#humorous description

[cljordan-imperium]

Happy Storyteller Saturday!!

I know you have a lot of WIPs so this might be fun lol. For each of your 11 active WIPs, try to badly explain their plot in 2-3 sentences in the most amusing way possible!

Oh, I love this!! ❤️

@theimperiumchronicles - The former Princes of Hell think it's a wonderful idea to take on the Four Horsemen, because of course! Waging war against the literal Horseman of War pretty much goes as expected; and now he's really pissed.

@behindthesemasks - Archaeologist gets involved in covert operations and gets brainwashed. Do not fuck with Voodoo. Really do not fuck with the Queen, the ancestors tend to get pissy!!

@bendingthelaws - Crime boss threatens the law enforcement team looking to take him down. That is always a brilliant idea and goes as expected.

@the-andromeda-effect - Fake marrying a supposedly dead woman can be complex. Even more so when someone wants to make her actually dead.

@devil-in-the-details-ay - Falling in love with Death reveals the truth of the past. That truth leads to death, but not for Death.

@magical-mistakes-vm - Magical eugenics is bad y'all. Sibling rivalry while trying to combat it is just a pain in the ass.

@princess-of-thieves-id - Choking a woman makes her hate you, no matter how much you like her later. Being pirates can be fun, though, when the victims are your family.

@tapperhet-em - Trying to hide from the military while also trying not to kill each other from cabin fever is sometimes hard. A lot harder than you'd expect!

@sehnsuchtrising - Chaos ensues as a kingdom falls. The fate of it lies in the hands in a group of the absolute worst people you could choose.

Back to the 20's - Immortal Anna wants to help Rose Solomons protect women and children. Her companion, Jasper, is entertaining Rose's husband, Alfie, who he has to keep reminding himself not to eat.

Bayou Witches - The LaVeau family welcomes in a new Fench Witch. Who knew Voodoo lessons and albino alligators could be fun?!?

I hope you enjoy

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

Twould seem when in doubt I just draw Legend very messily

[itsawritblr]

When I nail that difficult description.

[pratchettquotes]

A Personal Note: Celebrating 900 Posts*

"I'm an Igor, thur. We don't athk quethtionth."

"Really? Why not?"

"I don't know, thur. I didn't athk."

Terry Pratchett, Making Money

*A Rare Personal Note: In honor of the 900th quote I have shared on this inconsistent, inimitable, genuinely joyous blog, I thought I should do what I normally do. That is, I went looking for one of the many profound, jarring, thought-provoking Pratchian quotes that draw so many of us back to his books again and again. And then I opened Making Money and abruptly changed my mind. Because let's be honest: Yes, we come back to Sir Terry for the insights and the head tilts and the moments that make us go "hmm" out loud, awkwardly, when we are in a silent train car. But that's not all. I may stay true to Discworld because it makes me think -- but I fell in love with Discworld because Terry Pratchett makes me laugh. Fifteen years later, I'm still laughing. So in honor of our 900th quote in common, let's celebrate the punchlines. If we have learnt nothing else from Pratchett, we know that laughing at the world makes it bearable to live in.

[stick-by-me]

The 80s called, they want their stickers back!

[royalarchivist]

Everyone this week: *lore, conspiracy theories, long conversations with Cucurucho, multiple attempts to summon the Binary Monster*

Spreen when lore:

[aventurineswife]

Kafka, Silver Wolf, Blade and Jingliu with Reader who cooks as bad as Yor Forger? 🤣 (Could be platonic or romantic, whatever floats your boat.)

Like Reader’s cooking is so bad it makes the actual in-game food item Sugarball Fried Viscorpi look normal in comparison, and even the most hardened criminal would balk and flee the moment Reader lifts the plate cover. A cycrane could be passing overhead and as soon as it catches a whiff, it just drops dead to ground with smoke rising from it. A devout follower of Lan might start praying to Yaoshi for a strong enough stomach to survive a bite, maybe a few bites if luck is on their side. That’s how bad Reader’s cooking is. It should be impossible for one person to be so terrible at cooking, yet Reader pulls it off without even meaning to, with desperate attempts to avoid it being terrible.

I just think it’s funny for characters that are meant to be super serious or “tough/cool” have that exterior suddenly shatter/freeze up when faced with something that is so awful and yet very much mundane. 😂

“When Love Cooks... but the Kitchen Revolts” | Part 1

Tags: Kafka x Reader, Silver Wolf x Reader, Blade x Reader, Jingliu x Reader, Humor, Fluff, Cooking Disaster, Slice of Life, Mild Chaos, Romantic Undertones but can be read Platonically, Lighthearted, Crack Fic.

Warnings: Slightly chaotic food descriptions, humor involving exaggerated reactions to food (no real harm intended), mentions of inedible meals.

A/N: was laughing when reading this req🤭, don't let this reader meet Solomon and Raphael 💀

[Part 2]

Kafka was rarely fazed. A Stellaron Hunter who could manipulate the minds of the toughest soldiers and bring entire armies to their knees with her charm and cunning—what could truly unsettle someone like her?

Apparently, your cooking.

“I appreciate the effort, darling,” Kafka purred, her tone masking the visible hesitation in her movements. Her hair fell over one shoulder as she peered down at the steaming… dish? It was hard to describe what lay before her, even for someone as eloquent as Kafka. The consistency was gelatinous, the smell pungent enough to make the station's security drones glitch and crash into a nearby wall.

You watched nervously as she poked the food with her fork. It wobbled menacingly.

“I followed the recipe to the letter this time!” you exclaimed, your hands wringing a dishcloth. “I even double-checked the measurements.”

Kafka gave you a patient smile, though there was a flicker of genuine fear in her eyes. She tentatively lifted the fork to her lips, her composure rivaling that of a woman walking into certain death.

The taste hit her like a warpstorm.

The fork clattered to her plate, and for the first time, you saw Kafka’s facade crack. Her lips twitched as she forced a smile that was as strained as the vocal chords of a cycrane caught mid-squawk. A bead of sweat slid down her temple.

“Exquisite,” she said, voice a touch too high. “Truly a flavor I’ve never experienced before.”

Outside the window, a passing cycrane plummeted from the sky, smoke trailing from its feathers. You gasped, and Kafka seized the opportunity.

“Darling,” she said, standing abruptly and pulling you close to her side, “why don’t we step outside? Some fresh air might do us good.”

“But you haven’t even finished—”

“No need!” she interrupted quickly, her polished calm returning. “I’m already full. Full of… new memories.”

