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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years ago

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Bent, not broken 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; violence; injury; blood; drugging, tags to be added throughout series.

This is a dark!fic and features the winter soldier and Captain Hydra x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: An attack leads to the uncovering of decades old secrets when you are taken by the deadliest assassin in the world

Note: Thank you all for your patience with this :) So happy to get part 2 out!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The man with the metal arm brought you a set of plain grey clothes. It was the type of shapeless linen given to patients in a long-term facility or inmates at a prison. When you struggled to lift your right shoulder over your head and winced as your ribs throbbed, he helped you get into the long-sleeved shirt, pulling the fabric down gruffly and backing away.

You shoved your feet into the rubber shoes, and held your arm across your middle, as you stood with shoulders curled forward pathetically. You hobbled to the door as he beckoned to you. You were reluctant to leave the room, fearful of a worse prison ahead. You didn’t have much choice in the matter; resistance was a ridiculous idea given your injuries.

As it was, you were still too hazy with shock and pain to even think of doing anything other than what you were told. You only hoped that you would have a moment to lay down again. Standing up was torture, even just breathing, and those fleeting moments of sleep were your only relief.

The halls stretched on and on. The twists and turns seemed counterintuitive as he led you along and when you didn’t walk fast enough, he grabbed your arm and dragged you along. You limped and tripped several times but he hardly noticed as he kept his eyes forward.

He brought you out into the sombre grey evening and the gulp of cold air was like a slap in the face. You didn’t know how long it was since you last felt the outside, but it made you tear up. The subtle chill tickled your nose and sent a shiver up your neck. It didn’t feel real, not after the stifling stillness of that white room.

He ushered you over to the boxy black vehicle and opened the backdoor. He nudged you and pointed inside. You looked at him and then around at the barren dirt. You braced the side of the doorframe and grunted as you tried to climb up into the backseat. You gasped and dropped back onto the ground and touched your ribs.

He sniffed and you flinched as his hand came up under your ass and he pushed you up and into the car. You groaned and landed heavily across the seat and kept yourself from sliding onto the floor. You turned back just as he slammed the door.

You coughed and reclined against the seat. You watched him climb in the front, a clear barrier between the front and back of the vehicle. The engine turned and hummed as he played with the controls. A screen above the dash lit up and showed coordinates on a map as several switches lit up below.

The jeep began to move as he steered mechanically away from the building. You peeked back at the grey brick and stretched your legs out as you leaned on the door. You rocked with the motion of the wheels but each jolt made you whimper. You closed your eyes and quelled the panic bubbling in your stomach.

You knew it couldn’t be good. None of it was. Waking up in that closet, being locked up in that white room, and now, your unknown destination hardly meant a mysterious fate. The Captain’s leer returned to you and his ominous words. The way he ordered the masked man around like a dog worried you more.

When you next opened your eyes, just about to doze off, you heard a subtle buzz through the barrier. Next to the screen, a phone was propped up and the timer counted up the minutes in the call. You couldn’t read what you assumed was Russian Cyrillic and you couldn’t quite hear the words coming from the speaker.

You sighed and it caused a stab in your ribs. You closed your eyes again and opted to try to cling onto your fatigue. It wouldn’t matter if you could hear the conversation, likely one-sided as it was, or if you could figure out where that little blinking tag on the map was. None of it made a difference. You could be certain you would not escape those men.

★

Mountains rose with sun through the slits of your eyelids. You batted away the sleepiness and shifted as you looked around at the rocky landscape, the road ahead steep and winding as the tires gripped the dirt. The angle of your ascent made your stomach flip and you leaned into the corner more heavily.

When the terrain plateaued, the mist thick around you, you dared to move and craned to peer around at the obscured lands below. The man drove on along the trail, just wide enough for the wide military vehicle and steered into the open mouth of a cave hidden between tall rocks jutting out from the mountain face.

The darkness consumed all but the glowing screen and symbols in the front of the vehicle and when the tires crunched to a halt, you sat up cautiously. The lights all went out and the front door opened and closed. The door behind you swung open and the rigid metal grip pulled you out.

Your feet hit the ground harshly and you stumbled against the man’s unwavering posture. The door shut and he sidled you ahead of him between the metal and stone. You couldn’t see in the suffocating blackness of the cave but he walked on without hesitation. His hold on your arm was the only guide you had.

He stopped as the air grew sharp and startlingly cold. Your teeth chattered and you heard the shift of rock against rock. A glowing blue oval appeared, as if floating, and he covered it with his thumb. A low rumble came from deep in the mountain and suddenly the slate before you shifted and a wall of light shone over you.

He shoved you through the door and followed, the metal door sliding closed as the rock wall on the other side clattered back into place. You looked up and down the hallway. The walls were constructed of metal sheets and the atmosphere was just as sterile as that before. Each door was thick and firmly shut, a keypad set into the wall by every frame.

The metal finger pointed you ahead of the masked man and you staggered down the long hall. He led you from behind, a right turn and then to the end. The only open door led to a peculiarly cozy room. The walls were made of rippled wood and lent the air of a cabin as the fireplace burned with artificial flames. There was a long sofa and two plaid armchairs, and the place was decorated like a real home.

Your eyes were drawn to the walnut bar in the corner where the lone figure stood. The Captain no longer sported his helmet or combat suit but wore a pale blue cable knit sweater. He smirked at you as he swirled the dark liquor in a round-bellied bottle and sniffed the neck.

“About time,” he said to the man behind you.

The masked man poked you and grabbed your elbow. He brought you to the bar and pulled a stool close to you. You couldn’t climb up on your own and so he lifted you and plunked you down. He perched on another as the Captain ordered him to.

“You look confused,” the Captain said coolly, “why wouldn’t you be? I can only assume the breadth of explanation offered by my companion.” He winked at the other man who only glared back above his black mask, “he doesn’t say much but you can call him Bucky, he might answer to it.”

He took a slender shot glass and filled it with the nearly black liquid. He turned it slowly and tilted his head as he eyed it. He put the bottle down and leaned an arm on the bar as he watched you.

“Soldat, maybe,” he offered, “he’s a good soldier. And you already know who I am, but sir will suffice.”

You frowned and glanced between him and the other man; Bucky, soldat, whatever he was. Steve chuckled and lifted the shot. He held it up until you looked at it and just as quickly, knocked it back and hissed as he slammed the glass back down.

“You see, me and him, we have different variants of the serum. Similar enough, one of the things we have in common being our tolerance for alcohol. But this…” he flicked the top of the bottle, “a couple shots and the edge starts to blur. If someone like you were to take just a sip, well, you’d be on your ass.”

You shook your head, not quite catching his point. He inhaled and poured another shot. He put it in front of the soldat.

“Loosen up, will ya?” he chided.

The dark-haired man squinted and stared at the glass. He reached up with one hand and took off the mask. He revealed a square jaw and chiseled cheekbones. He drained the shot in a single robotic motion but when he brought the glass back down, it shattered against the bar.

“He has issues with… restraint,” Steve said, “to him, a knock in the head is like a peck on the lips. He doesn’t feel it. If he can’t feel, how can he know what others can?”

“I don’t…” you sniffed.

“He could’ve killed you. He almost did by the looks of it, but he didn’t,” he continued, “there are flickers in him… little things left behind from who he once was, but I don’t think it was mercy.”

You chewed your lip and stayed silent. You took a breath and once more wracked your tender ribs. You folded your arms around you and grimaced.

“Yeah, hurts, doesn’t it?” he taunted, “unfortunately for us, you’ll need lots of rest if you don’t wanna puncture a lung.”

“What do you… mean?” you regretted asking the moment the question was out. It was a dumb question.

He raised his brows and the scar across his eye paled. He rubbed his forehead and chuckled. His blue eyes wandered for just a moment to the plain gray cotton along your shoulders and he shrugged.

“Look, you don’t wanna do this now,” he said, “so I suggest…” he reached under the bar and revealed a bottle of wine then a stemmed glass, “you get comfortable,” he turned and searched the slim drawer at the top, “and try not to think too much.”

He put an orange bottle of pills down beside the glass and filled the crystal. He pushed the wine towards you and uncapped the bottle. He placed two tablets beside the base and popped the lid back on.

“It will help with the pain,” he assured you, “and it will make it easier to get settled in.”

“I… I don’t what these are,” you scoffed as you pointed at the pills.

“I wouldn’t poison you. I could end it a lot quicker than that,” he tisked, “so, accept my generosity or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

You blanched and stared at him. The other man, Bucky, stood and stopped you from reaching for the wine. Steve looked at him in amusement and watched him jab a finger towards his chest.

“I’m helping her,” Steve said flatly, “but if you have an easier way, by all means.”

Bucky lowered his chin and closed his eyes. He sat and turned to you. He took the pills and held them out to you. You scooped them up shakily and he swiped up the wine, hovering it just before you. You shoved the pills in your mouth and accepted the wine.

His eyes focused on your lips as you sipped and he glanced back at Steve. He put his hand flat in the air, a blunt gesture. The blond laughed and raised his palms defensively.

“He wants me to leave you alone now,” he snickered, “go on then, Buck, find her a bed.”

The soldier stood and waited for you to do the same. You left the wine half-finished and he ushered you back to the door. As he reached it, Steve’s voice rose again.

“Shouldn’t worry so much about me hurting her, soldat,” he called mockingly, “you do that well enough.”

He prodded you through the door and growled under his breath. He directed you down to the corner and pressed his thumb to the keypad. The door slid up suddenly and you flinched. He blocked the doorway behind you as you entered and looked around at the bedroom. Everything you needed awaited you within those walls and if you weren’t in the middle of a mountain, it would seem an entirely ordinary place.

You turned back but all you saw was the metal descend and close you in. You stared at it for a moment then went to the bed. You sat and rubbed your temples. You could feel the pills dredging up your mind and the wine curdling in your stomach. Sleep was tempting as it was your only choice.

★

When you woke next, you felt an odd presence. The room was dark but it was that feeling you got as a child when you left the closet door open and conjured monstrous creatures watching from within.

You groaned as you propped yourself up on one elbow and reached to the switch above the headboard that turned on the lamps on the side table. The room lit up and you crooked as you found a visitor in your corner.

It was the soldat, his mask back in place as he stood and watched you. You blinked and looked at the door. It was firmly shut. You kept the blanket over you like a shield as you sat up and tried not to show your fear.

“Hi,” you said softly, “are you… okay?”

His blue eyes searched you but gave nothing away. The mask and the curtain of his hair shrouded his emotion. You just stared back in silence as his lashes flicked subtly, his irises moving up and down the bed. He took a step closer and you winced, squeezing the edge of the blankets.

He neared and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. He grabbed the top of the blanket and tugged until you let them go. You quivered as he pushed your shoulders down and you were forced flat with your head on the pillows. You gulped and the movement of your throat caught his gaze.

His metal fingers tickled along your neck and sent a chill down your spine. His hand continued down the front of your shirt and he pushed the hem up as the blanket bunched beneath your stomach. You latched onto it in a panic and he tore your hands away. He pressed them to the bed beside you until you went limp.

He raised your shirt higher and framed your ribs with his hands, feeling carefully along your bruised torso. When you exclaimed he retracted his hands and pulled your shirt back down roughly. He shook his head and his brows slanted.

His metal fingertips tapped on his thigh as he thought. You laid frozen on the mattress as his forehead wrinkled and he angled his head as if arguing with himself. His hand shifted suddenly and closed around yours. You let him lift it, terrified to anger him.

He reached to unhook his mask and set it in his lap. He brought your hand to his cheek and leaned his face into your palm as he bent over you. You felt the short stubble stabbing your palm. He took your hand away and swung it back towards him sharply so that you smacked him stiffly.

You stared at him in confusion and he did it again. Then he let your hand go and pointed at his cheek and nodded. You dropped your hand and did nothing. His blue eyes turned to daggers and his jaw squared. He balled his hand and punched his leg in frustration.

He huffed and picked up his mask. He stood and put it back on. He waved his fingers at you dismissively and stomped to the door. He pressed his thumb to the small indent and it slid open before him. When the door shut, you left the lights on.

Even with the drugs still coursing through you, sleep didn’t seem likely.

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tanoraqui · 2 years ago

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So, what about Celebrimbor's Haunted House Adventure?

I’ve been sitting on this for a couple weeks because I thought the first two parts would be a prologue to a proper (silly) haunted house horror story...but honestly, I’m not gonna improve on the humor here. Also for @katekatharos and an anon.

Partial transcript of in-house call between the desk of the CEO of Fëa Technologies, Inc., and Mechanics Workroom C, where someone finally tracked down the Director of R&D, placed 12:25pm:

M: When this afternoon am I getting the rundown on the new killer robots?

C: What? Next week, when you said you needed the new killer robots by.

M: This week, I said this week. Today, Friday the 13th.

C: Well, you’re not getting them today, because they’re not nearly done yet and I’m leaving early. It’s date night.

M: Yes, yes it is! Which is why I need the killer robots!

C: Tough. Our dinner reservations are at 6:30 and we already got Tyelpe a sitter.

M: Can you come back afterwards to manually—

C: Date night. It’s our anniversary next week. I got a welding studio and a hotel room.

M: Just for an hour—Mala can come too, obviously—

C: Because I want to have future anniversaries, I am not bringing anyone I love, including myself, within 3 miles of your and Fingon’s weird foreplay ever again.

M: …Fine. Say, the robots run on electricity, right? Who’s babysitting Tyelpe?

C: What the fuck did I just say, Nelyo?

Transcript of in-house call between the desk of the CEO of Fëa Technologies, Inc., and his secretary’s desk, placed 12:36pm:

M: Deb, get me a car at 4pm today and reschedule anything I have after that. I’ll be kidnapping my nephew from his after-school program, and when we get back, I’ll need some sort of DVD player, both Home Alone movies, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and anything else you can think of that’s instructive in that genre. Also a large pepperoni pizza—actually, one large pepperoni and one medium everything-meat—and 2 large jars of lightly irradiated peanut butter. And highly caffeinated soda, but I’ll update you on what kind from the car.

LOH Mission Report 002745, filed by Valiant; Summary Page

Operation: Knife’s Edge

Objective: Infiltrate Fëa Tech main offices and steal back the plans for the neutron-splitting knife recently stolen from NOGROD, believed to now be in Fëa’s R&D vaults.

Agents:

Valiant (Operative Class A, 3c-mod 5, flight/weapons skill, team leader)

Blink (OpC B, 2c-mod 2, invisibility)

Rabbit (OpC C, 3c-mod 3, hacker)

Aqualia (OpC C, 3c-mod 2, hydrokinesis)

Phantom (Contractor, 2c-mod 1, professional thief)

Foes:

Spark (3c*-mod 3, electromechanicokinesis)

Phoenix (3c-mod 5, empathic influence (mostly just there to gloat toward the end))

Huan (3c-mod 2, giant Valarin dog (mostly there as babysitter))

way too many robots. even the roombas.

Objective Result: Mixed.

Summary: Plans retrieved (Phoenix’s personal safe, not R&D), but Phoenix likely had copies made and backed up elsewhere. Phoenix is capable of being a Cool Uncle, but pride is still his downfall; I left him handcuffed temporarily incapacitated. 5 agents injured, 1 serious but not life-threatening (Aqualia, broken ankle). Everyone but me got dragged out before reaching objective. Spark could be a real problem if he commits to villainy, but right now he’s mostly just 9 years old.

#the silmarillion #ficlet #superheroes #did i make up an entire superpower classification system for this au? yes #but i explain it in a half-written fic involcing celechwes being suspended over a pit of sharks so i'll share that later maybe #my fic #celebrimbor #maedhros #curufin #fingon #everyone else is ocs #except huan ofc #(for whom the irradiated peanut butter. v important to bribe hte real intended babysitter into compliance)#(also the extra meat pizza)

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vvienne · 3 years ago

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RANWAN FIC RECS

Absolute Zero by jitterati

Pathologically solitary academic Chu Wanning left behind a life of research to enlist with the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps Jaeger team when giant monsters began to emerge from the Pacific ocean, eager to leave his personal entanglements behind him and join humanity's collective battle against the threat of extinction.

His goal is to build an artificial intelligence that will allow a pilot to operate a Jaeger mech solo - eliminating the need for pilot compatibility and the mortifying ordeal of being totally known by another person, a "neurological handshake" known colloquially as the drift.

He didn't expect his former students to follow him all the way to front line of the war against the kaiju.

Featuring lots of side character interaction, pining, yearning, questions on the nature of personhood, friendship between jerks, people coping badly with loss, snarky AI, and giant robots. Illustrations by Saika & Daru

Husky and his White Kitten Disciple by JustAMoon123

Within a lonely heart, the seeds of hatred start to grow.

-A 2ha Age and Role-Reversal AU.-

NOTE: This Story is Now E Rated!

[Before meeting Chu Wanning, Mo Ran had drawn his power exclusively from the Wood side of his dual Spiritual Root, and his Qi had always glowed green.

Now, only when in battle did it do so, with Bugui’s blade encased in a tyrannical green light.

Outside of battle, like when he set barriers of warmth; or made Crystal Butterflies to tease golden flowers; or cast a small array to keep a box of food warm, his Qi manifested with a gentle red glow.

Mo Ran’s Wood was destructive, while his Fire was protective.

Ah, Mo Weiyu, Mo Weiyu. Even your power betrays you.]

Burn, Pine, and Perish by moonqueenmaia

It’s been two days since Taxian-Jun’s last visit, and Mo Ran hasn’t touched Chu Wanning at all, beyond gentle and fleeting caresses. Chu Wanning decides to take matters into his own hands by surprising Mo Ran when he comes back to their home after a trip down the mountain.

it's no coincidence (it's a kitty-incidence) by lanzhan (gothguk)

There’s a white cat lounging in the middle of Mo Ran's bed.

to touch you with bare hands (even if it burns) by moonqueenmaia

Chu Wanning is a renowned professor of mechanical engineering at Sisheng Peak University. Beautiful, lonely, and talented beyond belief, he has spent his 32 years mostly by himself, silently and secretly yearning for affection and companionship. Yet Chu Wanning has resolved to himself that he will spend the rest of his life alone, no matter his hidden fantasies.

Enter Taxian-jun, an unruly, arrogant, and struggling student, fiery and domineering, who comes in and shatters the calm of Chu Wanning's life. They enter into an agreement, both burying their feelings underneath a storm of lust and lies. Yet amidst it all, something deeper may be helplessly and slowly blooming.

It is up to them to cultivate it, or destroy it for good.

cursed by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning and his disciples are sent to investigate an abandoned village, and Chu Wanning is hit with a curse.

Mo Ran was determined to treat his shizun respectfully in this life, but what choice does he have?

liar liar cock on fire by lofikv

I (32M) walked in on my roommate (23M) masturbating in our living room. Ever since then I couldn't erase the image of his penis in my mind but I found a sex toy online that is almost as big as him, so I bought it and tried it on myself so that I can imagine how he would feel inside me. I have also been romantically attracted to him ever since we started living together. How can I cope with this?

UPDATE: He caught me in the middle of an emergency.

(Absolute) Unit 311 by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning doesn't have a soulmark.

Neither does Mo Ran.

ducks entering highway by Sectionladvivi

Mo Ran finds out his well-respected, MILF-coded, tears-of-angels-tight-ass robotics professor moonlights as an erotic novelist. He immediately leverages this knowledge for an opportunity to play tonsil hockey.

to yearn by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning starts to cough up flowers. Taxian-Jun is angry. Chu Wanning is not allowed to die pining for someone else.

When it starts happening again in his second life, Mo Ran knows enough to worry.

from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom by Wildehack (tyleet)

Taxian Jun is the victim of a flower curse.

sticky fingers by fakeplasticlily

The man tosses the towel unceremoniously back at Mo Ran’s chest, like he’s personally offended by it. And the fact that his hands had just been all over said chest barely minutes earlier, maybe. “Please pack a box of egg tarts with extra custard filling, a box of red bean paste buns with extra syrup, a rice pudding with extra candied fruit garnish, and a box of osmanthus cakes with extra sweet pear jam.” Mo Ran’s eyes grow progressively wider as he lists the items. It’s him. Not the suburban mother of four, not the elderly guy dealing with a midlife crisis, but quite possibly the hottest guy he’s ever seen. Who also happens to have the highest sugar tolerance Mo Ran has seen in a human being in his two years of running this bakery.

Hard to Love The Lonely Night by bloodsongs

Chu Wanning glares up at him, adjusting his women’s robes. “Still, why couldn’t you have been the wife instead?”

Coughing politely, Mo Ran looks to the side, avoiding his gaze. “Shizun’s skills with the illusion barrier far surpass this humble disciple’s, and, well…”

He doesn’t need to complete his sentence—it’s infuriating, but Mo Ran is now taller than him, broader than him, larger than him. Very much so. The young sapling he raised in Sisheng Peak is now a full-fledged tree, a man built like the mountains Chu Wanning has seen in his travels.

Chu Wanning and Mo Ran pretend to be a married couple visiting a small mountain town to investigate some suspicious disappearances. Mini Canon AU casefic. Contains spoilers up to Chapter 130 or so of the novel.

Purple Ink by jeejaschocolate

Chu Wanning is a robotics engineer who lives a life of isolation and loneliness, only partially due to his chronic illness. Eventually he gets so sick that he requires the help of a full-time medical assistant.

Of course, these days, all those jobs are given to CyberLife androids.

Chu Wanning resents the android they give him. From his fiery eyes to his long black hair, to his incomparable tenderness and consideration for Wanning’s feelings.

He resents him. All the way until he falls in love with him.

Fallen Flowers in Swallows' Nests by bloodsongs

You deserve better—I refuse to disrespect you ever again. I want to be better. I must be better.

But I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know where Taxian-Jun ends and Mo-Zongshi begins.

I only know now that I cannot lie to myself: I want you so fiercely that I burn with it, I am consumed with the desire to make you mine and mine alone. To become one with you, feeling your fire twine with mine.

Or, Chu Wanning finds letters from Mo-Zongshi that were never shared with him.

These hitherto undiscovered letters cover a range of emotions that weren't present in the book he gifted his Shizun: contrition, yearning, and desire.

