#its been rattling around in my brain for ages

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: That one episode of teen titans where they all dress up as Robin + Tim being a gremlin about his legacy + Danny look alike/twin AU.

So there is that episode of Teen Titans where Starfire, Cyborg, Beast Boy and Raven all dress as Robin (Dick) while he's out and it's admitted that the outfit makes them feel cool. Imagine a young Tim hearing that story mentioned in passing by Dick while trying to manage what becomes Young Just-us. And then when Damain becomes Robin?? Gremlin mode activated.

Tim hosts regular 'Robin' Parties, where the idea is that you come in Robin colors, get a mask at the door and everyone gets to basically hang out in civilian clothes without the identity crises for those just getting started. "age appropriate" drinks, games, and good music are all staples. The parties become more frequent once Damian becomes Robin and he pointedly doesn't attend Tim's parties which... Neither of them are really happy about. Family is complicated, but finally, after a few years of cooling off, it's decided that Robin will actually host this years Robin party.

Meaning Tim shows up in casual clothes (MIT sweatshirt) and a mask, and Damian is actually dressed as Robin when the party is starting to get into the swing of things. The point of it is to make sure all the young heroes get to come and start to befriend each other, so there are a few people who show up and have to actually say that they're *insert alias* and this is met with basically "Dope, nice to meet you Robin" etc.

Insert Danny Twin AU (Or just look-alike fuckery) (for either brother but my brain is on Tim Twin au mode).

Danny decides to show up as his human self, grabs a mask at the door before coming in, and is slowly integrating himself into a conversation when someone grabs his arm- "Hey Red your brother is fighting with a newbie about meat products again-"

And Danny doesn't have a brother but my god has he heard this fight too many times with Sam and Tucker- He's going in and he's defusing this situation because he cannot handle the thought of this argument taking over his new friend group. He deals with it enough, okay?

Robin (like, the real one) looks at him curiously while Danny is talking down the other hero Robin (insert here), and the whole room notices when Robin doesn't take the opportunity to dismiss or belittle his older brother (Lmao because its danny). Damian cannot place his unease about Drake (again, Danny, who is not hiding his identity beyond a mask), and simply decides that this isn't worth the effort.

The party moves on but now instead of everyone calling themselves Robin, Danny is distinctly being called Red. It confuses him a bit, he didn't even know Red Robin was going to be at this party (he hasn't met the guy and doesn't know the lore), but he rolls with it because he's made fast friends with Robin (Bart), Robin (Cassie) and Robin (JON). The kid was full little bro energy and it made Danny laugh, he was so surprised when the real Robin joined them and fell into easy conversation with Robin (Jon).

Danny is playing games with a few others when someone goes to grab a broom to clean up- Turns out Red Robin and his boyfriend Kon had been making out in the closet for most of the party- and the whole room looks at Danny like he's tried to trick them. Tim is at first uneasy that so many people mistook him, but once he's in front of his dupe, puzzle pieces start to move around in his head.

"And who are you again, Robin?" Tim asks carefully, though he suspects he has his answer.

"Uh, Phantom, but you know, a lot of people were calling me Red tonight and I didn't get why until just now." Danny laughs nervously.

"Yeah I bet- Find me monday and we can see about a geneology test."

"That leaves us the whole weekend, to do what exactly? Fuck with people by pulling a parent trap style swap?"

"Nature vs. nuture and all but I don't know how you could be anything but my brother with a question like that." Tim grins and they get to scheming.

[wileys-russo]

the christmas eve dash II l.williamson

second of my yearly christmas fics and part of the mila universe! the christmas eve dash II l.williamson

"lee? baby can you come here for a sec please!" you called out to your wife, hearing her footsteps change direction and head toward where you were holed up away in your shared home office.

"whats up babe? i'm just about to go pick up the gremlin." leah jingled her keys as she leaned in the doorway with a curious frown, mila at her weekly karate practice.

"christmas checklist!" you tapped your pen against the wad of paper in front of you as leah swallowed the dry witted comment lingering on the tip of her tongue.

"hit me with it." the blonde nodded encouragingly instead, moving into the room as you rattled off the last few remaining tasks on your list, forever having been the organisational mind between you and leah.

"-then you need to go pick up that spa voucher for your mum, i'll get the gift hampers for my cousins. we need to get some chocolate stockings for my nephews, the jersey your brother wanted is ready to be collected from JD-" you read off, leah humming to acknowledge each thing.

"-then we'll do mila's santa sack on christmas eve once she's asleep, or i'll do it." you paused to shoot your wife a pointed look as she winced, having had one whisky too many last year and falling into the christmas tree at three in the morning while the two of you were busy putting out your daughters presents.

"i said i was sorry! she didn't wake up, did she?" leah defended as you clicked your tongue. "didn't she?" you reminded, leah wincing again as she thought back to the two of you falling over yourselves to hide when little footsteps had come thundering down the hall.

"you are so lucky i can think fast dopey." you warned, having managed to commando crawl your way to your room and intercept your daughter from behind as if you'd been asleep there the whole time.

you'd rambled out an excuse about santa being able to turn invisible so he can hide from the police as the four year old questioned over and over why she couldn't go and say hi or open her presents now.

"-and then you got mila the barbie deluxe dream house. have you wrapped it yet? i couldn't find it in the closet with everything else for her." you spun around on your chair and quirked an eyebrow, leah freezing for a second.

"i got the what?" the blonde asked cluelessly as your eyes narrowed, hands moving to grip the arms of your chair as you exhaled slowly. "you got the barbie deluxe dream house with the swing sets, the slide, the elevator and the pool." you started, pushing to stand up.

"aka the only thing our daughter has been talking about for the last three weeks and the only thing she's asked santa for for christmas, leah." you spoke calmly but your wife could immediately pick up on the sharp scent of malice hidden behind your words.

now she needed to think fast.

"oh! that dreamhouse, the bright pink one with the little slide yeah yeah yeah." leah scoffed, smacking her palm against her forehead. "i got it ages ago babe, forgot all about it! you can tick it off your little list." the blonde grinned confidently with a wave of her hand.

"you did?" "well you asked me to, didn't you?" "well where is it?" "its uhh..." leah trailed off, wracking her brain for an answer, your foot tapping impatiently as you stared her down, arms crossed and hip jutted out to the side.

"it's at lia's! it was too big to hide and you know what mila's like." leah chuckled and you hummed. "mm nosy? wonder where she gets that from." you teased, relaxing a little more and leaning in to peck her lips a few times appreciatively.

"well thats a relief, it's sold out country wide. good luck to anyone who was planning on some last minute shopping, that stupid chunk of plastic would be impossible to find!" you chuckled, returning to your seat and your list as leah hid the panic building rapidly in her body.

"but what our little angel wants, she gets." you made a point to tick it off your list with a deep exhale. "mm and i wonder where she gets that from, princess." your wife teased, ducking down and stealing a kiss before you could argue with her.

"well i'm off! might take her for a kick around if she's got loose energy to burn off. bye babe!" leah sung out, practically already halfway out the front door before you could even look up, jumping in shock hearing it slam close after her.

alone in her car leah slumped into her seat, staring blankly ahead and running her hands down her face with a frustrated groan, moving to grab the steering wheel.

"shit!"

~

"-then we learned this one that went HIYA AYA HIYA!" your daughter chanted, punching and kicking at thin air as leah clicked the buckles of her car seat in, just ducking out of the way as little arms and fists began swinging.

"thats really great bubba when we get home you can show me everything, just give me a second to call aunty beth yeah?" leah flashed the girl a smile who shrugged, busying herself practicing her karate as leah shut the door.

"come on come on come on." leah chanted as she clicked call, tapping her foot impatiently as the dial tone rang and rang, right as she was about to hang up and move to her next option finally it clicked through.

"well well miss leah catherine, to what do i owe the ple-" leah didn't even let the poor girl finish before she was jumping in.

"imayhaveforgottentogettheonlypresentmilawantedandifidontgetitbothmydaughterandmywifearegoingtokillmeonchristmasandiamsoabsoloutelyutterlyfucked!" leah rambled out in one breath, beth going silent for a moment.

"come again? in english this time please if you would be so kind." "i may have forgotten to get the only present mila wanted and if i don't get it both my daughter and my wife are going to kill me on christmas and i am so absolutely utterly fucked." leah exhaled shakily, wiggling her fingers at mila through the window who knocked and pulled a face.

"so you've clearly called me to make funeral arrangements then? well i was thinking instead of a euology i could-" "beth come on man! i'm serious here, i need help."

"well that's quite the understatement. but right, whats the plan then captain?"

~

"-baby are you sure you don't need anything?" you asked softly, knelt down by the bed and pushing a few loose hairs out of your wifes face. "nah just some rest babe, i'm so sorry i can't make it." leah croaked out as your lips curled downward into a frown.

"don't be sorry lee, i'm sorry you're feeling so miserable on christmas eve, of course today of all days your migraines come back. " you pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, nails scratching gently at her scalp as your wife sighed.

"get some sleep, i love you." you pecked her lips sweetly before you pushed to stand, hearing little foosteps come thundering down the hall as you did.

"woah! we have speed limits in this household little miss ferrari." you scooped her up before she could launch herself up and onto the bed like you knew she'd planned. "little miss aston martin!" mila frowned and poked at your chest, your wifes little cheeky smile up at you in response having your eyes rolling.

"say bye to mummy but be gentle please mils she's not feeling well. remember?" you set her back down as your daughter nodded. "one for you, one for me and one for your sore head." mila pressed three kisses to leahs cheek who smiled, stretching a hand out to pinch the five year olds cheek fondly.

"thank you bubba, you'll give nanna an extra big kiss for me yeah?" leah warned as mila nodded dutifully, squealing as leahs fingers dug into her side and she grabbed onto your leg hiding behind it.

"get some sleep baby." you chuckled, ducking down to peck her lips again, hearing some enthusiastic gagging sound behind you. "yuck!" your daughter retched as your eyes rolled again. "hey bubba?" leah called out, mila peeking out from where she'd hidden her face behind her hands.

"leah!" you laughed as your wife pulled you in for a sloppy kiss, mila falling to the floor dramatically and covering her face again, pretending to throw up everywhere as you gently smacked your wifes shoulder and she winked.

"come on trouble, lets go let you loose on that poor nursing home."

leah waited patiently in bed until she'd heard the front door shut, and then heard the car engine start, then till she heard it back out of the driveway, and then another five minutes just to be sure.

the two sharp honks in the driveway was all she needed, leaping out of bed already dressed and ready to go, grabbing a beanie and some sunglasses on the way and wrestling on her shoes as she hopped to the front door.

"stop honking you idiot my neighbours!" leah hissed as she hurried down the front steps, beth honking her hello and rolling her eyes at the way the blonde yanked the beanie down her head as if it would disguise her somewhat when she'd come flying out of her own house.

"good mornin to you 007! where we goin first then?" "tommys toy world, and step on it!"

~

"leah man how many more places are we going to be laughed out of? get the kid a samari sword and call it a day, she's into her karate now ain't she?" beth groaned, leah huffing impatiently and taking her hand, yanking her down the travelator mumbling apologies so everyone she pushed past on the way.

"i can't beth! i said i bought it months ago and-" "-and you'll be in the doghouse until next christmas. yeah yeah yeah, need i remind you got yourself into this mess leah? i told you ya memorys bad!" "yes beth i am well aware whose fault this is, which is why i need to get myself out of this mess! for the sake of my child and my marriage!" leah huffed, only letting go of the younger girls hand the moment they stepped into the toy store.

"sorry." beth apologised quickly to an older gentlemen who leah had nearly bowled over in her haste, the man grumbling about basic manners going missing this time of year as he walked off.

this store the ninth one they'd trekked to already this morning beth was well aware of the drill, rolling her eyes and trudging after leah who wasted no time sprinting off to wherever the barbies and accessories were kept.

she grabbed some toys for myle along the way, stopping for a second too long to admire a lego set before a hand grabbed the back of her jumper and violently yanked her away.

"don't you manhandle me williamson!" beth scoffed smacking her friends hands away but hurrying after her none the less. "oh for fuck sakes come on there's gotta be one fucking dream house left in london!" leah swore, eyes scanning the aisle which was assaulting bright pink and made beth wince at the sight.

"so sorry." beth apologised again but this time to to the horrified looking mother dragging away her toddler whose ears were firmly covered, beth sending a weak wave the girls way before she dissapeared.

"can i help you?" a worker appeared seemingly out of nowhere, concern ingrained into his features as leah grunted and grumbled to herself, riffling through the shelves as beth hurried to put back what she took off.

"god i bloody hope so mate." leah groaned, dragging her hands down her face with a stressed exhale as the worker chuckled. "last minute shopping huh?" the man chuckled as beth snickered. "you have no idea." earning her an elbow and a glare from leah.

"what are you after? we did just get a last minute pallet that hasn't been unloaded yet so i can check if its out back, we're about to restock the shelves since we're open until nine tonight for people like yourself." the man smiled kindly as leah perked up and beth snickered again in amusement, her shopping done weeks ago.

"barbie dreamhouse." leah hurried out, the man nodding and punching something into the little black box in his hand. "we have the malibu playhouse, the 60th anniversary edition, kens mojo dojo casa house-" the man read out as leah shook her head.

"no no, the deluxe dreamhouse. with the swingsets and the slide and the pool and-" leah couldn't even finish before it happened, the same response she'd gotten at every single store so far today and then some.

"that? you're looking on christmas eve for that? do you know how many have been sold country wide in the last week let alone the last month? its the toy of the year! not to mention sales have skyrocketed since-" the man laughed as leahs face fell, then very quickly distorted into a scowl.

"yeah brilliant. do you have it or not?" leah interrupted, crossing her arms as the man gave her an incredulous look. "of course not! its been sold out for weeks UK wide, you don't read the news?" the man laughed in disbelief, though his question fell on deaf ears as leah turned heel and stormed off again.

as much as beth tried the stony faced blonde didn't say another word until they were both back in the car. "fuck!" leah swore, smacking her hands against the dashboard and making her friend jump.

"oi! respect the vehicle. its not her fault you left all of this to the last minute!" beth warned, sticking her key in the ignition as leah ignored her and pulled out her phone, exhaling with a small amount of relief as she checked your location and could see you still weren't home.

"right. where to next?" beth sighed deeply, leah slumping back in her seat. "that was the last one." the blonde responded bluntly, beth wincing and whistling quietly under her breath.

"call it a day and head home then? i'll drive slow so you can practice your grovelling and begging for forgiveness." beth shrugged, grinning as leah shot her a dry unimpressed look.

"no, not home." "leah then where-" "it's time to pull out the big guns." "call your wife, explain what happened and take her anger on the chin?"

at that leah scrunched up her face with disgust. "god no." leah shook her head, leaning forward and punching in the address as beth watched on curiously, a puff of amused air leaving her lips as she recognized it right away.

"i've got no choice beth. i've gotta call in the godmother."

~

"-so you lied." alessia cocked an eyebrow, sipping at her tea as leah exhaled heavily. "not lied but-" she fell quiet at the fiercely withering look sent her way by the younger blonde across from her.

"okay yes. i forgot and i lied and i am so so so unbelievably screwed less." leah whined, her own cup of tea left empty on the coffee table as the defender slumped down into the couch burying her face in her hands.

"yes, yes you are." alessia agreed with a nod, leah peeking out with narrowed eyes. "i came here for advice! not for you to agree with me for once." leah mumbed moodily as the striker smiled, sculling her last mouthful of tea with a hum.

"i have a feeling things are about to look up for you lee." was all the girl said, squeezing her knee as she stood, grabbed their empty mugs and headed back to the kitchen.

"how!" leah called after her with confusion, attention grabbed by the sounds of a key in the door, eyes widening at the familiar little thump of feet which followed.

"aunty lessi!" mila squealed, ignoring your shouts after her to take her shoes, coat and scarf off as the five year old came barreling into the kitchen. "hello little marshmallow." alessia grinned, scooping up the small girl and kissing over her face making her giggle.

"i'm puffy!" mila smacked her coat covered chest as you arrived and rolled your eyes with a smile, alessia sitting your daughter down on the counter and helping her to shrug off her many layers as she babbled on and on and on about their day.

"shit! shit shit shit shit." leah whispered in a panic, crouching down and trying to peek over the top of the couch as her mind scrambled to try and think of an escape plan, groaning quietly as she realised that came to a screaming halt when she didn't have a car, beth dropping her off and leaving.

"hi babe." leah sprang up like she'd sat on an electrical wire, coming thumping back to the ground with a grunt, staring up horrified at your scarily calm smile which looked down at her.

"um i can explain! it is not what it looks like." leah tried, running a hand through her hair and stumbling over herself to think of a valid excuse. "save it leah, i knew you'd be here eventually. granted maybe not just yet, you hit the stores faster than i thought!" you shrugged honestly, rounding the couch as leahs mouth formed an o and she pulled herself to stand.

"sorry. pause, rewind, repeat. come again?" leah asked slowly, sure she'd heard wrong as you chuckled. "please. leah baby we've been together for years, you think i can't tell when you're lying? faking sick? my love you are a terrible actor." you laughed with a shake of your head.

