#just wait until I throw Karl into it

[lovelywingsart]

First sketches of Astarion and Emelia, a ship I'm calling TaintedCopper <3

Both called 'The Barbarian and her Rogue' or 'The Vampire and his Wolf'~ uwu

Get it? Because she's Wolf heart Wildheart- ... I'll see myself out-

[tokagedreams]

EDGAR ALLAN POE RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

(a/n: i have soooo many more thoughts about poe bro i love him so much..anyway, fellow poe fans if you have poe requests i am begging you to drop them in my inbox)

pre-relationship

- the two of you met back in america years ago. you guys start out as ride-or-die best friends, you’re the inseparable duo that does everything together. when poe goes to yokohama with the guild, you go with him even if you’re not a guild member.

- you’re an infuriating case of ‘the two besties that are clearly in love with each other but would rather die than confess because they’re convinced their feelings are unrequited when they obviously aren’t’. you’ve basically been acting like a couple for at least a year but somehow you and poe are both convinced that it’s just a friendship to the other person and nothing more.

- both the guild and the ADA assumed you were already dating until poe referred to you as his ‘best friend’ and they’re just like are you fr right now?? 🤨 it’s literally so freaking obvious you two are head over heels in love to everyone except for you and poe. especially if you’re not even in the guild and you moved across the world just to be with poe 💀 ranpo (affectionately) hates you guys because you refuse to believe him when he tells you that your feelings are requited.

confession

- ranpo #1 wingman frfr!! at first he tries to make it happen naturally, but eventually he realizes that’s a lost cause..so he basically forces poe to confess to you because he’s so sick and tired of hearing poe lament about how you don’t love him back when you obviously do!! i could see ranpo being like “i’m not reading any of your new novels until you confess to (y/n) 😈” and that would be the final straw because poe is not about to throw away all his chances of ever beating his rival.

- i think we all agree that poe is a hopeless romantic, but i feel like he would just be too anxious to actually do anything fancy for a confession. he’s probably fantasized about the perfect confession a hundred times, but when he gets pressured to actually do it, all of those plans go out the window because he’s just freaking out lol.

- he’d tell you to come over because he needs to ‘show you something important’, he doesn’t make it obvious that he’s going to confess his feelings at all. so you get to his house and he tells you to wait on the couch while he gathers everything, and you’re starting to get anxious too because you’re like ummm wtf is he about to show me?? poe goes to his office and after a moment of ‘gathering’ (he actually already had his stuff sorted beforehand, he spent the entire time petting karl to muster up some courage), he brings you this giant stack of messy papers and just stands there awkwardly. and you’re so freaking confused until you start reading them and you realize that they’re all love letters and poems about you, written by poe himself. they’re all dated too so you can see that they range from today all the way back to like at least two years ago.

- poor poe is actually sitting there literally trembling while you read, anxiously waiting for you to respond. obviously you tell him you love him too, and he honestly looks like he doesn’t believe it or just can’t process it for a second, you have to kiss him on the cheek or something to get him to register the fact that you seriously love him. but after that he’s like the happiest you’ve ever seen him, he’s hugging you so hard, grabbing your hands and he might even excitedly kiss your face a couple times. this is genuinely a dream come true for him so he can go a little wild as a treat <3

- he owes ranpo so bad after this btw 💀

relationship

- since you and poe had been acting like a couple for a long while before officially getting together, it’s not that hard to get used to an actual relationship. now there’s just a lot less uncertainty and hesitance, you can comfortably do all of the things that you previously chickened out of because you didn’t want to ‘ruin your friendship’. your feelings aren’t a secret anymore, so you both have free reign to be as affectionate as you want to be.

- in terms of love language, i really feel like poe could appreciate any kind of love from you. he might be a little shy about physical affection, and he probably won’t want to do much of it in public, but in private i think he would secretly love it. his favorite type of love to receive from you would probably be words of affirmation, this man needs that praise and validation so badly!! in the beginning of your relationship, he doesn’t know how to handle your compliments, if you’re flirty he will simply explode. he eventually gets more accustomed to it, but he still blushes like crazy and gets all bashful every time you praise him. his favorite type of love to give to you is probably acts of service, just look at how much he bends over backwards to do favors for ranpo in canon lol. he will do literally anything for you!! with his absurd salary and spending habits, you can count on being showered in gifts too, he just wants to spoil you!

- you and poe are definitely one of those couples that enjoys just chilling in the same room doing your own separate things. it will actually make him so happy if you just quietly sit in his office while he writes! maybe after you’ve been dating for a long time he might even have you sit on his lap sometimes.. 😳 since he spends so much time in there obsessively writing new novels to beat ranpo, it got really lonely with just him and karl, so having you there just makes everything better. he also probably doesn’t take very good care of himself when he’s really focused on writing, so he will be eternally thankful if you help make sure he eats, drinks and sleeps enough. he might be the type to say “just one more chapter..” every time you tell him to go to bed, but you can usually persuade him with the promise of cuddles and a kiss goodnight.

- speaking of cuddles when you go to sleep…i am convinced that poe would secretly love being the little spoon!! he’ll of course default to being the big spoon unless you’re somehow taller than him, because that’s kinda just the norm for tall people in most cases. he might even be hesitant at first if you ask him to swap places with you, because he’s likely never done that before, but when you hold him for the first time..it immediately becomes his new favorite thing. it makes him feel so safe and secure and loved, please hold this man!!

- you play with poe’s hair all the time, it’s something you both enjoy because damn he has a lot of hair and it’s really fluffy. you push his bangs back because you want to actually see his eyes for once!! it makes him so flustered because he lowkey feels exposed without his bangs, but if you tell him his eyes are pretty he’ll be like “omg really?? 🥺” and forget all about his embarrassment. it works every single time. when poe is stressed, he often just lays his head in your lap and lets you run your fingers through his hair, it’s very grounding and calming to him. he gets embarrassed if you catch him off guard and just randomly start petting his hair, he tells you to go pet karl instead 💀

- poe is 100% the type of guy to kiss your knuckles or your forehead all the time. he’ll kiss you on the lips too, but it can be kind of overwhelming, so he doesn’t initiate those kisses as often. i think he would like being kissed on the cheek by you a lot, something simple and sweet to brighten his mood. despite being your partner, he still gets nervous to ask you for kisses when he wants them, but he’s honestly pretty unintentionally obvious about it so you can usually tell lol.

- poe gets so embarrassed if you ever read his novels, he knows that you appreciate his writing, but your opinion is so important to him that he gets anxious about it. he usually doesn’t let you read books that he’s written to challenge ranpo until after he’s already shown them to the detective. but you always read them when he gets back home and he’s all mopey after ranpo has successfully solved another one of his mysteries. although he remains determined to continue trying, it’s always a major blow to his self esteem when he loses to ranpo again. so you read the books for yourself so that you can praise him about every specific detail and make him feel better about himself and his work. you may not be his rival or the greatest detective in the world, but you are poe’s partner, so your words are still very meaningful to him.

- poe would definitely call you lots of pet names if you’re comfortable with it. he calls you things like ‘my dearest’ and ‘my beloved’, but he’ll also call you things like ‘darling’ and ‘love’. if you have a nickname, he’ll typically use that in place of your full name because it feels more intimate to him. if you do the same to him, he’ll be so happy! he’s down with being called basically any term of endearment as long as it comes from you, but some may make him more flustered than others. if you shorten his name and call him ‘ed’ it makes him feel so much closer to you.

- poe talks about you all the freaking time! he’s not above straight up bragging about how great his partner is, he constantly feels the need to tell everyone how great you are. hopefully ranpo likes you a lot because my guy has to listen to poe gushing about you constantly lol. if poe ever finds out that you’ve told your friends good things about him, it will warm his heart and make him feel so appreciated. he’s basically never prepared for you to match his extreme passion in your relationship, it shocks him every single time and he can’t believe he actually met someone who loves him as strongly as he loves them.

(a/n: thanks for reading my first fic on this account! i hope you guys like my theme lol, i just wanna be known as the tokage guy who writes bsd fics)

[autisticlalna]

don’t have the braincells to do anything with this, so i figure i could just throw this out there for, like. the five people who’d know what this is.

anyway: sbk shadow people au 👀?

YOU HAVE GIVEN ME INFINITE POWER

a quick recap of what Shadow People AU is: alternate universe where 1.15, on top of everythin else it Actually added, included a poorly-documented new mechanic where you could summon a black-and-yellow shadow copy of yourself. if you killed your shadow you would get a copy of everything you had in your inventory when you summoned it, but it would also be stronger with each death. if a shadow dies enough times, they can evolve to the point of being able to strategize, to build, and to communicate. oops! theyre self-aware!

there's a lot more to it than that, but ill explain as we go. because my favorite thing to do ever is apply this concept to different mcyt series and explore what might happen, and ive been toying with makin a variant for sbk. SO LETS GOOOOOOO

Viking would use his shadow to dupe materials and as an extra hand when buildin farms, so his shadow would develop to be more work-focused i think. zeroes in hard on a task and will not give up until its done. leave him alone he's got Shit To Do. either Viking gives him a cool mythology name, he continues the season nicknamin scheme to match Summertime, or Avid calls him somethin dumb and it sticks.

Vintage gets Antique. bottom text. i can actually just point at Antique as-is and go "yeah that's her shadow" LMAO. recolor the colored bits yellow and give her her eyes back and Antique is good to go. fun fact: the only* thing that can kill a shadow is their summoner or another shadow. run.

(* theres more than that but this post is already pretty long. spau is Big.)

Ruby is probably where we first run into the idea of "entity corruption", because god knows whats going on with Cherruby. basically if you've gotten corrupted by an entity in any way (eg Scar and Cub havin Vex magic, Watcher Grian, Karl Jacobs gettin put in the time travel blender), that bleeds over to your shadow and can cause... problems. i have a lot of thoughts about how this applies to TSMP specifically, but im squintin at Cherruby going what is your deal because there is SOMETHING messin with zhem and whatever it is is gonna mess with xis shadow too.

Avid would not risk havin a shadow. the most obvious reason is bc his shadow would be Super corrupted bc of basically everythin that happened in Nightmares, but the actual reason is that it would look like Avoid and that would freak Avid out too much :,D

rose suggested Marmalade would have the Old Shadows and OOGHGHHHHH FUCK . that goes hard. basically there's an associated dimension called the Shadowlands, and you can royally screw up your shadow's data by goin there before theyve finished forming for the first time. the outcome is a maxed-out shadow with a god complex that is capable of whatever you think its capable of. Marm might've drawn a connection between the Shadowlands and the Void, tried to use it as another way to get down to the Limbo border when the Void wasn't lettin her in, and instead got the Abyss equivalent. probably just named Void because of initially assuming theyre an extension of the Void itself.

Trog would be the runner-up for the Old Shadows, i think, but also they probably thought about it and went "nah" and forgot to warn anyone else that thats a thing. continues the trend with my Trog hcs of lookin perfectly normal and Not Being Normal At All. not entity corruption, just, like. corruption corruption. somethin broke here.

wait lmao i just realized something really funny and its that Fool's shadow would literally just look like him but all shadow-y. bc Fool already normally has the yellow/gold cracks. solar probably will have more ideas on what to do with this guy but i am proudly announcing that it is now Two Of Them Thursday

i cant decide if Leon's shadow shows signs of ender-ification before he does, or if he stays Completely Normal while Leon mutates. the latter is probably more interestin bc shadows gettin messed with is a pretty common trait in the au so havin a situation of "the shadow is normal while their summoner gets more and more fucked up" is fun. also: shitpost incarnate. this penguin cannot be stopped by any mortal means

i dont know how the tube thing would affect the shadows, is the fun part. like, "mechanically" the way the shadows work is they're tied to playerdata, so the likely idea is that Cloneby would have Cherruby's shadow. that's fun and fucked up!

fun side note: shadows are ground bound. they can do the kingdom hearts heartless thing of going flat to travel up surfaces and fit through spaces but they cannot jump over gaps. skyblock is maybe the worst experience for a shadow ever LMAO

[ador3him]

hello ! i want to request a quackity x reader imagine. anyways , it starts with reader, quackity and quackity’s friends all playing a game together something like amongus. throughout the game reader is ignored and spoken over by everybody including quackity (not meaning to of course), reader starts to feel sad and feels like they are being annoying, chat notices, reader decides to end stream, lies and says they are going to sleep. After the game ends quackity goes on twt and sees the reader’s name trending, he decides to click through it and sees a “compilation video” of reader being ignored throughout the game and everybody talking about it. Quackity realizes his mistake and pays the reader a visit. You can add/change stuff if you’d like!

pairing: quackity x gn!reader

requested: yes by anon

warnings: none i think

word count: 687

a/n: sorry this took awhile!! idek why it did i j didnt feel that inspired to write it until now, its such a good request im j lazy lol!!

