirk on his lips. “He’ll be your replacement.”

“You can’t replace me,” Dick snorted.

“Maybe,” Bruce conceded. “But Dick the dog wouldn’t get on the roof.” He thought for a moment, then flipped another page. “Probably.”

“He would if I taught him to before I left,” Dick said eagerly. “I’m gonna teach him how to cut his sandwiches like Alfred, too. Help him out.”

“Alfred would like that, a dog touching all his food,” Bruce mused. He glanced over to Dick. “Remember—“

“Don’t tell Alfred about forgetting school,” Dick listed off on his fingers, “or falling, or the gutters, or the roof, or the broken ladder.”

“Or the takeout boxes,” Bruce added. He had taken the pains of driving their trash bags to the dumpster at the far end of the estate himself to prevent any unfortunate discoveries. Surely if they were at the dumpster already, Alfred would have no reason to inspect them.

Though, Bruce supposed that had never stopped him as Batman from digging through the trash before.

A slight panic traveled through him.

“Are we forgetting anything?” Bruce asked, more rhetorically than anything else.

All the same, Dick gave him an honest shrug. “Did you brush your teeth?”

Bruce began to respond to that when there was a buzzing sound from his desk. Both he and Dick glanced at it, though it was not necessary to confirm what the two of them already knew.

The buzzer was to the main gate for the estate, which meant that Alfred had buzzed himself in.

“He’s here!” Dick exclaimed.

“Don’t get too excited, he hates that,” Bruce warned, as though he wasn’t already on his feet.

He and Dick were neck and neck out of the doorway to the den, though Bruce regained his composure and remembered himself once through it. He had a demeanor and expectation to fulfill, after all, no matter his excitement.

With the bliss of youth, Dick exploded out of the den, ran through the hall, and was flipping onto the banister before even a word could be uttered. “Alfred!” He yelled out.

Bruce’s heart warmed as he heard the main entrance open then close to the howling winds and rain. Alfred, in his trench coat and bowler hat, stepped through, tipping slightly as he closed his umbrella under his arm and looked confidently into the manor.

The old man’s smile could not be hidden by his tidy mustache as it reached up into his soft eyes, looking up from the foyer floor to the stairs where Bruce slowly descended.

He looked good and cheerful. Bruce wanted to run over to him and wrap him in a hug then and there.

Dick, sliding down the banister and leaping at Alfred, had the pleasure of acting on Bruce’s hidden impulse. “Alfred! Welcome home! We missed you! But everything was great!” Dick’s words were hurried and calculated to cover all the bases he and Bruce had discussed.

Had Alfred not been known for his keen eye, Bruce would have offered the eight-year-old a thumbs up in approval.

“My, my, Master Richard, I do believe you have grown a hair since I left you,” Alfred chuckled, patting the boy wrapped around his waist.

“I hope it’s on the top of my head so I can get taller,” Dick joked back.

By the end of Dick’s hug, Bruce’s careful approach finally brought him to Alfred and he was able to regard the man who raised him. He took a deep breath and then, carefully, hugged around Alfred’s shoulders.

“You were missed, old friend,” Bruce got out, his voice strained beyond exception.

“As were the both of you,” Alfred said, hugging Bruce back. “Now,” he broke the hug and held Bruce’s shoulders at arm’s length. His mustache twitched as a twinkle grew sharp in his eyes. “I noticed my ladder was broken in the yard.”

Bruce tightened his smile into a small frown and glanced toward Dick whose eyes were approximately the size of their takeout boxes from the previous night.

“I am sure it’s an entertaining story,” Alfred tutted, releasing Bruce and beginning to take off his hat and coat. “I expect you both will share it with me eventually.”

Dick didn’t break his eye contact with Bruce and neither did Bruce back, but the energy shifted and both were able to breathe.

“I don’t know, Alfred,” Bruce said somewhat jovially. “Some adventures are just… between Bruce and Dick.”

Immediately, Dick’s grin spread from ear to ear and he leaped back to his feet with a flip.

“Oh! But Alfred! I can tell you about the astronomy club!” Dick crooned, taking off after the butler.

Bruce released a breath and felt a calm in the manor that had been gone for a long time.

It was good having the entire family home.

[astheravensighs]

[Double Dark and Darker]

Gray meets Dazai for the first time, and things go as well as you would expect.

"Um," Gray almost whispered, tugging on Chuuya's sleeve gently. "Who is that..?"

Chuuya followed her gaze to the benches along the sides of the abandoned stadium, spotting a familiar pair of eyes watching them both like a mischievous hawk. Legs crossed and body bent forward in rapt fascination of the new addition to their equation.

"Ah. That's Dazai. He's…" Chuuya paused thoughtfully, if not slightly bitterly. "Well, let's use the word friend." He glanced back over at her and saw the same confusion as before she asked. "Just- he's not gonna hurt you. He's just watching. You can… trust him." He felt his throat sting, briefly thankful he was out of earshot. Gray kept her eyes on the distant figure. "He doesn't seem safe," she stated, retreating farther into the too-big coat he'd lent her. Chuuya choked down the embarrassment of showing his least favorite person his soft side and leaned down to her height.

"Hey," He said softly, waiting until her eyes met his own. "I've never once given you a reason not to trust me, right?" She hesitated, but slowly nodded. "Right. I promised I would keep you safe. I know for a fact he's not a threat," He stood back up to his full height and puffed out his chest a little bit. "But even if he was, I'd kill him before he ever got near you." "K-kill him?" "Or, uh- I'd knock him out, y'know," His posture deflated as he tried to backpedal his accidentally fearsome persona.

Watching curiously, elbow on his knee and chin resting on the back of his hand, Dazai couldn't help but grin a little bit. Chuuya was going soft. As funny as it was, he felt a certain responsibility to stop the odd change clearly taking place in his psyche. His rival should be his equal. Seeing him distracted, giving in to his overwhelming protective instinct, was irritating. Unfortunately, he found himself being affected too.

This little girl was barely shoulder height to his tiny ex-partner and probably jumped every time he coughed. Her eyes were colorless, no blue or green or brown at all. Just gray. He wondered briefly if Chuuya had given her the uncreative name based on  her eyes. The clothes she was wearing he recognized- they were Chuuya's. They fit him when he was maybe 17 (and honestly, probably still did) but they completely enveloped her, and he recognized the way she retreated into it as if it was a bulletproof shield.

He could read her like a picture book. Everything about her, from the way she held her arms to her chest as she walked to the way her eyes darted around to assess every threat, screamed out to him one word- pitiful. And as much as he was a monster, and as much as he hated to admit it, Dazai had some human left in him, and that humanity was screaming for him to protect her too.

"A-anyway, y'know why we're here, right? I'd like to teach you some self defense stuff." Gray gave Chuuya a look that was equal parts fear for her own safety, and fear for his. He gave her a reassuring smile and took a few steps back. "Just outta curiosity, to see what I'm working with," He spread his arms out, completely opening up his abdomen, unguarded. "Try just a punch or something. Right here," He gestured to his stomach.

Gray looked down at her hand, clenching and unclenching her fist for a few seconds, before meeting his eyes again, eyebrows pushed together with worry. "But what if I… hurt you?"

An absolute guffaw from the sidelines startled her, drawing both participants' gazes. Dazai was attempting to stifle the giggles spilling out of him, eliciting a sigh from his 'friend'.

"Ignore him."

Gray gave him one last look before turning her eyes back to her protector, trying to ignore the redness she felt burning her ears.

"Just a punch. I promise you won't hurt me. You really, really won't," He insisted.

A few moments of silence and stillness as Gray takes a breath, calming her nerves, rattled by this simple task. She clenches her fist again, and forces it forwards, shutting her eyes and hoping for the best.

As the backs of her fingers make contact with the threads of Chuuya's vest, they all but rolled off, only creating a soft 'thud', and throwing her off balance. "Oh, woah-" Chuuya sputtered, not sure what he was expecting, but knowing it wasn't… that. He steadied her before she fell, withdrawing his hands quickly, remembering how she'd flinched at his touch the day before. He could almost feel the heat emanating from her cheeks in shame.

"…Okay, let's try again."

She turned to face him again, head tilted, still uncomfortable voicing her questions, but knowing he knew what she was asking.

"No, you didn't hurt me. I swear," He reassured, adding only in his own thoughts, 'You almost hurt yourself'.

He gave her the most encouraging smile he could, approaching her slowly. "Let me show you how to do it," He offered, reaching out to guide her before stopping- "Can I touch your hands?" She nodded and braced her skittish instincts as his gloved fingers barely brushed her own. Ignoring the alarms in her head as they began to scream at her to run, she watched carefully as he gently pushed her fingers into a proper fist.