"forgive me, i'm a little lost here." was all your wife managed to get out, the two of you glancing over your shoulder at a thump and the sound of laughter, alessia stood with mila sat on her shoulders, making the girl with a pit of a stomach a sandwich.

"hi mummy, mama and i missed you!" mila noticed, waving furiously at leah from the other room who cautiously raised a hand and waved back, alessia sending her a wink and recapturing mila's attention as you clicked your fingers to gain hers.

"come with me williamson." you patted her chest with a wink, nodding for her to follow you as you took off down the hall, leah following you slowly, feeling a little as though she was walking to her own funeral.

the older girl hung in the doorway, watching as you rummaged through the wardrobe in alessia's spare bedroom, which judging by the arsenal sheets and toys strung about anywhere was basically your daughters room, mila loving her 'big girl' sleepovers with her aunties, alessia most of all being her godmother and your closest friend.

"close the door please." you spoke with your back still to her, leah hesitantly stepping inside and doing so. "sit on the bed." you asked next, leah still highly suspicious but also quite scared to say no wasting no time following your instructions.

"eyes closed."

"if you're going to kill me i'd rather see it coming darling." leah sighed making you snort out in laughter, shooting her a look over your shoulder as your wife sighed but closed her eyes none the less.

she flinched a little feeling something touch her hands, making your eyes roll as you assured it wasn't a weapon. "open." you smiled, half the package in her grip as the other remained in yours.

it was rare the outspoken defender was speechless, however clearly the sight of the toy she'd just spent the last six hours hunting for in perfect mint condition, sat in her hands, had rendered her tongue and words void.

"but-but-but-" she eventually stammered out as you merely smirked and nodded. "yes, yes, yes." you countered, tugging it out of her hands and setting it carefully down on the floor, leah immediately sliding off the bed and dropping to her knees.

"the barbie deluxe dreamhouse. with the fridge, the swing sets, the slide, the pool, the-" "yep, everything, all the bells and whistles." you took her seat on the edge of the bed, leah giving you an incredulous look. "but how did you even..." she trailed off, eyebrows scrunched together in pure utter confusion.

"please. leah did you really think i wouldn't have everything organised?" you scoffed quirking an eyebrow as leahs mouth opened and closed and she shook her head back and forth.

"so you knew-" "that you were lying? yes." "and you already-" "bought it weeks ago? absolutely." "but then you-" "sent you on an impossible wild goose chase around london for something i knew you wouldn't find and i already had? i most certainly did." you confirmed with a confident nod as leah seemed to crumple into a heap.

"i'd encourage you choose your next words very very carefully my love, especially if you'd like to have a merry christmas." your tone sharpened as a scowl set into your wifes features, wiped away as soon as it appeared.

"oh leah, get off me!" you huffed as within seconds she'd pounced, pinning you to the bed and kissing all over your face mumbling her thank you's. "i'm still mad at you! you lied to me, and i gave you the chance to be honest." you warned, leah stopping with lips puckered hovering just over yours, wincing and sitting up.

"oh really leah!" you groaned as again she flopped down on top of you, now mumbling how sorry she was as again her lips rained down kisses on every inch of your skin she could reach.

"get off me you dickhead and put the dreamhouse away before mila see's it!" you warned with a roll of your eyes, pushing her off of you as the blonde hurried to do just that, slotting it back on top of the cupboard where it was well out of sight or reach of your overtly inquisitive five year old.

"i really am sorry. so so so so so sorry my girl!" leah winced as she stood in between your legs where you'd sat up. "oh you will be. you're on clean up duty, today, tomorrow, tonight, boxing day, new years eve, new years day-" you rattled off, words swallowed by your wife leaning down and pressing her mouth against yours.

"done. i love you." leah pulled away and promised, shuffling back a little to allow you to stand up as you hummed. "i love you too, even if you are hopelessly disorganized." you sighed with a small smile.

"well thats why i married you." "don't push it williamson." you warned as she grinned, stealing another kiss as a crash was heard and both of you looked to the closed door.

"we should probably go sort that out." leah sighed, starting to head for the door as you tugged her back, hand slipping up her hoodie and fingers playing with the waistband of her jeans.

"let less tire her out for a bit baby, the earlier she crashes tonight after some movies and the cookies you'll sneak her when you both think i'm not looking, the better." you smiled as leah chuckled, unable to argue the fact.

"more time to play santa." leah agreed with a wink, pecking your lips and tensing a little as your fingers poked into her abs and you leaned up to speak into her ear a little more.

"mm and once the presents are sorted, i'd quite like to sit in santas lap, maybe give her sleigh a ride if she's earned it." you whispered, leah jolting as your hand smacked against her ass and with a cheeky grin you were sauntering off leaving the door open after you and your wifes cheeks flushed red.

"dear god i love christmas."

[larrylimericks]

19Oct24

No matter how mad the word made us, It always held hope — a “hiatus.”

I’m sad for so many reasons — the fundamental sadness of death, and at such a young age; having to process the mortality of someone so extraordinary it seems they should transcend a fate as ordinary as dying; aching for his family and friends; angry that he had to navigate such a cruel world, one that continues to disrespect him in death. Yes, Liam was damaged and in turn damaged others; he had demons to face and amends to make — I like to think he would have, given a chance. His talent was so immense, and there was so much more to come. I believe he would have found a way to redemption, and then had such a beautiful renaissance.

The joy of being a 1D fan has always been policed and mocked. We’ve so frequently been laughed at, dismissed for the intensity of our love for the band. And now, the world wants to do the same with our grief, questioning its legitimacy, trivializing our feelings. But this loss is real. And this grief is valid.

And the grief of losing Liam is compounded by the grief of losing so much else. He wasn’t just a celebrity. They weren’t just a boyband. He was an integral part of an integral part of our formative years — no matter how old we were when we found them. So many of us are the people we are in part because of the people they are. Were. We’ve lost a beloved one, we’ve lost innocence, we’ve lost inspiration, we’ve lost a piece of our foundation.

We’ve lost hope.

It used to frustrate me, in retrospect, that they called it a “hiatus.” It felt dishonest — like a gentle lie to let us down easy. Why couldn’t they just say it was over? That being a boy band has a built-in shelf life, and it was time to explore solo careers. But now I understand the kindness in that word. For hope springs eternal, and it didn’t matter if it never came. All that matters was that it might. And “hiatus” wasn’t just for us; it held their optimism too. Especially Liam’s. It left the door open, even if only a crack, for the possibility of something more.

It’s been a remarkable gift to watch each one find his own path and his own voice. But when they announced a hiatus in 2015, they planted a seed of hope that someday we’d see the unrivaled magic of those boys on stage together again — the greatest team the world has ever seen. Maybe Zayn would join, probably not. Maybe it would’ve been a one-off thing for charity or a special anniversary. Maybe it would be in their 50s when the allure of easy money from a reunion tour was too tempting to resist. But surely, eventually, 1D would reunite in some capacity. I was excited to see how their once frenetic energy and youthful antics would meld with the mature solo artists they’ve become.

That hope sustained us through 18 months and eventually eight years, but now the hiatus is over. I would have happily clowned for every remaining day of my life than know this new certainty brought by the finality of Liam’s death. Maybe, someday, there will be a memorial performance. Maybe we’ll see three or four out of five come together to honor him — and what a poignant testament it will be that Liam was what could bring them together. Or maybe it will never feel right to them to take the stage without him, and that, too, will make all the sense in the world.

I wish I had an uplifting ending for this post. I don’t. I wake up and my first thought is “Liam isn’t here anymore,” and then I go about my day with that relentless realization lurking around the corner of every mundane task I do.

I haven’t been able to listen to their music yet. It’s a cruel trick that the thing that always brought comfort is now a trigger for grief. But I hope that will soon change. That, at some point, I’ll put on WMYB, get choked up at “You’re insecure” and second-guess my readiness. But then jump to History, and find solace in the lyrics that are currently rattling around my brain but aren’t ready to be heard yet: “This is not the end, this is not the end” … “We can live forever.”

❯❯❯❯

[dilatorywriting]

Oh, 4k? Hold up then, looks like you dropped this 👑👑👑

CONGRATS TO YOU, ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS HERE!! If I could partake in the event, I'd love something with Riddle and prompt 17; love my short red angry king and alice in wonderland in its entirety tbh. If the Reader could be a bit of a rule breaker too and have known Riddle since childhood that'd be awesome as well. Again tho CONGRATULATIONS!! HOPE NOTHING BUT THE GOOD STUFF FOR YOU!

Gender Neutral Reader x Riddle Rosehearts Word Count: 2.3k

Prompt 17: "I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

You were annoying.

At least, that was the kindest way his mother described it. And Riddle would have to agree. Always hanging over his shoulder like some overeager parrot and rattling off nonsense into his ear just as loudly. He was hardly allowed out to the park—mother said his studies were far too important, and even as a child Riddle certainly agreed. Mostly, at least. Enough to never argue—but when he did get time to sit out in the sun under the shade of the grand, painted trees, you were always there.

A bother, a nuisance. Sticky fingered with the remnants of swiped tarts and chattering on, and on, and on.

“I tried to follow a rabbit,” you said, rolling around in the dirt like a heathen. Weren’t you worried your parents would scold you for mucking up the smooth, blue fabric of your jacket? “But it ran too fast and I fell. Do you think I could catch it with a net, maybe?”

“Hopped,” Riddle correctly, stiffly. “Rabbits hop.”

“Well this one ran,” you argued back. “Faster than a car. Faster than a cheetah.”

“Cars are faster than cheetahs,” he said, turning to the next page of his book. “So grammatically you should have put that part second.”

You flopped back onto your stomach and pulled yourself to your knees, before scuttling behind his back and peering over his shoulder.

“How can you pay attention to a book with no pictures in it?”

He hunched up his shoulders and you dropped your chin down with a bonk. Refusing to budge.

“Some of us don’t have the attention span of goldfish,” he sneered, turning his nose up at you.

“Well, if I could only think as much as a goldfish, I wouldn’t want to waste it on that,” you snipped back. “Doing homework in a park. What are you, a robot?”

“I’m efficient!” he snapped. “Mother says I shouldn’t waste time on frivolities.” On things like you, he doesn’t say. A part of him wants to. The part that sounds like biting words and a sharp, firm voice demanding he get to bed by 7pm unless he wants to rot his brain. Another part is… is worried that you might not like that. And then you’d just get even more annoying.

You reached around and snagged the textbook out of his hands with an audible ‘yoink!’ and immediately ran off at full speed. Which is never fair! Because you’re used to climbing up trees, and sprinting through mud, and scaling boulders like a wild beast. And Riddle is—Riddle isn’t! He would never! So it takes him an age to catch up to you. By the time he does, he’s huffing, and puffing, and as red as his hair.

“Don’t do that!” he snapped, livid. “Ever again!”

“Alright,” you shrugged, a loose grin on your mouth as you returned your pilfered treasure. You’ve barely even broken a sweat. “I won’t bother you during homework, Riddle.”

Which is… That’s certainly what he wanted Of course it was. But it made something in his stomach drop nonetheless. Probably because you’d just find new ways to be irritating. Yes. That’s certainly why.

The first time he felt it was on his twelfth birthday.

He’d tried so hard. And he’d done so well. His exams had all come back with perfect scores, his projects and papers immaculately graded. He’d been going to bed on time every night, combing his hair exactly how his mother liked, even folding his clothes into perfectly pressed little squares. She’d seen it in one of her cleanliness magazines and had lamented how nice the style looked for something so tedious. But Riddle had learned. And now his closet looked as tidy as a militia.

“Can I go? Trey’s whole family will be there. And it’s just dinner. Fully monitored!” he reassured, fighting the urge to twist his hands behind his back. “Please?”

“Of course not,” his mother droned, not even looking up from her laptop. “You’ve been doing well, but we don’t want you slipping up, now do we?”

“But—” he started, and her eyes cut up to him like daggers. A warning. “…of course, mother.”

“Good boy,” she smiled, with that smile that was never really a smile. “Now go up to your room. You can have an extra half hour of free time today,” she said, like it was something worth celebrating. “For my special birthday boy.”

Riddle had sat in his bed wishing he’d never known what a birthday was at all. And then there was a tapping at his window.

He opened it in shock, to see you hanging off the edge like a particularly determined cockroach. Which was—! No! It wasn’t safe! And you were going to get him in trouble, and—

But instead of opening that stupid, fat mouth of yours and letting of your siren call of a laugh—summoning every sensible adult in a five-mile radius to come checking for delinquents—you simply swung around a bit to reach back into your jacket pocket. Riddle almost lurched forward when he saw your fingers scrabble a bit along the ledge. Ready to fall. But then you righted yourself and gently deposited a little, paper-wrapped parcel atop of the smooth surface.

And then you shot him a wink and disappeared from view, no doubt scuttling back down the siding like the demon you were.

He approached it hesitantly, like one would an active bomb. He carefully peeled back the sticky tape and smoothed out the edges of the sloppily wrapped package. Inside was a small, round strawberry tart. Freshly baked, by the smell of it. And the waft of warm, soft steam curling up from the flaking crust. With a little note tucked beside it in your chicken scratch. A lopsided smiley face doodled at the corner, beaming up at a hastily scrawled ‘Happy Birthday, Riddle!’

He took a small bite of the little, perfect treat and his eyes burned. Something in his chest gave a worrying thump-thump.

‘Oh my god,’ he thought in a panic. ‘The idiot poisoned me.’

But aside from the horribly loud ticking of his heart, nothing else seemed to go awry. He ate the rest of the tart in silence, feeling lightheaded and far too warm. He wondered if maybe his mother was right about sugar and myocardial infarction after all.

Riddle didn’t see much of you the next few years. His mother doubled down on his study times, and he wasn’t even allowed to spend time with someone as responsible as Trey anymore. Let alone the person his parent had deemed ‘a menace upon polite society.’ The next time he saw you—really saw you. Not just your hurried waves from across the street or the trace ends of your bubbling laugh from around a corner—was when the Royal Sword Academy’s students had descended upon Night Raven for the VDC.

You were chattering away with Che’nya, the pair of you looking equally as mused and ridiculous. All splashes of raucous color and uniforms so out of place that one would hardly be able tell what institution you were meant to be a part of at all. For a moment he thought you’d walk right past. It’d been years, after all. And certainly you’d moved on to bothering some new stick in the mud.

But then you saw him and your eyes lit up. His chest gave another of those terrible thump-thumps.

“Riddle!” you all but screamed. And launched yourself at him like a feral cat. “How are you! Your hair is so neat! Did you grow out your bangs? Oh! Look at your cape! So cool! Did you know that we don’t get capes? I think that’s a crime. Especially with how yours looks,” you rambled on. And despite that lingering thread of him that demanded that you must be annoying, because that’s what you were. Loud, and uncouth, and everything he’d been raised to not be. The rest of him was… Warm. And happy, to hear the familiar chatter back in his ear.

He scoffed, hoping it would cover the noise of his pounding heart. “No one in their right mind would trust you with a cape. You’d get caught on every door in existence.”

“Oh, that’s fair,” you agreed on a nod. “But surely a top hat, at least?”

And then you were back in his life like you’d never left to begin with. Or, well, like he’d never left you.

Showing up at Unbirthday Parties with the tackiest serving plates and even worse outfits. Telling him all about the rabbit you finally managed to catch, and how it does run, Riddle. I swear. Bringing him trinkets you’d found in small shops that had no practical purpose to speak of. Breaking every rule in the Queen’s Book and smacking yourself on the forehead each time he shouted a stern reminder. You even bought a little notepad to jot down his instructions. But all it ended up being good for was an ever growing pile of doodles and little, folded, origami animals that he’d find tucked all around his room like secrets.  

And amidst all of this, that thumping, bumping pressure in his chest just kept getting worse.

It was a warm day, not unlike the one all those years ago where you’d plunked yourself on his shoulder and stolen the textbook right out of his hands. Now you had your own book to read, some monstrosity on analyzing ravens and writing desks, with your head precariously close to his lap but not there. He didn’t even know why that bothered him.

“This book is too complicated,” you complained. And Riddle fought the urge to point out you were holding it upside down. “Both have quills. Is that so hard to understand?”

“That makes no sense,” he argued back.

“Of course it does,” you said, perfectly pleasant and sure of yourself. “But you know everything, so you really ought to know that too.”

He snorted. “I do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“What’s fifteen times thirty-four.”

“That’s not knowing. That’s just math,” he argued. “And it’s five-hundred and ten.”

“See,” you poked. “I knew you’d know it.” You rolled over to stretch out on your stomach—reaching forward to twist a long blade of grass between your fingers. “You always know what to do.”

Something in his stomach turned unpleasantly at that. Had he known what to do when he’d cowed to his mother’s commands and cut you from his life? Had he known best when he’d turned away from your warm greetings and friendly overtures to hide away behind the unsurmountable walls of expectation? Worse over, did you think that he thought all those things were… for the best? That he’d wanted to push you aside like all your cheerful banter and sweet attempts to brighten his dull, miserable life had been worth nothing.  

“That’s not true,” he finally said, stilted and near whisper quiet.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him with a curious tilt of the head.