“Yooo! I literally told you Sapnap was imposter but no body fucking listens! No don’t listen to Tubbo!” Tubbo yells into his microphone. Sapnap is laughing as the ‘DEFEAT’ animation shows up on everyone’s screen apart from his.

“I died you guys didn’t avenge me. It was so obviously Sapnap what the fuck!” Karl groans through his head back faking frustration. Quackity and George are fighting with each other over who said Sapnap was the imposter (spoiler it was only Tubbo). Wilbur and Tommy are complaining that they got voted off for no reason and y/n is just sitting on stream their music playing in the background. No one talked to them through the whole round and the round before that and surprise the rounds before that. Of course, they could’ve talked to them first- oh wait they did! No one listened, just cut them off or plain ignored them and no they weren’t on mute.

They sigh knowing that if they continued to play, they would still be ignored. Ultimately, they decide to say their goodbyes to their stream while on mute before bracing themselves for the overwhelming ignorance that’s about to come to them.

“Hey guys I think I’m going to go now, I ended my stream it’s getting late where I am,” y/n tries to talk as loud as they can without it passing as yelling. A few protests slip through from Wilbur and Sapnap but other than that everyone said quiet and quick goodbyes. They click ‘Leave Call’ as all the pfp icons disappear from their screen they shut their PC down. Jumping into bed not bothering to change as they are in their sweatpants and a Quackity hoodie he sent to y/n as a birthday gift.

Their phone is on their side desk fully charged, they take it off charge and open Twitter. Notifications flood in, their name on trending and compilations of them from not only their stream but others as well of y/n being utterly ignored and talked over throughout the game. They throw their phone on the other side of the bed and turn over cuddling into a pillow drifting off to sleep.

Quackity is still streaming, he is in the middle of the game when his phone is blowing up from Twitter which the notifications are usually on silent apart from y/n’s. When they get tagged, replied to, or posts he gets a notification. He picks up his phone to look at the swarm of posts and clips of y/n being unnoticed in everyone’s streams. His heart sinks feeling so guilty, he was so caught up in his stream and fighting with George the whole stream that he didn’t even get to talk to y/n nor notice what was happening instead accidently encouraging it.

“Hey guys I think I might go can yall vote me off?” Quackity says when a body gets reported. Everyone protests saying how their stream would suck without only making him feel worse. “Please? I really need to go I forgot about this paper I have due.” Everyone obliges voting him off, he says goodbye to his stream and leaves the call.

He practically runs to his car and makes his way to y/n’s apartment. When he makes it there, he doesn’t bother texting them, he uses his key that they gave him for ‘Emergencies’ which was basically their way of asking him to come over more.

“y/n? mi amor?” He calls out from the living room as he makes his way to their bedroom, he carefully opens the door to see them sleeping. He blushes at the sight of y/n in his hoodie, he sits beside them gently brushing the hair off their face, they looked so relaxed and not at all sad which relieved him slightly. He took off his shoes and climbed into y/n’s bed beside them wrapping his arm around their waist.

“I am so sorry, mi amor,” Quackity whispers pressing a kiss onto the top of their head before hiding his face into the back of their neck, falling asleep hoping they will forgive him when they wake up.

[flowerpotmage]

Tight Grip, Broken Dam (9)

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You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: for series: slow burn, ambiguous relationship, found family dynamics, reader is in their late 20s. for chapter: hint of spice, grief, returning cameo characters

Word Count: 3.4k

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

The darkness does little to help with your disorientation and panic when you wake from your nightmare, your eyes and nose still itching from memories of powdered concrete and dust clouding the air.

“Fuck,” you whisper, sitting up.

It’s just you tonight.

Your body is tense with cold and fear, the chill seeping further into you as air touches your now exposed skin, damp with sweat. You shiver, hands on your face helping to ground and orient you in the present moment, the bare skin of your hand covering your face instead of suit on skin like in the nightmare. The time on your phone, charging on the bedside table, reads 4:43 in the morning.

You scramble out of bed, trading shorts for sweats and throwing a sweater on over your still sweat-damp shirt. You need warmth right now; being clean can wait until the sun’s up and you won’t fall back asleep under the warm water of the shower. Instead, you relocate to the living room, settling under the blankets on the couch.

As jittery as you are, sleep claims you again with unmatched hunger.

“Two Miguels, huh?” Gwen is saying. She’s stopped by your dimension again, just for the day, to do laundry and catch up. “Is the new one going to help lead? I heard he always has sunglasses on, what’s the deal with that?”

You sip at your smoothie. “I don’t think so; and they protect his eyes. I think they're even more sensitive than our—than the old Miguel’s. Or something.”

Gwen raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And how is our Miguel?”

You shoot her a half-hearted glare. “He’s fine. Why ask me?”

She shrugs, changing gears. “You know, I wonder how similar the two are.”

“Well, I’ve only talked to the new one two times,” you shrug. “And the first one barely counts, he’d only just gotten invited back to HQ.”

“What’s his dimension like?”

“You’ll have to ask Peter and Jess. They recruited him.”

“Not you?” Gwen seems surprised.

You shake your head. “No, I was uh…” you look to the side, almost grimacing as your brain flings itself through a jeopardy wheel of potential answers; It lands on honesty. “Miguel vetoed me going. Jess and Peter went instead.”

Gwen raises an eyebrow, pursing her lips in thought. “Huh.”

You change the subject and ask her how Hobie is instead. She takes the bait and immediately springs into telling you how much fun it is to hang out with Hobie and his friends—Karl, Kamala, Robbie, Rick, and Riri.

You’re just glad it sounds like she has friends that get it. Friends that know.

“You seem in better spirits.”

“Yeah,” you shrug a single shoulder and offer a smile, standing side by side with Karen in the elevator going up.

She returns it, turning her head forward.

You’ve never been particularly close with your coworkers, with anybody in your own dimension. Not for a while. You’ve forgotten how to connect normally, what it’s like to be a civilian, and you feel it keenly in this moment standing awkwardly side by side—

“A couple of us are going out for drinks later,” she suddenly mentions, and you risk an awkward glance at her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, pausing. “Well, really it’s just me and Ben. But you should come. Um, and some of my other friends might be there too.”

You’ve always liked Karen, always felt like there was an understanding sadness in her pale fae-like features. So you only pause for a moment before you accept, because really, why not? “I’d love to,” you say, and she smiles more openly when your eyes meet again. “What time?”

You’re only a little late when you arrive at the address Karen gave you; a somewhat seedy little dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen. The sign is old, not yet updated to the popular clean lights in the rest of the city, and the windows could use a good cleaning. The bikes out front are a mix of old school gas powered vintage pieces with iridescent shimmering puddles under exhaust pipes, and the new clean energy models quickly taking over the city; incentivized by the joint Federal and Stark Green Energy trade-in programs. The sight of the gas ones doesn’t surprise you—people will always want to hold onto their classics—but the amount of them does.

Inside the bar is dim and yellow, warm light tricking bodies into feeling even warmer than the air already is, and therefore thirstier.

Karen waves you down from a table in the back, and with a returning wave that is in actuality just a slightly lifted hand, you make a beeline towards her and the little table.

Across from Karen you recognize the back of Ben Urich’s head. Beside him is the back of a stranger with short and carefully groomed dark hair, a sliver of his pale skin visible between his hair and the collar of his dress shirt. Across from that stranger and next to Karen is another man you don't know, with a round face and small nose made somehow smaller by his long dark blond hair.

“You must be Karen’s other friend from the paper!” He says, face lighting up when you’re within earshot of the table. Ben turns around in his seat, standing and greeting you by name with a warm handshake and a pat on the shoulder. The man sitting next to him doesn’t stand, smiling politely under his dark glasses.

Karen introduces you by name to the two new men, and then introduces them to you in turn. “This is Foggy,” she says, and the round faced man stands to shake your hand. “And Matt.”

Matt doesn’t stand, but lifts his beer bottle in acknowledgement. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, ending the sentence with your name.

“Likewise,” you say. “It’s good to get out of the house.”

“Spend a lot of time working from home?” Foggy asks, settling back into his chair as you take your own seat on the end of the table between Karen and Ben.

“All the time. I never go anywhere.” You try not to say it too dryly, try not to make the lie sound like the inside joke it feels like.

“What sort of pieces do you write for the paper?” Matt asks, tone polite, voice soft and smooth.

“Human interest pieces,” you shrug. “Community events. A lot of filler.”

Matt hums.

“Matt and Foggy have a law office a few blocks from here,” Karen says.

“Karen’s been a great help,” Foggy says. “Since it’s just me and Matty here a lot of things fall to the side. Don’t know where we’d be without her!”

“Oh, stop it,” Karen says, blushing under Foggy’s praise as the table laughs.

“That sounds like her,” Ben says.

“Have you gotten a drink yet?” Matt asks you across the table.

You shake your head. “Not yet.”

“Stick with the bottled stuff,” Foggy advises, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “We love Josie, but her cocktails are basically rubbing alcohol.”

You raise an eyebrow, stifling a laugh behind closed lips.

“I need a refill,” Matt says. “I’ll go with you.”

It’s hard to miss the long suffering look that Foggy shares with Karen.

The nearly black glass of his glasses worn indoors suddenly makes sense when he stands and you see the white cane in his hand. You fall into step beside him, walking the short distance to the bar.

“What do you recommend?” you ask, waiting for Josie to approach your end of the counter.

“Whatever she offers,” he chuckles. “Unless she offers a cocktail. Foggy’s not wrong about the strength.”

“I’ve got a strong tolerance,” you grin, leaning on the counter next to him. “So how’d you meet Karen?”

He pauses, tapping his fingers on the bartop as he thinks. “It’s a long story. Probably better if she tells it.”

You nod, and then realize he can’t see it. “Sorry. That awkward silence was me nodding.”

He laughs. “Right.”

Josie arrives, and you get one of the same beers that Matt orders.

As the night continues you find that you get along quite well with the group, even teaming up to play pool. Ben sits out, heading home to his wife Doris shortly after the game starts.

“This so isn’t fair,” Foggy says after you guide Matt through sinking another ball into a corner pocket.

“It’s not my fault you underestimated my teammate,” Matt says, a devilish smirk curving across his face. “I think it’s more than fair.”

Foggy looks like he wants to say something, his face about ten thousand shades of done. Karen just laughs.

The warm fun of the evening at Josie’s keeps your spirits high through your later patrol as Spider. You stop an ATM robbery with ease, and nip a burglar’s mission in the bud when you catch him in his attempt to break and enter a small business. You even walk a young woman home after her late shift at a cocktail bar.

It’s nearly five again when you at last get home, crawling in through your bedroom window. You don’t even bother to get the suit off before your head hits the pillow and sleep claims you.

The mouth on your neck seems to drain every thought from your mind. You have no sense or memory of what you were doing before he came up behind you to put his arms around your chest, holding you securely against his own.

“What was that, honey?” He whispers, nipping your ear with his lips.

Whatever noise you let out would embarrass you beyond belief, if it weren’t for the hand now snaking down your front.

“Dishes,” you say, breathless. That’s right—you had been loading the dishwasher before this.

“Yeah honey? Dishes?”

The tips of his fingers dip under the waistband of your pants and your attempt at an affirmative hum of ‘Mhm’ turns into a desperate little whimper.

“Uh-huh?” He mocks, his hand pushing lower—

You wake with a gasp, eyes wide and heart thumping.

A weight shifts on the mattress next to you, and you realize there’s an arm around your waist—not low and hungry like in your dream, but simply resting warm and heavy over your side.

Miguel. Miguel’s in your bed, cuddled up behind you.

And you just had a dirty dream about him.

It’s no secret, of course, you know he’s attractive. Hell, you know you’ve been attracted to him. But you thought you’d buried it when… whenever this whole emotional support sleeping—actually sleeping—together thing became a regularity.

Fuck. Fuck.

It seems absence doesn’t just make the heart grow fonder, it digs up repressed sexual desires and reanimates them in the form of dreams.

You don’t know if you’re glad that at least it wasn’t one of your nightmares again. The one with the falling building, or the one with your aunt, or the new one with the woman you couldn’t save last month–

No.

You force the thoughts out of your mind, sitting upright and throwing your legs over the side of the bed. Miguel’s arm falls off of you, hand landing on the mattress beside your hip, punctuated by the half-asleep grunt of someone suddenly roused from sleep.

Shit. Miguel. You forgot again.

You take a steadying breath as you feel the mattress shift behind you.

Miguel’s half asleep voice mumbles your name, the letters coming out in the shape of a question. His hand by your hip moves, sliding up your side to rest on your back. “Are you okay?”

You inhale sharp through your nose, the tips of his fingers rooted to your spine. His hand slides away, the mattress shifting behind you again as he sits up. Even with your back to him you can feel the weight of his presence, distinct from his weight on the mattress, just behind you. His hand returns to rest on your shoulder—your breath hitches.