Counterpoint by senchafloat

Five years ago, Mo Ran was just a boy who loved playing piano—there were many things he didn't know. He didn't know how capricious and unforgiving the world of classical music could be. He didn't know just how lucky he was to have Chu Wanning as his teacher.

Five years later, Chu Wanning is now a renowned concert pianist, and Mo Ran is an upstart conducting student. When Chu Wanning shows up unannounced at his alma mater, Mo Ran has plenty of questions, along with a desire to prove his worth to his old teacher. But as it turns out, Chu Wanning isn't as invincible as he once seemed. As old secrets come up to the surface, the two of them are forced to reinvent the ways they'll make music together.

impatient to adore you by riverdanceeee

At some heartbreaking point in his life, Mo Ran accepted that Chu Wanning would never reciprocate his feelings, so he dealt with it as any other person would. He'd rid himself of his affection, respect their friendship, and learn to move on. But Mo Ran's affection runs too deep, and when any opportunity to spend time with Chu Wanning knocks on his door, he goes running to answer and accept. Even if it means he has to break up a potentially dangerous dog fighting ring.

To Bow Before A Willow Vine by bloodsongs

“I…” Mo Ran hadn’t thought that far. He shakes his head, lowering his head in deference, resting his forehead against Chu Wanning’s knuckles. "I'll do anything you want of me."

The silence stretches on for a beat too long.

"Anything?" Chu Wanning says eventually, tilting his head.

Written for 2Ha Week, Day 4: Reverse AU for the 0.5 timeline. When Chu Wanning storms Sisheng Peak and crowns himself the cultivation world's new emperor, Mo Ran trades his life for Xue Meng's. Contains spoilers for up to the end of the novel.

Call me by my name by rinsled05

When the man called Taxian-Jun arrives, years later, it’s the coming of a storm.

He sweeps into a dinner appointment between Chu Wanning and a client, clad in black, a smirk tugging at his mouth. Over the spark of irritation, Chu Wanning can’t help but admire his lean frame, the way his hair, cut rebelliously short, falls over smoldering, dark eyes. The way he towers over him, even when Chu Wanning rises to full height.

Chu Wanning’s heart races as Taxian-Jun leans in close, ignoring the shouts and gasps around them.

“Sakaki of Ran,” he purrs in their native tongue. “You’re mine.”

Chu Wanning lifts his chin. “I don’t know you.”

“You will,” Taxian-Jun says, and leaves.

In which Chu Wanning is a courtesan serving Chinese merchants in Nagasaki, Japan, and Taxian-Jun decides to make him his.

荷官牌型 ♠️ The Croupier's Hand by bloodsongs

In deep financial straits after losing his job as a teacher, a desperate Chu Wanning becomes a croupier at Sisheng's new casino.

The once sleepy town of Sisheng Peak grows busier by the day as the casino draws more and more tourists to their mountains. Consumed by his lingering regrets over the worst mistake of his life that destroyed his teaching career, Chu Wanning is too distracted to worry about anything else but his next shift, his next paycheck.

Except that's when Mo Ran, the reason Chu Wanning lost everything, returns to Sisheng Peak.

As the heir to the casino.

White Rabbit Club by minkit

Desperate to rid himself of a few pesky things called virginity and desire, Chu Wanning waltzes into a world he knows little about and right into the embrace of a mysterious stranger who reminds him of the student he's been dreaming about all year. The lust fueled dreams his student stars in are the very reason Chu Wanning applied to the sex club in the first place, and now he's desperate to get rid of these filthy impulses once and for all.

Congratulations, Chu Wanning, on your acceptance into the White Rabbit Club. We hope you enjoy your stay.

Risk and Restraint by purloinedinpetrograd

There is nobody Mo Ran works with who does not love him. He’s worked hard to cultivate this image while he climbs the corporate ladder at Sisheng, and it’s paid off in dividends. He’s in every WeChat group. He can call in favors with any division of any department. He can make even the tightest of deadlines relax their stranglehold on his team.

That is, there is nobody except, of course, Chu Wanning.

A Lingering Sweetness by theherocomplex

Chu Wanning is now all too aware of what he looks like: a dry stick of a man, never handsome, angular and cold and pale. A drab, short-tempered creature, as appealing as a splinter in one's foot. But Mo Ran looks at him as if he will never get his fill, and part of Chu Wanning thinks, What if —?

At the end of the line by PearlAquaBlue

“So … I reckon someone thought you needed to loosen up a little bit. Now that you’re here, want to try it?”

Chu Wanning hangs up. Throws her phone on her pillow with a disgusted glare after it. Stands up and paces to the kitchen in long, angry strides. Her cheeks are burning. With trembling fingers, she grabs a glass and pours herself some water, gulping it down in one go. It doesn’t help much. She grips the kitchen counter tightly, then marches back into the bedroom to glare at the phone again. Her fingertips itch, and it’s as if some kind of magnetic force draws her closer and closer to her bed until her fingertips are but an inch away from that tempting black mirror. Before she knows it, she’s unlocked it unsteadily and pressed “repeat” on the last call.

“Welcome to Sisheng Peak – ”

“And what would that entail?” she asks, a little too breathless.

Let's Fall in Love for the Night by purloinedinpetrograd

Chu Wanning could only stare in horror as a large cloud of sickeningly yellow pollen rose from the field, blanketing the place where Mo Ran stood in a heavy fog. “Um,” he said lamely.

“Fuck,” Mo Ran cursed, and Chu Wanning didn’t even have the heart to chastise him for his coarse language, because he was too preoccupied wrestling the surge of fear at seeing his disciple disappear behind the haze of that indeterminately threatening dust.

A million terrible possibilities raced through his mind, each one more dramatic and gruesome than the last. His heart hammered against his ribcage, threatening to crack the bones. “Mo Ran,” he said slowly, “I think you should tell me what that does, now.”

Xue Zhengyong sends Chu Wanning and Mo Ran on a mission to find a specific ingredient for some concoction of his wife’s. Chu Wanning is torn between rejoicing at the chance to spend time alone with Mo Ran... and grieving over the very same thing.

But, well, it’s just flowers. What could go wrong, right? (Spoiler alert: it’s sex pollen.)

the day dawns in your hues by localshabba

2ha Week 2020 Day 1 prompt - Haitang

---

Schoolteacher Mo Ran is having an ordinary day until he has an awkward encounter with the notoriously rigid school librarian, which leads to the start of something new.

Also features: flowers, dinosaurs and lots of tenderness and pining.

helping hands by verity

When Mo Ran was but a young, innocent, virtuous grad student—well, one of those things—she built that couch from a flatpack box with her own two hands. Over the years, the smell of polyester and cheap foam padding has given way to an equally aromatic blend of Chu Wanning's haitang blossom perfume, spilled coffee, and white lithium grease. Chu Wanning herself is always perfectly dressed without a stain in sight. Even right now, her head tucked onto one folded arm, the other loosely gripping her tablet, she looks so formal.

Mo Ran gently rests a hand on Chu Wanning's socked ankle where it peeks out of those tailored white trousers. She really should behave herself.

She really should... behave herself...

in plain sight by localshabba

Written for a prompt fill in the 2ha Kink Meme.

---

"I have a surprise," Mo Ran breathed, coming to stand so close behind him that his breath landed on Chu Wanning's nape. Not touching Chu Wanning any other way, because he likes to make Chu Wanning lean back just a little bit, to seek out that contact himself.

"I think Chu-laoshi will enjoy it."

Chu Wanning is sure he agreed to the whole idea; he's just unclear on when. Things got hazy around the point when Mo Ran turned him around by the shoulders, got down on his knees and...well. Apparently he'd skipped breakfast that morning.

When he returned to his senses, his clothes were all neatly tucked into place, not a stain on them, and a charmingly pink sexual aid was nestled comfortably up his--ahem, inside him.

---

Now available in Spanish!

casually acquainted by tagteamme

Chu Wanning knows what he is and what he isn’t. And where he lacks in pleasantries and outward appeal, he makes up for in untouchable grace and dignity.

It threatens to unravel once he meets a familiar face in an unfamiliar city.

“So quick to run away from me, Chu-laoshi,” Mo Ran says, voice gently teasing as Chu Wanning refuses to make eye contact with him. “After you came all the way from…”

He trails off, waiting for Chu Wanning to let him know, but he sees the map open on Chu Wanning’s phone and grins wider. “You want directions?”

Chu Wanning clears his throat, and shakes his head. He should say something— instead, he stays silent as he looks down at his phone and punches in the hotel name again.

Happily, his phone tells him to try again when he has signal.

The Right Hand of Light by gedsparrowhawk (FaceChanger)

Chu Wanning is asleep on the bed, clutching his hands tightly to his chest and curled in on himself. He’s still wearing the same robes he was in in the water prison. On the writing desk, a bowl of water and clean linen for bandages sit untouched, and a tub of bathwater has cooled without being used. Mo Ran sighs to himself. Wanning is truly hopeless.

He sits on the side of the bed and touches Chu Wanning’s shoulder. “Wanning,” he says. “Wanning, wake up.”

---

Rare 0.5 tenderness, after the water prison.

nothing can consume you by tagteamme

Mo Ran’s violent history has never had to catch up to him.

It’s already embedded itself into him as scars on his body, as a tattoo on his forearm, as the lingering taste of blood in his sleep and finally, as the searing brand pressed against his chest before he’s thrown into the sea as punishment. He knows that this is where all his chances come to an end.

But as the deep fathom of the water swallows him up, something else saves him and pulls him to a tiny cove tucked away off the coast of an overlooked port town. When he wakes up under the care of a mythical creature wearing a familiar face, an even older and more distant past finally finds him.

#ranwan #2ha #erha #chu wanning #mo ran #2ha recs #fic recs #2ha spoilers

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asset35-maya · 3 years ago

Note

I am sleepy but I gotta make a request before the busy tomorrow so 2 things on my mind! Sleepy and the 'oh my god they were roomates' vine xD with any characters and aus I love everything you write anyways xD Happy timezones and best vibes your way >^<!! 💖💞💕💕

Oh my god, they were roommates…

“The rental market in Detroit is absolute shit! How dare these bloodsuckers charge such high rates for the most under-developed properties! This city’s going to the dogs!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have to pay your own weight in gold just to live in a shoebox for a year. Nonsense!”

“Uh…”

“Are you even listening to me, Tina!

Tina?

Goddamnit Tina!”

Gavin thumped his fist on her desk, but Tina’s eyes barely flicked up from her phone.

“Oh my god, you sound like my grandpa…”

Gavin turned red and his brain buzzed with a thousand colourful retorts. He was just about to pick one when Tina stopped scrolling and turned her phone screen towards him.

CYBERSCALIA @ NEW JERICHO

The suburban paradise for executive androids and humans alike. Located 25 minutes drive from downtown Detroit, with a full amenities.

Gavin’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He balked at her.

“You’re joking? How could I possibly…?”

“Get with the times, boomer…”

Tina lazily skimmed her thumb over the screen. The webpage promised plenty of greenery, good infrastructure and modest but spacious rooms. The extremely reasonable price tag was Gavin’s dream come true. He’d spent weeks apartment hunting in the wake of an early lease termination by his cantankerous landlord. Gavin knew he’d never find a better deal.

“Shit, this is so good, T! Why the phck does it have to be in that- that place!”

His friend arched a sceptical eyebrow.

“What place?”

“The Tincan ghetto!”

Tina smacked him on the arm. None too gently.

“It’s subsided public housing located in an android-friendly estate… because they’re the ones that need it most right now. And frankly, you seem to be in just as much need, so you should really get off that high horse.”

“Fine, fine. You’re right. I should seriously consider this place, even if my neighbours are gonna have more in common with my car than me. But damn, it seems a little too good to be true. There’s probably some fine print, hidden costs that’ll come out later.”

“Hmm… let’s see…”

Tina scrolled further and then let out a half-laugh. She held her phone up again.

“Nothing shady about the rates, but there is something you should know…”

At the risk of being called old again, Gavin squinted at the screen and read aloud.

“Bearing in mind the founding principles of New Jericho, all human occupants may only apply for tenancy in co-habitation with at least one android citizen of the United States of- JESUS PHCKING CHRIST! Absolutely not! I am not going to live with a plastic prick!”

Gavin had to get through half a bottle of wine before he could bear to scroll through the rental listings. Unlike other humans who had happily moved into New Jericho with their android friends or partners, he had to find an android who was also looking for a flatmate.

Some listings came from ardent supporters of Markus. These were the androids who wanted to ease the post-revolution transition by reaching out to humans. Some listings were put up by the android equivalent of frat boys. These individuals were clearly looking for someone on the fringes of human society, someone who could show them a good (if not illegal) time.

Other posts came from eccentric androids who craved company but had likely been rejected by their own kind. Gavin felt a strange twisting sensation, almost like pity, when he came across a post written entirely in third person by someone called Ralph.

He had almost given up hope when he came across a simple little listing for a two bedroom apartment in Cyberscalia.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Seeking a neat, self-sufficient co-renter. Human or android, no preference. I spend most of my time working and will be out of your way for the better part of the day. I only ask for silence during my nighttime stasis cycles, timely payment of dues and upkeep of cleanliness.

Gavin sighed in relief.

“Your room is the first door on the left, mine is the second. The bathroom, laundry and kitchenette are shared, as is the living room. I scarcely find use for the latter, so you need not worry about my intruding on any of your social gatherings, or vice versa. As long as you adhere to the terms of the agreement, our paths will not cross much.”

The tall, stiff-necked android dropped a set of keys, both mechanical and digital, into Gavin’s open palm.

“Er thanks.. RK… sorry I forgot your full model number…”

“You may call me Nines. Although, I’d rather you didn’t call me much of anything. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

In a swish of black fabric, the android turned on his heel and disappeared into his room. Two rapid clicks indicated the shutting and locking of his door.

Gavin sighed and looked around the open-plan living room. It was nothing fancy, but it was far beyond any of the other properties he’d viewed in weeks of unsuccessful house-hunting.

He sat down on the simple black couch with a huff and contemplated his situation. He’d ended up where he’d truly never expected to go, but objectively speaking, things were good… barring the high-handed manner of his robot flatmate, but who gave a shit about that.

He pulled out his phone to text Tina his thanks.

“I can’t! I refuse to! It is a violation of my personal ethics and I will simply not take this assignment any further. Good day to you sir!”

Gavin nearly dropped his bowl of cereal one morning when his roommate burst out of his door and rushed into the open balcony.

He hadn’t seen Nines in days, which was perfectly normal. The android came and went at odd hours and made hardly any noise. It was almost like living alone. The only reminder of Nines’ presence was the sight of several dark shirts and trousers regularly hung out to dry on the rack above the washing machine.

Gavin set his bowl down and watched the android tightly grip the bars of the railing and take several unnecessary breaths to calm down. He’d seen deviant colleagues express emotion many times before, but this was the first time he witnessed such a potent mixture of rage and sorrow from a synthetic being.

Out of empathy, but mostly curiosity, Gavin approached cautiously.

“Hey Nines… is everything alright…?”

There was no response for several moments. Then Nines turned around with a grimace and hands held upwards in a placating gesture.

“I apologise for the disturbance. It was hypocritical of me to disrupt the very peace and quiet I demand of you.”

“Uh… no worries…? Are you okay?”

There was a flash of steel blue eyes.

Gavin kicked himself mentally as he realised too late that he’d broached uncharted territory. Their interactions didn’t extend beyond curt nods on the rare occasion they found each other in the same space. It was almost as if Nines engineered the lack of contact, which wouldn’t surprise Gavin at all if it were the case.

“I’m fine. I merely experienced some frustration with my work.”

Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps it was his usual lack of self-preservative instinct… Gavin threw caution to the winds.

“What do you actually do?”

Nines’ expression remained stoic but his LED went through a spectacular series of colours and flashes. His next words were reluctant.

“I’m a private investigator.”

“Oh shit! I’m actually a cop.”

Gavin pointed dumbly at himself and then let his hand drop when he saw absolutely no surprise cross the android’s face.

“I know. That’s why I let you stay with me.”

“For safety?”

“Certainly not for your fashion sense.”

“Wow okay, I didn’t think I’d be much protection for a big scary droid like you.”

Nines hummed dismissively and started to move out of the balcony, body language fully indicating the end of the conversation.

Unable to help himself for some strange reason, Gavin blurted out another ill-advised question.

“What pissed you off so much?”

Nines paused halfway through side-stepping the human. A thrill went through Gavin at the shards of ice he observed for the first time up close in Nines’ irises.

“If I tell you, will you promise to stop asking pointless questions?”

Gavin nodded earnestly, and frankly… rather foolishly.

“I helped a client gather evidence to initiate divorce proceedings on the grounds of infidelity. I provided ample photo and video evidence for his lawyers to work with. Now they want me to keep following the spouse to capture more details that could gear any future settlement in his favour.”

“So what’s your problem?”

“They’re offering me an incredible amount of cash to follow her 24/7. To stake out her workplace, her gym, her parent’s home. They want me to crouch under the window of the bedroom where her children sleep. I can do a lot of things, but not that. It’s deeply insulting that they even asked. That’s why I was so… pissed.”

Nines slipped past and was nearly back to his bedroom when Gavin spoke.

“I respect that.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know, but for real though, I think ethics are important in our line of work. Not just because of we need morals or a sense of right or wrong blablabla, but because we need… clarity.”

Silence floated through the hallway as Nines paused with a hand on his doorframe.

“Clarity?”

“Yeah, like a sense of direction. We don’t just take cases right-left-centre because they make us money. I mean, we could, and people do… but they never become specialists or experts of any kind. You gotta strategise if you want a career. Ethics helps with that. I think…”

Gavin wasn’t sure what made him say any of that. He was neither one for small talk, nor a man of many words… but something about Nines prompted that unusual level of introspective discourse.

“Sorry that was weird. Never mind.”

“That was actually… very astute.”

Their eyes met and Gavin could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile.

“It’s good to see that not all humans are as one-dimensional as I thought.”

The door clicked shut, but there was no locking sound.

Since the morning of Nines’ uncharacteristic outburst, the frequency of their encounters in the common areas of the apartment increased. Wordless nods became hellos, and hellos eventually became full sentences.

Not that he’d admit it, Gavin actually looked forward to enquiring about the android’s day and the cases he was working on. It was utterly fascinating to hear about legal investigations without the constraints of police procedure.

For his part, Nines would share as much as he had the patience to, before disappearing into the confines of his room. Though the time he spent outside steadily increased every day.

Another morning, while Gavin was making his coffee, Nines emerged from his room, still in his pyjamas and looking as livid as he had the time before. Gavin had never seen him in anything but crisply ironed businesswear. Before he could voice any concern, Nines stiffly asked Gavin to keep a lookout for a homicide suspect.

He nodded and immediately reached for his phone to text the sergeant on duty at his station. By midday, there was an arrest.

That evening, when Gavin settled in front of the TV with his usual glass of wine, he heard the familiar sound of Nines’ door opening. The couch dipped beside him.

“Thank you.”

“Just did my job. I should thank you for the tip.”

“Hmm.”

Gavin chanced a glance at his roommate, and found him looking right back.

“What?”

“Nothing… I just had the realisation that much of my work is impotent without the authority and means to take any kind of action.”

The sitcom began to play and Gavin thumbed the remote to reduce the volume.

“Takes all kinds to keep the streets clean. PIs can do things cops can’t. We rely on guys like you for intel all the time, you know.”

“I know.”

No words were exchanged for a while thereafter. Gavin found himself unable to focus on the TV show with all the brooding energy emanating from his right.

“If you feel like being a private eye doesn’t make enough of a difference, then why didn’t you… um… you know…”

“Join law enforcement?”

“Yup.”

“Plenty of my fellow androids have done so. I know for a fact that my predecessor model chose to remain there. You might know him.”

“Connor? Yes. Very annoying.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Totally. But why didn’t you join too? You’d be brilliant on the Force.”

“My skillset is certainly well-suited, but I didn’t want to become another puppet of the state.”

Gavin really didn’t know what to say to that. He nodded uncertainly and looked back at the television. He wasn’t sure why Nines was suddenly this social.

“What are you… watching?”

Androids could scan and detect just about anything in the world, so there had to be something else to the question. Gavin, strangely, was happy to oblige.

Nines made an appearance every evening, without fail. He would sit through the TV shows if they were of interest, or he would bring his case material and notes to the coffee table to work in silence beside Gavin.

Sometimes Gavin liked to work on jigsaw puzzles on the dining table. Nines would sit beside him, pretending to read a paperback novel, but actually scanning the puzzle and passing the right pieces over from time to time.

Against all odds, an evening ritual and a tentative friendship developed. It was simple, but it was warm. Comfortable. Like nothing Gavin had ever had before, even with humans.

He awoke one morning with a slight crick in his neck but the feeling of being very well-rested.

His eyes flickered open and fell upon the window. Familiar greenery came into view… but wait… had everything slightly shifted to the left? And was that the New Jericho Capitol building? He couldn’t see that from his room! There was a tree in the way! A tree that was now a few feet away from where it used to be.

Gavin sat up in alarm as he realised that he was not in his own bed. His heart flew into his throat as Nines walked through the open doorway. Shirtless and carrying a mug of blue liquid.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

“Wha-what happened!?”

Nines frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed. He set the mug on the floor and pulled on a plain black t-shirt.

“You passed out on the couch last night. I think you finished a whole bottle waiting up for me? Sorry, I was out working later than expected.”

Gavin looked down and sighed in relief as he found all his clothes still on him.

“I didn’t want you to injure yourself sleeping at an odd angle so I brought you here. Your door was locked.”

“You could’ve easily opened it.”

“Yes, but that would’ve been an invasion of privacy. I reserve that for working hours alone.”

Gavin looked deep into the sparkling blue eyes and as usual found no trace of humour.

“Thanks…”

“Don’t mention it. Now get out. You’re ruining my silk sheets.”

Against his best efforts, Gavin could not keep the thought of being carried to bed and tucked in safely out of his mind. How many years had it been? Since something like that had been even remotely possible for him?

He knew that Nines was just being kind in his own pragmatic little way… but Gavin found that he wouldn’t mind the prospect of waking up in the android’s bed in a wildly different context.