As the two of you stepped outside, the dish quietly bubbled on the table, sending faint tremors through the floor.

Silver Wolf was sprawled across your couch, console in hand, her fingers flying over the buttons as she annihilated yet another level. She barely glanced up when you called her to the table.

“Hold up, just one more boss fight!” she said, her voice dripping with casual confidence.

“Silver Wolf, it’s going to get cold!” you called back, proud of your latest attempt at dinner.

With a dramatic sigh, she finally paused her game and wandered over. “Alright, alright. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She froze mid-step when she saw the plate. Her usual smirk faltered, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief. The dish in front of her looked… pixelated. Somehow, you had cooked something that appeared to have graphical glitches. A faint buzzing sound emanated from it, and a small spark leapt from one corner of the plate.

“Uh…” she began, stepping back cautiously. “Did you… download this food? Is this some kind of DLC?”

“No, it’s homemade! I swear, I followed all the steps this time.”

Silver Wolf adjusted her purple glasses, leaning in like she was analyzing enemy data. “It’s moving...” she whispered.

“It’s probably just steam.”

“It has a health bar...” she countered, pointing at the faint glowing bar hovering above the plate.

You crossed your arms. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Before she could respond, a stray kitchen cycrane beeped as it flew overhead, caught a whiff of the food, and promptly crashed through the window. Silver Wolf stared at the wreckage, then back at you.

“…Yeah, I’m ordering pizza.”

Blade had faced mara, untold pain, and the horrors of his immortal existence. Nothing could break him—or so he thought.

“Dinner is ready!” you called cheerfully, setting a plate in front of him. He glanced at it, his eyes narrowing slightly. The dish emitted a faint purple mist, and there was a distinct hiss as it touched the table.

“Is it… safe?” he asked, his tone flat.

“Of course! I made sure it was cooked all the way through this time.” you said, smiling.

Blade lifted his fork, gripping it with the same resolve he used to wield his broken sword. He took a small bite, and for a brief moment, you thought he’d handle it.

But then his usually impassive face twisted. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he slowly placed the fork down and stared at you.

“This… is a weapon.” he said finally.

You frowned. “You don’t like it?”

He shook his head. “No, I mean it’s literally a weapon. Whatever this is… it could end battles. Entire wars.”

Outside, a devout follower of Lan walking by your home dropped to their knees and began praying fervently. Blade sighed, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Next time, let me cook.”

[Header credits]

Jingliu was a woman of discipline and focus. Even as she descended into the madness of mara, she maintained an iron grip on her composure. That composure was now being tested.

She stared at the dish before her, her eyes narrowing. “This… is your cooking?”

“Yes!” you said, grinning nervously. “I thought you might enjoy something homemade for a change.”

Jingliu reached for her chopsticks, her movements slow and deliberate. The air around her grew colder as if her body instinctively activated her Path of the Destruction abilities in self-defense. She picked up a piece of… something. It sizzled ominously in the open air.

“Perhaps…” she murmured, her voice low, “this is a test of endurance.”

She took a bite. The room fell silent.

Moments later, a faint cracking sound echoed through the house. You realized it was the sound of her chopsticks shattering under the force of her grip. Her usually calm expression flickered, a subtle twitch betraying her inner turmoil.

“It is… unique,” she said, her voice tight. “You have… a talent.”

Before you could respond, a faint thud came from outside. Looking out the window, you saw a stray cycrane lying on the ground, wisps of smoke curling from its beak.

Jingliu stood abruptly. “I must meditate on this experience. Alone.”

As she disappeared into the night, you sighed, looking at the uneaten plate. “Maybe I should take a cooking class.”

[irepostedthistweet]

(Could not find the original post)

[justletmeon12]

I mean, they're right, but...

[the-really-lonely-mountain]

To Erebor - Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: Transported to Middle Earth, you must Join Thorin Oakenshield's Company as they travel to reclaim Erebor! OR: My take on the classic 'modern girl in Middle Earth' troupe. This is the second installment, so we are following the second movie of The Hobbit trilogy, and falling deeper in love with Kili on the way! This is the second part for the second movie.

Tags: Kili / Reader, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Modern Character in Middle Earth, During The Hobbit, How Do I Tag, Canon-Typical Violence, Kíli Is a Little Shit (Tolkien), implied soulmates, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Freeform, light smut, it's really just a brief description nothing too graphic but i certianly wouldn't want to be caught reading it, Holding Hands, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Thorin Oakenshield Company Members, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Fluff and Humor, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Where In Middle-Earth Is Gandalf?, Hair Braiding, Dwarf Courting, My First Tumblr Fic, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fíli & Kíli & Thorin Live, Thorin Oakenshield Lives, Fíli Lives (Tolkien), Kíli Lives (Tolkien), sword fight training, kili is a big ole softy and i love him so much for it, tags tbd tbh lol

Word Count: 4,758

A/N: OMG!! I graduated! I got a job! I finally edited this part! I'm so tired y'all, I'm writing this author note at like midnight lol. ~AnywhoOOo~ I hope you enjoy! let me know if you'd like to join the tag list to be directly notified of chapter updates! <3

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

You woke to the usual clanging of pots and pans as breakfast was being cooked. Kili’s hand was still on your waist and his arm was still your pillow, though you were sure it’d gone numb in the night. You gently placed your hand on his cheek and tenderly ran your thumb over his delicate cheek bone. He looked so handsome sleeping beside you, it made you smile like a giddy little schoolgirl. You regretted having to remove yourself from his warm embrace, but you had to start packing your things and getting ready for the day. A much easier task now that you didn’t have to worry about your hair. When you were finished and your bag was neatly packed, you woke Kili.

He stretched his arms above his head then his eyes popped open, “Good morning!”, he sat up energized and ready to conquer the day.

“Good morning!” You replied with a kind smile, ever impressed by his liveliness in the mornings, “Start packing, Bombur’s almost finished breakfast.”

He shuffled about beside you while you worked on the last half of your bracelet, waiting for breakfast.

The porridge was the usual white sludge meant for nutrients, not flavor. You rinsed the dishes in the river with Kili’s animated storytelling as you usually did after meals. Thorin had the company moving out when you returned.

The day’s walk was very scenic, mostly idyllic forests with little rivers, where the lighting truly brought it all together. You walked between Kili and Fili so they could give you the basic run-down of sword handling and bowmanship.

By the end of midday, the company was on the border of the forest and a field. Thorin decided to make camp there and told Gloin to make the fire while Nori, Bifur, and Oin set traps in the forest to restock the reserves or something, you weren’t listening, too focused on Kili’s hand in yours as he led you somewhere.