Too similar.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Breathe.”

“I’m okay,” you whisper. “Just–” Fuck, you can’t think with his warmth at your back. “Water.” You blurt. Yeah, water is good. Water will get you out of the room for a second, at least, it’ll let you calm down enough to dig a deeper hole to bury the dream in.

Miguel hums, removing his hand as you rise from the bed and escape to the kitchen.

You don’t bother to turn the lights on—your vision may not be as enhanced as Miguel’s in the dark, but you can still see more than the average human. Even if you couldn’t, you know your home well enough to navigate it blindfolded.

Get it together.

You linger in the kitchen, clearing your mind, finding the threads of exhaustion in your body and pulling them around yourself. It helps; the tired ache and desire for warmth, safety, and rest burying the dream back down under meters of dirt in a coffin of spider silk.

Miguel is still awake when you return, just barely. You can see the silhouette of his head lift off the pillow to look at you when you step through the door, hear the soft sound of him resting back down into the pillow when you slide back into bed beside him. If your heart thumps a little harder at the way his arm slides around you as he rolls closer, well, it doesn’t mean anything.

Life falls into a new, comfortable routine. You’ve been getting less backup calls and anomaly assignments from Lyla, and so you focus on your own dimension. It’s easy, it’s clean, and with nearly all of your villains already down and out for the time being it means you can focus on helping the little people. You save cats from trees, you help old ladies, you watch the news and see other heroes taking down their own enemies before you can even think to step foot out the door to help.

When you’re not doing the little things as Spider, you’re writing for the New York Bulletin, or spending time with your new acquaintances—Karen, Foggy, and Matt have invited you out twice more to join them at Josie’s. Despite how stilted and awkward you feel, and the slight distance you’re mindful to keep, it’s nice to make friends. Local friends.

But today you’re visiting HQ. You tell yourself it’s for the gym, the facilities there far more helpful for training your abilities than anything back home—which is true, but isn’t what made you open a portal to Earth-928 in the first place. You do fully intend on visiting the training facilities, but…

Exiting the lobby, you hesitate before continuing towards Miguel’s lab instead of towards the training facilities—maybe he’ll have free time and end up joining you. As unlikely as the idea is, you get the feeling he’ll appreciate the invite regardless.

The lab seems even more dimly lit than usual, and far too quiet. There’s no dim yellow glow from the platform, no sound from surveillance footage or old recordings that Miguel still tortures himself with.

The air is so still that you hesitate to even breathe.

Needless to say, Lyla’s sudden appearance and chirp of your name in the air in front of your face nearly launches you out of your skin.

“Lyla,” you say, a hand over your racing heart.

“Didn’t mean to scare you there,” she says, flickering into an image of apologetic raised hands. “What can I do for you?”

“I was looking for Miguel,” you say, turning your head as if you simply missed him lurking in a dark corner.

“Miguel is out on personal business right now,” she says, flipping through a conjured secretary notepad. “But I can take a message if you’d like!”

You try not to let the disappointment, or the surprise, show too strongly on your face or the automatic droop of your shoulders. “Oh, uh, no that’s okay! Just thought I’d drop by. Um,” you falter under her unblinking friendly smile. “I guess just tell him I said hi?”

Ugh. Pathetic.

“Sure thing!” Lyla says, her little notepad disappearing into the ether.

You’re distracted the whole time through your exercises in the training facility, caught off kilter several times to the point that you just pack up and leave early.

It’s not that he’s gone that bothers you, nor that he has personal things to take care of. No, it’s the fact that you have no clue what his personal life could be like. You know he doesn't exactly get out much just to socialize, and you’re almost sure he doesn't have family left here.

Right? Why else would he have left to take the place of his other self?

It’s not the first time in recent days you’ve been reminded of how little you really know about the man who regularly visits to sleep in your bed. Sure, you know how to comfort him when grief sneaks it’s deadly hands around his neck, you know what foods he likes and which Spider-People he favors. You know he makes a show of being a grump, but the fact that the Spidey Special is still on the menu is proof enough that as long as it isn’t interfering with something serious he’ll let others carry on with their jokes even at his expense. You know how soft and gentle his touch can be, how his voice sounds when sliding into or out of the cloudy world of dreams. You know he’s lonelier than he lets on around the others.

You know how much he misses his daughter.

Still, the fact that you have no idea what the rest of his life could be like unsettles you, leaves you feeling off kilter and strange.

—

“I’m glad you could take time off for today,” the man next to Miguel says, hands in his coat pockets.

The two men are sitting on a bench, green trimmed grass spread out around them under healthy trees that provide dappled shade from the afternoon sun. The polished headstones around them spread out like a cut down orchard, neat lines and rows of the long lost in juxtaposition with the hard messy feelings they’ve left behind. The mausoleum just a few meters away helps Miguel to feel less exposed in the open graveyard. He’s wearing sunglasses to shield from the clear sky; Gabriel is wearing the usual stupid goggles up on his forehead. Miguel still doesn't know if they serve any practical purpose.

“Of course,” Miguel says, arms crossed over his stomach as he slouches on the bench in civilian clothes, all soft grays and charcoal.

“How’s work?”

Miguel sighs. “Oh, you know.”

“I don’t,” is Gabriel’s reply, turning his body toward Miguel. “You don’t talk about it.”

Miguel tilts his head back, eyes getting lost in the leaves on the branch above the bench.

“I’m your brother, Miggy. I’d like to know how your life is going, even if it is all crazy sci-fi bullshit.”

Miguel closes his eyes, sighing again and tucking his chin down. “It’s not that exciting.”

Gabriel scoffs. “Yeah. Because being the head of a government sanctioned multiversal maintenance society is boring. You’re so full of shit.” It’s not mean, not even annoyed. He’s chuckling as he says it. “Shock it,” he says, clapping a hand on Miguel’s shoulder and standing. “Since we’re here, let's visit the other two.”

“Mom’ll get jealous,” Miguel says dryly. “It’s supposed to be her day.”

“So we’ll just go hang out at her headstone again for a while before we leave,” Gabriel grins. “Come on. When’s the last time you visited them?”

Miguel has to pull his thoughts back on subject, away from—

“A while.”

“That’s what I thought. You know, I was here with Xina last month, visiting Dana and....”

Miguel walks beside his brother, swallowing down the lump rising in his choked throat as Gabriel recounts the short anecdote. He doesn’t like visiting this part of the cemetery, too many mistakes memorialized in stone, buried under his feet.

“How is Xina?”

“She got a promotion, apparently.” Gabriel glances over at him, Miguel carefully schooling his face. “You should reach out. She might even talk to your grumpy ass.”

Miguel shakes his head, a bittersweet smile. “We always just end up talking about…”

Gabriel sighs, patting him on the back. “I know.” A pause. “That doesn't always have to be a bad thing.”

Miguel's mind wanders again. 

Warmth. Blankets. Cooking breakfast for two.

“I know.”

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[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 37: In Which The Rabbit Hole Is Deeper Still

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

Alcina leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, savoring the slight burn of the blood-wine trickling down her throat.

"At this rate we're lucky we're not humans," Donna mused from the neighboring table, "we'd have blown through so much money in these vain military efforts we may be stricken down by our people."

"Have you paid much attention to the human world above recently?" Alcina asked flatly, "their idiocy knows no bounds for the make believe thing they call money that 'makes their world go round', we'd likely get away with much, much more if we felt the need."

Donna smirked, "well then I guess this will continue until we bare fruits from our labor?"

Alcina huffed heavily and shoved herself from the wall, rejoining her comrade at the table, "I'm growing as tired of this as you are," she slumped, in a very un-Alcina like fashion, "though I can't come to terms with giving up either. I don't know what else to do but to stay stationed and wait."

"I don't believe anyone else has any better ideas. Mother Miranda remains silent and I'm resigning from reaching out to her any longer. It's pointless. There's still no word of Angie. And Karl, your girls, Dmitri, Sylvia, and the myriad of other eyes and ears we have set loose remain... empty handed."

Donna's verbal vomit continued, and try as she might, Alcina wasn't much able to remain present for it. She was still very consumed with you and what had happened the other night. She still didn't quite feel right, or normal, or whatever she was supposed to feel. With everything going on, which was largely underwhelming, yet just as stressful and annoying, Alcina felt pulled in far too many directions than she liked and that her control was still dangling on a thin thread. She was beyond her threshold for anymore 'what if's', and preparing for an impending unknown, that she was ready to throw in the towel all together and let whatever happens, happen. 

And you. What would become of you?

"Uh... Alcina?"

Came the inevitable tug from her own thought vomit.

"Hmm?" she replied lazily.

Leaning harder on her elbow, Donna propped her chin in her palm and mused over her friends mental absence, "it's none of my business, and I made a promise with myself to never ask or insert myself, but... do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?"

Alcina didn't look at Donna right away, in fact she took another long swallow of her wine and adjusted her poor posture mindlessly.

Finally her icy grey eyes met her friends and she took a deep breath, "what makes you think something happened?" she deflected almost pitifully.

Donna scoffed, not lightly, "I've only seen you that ragged and disjunct maybe a handful of times in the long, long time I've known you. You were very much off when you came back last morning... very off. So, while it's still none of my business, you and your wellbeing are, therefor I can't help but wonder and have a little concern about you."

Their gaze remained fixed to each other and Alcina chose her next words very carefully; "she is... special, Donna. Very special. And no, not in the way I have viewed all my lovers. I'm beginning to fear..." her voice continued, betraying her inward caution, "that I may be in a bit over my head. At least with everything happening. I don't do well with fear... or uncertainty."

Her response was so calculated Donna nearly dared to roll her eyes, but at least Alcina had given her that much, though she knew she would likely not be getting much more.

"I know you dislike being open and vulnerable, even to me, but I hope you know you can always confide in me if you need someone to lean on. And I know telling you you can't always be the unbreakable pillar means nothing, but you really ca-"

"She's got powers of her own, Donna."

Donna became very still as she watched the deadly concern deep in Alcina's eyes urging to be released. That was not something she had expected to hear. Now, more things suddenly made a lot of sense.

"What kind?" she asked timidly.

"I don't know. But I was overcome by a blood-rage I've never experienced before yesterday because of her, her blood, her power, and she witnessed the whole thing."

Oh how the silence was painfully deafening.

"What are you going to do?" Donna asked.

Alcina shook her head shortly, "I haven't the faintest. I feel like I'm caught in a mangled net I can't escape from. My biggest fear, which I have no real concrete evidence for, says that she could be in danger. And, the more I go to her, the more I see her, the more I may risk her safety... and I... don't know how I could live with myself if..." her voice broke off with a crack as she stared down now at the table, reliving her painful past with a bitter bile in her throat.

She huffed, breaking that thought off, "simultaneously, I'm fighting with the guilt that I should be protecting her, keeping her by my side in case something were to ever happen, all the while battling the very infuriating reality none of this would be taking place if it weren't for me, doing exactly what I shouldn't have done," her eyes, now coated with the deep sea slate, locked on Donna once again, "she is my undoing as much as she is my long lost home of comfort and love. She's given me a breath of life I never thought I'd feel again, and I am riddled with guilt and shame for loving her, for not being all she deserves, for knowing with such likelihood our lives will never coexist the way she deserves them to. I... should not love her the way I do, I never should have loved her, but I cannot fathom letting her go now, as selfish and devastating my ignorance may be. Whatever powers she holds, whatever gifts hide in her soul, I feel them in me now. I feel her in every waking and sleeping moment. I am petrified, Donna. Petrified. I don't know how to save everyone."

Her last admission made Donna wince.

She reached for Alcina's hand and grasped it firmly, scooting closer to her at the table, "Alcina... you don't have to save everyone. No one is asking that of you -"

"It's my job, Donna! Am I not the Matriarch? Am I not the Figure Head of the underground?" she jerked her hand away and rose from the table with haste, "Is it not I that everyone looks to when it all goes wrong? Am I not the one who makes the final decisions, has the final say, and ultimately is held responsible for everything that goes on down here?" her eyes and features grew sharp as she continued, "I never wanted any of this, I never asked to be made the ruler of the tiring, undead, caught and lost in time world that we're forced to live in! But here I am, doing a better job than Mother Miranda or any of my predecessors ever did - so yes, dear Donna, it is my responsibility; it is my job; to save everyone from whatever inside and outside threats we face."

She'd paced at least nine times along the floor by now, rubbing her forehead with her plight of anger and remorse, huffing one last time before she stopped, dropped her head back to look at the ceiling and release the breath that had another pending slew of upset words.

"I'm sorry..." she offered softly, "my emotions have been burdensome. I feel more than I have in a long while. I'm not used to having no control."