He realised he had it bad when Tina caught him smiling to himself at work one day.

“Why so happy?”

“Oh… nothing. Just remembered something my roommate did… He’s a… funny guy.”

“Huh. Well, look at you getting along so well with androids.”

“Android. Singular. Just him.”

“Wowwww… he sounds special.”

“Who did this?”

“Gavin, the damage is merely superficial-”

“Who phcking did this??!”

He reached forward and gingerly touched Nines’ split cheek. His synth skin was smeared with blue blood and glitching in and out. Nines winced at the contact.

“Shit, sorry. That must hurt like a bitch.”

“Androids do not feel pain.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m merely experiencing a surge in sensory input wherever my chassis is exposed. I’m fine.”

“Shut up and give me your first aid kit or whatever toolbox equivalent you tincans have.”

A shade of embarrassment appeared over the android’s features.

“I… actually don’t have one. I didn’t think I’d ever need it.”

“Didn’t think anyone could kick your ass, huh?”

“No… I didn’t think anyone would ever spot my hiding place.”

“Huh. How’d that happen?”

Nines’ eyes dipped, but as always, he answered the question.

“I was… distracted.”

Something in the air solidified and both of them felt it. Gavin cleared his throat and slapped his knees like an old man about to stand up.

“Right. Let me go check if the neighbours have anything that might help with your face.”

“So who’s this dapper young gent you’ve brought to the party, Gavin?”

“Er… he’s my uh… roommate.”

Captain Fowler nodded and winked.

“That’s what they called it in my day too.”

Nines shifted beside Gavin and cleared his throat.

“He’s a PI. But I think he’s wasting his talent taking pictures of cheating spouses. He’s quite interested in police work. Maybe we could get him to assist on a couple cases now and then?”

Fowler put down his drink and extended a warm hand to Nines.

“Oh thank RA9!”

Nines came running to the cluster of police cars and enveloped him in a giant hug. Gavin laughed as he patted him weakly on the back.

“Watch the ribs, big guy.”

“I was so worried.”

“Why? Your info was good. No chance of error.”

“I meant about you.”

Gavin pulled back and regarded Nines with confusion. The flashing red and blue lights of the cars made it hard to read his LED.

“Why?”

“I can’t believe you have to ask.”

The android pulled him into a bruising kiss. The officers standing nearby broke into wolf-whistles and applause.

“What the-”

“Oh I take full credit for that, sir.”

Fowler glanced at Tina.

“The case, Chen?”

“Oh of course. I solved the whole thing. But I mean that specifically.”

She waved a hand in Gavin and Nines’ direction. The two held each other tightly and seemed unlikely to come up for air anytime soon.

“Like I helped Gav find an affordable place in New Jericho and then he met this handsome investigator droid and they were roommates.”

“Oh my god, they were roommates…”

“Yeah legit.”

\\\

Thanks so much for the request @jude-shotto

This ended up being a lot longer than expected, but I couldn’t help it. Your prompt just took me on a whole journeyyyy <3

#maya bday ask event #reed900 #rk900 #gavin reed #dbh gavin #dbh nines #gavin900 #gavin x nines #gavin x rk900 #dbh fanfic #dbh rk900 #dbh #dbh writing #my writing

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solardrake · 2 years ago

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grasps you. the promised emojis.. they are here. i am looking at BNY but you can answer with whoever you like <3 😨 🌙 🌋 🍀 ✏️ 🔫 🌟 ☄️ 💚

Ill try and answer all of these for BNY ^^; Let's see here...

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"?

Bny rarely gets "startled", as their sensor arrays make it hard for anything to sneak up on them, even at night. Rather, bny feels more often the slow, anxious fear-usually when around strangers, or when paranoia begins to set in. In cases like this, they do feel the strong urge to leave the situation by any means possible.

🌙 MOON - what is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

BNY's greatest wish would be to discover the truth about their past. From their perspective, they know next to nothing about when, where, and why they were created. The only thing that was given to them was a set of coordinates, near the center of the galaxy... Such a mystery eats at them, and they would give anything to solve it, even if the people around them don't want them to succeed.

🌋 VOLCANO - how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

Their temper seems to be burning at both ends as of late. The inhabitants of their new home planet have a history of mechas being used against them as a policing force for the upper class, so brutal in their ways that children today steer clear of the rusted corpses of mechanical behemoths that lie in fields. This causes many to treat Bny as a bad actor, or even something to be afraid of. Over time the sentiment improves as they put in the work to earn their stay, but the de-humanizing verbiage used against them daily grinds their gears to no end.

🍀 CLOVER - do they believe in luck? are they lucky?

Is it lucky that they fell from the sky when they did, right when some kids were looking out their window as that streak of fire blazed across the sky? Or was it lucky that they survived at all, their thermal shielding failing in only non-essential areas? Luck is the death of statistical explanation, the bandage over a wound of unfathomable probability. And when the gods came, it took all certainty away from numbers, their paracausal acts defying even the core rules of the universe. An act of god may be considered fortunate, but not because god intends for it to be. Numbers calculate chance. Luck is leaving it up to chance. Gods don't leave anything up to chance. Bny doesn't believe in anything.

✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?

I'll make it right again//But it's no use, you said//As my hunger grows and grows//I have to write the meaning of my life//Or else everything's in vain - Get Your Wish by Porter Robinson

🔫 PISTOL - do they trust people easily? how easily will they turn their back to someone? have they been backstabbed before? will they betray someone if given an ultimatum?

BNY doesn't trust easily, but if you intrigue them enough you may find yourself in their company. There were a few times where their trust was betrayed, including a time where someone left them for dead inside a laboratory filled with giant robot guard dogs! If given an ultimatum, they'd most likely try and resolve the problem a third, special way that almost gets everyone killed.

🌟 GLOWING STAR - what do they think about when they look at the night sky? is there someone they want to star gaze with?

On a clear night, you can see almost every star in the sky. BNY wonders if any of them could be their original home planet. They don't like to think about it for very long. Their favorite nights are the cloudy, stormy ones.

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

Most people assume that bny is heavier than they actually are! Most guess they're around 200kg, when in reality they're only 113kg!

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

BNY loves to fidget, so anything they can use as a fidget toy is a great start to their habitat. The workshop they live out of has all sorts of trinkets, knick-knacks and gadgets that provide a level of comfort for them too. They're very picky about their charging device, as their favorite one hums just right. They even have a few treasures plushies that they sleep with! You can also pat them, play with their ears, and hug them with no risks to personal health, just be sure to ask :)

WHEW this was a long one!!! thank you for the ask 💕💕

#hegurgurk asks #cosmic-cd #ask game #oc:bny #long post

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dustysandwiches · 4 years ago

Text

Family (TMVSTM)

Summary: Eric and Deborahbot 5000 feels like they didn't belong with the The Mitchells and run away to live their own lives

"Purple glasses woman, why did you saved me?"

"Oh come on, you boys are family now"

Family…?

It is such a complex word, too difficult to truly understand. For a robot create just to following orders, Eric did not understand it yet, though he did looked up the definition of it but despite that he plays along for the sake of his and his Pal Max brother

They're heading to the Silicon Valley, The night sky is filled with no stars but the green "fun pots" containing human to somewhere. It makes the sky lights up with green light. It is an unusual sight even for robots.

The Mitchells are really going to destroy Pal?.... If so, what will happen to the remaining robots? What if..they failed..?

The bot are lost in his memories and Net Work to find something he's looking for. It seems like he's in too deep in the system Until he feels someone shaking his shoulder part lighty

"Eric...Eric, are you there? Is your system too damaged?" A voice speaks in hushed tone

Eric turn his mechanical head to another Pal Max bot, Deborahbot 5000

His brother

"What wrong? you've been so still like you shut down. I'm…. worry"

Deborah grip Eric's shoulder part lighty. Robots isn't supposed to have feelings but they're the defective now anyway, so it's not surprising that he would express what he "feels"

The car stop at some abandoned gas station. Only Katie, Aaron and the loft of bread are sleeping in the car at the moment. Mother and The male Mitchells are inside the store for something. Eric finally answered and grip Deborah's hand back

"I'm okay, my system and outside damage is unchange at the moment. I'm sorry I didn't acknowledge your question earlier. Don't need to be worry"

"Okay… but tell me if anything is acting strange, will you? I don't want to lose you, brother...We're only defective robots here, if you're gone, what am I going to do?"

"I'll always have your back like you have mine, brother. We are going to survive, one way or another"

Eric tells what he thinks is logical to his robo brother. He let go of Deborah's hand and turned his head to Mother, who's making her way back to the car with her partner and tells her the safest route to Silicon Valley.

The car is running along the road at night. The robo brothers looking outside of the car, expanding their data about the human environment and hearing the conversation between Katie and Mother. They're talking about The male Mitchells, Rick of how he's just trying to make her happy.

Eric wants to feel this "happy" too and he wants Deborah to feel the same. Maybe it would feel really nice, like getting their system updated.

But how could they do that? They're about to went through most protected head quarter in the world right now and there's no guarantee that the plan would work but the show must go on

"Mom, what is that?"

"Oh my god!!"

The car suddenly stops, making their head jerks back, Eric and Deborah turn their heads to the front window. As the Mitchells get out of the car to stand in front of the giant building as tall as the sky.

"We're here...the Head Quarter" Eric said as he's getting out of the trunk

"Oh boy, I don't like this. Do you think we could get to the top without others noticing?" Deborah ask, stepping beside Eric in front of the car, behind the Mitchells

Slowly, Eric extends his hand to the side to his brother, knob and gears whirring while he processes his next word. Deborah immediately holds his hand and they're both looking up to the tower.

"No matter what happens, we're going to be alright"

__________________________________

The plan did not go well. The Mitchells got caught by a new robot, Pal invented. The sounds of the alarm is almost deafening, after the cable car has fell down and crashed. Deborah's vision is trying to adjust after he hits the ground. The first thing he see is the face of Pal Max bot with some face drawn on.

"Are you alright, brother?" Eric said as worrying as his robotic voice could spunds while kneeling next to him

Before he could answer, The black robot burst through and captured Mother and Rick. The Mitchells is being taken away and Deborah knows he need to help

Because they're his family now too

"Mitchells, we will help"

"Oh no no no, you won't. download new order"

Suddenly, like the virus creeping through their system. Making the robo brothers clutch their head like they're in pain, unable to take control of their body any longer.

New order appears : Capture the Mitchells

Deborah trying to break free one last time

No please I don't want to do this. Eric, Mother, Anyone…Can you hear me?..

"We're sorry, Mother"

Then, everything went blank

__________________________________

"Let's take a photo after we saved the world!" Linda said cheerily to Eric after handing or rather putting it in his hand

The battle is over the human won and the uprising is over. All of the Pal Max and the new robot has been shut down, Well almost every bot.

Eric and Deborahbot 5000 have broken through Pal's control and helped Rick Mitchells to put the video of the bread dog on, neutralizing the other robots. Now they're celebrating without them

They broke the code and helped this family save the world and now they can't even be in a photo? Eric thought but took the photo anyway. Maybe they're just too excited like humans always does.

The Mitchells tell the brothers, they can stay at home with them as a member of the family. The Mitchells welcome them, Linda teaches Deborah how to draw stuff like the Sun, the tree and other things. Rick shows them how to build a shelter from branches and leaves. Arron always talks to them about dinosaurs in his books and Katie sometimes asks them for ideas for her project. It was a good time.

Time passes and the robo brothers feels like they're more like a servant than a family. The Mitchells tells them to do things for them like chores, collecting the mails, mow the lawn and many things. Most of the time they haven't called them by their names or acknowledge them when they do something for the Mitchells. At first the brothers gladly do them, thinking it was a part of being a family but this time they had enough.

At night, when everyone is asleep. Eric and Deborah sit on a rooftop, looking into the sky. The moon is full today, shining bright along millions of sparkling stars. They come here every time they want to say something they went through each day, like updating each other. Today is different

"Today Rick called me Robot instead of my name again, I don't really think it's from force habits anymore" Deborah speaks in a quiet voice, mechanical head looks up to the shooting stars, then to his brother.

"But at least Mother let me help her cook dinner! It was really interesting, I learned how to peel a potato today, Look!"

He grabbed the potato peels besides him and held up to his brother. It's ragged, uneven and still has a big chunk of potato attached to it. Eric chuckles in a monotone like his robotic voice always does.

"That's great, Deborah. You know today Mother also let me do the laundry too! There was a lot of foam but I think I did well, Mother's face looks so surprised when I tell her I also put her bag in there too. She rushed past me so fast, I can't even see her"

"The purple bag? Oh yes, she loves that bag. Very thoughtful, Eric."

Then Deborah held out his hand, attempt to high-five Eric but they kept missing each other's hands, so they tapped their heads together gently. The glass tink softly as they did.

They looked up to the sky again, thinking about their lives with the Mitchells. Of how they've been treated lately, how they've been struggling to fit in the family and how they feel like they've been ignored.

Eric broke the silence between them and speaks in a quiet voice, hands gripping his knees tighter.

"Making our own order is great, we can do everything we want now"

Deborah nods " but why do I feel like we're doing The Mitchells order everyday"

"I understand if they haven't felt comfortable with us but they should have told us and we can be somewhere else. Not…. keeping us servants..like this.."

He looked back at Eric and asked in a hushed voice, if a robot can cry tears, his voice would be shaking like a human...but he's not human.

“I wonder if there’s any bots like us.. You know, the defectives. What are they up to? Where are they now? Do they stay with humans like us?”

“I don’t know, brother. I don’t know. I guess Pal wasn’t prepared for anything like this. She didn’t put any program for tracking other bots for us.”

“We should go find them. That way we can have our own robots family! We don’t have to listen to any humans anymore!

Deborah grab his brother shoulders part, turn his body to face him and said firmly

“You say it yourself, Eric. We take our own orders now. This is the time we can truly do that. Don’t you see? Other Mitchells except Mother didn’t treat us very well. They call us Robots rather than our names. They give orders. They got angry when we didn’t complete what they requested. They didn’t acknowledge us most of the time like we aren’t right there!”

His voice drop low and finally he hugs his brother, a gesture he saw human does to their family and the one they cared for

“We did everything together...but we’re just in the background every time..We aren’t supposed to feel emotions but I do...”

Slowly, Eric lifts his hand and hugs back tightly, mechanical gear and wires clicking as he thinks about his brother's words.

It’s true. They were in the background most of the time. They were more like a maid robot than a member of a family like the Mitchells said. Maybe his brother was right, this is not where they truly belong. They need to get away from humans. For good this time.

“You’re right. We should go”

Eric let go of his brother and stand up. Looking into the distant city, held out his hand for Deborah. They will make their own future with others, if there are any more of them left.

“Let’s go say our goodbye to the Mitchells. Though they may have treated us like this but they still help us from Pal.”

“Should we leave a letter or something?”

“If you want to, we can. Oh oh! We should put the glitter on!”

Together, they jump down from the rooftops and go inside the house. Writing a goodbye letter for the Mitchells, telling them they appreciated everything they did but they want to live their own lives somewhere else without anyone giving them orders

After sometime, they put the letter down at the dinner table with a flower Eric collected from the neighbor's house, The Poseys.

Now, the brothers stand in front of the house. Looking back one last time before leaving.

"Let's go, brother" Eric said.

_________________________________________

The sounds of the jet under their feet break the silence of the night. They jump and fly into the sky, green trails from the jet painting the night sky. They fly and fly further away from the house. Until the dawn came, they stopped at some abandoned cabin in the woods. It appears there's nobody living here for a long time.

"This place is in a good condition and I believe there's no human living here." Deborah said, feeling satisfied

"Yes, but we should look around just in case. Could you check around the cabin? I'll check inside." Eric asked while looking around and scanning the cabin with the camera on the top right of his head.

Deborah nods and goes out the door to check for anything or anyone. Leaving only Eric inside.

Eric wanders into the halls, scanning every room. The cabin is dusty and there were some traces of wild animals making a nest and shelter. Some kind of nuts and leaves were scattered all over the floor.Everything seems normal for an abandoned human cabin, until he spotted muddy footprints. It’s still wet, this only means one thing. There’s someone here.

The sound of a metal clanking from further down the cabin. It appears the sounds came from the kitchen. Eric changes one of his hand to the plasma beam shooter, being on guard and slowly walking to the origin of the sound.

#the mitchells vs the machines #My fantasy #Family (TMVSTM)#part 1

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misterewrites · 3 years ago

Text

Secret Agent Bard (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here with a new chapter of the underground! Woo! I hope you are all doing good and staying safe.

So I actually have more to say today! That's a trip. I’ll have an author’s note under the line.

So that's it for now. Stay safe, take care of you and your loved ones, stay out of trouble, wash your hands, wear your mask, get vaccinated if you can and push to release the vaccine world wide cuz we're all in this together. Have a great week and thanks for reading. I appreciate it and feel free to tell your friends, reblog, drop likes and feedback i love it all. Bye for now and enjoy!

If you want an easier place to read the story cuz tumblr sucks sometimes here’s a link to the chapter https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/79541746

The First Chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967

and since you made it this far here’s a link to all my stories!

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

Byeeeeee!

Author’s note: Today’s work will be a little different as there will be singing. The chapter with the bard is gonna have singing? Go figure haha So if you see a sentence in Italics, that means someone is singing. Bold and italics represents various people singing as a group. The song in question is called twiddles. There's different versions of it but the one I chose is from the misbehavin maidens. Great group but all their work ranges from innuendos to straight up not safe for work so listen at your peril. I have now completed my responsible adult duties haha. here’s a link to the chosen song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iS1-_fKF5ug

Summary: Oliver has quite the task ahead of him as the group splits to achieve their goals. Leading Sel and Flora, the young bard will have to think quick on his feet to ensure this mission is a success. Luckily he's an old hand at this. Ironically the one person who could distract him may make a surprise appearance tonight.

-----

Oliver stood quietly, arms crossed and his mind thoughtful as the group prepared to go their separate ways. While ideally nothing would go wrong, that was a childish belief: Every person and robotic being here knew safety was not guaranteed in their line of work.

Even the old man knew the risks.

Oliver hated doing nothing. He thrived when he was busy, focused on whatever task required his attention whether it be being a better bard or upholding the Choir’s values. Too many ghosts and regrets lingered on the edges of his mind and he found the best solution was to simply keep occupied.

But that was his coping mechanism, not everyone else. He knew better than to rush his team: The party would last at least another few hours and beside the goal of getting Sel to the third floor, there was nothing else to do. No information to gather, nothing to review. Let them have their moment, it was good for morale.

Terri and Flora were sickeningly adorable: Hands clasped tightly with Terri tearfully asking her girlfriend to not poison everyone. Flora gave a halfhearted promise while as they shared a tender kiss. Terri noticed her less than enthused tone but refused to press the matter further.

Tyrell stood awkwardly to the side, his face twisted in a strange mixture of sick and excited. He fidgeted with something in his pocket, seeking comfort from whatever lay within. Given the shape of the bulge and size, Oliver guessed it was a knife.

Sel stood nearby, motionless in the shadows of the alley. They hadn’t moved in some time though he suspected the automaton was simply waiting for the next phase of the plan.

“Alright” Oliver spoke up, his voice firm yet gentle “Times up. You have your assignments?”

Uneven murmuring responded.

“Let’s go.”

Oliver, Sel and Flora went down one end of the alley, Terri and Tyrell disappearing in the opposite direction.

-----

It didn’t take long for the trio to find the main streets of the Merchant Ward and make their way towards the Brambleoak banking office. The crowds weren’t as thick as they had been during the day but Oliver knew everyone out and about did so with a purpose.

“Bard.” Flora asked without warning, breaking the awkward silence “Question.”

“Answer.” Oliver cheekily replied.

Flora glared.

Oliver coughed “Yes?”

“You are a First Chair Soprano correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Yet you are so young. How did you manage that? I thought First Chair ranks were only reserved for experienced or particularly skilled members. You don’t seem to be very magically powerful.”

Oliver paused for a moment, trying to best answer the question.

In a way Flora was correct in her assessment: He wasn’t particularly powerful as a spellcasting bard. Unlike Flora who clearly committed herself fully to nature and thus druidic magic, Oliver had only recently thrown himself into the magical arts.

Unless you were a wizard who studied the secrets of the universe with a very intimate and well versed knowledge of magic, most spellcasters drew their power from sources of existence: Clerics from their gods, Druids from nature, Warlocks from something beyond mortal existence yet not quite a deity, sorcerers because a family member fucked around with pure incomprehensible concepts. Magic was the fabric of the universe and the more you threw yourself into a source of power, the more the source threw itself into you, guiding your hand and your spells.

Of course each, wizards exempt, were limited in their spellcasting options. Clerics were powerful holy/unholy practitioners but couldn’t command plant life to save their lives. Druids were in tune with nature and the weather and all the lovely flora and fauna but ask them to superimpose an image onto something and they’d give you a dumbfounded look. Warlocks kinda just do whatever their sugar patrons felt like lending.

Magic bards drew their power from the arts: Drawing, singing, poetry, even witty and funny satire. Bards were in tune with life, with existence. Art could heal, could hurt, could make you feel happy and sad. It could make you feel like a whole new person or perhaps take you to a time and place you’d forgotten. Bards sung the song of life and Oliver was no exception.

However, Oliver still wasn’t sure what he could do exactly. His magical muscle was average on a good day and he could only cast a few spells before needing a good night’s rest. The basic healing spells and comprehension language he cast earlier today had taken a good chunk of his energy but he relied more on his wit than raw magical strength. He discovered creative and useful ways to cast his spells like amplifying dissonance noises to distract and disorient foes or temporarily place another person’s image over himself. Magic was as much about creativity as it was skill, pushing the limits of what you can do with your particular brand of spells.

“I’m clever.” Oliver answered honestly “The whole magic of the arts is new to me but I’ve been in the Choir for a long time now. I used to be Tenor like Sel here but more fast talking than breaking and entering. I guess they carried over my old position into my new one.”

Flora nodded, satisfied “That answers much. How long have you been a bard?”

“Few years now.” Oliver checked the street sign to ensure they were on the right path “The magic part is going on 3 years.”

