#i feel like he's just messing with us

[duckyjeb]

Looking back at the mond archon quest and I'm wondering if they really needed the holy lyre in the first place. We know that Venti is fully capable of summoning Dvalin using his regular lyre, so why did he claim to need the other one? What's the difference between the holy lyre and the one he is currently using? Anyway, I am now fully convinced that they didn't need the lyre in the first place and Venti just made the traveler get it cuz he was pissed at them for ruining his first attempt at connecting with Dvalin. And then it just kind of spiraled from there.

[stargirl230]

Muse // 心上人

(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)

[thebrainrotsreal]

Was pondering how Mark’s rigid ass mask/lens is prob a Budget Thing (since squishy, bendy lens are pretty much a mandate for all hero animated series, like JL, BTAS, TNBA, Spider-Man, etc), and then I was slapped with a vision of Mark in a more JL/BTAS-ish style and I had to see it through. I am a genius btw.

[afflatusssss]

It was the weight of guilt that sent Icarus crashing down a second time; he wondered if he was always destined to be punished for loving something brighter than himself, even in death.

[elderwisp]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

[starry-bi-sky]

*points at bruce and danny in 'late at night when the nightingale sings'* THESE TWO MFERS MEAN SO MUCH TO MEEEE

no thoughts head empty just these two socially inept fools finding family in one another. like yes you go you funky little death omens stole that one from a comment on the fic, so if you see this you know who you are, discover that family isn't only tied in blood.

bUT onto less mushy stuff: these two being shenaniganizers; tomfools. Bruce realized that Danny didn't actually know he was Bruce Wayne and instead of going "oh actually im bruce wayne" he went; "hrm... how long can i keep this going until he realizes...."

like. i think they deserve to be the sillies. just utter goobers the both of them. like, danny makes the wittiest side comments, dry quips, under his breath towards Bruce while they're out in public (Danny covering his face with a face mask) and Bruce is trying not to laugh. Meanwhile if Bruce makes one sly comment about someone to Danny, Danny's gonna collapse with laughter.

Bruce plays straightman in most of their bits, he has the best fucking poker face. But also I firmly believe he does actually enjoy Danny's puns. Look me in the eyes- look me in the eyes. Try and tell me that a man that willingly agrees to call a car "the batmobile" even after his eight year old ward grows up (thus negating the need to go along with his antics) doesn't enjoy a good, well-placed pun. Look me in the eyes and try to tell me that. That's right you can't.

He's gonna spit out a well-placed pun in the driest, most boring Batman Voice Ever one day while he's getting ready for patrol, and Danny's gonna fucking die of laughter. He's gonna lose his mind. Bruce is going to have a half-dead sickly teenager laughing his lungs out in the chair. That's a new core memory right there, every time Danny thinks about that he's gonna start giggling.

just!!! these two making each other laugh! That's so important to me. So so much. I nEED Danny to get Bruce to smile and laugh and I need Bruce to make Danny do the same. Danny's all snark and sass and Bruce is all deadpan and dry quips. Do you all see my vision.

[matteoberrettini]

hi, i translated the entire jannik interview with sky for anyone who's interested!! if someone already did it well :') i tried my best so i hope you still appreciate it <3 under the cut because it's long.

WARNING: zverev is mentioned. i cut out the part where jannik talks about him in an answer (it's not long) but he's mentioned by name by the interviewer.

Let's start with, welcome back to Sky Sport. First of all, how are you?

I'm really good. I’m well-rested. So… yeah, I’m happy.

You’re well-rested, but you’ve trained as well. You always take advantage of the time you’re given, and in this case you’ve had and still have a lot, to improve your tennis. What have you been focusing on the most?

Well, honestly I did a lot of different things. I’ve spent a lot of time with my family, especially with my dad. I’ve done a lot of different things with my best friends who are in Monte Carlo, we went karting, we’ve gone on a cycling outing. So, many new things. In the end, the people I have around me every day, that’s what makes me go on every day and I’m very happy. Obviously we’re working a lot in the gym so I can be even more ready for my comeback, but there’s still quite some time left, you know? They’re questions that will be answered in Rome. But everything is going well. [smiles]

What’s made you particularly happy of all the activities you’ve tried, maybe things you hadn’t done in a while, considering you hadn’t had this much free time in a while?

It’s also not living with the constant pressure… because you have to perform. This is for sure the thing I’ve enjoyed the most. Training is a bit different too because you aren’t thinking about having to play a match in a week, so you’re more relaxed. The days are long, but… yeah, and then again, my friends, because maybe you hang out with them in the evening, you feel good, you go out for dinner or maybe you play videogames for a bit or do other things together… so honestly I’m feeling good. Obviously if I could choose, I would choose to be playing tennis. But on the other hand I’m feeling really good and I’m not even thinking about tennis that much at the moment.

