#my lord the idiocy on display

[nana-71926]

Gonna be putting these screenshots here as a basic lesson on how NOT to be an ASSHOLE READER/COMMENTER

Tip #1: This author ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT engage with anyone who goes around giving "DON'T READ THIS FIC" recommendations to others. That kind of asshole behavior is VILE and CRUEL and this author does not take kindly to assholes

Tip #2: That Hit-to-Kudos ratio is a HIDEOUS example of a BADLY DESIGNED AND UNRELIABLE measuring tool to gauge the "success" or "popularity" of a fic and anyone fool enough to use it as the standard to read/recommend/evaluate fics is seriously missing out on a lot of good stuff out there

Tip #3: If you gonna be thinking this author thinks "everything I do in a good story is awesome and even the tiny stuff that means nothing to the story... and turns people off accidentally must be kept!" simply means you DO NOT HAVE A CLUE as to why the author chose to use that crucial scenario as a catalyst to finally bring the two lead characters together. You failed to get the point when everyone else did? That's on you. If you don't get it, you don't get it, but don't foist your idiocy on to the writer

Tip #4: Thank you, but no. All those backhanded compliments are NOT compliments at all

Tip #5: As a commenter, you are judged by a set of standards as you would a writer, beginning with whether you have a valid point, which you clearly do not have. The second thing we look out for is, is the commenter an IDIOT? Yes, in this case.

Furthermore, there is an unspoken rule of etiquette observed by conscientious readers at AO3 that-- ignoramus that you are-- you've trampled all over: if you don't know the author, your best bet is you DO NOT leave unsolicited criticism that exposes you as the over-privileged, entitled idiot that you are. That obvious need for attention and validation behind the putdowns, the FIC GRADING (seriously??) just to make oneself look bigger and somehow relevant? Not a good look

Tip #6: Spare us the ESSAYS. They're just gonna be DELETED faster than you can write them and you will be BLOCKED

Tip #7: Oh, so you're a writer as well, with just one WIP to your name? It's omegaverse, too, with a very limited view of a/b/o dynamics yet you somehow think you're some sort of expert? Tsk tsk. Starting to get the full picture now. Remember, what goes around comes around.

[hanasnx]

trust

NOTES: it was stuck in my head. WARNINGS: your little crush on the lord you serve is exacerbated when he saves your life | vader being the lil bitch he is <3 | you and vader aren’t in a relationship but you work together and get caught in this mess together | no gore no violence.

“Look out!” the man overhead jeered, gripping tightly around your upper arm as he haphazardly tossed you off the open hatch. You yelped out of instinct, before landing hard in the arms of your lord. 

DARTH VADER holds you much like a bride, and the chaos around you falls away. The gaze of his visor is fixed on the ship you were just thrown from, and he is eerily silent. In one dark second, you fear you’ve disappointed him, and the current compromising position becomes most dire. 

“Put me down!” you demand, thrashing in his grip out of humiliation. Complying, he drops your legs, and your feet are met with the nimble peak of the spire you both now balance on. Your toes overstep the edge, and once your eyes meet the ground far below, you panic. The adrenaline of the setting controls you, and you cling onto the Sith Lord. “Pick me back up- pick me back up!” Whatever is within reach: his cape, his robes, his shoulders are all fair game to use to your advantage, climbing up him without a second thought. 

His concentration and his freedom to force the shuttle to hold— to tear it back to him in order to escape this and teach those who wronged him a lesson— is broken, now focused on you and your frightened idiocy. The arm around your middle remains, but he grabs hold of your wrist as he stumbles back because of how you throw yourself at him. You scream in the face of death, and he counter-balances with your weight. As the two of you straighten, sharing the limited space chest to chest, an intense red cakes your cheeks from the proximity as well as your display of cowardice. He towers over you, and you feel the weight of his arms around you. 

If it were anyone else, he’d care not if they plunged to meet the Maker, but it was you. As infuriating as it is. 

“I’m—“ you begin your apology, but you are swiftly interrupted. 

“Calm yourself.” His rumbling command rolls through like a thunder, and you obey him so as to not worsen your unlucky circumstances. “I have no time for your groveling. There are more pressing matters at hand.” 

You gulp, and you nod. 

His arm moves to grasp your other wrist, raising them above your head, and twisting you delicately— much like a dainty doll— so your back is to him, his indicators jabbing into your skin. You try to ignore how much you like him taking control of a situation, so you don’t have to. Habitually, your fingers cup over his gloves, and tighten when he lifts you. Your feet part from the ground, and point, swaying in his hold as you gather the words. 

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to drop you.” he replies as he steps forward, the vision of life-defying height causing a lightning bolt of terror to course through your veins. 

“What?” you cry out, your legs kicking out, begging to be reinstated to the spire as narrow as it is. “No, no, my lord, please, I’ve done nothing—“ 

“Quiet! I am not condemning you to execution! I am going to catch you.” The anger in his voice, reminiscent of frustration rather than wrath, makes you tremble like a newborn fawn anyway. 

“What? No!”

“It is the only way.” 

“It is not!” 

Still he keeps you as you are, and you fight off tears. 

“You chose to ruin our chances when I could’ve caught the prosecutor's stolen shuttle! Accept your fate or die.” 

“Stop!”