"Chuuya, I think she's more of a visual learner, you know?" a singsong voice from behind them earned a small yelp from the already wary girl, as Chuuya whipped around to face it.

"Oi, you're supposed to stay back-" "I know, I know," Dazai interrupted him with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But I know how to demonstrate much better." "Dazai!" Chuuya watched him as he circled around him, holding out a protective arm to shield the now very uncomfortable girl behind him. "I told you-" He began, but was interrupted as Dazai pulled his own fist back, meeting the scared, colorless eyes peeking out at him. "Watch this carefully!"

Dazai knew Chuuya's guard was focused entirely on protecting his little fosterling, and not on his own safety. So as his fist struck the smaller man's abdomen, there was a look of disbelief on his face that Dazai reveled in as he followed through, putting all of his force behind the motion of his arm, sending Chuuya's body directly into the wall behind him with a disturbing 'crack'.

A moment passes completely silent as Chuuya's back slid the few feet down the wall to impact the rough dirt. Taking a second the shake off the shock, he gaped at the blood now dripping from his forehead, off his chin, staining his clothes. Steeling his glare, he moved to get up, to retaliate, to- Shit, he needed to get /her/ away first- But as he looked back up, the fire in his eyes faded.

Dazai had already seen what he was only just now seeing, already turning to face it. A shadowy mass of tendrils and dark smoke was taking over the spot Gray had just been. A low growl, rising in tone and intensity, echoed through the stadium, but was directed right at Dazai, who just couldn't help his own shit-eating grin. He saw the attachment between them. He knew there was potential hidden beneath that timid exterior. He knew she wasn't created in a lab, researched and studied and hidden away for years, just to turn out useless. He KNEW there was something to her, and he knew how to find out what. And as she stared him down with smoke and shadow where her eyes used to be, he felt no fear. He had no reason to. His ability was a nullifying get-out-of-jail free card, so to speak. And the satisfaction he felt from a successful plan almost outweighed the rumbling in his chest as the growling got louder.

"You know," he turned to fully face her. "You're cute when you're mad."

The growl turned into a roar as the mass of shadows lurched backwards, rearing up like an angry stallion, before careening back towards him. He lazily outstretched his hand, letting his ability activate, but it was for nothing.

The enraged, shadowy creature that was once a girl charged into him, almost through him, and out of the dark  mist emerged a hand, black as night, balled into a fist so tight the claw-like nails dug into a bleeding palm. The limb was barely visible as it rocketed directly into Dazai's outstretched palm.

For just a moment, time seemed to slow down for the two men as they simultaneously understood what was happening, what was about to happen. Chuuya's face was pure, unfiltered shock and awe. Mouth open, eyes wide, mind reeling- but Dazai's face was something that he'd later come to treasure. He'd relive this moment in his mind a hundred times, seeing the image of Dazai's cocky smirk suddenly shifting to shock, the corners of his mouth dropping, his eyes refocusing- this isn't right… My ability..!- and then contorting to fear, his teeth gritting and eyebrows high. This beautiful scene only lasted a fraction of a second before the fist against his hand ignored the blue glow of his nullification ability and continued its destructive path directly into his chest, sounding a loud "CRACK" as his ribs buckled from the force, body suddenly being wrenched into the same trajectory as the leading arm, rocketing hard into the wall right next to the wide eyed man he'd dropped just seconds before.

A hush fell over all three of them as the dark smoke began to fade from the outstretched limb, revealing the shoulders, the neck, then the face of a very scared, very small girl. There were tears in her eyes and her every limb was shaking like a scared puppy. As soon as her mouth was visible she was talking, almost chanting, "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-" The rest of her body came into view as the darkness evaporated into the air like a lifting fog and she collapsed to her knees, sobbing and apologizing to Dazai, to Chuuya, to herself.

Chuuya pushed down the shock- maybe even fear- trying to keep him frozen and wrenched himself off the ground, ignoring the equally astonished body leaning next to him. With some effort he lifted his own limbs to scramble over to the sobbing mess on the ground, unsure of what entirely to do.

"Hey, hey, hey-- Are you okay? Are you- Look at me, please?" She couldn't stop the shame that escaped from her throat and turned into wails but she did meet his eyes with hers. She could see the surprise in his face, but she could also see concern- for her. Before she could look down again he caught her chin with his fingers- gently- and tried to think of what to say.

"Hey… I'm proud of you."

The four words overtook her thoughts like a wildfire. How long had she waited to hear that? Longer than she'd been alive. Proud of her. He was proud… of her. She did something good. Even though her whole body ached, her mind was reeling, and her wrist felt broken, she couldn't help the confused, blissful smile that crept up to her face. Then her head fell forward again, and her body slumped, unconscious, into Chuuya's arms.

(thank u for reading <3)

[benscursedkid]

Rebekah Roberts Profile

hope i’m not late :)

template by the genius @hogwartsmysterystory

Identity

Name: Rebekah Marielle Roberts

Gender: Female

Age: 16 (in game)

Birth Date: December 12th, 1972

Species: Human

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Sexuality: Open

Alignment: Neutral Good

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: British

Residence: London, England

MBTI: ENFP ~ The Campaigner

The Mage

Wand: Beech Wood, Unicorn Hair Core, 11”, Swishy Flexibility

Animagus: White Owl (not registered)

Misc. Magical Abilities: slight Occlumens, Legilimens

Boggart Form: varies throughout the years, as of sixth year though, Jacob’s research journals— a lot of it is his research but closer to the end of Everything, things became illegible and crowded and she tried to ignore it before, but after all that went down in the Portrait Vault, she doesn’t really think she can anymore. Or if she even wants to.

Riddikulus Form: A Funny Photo Album or Coloring Book

Amortentia (What do they smell like?): Lavender, Peanut Butter, Parchment Paper

Amortentia (What do they smell?): Calvin, Peanut Butter (again), Freshly Washed Clothes/Laundry Detergent

Patronus: Grey Owl

Patronus Memory: One of her family’s annual Girls v. Boys soccer matches from Before

Mirror of Erised: Her family whole, happy, and all together again

Specialized/Favorite Spells: She really likes domestic spells to make idle things easier and anything to do with color (i.e. Colovaria), Silencio

Appearance

Face Claim: none

Game Appearance:

Height: 5’2 (161 cm)

Weight: 133lbs

Physique: Slim, Average

Eye Color: Light Green

Hair Color: Black

Inventory:

Her brother’s notebooks

Her wand

A random assortment of quills with colored ink

A bag of packaged peanuts

A light reading book

Allegiances

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Ilvermorny House: Pukwudgie

Affiliations/Organizations:

Prefect

Head Girl

Order of the Phoenix (eventually)

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Professions: Curse Breaker

Hogwarts Information

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: ★★★★★★★★★★

Charms: ★★★★★★★★★☆

DADA: ★★★★★★★★★★

Flying: ★★★★★★★★☆☆

Herbology: ★★★★★★★★☆☆

History of Magic: ★★★★★★★★★☆

Potions: ★★★★★★★★★☆

Transfiguration: ★★★★★★★★★★

Electives: Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes

Extra Curriculars: Duelling Club, *Honorary Member [of]* Astronomy Club

Favorite Professors: Flitwick, McGonagall

Least Favorite Professors: Trewlaney

Relationships

Brother: Jacob Kane Elian Roberts

Born: June 6th, 1968

Sign: Gemini

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Wand: Acacia Wood, Thestral Tail Hair Core, 11”, Supple Flexibility

Age wise he’s only 5 years older than Rebekah but because of her late birthday he’s six years ahead of her in school

Actually had a rather light, playful sense of humor

Very sociable while in school and many people liked him

Very inquisitive and bright and his happiness and adoration for fascinating subjects was downright contagious

Very athletic and wanted to try out for the Quidditch team and enjoyed muggle sports like soccer and volleyball

Extremely gifted in Charms and DADA

Quite artistic and could play the piano (taught by his mother) and ukulele and was talented at drawing and painting

Taught to speak Bulgarian by his father and French by his mother

Fascinated by muggle history

Had the biggest sweet tooth imaginable, especially when he was nervous

Had a bit of a mad scientist vibe going for him but in the absolute most endearing way possible somehow

Loved to learn and try new experiences

Never ever without a novel or his sketchbook on hand

His dad got him really into photography

He really appreciated having Duncan and Olivia around, they were his best friends

And now they’re both gone and he can’t help but blame himself

Who else is there to blame?

Tries not to think about it though

Honestly he’s the biggest dork

Is completely enthralled by nearly everything, he’s just learned to tone it down a bit so people don’t notice

Definitely stays up for hours with existential thoughts and queries running through his head like a mantra

Like, really, why are daffodils yellow?

