#i need to remind myself not to let it actually ever build up to anything . just have it be an irrefutable fact about the world

[frogatz]

in general it’s good to save mysteries even for yourself . i will never know what happened there . all i know is that the stain that this question left bled through the pages

[necrotic-nephilim]

jealousy really is the driving force of DamiTim as a ship. love that for them. love how Tim has the Robin mantle ripped away from him and he has to suffer the jealousy of watching Dick and Damian bond. how possessive over Dick Tim can be, to have him stolen by Dick.

even more so though, is the jealousy from Damian. how on earth do you cope when you finally get to be Robin, a role you've convinced is your birthright, and no one really likes you? every prefers the Robin who came before you? Dick regularly reminds you that he can always go and call Tim back when you act out? like the complex Damian has over Tim is unreal. Tim, who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and had everything handed to him his whole life. he never had to struggle or fight for his place like Damian did. Damian has spent his whole life fighting and proving himself, and yet he can't ever seem to truly claw the mantle of Robin away from Tim. even when Tim lets it go, becomes Red Robin, they seem to share it. Tim can slip back into the role of Robin whenever someone like Dick or Bruce need him to, because *he's* the Robin who they need. he's the Robin who was able to find Bruce. he's the Robin that Ra's wants an heir out of. he's the Robin who even Jason respects. in Damian's eyes, everything Damian has fought tooth and nail for, was handed to Tim.

so of course he's going to react to Tim with violence and aggression, especially after finding out Tim has contingency plans for him. no matter how much Damian proves himself, he's never going to be enough, especially not to Tim. and so his deep refusal to see Tim as family, to acknowledge Tim's legacy is all driven by such an angry jealousy. Tim understands aspects of Bruce's legacy that Damian doesn't, like the need to sweet talk and play nice with the elites of Gotham, even if they're corrupt. they exemplify different aspects of Robin, and the aspects that Tim exemplifies are the aspects that Damian knows he'll never fully understand and therefore holds such a deep contempt for. he wants to fight criminals, not play nice with politicians. Tim understands the side of Gotham that's utterly foreign to Damian. if anything, he represents that side of Gotham, to Damian. a pretty little rich boy who's nothing but a know-it-all and not a real son of Bruce. he can't be a Wayne. he can't be Damian's family.

and all of that angry jealousy leading to unhealthy obsession turned a weird, angry crush from Damian is just my bread and butter. that is how DamiTim should be. to me. Damian obsessed over hating Tim Drake so much he accidentally ends up sort of in love with him and that only makes Damian angrier. because he can't prove everyone right by *also* liking Tim. he can't let Ra's win like that, because frankly why wouldn't Ra's be delighted by Damian and Tim getting together. and it builds and builds with angry passive aggression towards Tim that culminates in angry hate-fucking-that's-not-just-driven-by-hate. love and hate are always viewed as opposites in shipping and i think they're the same intense passion just in different directions. and for the best ships, they're very intertwined. what is DamiTim is not the peak of that. "i put so much of myself into hating you i had no choice but to fall in love with you somewhere along the way" core. love that bleeds into hate and hate that bleeds into love. "you make me so angry i regularly passively try to kill you but not with any real effort because who would i obsess over if you were actually gone" core. murder attempts as a form of courting. contingency plans to take each other out as a love language. they're unwell.

[writeawaythepain]

That Funny Feeling

Jimmy Solidarity x (gn!reader)

…Hey! I’m not dead! And I finally have the urge to write again! Hope you enjoy my spiral into a new fandom!

tw: self-deprecating thoughts, angst (don’t worry there’s a fluff at the end)

Word count: 1.7k

Prompts:

“You are worthy of love and friends and respect.”

"why do you care!" "because i’m in love with you!"

Summary:

You walk in on Jimmy having beef with a fence post, and though you're not really surprised, you wonder if he’s dealing with more pain than just that of his injured foot. Includes you giving the poor guy a much needed hug, and a slip-up that lets him in on how much you really care about him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You don’t think you’ve ever really seen Jimmy upset…not really. He never minded being the butt of any joke, laughing along at any jab or insult. He didn’t mind if people made fun of him as long as it made someone laugh at the end. He was selfless like that. You were always a little bit jealous of his resilience, and maybe that’s why you always thought of him as almost…invincible.

So, when one day you came to check up on how the Sheriff’s new building was going, you were surprised to see that barely any progress had been done. It actually…seemed like he’d torn parts of it down. You approached slowly, taking in the half done walls and foundation, a door frame without a door, and started to look for him. 

Before you can even call out to him, though, you see the back of a familiar blonde cowboy. A cowboy who was seemingly talking to himself. “No- come on Jim! You know you can do better at this- you just gotta… just gotta…” He stops, clenching his fists and yelling out in frustration. “It’s not that hard!” He emphasizes the last word by kicking a rickety fence post, but it must have been sturdier than he expected because he instantly flinched back, grabbing his foot and crying out in pain.

The whole sight was almost cartoonish, with him wearing his cowboy hat and boots, so you couldn’t help but snicker even as you reached out your hand in concern. “Oh my god Jimmy, are you ok?” You can’t stop the smile that spreads on your face, but it wavers slightly as you approach him and notice…are those tears in his eyes? He quickly wipes his face, replacing his frustrated look with an excited smile. 

“Oh hi! I didn’t even see you there! Me and this fence post are having beef, actually- See, it won’t do what I tell it to, and make my stuff look good so I was reminding ‘em who's in charge round here!” He laughs a little as he says it, his smile so bright you're inclined to believe him…it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes though, and you still wonder if the kick hurt him more than he was letting on.

“Yea, you really showed him!” You try to mirror his energy, shaking off some of your worries as he replies in his usual chipper tone.

“Yea I did!” He laughs but then slightly turns away from you. “Listen uh…you know I always love having you around. You’re welcome anytime! But uh…I really have a- a thing I gotta do and…” Your smile drops as you see him wince a little as he puts his weight on the foot he ‘beat up’ the fence post with.

“Hey Jimmy, is your foot ok?” You walk up to him, concerned. “Maybe you should sit down-“

“Nah I’m fine…probably anyway.” He laughs like it’s a joke, but when you look at him you're not smiling.

“You're limping. You might not have broken anything but- here, sit down.” You gently put your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s really nothing, I’m just being an idiot...” He moves away from your touch, shaking it off and puffing up his chest a little. He tries to shoot you a smile again, but it did little to aid your concerns.

“Just, let me take a look at it? Maybe I can help-“ You start, a little frustrated at his stubbornness.

“But I don’t need help! I can take care of it myself! I just- I just stubbed my toe. I’ll be fine!” You sigh, giving him a weird look, but deciding not to push it.

“…why were you beefing with the fence post anyway…did it kill your grandma?” You joke, hoping to fix the awkward air that had somehow come between the two of you. It’s weird, you’d never felt awkward talking with him before.

Instead of responding, Jimmy just turned towards his half finished building. And stood there. After a while he finally spoke. “Listen I’m, kinda busy right now. Maybe you can come back another time?” …Alright that’s it-

“Ok Jimmy, what is up with you? I came here to see your build, which looks less finished than when I saw it days ago may I add, and instead I see you kicking a fence post, getting defensive when I try to help, and now you don’t even laugh at my Trolls joke? …ok maybe it's an old meme but still-“ You chuckle, still kind of hoping he’d just turn around and start acting normal again. You’ve never seen him act like this before.

All he did was stand there…and as the silence grew longer you couldn’t help but start to get worried. “Gosh…I really am useless.” He finally says.

You almost roll your eyes, “Your not useless Jim-“ 

“Yes- yes I am!” He says it so firmly you freeze. You’ve never heard him raise his voice like that before. 

“I can’t build, I can’t fight, I can’t even be the guy who smiles all the time! I’m- I’m basically worthl-“ He stops himself. “…and I don’t know why I’m telling you this- I’m sorry.“ You're so surprised by his words you don’t even know what to say. “I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just-“ He takes his hat off of his head and grips it in his hands. “It’s so stupid- I’m so stupid. It shouldn’t be this hard for me to just-“ His grip on the hat tightens.

“…Jimmy, you are not worthless. You don’t have to smile all the time to be the brightest ray of sunshine I know. You could probably make me see the silver lining of getting stabbed for god's sake-“ You almost laugh at your own words, hoping it would get through to him. “You are worthy of love and friends and respect. And I’m sorry I don’t tell you that enough.” You walk up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He slowly spins around, but doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I’m just being a baby-”

“No, no you're not. It’s ok to- to feel bad sometimes.” You interrupt gently before he can insult himself again.

“Why- why do you even care?” His voice wavers, and now you can see the tears streaming out of his eyes. 

“Because I love you…you idiot.” Jimmy freezes, and even you are a little surprised at your own words, but it’s true. “People care about you- I care about you! I don't care that you can’t build giant castles or fight dragons, or that you get mad or sad sometimes-“ Your rambling a bit, trying to recover from the bombshell you just dropped. Jimmy was just staring at you, eyes wide. 

“…you…love me? Like…love, love me?!” He says slowly, not really paying attention to anything else you said after.

“I- this is probably not the best time to just- but, yea. I really do.” You can’t help but look down as you admit it, and when you look back up at him he’s crying all over again. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“

He steps forward and wraps you in a hug, sobbing into your shoulder. You hug him back, rubbing his back and giving him some words of encouragement. Slowly his sobs get quieter, and eventually he pulls away from the hug.

“Um…” He sniffs. “I know I probably look like a mess right now-“

“Just a little.” You tease gently, wiping a stray tear off of his face.

“Right- but um…I love you too. Just so you know.” He avoids your eyes as he says it, then looks directly into them, gauging your reaction, as if to ensure this wasn’t all a joke.

“Like…?” You start.

“Yea…like that.” He gently bumps his forehead against yours, his regular confident smile returning to his face. “I cannot believe you fell for my Sheriff rizz.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Don’t- don’t say rizz-” You try to suppress a giggle, pretending to be upset. “Great, now you ruined the moment.”

His bravado instantly drops, “Wait. No wait I didn’t mean to-” You shut him up by yanking his neckerchief and planting a kiss on his cheek. “To…to…” His face slowly reddens as his brain catches up to his speeding heart.

“Fixed it.” You say simply, chuckling softly as your Sheriff still reboots. “I think I’m the one with the rizz~” You laugh.

“Yea, no I see how that ruins the moment.” You laugh even harder at his reaction, and he can’t help but join in. After a few moments, you end up gazing into his bright hazel eyes.

“You know you can always talk to me when you're feeling upset.” You say seriously, taking one of his hands with both of your own. “Don’t just…no one should be alone when they're feeling like that.”

“...I know…You're right, as always.” He smiles appreciatively, grabbing one of your hands with his free one. You both stand there, swaying your interlocked hands gently back and forth, just enjoying the other's company.

“You know, when you're feeling up to it, why don’t I help you finish this…” You look over the half finished building, realizing you had no idea what it was actually supposed to be.

“Barn. It’s – ” he sighs, as if even bringing it up makes him feel tired all over again, “ – ‘supposed to be a barn.” 

“Barn! Right, and we could even ask Joel to help.” His eyes widen.

“No! You can’t tell him- Oh my god I’d never hear the end of it!” You laugh at the urgency in his voice.

“Ok! Ok. It’ll just be me. I’ll help you…” You let go of his hands and instead interlock your fingers behind his neck. “It’ll be our little secret.” He gazes into your eyes with a look only comparable to a lovesick puppy.

“Gosh I really wanna kiss you right now-” He lets out with a whisper, and then it’s your turn to get a little flustered.

“Well…then kiss me cowboy.” You lean in and he meets you halfway, and the kiss is just as sweet as the blonde Sheriff you share it with.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd]

Dress Shopping

Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: After y/n orders a dress that doesn't fit, her insecurities about her body take over. Luckily Joker knows just what to do to help. Part 2 for Just The Way You Are

Author's Note: I had so much fun writing this! J is such a sweetheart when he wants to be 🥰 So much of myself is portrayed here but I know other people can relate to this too. As always enjoy! <3

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @unholiiness

If anybody else would like to be added let me know! :)

Things were not improving. Every time you tried to stay on a workout routine, you ended up falling off. You and J had successfully switched over to healthier eating habits. But you failed to lose any weight. It was driving you crazy. Joker reminded you that these things take time and to have patience. It didn't stop you from being depressed.

You had an outing with some friends in a few days so you bought a dress online. You loved it so much and couldn't wait to wear it out. When it finally came in the mail, you rushed to your bedroom to try it on. It was a struggle. Eventually, you got it on you and looked at yourself in the mirror.

All the negative emotions came surging back at full force. Your eyes welled up. The dress looked so good by itself but on you, it just looked so…ugly.

You sat down on the bed and pulled your knees up to your chest, burying your head into your arms. Tears poured down your cheeks as you let out hiccuping sobs.

Joker was in the living room but he must've heard you because within seconds he came rushing in to see what was wrong. His bunny was crying and he couldn’t stand it.

He sat down beside you and put an arm around your shoulder.

“Hey hey hey. What’s wrong, y/n?”

“My dress barely fits me and I look so ugly!” You cried.

“Bunny, how many times do I gotta tell ya? You are not ugly. Look at me.” 

You looked up at your clown, tears still streaming down your face. He lifted your chin and stared into your e/c eyes.

“You are beautiful. I don’t ever want to hear that you’re not. M’kay?” J told you and kissed your cheek.

“B-But it’s just that I’ve tried so h-hard and nothing’s working.” You sobbed.

Joker rubbed circles on your back. “I know, bunny. You’ve just gotta keep at it. These things take time.”

“I wanted to fit into this dress so bad. It was so pretty…but not on me.”

“Stand up and let me see it.”

You slid off of J’s lap and stood in front of him. He looked you over and shrugged.

“I don’t see anything wrong with it. Are ya comfortable in it?”

“No. It’s so tight.” 

“Then just send it back and order a size up. It’s okay.”

“It’s not going to get here in time. I need it for an outing with my friends.”

Joker thought for a moment. He knew what would help but cringed at the thought. He really would do anything for you.

“Wanna go out and buy a dress?” He suggested.

“J, I hate trying on clothes in stores. And I thought you hated shopping. You mean you actually want to go out in public, Mr. Antisocial?” You teased him.

“Ha. Very funny. I do hate it. People, uh, annoy me. A lot. But I would move heaven and earth just to see you happy. I hate watchin’ you cry over this. I wanna make ya feel special.” 

“Aww, J. Let’s go then. It’s not often that I get to go out with you.” You said happily and darted over to your closet to get changed. 

Joker didn’t see the need to change. He was wearing a pair of dark gray slacks (that had honestly seen better days) and a black t-shirt topped with a deep purple flannel. He grabbed his brown scarf from the dresser and positioned it around his neck. While the two of you were out in public, he would pull it up over his face to hide his scars. 

Meanwhile, you were in the closet picking out your outfit. You chose a green hoodie and your most comfortable pair of black shorts. You left your hair down and didn’t bother with makeup. J liked your natural look anyway. 

Once the two of you were ready, Joker led you by the hand out of the apartment building. When you reached the main lobby, J pulled his scarf over his face and slipped out undetected. Out into the street you went, holding hands while walking down the sidewalk. 

You admired Joker for branching out with you today. You knew how much he hated to go out and be normal so this was a lot for him to willingly go without being asked. That let you know how much he truly loved you.

Once you arrived inside the mall, you let out a startled gasp as Joker grabbed your hand and practically dragged you towards your favorite store. 

“None of this lookin’ around and distracting yourself. We’re getting a dress then we’re getting out.” J growled in your ear.

You chuckled knowing he was probably hating this already. The poor thing couldn’t handle a lot of people and noise in one sitting. There were children running around screaming in the play area, babies crying, loud obnoxious groups of women walking past, etc.

Joker finally let go when you reached the store and let you lead the way. You walked towards the back of the store where the dresses were. As you browsed through them, you sighed in disappointment. Once again everything was way too small or way too big.

Joker looked up from the dress he was examining. “What’s wrong?” 

You groaned in frustration. “This happens every time! It’s either too small or too big. I mean they have a XXS but not a (insert size)?!” 