“I see.” Flora scratched her chin “I’ve been a druid my whole life so it is a strange concept to be so new to the spellcasting arts yet hold such a high rank.”

Oliver gave a casual shrug “Not sure what you want me to say. We’re here by the way.”

The bank looked as unkempt as Oliver had remembered: Faded, peeling green paint with gaudy gray stone pillars. Two guards in green uniforms stood in front of the massive reddish brown doors that led into the bank.

“Lea’s mercenaries.” Sel pointed out “They are not letting anyone in.”

“Correction.” Oliver brushed off nonexistent dirt from his washed-out outfit “They’re not letting nobodies in. Luckily tonight we’re somebodies. Follow my lead.”

Oliver let out a tense breathe before strolling forward, his mannerism cocky yet unsteady. He reached the top of the steps when two sharp looking blades reached out to stop him.

“Halt” The elvish woman spoke with a hint of irritation “You lost?”

“Not at all!” Oliver beamed with a smile that was too wide to be natural “I’m here for the party. There is a party inside no?”

“No” The human man spat out.

Oliver gave a forgetful grin “Oh? I could’ve sworn Brambleoak was having some sort of charity event tonight. I’d show you my invite but I think I misplaced it.”

The elvish woman sneered “Right. How convenient for you having lost your special one of a kind invite.”

“Pfft.” Oliver scoffed “Special one of a kind invite? Reiner hands them out like candy. Probably find one in a gutter nearby.”

The guards shared an unspoken understanding with one another.

“Well.” The human began “Let’s pretend that is true.”

“It is but go on.”

The human’s eyes narrowed “Why should we let you in? You dress rather poorly for someone claiming to be in Reiner’s usual circles.”

Oliver let out an exaggerated gasp as he puffed out his chest “Do you know who I am?”

“Umm no.”

Oliver growled unhappily, his fist clenched tightly within his pocket “I am rich! I AM POWERFUL! AND I DEMAND ACCESS!”

As quick as lightning, Oliver flung a handful of gold coins towards the pair. The two reeled back in surprised as the money clanked onto the smooth marble floor. A moment hardly passed before the guards were shoving the loose coins into their tunic pockets like hungry dogs. They straightened up, eyes alive with greed.

“Of course sir” The elvish woman bowed her head in apologize “Deeply sorry for that.”

“Please go ahead.”

Oliver gave a self satisfied nod before moving past the pair only to stop as he heard the sounds of swords scraping each other. He turned backwards to see the guards barring access to Flora and Sel.

Flora looked back and forth between the guards, her eyes calculating and cold. Sel stood still but clearly at the ready for any sort of trouble.

“They’re with me.”

The Elvish woman shook her head “We said we’d let you in. These two? Definitely not Reiner’s usual prey.”

“They aren’t” Oliver admitted “But I need them.”

The human turned to him, suspicion in his eyes “Why?”

“She…” Oliver pointed lazily towards Flora “Is my street doctor.”

“Street doctor? As in….?”

Oliver gave a cheery wink “The fun kind.” And for give measure, he added a weak shiver to his act “Ugggggh I feel cold, are you cold? It’s cold.”

Before anyone could say anything, Oliver began shaking. He rubbed his hands for ‘warmth’ while swaying back and forth.

“Uh oh.” Flora spoke dully, pushing past the guards and holding Oliver steady “He’s crashing. I need to give him his umm medicine.”

“Medicine?” Oliver repeated, his voice soft yet manic “Yes medicine. I need it. I NEED IT!”

Folks began to turn their way, the guards shifting uncomfortably under the sudden attention they were receiving.

“And this one?” The Elvish woman gestured to Sel.

Oliver began to rock back and forth, his voice a harsh whisper. “Guard. Guard. Guard guard guard guard.”

The human threw up his hands in defeat “Bah! Get him in there and fixed! Any trouble and I’ll personally come over to beat your asses.”

“Thank you sir.” Flora murmured through gritted teeth. She guided Oliver and Sel through the doors and into the party within.

Flora sighed as Sel cracked the tension out of their fingers. Oliver straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow.

True to his expectations, the bank had been altered to be suitable for a charity event: Torches lined the walls, casting the building into a bright light. The desks normally found on the floor were gone as to allow a more spacious setting. Oliver counted a handful of guards scattered about, wandering about for any sign of trouble. All except for the lone guard beyond the empty elevated platform who stood in front of the stairway to the upper floors.

“What now?” Flora asked

“Split up. Sel stay close to the door, Flora and I will figure out a distraction.”

“Sounds good.”

And without another word, Oliver was swallowed whole into the crowd.

-----

It had taken an hour for Oliver to figure out what kind of distraction he would need.

The patrols themselves hadn’t been very difficult to plan for: They would move randomly about, keeping an eye on the party and each other. He counted about 6 of them total and each one of them was easily starstruck. At the sign of any disagreement, they would swarm in groups of three and quickly threaten any troublemakers into compliance. However, upon meeting anyone with even the smallest bit of fame, they would subtly motion to each other and make their way as one to the person in question, hoping for a glance or the chance for an autograph.

So the floor guards were no problem but the one standing watch over the door was much more difficult. Evidently Lea was smart enough to give the most important job to the most responsible of his idiots. The stairway guard or Stairy as Oliver labeled him, would not budge at the sign of any trouble. Loud arguments, agitated party goers, a waiter being tripped (sorry it was for science buddy). None of these would pull him from his post. Celebrities wouldn’t either. Any time his buddies motioned to a famous person, he would shrug his shoulders and stay put.

Oliver was beginning to wonder if Flora needed to poison Stairy until he noticed something about half way into his observations: Stairy was a music lover. Specifically a cute girl music lover.

His gaze would wander every time he caught sight of a pretty girl who happened to be too close to him. Oliver wasn’t sure at first so he decided to test his theory. With his pocket change lessened, Oliver noticed how often a girl would catch Stairy’s eye. His attention didn’t shift when they fell in front of him, obviously in distress, or walked slower allowing him to enjoy the view longer but Oliver caught him smiling and tapping his foot when the odd girl would sing. He even staggered away from his door a few steps at a time before catching himself and returning to his post.

So the best distraction would be a girl who could sing and have some level of fame attached to her name.

Oddly specific and Oliver hadn’t the slightest idea how he was going to mange that. He was attempting to solve this puzzle when something caught his ear.

“Get off me you mulched dirt licker!”

That rather unique set of cursing could only mean one thing: Flora.

Oliver turned to where he last spotted her and found the young druid being hassled by a tall man in an elegant uniform.

Oliver noticed the guards were looking about, not yet spotting the commutation but aware something was going on. He needed to act first if he wanted to stop Flora deciding to kill everyone in the room.

The bard quickly slipped into the crowd, darting and weaving between any and everyone he could. He saw Flora slip a small vial into her hand as the man towered over her.

“I jus wanna dance.” the man’s words slurred out of his mouth “A pretty thing like yo shou wanna dance”

Flora’s eyes narrowed angrily “For the last time you dried poop stain, LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Flora pulled back her hand, prepared to throw the mysterious vial at the drunk’s face.

“Whoa!” Oliver cried out, tightly grasping onto Flora’s wrist “What seems to be the problem?”

“Nothing I can’t solve on my own.” Flora coldly glanced towards the drunken man.

“One sec.”

Oliver eyed the man carefully, absorbing every little detail he could.

He could see the muscles strain against the fabric of his light green tunic so this man worked in something physically laborious. The sheathed sword on his belt weight seemed to throw him off balance with every step. His gaze was unsteady and Oliver could see his pupils dilating wildly.

So this man was physically fit, armed with a sword in a charity event for the rich people and wearing light green tunic while currently drunk.

“You should leave her alone” Oliver said, sarcasm dipping from each word “You are so not her type.”

“So?” The man hiccupped “What’s the big deal?”

“So she’s got a girlfriend you idiot.” Oliver gestured with his hand “Besides you should go before your boss Lea gets here. I’m betting he won’t be happy one of his undercover mercs is currently drunk on the job. Of course I could always tell your captain what’s going on. That’s him over there right?”

Oliver gestured to the closest guard making his way towards the trio. He didn’t look any different than any guards but Oliver noticed his green was a shade darker than the rest. Lea probably used different hues to signify rank in his mercenaries.

The drunk’s face paled as he fidgeted nervously. He rose his hands in surrender, eyes darting between the two “Sorry.”

“Any trouble?” The captain approached, his hand tightly held around the hilt of his blade.

Oliver beaned cheerfully, trying his best to pull attention away from the fuming Flora “Not at all my good sir. This man simply mistook us for someone else, correct?”

The drunk nodded slowly “My bad. Forgive my intrusion.”

The captain gave a cold smirk “Apologizes. Mikey?”

The drunk flinched “Yes sir?”

“A word in private. Now.”

Oliver let out a sigh of relief as the captain dragged Mikey away..

“You should’ve let me poison them.” Flora muttered darkly.

Oliver scratched the back of his neck tiredly “Night’s still young. Still might get your chance if I can’t figure a way past Stairy.”

Flora tilted her head quizzically “Stairy?”

“The asshole at the base of the stairs.” Oliver answered absentmindedly as he spotted a familiar streak of platinum blonde hair among the crowd of strangers “And I just figured it out. Can I trust you not to poison everyone here?”

“You have an hour. I get bored easily” Flora swirled the sickly purple liquid in the vial threateningly.

“You and me both.” Oliver patted her shoulder before chasing down his perfect distraction.

-----

Oliver’s heart began to thunder loudly in his ears, a nervous and uncontrollable energy overtaking his resolve. The mission was important but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see Maria today.

Maria Thoreau was the daughter of a powerful, influential family. The Thoreau’s were more concerned with their standing in high society than any virtuous endeavors and thus each one of their children was trained from birth to excel in their chosen field. Maria’s older brothers were an aspiring politician and merchant respectively.

Maria’s path was to be a well famous singer and patron of the arts. She wanted nothing more than to sing for the people. Unfortunately, her father only saw a chance to further the family’s good name and tied his desire for power with her passion and dream. It was bittersweet really but nothing much could be done about it.

Yet.

Maria knew Oliver as a musical rival who thwarted her group’s attempts at winning local competitions which in turned derailed her father’s plans. So needless to say she was less than thrilled when she caught him making his way over.

“Ollie” she forced a smile while her hazel eyes narrowed, peeved “I’m surprised to see they let you into this exclusive event.”

Oliver gave a cocky shrug “Well your beauty caught my attention and I couldn’t resist trying to figure out a way in.”

Maria’s cheeks burned a pinkish hue.

Maria was the same age as Oliver with short, tastefully cut dark brown hair. A single streak of platinum blonde hair hung off the side of her face, giving her such a cute look. Her clothes were practical tonight since she wasn’t performing: A simple white blouse with a long flowing dark blue skirt that went all the way down to her feet. Her shoes were sensible dark blue flats designed for comfort over style.

Maria coughed into her hand, willing her blush away.

“So.” She cleared her throat “Is this your sad attempt to throw me off my game? You won’t win the next competition. We’ll be dealing with professional judges this time.”

Oliver’s eyes widen in false surprise “There’s a competition here? Fancy that. I hadn’t been made aware of that but since we’re both in town, why not have a round two?”

“Oliver….”

“I mean” Oliver went on, pretending not have heard “You are a much better singer solo than with those harpies you’re forced to keep around.”

Maria glanced to the side timidly “Don’t be absurd, the Melodic Maidens are a perfect, well oiled machine.”

Oliver scoffed dismissively “I suppose they’re nearby, listening in. Hardly leave you alone, don’t they?”

Maria opened her mouth to respond when a shrilly voice cut in.

“What do you know you two bit hack? How much did you bribe the judges last time?!”

Oliver gave a strained smile as the rest of the ladies forced their way into view.

“Lilly, Filly, Sally. You suck.”

The triplets snarled in unison, openly glaring at the bard.

Lilly, Filly and Sally were Maria’s chains: They were as much there to further her career as they were to report back to daddy to ensure the errant daughter stayed on course.

As triplets, they all shared the same features: Three pairs of dull green eyes and long messy black hair. Even their clothing were the same with each wearing a strapless dress that showed way too much skin and skirts that were way too short. The only reason Oliver could tell them apart was due to their preferred colors: Lilly in a shade of pink that was bright for her skin tone, Filly with a pale ugly yellow and Sally in seas of dark red.

The trio surrounded Maria, their arms embracing her in an uncomfortable hug. Maria bit her lip, trying to hide her uneasy.

“Still wearing that tacky outfit huh Ollie?” Lilly eyed his faded clothing distastefully.

Sally let out an unfriendly laugh “Ollie always looks like trash. Not even prize money could buy an ounce of class.”

“Actually” Oliver brushed his shoulder dismissively “Class is cheap. No amount of money could buy an ounce of character. You can blow hot air at me all you want but nothing in this world could ever change the fact that the three of you are bitches.”

The trio clicked their tongues disappointingly, their normally plain faces twisted into unflattering visages of rage while they screamed as one.

“HOW DARE YOU INSULT US?!”

“YOU ARE SUCH A POOR TACTLESS MAN!”

“YOU FUCKER!”

Oliver casually waved his hand “All bark and no bite. I’m supposed believe you’ve gotten any better in two months? Last time I checked I won the last competition.”

“OH YEAH?!” The triplets yelled, furious.

Maria threw a suspicious glance Oliver’s way “Girls, I don’t think…”

“Come on Maria, we don’t want to have to tell daddy you backed down from a challenge.”

A shiver ran down her spine, the fight draining out of her face. Oliver felt a tinge of guilt but said nothing as the girls took their positions.

Maria paused for a moment, her breathing slow and calm. The murmur of the crowds grew louder and louder upon the recognition that the ladies nearby were the Melodic Maidens.

Maria pivoted on her heels, a bright warm smile gracing her lips. Oliver could feel his heart skip a beat at the sound of her soft, airy voice beginning to sing

“Oh you hear a lot of stories about the sailors and their sport” Maria gave a playful wink his way. His cheeks burned brightly at her playful banter.

“About how every sailor has a girl in every port”

Maria twirled, her steps mischievous and alluring as her dark blue dress chased after her. She gracefully held two fingers aloft for everything to see, her smirk cocky and assured.

“but if you added two and two you’d figure out right quick”

Maria backed up as the triplets step forward to join her, the group made whole and ready for the chorus.

“It’s just because the girls all have a lad on every ship”

Maria turned to throw a sultry look towards her rival bard but instead of finding a dumbstruck Oliver, she found a smiling one. His gaze was gentle and loving as if he was seeing utterly beautiful. A small smile was tugging at his cheeks. Maria could feel her heart thunder in her ears as, without warning, Oliver gave a thumbs up and mouthed an appreciative “Thanks” before ducking into the growing crowd.

“And it’s twiddley idle idle idle, twiddley idle aye.”

What was once a spattering of folks formed into a massive gathering. Most of the party goers and guards had come over to catch the free show the girls inadvertently given and thus all focus shifted onto them. What was an attempt to show up Oliver ended up being a very unnecessary showcase.

“It’s often times a man will leave you broken with dismay”

Boy was Maria feeling that dismay right now.

-----

Oliver’s plan worked: Stairy hadn’t been to resist the siren call of a beautiful woman and her singing. Luckily the harpies hadn’t ruined it with their imperfect pitches. Stairy hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Sel slipped in behind and began working at the door. It took a moment but one blink later and the automaton vanished out of sight.

Oliver let out a sigh when a hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

“Hello sir.” A guff, low voice in a less than friendly voice “Might I have a word? You’ve been acting rather strange all party long.”

Well fuck.

#Welcome to the Underground #My Story #Original Work #original story

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opinions-of-loki · 3 years ago

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Loki - Episode One, Summary bullet points in form of an unnecessarily detailed opinion

- What I found sort of funny was Loki, who immediately hit the dessert and immediately hurried to the next higher stone, as if this were the pedestal that was his equal, only to be able to explain / present himself to the Mongolian inhabitants, only that they did not understand him and asked again who he is. It kinda gave me Hela vibes. Black haired Odin children have a tough time getting heard.

ALSO! THE SASS! Yet staying polite despite him being confused of what is going to happen to him - Trying to be all intimidating, but nobody takes him serious, as always! You can’t scare the time space cops my boy :/ Finding out how the company works and being all confused was honestly a very sweet and funny moment

- What’s up with the soundtracks??? Someone give this dude a raise who composed these Blade Runner-que music for the TVA followed with those cool bagpipes traditionally used for Scandinavian folk music? FUCK YES! Also the end credits music, it’s just excellent!

- Loki questioning if he’s a robot or not! I mean, he was told to believe he was an Aesir but in the end wasn’t. So who knew if Odin adopted a robot son? Better check on this one - I kinda got cute vibes from Mobius and Renslayer, they seem to perhaps have a closer connection towards another, especially after he greeted her with a formal Hi and talking to her on a somehow personal level - Mobius at first seemed like a very kind man and being patient with Loki, even supportive, but he is an experienced cop and knows how to handle complicated people, especially Loki variants. Mobius gives off a vibe of an older Blade Runner who takes his job very serious. But in the middle I kind of started to hate him a little

- The story of why Loki is an American crime legend D.B. Cooper just because he lost a bet to Thor when they were younger! Hilarious! Most of the most legendary pranks ever! I would have been more happy about the details of why Thor demanded this, or if it went like ” Loki! Cause some chaos on Midgard. Humans are easy to impress.” ” Say no more, Brother!” - Though Mobius seemed like the only person ever who had the ability to call out Loki to his actions: That he isn’t a God of mischief, because he confronted Loki about if killing innocent people is part of his fun, if it brings enjoyment to him to torture people who had nothing to do about Loki’s past. Loki denying that it’s not true, Mobius harshly confronts him about his earlier maniac like expression when removing someone’s eyeballs, if this is still harmless mischief-making. - BUT! Where is it mentioned he was controlled by the mind stone and the thriving fear of Thanos to get killed??? Loki was under pressure, to get killed by the Mad Titan, and he wasn’t thinking rationally when he invaded New York? For someone who studied Loki’s life so well, Mobius sucks to get a point to this one, or it will be mentioned in the future, I better hope so - Loki doesn’t trust easily, because “Trust is for children and dogs.” Gave me Natasha vibes. Because she and him were sharing a quite similar conversation a few hours earlier.

- SEEING FRIGGA’S DEATH! Loki giving great speeches about wanting to free everyone, being a ruler of the Nine Realms to hide away what he truly desired and that nobody would understand his thoughts and emotions, but seeing 2012 Loki seeing that HE gave the coordinates to the Dark Elves, unknowing Frigga would be on this very wing, you can see how hurt he was and panicked! He completely lost all trails of thoughts, asking where she is, if the TVA also kept her, if she is okay! He wanted to save her so badly, he doesn’t want to become the version who will kill her once again. - Mobius saying that there is nothing he can change and that Frigga HAS to die to get back in the flow of time, OUCH! - I get more TTDW vibes when everything that has been explained to Loki, that he will only bring death and chaos no matter what he does, that not only Frigga is destined to die, but Loki is about to die at some point, it made me think of Odin’s words:

Mobius said the same things, Loki’s destiny is to bring death or to ultimately die himself, no matter if he goes the bad or good path. It left me with weird vibes about Mobius being like Odin, just less of an abusive father mentor thing. He was made to cause pain, death and suffering. It hurt. Knowing those weren’t Loki’s goals, he came to the realization that Mobius is right, but doesn’t want to admit it, or at least denies it, but agreed in the end in a very subtle way - MOBIUS AND LOKI FIGHTING!! ” Do you enjoy killing?” “I will kill you!” “Like you did to your mother?” MOBIUS! FUCK YOU! At this point, he lost any sympathy from me towards him. He was guilt-tripping Loki, perhaps even gaslighting him. But this is also part of his job. He isn’t supposed to be Loki’s friend, he is a cop after all. Loki is an emotional and vulnerable being, so hitting him at the worst spot to get out more of him probably wasn’t the kindest thing to do, but probably the most effective for Mobius. Loki likes to pressure other people, but doesn’t like to be the pressured one. - Loki’s purpose is to bring those together he ultimately tried to remove according to Mobius, Loki brought together a team of legendary superheroes together that barely knew each other, and they grew strong together thanks to Loki’s wrongdoings. It somehow hurt a lot, but in the end, Mobius was speaking the harsh truth - "I will gut you out like a fish!” “What's a fish?!” BLESS CASEY!

