#learning how to draw different ages… slowly… it’s a learning curve alright.

[cleocatrablossy]

She would be a haunted house kid in high school.

After this it was agreed that Mabel has to give some warning before she pops up after more practice so as to not give anyone a heart attack.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: pick a name, (pick two)

Summary: The first time around, it had taken Shinichi six months of careful consideration to pick a name. He’d made more lists than he could count, made his father utilize all the naming skills of a world-renowned author, and had his mother pronounce each choice with careful consideration.

Six months of hard work had gone into Kudo Shinichi.

Edogawa Conan takes six seconds.

It helped, probably, that Ran didn’t have many memories of pre-teen Shinichi in pants that didn’t belong to a soccer uniform. It was another thing that differentiated Conan from Shinichi, the little boy so secure in his identity from the teenager that stumbled through labels and truths, not knowing what to think or believe. Shinishi’s parents had always been far from average or normal, had never forced Shinichi to care for one thing or dress a certain way. Frankly speaking, he liked the skirts and dresses he’d worn as a kid. They’d been soft and comfortable and certainly prettier than what you could find in the boy’s section of the clothing stores. Additionally, they gave him more freedom to run around and were much more comfortable during summer.

Shinichi had only really stopped wearing them when they had changed his nameplates at school and the teasing and name-calling wouldn’t stop. He’d gone out of his way to craft himself into a young man in the image of Sherlock Holmes, the detectives of his father’s novels. The newspapers spoke of Kudo Shinichi as a brilliant detective, Heisei Holmes. His old name hadn’t been mentioned in any newspaper but one and his parents’ lawyers had torn that newspaper to shreds and it hadn’t happened again.

Shinichi hadn’t even disliked his old name. Were he a girl, it would have fit him just fine and he never would have thought of changing his name.

However, in this world, Shinichi had required a new name and a new outfit so the bullies would shit up.

Conan dressed as Shinichi might have in a different life, one where he’d never had to learn the art of hiding and drawing attention away from his curves and chest. Not that Conan had much of either right now, as young as he was.

So, yes, it probably helped that Shinichi had looked like a little girl at Conan’s age and that Conan did not.

Not that it changed too much about his current situation.

“You’re not looking too hot there, Meitantei.”

Sighing, Conan turned to the catalyst of today’s introspection.

He’d honestly expected KID to have already gotten away. The thief had danced on Nakamori’s nose, and had Kogoro not gotten distracted before the heist, Conan would have arrived on time to properly chase after KID.

“And you’re still here,” Conan returned. “So eager to be put behind bars after all?”

KID faked an outrageous gasp, clutching his chest in imaginary distress. “Never, my dear detective. I just noticed that you don’t look quite comfortable.”

KID’s grin was strained, worried, seemed almost a little guilty—

Ah, right. He was a master of disguise and research and had posed as Shinichi before. There’d always been something little off about his performance as Kudo Shinichi. Conan knew they looked alike and he supposed were he not assigned female at birth, their likeness would have been even closer. Kaito KID was just a bit taller than Shinichi had been. Not enough for it to be noticeable if they didn’t stand right next to each other, but it was enough for Shinichi, who’d spent hours hoping he’d grow just a bit taller still, to recognize.

“I’m fine,” Conan said, wiping imaginary dust off the light blue dress KID had picked out for him. The entire police force had been decked into delicate gowns, fitting the ballroom theme of the heist. Conan’s, however, seemed to be the only one of relatively high quality. KID had put thought into this one. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” KID asked. “I didn’t mean to bring up any, ah, bad memories, I’d honestly… forgotten.”

That, Conan supposed, was the point of transitioning. “Like I said, it’s fine. Just haven’t worn one of these in a while.”

The thief looked guiltier about that than he’d ever looked about a single stolen gem as if the thought that he might have hurt Conan unintentionally was unforgivable.

“Tantei-kun.”

“KID.” Conan stressed his name, forced the thief to look him in the eyes. “It is fine. I would have already stripped if that weren’t the case.”

It wasn’t like KID had made it particularly difficult to pull off the dresses if you knew where to look. Conan simply hadn’t had the time. Every second counted when chasing after KID.

“If you say so.” KID still didn’t look comfortable and not for the first time Conan wondered how somebody so intelligent and caring ended up on the other side of the law. He knew that KID was after something that forced him into this position. He wasn’t a bad guy after all and could be quite reliable as well, and someone with such a big heart had to have a good reason to put on such a show.

“It took me six months to come up with Shinichi, you know,” Conan said. They were alone on the rooftop; nobody would overhear. KID straightened, a sign that he was clearly paying attention. Six months of careful consideration, writing more lists than he could count, making his father utilize all the naming skills of a world-renowned author and asking his mother to pronounce each choice.

Six months of hard work had gone into Kudo Shinichi.

“Edogawa Conan took six seconds,” Conan continued. “Is it unsettling to be back in this young body? Yes. But Shinichi never had to be a boy at this age”.

The Detective Boys knew that Conan’s body didn’t entirely fit, but most of the other people, who didn’t know him, were unaware. It was almost a positive experience to see what the world was like through these eyes. As much as Conan wanted back to his old life, carry the name he’d put so much work into, this aspect of Conan he didn’t hate. “I didn’t even care much about gender until I turned fourteen. I’m perfectly fine wearing a dress, it’s just a piece of fabric. And it isn’t like there aren’t enough men walking around wearing dresses.”

Conan sent KID a pointed look, which, surprisingly, didn’t end with KID grinning, but the magician staring at him with an unreadable expression until he finally, slowly, began to speak. “I’m not.”

Conan blinked.

“A man, I mean,” KID said. “Sometimes I am, my birth certificate certainly says so, but usually I just exist and sometimes I’m a girl. I mean, I don’t mind with my disguises because they’re just that, another part of the show, but I’m picky in my civilian life. Sometimes I’m fine with it, but I have to wear enough masks. I like to be true to myself just in this one aspect. Does that make any sense?”

And then KID looked at him as if he needed Conan to confirm that yes, this was alright, that it was fine. For a moment, Conan was tempted to simply banter with the thief again as they did so very often, but tonight had already been exceptional.

“Of course,” Conan replied seriously. “You can be whoever you need to be.”

No wonder KID worried so much about it when this, what had never bothered Shinichi, bothered him so much.

“Should I call you something else?”

With a slight smile, KID shook his head. “I’m fine,” KID said. “Here, as thanks for listening to me.”

KID opened his closed hand, revealing the stolen diamond. “For your effort, Meitantei. And you do look cute in blue. I was thinking of you when I picked out that dress!”

KID threw the diamond almost carelessly and Conan caught it easily. “Don’t be stupid, thief.”

“Yes, yes.” With another wide grin, just moments before the police tossed open the door to the rooftop, KID threw himself over the edge of the building.

Six seconds for Edogawa Conan.

Shinichi wondered how much time had gone into Kaito KID.

[thechangeling]

Tell me a story

Ty doesn't believe in fate.

A shout out to @ilikebooks8 for convincing me to make a fanfic about autistic!Eleanor Blackthorn. Autism is genetic so it makes sense for Ty to have autistic ancestors. If you are autistic I guarentee you have someone in your family who is also autistic they just haven't been diagnosed yet. For me, I've got my dad.

Cw: mentions of ableism, abuse and the death of a minor character. Very anti Andrew Blackthorn.

"Tell me a story," Tiberius' asked, in that mature, matter- of-fact way he spoke. Ty was only eight but already he sounded like a boy twice his age in terms of his vocabulary and the way he spoke.

Although he still had the voice of a child which was rather amusing. Eleanor turned to face her son with a groan as she felt searing pain shoot through her bones. She had been laying down all day due to feeling extremely unwell. The noises and lights of the outside world were especially brutal, but she had gotten used to it overtime. She had learned to cope. To smile and nod and make eye contact. To control her movements and still her hands and laugh at their jokes.

Eleanor played the part of the proper shadowhunter and the dutiful wife, the attentive mother. It didn't matter that it had changed her. Had completely turned her into a different person, someone harsher and colder. Someone who was so quick to anger and venomous hatred.

Someone who only knew how to be in pain.

She always tried to not let that side of her show to her children. They didn't deserve it. But the past few weeks in particular had been brutal. Her body felt broken and it was becoming harder and harder to put up that facade.

She faced Ty with the best fake smile she could muster. "Which story would you like to hear?" He climbed up on the bed beside her and sat down in an odd twisted position where his legs were in a W position. He began tapping his hands on his knees as he appeared to contemplate his choices.

Eleanor could remember a time when she was younger when she used to do that. Before her parents had stopped her. She knew she should really tell Tiberius off to discourage him from doing these things in public. He was so blatent and open in a way that frightened and almost angered her. There was no telling what kind of reaction The Clave might have.

She didnt want him to end up with the dregs, or worse.

"I don't know," Ty said finally scrunching up his eyebrows. "I can't think of one right now. Could you make one up?" Eleanor smiled in spite of herself. She had always loved making up stories ever since she was a kid. She had always been a creative person, painting and drawing as often as she could. Shadowhunters didn't really appreciate a creative streak.

Eleanor nodded. "Ok sure, let's see." She took a breath, trying to ignore the agony spreading through her back and shoulders. "Once upon a time there was a prince who was trapped in a tower that was guarded by an evil ogar. The prince had been rumored to have special powers so he was forced by his parents to stay locked away in the tower forever to keep him safe. He wasnt allowed to make friends with any other children so he grew up alone. Teaching himself how to read and write and playing games to amuse himself."

Ty rolled his eyes. "Isn't that rather cliche? The whole prince trapped in a tower story? I've definitely heard that before."

Eleanor laughed. "Where did you hear the word cliche Tiberius?" Ty shrugged, not seeing the amusement in the situation.

"It was in a book. Can you keep going?" He whined impatiently. "I wanna hear the rest."

Eleanor sighed, shaking her head good naturedly. "Alright then. So the prince was trapped for a very long time. Then one day a mysterious adventurer came exploring nearby the tower."

"Can it be a detective?" Ty interrupted, bouncing up and down. He had been obsessed with Clue lately.

"Alright sure, it was a detective. He was searching the answers to a murder mystery. The murder of a young women."  Ty instantly looked interested. Perhaps murder was not the best subject for a story being told to an eight year old, but Ty was a shadowhunter. They were trained to deal with blood and death.

"His was searching for information and came across the tower," she continued. So he decided to investigate. He snuck passed the ogar and into the tower, where he was ambushed by the prince!"

Ty gasped excitedly, wriggling in place. "What happened next? Did they fight?"

Eleanor opened her mouth to continue, but then the bedroom door flew open, startling them both.

It was Andrew. Instantly Ty shrunk himself down, hunching his shoulders. Eleanor knew that Ty didn't always get along with his father but she knew Andrew still loved him deep down. He glared at them both.

"Ty your mother is meant to be resting," he said pointedly.

Eleanor shook her head. "Oh no it's alright. He wasn't bothering me." Andrew didn't seem to hear her.

"Tiberius let's go," he said harshly. Ty hesitated for a moment, looking up at her.

"But I wanna hear the rest of the story!" He protested. "I wanna know what happens to the prince!" Eleanor sighed solemnly. She didn't want to disappoint Ty, but she was feeling pretty worn out.

"Another time baby," she assured him. "I promise."

But unfortunately she never got the chance. She never got the chance because little did they know, Eleanor Blackthorn had cancer. Something that silent brothers couldn't cure. Something that shadowhunters were powerless against.

"What are you thinking about ?" Kit murmered from his spot curled up against Ty's chest. His breath tickled Ty's chin.

Ty paused, not quite sure how to answer. They were lying on the roof of the LA institute again. It was their special spot. Kit had suggested a night of star gazing for a date since the weather was nice.

Things has been a little weird between them lately. Kit had been pretending that everything was fine and he was unfazed, but Ty could tell that something was bothering him. And he had a feeling he knew what it was.

At Magnus and Alec's anniversary party, Jace made a joke about how Kit and Ty would probably be the next ones to get married and Ty immediately went into a blind panic. He completely froze up at the mention of marriage. At the mention of him getting married. His body instantly went into a complete overload almost as if he was on the verge of a meltdown.

He didn't take the time to think about any of it. He just snapped and yelled that he wasn't getting married. That he wasn't ever getting married. Ty wasnt even sure where it came from. Kit was pretending like it wasnt a big deal but Ty knew he was hurting. He could tell.

Ty traced a pattern across Kit's arm. "Honestly it was nothing," he assured him. "I just-." Ty stared at Kit, studying his face. The curve of his lips, the adorable blush of his cheeks and the tiny beauty mark under his eye that Ty loved to fixate on. Everything ached, but it was a good kind of ache.

Ty loved him.

"I just want to stay like this forever," he murmered. "Here with you, where I feel safe and warm. And loved." Ty nuzzled his nose against Kit's. "I want to be with you forever."

Kit smiled distantly before breaking into a slight frown. "Then why don't you wanna marry me?" He asked sadly. And Ty could instantly hear the old ghosts of self loathing and insecurity still haunting Kit's thoughts.

Ty sighed. "It has nothing to do with you I promise. I just really don't want to get married and I'm not even fully certain of why exactly."

Kit stroked his cheek slowly. "Is it the idea of a big wedding? Because we don't have to do that you know. We can totally just skip it," he said assuredly.

Ty shook his head. "That's part of it but it isn't the only reason." He paused to contemplate what exactly it was that was making him feel this way, feel so afraid.

Strangely enough, Ty kept coming back to his mother. His mother who was always a little peculiar in private. Who always seemed sad and exhausted even before the silent brothers diagnosed her. Who was constantly going along with whatever her husband wanted for whatever reason. Because she assumed he knew what he was doing? Because she didn't want to make waves in a society so rigid and obsessed with conformity?

Ty had been considering it more and more lately.

He sat up, displacing Kit from where he was resting. "I think my mother was like me," Ty admitted in a shakey voice. "I think she was autistic and that's why she ended up in the situations she did."

"Ok?" Kit looked confused. "But that still doesn't explain-."

Ty interrupted him. "She was trying so hard to fit in and do the right thing and she would just let him control her. She kept compromising for him because she thought that's what she was supposed to do and also because despite it all I think she really loved him! And it made her so stupid!" Ty shouted.

"I just don't want to become trapped like that," he confessed.

Kit was silent for a moment, just staring at him with a puzzled expression. "Ok, but Ty you realize that I'm not your dad right? Like I would never try and control you or make you into something you're not. I'm not trying to own you, I'm trying to love you!" He argued. "Ty, marriage isnt supposed to trap you. It's about making our relationship into an Offical legal thing that everyone's forced to acknowledge and accept."

Kit took Ty's hand in his. "It's about making each other family."

Ty looked away. He couldn't meet Kit's eyes when he was staring at him looking so hopeful and desperate. It did strange things to Ty's insides. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching up his face along with his fists for a moment before letting go.

"I just don't want to let someone have power over me in that way," he explained. Kit sighed, then smiled softly before leaning forward to rest his forehead against Ty's. Ty let out a little moan as he let the tension release from his body with a sigh. Kit placed his hand over Ty's heart.

"But don't you get it Ty?" He asked softly. "You already have, whether you meant to or not. I'm in your system sweetheart, in your blood just like you're in mine." Ty felt him smile. "Like we were made for each other. Like we've spent our entire lives waiting for each other."

Ty pulled away from him. "No I don't believe that," he stated firmly. "I don't believe in fate or destiny or soulmates. I think it's an overt  romanticization of life and the human condition which can have disastrous consequences. It leads people to believe that they are somehow incomplete without a romantic partner which is incredibly problematic." Ty realized he was probably going on a bit of a tangent as he was known to do. But he couldn't be bothered to care.

Kit pouted a little. "Yeah I get that. But I don't know. I like to romanticize things in life. After everything that I've been through, I guess it just makes things feel better you know?" Kit glanced at him hopefully."I don't care if you don't believe in any of those things. I do. And despite what you might believe, you aren't always right about everything," Kit said pointedly.

Ty scowled at him. Kit was undeterred. "And I get that you're coming at this from a scary trauma place. I understand that. I have those too. But you don't have to be afraid of me," he pleaded.

Ty couldn't resist reaching out and touching him, pushing a curly lock of hair behind his ear. "Can I maybe think about it?" Kit smiled and snuggled up against Ty's chest again. "Of course," he murmered. Ty leaned back and resumed his earlier position, staring up at the sky.

He nuzzled his face against Kit's hair. "I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore," said Ty.

Kit snorted, turning to face Ty. "I'm never mad at you love. It's pretty much impossible." Ty grinned and leaned forward to kiss him slowly, savoring the feeling of Kit's lips against his.

Kit broke off and kissed Ty's cheek, then his orbital bone. Ty giggled and closed his eyes which prompted Kit to place a kiss on each of his eyelids.

"I love every inch of you," Kit whispered. Ty couldn't speak. He was too overwhelmed. He just wrapped his arms around Kit even tighter and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They lay in peaceful silence for several moments before Kit spoke.

"Tell me a story."

In case you missed it, the story Eleanor was telling Ty is the story of kitty in Lady Midnight basically. Also. Not me projecting my fear of marriage onto my comfort character! 😂

Tag list: (lmk if you wanna be added/removed) @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @knifescythe @ti-bae-rius @dianasarrow @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @zfoxdraws @julieandthefandoms @older-brother-kit @ilikebooks8 @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @heloisacosta23 @adoravel-fenomeno @eutonyinwhisper

[shatouto]

hi yes this is another installment in the raised-as-sith anakin x jedi obi-wan au i co-write with @obiwanobi. we’ve been putting what we got so far on ao3 for archiving/organizing purposes so before you read this pls check it out first if you haven’t bc there is some semblance of continuity, thank you :’) (this installment on ao3)

content note: past psychological and physical abuse, messy healing, please proceed with care

you love him dearly

You stand alone in a great dark hall. There’s no sound but your pulse jolting in bouts inside your ears. Like the footsteps of a scared bantha. And you feel like a scared bantha. You haven’t felt like this in a long time. You used to be worth less than a bantha, with your weak hands and your small body. All you were ever able to do was get yourself and your mom hurt. You felt so bad, so very bad, so bad that you were willing to beg your mom to let you go, when this man came and swept you up. This man who called you the Chosen One. This man who you now call...

“Master,” you say, and waits for your Master to acknowledge you.

Sometimes you think it’s strange, to trade one master for another. But this Master, your Master, is a different sort. Your Master taught you how to hate the right people, in the right way; gave you a crystal and let you forge your own lightsabers. Your Master told you you were special. No, no, it doesn’t matter that you were a slave, you are special, my boy. You know you are different, do you not? That you learn faster than children your age; that your reflexes are sharper, your intuition stronger. You see things before people do, know things before people see, and do things before people know. The future and the past are sometimes indistinguishable in your dreams. Clever child, golden child, you are certainly worth more than a bantha; oh, you are worth more than the population on that sandy speck combined. You are the Chosen One! You are destined for greatness.

You were weak and small and nothing. You deserve so much more, so much more. A pity that the universe has never given you and will never give you what you truly deserve. None of that is your fault, my poor boy; they are simply too blind and puny to appreciate your capacity and recognize your power. But worry not: Your Master will give it to you. Your Master is here to help you. You love him dearly, because you are nothing without him, because the universe is stupid and cruel and you hate it for making you feel like nothing. Your Master, on the other hand, must love you dearly, or else he would not have told you all about how special you are. Would not have trained you to be so strong. Would not have given you the respectable name of…

“Darth Vader.”

The greeting sounds more like a warning, because you deserve it. “I—I’m sorry. I wasn’t strong enough.” Even your voice comes out too small.

“Little need to apologize in words, my apprentice,” says your Master. “You know what must be done. You must learn your lesson.”

You love him, you love him, you love him. You love your Master, you chant in your heart, as you hang your head and tuck your tongue back and wait like the good apprentice you are.

The first blow is always the hardest. You convulse, feeling as if a thousand red-hot needles are exploding from within your sinews. Blinding pain crackles through your body, and you scream yourself…

Awake.

Anakin sits up in his sleeping bag, panting. He thinks he heard the tail end of a scream, his own, but it’s all silent now. He’s alone in the dark, the healed stump of his right arm tingling under the prosthetic cap. He searches his psyche for the tatters of a bond between him and the late Sith Lord; there's nothing left. Darth Sidious is truly dead. Two strides away from him, Obi-Wan Kenobi sleeps soundly in his bed.

His eyes soften. The sight of Obi-Wan soothes him, reminding him of where he is in time and in space. It has been a few months since he killed his Sith Master. He is in the Jedi Temple, in quarters belonging to Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and Padawan Ahsoka Tano. Nobody knows he is here.

Anakin turns away as one would turn away from a too-bright light. You can’t look at the sun for too long or it’ll burn your eyes; especially if you are used to darkness. He breathes in, and out, and shakily pulls off the cover of the sleeping bag. His new metal fingertips nearly tear through the fabric.

“Anakin?”

Anakin doesn’t flinch, but his stomach flips. Obi-Wan’s silhouette slowly sits up in bed, tousled and softly rumpled and Anakin feels frighteningly tender in the chest. He keeps his head down, not wanting to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes right now.

“Anakin, is everything alright?”

Anakin mumbles out something vaguely affirmative, and pushes himself to his feet. “Fresher,” he says, hurrying away. He doesn’t return to the bedroom afterwards, but goes straight to the kitchenette and begins to prepare a rather large breakfast. He knows Obi-Wan doesn’t go back to sleep either. He wills himself to ignore the circles under Obi-Wan’s eyes, come morning.

—

“Anakin, I have been thinking,” Obi-Wan begins, as he takes their empty plates to the kitchen, where a dishwashing droid stands await. “You don’t happen to have a habit of meditating, do you?”

Anakin almost tenses up at meditating, but he only lets out a huff of breath and opens the droid’s compartment doors. He’s glad Ahsoka is away for the night, staying in her friend’s quarters or some such. If she joins in with Obi-Wan it’ll only be harder for him to reject the request. Because that’s clearly a request, no matter how fancily Obi-Wan phrases his question.

I hate it teeters on the tip of his tongue, but Anakin just answers: “No, I don’t.” Obi-Wan likes meditation, as all Jedi do. It would feel bad, be bad, to say he hates something Obi-Wan likes.

Obi-Wan hums. Dishes clink as he sets them in one by one. “Would you be so opposed to it, then?”

Anakin pulls his shields higher so that none of the screaming No no no I hate it in his mind is going to bleed through to Obi-Wan in the Force. He makes the mistake of turning to look at Obi-Wan, because he can’t help it, and he's met with a hopeful smile and gentle, crinkled eyes. He can't bear to see that smile fall. “...Guess not,” he mutters.

“I would keep you company, if that’s fine,” Obi-Wan continues on merrily, like the good-natured Jedi he is. “I mean to invite you to join me for meditation before bedtime, in fact. Is that alright?”

Anakin stares down at his mismatched hands. If there is one thing he hates more than meditating, it’s meditating with someone watching. He tries very hard not to grit his teeth.

“Of course, you don’t have to,” Obi-Wan adds, fingers briefly brushing Anakin’s flesh wrist. The sensation shoots right into Anakin’s heart. That settles it; it’s not even a question. Obi-Wan will be disappointed if he doesn’t.

“It’s alright,” Anakin says, shutting the droid’s compartment door. The timer beeps, unhelpfully helping him count down to the dreaded session.

—

“So this is meditation?” Anakin blurts.

Obi-Wan sits cross-legged on his bed, in his soft robes and sleeping pants. He opens his eyes in a quizzical gaze as Anakin remains standing. Anakin curls his hands into fists and tries not to fiddle with the hem of his tunic. Obi-Wan frowns, unfurls from his position and comes up so near that Anakin wants to hold his breath. He smells like the cotton flower-scented fabric softener, like crisp, warm laundry - he smells like hard-earned safety. “You don’t need to lie to me, Anakin,” he says, a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “I will instruct you from the beginning if you need me to, and I promise to help you with any difficulty. Now tell me: Have you meditated before?”

Obi-Wan says so, but Anakin is not about to tell him about the Sphere; about the long hours spent in that terrible spheroid room with enough space for you to wish you could move from your spot, but the walls were too smooth and curved for you to scale; about how silent it was in there save for his Master’s voice in his mind. Anakin is not about to tell this Jedi about the splatter of blood in the Sphere where he once bashed his head against until he passed out because he could not take it. How Sidious had punished him for it afterwards. How he never dared to do it again.

“...No,” Anakin says. “Show me.”

Obi-Wan nods; his hand slips down his shoulder and runs gently down his arm. Anakin blinks. Obi-Wan's touch always feels so… nice. Unhurried and mellow and never really demanding anything back. “I see. Take a seat beside me. Make yourself comfortable, please.”

Anakin crosses his legs as Obi-Wan does. Nervousness winds his core tight, makes his back rigid and ramrod straight. Obi-Wan is near him, both in physical presence and in the Force, his signature pulsing with the light of sunrays through butterfly wings.

“Relax, Anakin. Loosen your muscles”—his warm hand traces across Anakin’s back from shoulder to shoulder, then down his spine—“and your jaws.” His fingertips brush the hinge of Anakin’s jaws just as he says so. Anakin nearly shivers. It takes him longer than he thought it would, to truly follow those orders.

“...There we go,” Obi-Wan says. He draws back, and Anakin should be glad that the distracting touch is gone, but he feels disappointed instead. “Now breathe in deep. Ah, wait. Do it again, breathe in, deeper, and try to hold it. Yes, like that…”

They spend the next quarter hour or so wrestling with his breathing pattern, keeping it both deep and steady. Anakin goes from counting the beats to counting the breaths to finally not needing to count at all. And then when he thinks he’s gotten the hang of it…

“Let go? You mean I shouldn’t focus on my breathing anymore?” he asks, puzzled, bordering on frustrated. “But you just told me to be mindful of it.”

“Yes, correct, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sounds unfazed. “Be mindful of the rhythm, and keep it up. You’ve done well so far. Now you must turn your focus inwards, and meet the Force within you.”

Anakin’s eyes slide open for a split second and then fall shut again. He doesn’t understand, but he could just try. This isn’t any difficulty that he needs to bother his instructor with. He nods, and begins again. He begins with his breathing. In, and out. Slow, and steady. And now he must not think about the breaths anymore. Now he must...

The Force within him is a well of ink. Ink that glisten from black to crimson like the blood on his hand. Ink that sloshes and laps against the walls and the echoes turn into screams. A bright white fracture crackles from one corner of his vision to the other. Centipede-like arches of incandescence skitter under his skin. Drip, drip, the blood, no, the ink, it drips and it trails and it tickles his skin. There’s the familiar taste of copper at the back of his tongue, flavors just waiting to burst. Cruel laughter echoes from the bottom of the inky well, and somewhere in the thick darkness there is the outline of a woman’s silhouette, of small but strong shoulders and—

Something warm brushes his psyche.