The extra sparkle in his gorgeous brown eyes told you he was very excited to teach you about archery. As the resident Archer, no one (his brother) could compete for your attention by correcting him. He was also excited to watch you use his bow and his arrows; an honor bestowed upon an extremely select group.

Kili was very protective of his bows, not just because of the time it takes to make such an incredibly valuable weapon, but because one time in his youth he worked for weeks carving a brand-new bow from solid wood, making the string by hand, and engraving runic talismans into the handle. He worked very hard on that bow; Only to have one of his snot-nosed neighbors snatch it from him while they were playing and accidentally snap it in half after a misstep. Kili was furious, absolutely inconsolable. Fili had to drag him from the scene of the crime to the forest just behind their family house, so he didn’t hunt the kid down and destroy him. He didn’t say anything to Fili, just cursed and milled about the clearing in frustration. At first, his brother didn’t know what he was doing, concerned he was setting a malicious trap for the offending child (such a spiteful trap was almost sprung after another incident of the same nature); but as Fili silently watched, out of arm’s punching reach of course, he realized his brother was just looking for a piece of wood to make a new bow. Fili built a fire to keep the chill of the setting sun at bay, not wanting to abandon his brother to the coming night. He watched the younger mumble curses in dwarfish as he whittled the wood seemingly in his own little world. Kili hadn’t really taken notice of the fire his brother built despite using its light and occasionally throwing more wood on out of habit while he stayed up all night to make the string and engrave the handle. Their mother, Dis, saw them through the window in the back door in the middle of the night. Fili was sitting on the ground, relaxed, leaning against a tree while he watched his brother on the other side of the blazing fire, Kili was sitting on a rock hunched over his bow as it came together. Dis knew from that moment Fili would always look after his little brother, or at the very least try his best. The craftsmanship of the bow he made that night was nowhere near his previous bow, but it could still shoot the straightest arrow in the village. It would do till he grew again and needed a bigger one.

Kili brought you a few yards away from the camp, out of ear shot but not out of sight. After the crash course in archery during the day’s walk, you were as prepared as you could be. And excited as ever. Kili carved a target into the trunk of a tree with his dagger, not worried about losing misfired arrows in the underbrush because the fletching on the end of all his arrows were bright yellow.

He situated you both at a reasonable distance from the target and demonstrated again how to place your fingers on the string and what position to be in when you pull the string back. When he handed you the bow you were not expecting it to be as heavy as it was. Without an arrow, you tried to pull the string back like he showed but you couldn’t move it. You looked at Kili.

“Just pull it back Y/N.” He encouraged, with a proud little smile.

“I am, Kee,” you said still straining to pull it. It wouldn’t budge. He thought for a moment, trying to figure out what could be wrong—Ah! He got it!

“Here, let me help.” He came up and stood behind you. “The draw weight for my bow must be too high for you,” he said into your ear, his low hushed tone not going unnoticed as he got into position. He shuffled his legs behind yours and placed his hand below yours on the handle and his fingers above and below your slimmer, softer ones on the string. They were much stronger and much thicker than yours. Two of your fingers were the same width as one of his, a thought that quickly had you blushing. The irresistible mental image of moaning out for him while being deliciously stretched around his capable digits as he cooed praises, was nearly too much. You thanked god he was behind you and couldn’t see your bright red face.

He let you do most of the work pulling the bowstring to allow you to get a feel for the mechanics and amount of potential energy the movement created.

“And…” he made sure you were ready, “Release.”

You both let go of the string at the same time.

“Perfect! Now let’s try it with an arrow” He got one from the quiver on his back and handed it to you.

You nocked the arrow like he taught you then got into position. He helped you pull the string back like before, allowing you to control the aim.

“Ready…” You said to him this time, “Release!”

The arrow flew across the field and landed smack in the middle of the bullseye.

“No way,” Kili said in complete disbelief. You both went over to inspect the target. Sure enough, the arrow was deep in the carved center circle of the tree.

“That’s amazing Y/N!” He turned to you with the biggest smile you’d ever seen. You were as happy as him, jumping up and down excitedly.

“I want to try again!” You walked over to your previous spot and lined yourself up, waiting for him to join you. He chuckled at your enthusiasm and grabbed another arrow on the way over. You repeated the process like a practiced dance, enjoying more than anything that he was your partner. He allowed you to aim again, but this time the arrow didn’t hit its mark or the tree at all; It planted itself firmly into the leaf-covered underbrush.

“Awe,” you pouted, “I rushed, next time I’ll take my time.” You went to grab another arrow from his quiver, accidentally getting your face in his. For a moment, you could feel the heat of his lips and his breath tumbling over onto your own in a near ragged pant.

When you backed away you both politely laughed it off, though you could have sworn he leaned closer to you in that brief moment.

You shot all the arrows he had in his quiver. A handful hit the target, and a few even got close to the bullseye, but none hit the center like the first. Being a good coach, he encouraged and teased when the time was right.  

Once again in your own little world, it was like nothing mattered except him. His radiant smile, his contagious laughter, his excitability; it was all consuming. As the day wore on, your arms got tired, and you were ready for a break. You helped him collect the arrows in and around the tree, so he could show off for a bit like boys do for pretty girls. He did trick shots and action shots and even pinned the pinecone you threw for him to the tree. His skills were very impressive. Your return to the camp was met with impressed exclamations.

“Was that a bullseye on the first shot?!” Bofur asked, having seen the miracle even from the other side of the camp.

“Aye!” You said excitedly, proud of your accomplishment. You didn’t even realize that you were beginning to use their dialect.

“Good job lass!” Oin said, along with the others happily celebrating with you.

After all that training, you were hungry for a snack. You rummaged through your bag in search of the grapes you had foraged with Bilbo the day before. They weren’t in your bag where you left them, carefully wrapped in your old T-shirt.

‘They couldn’t have fallen out’ you thought as you scanned the camp for the thief, already having an idea of the culprit. You stopped when your eyes fell on Kili across the camp, leaning against a tree with a shit-eating grin as he popped a grape into his mouth.

You were livid. It was a total invasion of your only private property: your bag, and you felt extremely violated.

You couldn’t say anything to the offending dwarf or even look at him in fear of your rage exploding onto him. Your anger evident from your expression, the camp fell silent as you walked to Kili.

That feeling in Kili’s chest sunk to his boots when he saw how angry you were; he knew he’d gone too far. You snatched the grapes from his hand and walked (stomped) into the field beyond the camp.