Alcina found Donna at her side with a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sure it means little now," Donna also offered, "but I'm in your corner. Always have been. You won't weather this alone. And we will nail this bloody problem to the fucking cross, and things will get better. I'll fight tooth and nail to see it through."

She smiled genuinely down at the brunette and relaxed, "they say the quiet ones are those to really be wary of... I have no doubt in my mind you'll make good on your threat."

"When have I ever not?"

Alcina chuckled.

-

Currently, you were laying sprawled out in your bathtub; leg hanging over the side as you were half submerged and resting, recuperating from the exhausting morning you had spent 'working your magick'.

The baby fern Malka had given you was now on the kitchen counter in the largest bowl you owned since you'd overgrown it far too much and it burst from the tiny pot it had come in. You'd be needing to get some more soil and a proper planter as soon as possible. After you'd successfully grown it Fern Gully style, you'd grabbed the next item you could think of to manipulate; a candle.

This time you used your greyer magick. Melting it. Burning it. Reforming it. Lighting the wick with no flame. It was... excruciatingly exhilarating. And, utterly draining. Malka said practice was key. Little by little, you'd figure all of this out.

You'd also been up till around 3 in the morning reading over your books. The book on magick was as interesting as it was vague, cryptic, and a little oddly written. There was no doubt the books age just by the language and spelling. It covered mostly Celtic and Norse witchcraft; history, practices, etc., and gave a good index of symbols and deities. You'd not yet gotten to the chapters containing folklore of Fae, Fairies, Nymphs, Dryads, and the like, but were itching to get there.

You'd also gotten a few chapters into the vampire book when you woke. So much of the lore about the myths of them, oddly enough, were written as debunked as Alcina had told you forever ago upon your many nights of incessant questioning. You found it strange since this book was also quite old, and wondered if perhaps a vampire himself, or herself, didn't write it. The wives tales and superstitions around vampires lasted long into the 1900's, and this book easily predated that. It gave you a little bit of a warm feeling to think a vampire author had gotten some of their truth out there.

Secretly, you were hoping to find names, lineages of the vampire bloodlines, and see if you could track down this Mother Miranda that had wreaked havoc on Alcina, and certainly many others. But to your disappointment you'd found nothing. Yet. There were still many chapters to go.

The bath was helping you regain some energy but your fingertips were still uncomfortably tingly. 

You were finding your magick a very physical thing. Malka had introduced you to learning how to feel it out, locate it and harness it, and you found so many certain sensations went with each emotion and intention the more and more you focused.

Helping plants grow was a warm, soft sensation deep in your chest. The tingling in your fingers gentle but thick, the lightheadedness that came after was bright and intense. 

Burning down the candle came from below your lungs, deep in the pit of your core. It wasn't anger or rage, but pure intent to control and manipulate. The tingling from that was hard, firm, and a little steely. And you felt breathy afterward.

Lighting the candlewick was in the front of your face, like an Icy Hot mask on your cheeks and forehead. That tingling sensation was liquidy, silky, and prickly. It gave you jitters after and you felt startlingly awake.

As much as you wanted to revisit the darker of everything you'd done, you didn't dare without Malka present. Lighting your apartment complex on fire or something wasn't anything you wanted to risk.

It was now a little passed 2 PM when you were trying to read the book on magick while simultaneously making a plate of cheese and crackers to munch on on the kitchen counter. Unfortunately, as you were reskimming a paragraph you'd read twice, you slipped and sliced part of your finger with the cheese knife.

You reached for your paper towels, but in the process dripped three drops of blood on the way.

"Ah fuck," you blurted, quickly wrapping your finger and rushing to wipe off the little red droplets on your book.

But something caught your attention, vividly.

There where the text was as stark against the aged paper as you blood, hovering above and over said text was another text; glowing, violet, and in markings you did not recognize, but even odder still is that you could unmistakably read and understand it.

You blinked several times as the realization that you were clearly looking at archaic symbols, yet they translated in your brain as simply as regular English set in. Your heart sunk to the pit of your stomach as your eyes read on:

Of this point in your crooked journey, there are many things to find; the Courts are vast, but none too far -  be true of heart  and sharp of mind.

The truths you seek shan't escape you long; for the Courts call home those who've been gone - through troubles unnumbered, and hardships unmatched - slithy toves wicked games, both brutish and strong.

Darkness endures while you brave the new sea;  uncharted and rough may these deep waters be. Fear not the voyage for you'll be lead through the mist, on the backs of your lineage you'll be able to drift.

The path you've found, is but only the start.  Be swift and be brave,  keep faith of the heart. Come back once more when time gives you wear - as the Courts do not dabble, not here or to there, for Magick is not born of the weaklings to bear.

What... the... fuck did this mean?!

You slammed the book shut and rushed for the door.

~

"Malka!" you called as you burst your way through the shop entrance, "Malka! I need to show you something!"

"Aye aye aye," Malka replied from around an isle, "ketzeleh! I'm just closing shop, lock the front, will you? Come meet me behind the counter."

You did as instructed and hastily made your way to the counter, nearly beating Malka there.

"What has you so spun up?" she asked wiping her hands on her apron, "out with it."

Without another word, you gave her a wide-eyed look of 'please tell me I'm not insane', plopped the book down on the cluttered counter, and opened to the pages where your blood stains were.

"I - I bled on the book by accident - and this text, this floating, purple writing appeared and it was some weird riddle and -"

"Oooyyy vey, ketzeleh," Malka interrupted, gently pushing you out of the way grabbing for the book, her bright eyes staring hard at the pages, "how did you get this?" she asked as her hues shot up to you.

You were stumped, but now very concerned, "uh, Louis, I asked him for books of magick and he gave me this."

The older woman eyed you closely and held the book tighter, "do you know what this is?"

"Clearly not," you stated quickly, your eyes just as wide as ever.

"This is a Blood Arcane."

...

"A what?"

"This is a book of magick, not just a book about it. How this Louis got possession of it I would very much like to know. There are not many left in the world," Malka's voice dropped lower and she came closer to you, "a blood arcane is quite literally an enchanted book made from the old lines of witches and shamans to hide their secrets in plain sight. The red leather binding is a hint to those who knew the old code; this dark stain of red indicates that to unlock it's secrets you must spill your blood to reveal what it has to share with you. Inadvertently you did just that!"

You couldn't help your slacked jaw as Malka, now beaming with glee and intrigue, explained this to you like a school child.

"What did it say, what did it say to you?!"

"I, uh, it was, uhm, it was some kind of riddle? Or poem? I - I don't really remember al of it, it wasn't very forward."

Malka put the book back down on the counter and tapped her finger to her thin wrinkled lips, "I see... but you could read it?"

"Y-yeah, but it wasn't English, it was like -"

"Symbols, yes. Each book is filled with various teachings from various walks of magick, all set to a language special to each reader."

"If I bleed on it again will you read it with me?"

"No, no, it doesn't work like that ketzeleh," she said softly, smiling up at you, "the message you receive will not translate to me, nor would my blood translate for you to read, that's the true magick of these texts! So intricately designed and woven, they are so rare and truly special. This book... it was meant for you, and you were meant to find it. Keep it close. Don't tell anyone you have it, and don't let anyone see it, you understand?"

You nodded mutely and relaxed a little, leaning on the counter while looking back to the book, "it told me to come back after time had given me wear... whatever that means, that part I remember pretty well. What does that mean, though? And how could I read it and understand it even though it was just weird markings?"

Malka grinned, "it means you're not quite ready to read all of it's secrets, but don't be discouraged. Many witches and others gifted with magick cannot read these even after years and years of practice and guidance by elders. As for the understanding; when the book chooses to be read by the reader, it will come through as normally as you and I are speaking now, another impressive mystical trait. I would consider yourself very lucky dear, this is extraordinary!" she turned to face you again and placed her hands on your arms, admiring you with those twinkling eyes, "the more and more you learn about yourself, and the more you learn your magick, this book will bare itself to you in no time. The secrets you find here may have many of the answers you are searching for."

With a gentle sigh, you slumped your shoulders and returned her grin, "life just keeps getting weirder and weirder, Malka," you chuckled, "I'm starting to feel like Alice In Wonderland; next thing I know Leo will be grinning from ear to ear and telling me the Red and White Queen are in the kitchen ready to take me to my coronation to be Queen myself."

"Well, let me know if Sid Caesar shows up dressed as the Gryphon - he's so handsome!"

You laughed out loud and wrapped her up in your arms for a hug.

"If I end up battling the Jabberwocky and jump through the mirror, do you think this craziness will end?" you asked through the hug.

Malka hummed, "do you really want it to, ketzeleh?"

-

"You know if we had cellphones this wouldn't be nearly as difficult," Cassandra said from the other line of the old rotary phone, "we could just call you at any given time at any given place, then you wouldn't have to worry about where we are and the like -"

"You know mother is never going to agree to cell phones!" Dani's voice interrupted, "But we love you all the same, mother!"

"Oh for heavens sake, give me the phone - let - go!" Bela clearly struggled.

Alcina allowed herself a heavy blink and blew cigarette smoke from her red lips, arching back into her chair while tapping some ash into the tray.

"Hi mom, sorry about that."

"Don't worry, I'm sure this argument about cell phones will follow me to the very grave."

"That'll be a long, relentless endeavor."

Alcina chuckled at Bela, "it is your sisters we're talking about."

"Well, I - "

Bela was rudely interrupted once more and Cassandra's voice came chiming through; "Mother, you know the human city council is scared shitless of you, I know the coverage down here isn't ideal but I have no doubt in my mind you can convince them to install a tower -"

Cue Daniella and her boisterous agreement; "Yeah! But then we'll lose Cass entirely to the internet; she'll be on bookface and twatter and god forbid one of those dating sites! Easy pickings for blood though I guess."

"Oh shut up, Dani! You know it's called FACEBOOK and TWITTER, my god don't act like such a dunce."

"I simply love to annoy you!"

The unintelligible bickering went on on the other line until Bela finally reclaimed possession of the phone. Alcina remained pinching the bridge of her nose while taking steadying breaths. At least they were always entertaining.

"Oh my god... ANYWAY. That's about all we have to report at the moment. Though we have learned a great deal about the hidden passages and other tricky gems of the underground while we've been at it."

"Do nOT let Dani get any ideas, please?"

Bela laughed, "of course not, mother. Even Uncle Karl knows better. And you're doing alright?"

Alcina paused briefly, "of course, dragoste - right as rain. Missing my girls, I suppose," she smiled weakly.

"We miss you too. I think we'll be coming home soon, at least for a visit before another lead comes through."

"And I look forward to it. Give the battling baboons my love, and I shall see you all soon."

"I will. Love you, mom."

The click on the other end felt a little heavier than it needed to, but Alcina hung the receiver and took a thoughtful drag, staring blankly onto her desk, pondering if anything was ever going to happen on any end of the spectrum. She hated being in limbo more than she hated preparations for a war that was certain. Trusting Donna's instincts was easier than trusting her own at this point, and hers said this wasn't over, so at least there was something to lean on.

There were only a few more hours before sunset and Alcina was struggling internally about coming to see you. Oh how she wanted to. Escape from all this and pretend it didn't exist for a night, but then, the troubles with you and your newly exposed power made her uneasy.

She rose with a huff that hid none of her annoyance; tired of living and wandering aimlessly through her stupid thoughts of uncertainty was growing old and quickly.

Alcina returned to her bedroom and began to get dressed. 

Donning a white turtleneck, black jeans, her knee high boots, her trench coat, and last but not least; the gloves you'd given her. The smile on her face was warm and wistful, all the hesitations she's fought being shoved in the other direction. She loved you, dammit. She would make this work if it killed her.

As she was closing the gates to the Manor behind her, a shouting from up the street caught her attention. Her name was being called, urgently, by a voice she did not recognize.

Swiftly she started to rush towards the sound, and there trotting down the cobblestone towards her was a young vampire. Her face was twisted with worry and confusion.

"Lady Dimitrescu!"

"Yes, what is it?" she hastily replied.

"There's a Father in the tunnels! He's asking for you, but we wouldn't allow him any further - he's covered in blood - says someone was attacked in the church - he's demanding you come to him!"

Alcina's eyes went wild as she looked down upon the young lady, the shock of this news to her system sending her fight response into action.

"Take me to him!" she commanded with urgency.

The vampire took off and Alcina was hot on her heels.

By the time she reached the tunnel she could already hear the panicked, angry arguing.

"Let me pass! I demand you let me in! I demand to speak to the Lady Dimitrescu! He was just a boy! A boy! How could she let this happen!?"

Pushing her way passed the wall of vampires, Alcina broke through to see this father. He was indeed covered in blood and looking terribly frantic.

She was barely a pace from him when he saw her and lunged himself at her. He was a small, younger priest, one she remembered only vaguely, and posed her no real threat. Alcina barked for the other vampires to retreat and leave it be.