“We’ve only been here a few minutes, doll. I’m sure you’ll find something. What color are you thinking?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Um, purple if I can find it.”

“Purple’s a good color.” Joker said with a hum and moseyed back to the clothing rack he was sifting through.

Thirty minutes passed and you still didn’t find anything. You came close with a casual green dress but when you tried it on, it didn’t fit. You were ready to give up at this point. Just as you were about to turn to J and tell him to forget it, he tugged your arm and pulled you towards a ruffled lilac dress hidden in a corner.

“Oh, it’s perfect. How did we miss this?” You wondered aloud, clutching the soft fabric.

“What are you waitin’ on? Go try it on.” Joker said, raising an eyebrow.

You turned away and stared down at the tiled floor. “What’s the point? I probably won’t be able to wear it anyway. It’s what I get for being so out of the norm.” 

Joker grabbed your shoulders and gave you a stern look. “Y/n, listen to me, stop beating yourself up about this. Who cares if you’re ‘out of the norm’? The norm is subjective. I know you’re concerned about your health and that’s great. But you’re taking steps to be better and that’s all you can do. Your weight doesn’t matter to me and it shouldn’t to anybody else. It’s none of their business. You are beautiful just the way you are. Now go try that dress on. I’m sure it’s gonna look amazing.” 

You smiled and grabbed the dress from the rack. “Alright. I’ll give it a shot. Thanks, J.”

You entered the dressing room, leaving Joker to keep browsing mindlessly through the dresses. He wouldn’t outwardly show it but he was anxiously hoping you wouldn’t take too long. Stores absolutely nauseated him. God forbid an employee come up and talk to him. He shuddered at the thought. 

His relief came a few minutes later when you came out of the dressing room radiating with joy. 

“J, it fits so well! I was so worried I wasn’t going to find anything.” You exclaimed.

“Phew. I’m glad, bunny. So can we go now? I can’t take this much longerrr.” Joker whined.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, we can go now. Jeez, it’s like your being subjected to torture.”

“Shopping is torture.” Joker muttered as you both approached the register.

“Find everything okay?” The overly cheerful cashier asked.

You and J exchanged glances.

“Sure.” You answered, still salty about the store not having enough of your size.

After you paid for the dress, you left the store holding Joker’s hand and at his request, made a quick stop at the food court for ice cream. J got his favorite, strawberry, and you got (insert fav ice cream flavor). 

“Thanks for going with me, J. You always know how to make me feel better.” You thanked your clown as you walked out of the mall into the street.

Joker just nodded in response. Once you both were away from the crowds, he pulled you aside, lowered his scarf slightly, and kissed you. And he says he’s not romantic. You thought as you threw your arms around his neck.

“When we get back home you can model that pretty dress for me. How’s that sound?” Joker purred in your ear.

You giggled and yanked his scarf back up. “Can’t wait.”

[outlandish-dreamer]

hai ^u^ um i was wondering if you had any toddler / baby regressor vanessa headcanons from the fnaf movie ? :00 or anything about her hehe , i'm an introject of her and i've been looking for some stuff :33

I do actually!! She's been on my mind a lot recently, so here's what I have for her :D

(I'm probably going to include some of my other headcanons just because I feel like they fit here as well if that's okay!)

Baby Regressor! Vanessa

She's not quite sure what her age range is, though she does know it's pretty small. Mainly because it's before she can remember all the things that happened with her family, so with being pretty young at that state, it's between 0-3.

Very independent, "I can do it myself !!" I feel like she wouldn't really care about having a caregiver, like it's not something she thinks she needs, but won't say no if it happens.

Because of that, she has trouble letting her guard down around others when she's regressed (mainly Mike). Feeling that vulnerable around someone else reminds her of when she was a kid, so it's hard for her to trust that he won't do anything to her.

Dealing with the trauma of everything is hard on someone that's as small as she is. Her brain doesn't know how to process it all and it takes a toll on her both mentally and emotionally. Sometimes she just cries and doesn't know why, but aside from that, she's not really an explosive or overly emotional kid. Mainly a little bit more sensitive than anything.

Is a little nervous when it comes to him acting like a sort of parental/brother figure towards her. She hasn't experienced that in a long time and ever since she's worried it would turn out just like her relationship with her father. That she'll be rejected, taken advantage of, or forced to "grow up."

Mike, being the ever-patient guy he is, wishes he could get rid of those feelings for her. He'd never hurt Vanessa and despite how much she questions it, he still reassures her that he won't.

Will tag along with him anytime she can. He's pretty much the one person she trusts with this and will take up any chance to be around him. Since she's content to pretty much sit and sleep or watch, he doesn't mind.

He also gets much more protective over her when she's little. It could be something as small as seeing a bug in the house or crossing the street, but whatever it is, he's making sure she's alright. That's his baby and though he's still figuring it out, he'll do anything for her.

Very tired kiddo, but hates sleeping alone. She spends most nights (if they aren't with each other) on the phone with Mike or falling asleep together (which happens more often than the former.) And he, having a similar problem, is cool with it either way.

Has a plush bunny (and later on, all the other animatronics) that she keeps with her at all times. It's small enough to fit in her pocket, so she can bring it in to work whenever she's having a rough day.

While her skills aren't as good as they normally are, she still loves to draw with Abby when she feels old enough to. Most of the time they're just scribbles and she's proud of it either way.

S O many forts. It's not even funny. They're her favorite spot to be in and there's no stopping her and Abby from building them.

Speaking of which, it was difficult in the first place to tell Mike about her regression, and it was even more so when it came to Abby. She was a kid and Vanessa didn't expect her to understand it, plus she worried that it would freak her out. They didn't exactly say it was that, but they pretty much put in a way that made sense to Abby. And she didn't mind, she was actually happy to have someone to play with, even if it wasn't someone exactly her age.

She never had a ton of pet names growing up, so Mike takes advantage of that. Mainly variations of her name like "Nessa", and he calls her ones he finds silly or funny. Like "Peanut" or "Munchkin." He does have a favorite though and ends up calling her "Little Lady" most often.

Much more comfortable with PDA/touching in general when she's little. Even if it's just small, subtle things like holding each other's pinkies or holding hands. It helps her feel safer to know that someone else is there like "Hey, I got you." And it helps both her and Mike open up more to each other by doing it.

the DNI banner credit goes to @geekgirl-33, I hope it's okay that I used it!

[wildemaven]

The Beginning: The Fight

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

W/C: 3333

Warnings: 18+; Mentions of food and alcohol, fluff, established relationship, language, sexual tension, mentions/allusions to sex but no actual description of the act, talk of anxiety and self doubt, a kiss of angst, happy ending, 2nd POV, non-descriptive reader, if I missed anything please let me know!

A/N: I’m so nervous for this because it felt like it was the first time I had ever written something and words were very hard. But it felt good to have these two together again. There were key points I wanted to have in this part to build up for the next part, so I’m really hope this doesn’t feel all over the place�� I read through it a few times and it seems to be where I want it to be but I’m always second guessing myself as always. I’m also making a point to find a song to go along with each piece, this one felt fitting.

Previous / Next / The Beginning Masterlist / Weekends Masterlist

Your nerves had a wonderful way of making you feel, well, nervous.

Standing in line as you slowly made your way up to the entrance of the building, hoping your brain would settle a bit before you saw him.

“Why do you look like you’re about to barf?” Hannah’s voice reminding you that you weren’t alone as you waited.

“Do I look that bad?!” Questioning your appearance and feeling like you might actually throw up now.

“You look fine babe! I’m just teasing you. But you definitely look nervous.”

“Well I am.” Looking down at your feet as the shuffle forward, inching you closer to the ticket handler.

“Why?”

“Because— All the guys are here tonight and — I don’t know, I just want to make a good impression.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

You all but snap your neck when you turn to look in her direction, brows pinched together in confusion and shock at her comment.

“You already know all the guys. Plus Frankie will be there. I think they know you well enough now that you don’t have to make a first impression again.”

“Ugh!” You throw your head back as your shoulders drop, knowing Hannah is actually giving you sage advice. “You’re right. I guess just being there as Frankie’s girlfriend and hoping things don’t get weird for him, just has me going all worst case scenarios. You know how I get.”

“Yeah, I do. But if Frankie didn’t want you here as his girlfriend, I don’t think you would even be wearing that title to begin with. He really likes you from what I’ve heard from you and briefly seen. He wants you here, in this space with his friends.”

“Thanks for talking me off the cliff!”

“Next!” The burly man ushers you both forward, tearing your tickets and stamping your hands.

Walking through the large metal doors, your immediately hit with the loud booming of the pre-fight hype music— it’s already drowning out your thoughts.

The lighting is dim, making it hard to scan through the crowd of fight goers as you try to spot Frankie and the guys.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit.” Hannah abruptly tells you.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Instantly you panic. She was supposed to be your wingwoman until you found the rest of the group, now she’s bailing on you first thing.

“Ummm, Benny said to meet him in the locker room before hand— He mentioned something about needing some good luck for his fight.” Her eyebrows dancing on the emphasis of “good luck”.

“Oh god Hannah! I don’t need to know what that actually means. I’ll see you in a bit and be safe!”

“Yes Mom!” She said over her shoulder as she makes her way to the locker room.

Taking a few deep breaths, you recenter yourself and proceed to make your way through the crowed space, hoping to spot a familiar face quickly.

You hadn’t seen Frankie since he’d stopped by the salon earlier in the week— only managing to chat or text here and there when you both had time. But you know the minute you see him you’ll feel more at ease.

You make your way closer to the fighting cage, side stepping and politely pushing your way through hoards of bodies. The floor sticky under your feet with spilt beer and soft drinks, every other step is met with a crunch of popcorn and peanuts. The air is hazy with the remnants of the faux smoke from the previous fight, slowly dissipating in preparation for the final fight of the evening as the event announcer gives the audience a 10 minute warning.

Relief washes over you the instant you spot Frankie. He’s near the front huddled together with Santi and Will, it seems to be an intense conversation between them.

Santi spots you first, tossing you a wave of welcome your way which triggers Frankie to turn in your direction.

His face lights up and you melt at the sight of the smile he gives you.

No greeting needed as he takes your face in his hands, his plush lips crash into yours molding so perfectly together.

Everything around you becoming a distant thought, feeling completely consumed by Frankie and the way he deepens the kiss, almost making you’re surrounded by hundreds of other people.

“Get a room you two!” A heckler, also known as Santi, yells out.

You can feel Frankie smiling as he shakes his head at the comment.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away. I-I just missed you and needed to kiss you immediately— definitely still one of my favorite things.”

“I wasn’t complaining. Although, our little audience was very supportive.” You tease pointing your chin over his shoulder towards Santi and Will.

“Yeah, got to love those assholes. You look beautiful by the way.” He says as he gives you a once over.

You were torn on what was appropriate to wear to this sort of thing, the pile of clothes on your bedroom floor to show for your plight of second guessing. You ended up settling on a nice middle ground— a black silk shift dress, a worn in jean jacket and your favorite slip-on doc martens.

“If you keep saying that, I might actually start believing it. And thank you.” He had you feeling like you were the only main event he was interested tonight and you only just arrived.

His large hands emphasize the sentiment as they smooth across your hips, his wanting touch evident and warm through the barely there fabric as it glides against your skin.

He leans in close, his breath hot as it fans against your ear, his grip tightening as pulls your body into his. “The things I want to do to you— you have know idea how much I want you right now.”

A small gasp echos through your parted lips. Serotonin washing away any anxieties you had about the evening, a surge in confidence runs through your body.

“The night is still young Morales.” You sigh, pulling back to really look at him. His irises blown out and his gaze fixed on yours.

“Fuck me…” His tone was rousing. An itch he so desperately needed to be scratched.

“Hmm, sounds like a plan.” Shooting him a wink before planting a kiss on his cheek.

“If you two honeymooners are done sucking face— Oof!” Santi’s pestering interrupted by a swat to the chest from Will. “Leave ‘em alone Pope.”

Frankie’s hand settles on your lower back as he guides you over to the guys. You exchange hugs with them and catch up on their lives since you’d last seen them.

“You know, normally we get the full fight experience and hang out with Benny in the locker room, but he said he wanted to try some good luck bullshit— whatever that means.”

You try to contain the the laugh that starts to bubble up. “Umm, his good luck bullshit walks on two legs and goes by Hannah. Who I came with tonight.”

The realization hits them all at the same time and they all decide how much shit they are going give Benny when they seem him afterwards.

Watching some one willingly get pummeled nonstop isn’t as adrenaline inducing as the small touches Frankie has been giving you.

The way his hand rests on your thigh majority of the night, the hem of your dress slightly raised allowing his thumb to draw small circles against your now exposed skin.

His lips grazing your ear when he leans into your space to explain the point system or pointing out signature moves Benny was known for.

A kiss to your temple when Benny got in a few good swings, to then be hit with his grip tightening on your leg if he took one too many punches— your mind noting how good his hands might feel in other ways.

You were buzzing with excitement and a deep hunger for Frankie, not sure how much longer you could curb your emotions.

Thankfully you didn’t have to wait much longer, the crowd coming to life with a mixture of boo’s and whistles as the fight came to a close.

Your group, now including a very excited Hannah, was elated at the announcement of Benny’s win— it was all high fives and shoulder slapping hugs between the guys, yelling at Benny to let him know how proud they were.

After Hannah let you know she was going to go congratulate Benny, you found yourself watching the Frankie, Santi and Will continue their celebration. You couldn’t help but admire the way they fit together like a close knit family.

You smile at the thought of this becoming your normal— a future where these men are a constant presence in your life. You picture backyard gatherings, holidays and even vacations with them.

And the minute you lock eyes with Frankie, you want it all with him. A place to call home, where you’ll both live out your dreams and face challenges that you’ll work through together. Late night conversations that aren’t over the phone but in bed wrapped in his arms where you feel close and safe.

You don’t even know if these are things Frankie wants, but you know a future with out Frankie in it isn’t one you want.

“Hey— you ok?” Frankie’s warm eyes filled with concern, confusing your blanked out stare with fear and anxiety.

“No— I mean… yeah I’m good, totally fine. Just watching you guys have your moment. It’s kinda cute how excited you all are.”

“It’s nice to see his hard work, and my weekly beatings, pay off—” You cut him off by pulling him in for a kiss, all desperate and wanton, his t-shirt bunched in your hands. You can feel his body settle into yours as you devour the tiniest moans his throat unleashes.

3 words were dancing at the tip of your tongue and you weren’t sure you could contain them any longer. You already knew your feelings for this man but you were terrified he’d find you coming on too strong this early on in your still new relationship.

“Alright you two lovebirds! We’re heading out!” Santi you’ve learned in this short amount of time, has the worst timing. “Guessing there’s going to be rain check for drinks tonight. Benny is already, celebrating…” Nodding towards Benny and Hannah heading back to the locker rooms. “And you two are seconds away from giving everyone a free show.”

“Fuck off Pope.” Frankie laughs as he pulls you in close, knowing Pope is just trying to rile him up.

Santi’s hands fly up in a sort of innocent defense, “Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it Hermano!” A shit eating grin spreads across his face as he gives a few pats to Frankie’s shoulders before heading out. Stopping a few feet away, making sure to get in one last comment, “If you don’t marry her asap, we’re gonna have words.” Then walking off to catch up with Will who’s already half way out the door.

“I just might.” Frankie says looking directly at you.

Your heart nearly bursts as he says it and you think he might have meant for the comment to stay in his thoughts, but the look he’s giving, his gaze all soft and loving like, you makes you feel like he definitely wanted you to hear it.

“Hmmm, and I might just say yes.” Your own thoughts coming out openly and you nearly melt at the sight of his dimple inducing smile.

“So my ride was Hannah and I think we both know she’s a little preoccupied now.”

“Is that your way of asking me to take you home?”

“I mean, I could just Uber myself a ride—Alone— To my house— Where I’ll probably go to bed— Alone.”

“Do I sense a touch of sarcasm? All you have to do is ask nicely and I could probably find it in my heart to give you a ride.” And now you love that he can be equally sarcastic right back to you.

“Well you know that, umm, comment you made earlier?” You sense him quickly replaying the evening, his Adam’s apple shifting as he tries to school his features at the realization of which comment you were referring to.