- Endless Infinity Stones! I am in love with this idea! I don’t know why I saw people getting confused by it because even though the Stones are what hold the universe together, the TVA doesn’t live in that very universe, they are beyond that very space and time we don’t know and can’t grasp, they visit timelines after timelines, so of course it happens they find stones and keep them, either knowing or not knowing what they are, or they simply don’t care, because they have no purpose in the TVA. Perhaps these stones are variants too and don’t belong to a certain timeline and needed to be removed, such as Loki’s Tesseract

- What got me the most, and we all know what I mean, Loki crying privately when he once again viewed the life of his alternative self, viewing the loss of his family, the loss of his own life. I don’t really know if he mourned over Odin too, but in this series, Odin never threatened to kill or imprison Loki which perhaps didn’t cause any damage towards his anger. Though he was aware that Odin took the other Loki in a cell, but it was a destiny he could avoid now that he knew how things will turn out when he returns to Asgard. He will never get arrested, Frigga probably wouldn’t die because of him, though I get a feeling the Dark Elves will come nevertheless, but this time, it shall be Thor’s problem not to screw it up. Though it was a relief to see him smile soon after when he realized Thor was the only one believing in him, even though their relationships always has been kinda weird, as Loki always was jealous of him being everyone’s first choice, but in the end, Thor was alive, everything that was left, and Thor didn’t hate him - End of File - I don’t know why, but reading this, Loki himself reading this, the very end of his life, it made me shiver. He saw his memories of what could be, what MUST happen to him, and that there are more happy memories. But in the end, there are no memories anymore - end of file. That’s it. That was his life. - I can’t imagine how many thoughts must have been go through his head to see Thanos again, Loki’s try to kill him, just to see his neck and wind pipe getting cracked. He currently recovers from the effects of a full year of torture, both mentally and physically, just the same he would treat his ‘Children’. I can imagine Thanos promised him the world, something small to rule over to expand over more realms. Thanos triggered Loki’s fear and anger, who had to deal with the information he never belonged to Asgard in the first place. Whenever Loki would try to flee or play games with Thanos, I can imagine Loki got punished for it, he never even spoke sassy with Thanos during Infinity War. Loki is terrified of him for good reasons. I imagine this young man, feared, terrified, trapped on a rock with daily mental manipulation and pain. Loki became obedient and would have done anything for Thanos, whatever he ordered, including an exchange of power. Even if Thanos never fully was on his side and used Loki as a puppet with power and sorcery, being useful, I get a feeling Loki clung to his words and promises to rule over Earth as a savior and liberator, which completely went wrong - His laughter following after could have many reasons, relief, stress or disbelief. He was still crying between those laughs, which could be taken as desperation about no matter what he does, his actions will lead to harsh consequences. Disbelief of what he just saw, as if it felt so unreal to even believe what he had just witnessed, that it was all real, a destiny that was meant to him. But what else did Loki do during serious situations? He avoids them, he doesn’t want to acknowledge problems and shoving them away with a sassy comment or a smile to cope with it - which could mean this laughter could be part of his coping mechanism

- Him opening up, addressing why Loki hurts people, was honestly the best scene to me. He spoke about his inferior complex, his fear of not being strong enough to survive, building up a facade, a fake personality to survive also with the help of his magic. He thought he can be superior to anyone if he could scare everyone, gaining respect and love in form of war and destruction, as he perhaps thought of Odin being a former warlord, he would prefer a son who is able to conquer, being merciless. He doesn’t want to get hurt, he doesn’t trust anyone easily, that’s why he has to hurt people, to avoid of getting hurt or betrayed in the end. He became a double-edged sword I’m open for opinions and private chatting if you guys want to add something ! :DD

#Loki #loki spoilers #tom hiddleston #mcu #marvel #disney plus #owen wilson #agent of asgard #hiddlestoner #avengers #black widow #thor

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crybabytoy59 · 4 years ago

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M&S shopping trip....

That morning was like any other for me a short trip to the local food store during this persistent lockdown full of rules & crap lonely times watching endless movies & eating 🤣....As I pushed the trolly thinking I had kind of become almost robotic in my shopping now knowing each shelf & item off by heart I wandered around aimlessly looking at the others masked up doing just as I was when something took my eye ...I figure I noticed in the opposite isle from behind I thought I recognised ? My heart started pounding at the thought, No couldn’t be...so I walked slightly faster with the trolly, as she went around an isle I try’d to catch up but she was gone in the crowd.

Chuckling to my self I resumed my shopping thinking I was being paranoid half way down this isle I felt a hand on my shoulder pull backwards....as I turned I stood speechless.....stunned by who stood before me ! Something Very unexpected happened....I started welling Up !!!

As if reading me she stepped behind me embracing my chest “Hey it Ok”....I truly fought so very Hard.....But she spoke again “Do you need it tighter cuteness” I nodded as the first tear rolled down my cheek...

She hugged me in a very tight embrace bringing back memories flooding through my mind of her love of making me Cry....

“it’s ok cuteness Let go I won’t let you fall....there we go Clever Baby”

I was lost now crying openly as she turned me around “Hey there There now what’s the matter ?”.....I couldn’t speak for the lump in my throat...

But she spoke for us both.....

“Cuteness are you still having those feelings?” I nodded to her....”But I thought you were over them ?.....

I took a Deep Breath ...Th’They came bb’back.....

She put her hand on my trolly “You won’t be needing this cuteness, push mine & Not a word Madam Look at Me ! ....Clever Baby..... Do What Your Told When Your Told ...Ok ?”...I nodded ....as I pushed her trolly she started putting items in that I knew what they were for! She leaned in to my ear after gathering all she needed as we approached the till she spoke “Am going to hurt you for your lies ...But not like before Baby....this time am going to hurt you really really Bad!”..

She smiled to the shop assistant then we left I put her shopping into her car & she opened the back of the car “In we go cuteness ...Are you in a disposable?” I nodded...she simply smiled as she put on my seatbelt “Wet & Mess it before I get you home...As Crybaby Sweetheart You know what happens if You upset Nanny !”

We drove off as I pushed hard knowing I only had a short time....

Nanny was looking in the rear view mirror at me....A wicked smile that gave me shivers as I knew what she was capable of...such Wicked cruelty one could only dream of this girl was A sadistic who knew how to make me terrified of her....As I looked back at her I gave a grunt loudly as She had trained me to Do all those years ago.....

“Clever girlie Crybaby that’s good....All of it you know your to be empty or else !”.....a 20 min trip then her car pulled into her driveway...”Are you excited to be back at Nanny’s house ? ( I nodded to her ) Clever girlie that pleases Nanny as she is Very pleased today has taken such a wonderful turn for you Baby !...Now let’s get you in so Nanny can prepare baby for her evening Punishment session...Yes Baby Girlie Nanny is going to punish You severely for your naughty LIES !!!!!!.....as she knew you still had submissive little feelings.....O’& Crybaby Not a fucking Word ....Only Your Goo’Goos & Ga’ga’s Or Else Madam !!!”....

She pushed me down her hall way ..then spoke into the special cupboard...yes baby it’s still set up....Nanny will be with you shortly as she has things to prepare Darling”...

As I opened the cupboard a familiar sight greeted me ! My heart now pounding as I crawled into the small cupboard, it was around 4” in height & three foot wide by a foot deep....the back wall had an old wide studded Dog collar screwed to the wall at my neck height, then at my waist height a similarly old padded weight belt was screwed fast to the wall, a leather sleeve hung to the side, just under the weight belt were two more Dog collars attached to climbing arrest pulleys bolted to the wall a meter apart, the loose rope dangling down from each had a loop for pulling....

Holding my right foot as I knelt against the wall I fitted the cuff, then turned to my left cuffing that ankle also I took hold of the two hanging loops ! Taking a Deep Breath I pulled hard in one motion knowing there would be No turning back now. As my legs pulled both out wards & forward into an unnatural bent position at the side of each hip...next came the belt around my waist tightly I was breathing much faster now due to the restraints & the fact I was incredibly excited over doing this again !

Putting the collar on I was now ready for the one last thing pulling my arms up unnaturally I got them into the leather sleeve to the side of me pausing to catch my breath I then pushed Down hard into the sleeve ! Hearing the Zippering behind me ! As my arms were forced into the centre behind my back by the heavy spring that held the sleeve & the zipper !

I was done now....But knowing it was myself that had put these items in place for Nanny, gave me strange pleasure to know she had after All this time Not removed them !...

My thoughts were short lived as Nanny spoke ..

“Clever girlie Crybaby that’s very well done But Nanny just fix you Properly” she pulled hard on the pulleys as I gasped as she pulled on the ropes, she kicked my legs each one in turn so I was spread further apart.

Then Nanny pushed at my inner thigh into the muscle? She picked something up sliding it under each knee, I felt her buckle a leather strap around my lower shin & thigh tightly! Then I heard a clicking sound ? Suddenly I realised what she was doing Nanny had fitted a mechanical spreader bar between my legs & was now spreading them wider ! I squealed loudly as a cramp hit...she then spoke to me “Relax sweetheart & it will pass cutie...she then wrenched the belt up two further notches having me Exhale to get them so tight ! The arm sleeve she put a belt from the collar that had five horizontal belts from around my arms pulling each one until my skin bulged from each I was now whimpering, but this was short lived as she barked at me “Open Wide Crybaby Sweetheart” As I did she fed cotton makeup pads into my cheeks pushed upwards & downwards between my cheeks and teeth !

Agin Nanny spoke to me “lift your younger cutie” she fed a pad each side of my tongue, then lifted a lime it had been cut top & bottom & now had a makeup pad top and bottom to cover each hole.

This she worked into my mouth, then once in she again “Keep your headie backwards looking at me Crybaby!”

She lifted the black rubber with the large stem from in ! ( This item I had made for her from a lorry inner tube, I had cut to fit me perfectly up under my lips & covering my gums, I had glued a foam oval to this that fitted into my fully opened mouth, then over this was glued a bicycle tube much thinner this caused a raised oval around 20mm out just beyond my lips.But the last part was an idea Nanny had when the gag would move sometimes..From a motorcycle tyre tube I had cut a lower jaw mask with a hole at the front for the valve, but due to the very little give in the inner tube this I had found was quite painful to have fitted & removed ! Nanny Was overjoyed the day we first tried it as after fitting it she kissed my cheek as a tear rolled down in Nanny had whispered into my ear there & then...”Crybaby Sweetheart I love what you have done so am going to reward you cute, with Spankings that baby will remember for days...she had not been kidding !) Next she put her knee at my neck holding my head...then spoke

“Here we go Crybaby Sweetheart have you missed your feeding gag ?..I didn’t get a chance to answer as she pulled the cruel rubber over my face it’s crushing force making its self known instantly ! Tugging it into place under my chin till it was just under my nose the rubber curved up the back of my head too a point at the back Then curved downwards too a similar point down my neck at the back !

Now smiling down at me she wound a 4” Wide vet wrap around my head at my mouth, then ran it over my lips & chin ! She stopped briefly to put small buds into my ears then a cotton pad over each ear she wound the Vetwarp over my head under my chin, then forehead, only my eyes & nose were now uncovered, pulling a roll of black electric tape she wound this over my mouth around my head then under my chin over head back up at an angle to the side of each nose crossing between my eyes, the wound around my forehead...I now had a black pvc tape hood !

She patted my New bound form & spoke...

“Much better Crybaby girlie....Ok let’s explain what’s going to happen cutenesses...Nanny is going to finish up with some preparation then she is going out for a while so that will give Baby time to reflect on her Naughty Lies !!!!

Then later Nanny is going to return with some very close friends she has just called to help with your punishment.....& Crybaby I assume you know what Nanny has put in your mouth ? (I gave a Ga’ga ..she giggled at this) Clever girlie so best keep still ...Try to rest cuteness as Trust Nanny You Are Going To Need It Fuck Toy !!!”...lifting the bag with the tube from it She screwed the tube to the valve from my mouth, the little clear rubber oval I could see was frozen..

Behind me I heard a Very familiar sound ! Nanny was peeing into a jug, this was poured into the bag, then Nanny chuckled at my whimpering...

She then simply closed the door enveloping me in darkness, knowing the warmth would soon melt the Ice Dam !!.....What had I done ?????

Suddenly my ears burst into life as I heard familiar Crying ! One of my old recordings ! Nanny loved to record me when I would “Break” then she would play this to me at nights as she slept ! As this made me Very emotional & ready to Cry at the smallest of things....Nanny loved Tears......Deep WKD tears of complete surrender to her will.........now alone I could smell my soiled nappy ..waste & urin filled the small cupboard I tested the bonds, perhaps I could get free as I was Now getting scared Remembering just how Wicked Nanny was......

As I panted in the bonds the bottom pad was getting wet, the lime juice now going to work my mouth started watering wetting All the makeup pads ! As they swelled up I had to swallow my saliva.

This part took great concentration to do so as not to choke! But Nanny had done this

many times until I could do this unsupervised, as I swallowed I could taste something else in the back ground not just the lime...? But was puzzled as my mouth was not yet filling from the piss bag ?

I burst out crying knowing what Nanny had done ..She had threatened me with this punishment but we had never actually carried it out !....Suddenly warmth spread into the wadding & I had to swallow slightly faster...I was now in NO doubt what Nanny had done to the lime !!!!!...I started crying as the recording stole my mind with subliminal messages of old.....

Three hours later I heard the front door then voices but the cupboard remained shut only occasionally could I hear sounds of laughter & banging noises.....a further hour & a half later the door opened....

“Well ladies this is Crybaby....she has been a Very Naughty girlie & Told Lies to Nanny so what do you think ladies shall we give her a Punishment she will remember for a Very long time ?....I heard a strange voice ...

“Crybaby Close those Naughty eyes tightly ! Now Pain Toy !!” Suddenly something was put over my eyes then pulled tightly holding my eyes still in some sort of cups !..

Then I felt the bindings being unfastened as another new voice spoke..

“Crybaby we are going to punish you So bad that You will beg us to be Obedient !!..Have you shit your nappy Crybaby !”....I was smacked very hard on the back of my thigh, even through my jeans it hurt ! As Nanny barked “ Answer Aunty Dee !!” ...I whimpered out a Ga’ga!! The voice spoke again....”Don’t fret Crybaby You won’t be shitting for a few days after we’re done Pain Toy !”

I heard them laughing...as Nanny put a collar & lead on me.....”Heal Pain Toy !....let’s get her prepared ladies !”...

I was tugged along on all fours !!....

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pennamesmith · 3 years ago

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Skeletor Ain’t Heavy

Two brothers seek out a community, and Wrong Hordak reflects on the past. More Skeletor stories, if you want ‘em!

Two brothers walked the hallways of Bright Moon palace. They were Horde clones, cautious, curious, and concerned.

“Are you sure this is the right way? I’m certain we passed that decorative waterfall twice already,” the shorter clone complained. He had swept-back ears, and two extra eyes that would never open.

“Don’t be rude,” the other chided. Tired wrinkles hung at the corners of his eyes and mouth, but he shared the same chestnut shade of hair as his brother.

“Not only do you trespass in my domain, but you insult me as well! I know the way, I’ve been there before,” squawked the gangly robot guiding them. He strutted purposefully ahead before halting at an arched entryway. “Ha! Here it is! Now, with this magic spell, we shall open a gateway to an evil, little-known dimension!”

He knocked on the door. It swung open.

Wrong Hordak stood on the other side, bouncing on his feet and wearing an effervescent grin. “Hello, Skeletor!” he said to the robot. “And welcome, brothers! Please, come in!”

The exuberant clone stepped aside and beckoned the other two through the door. They followed, and found themselves in a modest space filled with a number of other Horde clones. The flock milled comfortably about the room, striking up conversations, taking fruit slices and coffee from a table in the back, and gradually getting settled around an open ring of chairs.

“Is it your first time here?” Wrong Hordak asked.

The older clone nodded. “Yes. I am named Sunder, and this is Zed. Skeletor told us about your support group for former members of the Horde. May we join you?”

“Of course!” Wrong Hordak beamed and motioned for the newcomers to join the circle. As they did so, the only other person in the room who wasn’t a clone — a prim-looking lizard — quirked an eyebrow in Skeletor’s direction.

Double Trouble, a plate of honeydew in hand, sauntered over to where Wrong Hordak stood. “I thought Skeletor left with the princesses on that big interdimensional field trip?” they whispered, bemused.

“Oh, he couldn’t find a pet sitter for Relay,” Wrong Hordak replied, gesturing to a small robotic puppy sitting happily on a pillow in the corner. Skeletor gathered it up lovingly and almost seemed to smile.

“Stop licking my face, you dratted dog!” Skeletor whined as Relay greeted him enthusiastically. “Gah! You’re drowning me!”

He made no motion to put the mechanical mutt down.

“What? But that doesn’t… oh, never mind.” Double Trouble sighed and wrapped themself around Wrong Hordak’s arm. “In that case, darling, we may as well get started. I want to hear from the fresh meat!”

They joined the group. Wrong Hordak gave a short clap to bring the session to order, and the ring of clones hushed. They watched him expectantly.

“Welcome, everyone!” Wrong Hordak began. “Thank you for coming. Today we are joined by two new friends. Brothers, are you willing to share your stories with us?”

Zed nodded. “We’ve been living in the Crimson Waste since the end of the war, under Huntara’s protection. We were both on the Velvet Glove when it became, ah…”

“The Space Tree,” one of the other clones supplied.

“…The Space Tree, thank you. I am — was — being grown as Horde Prime’s next holy vessel. But I decanted prematurely when he was defeated by She-Ra.” Zed looked guiltily away from the others. “I have never known a world without freedom from Prime. Yet his evil will always mark me.”

“Whereas I,” Sunder continued, “served the Galactic Horde for many years, and committed many atrocities in Prime’s name. There was even a time when I imagined myself his top general, though I have since learned that this was a lie he told to many of us.”

Several of the clones nodded sympathetically.

Sunder touched the wrinkles on his face. “But even we clones grow old. I was scheduled to be decommissioned, until Prime fell and awakening came upon us all. His death granted me new life.”

“Hello, Sunder!” the group greeted in cheerful unison. “Hello, Zed!”

“Thank you for sharing, brothers,” Wrong Hordak commended. “Is there anything you wish to ask of us?”

Sunder shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “There is. I came here because I want to know… how can I live with what I have done? How do any of us atone for the pain we caused under Prime’s control? We’ve worked as hard to heal the planet as anyone, but is it enough?”

“And how can we be sure never to harm anyone else?” Zed cut in. “How do I know I will not make the same mistakes that created Prime?”

“My goodness! Such pathos,” muttered Double Trouble, not unkindly.

“I also have this fear,” one of the clones volunteered. “My sleep cycle is often interrupted by unpleasant fantasies. I imagine myself saying, ‘If Horde Prime created me in hatred, am I not doomed to hate?’”

Wrong Hordak nodded in understanding. “It is not shameful to have such thoughts. And I also know what it is like to have memories that… no longer give me pride.” He narrowed his eyes. “I served Horde Prime in many battles on many planets before I met the liberator Entrapta and her friends. Regretfully, I can remember most of them.”

“Yes, I have such memories too,” said Sunder. “Sometimes I wish they could still be taken away from me, but I know that is not the way.” The old clone had an earnest expression. “Please, what rituals may I perform to calm the storm inside my mind?”

“I have found that nothing works for every one of us without error,” Wrong Hordak replied, glancing around at the gathered individuals. “Yet for many of us it is beneficial to think of choosing love instead of hatred. It is not an easy task, of course, but it is still our greatest power, to choose.”

“You are who you choose to be,” Double Trouble stated sagely, their features flickering for a few moments.

“As for my memories,” Wrong Hordak went on. He took a deep breath, as if he had been pondering what he was about to say next for a long time.

“Looking back, I find most of my life acceptable and good — and most of it I wouldn’t change. I can see the surprise in your face! But yes, I would choose the same progenitors, the same siblings, whatever their flaws or mistakes. I would fall in love with the same person and plan the same future.”

He shared a warm look with Double Trouble. “So the regrets — and there are many of them — are not a rejection of fate. They are essentially hindsight. If I know them.”

Wrong Hordak spoke the if with conviction.

“Now certainly, if I had just been decanted, knowing what I know now, I would have behaved differently. I might imagine that I should have done this, could have become that, and my life would have been richer, more governed by love and concern for others, more full of life, spirit, humor, adventure, experimentation, risk-taking.”

He gave Double Trouble another knowing glance. “However, in those moments I am looking at my life as the director of a play might look at the script. They might say ‘cut that awful scene’ or ‘have him act more compassionately.’ But they are the director. They know the end of the story! Whereas I, an actor, had to grope along, trying to find the right way, and trying to find the courage to do what I should have done.”

Wrong Hordak sighed. “So now, I suppose I have to forgive myself for being a messy infant. For being afraid of bullies, for not understanding others, for wasting time, for feeling negative and discouraged, for not expressing love more effectively, for not opening myself to the experience of what others were willing to give me.”

Zed and Sunder were leaning forward, listening intently. Nevertheless, something in their expressions still seemed uncertain.

“I don’t understand,” the older clone ventured. “Wouldn’t you still change the past if you could?”

“And how do you know what to do now?” Zed added.

“I don’t,” Wrong Hordak shrugged. “I have imagined, if there were an all-powerful being, and they told me, ‘Very well, I shall grant you another try,' and if I lived the same life over, only better, what would happen? At the end, would I feel satisfied? Proud?”

“Yes?” Sunder tried.

“Maybe?” Zed guessed.

“I would not,” Wrong Hordak replied, gently. “Because there would still be an entire universe of variables! As a result of the experience of the second attempt I would only cry out, ‘I’ve failed again! Now, as a result of the second attempt, I clearly see how it should have gone! Oh please, let me stay for one more try!’”

Sunder contemplated this. “And how would your hypothetical omnipotent being respond?”

“They would say, ‘It is no use, Wrong Hordak. Nothing can be perfect. The third attempt would only bring an increase in wisdom and a completely new set of regrets.’”

Zed and Sunder sat back as they took this in. Then they looked at each other, and seemed to reach an unspoken agreement.

“I believe we have much to discuss,” Sunder said eventually.

“Do you meet at the same time every week?” Zed asked.

Wrong Hordak smiled.

Later, after the group had concluded their meeting and most of the attendees had left, Wrong Hordak paused thoughtfully while he stacked the chairs and cleaned up the space.

“Witless fools, do I have to do everything for you?” Skeletor muttered, passing by with the mop.

Double Trouble noticed and approached their clone lover. “That was a lovely speech you gave today,” they said. “Would you really not change anything in your life?”

“There are many things I might have done differently,” Wrong Hordak admitted. “But if the events of my existence had not transpired exactly as they did, I would not be where I am now. And I like where I am now very much.”

“Bravo,” Double Trouble applauded.

They embraced.

“Hmph! That’s your opinion,” Skeletor grouched. “I don’t do things for humanity, I do them for me!” He shook his head. “Oh, why do I surround myself with fools? Even the robots are smarter than you!”

#spop #Skeletor #wrong hordak #double trouble #horde clone OCs #wrong trouble #the ex horde support group #WH’s big speech is taken almost verbatim from a letter written by one of my parent’s mentors #smith stuff #fan fiction #thank you for reading

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the-shiftshop · 4 years ago

Text

The Closet - Part 1

My apologies for having a very long time to upload new content. It was a very stressing month and I had to pass a lot of requirements to such, but I will now try my best to upload more!

A few weeks after my Grand Father Armando’s death. The guilt and sadness I was feeling only worsen when I didn’t get to attend his funeral in the Philippines due to important work. I have nobody to blame but myself for leaving the country. Especially when everyone thought it’s for me to find a better school abroad. Even my parents thought I found a good college in the US, but no, it was just me chasing after a guy I lusted over the internet. All this time, I thought he wanted me back, but that’s not it. I wasted my time going abroad. I had to stay there because everyone would suspect me if I suddenly go back, and I also had to pursue studying in a university which isn’t really why I came to US.