He slammed his fists into her chest and body, babbling and shouting about this boy, incoherent sobs and cries as he stained her white shirt with the still fresh blood all over him.

"I need you to calm down, father," Alcina soothed with a sternness, finally grabbing hold of him and rendering him immobile, "look at me, look at me!" she demanded, stifling his irregular sobs, "I cannot help you unless I know what has happened."

His eyes were blood shot and his face streaked with tears, "You! Your - y-your devils! Come with me and I will show you!" he shouted, ripping himself from her grasp and dodging back through from where he came.

[tacticalhimbo]

Howdy hey @pheedraws , I'm your bloody valentine for this year's event held by @carlosoliveiraa !!

I had a really fun time learning about Ilona and her tense history with the rest of the family, but especially that with Heisenberg. I hope I managed to capture their push-and-pull kinda dynamic, and I hope you enjoy this! <3

Let me know if you'd like a more permanent copy of this, too! I'm always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do :3

Under the cut for length! (this ended up being almost 2k words hehe)

The coldest of the winter months had finally approached, thickened blankets of snow encapsulating the quaint village and its surrounding wilderness. Winds howled through the distant trees, sinking low into the narrow pathways between buildings, carrying a flurry of snow with it. Crystalline sculptures shimmered in the sun's overcast light as they fell, drawing attention to the way they'd gathered in a nearly blinding landscape. Dark stonework was accentuated by the vibrant snow, just as the flourishing pine needles were. Gnawing as the chill that lingered in the air was, there was, too, an odd comfort to its overwhelming presence. A comfort that, as the sun eventually began to settle behind the horizon and the village began to grow quiet, encouraged a few intriguing residents to take in the stillness of it all. To wander through the sparse lantern glows and out into the moonlit wilderness, abandoning the set paths for something more organic; less explored. Distant lycan howls set the boundary for it all, warnings of what may happen if one were to straggle too far away from the epicenter.

Yet even that comfort did not explain how, or why, Ilona found herself in the fields adjacent to the run-down, albeit functioning, factory on the village's outskirts.

There was no comfort in the metallic whirs and groans. No comfort in the prospect that, should fate decide to be a particularly cruel mistress, Ilona run into the factory's owner—or one of his creations. It was still up for debate which would have been worse, frankly. The hostility of the mechanical beings was simple in its nature. Programming kicking in as rusted mechanisms sputtered to life. A mere reflection of their created purpose: Defense. Lord Heisenberg's hostilities, on the other hand, were bred of arrogance. Full of malcontent. It was intentionally designed to get under the skin of whatever poor soul ended up on the other side of that wolfish grin. Yet that, too, proposed another discussion of whether it would have been better to be maimed physically, or walk away with a wounded ego. Regardless, the answer was lost as well-placed speakers crackled to life. As that grating, smug voice rang out across the field.

"Well well, what do we have here? A late night visitor, all the way from her mighty home in the comforts of the village. And what do I owe the pleasure?"

Dark eyes narrowed. "You don't. I was just leaving."

"Is that so? I don't know, might be dangerous to head back so late. Heard there's lycans about." The fact was spoken as if it were a rumor, words shadowed by a low purr resonating from the man's chest as he teased. It earned nothing more than a scoff and the roll of the woman's eyes, back turning to the building as she began to make her way down the field.

That was, until a series of rustling in the treeline created a pause. Brought Ilona to a stop as her annoyance only grew. There was no proof of it, and it was something so unlikely to consider, yet she couldn't help but clench her jaw at the prospect that—by some account—Karl had set something up to lure them. Or was it so simply as him setting up his fancy little radio, and daring to open that mouth of his? Whatever it was, two paths lay before her: Take her chances and throw herself to the 'wolves', or begrudgingly wait out the pack's hunt in that cursed factory. While the first option was infinitely more tempting, there was a weariness beginning to weigh on her shoulders. The biting cold that began to properly creep under the layers of cloth and tug at her skin; it was enough for her to begrudgingly turn herself back up the path. And hearing the static of the speakers was enough for Ilona to almost consider turning back once more. Instead, she simply glared to the closest one, sat upon the corner of the decrepit brick.

"Don't even. Just shut up and open the door already."

And, as instructed, the rustled mechanisms groaned as the factory's doors slid open, allowing the warm air from within to bleed out across the shrinking distance. Allow the whines and creaks to overwhelm the immediate landscape alongside it, subtly encouraging a quickness in the woman's steps. The lycans had heard it, too. Paused their consumptions to perk their heads toward the sound, feral eyes fixated in wait. Yet no meal came to them, and they'd simply returned to the chilled leftover at their claws' end as Ilona found herself walking right into the hands of her���

Adversary? Acquaintance? Whatever it was Heisenberg was today. And, based on the way he'd sauntered out of the distant shadows, allowing the dim light in the entry to illuminate him, it was leaning toward the former.

The brim of his worn hat concealed his features from the light, yet there was a subtle sort of glow to those fixated eyes of his. A near-clear view of the wolfish grin that stretched his skin and scrunched his nose.

"I would ask what pleasure I owed, but something…" his voice trails as he steps closer, leering at Ilona, "Something tells me it would be a wasted attempt at conversation. What could possibly have your petals so ruffled, buttercup?"

He knew. She knew that he knew. And yet, he pressed. Instigated. Ilona sighed and waved off the idea of giving him fuel. Of airing her grievances. 'It's because I'm stuck here. With you of all people.'

"It's not important, Karl." But there was no harm in a little nudge. A subtle jab that would get just far enough under his skin to keep things calm enough for the time being. Just far enough to cause his lips to curl and teeth to bare. Still, he did well to conceal the bitter feeling at being referred to so… personally.

"Oh, I'm sure it isn't. Surely it's nothing, if that pout of yours is anything to judge by. Or the little furrow of your brows." It seems he, too, is returning the nudge. Both in the metaphorical sense, and in the literal, especially as a gloved finger comes to roughly jab at Ilona's shoulder before he draws back.

It brings a more prominent scowl to the woman's features as she sighs, head shaking as she looks around for something—anything—else to preoccupy herself with amidst the mess. Piles of unsorted scrap are all that await her, and the prospect of scraping her hands against the rough metal isn't exactly appealing. So, instead, she simply pretends Heisenberg isn't there. Walks past him to, with some hesitation etching into her muscles, find a different area to plant herself in. Perhaps somewhere with a piece of proper furniture. With something less grimy to entertain her as the moon traverses the night sky and leads the sun along with it. It'd be too much to ask for a corner of the factory without Heisenberg, or his influence, especially as he trails along behind her, but at this point taking her chances with (another) Soldat would be preferable to the grating voice and smug laughter. Thankfully for both of them, much as neither would admit it, it doesn't come to that. Rather, through some rather subtle corralling on Heisenberg's part, the duo has found themselves in his personal alcove. Amidst the messy workbenches, scattered papers, and a rather intriguing wall of connections between the ragtag group. Red strings illuminating the relationships between their fucked up little family. Stiffened pieces of scrap that appear to have been thrown, and with quite some force, to decorate the spaces around Miranda's portrait. And, amidst the others, a smaller portrait of hers. A recognition that she was, willingly or otherwise, an important part of the dynamic. One that sat unmarked, highlighted by an uncertain air.

Friend, or foe? Ally, or enemy? To spare, or to tear down with the rest of them all? In a way, there was almost reassurance in that hesitation exhibited by Heisenberg. Something about the fact these waxing and waning feelings were, in a way, mutual. An intriguing series of questions echoed in her head as she'd stepped over to unpin her visage from the board. To allow her fingers to trace the weathered edges of the film as the candlelight found them. Heisenberg watched, biting his tongue for once and simply opting to bring himself back to organizing the remnants of his current project.

"So you do like me?" A tease, highlighted with an essence of genuine curiosity.

"Alive, perhaps. Jury's still out on if it goes any further, or if that's where the answer stays." Too, a tease, though there was a lingering bitterness in his voice. A seriousness that betrayed him. As it stood, he had no idea whose side she would fall on. And, albeit deep, deep down, that lack of clarity made him uneasy. Still, he did well to mask it, turning to lean with his back against the workbench, wrench twirling between gloved fingers. "For now, I suppose I could say yes."

Ilona's arms fold across her chest. "It never is quite a straight answer with you, is it?"

"Of course not. How else do you expect I keep everyone on their toes?" That wolfish grin of his spreads across his features once more, his own arms mimicking the movement of hers. "Especially now. With so many hours to kill. You wouldn't want things to be boring, would you?"

"I'd almost prefer it." Still, there's a subtle shift in her tone that betrays the minute enjoyment she receives from their bickering. A hint of potential for missing it, should things lead them astray from one another's path. "Fine, keep me on my toes all you'd like. Just don't be surprised if it grows tired. After all, not everyone is as devoid of basic manners as you are."

"So you've said, and so I continue to ignore."

Neither would expect any less from him. From one another. And as the hours passed, it remained just as so. Ilona attempting to mind her business while perusing the various work-in-progress projects scattered about. Karl finding himself particularly itchy with the urge to bother her, remind her how unfortunate the circumstances were to be stuck within his domain. A few back and forths. A few nudges and prods. Little things that ultimately left the two ever envigorated as the sun rose and the woodlands cleared, allowing for Ilona to return herself to the Village.

And for once, the two had parted on fairly decent terms. How long that lasted, only time would tell.

[0venatrix]

Considering the Silva Tenebris lore,

This goes for each of your OCs

1: how would they end up on silva Tenebris (where were they, who were they with,etc.)

2: what would they do (like spread corruption, research the herateknica,etc.)

3: who would they side with (the court of the cog,Maldrogoth, someone else?)

4: how would they react? (Would they freak out? Would they relish in it? Light work no reaction?)

In my novel they can create Portals across time and space (PATS). -They were trying to get somewhere and something went wrong, leaving them in another dimension. To end up like this, the portal exit closed while there in it, throwing em to a random spot. -Whoever’s here is whoever travels around in the portals. Abigail Muller: Here. She’s a parrot and can’t be left alone. Archive: Here. Sentient ai, can live in Terry’s arm Bill Anderson: Not here. Dosnt interact with the unit much. Carl: Here. Daniel Muller: Here. Eleanor Bull: Here. Karl Muller: Here Little Bird: Not here. Logistics guy. Would know something went wrong. Mark Smith: Here. Richard Muller: Here Scykykyky: Not here. Antagonist and gets killed in novel. Terry: Here

There top priority would be figuring out how on earth to get back home. They’d know what happened, and be hoping Little Bird could locate them. They wouldn’t split up. Funny thing is, Warhammer exists as it dose in our reality in there universe. It would be a weird experience for them. Abigail Muller: Parrot. She’d be vibing. Not doing much. Archive: Being a rouge military AI, Archive could seriously fuck things up if given the chance. Archive is in your head. Archive knows your thoughts :) Carl: Doing batshit insane shit as he tries to figure out how to get home. He is technically an insurrectionist, he kinda dose what he wants. Daniel Muller: He hasn’t changed since the 30’s, he’s going to be very rude to anyone he doesn’t consider “human”. May leave the group. Freaking out. Eleanor Bull: Eleanor’s making the plans. There kinda weird, but she got the spirit. Like Richard she knows what Warhammer is. Karl Muller: Rolls along with whatever everyone else is doing. Would like to learn about the environment. Mark Smith: Unit leader. Makes the final decisions. Focused on getting home. Hes cracking out all the gear. Just in case. Could call for support. Richard Muller: Warhammer nerd. Happy to explore (cautiously). He knows everything. Also he’s the radio coms guy, he would find a way to pick up on a signal. Terry: Very superstitious guy, honestly he’d fit right in. Engineer and field medic, his priority is keeping everyone running. He has his best friend, big plasma canon. After some time they’d get bored and just wait until LB locates em and opens a portal. They’d go exploring, like a funky holiday. Technically there operating under marks command, and are part of an actual military, so they can’t get involved in anything unless given asked to.

As per above, they wouldn’t side with anyone. They’d keep to them selves. I’ll have to do some reading to determine who they’d favour tho.

Abigail Muller: “Is it me or is it kind of depressing here?” “I could do with an apple” Wary. And hungry. Archive: “lmao I’m gonna steal someone’s top secret information. This is what they call fun.” “I am in your internet.” Carries on chaotically as normal. Carl: “Hey dude Mark this wants the plan was it? Nar yer well I’m gonna fuck around till I find out.” Very insouciant. Daniel Muller: “Is this hell did we die?” “No I am a Christian man.” Freaking out. Very stressed. Eleanor Bull: “He Richard is it like, like Jumnji?” “Huh more PATS stuff.” Light work no reaction. Kinda overstimulating tho. Karl Muller: “Here we go agin.” Not surprised by this point. Pretty chill. Mark Smith: “We have to get back home” “Hope we don’t need another unit to find us.” Very focused. Very serious. If he’s stressed you don’t know. Richard Muller: “I’d rather fiction stay fictional.” “What dose this imply?” Pretty neat, kinda stressful tho. Terry: “Is this the realm of the gods?” Like Mark.