Truly loves learning for the sake of learning, knowledge for the sake of knowledge, wonder is his middle name

Not really but he likes to wish

Logic and reason are just as fascinating to him as things like creativity, imagination, abstract thoughts

Like why are they? How are they?

He needs to know

Everything’s a mystery and he wouldn’t have it any other way

Duncan couldn’t understand it but he tried to pretend he did

And Olivia would love teasing him for it, but truthfully she was much the same way

Also, show him literally any animal and he’s sold, he’ll love it forever

Carried around tons of snacks in case he saw any wandering around the castle

Always

Really good at playing a part, a bit of a social chameleon, he was whoever he needed to be depending on the person he was with

Which is why no one really understood him

It made him really lonely sometimes

Was always plagued by his need to impress his parents

Weighed down by his fears of never being good enough

Got too good at lying

Didn’t mean for things to go this far

Father: Henry Delyan Roberts

Born: July 2nd, 1948

Sign: Cancer

Blood Status: Muggle

Occupation: Veterinarian but considered being a Pediatrician

When he was 13 his mother moved back to Australia for her job and he was put under the custody of his father during the year and would visit her during the summer

Missed her a lot after she moved and for a while thought it was his fault

He wondered if she moved because she needed to get away from him

He’d heard stories about her initial reaction to becoming a parent and wondered if maybe she never really got over it

Thought maybe if he was better she would have stayed

She wouldn’t have wanted to leave

It’s been a while since those thoughts crossed his mind though and he’s glad that didn’t seem to be the case

Ethnically half Bulgarian on his mother’s side and could speak it fluently and even visited his uncles and cousins there occasionally growing up

Didn’t get to seem them as often as he liked though

Being an only child could get rather lonely and though he loved his dad, he wanted someone to bond with over school or friends or literally anything else

Even so, he really appreciated having his father around

Even before his mother moved away he spent most of his time with his dad and was always a little closer with him than his mom

He supposes his dad was his best friend for a while growing up

Promised himself to be half the man he was when he had a child of his own

Very humble and patient, the kind of person you find yourself itching to be around

Always smiling and laughing, but his laugh was feather light and soft

Had an amazing singing voice

His laugh literally sounds like hummingbirds and wind chimes

Really honest and kind and loved helping people

Did a lot of volunteering as a kid, loved helping people and wouldn’t hurt a fly

Unless you hurt someone he cared about in which case you were utterly screwed

Definitely capable of delivering ass beatings but tried to avoid it as much as possible, even when people deserved it

Great listener, the one where you could be telling a story, look over and be taken completely aback by how intently he was still listening, like he was genuinely interested

Loved playing soccer

Says he loves all animals the same but he’s secretly the biggest dog person

Which is weird because he has a cat he would cut someone for but shhh

It’s a secret

Absolutely loved photography, had two polaroids, a long one and a wide one, baby blue and pastel yellow respectively

Took a lot of pictures of/with Delphine when they were traveling together

Made a scrapbook out of it

Also proceeded to take pictures of his children when he had them

Made a scrapbook out of that too

A simple man, mostly, but he craved adventure and really just wanted to make a difference in the world

Didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life after graduating high school, so he decided to take a year off to travel and find himself

Met Delphine before he even left England

Married her a year later at 19

Jacob was born about a month before he turned 21

Closed completely into himself when his son disappeared

Doesn’t really know what to do with himself now

Mother: Delphine Cécile Roberts (née Leon)

Born: January 19th, 1949

Sign: Capricorn

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Wand: Cherry Wood, Werewolf Hair Core, 12”, Rigid Flexibility

Blood Status: Pure-Blood

Occupation: Retired Auror after Jacob was born and became an Employee of the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic

Born into a very pure-blood supremacist family, consisting almost exclusively of Slytherins

Youngest of two daughters

Very close with her sister (Adelaide) growing up, they were nearly inseparable and opposites in almost every way

But her parents found her very problematic

Half French on her mother’s side and could speak the language fluently, often visited family there

Though she kept up the dutiful daughter act around her parents, she couldn’t relate to them at all and never understood why they treated everyone so cruelly

Her sister was her refuge

She felt suffocated in her own house and therefore felt freed whenever returning to Hogwarts

Though kind and respectful, Delphine was very prone to her own brand of subtle mischief when attending school

Having no freedom at her own house, she felt truly free and unrestrained at Hogwarts

Even so, she often spent most of her time alone

At school a lot of non-Slytherin or non-Pure-blooded students were afraid to speak to her but she tried to make it a point to let them know she didn’t subscribe to the same morals or ideals of her parents

Her mother and father knew this and it infuriated them

Unfortunately, most people just couldn’t seem to distinguish between the parent and the child

Once again she had only her sister, but was thankful for her presence nonetheless

It hurt though sometimes when people would cast her aside, thinking there’s nothing inside her worth saving simply because her parents are who they are

Confided this in Adelaide, but the other girl didn’t seem to share the sentiment

Was a 5th and 6th Year prefect and followed in her sister’s footsteps and became Head Girl in her 7th year

Surprised most everyone but they never cared to take the time to look past her heritage and see all her grades and extracurriculars aside from Quidditch

Girl just wanted a friend

Played on the Quidditch team as Slytherin’s star keeper

Was supposed to be married off in an arranged marriage to a Pure-blood she’d never met after graduating but barely managed to convince her sister to lie for her so she could at least take a year to see the world for herself first

Tried to disguise as a muggle so she could slip out of the country unnoticed by her parents and met Henry at the airport on his way to Italy

Spent the year traveling together before getting married

Was then disowned by her parents (and her sister for another year)

Completely fell apart after Jacob disappeared

Hasn’t been the same since

{Rest of Extended Family in Separate Post}

Love Interest: Ben Copper

Best Friend: Rowan Khanna

Rival: Merula Snyde

Enemy: R, Rakepick

Dormmates:

Rowan Khanna

Tulip Karasu

Badeea Ali

[Unnamed Raveclaw Girl]

Pets:

Great Grey Owl named Calvin (Personal)

Black Cat named Sabine (Family)

Closest Canon Friends: All of them, but for sake of question—

Tulip Karasu

Rowan Khanna

Badeea Ali

Bill Weasley

Barnaby Lee

Andre Egwu

Nymphadora Tonks

Talbott Winger

Closest MC Friends:

Aisling Casey (@badeeaswife)

I’m shy but she loves everyone so feel free to hit her (me?) up!

Background/History

Ethnically speaking she is a quarter French and a quarter Bulgarian

Paternal Grandmother lives in Australia so she’s visited her a few times

Actually been to quite a few other countries and really wants to see the rest of them someday

Personality

[Separate Post]

to anyone who read of all this: i am so sorry—

[twitchesandstitches]

Commission for @alt-hammer, who asked for a story centering around a fantasty-themed AU where the major troll families are nobles, and focusing on Cronus seeing his long time girlfriend Porrim in person, along with her family of fellow gravid vampires!

-----

The land was scarred by ancient wars long since forgotten, but the land still remembered. Sometimes the memories were bad, with some bright spots.

This was the understanding according to the sages of the Leijon tribes in the dark forests, and the blind seers of Pyrope lands rarely liked to venture out there for fear of what their mystic gaze might reveal, and the great desert was the worst of it all. A terrible scar upon the world, it lay in a region where rain should have fallen, with no mountains for a great distance, and the climate was fairC. There should have been no deserts at all.

But their land was one with a dark and troubled history; war had touched it often, no less than the recent conflicts that had produced the modern noble houses of the troll lands and their human allies, and those wars had left terrible scars. Most of the points of civilization were islands of light in a dark sea, and there monsters in the dark places inbetween. Horrors arose, seemingly from the magical miasma that pooled out from the seas, vast and terrible monsters that required great heroes to slay them, and of course some weird wizard might decided to craft some abominations for the fun of it, completely forget about them, and be inadvertently responsible for a village disappearing when his Exploding Slime Tesseract wandered there.

Cronus Ampora, scion of the wizard-kings and hopeful master of the fleets that connected them to other lands, had a duty to hunt down such dastardly fiends when he wasn’t skipping very close to being one of them. This wasn’t a bad thing, per se, in the Amporan lands. Violet tradition held that a nobleborn prince, or bard like he had become, who didn’t periodically cause some manner of wacky catastrophe was going to be too unimaginative to make a very good successor. Archmage Dualscar, father to Cronus, tried to encourage his children to do more of that.