His stare becomes increasingly obvious and intense. An ounce of courage has you biting your bottom lip as you grab him by his belt loop to bring him in closer, your free hand pulling him by the back of the neck, his hair tickling your finger tips, your lips just barely ghosting his.

“I’d like that please!” Your voice breathy and warm, arousal permeating through your body like a fire burning beyond control.

“Ye-yeah! L-let’s get outta here.”

“My house is closer—“

The morning light is filtering through the sheer curtains of your bedroom window. It’s soft enough to make you aware of the time but not enough to make you feel like you need to get up.

Sheets are draped over your still naked form, the ache between your legs is a reminder of the blur that last night was…

The drive home was nearing illegal speeds as Frankie was trying to get to your house as quickly as possible. Your hand squeezing his thigh was doing little to help his not so little situation confined with in his already tight jeans.

Once you both managed to make it through the front door, it was a frenzied mess of toe-curling kisses and a haphazard attempt at removing each other’s clothes.

You felt drunk off the way he was able to pull orgasms from you the entire night.

Frankie took his time with you, slow and merciful, had you reeling in an unexpected bliss— this wasn’t some quick fuck egged on by new feelings.

He was without reserve making love to you in the most beautiful and delicate manner, you knew you couldn’t hold back how you were truly feeling much longer.

You both laid tangled in each other’s arms, bodies sated from what felt like hours of built up desire finally being released into the world.

Quiet had settled into the darkness of your room. You could hear Frankie’s breathing evening out as you traced small shapes with your fingers on his bare chest.

The sudden urge to share your thoughts started to overwhelm your mind.

Worry and past relationships still giving you doubts and fears, but you knew if you didn’t these thoughts would just fester and you would never know if he felt the same way.

“Frankie?” Your voice carries out just above a whisper.

He hums in response, slightly shifting his broad shoulders so he’s facing you, giving you his full attention— he’s even more handsome completely blissed out.

Releasing a heavy sigh as you take him all in, ready to fully bare your heart to him.

“I’m about to say something that is terrifying, but in the best way. And I totally understand if you, umm, don’t feel the same.“ You can feel your body start to tingle and your heart start racing. “I-I…shit! This went so much smoother in my head.”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.” His hand slowly begins to caress your arm, his way of letting you know he’s ready for whatever you need to tell him — an instant sense of calmness washes over you.

“I wanted to tell you earlier tonight, but then I got in my head and started to worry it was too fast to have these feelings I’m having. But that seems to be our thing, I mean you did kiss me after your hair appointment.”

He laughs at that, but doesn’t regret the pace at which your relationship has been developing, even if it has been rather quickly.

“Shit! Sorry— I feel like I’m rambling now.”

He leans over and kisses you— it’s not to shut up you, but more of a little nudge that he wants hear everything you have to say.

“Frankie, I’m in love with you.” You’re breathless as you take a leap, diving headfirst into a new dimension of optimism and fate.

You feel weightless— fully alive and feeling like you’ve been living for this moment your entire existence.

Before even get a chance to ask Frankie how he feels about your confession, you’re on your back as hovers over you.

“I’m so in love with you too, you have no idea.” He admits without hesitation. “I knew from that first moment when you gave me that gorgeous smile of yours. I’m so glad you feel the same way.”

You brush his tousled locks back from his handsome face, taking in all his features— memorizing the way he looks in this moment.

The air between you is charged with a certain degree of emotion. This new wave of desire— an appetite that is completely different than the beginning of the night.

You roll over seeking the warm body who’s arms you fell asleep in last night, to only be met with emptiness and cold sheets.

The feeling is ice cold running through your chest— nothing, nobody, alone.

Your throat feels dry and your chest is tight as you lay staring up at the ceiling— you’re numb.

Mind working overtime as you begin to spiral into a panicked state.

It was too soon. I shouldn’t have said it, I knew this was going to happen.

As your downfall begins to level out, you hear the sound of your door closing and footsteps nearing your room.

“Morning Beautiful! I grabbed the last of their croissants for us, almost had to fight off an old lady for them. Got you an oatmilk latte, figured you’d want the largest size since we had a—“ He’s standing there in yesterdays clothes, holding up a pastry bag and your coffee in his hands, a folded newspaper tucked under his arm and black reading glasses handing from the neck of his t-shirt. He looks so happy and relaxed so early in the morning.

You feel your eyes well up with tears— not sure really their reasoning anymore now that Frankie is here.

-Sniff-

His smile drops the instant he sees you shed a few tears. Deeply concerned that something is wrong, placing everything he’s holding on your nightstand as he sits on the edge of your bed.

“Hey, are you okay? Did something happen?” His thumb brushing your cheek, catching the few lingering tears.

You nod softly, the brief moment of sadness is gone as quickly as it came on. He’s here, he loves you and you want nothing more than to just enjoy this morning together.

“I’m fine. You just weren’t here and I thought you might have had second thoughts about us after last night. I panicked a little.”

He presses a soft kiss to your lips and then your forehead. His strong hand cradling your jaw as his thumb moves across your cheek bones, his movements velvety and undemanding.

“I meant what I said last night— every bit of it. I love you. And I am all in with you, with us. I want a future with you. Heck, I’d ask you to marry me tomorrow if it didn’t sound ridiculous.” The look of sincerity beaming from his eyes as his words pour over you like a warm breeze on summer night.

“Ask me!”

“What? I don’t have a ring or anything prepared to ask you.”

“I don’t care about a ring or some extravagant proposal. At the rate we’re going, following a traditional timeline isn’t really our thing.” You smile up at him, mirroring his own dimpled expression. You close the small distance between the two of you and peck his lips a few times. “Frankie, ask me.” Your lips moving against his as you speak.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes!!”

Next

[forestfrolickingfairy78]

Spring Support Bunny: Legend x reader part two, platonic

Contiuation of the first part! I'm not sure how long this is going to be, but I'm having fun writing this chaos. Here's the link to the first chapter in case you missed it!

Part Two starts here

My fork scratches quietly against the plate, dragging rice across into one pile, separating the peas from between and take small bites.

The silence between my mother and I thicken like a fog, carrying our conversation between meal times in the usual questions about school. Today their expectation is forcing me to apologise, but I can’t talk. I pick up my plate, slipping off my chair but the knife against my mother’s plate drops.

“The neighbour told us what happened today after school, you never learn your lesson, do you?” I keep in motion, turning my back but her voice carries more edge than before.

“Don’t turn your back on me.” I do what she says then, shrugging.

“I’m sorry, is that what you want? Its already done now. I need to finish my homework.” Usually this excuse works, but today it’s lost currency when I see her expression grow into nonchalance.

“I want that wild animal out of this house tomorrow morning, got it?” I don’t say anything, shoving the food inside the fridge, trying not to let my anger spill out into my movements. Why couldn’t there be any peace anywhere? I was trying my best at school to get through everyday quietly, but the silence at home was only a reminder of everything that we lost. Couldn’t I just have one good thing? Berry seemed like a miracle to me in that way.

“Great, so you won’t even eat everything I made? A waste, such a waste again like this morning when I tossed out all your tea.” She makes it a point to nit-pick everything. The plate was still there, I couldn’t force myself to eat through an anxious appetite.

“I didn’t throw it out.”

“And its going to be there for the next few days until it goes bad. Don’t think I don’t know you.” Maybe years ago she did, when I was younger. When dad was here and we were all together but after he left, pieces of us started to chip away. I don’t speak, shutting the door to my room and sink to the floor watching Berry quietly slip into the corner. She’s so funny, as if her default expression was this constant, pulled frown but how could I blame her? I tilt my head, leaning forward and feel a small smile pull at my face.

“Oh well, you look the way I feel right now. I wish I could just run away from here you know? Maybe we should both do that, whaddya think?” She turns away, munching on the berries I have, almost finished.

“I miss when my mum and I used to get along…and when everything wasn’t so shit you know.” It feels like I’m part journaling part talking to her, even though she doesn’t understand me, still. Having someone there felt so much better than being stuck inside this room.

“My mum said I have to get rid of you tomorrow, as if that’s ever gonna happen.” I keep watching her, wondering where she must come from and pull out my phone, googling pink bunnies. The only things that come up are animations, but nothing from her colouring. I consider myself lucky, reaching out to pet her head but she bounces back, almost biting my finger before I pull it back, abruptly.

“Okay, still no touching. Understood.” She pulls another face, eyeing me, less cautious and more annoyed. Not sure how long it’s going to take for us to actually build a relationship.

“That’s okay, I don’t really like hugs either to be honest. I mean I miss the ones my dad gave but he’s gone now.” Four years went slowly, first he left then my friend. I’d realised a lot of the parts of myself that had gone were taken because of the people I loved. Now my chest ached with that longing.

“Really? That’s a surprise considering you didn’t leave me the hell alone back there.” My limbs stiffen, slowly looking around my room for the voice. I turn towards Berry- the bunny, eyes widened with shock. She-he crosses his arms defiantly before letting them down.

“Berry…did you just talk to me?” I whisper, looking over my shoulder more cautious of the door bursting open any moment.

“Wait, you heard that? sheesh, this whole time I kept my mouth shut because I thought I lost speech.”

Slowly, I back away to the wall, arms flattened against the surface, staring at Berry- the pink bunny. I’m frozen, watching him near towards me, now realising the human like expressions in his eyes.

“S-stay away from me.” I stutter.

“Oh so now you think its weird that I’m talking? Not the fact that I’M PINK?” He keeps approaching me but I slip away to the side, trying to avoid him until we’re locked into a permanent stalemate as I hop onto the bed, grabbing a plastic, elongated sword and point it towards bunny.

Bunny etches his mouth into somewhat of a smirk, rolling his eyes.

“Oh please, you really think you stand a chance against me with that? I’ve slayed dragons and monsters. I’m the wielder of the Master Sword. I fear nothing.” My hand still shakes as I hold the sword, but to be honest there’s something undeniably admirable about his confidence despite holding such a small stature.

“Umm, let’s try talk this out then. What do you want, more berries? I’ll give you anything.” Bunny tosses his head back, shaking his head and then climbs onto the bed, making me step back and stumble over, losing my balance as I crash into the wall.

Ow ow!

“Well that’s what you get for underestimating me.” He says, now inches away from my face, but it stings. Even for a small bunny his words hurt. My eyes sting, threatening to spill tears.

“Are you crying? Again?” His voice carries a slight sympathy, but maybe it’s just me. I couldn’t help it.

“Okay…sorry. Don’t cry alright? I’m not going to hurt you. Not yet anyway.” I wipe my eyes against my sleeve, trying to stop them.

“Sorry, I know it’s terrible.”

“Pffft, Yea? You cried in the garden when you took me, you cried in the parking lot and now you’re crying again. Control yourself.”

 Bunny’s tone stings, but he’s right. I couldn’t keep going on like this all the time. He sighs, leaping up onto my lap and faces me.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s bad.”

“Stop apologising too, it’s annoying. Do you always apologise to everyone?”

“Why are you being so mean? I…I didn’t expect someone so cute to be so harsh.” The word makes his lips curl in disgust, shaking his head.

“Cute?”

“Well, you’re pink-“

“Don’t. Shut up. Don’t mention it.” His voice lowers, anger laced through his words.

“Well what happened? Did you fall into a bucket of pink paint?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m a hero and my name is Link!”

[rinamars]

I always wondered what fics do my favorite authors read bc maybe if I start reading them too, I'll be able to write like them 😤 Kidding aside, can you recommend some Erwin x Reader fics that you really like/inspire you to write? I'm fine with on-going ones 🤩

little anon i could KISS you!! i've been looking for an excuse to make an erwin fic recs post so here we go *cracks knuckles* brace yourselves heheh (warning: most of these recs are 18+)

first of all: everything @riewritten has ever written. EVERYTHING. that goes without saying. her brain is so big. i wish i could take a trip inside her mind. rie ily

this is a story of the sea by shinzouing is a canonverse eruri x reader fic, where the three enter a relationship (or rather, erwin enters a relationship with both of them. levi and reader are idiots at first. the pining is so delicious though). where do i even begin to talk about this masterpiece? it broke me. it seriously broke me. i'm just going to say that the universe she has created in this story (as well as in the sequel which i'm going to talk about in a sec) feels so real and so right that when i finished it i needed a minute to remind myself what details that are ACTUALLY canon and what aren't. peak writing i swear. heartbreaking, but worth it.

after tiasots has broken your heart, go read beyond the sea by the same author and let it piece it back together!! it's currently being posted, and it's basically the continuation of tiasots BUT erwin survives at shiganshina (unlike in tiasots). again, same thing: peak writing, and a little universe it's sooo easy to get lost in. this story will end up living rent free in your mind, trust me.

aaand also set in the tiasots universe is certain obscure things!! it's three chapters, and in each of them they take turns between being dominant or submissive. this is smut that goes a lot harder than what you can find in tiasots but everything shinzouing writes is pure gold

to complete the eruri x reader category (aka the fics that made me go "i think i might be into the concept of throuples") there's two lovers by feelingthorny. it's also set in canonverse. erwin and levi are in an established relationship, one day they invite reader into their bed, and... Big Feelings ensue. i have another fic by feelingthorny by recommend, and oh man, she truly has a way of writing emotions that is so evocative and poetic, it truly drags you into the moment and you are able to feel exactly what they are feeling, they're so immersive. the smut parts literally drip with body worship, it's insane. beautiful.

the other fic by feelingthorny i HAVE to mention is close call. this one is pwp, but FUCK this erwin is SO DREAMY. and, as one might tell, the writing is just marvelous.

next, i recommend every! single! fic! that belongs to the to build a home series by nylondreams. the romance, the intimacy, the tenderness... ahh, they're so lovely to read. and *cough* the first fic in the series gave me a breeding kink *cough*

more recommendations in the "horny fics that also made me fall in love even more" category: e major, uncorked and treasured memories, all by whatsherquirk. delicious. that's all i'm going to say.

prying eyes by SecretsOfHarprocrates is in my opinion a depiction of erwin that's very close to how he'd behave in canon (if canon included sexy times)

four christmases by ghost_party was !!! ok i don't really know what to say about this one because it's been a while since i read it, but you have to trust me and check it out!!

i think that's all for now, i hope i haven't forgotten anything (if i have i'll just reblog this post and add more). happy reading <3

now PLEASE give me an excuse to make an eruri fic recs post (or even a levi one)

[empressxmachina]

"Innocent Guilt" by me | (Also on DA)

Fam. Y'all. Chat. Dawg. I shouldn't have gone here and gotten this far because my focus has been cooked because of it. But I've been led down a lovely path of some top-tier playthroughs, dubs, parodies, stage plays, musicals, and the cursed world of the fan works from Objection.lol and elsewhere, including the few from this hyper-specific corner of the internet that I know exist. 😉

So, what's this visual about? Well, the law is already complex with corruption and general crime, and what better societal conflict to emphasize the drama of it all than size differences!?

(A bunch of context and the stock references are under the cut.)

Prior World building:

Let's just say that... after some time of the smaller souls slowly climbing the societal ranks to fully equal/equitable rights, respect, and treatment, someone somewhere said, "Fuck that," and all the small souls are suddenly dehumanized if not eradicated for being inferior.

Phoenix, while actually having a solid circle of peers, disappears, with said circle fearing the worst of him. He, at his lowest, somehow ends up by Miles, who takes him in.

I do think that shifting sizes is possible in this tale, but I didn't apply that for these two.

Of course, it's not all calm, and them learning about and dealing with each other, their pasts, present desires, and future outlooks is puzzling. It's a game of debates and mysteries; we love Discourse™.

I'm intrigued by a system where the smaller folks can be "protected" by being bound under some tall soul's "ownership," like a pet, with Miles considering convincing Phoenix to apply for it under him for his safety and Phoenix denying it every time... until he may have to or feign it, such as...