A little bit more lightness, [Jannik: Exactly.] that still leaves room for something else: your being a perfectionist. In your ad for Lavazza, you say: “Can we do another take?” [laughs] but always with a smile on your lips like the one you have now. Does this perfectionism represent you?

In part, yes, for sure, because otherwise I wouldn’t be where I am now. I think you can always improve, you know? For sure that Lavazza ad was trying to show that: the fact you can always try to do better, and I mean, that was an ad, but I am like that a little bit. When I play a good shot, I think there is always some little thing I can do better. And we’re trying to work on that in these two months and a half we have to train before coming back in Rome.

I’ll take you back in time a little, to two months ago when WADA proposed to you the deal that would lead to your suspension. I would like to understand how you felt during those days, how was it for you, on a human level?

How it was for me… if I’m being honest, I’ve felt very relaxed. The decision of taking the three months suspension was very quick, we accepted it in a short span of time, even if I didn’t really agree, there was a lot of back and forth with my lawyer and the people around me… but in the end you’ve got to choose the lesser evil, you know? And I think that’s what I’ve done. Even if sometimes it feels a bit unfair, what I’m going through. But, when you look at the way things standed, it could’ve gone a lot worse and with even more unfairness, so… that’s how things went. Afterwards, when we took this decision, it took me a while to find myself again. Some other things also happened that didn’t have to do with all this but that weren’t easy for me. But… I’m here. I’ve still got a bit of time to process all of this. I can’t wait to come back in Rome, it’s a special tournament for me, even if at the same time it’s a very difficult one because coming back, in a moment when there’s already lots of pressure, and in Rome even more so, isn’t easy. But I’m living every day in a relaxed way, and again, I’m trying new things, so I’m happy.

Have you learned something new about yourself in the last months, something you didn’t know, even from the way you’ve dealt with things, that maybe can help you during other moments?

I’ve learned a lot, but maybe… I already knew it, that tennis isn’t the most important thing, but I’ve understood it during these months too, that outside of tennis there are people who care a lot, that family comes and will always come first, that friends are essential, that we need to create strong bonds, especially during the rough times… and especially that you need to find people to have around that you can trust, with whom you can exchange ideas… and yeah, to have trust [in people around you]. This is what I’ve learned in the last few months, so I believe on a human level I’ve learned a lot.

Was there a moment when you felt really vulnerable, when, maybe even when you were alone, you felt like crying a little, and felt emotions that you’d never felt before, or had only felt them in certain moments?

I felt very vulnerable after what happened. After I took the suspension deal in Doha, for a month, until now more or less, I felt very vulnerable because some things that I didn’t expect happened, some reactions I had that I didn’t expect from myself… there were a few things going on. I would be lying [smiles] if I said I’m a person that has no feelings, that feels no emotions, nothing… but you learn things, during your life, and I think year after year I learn more and more about myself, about who I am as a person, and also my value as a person. So it wasn’t easy, it was really hard actually at times, but the people around me lifted me up, gave me the strength to work through what happened.

On the topic of your comeback in Rome, there’s two sides of it: the love of the people, and we’ll talk about that in a bit, but there’s also your colleagues that you’ll meet again on the tour. In another interview with Sky, some months ago, you said it worried you, during the time when it was all still unresolved and a “hot topic”, going back to Flushing Meadows and have to think of how some of your colleagues would look at you. [Jannik looks down.] How has this worry changed now, maybe considering instead how you will look at some of them, who have said some harsh things [about you]?

Well, you know… it’s a question I can’t answer because I don’t know what could happen. I know how things went, I know I’m innocent. And the people around me, not just my team but also outside of my team, my family, my friends, those are the ones I stay close to, and there’s not even a slight doubt about what the truth is, so… I’m very relaxed because at the end of the day what I want to do is play tennis and be at peace, so that’s the end of the story. I’m sure everything will go well even if at the beginning it’ll take me a little bit of time to get going again. But these are questions I don’t know the answer to. [smiles]

And have you watched some tennis, during this time? Among all the different activities you’ve dedicated yourself to, have you watched some matches?

I’ve watched very very little tennis. I’m not keeping up with anything, basically, except a few matches that I’m interested in, but beside that, nothing. Because it’s something I can’t control, the results and performances of other players. And I’m out for three months anyway, there is no point in checking what’s happening, the time I’ll compete again is so far away that… it’s a bit of a different moment in my career [smiles] but I’m not watching anything really.