“Y/N wait—” he tried to follow you into the field.

“NOT NOW KILI” you snapped at him over your shoulder in a tone he didn’t quite think you were capable of. He stopped in his tracks at your tone, the same one his mother used when she was very cross with him. The other members of the company who heard the commotion snickered at Kili’s self-inflicted misfortune.

You sat in the field, soaking up the sunshine and eating your grapes while you calmed down. Kili moped around camp like an abandoned puppy; it was quite a pitiful sight.

When you finished your snack, you took a few deep breaths to get the anger from your system and allow your thoughts to come together to properly explain to Kili why you were so mad. The youngest Durin hesitantly joined you in the field when he saw you were done with your grapes, his footfalls crunching the grass beneath him alerting you to his presence. He sat next to you clearly a little nervous by how he picked at the grass.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at the ground. “It was just supposed to be a joke, honest,”

“Joke or not, Kili Durin, you shouldn’t have gone through my stuff!” You wanted to make sure he understood how unhappy his actions made you. He cringed at his full name. “You violated the only sliver of privacy I have out here!”

“Sorry, Y/N,” he said in a regretful voice you’d never heard from him before. “I shouldn’t have gone through your bag.”

You sighed and looked over at him. “I forgive you Kee,” You took another deep breath, satisfied he’d learned his lesson, “Just don’t do it again, ok?”

He smiled, happy to be back on good terms with you, “I won’t, I promise”. You smiled too, his infectious charm melting what little remained of your anger. You gave him a hug, knowing you both needed physical reassurance.

He sat with you in the field for a while, content to stay in comfortable silence. You’d been eyeing a beautiful patch of flowers a few feet away since you’d sat down. You shifted so you were laying on your stomach to get a closer look at their vibrant hues and decided you wanted to use them, but how? Kili moved next to you, mirroring our position, to see what you were looking at. Then inspiration struck.

“I’ll braid them into your hair!” You said excitedly. He gave you a look of surprised confusion.

“What?! No!” he was immediately against the idea and even backed away from you as if you’d jump on him any second like his brother might. “Why don’t I put them in your hair instead? They’d look much better on you.” He desperately tried to come up with a reason to avoid the inevitable onslaught of mocking he’d have to endure if he agreed to your plan.

You brought yourself to a kneel so you could look him dead in the eyes with a blank expression, “Pussy,” you said.

He scoffed and got all huffy and puffy, “I am not a pussy!” He said defensively, his cute accent got thicker when he was flustered, it made it so hard to take him seriously, “I just think the flowers would make you even more beautiful than you already are.”

You blushed deeply at his words and looked away from his charming little smile to keep your thoughts from a more baser mindset and to think over his offer. He started twirling the end of one of the braids he’d done the night before between his fingers. It was a sweet and absentminded motion, to which you relented with a sigh, “Alright, but you have to teach me how to use a sword after.”

“Deal!” He gave a hearty nod. You got your hair stuff from your bag and your bracelet to work on and hopefully finish while Kili did your hair. You picked the prettiest flowers and put them in the extra fabric of your shirt like a delicate basket. He dragged over a stone to sit on and got to work undoing the braids and brushing your hair out.

You didn’t realize how tight he’d made the braids till the tension was released from your scalp. You sighed in pleasured relief as he moved your hair around with the brush. That sound immediately pricked his ears.

“Does that feel good, princess?” He looked down at you and smiled as he massaged the sore parts of your head. You were too lost in the feeling his skilled hands were creating to react to the pet name.

Once he massaged the soreness away, he parted your hair and began braiding. Kili had a vision of what he wanted to do to your hair. He wanted a thick band like a crown around the top of your head and four small thin braids scattered across the rest of your loose unbraided hair.

You were on an entirely different plane of existence. You felt so calm and relaxed and taken care of with his undivided attention, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before. His tranquil voice when he asked for a flower every now and then was the only thing you could hear. It felt like you were floating, your body sun warmed and peaceful.

When Kili was putting on the finishing touches, Fili came and joined you in the field to see what you both were doing, sadly pulling you from your lovely state of mind.

“Kili wouldn’t let me put flowers in his hair.” You pouted after the older brother inquired about your change in hairstyle.

“Even after he rummaged through your bag!” Fili feigned offense on your behalf with a smirk as he laid on his side in front of you both propped up on his elbow.

“Shut up, Fili” Kili huffed, ashamed of his previous actions, as he carded his fingers through your loose hair to make sure it was laying properly.

“Awe, Kiwi’s embawwassed,” you said in a baby-talk voice, making you and Fili laugh a little.

Kili stopped combing his fingers through your hair and tangled them in the loose hair at the back of your head. He pulled your head down to make you look up at him looming over you. He was about to say something, but the inadvertent dominating gesture caused an involuntary moan to slip past your lips, stalling any thoughts he tried to voice.

You were both stuck in that trance for just a moment, yet it took an eternity to pass. He was unable to look away from your pleasure pinched eyebrows and slightly parted panting lips. You were captivated by his handsome blushing features and the fire in his eyes. You wanted so desperately to kiss him, to meet his lips in heated passion.

“Good gods you two,” Fili rolled his eyes. His sudden interruption snapped Kili back to reality so he could release your hair. “Get a room,” Fili finished his statement.

“Shut up, Fili,” you both said in unison with faces equally ablaze and eyes cast anywhere but at each other. The elder just looked at you two and laughed to himself, he knew at that moment you were both madly in love.

“Here’s your brush, Y/N.” Kili handed it to you, wanting to change the subject.

“Yes, thank you” You took it from him and hastily returned your bag to camp. You met Kili back in the field for sword training. His brother was still there passively observing (waiting till he had to step in to correct the younger as this was not Kili’s area of expertise).

Bilbo allowed you to borrow his sword so you could get an idea of what a properly fitted one felt like without your wrists being torn to shreds by the other much heavier swords of the company. Kili walked you through basic moves and positions to teach you how to make your weapon like an extension of your own body. When he tried to speed up the movements and have you come at him in mock battle, you faltered and messed up the arrangement of poses.

When this happened, Fili of course would step in with a simplified version to help you. Before long, you had an audience, and the watchful eyes and extensive fighting prowess of Thorin and Dwalin. Kili was no longer the teacher but the sentient-sparing mannequin. The sequence of positions and movements became longer the more you worked at it. It felt amazing to be capable of so much. You knew it was just choreography, but it made you better now than you were before.