Periodically scouring the continent to put down rogue monsters and arrest wizards of inappropriate conduct was a task assigned to the Orphaners; so named as they killed evil wizards, orphaning their creations, at which point the Big Dad energy of the Amporas would take over and they’d adopt them all. As a result, the Amporas had a truly massive army of militarized constructs, thousands of caretaker monsters of all kinds of descriptions, and many more strange beings peacefully integrated into their society. Being used to such diversity also made an Orphaner uniquely suited for diplomacy; they dealt with ‘Things Not Like Me’ on a nearly daily basis, and it helped to expand the mind.

Cronus spent a lot of time on land, therefore. He hated it. Violetbloods like him were adapted for the sea, and individuals varied on whether they were land walkers who could live underwater, or sea beings who could stand to walk on dry land for a while. Cronus was the latter. But his duties, interests, and deep fascination with land walkers of all kinds drew him to the world above, even if it was the people there he liked and the world itself was just the worst.

And the desert was the worst of all. The horror of the place clawed at him with the memory of ancient atrocities, leeching vitality out of him like the sun drying his flesh. They moved on the landships favored by the Nitram feudal lords, an assortment of their mounted knights as protection and a little bit of showing off, and even though it was comfortable and he had a big tank of water to recline in, the whole land felt wrong. He was convinced that some ancient magical catastrophe had scarred the land so badly it had burned, searing it with the energies of undeath. The hordes of the walking dead currently reduced to several tons of ash flying in the air now was proof to that.

But now, the character of the sand was changing; it was harder for the knights at their side to articulate why, though they were notably calmer, the tension loosening from their armored forms. They weren’t magic users, and weren’t able to perceive the subtle details in the sand now. Cronus didn’t doubt that they knew that something had changed, though. The threat upon the wind felt less oppressive. The teeming hordes of the undead, hoarded in this deadly place over eons and mummified by the burning sun, shied away like magical constructs warded away. By now, they had passed one of several enormous towers, of dark marbled stone and brighter patterns of magic-infused metals that all glowed like a torch against the sand, visible for many miles, and Cronus saw the wall of magic flowing through it. It was a relay point, and seen from above, perhaps on a Pyrope airship, he might have looked directly down and seen the network of barricade towers, standing guard against the sea of death.

And they were new. There were many wonders in the world, that was true. But most were ancient relics, reactivated and barely operational, their masters struggling to keep them just working consistently. Very few of them were completely new.

There was a reason the Maryam Clan of rainbow drinkers and vampires, despite being the smallest noble family, commanded so much respect. In a single generation, they were tearing the bloody heart of undeath out of their homeland, and restoring it to life again.

The caravan journeyed onwards, as as they did, Cronus noted the move of magical essence around them took on a drastically different character. The hostile desert behind them, shielded away by the mystic barrier, stank of death where it had any nature of all. Mostly it was a hollow emptiness, yawning behind them like someone physically standing behind with obvious ill intentions. But the sands blew with the hints of life beyond them. Birds flew upon the wind, flitting up to the towers to attend their nests. As they journeyed further, they saw small oasis here and there, clusters of animals standing there.

Cronus watched them. They had to be imported. Surely they couldn’t have revived the beasts that had lived here so long ago… could they? The long-legged creatures, antlers growing out into swirling patterns, stared placidly at him and continued to drink, judging him no threat. They did not look like desert dwellers, but like creatures who ran through heavily wooded forests. Just as this land must have once been.

Despite himself, as the caravan journeyed to the very center of the desert, he felt a sudden sense of joy come over him. The desert had not always been a desert. It was healing.

What wonders were the Maryams making? He was never more excited to be able to study there.

Soon enough, the distant sounds of water grew closer, and a city appeared on the horizon, even taller than the towers, hardy shrubbery cut into fanciful shapes surrounding it. “My lord!” said the cheerful voice of a bronzeblood named Chixie, cheerfully. “We are nearly there!”

She rode before him, a troll significantly shorter than average and nearly twice as wide as she was tall, praticularly at the hips and bust; they all wore light clothing for this heat, but hers had to be especially roomy for her voloptuous body. She was in a prime position to be lookout, as it were, and Cronus honestly wasn’t sure if she should be there; she wasn’t an actual knight but an honorary one, a bard inserted into the ranks to get an insider’s view.

Sure enough, they soon acquired an escort. Several human women, unusually curvaceous and beefy, bearing the flowering robes and veiled attire of the Maryam clan, though their dark skin showed no signs of vampirization; they were not inducted into the clan in particular, it seemed. They did bear the signature saw-swords of the Maryams, and these rested in a relaxed way indicating they still could be drawn if need be. “Bard of the Amporas,” one said primly. “Follow me, if you please.”

The caravan did so, and they came to the great city of the Maryams.

They came through the high gates of the city, towering doorways open wide as if to welcome all visitors. Before the shining colored stone of the domed architecture, before the staggering array of fabrics fluttering upon the thousands bartering their wares at a bazaar their path took them through, the thing Cronus was drawn to was the oasis. The city itself, he understood, had been build upon that oasis. He didn’t know if it had already existed, some remnant of bygone days, or created through a work of grand and exhausting magics. Even now, as the city grew, the oasis grew, its surface shining brightly. To his magical senses, it was incandescent, painful to look on directly. Life streamed through it, so much raw vitality that it seemed magic distilled into a liquid form, flowing its life-giving energies into the land around it, gradually wearing away the corrosion of death resonance.

The oasis was almost an inland sea; a vast and improbably deep pool of water, replenished by mysterious means, threaded throughout this whole region and emanating magic with a very specific flavor. There were a lot of resonances it split into, but the big one was… well, fertile.

It seemed to have an effect on the women, Chixie noted bluntly, as they walked through in search of their secondary escort, who had gotten a bit lost.

Those women (not all of them, but enough to be notable) were very large indeed; the average breast size began at ‘larger than your head’, and they stood notably taller than average. Even the humans were reasonably close to the heights of some of the trolls from his home fleet. And, yes, there. He could see rainbow drinkers in the crowd, shining with an eerie light as they moved, an alien grace in their robes. And human vampires as well, sheltering themselves from the harsh desert light, though it was largely unnecessary. One quirk of the oasis’ architecture was buildings were designed to bridge together, creating overhangs, walkways, balconies, launch points and other similar features. The end result was a ground level that was almost permanently shaded most hours of the day, as well as upper levels that suited trolls fond of leaping and climbing.

For a time, they wandered through the great desert city of the oasis. There was much to see, and one after another, the knights peeled away from the group. Their task, as delivered by their own lords, had been to securely bring Cronus to the city of the Maryams. True, when his business was completed here (perhaps months from now, or weeks if you were to be cynical), they were to bring him to his next destination. Perhaps to home, if need be. But for now, their task was done.

They meandered to their next destination, and this eventually took them to the markets. One by one, the knights departed, to secure their own entertainment and housing. Both would be easy to find; temporary homes had been provided for them in the fabulous hotels of the minor clans, and the oasis city was a wonder of art from all over the continent, scrolls and tomes of all matter of disciplines, and its scholars among the most learned. Whether it was art, lore or simple dialogue one craved, the oasis would provide.

Cronus, his violet courtiers, several servants attending to the more bureaucratic concerns, and a few knights who insisted on attending his person continued through the city, to where they were intended to meet up with a representative of the Maryams. They walked over canals, and admired the beautifully carved pueblo bricks set into the bridges. These canals webbed over the entire city, flowing beneath the streets that blossomed over them like forests of mushrooms, so that everywhere you went, the oasis flowed beneath. The architecture, Cronus noted, was specifically designed to make that magic flow.

As they crossed a particularly large bridge, close to the central regions of the great city, he saw that the buildings rose up at certain geomantic angles. He suspected it was to channel the magic most efficiently towards the sky, and project certainly spells into the air and wind. He said as much.

Chixie looked fascinated. “That’s very interesting, lord. What are they doing with it all?”

Cronus shrugged. “Heck if I know, dame. Part of whatever it does that’s making the desert fix itself from whatever our dumbass ancestors did here? Hell, could just be making a ward to block out whatever it is in sunlight that hurts human vampires.”

Chixie blinked. “...Okay, yeah, I can see them wanting to do that. I, uh. I DID see the human-looking vampires carrying those cute little parasols to keep the sun off. Why bother if they can’t get hurt here anyway?”

“We find that it helps to get people into the habit if they opt to leave!” said a peppy voice. It sounded perfect for a den mother, a caretaker of children, and a consort protector. It was the sort of voice you had a mental image for; probably someone quite short, wearing a lot of fluffy fabrics in warm colors, and built like the more generously fluffy plush toys.