Well, even if you haven’t looked at the rankings, I’ll tell you you still have a big margin as world number one. Did you expect that the margin, despite you not playing, would remain basically the same?

The answer’s the same as the previous one: I can’t control how the others play, especially when— even if I were to play the tournament I would not be able to control anything, so there’s no point. In the end they’re just points, we can agree that the rankings are important, coming back as number one, number two or number three [is important], but… it’s a bit of a different moment. There’s also the new generation coming in, the new new generation with even younger players, Nole who still reaches finals or wins tournaments, there’s a lot moving around right now in this sport, but I can’t control anything, so this is what it’s like.

But did you expect that Zverev and Alcaraz would struggle so much? I mean they had a big chance with you not playing, and yet it almost seemed like they felt pressure from you from the outside, in a way.

Well, no match is taken for granted, even if you play against the world number 100, number 150, they’re all hard-fought matches, and in the moment when you’re not at your best… and maybe they’re going through hard times outside of the court, we can’t know that. There are a lot of things that can affect you when you step on the court. Maybe the pressure, maybe the number 1 rank, issues with your family or others close to you, so I don’t know. For sure things can change very quickly and now there’s the surface change, it starts again with Monte Carlo, there’s clay where Carlos is the favorite. [there’s a bit about zverev playing well on clay too here that I don’t feel comfortable translating.] There’s a lot of things. Let’s see how it goes.

[here is a bit about lavazza and how he feels like he’s part of the family and they’re great, also not comfortable translating this considering some of the group’s words and actions re: palestine in the past; also It’s just sponsoring lavazza basically lmao]

Imagine, in exactly a month, you’re in Rome. Can you picture how many people will be there, wanting to support you, cheer for you and see you back on court. How do you picture it?

Well, it’ll be important to keep a balance. Between the attention I will receive and especially how I will react to it and a lot of other things, including external factors, so I don’t know. Surely I love playing in Italy, I’ve showed it in Turin, which is a place where I feel safe. Having the crowd on your side is an extra asset, the support from Italians is important, you feel it a lot on court, especially if you’re the opponent of an Italian player, so it’s an asset I can take advantage of. It’s going to be a [makes quote-unquote gesture] problem or a privilege in a month’s time, so there’s still a bit of time and during this time I will try to get ready as best as I can.

Is there a countdown in your head?

Yeah, that’s been a thing since day one honestly, because… I stopped doing what I’ve always dreamt of doing, I’m in the best position to play this sport, so yes, at the beginning I started counting down the days. But every day it gets closer, every day I feel better, physically and mentally, even if there’s still quite a bit to wait. And it’s also a good chance for me to improve in the areas of the game that I had more problems with and to make my comeback on a surface where usually I struggle. So let’s try to do differently [on this surface], and if we manage, that’s great, otherwise I hope we’ll have many more years to try. [smiles]

Yeah, let’s hope so, that there’ll be many of them! They always say when you wait for something you really want, as I imagine you are awaiting your comeback, you remember what you really desired as a kid. What would you compare your desire to come back on court to? To when as a kid you were waiting for which moment, which event?

It’s hard to say. I’d always wanted to become a [F1] pilot, when I was a kid. We didn’t have the money for that so I never even started, but I went karting now, and the night before I couldn’t wait to do it, it was an amazing feeling. It will probably be something similar to that. Then we went cycling a few days later, and with that too there was a desire to try it out, and I think it will be something kind of similar. Knowing, being aware that I’m a good tennis player though. On the go karts I’m maybe not that great [smiles] and I’m really bad at cycling, but anyway, it’s really important, coming back, finding that desire again. But in the moment I took the suspension deal I was very… I didn’t even think about tennis, I thought about how I would spend these months, with which people and that was it.

So, we’ll see you in Rome.

Yeah. See you guys in Rome! There’s not that much time left [smiles] so slowly, day after day, let’s hope to be ready and I’ll see you in Rome.

[teashirt505]

"You find God in pain" is SUCH a lapsed Catholic line, and in this essay, I will-

[angelscometrue]

an AU when Edwin goes reckless after season 1. He lost Niko, Charles starts dating Crystal and he feels after escaping hell twice he has no motivation to keep working. He starts spiraling, like going to the cat king, being too risky with magic spells and just starting to get on the "bad side"

Charles and Crystal wont notice too taken on each other and Crystal living problems, until something really bad happens to Edwin and they realize too late what is going on...