Warm, but too close. Anakin snatches that tendril without a thought and delves counter-current through Force-realm. He forces himself to the other side, even as something shatters around him. He knows the drill. *Your self-preservation can only come at the cost of others', my boy.* Colors begin to flash, gentle and muted, bearing the fuzzy quality of memories. Sunlight flickers, filigree wings flutter, landing on durasteel grounds. He feels tears on his face and tears in his throat and his forehead is pressed close to someone else’s, someone he loves so dearly—no, not him, someone that the person to whom this mind belongs loves so dearly.

“...proud of you. Carry on, Obi-Wan. Live brightly.”

“Yes, Master.”

There's no silence more thorough than a heartbeat evening out into nothingness. There's no solitude more poignant than the company of a vanishing light. Saying goodbye is never an easy feat, even for a Jedi, and the anger and sorrow he felt—

“Anakin! Stop!”

Anakin jolts awake. A thick, ferric drop trails from his nose, warm on his lips. He opens his eyes and finds Obi-Wan beneath him, wide-eyed. His hands are pressing Obi-Wan’s shoulders into the mattress. Obi-Wan, who was teaching him to meditate, who brushed his mental shields in the process of instruction. Obi-Wan, his teacher. And if all of those images belonged to Obi-Wan…

He just broke into Obi-Wan’s mind.

Anakin scrambles back. The ink, no, the blood, now drips down his chin. It tickles. His teeth clatter as shivers rake up inside him. He clenches his jaws and stares at the ground. The sheets rustle.

“I think that’s quite enough for tonight.” Obi-Wan doesn’t sound angry, just somewhat breathless. Even concerned. Anakin doesn’t believe it. “Anakin, you’re bleeding. Do you need—”

“No.” Anakin staggers to his feet and backs away. Nothing worse than asking for more and becoming even more of a burden because everything he takes is a debt and he will pay for it. His Master always made sure he paid. “No. I’ll—I’ll clean up. I’m sorry. I’ll clean up.”

He stands there just long enough for Obi-Wan to respond - with anything, words, blows, anything. In the end, Obi-Wan only says, “Alright. Please, take care.” Anakin’s eyes flick up to find a grimace. He turns away and all but runs to the fresher, more dismayed than relieved.

Because if the punishment doesn’t come right away, that only means he’s going to have to wait.

[five-rivers]

Manuscript

Phic Phight phic phor @phantomroyalty. I'm experimenting with a slightly different Clockwork.  Sort of inspired by those prompts I did late last month.

.

.

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Once, there were half-ghosts.

Danny knew this, now, drumming his fingers on the hard plastic surface of the binder he'd borrowed from Sam. Written on one cover in purple sharpie was the title 'Voynich Manuscript.' It was, according to Sam, an untranslated 15th century work that had baffled cryptologists and linguists for years and years.

Danny could read it. It had been written by a half-ghost.

At least, that was the claim, and, considering that Danny could read this language he'd never learned, Danny was inclined to agree. He opened the binder again, running his fingers down the printed pictures of the pages. He'd been doing that off and on throughout the evening, ever since Sam had showed it to him, instead of doing his homework.

It was comforting. Strange, but comforting, to know that Vlad had not been the first half-ghost. To know that there were other paths to his future than 'bitter old man,' even if the other visible path was 'weird botanist.' To know that Vlad's issues really were Vlad's issues, and not half-ghost issues.

The book was about ghost plants, what they did, what they were good for, how to find them, and when to harvest them, complete with maps, time tables, and recipes. It was a sort of almanac, almost. A very out of date, almanac, true, and Danny was pretty sure those islands weren't arranged like that, at least not any more, but still...

And it had been written by a half ghost. That, more than anything else, was what kept drawing Danny to the pages. The author had barely mentioned their identity, skimming over their origins in the first couple of pages, but every plant had notes regarding how it affected half-ghosts in particular, every recipe was tuned for the half-ghost anatomy, with side effects listed for humans and ghosts as an afterthought.

Danny slowly leafed through the pages, occasionally pausing when sentences jumped out at him.

This book had been written by a half-ghost. It had been written for half-ghosts.

Once, there had been half-ghosts. Many of them.

What had happened?

There were a limited number of people he could ask. He threw the book into his backpack, shouldered it, turned himself invisible and dropped through the floor. He fell through the kitchen and into the lab, whereupon he slowed his fall to a gradual drift and set himself down lightly on the floor.

His parents were, of course, working in the lab, but they didn't notice Danny. He padded by them, silent, and snagged the remote for the portal doors from the table. After taking a moment to make sure they didn't notice the sudden disappearance of the remote from the table, Danny pressed the button and darted through the still-opening doors.

Safely in the Ghost Zone, Danny released his invisibility, which he still found tiring to use for long periods of time, and went ghost. Ghostly tail streaming behind him, Danny flew to the lair of the only ghost he could be sure had all the answers.

.

The clock tower certainly lived up to the 'tower' part of its name, looming tall above Danny as he approached the front doors. Not that it didn't live up to the 'clock' part. It did. And the surrounding zone kept up the theme with all the gears floating around. It all added to the sense of foreboding about the place.

But what really pulled it off was the faint, persistent ringing sound that hung just on the edge of Danny's hearing, like that of a large bell that had been rung just a moment ago, its sound perpetually fading into imperceptibility but never quite getting there.

The doors opened as Danny raised his hand to knock on them. Danny always at least tried to knock on the doors, because the time he hadn't, he had walked right into them. Clockwork had a weird sense of humor.

"Clockwork?" called Danny, floating into the large main hall and searching the corners.

"Yes, Daniel?" said Clockwork, once again managing to wind up right behind Danny despite Danny's best efforts.

As always, Danny tried to hide how startled he was by turning and smoothing down his ruffled hair.

"Hi," said Danny. Clockwork smiled. "So, uh, I'm guessing you know why I'm here?"

"Yes," drawled Clockwork, circling Danny once, then floating away.

Danny flew after him. "I'm just, well, you understand why I'm curious, right?" asked Danny as they flew into a narrow hallway lined with time mirrors. Each one held an image of a different time, a different age. All the mirrors on the left were of the Ghost Zone, and all the mirrors on the right were of Earth.

"I do."

"So, you know what happened to them, right? All the halfas?"

"Of course," said Clockwork, stopping to face an image of a city that might have been London.

Danny drifted to peer over his shoulder. "Will you tell me? At least, what they were like?" he asked, hopefully.

His blood when cold(er) when Clockwork shifted to look at him. The expression on Clockwork's face was pure trickster mentor.

"Oh, Daniel. You know I like you to find answers like that on your own time."

"Yeah, um, I'll just-"

Clockwork pushed him. Danny tumbled back, farther than the hallway should have allowed. Heck, heck, heck.

He righted himself, hands going to his chest. They seized on something small and round. When had Clockwork managed to slip a time medallion onto him?

After a beat he processed his question and snorted at himself. Clockwork could have put the medallion on him at any time. That was kind of Clockwork's whole thing.

Danny looked around himself. He was still in the Ghost Zone (unless, of course, the Earth's sky had turned green for some reason), but the land beneath him spread out in all directions. There was even a slightly curved horizon.

Directly beneath him was a city. The streets were all covered over with blue cloth awnings, and the buildings sparkled like crystal.

Alright. So, Danny had a couple of choices. One, he could take the medallion off right now, go home, and have to learn whatever lesson Clockwork was trying to teach him the hard(er?) way. Two, he could stick around and (possibly) get the answer to one or more of his questions. Probably a lot of trauma, too, considering he'd asked about why the other half-ghosts were all gone, but he could take the medallion off whenever, provided that no one decided to phase it into his chest.

Were there half-ghosts in the city beneath him?

He wanted, needed to know.

Letting go of the medallion, he flew down diagonally, reaching ground level a good distance outside the city. He didn't know what the etiquette was for entering this city, but starting off at the gates was probably a good idea.

When he reached them, skimming along the purple earth, the gates were wide and open, the tunnel they formed in the wall carved with abstract swirls. There were no guards that Danny could see, and no one was going in or out through the gates, but Danny still proceeded cautiously. Beyond the gates he could hear the noise and bustle of a crowd, and, sure enough, as soon as he got past the first building he found himself in a marketplace.

This was not the first marketplace he'd seen in the Ghost Zone, and it had many familiar features. Unidentifiable glowing plants, glowing potion jars, glowing clothing, glowing powders, things with too many legs being sold as food, a lot of glowing in general, poison-bright colors on otherwise mundane merchandise, things that floated, rugs with kaleidoscoping patterns, etcetera.

The difference was that so many of the shoppers and merchants were human.

No, he corrected himself as he caught one of them changing forms with a pair of bright blue rings, they were halfas.

.

Danny stayed in the market place and listened.

He listened to gossip and haggling and children playing with each other and begging for their parents to buy them this or that. He listened to merchants advertising their wares. He listened to a young man not much older than himself complaining about new powers. No one pointed Danny out as unusual, even when he switched forms a few times.

It was amazing, just seeing half-ghosts live like this. He wished he could talk to them, but although he could understand what they were saying, he had no confidence in his ability to pronounce the words.

It was just so peaceful.

A shape fell through the blue awnings stretched above the marketplace, tearing them and pulling down some of the poles and booths they were attached to. People screeched and shouted. Merchandise escaped. From the epicenter of the wreckage, a man stood, eyes flickering between sea green and toxic glowing orange.

"Lord Dimidius!" shouted one woman. "What has happened?"

The man's face was twisted in pain and fury. "Pariah Dark has declared war on us."

A hush fell over the market. Except for the chickens. Chickens feared neither man, ghost, or god.

"Why? My lord?" asked one of the men, floating forward.

"The Observants," Dimidius said, spitting, "gave him a prophecy that one of us will someday end his rule."

"Then let's make it true!"

"Time out," said Clockwork, putting a hand on Danny's shoulder. The scene froze, chickens and all.

Danny had been right about the trauma.

"Was this," said Danny, "about me fighting him? Did all these people die because I fought him, and the Observants saw that?"

"No," said Clockwork. "Ultimately, Pariah was looking for an excuse. The Observants wanted to give him one. The prophecy, as far as they knew, wasn't true. They made it up. Besides, Pariah doesn't succeed in taking this city for another hundred years, and most of the younger residents were able to flee to the human world."

Danny exhaled. "Really?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you would."

Clockwork laughed. "Let's get you home." He opened a portal. "Other than the revelation at the end, did you have a good time?"

"Yeah," said Danny. "I did."

[justcallmefox89]

Truth or Dare Part 10 - Diavolo’s Ending/Finale

Arianthi adjusts to her new life as a demon.  Changes are coming to the Devildom, and the trio must decide if they will face them together.

Written from the perspective of my female OC Arianthi.

Mood List:

Adam Lambert - Feel Something Luke Evans - The First Time I Ever Saw Your Face Karl Loxley - Never Enough Lukaas Graham - Love Someone Jonathan Young - For the Dancing and the Dreaming (cover)

I hold my breath, bracing for whatever is about to happen.  Then I hear a very familiar giggle. 

“Asmo?”  I wiggle out of Diavolo’s grip and see Mammon’s brothers standing in the doorway, gawping at us.

Barbatos pushes his way through them, breathing a little harder than usual.  “Apologies, my lord.  I did try to stop them.”

“No need for you to apologize Barbatos,” Diavolo says, scowling at Lucifer.

I look over at Mammon.  He’s pressed himself flush against Diavolo’s back, eyeing his brothers warily.  

Well then.  

“Um, Barbatos?  Maybe we could talk about everything that has happened over breakfast?  I can come help you as soon as I’m dressed.”

“Of course, Arianthi.  I’ll begin preparations.”  He spares one last annoyed look for the brothers before turning and stalking out of the room.

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you have an excellent reason for barging into our bedroom.  Especially given your behavior the last time we were all together.”  Diavolo’s tone is frosty.

“Our bedroom?”  Asmo raises his eyebrows and giggles again.  “Big brother I am positively green with envy.”  

He bounds towards us, sitting at the foot of our bed.  “I’ll admit when you said you were all in a relationship I didn’t imagine it being so cozy.”

“Not to distract from our original reason for being here, but when did one of you learn to throw fire?”  Satan asks, examining a scorch mark on the wall next to the door.  

He turns to look at Mammon and Diavolo, arching one delicate eyebrow, and they both shake their heads, shrugging.

The three of us look at each other in confusion.  Then the boys look at me, light dawning in their eyes.

“No way!”  I whisper, grinning.  I look down at my hands.  “That is so fucking cool.”

“It must have been an instinctual reaction when they barged in and you brought your hand up,” Diavolo whispers back.  “We’ll look into it after breakfast.”

Asmo looks at us curiously.  “So if it wasn’t Mammon, and it wasn’t Diavolo, and it couldn’t have been Arianthi...........  Are you three hiding someone else under there?”  

He gives us a mischievous smirk and reaches towards the blankets, making a move to pull them back.    

“Asmo stop!”  Unbidden, my tail snakes out and smacks his hand away from the blankets.  

“Ow!”  Asmo whines, pulling his hand back.

“Oh hell,” Mammon groans, laying down and pulling a pillow over his face.

Fuck.  

I quickly close my eyes and relax, tail vanishing. 

Satan’s eyes widen.  “Is there someone else here?”

Lucifer tilts his head to the side, looking at me carefully.  After a few seconds his brow furrows and his mouth forms a perfect O.  “Arianthi what did you do?”

Diavolo mutters something under his breath, his irritation evident.  “I believe I asked a question Lucifer.  My partners are in need of some peace and quiet.  And you are distinctly unwelcome here.”  His eyes narrow.

Beel pushes forward hesitantly.  “We had a bad feeling Lord Diavolo,” he says softly.

“A bad feeling?”  Diavolo looks unimpressed.

“Like something was wrong.  A feeling that Mammon is in trouble and needs us,” Belphie explains, eyeing Diavolo with distaste, his face clearly relaying that he thinks Diavolo is the reason that Mammon may be in trouble.

“We all felt it,” Levi adds.  “We were worried about him.”

Mammon slowly sits up.  “Really?  You guys came here just because ya were worried about me?”

Lucifer takes half a step forward.  “Are you alright Mammon?  The feeling is very strong, even now.”

Satan points back at the scorch mark on the wall.  “I’d still like an explanation for that.”

Mammon heaves a sigh, looking at me and Diavolo, asking a silent question.  I shrug my shoulders.  Diavolo rolls his eyes before reluctantly nodding.

“Asmo, get off the damn bed.  And all of ya turn around,” Mammon demands.  “Ya don’t need to be lookin’ at Diavolo and Arianthi like that.  They’re mine, ya hear me?”

Diavolo and I smile at Mammon’s declaration, climbing out of bed after the brothers’ backs are turned.  The boys pull on sweats and I shrug on one of Diavolo’s tank tops and a yank on a pair of Mammon’s shorts.

“Ok, you can turn around,” I say.

“What’s going on Mammon?”  Beel asks worriedly.

“Did something happen to you?”  Lucifer gives Diavolo a dirty look.  “Did he do something to you?”

“You -” Diavolo moves towards Lucifer, but Mammon puts a hand on his arm and shakes his head. 

“I’m fine Lucifer,” Mammon says.  He hesitates, debating how much to tell them.

“We might as well tell them everything beloved,” Diavolo sighs, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

“Probably just easier to show them right?”  I look over at them.

Diavolo nods and Mammon reaches towards my shirt, ripping open the back.  

“Sorry,” he tells Diavolo, wincing.

“Don’t apologize,” Diavolo murmurs, kissing his cheek and smiling at him softly.

Asmo squeals and claps his hands.  “Adorable!”

Mammon tugs down the back of my shorts a little.  

“Alright, go ahead and show ‘em baby,” he says, stepping back to give me some room.

I close my eyes, concentrating.  I feel a telltale pinching sensation, then the weight of my wings and tail.  I spread my wings and shake them out, ruffling my feathers.  

“Oh.  My.  Dad.”  Levi looks like he’s going to hyperventilate.  

The twins surge towards me eagerly, examining my new appendages.  

“This is so cool,” Belphie says gleefully.

“You’re like us now?”  Beel smiles.

I nod, shyly returning the smile.

Satan walks around me in a slow circle.  

“May I?”  He hesitantly reaches a hand towards one of my wings.

“Yeah, go for it.”

He strokes one finger delicately over the curves and dips of my wing, tracing the outlines of a few feathers.

“These are almost as beautiful as mine,” Asmo says, clearly thrilled.  “Can you imagine how stunning we’d look together?  I need a picture for my Devilgram.  As soon as possible!”

Lucifer looks like he’s aged ten years in the past two minutes.  “What did you three do?”

“Technically Solomon did it,” Mammon grumbles.

“Oooh Solomon is here too?”  Asmo perks up at the mention of the sorcerer’s name.

I feel a migraine rapidly approaching from the brothers’ general vicinity.  

“Ok everyone,” I say, clapping my hands.  “You guys go down to the smaller dining room, I’ll help Barbatos finish breakfast, and Mammon and Dia can explain what’s going on.  Asmo, you go get Solomon.  He needs to be there too.  I know you know where his bedroom is.”  

Lucifer looks like he wants to protest, but Beel’s stomach rumbles, distracting him.  

“Fine,” he mutters, turning to lead the way out of our bedroom.

“Give us a few minutes to get some real clothes on and we’ll be right down,” I shout after them.  “And Levi, if I see anything about this posted online you’ll have to answer to Dia!”

“Deleting it now!”  Levi calls back.

After they’ve left I shut the door and turn to Diavolo and Mammon.  “Well that could have gone worse, yeah?”

“I admire your eternal optimism princess,” Diavolo mutters, heading to the closet.

Mammon pulls a shirt over his head and attempts to smooth down his hair with his hands while I shift back into my human form.  I follow Diavolo into the walk-in closet and silently watch him get dressed. 

“Something on your mind princess?”  He asks me, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt.

“How are you feeling?”  I ask him quietly.

“I’ve had better weeks.”  

“Dia....”  I don’t know what to say, so I reach out to rub his arm comfortingly.  

“Don’t do that!”  Diavolo snaps at me, shaking off my hand.  “Don’t “Dia” me right now Arianthi.  This isn’t something you can make better with a cute smile and kiss.  I need to figure out what we’re going to do about all this.  What we’re going to tell the rest of the court.  How we’re going to deal with my father now.”

I nod silently, quickly changing into a pair of jeans and my own t-shirt, and going back into the bedroom.  

“I’m going to go help Barbatos,” I mumble to Mammon.  “Diavolo’s almost ready.”  

I’m out the door before he’s able to respond.

I slip into the kitchen without drawing attention from Lucifer and the others.  

Barbatos is standing at the counter, whisking eggs and manning the waffle maker.  I wash my hands and move beside him, starting to peel and slice fruit.

“Why don’t you go out in the dining room with the others Barbatos?  I can finish making breakfast,”  I offer.

“Are you sure?”  He looks startled.

“Positive.  You’ve earned a break after the past 48 hours.”  I sigh.  “And I could use a little time alone.”

Barbatos stops whisking.  “How are you handling everything Arianthi?”

I don’t look up from the peach I’m slicing.  “I don’t know Barbatos.  Last night we were just so happy everyone made it out alive.  Today is a different story.  Mammon is happy.  Diavolo is ........tense.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’ll make you a deal.  You go out there with the others and let me finish breakfast, and I’ll answer you after we’re done eating.”

Barbatos gives me a small smirk.  “Deal accepted.”

I give him a small wave goodbye, then throw myself into making breakfast.  The kitchen is silent except for the sizzle of eggs and bacon on the stove and my knife against the cutting board.  I eye the eggs, trying to decide if there will be enough for everyone.  

I’ve already made Beel his own private mountain of waffles but............. I should add some more eggs just to be safe.  

I wander over to the fridge, searching for more eggs.  I shuffle things around, irritation steadily rising.  

Stupid fucking eggs.  Stupid fucking breakfast.  Stupid fucking Diavolo.  

I fish out two cartons of eggs and slam the refrigerator door closed, using more force than strictly necessary.

Who does he think he is?  Wow he’s so fancy, he’s so smart, he’s the Prince of the Devildom.  What a dick.  I need to figure out what we’re going to do.  I.  Not we need to figure it out.  I. 

My dark thoughts about Diavolo continue as I scramble another two dozen eggs for Beel.  I start slamming platters, silverware, and plates onto serving trays.  I walk back to the fridge to bring out a few pitchers of juice.  I’m reaching in to grab the first pitcher when I hear a soft movement behind me.

“I’m literally one minute away from bringing out the food Beel,” I say without turning around.  

When I don’t get a response I roll my eyes and take a pitcher in each hand, turning around to kick the fridge door shut behind me.  As soon as I turn around I’m face to face with a demon I’ve never seen before. 

In my surprise the pitchers drop from my hands, but the other demon reaches forward and catches them effortlessly.  

“I’m sorry if I startled you, my dear,” he apologizes.

“Who are you?  Why are you here?”  I demand.  My fingertips tingle and I see small sparks flickering from them.  

Not the time, freaky new demon powers.  Not the time.

He notices too, and grins at me.  “I’m Arawn.  Who might you be my lovely?  Not a servant surely?”

I study him carefully.  He looks to be in his mid-forties and he’s tall as Diavolo, muscular but slender.  Snow white hair brushes his shoulders, and he tucks a stray lock behind his ear as I look him over.  Sensual, full lips, high cheekbones, aquiline nose, perfectly tanned skin.  His eyes are the shade of warm honey.

Total DILF.   

I start to smile at him as our eyes meet, and bite down on my lower lip playfully.  “Pleasure to meet you Arawn.”

His eyes roam appreciatively over me.  “I assure you the pleasure is all mine.”

Daddy.  DAD-DY.  

Unconsciously I reach up to twirl a strand of hair around one finger, my eyes never leaving Arawn.  

I wonder how old he really is.  I bet he’s got some tricks..... No, that’s not right.  

My eyes widen and I shake my head.  

“What did you do to me?”  I narrow my eyes at him.  “How long have you been here?  Were you doing this earlier when I was angry?”

He smiles at me in delight.  “Most don’t even realize when I’ve been toying with their thoughts or emotions, let alone shut me out right in the middle of it.  How very clever.”

I meet his eyes again.  Golden eyes, like amber sparking in the sun.  

So familiar, but .......

“Oh shit,” I breathe, eyes darting to the doorway that leads out to the dinning room.  

“What’s that my lovely?”  Arawn quirks an eyebrow at me.

“You’re Dia’s dad.”  

Arawn’s face tenses slightly at the nickname.

“I am Prince Diavolo’s father.”  He pauses.  “How do you know my son?”  

I motion at the pitchers he’s holding and the trays on the counter.  

“I’m making Lord Diavolo breakfast right now.  I apologize for not recognizing you, Your Highness.”  I bow my head.  

Don’t mess this up bitch.  Play the servant.  Make it out to the dining room.  Get to Mammon and Diavolo.

Arawn visibly relaxes.  “I’m sorry for interrupting your duties my dear.” 

“Please don’t apologize Your Highness.  He’s having breakfast with several demon lords this morning.  I’m sure he’d be thrilled if you were to join them.”  

Please say yes, please say yes.

He smiles at me.  “What a delightful idea.”

“If you would like to go to the dining room I’ll be bringing breakfast out shortly.”

“Nonsense.  I’ll help you bring things out.  It will be a fun little surprise.”  

Fuck.  

“Of course your highness.  That would be most appreciated.”

Arawn gives me a another charming smile.  

“Here lovely.”  He hands me the pitchers.  “I’ll carry out the trays.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” 

He motions for me to walk ahead of him before taking a tray in each hand.  I push the door to the dining room open and walk to the table.  

Mammon is the first one to look up from the intense conversation that’s taking place.  

“Hey ba-”  He sees Arawn behind me and scowls.  “Who are you?”

His question draws the attention of everyone else at the table, and one by one every head comes up to look at me and Arawn.  I’m frozen, very aware of the heat of his body as he stands close behind me.

Diavolo’s expression hardens as he stands and looks at his father.  “Arianthi get over here.  Right now.”  

I set the juice down on the table next to Levi and hurry to Diavolo’s side.

“Are you ok?  Did he hurt you?”  He quickly checks me over before moving me behind him.  

Arawn chuckles.  “Please, Diavolo.  You should know I would never harm one of your servants.  Especially one this adorable.”

“Father -”

Everyone at the table tenses as they realize who Arawn is.  Asmo shifts in his chair to put himself between Solomon and Arawn.

“I did expect a warmer welcome Diavolo.”  Arawn sets the trays he’s carrying down on the table.  

Beel unobtrusively pulls the trays over in front of himself, keeping one eye on Arawn.

“You’ll forgive me father, but I have heard some rather troubling rumors surrounding your reasons for returning.”  

Arawn’s gaze sweeps over the table, settling on Asmo and Solomon.  

“And I have heard some equally troubling things about your rule over the Devildom as of late.”  His tone is flinty, displeasure evident in every word.  “Inviting humans and angels here?  Really Diavolo?”

Diavolo curls his hand into a fist, fingernails digging into his palm.  “You decided to abandon your duties as king.  You left me in charge.  I will not apologize for making changes to improve the Devildom.”

Arawn snorts.  

“Trying to bring the realms together?  Sharing meals with humans?”  He waves a hand at Solomon.  

“Publicly taking two lovers?  Which I have no general objection to, but when one of them is a human?  And you intend to make the human your queen?”

Blood is trickling from Diavolo’s palm now.  I snatch a napkin from the table and start to dab at his hand, stemming the flow of blood.  Mammon stands from his seat and moves to my side.

Arawn smirks.  “You must be the demon my son has become so infatuated with.”

Mammon opens his mouth to retort, but I give his side a small pinch.  He snaps his mouth closed, body vibrating with anger.

“So where is this human?  I’m intrigued to see this girl who has managed to captivate two of the most powerful demons in the Devildom.”

Diavolo and Mammon shift almost imperceptibly, trying to shield me.  The movement doesn’t escape Arawn.

“Are you that worried I’d harm your servant?  Or maybe there’s more to her than meets the eye?”  

There’s a bright flash of light and suddenly Arawn is behind me, gripping my arm tightly.  Everyone sitting at the table is instantly on their feet.

“Oi!” 

“Father!”

Diavolo and Mammon reach for me, but Arawn yanks roughly on my arm and pulls me close to his side.  “Everyone is certainly protective of you my dear.”  

He lowers his face to my hair and presses a soft kiss to my head.  He gives a quiet inhale of surprise, and then a dark chuckle.

“How very, very clever.  Who’s idea was it for you to undergo the transformation ritual?”  He runs one sharp fingernail over my cheek, and I try to suppress a shiver of revulsion.  

Dia’s dad may be hot but everything else about him sucks.

“Let her go.”  Diavolo growls.  

“Now,” Mammon snarls next to him.

Arawn gently runs his fingers down the side of my face, before slowly wrapping his large hand around my throat.  

“You know,  I came here with every intention of snapping your neck,” he says casually, tightening his grip.  

I throttle my urge to panic, staying still, as everyone else in the room takes a step forward, converging on us.

“But you’re one of us now, so I suppose my plans have to change” he muses out loud.  “Do you still have the intention of eventually making her your queen?”  He arches an eyebrow at Diavolo.

“I do,” Diavolo answers tersely. 