All because of my messed up “drooling” over a guy, I had to leave my dearest grand father alone. I thought my family would take good care of him, but knowing that they are all abusive and toxic, look where he is now.

Going through Grampa’s stuffs, I once again saw everything that could remind me of him. He kept the medal I gave him which I received after winning in a Robotics Contest. I also saw this dog-like mechanism that I made out of cardboard when I was graduating elementary. I saw tons of pictures of him carrying me in his arms. I couldn’t help but sit down on my grand father’s bed and cry. As I said, I have no one to blame but myself. I couldn’t get rid of this growing guilt in my heart.

Looking for more stuffs while crying, I saw a huge box with my name on it. I quickly opened the box and saw tons of presents wrapped in different designs. Some are for Christmas and some are for my birthdays. I quickly opened them all and removed them out the box one by one. These were all for robots. There are a lot of spare parts and tools that I can use for my crafts. It really seemed like Grampa still remembered that I love making robots when I was young. It only made me cry more when I realized that he’s been buying me gifts for my dream when I myself already gave up on them.

Reaching the last gift, I noticed a notepad stuck on the very bottom of the box where all the gifts were stored. I pulled it out at read it.

To my Dearest Gabriel, I wish that you liked my gifts. Although this isn’t all that I bought. There’s a wooden closet near the window.

It was written in my grampa’s handwriting. I didn’t have to think twice. I stood up and ran to the closet he pointed at. The closet was about as tall as I was, maybe taller by a few inches. It was made of wood and there are a few antique designs on its exterior. I was more that excited to check what’s inside, but as I open it, it was nothing but empty.

As I stare in the empty wooden cabinet, a few possibilities came to me. Maybe the gift was too precious, my cousins took advantage of it, or maybe the gift was the closet itself. Whatever it may, I forced myself to not thing negatively. If Grampa bought this closet for me, then I should store these other gifts inside.

After putting all the gifts inside, I closed the closet and sat back Grampa’s bed. It’s almost 7 pm. I’m tired and can’t even move after letting go of all this emotional baggage. Dad won’t look for me anyway since he knows where I am. I should maybe rest here for the night.

It was a very strange night. Even though I’m deep asleep, I keep hearing things clanking in the room. I couldn’t bring myself to stand up and check where it was coming from, but I’m sure I keep hearing like someone’s doing metal-works at night. It all ended when there was a beeping noise for about 3 seconds. I swore I heard some robotic voice, but I couldn’t hear what it said. Anyways, now that it stopped, maybe I can peacefully sleep once again.

I had a dream last night too. It’s certainly because I still cannot move on with that guy I was talking about. There’s a guy lying beside me, hugging me with one arm, and groping my chest and abs. I couldn’t move nor talk. It was like sleep paralysis but instead of a demon, I have this hot guy caressing my whole body. I eventually fell back to sleep inside a dream due to the warmth he was emitting. Soon I was awake again.

Nobody was on my bed. That’s for sure. It was still dark. I rose up and looked the room, searching for something weird, but none was found. I heard something clinking downstairs, in the dining room, I guess. I checked what time it was on my phone. It’s about 3 am. Am I really being haunted by a demon right now? Whatever it may, I had to gather up my courage and went outside grampa’s room. The lights were on. Every light was on, actually. I slowly walked down the stairs, looking down, and there I saw him.

My eyes widened. There’s a naked hunk sitting by the table. He was looking up, back at me. His grin turned into a huge cute smile and he waved at me, but that wasn’t where I was focused at. I was staring at his body, and to his crotch. I blushed and covered my eyes, still peeking though.

“Uy, Gab. Kain na. Pinagluto pa kita ng paburito mo.” The man said, in my native language. It was warm but assertive at the same time. “At alam kong hindi ka pa kumakain ng hapunan kagabi.” He said, still with that warm smile on his face.

“H-Hey! Who are you! Why are you he- Where are you naked!” I exclaimed. He stood up and I got a much better look of his body. D-Damn?

“Ah, Mukhang hindi ka pala maalam mag Tagalog, at mukhang kelangan ko din ng bagong file para makapag download ako ng maayos na English.” He said. He suddenly closed his eyes. He was stuck like that for a few seconds, then once again, his eyes opened. He returned to his warm smile. “Hey, Gab. Let’s eat. I’ve cooked your favorite food, and I know you didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“You didn’t answer my question! Who are you!” I again exclaimed. The guy was clearly not a burglar. What kind of a vigilante would want to steal some house naked? and looking at him just... feels... good? It’s like he’s a total copy of my dream man. Right color of skin, right amount of muscles, cute eyes, nose and lips, that damn smile, the way he talk to me. It’s all too good to be true.

“That’s up to you.” He replied to my question. “What do you want my name to be?”

I dropped my hands. I had a huge realization. I quickly ran back to Grampa’s room and opened the closet. Everything was gone, except for the tools Grampa gave me and the packages where the spare parts would be. I ran back out and stopped in the middle of the stairs. He was still standing there. He looked again at me and smiled.

“What do you mean by ‘it’s up to me’?” I asked.

“Well.... I’m your personal robot boyfriend now. That’s what you’ve been looking for right? Unless, you want me to turn into your grampa instead, or you bestfr-”

“No! You don’t have to!” I ran down the starts to meet him. I was now about 6 feet away from him. “You... Stay as you are for now.” I said.

“Your grand father knew.” He said. I stared at him.

“What?”

“He knew about why you went abroad.” He answered. “That’s why he wanted to make you a perfect boyfriend.”

I gasped and looked away. I turned around stared at my Grampa’s picture hanged on the wall. “How about you? How did you know about that?”

“The closet.” He replied. “I’m a product of the closet he bought from a store. His words were kept in the closet. He said that he wanted to make the perfect man for you, and thus, I came to be.”

I felt him move closer and he put his arms around my body. He took me into a warm hug. I could hear him chuckle in joy. It was sincere. It wasn’t like he’s acting or if someone pulled a prank on me. It all felt true.

“Gab, am I perfect enough?” He asked in my ear. His voice. It made me so much aroused. Every vibration of his voice went through my whole body from my head to toe.

“Y-Yes...” I agreed.

He then turned me around and hugged me much better. “Thank you.”

#robot #mind control #body modification #body creation #The Closet

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fromthecouch · 3 years ago

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I have always watched too much tv - an introduction.

A personal history of my relationship with the small screen.

My grandparents, who were my main parental figures growing up, didn’t work 9 to 5s. My grandfather worked as a bus driver for the Chicago Transit Authority, for over 20 years. His schedule often fluctuated. My grandmother worked as an expeditor for architectural firms. She made her hours and often came home later in the evening. For a significant part of childhood and all of my adolescence, I spent a lot of time alone. Sometimes I would go to my friends’ homes after school or my younger cousin would stay for the evening; however, from 3:00 PM-8:00 PM on weeknights, my main source of connection to other humans was through our living room television, the screen of my family’s desktop, and the pages of fiction.

It was not until recently that I learned of the term ‘latchkey kid.’ I had been watching the A&E Freaks and Geeks documentary on Amazon Prime when I noted the phrase. It had been used during an interview portion of the documentary when one of the production team members used it to describe Bill Haverchuck. The documentary cut to a scene of Bill, one of the show’s “geeks”, sitting in front of a television, laughing hysterically, with grilled cheese and Entenmann’s chocolate cake on a TV tray. The interviewee recalled their childhood similarities to Bill —the experience of a latchkey life. I was immediately intrigued and paused the documentary to turn to Google.

youtube

Freaks and Geeks, Episode 14: Dead Dogs and Gym Teachers

The search brought me to the Wikipedia definition, listed as “a child who returns to an empty home after school or a child who is often left at home with no supervision because their parents are away at work.” I reflected more in-depth on this and found myself assessing my relationship to fiction and how it raised me.

I have always watched too much tv. I used to read voraciously. I would buy random ‘pre-viewed’ DVDs from Blockbuster and played them in rotation until I got my hands on a new batch and a new rotation started. My grandparents often enabled my habit as a reader, yet I would go through books too quickly for my family trips to the library or Borders to keep up. Most of my planned reading for the week would be completely consumed by the end of the night on Tuesday or Wednesday, so the rest of my weekly time alone, I would turn to watch things.

At a young age, I viewed watching television as infinite. Since it was before the era of eBooks, there was a limited number of hours that my books could sustain me for each week, but television would always be there for me. I watched everything — movies, children’s shows, reality television, teen dramas, daytime television, sitcoms, documentaries, sometimes even infomercial channels. Fifth grade is when I truly became in awe of all that the small screen had to offer. My grandparents had upgraded to the premium package on Comcast. We went from a few dozen channels to having HBO, The N, Discovery Kids, multiple channels of MTV, channels that played history docuseries around the clock, the Filipino variety show channel, and so much more.

As a kid, film, literature and television was how I got to know the world. When I was a teenager, I more actively started to engage with what I was watching and reading. Fiction helped me dream of what I wanted for my life. How I consumed television and film during those years laid the groundwork for who I am as a person now. That was also when I had begun to use fiction to feel less lonely, to escape from the pressures of turbulent home life, to relate to my peers. I had curated a group of friends that also had independence thrust upon them at a young age. Watching tv with each other over the phone and renting films to watch together on the weekends was a big part of how we related to one another — the common interests that bound our friendships, as mutual indoor kids. My high school years also coincided with Netflix’s shift from delivery rentals to mainly streaming, which allowed us to consume a new set of content, in an entirely new way. With adulthood approaching, we segued into the era of series binge-watching.

I was diagnosed with panic disorder and major depression when I was in my sophomore year of university. It was around that time that I became more cognizant of the way that I used television and film as coping mechanisms. Sometimes they served healthy coping mechanisms, sometimes they became more like distractions, and numbing agents. Whatever the case, I sometimes doubt that I would’ve gotten through some of my lowest times without the fictional characters, places and storylines of my favorite shows.

In 2017, I struggled with some chronic health issues, nothing serious, but very debilitating. It took me a year to stabilize. At that time, I hardly saw my friends. I had to quit my job and was unemployed for a full year, living with my boyfriend’s family in an unfamiliar suburb. I was too ill to hold down a full-time position. I was always in pain. I entered the longest depressive episode of my life, which made reading, my first love, feel daunting. I also struggled with a lot of vestibular migraines. The aftermath of those lingered for days and sometimes left me in a fog that made the words on a page feel painful.

I still had television though. On my worst days, I often only had the bandwidth to make doctors’ appointments, eat oatmeal, and rewatch television series I had already seen. The Chinese Restaurant episode of Seinfeld made me smile when I otherwise felt numb. Buffy the Vampire Slayer made me feel resilient when I felt incapable of basic human functions. Daria made me feel understood when I felt completely isolated from my peers.

Seinfeld, Season 2 Episode 11 The Chinese Restaurant

On my better days, I could venture into a new series, which involved more attention. I mainly consumed television rather than movies for the most part, as I didn’t like having my time spent with characters and plots to feel limited. (The major exception to this was the MCU, due to the span of central, interconnected plots.) With access to Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime and HBO plus, I found television to again feel like my main connection to other people. When I felt like I didn’t have anyone else, I had Mr Robot, Atlanta, Glow, Mozart in the Jungle, Westworld, Stranger Things, Game of Thrones, Black Mirror, Big Little Lies, Insecure. When the pain from my migraines, GI issues, ovarian cysts, and mundanity of my newly “sick” life made me feel terrible, watching the fictional lives of others helped me escape. Watching these fictional lives, helped me feel like I was surrounded by others and living their lives with them when my own life felt on pause and isolated.

In 2018, I was fortunate enough to get on a successful diet and medication combination that allowed me to stabilize my health, move back to the city, reestablish my friendships, and resume my career. Even so, I still have more mild depressive episodes. I still get medical flareups. I am still a normal person who occasionally faces conflict, as that is just life. When I’m in those darker places, television is often both a distraction and connection that helps me recalibrate. Now here I am, at my current age of 27, and I still depend on fiction to be there for me.

Once the COVID-19 lockdowns and restrictions started in March of 2020, I, like everyone else around the country, found myself limited in social interaction. I maintained some level of relatedness to others through my cat, my boyfriend, group texts with friends, and my Zoom work meetings. Yet, television was again a big part of how I related to the human experience. Television persisted in reminding me of what life was like pre-pandemic and what it could be in the future. It has helped me keep boredom and restlessness at bay. Through this time, I’ve found myself watching many series that I would have never watched otherwise. I have also found myself analyzing the series that I watch more thoroughly and with more curiosity than I had the capacity to in my youth and during my time of medical distress.

This year was also the first year that I have started writing for leisure, since high school. Being so online over the past year, I’ve often found myself with many thoughts to collect, package cohesively, and express, yet I’ve felt very limited by the current platforms I often interact with. I often feel like I cannot articulate meaningful thought on platforms like Instagram and Twitter, which are limiting by word limit and social media norms. My newfound revived interest in writing has often collided with my enthusiasm for television, film, and pop culture, more broadly.

It may be true that I watch too much television. It may also be true that television was one of my first true friends and in many ways an extra parental figure. I want to move beyond watching too much television. I want to openly explore television, what it means to me, what it means to the collective, and examine the things that we love to watch or have loved to watch with a critical lens. That is what I hope to express on here.

#television #film #mental health #chronic illness #personal narrative #self

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

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Quasi-Confession

Alastor visits @hiss-and-vinegar Sir Pentious in the boiler room and then shit hits the fans.

Listen. Some of y’all are following for the relationship drama, right? For the soap opera action? That good good telenovela shit? This is the thread you want to read. This is the thread you’ve been waiting for. It’s got what you want. It’s got what you crave. It’s got this:

Sir Pentious moves back, out of the way suddenly, staring at Alastor like he's a different person. Was this even possible? He.... "ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH ME, ALASSSTOR???"

Brace yourselves for an emotional roller coaster.

Sir Pentious

Local snake is waiting in the boiler room, which is still pretty difficult to navigate. Watch your head, you might bump it on a pipe or cable. Or some slab of metal. Sir Pentious has an easy time moving around in here, CLEARLY you are just clumsy. He's flicking about on his phone, sending another message to Alastor to let him know where he can be found.

He sends his usual tophat :3 emoji along with it.

Alastor

It’s mere seconds before Alastor replies with a “🎶 ✔️✔️✔️” and only a few more seconds after that before he’s arrived, knocking on the door before letting himself in with a cheery “Hello~!”

He COULD have just teleported straight into the room rather than in front of the door. But he remembers how that went for his double. He’s not risking it.

Sir Pentious

Ah! There's that familiar radio voice. Penny's head swivels towards the source and he leans back against a workbench, flicking his tongue as he waves to the deerman.

"GREETINGSSSS, ALASSSTOR! GIVE ME YOUR HAND! OH, AND, I WANT TO SSSSEEE THE MUG, AS WELL."

Alastor

"Of course!" He offers over the travel mug with stacked layers of unhappy sinners depicting the rings of hell printed around it. "All of Hell, just for you, as well deserved. And mercifully free of any sad excuses for watered-down tea."

Although he was briefly tempted to fill it with hot water and claim it was one-second tea.

“Left or right?” He holds out both hands anyway, Sir Pentious can take whichever one he wants. (Also check out that bling on his left wrist. He’s got that watch Sir Pentious stole for him.) “You know I’m always eager to lend a hand, but I didn’t think it was going to be so literal!”

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious reaches over to take the mug, purrrrring as he looks it over. It is absolutely just a travel mug, but it was an offering! He is going to put it on his workbench.

Oh, and he does notice that watch! A large toothy grin spreads upon his face, and he takes hold of Alastor's left hand. That's more common for rings, isn't it?

The ring from Valera is clearly visible on his own hand. It shines in the warmth of the boiler room's lights.

Sir Pentious adjusts those multiple lensed glasses of his to get more accurate measurements, careful yet at the same time, rough. He squeezed at finger joints and pinched skin... He could be taking measurements for all kinds of things at this rate.

"GOOD TO SSEE YOU'RE GETTING USE OUT OF THE WATCH, ALASSSTOR! HAS IT HELPED YOU?"

Alastor

He got a horrible rasping cobra purr! He'd steal every tacky gimmicky mug from every cheesy souvenir shop in Pentagram City if he thought they'd earn him more purrs. (He didn't *buy* the mug, obviously.)

“Yes indeed!” He’s enjoyed admiring it. And listening to it tick. Sometimes he even checks the time with it, although he’s generally got a razor sharp internal clock. A big help. “And quite a handsome accessory it’s made, too! But then I knew I could trust your sense of style.”

He tries not to get overly lost in the sensation of his hand being manipulated. Those were such PRECISE measurements... By this point he has no idea what in the world Sir Pentious needs these measurements for, but considering the quantity he’s taking... After a moment of hesitation, Alastor asks, “How precise do these measurements need to be? Would taking my glove off help?”

Sir Pentious

The question stirs him, and Pentious tilts his head in thought. "WELL, NO... I CAN BUILD ANYTHING *UPON* YOUR GLOVE." There's that grin again, "I'VE NEVER SEEN YOU WITHOUT THEM! IT WOULD BE *INVASIVE*, WOULD IT NOT?"

Alastor

What in the world is he building? Alastor’s current best guess is a weapon. Some kind of mechanical robot glove. Something that needs fairly precise but not skintight dimensions. “It would only be invasive if you *demanded.* I’m freely volunteering it! But, no, I wouldn’t take my gloves off around just anyone.”

Sir Pentious

Tongue flick. Once. Twice. Sir Pentious takes the other hand, checking for any inconsistencies.

"UNLESS YOUR HANDS ARE GROTESQUE IN SSSSOME WAY, I NEED NOT SSSEE THEM! MY CURIOUSSSITY ISS NOT PIQUED!"

Is it weird to offer that? He's going to think on it idly later.

Alastor

“They’re shockingly normal,” he reassures him. “So if your measurements don’t need to be that precise, there’s no need for it!”

He’s not quite sure if he’s disappointed or relieved. Relieved, probably. He said it wouldn’t be invasive, but in truth he would feel more than a little exposed with his ungloved hand in someone’s grip.

Sir Pentious

He finally seems to finish up, and Penny scribbles down all the measurements he'd taken, with a barely legible scrawl. This was not the writing he used for letters, this was definitely his engineering scrawl.

"THERE WE ARE!! ALL FINISHED!!" Prr prr prr prr, "WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO NOW?"

Alastor

He’s studying Sir Pentious’s handwriting off and on as he scribbles, until he stops writing and Alastor focuses directly on his face as he speaks.

Oh—happy sounds. Alastor automatically echoes them in pulses of static. “Well—a fine question! What’s there to do down here?” He glances around the boiler room... then settles his gaze on Sir Pentious’s throat. “How about you give me that bow tie you promised me weeks ago, hm?”

Sir Pentious

Oh the eyes on his neck get a squint out of him, but the words that follow are more reassuring.

"OH, THAT OLD THING? I'D NEARLY FORGOTTEN."

Luckily he kept a bunch of random things in his jacket, and he began to fish around for it, "YOU SURE ARE GOOD AT REMINDING ME ABOUT THINGSSSS THAT HAPPENED WEEKSSSS AGO, ALASSSTOR."

Alastor

He opens his mouth to snark back—something about *having a working memory*—before he realizes Sir Pentious is referring to Alastor’s referring to Broadway. His mouth shuts with a click of his teeth like a dial turning off. “Hm.”

Sir Pentious

He's right, Sir Pentious' working memory is generally tied to the immediacy and things that pissed him off. The serpent continues digging around before he retrieves his old bowtie, holding up the accessory and looking at the yellow pendent in the center. He holds it up as if he were dangling a piece of meat, "HERE YOU ARE, OLD CHAP. THISSS ISS WHAT YOU ARE SSSEEKING, ISS IT NOT?"

Alastor

He feels a little bit like a dog being prompted to beg for a morsel. “If that’s what you’re offering!” He holds out his hand, palm up, for Sir Pentious to drop the bow tie in. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that if he tries to grab it, Sir Pentious is going to jerk it back.

Sir Pentious

*He would be right because Penny is that bitch.* But instead he drops it down into Alastor's waiting hand, "I HAVEN'T WORN IT SINCE I REMOVED IT WHEN I PUT ON YOURS. BUT I HAVE KEPT IT WITH ME, SSO! SSTILL WARM. NYA HA!" That's a weird thing to say. He won't think on it anymore.

Alastor

Alastor won’t think on it either. Which is to say, he will think on it A WHOLE LOT, RIGHT NOW, just not on the implications of the fact that Sir Pentious felt the need to point it out.

He tugs off his current bow tie with a flourish and slides the new one in place. “I’ll have to start wearing a little yellow so it doesn’t look out of place.” As he ties the bow tie, he casts a critical gaze down at his red-on-red-with-red-trim outfit, looking for something he can switch out or somewhere he can accessorize.

Sir Pentious

He's wearing a lot of yellow and black himself, so the red bowtie does have a bit of an out of place look, but to Sir Pentious, it was the prize that mattered. He had something of Alastor's, and those who were in the know would be able to recognize that much. A symbol, a victory, perhaps. Spoils and all that.

"A LITTLE YELLOW WOULD SUIT NICELY! MIGHT I SUGGEST A BLACK COAT WITH YELLOW PINTRIPES? NOT THAT YOU COULD SSSTEAL MY LOOK IF YOU TRIED! YOU'D NEED MORE EYESSS FOR THAT."

Alastor

He’s not quite so bold to ask if Sir Pentious has any old coats he’s willing to hand off—although the thought crosses his mind. “Ha! And look like one of your minions? Not if you don’t plan on hiring me full time.” He finishes with the bow and drops his hands, tipping up his chin to show it off. “Am I straight?”

Sir Pentious

A SHARP laugh, and Sir Pentious gestures to Alastor fondly. "NOT AT *ALL.* BUT YES, YOU LOOK FINE!! VERY STRIKING."

Alastor

He blinks a moment as he tries to work out why he’s being laughed at; then huffs. All right, fair enough. “Good to hear!” He stows away his recently-removed bow tie in the collection he’s been carrying around in his pocket.