You were beginning to sweat under your thick tunic. The physical exertion was getting to Kili as well. When you took a water break you removed your shirt, the coffee brown padded camisole you wore underneath being far more breathable, but much tighter than your usual outerwear. It left hardly anything to the imagination.

Your less-dressed return to the now-stamped-down grass of the makeshift training area was met with impressed exclamations, wolf whistles, and light applause. You blushed and pretended to be a fashion model at the end of a runway. They found it very amusing.

Kili came back wondering what the commotion was about.

He saw you waiting for him. You hadn’t noticed him approaching yet, too busy putting on a silly little show. He loved seeing you like this, confident and carefree, not worrying about how you looked and focusing on something that was far more rewarding: having fun. He used the few seconds you were distracted to admire you. Your half up half down hair he’d just braided and styled, was blowing softly in the wind, and your short unruly baby hairs were matted to your sweaty forehead framing your face. Your camisole highlighted the alluring curve from your ribs to your hips. The hem of the fabric was ridding up on your waist, revealing just a sliver of your lower tummy. Your pants kept where they were, hugging tight to your thighs and bottom.

‘Two can play that game’ Kili thought, not even trying to hide his mischievous smile. He took his shirt off and threw it in his bag.

You looked up and saw him coming to meet you. The long bangs that framed his face were clinging to it now from his perspiration. He was smirking, knowing he caught you slightly off guard. His prominent pectoral muscles bled into his strong thick arms. His waist tapered at his hips where his pants were beginning to ride low, revealing his defined adonis belt in its retreat. He exuded power as he walked towards you with his arms out a bit from his side, and his palms facing you, as if he were challenging you.

“Ohho, it’s serious now, is it?” you said over a light chuckle, feigning being taken aback by his friendly challenge.

“Oh, it sure is.” He returned your light laugh and with a smug expression he tapped his sword against yours where it hung at your side. He knew he was flustering you. He could see it in the deepened flush that colored your cheeks and how your thumb picked at the leather-covered hilt of your sword.

You had to bite the inside of your lip rather hard to keep your eyes above his exposed shoulders. It had been so long since you’d felt so physically and mentally attracted to someone. The way he was looking at you made your panties dampen at the scandalous thoughts that his honeyed chocolate eyes made race through your head.

If Thorin hadn’t said, “Ready positions”, in that barking tone of his, you’d have jumped Kili’s bones and rode him off into the sunset.

You both got into the starting positions you preferred. Thorin shouted ‘Commence’ in Dwarfish. Kili came at you with harsh blows, which you perfectly countered like you’d been taught. You were able to quickly move yourself, so you were standing at his side. You took the opening and swung for his exposed ribs, but he easily blocked your attack. You pressed your blade against his to force him back and give up some ground. He stood steadfast in his heavy boots, however, and pushed back against you, getting his face close to yours to tease you.

“Good job, you remembered how to keep your grip on the sword.” He said with mock celebration. You gritted your teeth, determined to keep your footing. He glanced at your lips where your teeth were worrying your lower lip; A habit he noticed when you were focused or nervous.

“I’ve been taught well, Archer.” You shot back, as suave as you could manage under the conditions. He threw you back so he could reset his stance.

“We’ll see about that, Ibinê,” he said, flustering you again with that mischievous grin as his native language easily rolled off his tongue.

You charged at him, and your blades collided with a loud metallic clang. Your sudden advance surprised him, he backed up a few steps. Cheers came from your audience.

“Ibinê?” You strained while your blades met again in a brute force pressing match. “What does that mean?”

Kili shoved you back and swiftly turned around, a trick he hadn’t yet revealed in your spar. He abandoned his blade somewhere off to the side and spun around again but crouched in his movement so he could swipe your legs from beneath you. You fell to the ground with a muted thud, your weapon knocked from your grasp. Kili scrambled to straddle your hips, pinning down your legs with his and your wrists above your head. You tried to fight against him, but his strength and weight are much greater than yours.

He panted above you, smiling like a cat who got the canary, “If only it were you straddling me,” he whispered under his breath and winked at you discreetly. Your chest was heaving, making your breasts ebb and flow with the rhythm. The erotic tension was palpable between you.

“We have a victor!” someone said from the sidelines to break your daze. Kili blushed and stood and helped you from the ground. Your audience clapped a little then dispersed to the camp a few feet away.

You leisurely walked away from the encampment along the edge of the forest to catch your breath. The extra sway in your hips and a casual glance over your shoulder enticed Kili to follow you. He walked beside you. You looked up at him delighted he got the hint and followed you. He leaned over to say in a voice that was deeper than normal, “Ibinê means my gem.” His words took a moment to register, a delayed blush colored your chest and neck.

He bit his lip as a thought played behind his eyes. Growing bold from the adrenaline still in his veins, he wrapped his hand around yours. He picked up speed till he was running with you trailing behind. He took you far from the others. The sun was setting, painting the sky in those vivid colors that only dusk and dawn brought.

Kili slowed to a stop and used his grip on your hand to bring you in front of him. He took a step into your personal space.

“Labathmizi means I adore you.” He gingerly placed his hand on your cheek like he was handling the thinnest, most precious glass in the world. You were blushing profusely, your gaze danced from his eyes to his lips. “Abnâmulzi means you are beautiful.” He pecked his lips against yours for a moment then backed you against a tree and pinned you against it with his strong hand on your hip. The prolonged eye contact was making you pant. His voice was low and rough with arousal, “Azralizi du-nâmrul, Ibinê…” His head ducked down so his lips brushed against yours. “…means I want to fuck you, my gem.” He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that surpassed any expectation you had. You lifted your leg over his hip, his hand went from your hip to your thigh, an encouraging movement, and it felt like it was searing into your cloth covered skin. It slid up to your ass cheek and urged you to grind against him. Your hand was on his bare shoulder and the other tangled in his hair, scratching and pulling lightly on the soft brown tresses at the nap of his neck. You whimpered as his hardening member pressed against your soaking core. Kili met your movements, making himself hiss at the delicious friction you were both craving.

When you broke the kiss for air as lust flooded your mind and loins, “That’s really hot” was all you could manage.

You were becoming addicted to his kiss. The way his thumb would glide against your cheek and the soft, barely there little whimpers he was making as you deepened the kiss were driving you mad with need. His tongue won its fight against yours when he gyrated his hips perfectly to grind into you, causing a moan to bubble from you. When he broke away, he looked at you, panting.

He suddenly went silent and perfectly still. His eyebrows pinched in a sudden focused confusion as he looked past the tree you were pinned to. This immediately concerned you.