“Of course it is,” you blinked, guileless and genuine. Smiling up at him from your place in the grass with that familiar, twisty little grin on your mouth and a brightness in your eyes that never seemed to dim.

“It’s not,” he said, a bit firmer. And his gaze flickered off away from yours. “I think I’m in love with you, and I don’t know what to do about it at all.”

Riddle wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Silence, maybe. The horrible, awkward, biting sort that ate away at his soul like a rat gnawing through his bones. Maybe you’d laugh at him, in that bubbling, carefree way of yours, and tell him that you thought one of those rules of his was never to lie on a Thursday afternoon. That would hurt worse than the silence, he thought.

But instead you just rolled back over with a flick of your wrist, like you were gossiping about the weather.

“Then love me,” you said, simple. “I love you. It only seems fair.”

“…oh,” he spluttered, face lighting up crimson and warm.

You hummed, as if in agreement. But to what he wasn’t sure. You looked him over for a minute, like you were searching for something. And then you reached for his sweaty hand with your own and twined your fingers there in the grass.

“If everything always made sense, nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn't,” you said, like that was supposed to make any sense at all. “And contrariwise, what it is, it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?"

“What on earth are you on about?” he gaped.

You burst into delighted giggles and tucked your nose against his hip. “Silly, silly. Stop trying to analyze everything, yes? It will only make things more confusing.”

You sighed and stretched, a contented smile on your lips. You reached up to tap a finger against his nose.

“Things don’t always have to make sense. That’s what makes it fun. And, well, if you’re really that determined to be able to figure out how things are supposed to go, we can do that later, yes?”

“…Right,” he managed to eek out after a long moment. Feeling far too light and far too… too something. “Later. There will be a later.”

And as much as that would have felt like a lie all those years ago—had been a lie even—when he said it now you looked up at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky. And he couldn’t help but hope for all the tomorrows in the world.

.

.

[missmarveledsblog]

Bet on it ( Bradley Bradshaw x reader ) PART THREE

Summary : it the night of the gala an awkward start til the two break the silence that leaves them going down memory lane to simplier time with the ice breaking and thawing bradley starts to realise somethings like how good his name sound coming from her lips , how beautiful she truly is and the two get closer and closer

warnings : goofy , fluffy fun , allusions to smut rooster is older than reader by like 8 or something years so aging him up in og top gun timeline

previous part

It was odd , it was awkward as hell and a silent car ride as the both went to talk,opening  their mouths and yet closed a second later . going from enemies and friends wasn’t so clear cut like in the movie where they were instant besties . sure they didn’t squabble or insult each other much as before still few slip ups here and there .  now she kind wish its like in the movies anything would be better than this and when she tried to kill the silence words failed her . she also felt old feeling coming to the surface which she could only hate more for the timing .  she never hated him , never truly  a part of her always loved the man.  a drunken confession to jake  after a particularly bad time between the two that night . she confided in what happened all the years ago maybe it was dramatic reaction from her side but he did truly hurt her and now she was  questioning if he really knew that  , something they could talk about some other time she wasn’t going to make an already awkward moment even worse . it didn’t help how good he looked not that he wasn’t hotter than the fucking sun before but rooster in  three piece suit should of been a crime how good he looked and even more happy she wasn’t driving or they would be heading to a hospital instead of a hospital charity gala . 

Why couldn’t he talk , He of all people  having trouble speaking when all he did was talk . it was like bagman not having an ego and yet the woman currently sitting in the passenger seat of his bronco had him either silent or a blubbering mee  . the same woman who made his blood pressure rising had it rising or a whole different reason .  “ say something jesus anything” he cursed himself internally. 

“ music” he asked quickly to which she just gave a polite nod to . “ least it was something “ he mentally wondering how it was so bad , how it was like this to the point they couldn’t even talk to each other without the rest of their friends around , tapping his finger on the wheel as he listened to the music pretending he wasn’t cringing inside then it came on the radio a song from their childhood , a regular in the hard deck . 

“ you shake my nerves and your rattle my brain” that voice it wasn’t him , 

“ too much love drives a man  insane” she could sing since well , he remember she and his father did but a three year old rendition of twinkle twinkle like star. 

“You broke my will , but what a thrill “ he joined turning to see her smiling . 

“ GOODNESS GRACIOUS GREAT BALLS OF FIRE “ they screamed before bursting into a fit of laughter ,

“ erm excuse me mini mitchell why the hell have i not heard you sing before” he asked. 

“ well you hated me so i wasn’t gonna sing you a lullaby now was i “ she snorted. 

“ i disliked you never hated you but i regret all that really wish i could change it all if i could we could be touring america singing jerry lee lewis” he winked.

“ as much as i love your rendition nothing will ever beat your dad’s  what i’d give to hear him singing it again” she smiled softly .  

“ nah what i would love is his and your version of twinkle twinkle little star , i mean you both made that a ballet” he chuckled. 

“ we did rock that one , but i think our rewrite of bingo was better “ she snorted. 

“ oh yeah the one where you made bingo like a twenty letter word and some numbers in there too “he mused yet playful lilt to his tone. 

“ hey i was exploring art through music and i was also a toddler all words were big back then “ she mock offense .

“ hey now your taking me up wrong i am a fan and so was my dad as he was able to follow along  he was your biggest fan “ . 

“ and my dad is your biggest fan we lucked out on the godfather train huh ? …. Well sort of “ she grimace realizing how it came out. 

“ hey your dad’s  maverick i might be an orphan godchild soon with how he take risks  “ he grinned was her laughter always this way and why did he wanna hear more of it .

“ my dad is maverick that man is gonna outlive us all” 

 the venue was bigger than she though it was bigger event than she thought . in a way it was better it meant more fund for her department , more resources,  more bed. 

“ im not going to get tackle when we walk in her am” he joked . 

“ i mean beth might … nah you should be fine i'll tell them  it was a misunderstanding or something” . 

“ beth the lady i talk to cause if so i  will use you as a shield” . 

“ chivalry isn't dead after all” she smirked . 

just as she went to get out of the car only for him to run like hell to her side opening the door even held her hand as she got out the full gentlemen treatment  seemed to be on the cards as  they walked in the entrance. to say he was  nervous seeing the same security guard eyeing him up til she smile and shook her head signaling is all is good .  the security guard made him nervous but the glare on beth face  well  had him standing behind  y/n when the woman made her way over. 

“ sweet pea blink twice if you need help “ she whispered.  

“ most wonderfully divine miss beth its ok  we sorted it out , bradley this is the wonderfully divine beth most skill nurse beth this is bradley bradshaw master of piano and super hornet jets” y/n stood pulling   him forward and yet it wasn't the nervous  it wasn’t fear of this southern woman who had a sweet  nurturing smile but looks to kill , it was fact it was first time she said his name his actual name , not his callsign or surname but his name . it felt good it felt better then good it made things inside him stir and a dopey grin to form on his face . she got him up in this gala smiling like he was dopey from the snow white and the seven dwarves all because she said his name and this was not good this was not what he thought would happen so early on to the bet ,   he needed to and yet couldn’t squash feeling erupting inside himself that honestly made him feel shit.

Through out the night he stood taller , smiled wider  everytime she introduced him to a coworker or  shit he hope newer people would come in just to do it all again.  Laughing and joking around with her coworkers , the pride that shouldn’t have been there yet burst out of him when they praise her on the good work , how she impacted the patients  or just what an honor it was to know or see her do her thing . 

“ i swear she is only doc i’ve seen that would sing along to the messed up nursery rhymes and not bat a lid and kids love her “ beth cooed as he listened to her coworkers gushing about her. 

“ or trying to get people to come visit the kids she got people dressed as superhero’s last time ” marcus a fellow doctor asked. 

“ hey happy patients happy doctor “ she shrugged taking a sip of her drink . 

“ we should say it to your dad get the dagger squad to come” bradley  clapped excitedly. 

“ the staff and kids would be happy “ beth winked . “ not you i’m still on fence about you pretty boy “ .

“ hey deserved but i hope if her dad says yes i can win you over “ he batted his lashes at the woman as she tried to keep her stance . 

“ what am i missing?” marcus asked. 

“ well we didn’t get along for a while but now we’re cool rooster has redeemed himself tonight “ she swirled the class and yet it he suddenly felt a sting at the fact is wasn’t his name. 

“ so when did you become a couple “ the man  asked excitedly only for both to choke on the liquid in there mouth. 

“ no no no ha no we’re just friend  , buddies “ she laughed grabbing napkins 

“ yeah friends what she said i mean come on girl like her with dude like me “ bradley chuckled til he seen her face drop and the hurt on it . “ i didn’t mean it like that i mean you are wow beautiful .. oh my god am i having a stroke tonight or something”  he groaned. 

“ i think what baby eyes is trying to say is your too good for him and if it not well it what we know”beth god he could kiss that woman if she didn’t scare the hell out of him . 

“ exactly what i meant i didn’t mean i was better or hotter than you “ he stumbled stuttering over his words.

“ boy just shh not making it better.. Now take her to dance that dress is too good to be sitting here all night ” the woman hushed. 

“ yes ma’am … would you wanna dance with me i think my feet work better than mouth “ he turned as she gave a little yes .  now he really did hope his feet worked better than his mouth  or was he going to make more of a fool of himself. 

Hand on hers as she place the other on his shoulder and his other hand to her hip .  gentle swaying he could do as that much it wasn’t too complicated and yet he felt his heart beating hard in his chest he was nearly expecting to see it on his shirt and then she looked up at him and his knees almost buckled  .  he never wanted her to look at him any other way than that , never wanted to hear rooster coming out of her mouth , then he tried to think of the past something to get his head in the game, he couldn’t lose his resolve so quick  a month into the bet he needed to think of how he felt back then the way he felt when it all started . his motivation to keeping strong and yet he couldn’t  the rational part of him was coming to effect and he decided one night to not think of it , one night to think of everything but enjoy the moment at hand. 

As guest filtered out and some memories of her bosses she never wanted to member they stood out of the venue and chill air of night hit . when she saw bradley bradshaw at her door she didn’t think she would have one of the best nights of her life . she never thought feeling she buried so deep would  break and come back in ten fold  . it was crazy , borderline insane to how she felt by end of night and that was it she didn’t want the night to end  , she didn’t want to say goodbye and things to go back to normal . she hated it  knowing it was stupid to think this way fucking hell they just started being some what friends the last month.  The shiver down her body and then she felt the warm weight of his jacket on  her shoulders and his hand out to lead her back to the car .  the whole timeshe willed herself to stop to think clearly to think of how he hurt her all those years ago when she felt like this first.  But she couldn’t all logic and reason quashed by the beat of her heart . . she fell harder than she ever did. Pulling her up outside of her apartment she should of said goodnight leave the good to stay good in that moment . 

“ you wanna come in for a drink” was all it took for another shift to happen a new direction to run it course and what she would find out the worst idea she’s ever had . 

Nervous of being in a small space together , nervous of new but old feeling coming back and nervous  to the  doubt of everything and anything.   Few beers and glasses of wine took the worry , the nerves and the caution away . relax and giddy finding a trip down memory lane filling in the spots of being apart . she told him about med school how hard and crazy it was especially giving she was youngest of her class , old boyfriends and friends . he told her of  collage  still a little sore spot not going to the naval academy but she wasn’t so happy with her dad for that either . then how surreal it was following in the footsteps of his dad and pete mitchell both daunting and exciting . more drink flowing as they laughed and joked around about the good side of memory lane .  

“ i can’t believe we missed out on so much huh ?” she sighed sadly . 

“ we really did , least we friends now right or did my stupid mouth and bad dancing scare you away?”he teased. 

“ you know bad dancing and mouth aside tonight has been so fun , really i mean you haven’t fully won beth over but you have won me over bradshaw”  she beamed up at him . 

“ please call me bradley i like it better when you say it i mean anyone else no eww but when it’s you makes me happy when you say name “ he leaned forward she felt herself pulled like a magnetic force . 

“ bradley “ she whispered and just like that all resolved went out the window  and something snapped as two crashed against one another clash of teeth and tongues , hunger and adorations . stars aligning , fireworks , sunshine and fucking rainbows . a kiss and a fear of what was to come next . 

A blinding light and a thumping headache . a personal jackhammer living in the confine of she sat up  and the sun making it harder to open her eyes  feeling around for her phone til her hand hit something that makes the hangover the least of her problems  as she force her eyes open and see a sleeping rooster naked in her bed . buzzing of her phone on the floor as she dove make sure not to waking the sleeping pilot  crawling out the room not ready to deal with what happened just yet as she hit the  little green icon . 

“ hey darling did ya have fun with chicken ?” 

“ more than i should of “ she gulped .

part 4

taglist : @djs8891 @peachmartini @shanimallina87 @kawaiiskeletondragonbanana @paisleebubbles

[valeriianz]

Here’s another half-formed dreamling fic with them stuck in a snow storm while flurries currently whistle past my windows (and cover my screens in white).

Dream, sitting on the floor of his kitchen, surrounded by candles because the power is out, and sipping a glass of red wine. He’s bundled in a blanket and desperately failing to conserve battery on his phone, by texting Hob, who’s also lost power.

Dream slouches back against his oven, of which the burners are on to give off some blessed heat (thank God his oven is gas), while he reads the latest message from Hob, lamenting how bleeding cold it is in his own apartment, a newly renovated chrome building on the edge of the city, where everything, including the heat, was electric.

Dream mourns for him, even though Hob makes light of the situation with his witty texts and flirtatious hints of how Dream could warm him up.

They’d only been on a handful of dates, not yet fallen into bed together… Dream awkwardly explaining to Hob that it took a while, if at all, for sexual attraction to form within a new relationship. Hob had, surprisingly, taken it in stride. Becoming patient and thoughtful, always communicating, and never pushing Dream’s limits. 

It was refreshing, and– to Dream’s complete surprise– he’d found himself falling hard for the other man. Who knew a simple acknowledgment to boundaries would get him so wound up? His pulse quickened with every smile Hob gave him, his stomach tying itself in knots whenever Hob would take his hand, and his brain completely shutting off when Hob would kiss him. Chaste things that had progressively turned more and more heated with every encounter. Promising something more and more each time they met.

Currently, the sounds of his windows rattling from the flurries outside fill his dark apartment, along with the flutter of the open flames on his stove, and the quiet drip, drip, drip of the kitchen tap (to prevent frozen pipes, Dream had learned that lesson the hard way last winter).

After about an hour of texting Hob, Dream nearly halfway done with the bottle of wine, he receives a text that makes his heart jump.

So, what if i told you im actually outside your building?

Dream stood up so suddenly the candles around him nearly snuffed themselves out.

He yanked on his boots and pulled on his oversized winter coat, stumbling to his front door and marching down the stairs of the apartment complex he resided in, the age of which you could smell in its walls, see in the cracks and warps in the wooden floors. He made it down to the entrance and pulled open the door, the ice cold wind smacking Dream in the face immediately.

But then he saw a smudge of brown in the whiteness approaching. Dream kicked down the snow that had piled up at the door and waded forward in knee deep snow to meet Hob halfway and help him past the threshold.

Once the door slammed shut behind them, Dream took a proper look at Hob.

“You look like the abominable snowman.”

Hob laughed. He was absolutely covered in snow, piled high on his shoulders, his boots, even on his eyelashes.

“I feel like one.” Hob said, his voice cracked and breathless.

Once they’re back inside Dream’s apartment, and Hob’s outer layers have been stripped off and hung in the shower to drip dry, Dream sets off to boil water on the stove top for tea.

They sit on Dream’s couch, sharing a blanket and sipping tea while Dream admonishes Hob for coming out in the middle of a storm. What was he thinking?? To which Hob just shrugs and curls his nearly numb fingers around the hot mug, snuggling even further into Dream’s side and sighing.

“Worth it, to see you.”

“You’re insane,” Dream says, but smiles through it. 

Hob’s skin glows with the orange and yellow flickering of the candles, his features softening and barely noticeable in the limited light. But Dream knows them by now. Knows the curve of Hob’s thick, dark eyebrows, down to the scruff of his jaw, and back up to the prominent shape of his nose. He’s always handsome, but right now, shadowed in soft light and his cheeks still pink from the cold, he’s lovely. And Dream can’t help but set his mug down, taking Hob’s as well, and kissing him.

His lips arm warm from the tea, and he tastes of lavender and honey, and it makes Dream want. Want to climb onto Hob’s lap and crawl inside him. Make a nest for himself– warm and safe and cared for under Hob’s breast bone. There he could listen to the rhythmic beat of his heart, how it thunders now, under Dream’s hand as he caresses down Hob’s sweater and gets teasing fingers under the hem, touching the soft flesh of his hips and stomach.

Hob moans into his mouth, making Dream’s skull vibrate and he nearly gives in, something dark and unknown swirling in his lower belly that drives his fingers to press harder, feel the texture of Hob’s skin, the smattering of hairs at his stomach, but he forces himself to slow down, to take it easy, to enjoy and luxuriate in what they have now. 

Hob, miraculously, follows along. His own hands cupping each side of Dream’s head and only getting his fingers in his hair, matching Dream’s pace, kissing back with no intention of more unless Dream initiated. Moving his mouth at Dream’s pace, breaking apart and nudging his nose and lips under his jaw and nuzzling behind Dream’s ear and making him shudder pleasantly.