“What about that one?”  Arawn waves his free hand towards Mammon, and I hear Lucifer hiss in rage at the flippant way Arawn refers to his younger brother.

“Mammon will remain our partner.  We have no intention of leaving him out of our marriage.”

Oh.  So now there’s a we.  How very fucking convenient Dia.  

I feel Arawn shrug and then he releases me, softly pushing me towards Diavolo.  

“As you wish.  I’ll be going to my room.”  He starts to leave the room, but pauses at the doorway for a moment to look back at us with a smirk.  

“Remember my son, many things can happen before an official engagement is announced.  Before a marriage is consummated.  Or an heir is born.  And until you’re married, I am still king here.”

Everyone lets out a collective breath of relief once he’s out of sight.  I automatically begin rubbing at my neck, trying to erase the feel of Arawn’s hand.

“Anyone else get the feeling he was threatening me?  And literally all the changes Dia has made here?”  I ask.

“Without a doubt,” Satan answers.  “I guess now we know why we all had a feeling Mammon was in trouble.”  

Everyone else looks concerned.

“Are you alright?”  Diavolo asks.

“Did he hurt ya?”  Mammon looks at me worriedly.

“No.  He got into my head for a little while, but I was able to block him once I realized what he was doing,” I answer them.

“Got into your head how?”  Satan asks curiously.

I feel the blush rising in my cheeks and avoid Diavolo’s eyes.

“Thoughts of lust?”  Diavolo guesses.

I nod silently.

“He would do something like that,” he mutters in disgust as Mammon wraps his arms around me possessively.  

“He made me angry at you.  Well, more angry.  Like he was fueling my negative thoughts.”

Diavolo’s gaze softens and he reaches out to stroke my cheek.  “I’m so sorry princess.  I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

I nuzzle my face into his hand and kiss his palm.  “It’s alright Dia.  Let’s eat breakfast and plan our next move.”

An hour later our group splits.  Barbatos goes to clean up the breakfast mess and keep an eye on Arawn.  Beel offers to help Barbatos, wanting to stay close to the kitchen, and Belphie tags along.  

The rest of us move to the library.  I notice that Mammon’s easy manner with his brothers has returned, and I smile to myself, glad that they’ve seemingly made up.

Diavolo, Mammon, Satan, Asmo, and Solomon start combing through books, looking for information on Morrigan and Devildom monarchy laws of succession.

Lucifer and Levi approach me hesitantly.  

“We wanted to offer you our assistance in learning how to master you new abilities,” Lucifer says stiffly.

“And apologize,”  Levi adds.  “We already apologized to Mammon, but we wanted to say we’re sorry to you too.  I’m going to treat Mammon better.  I promise.”

I smile at him.  “Thanks Levi.”

“Leviathan is correct.  I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you.  Or accused you of  colluding with Diavolo to seduce Mammon in an effort to spite me.  I know how much you care for him, and it was a low blow to invalidate your feelings for him.  And you were r-”  

Lucifer pauses, looking like the word is causing him physical pain.  “You were right about how we all treat Mammon.  We will be making an effort to change our behavior.”

“Apology accepted.”

Two hours later I can easily summon and throw small fireballs, and Levi has taught me how control my tail.  

“Mammon!”  I hear Dia call out.  

I turn around and see Mammon, hand outstretched towards a small gold figurine resting on one of the bookshelves.  

“If you put your pretty little fingers on that statue I’m going to spank you.”  Diavolo doesn’t even look up from the book he’s paging through.

Mammon flushes and hastily pulls his hand back as his brothers snicker.  

“It seems Morrigan was telling the truth Arianthi,” Satan says, shoving aside a large pile of scrolls and looking at me.  “She had a certain fondness for human men, and took many on as lovers.  One of your ancestors impregnated her and she gave birth to a half-human son.  After his birth she left the child with his father and returned to the Devildom for a time.  After that there is no other written record of her.”

“And it seems the Celts didn’t only consider her their goddess of war,” Solomon calls out.  He’s sitting in an armchair, Asmo sprawled in his lap.  Solomon reads from the books he’s holding.  

“She was their goddess of fate, birth, and death.  As well as their goddess of fertility.”  Solomon smirks at me as Asmo giggles, giving him a quick kiss.

Mammon sits down in another chair and pulls me into his lap.  “What about you Diavolo?  Did ya find anything new?”

Diavolo shakes his head and tosses away his book in frustration.  “The title of king passes to me upon my marriage.  An heir only solidifies my position as ruler.  If my father decides to undo everything I’ve accomplished before my marriage there’s nothing to stop him.  He is still king.”

“Do you think he’ll try to hurt me now that I’m not human anymore?”  I ask, anxiously gnawing on my thumbnail.

He sighs.  “I don’t know.  He’ll probably try to toy with you, but I doubt he’d seriously try to harm you.  If you were queen he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you; he’s impulsive but he’s not stupid.  He knows he’d spend his life in the dungeons if he did.”

“So why don’t ya just go ahead and get married?”  Mammon asks, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, gesturing between me and Diavolo.

Diavolo flushes.  “Well, I had hoped,” he stops speaking.  

He clears his throat.  

“I had hoped to make the proposal quite romantic.  And have a long engagement, so you both have time to plan the wedding of your dreams,” he mutters, staring at the floor.

“Both?”  Mammon echoes in surprise.

Lucifer takes pity on Diavolo and begins herding Levi, Satan, Asmo and Solomon out of the room.  

“We’ll go check in with the others,” he says, before firmly shutting the library doors behind them.  

Diavolo sighs and scrubs his hands over his face.  “This is a disaster.”

Mammon and I stay frozen in our chair, unsure what to do or say.

“I understand if either of you do not wish to remain in a relationship with me,” Diavolo mumbles.  “I don’t want to force you into some rushed wedding just because my father has awakened.  You both deserve a proper proposal.  Time to plan the wedding you really want.  Mammon deserves more time to explore his feelings about me.”

Mammon looks at him impassively.  “For a smart guy you’re pretty fuckin’ dumb sometimes.”

“Mammon!”  I flick his ear.

“What?”  He asks, swatting my hand away.  “Our girl became a demon so she could stay with us.  Does that sound like someone who’s gonna run from a little problem like your dad?”

Diavolo huffs out a low laugh and rolls his eyes.  “No.  No, it does not.  And what about you?”

Mammon gives him a crooked grin.  “You’re growin’ on me.  I could probably be persuaded to stick around.”

“Well in that case.”  Diavolo stands up from his chair and walks towards us, pulling me up to stand in front of him.  He kneels down and reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a small jewelry box.  

“I’ve been carrying this around for a while now, but this is not at all how I imagined proposing,” he mumbles, before speaking up.  

“Arianthi, you have caused chaos since the moment you arrived here.  You had no reason to be kind to us, especially me, but you were.  You are intelligent and sweet and understanding to a fault.  I didn’t expect to fall for you, but falling in love with you has been the greatest surprise of my extremely long life.  You are the first person who saw me as just Diavolo and loved me for me, not because I’m a prince.  Bringing you here was the best decision I have ever made, and loving you is as easy breathing.  Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

I look back over my shoulder at Mammon; he’s smirking and nodding his approval.  “Yes!”

Diavolo laughs, leaping to his feet and spinning me around in a circle.  He kisses me deeply, then opens the jewelry box and carefully slips the engagement ring on my finger.  A large oval cut ruby in a gold setting sparks in the warm light of the library.  He kisses me one more time, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out another jewelry box.  

Mammon looks at me in shock as Diavolo once again gets down on one knee, taking Mammon’s hand in his.  

“You have been a headache since the moment you fell from the Celestial Realm,” Diavolo begins.  

I giggle quietly to myself.  

“But through the years I have watched you grow and find your place here.  You’re compassionate and loyal to those you love.  I am thankful Arianthi brought us together, and that I now have such a smart, handsome, funny demon in my life.  I care for you very much, and my feelings are only growing stronger.  Will you marry us Mammon?  Marry me?”

Mammon is frozen in place, blue eyes bright with tears.  

“Yes,” he finally whispers, nodding.  “I’ll marry ya.  Both of ya.”

Diavolo tugs on his hand and Mammon stands.  Diavolo gently slips Mammon’s engagement ring on his finger.  Like mine, Mammon’s ring is gold, and the band is inset with small rubies running the circumference of the ring.  Diavolo cups Mammon’s face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

After they break apart they both reach out to me, and I step into their waiting arms.  

“This is really happening?”  Mammon whispers, holding me tight.

“This is really happening,” Diavolo answers, wrapping his arms around both of us.

“So what do we do now?”  I ask, cuddling into Mammon.

Diavolo drops a gentle kiss on my forehead.  

“First, we tell Mammon’s brothers about our engagement.  We ignore whatever objections my father may have.  And then,” he smiles softly at both of us, “we start planning a wedding.”

[lesetoilesfous]

for DADWC! 34 or 50 from the sensory prompts for fenders? 🥺

Ah thank you so much for the prompt! Lord I love these boys

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

I’ve had a couple for 34 so gonna go with 50!

Pairing: Anders/Fenris

Characters: Anders, Fenris

Tags: Angst, established relationship, past abuse, set during da2

Rating: Mature

The moonlight is blue as magic, where it falls onto the empty sheets between them. Anders stares at the valley between their bodies and wonders for the hundredth time whether the better thing to do is to leave now, and let Fenris forget their whole pointless, doomed affair. For the hundredth time, his stupid, selfish heart wins the struggle. Instead, he lies where he is, cool but not cold in Fenris’ mansion, staring at the half-naked elf beside him, curled into a tight ball that looks only marginally less painful than the expression he’d worn when he was awake. Moonlight glitters across the lyrium carved into his skin, and it loops in graceful curlicues over his muscles, an obscene mockery of the Dalish tradition from which they’d been stolen. 

Anders’ fingers twitch to bridge the icy gap between them - to trace his fingers over the muscles of his lover’s back, and pull him close and hold him, and reassure him with his body and every word he knew in every language that he would do anything to keep him safe. 

But Fenris had made it clear he did not want to be touched, and in the three years they’ve been pursuing this...whatever it had become, Anders has learned painfully that touching Fenris in his sleep will only hurt him further, when he was grieving like this - throwing him back into memories of different hands and crueller touches.

So Anders’ hands curl around the bedsheet slung loose around his hips, instead, and he watches the gentle rise and fall of Fenris’ back as he breathes. White hair curls like feathers against the nape of his neck, short and downy. His shoulders curl inwards like a wounded child. Anders tries, hard, not to think of the expression on his face when he’d spoken, earlier - bitter and angry with pain and grief. (What has magic touched that it doesn’t spoil?)

He’d caught himself a moment later, gaze drifting to Anders before Hawke had reclaimed his attention. Anders hadn’t had the chance to say his worry was not for himself. He stares at the beautiful curves and valleys of his lover’s back, and his fingers curl in the linen of their bedsheets. You’re not spoiled, love. You’re wounded. 

You’ll heal.

Fenris had raged on his way back to the mansion - half incoherent with anger and a terrible, tearing kind of grief that had pulled at him in great heaving sobs as he moved. But when Anders had offered to leave he’d faltered, suddenly off-kilter, and his hands had curled around Anders’ biceps as if he were a lifeline he couldn’t bear to lose.

“Stay.”

So Anders had stayed. 

*

In the morning, Fenris wakes slowly. Anders watches him uncurl, and blinks the grit of sleeplessness out of his eyes. Above them, sunlight falls in great shafts of golden light through the broken ceiling. Birds sing a new day to Kirkwall on the rooftops. 

“I’m still here.” Anders murmurs, softly, mostly as a warning. Fenris stiffens, and Anders continues without thinking. “I considered leaving about 285 times - I lost count in the 250s - but I made the executive and possilby incorrect decision that I really didn’t want to leave you alone with this.” Anders stops, then, and sits up a little. “I mean, that’s, it’s not - if you want me to leave, I’ll go, just say - and I shouldn’t be making you say it, okay, never mind, I’m going. You never have to speak to me again if you don’t want to. I know how you feel about - no, that’s idiotic, obviously I don’t know how you feel about mages but if it’s anything like how I feel about templars, which it probably is, if not much worse, then. Shit, fuck, sorry. I’m shutting up.”

As he speaks Anders sits up properly, searching the room for his boots and smalls as he braces himself to leave the space their combined body heat has warmed in their bed.

“Mage.” Fenris’ voice is rough and scratchy with sleep and tears from the night before. Anders freezes. 

“Yes?” Maker, but he sounds like some Orlesian maiden. Anders swallows, and looks down at the beautiful brown curve of Fenris’ back. He watches as Fenris’ shoulders lift and fall, slowly.

“Hold me?” Fenris’ voice is small, and Anders remains frozen for a moment longer before gingerly slipping back under the sheets and pressing close against his lover’s back, gently sliding one arm beneath his body.

“Like this?” He murmurs, hesitant to so much as breathe in a way that might cause Fenris any further pain. 

For a moment, Fenris is quiet. Anders breathes, and his mouth fills with the smell of cotton and sweat and old wine. Then Fenris turns in the bed and presses closer, ducking his head beneath Anders’ chin and curling into his chest. Reflexively, Anders’ arms tighten around his back.

Slowly, Fenris begins to cry. 

Anders’ eyes burn as he feels the small, strong body in his arm shake, slowly at first and then roughly as tears dampen the bare skin at the base of his throat and run down his chest, tickling the aching scar over his heart. Carefully, Anders draws Fenris closer, and presses a gentle kiss to the top of his head. 

“It’s alright, love. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

[valiantly-onward]

The Serpentine War Ch. 8

Here’s chapter eight! It’s my finals week, so I’ve been posting a little less. In that vein, good luck to everyone on their finals!

Chapter 8: Home

The journey to Lorin’s hometown took many days, even on dragonback. Ray was getting tired of needing a ride, but Wu had not even begun to explain how to create Elemental dragons. When Ray asked Lei about it, she just laughed. So he sulkily rode behind her throughout the trip.

They were a strange flock of oversized geese, flying in a practiced V formation. Ray couldn’t get a good look at the other dragons, and he had no idea whether Maya was behind or in front of him. He didn’t like not knowing where she was - it made him feel a little disoriented, like he’d lost his sense of direction. Realizing he cared was more worrisome than the worry itself. He didn’t like how reliant he’d become on her simple presence.

The final leg of the journey came to a close on this bright, early morning. Sam Pale, the long-haired Master of Light, tended to get up with the sun, and Lorin saluted that “eagerness” by forcing them all to follow Sam’s example. Ray was quickly learning the hierarchy of the Alliance. Supposedly, they were all equals under Wu’s command, but it was obvious that respect went a long way with these guys. And their small group seemed to respect Lorin - at least, enough to get up early.

Ray was sore from the long days of flying. He didn’t mention this to Lei, but he was relieved when the head of the dragon formation dipped down through the clouds. Ray held onto Lei as they dropped. He threw a shout of joy to the wind as it rushed him toward the ground.

Most of the trip, they’d been flying over high, rocky hills. Now, those hills parted to reveal a village. From above, Ray saw it was bigger than Jamanakai. The houses were spread out amongst small plots of turned-up soil. Ray immediately wondered how they would defend such a place. There was no centralized area, and the low stone buildings didn’t seem to follow any kind of pattern. The only advantage was the hills. They’d be able to see the Serpentine coming for miles.

Of course, that same logic had failed in Jamanakai Village. But that was mostly Ray’s fault.

They landed. Every dragon vanished in a puff of Elemental energy. Villagers began emerging from the closest houses. A few kids shouted in delight and raced toward them. Many adults immediately approached Lorin, who tipped back his silver helmet and shook their hands, speaking in low tones.

Sam Pale lifted a long leg as the kids swerved between him and the Master of Lightning. “Oi, Master of Earth! What are we up to first?”

Didn’t the guy ever rest? They’d just arrived! They needed a break.

Lorin glanced back. “First things first. C’mon, all.”

The eight of them continued further into the village. Maya appeared beside Ray, and though they didn’t speak, Ray was quietly happy she was there. Deep in the village, they found an actual road; it blended so well into the dusty ground, Ray had missed it. Lorin led them to one of the houses near the road - a happy stone building with curved red roofs and no plot of land.

A dark-haired woman stood in the doorway. She started toward them purposefully. Ray thought for a moment she was carrying something beneath her coat, except -

“Alliance, this is my wife, Hanna,” Lorin said proudly. He leaned down, a hand on his wife’s belly. “And our soon-to-be son.”

“Daughter,” Hanna corrected. She kissed Lorin’s scruffy cheek and turned to the rest of them with a smile. “The one who’s right gets to name her.”

“Him.” Lorin nodded to Hanna. “We need to set up defenses and find lodging.”

“Then some of you better come with me,” Hanna replied. “This way.”

She strode around the back side of the house. Ray looked at Lorin. “You’re gonna have a kid?”

Lorin raised his eyebrows in response. “Yes. Is that so surprising?”

“No, just…” Ray paused. “Don’t you - I mean we - lose our powers if we have kids? Aren’t you afraid of that?” Wu had described it to him after Ray asked how Fire could’ve skipped a generation in his family. Upon reaching young adulthood, Masters aged slowly, as long as they had their powers. Children nearly always meant losing those powers, plus the slow aging. Already, a life without powers sounded like a half-life to Ray.

Lorin chuckled. “It has to happen sometime. I just hope the baby comes after all this is over.”

He seemed to deem the conversation ended. He directed Sam Pale and Vivian to go with him to the edge of the town, and the rest of them to follow Hanna.

“I can’t believe he’s not worried,” Ray said as soon as Lorin was out of earshot.

Lei shot him a quizzical look. “You don’t think love is worth it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Then you’re not in the best company. Everyone here has someone.” Lei jabbed a thumb at the blonde woman jogging after Lorin. “Vivian, for example. She got married real spontaneous when Wu called for us. She keeps going on and on about how she might not get a honeymoon if the war doesn’t end soon. If I ever meet Cliff Gordon, I might slap him, just for how many times I’ve had to hear his name.”

This made Ray laugh out loud. Maya strode up next to him, cocking her head at Lei. “What about you?”

Lei scoffed. “Can’t anything be private around here? If we win this war, maybe I’ll talk. If we don’t, it won’t matter, because we’ll all be dead.”

“Comforting,” Ray commented.

They went to find Hanna.

She showed them empty rooms inside the house. There weren’t many, so Maya and Lei would get the extra beds, while Ray and Asher, the Master of Smoke, were relegated the old couch in the main room. Just a hunch, but Ray was certain the couch wouldn’t fit two.

Unsurprisingly, Asher set his sleeping roll on the couch. He was small, colorful man in poofy pants and a fez. He looked a little different from Ray’s brand of Ninjagoan, but not uncommon, especially in Ninjago City.

He looked apologetically at Ray. “I am the smaller man. I don’t believe you would fit comfortably.”

Ray raised his hands in surrender, feeling a little guilty about his self-pity. But he did always have the rottenest luck. “You take it, man. I’m gonna head outside.”

Asher nodded to him. Ray pushed open the back door and found Maya outside. She was leaning against a tumble of boulders, glaring at the horizon.

“The bed’s that bad, huh?” Ray asked.

“It’s fine,” Maya said shortly. “Hanna is sweet.”

“Yeah, she is.” Ray rubbed the shoulder of his chest plate. He felt the grooves of the dragon engraving under his fingers. “Wanna go find Lorin?”

Maya’s gaze seemed far away. “I don’t like how it went down at Jamanakai Village. It wasn’t much of a fight. I even lost to a Venomari.”

“Venomari?”

Maya looked at him. “Yes. The Venomari tribe.”

“Ah, right,” Ray replied seriously. “Those are the blue ones.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Alright, you need a crash course in Serpentine tribes.” She sat down on the boulder. “Come here.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

Ray sat down. Maya leaned over in the dirt and began drawing methodically. She was really good, actually. Just by watching, Ray saw that her hand knew all the right places to put the strokes.

After she finished with a rough image of five different snakes, she sat up.

“Looks good,” Ray noted.

Maya glanced at him, like she didn’t know quite how to respond. “Thanks. Now, look. This one is called a Hypnobrai. Those are the blue ones. Don’t look them in the eye or they’ll hypnotize you.”

“Okay.”

Maya tapped the second image with a stick, the two-headed snake. “Fangpyre. Red. Their venom changes people into Serpentine.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. The big black ones, Constrictai. Strong, can choke you to death. And Venomari. If they bite you, the venom is deadly, but usually they’ll just spray your eyes and make you hallucinate.”

Ray pulled one knee up to his chest. “So the moral here is to stay away from snakes. Why did I agree to go to war again?”

A smile reached across Maya’s face. So small. Ray’s chest exploded with uproarious victory.

He offered a hand to her and she took it, pulling herself up. “And the Anacondrai?” he asked.

“The power of invisibility” Maya held his gaze for a long moment before releasing his hand. “The most dangerous tribe of them all.”

Ray nodded. “All the more reason to train, right?”

“Now,” Maya said. “You’re learning.”

~~~

The days spun into weeks. For the first time, Ray felt like he was really part of the Alliance. It helped that his powers seemed to obey him better each day. He now knew what to look for inside himself, the feeling that guided each spurt of power.

Every day, after their sentry duty in the hills, Ray and Maya would go to the boulders to train together. This, if nothing else, felt familiar, grounding. Sometimes, if Lorin wasn’t busy, he would come to watch and offer pointers.

Ray liked Lorin. The guy treated both him and Maya with respect, and he seemed like a steady, dependable guy. Ray admired that.

The Master of Light, on the other hand, was a little less steady. Sam Pale’s untidy habit of manipulating light to turn himself invisible was funny until Ray was on the receiving end of the joke.

That left the Masters of Lightning and Smoke, neither of whom Ray knew what to make of. Vivian was loudly annoying and Asher was quietly annoying, so it was a back-and-forth. Maya seemed to get along fine with both, which Ray didn’t understand.

On the third week, Ray left Hanna’s house in the afternoon and met up with Maya and Vivian at the base of the hills.

Here, a few lonely trees clustered close together, shaking in the breeze. Vivian smiled up at a branch where a bluejay had perched. It whistled and she whistled back.

“Oh,” she sighed. “I love bluejays. They’re such smart, handsome little things.”

Neither of them replied, because this was Vivian, and she cared very little if anyone replied so long as she knew they were listening. She was a willowy woman with long, curly blonde hair. Vivian had mass. Not in the physical sense; she just seemed to take up a lot of space. A balance between dreamy and so very present, she was contradictory in a way that made Ray’s head hurt. 

“Okay,” Ray said. The trees were designated as the split spot, and they would go each to a different section of the hills. Get the high ground and keep watch. “See you guys in a few hours.”

They split: Vivian sauntering like the lovable fool she was, Maya in ninja-mode like the Master-Wu-student she was, and Ray walking, like a normal person. Red didn’t help him stay concealed in the rocks, but it was better than the blues the ladies wore.

Ray kept his sword sheathed - he’d learned that lesson, it was far too easy to get distracted even in simple exercises. He would watch. He would wait for the attack, surely coming any day now.

All reports from the Echo Canyons said the Serpentine had posted themselves in Jamanakai and seemed to be staying there. That made everyone, including Ray, feel uncomfortable. If the Jamanakai snakes weren’t moving, that meant they were confident the remainder of the Anacondrai would pass the Mountain of A Million Steps.

Ray skimmed the hills for an hour or more, then took a post near the top. He sat down against a rock where he could easily see the surrounding horizon - the Mountain of A Million Steps rising in the distance, the sun glaring off the opposing hillsides, the ocean of rocky terrain that separated this green village from the Sea of Sand.

He heard something.

Ray jumped up immediately, staying low against the rock. Behind it, hissing hurried past, like leaves against a sidewalk. It took Ray a moment to separate the sound into voices.

“...this way.”

He peered around the rock. There was a flash of red, then a softer green. Fangpyre. Venomari. Serpentine.

Two of them. Both had legs instead of tails, but they were still quick, small. The Fangpyre had just one flat head, swirling white across its scales.

They hadn’t seen him yet. They seemed to be heading toward the ridge above the town. Ray kept himself hidden behind the boulders and followed them.

When they got to the ridge, the two snakes laid flat on their scaly bellies, stretching long necks above the rocks. The whole village strung out below them. And to the north, a dagger-split in the rocky hills. The pass the Serpentine needed.

The Venomari ducked back down. “Andulus, I can’t see any Masters.”

“They’re there,” the Fangpyre replied. “Quiet.”

Unbidden, the Fanpyre suddenly jerked its head back. Fortunately, Ray was able to pull himself behind his boulder in time. Three counts of silence. When he peered back around, the snakes were surveying the village again.

“I’m tired of this,” the Venomari said. “It’s not worth it to attack such a small village.”

“We’ll be ruling them all soon enough, Lysss.”

“Yes.” The Venomari’s small crown flared. “But I thought this was about warning the humans, not ruling them.”

The Fanpyre stretched his neck a little. “If they will not listen, we must ensure they don’t bring destruction upon themselves.”

“Why do we care?” the Venomari hissed. “The humans can destroy themselves if they want.”

“Don’t let General Acidicus hear you talking like that.”

“What about your general? Kandoras? He could put a stop to this.”

The Fangpyre snorted, though it sounded more like a muffled hiss. “He will not undermine Arcturus. Now, hush this traitorous talk.”

The Venomari fell silent. Ray laid a hand on his katana hilt. These creatures were armed, but only with small knives, and they were small themselves. After facing the Anacondrai, this would be a piece of cake.

He waited for them to start talking again, for distraction, but they didn’t. Ray got tired of waiting.

He attacked.

The Serpentine rolled away from each other. The Fangpyre was on his feet, whipping out his knife. Ray disarmed him in a moment with one well-placed strike. His blade hovered near the Fangpyre’s long red neck. Then he looked at the Venomari on his other side.

“See, this is what I’m talking about!” the Venomari said, gesturing to Ray. He hadn’t even drawn his knife. “No respect.”

“Are you scouts?” Ray asked.

The Fangpyre sneered in response.

Ray decided not to press it. “You’re coming with me down to the village. The Masters will love to meet you.”

“You presume to take us prisoner?” the Fangpyre snapped, though his slitted pupils darted warily to the blade. “A measly human with a sword?”

Ray raised his hand. It took a few seconds, but his fingers burst into flames. The Venomari, who’d finally started going for his knife, scrambled back.

Ray smiled at the Fangpyre in the firelight. “Let’s get moving.”

~~~

Striding back into a village with two prisoner Serpentine was a good way to get people to hate you.

The villagers wanted nothing to do with the snakes. It took a lot of convincing for one of Lorin’s villager friends to let them lock the Serpentine in his basement. Even then, everyone gave the house a wide berth, and the owner of the house constantly glared daggers at Ray.

Ray meant to return to the hills for duty with Vivian and Maya, but Lorin kept him. They stood in front of the house. Lorin scratched his black beard thoughtfully.

“I don’t like this,” he grumbled.

“They can’t report back now,” Ray reminded him. “No intelligence. That’s good, right?”

“I suppose. But this means they’re scouting out this area. They will come through here. Perhaps in the next few days. Did you hear them say anything?”