Sir Pentious

What a shit eating grin from Pentious, who leans in suddenly VERY close to Alastor, much larger than the twig of a man.

"YOU MAKE IT SSOUND LIKE YOU'D ENJOY WORKING FOR ME! BEING BOSSED BY BETTERSSS? NYA HAHA, I MEAN THAT *AFFECTIONATELY*, OF COURSE. YOU'RE NO SSSTRATEGIST."

Alastor

He doesn’t lean back an inch. He just tips his head back, smiling up at Sir Pentious. “I don’t have betters.” And for a moment, his smile is very menacing. There are ways of teasing he’s fine with. That’s not one of them.

But the moment passes. It was, after all, intended affectionately. “However, I also don’t have ambitions! Not any more glamorous than entertaining myself. And I won’t lie, I’ve never found better entertainment than assisting with someone else’s grand ambitions. The drama! The pathos! It’s why I’m here, after all!” He gestures vaguely above them, indicating the hotel.

Sir Pentious

While others might realize their teasing fell flat, Sir Pentious remained in that competitive space, looking over The Radio Demon's wide, dangerous grin. He was no stranger to danger, not at all. Though Alastor did not consider him a rival, Sir Pentious couldn't help the sheer thrill he felt from the possibility of the two at one another's throats. Part of being in Hell, you know.

He follows Alastor's vague gesturing and makes a face, "YES, WELL, EVERYBODY KNOWS YOU DON'T ACTUALLY *CARE* ABOUT THE BETTERMENT OF *SSS*SINNERS. YOU ARE ALWAYS IN IT FOR YOUR OWN ENTERTAINMENT. BUT IF YOU WORK FOR ME, A MAN OF YOUR POWER, I WOULD PREFER IT IF YOU *DID* CARE ABOUT WHAT I AM TRYING TO DO!" Though he doesn't get too uppity about it, preferring instead to adjust his bowtie, "YOU'VE PUT IN A LOT OF EFFORT TO HELP ME WITH MY AIRSHIP, SO, I SHOULD HOPE IT ISSSSN'T A LONG CONFUSING GAME."

Alastor

A game? At that, Alastor draws back a little. He still thinks—? Well, of course, still. Of course still. It’s only been a few months. He’s going to be proving himself for years. He’s going to be proving himself for DECADES. “Oh, I get most of my entertainment from schadenfreude, that much is true—but with the hotel, I’m hoping to get my schadenfreude by watching it crash and burn. Around YOU, I get my schadenfreude from all the people you’ll be crushing on the way up.” A dark smile—almost a conspiratorial one, as if they’re discussing secret plans rather than goals that Sir Pentious regularly announces at top volume. “There’s very little interesting about man challenging the devil and losing—it’s what everyone expects, isn’t it? It’s the inevitable, the status quo. I can watch an overlord fail at that any day of the week. But man OVERTHROWING the devil—a mere mortal, rising up from the mud, becoming something greater than one of the very celestial powers that govern the universe—now THAT, that IS a show worth seeing! I want to see hubris rewarded!”

His eyes are glowing brighter as he leans closer to Sir Pentious. “And all of us who are so strong because of our postmortem superpowers, we dealmakers and bargainers—I don’t think any of us stand a chance. We’re just borrowing a measure of the power of infernal demons and fallen angels. A moon can’t outshine the sun whose light it’s reflecting. The only one who can do it must be a master of the one completely human power of creation: invention. It’s you or nobody. And ‘nobody’ is a terribly boring story.”

Sir Pentious

Their faces are practically together, these weird old men. His hood floops outward, and he stares at Alastor with all of his glowing red eyes. Menacing man. Sir Pentious cannot hold back the shrill cackle of glee that escapes his throat. "OF COURSE, YOU ARE CORRECT, ALASSSTOR! I BROUGHT INNOVATION TO THIS INFERNAL CESSPOOL-- EVERYTHING THAT I HAVE, THAT I AM, I BUILT IT MYSSSSELF, I WORKED FOR IT!!! THEY WILL ALL REGRET LAUGHING AT ME ONCE MY FACE IS *EVERYWHERE.*"

He loved to be praised, so much. Look at him preening again, it gave color to his patterns and his ego hungered for more. Power coursed through his veins at the mere thought of being better than everyone else. His blood would taste sweet with ambition.

Alastor

“If one knows where to look, in one way or another your influence is visible in every building down here. You’ve already shaped Hell! Anyone who doesn’t recognize that is an idiot!” And that kind of technological prowess MATTERS to Alastor, whatever the TV/satellite/computer/Internet bozos think to the contrary. He lived a life on the technological cutting edge. “Once your face is everywhere, if you command it, they won’t be AROUND to regret it anymore.”

And oh, he can’t wait to see it.

In the meantime, seeing Sir Pentious with his ego freshly fluffed is nearly as good a sight. For a moment Alastor swears Sir Pentious looks more *vivid.* Alastor has to force himself to lean back before he does something stupid.

Sir Pentious

He's polishing his talons on his suit, then admiring them as if they were freshly painted. Sir Pentious *purrs*, looking over to Alastor without turning his head, and all of his eyes follow suit.

"MM. YOU KNOW JUSSST WHAT TO SSSAY. I'VE MISSED HAVING YOU AROUND, MY FRIEND."

Alastor

“I’ve missed *being* around.” There’s an edge of desperation to his tone before he reels it back in. Professional charismatic radio host voice. “Everyone else down here is so boring. You can’t imagine!”

Sir Pentious

"HA!" He wiggles his talons as he begins to slither around, over and under various pipes and cables, maneuvering his lengthy body with ease and fluidity. "OH, I ASSURE YOU, I CAN! I HAVE BEEN HERE MUCH LONGER THAN YOU, ALASSSTOR. THERE WAS A TIME I USED TO BE EAGER TO ENCOUNTER NEW ARRIVALS, TO SSSEE HOW THE WORLD HAD CHANGED AS TIME WENT ON, BUT THEY BECAME SSO MUCH MORE **BORING**. TRUE CLASS AND SSTYLE HASS BEEN LOSST TO THE LIVING WORLD, YOU UNDERSTAND."

Alastor

"True enough! Everything's so... *cheap* these days." He watches Sir Pentious slither around. "Somebody's got to show these sinners some proper class and style. And if you want something done right..."

Sir Pentious

Glowing eyes in shadows, anywhere that's not lit up by the extra lights Sir Pentious has added. It's a stark contrast from light to shadow, and he beams, coming up behind Alastor, though carefully. He doesn't touch him, "YOU NEED ONLY LOOK TO SSSIR PENTIOUS! HA!!"

Alastor

He glances back over his shoulder without turning, beaming back just as brightly. "And truer words were never said."

Sir Pentious

Just two guys being dudes.

"ALASSSTOR, IT REALLY IS INTERESTING THAT YOU DON'T WANT *MORE.* YOU REALLY COULD HAVE IT ALL... OH, BUT THEN WE REALLY WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO CHAT LIKE THIS, EH? WHAT A SHAME! CAN'T HAVE THAT."

Alastor

“Can’t have that!” He turns to lean back against a table so he can see Sir Pentious directly again. “I COULD, but I don’t WANT it all. I’m an entertainer, not a... a mad scientist warrior king. YOU could have a stupendous career as a circus contortionist, but I doubt you’d be any more content with that than I would be stuck on a throne making tedious decisions about infernal infrastructure and Hellish cabinet posts. I don’t want subjects—I want an audience.”

His smile twitches toward a grimace. He mutters, “I wouldn’t mind more of *that*—but I certainly wouldn’t get it as a conqueror.”

Sir Pentious

"WELL, I COULD GET YOU AN AUDIENCE! ONCE I'VE TAKEN THIS EMPIRE FOR MYSELF, THERE SHALL NOT BE ANY EMPTY SEATS TO WORRY ABOUT!" He beams, spreading out his arms, "AND THEN! OH, WELL, WE'D HAVE TO CHANGE THINGS UP EVERY FEW YEARS, SO IT DOESN'T BECOME BORING."

Alastor

"Would you?" Alastor brightens again. "I mean, I know you COULD do that, no doubt there—but would you really?"

Sir Pentious

Look at him smiling. He's smiling so much at Alastor. "WHY, OF COURSE! IF WE ARE WORKING *TOGETHER*, THEN I HAVE NO ISSUE WITH THAT. IT WILL BE *FUN* WATCHING WHATEVER YOU DO TO THEM!"

He flicks his talons this way and that, slithering through the pipe maze again. *Enrichment.*

Alastor

His eyes glitter at the thought of it. A captive audience, provided by no less a personage than the ruler of Hell. True, he’d rather his audience listen to him out of adoration rather than fear—he’s an entertainer, after all!—but they can work out the details later. He was adored before. All he needs is to be listened to again, to be given a chance to prove himself, and he’ll be adored again. He’s sure of it.

“I’m counting that as a promise!” Oh, he’s excited just as the THOUGHT of it. He taps a foot on the floor as some bouncy Harlem stride plays in the background under his words. “If you’re irritated now at me for remembering things you did weeks ago, you’re going to hate me when I remind you about this promise in a few years! Ha!”

Sir Pentious

A cackle from the rafters as Sir Pentious slithers around up there.. He finally hangs upside down in front of Alastor with that large familiar grin.

"OH, I AM CERTAIN I WON'T HEAR THE END OF IT! BUT I CANNOT IGNORE THAT YOU HAVE *HELPED* ME. I DISLIKE BEING INDEBTED TO ANYONE, BUT I CANNOT PRETEND OTHERWISE!"

He tips his hat, which is miraculously staying on his head.

"I DO NOT SHAKE HANDS WITH YOU, BUT I COULD PUT IT IN WRITING."

Alastor

“Oh, that’s entirely unnecessary!” Pause. “But I’d love it if you did!” He scoops up the nearest blank-looking piece of paper and a pen, steps sideways into an unexpectedly large shadow, and somehow emerges from it next to Sir Pentious, standing upside-down on the ceiling next to him. “So it’s to be a formal agreement, then, is it!”

He looks all dramatic standing there upside-down for a grand total of three seconds, before his clothing remembers gravity and the tail of his coat fwoofs down to dangle around his head.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious watches him standing upside down, and he smirks, waving a dismissive hand. "A *PROPER* CONTRACT, ALASSSTOR. I AM A BUSINESSMAN! NO BLANK PAPERSSS HERE. I DIDN'T RUN MY FACTORIESSSS ON BLANK PAPERSSS."

Alastor

“Well, you need a blank paper in order to write the contract on it, don’t you?” He offers over the paper and pen, go on.

Sir Pentious

"I CAN'T WRITE THAT *HERE*, AL! WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR??" He huffs, "I WON'T FORGET, AND IF I DO, YOU WILL REMIND ME!"

Alastor

"Not if you're going to get on my case about reminding you." He drops the pen and paper. The paper flutters slowly down to the ground. "It was a nice sentiment, all the same."

Sir Pentious

Oh look at Alastor getting huffy. Sir Pentious frowns, slithering down to retrieve the paper and pen, "DON'T THROW A *FIT*, I AM NOT GETTING ON YOUR *CASE.* I SAID WHAT I MEANT! YOU WILL REMIND ME, I AM COUNTING ON YOU."

Alastor

Only very lightly huffy; and more for the drama of it than anything else. Still, the idea of being *counted on* makes him perk up. Doesn't that sound all official.

He melts back into the shadows to reappear again next to Sir Pentious. "Then I guess I'll just have to pester you about it sometime!"

Sir Pentious

"YESSS, THAT ISS THE POINT. I HAVE A LOT OF THINGSS TO KEEP TRACK OF. ONCE I AM PROPERLY IN MY AIRSHIP, AND IT ISS OFF THE GROUND, I WILL SET UP THE CONTRACT AND TYPE IT UP ALL NICE. SCRIBBLING IT DOWN ON SSOME BLANK PAPER HARDLY BEFITSSS A HELLISH GENTLEMAN SSUCH AS MYSELF." He gestures to Alastor's suit, "YOU MIGHT ENJOY A PATCHWORK SSTYLE, BUT I DO NOT! NONE OF THAT 'MAKE DO' ATTITUDE, SSSIR."

Alastor

"I happen to like handwritten legal documents! It makes them feel important. Like the Declaration of Independence." He pauses and thinks that over. "That doesn't carry much weight with you, does it? All right, typewritten it is! But I expect to see a draft before you ask me to sign. I have to make sure the terms are equitable, after all."

Sir Pentious

He leans all close to Alastor again.

"OH? EQUITABLE HOW SSSSO? WORRIED I'LL SSSIGN YOU INTO FORCED LABOR, ALASSSTOR?"

Alastor

"Worried you'll let me off too easy," he says dryly. "What if you do something like say you're going to do this big favor for me on the basis of our current friendship and my prior services rendered? What about future services? What if I never do anything else for you ever again, but this contract still holds you to helping me out? No no no, I won't stand for it! You're offering me an enormous favor, my friend, and I intend to earn it properly!"

Sir Pentious

... Oh. Usually people were expecting Sir Pentious to be the one to pull the rug out from others--this was something he... Somehow didn't see coming at all! Alastor wanted to make sure that he was held to the right standards. Don't mind Sir Pentious, he's just going to be having Feelings over here, looking away. Friend...

"YES, WELL. GOOD! THEN. IT WOULD BE A BIG MISSSSTAKE TO TRY TO MAKE ME LOOK THE FOOL, ALASSSTOR!"

Alastor

"I wouldn't dream of it!" He hesitates; then decides, well, all right, as long as he's saying friendly things already—and knowing Sir Pentious keeps asking for directness—

"Truth be told," he says, casually examining his claws like he's only half paying attention to what he says, "if I ever offered to shake with you on something—and I know you've already said you'll never shake with me, that's fine, but IF I did—that's what would be on the line. No souls. Just an unbreakable guarantee that I can't—betray you." He leaves off the *again* and adds a shrug, like it's no big deal. "I don't think you'll ever want to shake even under those conditions. But, all the same, I thought I'd let you know! Since you keep bringing it up like you think I'm just waiting for some clever opportunity to trick you out of your soul!"

Sir Pentious

There's a sound in his ears, like *ringing.* Sir Pentious could swear he could feel his heart pounding in his ears but only briefly. What was *that* sensation? Generally, he felt aches in his chest like that with Valera when she said something *particularly* caring...but this was Alastor. This was probably just another example of a good friend, and what good friends do. Good friends don't betray one another! Yes, of course.

But he couldn't let it go that easily, his brow creased as he looked the deerman all over. "*WHY?*" It was extremely likely that this Alastor had betrayed the Pentious of his own Hell before. Penny was certain every Al was guilty of that at this point... But why try SO hard? Why be so afraid of angering him? Could guilt alone be such a driving force? It felt like there was a very obvious piece of a puzzle missing to him.

"WHY ARE YOU... WHY DO YOU CARE *SO* MUCH?"

Alastor

"Because you're thirty-three percent of my circle of friends—and the only one of them I viciously, violently backstabbed!" He laughs shortly, and his stomach twists and churns as they delve back into that topic that he always feels lurking just under everything they say.

"I don't know how bad things went in your universe, but here—I... it's no exaggeration to say you might well have been ruling Pentagram City by now—maybe more—if not for me. And if we're going to be friends again, we—I know you still don't trust me fully. You can't. You shouldn't! *I* know I'm not going to betray you again, but am I just supposed to say 'take my word for it'?

"On the other hand, a bargain that means I can't betray you is *cheap* for me—in fact, it's *absolutely free*—because all I'm doing is promising not to do something I wasn't going to do anyway! But for you, why—it would give you a little reassurance without your needing to trust me a lick more! And if it costs me nothing but gives you that much... Speaking as a professional dealmaker, that's a bargain if I've ever heard one."

Sir Pentious

Well, that settled that, didn't it! For friendship. Alastor said it himself! And he made quite a big deal (pardon the pun) of it too. He always talked so much, you'd hardly want for a conversation with him around.

.... Except. That feeling gave Sir Pentious some *concern*. It was still lingering, not as strongly but it was there. He's thinking over something the talkative deerman had said...

".... NOT *ME.* I WAS BETRAYED, YES, AN ALASTOR BETRAYED A SIR PENTIOUS, INDEED.... BUT IT WASN'T *ME*." That was something that had always stuck around, lingered in the pit of his own long intestines. The serpent wrung his hands together, unconscious of his own idle fidgeting.

"IF THE ONLY REASON WE ARE FRIENDSSSS ISSS BECAUSE OF *RESIDUAL* GUILT, ISSNT THAT BOUND TO FAIL, TOO?"

Alastor

He shrugs and nods, granted, yes; they’ve both been content to treat each other as substitutes, even though each knows the other is different. Haven’t they?

But he doesn’t get a chance to address that before a question demands his full attention. “*No!*” The question horrifies him enough that he takes a step closer to Sir Pentious, hands half raised, like he’s bracing to try to stop him from swinging around a knife. “No no no, I—w—if I was motivated by avoiding guilt, then I’d be avoiding *you!* I’ve felt more guilt in the last two months than I have in the last twenty years! No. We’re friends because I *want* your friendship.”

He lets out a rattled laugh. “And you can see how well I’m proving that! I try to reassure you, it makes you worry about something else, now I have to re-reassure you.” He gestures between the two of them. “*This* is why I’m trying so hard. Because I can’t quite get it right yet.” He holds up a finger. “*Yet.*”

Sir Pentious

He's startled by the other's sudden movement, and his hood opens up. Alastor's insistence, that earnest way of speaking. It made that feeling even *stronger.*

He almost expected Alastor to grab his hand, but that didn't happen. Sir Pentious rubbed at his arm.... He's feeling guilty, too. For being so paranoid, skeptical. *Afraid.* It was a lot to think about.

"YET..." He looks away. "... I. AM SORRY, THAT I AM. LIKE THIS."

Alastor

Alastor blinks, then leans back against a work table again. Taking in the apology, turning it over in his mind. It feels like needles lining the inside of his ribs, stabbing when he tries to inhale. “For—for what, a little healthy suspicion? I didn’t get you and you didn’t get got by me, but—your suspicion is more than justified. I don’t hold it against you.” The corner of his mouth twitches weakly. “I’m amazed you’re giving me a chance at all.”

Sir Pentious

A little healthy suspicion? Sir Pentious makes a face, digging his talons into his arm further, scratching now.

"IT *ISN'T* HEALTHY, THOUGH. IS IT." This was a.... Decidedly more vulnerable topic, but this was the boiler room. No one came down here anymore, not since Penny set up shop.

"I AM NOT HEALTHY, NOT IN THE LEAST."

Alastor

Alastor tenses as he sees Sir Pentious’s talons tighten on his arm. He wants to reach out. Instead he just grips the edge of the table with both hands, claws digging into the bottom of it.

“If I were the one in your sh...” No shoes. “... If I were standing where you are? I would never so much as *speak* to a Radio Demon again. No matter what dimension he’s from or what promises he makes. So... I know you've said your mind is unhealthy, but *that suspicion*, I don’t think *that's* unhealthy.” He leans a little closer, not quite getting off the table. “If *you* think it is, I won’t know how unless you tell me.”

(He’s dimly aware that the radio distortion modulating his voice has been ebbing and flowing like waves on a beach—but like the tide going out, steadily declining. He can’t remember the last time he spoke so plainly for more than a sentence or two.)

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious doesn't lean back this time, but he's scrunching up more. His skull is *abuzz* with activity, and what feels like pressure on his brain.

".... YOU WOULDN'T, AND YET, WHEN I BECOME SSSO SSSKEPTICAL, I CAN... *FEEL* LIKE I'VE FAILED. IT TURNSSS ME AGAINSSSST THE ONES I." Love. "THE ONES THAT ARE IMPORTANT TO ME. AND I." Lose them.

He can't even finish his sentence, dragging his talons down his arm, a grounding technique that was more self punishing than helpful.

Alastor

Alastor automatically guesses what the first word left unsaid is. His heart leaps into his throat. He swallows it back down; the word isn’t meant for him.

He can’t watch that clawing anymore. “Maybe I can’t help—I think I’d make a poor alienist—and I can’t speak for everyone else important to you” (he feels daring just including himself on that list) “but, for what it’s worth... I’m hard to break and harder to scare off.” He’s gonna. Just. Carefully reach out, and put a hand on Sir Pentious’s wrist. Hi, can he take that? He’ll even let Sir Pentious claw up his arm instead if he wants. It’s fine if not, he’ll just wait and see.

Sir Pentious

The second his wrist is taken, Sir Pentious' eyes widen *considerably.* There's that rush in his chest, a dull *aching.* The puzzle piece was just out of reach, he could *feel* it.

He doesn't even fight it, even as his mind screams at him, *you failure, you absolute failure, look at you! Might as well offer your neck for the chopping block, you miserable failure.* He *winces*, though it isn't at Alastor. Stressed out tongue flicks, he's having a hard time maintaining eye contact.

".... YOU. PROMISE. YOU HAVE TO *PROMISE* ME THAT YOU WILL NOT... LEAVE." With every second that passes, it is like an eternity of ache in his chest. Similar to when Valera held his hands, rubbed them and spoke to him so softly. Grounding him.

Alastor

Alastor flinches when Sir Pentious winces, but Sir Pentious isn't pulling back, so Alastor isn't either.

"I promise." His voice is so blatantly, embarrassingly human. "I promise that I won't leave." He'd seal it in magic if Sir Pentious would let him. Instead, he just squeezes a little more firmly. "I'm your friend and your ally. I promise."

Sir Pentious

*But why?*

Why did Valera have so much patience? Why did Alastor not hate him? By all rights, he should infuriate them, but instead, they always reached out to him...!

... His eyes snap open wider than ever, and he feels like the last puzzle piece slips into place.

"ALASSSTOR. ARE YOU...?" OH, boy. He wants to be wrong, right now, more than ever, he wants to be wrong. If he *isn't* wrong, then... All of those moments, all of those playful snuggles and schemes.... Well they weren't just friendly, were they?

He's looking very pale, suddenly, a grit teeth sort of look. He's realized it. The reason why he stuck around was the same as a Valera's.

*Love.*

Alastor

Something went wrong. He can see it. "What?" What did he do? What did he say? Was it—?