“Dream, Dream…” Hob mumbles, seemingly content in just kissing, just holding one another. “I could do this for hours.”

Dream grips the hem of Hob’s sweater, holding tightly as to prevent himself from ripping it off Hob. Another time, very soon, he knows. Dream has every intention to give into the temptation that is Hob Gadling, but the waiting is so much more fun. The anticipation, the slow understanding of his own feelings brimming up to the surface, will be that much more satisfying when he’s certain Hob will reciprocate them.

Hob just might love him back, right now. But Dream waits. Though, he does allow himself a confession:

“I could do this forever.”

[the-pen-pot]

Merthur Fic Ideas & WiPs

So I have a Merlin fic ideas page over on Patreon but obviously I can't link direct to that from AO3. So I'm popping one on here so you all know what's incoming/in the works/rattling around in my brain.

Coming to AO3 September 29th 2024

The Water and the Wilds:

'Magic is as much part of nature as the earth, sea and sky. Other sorcerers who sought out the circle found that their power developed certain affinities. Their abilities became tied to the cycle of the year. There would be one season at which their power was at its peak and another where it lay almost dormant. They became more closely connected to the natural ebb and flow of the world.'

'But?'

'But they were not Emrys. His strength is beyond anything in living memory, and the heights he could reach are, as yet, unknown.' Aglain spread his hands, his shoulders rolling in a graceful shrug. 'I can only tell you that the Tir Na Lei means no harm. Three is the number: the ritual is set. The circle will not call on Emrys again.'

______

In a Camelot where Arthur is king and magic is permitted once more, Merlin's power begins to change. Can he and Arthur overcome the challenges thrown their way, or will their relationship be forever changed by the ordeal?

(Approx 50 k in length, rated E)

If you want to read what else is in-progress, check out below!

Works In Progress

(All drafts are currently available over on Patreon - first chapter free to read. The rest are available to patrons in the $5 tier and up. They WILL become available on AO3 eventually. See bio or pinned post for link if you're interested ♥)

King and Court - 24 chapters currently drafted and available on Patreon - this one will begin updating on AO3 next as it's the one I've written most of.

Summary: Loneliness is an insidious thing. When Merlin looks at Arthur, he sees not just a prince waiting for his time to rule, but a young man struggling to find his place in the world, with little help from anyone else.

The truth is, Arthur needs more than the friendship Merlin can offer. He needs people he can trust: men and women who will become his court and his confidants, and if he is going to survive to take the throne and lead Camelot into its golden age, he needs them sooner rather than later.

Finding loopholes in Uther’s laws is no easy feat. Court life is a dangerous game, but it’s one Merlin has every intention of winning so that Arthur can have knights of his choosing by his side.

And then there is the matter of his magic…

(In my head this is basically entitled *~shenanigans, love and a golden age~*. Canon divergent AU)

Love Is Never Lost - 11 chapters currently drafted and available on Patreon.

Summary: Uther Pendragon has never approved of Arthur’s friendship with Merlin. There had been disappointed sighs and whispered warnings, but Arthur had never thought it would come to this: scars on Merlin’s back and a manservant made hollow and thin by cruelty.

Yet Uther’s efforts to drive a wedge between them instead bring Merlin’s greatest secret to light, and once the wound of secrecy has been purged, their healing brings them closer together than ever before.

Much to Uther Pendragon’s horror.

When Merlin disappears, Arthur is left questioning the true honour of the crown and the value of a kingdom forever stained by his father’s tyranny. Will he answer the call of duty, or will he sacrifice everything to chase the cries of his heart?

Tags will include: magic reveal, corporal punishment, slavery themes (and all that may imply), missing presumed dead, good Morgana, Arthur's POV, slow burn, dreamwalking, happily ever after eventually plus whatever else shows up as I write these!

Sigh No More - 7 chapters drafted on Patreon. This fic is my beloved. My baby. I'm obsessed. Fantasy Age-Of-Sail AU

Summary: Prince Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the Llamrei, would far rather spend his days patrolling Camelot's Waters than assume his place on the throne. Yet when he finds the wreckage of a vast ship and one lone survivor on board, nothing can prepare him for the path his life will lead.

Nor the demands his heart will make.

Hiraeth Ideas

Additions to the Hiraeth universe ideas : Just some little bulletpoints to remind me about things I would love to add to the Hiraeth verse once it's actually done.

Gwaine vs. a lemon

Merlin gets flu (my biologist heart wants to explore Merlin's immune system vs. Camelot germs plus no modern drugs. Excellent hurt/comfort opportunity - not that Hiraeth really needs more of that.)

Merlin "tormenting" Arthur via the bond (Explicit,  definitely)

Merlin shows Arthur (and others?) modern London.

The knights of Camelot at the zoo (sort of)

Maps/globes/celestial bodies knowledge

💀 Agravaine 💀

The one with the eclipse (some king and his sorcerer are trying to show off said sorcerer's power. There just so happens to be an eclipse.They know what it is so Merlin cannot claim credit, but he totally fucks with them anyway.)

Non-Hiraeth ideas

Magic Reveal Via Time-Travel  (Added June 2024)

Merlin and the knights get themselves into some kind of dire situation. Merlin, in a panic and realising he's not strong or knowledgable enough to save them, pretty much demands that the universe in general sends someone who can help.

What actually happens is he gets flung five years into the future, and his future self (who is more capable, among other things) takes his place. He sorts out the dire situation, whatever it may be, and that leaves Arthur and the others with future!Merlin, who is not only very magically capable but 100% their Merlin with lots more confidence, as irreverent as ever, and unmistakably thrumming with magic. They can all feel it, because Merlin makes no effort to hide.

More to the point future!Merlin remembers this from the other side, when he was younger and the same thing happened. He knows this is when the others find out about his magic, and he is able to answer their questions and emotional responses calmly and rationally, because he already knows Arthur isn't going to kill him or hate him or anything.

(Quite the opposite, in fact, since he's having to hide the fact that Arthur's ring is currently gleaming on his finger. He is grateful, at least, that he wasn't a. Pulled naked out of the bath for this magical meeting or b. wearing his crown, which would have been hard to explain without breaking Arthur's tiny brain.)

Meanwhile, young!Merlin is in Camelot, five years in the future, and Arthur and the others are a bit older, a (very little bit) wiser, and are also doing a brilliant job of calming him down and letting him know everything will be all right. And actually showing him the golden age they achieve -- that it's not impossible and out of reach.

Possibly a long four parter from young!Merlin, young!Arthur, older!Merlin and older!Arthur's points of view. Assuming I can write it without being confusing 🤣

Merlin's Voice - possibly a bit dark

My desire to put Merlin inhurt/comfort situations knows no bounds, but this one actually stems from the fact that Merlin doesn't remember the hug after he's been missing in Servant of Two masters and I'm weak for Arthur being a worried angsty little lamb about his missing manservant.

I'd probably go AU and make Morgana good, with Merlin's magic being known, and just have Morgause basically taking Morgana's place, except she and Agravaine are trying to get information about Camelot's weaknesses, and who better to lean on than Arthur's idiot manservant.

Cue Merlin being missing for days, Arthur panicking, Agravaine being dismissive as usual, and Morgause growing increasingly frustrated at the fact that she cannot get anything of note out of Merlin.

In the end, she tries a spell to force him to speak, except that Merlin is so fiercely determined not to betray Camelot and Arthur that his own magic takes the spell and twists it, forging it into a spell of silence instead.

Morgause gets cruel in her frustration, but eventually, Merlin manages to escape and head back for Camelot. It's no easy journey, and more to the point, the spell silencing him will not come off. No matter how hard he tries. He was so determined not to say anything that his magic went overboard in an effort to meet his intent.

I want to write that hug so Merlin remembers it. I want to have Arthur initially teasing about the silence but getting increasinlgy distressed by it. I want the realisation that Merlin is so incredibly expressive that the others rarely need him to write what he wants to say, they can get the gist of it from just a look.

It's one of those ones with ~vibes~  I want to explore, but I have no idea how it ends.

The "Back To The Start" One

So I made this post on Tumblr and it did numbers (I was thinking 4 people would "hell yes" me, not 2000 +)

"Not me sitting here thinking about writing a fic where we start with Arthur dying in Merlin's arms after Camlaan and it's all tragedy and then the magic rises and they both end up back at that first day, in the marketplace, Merlin with "How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?" dying on his lips as they stare at each other, fascinated, horrified, so fucking relieved because they both remember ALL of it and none of it's happened yet and this time they can maybe make it to a different, better ending.

And they can do it together."

BUT TO EXPAND

I want to explore how Arthur and Merlin would interact with each other having lived in one another's pockets for ten years, only to be sent right back to the beginning, while retaining everything they are to each other. Merlin's magic newly revealed from the confession by the lakeside. The two of them standing there with every mistake in their future rather than their past and realising that maybe "two sides of the same coin" means "you need to work together, dumbass".

I want the two of them shocked by how young the other is. How different Camelot seems from what they're used to. How harsh Uther looks now that they know it can be different (though not as different as it should be, Arthur realises.) I want them correcting their mistakes (and each other's mistakes) and taking all that they know of each other and rebuilding their relationship (all their relationships, actually) on that honesty.

And the others don't remember. Morgana is still Morgana, still struggling, but still hoping to be saved. Mordred's just a boy.  Lancelot never sacrificed himself and it's so clear in Arthur's eyes that Gwen loved them both but that she loved Lancelot first and in a different way.

The knights end up at Camelot earlier simply because Arthur and Merlin set out to find them earlier. 

("We need Gwaine." "Do we? Really?" "Yes, you great prat. Come on.")

And so much more.

The "Fake Favourite" One 

This is basically me having a desperate urge to write all the political whatevers of Arthur taking Merlin as a favourite, smashed together with a fake dating AU.

Basic premise is simple: in an effort to avoid the latest princess eyeing up his hand for marriage (and with Uther's blessing, because it suits him for now to put off marrying Arthur to someone) Arthur decides that he will pretend Merlin is his lover and favourite. They spend all their time together anyway, and half the court rumour already appears to think they sleep together, so it will hardly be any change to either of them.

Except all Arthur has to do is say the words to make it happen, but there's a lot more to being a favourite than that. Merlin can't continue to serve him, and then there's the whole situation of a new wardrobe (which Merlin and his magic both fight against) the political wheeling and dealing that comes with a servant being elevated in status, not to mention the subtle ways in which the court first tries to manipulate Merlin, and then is manipulated by him in turn (for the good of Camelot)

What starts out as Arthur aggressively but jokingly courting Merlin (because Merlin said he was bad at it) ends up much closer to *actual* courting.

And no, Merlin cannot sleep in the antechamber, because the chambermaids will notice they're not sharing a bed.

(This basically would end up being a story about Merlin no longer being a servant but becoming a valued member of the court almost by accident (but being very good at it) and the two fools falling helplessly in love with each other while they pretend to be lovers.)

Morgana, Gwen and the knights would be placing ridiculous bets and generally watching it all with disbelieving horror and delight because only these two idiots could make falling in love so complicated.

The "Stuck In Close Quarters" One 

Merlin and Arthur trapped underground in VERY close proximity (like lying on top of each other) and running out of air and Merlin’s magic is too weak (thanks to a battle maybe) to get them out but he can replenish the air but there is no way Arthur won’t notice.

Cue a magic reveal in close quarters and love confessions.

The Horn of Cathbad one

Merlin dies and due to some glitchiness with his magic, he doesn’t immediately come back. Instead, Arthur, in the freshness of his grief, reaches for magic.

He uses the Horn of Cathbhad to see Merlin again, knowing that if he summons Merlin’s ghost and looks back, then Merlin will stay. (Maybe Gaius warns him - but he doesn’t take it as a warning, but a blessing.)

And Merlin answers, and Arthur doesn’t dismiss his ghost. There are ghostly shenanigans and while it’s not the same as having his friend back, it helps. He doesn’t really have to grieve.

Except that Merlin’s spirit starts to become restless and angry, and it reaches the point where Merlin is *begging* Arthur to let him go. He doesn’t know about his immortality but something is pulling at him.

And Arthur finds the strength to let him go and it’s like losing him all over again.

And then, of course, Merlin comes back ❤️

Blind Merlin One

Arthur and co. suspect Merlin has magic but haven't spoken of it to him yet. While out on patrol, Merlin takes a curse meant for Arthur, one that effectively blinds him until "you see the truth". Arthur thinks it's about the magic and it dredges all that out into the open, but the curse doesn't leave. Merlin quickly adapts to using magic to "see" (in a manner of speaking) and keeps his eyes covered to hide their glow.

Of course, Arthur's threatened about Merlin's vulnerability and baffled about the curse etc. It turns out that the truth they need to see is how they feel for each other. Angst/hurt/comfort/fluff because I can.

Omegaverse One (Maybe a series? Sort of tempted to try out some MPreg)

Well off my normal beaten path, but I keep what-iffing it so I'm writing it down here (and will totally draw on some of the mechanics and plot points of Gilded Cage)

Not all magic users are Omegas, but all Omegas have magic, which means Merlin has more than one secret to keep, and he keeps it well. It "helps" that when he presented in Ealdor, one of the Alphas in the village attacked and bit him, forming enough of a bond to stabilise his biochemistry before he managed to escape. It was that incident that pushed him and Hunith into making him go to Camelot.

Merlin successfully hides what he is for years, thinking he's safe, but the Alpha who bit him never stops looking for him. The Alpha eventually tracks him down, threatens Merlin etc., but gets killed in a tavern brawl before he can make good on his threats. That, in turn, breaks the bond that's been keeping Merlin stable and able to pass, in general, as a beta.

Cue it all going a little bit to hell because Arthur thought he knew everything about Merlin and it turns out he really didn't, and now his irritating and attractive beta manservant who always smelled good is an irritating, attractive, sorcerous omega manservant who smells amazing... etc.

(and maybe this one sounded a lot better in my head? There's a whole heap of nuance I'm not putting down - but it's a possible future Merlin fic.)

Different curse fic

A sorcerer curses Arthur with magic in order to make the Pendragon heir everything that the king hates. He wants to see if he is a hypocrite who will spare his sorcerous son, or a tyrant who will damn the ties of blood and execute him.

Cue Arthur frantically trying to hide the fact that he has magic from everyone, including Merlin, except that's fantastically unsuccessful because Merlin has magic, knows magic, *is* magic.

Then you've got Merlin desperately trying to hide the fact that Arthur had magic from the court while concealing that *he* has magic from Arthur. He very small and tired and stressed about it.

But the upshot is that Arthur has a better understanding of magic - how it is not, in itself, bad or corrupt - and because his magic has no chill and absolutely adores Merlin it acts as the pivotal point that brings out all their secrets (and desire)

The Lancelot and a dead body one -probably shortish.

This is more a scene that anything, but I keep thinking of how to expand it a bit better (I did a text chat thing on tumblr about this plot bunny I need to write it one day)

Arthur and all the knights are in an antechamber off the armoury after an evening training session. The door is ajar. They hear Lancelot come in and Gwaine's about to call out to him when Merlin stumbles through the door.

'I need your help burying a body!'

And Lancelot doesn't squawk or demand answers but just says, in a "so done with this shit" voice: 'Again?'

Meanwhile Arthur and the others are like "What the hell?" and follow Merlin and Lancelot out towards the border of the Darkling Woods where there is a huge and very dead monster just.... lying there.

Then we have Merlin making desperate and really bad excuses, which Arthur would be more willing to pretend he believed if Merlin wasn't bloodied and swaying where he stood and also had flowers blooming around his feet, because Merlin used a lot of magic to take this thing down and it's kind of leaking a bit.

And then we go on from there with the knights spending all night trying to dig a big enough hole and asking questions and all that, and Merlin being too tired and beaten up to really put them off - and then I end it somehow. (I did say this was just a scene!)

[morgan-va]

Chapter 2: Unpacking Surprises (Serial Designation N x Reader)

Masterlist

The truck’s engine rumbles to a stop as you pull into your apartment's parking lot, illuminated by the harsh glow of flickering streetlights. You cut the ignition and sit there for a moment, staring at the dashboard. The faint rattle of the crate in the bed had been a constant companion during the drive, a steady reminder of the headache waiting for you.

Dragging yourself out of the truck, you stretch, muscles stiff from a long day of doing more than your job description ever promised. With a sigh, you glance at the massive crate resting snugly in the truck bed.

That’s when it hits you.

It took a forklift—an actual forklift —to get this monstrosity into the truck. You don’t have a forklift. You don’t have anything even remotely forklift-adjacent.

“What the hell were they thinking?” you mutter, raking a hand through your hair. “Did they just assume I’d, what, conjure one out of thin air?”

You circle the truck, assessing the situation as if staring at it long enough will magically make it solve itself. It doesn’t. The crate sits there, smug in its immovable glory, mocking you with its sheer size and weight.

For a moment, you consider just leaving it there. Tell corporate it wasn’t possible. Let them figure it out. But you already know how that conversation would go—more meetings, more paperwork, and probably a passive-aggressive email about “teamwork” and “finding solutions, not problems.”