They followed it. The voice didn’t entirely fit the mental image at first glance; the speaker was an outrageously gorgeous and stupendously stacked rainbow drinker; a jadeblood troll, who stood easily a couple feet tall than even the largest of their ground. Cronus doubted he was even as high as her broad biceps.

The escorts who had brought them bowed deferentially, and departed, symbolically passing them to her. It felt like a very big deal, indeed.

She approached, and the jade veils of the Maryam clan fluttered around her mouth, the elaborate robes of office about her body. It revealed little of her face; jewelry of high station hanging in chains off her delicately carved horns, both curving gently upwards, one zig-zagging in a brief series of sharp edges. She didn’t so much walk, honestly, as sashay dramatically, as her hips were far too wide to walk normally. It was a distinctive walk, her broad thighs swinging wide beneath a secondary dress worn over her main one, brighter shades of jade against its pale colors to indicate her social status.

Her skin, though at least the nominal black of a grown troll woman, also shimmered with the eerie light of a rainbow drinker. Long hair, with a streak of green, flowed behind to an enormously large backside shifting the flow of her dress. Swirling tattoos traced around what skin was visible, but most significantly, she was also pregnant. Extremely pregnant; her belly was a monstrously huge, distended orb projecting out so much, with so much weight, that it was more oblong. Not exactly a gut; her thick and fit body type wasn’t quite the right shape for the more extreme of big belly builds, and Cronus could see the weight of something humanoid resting there. Pregnant, in the special Maryam definition.

Her dress, as was custom for the Maryams, was cut to show off her belly, all the way to where it joined her body. Massive breasts, larger than her head and suspended over that belly, were supported by brighter bands of soft fabric, and the overall impression was of competent power, seductive appeal, and raw motherly power. It was a strange thing to have coupled with a voice that sounded more at home gently lecturing small children on the fine points of not smacking each other on the head over a toy.

Chixie swallowed nervously, gazing up at the towering jadeblood. She wasn’t the tallest of her kin Cronus had ever seen, but she was taller than most they had seen going around. “Um. Hello, ma’am. We were, ah. I was told to expect someone fitting your description…?”

Bronya clapped her gloved hands. “Ah! You must be the Ampora delegation, then?” Cronus nodded to her. “Bronya Ursama, I am. Of the Maryam Clan. I’ve been sent to bring you to the matriarchs, if you please!”

Cronus nodded, smoothly shifting into the manners Dualscar had sternly taught to them. He bowed low. “It would be my pleasure, Lady Ursama. I am Cronus Ampore, of the Ampora fleets, and I apologize for not finding you sooner.” He smiled, winningly. “We simply could not resist a bit of sightseeing.”

Chixie and the others introduced themselves to the towering vampire, increasingly awkwardly and with their faces heavily blushed at how… sexy she was. Bronya smiled sweetly, greeting them in turn, praising their lords for producing such fine stewards of honor (Chixie nearly stumbling in sheer shyness from that), and the only significant surprise was that Bronya’s belly lurched.

A human-sized figure inside her stomach turned, like a baby shifting in the womb, and a hand briefly moved against the surface of her belly.

Cronus blinked, fascinated; the knights were less calm. Chixie actually clapped her hands to her mouth: “There’s someone in you!”

Bronya nodded, looking nonplussed. “Oh yes. A charming young scholar, I actually tutored her during my residence in the ancestral library. I believe she intends to go on pilgrimage after her stay with me.” The knights stared at her, bafflement written on them. She looked bewildered. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Cronus coughed. “Eh, sorry, but these knights… eh. I don’t think they know about the particularities of the Maryam transformation. The process, I mean.” Inwardly, he cursed; he should have given them a primer on that!

Bronya inclined her head, understandingly. “Ah! Of course! Well, never fear. Come along, I shall explain.”

They moved along, the knights shying a bit away from Bronya now save Chixie, perhaps dreading visions of themselves being pulled into that belly as well. Cronus walked behind her without fear, following the slow wobble of her broad backside, and she took them across the bridge.

They came to a large castle, of sorts; it was clearly not meant for sieges, and was so open to the sky and walls, but for some fortifications, that it had only a hazy notion of ‘outside’ to begin with. It was older by far, and Cronus recognized the same kind of geomantic designs on the walls, and it was a simple thing to gaze up and see the magic in the air, vibrating around the elegant carvings on the walls.

Bronya spoke a password to the guards, who were women built on largely the same look as her though not pregnant with someone, and they passed through without incident.

Inside, it was much cooler; so much so that it had to be a work of magic, or at least very skillful air conditioning construction. Great woven tapestries hung from the walls, detailing both beautiful artworks and stylized portraits, and many doorways lined the halls. Bronya led them down a staircase carved into the floor, going underground, and as she did, she spoke at length.

First, she asked: how did they think new rainbow drinkers, or vampires, came to be? When Chixie awkwardly said that she thought their blood was drunk first, she laughed.

“It’s certainly part of the process,” Bronya said. “But it’s not the important one.”

To become a vampire was a very serious thing; it was a magical ritual of great importance, derived from some quirks of jadeblood physiology, and while it worked on non-jades and humans and some other beings, it had to be very carefully down. It took a vampire mother to make another, her fertile body literally reshape them into a new form, bringing them into the clan and giving them new life.

Vampire literature spoke often of living a new life, of being reborn, of gestation and being remade by one’s sire. Bronya assured them, there was no metaphor there.

Vampires like her literally absorbed another being (in a ritual she implied she certainly was not allowed to discuss with them at length), and contained them in their womb. The strongest could hold many; Bronya was inexperienced, and one was all she could manage for now. And for a time, perhaps years, the fledgling vampire was infused with magical energies unique to the Maryam Clan, slowly changed into another vampire with all its perks, and all the very extensive physical alterations. A vampire wasn’t just an immortal that drank blood, they were an entirely different sort of being.

Bronya paused, and for a moment looked quite tired. Her belly swelled, the figure within visibly shifting, and then stopped. She panted, her glow dimming. “It’s not something you enter into lightly, either,” She said, perhaps glad for this emphasis. “For either of us.”

Cronus nodded solemnly. The knights looked shaken, or thoughtful; with so much effort put into the transformation, no wonder the Maryam Clan was small by the standards of nobility, and so very tight knit. Plenty of them still looked uneasy at effectively being reborn in such an intimate way, and were baffled at the idea of willingly being inside a troll’s womb like that. Cronus, poker-faced, gave no indication of his feelings one way or another.

Soon, they came to a sanctuary deep underground, where once the ancestors of the Maryams had held sacred rituals. Here, it was still a private place, and when Bronya paused, giving the knights an awkward look, Cronus coughed. “I’m thinking I’m the only one technically allowed to go from here. Is that right, Lady Ursama?”

Bronya nodded, regretfully. “I apologize, dear knights. But entering here is a rather important matter. I assure you, Lord Ampora is quite safe in the grip of the matriarchs!”

Chixie winced. “You could put that a little less ominously but.” She nodded. “We understand.” She glanced aside. “Yes?” The knights nodded.

Bronya looked relieved. “Well then! If you will come with me, I shall find something diverting for you all. Lord Ampora?” She pulled on a small statue, and the vast door before them opened enough for him to pass through. “The matriarchs await you.”

Cronus entered, as the knights and Bronya departed. The door closed behind him, and considering that he was entering the lair of the most powerful vampires in the world, it was surprising he felt no particular anxiety. But then, there were few he trusted as much, and none he trusted more, than the namesake leaders of the desert nobility, the Maryam Coven.

-------

The outer chamber was as spooky as deserved for a vampire coven, the carved walls high, and torches held on the mouths of fearsome sculptures. The whole edifice looked… not fearsome exactly, but in that general area. It was certainly impressive, and would put any ancient sacrifice to vampire hungers in the appropriately awed mindset before the big moment and then the sexy, sexy recuperation afterwards.

As he approached the inner chamber, though, he heard some muttered arguing that rather spoiled the mood. “Hurry, hurry! Just, oh, mother, please! Just sit down!” That voice was very familiar to him, admittedly usually through translocational images as they spoke through magical devices. He swallowed, standing up straighter and trying to look cool.

The next voice was very similar, but deepened by age, with a cool and wry amusement at the antics of the first. “Calm yourself, dear. I am absolutely not going to hurry, not with this much weight to move.”

“Mother!” the first almost wailed. “Bronya made the signal, he’s here! I’ve put so much effort into this meeting, please, do not spoil the drama!”

The second chuckled with the distinctive sound of someone who is good natured but still used to a child being unflappable and calm, and was absolutely going to milk this for all it was worth. “Oh? Don’t want to scare him with a preview of yourself in years to come, I suppose? Imagine him coming in here, seeing all this, and immediately fleeing!”