You opened your mouth to ask if he was ok, but he put his finger to his lips to silence you. He closed his eyes and turned his head to focus on something; dwarfs and their connection to the environment around them still confused you.

His eyes shot open in a panic, and he tore himself away from you so he could pick you up bridal style.

You clung to him as he broke out in a sprint back to camp, “A pack of orc’s are coming.”  

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Taglist <3: @letmelickyoureyeballs, @nessarosefiction, @akari-rioan

[the-unconquered-queen]

The cast of Blades of Light and Shadow and their Perfect Match types

Ever since I did my Blades/Elementalists attunement crossover to mark the anniversary of the Blades series, I’ve known I wanted to do something like this to mark the wide release of book three, and I love me some Perfect Match and the types system, so what better way than by incorporating that into a piece?

So the match types you see here are based on what we’ve seen of these characters up to book two, so any character evolution they may undergo in book three is not accounted for. You might also notice that, when deciding each character’s type, I went off of the core four traits instead of the match name or description, unless I needed a tiebreaker.

Finally, MC’s type is pretty subjective, as I’m sure everyone has a different idea of what their MCs are like, so for the sake of this edit set, Raine’s type is based on which traits she displays most in canon.

So, are you swiping right?

[waitineedaname]

"svsss is a comedy"

svsss: [incredibly graphic descriptions of torture, violence, and body horror]

[rulersre4chf4n]

Hunter + Tumblr text posts

(images contain alt text)

[thejadearia]

Speaking of Shimazaki, I learned a lot about myself this week making these terrible memes so I could drop them in the discord chat as I made my friends watch MP100. What I learned was, I have a terrible sense of humor (actually I already knew that, I just didn't realize it was this bad) and that the only thing I enjoy more than watching Shimazaki kick ass, is Shimazaki getting his ass kicked. (I'll have more of these for next week when we get to Serizawa's stuff! Sorry!)

[puhpandas]

Rabbit Burrow

(3,785 words) Part 1 (part 2 found here)

Tony Becker, one year after surviving the attack from GGY, tracks down Gregory post-SB. But he has to get through Vanessa before he can get to Gregory.

Tony likes to think his detective skills are pretty good. So when he swings a leg over the seat of his bike and wheels it near the entrance, he hopes it's the right place.

He'd tracked down Gregory to this apartment complex somewhere in Gale county. It's still in Hurricane, and Tony had been able to reach it with just a bus ride. The apartment is somewhat run-down, but clean enough to where you can tell it's well kept, just old. The air conditioning units he passes on the way to the front door are brand new.

He'd taken the closest bus to Gale county right after school let out. He'd been restless all day up until finally acting on his findings. Tony has been searching for Gregory for a year. Finally finding something and having to wait for his middle school day to end was agonizing. He just hopes his Mom and Grandma wont be too mad at him.

He'd wrestled his bike he'd ridden to school that day discreetly onto the bus and wedged it in-between his legs and the seat in front of him. The air had been humid and thick all day with the signs of a storm, and Tony had seen the dark clouds and heard the thunder peeking over the treeline outside the bus window on the way here. He ducks inside the front door and beats the rain by seconds.

"Can I help you?" The receptionist asks him, giving him a weird look when he steps inside. Shes a lady with long, styled black hair and covered in jewelry. Tony tries not to look too suspicious as he sends her a polite smile, heading to the elevator on the wall to the left. He would also be wary if someone he'd never seen walked into a resident building.

"Just seeing an old friend." He tells her. He presses the button to the third floor and tries to break her gaze by stepping behind the closing doors. The elevator shakes a bit before moving up.

He tries to take a deep breath. Theres some kind of excitement floating around in his chest at the fact that he's done it, but he pushes it down, lowering his expectations.

Despite his theories, he really has no clue what to expect. Theres some sort of worry mixing with the excitement, and all he decides is that if he escaped once, he can do it again.

It both took too long and not fast enough when he finally reaches the third floor. He double checks his crumpled sheet of notebook paper in his hand once, then a second time, something nervous but anticipating thrumming in his veins.

He steps onto the beige carpet of the long hallway, fresh vacuum marks in it, and follows the number plates by each door before coming to a stop near the middle of the hall.

3-05 The plate reads back to him. He quadruple checks his paper again. Its right.

He sighs out deeply, not even realizing he was holding his breath. Despite himself, his brows crease ever so slightly.

He shakes it away, pushing past it. Maybe digging too deep is what got him into trouble before, but its different now. Tony... Tony's learned things during his search for Gregorys location. If there was any point during his investigation that he would call digging too deep, it would have been months earlier from now.

Besides. Tony has always been bad at staving off his curiosity.

He thunks his knuckles on the white wood of the door quickly after that, three times in succession. He kind of bluescreens for a second when he realizes what he just did, then shakes it off. Waiting with wide eyes at the door, watching for a rattling of a doorknob or listening for incoming footsteps.

Nothing. He waits a few more minutes before knocking again, this time a little louder and harder.

Tony perks up when footsteps finally near the door, and his lips part prematurely when the doorknob rattles, not even put-together words yet on his tongue. They fall away immediately when a woman with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail opens the door, one of those chain locks keeping it open maximum of three inches. "Hello?"

He stutters for a moment, words lost on his tongue, before he clears his throat, putting on a polite smile. "Hi, there." He says. "Um. Who are you?"

"I should be asking you that, kid." The woman raises a brow at him, never opening the door more than the chain lock allows it. She peers at him through the gap, and Tony tries as discreetly as possible to look past her head and shoulder into the apartment itself. "What are you doing here?"

When he looks back, shes still looking at him in a way Tony can only describe as cautious. The light in the hallway on the ceiling is flickering, and it casts split second shadows on the womans face that makes the bags under her eyes that much more prominent and her face that much more intimidating. "Well?"

Tony realizes he hasnt answered, and coughs slighty. "Oh. Sorry." He says, reluctant to continue. "I'm... I'm looking for Gregory."

Tony watches intensely to see if the name rings a bell or catches her attention. Just as he expects, her face twists ever so slightly in recognition. Tony catches something adjacent to panic or fear in her eyes until it's gone not half a second later.

"Who's asking?" She asks eventually, voice carefully even after a what appeared to Tony to be a mini conundrum in her head.

"His friend." He answers honestly. He ducks his head when the woman scrutinizes him, looking almost angry, but restrained enough to not show it. "I mean it," He says earnestly. "he and I... we were best friends. Last year. I came here to look for him."