“Stupid box,” you grumble, kicking the tire of the truck for good measure. It hurts more than you’d like to admit, but the minor pain feels oddly satisfying.

You glance around the lot, half-hoping for a neighbor to miraculously appear with a helpful suggestion—or, better yet, a forklift. But the place is quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic.

With a resigned sigh, you cross your arms and glare at the crate.

“Well, this is just great. ”

.

.

Hours. It takes you hours .

Sweat drips down your brow as you finally, finally , manage to wrestle the crate into your living room, collapsing into your armchair with all the grace of a puppet whose strings have been cut.

Your arms feel like jelly, your back is screaming, and you’re pretty sure you’ve aged a decade since starting this herculean endeavor. The last vestiges of daylight are gone, replaced by the dim glow of your table lamp and the mocking presence of the crate, which now sits squarely in the center of the room.

You don’t even want to think about the mechanics of how you managed this feat. Muscle? Maybe. Brains? Doubtful. Determination? Sure, let’s call it that.

The point is, it’s done. The crate is inside, and you are alive, though barely.

You tilt your head back, letting out a long groan as you stare at the ceiling. The whole apartment smells like sawdust and frustration, the perfect ambiance for a wasted evening.

“All this for what, exactly?” you mutter to no one in particular.

Your stomach growls, reminding you that dinner was sacrificed in your epic battle against the crate. Pizza delivery crossed your mind at some point, but the thought of explaining your predicament to the delivery person—“Oh, ignore the massive box, it’s just ruining my life”—was almost too much to handle.

You glance at the crate, still panting from the ordeal. It looms over you, a silent, immovable monolith, utterly indifferent to the suffering it caused.

“Hope you’re worth it,” you mumble, dragging a hand over your face.

For now, though, the idea of prying it open feels like too much. Your limbs are lead, your mind is fried, and all you want to do is sit there and pretend the past several hours never happened.

The crate can wait. Whatever’s inside isn’t going anywhere.

After a long moment of staring at the ceiling and pretending you don’t exist, you sigh and reach for your phone.

“Fine. Pizza it is,” you mutter, swiping through your go-to delivery app with the efficiency of someone who’s done this far too often. Large pepperoni, extra cheese, and—what the hell—breadsticks too. You deserve this.

The app pings with an estimated delivery time. Thirty-five minutes. You glance at the crate again, towering like a monument to your bad decisions.

“Guess that’s enough time to deal with you,” you grumble, hauling yourself out of the chair with an audible groan.

You shuffle toward the corner of the room and grab your trusty living room crowbar—the one you’ve inexplicably had for years but never thought would actually come in handy. It’s a little dusty, but it’ll do the job.

Approaching the crate, you give it a final glare before wedging the crowbar into the seam and prying it open. The wood groans in protest before finally giving way, a satisfying crack splitting the air.

What you don’t anticipate is the avalanche of packing peanuts that spills out the moment the lid gives way.

“Are you kidding me?” you yell, jumping back as the flood of foam pellets cascades into your entryway. It’s like someone took every bad packing decision ever made and stuffed it into one crate.

The peanuts spread out in a chaotic wave, sticking to your socks, clinging to the walls, and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

“Of course. Of course ,” you mutter, tossing the crowbar onto the couch as you wade into the mess.

Shoving handfuls of peanuts aside, you finally get a glimpse of what’s inside. The faint outline of a humanoid figure, wrapped tightly in industrial-grade padding, lies in the center of the crate.

��Here we go,” you sigh, rolling up your sleeves.

You grab onto the padding and start pulling, your frustration giving you the strength to tug the heavy mass free of its fortress of foam. Packing peanuts scatter even further across the floor, but you’re beyond caring at this point.

Finally, with one last heave, the contents of the crate are freed. You step back, hands on your hips, surveying the now-empty crate and the still-wrapped figure in the middle of your living room.

“Well, at least you’re out,” you mutter, brushing foam off your shirt. “Hope you’re worth it.”

The doorbell rings, startling you.

“Perfect timing,” you say, heading for the door. Pizza first, drone later.

The door swings open, and a gust of cold evening air rushes in, carrying a flurry of packing peanuts out onto the doorstep. You don’t even flinch as they swirl around your feet and scatter into the night like tiny, foam escapees.

Standing there is the pizza delivery driver, a confused-looking kid holding your order in one hand and a receipt in the other. Their uniform is crisp—well, mostly crisp—but that doesn’t stop a stray packing peanut from clinging to their sleeve.

“Uh... your total is—”

You don’t wait for them to finish. You shove a crumpled wad of cash into their free hand and grab the pizza box with the other.

“Thanks,” you mutter, though it’s unclear if you’re addressing them, the pizza, or the universe at large.

“Uh, do you need—?” the driver starts, holding up the cash.

The door shuts with a solid click before they can finish.

The driver blinks, looking down at the money in their hand, then at the now-closed door, and then at the packing peanuts littering the doorstep—and their uniform. One stubborn pellet clings to the brim of their cap like a mocking badge of honor.

“...Okay,” they mutter to no one in particular before trudging back to their car, still holding the cash and brushing at their sleeve.

Inside, you set the pizza box down on your cluttered coffee table, ignoring the fresh layer of packing peanuts now adorning the floor. You glance at the still-wrapped drone sprawled in your living room and sigh.

“Dinner first,” you tell yourself. “Then I deal with... that .”

You sink back into your armchair, flipping open the pizza box and grabbing a slice. The comforting smell of melted cheese and grease does wonders for your mood.

For now, the packing peanuts, the mystery drone, and the fact that your living room looks like a warehouse explosion can wait.

Settling back into your armchair, pizza slice in hand, you grab the remote and navigate to your comfort channel on YouTube. There it is: the same documentary on dog breeds you’ve watched at least ten times. It’s a classic—a calm, soothing narration about Golden Retrievers, Border Collies, and other furry companions you’ll never afford on this salary.

The video starts playing, filling the room with the soft tones of the narrator explaining the origins of Labrador Retrievers. It’s a balm to your tired mind, a rare moment of peace in an otherwise chaotic day.

Chewing on a greasy bite of pizza, you let yourself sink into the familiar rhythm of the documentary. Golden Retrievers take center stage—loyal, intelligent, endlessly friendly. You smile faintly at the thought of how much better your day would’ve been with a dog like that around.

Meanwhile, in the entryway, the faintest whir of power surges through the room.

The figure you had wrestled out of the crate lies motionless for a moment longer, the glow of its internal systems softly flickering to life. Neon-white eyes flicker open, scanning its unfamiliar surroundings. Servos hum quietly as it shifts slightly, its metallic joints groaning under the heavy industrial padding still wrapped around it.

But you don’t notice. The narrator is now talking about Siberian Huskies, and you’re too busy nodding along to random facts you’ve already memorized.

The drone tilts its head slightly, its gaze locking onto the back of the couch where you sit.

“Known for their remarkable endurance and striking eyes, Huskies are popular among—”

Thunk.

The sound is subtle—just the drone trying to sit up and misjudging its balance, causing its arm to hit the floor.

You glance over your shoulder, briefly annoyed, but all you see is the mess of packing peanuts still scattered in the entryway. Shaking your head, you return to the video, muttering, “Need to clean that up... eventually.”

Behind you, the drone freezes, its eyes dimming briefly as it processes your presence. Then, it carefully starts removing the layers of industrial padding wrapped around its frame, each motion slow and deliberate.

The narrator is now discussing Dachshunds, but you don’t hear a word of it.

The sound of crinkling industrial padding finally breaks through the calm hum of the video. It’s too deliberate, too mechanical to be a random shift of packing materials.

You pause mid-bite, glancing toward the entryway again. At first, you don’t see anything unusual—just the mess of peanuts and the crumpled remains of the crate. But then you spot movement.

There, sitting amidst the chaos, is the drone.

Its neon-white eyes glow softly, locked onto you with a strange, unblinking intensity. Its metal frame is sleek yet slightly scuffed, its design somehow giving off an oddly professional yet approachable vibe. It’s dressed... well, oddly —a black blazer and matching pants, a gray blouse beneath, complete with a black tie. An armband sits snugly on its left bicep, and a black construction helmet tops its head, slightly askew from its recent escape.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. The drone tilts its head, curious, the motion almost dog-like.

“Uh...” is all you manage to say.

Before you can figure out whether to yell, run, or demand an explanation, the drone perks up, springing to its feet with surprising energy.

“Oh, hi! You must be my new... um...” it pauses, blinking rapidly as though searching for the right word. “...Supervisor? Handler? New friend?”

You blink at it. Did it just say friend ?

“Whoa! Look at all these peanuts!” it says suddenly, crouching down to grab a handful. It tosses them into the air like confetti, its face lighting up with unrestrained glee. “It’s like a party! Is it a party? Am I late? I hope I’m not late. That’d be super embarrassing for a first impression.”

You set your pizza down, your appetite rapidly evaporating. “What... what are you doing?”

It pauses mid-peanut toss, tilting its head again. “Oh, sorry! I should probably introduce myself first, huh? I’m N!” It places a hand on its chest and gives you a clumsy bow, nearly losing its balance in the process. “Nice to meetcha!”

You blink at it again, still trying to process the whirlwind of words and energy.

“...You’re the drone they sent me,” you finally manage to say, your voice flat.

“Yup! That’s me!” N straightens up, grinning brightly. “They told me I’d be working with someone super capable and awesome, and—oh, wow, is that pizza? It smells amazing! What kind is it?”

“It’s—wait, no, you’re a robot. Why do you care what kind of pizza it is?”

N gasps, looking genuinely offended. “I don’t need to eat it to appreciate it! Pizza is, like, one of the coolest things humans ever made. Right up there with dogs.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache coming on. “Okay, listen. I don’t know what they told you, but I’m not... whatever you think I am. I don’t even know how to—”

“Oh, don’t worry!” N interrupts, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m here to help you. That’s what I’m for! You don’t have to know anything . We’ll figure it out together!”

Its enthusiasm is almost contagious—almost. But you’ve worked here long enough to know better than to trust anything JCJenson throws your way.

Still, as you look at N, practically vibrating with excitement in your living room, you can’t help but think: this is not how you expected your weekend to go.

Your gaze shifts back to the chaos in the entryway. Packing peanuts are everywhere , scattered like confetti at the saddest parade ever. You sigh, rubbing your temples as the day’s frustration builds.

Then, you glance back at N, who’s still standing there, beaming at you like you’re the most fascinating person in the world. He’s got energy. He’s clearly not going anywhere.

“Might as well put it to use,” you mutter.

“Hey, uh... N,” you say, gesturing toward the mess.

“Yes, new friend?” he replies, practically bouncing on his heels.

You blink at the title but let it slide. “You see all those packing peanuts? Could you... maybe clean them up? I mean, since you’re here and all.”

N gasps, placing a hand over his chest like you’ve just given him the greatest honor in the world. “Of course ! Cleaning up peanuts! I’m on it !”

Before you can react, he drops to all fours with a metallic clink and starts scooping handfuls of peanuts toward the crate he was lying in minutes ago. His movements are fast and frantic, like an overenthusiastic puppy chasing a ball.

“This is so funny!” he chirps as he works, pausing to hold up a handful of the foam bits. “Humans use peanuts for packing! I didn’t even know peanuts were part of your packing culture. That’s adorable!”

He pauses, inspecting one of the packing peanuts closely, then—without warning—pops it into his mouth.

You freeze mid-step, staring at him in shock. “...Did you just—”

He chews thoughtfully, the faint sound of plastic crunching coming from somewhere in his mechanical frame. His eyes widen, and he makes a pleased noise. “Oh, wow! Salty and crunchy—wait, no, not salty. Just crunchy. Is this a new flavor of peanut?”

“N,” you interrupt, holding up a hand. “Those are not edible.”

He freezes, mid-reach for another one, tilting his head at you in confusion. “They’re... not?”

“No,” you say, half-exasperated, half-amused. “They’re foam. For packing. Not food.”

N’s expression shifts to something resembling disappointment, like a child told they can’t keep the stray puppy they found. “Oh,” he says, setting the remaining peanuts in his hand down carefully. “Well, they look kind of tasty. You know, in a fun, quirky way.”

You cross your arms, watching N tilt his head as if still debating whether or not the packing peanuts might secretly be delicious. His hand hovers near another piece of foam, and you decide to intervene.

“N,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose, “just... don’t eat anything that didn’t come from a kitchen, okay?”

He brightens up immediately, saluting you with an enthusiastic grin. “Got it! Only eat things from kitchens! Thanks for the tip!”

You nod, satisfied for all of two seconds before your brain catches up with what you just said.

“Wait,” you blurt, holding up a hand. “No, scratch that. You’re a robot . You shouldn’t be eating anything at all!”

N freezes, blinking at you in confusion. “Oh, right! I guess that makes sense!” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “But, uh... what if it’s really interesting? Like, hypothetically?”

“ No eating ,” you reiterate firmly, pointing at him for emphasis.

He nods, looking appropriately chastised, though his gaze does linger wistfully on the pile of packing peanuts.

You sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

“Hey,” N says brightly, already back to scooping up the foam into the crate, “at least now I know! Mistakes are just learning opportunities, right?”

You huff out a laugh despite yourself, leaning back against the couch. “Sure, N. Let’s go with that.”

Watching him diligently clean up the rest of the mess, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve just signed up for the strangest babysitting job in history.

And the weekend isn’t even close to over.

Settling back into your chair, you grab the slice of pizza you’d hastily dropped earlier. It’s lukewarm now, but you’re too exhausted to care. You take a bite, letting the familiar narration of the dog breed documentary fill the silence as you try to decompress.

The buttery voice of the host is halfway through a segment on Golden Retrievers, their floppy ears and wagging tails parading across the screen in all their glory, when a shadow shifts in your peripheral vision.

“I’m done!” N announces cheerfully, his glowing eyes wide with pride as he stands in the entryway, the last of the packing peanuts corralled back into the crate. “It was super fun, by the way! Cleaning is kind of like a game if you think about it!”

You glance at him, raising a brow, but before you can respond, you notice his gaze has shifted.

He’s staring at the screen.

The Golden Retrievers frolic in slow motion, their soft fur rippling in the breeze. N’s eyes seem to glow brighter, transfixed by the scene. His smile widens to a point that almost feels too sincere for a robot.

“Wow,” he says softly, his voice filled with awe. He doesn’t look away as he speaks. “Are these... dogs?”

“Yeah,” you say, a bit caught off guard by his tone. “Golden Retrievers.”

“Golden Retrievers...” he repeats, as though savoring the words. “They’re so cute ! And fluffy! I didn’t know they could be so fluffy!”

You take another bite of your pizza, unsure how to respond. It’s not like you’ve ever had to explain dogs to a drone before.

N suddenly turns to you, his enthusiasm practically radiating. “Can I sit and watch with you?”

The question catches you completely off guard, and you nearly choke on your crust. “Uh—what?”

“I mean, if it’s okay!” N quickly adds, holding up his hands. “I don’t want to intrude or anything, but the dogs look so interesting, and I’d really like to see more of them! Oh, do they do tricks? Please tell me they do tricks!”

Your brain stutters, trying to process his rather innocent excitement. You eventually manage a shrug. “Uh... sure, I guess?”

“Really?” His grin somehow gets even wider.

Before you can say anything else, N plops down on the carpet in front of the screen, cross-legged like a kid at story time. He leans forward slightly, his eyes glued to the Golden Retrievers bounding across the screen, wagging their tails and fetching sticks.

You glance at him, then back at the screen, wondering how this became your life.

“Well,” you mutter to yourself, reaching for another slice, “at least someone’s enjoying themselves.”

As the documentary continues, the warm, familiar narration begins to blur in your mind. The host goes on about coat colors and temperament, their voice smooth and rhythmic, like an old lullaby.

You sink further into your chair, letting the tension from the day melt away. The soft glow of the screen flickers against the walls, and the occasional cheerful bark from a Golden Retriever is oddly soothing.

N, still cross-legged on the carpet, doesn’t make a sound. He’s utterly captivated by the dogs on-screen, his glowing eyes wide and unblinking.

Your own eyelids start to feel heavy. The last thing you hear before sleep claims you is the narrator explaining the ideal care routine for a Golden Retriever, their voice fading into the comforting hum of background noise.

The room grows quieter, save for the faint sound of paws splashing in a creek and N's soft murmur.

“Good dogs,” he whispers to himself, his gaze still fixed on the screen.

And with that, the day finally comes to an end.

As you sleep peacefully in the chair, N moves quietly around the room. His eyes glow softly in the dim light as he notices your plate, abandoned with half-eaten crusts. He picks it up with careful hands, carrying it to the kitchen, his movements as smooth and precise as ever. The sound of water running for a brief moment is the only disruption in the silence.

After he’s finished washing the plate, he turns back to you. The TV still glows faintly, the soft sounds of the dog documentary now lost in the stillness of the room. N doesn’t hesitate. He picks up a blanket from the couch and gently drapes it over you, making sure you’re tucked in just right.

He pauses for a moment, watching you sleep, the soft rise and fall of your chest. A small, almost imperceptible smile crosses his face.

“Good night,” he whispers, barely above a breath.