There was a scandalized gasp. “Please don’t, you might jinx it!”

A third voice sighed, a perturbed air to it. She sounded younger than the other two, but with that distinctive Maryam accent, a lilt to the words. “Porrim… please, don’t make this so serious. I was calm when Rose was here…”

“And I’ve no idea why!” The first voice said, with an air of petulance that Cronus, intimately familiar with that voice, found truly surreal. “First in-person impressions are so important! If this goes wrong, or if one of you frightens him, I’ll… I’ll…”

There was a long pause. Cronus leaned in towards the door, fascinated despite himself for the juicy gossip.

“...Yes?” the eldest-sounding voice said, with a hint of mocking encouragement.

“...I’ll give the tailors the most abhorrent designs for your outfits, right when you’re so big it will take weeks for you to get new ones made!” The first said triumphantly.

From the sound of it, this threat wasn’t being taken too seriously. “How cruel of you, dear sister,” the younger said dryly.

Cronus leaned a little too hard on the doorway. First it creaked loud, no doubt causing those inside to turn, and then-

It opened inwards, too fast for him to stand back up. He overbalanced, having leaned on it so much, and as it turned out his first proper introduction to the love of his life and her coven was flopping into their sacred chamber in an undignified heap, his ropes splayed over him.

“Ow,” he said meekly.

Someone rushed towards him, with an outraged cry, perhaps at his loss of dignity. A genteel chuckling, from the same older voice, greeted him, and the first one scoffed indignantly; Cronus looked up into the first speaker, into the eyes of Porrim Maryam.

Quite a lot up, in fact, and fortunately she was standing at an angle that her considerable assets didn’t block his sight.

She looked gigantic as she approached him; a towering motherly titan that would have loomed over even Bronya. She could have carried Chixie about like luggage; no, she could have towed Cronus like that! The impression was reinforced by her powerful build; her shoulders were broad, packed with muscle, her arms wide from years of training with sawblades. Her body had an hourglass curviness, her small waist making her shoulders look even bigger, and her hips even larger. And her hips were massive, making Bronya’s look smaller. In every respect, she was bigger than Bronya, not just taller than her, but wider. Bronya had big hips, yes, but Porrim would have serious difficulty getting through doorways; they were almost three feet around, at least.

And then, there was her belly.

It was so large, Porrim moved with an awkward, limping gait, her body clearly not adjusted to its sheer bulk. The vast, shining orb projected out before her body almost as much as she was tall, its lower slope descending gracefully to the ground, and she wasn’t burdened with just one new vampire in there. Cronus saw several arms moving against each other, the dimple of multiple bodies seated, a bulge of several torsos…

The question blurted out before he could contain it. “How many do you have in there!?”

Porrim blinked, but at this angle it was hard to tell; her breasts were so monstrously huge they got in the way of his sight, almost individually as big as her belly, and even with the supportive bands of her bodice, there was only so much that could be done to keep them pressing down on on her stomach. Cronus could have slept between them, and the thought was badly tempting. She laughed, putting a hand to her veiled mouth, and giggled helplessly. Her whole body shook; her big belly, her massive hips, her powerful thighs. Her great mane of hair, fluttering down past her hips like a luxurious mantle, shook with her laughter.. Even the new vampires in her body trembled with laughs, though he doubted they were even aware of what was going on.

“She has rather more than was wise,” the eldest voice said dryly.

“Probably six,” said the youngest. “Porrim gets attached too easily.”

Porrim went ‘hmph,” with the lazy dignity he expected of her, and helped Cronus up. The impression of towering height didn’t end even when he was stood up; his head was still barely level with her elbows, and given just how much mass she had, he felt stick thin next to her, and when she swooped down to hug him and straighten up his robes, he was lost between her breasts, and in her arms.

“I am so, so sorry about this!” She whispered furiously. “I intended for this to be so much more, ah, inspiring, but no, Mother and Kanaya just had to spoil the mood.”

Cronus made a squeaking noise. Her breasts and belly weren’t so much pressing against him as carrying him up, pinning him, and holding him still with a delicious sort of pressure.

Porrim paused. Much as her sense of drama had been spoiled, she could still appreciate a good moment. She leaned forward, and for a moment, Cronus was in a position to appreciate the coven tattoos winding across her body in the ancient patterns of fertility, motherhood and predation; swoops and curls, winding on the arms, the legs, over her breasts and belly…

Her veil was lifted up as she pulled him close to her face. Her lips brushed against his mouth, and long fangs against his lips.

“Not to be a hypocrite, but please do control yourself, Porrim,” said the eldest voice again, a hint of dry amusement in it.

Porrim dropped Cronus, with a squeak of mingled dismay and frustration. She turned aside, almost knocking Cronus over with a belly he could have fit into (and now he wondered what it was like, whether it was warm or cool, how her belly might feel hospitable or if you would be rewired to adjust to it), and a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

“Now,” said the voice, with an air of command different from her jovial tone earlier. “Let me see this saltdweller you have spoken so fondly of.”

Cronus was brought forward, a glimpse of extremely large chairs around him, perhaps intended to seat women that were very big indeed, and he had an impression of size before him, and a hand fell upon his face. Long claws moved against his gills, though not painfully so, and then moved his face up and down with a delicate but irresistible firm touch.

“Ah. The Ampora profile, for certain. You look very much like your ancestors; do tell me, how is your father doing these days?”

Cronus looked up into a face that was suddenly smiling, and even through the veil he saw the fangs, and the vibrant lipstick, the calm and assured competence so charismatic that she could have conquered the continent diplomatically, and more to the point-

She was nearly twice as big as Porrim, while sitting down.

The Dolorosa. The head matriarch of the Maryam Coven, mother of all living true vampires; one of the few to have successfully fought the mad pirate queen Mindfang to a standstill, to have brokered peace with the Pyropes during the years of fiery vengeance from the mountains. The first of the troll nobility on the plains to open her city gates to the carapacians, it was said, and from her wisdom great riches and discoveries had flown.

It was a little surprising that the stories about her said much about her wisdom, said a great deal about her honor, and said very little about how terrifyingly, attractively BIG she was.

Sitting on a chair that could have been designed for giants was a troll so large Cronus did not even come up to her waist now, and so outrageously curvaceous that just as Porrim’s thickness made Bronya look slender, the Dolorosa made Porrim look malnourished. Hips nearly as wide as she was tall, with a monstrously huge backside rising as high as her waist, the wides merging with her thighs evenly.

Her hair was cut short, and her horns elaborately carved; jewelry of religious significance were strung between them, green cloth shining onto her. Her face was more severe than Porrim’s, though kindly, and her tattooing was even more extreme than Porrim’s, with the curling inks brought to her face, her horns, and extremely intricate patterns on her shoulders and breasts. Cronus didn’t doubt that her entire body was a mosaic of art, though he was unclear on the meaning of the tattoos.

Her shoulders, broad and slabbed with muscle, heaved beneath her robes. She smiled indulgently. “Come, young man. Don’t tell me you left your tongue with Porrim.”

Cronus swallowed. Porrim went ‘hmph!’ again. The Dolorosa was an intimidating figure, not so much amazonian as she was an apex of the concept; her arms alone were bigger than he was, though she wasn’t at all toned. She was built like a strongwoman, really. Her robes were not especially revealing, but they still showed quite a lot of breasts that were… well. So incredibly huge, so wide and so bulky, that they were larger than a good portion of Porrim herself. Perhaps five feet high each, and wider across than that by far, they rested upon an incredibly huge and round belly that flowed over her throne onto a specially arranged dish set before her, over a dozen moving inside her stomach in expectation of vampirism.

That belly towered over Cronus, just as the rest of the imposing woman. The tattoos swirled over it, lovingly outlining its bulk. It looked bigger than a hut, or some boats he’d seen, bigger even that the Dolorosa’s entire body. How did she manage so many!?

Cronus found his voice, even as her smile grew increasingly more mischievous beneath her veil. “My father… he does well. He, erm. He asked, that…” he struggled to recall it, and found it hard to recount the unsual wistfulness that had come over his father then. “He thinks a lot about you.”

For a moment, the Dolorosa’s gaze went distant, thoughtful, wandering into the past. “I should hope so, the dear man…” She smiled fondly. She returned from whatever thoughts were on her mind, focusing on Cronus again. She raised a hand, and he flinched instinctively, but her intent was not hostile; her hand ruffled his hair, rather affectionately. “Please, do say hello, Kanaya!”