[helyiios]

How about a mi2-like situation? The bad guys capturing Benji and putting a mask of one of the villains on him, thus getting Ethan to shoot him? It's only after the shots are fired that Ethan notices and removes the mask, to see that it's Benji...

Karl Norris was something of a twisted man, playing with his preys before offing them in gruesome, distasteful ways that made even Ethan shiver when thinking about it. He knows what he’s done, and now that he’s facing him, there’s nothing but disgust in his heart.

He doesn’t believe in people needing to pay for what they’ve done, he’d outgrown that thought, but he is partial to a good fear tactic.

That’s where he stands, the man facing him, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He’d been running away from him for the past half hour, and Ethan could at least note that his endurance was something to be reckoned with.

He’s better than him, though. He’s better and he’s got him cornered, and the man’s eyes are wide, and terrified.

How ironic, seeing how horrible he could be to his own victims. It was sort of interesting to note that he could still feel fear.

“Tell me where Benji is,” Ethan growls, weapon raised, aiming at Norris’ shoulder.

Don’t kill, incapacitate, his first instructor’s words echo in his mind. Render the target immobile, but do not kill it.

Karl Norris just stares, eyes like saucers. He shakes his head vigorously, joining his hands in a prayer sign, almost telling him, please, please don’t do it.

“Where is Benji ?!” Ethan starts again, feeling his wrath grow like a wildfire in his chest, voice booming against the walls of the corridor, “ANSWER ME !”

The other man’s eyebrows are raised in a desperate plea, and he keeps praying to him, signing, don’t do it, please, don’t kill me.

“You think I care about you ?! I need—if you—if you’ve hurt him—“

A headshake. Something brutal, so decisive that Ethan briefly wonders why the man looked like he could snap his neck from saying ‘no’ so much.

Voices behind them.

[Ethan, backup is on their way.]

“I still haven’t found Benji !”

[We can’t locate him either.]

“I’m not leaving without him.”

He turns back.

“We’ve got your little friends,” he tells him, seething. “You have no way out.”

From the corner of his eye he can see Norris relax, shoulder slacking, and suddenly he’s going to open his jacket, almost like he was about to grab something inside.

The spy’s reflexes act before he can think, and before he even has the time to exhale, there’s a bullet lodged in the other man’s shoulder.

“FUCK !” the man yells, the distinctive Spanish accent almost cutting out, the voice crackling oddly. “Fuck, oh, fuck, mate, that fucking hurts !”

Ethan frowns.

“Fuck,” Norris starts again, and that when he sees it.

Around his chest, a contraption alike one Lane had tied Benji to so many years ago.

“A bomb,” Ethan whispers, walking up to the man, staring at him while he was struggling to get it off him, “why would they—“

“Idiot !” Karl Norris yells, “you are your stupid fucking reflexes !” he keeps on saying, face red with anger, “if you’d just waited until I—fuck, ow, until I showed you why I couldn’t speak !”

He tugs somewhere near his neck, throwing a small object on the floor.

There’s a distinct line around his skin.

“God, fucking, dammit,” Ethan hears Benji spit, face still showing the dark and straight hair, eyes still brown, “I hadn’t got shot in almost three months !”

The room spins.

“Benji ?” the older man chokes out, falling to his knees and palming at the wound, “Benji ?!”

“Yeah BENJI !” his lover groans, “help me get this fucking mask off ! I can’t move my left arm thanks to you !”

“Oh my God,” Ethan babbles, tearing the mask away, eyes finally locking with a furious blue and gold gaze, “is that why—the bomb, why you couldn’t speak, I—“

“Yeah, smartass !” the other grits out, “you almost fucking killed me !”

“I’m so sorry,” he panics, taking Benji’s face in his hands, “oh God, I’m so sorry, baby, I—“

“It’s fine,” Benji pouts, even if his chest really hurts, and God, he wouldn’t be able to play COD properly with a bandaged shoulder, “they put Norris’ face on me when they captured me. Couldn’t speak or I’d blow up.”

“People have got to stop putting bombs on you,” Ethan agrees, stroking his cheeks and kissing him better, “baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t know, I’m sorry—“

“You’re on dishes duties for the next three months,” his lover mumbles, allowing him to help him up.

“Even for the next year, I’d be willing.”

“Okay, no need to push it.”

They exist the corridor without more harm, Benji limping slightly by Ethan’s side.

“It’s fine, by the way,” he says then, after a few minutes of silence. “You did what you thought was best. You didn’t know, I’m not mad at you. Anymore,” he adds. “Got pretty pissed for like three minutes and a half back there.”

“I’ll cook you your favourite foods to make you forgive me,” the other offers, eyes all doe-like, their green a lovely shade of emerald against the blue lighting. “I’m sorry again.”

“I know you are, love,” Benji mutters, kissing him softly. “C’mon. Let’s get out of there.”

“Yeah. Let’s.”

[archduchessofnowhere]

The Accidental Empress Reading Blog I: Evil Gackl and the regency of Archduchess Sophie

I knew what I was getting into when I started The Accidental Empress, I really did. This historical fiction romance novel by Allison Pataki about Empress Elisabeth of Austria doesn't have particularly flying reviews in Goodreads, mainly to the historical inaccuracies and mischaracterizations. But I wanted to judge it by myself, specially since this is a very popular novel.

But I'm only one chapter in and this is my only reaction:

I have so many things to say about this chapter alone that I'm going to do a break down of it. I'm not planning to do this with every chapter (it will take me forever to finish it if I do), so enjoy this over analyzing reading blog, it won't happen again!

We start the chapter with Elisabeth and Helene outdoors, hiding from someone. We soon learn that that someone is their 13-years-old brother Karl Theodor "Gackl". Who is a bully that constantly torments them and insults them. I wish I was making this up.

...

In reality, Karl Theodor was Elisabeth's favorite brother and they remained close all their lives; he even named one of his daughters after her. Karl Theodor must have been a very charming and likeable man, since everyone that knew him held him in high esteem. Needless to say, he was nothing like how Pataki chose to portray him.

Because changing Gackl's personality was a deliberate choice by the author, in her own words: "I needed a mechanism for some early character development for the spirited, plucky young Sisi, and so Karl became an early opponent of sorts". I'm not that advanced into the book to decide if this benefited Elisabeth's character arc; but Gackl just bullying his elder sisters with no consequence seems kinda... dumb?

Continuing with the chapter, after this (they escape from Gackl by throwing rocks at him or something? I don't remember) the family gathers to dinner. Here we are told a little more of the family, and we find out that Elisabeth's eldest brother Ludwig Wilhelm "Louis" just... doesn't exist in this book? Karl Theodor is referred as the eldest son and heir more than once?? Weird choice, specially since the second book (yes this has a sequel) covers the Mayerling affair, in which Louis' daughter Countess Marie Larisch played a key role.

During dinner comes the unavoidable moment in which Ludovika announces that her sister Sophie asked for Helene's hand in marriage for her son, the young Emperor Franz Josef. This never happened, but (with great sorrow) I'll let it slide for the sake of the narrative.

Up until that point this novel had been your average, overly done, "Sisi lives free of worries in humble Possenhofen until her sister is told she's going to marry the emperor". I had nothing positive to say about it, but also nothing negative. It is a curse of contemporary Sisi adaptations that a relative she had a good relationship with is turned into a sort of antagonist (think Helene in RTL's Sisi and Ludovika in Netflix's The Empress), so even Gackl's villain arc didn't upset me that much.

You know what did upset me? This:

WHAT??? Franz Josef had been emperor since 1848. There was no regency, Sophie didn't had to rule anything. He was only eighteen, but he was of age and took charge of his reign from the very beginning. The implication that only since 1853 he had power is insane.

I already fear that Pataki went down the path of "Franz didn't do anything wrong, ever! It was his evil mother who ordered all those executions!" In fact, a couple of lines later Elisabeth recalls Franz Josef as "schrink[ing] whenever his mother had spoken" when she met him in 1848, a few months before the abdication of emperor Ferdinand. Which is also total crap.

And if I had any hope left for nuanced portrayal of Sophie, I completely lost it when Elisabeth recalls her meeting with her aunt:

Wow I can't wait to see the rest of her characterization! *sarcasm*

So far the writing itself had been okay-ish, even if I already had problems with the characterization and historical accuracy. But from this point onward we are delivered incredibly awkward expository dialogues, which completely took me out of the novel because it was obvious that the characters weren't talking to each other, but explaining to the reader the historical context. Like this just isn't a natural sounding dialogue at all:

"Your father is referring to the fact"???? I understand this novel is aimed at a general audience, but having the characters literally explaining the history (specially since this is recent history for them! it happened less than five years ago!!) feels extremely forced to me. Duke Max's dialogue alone worked fine, a voice in off could've explained the rest.

The chapter wraps up after this with Ludovika informing that Elisabeth will also accompany Helene to meet her betrothed (say it with me: Helene and Franz Josef were never engaged!), then the girls have an emotional talk in their bedroom and the chapter is over. I'll give Pataki one point for originality because she didn't follow the typical path of Helene being groomed to become empress for years and even had her oppose to the idea of marrying Franz Josef, but that's it.

And to finish this ridiculously long reading blog, I left under the cut all the inaccuracies that, while don't actually affect the plot so in theory can be forgiven, annoyed me anyway!

The Aunt Myth strikes! I don't blame Pataki for this mistake, since she probably took it from Hamann's biography. I made a whole post about how this is incorrect, but in short: while it's true that the Ducal household was in mourning, it wasn't for an aunt, but for Duke Georg of Saxe-Altenburg, Queen Therese of Bavaria's brother (so he wasn't even related to Elisabeth).

Actually Ludovika herself was extremely introverted, and according to her granddaughter Amalie of Urach, every interaction with people outside her inner circle was a torment for the Duchess. Public events and social gatherings caused Ludovika a lot of anxiety and she tried to avoid them at all cost, often excusing herself alleging being ill. All her children were said to also be very timid, most famously Elisabeth, who apparently spoke so lowly that sometimes it was hard to understand what she was saying.

It wasn't unusual for royals to marry people they had never met in their life (that ended up being the case of Sisi's sister Marie), but Ludovika and Max knew each other since they were children. King Maximilian of Bavaria, Ludovika's father and Duke Max's great-uncle, was fond of his nephew and wanted him to be close to his daughters, partly because Duke Max was quite lonely as a child, and partly so he wouldn't be a stranger to his future wife. A nice gesture, but that didn't prevent the couple of being utterly miserable together once they married at 20-years-old.

I am once again asking writers to understand that this was just not a possibility. Netflix's The Empress also has a moment of "You will stay with me as a lady-in-waiting!!", ignoring that being a lady-in-waiting was technically a job that belonged to the women from the highest ranking noble families in the empire. Noble, not royal. Elisabeth was the granddaughter of a king, being a lady-in-waiting was beneath her status. Also, why is this presented as a good thing anyway? Sisi serving her own sister would've been humiliating for her.

This is a silly mistake to point out since it can even be justified within the text as Sisi not knowing the proper titles for being so young; but this is the me being annoying section so I'll point it out anyway: there was only one Crown Prince, the rest of Helene's hypothetical children would've been Archdukes or Archduchesses (the Crown Prince was also an Archduke, but it was more usual to call him by the former title). And the Crown Princess was the Crown Prince's wife, the Habsburgs never had a Crown Princess in her own right.

High class girls going into marriage completely ignorant about sex is an strangely common trope in historical fiction, and while this was true for some (this was the case of Stephanie of Belgium, at least according to her memoirs), most of them knew exactly what was supposed to happen. After all, producing an heir was their more important task, so why would they not be told how they were meant to achieve that?

Ludovika was well aware of that, and she did not keep her girls in the dark about sex. She always talked very openly about it, and was proud of having educated her daughters about what happened on the wedding night. So no, she didn't "only ever implied things"

To be fair with Pataki, she wouldn't have found this information regarding Ludovika in Elisabeth's biographies in English. All of this information I found in Martina Winkelhofer's biography, only published in 2021 and still untranslated in English. I think the biggest problem with this book in regards with historical accuracy is going to be that Pataki relied solely on outdated English sources that perpetuate myths that have been challenged in German works for the past decades.

[sunshine-on-marz]

But what if I don’t want you dead?

BIG OL’ TRIGGER WARNING

Suicide, major character death, lots of blood (omg so much blood), screaming, crying, throwing up (no but actually),just lots of angst lmao

This is a story crafted from the canon characters of the DSMP. While this is not based on the events of the lore, it is also not at all based on the real people. Also, Dream is in this story so if that makes you uncomfortable feel free to not read, I’ll see ya next time!