[random-cockroach]

[orengejoshi]

do u write fanfics? i need to GOON 💔

damn brother, you just gonna come at me like that? alright I see you

that's a great question tho! I have indeed thought about writing a fic... for years tbh...

but there's a myriad of problems

well first of all I'm not native in english. that is probably noticeable more often than not. I sometimes even use a translator, I always secretly got google/dict.cc open in a second tab. didn't formally learn english, I just snagged it by proxy listening to American Youtubers and reading manga online. that's why I prefer to ramble a bit in public or to my damn self in private areas than live-texting 1 on 1/in groups; bc I can take more time totally judgement-free. you're gonna see me "typing..." for 30 minutes and wonder wtf is taking this mf so long?!

apart from that there's dyslexia. I can't spell one word correctly without swipe-to-type autocorrect. I think all arguments I've gotten into stem from me mistyping, using completely wrong words, messing up the sentence structure etc

my brain is a single dense cloud of fog that'll occasionally split open to drizzle down a bunch of jumbled thoughts that I could turn into barely cohesive words if I'm brave enough and exude copious amounts of energy.

so my linguistic skills are not up to par. my intelligence lies more in... intrapersonal and existential departments.

unsurprisingly I've thus become a visual artist to express myself.

the catch is... that I understand paperhat, I do.

but I can't seem to draw toxic dynamics. my head is just empty about how to depict it. it's like it doesn't come naturally to me. not without going overboard and making a whole comic that I would likely abandon before even reaching the half mark. I've been given these angelic skills along with the curse that I shall only draw joyous, bright scenes.

however if I could write it... now we're talking.

as a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that most of my ideas are way too dark and sober. people don't know me like that so I'm petrified about the presumably shocked response when and if I did drop smth like that.

I'm not ready for that... I have really severe OCD (that the internet is making way worse with their anxious tendencies to interpret smth sinister into any and all fiction that is not happiness and rainbows. which seems new to me, idk where this mindset to read so deep into shit is suddenly coming from. I was here 2017-19, left for like 3 years and all of a sudden everybody's fallen off their rockers)

writing domestic stuff is too boring for me... there's gotta be gut-wrenching horrors and drama and tragedy and conflict!

none of this would be PG (which is what I assume you're asking for anyway) I'd just write smut with sprinkles of character studies and a pinch of comedy mayhaps, but I used to do that about 10 years ago and it was so bad. the way I describe these scenes comes off very plump and cringe

I... might. dip my toes into it later this year.

I'll drop a few ideas in the tags... maybe 2 ideas. very roughly. without spoilers, just in case.

[mellohiizz]

i need some of your parrot art very sad. like, make him very very sad, as sad as you can make it. horribly sad. depressingly tragic sadness.

oops. sorry, i think i traumatized your bird.

[qoldenskies]

i feel like out of everyone april would be the worst with self-deprecating humor. the boys have self-esteem issues but they're literally all the types to play up confidence or double down instead of addressing them (raph the least, but he can be pretty stubborn at times), but april's momentum only takes her so far and she is pretty willing to admit defeat if her usual methods dont work. the speed at which she falls back into the idea that she cant do anything right,,, there's probably a point where she jokes about it before it even happens to prepare herself for disappointment, right?

[skeletalheartattack]

i finally finished my sketch-over of Gelato from the other day, and i'm happy with how it turned out :)

[moonyaugust]

THE LAST OF US SEASON TWO SPOILERS!!!!

so fascinated by the dynamic between dina and joel. him calling her kiddo, her taking an interest in his passion, joel outright saying he’d prefer if she was his kid instead of ellie… it’s a little jarring as someone who played the game and who previously thought that softness was reserved mainly for ellie but it really shows a) how much he has mellowed in jackson and b) the dynamics of his and ellie’s relationship. joel is older now, and he smiles more, and he wears glasses and calls another young orphan kiddo and he loves his nephew. except, none of them (save for tommy) in jackson really know what happened. the only one who shares that history is ellie, and they aren’t speaking at present. regardless, that’s still his daughter, and he will never reveal her secret because he loves her more than anything. even his softness for dina doesn’t reach the love he has for ellie, and that dynamic is so fascinating to watch unfold. she’s his kid, and he’s her “whatever he is”, and that’s beautiful and heartbreaking all at once.

[justforclowns]

Cost of Recompense

Price of Forgiveness (The clown epic by @birchbow ) Ageswap Au.

~4,350 words.

Warnings: clowns, light knife play, mentions of torture, overall kinda horny and self hatey vibes.

This and all following chapters will be posted on Ao3 in time but I am on a waiting list and very impatient. Woe, clowns be upon ye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Relax, little brother." He coos at you gentle.

Relax. Motherfucking relax, he says. 