“I apologize, mother,” said the third speaker, who had been sitting to the side, on one of the smaller chairs, with an air of watching an amusement. Kanaya Maryam, youngest of the coven, and she looked a lot like a much smaller version of her mother.

Much smaller, in fact. After the overwhelming size of Porrim and her mother, Cronus was a little alarmed to see that Kanaya was much smaller than either. She was larger than him, though. Later, he would see that she was a little taller than Bronya, though not significantly so; as vampire fostering went, he learned, Kanaya was a lot more cautious. Much more than, say, Porrim was, and as a result she was a lot smaller for the moment. The growth that came with power, for the Maryams, was tied to this fostering ritual.

Kanaya’s tattoos were subtle, graceful curls at the edges of her robes. Her carved horns were obscured by fine rings that, Cronus noted smugly, came from the lands overseen by the Lalondes and had the distinctive unsettling artistry; her hair was short like her mothers, but her face rounder than either Porrim or the Dolorosa. She wasn’t quite as broad as her mother either, but was more powerfully built than Porrim, and definitely more heavy set at the waist. Her breasts were unusually large for a troll, bigger than her head, and rested on a belly containing a single vampire, though a fairly fierce one judging from how much her belly was wriggling. She didn’t seem to notice.

Kanaya bowed. “A pleasure to meet you at last.” she smiled faintly. “Porrim has been eager to bring you here, into our fearsome clutches.”

Porrim scoffed. “Kanaya, stop trying to convince people we are up to no good!”

The Dolorosa chuckled. “Oh, Porrim, don’t spoil the joke! After all, it’s not as if we’re going to keep him here and do terrbile things to this poor, handsome man!” She chuckled, and winked in an openly flirtatious way.

“Eep,” Cronus squeaked, blushing bright violet.

“Mother!” Porrim said, scandalized, though she’d said sentiments very much like that to Cronus before.

The Dolorosa chuckled. “Now, now. Sit him down, will you?”

Grumbling to herself, Porrim effortlessly picked him off the ground and returned to her seat, and it was specially designed so that there was enough space for him to sit comfortably on her thigh between herself and the seat, though sandwiched by her belly and one breast. He did not mind.

Porrim put one arm around him, and Cronus did the same, relaxing into her embrace as if he’d spent his life in her company. He relaxed against her, and she into him. “Awww,” Kanaya crooned mockingly.

Porrim raised an eyebrow.

Cronus said, as if to himself, “Ah, that may put me in mind of some interesting stories I heard from a certain Rose Lalonde, during her own time here?”

The Dolorosa laughed. “Oh, do tell!”

Kanaya blinked, and looked impressed. “...Hmph, not a bad move…”

In time, of course, the teasing faded, and later on, they held a proper official ceremony of presentation, as was traditional for the noble families. It cemented ties, and given that they had recently been at war, also put all their cards on the table. Officially that sort of thing wasn’t needed, but the gesture of trust was important.

Cronus felt it was more important to make it official why he was there; to learn. About their unique magic, to spread learning from his own fleets (and presenting them with a vast storehouse of scrolls, rediscovered magical artifacts, and tomes that made some of the scholarly inclined vampires at the ceremony gasp in delight, and talk ensued of entire new wings that would be built for them all), and to foster understanding between their realms.

‘Understanding’, in this case, having significant romantic undertones, as was now traditional in the other noble families, or at least the parts of them their age.

The Dolorosa smirked at that in a way that rather spoiled the whole game for Cronus, but given that he could finally have the days with Porrim he always wanted, he couldn’t complain too much.

[purelikeviolence]

Unluck of the Irish | Julie & Bea

@beatrice-blaze

Julie kept arguing with the bartender ushering them out of the bar, completely angry with how he was kicking them out because of something that Julie took no responsibility for but just because she was the loudest, it meant she had to leave. And Beatrice. Surely she understood how unfair it was!

“I’m gonna come back when you’re off work and kick your ass,” Julie threatened him as she stepped out to which he just scoffed and rolled his eyes. Julie didn’t exactly look the most threatening. Average height, slim figure. No way any man over 6ft and went to the gym once a week would ever be threatened by. Little did they know…

“That was totally unfair, wasn’t it?” She turned to Beatrice. They were having a nice time prior to that, weren’t they? Julie was always a good time. Especially to pretty women and Beatrice was definitely a pretty woman.

Bea could say with certainty, she had never been kicked out of a bar before. She had watched her sister be kicked out of bars, but she had never been involved herself. Julie was really pretty and in a way fun to hang out with, but she had to admit that this all was a bit much. Still she nodded towards Julie in support,“Yeah, totally unnecessary. There are people who are being as loud.” She looked around them, not sure what to do now that they were outside of Dell’s,“Should we find another place to get drinks then?”

“I swear some of these people just have it out for me.” Julie said with a shake of her head. Stupid bars. At least she wasn’t banned though. They were understanding in that sense. They had been drinking for a while before getting kicked however, so Julie wasn’t sure if she wanted to go to another bar. She didn’t want to get drunk. “Maybe we can go back to your place for drinks?” Julie suggested glancing over at Bea, trying to hide her smirk.

“Some people just get so nit-picky when they drink,” Bea tried to reassure Julie. She didn’t want Julie to get any more upset than she already was. This other woman was feisty and Bea wasn’t used to less fierce than someone she was out with. It was an odd feeling honestly. “Uh, my sisters live with me, so I don’t usually have people over… Could we go to yours?” She could do what she did with Dario and get a hotel room for the night. Or try to sneak Julie into the house… As she contemplated their next move, she heard clicking and whistling nearby. “Do you hear that too?”

I don’t have a place. Julie sure wasn’t going to admit that just yet (if ever). “I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s just drinks.” She tried to reassure but then heard a sound. She turned around, trying to make sense of where it was coming from. “Yeah… what - what is that?” A bird? Not like any bird she’s heard and given her time in the woods, she’s heard a lot of them. Just when she was distracted by the sound and looking up to see if she could spot anything, she felt something pass by them. As she glanced down she saw a green blur.

Bea tried to look around for the mysterious sound without looking too alarmed. There were too many things in this town that could be dangerous, especially at a time like this. Had she not been looking for something she would have completely missed the blur that went by her. Glancing down she noticed quickly that her gold bracelet was gone. That bangle was one she wore to match her sisters, a charm on each to tell the sisters if someone was on their property. “No!” She let out as she took off after the blur. “Give me my bracelet back!”

Before Julie could process something happened, Bea was running and Julie had to go running after her because what the hell was happening? Her bracelet? Stolen by some green things. Well, this night was taking a different path than she had thought it would. As the creature seemed to be heading into the forest, Julie took greater strides, knowing it was more likely to end up getting away if they got too deep into the forest. She leapt forward and managed to grab onto something. A small body and when she looked up and was eye to eye with some big headed creature. “Ugh you’re ugly.” It wasted no time biting her hand and she pulled it back as she yelped in pain. It continued taking off. “You big headed fuck!” She growled and continued running, pissed off.

Julie was fast, Bea noticed with wide eyes. She had no idea what these things were but she knew that she needed to get her bracelet back. Her mom could make a new one for her, but this had meaning, she had gotten them with her sisters. “What is that?” She asked rather shocked at the appearance of the thing. She pushed herself to catch up with Julie. “I’m sorry! It stole my bracelet and it’s really important!” She felt terrible that she had dragged Julie into whatever this was, but she needed that bracelet back. “I guess this is a good time to ask if you know about the supernatural?”

Julie had to laugh at Bea asking her about the supernatural at a time like this. She looked over at her. “No, it’s my first time.” She couldn’t resist and gave her a wink. Alright, it seemed they couldn’t beat it though sheer speed. Julie was starting to wind down, her sprint losing speed. “We’ll get the bracelet back don’t worry. But it won’t be until after I stomp on those green little shits.” She hadn’t a clue what they were but knew they were pests. While it would have been easy to conjure some shadow from the ground to grab whatever it was and get the bracelet back safely, she knew better than to use her abilities around someone she couldn’t trust. There was one too many people who knew what she could do right now. But if they continued to be annoying, she might just have to.

For a moment, Bea was worried she would have to explain the whole thing about supernatural creatures until she caught Julie’s wink. She let out a soft laugh at it. It was nice that Julie could still tease her even though they were chasing some awful creature through the town now. Bea was tempted to send out a little fireball at the creature’s head, she wasn’t sure she should around Julie. There was still a witch hunter around somewhere and she didn’t know who was willing to work for her. “My knight in shining armor,” Bea said with a little laugh. The creature was so fast and Bea was not gaining on them much. She supposed she could try some more simple magic and see if that would trip up the thing. It was much more subtle than her fire magic would be. With a little mutter under her breath, she tried a spell she had been taught as a kid. The fae tripped on the invisible force she had made, which let the two women start to close the distance.