Is his hand too close to Sir Pentious's? He jerks his hand back. "Sorry! I'm sorry, that was—It's a unilateral promise, not a bargain, I wasn't trying to shake on it."

In his heart he knows that's not the problem. But he can't see what the problem is—unless it's the worst.

He hopes it's not the worst.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious moves back, out of the way suddenly, staring at Alastor like he's a different person.

Was this even *possible?* He.... "ARE YOU IN *LOVE* WITH ME, ALASSSTOR???" Even if the deer said no, Pentious wasn't sure he'd believe him this time. Everything they did together, the way Alastor had warmed up to him, sooner than most others ever would consider...!

He liked him *like that.* And Sir Pentious, lonely Sir Pentious, had never questioned it.

Alastor

His stomach lurches. What did he say wrong? What pushed it over the line? He tries to deny it but all that squeezes out of his throat is static. After months spent trying to reassure Sir Pentious that he DOES value him, that he IS his friend, that he would NEVER betray him again... denying the accusation now would be too much a rejection of everything he's tried to prove.

He sinks down on a bench. He didn't say anything wrong. He said what Sir Pentious needed to hear him say. This was unavoidable.

He tries to give the same response he did to Valera—*no, I'm not; just with someone who looks the same*—but words catch in his throat as he suddenly realizes they're not true anymore. He knows this Sir Pentious too well to still see him the same as his own; but that's done nothing to break his fever. *Damn it.* He twists his hands together and stares down at them, defeated.

Just a few minutes ago, they were...

But Sir Pentious is never going to touch his hands like that again.

Sir Pentious

Of all the things Sir Pentious had expected to come out of this meeting, he couldn't have predicted that Alastor, the Radio Demon, was in love with him. This explained *everything...* Eager for friendship? Wanting so desperately to be around him, to not anger him, to spend as much time as possible?

Love was the *only* answer that made sense. Friendship was difficult enough with the serpent, but love! Oh, this was so much to process. He could only stare down at the deerman. For once, for *once* in his entire unlife, he'd never seen the other so *silent.* Unable to speak, unable to say a thing. Static choking up from his throat, and Sir Pentious found his hands at his own, remembering how it felt to be unable to speak. What to even feel? What could he feel?

Shouldn't he be laughing right now? Feeling so *powerful* for being the object of *Alastor's* affections? This should be making him feel unstoppable, but instead it felt like daggers plunged into his back, dragging down. Every breath wrung with *pain.* Sir Pentious' teeth grit, and he glared, flexing his talons out toward Alastor.

"I LET YOU *TOUCH* ME, I THOUGHT WE WERE *FRIENDSSS*, BUT YOU WERE JUSSSST USING ME, WEREN'T YOU!?" There it was--that hatred for himself bubbling up, paranoia clawing its way out of his throat, "YOU SSSSAY YOU WANTED TO BE MY FRIEND, BUT YOU WERE TRYING TO-- YOU JUSSSssT WANTED--" Wanted what? Alastor hadn't *lied,* he just hadn't been forthcoming. But here, Sir Pentious felt wave after wave of feelings that he couldn't describe. Why did he feel so *betrayed?* "FROM WHENCE DID IT **BEGIN???** HAVE YOU ALWAYSSS BEEN LUSssssTING AFTER ME!? I AM *ENGAGED*, ALASSSTOR!"

He was starting to be so cruel, and he could taste his own venom on his tongue now. Why did it matter this much?

Alastor

He can already see how this is going to end: with Sir Pentious throwing Alastor out of his afterlife completely; with Alastor alone again; with Alastor having merely been taunted for two months with the hope of getting back the best friend he's ever had, before being rewarded for his audacity in daring to think he'd found a cross-dimensional loophole around his rightful punishment for his betrayal.

He can save them both time by apologizing for inconveniencing Sir Pentious, walking out the door, and never coming back.

"I'm sorry." Start there. But he can't let go. (Isn't that the whole problem?) And he can't be the one to turn his back on Sir Pentious. If Sir Pentious throws him out, so be it—but this time, at least, it's going to be for the truth, not for what Alastor leaves Sir Pentious to assume. "For—for what little it's worth—lust never factored into it. And I never—I do—we *are* friends. I've never thought otherwise. I'm not trying to come between you and your fiancée. I've always—I've tried to let you take the lead, to... to decide when and how to touch—*because* we're friends, I—it was your right to set the limits."

Sir Pentious

*For what little it’s worth … we are friends.*

These few words were enough to send stabs of agony through his chest, and Sir Pentious wasn’t much for subtlety. His eyes widened again, and he clutched at where his black heart ought to be. He shouldn’t be feeling enraged, betrayed at all! He shouldn’t be! *Penley, you idiot, what are you doing? So obsessed with yourself, you’re making this all about you, too. Looking for reasons to be alone again, aren’t you?*

But it DID hurt. It *did* hurt. There was something here, something that hurt beyond all measure–if Alastor truly wanted to be his friend, if Alastor, of all damned sinners in this inferno of suffering, truly loved him… wasn’t that a lie? It wasn’t him that he loved, it was… a different man. The same man, but different.

Rage wet his eyes, and he brought up a sleeve to wipe at them–*no*, do not *cry* in front of ~~*your enemies*~~ *anyone else* you damned old fool. Least of all The Radio Demon! Do you want to get laughed at???

*He wouldn’t laugh at me. He is my friend.*

*HE IS NOT* YOUR *FRIEND. YOU ARE A* SUBSTITUTE.

With that wicked quickness the King Cobra is known for, Sir Pentious closes the gap between them, his hood flared out as he bares those yellow fangs of his, “DON’T **FUCK** WITH ME, YOU BASTARD! HOW COULD I SET LIMITS WHEN I THOUGHT ALL IT WAS WAS SSOMETHING WITHOUT SSSUCH FEELINGSSS INVOLVED!? THOUGHT YOU COULD GET A LAUGH OUT OF ME, THE LONELY INVENTOR!!! I WAS JUSSST A SSSSSUBSSSTITUTE FOR YOUR SSSSERPENT. IF YOU HADN’T **FUCKED THINGSSS UP** BACK THEN, THEN WE’D NEVER HAVE BECOME FRIENDSS!!!!”

Oh, he was going for the jugular now. All of that pain was coming out now! And though he’d wiped his eyes, the tears brimming were unmistakable. Lonely Sir Pentious was crying.

Alastor

Alastor leans back when Sir Pentious looms over him, gripping the edge of the bench as he fights down the automatic instinct to defend himself.

*If you hadn't fucked things up*—He flinches like he was slapped. Sir Pentious is right. He's right, and Alastor knows it, and they're the same words he's told himself for the past fifty-four years; but they hurt so much more in that voice. They hurt so much more seeing the fury and pain and tears in Sir Pentious's eyes. The last time he saw Sir Pentious like that, it was among the ruins of his flagship, begging Alastor to explain why he'd just destroyed everything they'd worked for.

And yet, Sir Pentious is *wrong.* "You—think I've been laughing at you?!" He lets out a high, nervous, hysterical laugh—NO that is the EXACT WRONG PANIC REACTION for this situation—he claps a hand over his mouth with the sound of a radio dial firmly clicking off and just shakes his head *no* until he's sure he can control his voice.

"Maybe we wouldn't have met—and maybe you started out as a substitute for mine, but—you aren't now! I know you, not well enough, but well enough to see that the things I value in him *do* exist in you, and where you differ, I value you on your own merits! And if mine slithered in right this second, said all was forgiven, invited me onto his airship, and promised everything I've ever wanted—it would hurt to leave! I'd *miss* the picnics, sitting around watching ASMR videos, sparring with you, figuring out how to cook for you—even how you *breathe.*" He's digging himself the deepest grave Hell's ever seen. At least let Sir Pentious hate him for the right reasons.

Sir Pentious

That was most assuredly the worst possible panic reaction, and it would have ruined whatever it was Alastor was trying to do here–had he not continued. Sir Pentious stared, watching him explain himself, watching him dig a hole so deep he might as well have ended up in Heaven after all.

Perhaps that hole would have made Penny hate him more, but instead… he felt his chest ache further, and he grabbed at his hood, *pulling* it *harshly* to compensate for the pain, to try to keep himself grounded. Alastor was listing off things about him, things that he and Al had done together. Things that were somehow special between the two of them.

Picnics and silly little videos and making ridiculous jokes about things nobody else would care about nor have reference for. Alastor had been the closest in years for someone that Sir Pentious could have related to—he wanted so badly for that companionship, that *understanding* with another demon in Hell who *really understood him.* And now, more than ever, he really had it.

Valera would often list things that Penny did, talked about how much she loved him. The way he is always making some kind of sound, his mannerisms for talking, the way he cares so deeply for her… Every time she’d do so, he could feel his chest swell with such love and passion. It was always too much for him to handle in those moments… words always failed him, he could think of naught to say except “Thank you”, which scraped the bare minimum of how he felt about her.

And Alastor… he had begun to do it, too. It was obvious now, to Sir Pentious, that Alastor had since stopped talking about things that likely *any* Genius Inventor Supervillain had done, and rather had began to talk *specifically* about him. It made him feel seen in ways only Valera had made him feel before.

They *loved* him, and he *hated* himself.

One hundred and fifty years of self loathing

was having a difficult time combatting all of this **love.**

Sir Pentious leaned back, and attempted to speak–he pointed a finger at Alastor, fangs bared as he prepared to let loose into another barrage of insults, of *cutting* words… only to find himself *unable* to speak.

He tried again, and again, to no avail with each attempt. Here he was, forcibly speechless, as panic began to steal him away. His eyes widened further, and he began to scratch at his throat, *furiously ashamed* with this total failure he was showing himself to be. *How pitiful, Sir Pentious. And you wonder why █████ left you. You can never be counted on when you’re needed most.*

Alastor

It's a barbed wire-wrapped sword through his heart when Sir Pentious's expression of fury melts into panic and he starts clawing at his own throat.

"No, oh no." He automatically reaches up, grabs Sir Pentious's hands, and pulls them down. His hands feel like they're holding red hot irons.

"*I'm sorry.* I shouldn't touch you. But I'm not letting you hurt yourself on my account." It's the first time this whole conversation he's felt like he sounds like himself, albeit an unusually serious version of himself. "If you need someone to claw up, let it be me."

Acid blood, Sir Pentious had called it; brain-storms, they were called in Alastor's time—temporary bouts of madness brought on by distress too great for a rational human mind to endure. And Alastor is the one who pushed Sir Pentious into this one. His mind races as he tries to figure out how to fix his damage. (Stupid question. He doesn't fix it. He knows that. Didn't he himself tell Sir Pentious he's better at knocking things down than setting them back up? Didn't Sir Pentious call him a wrecking ball?)

Sir Pentious

They might as *well* have been red hot irons��Sir Pentious’ eyes were glowing brightly, wide as they were. At this proximity, Alastor would be able to feel the tremor running under that grip–He tried so hard to mask it, but he was trembling from the intensity of his emotions.

Still, that *smile.* It wasn’t quite as strong as he knew Alastor was capable of, but the fact he could see it at all cut him to ribbons on the inside. Sir Pentious, in his haze of self loathing and fear of being a joke, took that smile as confirmation despite Alastor only saying the opposite. How many times must he say it before you *believe* him, Penny?

So close now, and he could easily pull away–but instead, he sought to cause pain. This was his way of coping, and he always managed to hurt the ones he cared about. Why should now be any different? He had bitten Valera when he was like a feral beast, and here he would tear Alastor apart in just the way he wanted. After all, he *offered.*

His hood flaring out and a monstrous *hiss* escaping his throat, Sir Pentious lunged his head forward, burying his fangs into the base of Alastor’s neck, right where it met the shoulder. He easily penetrated the flesh, sinking in to the gums as his eyes carried *madness.* Not only had he bitten him, but it was the same place he’d bitten him before, two months ago.

Alastor

He gasps in with an awful feedback noise, pain shooting across his neck and over his shoulder. On some level, he isn't surprised. On some level, he realizes, he was hoping for this.

He doesn't know if Sir Pentious intends it as his forgiveness, his penance, or his punishment.

And between the pain and the uncertainty and the knowledge that even though it's agony he's still not worthy of it—he finally breaks. He bursts into noisy, crackling sobs, his voice hardly audible under the distortion, shaking so hard he might not be able to sit up if Sir Pentious himself wasn't inadvertently holding him up by the shoulder.

"I'm sorry!" He clings desperately to Sir Pentious, he can't stop himself. He's talking fast, words spilling out, trying to get it all out before Sir Pentious stops listening to him for good. "*I'm sorry.* I know you hate how I feel, I hate it too. I'd shut it off if I could! It's why I ruined everything and *ran*, because I'm a *coward* and I was *afraid* of what love would make me—I was afraid of being *this.* I'm sorry you have to put up with it too!"

One hand curls clawlike into Sir Pentious's lapels to pull him closer and his fangs deeper. This is going to be the last time. He has to make it hurt. "I wish it—I *wish* it could have been something good for you. I'd fantasized about confessing someday—when you needed proof of my loyalty, I could have made some—some grand gesture—"here, here's your proof, here's how you know I'll never betray you!" Even if you don't reciprocate, I'd hoped you could—could draw strength from it! Here's one more person who esteems you so highly! Here's one more more person who would give you Heaven and Hell! Here's one more person who would do anything to see you happy and triumphant! But I can't even do that much for you, I—I'm so *sorry*—"

He can't get any more out. His last few words break up like a signal in a tunnel, and all he's left with is wordless sobbing and shaking.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious had a chance now, to spill his venom into Alastor. He had a chance to watch him *writhe* in physical agony to match the swirling intensity that the serpent felt inside. But it was clear, from the way the deerman broke so suddenly in his jaws, that Penny realized there was no need.

Alastor was *shattered* in a way that Penny had never, ever seen him. Never heard him. This man, who carried himself with such superiority and class, now a broken, sobbing ruin of a demon clung to the hellish gentleman’s body. He wasn’t goading him, he wasn’t boasting. He wasn’t destroying everything he’d built only to run off or laugh in his face.

He was just… miserable. And it was misery that Sir Pentious could not enjoy… it reminded him of his own wretched wailing when Valera had been there to hold him, too. Suddenly, Alastor stopped being The Radio Demon to Sir Pentious, and had become something else.

*Al. My best friend. You’re not so bad, you old bastard.*

But he wasn’t in the right mind to forgive him, just yet. Forgiveness… what a laughable thing for a *demon* to consider. He pulled his teeth from Alastor’s neck, staring him hard in the face as tears of his own ran down his cheeks. That horrid smile of Alastor’s, twisted with intense sadness…

“Ssstop *sssmiling*, you imbecile.”

He brings his hands up, grabbing at Alastor’s face with both of them, and *forcing* the corners of that mad grin down, to the best of his ability, even if his talons pinched that face. Once he was done with that, he’d return the hug, tightly, his tail slowly wrapping up the other as the most grounding thing he could think of. Emotional intimacy was not his strong suit, but Valera had taught him some things, too.

“… JUSSST… BREATHE… AT THE SAME TIME AS ME. FOLLOW *MY* LEAD.”

Alastor

He can't meet Sir Pentious's gaze; he squeezes his eyes shut automatically. And immediately opens them again when Sir Pentious touches his face. He's distantly surprised to be told he *is* still smiling. He can't feel it at all. The crumbling remains of his smile collapse effortlessly under Sir Pentious's hands and he bites his lower lip, the corners of his mouth twitching like he doesn't know what to do with them when they aren't twisted up.

Why is he being *held*? He doesn't deserve this. But he leans into it, eyes shutting again, face pressed to Sir Pentious's shoulder, arms wrapped tight around his back. He can feel Sir Pentious's chest rising and falling with each breath—it's the most reassuring feeling, the most reassuring sound in the world. He can breathe. He can do that.

His shuddering reduces, his sobs slowly stop. He isn't sure if he's still crying or if it's just the old tears clinging to his face. But he's breathing. And he's—god, how did this happen?—he's exactly where he's wanted to be for the last fifty-four years.

He croaks, "If you're planning to exterminate me, please make it now." Cue the world's tinniest laugh track.

Sir Pentious

Satan himself, it actually worked. He managed to… calm Alastor down. He’d done exactly what Valera had done for him before, and… well, he sold himself short, now didn’t he? He’d calmed down Valera before, too. Maybe he didn’t destroy everything he touched. Maybe… he was good at maintaining his relationships, after all. Why, these two thought he was good enough to willingly be around, so… maybe he could give himself a chance, too.

The love aspect that was added on… Pentious still wasn’t sure what to do with that. Could he handle knowing that Alastor loved him? That every action between the two of them had this tension? Or would it only have tension if he allowed it to? Sir Pentious bumped his forehead to Alastor’s, a little rougher than usual to at least show he was irritated…

“YOU ARE OFF THE AIR. GIVE YOURSSSELF A BREAK.”

He adjusts the deerman’s monocle, and straightens up his suit, before he reaches into his own suit jacket and pulls out a handkerchief. Penny moves to undo the neck portion of Alastor’s suit, so that he could place the handkerchief inside and on his shoulder–but he stops himself, instead just handing him the cloth.

“…I AM ANGRY WITH YOU. I AM FRUSSSTRATED AND I DO NOT KNOW WHEN I WILL FEEL ABLE TO BE COMFORTABLE WITH YOU AGAIN. BUT I WILL WANT THISSSS HANDKERCHIEF BACK, DO YOU UNDERSSSTAND? SSSSO. DO NOT RUN AWAY FROM ME, ALASSSTOR. I WILL NEVER TALK TO YOU AGAIN IF YOU EVEN *THINK* ABOUT RUNNING AWAY FROM ME.”

His own voice was hoarse, despite how loud it was, and he was clearly tired from crying and shouting. Sir Pentious looked thoroughly tired, as if he had been drinking and yet he’d had not a drop. Emotionally drained, and all out of spoons.

Alastor

Alastor is more than capable of tidying himself up, and under any other circumstances he *would,* irritably pushing off whoever dared try to fuss over him—but it's such a shock that *Sir Pentious* is doing it, and it's so *nice*, he just stands there in stunned silence, letting him.

He numbly takes the handkerchief, and for a moment stares blankly at it before figuring out what it's for. He quickly undoes his bow tie—his fingers twitch when he remembers whose it is—and then hastily undoes his collar and slides the handkerchief under.

"I can send it back this evening after I launder it." His voice is filtered through a radio again—Sir Pentious is wrong, he's *always* on air—with the crackles and pops like an old phonogram record complimenting the hoarseness of his own voice. He looks down to avoid meeting Sir Pentious's gaze, realizes that doesn't solve the problem, and glances to the side. "If you're trying to use the handkerchief to say that you see this ending some way other than never wanting to speak to me again... then be more direct."

A few members of the invisible studio audience weakly chuckle. Alastor waves them off with his free hand, muttering, "Shut *up,* not the time," then winces as the gesture makes his shoulder sting.

Sir Pentious

Ah, he was called out. It gets a frustrated look out of him, but… you know. That’s exactly the kind of thing he’d have said to Alastor, before. Sir Pentious folds his arms, flinching a little as the pain from having scratched at himself reminds him that it is still present.

“… I DON’T WANT YOU TO RUN AWAY FROM ME, BECAUSE I WANT TO SSSEE YOU AGAIN, ON MY TERMSSS. BUT IF I SSEE YOU TOO SSOON… I MIGHT HATE YOU FOREVER.”

A deep inhale, and slow exhale. Sir Pentious slowly unravels his tail from around the other demon, though it remains behind him in case he cannot stand on his own, “… I REQUIRE TIME TO PROCESS THISS, ALASSSTOR. PERHAPSS YOU ARE RIGHT, THAT I SHOULD NEVER WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU EVER AGAIN. BY ALL ACCOUNTSS, I OUGHT TO AGREE WITH THAT AND NEVER SSSPEAK TO YOU AGAIN!”

His tail lashes with some irritability, and now it’s his turn to avoid any kind of eye contact. “… But. I sstill want to. I do not want you to leave. I have… *fun* when you are around. The kind of fun that I never had before… Because. I do not have friends. There are very few people who would want to be around me.” Blast it he was rambling on again. He covers his face with a hand, grimacing as all he can taste on his tongue is Alastor’s blood. It made him dizzy with misery. “I will be on Okkylk. When I am ready to take back the handkerchief, I will pick it up in *person.*”

Alastor

He listens to the half-threats as stoically as he can with his smile missing—he feels naked and raw and exposed—and he fears that with his face twitching after every sentence, it's not nearly as stoic as he'd like to think.

His heart nearly leaps into his throat when Sir Pentious says he wants Alastor to stay—then plummets back down. It's not because it's Alastor's friendship, specifically, that he values; it's because he needs anyone's friendship, and Alastor's the one offering it. Piss-poor and putrid though it is. He already knew that, didn't he? Hadn't he said to Valera that Sir Pentious doesn't like Alastor—he just likes that Alastor likes him? He wishes he could bring anything more to the table than this desperate last resort friendship—but he shot any chances of that in the head decades ago.

He nods wearily. "You know where to find me. You won't hear a peep out of me until you come calling, barring emergencies—overheard assassination plots or the like."

Sir Pentious

How they hated themselves. If he'd known that Alastor had come to that conclusion, well... maybe he'd have said something else. But as it stood, right now, Sir Pentious was beyond exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to wrap himself up in his fiancee, to breathe her in and feel some form of comfort after all of *this*...

It wasn't fair to think of it that way, he knew that Alastor was suffering, but what could he do? His cup was empty, and he could not pour from it. His eyes looked back up to see that pitiful expression, and... he gestured with his index talon--a smiley face. "... YOU CAN SSMILE AGAIN, ALASSTOR. YOU'RE NOT DRESSED WITHOUT IT." Ha...ha. Ha. He immediately looks like he regrets the sentence before he turns, and begins to slither back through the piping.

How he hated himself, but they loved him.

Alastor

He attempts a smile. He fails. He isn't surprised. He almost responds "*No, I can't,*" but Sir Pentious is dealing with enough of Alastor's personal problems. He doesn't need another.

He watches Sir Pentious go; pulls the bow tie out from around his collar, drops it on the workbench beside the travel mug; and then melts into the shadows.

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