His grip loosens, and you slip through, the thrill of falling shooting your stomach into your chest. Wind rips through your hair so loud you cannot hear your own scream. A cushion of air, invisible to the eye, envelopes you, slowing your descent. It’s nothing, there is no matter nor pressure; you float yet you are not feather-light. Your confusion interjects your cry, looking up to see Vader’s steady and shaped hand. He caught you, like he said he would. 

His range is incredible, and you wouldn’t have believed it if you didn’t witness it. The spire he remained at the top of, was kilometers tall. Yet you sense no struggle as the force around you dissipates, and you land curtly onto the sand. You check on the Sith, your predicament now resolved means you adopt a new one. How is he going to get down? 

Your question is answered as quickly as it was asked. 

The dark red of his sith blade ignites, filling into its form. You watch as he steps off the spire, and sinks his saber into its side. He slides down at a record pace, but he outstretches his hand, combining the efforts of the minimal friction of his weapon with the padding of the force. 

Heavy, he dents the ground when he makes contact, and like the lovesick fool you are, you’re entranced the entire time. The spire crumbles behind him, influenced by his opposing force pressure, the dust and debris clouds everywhere but him and where he steps. 

You’re not even spared a side glance as he passes you. 

“Come.” he recalls. Loyal, like a dog, you do as you’re told. 

[siremasterlawrence]

Captain America: Sweetest Revenge

Captain America is in for quite a surprise in a minute when he smashes through the roof tier glass ceiling bringing down with him in a rain of glass shards on to the floor to meet eyes with him.

The Man Of Steel is chained with kryptonite lace chains brandishing his skin as he is all immobile stuck in a time and space of this lifetime and I watch from my godly position in my penthouse steel room.

The screen are showcasing my power as Captain America does a superhero landing on to the area with a glint in his eyes he lept in to the air and landing by Clark’s side to aide him.

Clark is so weak falling to his knees in utter pain the energy is draining him of the solar power off of his body nothing else matters to him except for being saved by anyone at this point.

Steve’s senses are shape blacking a bullet zipping through the room it continues to do its work ricocheting as he throws his shield to end this ridiculous display but oh makes contact with the shield.

The idiocy of this as the shield drops from the sky hitting the rooms floor in an inducing ear curling crash leaving Steve is lost for an answer before one bullet rushes past him knocking him out.

Struggling to return to his feet Steve crawls to Clark he barely regains his balance now before he drops unconscious collapsing in to the either eyes shutting closed and he is in darkness.

Steve wakes up back to the wall of the glass container the awareness returns to him in a state of panic he leaps up attempting to try and pound the glass but to no avail he is in disbelief.

“Oh Captain America!”

“Show yourself “

“Moron! I am your new God”

“Their is only one”

“Zip it”

“Where is smoke …”

“Cough cough”

“Fool! Inhale the smoke “

“No! I will not…cannot let you win”

“Captain! This gas is opening your mind”

“You are now more malleable to my will”

“You cant deny the truth…I am right “

“I am always correct”

“You are always correct “

“I am your God, Lord and Master”

“Yes Master Lawrence “

“Mwahahahahaha…I am the ruler of this world.”

“The rightful one! I am your mere thug”

“Join the ranks of my soldiers cap”

“This is my mob”

“You are born to lead them “

“Be my right hand “

“Serve at my will”

“You shall succumb “

“Super brat will be my left “

“Together you will bring the world…”

“Yes Master…to its knees”

“Who conquers this world “

“You obviously Master”

“Explain it all “

“I am at your mercy”

“Master! I love you “

“Fucking love you “

“You will worship me”

“Use my body and fuck my mind”

“Give me my purpose Master Lawrence”

The end

[tonberry-yoda]

hello hello! i hope its alright i throw my hat in the ring for you Valentine's Day Event! ' v ' | Name: Kiki (she/her) | Sexuality: Panromantic Asexual | Fandom: HxH (Romantic!) | Qualities: motor mouth, anthropologist, self critical, witty, overthinker, altruistic, petty, easily flustered, expressive, idealistic, compassionate as i can be before "helping others" turns into "taking shit," classic joker, jumpy and sensitive. (1/2)

(2/2) i've always been attracted to confident people with a strong independent streak! (i don't want to feel like someone's mother AHAHA!) they can't be a blockhead, however, and have to have solid critical thinking skills as i don't tolerate (unintentional) idiocy too well. my love language is quality time, touch, and words of affirmation. <3 however, i display my own love normally through touch or acts of service. i hope that's enough for you to work with! thank you very much!! <3 (2/2)

notes: Hi there!! I am so sorry that this is late, but thank you so much for your patience!!! I have been super busy and unmotivated, but here I am and I am happy to be back!!! I hope you enjoy your matchup and thank you for sending one in!!! <333

the character I match you up with is...