“I -” Ray cut off when he saw Maya approaching. Their shift must’ve ended already.

She got to them, wide-eyed. “I heard you caught Serpentine.”

Ray jerked his head toward the big house. “They’re in there.”

“Are they scouts?”

“We think so.” Ray looked at Lorin. “Although one of them…”

Ray tried to recall exactly what the Serpentine had said. It seemed like the Venomari was against attacking the village. But that couldn’t be right.

“The Fangpyre didn’t like what the Venomari was saying,” he remembered. “He sounded like he was going against their generals, talking about how he didn’t want to fight. And - destruction? They said we’re going to destroy ourselves.”

Lorin’s brow deepened. Maya, on the other hand, caught her breath. “He said he didn’t want to fight?”

“Uh, I think so. But -”

“Ray, do you know what this means?”

“What?” he asked.

She shoved his shoulder. “The Serpentine are willing to compromise! They might negotiate with us!”

“Negotiate?” Ray threw a hand to the air. “We watched them nearly destroy an entire village, and you want to negotiate with them? They’re monsters!”

“They’re people,” Maya retorted. “Some of them don’t want to fight.” She paused to watch him, and added, “You’re just scared.”

“I’m not -” Ray stopped himself. Turned away, his hands linked behind his head. Turned back. “You’re right. Okay? I am scared. Is that such a bad thing?”

Maya didn’t reply for a moment. Her eyes were dark. “No,” she said at last. “But it doesn’t change what we have to do.”

At this, Lorin looked up. He frowned at Maya. “What would that be?”

“It’s obvious.” She stepped back to address them both. “We have to convince Master Wu to go to the Serpentine Generals and negotiate for peace.”

@greenygreenland

[make-it-mavis]

A Different Road

Wreck it Ralph fic "Roadblasters Never Happened" AU 1834 words Characters: Turbo, Make-it Mavis, the Turbo Twins Content warnings: Brief suggestive flirting, Off-screen intimacy  Premise: What if Turbo never invaded Roadblasters? What if he never took over Sugar Rush? What if his game lived to see just as many years as Fix-it Felix Jr.? Following this road, plugged in for 31 years, Turbo spends a peaceful night in Turbo Time, enjoying life.

___________________________________

Turbo Time was a formidable game. Despite its simple gameplay and primitive graphics, it outlived many other younger, more attractive games. It was there when the arcade opened, and it had a fair chance of being there until it closed. It was Litwak's old favorite after all, and nostalgia is a powerful thing.

This is not to say the game had been without its threats. Over time, it lost its place as the most popular game in the arcade, and that transition was hard for its tenants. The hit to their pride nearly came to disaster, especially when it came to the game's leader. But, luckily for all, he came to his senses. He knew competitors would come, but no one could claim their title of original champions. And something else became clear to him after that ordeal -- if his game would be threatened, he would have to be the one to keep it functioning, to keep it safe. To give Litwak no reason at all to consider pulling its plug. That was how he could do better.

And, through much stumbling, learning, and growth, he succeeded. Turbo Time became one of the oldest games in the arcade, one of the few surviving originals, alongside Fix-it Felix Junior. From 1982, to 2013, it persisted, and surely would for years to come. Thanks to, in no small part, that demon of a man protecting it.

This demon found himself in down time, contentedly working in the garage of the house Fix-it Felix had generously built for him. It was a fair step-up from the dingy trailer, but for sentiment's sake, that trailer had been built right into the wall, the door to it sitting across the garage behind him. Old 80′s glam metal played over his sound system at a volume bordering on rude as he worked at his table, drawing up precise blueprints for a new project. He had stopped keeping track of time, but his eyes were admittedly getting dry. It would be time for bed soon, no doubt, but he was so in the zone, and reluctant to step out of it.

He had been humming along to the music, even murmuring the lyrics under his breath, but he stopped when he heard the door to the house creak open.

Standing there, wrapped in a suitably garish silk robe mottled with aimless rainbow blotches, was the one and only Make-it Mavis.

The one he had the pleasure of calling his fiancee.

Her lovely blue eyes squinting just a bit with sleepiness, she smiled at him. "Hey there."

Turbo returned the smile, and reached to the volume knob to dampen the blaring metal. "Hey, you," he greeted her warmly.

Mavis let the door swing shut as she wandered over to him, rubbing her eyes. He eyed her as she circled behind him, and delighted in the feeling of her arms wrapping around his belly. Nestled up against his back, she rested her chin on his shoulder and observed the blueprints in progress.

"What'cha workin' on?" she asked.

Idly going over some existing lines with his pencil, he told her, "Another commission. Gameless sprite just moved into Paperboy and is overwhelmed at the size of the house. Wants an automatic vacuum to do the work for him."

"Mm," Mavis hummed. "Robotic maid. That's a new one."

Turbo huffed a laugh through his nose. "A maid that exclusively vacuums."

Her voice led by giggles, she said, "He must really hate vacuuming."

"Hey, if it's enough to give me credits, who am I to judge?"

"Wise words," she agreed with a chuckle. "How much longer d'you think you'll be up?"

Turbo pondered, not missing her plain request for company. Still, he played with her a bit. "Hmm. I don't know, probably not that much longer. Couple things I wanna wrap up while they're still fresh in my head."

"Mmm," Mavis groaned a bit in playful protest, smushing her mouth down against his shoulder, muffling her voice. "Alright, Grease Monkey. Don't keep me waiting, or I'll have to bite ya."

"Ooh," he whistled, "don't tempt me, Make-it."

"Tch," she chuffed, before leaving a small kiss on the side of his neck and meandering back towards the door.

Turbo meant to look back at his work, but his gaze was drawn to her like a magnet. That robe teased the shape of her in such a delicate way, dancing along with the sway of her walk. His work suddenly seemed completely unimportant, overshadowed by the need to unwrap the gift that was her curves.

Eyes drawn low, he called to her, flirting shamelessly, "Wait, wait, wait. Just where do you think you're going with an ass like that?"

Mavis sputtered with laughter, and paused as she opened the door, shooting him a daring look. "Somewhere out of reach," she teased. "So you'd better come stop me."

He needed no more convincing than that. After killing the music, he crossed straight to the door, turned the garage lights out, and kissed her with enough force to lead them both into the house proper. In tune with her wonderful, soft laughter, he clutched onto the best bits of her. Feeling her shape beneath the smooth, slippery silk was nearly too much to bear.

When they both had decided enough was enough, Mavis took his hand and led him upstairs.

After happily tending to his fiancee, Turbo figured that the kind thing to do would be to take a shower. Mavis did claim to like the smell of his garage and sweat, but he could only suffocate her so much without feeling straight-up cruel. 

Having a private shower really was a luxury he did not know he was missing. It was definitely a blessing to not encounter his brothers naked all the time. It still happened now and then, but that could not be helped. Once he was all clean, he thoroughly towel-dried his hair, brushed his golden teeth, and washed his face. Patting his cheeks dry, he observed himself in the mirror, and as usual, thought he looked great. But even more so this time -- his ashy complexion looked smooth and even, his eyes seemed a little less sunken, and although he would not age physically, he seemed more youthful and bright, somehow. He looked healthy.

He looked happy. And he was -- with his jobs, with his relationships, and even with himself, deep down, where it really mattered.

When he left the bathroom, towel around his waist, he saw Mavis lightly sleeping, her hair endearingly tossed around from love-making. He smiled at her, eager to crawl in, but they would never sleep with the Turbo Time sun pouring through the window, even deep into the night. He crossed over to it, and grabbed the blackout curtains, but movement below caught his eye for a moment. Out on the grass that was as green as the game had ever known, Nitro and Pyro were goofing off together. Recognizing his twin brothers separately in a way only family could, he saw Nitro holding a controller with an antenna, and Pyro chasing around a remote-controlled plane, trying to jump and catch it. It must have been a commission of their own, and they were taking the chance to play with it themselves before having to hand it over to the paying sprite.

Dorks.

Turbo pulled the curtains closed, and the room was laid into a far more appropriate darkness that still glowed warmly enough for him to see. He wandered back to the bed, stepping on the discarded robe on the floor before similarly ditching the towel. He climbed into bed and settled down into it, the smooth, clean sheets feeling fantastic on his skin, and rolled on his side to face Mavis.

Devs, she was so serene. He felt lucky for getting to see her like that, when she was otherwise a snarky firecracker to everyone else. She had earned the nickname 'Cherry Bomb', after all. But while she slept, all the attitude and theatrics were turned off for a while, and an all-too-ignored fact about her was left glowing humbly: She was such a beautiful girl.

Unable to resist, Turbo moved to carefully brush some of her hair out of her face so he could see it more clearly, but found himself looking into barely cracked open blue eyes a moment later. He could not bring himself to be guilty for waking her. She moaned a little bit, but still smiled.

"Hey, tiger," he whispered.

Mavis took in a generous inhale through her nose and adjusted her position, looking even more cozy. "Hey Bright Eyes," she whispered dreamily.

"Guess what."

"Hm?"

He smirked. "I'm kinda fond of ya."

Mavis took a long blink, her body hopping a bit with three distinct chuckles. Opening her eyes again, she sighed, "Yeah, well. I guess you're pretty cool, too."

Eyelids growing quite heavy as his head lay on the plush pillow, Turbo could barely manage an adequate fake gasp. He took it in through his nose, and mumbled to her, "No way. Freakin' score."

Mavis grinned and laughed through her teeth, stroking her hand over his arm. "You’re a dweeb," she muttered. "And I love you."

"Oh, you'd better, or I'll be takin' that ring back," he said, taking her hand and running his thumb over the band. 

"Watch it. I’ll fight you in Mortal Kombat for it," she warned him with a smile.

"Ch'yeah, okay. Don't rip my head off just yet," he chuckled softly, and squeezed her hand. "Love you, too, chucklenuts."

She leaned over to kiss him, and he felt a warmth glowing inside him that the blankets could not hope to match. They lingered in the kiss together a bit longer than intended, but the feeling was all too addictive.

Once Mavis withdrew again, they exchanged their goodnights, and Mavis rolled over to face away from him. Turbo pulled the blankets up over them, and scooting up behind her, he draped an arm over her and pressed his body up against her gently. The feeling of her skin against his was so impossibly comforting. She was just so warm, so soft. He slowly stroked his hand over her belly, and she hummed appreciatively just loud enough to hear. Lost in the smell of her hair, he closed his eyes and began his steady descent into sleep.

Along the way, he thought about how good he had it. A great game, two fun jobs, a comfortable home, and a gorgeous fiancee. When his game was young, he would never have believed he could be so excited about marrying somebody, much less marrying the biggest pain in the neck ever. He would never have believed he could feel so right, that he could feel so at home with his place in the universe. He would never have believed he could feel so whole.

But he did. He was. He made it. He fell asleep, unburdened by the existential horrors that once haunted his dreams.

All was well.  

[batbirdies]

NaNoWriMo 2019 Batfam Fic part 6

Part 6 of my Jason Todd Batfam fic where Jason eventually agrees to dog sit Titus, there are some deep seated issues, unintended animal therapy, snarky text messages between Robins and eventually some reconcilliation between father and son. Takes place in a murky in between time sometime after Damian was resurrected.

Same warnings as other installments: This is a very rough draft that is copied and pasted directly from my working google doc. Expect mistakes. These are also snippets, and there is skipped content between them.

also as for CONTENT; there are some flashbacks to violent things, some violence involving animals, references to dog fighting :(( and things like prostitution and homelessness are mentioned periodically. Also a lot of bad language.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

The dog park, in the end, is nicer than Jason expects. Even though it’s small, it’s got some nice, rolling hills, a couple benches set up at different points, next to small maple trees that look like must have been planted in the last two years, still waiting for them to grow big enough to actually shade the benches. They were naked now, fall being in full swing.

It’s still flipping cold and there’s a light drizzle that’s just uncomfortable, even with the hood of his jacket drawn up. Titus doesn’t seem too happy about it either but he’s got his waterproof coat on and the earmuff-sleeve-thing so he isn’t bothered so much by the cold. He let’s Jason cajole him into playing catch at least and runs freely after the tennis ball he sends flying.

After a bit he seems to get bored with it though and is more interested in the other dogs, so Jason lets him roam without thinking much of it. He looks like a big dumb idiot in the getup he’s got on but it just makes him look more friendly and less intimidating to the other dog owners so Jason counts it as a win when he takes his phone out to snap a picture of Titus sniffing some labradors butt.

“Real polite bud” Jason mumbles under his breath, as he lets his eyes scan over the milling group of people. He doesn’t mean to be doing it, doesn't even realizing he’s looking for threats until he spots one.

There are two men standing stock still next to one of the benches, a large Rottweiler sitting next to them with a spiked collar on a thick, black, leather leash. The guys don’t look tough so much as they look mean and Jason can see them watching the dogs, eyeing each one almost critically, staring at Titus for a little longer than he’d like. He doesn’t even really know what he’s looking at but he doesn’t like it, can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up like some sort of sixth sense.

“Titus!” He lets out a loud whistle, clapping his hands to draw the dogs attention back to him. He trots back over easily, abandoning the other dog he’d be attempting to greet. Jason grabs his collar when he approaches, latching the leash back on, keeping an eye on the two thug looking guys who are now walking slowly in his direction. Jason tries to get a good look at them without making it obvious.

One is tall and thin, a shaved head and a nose that looks like it had been broken on a few different occasions. His eyes are half lidded, he looks bored, and with a brief direct glance he spots a deep scar on the back of his hand, raised and red skin in a curved line that looks distinctly like an animal bite if Jason had to guess.

The other one is heavy set, broad in the shoulders but of average height, close cropped dark brown hair and a chunk missing out of one of his ears. Sharp eyes that are focused directly on Titus. He’s the one holding the leash.

And the dog is the other thing.

Every other dog in the park just seems happy. Either excited and playing or relaxed. Tails wagging, panting, running around or just lazing about near their owners. There’s one half grown mutt on the other side of the park that’s being trained, learning how to sit and stay.

The Rottweiler walking next to this man does not look happy, or friendly, or excited. It’s big, moves gracefully, doesn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry but is looking at Titus and Jason both with eyes that Jason can only think to describe as….empty. If you can even think something like that about a dog.

They’re only 10 feet away when Jason tugs on Titus leash, ready to get the hell out of there before something nasty happens. And maybe he’s gotten rusty but hes just a little too slow.

Just as they turn around the broad shouldered man stoops down and unhooks the Rottweilers leash, says something sharp to the dog that he can’t catch and suddenly he’s lunging.

Jason has been in more fights than he can count, or remember, ones where his life is on the line, but there is nothing quite like having 140 pounds of solid muscle barreling towards you with a snarl like you’ve never heard, teeth bared and ready for sinking.

Titus immediately pulls hard on the leash, and Jason moves without thinking. It’s reflex more than training that has him throwing an arm out, right in the path of the big black dog. The tall thin guy shouts something just as teeth clamp down on his forearm, sink through his leather jacket to his skin and beyond.

“Shit!” Jason shouts, throws his other hand out, dropping the leash, he grabs at one of the dogs ears and yanks, hard, but the clamp down does not loosen, if anything it tightens and the dog lets out a guttural growl. Jason is swearing up a storm, stumbling and nearly falling on his ass trying to pull his arm out of the vice it’s being crushed in. He’s never been bitten by a dog before, at least not beyond a warning snap, and it fucking hurts.

The short guy is suddenly there, clapping his hands, he shouts at the dog again.

“Drop it!” And Jason’s arm is abruptly free, he actually trips and falls on his ass, feeling light headed and instantly furious.

Skinny guy has a hand around the Rot’s collar, holding him in place even though he’s already sitting down, looking business as usual like nothing even happened when there’s blood dripping out of its fucking mouth. Jason’s blood.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Jason hauls himself to his feet, standing just as tall as the skinny guy and broader in the chest than the heavyset one, who looks wide eyed and nervous, in contrast to the tall one, who just seems mildly surprised.

“Holy shit man, I’m so sorry, he just lunged!” The short guy stutters out, fumbling to get the leash back on the dog.

“You expect me to believe that was the dog? I wasn’t born yesterday asshole.” He steps toward the stocky one but the Rot takes a step to meet him, letting out a low growl of warning.

“Whoa, Crusher no.” He swallows harshly, glances back at the tall one, who’d let go of the collar as soon as he attached the lead.

“Crusher? Are you serious?”

“I’m so sorry man, really, I didn’t exp- he’s never done anything like that before.” Jason doubted it, wanted to spit in the guys face.

“Chris, why don’t you take Crusher to the car? I can take it from here.” Guy has an accent like he’s from the West coast, words clear and almost overly pronounced. He’s got one hand stuffed in the pocket of his coat, the other holding a lit cigarette.

“Sure, yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll get him out of the park, just find me when you’re done.” Chris looks distinctly relieved to be out of the conversation.

Jason is reeling, what the actual fuck just happened? What was this? The short one had clearly given the dog some kind of command.

His instincts told him not to let the guy leave, to stop him in his path and get answers, but the dog was still a threat and Jason wasn’t in costume. He didn’t have any armor on and his identity was not hidden. He needed to be careful. His mind also finally registered the ear splitting sound of frantic barking from a large dog and he suddenly realized he hadn’t seen where Titus went.

He’d let go of the leash when the dog attacked and - He whipped his head around, feeling frantic for a split second before he spotted him just a few feet away, some random bystander holding his leash wrapped around a hand. It was a stocky woman, middle aged, and with a fat bulldog of some kind standing behind her. She looked stricken, face pale. Titus was pulling pretty hard on the leash and barking in a high pitched tone that definitely wasn’t natural for him, a near whine to it, but the woman stood her ground, feet planted hard.

Jason was distracted enough that the guy was already shuffling away, the Rottweiler following at matched pace. He should go after the guy, wanted very badly to go after him but he couldn’t leave some random woman with Titus, who was obviously frantic and upset.

Jason eyes Tall Guy, still standing there and watching him, expectant and bored look on his face, decidedly turns his back on him to handle Titus. The guy isn’t a threat, not to him, even if he has a weapon his posture is slouched, feet planted sloppily, his balance isn’t solid. He’s obviously not trained to fight and Jason could take him in a heartbeat if he felt the need. He needed to get his head back on straight before he talked to him, there was a heat curling in his stomach with a distinctive green tinge Jason needed to get a handle on.

He marched up to the woman with the bulldog, tucking his bleeding arm in close to his side. He was fuming, furious and totally struck dumb like he couldn’t remember being. He almost wondered if they knew who he was, why else would they randomly sick a dog on him?

“Are you alright?” The woman asked when he approached, eyebrows drawing up in the middle.

“Fine.” He tried not to snap at her, since she was literally the only reason Titus probably hadn’t either run away or gotten in a fight with that dog when it bit him, but he was so tightly wound it was hard to keep the edge out of his voice. “Thank you for grabbing his leash.”

She nodded, Titus shoved into him, lifting his front half off the ground repeatedly like he wanted to jump on him, whining, ears down. “I’m fine, buddy, I’m good. Stay down.” He grabbed Titus collar with his good hand and pulled down gently to get him to stay planted in the grass, he didn’t need to get clawed in the arm after that.

“Are you really sure you’re alright? You’re bleeding pretty….pretty bad.” She sounded a little breathless, as she finally relinquished Titus’ leash to him. She grabbed at her ponytail with her now free hand and tugged on it, a nervous habit if he’d ever seen one.

“I’ve had worse.” He was too busy looking over Titus and making sure there were no injuries he’d missed, that he wasn’t too late to keep the Rot away from him that he didn’t see how she reacted to that little confession. The ear muff thing had fallen down and he carefully tugged it back up over his ears, while trying to even out his breathing.

“That was pretty nuts man.” Jason stiffened and turned back, Tall Guy standing there, cigarette in hand, he took a long drag. “Why jump in like that? Your dog looks like he could hold his own in a fight.” And he was staring at Titus when he said it, eyes still bored, as they flicked up to meet Jason’s. Jason felt his shoulders hitching up.

“We should really call the police.” The woman interjected. “That dog is dangerous, need to-“

“No police.” Jason snaps just as Tall Guy says, “I don’t really think that’s necessary.”

“Not Necessary?” Her voice is sharp. “Your dog just attacked this man, he’s bleeding, he could have a broken bone or-“

“Nothing’s broken lady.” She snapped her eyes to him, looking at him like he was nuts.

“Regardless, I’m calling the police.” She reached in his purse, hanging off her shoulder and pulled out a cell phone. This was not good - the last thing Jason needed was to be questioned by the police while Bruce was out of town, even if he was a victim, he didn’t need to be recognizable to anyone, didn’t need Barbara recognizing his fake ID in a police report and drawing this whole incident up.

He also didn’t know why any of this just happened, and if somehow this guy knew who he was….he didn’t want a civilian mixed up in that.

“Look lady.” He snapped at her, feeling guilty for the way she flinched back from him. “I appreciate the concern but I’d rather handle this myself.” He put a hint of threat in his voice, for both her and the asshole’s sake. Jason knew what he looked like, big, broad shouldered, well built and with a massive dog. “I don’t really think you wanna be involved.”

Her eyes darted between Jason and Tall Guy, like maybe she wanted to argue, but was quickly thinking better of it. She clutched her own dog’s leash in a fisted grip, expression morphing to wary suspicion.

“Fine. Guess I’ll find a new dog park.” She snapped before turning on her heel and marching away. Bulldog waddling after her.

Sm͏a͏rt lady, Jason thinks as he watches her go. Finally turning back to the guy who’s just standing there, enjoying his cigarette without a care in the world.

[verai-marcel]

First Into The Night (RDR2 Fanfic, 18+ ONLY)

Summary: You are a woman on the eve of your engagement, cursing the world as your parents had decided that the man for you was someone you had never met, and from what you had heard from the servants, he wasn’t a good man. Running away to the city, you run into a stranger, an outlaw with the most beguiling eyes and tempting smile, who promises to be gentle. Will you go with him when he holds his hand out to you?

Author’s Notes: Average marriage age in 1890 for women is about 22 years, according to the US census. So I wrote Reader as older than that, because I came up with a line and I really wanted to use it. That’s my one conceit of this request. Everything else is from my dear requester, @uwulicious, who wanted a low honor Arthur tempting a virgin reader.

Tags: virgin reader, Low Honor Arthur, dubcon, dirty talk, seduction, blow jobs, rough sex

Find it on AO3 here!

The gas lamps, the clip-clop of horses drawing carriages, and the crowds around the gambling houses and hotels made you shake with excitement. You had finally, finally gotten out of the house, free from your stuffy relatives, escaping from under their noses while the servants were busy preparing for tomorrow night.

Ugh. Tomorrow night could just stay away. Your fiance, chosen for you by your parents, of course, was supposed to come and officially meet you, and your family and his were to have a nice meal together.

But you wanted none of that. You wanted freedom. You wanted love, like in the romance novels you loved so dearly. Where a man would whisk you away and kiss you and hug you all night long. And ravish you, whatever that meant. It sounded appealing.

After wandering around the city, your head up in the sky with thoughts of the last book you read, you looked around and realized you had lost your way. The lamps here were less polished, the road less clean. Even the lights coming from the buildings here were less warm, more dim, and seemed a bit more reddish in hue. You turned around, trying to retrace your steps. Walking past a saloon, a large man stumbled out of the double doors, looked around, and spotted you. He instantly went still for a heartbeat, before straightening up and sauntering towards you.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” His voice was like velvet against your ears, though his words were slightly slurred.

“Hello, sir,” you greeted in response. You wrinkled your nose; the man smelled of whiskey.

He looked you up and down, raising an eyebrow. “This your first time on the street?”

“Yes, I’ve never done this before,” you answered, not quite understanding what he meant.

His eyes glowed. “Well then, c’mon. I’ll be gentle.” He took your hand, and started pulling you in a different direction. You tried to pull your hand back, but then he turned and stepped into the lamp light, giving you a clear view of his face. His eyes were warm and amused, while the smile on his full lips gave you shiver of a different kind of excitement. His jaw was dusted with the return of a beard, and his body was the kind you wanted to have wrapped around you, keeping you safe.

Perhaps he would hug you, kiss you, and even show you what books meant by ravish?

“Don’t be frightened, little angel. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

You nodded and followed him into the night.

***

He took you down a few winding alleys until you saw a small hotel. It was more like an inn, with only a few rooms centered around a small courtyard in the back. The room he took you into was small, but tidy and clean. As you walked inside and looked around, you heard the door shut, and the shuffle of clothes falling to the ground. You turned to see the man unbuttoning his shirt, his jacket and gun belt already off.

You gasped and stumbled backwards until your legs hit the bed, and you fell back onto the mattress.

He pulled off his shirt and threw it on the floor, his grin turning wolfish as he stalked towards you. His arms caged you in, his hands close to your face as he leaned over you.

“What’s your name, angel?”

You told him just your first name.

“Lovely.” He leaned in slowly and oh so gently pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and delicate.

“May I have your name?” you whispered.

“Arthur Morgan.”

“Mr. Morgan, I’m not sure I understand what is going on,” you said, a bit embarrassed.

Arthur stood up and looked at you for a few moments. “How old are you?”

You told him as you sat up. He let out a chuckle.

“You’re a bit past marryin’ age; you shoulda known what I was askin’ of you.”

You pouted. Wasn’t your fault you didn’t know much outside of your home.

Arthur put his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, didn’t mean anythin’ by it.” He quickly switched topics. “So why were you out on the street?”

“I… I got lost. I ran away from home.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“My parents are forcing me to marry someone I’ve never met. And I’ve heard things about him from the servants. I don’t want to marry him!”

He nodded, listening to you vent about your life situation. As you groused about your overbearing parents and the terrible things you had heard about your groom-to-be, Arthur had slowly come closer to you, sitting by your side, holding your hand, rubbing your shoulders and back, his hand feeling so good on you. You glanced over at his chest, scarred and dusted with hair. Overcome with the urge to touch him, you quickly looked away, trying to control yourself.

“Sounds like you need something to get your mind off your situation,” he murmured, his hand massaging your neck. You moaned, leaning into his touch. He caressed your cheek, turning you to face him. He nibbled your lower lip. You leaned closer to him, letting him lead, learning how to kiss him. His tongue played with yours, slowly coaxing you to do the same. You didn’t know a kiss could be so sensual, so exciting.

He slowly leaned you back down again, letting some of his weight push against you as he stroked your side, a meandering touch, trailing heat down your body as he continued to kiss you. Then he started leaving sweet kisses on your cheek, your chin, your neck. When his lips grazed the top of your blouse, he reached up to start unbuttoning, and you breathed hard.

“Sir, I....”

“Hmm?”

“I’m supposed to remain chaste for my fiance.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the proper thing to do!”

“You ain’t bein’ proper now, are ya?”

You stopped to think about this. He was right; you had run away, you had followed a strange man into his hotel room, and now, he was above you, touching you and kissing you.

“You never rolled around with a man before?”

“No…” you answered, trailing off. After fidgeting for a few moments, you pushed him away and stood up. “This is too much,” you mumbled as you tried to step away.

He chuckled as he stood up with you. “Let’s start slow. You alright with a hug?”