Your name is Kurloz Makara and how are you supposed to relax with your lordship laid bare beneath you?  

He isn't fully bare. He has just shed the dark shall he usually wears amongst the faithful and removed the tight purple shirt beneath. You can see the dark, scar littered expanse of his chest rise and fall with his breaths. You can pick out the scars made by others and those most likely self inflicted. You linger on the damage self done. It serves as a reminder as to why you are here; in the Big Top, on the throne, straddling the king of colors lap with a short blade in hand held just above his stomach. 

You were not built correctly. Ever since you were small there has been something about hurting other trolls that got to you a little too strongly to just be a macabre interest. The way a troll in pain would writhe and how those beautiful short breaths would leave them all sharp through clenched fangs. It got to you something fierce. You learned the lesson young that you ain't right in the head. You were only a little less young when you learned to hide that fact. 

You hid it well all things considered. At 7 sweeps you made your way through conscription and onto the holy fleet no issue. Horns held high but not too high till you earned your place. And earn it you rightly fucking did. 

It wasn't easy by any means. You managed, though. Carved yourself a badass reputation and a good standing amongst the kin you do so cherish. You hold a passion for the family and a need to prove yourself unmatched by any troll you've met before. One comes close but you will not spare that heathen a single thought. 

Some said you had help. That your sign already held weight in the church which granted you special treatment. It wasn't exactly the biggest mystery that you and His High Holy Hilarity were cut from the same cloth. Put the two of you next to each other in front of someone with eyes and even they could get the idea in their head. As for the idea that he gave you any motherfucking boons, that you didn't earn, just by virtue of being built the same never had any frond to stand on as far as you were concerned. But people still thought it. 

You proved them wrong time and time again. Mission after mission and sweep after sweep you proved it was all 100% you that got you where you were today. Some of the rumor spreaders got brave with their claims and brought them right to you, displeased with your success and too stubborn to accept that they were wrong.

You got a skill in you to turn the brave away running. 

Through voodoo or club or just sharp wit you took every challenge worth taking as another chance to show you weren't fucking around. So if those that think you're riding your ancestors coattails are still out there they at least have the brains to keep their filthy mouths shut about it. 

You would never use your ancestors' status to your advantage. Even if it had nothing to do with pride you would just feel wrong using him that way. You admire him a good deal and not just because he is the head of your church. 

You admire him maybe too much. You have now, for a while. Which is why you can't fathom the situation you are currently in. 

Your eyes snap up to The Grand Highblood's face when he shifts closer to you. His hand, bigger than yours but not much colder, wraps carefully around your forearm. You are trembling. When did you start trembling? 

"Are you having second thoughts?" He asks. His voice is smooth and low, the slightest breathy hitch at the end that makes something possessive and stupid stir inside of you. Your eyes stay on his face, his pretty face, like the one you see in the mirror but aged and softer around the eyes. Kinder, the rumors say, when it gets to reprimanding kin who done what some could consider a shallow wrong. Soft fucking pusher for the family. So soft. 

You open your mouth to respond yet the words fail you. Of all times. Of all the times in your 12 sweeps of life, why now? Why? 

He is looking at you. The excitement his eyes held begins to fade to something more resigned. He smiles so sweetly at you. "I understand," he tells you, removing his hand from your arm. "Ain't no shame in backing out brother. Was a strange request to begin with. I understand if you can't get your chill on with- nngh!" He shudders as you drag the knife from his collarbone to just above the hem of his pants. "Oh fuck-"

You bite back a groan as you skillfully flip the knife in your fingers and drag it back up. You aren't pressing enough to cut him deep but you do begin to see thin purple lines appearing along his flesh. These cuts burn with the touch of air, sharp and precise, opening up just enough to let the nerve endings fire off in panic. You drove a man mad with a couple hundred of these one time. 

The muscles in his stomach flex and he shudders again. "A-aah~ ah c'mon motherfucker you can go harder than that c'mon I've seen you work." He encourages.

He has seen you work. Seen you pry answers from prisoners maws way too quickly for your liking. Much to the suspicious awe of your fellow churchmates. Your skill in inquisition got so well known that he came to see for himself one night. You didn't know he was watching when you raked deep gashes down a heretic’s arms and pinned them closed with those wicked stinging needles you've come to love. You didn't know that when you stepped out of that room and he was there, smiling and giving you praise, that he may have been feeling just as electrified as you were at the moment. 

He must have felt it. He must be feeling it if the way he lifts himself up against your blade is anything to go by. The high pitched noise in his throat you don't dare call a whine makes your insides twist and shiver. Shakes the words you've been searching for loose from your thinkpan.