What I had in mind with this scene itself:

Miles insisted on Phoenix's expertise and views being useful for a case as part of an investigation. Phoenix is (physically) brought in his classic suit to remind others of his once-renowned history and skill. Yet, despite him being truly useful as Miles imagined he'd be, he's not taken seriously by anyone else. Perhaps the defense attorney got in a literal mess, needing to be bathed away in this moment, and here's they are in his regal mansion, discussing all that occurred in that tumultuous day, all going on a roller coaster of feels:

the case as a whole (with an updated case/autopsy report, of course),

what society deems fair and false,

past mistakes made,

the shared disappointment of and the later reassuring each other of their mutual value,

etc.

It could also be a scenario ending in the same vein but starting with Phoenix going off on his own for some time, fighting hubris to remind himself that he's a person, just to come back distraught and be brought back to a harsh reality.

Obviously, a bitty bathtub couldn't be provided, despite Miles' big bank account, because in this broken society, that would publicly imply that Miles has a pet petite person, and anything bad that could be point to Phoenix, regarding his whereabouts or social status, is, well, bad for all involved!

Nor did he already have one because he wasn't very social enough to invite all sorts of people, let alone anyone, over until recently.

Do they and the powers of friendship and love win in the end for redeemed rights? Find out on the next episode of the Steel Samurai! Imagine what you want, but I like a happy ending!

All of this aside, while I know this could've been made better (especially with shadows because I just can't be bothered), I'm proud of myself for getting this far!

Though, I will say, I don't think I'd ever be pleased with Miles' hair bangs/fringe. The original media have quality character design and are a lewk, but, likely due to his form being cropped, I couldn't angle or visualize the best angle for the hair bits. I hope that they were at least recognizable enough to detect that he was him, disregarding the hard carrying the classic suit and the jabot/cravat do.

The same goes for Phoenix, his suit, and his Sonic the Hedgehog hair, but that came out more rationally to me. particularly the latter if he's implied to be washing it.

How about these "unnecessary... feelings?"

Sketchbook Pro

vignette

"Whisky on a Glass Cup" - Photo by cottonbro studio from Pexels

"Coffee cup" - Photo by lifeforstock on Freepik

"A Shirtless Man Looking at a Bathroom Mirror" - Photo by Eren Li on Pexels

"Person Sitting on Window Sill While Holding Wine Glass" - Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels

"man, ..., moody, ..., emo" - Photo on PxHere

"Red necktie with blurred background" - Photo by and on Freepik

"suit, hanging, jacket, covering, garment, clothing, fashion, retro, urban, brick" - Photo by Marko Milivojevic on Pixnio

"Gold and White Chandelier Near Gray Curtains" - Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels

"texture, pattern, red, pink, cloth, ..." - Photo on PxHere

"Round Golden Badge" - Photo by tasper on Openclipart

"Kraft Paper A4/C4 size String and Black Washer Envelope Mockup on light grey background. High resolution." - Photo by PrimeMockup on Adobe Stock

Circa October 2024... Yes, really. Happy Unnecessary Feelings Day! (That wasn't planned, but sometimes things work out.)

It's fresh because I had to tell somebody about this ASAP, or I'd crash out, thus I moved it up the queue. I'm not the only one who sees the vision, right? This vision is surely one to be vast and expanded, right!?

You don't have to tell me that I should just write a story. Yes, I should, but I can barely commit to anything that isn't a one-off. A girl is busy.

If you know my history, this is likely going to become a collection for which I'm going to need some pun name. (Or, I could just call this "Ace Attorney Fanaticism" like with my X-Files trilogy, but that's boring.)

Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth, Ace Attorney, and related characters/themes © CAPCOM.

There's a bit of me that wanted to give this picture some "Turnabout" title, but I can't think of a good one. Do y'all have any ideas?

Where is AA7, for crying out loud!?

[unidentifiedprimate]

Actually I'm not done.

Telling a Story Through Touch Part 3 - Conclusion

Something kept bothering me.

This

is after the turning point. But when Herbert goes to touch Dan, something stops him. I told myself it was just residual hesitation. They're not fully there yet. Herbert's not entirely comfortable with his former level of physical affection.

But it kept nagging at me. Because after the "Let me", after the shoulder touch, after the hand grab... Herbert SHOULD be able to touch Dan here. But he can't. Why?

It's because of this:

When Francesca comes into the house and confronts Dan, she breaks the spell.

I'm going to go off on a Dan tangent for a bit, so bear with me.

Dan is such a complicated person. I see him as growing up in a happy nuclear family, popular in school, always following the rules and being a Good Boy. He dates the right girls. He wants to become a doctor.

He's NORMAL.

But inside, there's this part of him that he has always suppressed. He's kind and caring, yes, but to the point of obsession. He's a nice guy, but he has a rage that slips out when he's stressed. He wants to help people, but he'll go far past the point of what is sensible in order to do it.

The first time he meets Herbert, he sees him tear into a highly respected doctor who should have power over Herbert by controlling his grades. But Herbert doesn't care about Hill's status or his authority. He is utterly fearless, brash, and rude. Dan has never been any of those things. He's shocked, but I think he's also impressed. He envies Herbert's total self-confidence.

And then Herbert moves in with Dan, and ultimately presents him with the most astounding display of genius and arrogance that he's ever seen. Herbert West is so daring, so sure of his abilities, that he's going to defeat Death itself.

And Dan is hooked. This work scratches an itch he didn't even realize he had.

But he still thinks of himself as a Normal Guy. And throughout both movies, he clings to this idea that he hasn't changed. Herbert is the weird one, even though Dan is right beside him every step of the way.

In Bride, I see Dan as completely compartmentalizing two versions of himself: Normal Dan, who exists outside of the house, and Weird Dan, who only comes out at home in the basement with Herbert. When he's at the hospital or grocery shopping or doing anything else outside in the world, he doesn't think of himself as the passionate scientist fighting against Death by whatever means necessary. He is so far removed from that side of himself that he doesn't even realize that inviting Francesca to dinner at his house means that she would come to his HOUSE, where he LIVES WITH HERBERT and does HORRIFYING UNETHICAL EXPERIMENTS. It doesn't occur to him. Normal guys invite girls over. And Dan is a Normal Guy.

(Dan: Oh. Oops.)

Even at home, he will bring that idea of himself inside - enough to feel repulsed by what he's doing and tell Herbert he's going to leave. But as soon as Herbert reminds him of the magnitude of the work, he's back. It's like a switch is flipped, and the obsessive, driven, weirdo Dan comes back out.

Normal Dan: I am charming and kind.

Weird Dan: Hell yes let's build a new Meg out of stolen body parts.

But Dan has been fighting that side. He keeps trying to hold onto his clean image of himself, and stop himself from falling headlong into the role that Herbert wants him to fill. It's Weird Dan that Herbert needs (that he loves). Normal Dan is useless to him, and kind of hates him. Weird Dan is the Dan that Herbert saw and drew out. The one who can be a real partner to him. His Dan.

When Dan grabs his arm and says "Let me," Herbert knows that that Dan is back in charge. And that's when he's comfortable enough to touch him again.

But then Francesca comes. And she forces him to confront the realities he has been pushing away.

Francesca fighting the Bride is really like a fight between Dan's two sides; Francesca represents a normal life, and the Bride (of course) represents a life with Herbert.

And Francesca is winning. Normal Dan is resurfacing, and he doesn't like what he helped create.

And that's what stops Herbert when he reaches out. That's not his Dan anymore.

When Dan fully rejects the Bride, Herbert tries to salvage it.

Forget it. She's nothing. It means nothing. We'll start again. We'll do it better. It'll be better. (I'll be better.)

But it's over. At the end of Re-Animator when Herbert is in trouble, Dan reaches for him. Even with Meg there, Dan reaches out to Herbert.

But at the end of Bride, he barely even looks at Herbert. He's made a choice. And when he reaches down into the earth, he's reaching for Francesca. He pulls her out, and he lets Herbert get buried. Along with all their work - their life - together.

[periwinkla]

You know, whenever I need to lift my spirits, I like to remind myself that I actually almost lost an eye once. And there are few things worse than that for me I reckon- I mean, I guess losing both eyes would be a bit worse, but yeah. Basically: During my very first year of art school, I accidentally punched myself in the eye with an umbrella. Yeah.... right into the eye socket. I had just gotten to an event at art school (a watercolor workshop - would love to give a review, but alas I didn't end up attending), and I was sitting down and putting everything back in my bag. It had been drizzling, just a bit, so I had my umbrella to put back. And well... You know those push-the-button-to-open umbrellas? The ones who shoot up right as you push the button??? Yeah. Accidentally pushed the button as I was putting it back. It shot up. Punched me right into my left eye. And you know, I'm bizarre like that, and didn't emit a sound, I was just kinda. shocked. As I got my bearings, I just left the workshop room and went to the bathroom to assess the damage. I think literally no one noticed. Anyway, I couldn't open my eye very well... and I could only see white, like, completely white. Nothing else. Anyway, eventually I went to ask for help to the receptionist, and later a few of my coursemates eventually noticed, and also one of my professors, which seeing me bawling desperately at the idea of never being able to draw anything ever again, had the brilliance to remind me that 'there are one-eyed artists too, don't worry!' and then 'Also, for future reference, please remember to put your hand on top, like champagne bottles, ya know?' ...I'm not even joking. I mean he meant well, that earned a chuckle even - I have a weird sense of humor and he knew. I think I went through all stages of grief at that moment, although very out of order. First shock, then complete desperation, then anger at myself, and suddenly denial mixed with bargaining and I was like 'yea it's no big deal, I'll just go back home in a bit, no one has to know, my eye doesn't need to know either for that matter, it'll get better this is just a bad dream perhaps and I am being overdramatic'.

Well, the thing is, no matter how much you delude yourself, if you suddenly can't see, you can't very well exit a building and go back home like it's nothing, especially if your home is 2ish hours away... Even if it was just one eye, I wasn't able to open the other one very well, because of the pain. Also, even with the very little bit I could get open before it shot back closed on its own accord, I couldn't see well with the 'good' eye either. Anyway, at some point I realized I had to necessarily phone home, so that my mother could come and get me to my eye doctor (I had one because I had worn glasses till the year before when I got eye surgery). My doctor was miraculously in the area (he has multiple offices so thank the lord he was in that particular area). Tbh I have no idea what hour it was, on account of the fact I couldn't see and check the time, I only know it got to the evening (the event was in the afternoon). My doctor, my savior bless his soul, received us at the office at his apartment (I think it wasn't even a work day for him, but I dunno) checked the eye, gave me medicine right there on the spot, gave me other stuff for me to take at home and told me to let him know how I would be doing until a checkup we scheduled. At the checkup a few days after, he told me my eye looked greenish when he examined it the first time (tbh he didn’t appear to be worried about that fact but to be fair I couldn’t see so I can’t assess his bluffing skills to well) but he didn't tell me because he knew I would panic. Good call, he knows me too well. Anyway that very evening/night I was already doing much better. Not perfect, still had a white haze, but the pain had mostly subsided (suppose it was the medicine he gave me) and could do with at least the good eye open. It was good enough that I distinctly remember playing Pokémon UltraSun to distract myself and doing the wormhole minigame (I swear I remember the most useless facts about that day like it was yesterday). Couldn’t read a thing though. The day after, I was drawing again, my eyesight had gotten mostly alright and I just had some difficulty opening it completely on account of the black eye I got (it was. a very very black eye. goth makeup levels. A few days later, a classmate joked saying ‘you could say you got into a fist fight!’ ...I mean I kinda did. With an umbrella though. And the opponent wasn’t the umbrella really but my carelessness.) Anyway....point is… When you almost disable yourself for life of the organ you most care about because you're a careless dum-dum it puts things into perspective. I mean... I need to count my blessings, let’s be honest. If my doctor hadn't been in the area that day, I most certainly would be partially blind today/have very bad eyesight. I haven't owned any push-the-button umbrellas since then. Just to be safe, you know. As for champagne bottles, I don't drink, so there's no risk. Thanks for the warning though, teach. Moral of the story: Don't use push-the-button umbrellas.

[psalacanthea]

Fanfic Friday- 5/3

The poll decreed I must pull out something ridiculously self-indulgent I wrote for myself, so here you go!

Astarion x Tav if they'd met before he was a vampire spawn, and she had an oopsie baby after he disappeared.

Post-canon, trying to build a home in a ruined Drow city in the Underdark while dealing with two separate families- mortal and vampire.

This is NOT kidfic (all children involved are full adults, lol), but rather them reconnecting after she was bullied by their daughter to help kill Cazador so her father could finally be free.

10kish words, SFW. (lmk if u think i should put this on AO3)

Much like the rest of their unnamed city, deep in the bowels of the Underdark, Astarion’s study slash meeting hall was half-ruined, empty, and lacking in livable touches.

He hated it.

Still, they were ostensibly safe, and at least for the moment he had some company to complain at.

“And then– you’ll never believe this– Octavia said that it was Rydell who had insulted the Drow ambassador, and worse still, Dalyria defended her.  Everyone knows it was Octavia.  She’s not subtle!  It’ll be a wonder if they ever speak to us again.”

“The amount of drama a bunch of vampire spawn can get up to is rather impressive,”  Lilithera said, voice just a tiny bit distracted.  It usually was.  She spent far too much time working, something he’d have to talk to Zynatheri about.  “Did it cause problems with the negotiations?”

“No,” Astarion sighed, grateful that wasn’t a problem, at least.  “Luckily the myconids standing guard kept things civil.  It was a spot of brilliance suggesting a bit of– what did you call it?”

“Mmmmmmh, symbiosis?”

“Yes, that.  Darling, what in the Hells are you doing that has you so distracted?”

“Sorry, father,” she said, chagrined, voice echoing out of the scrying orb awkwardly as she moved away from her half of the enchanted relic she'd installed for him.  “I’ve been buried in that stack of books you had mother bring me– the cyphered necromancer’s journals you unearthed in the grand crypt?  I don’t know if there’s going to be anything helpful in them, but they’re still fascinating to translate.”

Anything but that.  Ugh.  It was his fault for feeding the wizard’s curiosity, he supposed.  “Your mother would kill me if you turned to necromancy, love.  Especially Drow necromancy.  You need to get out more. Get some sun.”

Lilithera laughed, an edge of sarcasm sharpening it.  “The irony of being told that by my undead father is not lost on me.  I’m trying to help you get out more.  I was invited to a Liar’s Night party, though.  I haven’t been to Waterdeep in an age, I was considering it.  Mother said she’d look after the twins.”

Waterdeep?

Oh no.  “Who invited you, exactly?”

“Archmage Dek–”

“Absolutely not!  Gale?!  Stay the Hells away from that man!”

Zynatheri was going to murder him.  Quite honestly he would let her, rather than being subjected to the idea of being Gale’s father in law.  Oh gods, just thinking those words made him want to vomit.  No, no, absolutely not.

Whatever was going on between Lily and Gale, as her parents they had a duty to utterly sabotage it.

“Father, he’s a colleague!  You and mum are utterly unreasonable.  I’m a hundred and ninety three years old, a widow, and a mother of four, need I remind you.”

“Mmh,” he muttered with an annoyed purse of his lips, trying to think up an actual, valid argument.  She was always so reasonable and logical, it could be frustrating at times.  She certainly hadn’t gotten that from him or Zynatheri. 

“What is your problem with Gale, anyways?”

“He’s my friend, darling, it feels…wrong.  Plus his romantic history is absolutely horrifying, let me tell you.  Who would want that for their daughter?”

Who would want the possibility of having Dekarios grandchildren?

Disgusting.

“I don’t think the man that got my mother pregnant and then disappeared has any right to judge me.  Speaking of, is mum there yet?  She should be arriving soon, shouldn’t she?”

“Who knows with that woman.  She’s worse than a stray cat,”  Astarion dismissed, despite wondering as much himself.  He was still feeling irritated over their argument last time she’d come by, and the fact that she’d gone and disappeared after it– he didn’t particularly mind disagreeing with her, but she always ran away afterward.  It was getting frustrating.  “How the Hells do you keep her from running off?”

“Oh, I stopped trying years ago.  Are you saying…you don’t want her running off?”  there was a sly, cunning little note to Lilithera’s voice.  That she had gotten from him.  Devious brat.

“I’m saying she showed up in my life, saved said life, dropped an entire family in my lap, and then went prancing off into the sunset.  Now she only reappears to do incredibly helpful things, and then briefly infuriate me before disappearing!  It’s very confusing.”