KITE!!

thinks you're very very smart

the two of you actually have a lot in common from what it seems, so i thought it would be perfect!

this man definitely doesn't help that easily flustered part of you

and he wont even notice what he's doing either

he'll like tuck your hair behind your ear and you'll just be COMEPLETLY flustered and red faced and he'll just play it off like he did nothing omg

he loves that you dont take shit from people and admires that you're still super compassionate

that's what made him fall for you tbh

he has been independent pretty much his whole life, so you never have to worry about having to be this guy's mother

he is the perfect critical thinking man and will always be that smart guy you fell for

you two spend time together all the time whether it be camping or even just sitting in your backyard holding hands

he will never stop saying out loud how smart and amazing he thinks you are and will always be helping out (his love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service)

and the fact that the love you show is his love languages makes him literally so in love dear lord

you just have the literal perfect man who loves you will all of his heart and soul <333

your fic :)

Kite smiled at you and placed his hand in yours and smiled at you. You blushed a little and squeezed his hand back. Both of your eyes went back to the stars and you laid on the soft, cold grass in your backyard. "y/n," Kite said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I love you." You scooted closer to him and laid your head on his chest. "I love you too." "Do you want to do anything tomorrow?" He asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. "We could just stay like this forever," you purred, placing a kiss onto his jaw. "I would like that." He giggled softly. Maybe falling asleep outside wasn't the best thing to do, but you didn't mind seeing as you two were both smiling in your sleep.

~~~~~

pinned post @tonberry-yoda

[littledreamling]

Golden Heart - Ch 3

*Laughs nervously* Hey guys, it's been a while! *checks the note cards in my hands* It's uh... been... good lord, it's been almost two weeks

I really didn't mean for this to be as delayed as it is, I just very busy with school, Fluffbruary, and life in general. I cannot make any promises that the next chapter will be any more prompt in its arrival. Sorry! I hope 6k words of smut and love confessions will make up for it!

It was nearly midday by the time he trudged back into camp. As predicted, he had had to retrace his steps, following the meandering path that he had woven between nearly every tree in the God-forsaken forest. The fires were already in full blaze, cooking whatever fresh meat the scouts had managed to bring down with their limited ammo allotted to the task, the rest heating rations to make them marginally more palatable. Hob could see the hounds running loose between the tents, bowling each other over in their exuberance, wrestling to grab what appeared to be the worn-out sole of a shoe, and it brought a smile to his face. 

“Mr. Gadling,” called one of the soldiers. “Captain Endelas has been looking for you.”

Hob felt the grin slip from his face as he nodded his thanks absentmindedly. He couldn’t begin to fathom what Morpheus would have to say to him, but it couldn’t possibly be good, especially after Hob’s own spectacular display of idiocy that morning. He mentally prepared himself to be given a proper dressing down, or worse, fired, as he approached his tent.

As soon as he drew back the flap, Morpheus rounded on him, all of the fire and brimstone of hell itself in his eyes. Distantly, Hob noticed that he had been pacing, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, but his focus was caught by the sound of Morpheus’ voice, awash in fury.

“Where the hell have you been?” He snarled, his face a landscape of rage. The force of it knocked Hob back a step as he physically recoiled and defensive stone walls rapidly fell into place. He’d need to fight fire with fire, he knew, but he couldn’t let Morpheus get under his skin in the meantime. Defence and offence were equally important when dealing with such vitriol. At least this was familiar territory. Long hours had been spent just like this, raging at each other in the quasi privacy of their tent, trading insults like gunfire. Hob could hold his own on this particular battlefield.

“I went for a walk, is that bloody illegal now?” He shot back, his lips turning numb from the venom dripping off of every word. “Do I need your permission for every step I take, Captain ?”

“Seven hours, Mr. Gadling!” Morpheus shouted. “Seven bloody hours, you were gone, without a word to anyone-“

“Why do you care?” Hob retorted hotly. “All you care about is your stupid birds! They’re the only living creatures who could possibly be given any space in the block of ice that you call a heart.”

“I would like to remind you,” Morpheus said coldly, “that we are currently surrounded on all sides by enemies, any of whom could have followed your trail directly back to camp. Additionally, you chose today of all days to actually adhere to the dress code. Your red coat makes you visible for miles around without a single weapon on you-“

“I had my revolver.”

“You could’ve died, Hob!”

Read the rest on ao3!!

[laurieelaurel]

How he shows he cares

Mammon edition!

Warnings: Fluff & kinda long bad writing at the bottom? omfg im so sorry it was written in like 30 different sittings

Gn Mc x Mammon

Mammon is such a simp for you as much as he tries to hide it

Kind of reminds me of a cat

Tries very hard to pretend to not care but the second you start getting even the slightest bit upset at him, he's suddenly tripping over himself to apologize

Jealousy! Jealous of everything and everyone that takes up any of the time that HE should be spending with you

But unfortunately for Mammon, it's impossible for him to show off your closeness to the entire devildom by being at your side at all times

Like the second he has decided that you are the one, his pettiness and possessiveness go into overdrive

Frequents your room often which means lots of his belongings end up in your room eventually

It started off small with things he left on accident, like a charger, earbuds, maybe his glasses?

But eventually your room becomes his room as well and bam now his toothbrush and nail polish have a spot at your sink, one of your chairs is basically reserved for him now and your couch is suddenly free real estate for him to crash on