 "You like this?" Your voice comes out a breathless whisper. You feel stupid for asking, he must like it if he is letting you, there's no way he would let you this close if he didn't. 

Unless that soft pusher of his is telling him you need it. Unless you slipped up somehow and he saw the aching need to cause hurt that you have inside you. Unless he is forcing himself to take it as he thinks no one else will- Unless- 

The shaky whimper that comes from him along with "Oh brother please-" snaps you from your thoughts. Back to reality you smell the slightest twinge of blood in the air. You look down and see that while you were having a miniature double damned crisis he had shifted close enough to you to have pierced himself ever so slightly with your knife. Just a few inches above the arch of his hip a pool of royal purple fills and finally drips down his side and disappears. Your throat feels too dry and your mouth too wet. 

You have drawn the blood of your holy king. You have cornered him on his throne and cut into him. He is shirtless beneath you, those kind round eyes watching you with fondness undeserved.

You don't feel the knife slip from your hand but you do feel his arm come up around your back. You do hear his soft, sing song praise at the edge of your conscious mind. 

"Good." He tells you. "You did good. We don't gotta do no more than that. Felt good brother, don't go getting harsh on yourself now. Ah shit you poor thing…" 

"Good?" you shoot back at him. Looking up to his face, bristling with the feelings this whole situation has brought up. What is this to him? Why is he doing this? He always looks at the family soft but does he let the family sit in his lap and take knife to his flesh? Does he rest his hand on their back and praise them for doing so? "I stabbed you and you tell me I did good?" 

He chuckles. "Well, yeah. Hardly call that a stab, little brother. It'll be gone in a night at worst." His hand moves along your back in a slow motion. Your claws twitch. "What'd you think of that? Tell me." 

You can't disobey him. 

"It felt like sin, but not. Felt too good to be right. I thought- I thought you were going to laugh at me." You say. His eyes widen a little and his hand gives a soft squeeze around your waist. "I thought this was some fucked up joke. Some, motherfucking- some prank or cruelty done on me to amuse you." 

"Aint nothing like that-" 

"I thought I was dreaming, for a second. It don't feel real. Having you here, having you so open to hurting. My Lord you asked me to-" the words trail off in a pathetic wheeze as they leave you again. 

He just stares at you for a bit. You know your face can be cold and unreadable like ice when you want it to be and fuck if you don't want that real hard right now. He sees through you clear as still water anyway. His hand on your back moves up to tangle into the roots of your hair, you try to resist but fail and end up pressing back against his hand. 

"I asked you to hurt me, didn't I?" He asks even though there's no need to clarify. You don't think you could forget what he said if you tried your damnedest. The way he came to you in the halls as you wandered without reason, asked you to walk with him, talked with you like normal then got real quiet. Got a favor to ask you, little one he had said. Don't have to be doing it if you find yourself unwilling but I got a curiosity in me I think you could help sate.

He took you to the Big Top and made brief yet rattling inquiry on your desire to cause pain. Rumor spreads even as you try to forget the words whispered that made every drone season harder than the last. You winced despite yourself when he simply asked You like causing pain, brother? He did not look at you with distaste. Or with plain curiosity as he claimed to hold. He was fascinated. 

Things moved fast after that. Patience was never a virtue your lordship took much pride in. After you had affirmed his claims he had gestured for you to come up to his throne. He invited you up onto said throne, into his lap, and set the knife cool against your palm. He had asked you to…

"-take the knife to me as you like, that's what I said, yeah?" Your Lord's tone is calm, even, as if he is just double checking the facts on an arbitrary mission report form. You nod at the words because that really is what he said and here you are all rattled right to the marrow at it. 

"Cool, and that's what you did. Did it real gentle like too." 

"I stabbed you-" 

"Hey, knock shit right the fuck off." He frowns at you for the first time today. Disapproving on your statement of fact. Your hands twitch and while you don't know where the knife went you still got claws and the urge to tear into him again. Make him get his understanding on good and true about what threat you pose. You would never. 

"I'm fine, little one." His hand rubs gently at the back of your skull. "Better than fine. That was… that was real motherfucking sweet what you did for me." 

For him. He asked, you delivered. He commanded, you obeyed. You did good.

Your face must do something ugly with how his hand briefly stills. The fins on his ears twitch as he looks you over. You're ready for the disgust to settle into his features but it never comes. 

His mouth opens a second just to close the next, tongue flicking over his lips as if he was nervous. You almost laugh. Nervous, The Grand Highblood? Impossible. 

He breathes in slow, you catch the movement of his chest with your peripherals. Messiahs you want to sink your teeth in and taste him. What he says next is like a slap in the face. "Did you like it..? Would you want to do it again?" 