You took a breath and nodded. Hugging was relatively safe.

Arthur took a step closer to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. He gently brought you into his wide chest, and you wrapped your arms around his torso. His hands stroked down your back until he had wrapped you up into a warm embrace, feeling his muscles against your cheek. You could hear the steady drum of his heart, and felt him kiss the top of your head. You felt protected.

The hug went on, and you never wanted him to let you go. The circle of his arms made you feel so safe that you didn’t notice him subtly drawing you back to the bed until he had sat down upon it, pulling you into his lap.

“Wait!” you exclaimed, thinking he was going to go too far again, but Arthur just kept holding you, rubbing your back until you calmed back down.

“I said I’d just hug you until you were ready for more,” he said, his hands stroking your belly and your shoulders, your sides, your hips. You clung to him, your breaths becoming shallow as he touched you. Though he wasn’t touching you in your private areas, just his warm hands on you was exhilarating enough.

“I… I think I’m ready for a little more,” you said in a hushed tone.

“How ‘bout a bit of kissin’?”

“Alright,” you replied, closing your eyes.

Arthur softly kissed your forehead. Then the tip of your nose. He pecked your cheek. And finally, he kissed your lips, and you sighed happily. He gently coaxed your mouth open once more, and soon you were making out with him, tongues warring for dominance, his hands all over your back, crushing you to his hard body. You learned quickly from before, and were soon pushing him on the bed, eager for more.

“Pushy lil’ thing, ain’tcha?”

You giggled; you were drunk on this feeling. You felt bold enough to ask him something that had been on your mind all night. “Arthur?”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“What....” You fumbled, but took a deep breath and asked, even though it would make you look like a fool. “What does it mean to ravish someone?”

You noticed Arthur’s eyes began to glimmer with a dark heat, and his lips curved in a mischievous smile. “Oh, you innocent angel. I’ll teach you.”

“Just tell me!” you insisted.

“Naw, much more… educational… if I just ravish you instead.”

That was all the warning you got before he held you in his arms and rolled you over on the bed, pinning you down. His hands went up to your blouse buttons once more and he unbuttoned each one, not letting you stop him, even as you tugged at his arms.

“Wait…”

“You wanted to know, didn’t ya?”

“Yes, but…”

“Do you really want me to stop? Or is it just your precious etiquette that’s stoppin’ ya from enjoyin’ yerself?”

He stared hard at you, a passion in his eyes that made your body hot with desire. What did you truly want? As you took a deep breath, you felt with your body, your heart, the heat pooling at your core. And you came to a conclusion.

“Don’t stop.”

Arthur’s smile was sensual, his look promising an erotic experience that you’d never forget. He continued to unbutton your blouse, pulling it out of your skirt and helping you shrug it off. Your chemise was thin and showed your body through the nearly translucent fabric. Then he quickly unbuttoned your skirt, pulling it off you with hurried tugs.

As you lay on the bed in just your under things, you suddenly felt shy, and tried to cover yourself. But Arthur wouldn’t let you; he grabbed your wrists and held them with one hand over your head. He grabbed the drawstring of your drawers and pulled, and then dragged your drawers off you completely, exposing your most private center. You started to scream, but he immediately clamped down on your mouth.

“Don’t scream, darlin’. You said you wanted this.”

You nodded. He let go of your mouth, his hand gently stroking your cheek as he moved to help you take off your chemise, the fabric dragging along your nipples, making you sigh as even the slightest movement on your sensitive skin aroused you. Now you were nude, all of you exposed to a man you just met, but whose body you wanted to envelop you. You wanted him to subdue you, to teach you what a man could do to you.

But you started shaking, regardless of what you were wanting.

Arthur saw you, trembling like a scared rabbit, and lay down next to you, stroking your side in a soothing pattern. “Too fast?”

You nodded.

“I said I’d be gentle. I didn’t lie,” he murmured, as he got up to take off his pants. You watched as he revealed the rest of his body to you, his scars and muscles telling a story of a man who had seen a lot, a man who had a whole life of adventure and hard work, and yet here he was, laying down next to you, taking your hand and placing it on his chest so you could feel the constant rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Breathe, angel.” He took your hand and brought it to his hard shaft. It felt strange in your hand, hard yet soft, warm, pulsing.

“Feel what you’ve done to me,” he whispered in your ear. “Gonna make sure you feel it too.”

You looked at him in surprise as he shifted down the bed until he was in between your legs, spreading you open. You instinctively tried to close them, but he was too strong, and you made yourself relax your muscles, feeling him caress your inner thighs. His tongue traced circles along your skin, moving closer to your virgin hole.

“Oh lord, what are you doing-” You couldn’t speak after he put his mouth on your clit. He lapped at that little spot, making you gasp and writhe with pleasure; how could one small move of his tongue bring so much bliss through your body? You felt yourself growing wetter as he tongued and sucked on you. Feeling him tease a finger inside you, you bucked your hips. He chuckled at your movements before kissing your nether lips once more.

Arthur finally came up for air, and licked his lips. “You’re like a fine whiskey, sweetheart.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The longer the whiskey ages in the barrel, the better it tastes when it’s finally released.” He slid up your body and licked your neck, making you shiver with desire. “I can’t wait to taste your release.”

He kissed down your body once more until he was between your legs, pleasuring your clit with his tongue. You felt him finger you again, pushing a second finger inside you, stretching you open as he brought waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Those waves reached a peak, and you toppled over the edge, screaming his name as you spasmed on the bed, your legs clamping his head tightly as he drew out the last crest of your climax.

When you finally relaxed, your legs fell limp onto the bed. You looked a right mess: your skin was heated and your hair messed up from how much you were wracking your head back and forth from his ministrations. Every breath you took was deep, a slight tremor accompanying each exhalation. That had been the first time you had felt such physical pleasure, and you were afraid you were going to pass out.

“We ain’t done yet, angel,” he said as he climbed back onto the bed, lifting you up easily and moving you to the middle of the mattress. He sat back on his knees, stroking his cock as he pushed your legs open. “My turn.”

“Wait…”

“I can’t wait any longer, angel.”

“Please, Arthur,” you begged. You didn’t know how his huge shaft would fit inside.

He ignored you as he nudged your opening, and began pushing inside of you. He held your legs open as he slowly sank into you while you writhed, reaching up to push against him.

“Arthur,” you whined, “it’s too much, it’s too big!”

He reached down and teased your clit, stopping his forward momentum for a minute to arouse you into a more consenting mood. Your breaths were ragged; the pain from taking a man for the first time began to subside as his fingers on your clit and his other hand playing with your breasts were bringing your pleasure back to the forefront of your senses. When you looked like you were ready, Arthur leaned forward once more.

“Such a good fit,” he muttered, trying hard to even his breathing. You could tell he was controlling himself, holding back from whatever it was he wanted to do. Staying as still as you could, you watched him enter you, the last inch of him disappearing inside of you in a swift thrust.

You both moaned at the full contact. Knowing that you were ruined and not caring, you cried out when Arthur pulled almost all the way out before slamming back inside of you.

“You wanna know what people like me say instead of ‘ravish’?” he asked you as he started to move his hips, shallowly at first.

“What, do you, say?” you asked, unable to keep your voice in an even tone.

He fell upon you then, crushing your body into bed, his hairy chest rubbing against yours. His tongue flicked out to lick your earlobe before he whispered huskily into your ear.

“I say ‘fuck’. As in, I’m gonna fuck your tight pussy until you come all over my cock.”

You nearly passed out from all of his coarse language. You hadn’t heard such naughty things directed at you before, and your heart beat fast just thinking about what he had said, and what he was doing to you now. He was taking you completely; all you could focus on was his cock, hammering away at you as you spread your legs for him, eager to give everything to him.

“Sir,” you gasped, “I… I want more!”

“More what, darlin’?”

“I don’t know, just… more….” you replied, not knowing what it was you longed for.

He laughed softly and pulled out of you, flipping you roughly onto your stomach. He pulled you up onto your knees, took your hands and placed them on the headboard.

“Hold tight,” he murmured into your ear, then impaled you from behind. He was entering you from a different angle, deeper, harder, and it made you sob softly from the feeling of being filled so fully. Not waiting for you to be ready for this new position, Arthur took you hard, his arms on either side of yours as he too, gripped the headboard. His hips slammed into your ass, the slapping sounds of wet flesh filling the air as he single-mindedly rutted into you, using your body like it was his to own.

As your mind fell into a lustful trance, all you could think was that this carnal possession was what you needed. It was all you ever needed. And when he reached around with one hand to tease your clit, then pinching it hard, you felt yourself at the edge once more, the wanton rapture almost too much for your body to handle.

“Come for me, angel. I want your pleasure, I want to feel it around me,” Arthur whispered into your ear.

Like he was the master of your body, his words pushed you into a wild release, giving you a feeling of unadulterated euphoria that soared through you. It shook you, wrung you out until you could barely breathe, and even towards the end of it, you could still feel him pumping his cock in an erotic rhythm the two of you shared.

But all too soon, he pulled himself out of you and grabbed you by the back of the neck. Dragging you in front of him, he pointed his cock at your face. He pinched your nose, forcing you to gasp for air.

“Taste yerself on my dick,” he growled, shoving himself into your open mouth. Your sound of surprise was muffled as he grabbed the back of your head and forced you back and forth along his length.

“Use your tongue,” he instructed, and you learned quickly how to make him moan and hiss with pleasure. He didn’t stop, he used your mouth selfishly until he suddenly held you still. With a deep growl, he thrust once before shooting his hot, salty, bitter spend into your mouth. You choked, not used to such a taste in your mouth. As you were not really expecting it, you let some of it dribble from your mouth.

“Swallow it,” Arthur commanded as he pulled his softening member from you, using his fingers to push some of his spend back into your mouth. You licked his fingers, not really liking the flavor, but seeing the heat in his eyes, you only wanted to please him more.

He smiled down at you, petting your head like a favorite pet. “Good girl,” he drawled, and you smiled happily. Getting off the bed, he led you to the wash basin and cleaned you up before cleaning himself, and gently took you to bed, holding you in his arms. He kissed you tenderly, telling you how good you were, how brave you were for taking such a big man like himself.

“I’ll take you home in the morning,” he mumbled as he started to fall asleep. As much as you wanted to run away, you knew that it wouldn’t be right. At least you had this one night to remember being free.

***

The next morning, as the two of you got dressed, Arthur kept sighing. You finally had to ask why.

“It ain’t right, ya know? If you don’t wanna marry him, why should you?”

You smiled. When you woke up this morning, you were already thinking of standing up to your parents and telling them what you thought. It had occurred to you that you had not said outright that you didn’t want to marry that man. Maybe they’d listen. Maybe they wouldn’t. But at least you could say that you took a stand and finally said your truest words. You told Arthur as much.

“That’s good,” he said after listening to your decision. “Stand up for what you want. It’s your life.”

You and he left the hotel, got onto his horse, and took the road back to your estate, after you told him roughly where it was. When you saw the familiar gates get close, Arthur slowed his horse.

“I can’t take you much further. Folk like me don’t belong in a place like this.”

He helped you off the horse and walked you up to the gate. You stared down the road, then back at Arthur.

“Thank you,” you said, getting up on your tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll never forget you.”

Arthur just smiled shyly. It was a good look on him. “Take care of yerself,” he said as he gave you a hug.

You smiled and nodded as you squeezed his arm one last time before walking down the path to your house. You looked back, and he gave you a two-fingered wave before getting back on his horse and riding away.

As you walked down the path, steeling yourself for your confrontation with your folks, you reached into your pockets and was surprised to find a piece of paper shoved in one of them. You pulled it out and read it, surprised by the flowing script.

My little angel, If you ever want more, write a letter to Tacitus Kilgore and ask for some refreshment. I’ll come find you. -A.M.

You grinned and felt hope blossom in your chest.

--------------------

End Notes: So “fallen angel” was a term used for ladies of the night in the Old West. (Source: https://www.legendsofamerica.com/we-paintedlady/) Therefore, calling Reader “little angel” is sort of a reference to that, but also that she’s smaller than Arthur.

I hope this matched your request!!! Thank you for your patience!

[perlocutionary]

Notorious, pt. 1 - Stuart Twombly

Description: You may have finally met your equal.

Warnings: Look, I’m shit at warnings. This is about a fuckboy!Stuart and an equally fucked up Y/N. Of course there will be sex - and a lot of it, and in all different kinds of ways. But I swear you, nothing else (e.g. mistreatment, rape) will happen, or I will explicitedly mention it. Btw, I don’t write that - ever.

Relationship: Fuckboy!Stuart Twombly x Reader

Word count: 2057

Title: You know him. Or at least his reputation.

Part 2

"Look at that hot piece of equipment," I mumble underneath my breath, taking my glance off the barista's ass long enough to throw a knowing smirk in my best friend's direction. Her eyebrows are up, smirk edging on her own lips as she awaits the finish of my sentence. "And I'm not talking about the espresso machine." A snort leaves her, the tiniest shakes of her head indicating she believed I was a complete and utter moron – And sometimes, I knew I was.

"He's quite alright. And he makes a mean cup of coffee." Sarina hums in agreement, nodding her head along her statement as she lets her gaze flutter over the people occupying the line of the coffee shop just off campus. The young male mixing up our drinks might be a sight for sore eyes, but he wasn’t very quick. Every day we had come here, and every day, we had to wait forever to get out drinks. At first, I was sympathetic toward the young man – a new job is always nerve wrecking. But this was getting out of hand. My fingers are impatiently rapping along the counter, gaze once more glued to the curved ass of handsome young barista – I think he was new.

"Oh, look at that fine ass!" Sarina's elbow playfully jabs me in between my ribs to gather my attention, a loud huff passing me at an instant. I refocus my attention on the male she is speaking of, slowly sipping his coffee as his eyes stay glued to the laptop screen in front of him. It was no secret our campus held many amazingly attractive men, and it seemed they all gathered here, at the lone coffee shop near the edge.

"He can put milk in my coffee any time."

Immediately, my features contort into one of pure disgust, the tip of my tongue poking past my lips as I squeeze my eyes closed. "Sar, ew. Gross." Her head snaps to mine and her grin falters, a pointed look thrown my way as she slaps my upper arm. This banter between us was something that never seemed to waver.

"As if you wouldn't." A shrug of my shoulders follows her question, my tongue slowly trailing over my bottom lip as I give the male another once over. The male looked familiar, but not in a sense that I had properly met him before. Probably wouldn’t like to either. I shrug my shoulder nonchalantly, meeting Sarina’s smug grin. "Yeah, I'd probably tap that."

I sigh aggravated as my gaze flicks to the barista again, almost at the point in asking him what's taking so damn long. Instead, I'm once again distracted by my best friend's voice, her attention on someone else in the small, cramped coffee shop. "Didn't you meet him in our first year?"

The male's back is toward us, my eyes trailing from his broad shoulders down to his ass as I contemplate. "I think I did..." As I trail off, the unknown male turns around and a sound of acknowledgement slips me. "Ah. Yeah. I did. He was okay." Our eyes meet and I’m quick to grant him a tight-lipped smile, immediately averting my gaze to avoid him coming up for a small chat.

I am met with an over exaggerated eye roll, my lips pressed together tightly as I once again snap my head toward the counter. I knew it was busy at the beginning of a new year, but seriously? I huff annoyed as he slides Sarina's drink our way, my hand cupping the paper cup to present it to my otherwise-occupied friend. Her fingers curl around the container without a second thought as she speaks again. My hip rests against the counter again, arms crossed over my chest. I’m blatantly eyeing everyone here, but no one seems to spark my interest. Until Sarina speaks. "Now that is a face I'd like to sit on."

I hum, trying my best to find Sarina's gaze and see who the hell she was looking at. Instead of trying and failing, I lean further back against the counter and wait for Sarina to elaborate. "Him." She points directly at Stuart Twombly, a name and face she sure should know after three years here. Stuart Twombly was an anomaly. His eyes were always glued to his phone – and he wasn’t very social either. But somehow, he was one of the most popular guys around here. And that was before the whole ordeal with Google took place over the summer. "Why don't I see that around campus?"

Perhaps he was on the receiving end of one rumor spreading like wildfire. I once heard a story about this non-attractive, awkwardly-social guy who got laid more than all his friends together at the end of his school career because one of his friends told a girl he had a big dick. Maybe that’s why Stuart Twombly had such a success with the ladies. Although I had to admit, he was gorgeous.

"Dude, seriously? He's in my class - English I believe." My eyes rake over Twombly's form, wandering from his brown hair covered by a beanie along his prominent jawline, down his upper body until it's hidden by the round table he occupies. Maybe gorgeous had been an understatement. I wasn’t one for glasses, but it made him seem more attractive – I can’t explain it.

"Who is he?" Sarina takes a sip of her drink without taking her eyes off the handsome young male. Needless to say, I could appreciate beauty when I encountered it. And although I had no idea what it was, Stuart had it.

"You know him. Or at least his reputation," I start off, waiting for the gears in Sarina's head to click into the right order, but continuing as soon as she throws me a confused glance. "Stuart Twombly. First of all, he's the guy that won that job at Google over the summer.” I mumble, rethinking about the buzz that seemed to float around campus when the end of the summer rolled around. He had been the underdog, but still gotten the one thing he dreamed about since he was a little kid. I was glad he had let his eyes wander up from his phone once in a while nowadays.

“It catapulted him into like a university-super stardom; but I do have to give it to him – he’s probably one of the best in his business, especially for such a young age.” I continue on, locking gazes with my best friend; my lips are pursed as I watch Sarina’s features conflict. “Have you spoken to him before then?”

An immediate shake of my head follows. “No, not that I’m aware of. But – “ I shrug my shoulders, not knowing how to answer her question. Instead, I continue on.

“Secondly, he is the guy from Melissa. And that guy from Britt. Oh, remember that rumor about a threesome in which Julie and Steph were involved? Also, him." I start listing off all the conquests of Stuart Twombly that I was familiar with, although I'm certain there were many more stories added to his repertoire over the short years he’s roamed this campus.

"I can see the appeal though. Seemingly, she's next." I point to the lanky girl openly flirting with the brunette, his lips set into a cocky smirk as he strokes her arm. A chuckle slips from Sarina's lips, her head snapping to the barista as he slides my drink my way. "Finally,” I mumble underneath my breath, “… thanks." I curtly smile, turning on my heel to add sugar and milk.

"I'll bet you twenty they leave here together." I mumble, not taking my gaze off my paper cup, struggling with the lid. "Mhm?" Apparently, Sarina's attention was once more, directed elsewhere, and I lift my head long enough to nod in Twombly's direction. "Them."

"Ah, nah Y/N. You're always right about this shit. I'll pass." Sarina laughs, and I chuckle along, adding the tiniest bit of milk before grasping to the sugar dispenser. We stay quiet as I gently tap my pointer finger on the glass, watching the sugar flutter from its container and into my cup.

"So, are you going to go for him?" Sarina questions, her attention back on the barista who is still busying himself by making drinks, the smallest shakes of my head following straight after. If he handled his women the way he handle my coffee just now … "Nope. I don't fuck where I eat. Learned that the hard way." I stick my tongue out at my best friend, trying to contain the boisterous laughter that wants to slip me, refraining from drawing attention to myself.

"I don't want to know..." Sarina shakes her head jokingly, taking a few steps towards the exit as I recap my paper cup. Our gazes land on the large hand of Stuart Twombly resting on the lanky girl's back, guiding her outside the small cafe. My head motions to the action taking place. "Ha! Told you so, didn't I?" I hum in satisfaction, pointing at the disappearing bodies before we make our own exit.

The cold air nips at my skin, my head snuggling further into my thick scarf thrown haphazardly around my neck. “You’re always right about this. Do you have a sixth sense about sex?” I snort loudly, almost spitting out my coffee at my best friend’s words.

“That sounds like such a useful skill to have.” I sarcastically remark, rolling my eyes as I bring my cup to my lips. The weather was slowly becoming colder, chilling our skin as a clear indication that summer had passed, and another year was awaiting us just around the corner.

We walk in peace, occasionally sipping from our hot beverages as we stroll back toward campus. I know Sarina is mauling over something, but I'm not going to pry her for her thoughts. Eventually, she'll share them anyway.

Silence overcomes us, draped over our conversation like a blanket – but it never got awkward. Sarina scrapes her throat, gathering my attention briskly.

"Remember my friend Daryl?" She starts off, a hum leaving my lips to acknowledge her words and answering the question all together in one go. "I think she fucked him. From what I recall, she couldn't remember much though." Her head turns toward me as we turn the corner, our house - dorm, whatever you want to call it - slowly creeping closer.

"That bad, or that drunk?" I laugh, throwing my empty cup in the trash bin we encounter along the way, changing up the pace as I start walking backwards, eyes glued on a grinning Sarina.

"That drunk." Another chuckle slips my lips. I wouldn’t have guessed it any other way.

"Of course."

This time, the silence doesn’t dwindle down, Sarina quick to start up conversation again as I fall into step beside her once again.

"Are you excited for this year?" Sarina asks again as we walk up the driveway of our humble home - which we share with a couple others - stopping right in front of the front door. "As excited as you can be to resume school, Sar. Yeah. I guess I am." I'm nonchalant in my words, but I do am pretty ecstatic to start. Our third and final year rolled around, we've got a good set of friends - and roommates - and tomorrow night, we'd get the chance to meet the new people that would take the leaving friends' places. For what it was worth, this year could only be the prime of our lives.

"I'm nervous. After this, everything's changing." She pushes the door open, revealing the busy, working bees of our home. Getting decorations in order, preparing snacks, some yelling at others about god knows what. "Maybe worry about that shit later, Sar. We still got to make it through a whole year before we're there." I laugh, shaking my head as I climb the stairs, toward the confines of my bedroom and away from the chaos.

“You just wait. Sometime in the next months, realization will strike you. And you’ll be shit scared about all that’s changing around you.” Sarina threatens me, and I giggle as I disappear upstairs, leaving her behind at the end of the stairs.

If you want to be tagged, please shoot me an ask!

Forever tags @ssweet-empowerment @fuckwhateverfuck @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname @behind-my-hazeleyes27 @itsbilescallmebiles @7e6205 @daddyxraeken @lovelynerdytraveler @redstringlovers

Stuart tag @xoitsjustmexo

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[okyio-archive]

hey guys !! im so sorry for being absent for so long :+( !! it’s been a crazy couple of days and i really needed to recover after everything that has been happening. again i just want to say thank you for everyone who has been so patient with me. i’m going to clear these anon msgs + i’ll respond to all my private msgs&discord chats + check out what i’ve missed once i wake up tomorrow. i love you guys sm for showing love + support. i wish you a happy thursday :+)

sims related

Would u ever do an editing tutorial? like how u draw little doodles and stuff like that! If it's not too much fo a hassle. love you SO MUCH!! <3

hey nonny :+) please check the faq next time !! I’ve answered how i drew the little doodles there but for a full blown tutorial i’ve already mentioned that i’ll do one once i have more free time :+) !! thanks for the support love !!

What are your favorite brushes for edits?

i recently found one right over here :+) and i’ve been experimenting w/ em !! tbh i dont have a fav cause im always trying out new brushes out + seeing which ones i like !!! so im sorry if that doesn’t answer your question asjkdhf

hi!!! hope you're having a good day!! is it okay to use the sims from your sim dump in a story as long as you get credit? if not i totally understand!

thanks nonny for asking :+) !! yeah definitely !! you can do whatever you like w/ them !! i would love to see so feel free to @ me :’+) have fun and tysm for using my sims :’+)!!

personal questions

Can i be your friend?

ofc nonny :+) !! ill prob reply slow af but i promise you that i would love to make friends :+) so hmu whenever you feel comfortable !!

How do you deal with perfectionism? Or what ever that word is????

honestly, tk wrote a perfect post outlining what she does and it helped me out a lot as well !! so check her post out + hopefully it can help you a bit too :+) if you ever need someone to talk to, im here :’+)

would it be ok if I asked u for friendship advice?

ofc nonny :+) !!! just hmu off/on anon in my inbox or pm if you wish :+) im always willing to help as long as you’re a little patient w/ me since i reply quite late haha but im always here to listen + give my 2 cents :+)

I find it so hard to study, I get distracted so easily and sometimes it isn’t my phone :(

awh man nonny i know what you mean. i struggle w/ studying a lot and i’m a uni student haha. besides the typical tips you can find online, what i found is this app called forest (it’s on ios + android devices!!) to help me stay on task (whether it’s studying/chores). check out more information here. it’s been honestly helping me a lot + who doesn’t like plants??? 

I don't know who to tell this to and you seem really kind: I'm the pickiest eater I've ever met or heard of. It's just NO most food is disgusting it just makes me wanna barf. And everyone treats me like a 4-year-old child. Nothing cheers me up anymore. I think I have selective eating disorder and nobody understands :( People are being mean to me all the time because I don't like certain foods and maybe I AM just a 4-year-old child. I need help and comfort :( Because being a picky eater is hard.

awh nonny first thank you for telling me about that :’+) im really sorry if im replying this super late asldkjf. i honestly really appreciate that you opened up to me about it okay? i know this can be difficult since it’s smt so personal. i want to let you know right now that i’m always here for you + supporting you okay? i know it’s difficult when your surrounding group of people don’t understand / support. although i haven’t personally dealt with this, i would suggest finding a professional + see what their take on it? if it’s to the extent that certain food makes you barf, it’s def more than just “wow ur picky” yeuno? cause you physically can’t eat smt without barfing it all out. seek a professional when you’re more comfortable okay? you dont have to do it now but baby steps!! remember you’re not alone, im always here for you oaky nonny :+) every step of the way!! lmk + update me okay? i’m wishing you luck ily !!

my moms having her 4th child and like im really nervous abt it cause this is the first time im actually old enough to like remember it and take care of him and like im scared

!! nonny thank you for coming up to me + telling me about it - i honestly really appreciate it :’+) !! first of all: congrats !! i know things will definitely be different since there are responsibilities to deal w/ and added stress but remember !! to take it slow okay? it’s 100% okay to make mistakes. it’s 100% normal to feel overworked. there will prob be more little arguments here and there since everyone will be quite restless + more irritable but take it slowly + (literally) baby steps okay? if it gets too much for you, take a breather and come back to it. im sure your mom will understand if it gets too much for you. and besides - im here supporting and rooting for you too nonny :+) !! i honestly cant imagine taking care of another human being at this age either - heCk i can’t even take care of myself askdjhf but remember it’s a learning curve!! it’ll take awhile + there will be a lot of obstacles to huddle through but it’ll be rewarding okay? again, if u ever need someone to talk to, im always here :+) !! ily nonny!! stay strong

Hi! I'm really sorry to bother you rn, but I just really, REALLY miss my dog who passed away several years ago. She was like my sister... I related to her more than people & I could always rely on her for comfort. All I want to do is just hug her again, but I know I can't do that. I just can't move on. I love her so much. I'm sorry, but I need to tell this to someone, ANYONE, because it's really been keeping me down lately...(dog death anon cont.) I've been seeing a therapist since she's died, and I've been on several medicines which DO help, but only to a certain degree. I realize there's a certain part that I, myself, need to control (ie moving on). but like I said, it's hard. I haven't told anyone this, because I'm afraid of looking stupid for letting my dog's death get to me this much that it's required hospitalizations and such. I just want to see her again. (end)

!!!!! asdf you’re never a bother nonny !! dont ever thing that alright? i’m always here for you ready to listen no matter what (i’m just a super slow replier so i apologize for that askdhf). but first thank you for coming to me + telling me about your personal problems - i honestly appreciate sm. i’m honestly so sorry nonny... i can relate to some extent because i got my dog when i was in gr 7 and he was my only friend who i can go to to feel love + comfort up since i’ve been bullied since elementary school & never really had friends. i can’t imagine what you’re going through .. i’m honestly so sorry. don’t think that you’re stupid at all okay? i’m the last person on the earth to ever think you are. i’m glad you’re seeking a therapist right now !! however, i 100% understand if it’s difficult to move on - cause it is!! my grandpa past away 10 years ago and he was one of my best friends and he was really the only “father figure-like” role model i look up to. till this day my heart aches thinking about my grandfather and how much i miss him. similarly, i would definitely feel the exact same way w/ my dog if he passed away because i treasure him sm. so don’t be too hard on yourself about moving on. i know it’s easier said than done but different people vary on how long they mourn for. some can be 100% okay in a couple months while others takes years - and that’s 100% okay! why? because we’re human. there’s no need to rush in “moving on” - take it in your own pace. i know the pressure / stigma of others thinking you’re “weird/stupid” for being like this state further creates anxiety/stress in “forcing” yourself to rapidly wanting to move on. however, i urge to try your best to ignore what others might think + focus on yourself to the best of your abilities. perhaps distract yourself in finding a new hobby / doing smt that you love or smt new. it takes time to recover - no matter how long you take, no one’s rushing you oke :+)? ill be here every step of the way if u ever need me. it’s okay to have those days where you tried so hard but u end up at point A because after you go through that hurdle, you’ll be closer to your goal. take as long as you need - baby steps nonny :+) i’m here rooting for you oke? i love you so much. you’re a strong sweetheart and i know you can do it. 