With that, he powers off, the room growing still and quiet, your only company the gentle hum of the world outside.

[monkmain2]

I figured if I were to post these pictures here I might as well include the whole thing

extremely long page of text below the cut

his idea has been rattling around in my brain like a little gremlin who just snorted five lines of coke and drank an entire can of monster energy

I was extremely reluctant to actually get this idea out there because my little autism creechur brain was 100% convinced that it was the most cringy shit ever created and i would be violently and incessantly beaten down by the very fact that i had posted something so blasphemous on the internet by my very own conscience

But at this point i feel like there’s no point in keeping it in or else it’ll just infect my brain forever and i’ll never be able to think about anything else so if it is disgustingly cringy i suppose i’ll just have to embrace the cringe and deal with it

Ok fine admittedly if it is cringe i’ll probably just disable reboots and comments on this post and adamantly deny its existence if anyone brings it up

Ok so uh it’s a concept for an alternate UTMV

God this is so fucking cringe i hate it already why am i like this

I don’t even want to keep going why is this so cringe to my gremlin brain

AHEM

So uh

It’s sorta an expansion of that “UTMV but Ink is really fucking short” idea i had a while ago

So like it’s like when Ink tried to destroy his soul it did the refusing to shatter thing for no particular reason other than i couldn’t think of a better way to cobble together an explanation for why he still has one

So it still made all his memories go away but it also reverted him back to the age in which such a mentality would be expected aka a baby

As for how he left his AU after this that’s something that i have to talk about Nightmare and Dream’s weird convoluted story in this AU for you to understand

So unlike normal Dreamtale instead of Dream being a perfect angel that everyone loves and Nightmare being jealous of him he’s a belligerent little shit with anger issues that everyone just kind of puts up with because he’s the guardian of positivity so they can’t really hate him

Nightmare isn’t jealous of him and is instead self-conscious because everyone hates him for no reason even though he’s just a shy bean who’s trying his best and he thinks something must be wrong with him

So one day some kids decide that it would be fun to climb the tree and steal an apple. Nightmare sees them doing this and climbs after them, and they get into a slight scuffle which ends with one kid falling out of the tree with a couple apples. When Nightmare goes to make sure he’s ok, the kid shoves an apple in his mouth for bullying reasons.

Nightmare does the whole explodey goop thing, but he doesn't go crazy or anything, and instead it hurts so much he accidentally thrashes his tentacles too much and levels the whole area, killing the kids and obliterating the tree.

Dream comes running and yells at Nightmare for destroying the tree and killing the kids even though it’s clearly not his fault. And then uuuh i don’t really know the other stuff about Dreamtale after the whole Nightmare eating all the apples part so bing bang boom some shit happens and now Dreamtale is uninhabitable and Dream and Nightmare decide to fuck off and go protect the multiverse instead.

Dream solves all his problems with violence and Nightmare solves his problems by either pretending to have an intent to kill or curling up on the floor and crying. (he just like me fr (i’m totally not projecting here (why would you think such a thing))) also Dream isn’t allowed to enter the Omega timeline for anger management reasons

Some bullshit happens that results in a Swap!Sans exiting his universe right as a reset happens so that’s how i shoehorn Blue into being a character

Also Error is still here by the way he’s still destroying universes and stuff nothing much is different about him

Speaking of Error, at one point he notices Ink’s AU and moseys on over to destroy it as usual. Nightmare and Blue jump in to protect the AU, but when they realize Ink is the only one there, they decide to just distract Error instead of actually fighting him while they get Ink out of there. Blue grabs Ink, and Ink uses his magic AU powers or whatever to sense the coordinates of Blue’s AU and teleports there to get away from Error. After they get Ink to the Doodlesphere, (Error can’t go the the Doodlesphere in this AU) they realise they can’t just dump him in the Omega timeline, because if he gets stressed he’ll read the coordinates of someone's AU and teleport there, and there are so many characters from so many AUs there, it’ll be unreasonably difficult to find him if he does. so they decide that the best course of action is to keep him in the Doodlesphere to protect him from Error themselves.

Oh yeah Ink is also mute for some reason

That’s pretty much it i think

Vaguely related rant time!!!!!!!!!!!

Honestly I don't think posting about this will help me stop thinking about it. In order to, like, not get bored in the undertale fandom, you have to constantly make AUs because focusing on one AU doesn't really work unless you want an extremely convoluted story that drags on forever. The only other option is to make an alternate multiverse, so you can just fuck about with no real storyline. But that gets old too after a while, and if I don't have access to drawing tools I just get lost in this one repeating storyline with stupid amounts of angst because it’s not interesting without angst. 

Being in a fandom does kind of stifle your creativity after a while, but the very fact that I'm hyperfixated on undertale makes it hard to tear myself away and try other things even if I know I should. That’s part of the reason I'm trying to get back into writing my wolf story, so I have something else to think about,. the problem with that is, it isn’t an open storyline. I know how it’ll end and what will happen next, so I can't really imagine random circumstances to chuck the characters into since that would never realistically happen in the world I created.

The moral of the story is my school better fix the weird restrictions on every single decent drawing website in existence or I might explode

My god this entire thing spans two and a half pages of a google doc i had to make a new one just to write this without it lagging

[tyramir]

A Spoiler-Filled Rant about Veilguard

This isn't spoiler-intensive, per se, but there is one thought that has been rattling through my brain through the entirety of playing Veilguard. And it has to do with how villains are presented in Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age II, versus how they are presented in Inquisition and Veilguard.

(Minor) Spoilers to follow under the cut.

Dragon Age: Origins presents the Darkspawn horde as a traditional fantasy villain trope. It's easy to understand, easy to get the depth of the problem, but it's difficult to counter. Because the entirety of Dragon Age: Origins isn't about fighting the Darkspawn. It's about fighting the problems that get in the way of you fighting the Darkspawn.

You need to gather allies, and it's in the gathering of allies that you encounter your trials and Hero's Journey. And they are all poetic, in a way.

In Redcliffe, to recruit the local Arl, you find him poisoned, further complicated by his son being possessed by a demon. Your attempt to recruit a political ally with ties to the Chantry is confounded both by politics and blood magic.

For the Elves, self-styled guardians of nature, you find them at war with nature itself.

For the Dwarves, stalwart fighters bound by tradition, you are forced to decide for them to either break with tradition, or become enslaved by it.

There's a theme to each ally, and a cleverness to your struggles. And while the Darkspawn are your primary enemy, the end goal of the campaign, the ultimate antagonist of the story is Loghain, a beautifully written enemy (I refuse to call him a 'villain') because he is very complicated in his motivations and goals. He has reasons -- good reasons, albeit short-sighted and misguided -- for doing what he does. He is a patriot. And it is that patriotism that may ultimately doom his nation.

In Dragon Age 2, Meredith and Orsino are presented as the villains of the story. They have complicated motivations and reasons for doing what they do. Meredith wants to protect regular people from Mages and blood magic. Orsino wants to protect Mages from overzealous Templars.

But the antagonist of the story is ultimately Anders, your own party member, who knocks over the board and makes an overcomplicated mess into a veritable clusterfuck. He damns himself and all other Mages by purposely making himself the villain of the story to begin a war. He seeks to make himself and all other Mages in Kirkwall martyrs so that others around the world will unite under one banner, declaring, "No more."

Whether or not what Anders does is Good or Evil is for every individual player to decide. Even if you side with him and try to defend the Mages from the wrath of the Templars, you can still come to the conclusion that his actions were Evil. There's nuance. It's great. Dragon Age 2 has a lot of flaws and some disjointed storytelling because of its format, but where it succeeds is in the questions the antagonist forces you to ask yourself.

And now we get to Inquisition and Veilguard.

They both have Solas. And they use Solas as a crutch. Inquisition does it in a clever way. You aren't aware that Solas is the Great Orchestrator. You think the villain is Corypheus, a D-tier villain with boring motivations and cliched dialogue.

Inquisition would have failed as a narrative if not for Solas. Corypheus was a good villain for a Dragon Age 2 optional DLC. He was a shit antagonist for a full game. He was bland, his goals were bland, his methods of achieving them were bland, and his allies were bland. Everything he did was Generic Fantasy white bread bullshit.

And that's okay. Because he wasn't the Actual Antagonist. Solas was. And I've seen so many interpretations and theories and reads over the years on what really defines Solas, that I can't help to feel that most of them are at least a little bit true.

Is he an Elf-supremacist? Maybe. Does he look down on Humans and Qunari? Debatable. Is he 'just trying to fix things he broke'? Probably. Is he living in the past, unable to move on? You bet.

And then we hit Veilguard.

And we know the main villain of this game is Solas. It was originally titled 'Dreadwolf', after all. But Solas is stuck in a prison of his own making for the majority of the game. So, instead, we get Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain.

And honestly, these two... Elgar'nan is Corypheus 2.0. Ghilan'nain is What if Corypheus Was Also Hojo from FF7.

We just had this formula last game. It *barely* worked. And it only worked in the end because of a surprise reveal. Solas was a complicated antagonist, to be sure, but it worked ultimately because we didn't know he was the antagonist.

So, now we're doing the exact same formula as Inqusition. Present a Very Boring Villain as the surface antagonist, but because the stakes need to be higher, we are given two Very Boring Villains as surface antagonists. And to really hammer in that the stakes are higher, hey, remember how Dragon Age: Origins was about fighting an Archdemon in command of a Blight? Well, now we have two Archdemons. At the same time.

And that's what Veilguard is ultimately trying to do. It's giving you everything you've seen before, but upping the stakes and fewer moral complications and poetic twists. There's no dramatic irony to be had here.

Elgar'nan's entire character arc can be summed up with one phrase:

"WHat DO yOU meAn yOU do NoT All WAnT To bE mY slAVEs?"

Ghilan'nain's:

"WHat Do yOU meAn yOU do NoT All WAnT To bE eXPerIMeNTs?"

We are given two entitled assholes as villains, whining they do not instantly get total and complete dominion over the entire world and all of reality, and are expected to take them seriously. There is no pathos, no sympathetic motivations, no nuance, nothing.

The only depth to any villainous character we get is in Solas. And all that work had already been done in Inquisition. Veilguard coasts on that. Some part of me hoped that maybe Elgar'nan wasn't 100% evil. That maybe some of what he was saying and what he was doing was right. That maybe the war with the Forgotten Ones led him down a dark path of hubris and tragedy. That Elgar'nan was trying to save the world from horrors beyond our comprehension. That Ghilan'nain was preparing us for a war we could not win. The Forgotten Ones, or the Forbidden Ones, or some other grand threat, could have been presented as a Reaper-equivalent Mass Effect style antagonist that they were preparing us against. We could have had that story.

We didn't get it.

We got two selfish nepo-babies instead. And then that final conclusion to the Solas 'problem.'

I've said before. I like Veilguard. I am not here to condemn the game. I don't want to sound like I hate what we got. But damn, we could have had so much more.

[cloudyswritings]

Story/worldbuilding ideas n prompts

Just a sorta dump of ideas I’ve got rattling around in my brain. I may or may not get around to using these so feel free to play around with them.

Sci-fi:

Climate pirates: Basically just the future of our world where global warming has resulted in far more ocean to sail and a lack of resources has seen a second golden age of piracy. This would look kinda like a hybrid between Onepiece and Cyperpunk as a setting, maybe a woman who unexpectedly becomes captain and fights capitalism?

Spectral: Through science a man discovers a way to enter and exit the afterlife, he basically uses this to pull a bunch of heists from various afterlives and ends up being chased down from both the real world and by the dead. I imagine this could either be a story from his pov or someone who is trying to piece together his life story after the fact.

Slime based economy: Self explanatory, the economy of the US has transitioned to a form of slime. There’s probably a darker secret behind it all.

First contact but with octopi: They rapidly advance technologically once a scientist accidentally makes them longer lived, this leads to tension between our species. This would probably look like some sort of political story(I’ve been watching west wing).

Beam me up: A person finds a downed UFO and saves the beings within from the clutches of the government. This turns into a silly buddy cop story between a non-binary sweetheart and a grouchy gray alien as the go on a world tour to track down the pieces of his ship and reassemble it.

Fantasy:

Necomancer Whales: Basically a revenge story where a whalefall rises from the grave to hunt down the whaling ship who killed them. A sort of found family story with the creatures who were eating the whalefall? Idk I just like the idea.

Glass: A world where different wavelengths of light carry different magical affinities. Prisms and glass orbs could be used as focuses for channeling magic, staining glass might chance what types of spells can be cast. Glass opacity and quality impacts spell power. Some warlocks and sorcerers will replace body parts with glass and crystal prosthetics to boost their innate spell casting potential. I’m almost certainly doing more with this. A person can also develop their own light/wavelength from exposure to magic, this would cause them to glow and have inborn powers others don’t. The longest lived sorcerers are near blinding to look at.

Dreaming deeply: The barrier between dreams and reality has cracked, and in places shattered. Legends walk the earth once more. In Greece the skies rumble with thunder, in America the souls of cities shake off their slumber, and in the darkness beyond the earth something hungry has turned its gaze towards humanity.

Horror:

Succulent: A man becomes obsessed with succulents, covering his entire apartment with them. As his friends become increasingly concerned and his viewpoint becomes more and more distorted violence blooms with scarlet petals. The plants need fertilizer to grow…(this one is in progress)

[therosebunpost]

Okay so, this idea has been rattling around in my brain and I wanna share it with you-

MDI! this will have 18+ content!

But okay, AU with Older! Steve in his 30s or early 40s, but Reader and Eddie are in their 20s! Eddie made it big as a rock star, so he buys you guys a nice house in a fancy neighbourhood which coincidentally is next door to Steve.

You both just boldly flirt with him all the time as a couples activity. But your also just menaces, so he has a love hate relationship with the two of you. Your loud music and parties give him a headache, but he also can't forget how he used to be at your age. Still, he'd love to give you both a little discipline for once.

Especially when you flirt too much with him, or leave your bedroom window wide open so Steve gets a clear view of you two in bed. Uncaring if the whole neighborhood hears you screwing.

I have one idea, where you guys trespass and use his pool when you think he's asleep, only for him to come out and find you guys screwing in there too! Hes one hell of a sight too. Glasses perched on his nose, strong arms crossed over his hairy chest as he peers down at the two of you. Not to mention his gray sweatpants look so good on him. No wonder its so easy to follow him back into his house. After all, he's got a big enough bed, and the three of you need to discuss you trespassing on his property. Ideally with you wedged between him and Eddie because he can't get over the way you sound.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

hiiiiiii hellooooooo!! can i request part 2 of start over : rindou x reader? i love it so much! i wanna know what happen after rindou comes home. what will happen to reader? does he treat reader good after the argument. or reader get treated even worse than before? and i would like to know what will reader do next. will she stay with rindou, or leave him? or maybe rindou realizes his mistake and changes? i hope u have a nice day! and sorry for my bad English :)) <3

Done done and done!

Start Over (Part 2): Rindou Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: smut, angst, drugs

masterlist

Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.

The table in the foyer thumps against the wall as Rindou grips your hips and fucks into you from behind.

Thunk, thunk, thunk. "Fuck..."

If you were to look up, you'd see your reflection: tired, eyelids dropping, hair wrapped around your husband's hand. And Rindou would look back at you with his soulless eyes, each supporting two black holes willing to swallow you whole.

Thunk... thunk...

"Ah," Rindou hisses, baring his teeth as he cums inside you. The rattling of the table stops, and Rindou's hand releases your hair slowly. He says nothing as he pulls out, leaving you dripping on the freshly-cleaned tile floor. He zips up, smooths his hair, and straightens his jacket.

"I'll be back home at seven."

You press your hands against your forehead and remain bent over at the waist, knuckles turning stark white as your fingers ball into fists. You can't hear the door shut over the incessant ringing in your ears or the shame flooding your brain. You don't even feel anything anymore. It's just you in that damned prison, cum sliding down your thighs as Rindou makes his way toward his job, and you remember your place in his house as his wife.

You only move from your position when you remember the maid is coming soon, and that barely spurs you into action to clean up or make yourself look presentable.

The woman is barely thirty, but she knows your situation better than most, it seems. Most mornings, she makes you green tea instead of coffee and helps rearrange whatever furniture has been displaced - whether out of Rindou's anger or lust, it didn't matter.

When you finally emerge from the bathroom, you find her wiping the foyer clean and bent over where you stood earlier, swiping at the floor carefully. You say nothing as you pass by her, but that doesn't mean you're not sharing any thoughts or knowing glances.

The day is empty - void of meaning until Rindou reappears with his bored look and neediness. Your days are spent roaming about the house, doing mundane things like reading or sunbathing, and not thinking about much else.

When the baby finally reached the age where he could be sent to a care center, you did it immediately. Why raise a child in such a hostile environment? What good would that do except breed resentment in a house full of it?

"Sorry, Mrs. Haitani," the maid interrupts your thoughts. "I haven't cooked breakfast yet. Would you--"

"No," you reply, sipping at your tea. "I'm not hungry." The woman pauses, but shuffles off in the end, leaving you to mope about. And for the second time today, a thought breaches your false sense of peace.

I could leave.