Her eyes widen ever so slightly at that, and she studies him, eyes flicking back and forth over his face and his clothes and his hair. Tony doesnt miss the way her eyes linger for a millisecond on his scars. Its silent in the hall save for the two looking at eachother, and the buzzing of the flickering light on the ceiling is enough to save him from hearing his own heartbeat.

"Okay." She says eventually, and Tony subconsciously feels himself sag a bit at the relief that he won't turned away right as he was this close. She shuts the door without a word, and all Tony can do is stare at the peeling landlord white paint on the door as the sounds of the woman unlatching the multiple locks on the other side reach his ears. He waits patiently, until she cracks the door open not much wider than it had been with the lock, but just enough to fit his body in. "Come in. But no word to anyone. Got it?"

About what? Tony's about to ask, but then he steps through the door and the words die on his tongue.

"Oh." He says outwardly when Glamrock Freddy Fazbear sits on the couch. His body is adjacent to the patchwork quilt Tony has on his bed that his Grandma made him, and any of the makeup he had been painted with has long since scratched off.

His eyes are shut, and theres two jump cables attached to his ears that are plugged into a portable something. He doesn't so much as twitch when Tony enters the room.

The woman gives him a look after she re-locks only the deadbolt behind him and passes him into the apartment. "Oh." He repeats. "Not a word."

She nods at him, and it's only now that Tony can see the rest of her that isnt just her face. Shes in her twenties, if he had to guess, and she has a white tank top on with some sort of stain near the collar along with Hello Kitty fleece pajama pants. Her socks are mismatched and her nails are painted a purple color that could rival the deep bags under her eyes.

She collapses into an armchair (which hes pretty sure has a mismatched leg attached to it half-hazardously) and only looks at him silently as he steps further into the house, not so discreetly angling his body to get a peek past walls and open doors across the house.

Shes about to speak when Tony does first, "Wheres Greg?" He asks straight up. "Can I see him?"

Her lips twitch, and she just leans further back into the chair. The TV is playing some sort of Spring baking show, and the droning of the host mixes with the pattering of the rain on the window on the wall by the TV.

Anticipation and impatient-ness buzzes under his skin at being right here, and this woman undoubtedly knowing Gregory certainly doesnt help.

She only hesitates for a moment, but Tony can see the influx of thoughts that undoubtedly ran through her mind. She opens her mouth, taking a slow breath, before, "At school."

"He goes to school?" Tony gasps slightly, eyes widening. He moves to the couch, toeing past Freddy Fazbear as to not touch him even with just a brush of his jeans before sitting down, facing her. "What school?"

"He goes to Raindrop." The woman tells him, seemingly not hesitating this time.

It doesn't ring a bell, but it must be a middle school in Gale county. "...I go to Hailstorm." Tony says. "We both did. Or used to."

She stares at him after that, fingers drumming on the arm of her chair. She says nothing, just scrutinizing him, before, "You sure have a lot of cryptic ways of telling me how you used to know Gregory."

He wants to apologize, because it seems like what to do in response to that statement, but for some reason, that feeling in his gut he's learned to trust as his Detective sense tells him that he shouldn't.

Shes still looking at him intensely, and the rain outside pattering on the window somehow feels louder. There's some thunder outside that rumbles the floor, and the lighting casts a shadow on the living room. A few white lines across the coffee table caused by the blinds covering the window.

Her face doesnt so much as twitch, he notices, and she doesn't blink when she looks at him. Her green eyes bore into him, almost glowing in the shadow cast beneath her bangs. It reminds him of how he'd done to her not minutes ago. What he does to people he wants to analyze. To see how they react to something.

That's what shes waiting for, he realizes. He has a feeling that if he doesnt match her cryptic bluntness and instead apologizes and caves that easily, that it will somehow result in her turning him away.

Theres a glint in her eye when he becomes aware of reality again enough to look, and he thinks she somehow just came to the conclusion that Tony figured it out.

Then, he tries to sit up a bit straighter, and muster up that same glint mirroring back at him. "You sure have a cryptic way of letting me know you dont trust me."

Her mouth twitches slightly, but its all Tony needs to know he'd guessed correctly.

Its silent for a moment, and the woman grabs the remote on the next arm over and pauses the baking show she'd been watching. She shifts in the red velvet seat, as if getting comfortable, before, "Tell me how you know Gregory, and I'll tell you how I know him."

He has a feeling he isnt getting to Gregory unless he gets through this woman first, so he clears his throat, leaning his forearms on his knees.

"Me and Gregory met early last year at the beginning of the school year." He begins. "Right after summer ended in August. He was the new kid, and he sat at our table at lunch since it was mostly empty. Me and my friend arent the most popular, so there was room to spare."

She waves a hand, signaling him to stop. "Your friend?" She asks. He nods. "How many of there were you?"

"...Just me and E-- my friend." He says. "There were two of us, and when Greg sat at our table, we remembered how he looked a little lost earlier in class and we introduced ourselves. Then we just... clicked, I guess. He would partner with us in creative writing."

"Writing, huh?" She smiles slightly.

"Yeah." He replies. "Then, it was just business as usual for the months afterwards." He pauses, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket he loves so much that reminds him of the trenchcoats big city investigators wear. "Then... I had gotten wrapped up in this mystery."

She shifts, crossing a leg over the over and holding her hands together. "A mystery?"

Tony nods, remembering it like it was yesterday. He thumbs the part of arm where a scar is on his arm that his jacket covers. "The three of us would always go to the arcade in the Pizzaplex." He tells her. "And one day, I noticed high scores that seemed impossible to reach, and I became obsessed with solving who it was who had gotten there."

Tony thinks hes very good at reading people. So he doesn't think it's just his imagination when the woman in front of him goes a little rigid in her seat.

Theres some sort of creases under her eyes, Tony notices, that weren't there before.

"What did you do?" She asks.

Tony has a feeling that she somehow knows already. So he doesnt beat around the bush.

"I solved the mystery, eventually." Tony says. "Because GGY had been Gregory, and he'd invited me to the Pizzaplex and tried to kill me."

She sags a bit, looking somehow infinitely more tired, but no surprise detected. "But you survived."

"Not..." He shakes his head, picking at the skin by his fingernails. "I wouldn't have. If not for Greg saving me."

"Huh?"

"He--" Tony searches for the words, looking at the carpet between his knees and remembering that afternoon in every vivid detail he'd looked over countless times before. "He'd tried to kill me, yeah, but... he was almost fighting himself as he did it. He was like having a fistfight with himself."