It tripped! Julie didn’t see what it tripped on but that gave her the confidence to go faster. It was so close now, not close enough to reach out and grab but if she kicked off at the right time with the right speed and strength… there! She leapt out to grab the thing like it was a damn ball gripping it with both hands and pulling it close as she rolled onto the ground. Oof, that hurt a bit. She gritted her teeth as she sat up, the thing was biting and scratching at her but she wouldn’t let go. “Oh, you little shit.” She leaned forward and took a bite herself, causing the thing to screech and drop the bracelet. Julie felt it drop on her lap and let go, throwing it off to the side. Spitting, she picked it up, and held it out to Bea. “Please tell me this is it.”

Bea watched, fascinated as Julie sprinted and rolled while grabbing the thing. She would have never done that, too worried about how much it would hurt coming out of the roll. “Holy crap,” She whispered as she watched Julie bite the thief. She supposed that that worked, but again, it would have never been her course of action. Pausing in front of Julie, she watched as the thief ran away from them, apparently over the whole chase. Nodding, she grinned,“Yes. That is.” She took it from Julia and slipped it on,“It’s priceless and it matches with my sisters. I couldn’t lose it, you know?”

Julie got up, panting. Why did she put that much effort over a stupid bracelet? Maybe there were ulterior motives… or maybe Julie just cared that much for family mementos. Pftt. “So,” she said once she got her breathing under control. “You’re welcome, by the way.  I not only tackled that shit down but I bit him. Tasted it in my mouth and everything. I don’t think anything will wash that taste out now.” She spit off to the side before looking back at Bea. “Am I gonna get a thank you?” She teased, brow raised, wondering just how Bea was going to thank her for retrieving this priceless gift of much importance. Julie had her own idea of how Bea could do it.

“Oh, sorry!” Bea hurried to say,“Thank you. It just is like… It isn’t just a bracelet.” It was the literal key to their home and anyone who wore it would be able to get into her house and even her room. If she had lost it and someone had figured out what it was… She didn’t want to think about how hard it would be to get it back or make sure they couldn’t get into the house. While she wanted to sweep Julie off her feet and show her a good time, the adrenaline of the situation was draining and now she felt drained. “Can I rain check the thank you? Not going to lie, running after drinks kind of made me not feel the best.”

Julie was about to say something, about to cuss her out for having her go through all this shit and she wasn’t even going to get an invite back to her place. She sighed and gave a shrug. “Sure, rain check.” Whatever the fuck that meant. She looked around, getting a sense of her environment, figuring out where to go to get home or get another a drink. Either way, she’d be doing alone tonight. Unless she can pick up someone else at a bar but she already drank quite a bit, it wouldn’t turn out so great if she only continued to. “So, I’m that way.” She put her hood up and started back away. “You know where to find me.” That was all she said before turning around. Not even a “get home safe” because Julie wasn’t really the kind to care about that stuff. Sure, Bea was cool but here Julie was heading to her tree instead of a warm bed.

[notrobyn]

okay gang i watched artemis fowl and my thoughts are SO LONG. (i literally was taking notes everytime something struck me lmao) so this is obvs gonna be under a read more!! (also there’s probs minor spoilers sorry!!)

the tl;dr for my opinion though is: it’s probably fine if you read the books but weren’t that into them. like if ur a hardcore fan u will be most likely not be that impressed, and if u have never read the books i am FASCINATED to know if u kept up with the plot!! there were bits i didn’t understand at all lol

okay so point no. 1 is that to me most of the changes from the book felt either a little unnecessary or straight up pointless. point no. 2 is that i don’t know how to organise my thoughts so im gonna separate these out by character lmaooooo i have s o much beef.

artemis fowl ii: the actor is sweet! he’s having fun, we’re introduced to him via him surfing and then on a lil hoverboard thing with one wheel? which is a frankly bizarre choice for book!artemis who notably doesn’t do physical activity. (this is a dumb thing but until about 2/3rds of the way through he wears jeans. unheard of for this lil snob). He’s also called ‘Arty’ several times without rebelling. aside from that though he really didn’t start out too badly!! we see him with his guidance counsellor where he is as much a little shit as he is in the book, he’s very self-assured and he clearly knows what he’s talking about.  It does kind of go downhill from there though - his character development pretty much doesn’t even start and by the end of the film I have NO idea what his motivations or even his personality are.  We hear more characters straight up Telling us “ARTEMIS IS SMART AND ALSO SCARY” than we see evidence of it.

artemis fowl i: the dad! this is Colin Farrell. which is fine. he’s fine. He wasn’t really in the first book since he’d been kidnapped before the events and wouldn’t be rescued til the next one but he’s.....not bad! He doesn’t give me ‘criminal mastermind’ vibes and he certainly doesn’t seem to have passed any of that down to Arty II.  The whole ‘hostage’ shit was wild, i’ll talk abt that later lmao

butler: oh MAN did they misuse butler!!! I fucking LOVE book!butler. he’s such a perfect surrogate-father-figure to Arty while being totally in charge of his welfare and stuff like I literally love him. what a badass. but in the film......he’s basically just the fowl’s servant??? Like he’s not even specifically in charge of Arty? He goes on stakeout on his own, he knows all about Artemis Fowl I’s private collections and secrets, and worst of all - Arty calls him Dom/Domovoi. What the fuck. (he also at no point puts on a suit of armour)

juliet butler: god okay I also love juliet, she’s so cool. change no. 1 to juliet is that she’s about artemis’s age? I’m pretty sure she was older. but not convinced. change no. 2 is that she’s butler’s niece??? why? what a pointless change. She’s really not in this film a lot, even parts that in the book were for her have been changed. don’t love that

holly short: okay, holly short in the books is my absolute fav. she’s the first female officer in LEPrecon, she’s making waves, she’s held to a higher standard and is angry about it.  but film!holly........she’s just sort of a normal fairy. Apparently her dad was some kind of human sympathiser so I guess she’s working through that but other than that she just seems nice. Not much characterisation, she’s the same height as Arty though so I guess he must be 1m tall. Cool uniform, cool wings, she did say D’Arvit once.

mulch diggums: tbh I did like him in the books but he got overwhelming in the film. He’s like....the main framing of the film? So it’s like him reporting everything that happened to HUMAN police (wtf). but for some reason he’s really tall. Why is he really tall. The jaw unhinging is truly horrific to watch though which is tbh probably the goal. idk he’s fine, he just...felt like too much, especially compared to the weaker characters of Arty and Holly.

julius root: so this is Judi Dench. and honestly it wasn’t awful. I was super worried about this one because having Commander Root be a woman genuinely takes away so much from Holly’s character of struggling in a male-dominated job. but since Holly didn’t have much of a character, judi did a fine job.  She wasn’t quite as angry but she is intimidating, and she did also say D’Arvit so that’s cool. I don’t hate it.

opal: why the fuck is opal in this film. she didn’t become an antagonist for a while. her motives were wild: there’s a new secret fairy artifact called an ‘aculos’ or ‘acuros’ (at no point did i understand what they were saying, i had it written as akhiros for ages) that artemis senior got hold of, so she kidnapped him to......get it? Even though she could have just stolen it? I don’t really understand this.

foaly: nowhere near as paranoid, nowhere near as fun. horse bit looked cool from a distance, BAD movement though.

OKAY that’s all the characters i can think of?? here’s some general shit though!!!!! sorry this is so long!!!!!

the music was great! it’s patrick doyle so that’s always good, but he did some really gorgeous things with having Irish-inspired folk music when we were in Fowl Manor and then an orchestral score for action scenes, and then darker music for Haven. I do like hearing those little bits weave in and out! 

didn’t love mulch being the framing device. not every film needs one, sometimes a film can just stand on its own!! kenneth branagh i hope you’re listening!!

don’t know why they didn’t just leave the main driving force behind arty kidnapping a fairy as being gold?? it had to be this weird new fairy secret acorn thing. nonsense.

there was a VERY confusing sequence with holly’s magic being “blocked” by the LEP that i would love to know if anyone understood. also if anyone actually understood the time freeze i very much did not. what was arty’s plan??? lmao

this is so long im so sorry. IN CONCLUSION: IT WAS FINE. I WILL NOT WATCH IT AGAIN, NOR DO I WANT THEM TO MAKE ANOTHER. I WISH IT HAD BEEN MORE ACCURATE BUT I UNDERSTAND SOME OF THE CHANGES WERE MADE FOR A DISNEY AUDIENCE. SOME OF THEM WERE NONSENSE THO.