This thought is a daily occurrence, almost like clockwork with its precision and volume. Every day, you think about it at least twice. And every day, you glance at the cameras set up to monitor the house... from the inside. And every day, you shrug the idea off. If you wanted to leave, it would have to be well-planned. But every time you tried to plan it, Rindou would ease up for some reason. He'd nuzzle your neck and kiss you to death in the evenings, then murmur sweet words to you at night and kiss you goodbye in the mornings.

And it would all be perfect for a little while until--

Your phone rings suddenly. The only number that's allowed to call in or that you're allowed to call pops up, and you press the device to your ear. "Yes?"

"I want to go out to eat tonight," Rindou croons, and you can visualize the smile on his face. "I'm thinking... Nobu."

Your stomach growls at the thought of sushi, and you huff a laugh. "What time?"

"You pick, baby. I want you to dress up. Can you wear the green dress tonight?"

"How about eight o'clock?"

"Sounds good. See you soon, my love." The sick feeling returns when you hang up the phone and turn to look at the stairs. As you travel up the steps, you recollect something you found in Rindou's things as you did the laundry. It was a small but fancy pill case, and five pressed, white pills lay inside with numbers on both sides.

You'd left it alone out of fear, but as your mind works, you reason just one couldn't hurt. Whatever it was, if it came from who you assume it came from, then perhaps it was something like a Xanax tablet or... whatever else Bonten sold. Rindou had never been visibly hyped up in front of you, and if these were his pills, well... maybe you would understand him better.

You slip one into your mouth without overthinking it and wander into the closet, intent on looking for your green dress out of the million and one others.

But soon, your head begins to swim, and you feel dizzy. You stumble, hands grabbing whatever to steady yourself, and a box of shoes comes tumbling down onto the floor in slow motion. Your body pitches and your vision dances, and before you can cry out for help, a deep sense of euphoria washes over you.

And you feel good.

Whatever Rindou has been hiding, you muse. This... this is different.

You lay on the floor and sink even deeper into the feeling, allowing the brief moments of reprieve and pleasure to wash over your body. "Rindou," you murmur, blinking slowly. "Rindou, you never told me you were hiding something that would finally make me feel good..."

Unbidden, his face swims in your vision, and you try to wave it off, but your fingers touch the skin, and Rindou's face isn't happy. His black holes for eyes are worried, but you see no reason for that. You finally feel good. Why would he ruin this for you by being upset?

"How long have you been laying here?" you hear him yell, but your body doesn't respond to him like it usually would.

"Don't know," you admit, trying to shrug. "Don't care."

"Fuck." Rindou disappears, then reappears with the pill case, his eyes searching yours frantically.

"Why are you so upset?" you wonder, but Rinodu isn't listening. Instead, he's squinting at the pills. "You need your glasses." He still doesn't respond. "Don't you hear me talking to you?"

"Where did you get these?" His voice is sharp, cutting through your pleasant emotions with bitterness.

"Your pockets," you reply, smiling. "You brought them to me." Rindou closes his eyes, inhales, then exhales deeply. "Are you mad at me?"

"No," Rindou finally says, his eyes opening. "No, I'm not mad."

"Good. I'm hungry. Are we still going to Nobu?"

"No," he repeats.

"But I'm hungry. I'll even wear the dress if we--"

"No," Rindou says a third time. You shift up a little, trying to feel your muscles. "We can't now. Let's get you to bed." You protest a little as Rindou picks you up, but you're quickly silenced as your feet drag across the carpet and into the bedroom once again. Rindou tucks you into the bed with care, patting the covers and sitting beside you. There's a look in his eye you can't describe, but it's enough to make you wish you could.

"'M sorry," you slur, mouth forming a slight pout.

"No, I'm sorry." Rindou pats your hand absentmindedly, staring off into space as you blink. "You should rest for a while. I'll make sure everything is taken care of."

You can't help but nod. Rindou stays there - you feel him shift only a few times, but overall, he remains there in silence. You're not sure when you drift off, but when you awaken, the room is dimly lit, and Rindou is beside you, reviewing documents in his pajamas.

"Rin," you croak, throat aching for water. He senses your need immediately and produces a water bottle, uncapping it for you to take and drink from. The effects from the pill are abating, and feelings come back to you like a trickle of water flowing through a crevice. "What did I take?"

"Doesn't matter," he grunts, stroking your hair. "It won't happen again."

"But--"

"It won't. Happen. Again." The short words he has with you make you sink into the bed. He returns to his papers, though the hand on your head doesn't stop petting you carefully. "Get some sleep for me."

You have no choice but to obey.

[dulcewrites]

Seek and Destroy

Summary: Alicent swears she is not naturally a cruel person. Any semblances of cunning or coldness has been taught, slowly and surely. A gift bestowed to her from the age of ten and five. Something she was weened onto like a babe that suckles for milk from its mother. She has learned at the feet at the best - or maybe the worst. King’s Landing has fallen to Rhaenyra. Her children are scattered around the realm. Lives have been lost already. Alicent’s heart has finally callused. Nothing left but a shell and the venom that seeps out of it.

A/N: This is just something I have been working on. It is not finished obvi. I don’t know if I will expand on it. If I do I will probably post it to ao3

Her father’s blood had splattered into her mouth when she cried out. At first, Alicent did not want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her body shake in worry. Bones rattling together under neath sheathed of silk. Green silks. Or let them take glee in seeing fear in her eyes. She wanted to stand tall as the execution begun. Her father being first to go was for a reason.

Even in his doom, Otto Hightower managed to make his presence looming.

Alicent wanted not to shed a single tear. But then she felt ten and eight again. Just a girl with two children, and burden pressed firmly on her chest to the point where it was hard to breathe. He was unruly and fickle but without him, she would be alone… again.

Her brain settled between ‘This is all his fault. His debt comes due, as it should’ and ‘Daddy, please look me. Tell me you love me, that I made you proud despite of how it ends for us’.

But all her father told her was to look away. As if to shield her from a terror that had already came. A terror he brought. The horror was on their doorstep now. She was rutted in each night against her wishes; she bore four children - ones she could not save. They bore her grandchildren that she loved in a way she was not able to love her own children. Maybe if she could not help her own, she could do better with the littlest ones.

Jaehaerys. Oh, my poor Jaehaerys.

Everyone is gone. If not in person, in spirit.

Gwayne is gone. Her brother dragged into this mess. When he had arrived in King’s Landing, she has almost missed him amongst the other Oldtown knights. Her heart had sunk lower that she thought it could at the thought of not even recognizing her own kin. His face was one that was no longer burned in her brain.

Helaena’s mind and heart has been rotted from the inside out. On a good day, Alicent can force her to eat and drink. She bathes her daughter as if she still a babe. There is no light in Helaena’s eyes.

Alicent’s mouth feels as if a pile of sand has been dumped in her mouth if she thinks too long about how cold she was when Aemond left for the Riverlands. He gave her a kiss a cheek and muttered a pitiful sorry.

It was all he had said since coming back from Storm’s End. Different variations of the same thing. He never begged for forgiveness from the Gods but from her.

Sorry, mother. I’m so sorry mother.

If she could crush skulls with her bare hands, Alicent would. Not off strength, she’s always been a slip of a woman. But off the hatred that seemed into her bones.

She was prepared to die. She thinks she has been from the moment Viserys said he would marry her. From the moment the maester congratulated her on being pregnant with Aegon. Death had been a thing she even welcomed at times. When the lonliness felt too deep, when she could not stomach being called to Viserys chambers at night, when she had to look at her children for too long. She eyed Criston’s sword one too many times to admit. So, when Daemon leers over her with that cruel, ugly smile of his, she straightens her back and sniffs away her tears. He, of course, got the honors to kill her father; a task Alicent is sure he has wanted to do for decades.

It was Daemon who pushed her hair to the side with such gentleness it made her a bit sick. The coolness of Dark Sister pressed softly against her neck.

Alicent says a quick prayer to the Mother for her children. She knows it is to no veil; they were doomed the moment they came out of her. Mayhaps, this is her punishment for bearing them.

She does not sob over herself. Her lot in life has been well accepted. But Alicent wants to claw at her own face, peel back her own flesh so she is frayed out, when she thinks of her kids.

Let the Mother keep them safe as they do what is only imaginable in their wildest nightmares. May the horrors committed not leave them too soiled.

“Wait,” Rhaenyra’s voice calls out in the Grand Hall. It echoes so loud that Alicent flinches, the blade swiping gently against her neck. She still shivers from head to toe.

Daemon huffs, before removing the blade cautiously.

Alicent peers up at the stairs that lead to the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra gestures softly to her husband to come up the stairs. Daemon does not fully sheathe Dark Sister but complies anyway. A piece of Alicent’s hair obstructs her view, but through it, her eyes stay trained on Rhaenyra. Or whoever the person wearing the crown is.

The woman looks like the Rhaenyra. The same long silvery blonde hair styled elaborately on top of her head with the rest hanging in a braid. Her long riding dress is a deep black with red stitching and a red dragon collar. Red and purple dragons snaking their way up her sleeves. The woman has Rhaenyra’s eyes and nose, but Alicent has never felt more confused about who stands at the feet of the Iron Throne. The woman’s mouth pinches the way a young Rhaenyra’s would when she was distressed.

Rhaenyra’s look makes Alicent think of the stories of warrior queen Visenya. Rhaenyra would often laud the might and cunning of her ancestor during their girlhood. After the pain, humiliation, and anger post Aemond losing his eye, Alicent had chucked softly to herself at the thought her son riding the Conqueror Queen’s beloved dragon. Because of course it would be one of her kids to claim the old bitch.

But despite the styling callback, a warrior Rhaenyra is not.

And based on the look of disgust settling on Daemon’s face, he thinks the same of his wife.

He will never see you as an equal, she wants to call out. It does not matter how many crowns you put on your head, how many dragons you claim - you always just be his little niece… a silly woman. The means to his end.

Their conversation reaches a cacophony and Alicent desperately wants to know what it being said. Is Rhaenyra asking him to make it as gruesome as possible? Maybe they will drag her body out in front of the castle for all the small folk to see. A warning for what can happen if they defy their queen. Alicent already knows the heads of those that helped Aegon and his kids escape will be next once they catch them.

Rhaenyra reaches out to grab Daemon’s arm, but he is already down the stairs muttering expletives out his mouth. Alicent hears the word whore, and scoffs internally. She fights back a sad smile that almost forces itself on her face. Not the first time she has heard that, and surely will not be the last. Poor Daemon has never been clever with his insults. They are as simple as he is. She is the nasty deceitful, whore that seduced Viserys and ruined everything. Used her wily, womanly magic, her cunt, to lure the King of the Fucking Seven Kingdoms into submission. She always noticed how Daemon always acted like she stole Viserys from him.

The same way the maidens whose virtue Daemon stole must be whores too. The same way Queen Aemma must have been inadequate since she did not give Viserys what he wanted. Something must have been wrong with Rhea and Laena too. Maybe even Daemon’s own daughters are not enough. Surely, something is wrong with Rhaenyra. Something that makes Daemon’s stomach curdle. Such is the way with men like him.

Viserys will be remembered as a peaceful king, and a gentle man. A king who was so averse to conflict that he raped Alicent for children he then neglected once they came. He was so kind he made sure his first wife died in a pool of blood with nothing but screams of agony and pleas of mercy dying in her lips.

She wonders if Rhaenyra knows that charming story. Would she still have felt safe under the patronage of Viserys if she knew such? Imagine the horror that Alicent felt when she overheard maesters whispering of such when she was pregnant with Aegon.

Alicent is sure Daemon will die being known as a ‘true’ and ‘honest’ warrior. Apparently, there are those that think there is some sort of honor in being upfront about ones rotting heart. As if his cavalier attitude negates the atrocities on his hands. The world has taught Alicent that type of ruthlessness is only tolerated at the hands of a man.

And Alicent, in all her attempts to do right, to keep her head above water, to appease and break herself down into a small enough package that all can accept her, will be known as a whore. A seducer, a scheming bitch that stole the agency of a grown man. She will die being blamed and accused.

It only seemed right she supposed.

Viserys the Peaceful. Daemon the Honest. Alicent… the Whore.

Her confusion mounts when Daemon does not come back to her to finish the job. Instead, he continues walking, right past and leaving the hall in a fit of anger and rage. Alicent knees have begun to ache from being crouched. Rhaenyra clears her throat, and Alicent eyes slowly go back to her. Dark bags rimmed Rhaenyra’s eyes, only drawing more attention to the extremely dark limbal ring that surrounded deep amethyst. When Alicent heard about Lucerys’ death, it had shaken her to her core. Frankly more for Aemond’s sake than for Rhaenyra’s or the boy’s. The thought of peace still naively in her mind. Alicent always seemed to the last one to arrive at the right conclusions. A fatal flaw of hers unfortunately.

You were already ill-fated, you foolish boy! Why make yourself accursed as well!

But when Alicent heard of Jacaerys’ death, she knew what was to come. There are few things a parent loves more than their first born.

…. Alicent had never known what the smell of burning flesh was like till Aegon.

“I have decided to spare your life,” the few people that stood in the hall, her council, begin to whisper to each other. Rhaenyra shifts uncomfortably at the eyes on her. “For the sake of my father, who loved you once.”

Alicent blinks once, then twice, then three times. She is almost a bit disappointed. Rhaenyra has taken so much and now she has taken death off the table too.

And is that what they are calling what Viserys did to her? Love? Rhaenyra could not possibly believe that. Not now after everything. After the way Rhaenyra would so seamlessly twist the knife when she had the chance, when she was backed in a corner. Rhaenyra knew there was no love there. Not for Alicent and definitely not for her children.

The words crawl up her throat before she can stop them. She must know. “And what of my girl? What of Queen Helaena?”

The queen part slips out truly on accident, a panicked slip of the tongue, but Rhaenyra’s mouth curls a bit in a sneer.

If her Helaena is to die at the hands of one of Rhaenyra’s butchers, to meet the same evil fate Jaehaerys did, then Alicent might beg for the sword. Or a rope and one of the high ceilings of the Red Keep.

Something cold and numb flashes behind Rhaenyra’s already hallow eyes. As if she is just now remembering that she had a sister that still occupied the castle.

“The princess will be spared as well.”

Rhaenyra waves a ringed hand at the guard to have Alicent taken away. Before she can even register was has happened, she is dragged away by the arms.

“Let her be bound in a manner fitting of her new station,” Rhaenyra sits in the Irone Throne elegantly as Alicent goes.

Alicent’s frantic eyes look at her father’s limp body one last time. His blood spilled on the ground. His head separated from the rest of him. It is the first and only time Alicent has ever seen her father so… small.

If Otto was alive now, and they were alone, he would tell her that he was right. He said as much after Jaehaerys was killed. Right before Aegon snatched the hand pin off his grandsire’s jacket and screamed at him that all that cunning had gone to waste by Otto being a ‘bastard that was too thick in the head for his own good’. Otto would say they should have had mercenaries go to Dragonstone and do the deed while they had the chance. He would still be alive. As would Gwayne and Jaehaerys. Helaena would not be in a fugue state beyond repair. Alicent’s boys would be home, and well. Daeron could have come back to King’s Landing for a coronation that was not rushed nor interrupted. Aemond would not have blood on his ledger.

Aegon would be king with no one in his path.

You know it. You're no fool and yet you choose not to see it. The time is coming, Alicent. Either you prepare Aegon to rule, or you cleave to Rhaenyra and pray for her mercy.

She stumbles all the way back to the Holdfast with thoughts swirling in her head.

Alicent did not prepare Aegon, the way she should have. But she was not prepared for such things; so how did anyone expect her to know better. How can a child help a child. How does the blind lead the blind. She may not have done what she needed for Aegon, not in that moment. But she refuses to cleave now. Mercy is not a luxury she has been granted for some time.

Have you ever imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

No, of course not. Alicent can be naive, but never stupid. Never foolish or too hot on herself. Her veins have turned ice cold. She does not have her children the way she would want to. Alicent has never had a dragon to threaten others with. The army at her disposal is elsewhere fighting a futile battle. Not even Criston is here.

She just has herself, and right now that has to be enough. It must be enough.

[owmylasagna-blog]

Ed is Thicker Than Mud

Warning: Character development arc may take a couple years to take full effect.

Some random musings on post-BPS Eddy growing pains.

You can also read it over on AO3.

Each mechanical tick of the outdated relic of a wall clock reverberating through the office makes his skin crawl. Wriggling uncomfortably, the naugahyde of the chair releases a series of unnatural whines of protest beneath the restless teen. Don’t they know precious moments of his youth are slipping away with every infuriatingly useless second spent shedding dead skin cells in this room? It doesn’t help that his jeans are still damp. He’s pretty sure his new sneakers are wrecked too.

If being detained wasn't bad enough, they’re probably on the phone with his mom right now, and he isn’t exactly looking forward to his folks tearing him a new one over tonight's chicken francaise. Just as he imagines the yelling match his mom and pop are gonna inevitably start the loose doorknob rattles behind him.

“Here we go,” Eddy grumbles into the collar of his long sleeve polo. He slumps down into the armchair.

The door groans on its hinges, open and then shut. Footsteps click in time as the middle aged man slowly makes his way around the office furniture and sits. All the while Eddy keeps his eyes planted on the linoleum tiles between the desk and his feet. He feigns disinterest as a manila folder and a few slips of paper are shuffled.