You look at him, really look at him. Surely there would be something, anything, letting you know this was all in jest. You hate to think so low on your Lord's humor but if this ain't some bad joke you don't know how you'll deal. 

You find nothing but sincerity in his eyes. Round and dark and royal as they come while still walking on land. Maybe a little hope but you quickly disregard it as your own. 

"I…" the sound cracks out of your throat. He grants you time to get your shit together. Moves his hand from your head down to your back, heavy but gentle. You shiver at the feeling. The sheer size of him and everything else about him.

It wouldn't be wrong to say you thought he was fine as fuck. Everybody with a working set of ganderbulbs must. Tower of lean muscle that he is, got legs for nights that had you near running to keep up with him in the halls during your first few perigees on ship. You're only a little ashamed at the fact you snuck glances whenever that dark shall left his shoulders. 

You imagine what you may feel getting to cut such a pretty motherfucker again some night. Then imagine if that pretty motherfucker was your king. Getting to hear him say 'brother please' again in that whispy way. Wondering what sounds he would make if you pressed harder, how much he could take if a stab in the hip would heal in a night. 

It all makes your bulge do something down right shameful with how it twists and tries to slip out. Your legs attempt to close and are stopped both in part by you realizing how obvious that would make your predicament and by the body you're still straddling.

You glance down, glaring slightly at the obstacle between your knees, only to be met with the still bare lower abdomen of your Lord. You look back up, not too quickly, and look at his face instead. He is watching you, lips slightly parted and eyes curious again. 

"I… that sounds… are you fucking with me?" 

He seems a little taken aback by your words and you fear you fucked up before he starts to laugh. You let out a little wheeze of a chuckle as well, compelled by whatever joy he has found in this scenario. He smiles at you, clear and bright. 

It takes on a sly edge as he says "Shit, if you're offering. I ain't gonna take what you don't wanna give, little one. Fuck. Fucking does sound good though. Especially when you got those miraculous hurting hands." His eyes drop down to where your hands rest against your thighs. If you were a fool you'd say he looks enticed. 

You feel your face heat up under your paint. A cocktail of emotions are swirling around in your head. Arousal, shame, confusion, to name a few. 

You take a sharp breath- watch his hands twitch- and exhale it slowly. "My Lord, I- … A brother could get a real twisted idea of what all you're asking of him. Give me the grace of speaking plainly on it. If you please.” You say, keeping your voice even, not even letting a hint of begging come through. 

The Grand Highblood sighs softly at that. He shifts underneath you, sitting up straighter. You go to move but his hand clamps down on your thigh, keeping it in place. Fuck but he's real big- and he let you get a knife in him what a day- 

"Grace you ask for is grace I will give, little one." He looks at you, a little more serious. More familiar too how you see him on the night to night. He spares a glance over your being before he continues. “I want you to hurt me. Only in ways that you want. If how you want it is to just swing around every other scattering of nights when you get the itch I'll gladly take it.” 

-Before you can even start to reel at the idea of being your Lord's torture booty call he continues-

“If you want something more steady, like the beating of a pusher, fit with all its running blood and fluttery fits, then that I can also happily do.” He tells you, looking at you fond again. Not seeing through you straight out the back but like he can see inside you. He doesn't look disgusted by what he thinks he's finding. 

You blink at him. Your mouth is an unreadable line because you will it so. He blinks back at you like a delayed mirror. You think you gather what he is saying but it's so outlandish and wild you cannot ignore the doubt it stirs in you.

“Plainly, My Lord.” You remind him brazenly. 

He laughs his soft sing song laugh at you before saying “Wanna be matesprites?”

You die. You think. That's the only explanation for the rush of everything that fills you up and threatens to blind you over three simple Alternian words. Or you're already dead and this is some hall of illusions you must endure as punishment for your transgressions. 

When you come back to yourself he's looking at you softly, with slight concern, the same look he had when he told you it was okay to back out.

Before he can tell you the same again you manage to say “Yes.” without a waiver to your voice. “If it pleases you.” You add, because you’ve been more mannerless tonight than is truly smart. 

He smiles, but it's quirked at one end, following the tilt of his head. “Would please me just fine. Would it please you though, little brother? Talk plainly at me.” He chuckles, tossing your request back at you like it's all a hate-friendly game. 

“Abso-motherfucking-lutely it would, My Lord.” You say in a near whisper, watching his face. The more genuine turn of his smile and the crinkles at the edges of his eyes show he is well and truly pleased with you. 