[texanredrose]

Blood Bond (HfH P1:3)

Ruby sighed, flipping through the pages of the journal, though she couldn’t claim to be absorbing even one word of it. The motel room ceiling fan turned slowly, creaking every now and again, providing the only other noise in the room. Finally, it appeared Weiss had enough.

“I’m going outside,” she said, sitting up and getting off the bed, heading for the door. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“It’s only been two days.” Knowing better than to let the angel wander off on her own, Ruby got up and followed, closing the door as they went out into the parking lot. “Sometimes, it’s like this.”

“Sitting around, waiting?” Weiss threw her arms wide. “What are we even waiting for? We’ve searched every newspaper and there’s no mysterious deaths or sudden changes in behavior or luck, nothing to indicate something supernatural going on at all.”

“Dad sent us here.”

She opened her mouth and then immediately clicked it closed, not wanting to touch the subject of the sisters’ absent father. Yang had already gone through the whole process of chewing the angel out after one thoughtless comment and trying to keep the two from yelling at each other had nearly ran Ruby ragged in the few short days they’d been travelling together. At this point, she’d lost count of who started the little spats between the two, but she ended up being the one putting a stop to them more often than not.

“I was under the impression that we came out here for some sort of message. Not for a job to hopefully show up,” Weiss eventually said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just hate the waiting.”

“Yang, too.”

“Yes, but she has a car.” With a sigh, Ruby turned to head back into the motel room until something caught her eye, leaning up against a tree at the edge of the parking lot. Brows furrowed, she started towards it, tilting her head. It appeared to be a bow of some sort- the weapon kind, hewn from wood with decorative markings along the curve. “Where are you going?”

“Look at this.” She knelt down, looking around and finding the motel just as empty as when they’d pulled up two days ago. Besides that, the thing looked old, as if it’d been left out in the weather for far too long. Moss had even started growing on part of it, and she brushed it off with ease before picking it up. “This thing must be ancient.”

“I’ve seen those markings before.” The angel’s brows pulled together as she accepted it when Ruby handed it to her. “It’s... been centuries, but I’m quite certain these are from a tribe that used to occupy this area.”

“You mean from before Vale was unified as a kingdom? Really?” She accepted the bow back, examining the string- which remained remarkably intact despite the age, having yellowed long ago. “What’s it doing out here?”

The roar of Yang’s engine as she pulled into the parking lot registered dimly but only truly earned her attention when the squeal of brakes being slammed on made her head snap up, in time to catch her sister practically jumping out of the driver’s seat.

“What are you two doing!” Her hands reached up, burying in blonde locks as a mix of frustration and panic came over her expression.

“We found a bow-”

“Cursed objects one-oh-one, Rubes! If it looks ancient and out of place, it’s probably cursed!” She jabbed a finger at the thing in her hands. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it!”

“I-” She glanced down at the bow. “I knew that. But it’s not cursed! Right, Weiss?”

“Of course it’s not cursed.” The angel set her hands on her hips and scowled. “If there was anything malicious about the thing, I would’ve felt it.”

“Oh, yeah, like you can fly, right?”

“Must you throw that in my face every time? I’m getting stronger!”

“Yang!” Ruby held it up, pointing at it to emphasize her point. “It’s just a bow, probably one of those novelty knock offs from that ‘authentic’ shop up the street and left out in the rain. There’s nothing cursed about it.” She waved it around. “See? Nothing’s happening.”

“Okay, first off, not every curse is instant. Secondly, we’ve got work to do, so stop playing with it anyway!” She jerked a thumb towards Bumblebee. “We might actually have a job.”

“Oh thank the Lord,” Weiss said, heading towards the car immediately. “Another demon?”

“No, probably not.” Yang sighed and drug a hand down her face. “Way more annoying, if the info’s right.”

“More annoying?” Ruby tilted her head while going to join the others, having dropped the bow beneath the tree. “What’s going on?”

“Alright, pop quiz time, for both of you.” They all climbed into the Camero, pulling out of the parking lot. “Local bar got roughed up by a group of leather wearing assholes with attitude problems. None of them are locals and no one knows where they came from. Sound familiar?”

She hummed, mentally pouring over the information she’d studied in the journals while the angel put forth her own guess.

“Sounds like mortals.” She scoffed. “Are we community police now as well?”

Ruby snapped her fingers. “Vampires!”

“Excuse you.”

“Vampires- remember how when we came into town, they mentioned the local cattle auction was canceled?” She turned in her seat to look back at Weiss. “Vampires operate in groups, they’ll usually use cattle to supplement their thirst for blood, especially when they have newly turned vampires in a low population area. It draws less attention. They wear leather to sorta explain away why they smell like cows. Uh, they’re also hyper aggressive, which would explain trashing the bar.”

“Good!” Yang nodded with a smile. “You pass, Sis. That’s what I’m thinkin’. Go ahead and bring up missing persons reports from this area of Vale; sounds like they have to have at least one newbie to account for the cattle kills.”

With a nod, Ruby pulled out her scroll and started doing the requisite research.

“How on Remnant did you father guess that they’d come this way?”

“Probably the auction- large amount of cattle waiting to be shipped off.” The blonde shrugged. “Would definitely be a draw for a batch of vamps looking for easy food.”

“Uh oh.” Silver eyes darted over to her sister, a frown curling her lips.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“I’ve got at least twenty people going missing in a hundred mile radius of this town. Majority are young and fit- and these are only the ones reported. Some are as recent as yesterday; they’re disappearing at almost one a day.”

“That... sounds like an abnormally large number.” Weiss leaned forward from the backseat, peeking over Ruby’s shoulder. “Vampires were nearly wiped out almost two centuries ago by hunters- I remember watching that bloodbath from Heaven. Since then, they’ve only survived by remaining in small numbers, correct?”

“Oh, you’re reading the journals, too? That’s good.” Yang pulled a face, equal parts surprised and impressed. “I mean, yeah, hunters have banded together to hunt vampires at least once every twenty years or so, and the last one hardly turned any up.” She glanced at both of them. “Honestly? If there are twenty new vampires, I’ve never seen or heard of a group that large in almost a hundred years. Dad and I hunted two a few years ago, and they seemed pretty convinced that they were the last of their kind. Kept going on and on about how we were going to make them extinct.”

From the silence that followed, Ruby stopped reading through the various missing persons reports so she could be prepared for the impending argument.

“Alright.” The frustration in the angel’s voice made her take a surreptitious breath. “Humor me. Why are vampires hunted so vigorously by mortals?” Weiss settled back. “Because, frankly, I don’t see much difference between them and any other predator out there, and that’s including mortals.”

Much to her surprise, Yang didn’t immediately shoot back a smartass response, instead humming. “Well, for one thing, they like to snack on humans and Faunus. That wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t insist on draining their food source entirely, so the whole ‘killing people’ thing is a mark against them.” She sighed. “On top of that, they’re immortal, so there’s a direct correlation between how many vampires there are and how much blood they need to survive, and it skews a helluva lot higher for each vampire that’s around.” Then a shrug. “But, really, I think the part that pisses us off most is that they have a complete disdain for what they used to be and usually express that by making mortals’ lives hell even when they aren’t outright killing them. Take for example the bar from last night.” She looked up at the rearview mirror. “So, really, you’re right. They can be just as cruel as people, and people can be crazy as hell to begin with, but vamps don’t learn and they can’t die of stupid near as often as a human or Faunus. Like, uh, take a poacher for example. Yeah, not much difference between them and poachers- could pretty easily not be dicks but choose to be anyway. Problem is, a poacher can get gored by a rhino. Unless you behead a vampire, there’s no stopping them, and most people think you’re supposed to stake the bastards.” 

“And why is that?”

“Oh, I actually have a theory about that!” Ruby turned in her seat, relieved that this time the conversation didn’t immediately devolve into an argument. “I’ve been reading a lot of the vampire lore and public perception of vampires started shifting right around the time the first purge happened. I think that there were enough vampires in higher society positions who managed to hide and used their influence to basically rewrite their own lore, make it easier for them to survive in the coming decades by making the things that could kill them more scarce.” She wiggled the scroll in her hand. “Nowadays, everyone thinks a clove of garlic and a wooden stake is enough to fight a Vampire, and no one thinks ‘behead them’ at all. That’s attributed to zombies.”

“Which, interestingly enough, those are the bastards you have to stake,” Yang said with a chuckle, glancing at the passenger seat. “I’m impressed, Rubes. That theory sounds pretty solid to me.” She paused, seeming to fight with herself for a moment before continuing. “Do we really seem like animals to you angels?”

Crap.

“It’s not an accurate comparison, I’d say,” Weiss replied, her voice a touch pensive. “But I spent so long watching wars and massacres, some of which perpetrated in God’s name. I liked to convince myself it was demons at work but sometimes... not even I could explain the cruelty of mortals.”

“Like I said.” Yang shook her head. “People are crazy.”

Yang pushed through the door of the bar, holding it open long enough for Ruby and Weiss to file in behind her. Immediately, she noticed how every set of eyes in the room snapped to them, tension rising quicker than a river during a flood.

“Sorry,” she said, offering her characteristic smirk. “We’re not the strippers you ordered. Didn’t mean to disappoint.”

“Very funny.” The bartender groused, still far too tense. “What can I get you stranger?”

“Not thirsty, but you might have what I’m looking for anyway.” She pulled out a twenty lien card, sauntering over to the bar and tapping the card against the wood. “Some people just passed through. Rough customers, troublemakers, probably were way too loud- ring any bells?”

He regarded her for a moment, the flash of disgust that washed over his expression far too telling. Then he took the lien from her and nodded. “Yeah. They were here last night.” His lips curled into a sour frown. “Friends of yours?”

“Hardly,” she replied, the jovial lilt of her voice and expression dying instantly. “I own a night club a few towns over. Those bastards trashed my place while I was handling some business elsewhere. Since I’m shut down for repairs, I thought I might... negotiate their payment plan for my reimbursement.”

“Oh yeah? If you can get double for me, I’d appreciate it.” He jerked his head towards the corner of the room, where a few broken tables and chairs were stacked up on a shattered pool table. “They also broke two of my bouncers’ arms when we tried throwing them out. I don’t know who fed those assholes their wheaties but I’d like to give that person a punch in the face.”

“I hear ya.” She shook her head. “Can’t have anything nice nowadays without some jackass coming around to fuck everything up.” Yang scratched at her jaw, glancing behind her and noting that Weiss had disappeared against while Ruby seemed to be only half paying attention, silver eyes discreetly glued off to the side. She didn’t seem tense, though, so that could only be a good sign. “Any idea which way they went?”

“Nah, they didn’t arrive in a car.” The bartender threw his arms out wide. “They just showed up, walked in off the street, and went off into the night once they were done making my life hell.”

Yang’s brows furrowed. While the open field across the street wouldn’t make getting to or from the place difficult, there remained the issue of where the nest had to be for them to not bother with any form of transport. If their net was being cast a hundred miles out, that seemed like much too far for them to have the nest this close.

“How many showed up here? I had, uh, I think it was five-”

“Yeah, five guys and two gals, six of ‘em with bad attitudes.” His brow furrowed, pressing his lips together for a moment. “I’m not sure about the gals- or one of ‘em, anyway. She didn’t look like she wanted anything to do with the others but didn’t have much choice. When you go... collect your dues, try to give her a head start runnin’. I wouldn’t be surprised if those assholes had plucked her off the street; ‘s how Billy got his arm broke, trying to get between ‘em and her.” He reached under the bar and produced a small stack of lien, at least half a grand’s worth. “And she slipped this to Nancy before they left. Not enough, but a sight better than what I coulda had.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. I mean, people make mistakes.” Dissent in the ranks it sounded like; they could probably use that to their advantage. “Oh, uh, one more thing.” She leaned against the bar, cocking her head to the side. “Did they bring in anything with ‘em?”

“Yeah, wine bottles.” He shrugged. “Had to be alcohol; they just got worse the more they drank, the louts.” Putting his hands up, the man shook his head. “Honestly, I only let ‘em bring it in because I thought it would keep ‘em from causing a scene. Hindsight is twenty, twenty, I guess.”

“I hear ya on that.” Another glance behind her confirmed that Weiss had returned which provided enough of a cue. “If I manage to find the bastards, I’ll be sure to... pass along your displeasure with them.”

“Thanks.”

Turning around, Yang lead the way back out of the bar, taking the steps quickly and turning to follow the sidewalk rather than heading straight towards Bumblebee.

“We have a shadow,” Weiss said, more than juiced up enough to essentially be their unseen guardian. “She was watching you particularly closely the entire time.”

“Is she flinching?”

“No.”

“Then probably not a vampire,” Ruby said as they turned the corner, ducking down the narrow alley between the bar and the general store beside it. “But-”

“But, she could be one of the older ones.” Yang frowned, reaching into her jacket and pulling out a silver knife already drenched in dead man’s blood. It wasn’t exactly ‘fresh’ but she figured that would be better rather than worse. “Ruby, keep going around back. Weiss, stay with her, and if you can give me a little cloaking, I’d appreciate it.”

They took the next turn to head behind the bar and she immediately stopped and pressed against the wall. In broad daylight, they had about equal footing, because if their shadow was a vampire, she wouldn’t be at full strength with the sun overhead. All Yang had to do was make sure no one saw them, which Weiss should be able to help with, but that was banking on a little bit much in her opinion. They had converted a whole damn gallon to holy water to ensure the angel had enough juice.

The scuff of boots hurrying toward the corner made her tense and, at the first sight of the person coming around, she sprang into action, grabbing onto a thin wrist and yanking, using her heavier weight to force their shadow against the wall, the knife held against her throat.

“Wait, wait wait wait, please!” Wide amber eyes held far too much fear for any immortal faced with a woman and a knife but Yang didn’t let up, expression pinched into a severe scowl.

“Why are you following us?”

“I’m sorry, please, don’t kill me-”

“Why are you following us?”

“Because I’m looking for them too!” Black feline ears twitched, laying down and to the side, a position that lent credence to the pleading in her voice, and thick raven hair cascaded over her shoulders, covering some of the threadbare parts of a jean jacket that had seen better days. “The group- they kidnapped my friend.”

Yang narrowed her eyes, absently noting that Ruby and Weiss had returned. “Lift your upper lip.”

No startled question followed and that made her suspicions rise because she could see in the Faunus’ eyes that she recognized what Yang was looking for with that request. “Please-”

“Do it.” She tilted the knife a bit closer, quite nearly biting into the Faunus’ neck.

“Okay!” Slowly, she raised a hand. “Okay, I’ll do it.” She reached up, grabbing her upper lip and lifting it, showing off perfectly healthy gums with no holes. “See? Not one o’ ‘em.”

With a nod, Yang pulled back the knife and leaned away, but her forearm firmly against the Faunus’ chest, pinning her in place. The Faunus seemed too genuinely terrified to be a hunter but she seemed to know enough about vampires to understand what she was looking for with that request. Something about the whole situation made her stomach turn. “What’s your name?”

“Blake. Blake Belladonna.”

“Okay, Blake.” She released the pressure entirely and put the knife back inside her jacket. “Go home. Now.”

“I can’t-”

“That really wasn’t a request.”

“Those monsters kidnapped my best friend!” Blake pressed her lips into a thin line, obviously becoming angrier now that she wasn’t scared out of her wits with a knife against her throat. “I’m not just leaving!”

“Monsters?” Ruby chimed in, stepping up and crossing her arms over her chest. “What- what makes you call them that? I mean, they’re awful people, but monsters?”

“‘Awful people’ won’t leave tips and give unsolicited advice that turns out to be wrong.” She lifted an arm, sweeping it wide out to indicate an unspecified direction. “Awful people don’t rip a cow apart with their bare hands and- and-”

“You saw them feed,” Yang said, muttering a curse under her breath and passing a hand over her face. “Shit.”

“Then- then you know.” Blake’s shoulders fell, a bit of fear creeping back into her voice. “You know those monsters are...”

Ruby stepped up, laying a comforting hand on the Faunus’ shoulder. “They’re vampires, Blake.”

“Oh God...” She put a hand to her head, running her fingers through her hair. “Ilia... no...”

Yang felt for her, she did. It had to be awful knowing someone you cared about wasn’t killed but rather turned into an absolute monster. But no amount of sympathy would undo that curse and, now that they had confirmation, they had a lot of work to do to find the nest.

“Look, Blake. I’m sorry about your friend.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But there’s nothing you can do. Just go home.”

“You don’t understand.” Blake shook her head. “I- I don’t have anywhere to go back to; it’s only been Ilia and I since...” She bit her lip and looked away, tears gathering in amber eyes. “I can’t just leave her.”

“There’s nothing more you can do,” Ruby said, looking to her sister for some idea how to comfort the Faunus. 

Honestly, Yang didn’t do this part. Maybe it was her Dad’s policy rubbing off on her but he always warned against getting too much into the personal lives of those affected by the things they hunted. It always proved to be messy and they really couldn’t afford to let pity overcome their senses; the things they hunted were evil, pure and simple. Things didn’t get complicated that way.

Much to her surprise, it was Weiss who stepped forward, though she didn’t initiate contact the way Ruby had. Instead, she spoke softly. “I understand what it’s like, the fear of facing the world alone. But you need to trust us. There’s truly nothing more you can do.”

Amber eyes flitted between the three of them before tears began to fall, head hanging forward as she listlessly nodded. “Okay.”

Shoving her hands in her pockets, the Faunus turned away, heading back towards the parking lot. Yang felt bad for her- really, she did- but Blake would only get herself hurt trying to track down the vampires. It was a wonder she hadn’t been found out already, if she’d been close enough to watch them feed.

“So... this isn’t good, is it?” Ruby sighed, running a hand through her hair. “This does kinda confirm the theory that all the people who’ve been abducted recently are being turned.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Yang watched as the Faunus disappeared past the cars before coming back around the corner; better to talk away from prying eyes before they got to the hard part. “Did you find anything out while we were in there, Weiss?”

“Nothing too useful, unfortunately.” The angel shrugged. “I found a bottle or two, definitely filled with blood and not wine, but given the level of destruction, I doubt anyone will notice before throwing it all out. I didn’t find anything identifiable, though- no helpful map with directions to the nest.”

“Bummer.” Well, they couldn’t have gone too far; given the established timeline, any newly turned vamps wouldn’t be trusted on their own for another month at least, so they likely hadn’t been brought out with the others last night. Small miracle meant they should only be fighting a handful rather than dozens. “Then we start with large abandoned structures in the area and whittle it down from there.” She turned, motioning for them to follow her back to Bumblebee. “I’m willing to bet last night was a celebration. Whatever these bastards are doing, last night was some sort of milestone.”

Before they’d hit the parking lot, Ruby had her scroll flicked open, a sigh escaping her lips. “I think you’re right. No one reported missing last night.”

“Which means either someone’s not filing their paperwork or those bastards from last night are taking a break. Either way, bad news.” They all got into the Camero and she started it up, trying to run through what else they could use to narrow down the criteria. “Try looking for barns or... I dunno... grain silos?”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but we’re in the breadbasket of Vale; I’m quite certain there’s more of those than people in some areas,” Weiss said, tapping a finger against Ruby’s seat. “Perhaps if I went and checked-”

“How far can you go before you wear yourself out?” She watched in the rearview as the angel looked away, chagrined by the reminder that she didn’t have near the strength she used to, even with a surplus of energy. “Let’s see if we can find a few good places to start and go from there. Okay?”

Throwing the gear into reverse, Yang pulled out of the spot and shifted to drive, brows furrowing as she glanced at the side mirror. There, she could see Blake, watching them leave.

Some people just didn’t know when to quit.

Ruby ran a hand through her hair, putting her scroll down. Hours of searching physical maps and property listings and they had three dozen possible locations while the sun neared the horizon, orange streaking across the sky. Best case scenario, tonight the vampires would rest; worst case, they would unleash almost two dozen brand new vampires, all of which would be hungrier and thirsty than a starving man walking through a desert. 

Absently, she became aware of a presence by her elbow. “Hey, Weiss. Find anything?”

“No,” the angel replied, plopping down in the seat beside her and slumping against the table. Although Yang had made the point earlier, they were forced to do things the old fashioned way to some extent, sending Weiss out to check the locations they’d identified. “But I only got through the first half.”

Sliding over a bottle of holy water Yang had just finished blessing, the young woman ran a hand over her face. “This is hopeless.”

“No, we just need to think. There’s something we’re missing,” her sister said, tossing her own scroll down and standing up, cracking her back. “Let’s take a step back and-” The light thud of wood hitting wood brought her gaze towards the door, brows furrowing as a curse left Yang’s lips. “Fuck, Ruby, why’d you bring this thing inside?”

“I... didn’t?” She looked over at Weiss, who seemed equally perplexed in the brief break she took to stop chugging the holy water, assess the bow, and return to her previous task. “I left it outside.”

“I knew it, it is cursed!” The blonde walked over to where the bow had leaned up against the wall beside the door, bending down to scoop it up. “Damnit, I- wait.” 

Her eyes narrowed, glancing back at Ruby before reaching inside her jacket and drawing her shotgun, leaving the bow alone to put a handle on the doorknob. With a nod, she drew her own pistol, lightly pushing at Weiss’ shoulder to alert her to the potential danger lurking just outside the door.

With all of them ready, Yang quickly threw open the door and shoved the barrel of her shotgun into the face of whoever was unlucky enough to try testing them. For a moment, Ruby worried one of the vampires had braved the pre-dusk hours to come for them, but that concern was swept away as her sister’s shoulders slumped, the weapon falling down to her side as she passed a hand over her face.

“Get inside,” she said, sounding thoroughly annoyed. “Now.”

A moment later, a familiar figure ducked into the motel room, ears drooping slightly.

“Oh... hi, Blake.” Ruby glanced around the room, convinced they probably didn’t look any crazier or more dangerous now than when Yang had a knife pressed against the Faunus’ throat. “Uh... have a seat, I guess.”

“Thanks, Ruby,” she replied, glancing at the shotgun being tucked back into the blonde’s jacket and the table before easing herself down onto the bed.

Almost immediately, Yang frowned. “How do you know her name?”

“By digging deep enough.” The Faunus pulled out her own scroll and waved it. “Searching through almost a hundred aliases took the better part of the day, but every trail leads somewhere.”

Ruby raised a brow, looking over at her sister, who seemed even more annoyed now than before. “Well, I mean, it’s not really hard figuring out my name. I was a registered student at a major university less than a month ago-”

“Yeah, Beacon University, where you were studying Criminal Justice at your sister’s insistence until a spontaneous fire erupted in your apartment and killed your girlfriend,” Blake said, her ears laying back now out of frustration rather than intimidation. “Said sister being Yang Xiao Long, currently wanted in every kingdom on a slew of charges under various pseudonyms. Both of you were born on Patch and your father’s Taiyang Xiao Long, who also has a significant amount of warrants for his arrest- should I keep going?” Amber eyes flashed with a bit of pride and defiance. “I know what I’m doing, okay? If I want to find you, I will, and it seems to me you need my help if you’re going to find the people who took Ilia.”

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” Weiss turned around, leaning over the back of her chair to look at the Faunus. “You think you can track down these vampires?”

“I can at least try...” Blake tilted her head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. “Have we met before?”

“You know, I’d almost forgotten about that, Angel,” Yang said, chuckling slightly. “Her name’s Weiss. Go on, say hi to her.”

Confused, the Faunus complied. “Uh, hello, Weiss?”

“Hello, Blake, and Yang, you’re a terrible person.” The angel grumbled, turning back around to grab the bottle of holy water.

“See that’s just so very wrong of you to say. Blake, look at me.” Her sister made a motion towards the scroll in her hand. “You really think you can help us track down these vampires?”

“I’m certain.” She nodded, resolute. “I just need to know what to look for.”

“Well, a paper trail ain’t it-”

“You stopped by a strip club two months ago in West Pines.” The Faunus raised a brow at the light blush now dusting Yang’s cheeks. “I don’t track just paper.”

“Alright, fine, you can help us figure out where the bastards are.” She motioned towards the table. “But, real quick, if you know Ruby and me, who’s that over there?”

“Who’s- oh.” When amber eyes turned towards the table, Blake appeared surprised. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you over there. Have we met before?”

“You’re an ass, Yang.” Weiss grumbled, lowering her head until her forehead lightly thudded against the table. “An absolute. Ass.”

Her sister just laughed, leaving Ruby to roll her eyes and go over to Blake; the sun was almost on the horizon, and their chances of getting the drop on the vampires dwindled.

Before she had a chance to get down to the details, though, her sister sauntered over to the side of the bed and clapped a hand on her shoulder, speaking softly. “By the way, when we’re done with all this, you and I are going to have a serious talk about cursed objects and why you should never touch one.”

She would not be hearing the end of this any time soon.