It's okay though, since anything of his that enters your room is yours now too (whether he likes it or not)

One time, he accidentally left his jacket in your room and spent the entire morning freaking out, only for you to casually stroll by with it draped over your shoulders

Complained at first but then realized the glares the brothers were shooting him at lunch because the jacket you're wearing was clearly his

"Accidentally" leaves behind a lot more clothes now

Won't admit it but he tries his hardest to make you smell like him because A. it lets any other demons know that this human is off! limits! and B. he likes to mark what's his

Will rub his head against you when he's tired (literally a cat smh)

Treasures anything you might gift him for all eternity because the more of you he can have the better!

Most of these "gifts" are stolen stationaries from school

Might have at one point or another stolen things with a lot more value from you, but quickly learned that seeing you upset would never be worth any quick cash

It's hard to see past his obvious flaws but you gotta remember that Mammon is still the second oldest of the 7 demon lords of hell. He's also an attractive model

I think it's safe to say that he can turn his charm on when he needs to and yet, he turns into a bumbling mess around you

Despite his idiocy, he's trying his best

“Whaddya lookin’ at?” Leave it to Mammon to notice your gaze being on anything other than him for 2 seconds. “Huh? Oh it’s just a doll,” you pointed out the little sheep plushie behind the display, a little embarrassed he caught you staring at a stuffed animal of all things. “What’s so special bout it?” he leaned in for a better look “it’s just a doll!” you stifled a laugh “Well it kinda reminds me of you,”

At that he straightened up, putting his hand to his chin in dramatic fashion. “Well in that case, it makes sense ya couldn’t help but feel drawn to it! It clearly reminded you of my greatness!” You rolled your eyes playfully as you tug at his sleeve before intertwining your hands. “C’mon, Oh great Mammon, we have to get back in time for dinner!” “W-wait, yer not gonna buy it?” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that. “Just because it reminds me of you doesn’t mean that I’m gonna buy it,” you tease, “Some of us don’t have money on hand to buy anything we want y’know. Let’s get going for real now.”

Mammon opened his mouth for a second as if to protest but allowed himself to be dragged along by the hand. You only just made it a few dozen steps out of the mall when he stopped, awkwardly slipping his hand out of yours. You whip your head around to shoot him a quizzical look but his eyes are already focused elsewhere. “Mammon…?”

“Wait here a sec,” he mumbled as he took off back into the direction you both came from. You can only look around bewildered as you see him pass through a throng of demons and pass around the corner. Left standing around for a few minutes you could only conclude that considering the speed in which he disappeared, he must’ve seen another witch looking to get paid back - or maybe even lucifer! He really left suddenly enough for that to be an option. You kicked at the floor dejectedly, reaching into your pocket for your DDD; maybe Beel was close enough to walk you back to the HOL after being abandoned in the DEVILDOM at nIGHT. With a huff, you opened your contacts as you turned around to make your way to an area that was better lit by the streetlamps. Just as you took a step back you spotted a familiar white dash of hair in the corner of your eye. You slowly lowered your DDD from your ear as you watched him run closer.

“I told ya not to move!” he gasped between pants, “It was…. It was only a few seconds, and...” You only raised an eyebrow at him before pocketing your phone. Mammon took note of your annoyance and quickly changed his approach “W-wait! I-” he gulped as his eyes finally met yours “I jus’ thought… you wanted this,” You watched in disbelief as he pulled out the doll you had pointed out to him out of the bag he had tucked under his arm. He held out the doll for you to accept but you could only continue to stare.

"Mammon?" "Yeah?" "Did you seriously leave me to go buy the stuffed animal I looked at for like 10 seconds?" "Huh? I-" "And by leave I mean abandon, leaving a human. alone. in the devildom?"

Mammon's eyes focused anywhere but your face, scratching the back of his neck as his ears started to heat up in embarrassment. "m' sorry," he mumbled, "just wanted ta do somethin' for ya..."

You could only sigh in exasperation, taking the plushie in one hand and grabbing the flustered demon's hand in the other. The both of you were silent on the way back until he finally broke it to ask "Are... are ya mad?"

You paused for a second, giving Mammon another reason to fear for his life as he prepared for you to righteously nag him into oblivion but you only glanced at him with an unreadable expression. "No, just tired."

You continue walking for a while longer before you add "I appreciate it, I really do. But you... Mammon can only look away in shame. "...you really are an idiot sometimes." "...'m sorry Mc. I really am," he said quickly with a small pout, "I won't do it again, promise."

"You're lucky you're such a cute idiot."

Well, at least your outing ended without any major complications. And you got yourself a free plushie?

[eclipsenoir]

"You should have seen it coming." ㅡ @voiures

@voiures + this thing

A camera and a gun were nearly two-like things. The barrel likened to a sprawling lens, the bullets held captive and cozy within the magazine basically equivalent to a roll of film anyone could purchase from the filmlog machine erect around the corner. In this way they would’ve been entirely identical, only if it weren’t for their bittersweet almost; because as alike as they were, so keen to take something from the world, the purpose of which they could be wielded were entirely reigned polarities of one another. 

Midway through the recital, sitting amidst a plethora of straight-backed bodies dressed taut and proper for the show, Taeil wondered what it would’ve been like if it were a gun he were aiming at Jimin instead, rather than his digital film camera—loaded full with bullets that can’t hurt; about thirty-six exposures on a 35mm roll. He held his weapon and wondered if these people knew what it were like to strip one bare of his sound and soul without the assistance of a single bullet.