He doesn't look up at her, he just keeps remembering how Gregory had gone rigid right before plunging the knife into Tony's gut a second time and stopped himself. How it had looked like somebody yanked Gregory backwards, but it had been his own self throwing his body. Just so he didnt hurt Tony again.

"He looked like he was a malfunctioning robot." He recalls. "He was like, hitting himself, and was making noises like he was fighting something. I was too frozen to move at the time, but then he threw me a really high security pass for the Pizzaplex and told me to run."

Then he had collapsed in front of him, like he was holding himself down. He doesn't tell the woman, though.

He looks back up to see her staring, eyes wide in suprise. She looks deep in thought for all but a few moments before shaking herself out of it. "So what did you do?"

"I ran." Tony says. "He had got me already. He stabbed me in the back, the first time. That was how I knew he was attacking me in the first place. But I ran away with the pass, and I went to a room with a ton of monitors and erased the security footage."

Her eyes blow wide as saucers, that time. "You got stabbed," she begins. "and instead of getting help, you erase the security footage?"

"Yeah." Tony nods. "Greg would have gotten in trouble if I didnt."

She's silent, after that. Tony just keeps picking at the skin on his fingers. "I somehow knew that Gregory didnt deserve to be. He just..." Tony trails off. "He didnt seem..."

"Seem like himself?" She suddenly cuts in, and Tony's eyes widen.

He nods, a small tilt of his head, and the woman sighs. "That's what being mind controlled will do to you."

A year ago, probably longer by now, Tony would have never believed that. He would have never thought something so outlandish that is only ever shown in fiction could be a possibility.

Not that he was wrong, to. Really, anyone in their right mind wouldnt think so. But things have changed since then.

And Tony has seen a lot of things during his search that probably nobody else has. Plus, This woman has been so cryptic up to this point. If she told him this straight up, and it's clear that she knows Gregory...

Suddenly, everything that day seems to make perfect sense. And everything he'd found that he'd filed away into his little mental Gregory crazy wall.

(He'd used to call it evidence wall, like normal people do. But, well, at some point, maybe Tony had thought the things he'd been finding were a bit too crazy to deem as normal.)

Theres been a stretch of silence while Tony had been taking that in, and he only breaks it to say, "Is mind control a topic you're familiar with in this house?"

Her eye twitches, a bit. And now that Tony is looking for it, he notices that same strange sheen on her eyes that Gregory had during their friendship. That weird red tinted film that makes their eyes turn a completely different color when the light hits them right.

Tony doesnt yet understand how the mind control Gregory had been under works, but all he can hope is that there are some side effects.

She stares at him, eyes narrow, and theres another roar of thunder outside the window.

"Who are you?"

"Tony." He answers. "Tony Becker. Ring a bell?"

She hums, and she looks at him in a way where he feels like he's being dissected.

"He didnt remember anything for a while." She says eventually. "But hes been having dreams, lately. Sometimes he talks about two kids he used to be friends with."

"Me and Ellis." Tony's eyes widen. It doesn't even occur to him that he shouldn't share Ellis's name.

"He worries about you." She says. "I've heard him say he hopes you're okay. You and that other kid. You must have been close if he remembers being that good of friends with the two of you."

"We were." Tony replies. Memories of him, Ellis, and Greg going to the Pizzaplex and trying to get the most dunks in the basketball hoops flash in his mind. He thinks about when Gregory would come over to Tony's little run down house that he shares with his Grandma, and they write graphic novels together for the fun of it.

Gregory liked to call them comics before he'd suddenly decided that stuff wasnt cool anymore and stopped coming over. It had been like everything Tony saw him enjoy that wasnt painfully average for a child suddenly didn't mean anything to him anymore.

And then Gregory tried to kill him in a dusty back room.

Everything hed given up seems to make more sense now. It wasnt willingly at all.

"He doesn't remember your names." She speaks up suddenly, ripping Tony out of his thoughts. "But he remembers more and more every time he has a dream. Something reminded him of you one day, I guess. That must have been when it started."

Tony opens his mouth, but the beeping of a digital clock interrupts him. He follows the womans arm as it reaches across the seat to turn it off.

The time reads 5:00pm.

He watches as she looks over at him, and nods to the door. "After school activity." She informs him, getting up out of the seat. His eyes follow her as she moves towards the front door. "I'm his ride."

Tony's eyes widen at the implications. "So I just--"

"Stay here." She tells him. She grabs a flannel off of the small coat rack by the front door and slips it on, sliding some Adidas sandals on top of her socks and reaching in the pocket of the coat to grab car keys. She pulls them out, and Tony notices that theres a keychain of a white rabbit dangling from the key ring.

The breath is suddenly stolen from his lungs, and he bolts off of the couch, a buzzing under his skin. "You're bringing him?"

She nods to Freddy Fazbear. "If you can wait." She smiles at him, and it's the first time Tony has seen her smile, instead of the carefully kept nonchalant-ness. "He'll wake up pretty soon once he's done charging. So you won't be completely alone."

Tony doesnt know what to say to that. Thousands of words spawned from the thousands of thoughts hes had about finding and tracking down Gregory are on the tip of his tongue, but he only gets any out when the woman begins to leave the house.

"Wait!" Tony reaches out a hand. She turns around, a brow raised. The door is still slightly ajar, and the sound of heavy rain reaches his ears. "What's your name?"

She smiles a bit at the question. "Vanessa."

"Vanessa," He asks, oddly desperate. "Dont tell him I'm here." He swallows. "I want to see him remember me."

Vanessa tilts her head, but nods after a moment. "Sure, kid."

She smiles one last time on her way out, and says, "Tony Becker."

The sound of the rain outside disperses when the door shuts and locks, and Tony doesnt move for a long while. He just stares at the landlord white door, electricity under his skin and something floaty in his stomach.

Greg. He thinks in his mind when he finally rips himself away and looks around some more, seeing a door propped slightly open down the hall with a bed and a desk with pencils and paper strewn all about. He doesn't dare go in, but stares at what he can see. Its been a while.

The silence is numbing, when he can only hear the faint whirring of Freddy Fazbear on the couch next to him and the rain on the window, he plants himself on the couch cushion next to the animatronic, grabbing the remote and resuming the baking show Vanessa had been watching.

He doesn't listen to a word. He just trembles with anticipation and bobs his leg up and down as he stares at a random corner of the screen.

ao3 link

[agonizingdespair]

Evil F$#@ng Wizard: a song about an evil wizard

I just found a new favorite song