“Imagine having her for a mother.  Have you tried thinking up a reason for her to stay?  A task you might need her help with?  She might be fickle but she always keeps her word, you know.  Or are you too busy pouting and refusing to actually be the one to blink first?”

He rose from his seat, tossing aside the endless piles of reports.  The warming bottle Gale had enchanted for him was only half-full, but that was the state of things right now.  Food was in very short supply, especially with how the idiots kept losing their self-control and stealing from the rothe herd.  And actual thinking food?  

Nothing more than a daydream.

Still, at least he was eating in a more…civilized manner these days.

Pouring blood from bottle into glass, he raised his voice.  “No matter what I say, you’re going to twist it around in that pretty little head of yours until you’ve convinced yourself we’re pining after one another.  She’s a maddening, smug, evil little wretch and just because she confuses me doesn’t mean I’m desperate to learn all her secrets.”

“You’d never know if she were pining after you, anyways.”

Astarion glanced back over his shoulder at the scrying orb, raising his eyebrows.  “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“Father, she knows what you’ve been through.  Mother would never make the first move, she’s far too respectful for that; she doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.  She told me as much last time I badgered her about you.”

“You really are a meddlesome little pest, aren’t you, darling?”

There was laughter in her voice.  “It’s a family trait.  When I was a child, before she discovered what had happened to you, I hated you.  I was happy you were gone.  Now that I know you and understand…well, you’re probably the only person I know of that could put up with her.  And vice versa.”

“Stop meddling, love.  You’re too pretty to fret over such things, you’ll give yourself wrinkles.”

“You’re only saying that because everyone says I look like you.  I should go, I’m having dinner with Portia.”

“Tell the girl I say hello.”

“You’re going to have to get used to the word ‘grandfather’ sooner or later.”

Astarion grimaced, glancing out the window.  “No thank you.”

“Ilethra’s getting married.  You might be a great-grandfather before you know it.”

He scowled out at the fungus-lit cavern beyond, spite and annoyance simmering.  How dare she make him feel old like that?  “You’re no longer my favorite.  Why did you have to marry a human?  At least if your children were elven we’d have more time.”

“If you want another full elven child, I suggest you make one yourself.  Ta, father.  I love you.”

By the time the words sank in past his surprise, the spell had long since been banished, the scrying orb dark.  Still, he glanced over his shoulder, gazing at it as an unfamiliar, but welcome warmth rose within him.  She said it so easily, and so earnestly.  

He had someone who loved him.

Of course he put his best foot forward with her most of the time, but Lilithera wasn’t a child.  She was a fully grown woman, and an intelligent and discerning one at that.  He hadn’t tricked her into saying it.

She really, truly meant it.

He wondered if she still would if she knew everything he’d done.

Still, there was no point dwelling on it.  Not when he was neck-deep in shit without a shovel in sight.  Why he’d thought two centuries of in-fighting and petty conflict could be banished all at once, he didn’t know, but when they weren’t demanding he provide all the answers, his siblings spent all of their time arguing.

They’d lost a good thousand of their people already to death and decampment, which he couldn’t say he felt too badly about.  Less mouths to feed, at least.  But the others were panicking, worried about the ill-will those that left could be garnering.  As much as he hated to agree, they might be right.

Petras was trying to convince him to hire assassins to hunt them down.

As if they had the money for that.

Hells, they’d barely stopped traveling, and half of them were sleeping the days away in holes in the ground.  Hardly a safe situation.  That was why allying with the myconids had been a spot of brilliance.  Still a tenuous alliance, but they were working on it.  The Sovereign trusted Zynatheri at least; which would be more useful if the damnable woman would stay.  Now, if only they could forge an alliance with the nearby Drow, instead of having to fear they’d be turned on at a moment’s notice…

He really needed someone to talk to about all of this that wasn’t a vampire themselves.

Just to clear his mind, if nothing else.

Unfortunately, it took a full fortnight for the cat to come back.

“Poppy!  Lysander!”

Why were all her bloody family members so tall?!

Zyn’s fault, entirely.  If she wanted a child, she should have found another drow, but no– no, she’d gone and had a daughter with a high elf.  And then, even worse, her daughter had gone and had children with an even taller human!  It wasn’t fair, that’s what it was.  She was tempted to polymorph herself just to keep up, but after they’d gotten into a scrabble with cloakers earlier, Zyn was feeling a bit low on spellpower.

The twins, of course, were in fine spirits, galumphing along like colts.

“Come on, little mum!” Poppy called back, standing at the top of a narrow cliffside path.  It needed widening.  Some masonry, supports, and a retaining wall, at least.

She knew Astarion had other priorities, but having a good route to the city would be important.  Sadly, she knew as much about road-building as she knew about city planning.  Nil.

“I need you two to hold back!  We can’t enter the city without an escort, you know this!”

The pair paused at the cusp of the hill, but their backs were to Zyn.  She took the incline herself with ill grace, very, very ready to be off of her feet.  She despised the Underdark.  Zyn couldn’t believe in the past year she’d been down here almost a dozen times.  The things one did for family.

Lilithera kept thinking up reasons she needed Zyn to come down.

The girl couldn’t be more obviously trying to herd her parents into a relationship if they tried.

Zynatheri felt…pleasantly surprised by Astarion.  Over the years she’d had nothing at all to do with him after locating him.  And what Lilithera had told her from her scrying wasn’t enough to make any judgments about what he was going through, not enough to know his attitude about his unlife.  When he’d been kidnapped, Lilithera had immediately begged her to find him and protect him, and she’d done her best.

But her expectations of a man who had been tortured and a vampire for two hundred years were very, very low.

So to find him more like the young man she barely remembered than expected was a shock.  Oh, he was more confident now, much more traumatized, and far more worldly and mature, but there was still something of that ambitious, fussy, self-absorbed spoiled brat she’d liked so much in him.  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t gotten more bitter and nasty over the years, herself.

Life did that even if you weren’t being abused by a vampire.

Zyn finally reached the top of the hill, ignoring the worried look and gracefully extended hand Lysander offered down her.  He was a sweet boy, but spent far too much time worrying.  It made her feel old.

“Darling, I’m barely even three hundred,” she told him, not bothering to hide the exasperation.  “Before long, you’re going to be older than me!”

“That isn’t how it works, little mum,” Poppy said with a roll of her eyes.

The twins couldn’t be more different and yet oddly alike– they both were the most curiously sensitive and caring children she’d ever met, but with a morbid streak a mile wide.  But while Lysander turned it inward, with dreamy eyes and a worrying penchant for poetry, Poppy turned it outward, with a ferocity of purpose and a helping hand that preferred to hold an axe.  And yet, there had never been two siblings as close-knit as they were.

When Lysander had asked to meet their grandfather, it hadn’t even been a question that Poppy would come along.

Besides, she needed more combat experience.

Together they stood on that precipice, attention naturally drawn to the ruin below them.  An ancient drow city, where her mother’s own people had been driven out generations ago in a conflict with the Houses of Menzoberranzan.  It looked…better than she recalled from last time, some signs of repairs beginning.  Clumsy repairs, mind, but between the vampires’ awkward attempts at masonry and the myconids’ aid in the form of natural fungal structures, it was beginning to look livable.

The multicolored mushrooms glowing against the surface of the ancient, slick black, spiky architecture was a surprisingly pleasant contrast.

“This was once called Arzullnioth.  It’s where your great-grandmother’s family lived long before the Spellplague.  The Houses of Arzullnioth attacked Menzoberranzan.  It did not go well,”  Zynatheri commented, starting to lead the way down the slope.  “Llolth chose Menzoberranzan, but your great-grandmother’s House was spared her wrath because they sacrificed every first-born daughter to her in a desperate placation.  They killed and killed until Lolth bid them stop, with only a single heir left– your great-great grandmother Kiivashti.  Thus, they were allowed to flee the city with what remained of House Tzahane.  My mother told me of it when I was a girl.” “That’s vicious,”  Poppy said disapprovingly, short raven curls bouncing as she shook her head.

“It’s very beautifully sad,” Lysander agreed, amber-and-earth eyes gazing over the cityscape with misty wonder, as if viewing its past.  “Did grandfather find their bodies?”

“Well, I don’t know, pet,”  Zynatheri said, too well-used to fatalistic minds to be bothered by it.  “We can look.  Perhaps they’ve found some clues that would point us to where great-grandmother’s family put their dead.”

“Honestly, little mum, I can see why you don’t like your family,” Poppy said with distaste.  “Killing all your own children; how evil.”

They walked together down the uneven slope of stone, the remnants of an ancient roadway more visible now.  The gate and wall that had closed out the great cavern of Arzullnioth were crumbled, damaged, but it seemed there were sentry myconids patiently standing in the gap where the city’s entrance had been.  Proper guards.  It was good to see.

The Sovereign Vorm had been busy at work budding, it seemed.

“Flower, we are walking into a city full of vampires, so try not to be too enthusiastic about calling things evil?”

“There’s a difference.  I’m not a child any more, I understand,”  Poppy huffed, rolling her eyes.  “The person who is evil is the one who turned them all.  And he’s dead.”

“Righteousness has done just as much wrong, if not more, than those they claim are evil,” Lysander agreed, softly sad.

Zyn fought the urge to scoff at youthful philosophy.  It was fine.  It was a luxury they had which meant they’d been raised safely and well, she had to remind herself, which was exactly what she’d sacrificed so much for.  So that they didn’t end up like her.

The idea softened her momentary exasperation, warming it.

“Ah, I did such a good job raising you,” Zyn self-congratulated, ignoring the pair rolling their eyes at each other behind her.

“Mum had something to do with that, little mum.”

“Well, hells, I raised her, too!”

As they approached the gate, it became clear that the city was still very quiet, only the fungal folk wandering the broken streets.  Shit.  She’d meant to arrive well after nightfall, but it seemed they were still a bit early.  While they took a pause just outside at the shrine of Beshaba Zyn had built, they all did their perfunctory offerings, and then she bid them wait.

“We shouldn’t go in until your grandfather sends someone to fetch us,” Zyn said apologetically.  “Stay right here, I’ll go speak to the guards.”

While she dealt with communicating the fact that she needed Astarion to fetch them, Zyn watched the city streets.  She could see a few shadowy figures out now, which meant it was probably just past nightfall.  Yes, better not to parade the children through the streets in front of a bunch of barely-awake, hungry vampires– that was a recipe for disaster.  

After she got her point across and managed to extricate herself– communicating with myconids was simple for her as a bard, but also addictively enjoyable– Zyn returned to the twins to wait.  And wait.  And…wait.

She was starting to get genuinely annoyed by the time Astarion arrived, and had paced back to the gate to wait, crossing her arms over her chest.  Coming down the hill, disheveled and still in the process of fastening his belt, Astarion looked about as annoyed as she felt.  When he noticed her and frowned, she lifted her chin and stared him down.

“You know where I live!” he snapped at her as he approached.

“I do,” she agreed, lifting her hands as he bore down on her.  “Come here.  Your hair is a mess.”

“Yes, well, I was still in my dressing gown,” he fussed, but obediently leaned down so she could fix his hair for him.  “Why didn’t you just come u–”

“Hello, grandfather!”  Poppy called cheerfully, the twins crunching up to join them.

Astarion straightened abruptly, pulling out of her reach.  He tugged down the front of his embroidered jacket, staring at the approaching pair for a moment before turning an accusing gaze on her.  She gave a small shrug.  Astarion sighed, heavily.

“Don’t take it out on them,” she hissed.

“I know,” Astarion snapped back.  Much to her relief, his mask slipped into place.  “You must be Poppy and Lysander.  I apologize, I hadn’t been told you were coming!  Imagine that!”  The last two words snapped with pointed accusation.

“Can we not fight in front of them, either?”

He gave her a dour look, and then sighed and stepped past her to greet the children.  She kept her peace all the way to the half-ruined palace he had claimed, which amusingly she had realized from the designs of the stonework had once belonged to her mother’s family.  Not that she’d mentioned it.  In fact, Zyn didn’t think she’d ever brought up House Tzahane’s history here to him– it hadn’t seemed relevant.

Having grown up on the surface, she had about as much connection to this place as a pig did to a plate of ham.

Whatever they would make of this place would be their own.

At any rate, Poppy chattered the entire way, so that filled the silence quite nicely.  

As she’d been suspecting, their bright, noisy presence drew a lot of attention as they traveled the shattered streets, something Astarion also seemed extremely aware of.  The twins were relaxed, but they were both on high alert.  Naturally Lysander was drawn to mooning about every even slightly interesting feature, but Zyn kept her hand close and gave him a bit of a tug every time he started to wander or pause to peek in ruined courtyards or fallen buildings.  

He was a bit too much like his deceased mother at times– head forever in the clouds.

As they approached the House, she looked it over with a critical eye.  The towers were missing their old statuary and spires, but it looked like he’d managed to get one of the roofs repaired, finally.  The gardens that spread before the building were neat and tidy but mostly empty, nothing but dirt, rocks, and old paths, with just enough fungal and bulbfruit foliage to feed the pair of rothes stabled there, tied to the remnants of an old shattered obsidian statue of the Spider Queen.

“Well, this is grim,” Poppy remarked.

“Gardening is a bit low on my list of priorities right now,” Astarion replied, sounding fairly annoyed.  “But I agree.  Aesthetically displeasing.  A state of affairs I’ve had to grow accustomed to.  It’s irritating.”

“Why empty it out, then?”

“Half the plants here were aggressive.  They kept trying to kill people.  I much prefer plants I can use to kill other people.  I was unaware kelpies were such an issue here in the Underdark, we’ve had a full half-dozen run ins with the damned things.”

“I’ve never met a kelpie.  I’ve heard they’re very beautiful,” Lysander mused softly.

“You would die,” his sister retorted sharply.  “Please don’t go looking for them.”

“Drowning seems like a peaceful way to die.  Don’t you think?”

“No, love, it involves a lot of choking and thrashing and loosening of the bowels,”  Zynatheri said tolerantly, unphased.  “The right poison or a beheading will do you much better.”

“Beheading is classic,”  Astarion agreed.  “But what about you, dear?”

“I’m going to go out fighting.  I’ll spit blood in their eye as they run me through,”  Poppy said with delighted relish.  

“How vicious,” Astarion laughed.

She knew he was irritated they’d come, but Zynatheri was grateful to discover that he respected her requests to keep things like that private.  Whether it was because they were virtual strangers to him or not, it was still appreciated.  After Ilethra and Portia had gotten to meet him, she hadn’t seen real reason to refuse the twins that wouldn’t have been infantilizing on her part.  Just because they were the babies of the family didn’t make them children.

And she couldn’t say yes to Poppy and no to Lysander just because he had a more, mmh…passive personality.

But Hells, she was going to have to keep an eye on him.  If they weren’t careful, he’d wander into the middle of town in an open-fronted shirt, reading poetry and looking wistfully melancholic.  Then they’d have to explain to Lilithera how they’d gotten her youngest killed.

Or worse, they’d end up with a vampire-in-law.

Silly, lovely boy.

“Let’s try to stay at the House, loves, shall we?”  Zynatheri suggested as they wandered into the vaulted front hall, the massive funguswood doors she’d painstakingly magicked back to life cracked open enough for them all to file in.

“No exploring?”  Poppy asked, obviously disappointed.

“There’s plenty of exploring to do here,”  Astarion said, in tacit agreement with Zyn, which relieved her.  “I haven’t been in half the rooms of this place.  And on that note, we’re a bit low on furniture, so you may have to break out those bedrolls again.  I haven’t the supplies to be a good host.”

“I brought some furniture, and we’re fully provisioned,” Zyn assured him, and smiled at his questioning look.  “Lily found me a portable hole.  I thought it was high time I brought you some things to make this place a bit more livable, now that it’s survivable.”  And because she knew he’d be annoyed and she wanted to sweeten his temper so he didn’t take it out on the children.

Astarion shot her a look of wide-eyed gratitude that made her laugh.

“You suffer more than anyone has ever suffered before,” she teased him.

“Even a single rug sounds like bliss right about now.  The floors are always cold despite how warm it is here.”