If Jimin only knew what he would do.

But none had paid him heed, not while Jimin, ethereal as divine revelation yet precise as a hot-red blade, swept the stage on nimble toes and in his wake, their breaths. The performance began to unravel and Taeil pointed his lens in earnest wherever he could see the dancer’s shimmering soul, welcomed in exposure and translated language of a succinct heart into precisely seventy exposures. Before the grand jeté’s ceased entirely and the curtains felled in silence, red as blood, Taeil had a story of scarlet to tell. Jimin disappeared backstage before he could empty his last two rounds, and after another moment of good measure, the entire theatre hall collectively drew in the very first, reinvigorating breath after what had felt like a lifetime of enchantment. No one moved, as if none could dare part so soon with whatever they’d just seen. Taeil drew his gaze back to his camera and emptied the last two monochrome shots between his feet.

It’s not congratulatory flowers and treats that he carries with him some days later, passing the hyung’s threshold like a phantom seeking a host; greeting the tasteful art on the walls, flicking at shiny medals and trophies neatly kept on display shelves. Jimin had asked for something worth keeping, a one thing that couldn’t ever slip from or pass in his grasp, or melt on his tongue. So Taeil had brought him his soul in seventy parts, tucked safely between two hundred and eight pages worth of an epistolary novel, as one would flower petals for preserving. 

Taeil presses the cold hardcover over the crest of Jimin’s forehead. On his face there’s a smile that tells mischief as it reaches endlessly towards the sharp, winged corners of his eyes. He jests, seeking quarrel. “Here’s your gift, my Lord. Like it? You can’t open or read it now though–”

Jimin swiftly swats him back, not without salvaging the book first. His small, deft palms skim across the cover and Taeil can see it clearly in the way he draws his eyebrows that he’s curious to nose his way towards the margins without his help. Under the bright cascade of his living room lights, Jimin looked nothing like someone who’d been shot seventy times.

Then Jimin does the perfectly expected and points up his chin at Taeil, tone a soft brushstroke against listening ears as he insists, “I like it. Now I command you to read it to me.”

“What? Right now?” Taeil blurts out, tone jumping an octave. Those eyes of brown, crystalline beauty beckon his disbelief, which arrests any trace of smugness remaining across Taeil’s refined profile and rips it off at once. 

He watches Jimin side-step around him and understands then, only after the other man rests on the arm of his sofa, that he should’ve expected this.

“Oh so we talked about it for nothing?” Jimin offers a humourless smirk, but shrugs as if conveying disappointment with Taeil’s idiocy. “You should have seen it coming.”

And Taeil blindly takes the bait in stride, but in his head he labels it as a mere challenge to test his ability to apply his word. He almost instantly clamours into the seat with a boyish huff, bun coming slightly loose during the impact of his plopping. He snatches the book back, cracking it open to the fresh first chapter. 

“Fine. But only the first chapter, not because you’re making me but because I want to be the first to show you how to read this.”

“Whatever you say, loser.”

Taeil clears his throat and begins to read. But the chapter comes and passes his throat so rapidly that it ends almost jarringly, with an abrupt slash of cruel red underlines. Designed to intrigue, much like the felled curtains in the theatre hall. This letter was only meant to be read once, then destroyed. In the moments before the world comes apart, she reads it again. 

The very first piece of Jimin’s soul slips into the dancer’s lap as Taeil finally gives way to silence. It flutters and flails as it tumbles through gravity, like delicate little butterfly wings, until Jimin in a perfect développé lands flush by bruised up knees that still recall those movements as their prayer.

[violet-knox]

Imagine getting a panic attack in the middle of Potion’s class with Professor Snape

Request: Could you you do a Snape x Reader fic where someone fucks up in his class and it just caught him on a bad day so that launches him on a rampage and he's just chewing this kid out, like really screaming about how incompetent they are when on the other side of the class reader starts having a massive panic attack. Like full on shaking and loudly hyperventilating and she just cant get up to leave cause she's frozen with fear and Snape sees this and is like oh shit I fucked up. Eventually the student just leaves the class not even asking first. Just runs out and doesn't return, leaving him feeling horrible until the student finally returns to class a few days later and he apologizes. 

Word Count: 1689

A/N: Thank you @aquananner24 for the request! I hope you enjoy! Also, as mentioned previously, I don’t do romantic or platonic student/teacher relationships so this is NOT a pairing. I also changed the plot a bit and I also made the reader a Hufflepuff, but the idea is still the same. Also also, thought I’d try something a little different this time so this is mostly in Sev’s POV written in third person. 

- Preposterous was the only word that could truly sum up this year’s events. How could Dumbledore pick this buffoon over him to teach Defense? All these years he’d been passed over on the position, he’d watched Professor after Professor fail at their post but this had to be the biggest insult yet. Severus had actually ‘taught’ (and he had to use that word loosely) this idiot prancing around as if he was some heroic Wizard to be praised for deeds he likely never had a hand in completing. 

- Gilderoy Lockhart. What a joke and perhaps that’s what this was; a practical joke the Headmaster had decided to play to see how many of Severus’ buttons he could press. It was bad enough the Dark Lord’s return had almost come to pass last year, but this- petrified students and a reopening of the Chamber of Secrets, had Severus truly believing the mere presence of the Potter boy to be a menace to the school. 