“Bitchtits,” He says, and wraps the other of his long arms around you to pull you up against him. You manage not to make any embarrassing sounds of delight or startlement but it does take you a shameful few seconds to realize that he is hugging you. That's it, just a hug, a simple act of affection you've seen even hate-friends give to each other on the off nights. You return it half a moment too late but you do return it. 

He's broader than you by virtue of being your own body type scaled up several notches. Being pressed flat to the expanse of his chest lets you almost feel the beat of his pusher. You can smell so much of him, his hair, his skin, the faint lingering of his blood and you certainly smell how it took him to have you put knife to his flesh. Maybe there is a rumbling sound he is making that is too low for you to hear yet, or maybe there isn't.

It's nice. It tells you what you're too stupid to realize with just your eyes. He is alive and he is happy. You squeeze him slightly and he returns the favor. Delayed mirror. 

You're taking a risk, both of you. Him so high and important and you so closed in and quiet. To let another in could spell disaster. Specifically each other. You could be planning to take his place for all he knows. He could rule you unfunny and excommunicate you. 

When you pull back, maybe hoping to voice some of these concerns, he just smiles at you. His eyes are lazy and fond, his breathing is going steady again as he comes down from the excitement of the morning. You can't bring yourself to ruin this moment for him, so you take heed of one of the first lessons all laughsassins must learn: keep your motherfucking mouth shut, motherfucker. 

He keeps smiling even as you both get your shit together, settling down after the impromptu knife play and quadrant dealings. He finally lets you off the throne. You get your feet under you and feel less dizzy than you probably should. A quick mental check tells you that you did not die, your body is fine, and nothing is missing. With that out of the way, you spare a glance over to The Grand Highblood. 

He rises as well, towering over you once again. He quickly finds the knife and literally tosses it back into his sylladex; the blade flying over his shoulder and into the flashing colors before both promptly disappear. Fuck but his modus really is wild to see up close and he's so cool for knowing how to just go with it. Another way he's blessed you imagine. 

You get to see it flash again and barely make out the various things that come out get quickly tossed back in get flung out get juggled till he finds what he wants and it all goes away. All in a matter of seconds. The Grand Highblood stands there with a new shirt in his hand like it ain’t no thing. He catches you looking and looks all the more pleased for it. 

He re-dresses and you're mad about it. Which is wrigglerish and stupid, you remind yourself. You can't rightly ask he stay half naked for you. At least not yet. 

If he means this all to be for true maybe one night you will have the right to ask he stay naked. Fully naked. Just to let you look at him in all his hurting glory. Regal and holy and yours and fuck your bulge is in a Messiahs damned knot and your head ain't much better. 

“Off to ‘coon now, brother.” You hear him say. You only blink at him but he still finds the question in it quick enough. “Was late already when I pulled you out the halls, even later now. Both of us got shit to do come moonrise. Don’t we, little one?” He tilts his head at you, leading your thoughts with the question till you find the answer buried in the back of your pan. 

You do have shit to do. You were asked, at some time that is eluding your memory, to assist one of the laughsassination feeders with a ship wide lesson. Did she ask you herself? Given you can’t fully recall the interaction you would say she did. You can’t miss that.

You don’t curse or even sigh. You just lower your shoulders a bit in defeat. He chuckles all the same. You manage to give him a small smile that he returns to you bigger and brighter. 

“Suppose we do. Thank you for your time, My Lord.” You say, all formal. It gets a small snicker out of him and you feel like you’ve won something. 

He leads you to the giant double doors of the Big Top and wishes you luck on all your endeavours of the coming night. Before the doors open he bends down to press a quick kiss to your lips. It lingers only enough for you to return it and then a single beat longer. After that he pulls back and he is once again so much taller and older than you and you have to leave. You make sure to give at least a slight bow of respect before walking out into the halls. 

It is a walk, not a run, even as you get further from the throne room. Your strides are steady and quiet. For all the few passerbys know you were simply taking a stroll to clear your head in the late hours. Your mind is clear, actually. For a few seconds. 

With his sweet smiling face gone and only your lingering shame as company your thoughts get real nasty real quick. 

What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you? 

Did you really just do all that? Did he let you- ask you, you remind yourself- to do all that? Are you two something now? Something more than leader and follower? Perish the thought. Burn it. Destroy it. Leave nothing but ashes in place of a stupid wriggler’s dream. 

You hurt him and it was wonderful. You walk. You want to do it again. You walk. He wants you to do it again. 

You walk and walk and walk all the way back to your room and manage to get inside with no one knowing anything except you. No one knows what you’ve done except you. What horrible things you’ve done and will do again. Awful awful beautiful things. 

You are going to pay for this. You just don’t know how yet.