“Little mum said you like to read, so I brought you books,” Lysander said, attention fixed somewhere among the buttresses.  He tripped slightly, staggered, and then straightened up with Poppy’s hand on his elbow, looming over all three of them.  “When you have time later, grandfather, Poppy and I were hoping we could speak with you.”

“My docket’s rather full for most of the night– at dinner later, perhaps?”

“Dinner?  Dinner’s already passed,”  Poppy said with a laugh.

“When you’re a visitor, you have to follow local customs.  We’ll follow his schedule.  You heard grandfather, he has a lot to do.”  Zyn turned her attention to him, raising an eyebrow.  “Should I put them in the room you gave me last time?”

“Thank you,” he said simply, already stepping away.  “I’ll leave you to it?”

As she’d much rather he processed their arrival away from the twins, Zynatheri left it at that and they parted ways.

It was always such a struggle to keep your damage from infecting those around you.  And Astarion?  He had a great many scars both literal and figurative.  Well, if he got too snippy with them, she could always threaten his life again.

There was always time for murder.

...

Astarion cradled his head in his hand, slumped deep into his chair.

“There is no need to waste energy on a farce of a court when immediate suppression is necessary to our survival,” Aurelia said firmly, with a hint of hurt and frustration in her voice.  “We lost another of our brethren today, and–”

Violet sighed in deep ennui, eyes rolling up and to the side as she splayed forward.  Resting her pale cheek on her palm, she stared at their tiefling sibling.  Her voice dripped with sing-song disdain. “Stop pretending to care.  You just want power.  You’re afraid giving Astarion judicial power means you can’t be Queen Aurelia.  Give it up. Nobody wants you to be in charge, you overbearing, weepy cow.”

“Why are we worrying about a few dead rothes when there’s runaway spawn out there, muddying our name everywhere we go?  We need to strike them down!  This is about our long-term survival!” Petras snapped, slamming his hands on the table.

Astarion sighed again, well aware Yousen and Dalyria were staring at him expectantly.  Of course when Petras said something, he was expected to respond.  “And what do you expect us to do in the short term, I wonder?” he asked, head rolling to the side as his hand dropped with an exasperated flourish.  “Do tell, brother.  Where does the money come from to fund your little hunting escapades?  Will we starve while you play?  Or are you just trying to get permission to go lurk in the nearest city?  Hmm?  Do a little clandestine hunting yourself?”

Predictable as always, Petras’ expression immediately stiffened.  Idiot.  Gods, at least he was still stupid; imagine if he’d actually become intelligent in the wake of freedom.

This all would be even more complicated.

They didn’t have the time for complicated right now, there were some corners that needed cutting.

“There’s no need to overthink it.  It’s only a judicial court, and we’re immortal!  We either execute people, flog them, or fine them within an inch of their lives.  What good will imprisonment do?”  Astarion declared, leaning back in his seat to scan across his siblings once more.

Dalyria gave him a look of disapproval, but he ignored it.

“He has a point,” Yousen said sardonically.

“We may not have time for building a code of laws just yet, but we cannot start executing people in the street!”  Dalyria protested, tearing her gaze away from Astarion.  “If people are afraid they will flee, and the damage already done will worsen.  What we need to do is focus on a cu–”

“Cure?  What, while we starve to death?  The idiots are killing our source of food.  They may as well die,” Petras said, giving Dal a look of frustration.  When she turned away from him, lifting her chin, he raised his voice sharply.  “Don’t ignore me because you don’t like my point!”

“Waaah,” Violet said snidely, rubbing her eyes with her fists.

“What an intelligent rebuttal.”

“Rebuttal?  What a long word.  Have you learnt to read at last, Petras?”

“Leon?”  Aurelia interrupted from the head of the table before things grew any more fraught.

“Do as you like,” their silent sibling said, staring at a polished black stone mural behind Aurelia’s head.  Leon’s voice was affectedly bored.  “What do they call those spider-drow, Astarion?”

“Driders,” he replied, cautious about the change in topic.  

“I found a skeleton of one below my House,” Leon said, voice musing.  “Within tunnels surrounding a whole…temple of Lolth.  Have we any knowledge regarding Lolth’s opinion on vampires?”

“Necromancy is common in Drow society,” Astarion temporized, trying to search his memory.  Did he know that?  Had he asked Zynatheri?  No, he didn’t think he had, beyond using their dead.  “Ritual sacrifice is her favorite activity, I doubt she draws the line at vampires.  Just try not to desecrate the temple?”

Being the opportunist he was, Yousen slithered into the conversation then.  “Lucky for us you’ve acquired a pet Drow, then.  You can ask it.”

“Jealousy is ugly, brother,” Astarion retorted dismissively, waving a hand.  Considering how she had chosen to arrive this time, he knew the information would have reached his siblings.  He also knew Yousen was ensuring that everyone else was certain to know.  Stirring the pot.  

Conniving little gnome.

“You should share food with the whole family.”

Fine.  He wanted to push?  Astarion was more than happy to push right back.  “Speaking of pets, brother dear, have you told Violet yet that you were the one who killed the kruthik hatchling she was keeping?”

Yousen went silent immediately, but the silence didn’t last long.

Within moments the table had descended into threats, verbal attacks, and accusations as two centuries of bile spilled over once more.  Normally Astarion would have been among them, goading, but being in control for the moment, he only felt a detached sense of amusement.  They were so easy to manipulate.

Granted, this wasn’t progress, but at least they weren’t irritating him any longer.

And wasn’t that what really mattered?

As the others attacked one another, Astarion and Leaon observed one another across the table in silence.  Their alliance was, and remained tenuous, but Astarion understood his youngest ‘brother’ more now than he had before.  What he had done– what he was still doing for his daughter– was completely comprehensible now in a way none of the others could understand.

It also, unfortunately, settled some of his rage and vitriol towards Zynatheri for never rescuing him.

Although he didn’t feel it, that urge to protect a child, he did at least understand it now.  It wasn’t fair that his grudge was being ruined with this new comprehension, but oh well.  She didn’t need to know he wasn’t angry any more.  

If she did, she might feel less guilty, and then she wouldn’t be so quick to placate him.

Eventually, when he made no attempt, Aurelia bullied and tearfully manipulated everyone back into line.  They made a few pressing decisions, though the greater one of ‘justice’ remained undecided apart from temporarily being shoved onto Astarion’s plate.  Dalyria was the odd one out, determined to give grace and understanding for some reason.  He assumed she wanted to pick a fight with Aurelia.

And Astarion also knew she was already experimenting on some of the spawn assigned to her House.  Another tidbit to keep in his back pocket.  One never knew when it might come in handy to toss out at a necessary moment– no matter how lenient he was towards the three of them, he was also more cautious around his sisters.

Yousen was wholly untrustworthy, Petras was stupid and petulant, and Leon, well…he was only here at all due to bribery and threats.

Things wound down a bit more tense than before, as they always did, and everyone parted ways to go back to secretly trying to manipulate one another.  Part of him had hoped being free would mean things would get better, but that seemed impossible unless they went their separate ways.  Their scars were all twisted together, making them parts of a whole in an unwholesome and unpleasantly familial fashion.  They had been forced to be family, but that was over, and somehow they still were.

Even Leon, though he denied it.

And right now, they needed each other.

He waited until they were all gone before leaving the table himself, knowing none of them would be stupid enough to go skulking through his House right now.  Later, when he wasn’t expecting it would be more likely.  He did note that Yousen hadn’t mentioned the children, which made him think that he hadn’t known they were Astarion’s mortal relations.

None of the children looked enough like Lilithera to be easily identifiable as his blood, thankfully.

Finally he rose to leave, ignoring the papers and reports.  Not now.  Now he wanted to relax, as being around family could be exhausting.

“Astarion.”

Hands clutched abruptly at his sleeve as he left the ancient dining room they’d been using as a meeting chamber.  Astarion paused with a start, exhausted mind already ready to snap until he looked into Violet’s worried eyes, her lips pulled down into a deep frown.  Annoyed, he still tempered his frustration.  Not listening to her would just send her into a fit.

“Yes, Vi?”

“Before the meeting over the judicial court, I overheard Petras telling Dalyria that Aurelia wanted them to vote against you.”

Astarion fought the urge to roll his eyes, well aware of the simple attempt at manipulation.  “While I appreciate you telling me, dear, you do know that for this to work, sometimes we will vote against each other?  Otherwise, what’s the point in making a council at all?  I would just name myself tyrant if that weren’t the case.”  As much as he hated to admit it.

“Yes, but they’re plotting.”

He tapped the end of her nose affectionately, and she clutched him closer, fingers creeping into the crook of his arm, possessive and spidery.  “Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”

She smiled at him with an innocence that almost hid the wicked edge, ducking her chin, scarlet eyes averting.  “I thought you would want to know.  I’ve been working very hard on my House.  Will you come see it tonight?”

For a moment he nearly, habitually said yes, and then remembered the hapless relatives gamboling around in his House with fearless abandon.  Also, Zynatheri was waiting for him.  With a smile, he peeled her fingers from his arm, giving her hand a small pat as he released her.

“Tomorrow.  I have things to do, still.”

“You mean you’re going to spend time with your mortal.”  All affectation and smiles left her face; she didn’t even bother to look hurt or pained.  Just cold, and nasty.  “I don’t like her.”

“She is the only reason we’re safe down here,” he rejected her simply, taking her arm with a pointed air and all but dragging her to the exit.  The last person he wanted to be here right now was Violet.  

Once he ensured all of his siblings were gone, he turned away and headed deeper into the House, away from any errant spawn.

Every step echoed.

That echo was constant, a reminder of how empty this place was.  When Astarion had sent them to the Underdark and promised to follow, he’d been anticipating a crude camp, a constant struggle, carving a life out of dangerous caverns.  He’d even been considering leading them to Grymforge in the hopes of making it livable, but…

To have found this half-shattered, ancient Drow city was beyond all of his expectations, and it was Lilithera and Zynatheri who had made it possible.

But gods was it empty.

Then again, empty was better than how it had been when they’d moved in; stuffed full of monsters, traps, and other dangerous things.

He didn’t blame Zynatheri for preferring to be in his room– it was the only one decorated.  Again, thanks to her and her daughter.  He should dig something out of the artifacts they’d found to send back to Lily in thanks.  Something that wasn’t necromantic.  This time.

“Grandfather!”

The word still roused a twinge of unease, and not just because it made him feel old.  Because it made him feel dead.  It was the same reason he’d rejected Lilithera’s offer to find what remained of his mortal family– that all was so ancient and forgotten he would rather leave it that way.  For now.  But his own discomfort, well, it hardly mattered to the children.

And Zynatheri had made it rather clear she would murder him if he in any way upset them.

They bore down on him, golden-eyed, energetic Poppy and wistful, distracted Lysander.  A continuation of his life, like lively mushrooms sprouting from a dead log.  All of them made him feel the strangest sense of rejection and yearning, wanting what they were to him but not wanting to admit what he’d lost.  He did try to keep it from them, at least.

His relations were twisted enough without inflicting it on these bright, curiously innocent creatures his mortal life had made.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I’ve never been in a Drow Great House before!  Sometimes I forget that we’re quarter drow, it’s not like people see that.  They just call you a half-elf and be done with it,” Poppy chattered, beaming at him until her eyes crinkled like Lilithera’s.

“It’s beautiful and lonely,” Lysander opined, untidy hair falling back from his eyes as he gazed upwards. "The walls are full of ghosts, and the floors hold memories of blood."

Poppy grinned with a hint of feral excitement. “We were just going to go find little mum, to see if she wanted to go exploring! Maybe we'll find an ooze.”

Astarion knew by now that there was nothing she wanted less.  Lazy woman.  “Your grandmother is resting.  Under orders.  I would appreciate it if you two would head downstairs and survey the second level for me.  Take an inventory of what remains.  But if there’s danger more than a trap or a few undead, you have to promise to come fetch us at once.”

“We promise,” Poppy agreed earnestly, cheeks dimpling in an irrepressible smile.  

“Go on, then.  My rooms are just there,” he pointed down the left-hand hallway.  “You’ll be able to see the firelight.  You have…food and things?  Water?  Potions?”

“We are provisioned for the journey,”  Poppy said, curls bouncing as she nodded vigorously.

He was about to let them go, until a thought struck him, uncomfortable and worried.  No.  They weren’t truly safe here, were they?  Not even in his demesne.  It chilled him to think about what Violet would do if she had them in her hands.  “If you…see anyone at all.  Any strangers.  Please come right back.”

“Little mum told us not to trust anyone but you,” Lysander reassured him, those dreamy copper eyes suddenly, and surprisingly intent.  “We won’t succumb to the lure of darkness.”

“He means we won’t talk to strangers,”  Poppy said, with a hint of exasperation.  Grabbing her twin by his upper arm, she started dragging him off.  “Honestly!  They act like we aren’t grown,” she complained as she pulled him towards the grand staircase in the main hall.

“They have seen centuries; us, mere decades.”

“That doesn’t mean they have to be so overbearing about it,” Poppy complained.

“I’m still standing right here!”

Poppy glanced over her shoulder, pulling down the skin under her eye with her free hand, making a horrible face.

Reflexively he made a face back at her, and her expression shifted into an impish smile.  

Bemused, he watched them disappear into the darkness.

Once their footsteps died away, a thin silvery thread of sound drew his attention.  A soft, ethereal voice, languidly singing a wordless song.  A siren in the shadows.  It was the barest beckon, only audible due to echoes and the slight crack of the bedroom door that spilled gilded light into the massive ebon corridor.  

A lone figure, dwarfed by the empty and lonesome architecture, he followed that lure.

The austere, icy darkness of the reflective walls and ominous vaulted space faded away as he pushed open the door, the gilded firelight spilling over him.  It was warmer within, a spiral of steam rising from the newly-hidden bathtub in the corner.  The wood and silk folding screen Lilithera had bought him was in front of it, partially blocking it from view.

What had once been a room empty of everything but an icy stone bed frame and an empty basin was now a living space, hangings on the walls, rugs on the floor.  Books and furnishings and a sturdy desk covered in papers, curios.  A painting of his family on the mantle.  Signs of life and living, tucked into a space that was his.

And before the fire, lounging on the daybed with her nearly-dry alabaster hair cascading over the arm and down to the floor, was the curious creature who had barged her way into his life and gleefully disordered it.  A glowing golden glass of brandy was sitting on the floor just under her dangling fingertips, her moonstone eyes vague and distant.  Zynatheri was singing to herself, drowsy and soft, blue cheek pillowed attractively on a bright golden pillow, her knees curled up under his burgundy dressing gown.  The curve of one soft calf peeked out, her foot pointed off the cushion in a graceful, sinuous line.

Astarion was struck, in the oddest fashion, by a desire to let her do nothing but lounge and sing like a contented songbird for the rest of her life.  Avarice wanted her caged, unable to leave so that he could always have this curiously warm sensation, but humanity– if that’s what you wanted to call it– wanted her here like this.  A sweetly nested bird with no desire to fly away.

It suited her.

“Are you drunk, little fox?” he asked, amusement spilling over the words.

She startled, knees curling up to her chest, hands clutching the front of his dressing gown closed– as if he hadn’t seen the unbound, ripe curves of her bared chest already.  Accusing moonstone eyes turned on him.  “You bid me relax, brought me brandy, and I have drunk.  I cannot un-drink, or un-drunk.”

“But you can draw me a bath, it seems.”

“I heard you talking to the twins and heated it up, so it’s still warm.”

“Thank you.”

Pushing off the doorframe, he pulled the door closed behind him, knowing there would be a sliver of light in the hallway.  Feeling a sudden buoyancy in his mood, he paused while passing by the daybed, leaning over the curving back.  She peered up at him, nose wrinkling irritably as he swiped a finger down her cheek, the skin velvety and warm under his fingertip.

Mockingly, he rubbed his fingers together, inspecting them.  “Hmmh.”

“I washed,” she said, tartly.

“So you did,” he agreed, smirking to himself.

“There’s a wooden box of bath essences on the table,” she murmured, eyes slitting closed like a contented cat when his hand briefly rested on her head in passing.