- Already the school had broken into chaos and he wasn’t sure if he would live to see the boy’s graduation at this rate, the school sure to explode from the destruction he brought with him before then. It was a shame the boy hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin, else all of this would likely have been avoided with him back with that wench Petunia after his inevitable expulsion. 

- Despite it all, Severus had still managed to fulfill his job as Potions Master, teaching those ungrateful ingrates and keep the storeroom stocked in the infirmary. But would one day break from the chaos really be too much to ask? Just 24 hours of peace was all he wanted.

- “Put away your wands and have your quills ready,” he said as he burst through the Potion’s classroom, billowing his way to the front of the room. At least the boy wasn’t in his morning class, at least he could be granted some sort of serenity teaching his Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students. 

- Well, that’s what he’d thought before stepping into a classroom full of nothing but gossip passed from one student to the next. Rumours always seemed to spread so easily through the castle walls but why this? Of all the ridiculous theories they could have come up with students had somehow convinced himself that Potter was the descendant of Slytherin himself. The mere thought of his father having any sort of relation to a man that founded this great school was repulsive enough to put him in an even worse mood than he was in these last few weeks.

- “Have you gone deaf or are you simply incapable of following the simplest of instructions Miss. Lovegood?” He hadn’t even bothered to spin around as he spotted the girl with the latest edition of the Quibbler in her hand in the corner of his eye. With one foul swoop he finished writing out the instructions for today’s potion before whipping out his wand and vanishing the Magazine from her hand. “Quills out! I won’t ask a second time!”

- He normally didn’t mind the girl’s absurd theories, so long as they remained just that, simple unfounded theories, but it seemed as though today she’d decided to approach things a little different. The class had barely begun brewing their potions when he heard mention of moon frogs coming from Lovegood’s direction.

- “Despite your clear interest in fiction over the study of a perfected science, I still expect you able enough to remove your head from the cloud of your imagination for two hours and learn something useful! Or perhaps you find stories of fairytail creatures fascinating enough that you believe spewing this nonsense would earn you a passing grade in my class. Should I call Hagrid or perhaps the ministry to investigate this seemingly newfound knowledge you’ve discovered?”

- Severus felt himself letting go of his frustrations, taking it all out on this girl who really hadn’t done anything to deserve such a scolding. Sure, she was quirky and odd, but when had that ever been a crime? If it was, he certainly would have been guilty of it at her age and if anyone were to see what he’d done with the spare bedroom in his house without context, filling it with all those jars full of animal parts, they certainly would have freak out at the very least. 

- Still he continued to batter her, regrettable words spilling out of his mouth and the more they bounced off her, the more irritable he became. And despite his harsh words, the girl simply sat there batting her eyes as if his comments were nothing more than passing criticism. 

- He was normally so observant, always aware of his students and their display of idiocy, but in this moment of rage and outburst, he’d let himself go. He’d forgotten for a moment where he stood and neglected to realize one of his Hufflepuffs beginning to hyperventilate as he continued lecturing Miss. Moon-Frogs on her inability to attach herself to the real world. 

- “What is the meaning of this?” He snapped as he stepped towards the Hufflepuff sitting in the farthest corner of the room. She was tearing up, crying as if she’d just watched him rip out her puppy’s heart and he couldn’t fathom what could have possibly warranted such a reaction when the entire class was doing nothing but watch his outburst the last few minutes.

- He tried to shift his attention to her, but the second he turned in her direction, she’d sprung up from her seat as though if he got any closer to her, she’d instantly retract Dragon Pox. He watched her tremble and stumble over herself as she struggled to see through her tears and sprint out the door.

- He froze a moment, taken a bit by surprise. After all these years of sarcastic comments and strict mannerisms, never had one of his student’s walked out of his class before. 

- “Get back to work,” he blurted out as he made his way to the door, running after her. “I expect all your potions to be near completion when I return.” 

- He didn’t have to travel very far before catching up with her, finding her bundled on the floor into a ball as she hugged her knees, sobbing with her head hung low. Examining her shacking body and trembling hands, he began to feel a sense of familiarity as he realized she’d had a panic attack during class, likely triggered by something. It only took him a short moment to fit all the pieces together and realized that he’d been the cause of this. This girl’s current state was his own doing.

- Guilt seeped into his chest as he recalled his own past traumas. How he’d used to wake up in the middle of the night, shacking from the reoccurring night terrors that had only passed after he’d worked relentlessly night after night and strengthened the Sleepless Dream Potion. 

- Approaching her slowly, he kept a safe distance as he lowered himself, kneeling on the stone floor, trying to think of any way he could possibly repent his mistakes. 

- “Miss. (Y/L/N),” he spoke softly, careful not to worsen the situation. Closing his eyes, he thought back to his own time huddled into a corner as she had done now and spoke the words he’d hoped someone had said to him at that time. “I apologize for my behaviour. I should not have lost my composure as I did, and I apologize for that.”

- Pausing, he let out a gentle sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair and swiftly stood to quickly make his way back to his classroom.