“So. Edward McGee…”

Eddy squints, not exactly appreciative of the pause for dramatic effect, nor the emphasis put on his last name.

“Would you care to explain why you're in my office, young man?”

“No.”

“No ‘you don’t care’? Or no ‘you can’t explain’?”

In response, Eddy crosses his arms and slouches even further into the depths of the worn leatherette, the heels of his sneakers squeaking as they skid forward. The principal sighs.

“The silent treatment won't get you very far-”

“You know what I did.”

Boy was this interrogation a bunch of bologna.

“Yes, I certainly do. I’m well aware of the damage to school property you’ve caused, not to mention the cost required to repair it. What I want to know is why.”

“Principal Howard, I didn’t-”

“We’ve already heard your excuses. This is your last chance to plead your case as to why you felt it necessary to tamper with-”

“I didn’t tamper nothin’!”

Eddy shoots to his feet, looking the principal in the face for the first time. His heart thrashes against his ribcage.

“I find that hard to believe.”

Yep. Totally pointless.

The teen and the man exchange steely glares before the elder shifts his gaze behind the younger.

“Please sit, Edward.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddy parks his keister back down, resuming his previous slouch. He watches as Principal Howard leafs through the papers on his desk. Most are a familiar shade of detention slip blue, some more faded than others. It’s a suspiciously sizable stack considering he’s only been in high school for three months. Sure, his track record hasn’t been… great. He’s never been the morning type. Missing homeroom three out of five days in a week will do that. As does skipping out on a detention here and there. Compared to junior high, though, Eddy considers himself a freakin’ angel so far. Barring today of course… just his luck.

But the slips have Eddy curious enough to raise a brow at, sitting up a bit straighter in an attempt to sneak a peek. He’s caught off guard when the name written on the top edge isn’t his own. Well, not entirely. Eddy’s muscles flex with immediate recognition, flashing a fierce look up to find the intent gaze of the older man peering down his sizable nose through his glasses.

No ‘effin way.

“You remind me of your brother.”

Eddy sputters, feeling the air rush out of his lungs. It makes it hard to speak. His brain fills with static. It makes it hard to think.

“Wha- you- you can’t-”

How’s he allowed to say that?

“Before I became principal I taught at this school for many years. Don’t think I could forget a kid like that so easily. Bright, creative, one might say underchallenged, but misguided, difficult, trouble prone. Unfortunate really. I didn’t have much control of the situation then nor the authority. But things have changed, except for the fact that I’m tasked with ensuring another McGee boy doesn’t slip through the cracks.”

“Cool headed” is an accolade foreign to Eddy. It takes every fiber of his being to bite his tongue, stopping himself from spewing expletives that will land him right back in the hot seat for the umpteenth time. More than anything he holds back to prove that he isn’t anything at all like…

“Which is why I’m requiring that you join an extracurricular student activity effective immediately.”

“WHAT!? WHY?!” Eddy finally blows his top. It’s a relief to scream.

“You need discipline, structure, responsibility, teamwork - whatever it takes to preoccupy your idle hours.”

“Believe me, Teach, the mathletes don’t need me screwin’ up their squared roots or whatever.”

“Then choose something else that interests you. D’you like sports?”

Eddy shrugs. Lately, nothing really interests him. Let alone anything school related. Not even marathons of The Ed Sullivan Show or wearing out the grooves in A-tom-ic Jones can seem to pull him out of this slump. And he sure wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to get towel-whipped by the meatheads, that's for sure. The thought of the foot smell that wafts from the locker room like a thick miasma alone makes him shudder.

Eighth grade graduation, the start of high school, and the abysmal summer between them had been a strange fog. Beyond his two best friends, Eddy avoided the other cul-de-sac kids like a plague. Oh yeah, this was cruel ironing as Double Dee put it. All that time vying to get their attention? Ever since they got front row seats to his bro’s assholery on full display, they’d been acting real nice. Too nice.

The remainder of seventh grade, after the groundings ended, was filled with an unprecedented number of invitations to movie nights, birthday parties, and sleepovers. Even though he’d sworn off the scams it somehow felt like he still needed to perform every time he made an appearance. Suddenly, everybody wanted to get to know him more. And that scared Eddy: what if there wasn’t more? He felt he hardly knew himself these days.

“You have until the end of the week to decide, so start asking around. And when you do find a team or club, I will personally speak to the coach or teacher running it to ensure that you are immediately enrolled and actively participating. Do you understand?”

The principal receives a noncommittal grunt as a response. He’s more stern the second time.

“Do you understand, Edward?”

Eddy finally gives a reluctant reply, hoping that this is the end of the conversation and he’ll be off the hook.

“Yeah. Capeech.”

“Good. Because this sort rebellious behavior will not be to-”

“And it’s Eddy.”

The balding man blinks a few times, brows twitching.

“Well, Eddy, another stunt like today and I bring your parents in. Capeech?”

Having his own phrasing thrown back at him makes Eddy feel even more patronized than he already is. Which is saying something, considering this whole freakin’ ordeal feels like it was designed by the universe or some malevolent god to humiliate him to no end.

“Yeah…”

Double doors fly open when the compact teen barrels through. He’s moving fast, on a mission, so focused on getting as much distance between himself and this stupid school that he hardly notices the two figures sitting side by side on the stone stairs anxiously awaiting his release. The leaner of the two jumps to his feet, calling out through the bothersome crack his voice has acquired thanks to puberty.

“Eddy!”

He whips around, jabbing a finger square between Double Dee’s eyes. The taller boy flinches back at the accusatory appendage.

“I aint talkin’ to you, snitch! Let’s go, Ed.”

The eldest of the bunch complies to the command, joining Eddy by his side. Edd huffs, shaking his fists, and with an indignant stomp of his sneakered foot is hot on the trail of his two friends. Seeing as there is a nasty storm cloud over Eddy’s head Ed opts to not ask too many questions. Instead he shares the exciting news:

“Double Dee and me saw two squirrels fighting over a nut while you were gone.”

“Sad story,” replies Eddy, inflection flat as a sheet of paper.

Meanwhile, the speed walking boy approaching from the rear isn’t so quick to change the subject.

“Come now! You can’t seriously think my intention was to smear your academic reputation!”

Eddy keeps stomping the pavement, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, and rolls his eyes in disbelief. The balls on this guy…

“Eddy, please,” Edd pleads, finally gaining, “The entire first floor was flooded. Given my proximity I responded in a manner that anyone in their right mind would. Honestly, are you suggesting I had a plethora of options?”

“Bull! Ya coulda kept your big. Mouth. Shut.” Eddy snarls through gritted teeth, shoulders tensing up to his ears.

“And be a complicit bystander? I think not,” replies Edd with a pout.

“Why do you make it out like I wanted that to happen!?” Eddy spits back, keeping his sights focused on the cracked cement.

“Who says I’m blaming you? It’s causality. You flushed an entire cafeteria tray and its contents down the toilet.”

“Ain’t my fault the lunch sucked mega balls! And why’s the school got plumbing from the Dark Ages? You saw that casserole.” He throws up two skeptical air quotes, “Would have been better off eatin’ rubber cement.”

“I think I saw it move,” Ed adds excitedly, grinning ear to ear.

Ed had eaten his serving of casserole with much relish, though, not before dunking it into his trusty thermos o’ gravy. It’s too bad that Eddy turned down the offer. The mental image of the subpar cafeteria slop alone makes both Edd and Eddy’s stomachs churn, let alone the gusto with which Ed manages to devour it.

“Yes. Well. I must say I was glad to have packed a garbanzo salad sandwich today based on the looks of things,” the teen in the beanie admits, punctuated with a nervous chuckle.

Eddy can’t help but look his friend in the face despite the stubborn front he’s working so hard to put up. Edd’s got a small smile but otherwise he looks ill at the recollection of the foul lunch offerings, his tongue peeking out through the gap as it presses against the back of his teeth. The husky boy cracks his own smile and stifles snort at his pal’s pathetic expression.

“Food so bad, even the crapper couldn’t stomach it,” Eddy throws in just for a kick.

It works - at least he and Ed chuckle over that and Edd shakes his head incredulously - burning off some of the uncomfortable tension that has been growing since the afternoon. The trio continue walking a few yards in the direction of home, lulling their arguing for just a moment to the sound of gravely footsteps, rustling leaves, and the jingle of Eddy’s wallet chain thumping against his thigh.

Sidewalks aren’t exactly wide enough to walk together in a line so it's unavoidable that every now and then, if they don’t split off into a triangle formation, that they bump shoulders. Eddy feels his shoulder nudge into Double Dee’s arm, then awkwardly clears his throat and sniffles against the chill fall air.

“I thought you weren’t talking to me,” heckles Double Dee with a pretentious sideways smirk.

Before he knows it, Eddy feels the back of his neck burning. For that alone he gives the wiry and historically uncoordinated teen a solid shove, causing him to stumble over his own two feet and step squarely into a soggy pile of street gutter leaves. The feeling of cold damp permeating through his shoe upper and soaking into his sock makes the boy yelp and shudder in disgust, a shiver running up his spine.

“Wet!” Edd wails. He shakes his sodden sneaker like a cat that's stepped in water and skips to catch up.

Of course Eddy laughs at Edd’s theatrics, very openly, which just sets Ed off to join him. Reveling in his buddy’s harmless misfortune, Ed throws an arm over Eddy’s shoulder which the shorter teen roughly shrugs off.

“Very good. I’ve received my comeuppance.” Edd sighs, wincing as his sock squelches with every other step.

A few tsks of disapproval are made by Ed seemingly out of the blue. Edd and Eddy are surprised to see their happy-go-lucky Lump looking uncharacteristically forlorn.

“How sad it must be to be a squirrel without a nut. What cruel, hostile world we must live in where there are not enough nuts to go around.” Ed punctuates the thought with a heavy sigh.

“I’m lookin’ at a nut right now.”

“Oh yeah?” Ed perks up, head whipping violently in search of it as though he can rectify the injustice he’d witnessed.

“Yeah, TWO of ‘em!“

Just as he says it, Eddy’s fist finds its way to the tall redhead’s vulnerable groin with an empty punch.

“DOH!”

Edd puts a bit of space between himself and Eddy.

“Fear not, Ed. Every squirrel has their day.”

“Good for them,” Eddy growls, his earlier gloating soured by envying, of all things, a fuzzy rat.

Seeing as his vapid positivity hasn’t exactly resonated with Eddy, Edd decides to take a more direct approach.

“So, what punishment has befallen you? Another detention.”

Eddy’s brows drop down over his eyes with a snarl. He sees a pebble a few steps ahead and when he reaches it gives it a good solid kick. It skitters wildly into the street.

“No.”

“Suspension.”

“No.”

“Disintegration?” Ed chimes in.

“I wish.”

“You’d make a fine puddle, you would.”

“Thanks, Ed,” Eddy rolls his eyes, shoving his chin down into the collar of his jacket.

He nearly jumps at the shriek-like sound of Edd’s gasp. It looks as though he’s doing a decent impression of that weird painting of the screaming guy.

“Good lord, please don’t tell me you’ve been… expelled!?” Edd can hardly say the word.

“No! Worse! I gotta join some bogus extracaricature.”

Double Dee’s hand flies, grabbing Eddy’s bicep. The sudden physical contact makes Eddy reflexively flinch.

“What a relief! You had me worried for a second.” An offended look on Eddy’s face does worry Edd and he realizes it’s because of the grasp he has on his arm. He swiftly releases it, putting his hand in his jacket pocket.

“Ah- A generously lenient outcome considering the extent of property damage. Participation in a peer activity? Hmm… Why, you could always join me on the junior debate team. What you lack in research skills you certainly make up for with your argumentative temperament.”

“Kill me already.”

Eddy sags under the weight of such a nerdy proposition.

“Oh, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Craning his neck, Ed peers down curiously.

“Join me! We could always use a uh-” Ed pauses, counting on his fingers, “a third member on the team. You could even go by Mr. AV-Eddy.”

With a rough tug, Ed’s head snaps down to match his short-statured friend’s eye level, Eddy’s fist full of the pilling and frayed green jacket collar.

“Call me that at school and I’ll shove an 8 millimeter where the sun don’t shine.”

“Norway?”

“NO way. Don’t even try it.” Eddy threatens before letting go of Ed.

“You got it, Mr. Cool Guy I’d Never Ever Call AV-Eddy, uh, sir!”

To show his deference, Ed removes his monobrow and swears it over his heart.

They keep walking. It’s about a half hour trudge back to the cul-de-sac, but it sure beats the torment of the public school buses. Bottom of the food chain means getting the crappiest seats, or worse even, becoming completely separated. Much better to brave the biting wind for now: Eddy’s ears and nose are already ruddy. Come winter they might reassess.

It’s hard not to think he might be cursed: born with the dark mark. Maybe somewhere down his family line there was some cardinal sin committed that’s the root to all this. If he has to place bets it was probably those damn pilgrims that sold Peach Creek to the Kankers, the lot of inbred nitwits. Eddy sorta gets why his brother is the way he is. He knows deep down his parents treated him different from the jump. That he’s had it better, at least in some ways. Despite his bad luck he’s technically the lucky one. But there is still so much he doesn’t know. Stuff that when he brings it up mom just starts blubbering. He won’t even bring it up with dad. So teachers thought he was smart?

Over the last year, Double Dee has fretted over Eddy’s drawn out silences. Just like the one now. He can’t help but read far too deeply into whatever might preoccupy Eddy’s mind so much to leave him speechless. A more contemplative and reflective streak could be good for Eddy. Except Double Dee knows from personal experience how quickly things can go south inside the echo chamber of one’s own thoughts. He chews his lip as the worry gnaws away at him.

“Eddy? Was there… anything else you wanted to talk about?”

Eddy sniffs his running nose again, scowling. He shrugs.

“S’nothing. Everyone at this school’s got it out for me.”

The feeling of a gentle hand between his shoulder blades makes the back of his eyes burn. Dammit. He blinks hard, sniffing even harder.

“Not everyone.” Double Dee earnestly assures. Ed wraps another arm around him in a lax half hug and this time Eddy doesn’t shrug him off. Instead, he leans in.

“Okay, okay. Fine. Almost everyone.”

And that’s good enough for him.

[discordiansamba]

I guess I should discuss the AU that's been rattling around in my brain in a little more detail, rather than just making shitposts about it. So here's the basic gist of it:

We all know there was one surviving universe at the end of Honerva's rampage in VLD's (pretty bad) finale before everything was restored to normal- but could it really survive everything that happened around it unscathed?

The answer is no. Of course it's no.

In a twist of irony, given Honerva's goals, Lotor is deleted from a universe that would have otherwise been very close to the canon universe as we know it- which is... kind of a problem, actually. As in 'the universe could fall apart if this event doesn't happen' problem. But don't worry. The cosmic forces of the universe has a stopgap measure of its own in place to protect itself.

After all, what could go wrong with the universe using one half-Galra to replace another?

Keith is born to Zarkon and Honerva in Lotor's place. He's always felt out of place in a way that simply only being half-Galra can't quite explain. He has a strong sensitivity to quintessence, and knows from a young age that his father and the witch that stands by his side are corrupted.

He knows he's corrupted too. he can hear things that are not him whispering in his head sometimes, telling him things. he ignores them.

(this is sometimes harder than he would like)

(on very rare occasions he hears a different voice from the rabble- one that calmly tells him not to do things. he listens to this one a little more.)

He grows up loathing his father- it's a mutual feeling. He knows that even before he was born, his mother loathed him as well. He grows up with no strong connection to their either side of his heritage.

(perhaps honerva subconsciously realized the child she was carrying was not her own)

He breaks away from the Empire on his own at an early age- he knows in his bones this is wrong, and wants no part in it. He ends up safeguarding a pocket of space from the Empire, but his motives remain erratic and he stays aloof from the other forces against the Empire, so he's not exactly trusted by them.

After all, he's not exactly not still a part of the Empire himself. Zarkon's not going to let his only heir walk away that easily.

He still ends up meeting Acxa, Narti, Ezor and Zethrid.

He's born with the Altean talent of shapeshifting- though he's better at it than most. He wears three faces- the Galran prince, the Altean wanderer, and then a third face, one of a race he has never seen before, yet feels oddly familiar to him.

(Sometimes it feels more natural than the one he was born with.)

He later learns of a planet called Earth, and its people known as humans, who so resemble his third face- and the blue lion with them. He decides to keep an eye on the planet with the excuse of trying to protect the lion... which is surely the only reason he feels such a strong draw to this otherwise backwater planet.

Which is great, because it turns out replacing Lotor with Keith created another problem the universe has to deal with- there isn't a Keith anymore to pilot the red lion.

He just kind of gets swept up in everything when the blue lion awakens, and before he knows it, he's on the Castle of Lions, and Princess Allura of all people is telling him he's a paladin. They all seem to think he's human.

Somehow, he senses it would be a very, very bad idea to tell them all he's actually Zarkon's son.

Great job Keith. You signed up for the universe's most stressful double life. I'm sure this is going to work out real well.

(I am lying.)