Weiss watched as the last bit of sunlight faded from the sky, tucking another flask of holy water in her bolero and smoothing out her skirt. Much to their surprise, Blake had come through and identified a ramshackle barn out in the middle of nowhere, about ten miles from the bar and them. A short burst over there had given her enough of an impression to confirm that, yes indeed, the group of vampires they were looking for were holed up within, and that meant they had quite the task ahead of them. The heavy weight of a machete in her left hand confirmed as much.

“So you’re just going to- going to walk in there and start beheading them? Just like that?” Blake sat on the bed, looking between the sisters with clear horror splayed across her expression. “They’re people-”

“They’re vampires, and I get it that you probably buy all that new age crap, but lemme tell ya, they aren’t the sort you’re dying to invite into your bedroom, all sparkles and roses and immortal love.” Yang stopped packing her bag long enough to walk over to the bed, setting a hand on the Faunus’ shoulder. “Look, in all your digging, you probably figured out that what we- well, I, really, do borders on the realm of good, common sense. That’s because what I do is track down all the terrible things you’ve been told all your life aren’t real, and then I kill them, because they are terrible things.”

“Yang’s right.” Ruby swung her own machete a few times, alternating hands- ambidextrous, a useful skill for anyone in such a line of work. “Vampires are compelled by a hunger they can’t control. They will never pass up a meal and, to them, mortals- humans, Faunus- are the tastiest prey out there.”

“You’re wrong-”

“Blake,” she said, sighing heavily. “You have to accept this as fact. Your friend died the moment those monsters laid hands on her. You can’t save her now.” As the words left her mouth, she could see the splash of confusion, and her own vexation prompted her to cut off the argument before it began. “Yes, we’ve met before, you’ve asked me that twenty-six times since you stepped into the room, no, you won’t remember having done so in about five minutes or the next time you look away from me, yes, I’m sure, and no, it’s not going to stop. Please, realize that you’re out of your depth and you just need to trust us.”

“Getting a little pissy, aren’t ya, Angel?” Yang smirked and she quite nearly felt the inclination to snap back with something cutting but opted not to, knowing full well it would just escalate into another argument. She couldn’t be sure why she felt compelled to start arguments with the blonde, why gaining an edge in them made her feel victorious, but she could see the way it wore down Ruby to constantly be breaking them up. She just wished the elder sister could be a little less blind to it. “But she’s right, ya know. We are trying to help you, protect you, but we can’t work miracles. Ilia’s gone.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Blake replied.

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that, so, in advance, I’m sorry for this.” With motions almost too quick for the naked eye to catch, Yang reached for her belt and then lashed out, the metallic clink of handcuffs echoing in the room as one half encircled the Faunus’ wrist and the other clanked around the bed’s post. “But we really can’t have you running around playing a bit too literal a version of Devil’s Advocate.”

“The fuck-”

“This really is for the best.” Ruby gathered up the bags, conducting another sweep to ensure they weren’t leaving anything behind. “Room service will be by in the morning, so you won’t be left here too long. And we’ll call to make sure someone checks the room.”

“And, ya know, we’re not completely heartless.” Yang grabbed the remote for the television, clicking it on and surfing through the channels. “We’ll even leave you with some appropriate entertainment.” Landing on one that apparently had the express intention of depicting women in lewd situations, she tossed the remote to the other bed after turning the volume up an indecent degree. “There ya go, lots of nice, yelling ladies. Good luck being heard over that!”

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Feline ears laid back as she pulled against the cuffs, scowling at the sisters. “You’re not just going to leave me here like this!”

“Hey, you’ve got a hand free; spend your time wisely.” Yang grabbed her bag and hefted it onto her shoulder. “Take your mind off your troubles. And, uh, if you’re lucky, you’ll never see us again.” Lilac eyes bounced over to Weiss and she could practically hear the thought process behind her next words, another jibe at the angel’s inability to be perceived for long periods of time. Surprisingly, the words never came as the blonde instead turned towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s go clear the nest.”

Yang and Ruby left the room, closing the door behind them. Weiss could easily pop into the back seat and all she had to concern herself with was the bottle of holy water and the machete. So she waited until the sisters had started towards the car before approaching, laying a hand lightly on the Faunus’ shoulder and doing her best to ignore the sounds coming from the television.

“I understand this is hard for you but we are, genuinely, doing what’s best,” she said, hoping she could impart a little peace before they left to do the deed.

Amber eyes shining with tears looked up at her. “You’re telling me that giving up on my best friend is ‘what’s best’? Who even says that?” Blake’s eyes narrowed in anger. “What kind of angel are you?”

“The kind that has made mistakes before... and vowed not to let it happen again.” Weiss sighed, shaking her head. “If nothing else, take comfort that you saved many other lives today. I’m sure your friend can be proud of that.”

As she stepped away, preparing to join the others in Bumblebee, she heard the Faunus’ mumbled words. “It was supposed to be us against the world. We never thought we’d get in over our heads... why does she have to be the one to pay for that?”

Biting her tongue, the angel left and joined the sisters in the car, glancing back to the motel room one last time.

There existed the downside to being remembered, to having memories of others- the inevitable loss. Death came for all, save angels and demons, and even mortals had the opportunity to haunt, either in a figurative or literal sense. How tragic an existence, she mused, to make friends, to forge connections, only to lose them no matter how hard you fight to preserve them.

“Hey, you okay back there?” Yang glanced at her in the rearview while pulling out of the spot. “Got your head in the game?”

“Of course,” she replied, the irony occurring to her in that moment.

How tragic an existence indeed.

Ruby scrolled along the map she’d saved to her scroll, looking up quickly and back down again. “Pull off here.”

“Good spot?”

“If we don’t want to tip them off.” She nodded towards the bend in the road. “A mile that way is the nest. Any closer, they’ll hear us coming.”

“If they haven’t already,” Weiss said, tsking immediately after. “You’d think you’d pick a less conspicuous vehicle, given your line of work.”

“Look, I don’t get many bright spots on a given day, let me have my dream car,” Yang replied, a bit of a smile on her lips as she pulled onto the shoulder. “C’mon. We’ve still got a way to hoof it and only a sliver of a chance that those vamps haven’t high tailed it to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

They got out, heading to the trunk to grab the machetes and a crossbow, the bolts already well and truly coated in dead man’s blood. Arguably, one of the least savory things Ruby had done thus far, but an ultimate necessity. Plus a silver knife or two each- they would be fighting their way through a nest, so taking as many weapons as they could feasibly carry wasn’t exactly a bad idea.

But then Weiss’ head snapped up, peering down the road. “Someone’s coming.”

“Someone?” Yang peeked around the open trunk, a frown coming to her lips. “I think you underestimated that one just a tad.”

“How many?” Not waiting for an answer, Ruby inched her way around the other side and grimaced. It looked like the group that visited the bar, minus one of the women, and the whole lot looked in high spirits. Not a good sign.

“We can take ‘em,” her sister said, reaching up to close the trunk and slipping the machete under her jacket. “Let’s see if we can get the drop on ‘em. Don’t let them see your weapon until my signal.”

“Good evening, Ladies.” One of the men, with shaggy grey hair and a cocky smirk, called out to them, spreading his hands wide. “Car trouble?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Yang walked around the driver’s side, motioning towards Bumblebee. “Engine just died out on us. I don’t suppose any of you are mechanics?”

“Oh, we’ve got a lot of nifty skills.” He looked back at his compatriots and chuckled. “Name’s Mercury, by the way. Might as well get the formalities out of the way, right?”

“Well, Mercury, I’m-”

“Yang Xiao Long,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, I know who you are. You look just like your Dad, what with the blonde hair and the cocky smile and the jacket.” Mercury shook his head. “He, uh, did a bang up job destroying the nest of the asshole who turned me. Always meant to thank him for that, because if he hadn’t, well, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?” He took a few steps closer, the other vampires beginning to spread out, making a half circle around him. Cutting off all avenues of escape, or trying to anyway. “I’d still be waiting in the shadows for a cow to drop dead, or picking off some homeless guy once every year as a special meal, but now I’m big time! Got myself a nest of my own. And an army just waiting for my word.”

“An army?” Yang chuckled, scrubbing at her nose for a moment before pulling her machete free, as much of a signal as Ruby needed to slip a bolt into the crossbow and take aim. “And here I was hoping we could be subtle about this.”

“There’s nothing subtle about extinction,” Mercury replied, expression twisting into rage. “And it’s high time we take our rightful place at the top of the food chain. Bon appétit, bitch.”

With that, two of the vampires rushed forward while Ruby pulled the trigger, sending the poisoned bolt sailing through the air until it embedded deep within Mercury’s leg, just above the knee. He immediately dropped down, unable to join his compatriots as they took swings at Yang, who ducked and dodged while swinging her machete, able to slice across arms and chests but not quite hitting the neck. Still, the dead man’s blood coating the cutting edge of her blade did enough to make them stagger back, weakened. Another tried rushing towards Weiss, who effortlessly sidestepped the lunge and managed to land a hit along his backside as he passed. However, when he swung around and threw a punch, she somehow didn’t get out of the way quick enough, staggered slightly by the solid cross that landed on her jaw.

“Oh, of course it doesn’t work on you.” Weiss sounded equal parts annoyed and dryly amused as she regained her footing. “Just my luck.”

“Wait, what?” Ruby shuffled a few steps back while reloading the crossbow, taking careful aim and sending the next bolt flying into the forehead of the vampire closest to her. It still wouldn’t be the same as beheading the bastard but would buy her some much needed time; she didn’t quite have the upper body strength of her sister, so she’d probably need a swing or two to make it all the way through the neck. “You can’t pop in and out around these guys?”

“Apparently not,” the angel replied, being more careful this time and managing to nick the vampire’s throat, enough to make him clutch the wound and back up a few steps.

Yang, meanwhile, had already beheaded one of the vampires trying to bite her, and drove the point of her machete into the second’s throat, all the way through, and used that leverage to knock him off his feet. With a boot on his chest, she puled the blade free of flesh and then sliced, cutting his head off completely. “Well damn, Weiss, maybe you’re losing your mojo and becoming straight up mortal.”

“There are so very many things wrong with that statement.” With another bolt sent flying and embedding in the vampire���s shoulder, Weiss had both the opportunity and the advantage, taking care of him while Ruby turned her attention to the one she’d wounded earlier, two hacks making quick work of him. “There, that’s, what, four down, twenty to go?”

Ruby looked up, expecting some sort of gloating remark from Mercury and surprised when it didn’t come- doubly so when neither he nor the woman were anywhere around.

“Well, shit.” Her sister sighed, wiping off the blood on her jacket sleeve. “Guess he got away.”

“He couldn’t have gotten far.” She looked around, then up the road. “But the nest should be our priority.”

“Right.” Yang nodded. “Come on. We’ll get there quicker on foot.”

“How do you figure that one?” Weiss flicked her own machete, dislodging some but not all of the blood.

“Simple- we can follow the trail.” She motioned towards the blood leading back up the road. “Mercury was on and on about the nest he built; he went straight back there. Vampires are a proud batch of bastards.”

“Then, we’re walking into a trap.”

“Yep.” Yang popped the ‘p’ hard enough to convey just how very unimpressed she was with what lay ahead of them. Ruby loaded up another bolt and checked to be sure the machete still hung from her belt, looking over at her sister. “Ready when you are.”

“Well, at least the amount of surprises should be pretty low.” The angel started down the road. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” She nodded. “Let’s go.”

They stood before the rundown barn, enough lights on inside to prove it wasn’t entirely abandoned. In case someone couldn’t hear the commotion going on inside, anyway. Voices- so many voices- combined in whines and howls and pleas, some of which didn’t even sound human. The symphony of newly turned vampires fighting to acclimate to their new status, sensitive to the lights, driven mad by the sound of hearts beating, an unquenchable thirst just beginning to take root.

Yang shook her head. “This is gonna suck.”

Ruby couldn’t help but snort, trying not to laugh.

Weiss, however, seemed far less amused. “Was that a pun?”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised.” She shrugged. “You gotta have a sense of humor with gigs like this.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Well, they already know we’re coming. I say we walk in the front door and-”

“No!” She winced at how abruptly the objection left her lips but tried playing it off as best she could when her sister and the angel looked at her. “I mean... we don’t have to make it easy for them, right? Why not just go in the back?”

“Assuming there is a back, you mean?” Weiss rolled her eyes, then scanned over the barn. “You honestly think the element of surprise is even possible at this point?”

She shrugged. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

Biting her lip, she hoped beyond hope that it would be enough to win the fight. Thankfully, Yang seemed to see the sense in her plan, nodding.

“Yeah, there’s gotta be somewhere we can sneak in... but first, we’ll need a bit of a distraction.”

Weiss gave her a flat look. “... why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you even have blood?”

“I’d rather not find out, if we’re being perfectly frank!”

“We don’t need a distraction!” Ruby nodded towards the barn. “Mercury’s wounded and he’s pissed, we just killed over half his entourage, and all he’s left with are loud, upset, hungry newborn vampires just dying to bite anything, and that includes him. How about we just play this one by ear a little bit and see if he trips and falls on his own sword?”

“That’s banking on a lot of hope, Rubes.” Her sister raised a brow. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah...” She shrugged. “I got a feeling, is all. We can do this without putting Weiss at risk.”

“I’m already in favor of this plan.”

“She means ‘no more risk than either of us’ because we’re still walking into a nest in the dead of night.” Yang shook her head and sighed. “Alright, Sis, we’ll try it your way. But stay close and watch each other’s backs. Newborn vamps are strong and crazy from overstimulation; they really don’t like loud noises or brightness. You both grabbed flashlights, right?” They both produced theirs, Ruby slinging the crossbow since she wouldn’t have a free hand going forward. “Alright. Let’s sneak around.”

The three began picking their way around back, trying not to disturb the rusted farm equipment abandoned along with the barn.

She just hoped she was right.

Yang pressed up against the wooden wall, taking a firm grip on the rusted handle of a dilapidated back door and easing it open as quietly as possible. The racket within had calmed some and she could hear Mercury shouting at the others- he’d probably used his own blood to placate some of them, nevermind the dead man’s blood poisoning his veins. Well, better luck for them, she thought, if he insisted on doing half the work for them; weakened vamps were a good deal better to deal with than ‘healthy’ ones.

Looking back to Ruby and Weiss, she held up three fingers, hoping they would understand that the element of surprise probably wouldn’t be there’s for long. They’d have to move quick.

On a silent count of three, she pulled the door open and rushed in, machete raised and ready, but dropped down behind a stack of crates almost immediately, followed by the others. From a quick glance, no one had noticed their presence, so best to position themselves as best they could before the real bloodbath began.

“Are you ready? To feast on the live blood of those beneath us? To no longer be relegated to the shadows?” God, this dud was on a power trip and she had to fight not to call out how ridiculous he sounded. She probably should’ve known by how he slicked his hair to the side that he had a flair for the dramatic. “Tonight begins of our war of attrition!”

This dude just loved the sound of his own voice, didn’t he?

Looking to her sides, Yang nodded at Ruby and Weiss as they prepared to pop up and over the crates. With any luck, the newborns were still tied up or otherwise restrained- too dangerous to let them run amok- and they would only have to deal with Mercury and the other full fledged vamp.

“But first, I bring you a gift! Dinner time!”

Before they could make their move, the vampire they’d left unaccounted for reached over the crates and plunged a knife into her shoulder, pulled a curse from her lips as she yelled out. Ruby and Weiss reacted almost immediately, swinging opposite ways so their machetes clanged when they met in the middle and the vampire’s head all but fell into Yang’s lap, drenching her in putrid blood. Thankfully- if an upside could be found- none of it landed on her shoulder, as she instinctively reached up and pulled the knife out, fresh blood beginning to soak through her shirt.

But it didn’t seem like Mercury was too concerned about losing yet another of his ilk, busying himself with something on the other side of the barn.

“Okay, plan B, I’m the distraction,” she said, getting to her feet and dropping the flashlight, her right arm all but useless thanks to the knife wound. At a glance, she could tell this whole fight would be against the clock, iron wrought cages keeping little groups of newly turned vampires separated, maybe three or four a pop, and a lot of people hadn’t been doing their paperwork, since at least six were filled with four or five each. “You two, focus on Mercury. Keep as many in their cages as possible.”

She probably wouldn’t get a shot at the bastard considering he’d already unlocked one door, throwing it wide open. On the one hand, she was probably lucky- the cage only contained three vampires- but on the other hand, they were coordinated, not howling and chomping at the bit like the others now that fresh blood hung in the air. They were probably a few weeks into their transformation, able to control some instincts but still hyped up on their own life blood and dying for the chance to test their new limits.

“Well... fuck,” she said, tightening the grip on her machete and widening her stance. “I am not a fucking buffet.”

“Oh.” Mercury laughed, shaking his head. “Yes, you are.”

From where she stood, she could see the gleaming fangs lining the mouths of the new vamps, how their eyes focused on her alone and allowed Ruby and Weiss to move around to flank them. Three on one didn’t sound like odds she’d like on a good day, much less with an injured arm, but Yang steeled her nerves and made a ‘come hither’ motion with right.

The first one charged, blinded by his hunger, which made it easy for Weiss to merely catch him around his neck with the machetes, no swinging required. The other two were more cautious first jumping up before advancing, practically running on the tops of the cages to get around Ruby and Weiss.

Well, two on one was better than three, and she wasn’t out of the fight just yet. She jumped back as they landed in front of her- a guy and a gal, the former built like a brick shithouse and the latter more slender, which meant she had little chance of relying on speed or strength to carry her through.

“Come on, now,” she said, trying to buy herself a little time as Ruby and Weiss tried to deal with Mercury. “This really isn’t something to lose your head over, is it?”

Apparently, vampires didn’t possess senses of humor, the one rushing at her while the other hung back and bided her time. Meanwhile, Weiss got thrown back by Mercury, who seemed to be holding his own despite the dead man’s blood, blocking Ruby’s attempted to behead him with a knife of his own. Probably would be a comically mismatched fight if it weren’t for his supernatural strength, but she didn’t have the luxury of worrying after Ruby as the vampires continued coming after her.

The guy tried punching her, tried grabbing her, even tried sweeping her legs from beneath her, and she just barely managed to survive each and every attack, dancing just out of his range. Then, an opportunity opened up, and she swung the machete, cleaving almost all the way through on the first go even with her off hand. The second strike finished the work of the first... but at the price of leaving herself wide open on the left, an opportunity the last of the newborns released didn’t waste in exploiting.

As Yang was taken to the ground, a pained cry leaving her lips, she could hear a similar shout from Ruby and then Weiss, as well as the clang and clatter of another cage door bursting open. Unfortunately, she wasn’t in much of a position to react, too busy throwing her left arm up and across the throat of the vampire now poised over her, gleaming fangs inches from biting into her face. Grey eyes tinted orange as her skin began to turn red, splotches of yellow breaking up the color- once a Faunus of some sort, had to be, not that she was in much of a position to ask or care. Now, the vampire had one intention, and that was turning her into a snack.

She reached blindly with her right hand, trying to grab the handle of her machete, wherever it had dropped, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out where it’d gone and so much as turning her head away seemed to be a mistake in the making, every little shift meaning the difference between life and death. She tried kicking back with her feet, creating some much needed distance, but the vampires followed her, stayed atop, just inches from those fangs finding purchase in her flesh.

“Ilia!” A voice pierced the din, and the vampire immediately snapped her head up to look towards the front of the barn. There stood Blake, with no weapon and no means of defending herself, just calling attention to herself. “Ilia, stop!”

“Oh, look.” Mercury’s voice sounded winded, a cough thoroughly ruining his smugness. “Dessert just showed up.”

And if she hadn’t been front row to the show, she wouldn’t have believed it. The vampire’s entire demeanor shifted, the red and yellow fading as her eyes reverted to grey for a split second before it all came roaring back with a vengeance. She threw herself off Yang, started sprinting away, and the blonde knew she didn’t have much time. Twisting around, she found her machete and leapt to her feet, entirely prepared to throw her only weapon if to just buy Blake a few more seconds to turn and run, but halted short of actually doing it.

Because the newborn vamp wasn’t gunning for the Faunus. No, she was making a beeline for Mercury, plowing into him with all the force of a mac truck given how he ragdolled into the side of the barn.

“Yang!” Ruby called out, kicking a vampire in the face as she scrambled backwards, trying to get back to her feet. Fresh blood ran from her temple, making her a prime target, and Weiss was doing everything in her power to help, becoming more clinical with her strikes. However, they were outnumbered, and she had a choice to make. “Get Mercury!”

Well, that made things easier.

As Weiss helped Ruby to her feet, Yang jumped over a crate and booked it towards the lead vampire, who seemed to have his hands full trying to fend off his own creation. Ilia- had to be her- was matching him step for step, and her uncoordinated movements leveled the field against the dead man’s blood still working through him. 

Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out another bottle of the stuff, popping the top and pouring it over her machete in time to take a swing at his back. The blade bit in deep, from shoulder to hip, and it slowed him down enough that Ilia could wrap him up and take him to the ground while he cried out in agony.

Yang raised the machete up, bringing it down with all the force she could muster just as Ilia darted out of the way. And with that, the machete bit into Mercury’s neck, cleanly severing his head from his shoulders and burying deep into the wooden floorboards.

Across the room, the commotion suddenly halted, the other newborns jarred by the loss of the one who created them. In the lull, Ruby and Weiss managed to knock the three still alive on their asses, machetes raised and ready to whittle that number down a little more.

“Wait!” Yang looked up at the vampire holding her hands out in a placating gesture. “Wait, don’t hurt them- please, they- they’ll stop.”

“No, they won’t,” she said, getting to her feet and yanking her own weapon from its place, preparing to face down the creature once more. “They might be dazed right now but they’ll attack again.”

“No, they won’t. Please.” Her skin and eyes had reverted to what had to be their default coloring. “Look, none of us asked for this. Give them time, they’ll come down-”

“Yeah, and then they’ll get hungry.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re going to hurt anyone!” Blake stepped between them, amber eyes flashing with indignation. “You can’t pass judgment on someone before they’ve even committed a crime.”

“This isn’t about philosophy; this is about facts,” she said, mouth drawing into a tight line. “First smell of fresh blood, first pang of hunger, and it’ll be a bloodbath-”

“You say that standing there, covered in blood, and no one seems to be nibbling on you,” the Faunus replied. “Or them.”

Quickly, she glanced back, confirming that Ruby was still bleeding, though she doubted any of the blood covering Weiss was her own; it looked blackened almost, not bright or even muted red.

“We can’t walk away from a barn full of ticking time bombs.” Yang shook her head. “It’s irresponsible.”

“We don’t have to be that.” Ilia made a gesture towards the corner, where the festering meat of a long dead cow sat alongside full jars of blood. “There are other ways to sustain ourselves. It’s like- like going vegetarian. A strict diet we adhere to, and no one has to suffer. Maybe we can even raise the cows ourselves, send the meat off to some plant and keep the blood for ourselves. We can abide by that.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Yang.” Ruby called out, forcing her to look back, horror overcoming her expression as her little sister very slowly drew her machete over her arm, deliberately deep enough to draw blood. Then she knelt down in front of one of the newborns and held it out, as if daring the creature to take a bite of her. And even though he looked for all the world like he wanted to... the vampire looked back at Ilia, as if seeking permission, which wouldn’t be surprising- with Mercury dead, and the rest of the elder vampires, she probably qualified as the eldest in terms of their hierarchy. Seemed as if that inclination came with the whole blood sucking bit. “Yang, I think she’s telling the truth.”

“Ruby-”

“Put aside your preconceived notions for one moment and look around you,” Weiss said, her own eyes trailing around the barn. “They’ve been kept like animals. I’ve seen this time and again from on high- this is how vampires create more. By force, never by choice.” The angel’s gaze finally fell on Ilia. “If you’re making the choice to do no harm to others, that’s one thing. I’m... grudgingly willing to believe you. But can you guarantee that others feel the same? What happens when they choose differently?”

Her grey eyes dropped down, staring at her shoes for a moment before she looked up, and Yang recognized that look a bit too much for comfort. Grim, unwavering determination. “Then we handle our own. We didn’t choose this but there’s only one way out of it as far as I can tell. So we either play nice... or we don’t play at all. That’s about the long and short of it... isn’t it?”

“So, you’re really expecting me to buy this?” Yang looked around at all of them, a frown tugging at her lips. “That just because a vamp says ‘pretty please’ and promises to stick to the dairy, I should just accept that?”

"Well, Sis, do you have a better way to explain how we’re standing here talking, both of us drenched in blood and literally surrounded by vampires?” Ruby made a redundant motion to the others, how even those still in the cages weren’t tugging at the doors or even near them. In fact, they seemed... afraid. Afraid of the machetes, afraid of the outcome- they were just scared out of their minds.

“Goddamnit.” She scratched at her cheek and winced, reminded of the wound in her shoulder. “Your name’s Ilia, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I got two questions for you.” She rested the blunt side of the machete against her shoulder. “What were you before this happened? Before you got abducted and turned?”

"Are you expecting some philosophical answer or are you filing my tax returns?”

“Just be honest.”

“A dumb kid,” she replied with a mirthless chuckle. “A dumb kid who thought she knew how the world worked.”

“And what are you now?”

For a moment, she looked lost. “A dumb kid who has no idea how the world works... and also wants to drink blood.”

Ruby smiled, flipping the machete around in her hand. “Welp! That’s a good enough answer for me!”

“Oh no.” Weiss put a hand to her temple and sighed. “You’re actually starting to make sense. I’ve been among mortals too long.”

As much as Yang wanted to object... she did have to acknowledge that she’d been given exactly the sort of answer she was seeking. Not only were they promising not to prey on mortals but Ilia had also come up with a convenient solution for the sheer number of them and securing enough food for that many vampires. Now, she didn’t even possess the same disdain for mortals that most vampires did.

“I don’t like this.” She slowly lowered her machete and shook her head. “Not one bit...” Yang offered her hand. “But if you’re willing to make a promise, I’ll hold you to it.”

“I will too-”

“No, Blake,” Ilia said, reaching out to put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, expression pinching in contrition. “I know what you’re thinking and you can’t stay here.”

Surprised, the Faunus rounded on her. “What do you mean- I’m not abandoning you.”

“That’s not what this is.” Waving a hand, she indicated the other vampires. “But there’s no way we can afford to risk having a regular person here with us. And I’m not turning you- trust me, Blake, you don’t want this nightmare.” Ilia returned her attention to Yang and took her hand, shaking it firmly. “We can’t stay here, specifically; this place isn’t going to be able to sustain livestock. But I’ll give you the address as soon as we find a place. You’re free to drop by if you so much as suspect us of going back on our word.”

“We might also drop by every now and then just to say hi.” She glanced over at Ruby, who just smiled wide, spattered with blood and with a fresh bruise just beginning to turn purple swelling underneath her eye. “Be friendly, ya know?”

Yang had to resist rolling her eyes.

This might very well be a huge mistake... but with Mercury out of the way, maybe this lot stood a chance at becoming something akin to a legitimate part of society instead of bloodsucking bottomfeeders lurking in the shadows.

Maybe.