- You’d only heard the faint echo of his footsteps as he walked away from you, surprised at the fact he’d left you alone when you’d fully expected him to throw some of those nasty comments he was handing Loony Lovegood your way. Your mind went blank as you sat there in silence, ridding you of the old memories your Professor had raised.

- His sudden calmness had somehow snapped you back to reality as thoughts of curiosity overwhelmed you instead. You hugged your knees closer to your chest while you watched through the corner of your eyes as he returned to you, kneeling before you like he’d previously done. 

- “Calming Draught,” he stated, and you heard the sound of a glass vial placed on the stone floor beside you. “And Sleepless Dream if you find yourself up tonight.”

- He placed the second vial beside the first as he sat there watching her peer down at his offering. Her tears had stopped but it was clear she was not yet prepared to return to class.  

- Deciding the best thing for her was to give her time, he prepared himself to head back into the classroom without her, taking one last glance at the girl before speaking once more. “When you’re ready, I trust you can find your way to your Head of House. When you see her, hand her this.”

- And with that, he slid a small folded note towards her containing the explanation for her state, her Potions Professor taking complete responsibility for the situation and mention of excusing the rest of the day’s classes. He swiftly made his way back to his classroom, looking back to see her slowly reach out for the Calming Draught, secretly content he hadn’t completely failed his duties as a Professor. 

- Severus was careful from that day on with his temper, taking a small sip of Calming Draught before class if he ever found that bubble in his gut about to burst again. And by the looks of how this year was turning out, he was likely to need a lot more of it if he wanted to get through the year without poisoning a certain irritable Professor. Then again, would the world really miss another failed Defense Professor if he was to be replaced again next year?

@marvelschriss​ @bush-viper-cutie​

[consumedkings-archive]

ii. damage done & damage made ✤ roman sionis/varya astakhova

words: 2.2k

summary: thanks to @starcrier​ for entertaining my daydreams about my favorite murder duo, we now have a oneshot that literally no one asked for: roman and varya, and their babies, in a tea shop. living their perfect crime lives. that’s all.

rating: m for Adult Language and threats of face-tearing

warnings: the aforementioned face-tearing, roman’s mouth (per usual), domestic murder family. babies being cute.

Mark liked his job, a lot. Working a tea shop felt like a step up from the typical entry-level customer service job, and he got a huge discount on all of the products—not to mention, flexible hours while he was balancing school and needing to pay rent, and premium people-watching. Some days, like today, the card machine acted up and he had to ask customers to put their card numbers in manually, but most of them were understanding. All-in-all: he felt pretty lucky.

So when a young couple wandered into the shop one afternoon, it felt like any other kind of afternoon for him. They matched the usual demographic that liked to stop there; well-dressed, usually a little more upper class given the neighborhood. The woman—small and slender, balancing a stylishly dressed infant on her hip—smiled at him charmingly while the man redirected a two-seat stroller to an area less clustered by shelves, slowly rocking it back and forth.

“Good afternoon!” Mark greeted as the woman approached, keeping his voice softer in case the man was trying to rock another infant to sleep. “Can I help you find anything today?”

“Hello! Yes, well—admittedly, I am not as well-versed in teas as I would like to be,” the brunette said sweetly, a little sheepish. The infant babbled happily and clutched the pendant of her necklace in his fingers.

Mark offered her a smile. “No worries. What kinds of flavors do you like? I have quite a few—”

“Varya,” the man said from where he had been pushing the stroller back and forth, “do you have my phone? I need to make a call.”

“Oh, yes. One moment.” She fished a sleek, dark phone from her purse, passing it to the man before turning her eyes back to Mark. The man, presumably her husband, dialed a number and balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder before the call connected and he started talking—his voice low so that Mark could barely hear him over Varya’s attentions. He had gloves on; black, leather, embossed with something in gold; maybe his initials?

Varya said lightly, “Flavors?”

He flushed, quickly diverting his eyes. “Yes, right. Your favorite flavors?”

“Hm. I prefer spiced teas,” she began, eyes scanning the shelves. “My mother used to make a tea with cloves and cinnamon, do you have anything like that?”

“Certainly,” Mark replied brightly. He turned back to the shelves, humming for a moment. She had had a bit of an accent; it sounded Russian, but it was so slight he couldn’t quite be sure. There were plenty of tourists and sightseers coming in and out of the shop that he’d gotten used to skimming for quick details, like accents or nice clothes or expensive jewelry. And if the gigantic rock on the woman’s finger was any indication, they were hitting all of the boxes for the people that usually walked into a boutique tea shop.

Pulling one of the jars off of the shelf, Mark pulled the cap and offered it to her to smell. “This one’s got cinnamon and cloves, but ginger and cardamom, too. I really like to make it with—”

“No, no, no, no,” her husband bit out into the phone, the stroller rolling to a stop as he stilled his attempts at keeping the baby asleep, “you listen to me, you pint-sized fuckhead, when I tell—”

Varya, completely unbothered by her husband’s vicious tone, shifted the infant to her other hip, smelling the looseleaf mixture again. “It smells so good. I think it is the ginger that makes it good. What did you say you like to make it with?”

“Um,” Mark said, trying not to stare at the man in the velvet suit saying, and I’m going to cut your fucking face off, you piece of shit, did you know that? Do you know who I am? That’s right, and I can do whatever I fucking want, and that means cutting your dumb fucking face off and putting it on display in my loft for my dinner guests, “cream?”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” she murmured idly, reading through the list of ingredients again. “Do you have those little—” She gestured with her free hand. “—to steep the mixture with?”