“Holy shit. Holy shit! Dream!” The tears began rolling down your cheeks as you watched the man who’d helped you through just about everything fall into a pool of lava. Sapnap holds you back as you attempt to run over to the blonde. You screamed and thrashed, begging him to let you go. He simply pulled you into his chest as you punched his chest, over and over. You screamed until you slouched to the floor from exhaustion. Sapnap simply knelt down with you and cried as well. It took a few minutes for him to calm down. He lifted you up to your feet and guided you out of the cave. Once the two of you reached the mouth you where only sniffling and dry heaving. George had been waiting for the both of you. As soon as he saw the both of you, he ran up to you and hugged you. “I’m so sorry y/n, I’m so so sorry.” You stayed in his arms until he let go, you wanted to scream, scream at George that it was all his fault, but you knew it wasn’t. He was just doing what he had to. Dream knew what was going to happen when he spoke up to Schlatt, and this was simply repercussions. “Y/n?” The voice you heard wasn’t George, or Sapnap, but Karl. He spoke again. “Hey y/n? Are you awake?” You sat up slowly. “Good morning sunshine” you nodded your head to Karl’s sad smile. “G’mornin doctor.” He sat down next to your cot. “You passed out, Sap brought you in and told me what happened, I’m so sorry kid” you smiled in acknowledgement and fell back onto the pillow behind you. “I’m guessing you don’t have any meds that can bring him back, huh?” Karl shakes his head. “Sadly not.” You sighed “I assumed” you began to swing your feet off of the cot. But as you stood up Karl placed his hand on yours. “Y/n, last time he was here it was after a nether incident. His boot laces got a bit scorched and I uhm, I still have the laces, if you want them.” You looked at him for a moment before responding, “yes please”. He got the laces out of a drawer. You took one and wrapped it around your wrist like a bracelet. You placed the other in your pocket. You then left the hospital and walked to Dream’s old house. You opened the door and walked to the guest room that had slowly morphed into your second bedroom. You grabbed a book and began to write your final good bye. As you finished your signature you heard the front door fly open and both George and Sapnap scream your name. You tried to hide the letter but George opened the before you could. “Y/N!” He flung himself onto you in a hug before seeing the paper. You tried to sway it away but George grabbed it and started reading. He teared up just as Sapnap walked in. While Sap took in the scene infront of him George finished reading the letter. Then the paper was handed to Sapnap and George wrapped his arms around your torso. “Y/N, please, I can’t lose you to. You’re all I have left of him, please, please we love you so much” you started crying to. Sapnap just leaned back and slid down the wall with tears streaming down his face silently. He then looked to you and George and walked over to the both of you. Sapnap lightly unwrapped George around you and lifted you up like he would when you where younger. You wrapped your legs around him and put your nose into his shoulder. He started quietly humming and swaying the both of you to his song. Not long after George wrapped his arms around both you and Sap. The three of you where just…there. It felt safe though. Your little family may have shrunken but it was still unbreakable.

————

Oooooo lawd. I’m so sorry y’all- I was in an angst mood-

Tags: @remithefroglady @kit-is-a-weeb @the-radio-system-writes @emoandglam @lyssys @ayat0s-hydr0-v1s10n @honeybee4701 @zooone @chumkles @modelbus @minorinnit

[lazyrants]

Double Trouble (prod 215)

Original airdate: September 28, 2006

Story by Magnus Scheving

Written by Magnus Scheving, Mani Svavarrson, Noah Zachary

Directed by Jonathan Judge

Executive producers - Magnus Scheving, Ragnheidur Melsted, Raymond P. Le Gue, Brown Johnson, Kay Wilson Stallings

Starring Magnus Scheving, Stefan Karl Steffanson, Julianna Rose Mauriello

Puppeteers - Gudmondor Thor Karason, Jodi Eichelberger, David Matthew Feldman, Julie Westwood, Sarah Burgess, Ronald Binion

Double Trouble - Robbie's disguise is terrible in this episode, so will the song and story make up for it?

Sportacus' cold open is a great start as it is a possible homage to Bruce Lee. He calls for two carrots and connects them together - reciting the nunchuck routine from Enter the Dragon. Then he calls for ANOTHER two carrots, swinging them around. Sweet homage, cool homage.

Meanwhile, Milford is looking for a hat.. that is on his head. He doesn't notice until Stephanie takes it off for him. Every show needs their comedy relief, but Milford's is a teeny bit exaggerated. Milford is going butterfly catching and he's got all he needs - a tent and his butterfly catching net. Stephanie reminds him to come back by three o'clock as he is scheduled to announce the annual LazyTown rule (pretty sure you don't need to announce a rule every year..). Then they say goodbye and Milford leaves. Meanwhile, Robbie has a hammer.

And because he is a grown man who is responsible.. he hits his thumb on the hammer. I get him yelling and shaking it, he's in pain. And unfortunately, I also understand him sucking it like a small man who is unresponsible.

It's so funny because it was so sudden. The only thing you could hear for a few seconds was a hammer banging. Imagine closing your eyes for a few seconds.. then - 'DAAAAAÆÜGH'. Anyways, after sucking his thumb, he spits and throws the hammer away. He says that now those noisy, nosy kids will never be able to find his 'super secret' lair. When a noisy, nosy adult finds his super secret lair.

He's just here to tell him everything, and also about how he's going to return at 3 for the annual rule. Robbie is bored and mocking him up until that part.. -annual rule- Then he is trying to get him to go after a few questions (A new rule that everyone must follow no matter how greedy and selfish it might be? Milford's reaction to that's hilarious!!). Now all he has to do is to make sure the Mayor doesn't return and disguise himself AS THE MAYOR and make his own rules. IT'S DISGUISE TIME!! After he figures out how to get the wooden X of his door.

Don't worry. He found some random crowbar hanging around. Meanwhile, Milford is looking at the lovely day, then starts looking for some sunscreen. He looks in the tent. Back to Robbie who has reached his lair (for some reason, he didn't just come falling out the chute like in Season 1). He stands up, dusts himself off and declares it Disguise Time. Then he shows up in the LEAST Milford Meanswell looking disguise ever.

That is weird. Luckily, the song 'Fun to be Mayor' doesn't really make me think about this too long - I like the parts where Robbie stops his Milford voice and begins the rough voice. Anyways, after the song, Ziggy is wearing a hat with a fake snake on top of it, sneaking around and he has a hung a cage. When Stephanie comes around, she asks what he is up to and he explains that he is waiting to catch.. A DINOSAUR. He's confused when Steph tells him there aren't any more.

He says they could come back. Cry Dinosaur II? Anyways, it's almost three and everyone is waiting for Milford.. but he isn't back yet. The kids are talking about this when a sudden WOAH WOAAAHAHHH - it's Trixie attempting to be cool by putting herselves and maybe her friends in danger by SKATING - not cool. Stick to the scooter (one of the reasons why this is out of character - Trixie only rides her scooter)

The crystal beeps and coincidentally, Sportacus is driving the skutla. So he stops and Dyri- I mean Magnus flips out of the skutla, jumps over a wall, rolls, grabs a skateboard and jumps over another wall. Trixie trips over a curve and does a frontflip. So Sportacus lies on the skateboard and rolls over to a sheet being dried outside. He holds it so Trixie bounces off it. Then she backflips and Sportacus flips to catch her.

He puts her down and she almost falls down thanks to dem skates before Sporty holds him. Kinda unneeded - the episode would have gone well without the rescue, but I guess it's better then him just flying to town to see what the kids are doing. Anyways, he asks the kids where the Mayor is but they say they don't know. Meanwhile, instead of GOING in the tent, Milford is still crawling looking for the sunscreen when Robbie comes over to kick his butt. Literally. LOL.

So, then he zips up the tent. Robbie remembers it's almost three and goes back to LazyTown. The crystal beeps and Sportacus runs to the other side of town, passing Robbie's lair.. and Robbie.

So far in the show, Robbie has been in the airship, and this is the second time Sportacus has been to Robbie's billboard lair. Anyways, Sportacus asks Robbie if he is okay. He says yes and tells him the crystal's out of order. Sportacus reminds him of the rule and he walks to town with Robbie. Who walks the wrong way until Sportacus helps him.

The kids are a bit worried until he finally walks up onto the stage and he crouches down to the podium. They're all smiling waiting for the rule, hoping it'll be something good. Then he spews out - 'LazyTown has no more SportsCandy.' You can see the smile wipe off Julianna's face, hilarious!

Then he walks off stage and into the office, saying that was easy. Comes in Bessie Busybody who has baked Milford a cake. Robbie tastes some of the frosting and calls it terrible and it tastes like an old shoe. Then he looks outside to find the kids playing basketball. Before going out he tells Bessie he wants her cake and her out of town by the time he is back. Robbie asks the kids what they're up to, and tells them sports is banned. He also put up a few signs. He drops a bag on the floor telling them to put all their sports stuff in the bag.

Robbie asks how many sports there are and Stingy is rambling on and on until Robbie yells NO MORE SPORTS!!!! Steph asks what they can do if they can't play sports, and he says something quiet. Ziggy pulls out an apple even though it was established he just banned them. Robbie opens the door and snatches it from him as he is about to take a bite and throws it into the bag. Then he takes the bag back to the office. The kids know this is wrong..

Well, most of the kids, but as Ziggy says 'rules are rules'! Sportacus enters the Mayor's office, looking for him and Robbie enters after him. Sportacus wants to discuss the new rules. Robbie asks Sportacus if he is the type of person to follow rules and enforce the kids to do so. He says yes to all the questions. Milford shows Sportacus the kids outside, following the rules. He says they don't want sports, sports candy, or Sportacus. And he makes a new ruke, Sportacus has to leave LazyTown forever!

He takes all the balls and starts deflating them while singing a line of 'Fun to be mayor'. Sportacus goes back to the airship and the kids are super bored, when Stephanie stands up and says they have to find out what's happening. French fry hair boy agrees. Trixie says this is all wrong, and Ziggy says it is excluding the candy rule. Ha. Ha. Stephanie is going to talk to Bessie, Trixie and the rest are gonna find the mayor, who is eating some ice-cream.

The kids barge to Robbie saying they want sports and sports candy back until he says there is a brand new rule - you can eat all the ice-cream you want. The idiots. Robbie tells them to go in the truck, they do so, and he locks them in. Meanwhile, a bee enters Milford's tent and Sportacus' crystal beeps. So he rides over to the other side of town to help Milford. He unlocks the tent, finding the real mayor. He tells him he thought he was back in LazyTown and Milford says he was stuck in the tent all day. Then Sportacus realizes someone is impersonating Milford.

The plan is to sneak in LazyTown - Milford must blend in. Apparently he has a great disguise. Meanwhile, Bessie is about to leave when Stephanie stops her and asks what's happening. After they finish talking, Bessie leaves. THANK GOD!! But Steph's not happy - she runs to the office. Meanwhile, Sportacus is crawling behind a wall, looking for Milford. He can't find him because he's 'blended in' so well.

He is wearing his butterfly catching costume - a pink and white bunny that seems to scare the butterflies away. But it works because nobody will recognize him. Anyways, the stress is getting to Robbie. When Stephanie comes up to him asking why he kicked Bessie out, he yells 'BECAUSE I FELT LIKE IT!!'. Then Stephanie realizes that this isn't the real Milford as he wouldn't do any of this. He also wouldn't trap Stephanie in a cage, which is exactly what he does.

The crystal beeps and off he goes! He runs and jumps over a wall! He can see the shaking ice-cream stand, and the well hidden trapped Stephers. Sportacus takes out the crystal (it flings back to him like a boomerang) and he throws it at an apple. The apple falls into Stephanie's hands, and she bites it. ONCE. And she has the strength to lift up the entire cage herself. Ziggy is getting curious in the ice-cream stand.. and he touches a brake - off the car/ice-cream stand goes! Sportacus calls for a rope from his airship and swings like Tarzan ontop of the ice-cream stand. He attaches the hook to the stand and the other side to the cage Stephanie escaped from. The force of the stand stopping makes the stand shake and Sportacus fall off.

Who am I kidding? He flips mid-way through the fall and lands on his feet like a cat. He unlocks the stand and runs back to Stephanie, who thanks him and tells him that there's someone pretending to be Milford. Thanks, we heard. So they go to find him. Meanwhile, Bessie runs into the real Milford. She asks who he is and he takes off the nose, revealing himself. Once Robbie walks by, he tells her that's the faker, then Robbie turns around. They duck, and she says NOW she understands. Milford asks for a piece of Bessie's cake. He throws it at Robbie, who slips on it.