The reaction was so soft, so natural, that his mind couldn’t help but dwell on what a more affectionate caress might do.  He might as well admit it.  Astarion was fascinated by the little minx.  Attracted to her.  He might be a little more uneasy about that if her two centuries of devotion felt in any way attached to some adoration or sexual desire, but they didn’t.

She’d looked for him for their daughter, not out of love or infatuation.  He knew what those looked like.  In her eyes he saw neither, just a friendly affection that had been slowly growing with each meeting, much like his for her.  But even her disheveled state of sexually charming disarray right now was just relaxation and her feeling comfortable, not any active attempt at seduction.

She was simply a seductive person.

Why was she still here?

Was it really just for the children?

His thumb caught the catch on the richly-scented wooden box settled on a small side table carved with sinuously twisted designs– a decorative table.  Such a small, pointless luxury, but one he had now.  The box was filled with small glass bottles, and he smelled them each until one struck him.  Earthy, woody, relaxed and warm.  

Not a scent made to hide anything, just to be enjoyed.

He plucked the oil out of the box, and headed for the heated water.  “What do you expect me to wear?”

“I’ll go dress,” she muttered drowsily.

“If the dressing gown is damp I don’t want it.”

He heard a huff, but no verbal response.

The vial poured into the water filled the air with an inviting, rich scent, beckoning him to relax.  After today, it wasn’t a lure he could resist.  Shrugging his clothing to the floor, he stepped into the deep tub, pleased to find the water scalded his skin, warm to the point of discomfort.  Perfect.

Astarion closed his eyes and sighed as he sank into it.

Seconds flowed by, languid, as he let the heat sink into his bones.  It felt good.  Rejuvenating.  The room would normally be empty, but he could hear the small sounds of someone else moving around in his space, filling it with a strange warmth.  Her footsteps, breaths, the soft hum.

“Sing me a song, little nightingale,” he murmured, lungs filled with heady steam.

Instantly, but distantly, she lifted her voice in song, a softly lilting little folk tune that was as gentle as it was morbid. Like so many folk songs.  Her sweet voice sank into him, relaxing muscles he hadn’t even known were tense.  

After so many nights alone in the darkness, working, having her here was a balm to wounds he hadn’t even known were causing him pain.

Her voice wandered closer as she completed the song, some little tune about a woman dying on her wedding day.  She tossed his dressing gown over the top of the curtain, followed by a loose pair of pants.  Nothing else.  He gave a rather pointed ‘ahem’.

“What?”

“Generally undergarments are worn under trousers.”

“Get your own underwear,” she scoffed, making him laugh.  Her voice softened minutely.  “Don’t worry about your dirty things, Lysander needs to practice his cantrips, I’ll have him clean them.”

“I was under the impression that he was learning wizardry, not bardic arts.”  Astarion scooped up the sponge, finally feeling relaxed enough to bother with scrubbing.

“Lily tried, but he just doesn’t have the mind for it.  Not stupidity, just focus.  He doesn’t like it, so his mind wanders– music is easier for him.”

“Too much of a dreamer.”

“Hmmh,” she agreed softly.  “We should let him dream.”

“I suppose it is a luxury we can afford him,” Astarion said, trying to ignore the weight of that statement and the bitterness it brought up.  “So what do you think of the twins’ grand plan to reconnect people with their families?”

Zynatheri sighed, the sound trailing off into silence.  Nothing but the crackle of the fireplace and soft sloshing of the water filled the air, until she finally blew out a breath between her lips.  “I think it has a lot of potential to do good, but also a lot of potential to summon an army of Lathander’s followers intent on wiping you all out.  I still think isolation and discreet alliances are your wisest courses until you are stronger.  I think that they are…thinking the best of people.  I think that they are thinking ‘our grandfather is a vampire, and we don’t care.  Why would anyone else?’”

She was absolutely correct.  There was no way they could survive a crusade, and any followers of Lathander would slay them on principle.  They were vulnerable, and would be for some years as they started slowly creeping past survival into thriving and growing.  And they needed those years.  Their weakness was a lack that only time and hard work could cure.

No skills, no martial talents, no magic even beyond Leon’s.

Which was why Astarion didn’t feel the least bit badly about blackmailing him into staying.

“I’ll speak to them.  Perhaps you and I could think of another outlet for their…youthful enthusiasm.”

“Do you even have the mental fortitude for more problem-solving?” she teased.

He gave an exhausted sigh that made her laugh, slumping back in the bathtub until his head rested on its edge.  Astarion closed his eyes.  It was a valid question, and the answer was no– but they both knew that.

“I’d like to help, but my knowledge is more broad than deep– I don’t know a lot about logistics.  But if it would help, I’d be happy to make a donation.  The twins will want to stay for a while, so I’ll have time to recover.”

Was she–

Shock spurred his tongue, water sloshing dangerously as he sat up straight.  “Are you offering me blood?”

“It’s the easiest way to help you, isn’t it?  I do like things that are easy.”

“I’ve never had someone offer it to me before.”  At least not out of altruism.  Thinking of that alchemist from Moonrise just made him disgusted, however, so he moved on quickly from thinking about that.  And in his current situation… “I’d be a fool to say no.”

“Should we wait until I’m sober?”

As much as he wanted it now, in a desperately hungry way– that uplifting warmth that washed away the eternal fog, that invigorating breath of life… “We should wait until dusk.  It’s nearly morning.  I’d hate to waste even a drop.”

“It’s funny how you can tell,” she said, and cracked a soft yawn.  “In the morn– er, dusk, then.”

The water was starting to cool, and with it his desire to be in it any longer.  It was a shame, though.  When she wasn’t here, the best he could do would be a cauldron heated over the fire, which wasn’t enough to lounge in, just enough to get clean.  But what real impetus could he give her to stay?  How could he make her stay and take care of him the way he wanted, the way she owed him for the two hundred years she’d done nothing.

It wasn’t at all true, but it felt true– which was enough for him.

It didn’t matter what he thought, as long as he didn’t say it.

Regardless, Zynatheri wasn’t in love with him, he couldn’t provide for her or offer her comfort that she wasn’t the one giving to him.  Asking her to stay would be asking her to struggle.  And for what?  So he could enjoy her company and the comforts that came with it?

Well…why not?

It wasn’t as if there would be any harm in asking, right?

If she wasn’t willing to stay and indulge him, then she’d simply say no and that would be the end of it.  She wouldn’t hold a grudge.  Right?  Of course that was right, why was he even second-guessing it?

When he finished dressing, she'd pulled herself up to sit on the daybed, leaving space for him. She'd thrown on her loose linen traveling shirt and trousers, bare feet tucked under her, head resting on her arm. He didn't ever think he'd seen her with a fully upright posture.

Always lounging like a cat.

The temptation was near-impossible to resist, and by now he knew she'd allow it.

Astarion was proven correct when dropping onto the seat next to her and slumping to the side only had her shifting her posture, legs dropping to the floor, back settling into the embrace of the fainting couch's arm. Willingly, he let her shift him from her shoulder to her lap, head falling onto the soft pillow of her thighs.

Gods, the damnable woman was comfortable.

“You’re so tired,” she said fretfully, running her fingers slowly through his damp hair as he adjusted himself.  “You need to relax more.”

“Two centuries of…spite, rivalry, competition, and puppeteering by our M– by Cazador has made it difficult between the seven of us.  They listen to me, of course, but the constant bickering…ugh. Exhausting.”

“Do I make things more difficult for you, because I keep coming by?  Would you prefer that I stay a–”  She stalled as he cracked open an eye and placed a single finger on her lips.  Bemused, she pursed them.

“Yes, I would,” he said.

“Then I’ll go,” she said, posture stiffening, an amusingly annoyed expression on her face.

“What are you talking about?”  Despite knowing exactly why he’d irritated her, Astarion pulled a confused expression.   A little game. Except...much to his surprise, he was the only one playing it.

Usually she was quick, but he’d forgotten– Zynatheri was drunk.

While her face went through a long journey of utter bemusement, he watched from his very comfortable position, highly amused watching her alcohol-sodden brain trying to function.  When she turned a glare down on him, he smirked.  The silly creature pouted.

“You’re taking advantage of my muddled head,” she whined, flicking his forehead.  

He swatted her away, knuckles smacking into the back of her hand, stinging.

“Owwwwh,” she whined pathetically.  “What are you doing?  You told me to go away, so I’m going away.”

“You didn’t say go away,” he replied, discreetly shaking his own hand.

“Yes, I did, I asked if you wanted me to go away and you said yes.”

“No, you asked if I wanted you to stay…” he finished by placing a finger on her lips again.

Her pretty moonstone eyes went rounder than usual, lips pursing under his finger out of shock and not affection.  Still amusing.  Cheeks flushing an unfairly charming shade of purple, she stared down at him.  His smirk grew into a wide, amused smile of delight.

Was she actually–

“You’re blushing!”

“No!  I don’t blush!” she protested, reaching up and clutching her cheeks.  “I’m flushed from drinking!”

“I’ve been lying here wondering if somehow all my charms have gone stale,” he teased her, laughing when she gave a faint ‘hmph’ and turned her face away, nose in the air.  He let his expression turn cajoling, amused by her pouty little act.  He saw the little peeks she gave him, wanting to know his reaction.  Softening his voice, he tried to lure her out with a low croon.  “Come now, little fox. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

She shot him a scornful, aloof look, her big silver eyes turning distant.  “Are we?  Well, friends shouldn’t be indebted to each other, should they?  I’ve been raising your non-vampiric spawn for two hundred years, that adds up!”

Offended, but too comfortable to move, he folded his arms over his chest, steepling his index fingers together.  “Really?  You’re extorting me?  I wonder what Lilithera would say if I told her that you said that.”

Immediately she puffed her cheeks, looking mortally, but hilariously offended.  Any attempts at dignity flew right out the window.  “Don’t you dare!  You bully!”

“I’m the bully?!  You just threatened me!”

“You were teasing me,” she replied, a little whine to her voice.

What a frustratingly, infuriatingly adorable creature she was.

“You’re impossible to be angry at.  It’s annoying,” he informed her, amused by her smile of triumph.  And then she went back to stroking his hair, which soothed away any thoughts of continuing the play-fighting.  His eyes closed, the rhythmic, affectionate touch soothing and gentle.  

His words gained no response, but he had no desire to break the peaceful, calm silence.  The fire crackled, her touch wound through his hair, strands curling around her fingers, tugging lightly when she freed herself.  It was hypnotic.

She smelled like brandy and night-blooming flowers, a rich, sultry perfume, and her lap was warm and soft as he lounged bonelessly against her.  Her embrace was possibly just a little better than the bath.  And all of this with the oddest lack of seduction or sexual intent– just intoxicatingly guileless affection.  It made him think of Lilithera’s words, about how she would ‘never make the first move’.  If she hadn’t by now…

Zynatheri’s velvety voice was soft.  “Did you mean that?”

He knew instantly what she was referring to; a shared thought.  “I don’t have anything to give you.”

“Hmm?”

“There’s no reason for you to stay even if I had meant it.”

Zynatheri gave another of those soft ‘hmm’s, voice a low murmur of sound.  “Do you think the pleasure of your company isn’t a reason?”

“Well, naturally, dear, but usually the company is a means to an end, not the end goal,” he said flippantly, not liking the direction of the conversation.

“Not for me,” Zynatheri replied, voice slow and casual.  “I’m a very simple creature at heart, Astarion.  I do what I enjoy.  I enjoy your company.”

 He couldn’t keep the frustration from his voice any longer, the odd uncomfortable anger he’d been feeling all evening when all he wanted was to relax.  His voice sharpened, body restless.  “There’s nothing down here, don’t you understand that?  No fine food, wine, society, no safe audience for your pretty songs but me.  It’s dark, cold, and empty.  Dangerous.  Every luxury I could possibly give you is something you’ve given to me.”

The comfort was unwanted now, meaningless in the face of his internal strife.  Astarion rose to his feet abruptly, pacing across the floor with frustration in every stride. He glanced at her, but it only made him feel badly, the rejected hand still in the air, her patient stare.  Why was she doing this?  Why did she keep wandering into his life only to leave?

It drove him absolutely mad.

Her voice was frustratingly calm.  “I feel like even if I said those don’t matter, you’d still feel otherwise.  Why is that?”

All of the frustration and annoyance he hadn't felt towards his siblings seemed to have turned on her, rising with the tone of his voice as Astarion whipped around to stare down at her.  “Because my mind keeps telling me all I would have to do is seduce you to keep you by my side, and I don’t want to do that any longer!  But without that…what?  What? What do I have to give you?!”

She watched him from the daybed still, cheek lowering to pillow on her arm, silver eyes turned up towards him.  There was the faintest hint of a smile on her face.  Infuriating wretch.

“What are you smirking at?!”

“Have you forgotten how to court someone without sex?” she asked, voice teasing him.

It was so unexpected that his anger lost its momentum immediately.  She– “Court– who said anything about courtship?”

“Isn’t that what you’re asking?  You want me to stay.  You want me to sing for you and coddle and spoil and flatter you– take care of you.  So…figure out how to make me want to stay, then.  And no, I don’t want to sleep with you either.  To make me be a part of degrading you in a way you’re finally free of just as an attempt to placate me…I’d never forgive myself.”

“Just– ugh.  Just because it isn’t about sex doesn’t mean it’s romantic.”

“No, it doesn’t have to be romantic…but it is,” she replied, fingers splaying against her cheek.  “I’m not going to pretend it’s not.  You’ve shown me what you have to offer me, told me why it’s not good enough, but I disagree.  I like what we have for what it is.”

“Yes, but that won’t get you to stay,” he insisted awkwardly.

“It might.”

Finally he had to avert his gaze, unease overtaking anger.  His emotions were confusing, shame and discomfort and disbelief that she was saying it at all.  But she was.  “You mean that, don’t you.”

“Just think about it.”  

He shouldn’t resent something as simple as her standing up, but he did.  Astarion knew she was leaving.  The last thing he’d wanted was to stew in his own mind like this, but it seemed his mind didn’t care.

“I’m going to go find the twins,” she said, confirming it.  “I think if you contacted our daughter, she’d be more than happy to help you.  But if you need somewhere to start…”  She grimaced, heaving her hair forward over her shoulder.  “You could learn to braid.  Rest well.  I’ll see you first thing in the evening, hmm?”

“I can’t help but feel as if I’m being punished for being honest,” he admitted, despite knowing it wasn’t true.

“I can see why it might feel that way.  But we’ve been dancing around in this gray area for a while, so it’s probably time to figure things out.  You were right to say something.”

“You’ve done a wonderful job of putting this all on my shoulders,” he pointed out, wishing she’d give him some damned indication of how she felt about it all.

She glanced over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him, and then smiled impishly.  “How much have I been doing for you lately?  Tsk.  The nerve of you.” 

“Well, how do I know you’re not this sweet to everyone?”  He gave her an aggrieved pout, crossing his arms.  “Maybe I’m not special.”

“You are.”

“And how many beautiful former lovers have you said that to over the years, I wonder.”

She smiled faintly.  “Ask Lilithera.  Sweet dreams.”

Well, it seemed she was determined to go.  As much as he wanted to shout at her, leaving things on a bad note would make their next meeting unpleasant instead of restful.  Right now, those crumbs of rest were all that was keeping him sane. 

And he wasn't going to lie and claim he didn't desperately want the blood she was offering.

“Sweet dreams, little nightingale.”

Zynatheri’s good mood was unabated, glancing over her shoulder with a wink at him on her way to the door.  “You sound so sulky,” she teased.

“Begone,” he ordered her irritably, throwing himself down on the daybed she’d abandoned.

Despite the fact that this room was no longer empty, her laughter still echoed long after she’d left.

[agentplutonium]

For the prompt post: Terra/Caelus in a modern/no magic/human AU 👀 just them being them in a different font

Jumping ahead in the cue a bit because I'm trying to write a separate thing for them and I need to work on their characterizations.

For those who don't know who Terra/Caelus are, they are my two god characters in the universe that I am building. Where this is a human/no magic AU I'm not gonna talk about the facts that I have about them to catch people up to speed (but I WILL give them if someone asks, I will tell you so much if you ask I can't shut up about them) and we'll see where this goes.