Blake leaned back against the wall of the barn, eyes downcast as the sisters attended to their wounds. Every now and again they’d talk to the wind or say something to a ‘Weiss’ but she hardly cared about their particular brand of crazy- even if a year ago she’d probably consider herself crazy had anyone told her what she’d be living through. Finding out vampires were real was one thing but learning that there were people out there who hunted them down with impunity... well, that’s the sort of thing that puts the word ‘fear’ into a whole new context. The breadth of their arsenal alone hinted that there were even more things that lurked in the dark, more monsters out there that she had always blown off, but they were probably real, real enough to kill her and that... well... it was a lot to take in, to say the least.

“I’m sorry,” Ilia said, coming out of the barn and leaning up beside her, crossing her arms over her chest. “That you can’t stay, I mean, I- I wish you could... but-”

“It’s for the best.” Her frown became worse. “I’ve been hearing that phrase a lot lately.”

“Yeah...” She sighed, eyes and skin turning blue, a clear sign that the decision wasn’t made lightly. That didn’t make it sting any less, though. “You know, when we left Menagerie... we never thought things would end up like this.” A sad smile. “We were ready to take on the world without even knowing what the world would do to us.”

“I’d take it back in a heartbeat.” A shaky breath left her lips as she tried not to cry. “I’d do anything to stop this-”

“You can’t turn back time.” Ilia moved, putting a hand on her shoulder and massaging it gently. “Don’t let that eat you up, Blake; sometimes... that’s just how things go. Bad things happen and you try to pick up the pieces afterwards. We just can’t put things back the way they were and we can’t do it together.” She was pulled into a hug, wrapping her arms around- more like clinging to Ilia as the tears began to fall. “I love you, Blake. You’re... the best friend a gal could ask for and I know you’ve got some great things ahead of you. I’m praying you do.”

That just made her heart clench painfully because she’d known for a while now that her best friend didn’t see her as just a friend anymore. That ‘I love you’ wasn’t just meant in a platonic way, and she’d told herself they’d talk about it once they found somewhere stable, when they weren’t just scraping by and could actually entertain normal things like dates to the movies. But putting it off had also put it out of reach, and that stung something awful.

“Are you sure you won’t turn me?” She sniffled and cleared her throat. “You won’t let me make that choice?”

“No, Blake.” Ilia hugged her tighter. “I can’t let you become this. Right now, I’m fighting the impulse to bite you and I’m scared I can’t keep up the fight much longer.” She pulled back, an absolutely heartbroken expression coming over her face. “I know I said we can control it but it’s not easy, at least not yet. Don’t ask for this nightmare. Go live a better life.”

“I don’t know how to do that.” They’d been inseparable for almost two decades, since they were both in diapers. Grown up together, faced down every challenge together, rebelled together- as long as she was with Ilia, she felt invincible.

“You’ll figure it out. You’re Blake.” She laughed as she pulled back, offering a little shrug as her hair and skin returned to normal. “You’re the one who got us out of jail in east Vacuo, and you figured out how to get free food from the local Burger Shake, and you somehow tracked me down out in the middle of nowhere... it might take some time, but you’ll figure it out.” Shuffling a little bit, she looked away. “And, maybe... I mean, you could always go home. Your folks will take you back.”

“I’m not so sure-”

“I am.” Ilia chuckled. “You’re probably the only person on Remnant that can walk into a barn of half crazed vampires thirsting for blood and somehow argue that they shouldn’t be killed and succeed.” Another shrug. “You had to get it from somewhere. They’ll forgive you, no matter what.”

“Can I come back and visit sometime?” Blake ran a hand through her hair, mindful of her ears. “I just- I don’t want this to be a... final goodbye."

“Give us a few months. I think we’ll all be mostly under control by then. I’ll send the address to your scroll, okay?”

“Okay.” She hugged her best friend one more time before turning towards the car she’d hotwired in the parking lot. For lack of any better game plan, she supposed she’d returning it to the motel and then... pick a direction and start walking. Or... something.

Suddenly, a heavy weight landed across her shoulders, almost enough to make her legs buckle but not with enough force to make it so. “So, Blake, right? Which way you headin’?”

“I’m... not really sure... Yang, wasn’t it?” She glanced up at the blonde as they walked together, noting the younger sister had appeared on her other side. “And Ruby. Please, don’t handcuff me to something again; I think I’ve been through enough today.”

“Oh, I agree, been put through damn near hell, which is why I extend the following offer in all seriousness.” She was brought to a halt rather effortlessly by the woman, a smile curving her lips. “Why don’t you roll with us?”

“Really?” Ruby seemed surprised by the words but didn’t appear to outright object, despite her sister taking it as such.

“Hey, you got to pick up your stray, I’m pickin’ up mine. Plus, she’s really useful.” Yang started ticking off on her fingers. “She got out of the handcuffs, hotwired a car, tracked down a vampire nest, and had both a knife against her throat and a gun pointed at her head, and was still crazy enough to come out here.” She shrugged. “That speaks to a level of dedication that fits in pretty well with this line of work.”

But Blake could read between the lines. “And I’m an insurance policy to make sure Ilia stays in line; you’ve got me, you’ve got her cooperation.”

“See? Crazy and smart.” She laughed. “Just the sort of person who can become a hunter.”

Rolling her eyes, the Faunus glanced at Ruby. “Who else did you manage to rope into this ‘line of work’ as you put it?”

“Oh, right, Blake, meet Weiss.”

She turned her head, expecting to find some manner of animal or a key chain or something that could be easily hidden and would explain why she’d only seen the two sisters since they’d entered the bar earlier that day. Much to her surprise, she found another woman walking beside Ruby, with white hair and clean clothes, not even the slightest trace she’d been anywhere near the barn, considering the sisters had come away bloodied and bruised.

However, even as some part of her mind insisted she’d never seen the woman before... another part seemed to insist she had.

“Uh, sorry, have we met-”

“Twenty fucking seven, Yang!” 

She immediately busted up laughing. “And still as funny as the first time!”

For a moment, it looked like Weiss was about to smack the backside of the blonde’s head, but she managed to duck and dodge away, jogging ahead of them while laughing heartily.

“What just-”

“So, Weiss is an angel, and her perception to mortals is kinda fluid?” Ruby nudged her shoulder in a friendly way, smiling slightly. “You’ve actually met her and had all this explained to you twenty six times already, but every time you turn away, your memory adjusts itself to forget everything about her, specifically.” She shrugged, nothing but a befuddled sort of amusement in her expression. “And, for some reason, Yang finds that hilarious.”

Blake blinked, watching as Weiss finally caught up to Yang and started giving her an earful, which the blonde took with a smile and a roll of her eyes. From the sounds of it, the lecture had been given before and would be given again, and both participants were well aware of that.

... first vampires and now this. Just what had she gotten herself into?

[perfectlyrose]

the mystery of magic

Summary: While Rose is recovering from casting her counterspell, the Doctor decides to try and learn a bit about magic. A direct follow-up to Counterspell

(part of the Everyday Magic series )

Pairing: Nine/Rose

Word Count: 2265 // Rating: all ages

Note: This one is Doctor POV instead of Rose POV like the rest of the series has been thus far, just fyi. also shoutout to @sequencefairy for being super encouraging as I worked on this and listening to me talk about it ad nauseam

AO3 // TSP 

“So, you said Rose ate something that disagreed with her?” Jack asked, leaning on the doorway leading from the console room back into the rest of the TARDIS.

“Yup,” the Doctor said, not looking up from where he was fiddling with something on the console. He’d already sent them into the Vortex. “Took care of it in the medbay but she’s sleeping it off.”

“Surprised you’re not hovering by her bedside,” Jack said.

“She’s fine. Sent me to find you before you ate the same thing or blundered into worse trouble.”

“And you actually listened? Aw, you do care, Doc!”

The Doctor glared at him but it did nothing to dampen the grin on Jack’s face.

“Well, if we’re Vortex-bound for a while, I think I’ll check out that spa room I spotted a while back. If your lovely ship will let me find it again.” He patted the wall affectionately.

The TARDIS  hummed an affirmative and Jack laughed. “I’m going to marry your ship, Doctor.”

“Watch it, Harkness,” the Doctor growled. There was no heat behind his words though so Jack kept smiling.

“Alright, I’m off for some pampering. Don’t wait up.” The captain turned and set off down the corridor with a lazy wave towards the Time Lord.

As soon as he was out of sight, the Doctor let out a sigh. He didn’t particularly like lying to people he considered friends, especially when the lie concealed the amazing things Rose had done. It was Rose’s decision though and he would keep her secret as long as she asked him to.

The TARDIS would keep Jack entertained with interesting rooms until Rose was recovered and ready to face their friend again, he was sure. His ship was inordinately fond of his companion and had been since the moment she had stepped aboard.

It was unusual. Usually the TARDIS was ambivalent about the people he brought along. Sometimes she would take a shine to one or have a tendency to switch the corridors around on the ones she didn’t care for as much.

Rose was a different story altogether. His ship downright pampered her and, on multiple occasions, he’d witnessed the TARDIS trying to talk to Rose in the same manner she talked to him. She wasn’t telepathic so it never worked but the two of them had figured out a way to communicate nonetheless.

It was an anomaly and something about their connection prickled at his time senses. It felt important but he wasn’t sure why. There were a few odd things around Rose and he was fairly sure it had almost nothing to do with her magic. The Doctor had even tried to peek at her timeline once, something he rarely did, to try and figure it out but found her timeline completely shrouded to him.

He hadn’t seen her glow golden with her magic very often, but each time that particular sight tickled the back of his mind like he was trying to recall a memory he didn’t have yet.

It was possible that the TARDIS was fond of Rose simply because she was picking up on the Doctor’s feelings towards her, but he thought it improbable. The TARDIS had always excelled at forming her own opinions, completely distinct from his own.

He sensed that he wouldn’t figure out that particular Rose-related mystery out until the time was right but that didn’t mean he couldn’t work on understanding something else. Grumbling to himself, the Doctor left the console room and started off down the corridors with jerky movements. He swore he could still feel the burning energy of Rose’s counterspell sparking through him, leaving him full of restless energy.

(It also felt like a magnetic force, drawing him back to Rose but he fought against it. She needed her rest and he would see her soon enough.)

(His logic did nothing to quell the urge to run to her side.)

The Doctor stayed on track, heading straight for the library. He’d been meaning to do some research into the existence of magic and its different forms since Rose had entrusted him with her secret. He just hadn’t managed to carve out the time yet. Now seemed like as good of a time as any.

He accessed the library catalogue from a panel inset into the wall. He wanted to start with things in his own collection before moving on to various forms of online databases.

His search turned up a few handfuls of books and infocubes. The Doctor gathered everything and took them to his desk in a secluded corner of the library to start going over them.

He was halfway through book five when the TARDIS nudged him to let him know that Rose was beginning to wake. The Doctor marked his place in the book from sixty-second century Onlitix and straightened the stack of notes he’d taken.

The Doctor rolled his shoulders and stretched, wincing when his spine let out a series of cracks after being hunched over the desk for a few hours. Asking the TARDIS to let him know when Rose was fully awake, he headed to the galley to start the fry-up he’d promised her.

He was just serving up a plate of food when Rose stumbled into the kitchen, all mussed hair and bleary eyes.

She looked so beautiful that the Doctor couldn’t catch his breath for a moment.

Rose collapsed into one of the chairs after giving him a half smile.

“I’m guessing tea needs to come before food?” The Doctor asked, leaning back against the counter.

She nodded. “Definitely.”

He popped the kettle on and quickly got a cuppa ready the way Rose usually drank it in the mornings. He wasn’t often in the kitchen with her when she came in to rustle up caffeine and food, but it was enough that he knew how she took her tea.

He slid the mug onto the table in front of her before grabbing the plate of steaming hot food and bringing it to the table as well. He took the seat opposite her at the table.

Rose stomach growled audibly as the scent wafted over to her and the Doctor chuckled.

“Weren’t understating things when you said you’d be hungry, then?”

She shook her head and took a long drink of tea, ignoring the fact that it was still scalding. When the mug was half empty before she looked properly awake.

“You’re feeling better?” She asked, flicking her eyes over him. He felt a bit exposed, having left his jacket in the library and pushed the sleeves of his jumper up past his elbows while cooking.

“Should be asking you that,” he said, with a wry smile. “Good as new, me.”

“Good,” Rose said. “I thought that it had worked but I started doubting myself when I woke up. Didn’t know if the spell would stick or if it was dodgy.”

“Rose Tyler, you used a possibly dodgy spell on me? I’m appalled.”

She snorted as she stabbed a sausage with her fork. “Would you have preferred waiting to see if that curse wore off on its own?”

“Not in the slightest. How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Better for the sleep. Will feel even better after this food.” She pointed her fork at him. “You’ve been holding out on me if you can cook like this and haven’t shared before now.”

“I’ve got to keep a few secrets to myself,” the Doctor insisted. “You’d get bored otherwise.”

Rose rolled her eyes and just kept eating.

The Doctor watched and waited, trying to figure out the best way to ask the questions that were buzzing inside of him. He almost jumped when she looked up to pin him with that sharp brown gaze of hers.

“You can say whatever it is that you’re tiptoeing around right now. I probably won’t get offended,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

The Doctor wondered when he’d become so transparent of it was just Rose who could see straight through him. “I’m still just trying to figure out the whole magic thing. Bit behind the curve on understanding it.”

“What do you want to know? I’m not exactly an expert but I at least know some theory and history since it runs in the family.”

“Does it always run in families? Like a genetic mutation or something that is passed down?” The Doctor asked.

“Don’t know about the mutation bit but at least on Earth, it does tend to run in families. Sometimes the magic in a family died out and sometimes it would pop up in someone who had no known family history of magic but, as far as I know, there’s usually a family line of magic users.”

That lined up with what his research was saying. It had to be genetic somehow. But something he hadn’t seen in his reading thus far…

“Do other magic users glow like you do when you’re doing advanced magic?”

Rose chewed her bite of food slowly. “Not that I know of. My mum doesn’t and she said she hadn’t heard of anyone else in the family doing so. We don’t really know where that bit came from or why I seem to be the only one who glows.” She shot the Doctor a smile. “It’s pretty but a bit inconvenient if I’m trying to not be noticed.”

“I imagine so.”

“Anything else?”

“You read the counterspell off a piece of paper and you had a specific spell for lighting the fire when we were stuck in that cave. Is all of your magic reliant on knowing a specific spell or just some of them?”

Rose waved a hand towards the kettle and set it to boiling again before getting up to make a new cup of tea. “I think it depends on the person,” she said as she turned back towards the table to sit back down. “Different people have affinities for different types of magic. I think I told you before that my mum’s a dab hand with healing spells.”

The Doctor nodded.

“She still uses specific spells for most of her healing but that’s because it’s a bit more exacting than other things. When I do things like boil the water or make my bed or call something from across the room it’s more like… focusing on what I want and sending out a bit of energy?” She wrinkled her nose. “Not a good explanation but it’s hard to describe. I don’t have a specific spell for those things but I can do them magically anyways.

“Things like lockpicking and muffling spells and the like, I learned a couple of basic spells and have modified them as I got better at them and can almost cast them without any ceremony.”

“So the more complicated the magic, the more likely it is to have certain words and gestures associated with it?” The Doctor clarified.

“Yeah. Also the user’s familiarity with the type of magic. Some of the places we’ve visited have had very elaborate spells and a couple have had almost no spell form at all. So it seems a bit all over the place to me.”

“I started doing some research while you were sleeping so maybe I can find out some more,” he offered.

Rose lit up. “Oh! I never even thought to check your library!” She leaned over the table, “Do you think there are books I could learn new magic from? It’s always so hard to find things outside of your own family’s lore and whatever others are willing to share when you find someone else who’s magical.”

“Thought you said you’d been swapping spells during our travels?”

“Sometimes, but some people don’t like to share, especially with a stranger.”

“I haven’t run across anything in what I’ve read so far but I’m not even halfway through with what I found in the catalogue and I’ve not even started online research yet so there may be something out there.”

Rose’s smile was brighter than the sun. “Brilliant.”

She picked up her tea and stood, backing up towards the door. “Want to start looking now?”

“Eager, are we?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“A little! Aren’t you?”

He nodded, a smile breaking over his face.

“So… library?”

“Jack probably would like to see you first,” the Doctor admitted. “Told him you ate something that didn’t agree with you and were sleeping it off.”

“Good story. I take it he didn’t have the poor sense to piss off a wizard too?” She tucked her tongue into the corner of her smile and the Doctor couldn’t find it in him to take umbrage at her tease.

“I didn’t know he was a magic user when I started that argument,” he protested.

“But you admit that you started the argument?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes. I started that one. Now go find Jack and tell him you’re fine. I’ll be in the library when you’re ready to get started.”

“Alright. I’ll see you in a bit, then.” She stepped out into the corridor and disappeared for a moment before sticking her head back into the kitchen. “And thanks for cooking for me, Doctor.”

He just nodded and Rose disappeared again. The Doctor quickly washed the dishes and made his way to the library. He still had far more questions than answers but he’d made good headway. He couldn’t wait to tackle the problem with Rose at his side to help.

He rather thought the two of them could conquer anything if they put their minds to it.

[praesidioest]

Gladnis Week - Day 4

for @gladnisweek​

Day 4 - Sensory date night for Ignis

Chapters: 4/7 Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, gladnis Additional Tags:  Canon Divergent AU, fluff, domestic, slice of life, domestic angst, jfc can they kiss already (no never), slow burn, iono man Summary:   The worst date of all time turns into a sensory date for Ignis, and more

AO3 link: here!

It never quite sat right with him, the careful, meticulous way that Gladio undressed him. Like a hallowed thing. Like some sacred icon reverently divested of its vestments after a high holy day, after all the world had gone away and relinquished them back to the tedium of the quotidian, to the hands of the acolytes who loved them best. There was nothing inherently untoward about the way Gladio treated him, with a respect and reverence that bordered on sacred sometimes. Ignis knew his intentions. He knew Gladio only wanted to spoil him, as indulgent men are wont to do. But the self-effacing Ignis could never quite resign himself to being the center of attention. It was a demureness of character, a humbleness he saw nothing wrong with, not even when he still flinched under his lover’s careful touches, and therefore made no effort to correct.

It also didn’t help that the frantic susurration of the running water mirrored the usual disorderly unrest he felt at Gladio’s assiduous solicitations, augmenting and exacerbating it with every button unfastened that bared his skin to the heated air.

“Be sure to—” he began, his voice already fraught with nervous energy.

“Place the suitings in the dry cleaning?” Gladio finished, amusement soft in his tone as he bent to remove his dress socks.. “I’ve even folded them, just like you like them.” Ignis noted the shadow that blocked the light and indicated that he’d stood, the scent of Gladio’s cologne as he leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Relax.”

Ignis nodded with a nervous smile. His hands alit on Gladio’s where they rested on his hips, a reflexive response from when he used to stop them there, a long-past nervousness that had abated, to give way to the needfulness with which he touched him now, pressing his broad hands to him. Ignis’ hands slipped up his forearms, over the folded cuff of his sleeves, up the swell of his muscled arms, to finally fasten themselves to the bolster of his shoulders. Gladio took that as some tacit invitation, and kissed him, slowly, deeply, before pulling away with a groan.

“Into the tub,” Gladio instructed, with a swat of his hand at Ignis’s behind, his hand already grasping his to offer his support as he stepped within. The water was a little more hot than he’d liked (Gladio did prefer scalding ablutions), but it proved soothing soon enough as he sank down into the lissome salt soak, and settled himself within the welcoming warmth of it. The chill from the ocean air driven out with the permeating heat, scented with citrus and vetiver and a hint of green tea. His signature scent. Clean and crisp and a little earthy. Comforting.

He heard the little musical plop of another bath melt added to the water, then the soft splash of the loofah that followed after. Gladio’s hand dipped beyond the surface of the water to retrieve his, immediately setting to massaging the palm of his hands, his fingers. “You ever been on a date that bad before?” Gladio asked conversationally, almost HAPPILY, as though the earlier debacle had nothing to do with him. His hands moved to Ignis’s wrist, thumb worrying circles up his forearm, massaging him further.

Ignis gave a light, sardonic laugh as his answer. “You know I don’t date,” he pointed out I’ve been on two dates in my life prior to this, and one was with you to the arcade when we were sixteen. Do you remember? Actually, who can call that a proper date? You told me to meet you at the arcade after my duties were done, let me play one claw game before you cornered me and very gravely informed me that you liked me.” He shook his head with a soft laugh at the memory. “I thought you were making fun of me.”

There was a contemplative moment of silence, and he he felt Gladio lift his hand and kiss his knuckles, then turn it to kiss inside his palm. “I meant it,” he said softly. “I always did.”

Ignis reached over to press that same hand to cup his cheek. “I know you did.”

And then the inevitable. “Who was the other date?” Gladio asked, a little accusatory. As accusatory as Gladio could ever be with him.

“Are you going to stay out there?” Ignis asked with an exasperated sigh, redirecting the conversation. “Or are you going to join me?”

“I’m spoiling you,” Gladio insisted petulantly.

Ignis laughed, tipped forward to kiss his stubbled cheek. “Come inside. I’m lonely without you.”

Gladio gave a little groan, through which he muttered a rueful, “Unfair!” Ignis felt him move away, the rustle of clothes as he undressed, the revelation of light as he moved to the side of the tub, to climb in behind him.

“I like this better,” Ignis said gently, shifting carefully until he fit neatly against Gladio’s chest. Those familiar, thick arms wound around his shoulders, and Ignis turned his head to kiss again at the point of Gladio’s jaw. “Don’t you like this better?”

“So who was the other guy?” Gladio asked breezily, in spite of the dogged determination Ignis knew creased his brow.

“This again?” Ignis sank back down, slumping into the water.

“I’m curious.”

“You’re jealous.”

“That, too.”

“Very well,” Ignis sighed, tipping his head back to rest in the curve of his shoulder, an indulgence that Gladio had no right to at the moment, but Ignis very much wanted. “He was a boy who used to deliver pastries to the Citadel. At first it was only for special occasions. But the king took a liking to them. Or rather, Noctis did, and Regis asked for a regular quotidian delivery for breakfast. So he came by rather often. Often enough that I felt comfortable to ask if he had any practical advice to give me regarding viennoisserie. He was kind enough to invite me to his bakery after hours and show me his particular technique for mille-feuille. Once, he invited me for hot chocolate and the croissants that hadn’t sold from that morning. And he kissed me.”

“Did you kiss him back?” The petulance in Gladio’s voice had not ebbed in the least.

“A little,” Ignis admitted thoughtfully, recalling the memory with a slight but distinct softness to his words. Like nostalgia. He caught himself, and reached back to cup Gladio’s cheek in his hand again, drawing him close to rest his temple against the corner of his frowning mouth. “It was nothing, Gladio. I never saw him again.”

“I don’t see why you couldn’t have gone on a proper date with me,” Gladio groused. “It’s not like I never asked you. A thousand times in a hundred different ways.”

Ignis sighed lightly. “You know why. I couldn’t afford the distraction. Neither of us needed it. And I knew, I knew that I would have loved you too much, and too well.”

“Is that supposed to be some sort of consolation?” Gladio asked, behind the shell of his ear, and Ignis could already hear the budding abatement in his voice.

“No,” Ignis said, turning to kiss him sweetly, methodically, until the twist of his lips had relaxed to something that resembled a half smile against his. “But this is.”

Gladio laughed, amused at how well Ignis had learned to use his affections against him. “Alright,” he conceded, patting his slender thigh in the water. “You win. I’m mollified.” He kissed him once more. “Shampoo? Before the water starts getting too cool?”

Ignis nodded, righting himself as Gladio poured the gel into his hands and worked it nicely into a lather against his scalp. “This is like when we were kids, right when you first came to Insomnia, and you’d come over my house for sleepovers. Against your will, but the king had insisted, since we were so close in age, and would be working together. I really looked forward to playing with you, and you couldn’t be bothered with me. Not even bathing together. You’d never let me shampoo you.”

“I liked to do it myself,” Ignis recalled simply, pushing his head back into Gladio’s careful hands.

“You hated being touched,” Gladio corrected with a little laugh. “Serious little thing you were.”

“That was true, but only partly,” Ignis admitted.

“I was always real disappointed,” Gladio confided, still working his hair assiduously. “It was supposed to be bonding time, you know? Kids in the bath. And you always kept me at arm’s length. Probably didn’t help I had a crush on you, even then. I didn’t take it well.”

Ignis laughed delightedly. “Even then?”

“Mmhmm,” came Gladio’s wordless answer. “I remember being in school and being real upset one of those silly fortune telling games didn’t say I was going to marry you.”

“When you were six, Gladio!” Ignis laughed incredulously.

“Oh yeah,” Gladio assured him. “I was convinced. Convinced. Pointed a chubby finger at you across the way and said ‘SAVE THE DATE.’ It was madness.” He looked at his hands. “I’m starting to get pruny here. Should we rinse off?”

Ignis agreed, letting Gladio pull him carefully to his feet, and continue scrubbing at him with a dutiful diligence, from his fingers down to his toes. Ignis waited within the hot spray as Gladio did the same to himself, all the while recalling the sundry ways he used to try and court Ignis from the time they were children until really, that very moment.

Towel dried and lotioned (again, by Gladio’s industrious hands), he let himself be gathered up in Gladio’s arms, held fast to his chest by an arm around his waist as his own arms circled his thick neck. Gladio walked them back to his room, cradling Ignis’s head as he laid him down in his bed, which smelled distinctly of his own scent: sharp, clean marine notes softened by bergamot and bolstered with a hint of jasmine. It was an idle thought as Gladio’s weight settled between his thighs, upon his chest, as he immediately set upon kissing him again.

It was almost too much all at once: Gladio wearing his scent on his skin, transformed into something distinctly sublime mingled with the earthiness of his own bouquet, the touch of his rough hands impossibly gentle as they ran up his sides and down, pinning his hips to the mattress, the taste of wine on still sweet his breath as he kissed him with a propriety he could succumb to over and again.

“Wait,” Ignis whispered, breaking away from his kiss.

“Too much?” Gladio asked, immediately backing off, though his hand remained at his waist, thumbing circles against the jut of his hip bone. “We don’t have to tonight. You know I don’t mind.”

“No, it’s not that,” Ignis assured him with a small smile, his fingers toying at the soft hairs at the nap of Gladio’s neck. “I only need a moment. I get overwhelmed sometimes. The scent of you, the weight of you, the taste of your lips, the way you touch me .... In tandem, it’s—”

“I’m an assault on the senses, it’s true,” Gladio joked, pressing his mouth to the hollow of Ignis’s cheek and breathing in.

“What sound will you make for me, then?” Ignis asked, his teeth catching at the soft skin beneath the hard line of his jaw, his fingertips slipping down the slope of his spine, pressed to the small of his back to anchor him fast. “Complete my devastation here.”

Gladio laughed, burying the sound in the curve of Ignis’ neck. He dislodged himself just enough to kiss an exploratory line up his neck, to the juncture of his jaw, where the tip of his nose nuzzled just at the soft skin behind the bell of his ear. “How about this?” he mused through a protracted sigh. “Marry me, Ignis.”