So he sits on the seesaw. Milford needs some extra weight, so he piggy backs Bessie, and he JUMPS on the seesaw sending Robbie flying. The end, ta-ta. Not really because there's three more minutes left. Sportacus hears his yells and looks at the sky. He grabs a laundry sheet, spreads it out with the help of Stephanie, and Robbie lands safely. Then they tip him onto the ground - his fake head comes off and the disguise is thus revealed. Sportacus throws the sheet onto him. Now the REAL Milford makes a rule - The only one allowed to imitate the mayor is the mayor. They sing Bing Bang celebrating his really dumb rule. In the lair, Robbie says it's not fun to be the mayor. As if his day wasn't bad enough, here comes the bee that tortured Milford. It chases him. Ta-ta, the end for real this time.

7/10 - Mediocre song, horrible disguise, awesome plot and rescues.

[nitrateglow]

@mygreatadventurehasbegun​ was posting about how Tim Curry played Mozart in the stage version of Amadeus, and it got me wondering what stage performances I’d love to go back in time to see. That’s the sad thing about theater-- it’s ephemeral.

So if I could nab a time machine and just go see past productions, I’d want to watch:

Hamlet at the Globe with Richard Burbage in the title role. The main attraction to this production would just be experiencing Shakespeare’s work as it was presented in his own lifetime. I’m sure the acting style and staging alone would be quite the culture shock.

The Mercury Theater production of Caesar during the 1937-1938 season. More Shakespeare, but this time in contemporary dress. Orson Welles’ take on the original was packed with anti-fascist themes and apparently caused a great stir. The original production also had Vincent Price in it so that’s a massive bonus.

The original production of Isle of Dogs in 1597. This was a play written by Thomas Nashe and Ben Jonson. It was performed at least once and immediately suppressed for its allegedly seditious material against either Queen Elizabeth or another member of the nobility. The play is now lost and I’m just curious what it was about.

My Fair Lady with Julie Andrews as Eliza. I mean, this is a no-brainer. The recordings of her singing the music from the show are just divine. I would also love to see how she and Rex Harrison played off one another as Eliza and Higgins.

And then let’s throw in the original production of Pygmalion too. I actually prefer the original Shaw play to the musical, so this would be cool to see. Also, it’s interesting to think that this show-- which we tend to see as a period piece now-- was once a contemporary comedy of manners. It would be so cool to see it with its original audience.

The original Broadway production of Wait Until Dark with Lee Remick. Well, this is another obvious pick from me. People old enough to remember seeing this show say Remick was just phenomenal in the lead and they tend to be a bit miffed she didn’t get to reprise her role for the film. Now obviously, I would not trade Audrey Hepburn’s performance for anything, but I would love to have seen how Remick approached the part.

Going for another stage version of a favorite movie: the original Broadway production of A Streetcar Named Desire with Jessica Tandy. In the commentary for the film version, Karl Malden gushes about Tandy as Blanche Dubois. I once heard a snippet of her in the role for a radio abridgement and wasn’t impressed, but I expect that’s only the tiniest fraction of the impact she had on-stage. I also have to wonder what effect Marlon Brando must have had in the role that made him a star. He’s already so electric on film-- imagine him live in the same part!

Anyone else have any productions they would want to nab a DeLorean to see?

[182-ash]

So if you know me you know I love sickfics sm, they have such potential for comfort and fluff. I swear karl sickfic pt3 is in the works its being written I just got in a bit of a writing slump and lack motivation lol. My solution is writing headcannons and I've chosen the chuckle boys bc I've been binging the podcast and rlly missing Charlie lately

Headcannon for Chuckle sandwich boys caring for you while sick

Charlie🥪

Definitely found out you were sick by making you laugh so hard you had a coughing fit but immediately felt guilty after

The whole time you're sick he just wants to cheer you up and make you laugh so expect many puns

I feel like he was just want to be constantly near you so he brings his work to wherever your sat bed or sofa idk

He'd probably make you tea, try to say "careful, it's hot!" and end up saying "careful, it's tea!", making u both laugh so hard you spill it and end up in another coughing fit. He apologises profusely and rubs your back until it calms down

If you have to throw up he stays with you the whole time and mutters sweet nothings

Gently scoops you up and carries you back to bed

Don't think he'd have an issue with not kissing you if he could cuddle you instead or just kiss your hand dramatically really playing up the gentleman persona

He'd be relativity chill abt meds, he knows they'll help but won't push it if you don't want any, would rather focus on keeping you fed and hydrated

Honestly just looks perfect shape for cuddles, would give you lil back rubs

I can really imagine him being the type to run you a bath and sit either on the toilet(seat down) or just outside the door until you're done

Schlatt🥪

I can imagine him finding out you're sick when you seem more down than usual and aren't joking around as much

"Hold on a sec" *drops jambo into your lap* "keep an eye on them buddy", he goes to get u some meds from the bathroom

We all know this man can't cook so he'll order u some soup to be delivered

I feel like he starts off by making fun of you and joking a bit but stops when he notices how genuinely miserable you look

If you have to throw up he'd be in with you instantly and hold your hair back but constantly over dramatic and joking "Oh god! Oh Jesus! Jesus Christ y/n what the hell"

^when your done he pulls you back to his chest and puts a cold towel on your forehead to help you cool down

Relatively persistent with meds as he knows they'll help you feel better but will be understanding and helpful if you struggle (I can see him making 'shots' jokes if you've gotta take the liquid stuff)

Complains abt your movie choices and won't hesitate to switch them over once u fall asleep

Constantly saying "y/n if you get me sick I swear- " but doesn't stop kissing you so gets sick and is a big baby abt it

Ted🥪

So I feel like he'd be another one to notice when your not as upbeat but he doesn't realise why at first

^ maybe he goes to hug you and then he notices just how warm you are when you lean your head against his shoulder "Hey honey you feeling alright?" "What can I do to help love"

Just wants to help without being overbearing

I want to cry I just lost half of what I'd written for Ted and I was basically done :(

I feel like he'd be another to run you a bath then sit and chat

Is also chill with meds but will try persuade u a bit 1st tho

He'd be focused on making sure u rest

^no-one really mentions this much but he'd do some chores to take the stress of and help you relax e.g washing up or cleaning.

If u have to throw up he'll be rubbing your back and holding your hair then handing u water after

^cares lots abt hydration

Will watch movies with you all day

^just wants you to be comfortable

Okay with not kissing u but wants to hold you close

Hates seeing his s/o this miserable so can't wait for u to be better

I can't think of anything else so thats it for today but enjoy

[cyncerity]

ITS QUICK IM SORRY BUT I WROTE YOUR KARLNAPITY PROMPT

TW for safe vore, swearing

“Here you go sir, health and fire res.” The seller handed him a potion. Quackity smiled as he happily took the potion. “Gracias hermano, su carímiso.” He stifled a laugh as he turned and walked away, ignoring the seller who began to call out his name.

Now he didn’t have to be afraid of Technoblade.

The avian happily slipped the potion into his bag, walking fairly quickly towards the portal in the city center. Nether travel was always easy for him, until of course Techno came in to mess with his travels.

He would have the upper hand this time.

- - -

Quackity’s hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword as he arrived in the territory of the piglin hybrid. This was going to suck.

“Back for round three?” The piglin hybrid asked, seemingly appearing behind him. Quackity in turn jumped back and pulled out his sword. “Aw, the avian’s scared?” Now would be a good time to run.

He turned almost too quickly, running to hide f***ing anywhere.

He did eventually find a spot, ducking behind a wall where he leaned the sword against it and took out the potion. He very greedily gulped it down, gasping at the slightly spicy taste.

He grabbed his sword again, picking it up and getting ready to move before he felt something tickling the inside of his stomach. G**, did the seller put something bad in there?

He watched his surroundings, watching for the piglin as he ran towards the portal home.

He nearly fell through the portal with a yelp, grabbing onto the wall to stabilize him. Quackity breathed, although stifling laughs as something small tickled his insides. “What the f***?” He asked, pressing against his stomach, only to feel something strange.

“Hey!” Something shouted from inside him. “Let me out!” F***.

“Oh s*** I think I’m going to be sick.” He muttered, deciding to run out of his door and into the woods. His friend could help, right?

“Karl?” He shouted, eventually finding the colorful tree that the outdoor borrower called home. “Big Q!” He heard Karl shout. The avian smiled, looking around, spotting Karl poking out from his hole.

“Hey Karl, you seem to know some things, do you have something that could make me throw up? I ate something bad.” He explained slowly. “F*** you.” The thing inside him muttered.

“Yeah, I think I have something.” Karl responded, motioning for Quackity to sit down as he dove into his home to pull out a bundle of herbs. “This should be good.”

“So what do I do with it?” Karl smiled when Quackity asked. “Just eat it and walk away from here until the effects kick in.” He instructed. The avian slowly nodded, carefully placing the herbs in his mouth as he got up to walk away.

Karl watched as the human walked away. Thank honk he wouldn’t see that.

- - -

Quackity came back an hour later. “Karl?” He asked, wiping the fairy down again. “Stop, you're going to give me a rash.” The fairy responded with a growl. The avian laughed.

“Q! You’re back! Hey, hi, um, I have something to get later if you want to stick around until then-Oh wait, right, how did the herb work?”

The avian and fairy both seemed to laugh at their friend. “It worked like you said Karl, but why did you need me to walk?”

“Don’t exactly want to watch you throw your guts up.” The outdoor borrower spoke as he wandered back into his hole. “What did I even need?” Quackity took that as an invitation.

“A new home? For both of you?” The fairy perked up. “What? I literally just met you, I have a f***ing home!” The fairy shouted.

Karl poked up out of his hole in the tree. “Well, I did accidentally eat you, so I should at least do something to make up for it. And I could get both of you anything you need. Just try it out for one day, okay?”

Quackity definitely didn’t want a reason to help his friend, nope, not at all.

“Fine, whatever.” The fairy responded. “Sounds like fun Q!” Karl smiled. Quackity nodded, and he began to guide the fairy through the air to his home.

- - -

It had been about an hour since he and the fairy–who had said his name was Sapnap–had gotten to his place, and Karl still hadn’t arrived. He got up, looking at the sky through his window. Where was the borrower?

Karl was a borrower. Not a fairy, not an avian. A borrower. He didn’t have wings. “S***!” Quackity shouted at the realization.

“What’s wrong?” Sapnap asked as he flew in front of the avian’s face. “I forgot Karl doesn’t have wings, and he doesn’t even know where I live, f***!” Quackity shouted as he ran out the door. The fairy followed closely to not get lost as well.

“Karl?!” Quackity shouted, sprinting through the forest. He needed to find the borrower before anything happened to him.

An hour.

That is how long he scoured the forest for the borrower before finally going to check the borrower’s hole.

“Karl?!” He whispered as he crouched down to look into the little hole. Karl was there. But the poor borrower was crying.

“Oh Karl, Karl, I am so sorry…” Quackity frowned, not daring to reach into the too-small hole. But Sapnap did, flying down in and cradling the crying tiny.

“I needed my things-” Karl whispered between gasps, to which Sapnap repeated for the avian to hear. “But you two had already flown away-” Sapnap held the other so closely. “I did try to look, but I almost got lost-” Quackity wanted to reach in there, but settled with picking up the bag filled with Karl’s supplies. “So I went back home…”

“I’m so f***ing sorry Karl…” The avian whispered as Sapnap carefully lifted the two out, letting Quackity scoop the two into his hands as he got ready to fly.

“Have you ever flown?” Quackity asked, but Karl shook his head. “Open your eyes, alright? This will be so cool.” Quackity smiled as he nuzzled the two.

He slowly lifted up into the air before his powerful wings slowly pushed them along to his house. He smiled as he heard Karl gasp. Hopefully the three would get along.

- - -

“F***!” Quackity shouted, the borrower quickly exiting the walls and the fairy flying behind him. “What happened?” Karl asked.

“The stove broke, I can’t share my pizza pockets.” Quackity frowned. “The f*** is a pizza pocket-Whatever, where is it?” Sapnap asked, and Quackity pointed to the plate.

The fairy rolled his eyes as he slipped under the heater and began heating up, quickly warming up the food. “Whoah!” Quackity smiled, and Karl wandered over, giggling happily at the heat. “It’s so warm!” The borrower smiled.

“You are going to love it here Karl. And so will you if you want to stay, Sapnap.” Quackity smiled. “Fine, I’ll stay for one more day…”

[alxndryngs]

The Night would be Darker without You

Chapter 35: Muscles, Flesh and a Very nice Distraction

Rating: Mature

————

.. no comment from me for various reasons. Always appreciating comments from you all, though!

———

"Draga," She began, slowly approaching you with her hands raised. She did not want to throw you a second time.

"Don't 'draga' her! Fuck! She almost bit my face off! Just wait until I come over there and pluck your feathers you mini-bird bitch!" Karl yelled while hiding behind his nieces.