Anyway, moving on, and I'm not paying attention to anything specific this time around so it will be under the cut ^^

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Love," Caelus said quietly, poking his head into the room. "Are you awake?"

"No," Terra grumbled, turning away from the door.

"Oh, okay," Caelus said. "Guess I'm going to the farmers market by myself today. That's fine, you need your rest--"

Terra was turned back around in a heartbeat, making Caelus chuckle. "We're going to the farmer's market?" She asked.

"That's what we agreed on last night, yes," Caelus confirmed.

"Who's gonna be there?"

"Well, there's no way to know for sure, but I heard through the grapevine that the smoothie maker you love so much--"

That got Terra out of bed, squeaking in excitement. She rushed around the room, clamouring to get ready. Caelus openly laughed this time, the sound reverberating in his chest.

"I'll get our bags ready," Caelus said, dipping back out of the room.

By the time he was ready, Terra came tearing out of the room. "Come on, let's go," she said.

"Shoes," Caelus said.

"Right, that would be important." She bent to grab her sandals, and Caelus raised an eyebrow.

"You sure you want to wear those?" He asked. "You know how much walking we have to do."

"It goes with the outfit, I'll be fine," Terra said. Caelus just sighed, a small smile spread across his face. He already packed her sneakers, just in case.

When Terra straightened again, Caelus held out a granola bar. "I'm not even hungry," Terra countered.

"You will be in about five minutes. It takes fifteen until we're there, and then probably another ten before we get any kind of food in our hands," Caelus said. Terra took the granola bar with a huff, rolling her eyes.

Caelus kissed her cheek before opening the door. Terra flounced through, smiling. As he was closing the door, she spun back around.

"My bag--"

Caelus held it out to her.

"Oh. Well, thank you. What about--"

"It's all in there. And I have the keys," Caelus answered.

"I really can take care of myself," Terra said.

"You can, but you were busy and excited, and I know that you get forgetful when you're like that," Caelus reasoned, turning to lock the door. "Besides, it's you. I don't mind taking care of you."

"Well, thank you anyway," Terra said. Caelus didn't have to look to see she was flustered. He could hear it in her voice.

"You'd do the same for me," Caelus reminded. He turned back to her, reaching his hand out, "Come on, let's get going before it gets too busy."

Terra took his hand, smiling. There wasn't much conversation between the two of them on the walk down, but that was fine by Caelus' means. He got to watch Terra take in the scenery, munching on the granola bar that he gave her. She was as handsome as ever like that, early sunlight making her glow. There would be a few things along their walk that would spark dialogue between them, usually in the form of Terra remembering a fact that she told him about certain landmarks or ones that were tangentially related to whatever train of thought she had in her head. It was always something new with her.

For example, they were passing by a construction site that had been there for ages, and Terra gasped.

"Did you know that this is gonna be the new Playhouse?" Terra asked. "Cause I did not until I was looking it up a few days ago."

"I actually did not know that," Caelus hummed. "I had never thought about where it was moving, just that it was."

"I also found out that a lot of people were upset they're moving the old one," Terra said. "Which, I get, but also that building is so old. They're building a new one because it's getting unsafe to be in there. Not to mention the new one is gonna have, like, three different-sized theatres, so it actually allows for more events to happen."

"Interesting," Caelus mused. He was never sure what ever prompted Terra to look up this information, but it was entertaining.

Once they got to the farmers market, Terra bolted for a food truck, tugging Caelus along. It didn't take as long as usual to get some food, and they were sitting at their usual picnic table in no time. A few of their friends found them, and they joined as well. Caelus hadn't seen the three in a while, it was a nice surprise.

"We've been out of town on a contract," was the explanation given by Ases.

"Can't separate the three of you, huh?" Terra teased.

"We're just that good," Amos said, slinging his arm around Ditia, the third in their group, who rolled their eyes.

"Oh!" Ases said, drumming against the table briefly, "Terra! Did you see the new mugs?!"

"New mugs?" Terra questioned. "Where?"

"I have to show you, come on," Ases said, as she reached across the table to grab Terra's hand.

"I'll be right back," Terra said hurridly to Caelus, just managing to kiss him on the cheek before being pulled off. Amos shouted after them, jumping up to follow.

Ditia sighed, resting their elbow on the table so they could put their head in their hand. "Never a dull moment with them, huh?"

"Never," Caelus agreed, smiling. "Wouldn't change it though, would you?"

"Never," Ditia parroted, giving a smile of their own.

"They're gonna come back with so many mugs," Caelus murmured, before going to take a sip of his smoothie.

"So many mugs," Ditia agreed, laughing. "five bucks says they come back with matching couple mugs."

"Yours or mine?" Caelus asked.

"Both," Ditia said.

"You know what? I'll take you on that one," Caelus said, reaching out his hand. Ditia shook it firmly.

"Brave, knowing our partners."

"Just Terra or just double A, maybe. But it's unlikely that they all come back with the same idea," Caelus said.

"We'll see about that," Ditia said, sipping their coffee.

It was fifteen minutes before Caelus saw Terra again. It was clear that the group went to more than just the mug stand, and Caelus chuckled. However, when he saw two mugs in her hand, two in Amos', and one in Ases, he groaned.

Ditia laughed, "hand it over, big guy," they said, holding out their hand.

"How'd you even know?" Caelus asked, fishing out a five-dollar bill.

"They were talking about it when we saw the stand earlier," Ditia said, pocketing the money. "I knew they'd convince Terra if she found the right set."

"That's cheating."

"That's gambling, my friend," Ditia said.

"Caelus!" Terra called out now that she was close enough. "Look! They had matching mugs!"

"I see that," Caelus said.

"They have cats on them!" Terra said, placing them down in front of him. They did in fact have cats on them, one sporting a black cat and one an orange cat. "I think they fit us perfectly."

"I think they do too, Love," Caelus said, tone soft.

"It was really Double A's idea, they were getting matching mugs for them, and they said that I should look too," Terra said.

Caelus glanced at Ditia, who winked. "You don't say."

"Look at what else I got," Terra said, starting to unload the tote bag she no doubt also bought.

Caelus smiled, settling in for the explanations that were going to accompany each item. He really couldn't go to the farmers market without this situation. However, he wasn't about to tell Terra no. He'd listen to her ramble for ages.

He wouldn't change this for the world.

-END-

[stagmage]

I'm back briefly because I'm in need of microblogging. Don't read if you're disinterested in the ugly details of a stranger's life. And if you are interested in the ugly details of a stranger's life, that's trashy but I feel you.

I have lived with a domestically violent person for over a decade. Half that time I thought I was in love, and the other half I've been economically compelled to stay - turns out when you're socially isolated, your abuser can offer an unbeatable deal on rent.

Last year, in August, I got diagnosed with autism/ADHD, in addition to cPTSD. I put my foot down and said I need support and I need the violence to stop. Spoiler alert, it didn't.

In March, they were violent again and I went "wow, no, not what I signed up for, I'm not paying rent on a house I'm not safe to be in". And I withheld my rent for three months to build a safety net. And things slowly calmed down again. I felt safer with my emergency savings.

In June, they broke their finger and stopped working. I had to hand over all my savings in order to keep us from being kicked out. They then sat around the house for a month berating and belittling me.

In July, they assaulted me again.

None of the recommendations or habits that I've tried to institute since my diagnosis have been implemented.

I currently spend my days on the computer trying to distract myself from the hell I live in. When they get out of bed at 4pm I go hide in my room. If I don't go hide in my room I get abused. Only the performance of total neutrality keeps their aggression at bay, and only sometimes.

I have an occupational therapist's recommendations pending, and psychiatric treatment booked in for next week. This cost a thousand dollars that I don't have.

I hate living with animals who are also obviously afraid of my abuser, and not being able to do anything for them. I can't keep them as I can't afford to provide for them. I can't take care of them here because that escalates the abuse, and I can't ignore them because I love them. It's actually torture.

My one goal when I left home as a teenager was "let's find a place where people don't use hitting each other to address their problems". Now my one goal is "get other human beings the fuck away from you, none of them can be trusted not to hit". Everything I've ever tried to build has been taken away in violence. I can't handle it anymore.

The most important things to do now are A) stop wallowing and B) be patient. I've organised a lot of medical care that I sorely need, and the world will look more manageable soon. I'm collapsing right now, but bemoaning my situation only heightens my distress. I have to believe that this isn't permanent and that keeping good boundaries will lead to positive change and growth for me.

Fuck, it's hard, though. Hence this post. I lose track of what's happened, and what's happening, and I internalise the abusive language, and I despair a little and hate myself. Writing it all out reminds me that it's a heavy scene and that I deserve some sympathy, even if only from myself.

Anyway, reblogging silly memes doesn't really match where my head is at, so I'm still avoiding tumblr for now. I'm too short on sanity for social media. And I don't know how to end this post, so...end post.

[little-pissbaby]

tw I talk about my PTSD and its triggering events under the cut

My brother burned his hand two days ago. It wasn't actually too bad of a burn, but he does have some first and second degree burns on his fingers and first degree burns on his palm. He grabbed a stainless steel pan that had come straight out of a 450°F oven with the hand that did not have an oven mitt on it.

When he grabbed the pan, he yelled in a tone he's only ever yelled in before breaking things and hitting people in a fit of violent rage. He immediately followed up that trigger with yelling at me to call 911, which has only happened one other time in my life; when my house burned down, when my mother's husband at the time discovered the fire and told me to call 911 and get everyone out (everyone being my little brother and 10 pets. my brother and one pet survived). In fact, the first thing I said when my brother yelled "call 911" was "fire?"

While I juggled PTSD triggers coming at me from all sides, I told my older brother to start running his hand under cool water. This was before I was even able to get out of bed to assess the damage to him and to the kitchen. I hate how long it took me to get out of bed.

I don't know how to talk about this without sounding condescending and like I'm bragging, but once I looked at his hand, I knew it was barely an urgent care level burn, it definitely did not warrant a $5000 ambulance call. They got here and said he had very superficial burns, another thing I already knew, and then they told us to run it under cool water, keep it covered, don't pop any blisters, all basic burn care instructions that I already knew (I thought my brother also knew, but he definitely didn't remember anything when he burned himself, he just panicked). I didn't even let him keep his hand just naked, I gave him an ice pack so he could hold it and keep cooling his hand while we were with the EMTs outside. They gave us some gauze wraps and saline flushes in case any blisters pop accidentally or on their own.

He's fine now. I'm putting new lidocaine patches on his burns every 12 hours, he's alternating acetaminophen and ibuprofen every 4-6 hours, he's got some blistering but overall he should be fine in the next two or three weeks. I just keep replaying the yelling immediately followed by being told to call 911 and feeling all the anxiety of having to switch from "I have to protect myself and the cats from him" to "I need to help him with his medical emergency" on a dime.

I didn't want to call 911, but he kept yelling at me when I tried to call my partner at work. It seemed like he needed this to be a much bigger deal, so I caved and called for an ambulance. I let him use my phone while I put together a go bag for him. And then we sat on the porch and when the ambulance got here and the EMTs said his burns were superficial he said "really?" like I hadn't already said that.

I'm frustrated he didn't trust my medical advice or opinions. I'm annoyed I couldn't do more to help him. I'm terrified of how aware this situation made me of just how disabling my disabilities are. Nothing reminds you how disabled you are like potentially having to escape a burning building or having to provide immediate medical attention while on the phone with 911.

I so badly wish I didn't have to provide him medical attention and walk on eggshells the whole time. I hate that I have such a narcissistic viewpoint on this. He was in very real pain, but then he panicked and wildly overreacted and it doesn't make sense to me that he gets to do that, but if I'm in pain, I have to perform it exactly correctly or I can't express it at all. I don't have the luxury of panicking or yelling at everyone. If I'm injured, I take care of it myself like an adult. He's in his 30s, why is he still allowed to scream and lose all sense of rationality when he's in pain? Why can't I just make him understand that panic and fear make pain worse? I've had burns that were just as bad as his, and I did not scream or yell or tell anyone to call 911. I've demanded people call 911 for me in the past, but I only call an ambulance when I'm not breathing. That's it. If my lips are blue, everyone has permission t call 911 for me. I definitely don't call 911 over every cooking mishap, even the ones that result in second degree burns or worse.

I don't know. At this point I'm just rambling. I will likely add to this post when I have my next little breakthrough about it. If you read this entire post, we are legally best friends. no take backsies. love you bestie <3

[minorisato]

i can't keep myself from trying a bite of every plate in sight.

dead plate / coal fired heart / wc: 688 / warnings: suggestive / notes: this is super duper old but bf pointed out i never posted most of my dead plate stuff so. / consider commissioning me!

Rody smiled at the last group of customers to leave, waving goodbye, telling them to come back soon. The group consisted of three women and one man, and while the man was happy to retreat, the women all waved back, giggling among themselves, telling Rody how much they loved the experience. All of them, Vincent knew, were objectively quite pretty, and Rody looked absolutely elated as he went to clean up their table.

“Seemed like you got along with them well,” Vincent spoke, causing Rody to jump a bit. He was a bit far, standing at the doors which led to the kitchen. If anyone else were in the building, it might be a bit strange, but it was just them now. The last cook had left when they actually closed, 15 minutes ago.

“They were very nice,” Rody nodded, going back to cleaning.

“Mhm.” Vincent approached the waiter, dress shoes clicking against the floor, hands behind his back. “Remind me, what colour blouse was the blonde madame wearing?”

“Blue,” Rody responded, not missing a beat. It was only a second later that he glanced up from the table. “Why?”

Instead of answering, “What colour was the gentleman’s coat?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Answer the question, Rody.”

“I don’t know!” He admitted, “why are you asking me all this–”

At that moment, Vincent grabbed Rody by the shoulder, yanking him away from the table he’d been cleaning, forcing intense eye contact with the waiter. His grip was downright bruising. Rody looked as though he was going to speak, but Vincent cut him off before he could. “You,” Vincent began, voice low, “need to stop what you’re doing.”

Rody gulped. “I’m not doing anything, though.”

“Are you not?” Vincent challenged, gripping Rody’s shoulder tighter. “Giggling and joking and laughing with our lady customers? Paying extra attention to them, spending more time at their tables– it’s bad for business,” Vincent explained, gritting his teeth, “and frankly, it infuriates me.”

The chef leaned in closer, a bit too close, causing Rody to back into the table, leaning over it a bit, hands gripping at the edge. “Vince, back up,” he let out, his voice wavering.

“It is infuriating,” Vincent continued, louder, “watching you strut around, practically begging for someone to love you. You’ll accept it from any stranger you meet out of desperation, but you’re too stupid to realize you’re already getting all the love you’re going to get.” He pressed closer, slotting a leg in between Rody’s, causing the redhead to jump a bit. When Rody didn’t attempt to stop him, merely keeping his hands to the edge of the table, gripping, Vincent allowed his hand to trail from Rody’s shoulder to his neck.

“Vince,” Rody breathed, still not moving. He could stop Vincent, if he wanted to. He could say stop, he could push him, he could do anything. He didn’t.

In the back of Vincent’s mind, he wondered if Rody would ever stop him.

Vincent’s free hand slowly moved to meet Rody’s collar, pulling it undone. He held eye contact with the waiter as he did so, and Rody simply bit his lip, squirming a bit. The chef huffed. “You’re ridiculous,” he spat out, freeing Rody’s lower neck to the air. “You’re pathetic.”

Vincent pressed his lips to the freed skin, causing Rody to inhale sharply. The redhead lifted a hand from the table to cover his mouth, but Vincent’s hand– previously gripping his neck– shot upwards to grab his wrist instead, keeping him from doing so. I want to hear you, the chef thought, though it went unsaid. Rather, his mouth only opened to allow his teeth to bite Rody’s neck carefully, don’t tear, control yourself. Rody continued to squirm, letting out soft breaths, and then– tellingly– bucked into Vincent’s leg.

Seeming to realize what he’d done, he stammered. “Sorry, I– I wasn’t trying to, I don’t know why, I’m so sorry–”

“Rody,” Vincent interrupted, separating himself from the waiter’s neck for only a moment. “Shut. The fuck. Up.” 

At that, he dove back in, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh, biting– now– a bit harder.