“Y—” Mark swallowed. His gaze flickered back to the glossy brunette, her lips pouted and the baby nestled against her neck, seemingly putting himself to sleep despite the noise. “Yes, of course. Do you prefer the, um...”

“In English, you fucker,” Roman seethed into the phone, “your—yeah, well, your boss is American, I don’t care where you were born. So tell me in English how many fucking guns are being held up in bumfuck-nowhere-Russia, you—”

“This one is nice,” Varya interjected gently, picking up one of the steel ones. “I like the ones that have a finer mesh. Less chance of getting the debris in there, you know?”

He was trying to remember when the last time he’d taken a breath was. It very suddenly all made too much sense—well-dressed couple, twins, the embossed gloves and the accent and oh my God, oh fuck, oh fucking God oh shit oh fuck I have Roman Fucking Sionis and his Russian gun lord wife in the tea shop I’m going to fucking die—

“Mark?” she prompted. The dulcet tone of her voice broke him out of the panic running through his brain. Unfortunately, the sound of her saying his first name only firmly cemented in his brain the fact that he was now assisting the wife of Gotham’s biggest crime lord in picking out a looseleaf tea.

He swallowed thickly. “H—How, um, did you know my name?”

Varya tilted her head inquisitively. “Your nametag, my love.”

“Oh,” he replied, letting out a nervous laugh. “Of course. Um. Right, those do have a finer mesh. I like them better too. It’s similar t-to the um—the kind of mesh you would—you would have in the teapot. You know. If you were going to do it by the pot. And not the cup. Like for more than one cup of tea.”

A smile ticked the corner of her lips upward. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought she was enjoying his apparent discomfort. “I do like to make more than one cup of tea, on occasion. Do you sell teapots? Can I see those?”

Mark opened his mouth to say that of course, she could see the teapots—did she want his? His personal teapot? He could run home and grab it if she wanted, please don’t shoot me in the face—when the stilling of the stroller’s movements seemed to have distressed the other twin. As soon as she started fussing, Roman threw his free hand up in exasperation.

“Do you hear that, Maxim?” he demanded. “That’s my daughter, crying, because I was so fucking fed up with your idiocy that I stopped rocking her to sleep. What? Do I want to—no, I don’t want your mother’s fucking aromatic recipe for putting infants to sleep, I’m already in a fucking tea shop!”

Varya let out a little sigh. “Excuse me one moment, Mark.”

“Sure,” Mark replied, scratching his forehead. “Sure, no worries, take—um, take your time.”

She swept away from him, returning the happy infant to the stroller and pulling from it the fussy one, bouncing the baby a few times before she said, “Romy, you know Yuli only likes when you bounce her. Trade me.”

Mark watched as Roman’s mouth downturned in a firm frown; he eventually acquiesced, taking the crying baby and offering the phone to Varya, who planted the phone against her ear and pushed the double stroller outside and into fresh air, taking with her the conversation which quickly shifted into a foreign language. For what it was worth, as soon as the little girl was in Roman’s arms, she almost immediately stopped fussing—though he did bounce her and make his way over to Mark, brows furrowed despite his daughter’s happy babbling.

“What one did she like?” he asked, less silken than his better half.

“What?”

“The tea,” Roman answered, squinting. “What tea did she like?”

“Uh,” Mark said, “the—uh, this one. Sir.” He held out the jar, but Roman waved his hand in dismissal.

“Pack some of that up. And the—whatever the fuck this is,” he added, gesturing at the steeper. “That too.”

Mark pulled one of the bags out from the drawer, working quickly despite the tremble in his hands. “Just the steeper? Sir?”

Roman had turned his attention back to the curly-haired baby, waving a gloved finger in her vision to keep her occupied, when Mark had posed his question. “What? Speak up, I’ve got a chatty infant here.”

“She—she wanted to look at the teapots, too.” Mark packed the looseleaf tea into the bag. The scale remained untouched. The idea of taking the time to weigh the tea and charge appropriately had completely fled his mind. “S—Sir.”

“Huh.” Roman squinted at the wall of teapots, seeming to deliberate for a moment. “We’ll take that one. The black and gold. And the steeper, and the tea.”

“Sure. For sure. Good choice. That’s my favorite one,” he added, realizing somewhere in his brain that he was babbling but that he couldn’t stop. “It’s hand-made, so it has—um, it has like...Little flaws, that make it worth a lot, because it was made by a famous—”

Varya returned to the shop, phone tucked away and only their doe-eyed son in her arms again. She gave Roman’s shoulder a squeeze with her free hand and then turned her attention to Mark, smiling prettily. “That’s the one he picked out?”

Mark nodded, hesitated midway through packing the pot. “Yes. Do you like it? Did you want a different one? I have some new ones in the back—”

“It’s perfect,” she assured him. She looked at Roman, glowing, and reached up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I love it.”

The blonde looked pleased. “Yes, well, who knows you better than me?” And then: “What did Kuznetsov tell you?”

Hurrying through the packing, Mark managed to get everything rang up amidst the couple’s idle chatter—which consisted of Varya explaining that ten thousand guns were held up in Kazakhstan, which was not Russia, but used to be part of Russia, at which point Roman waved his hand and went ‘whatever’—and ran the man’s heavy, black card through the card machine.

The machine beeped three times in alarm, and Mark felt his stomach plummet. The fucking machine’s broken, he remembered, with despair. Oh my God, oh my God, I’m going to fucking—

“What?” Roman barked out. “What is it?”

“The—the um, the machine is—I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “The machine is broken and I h-have to have you—put in the card number manually—”

The man made the most indignant sound, but before he could attempt to get fired up all over again, Varya said, “Romy, why don’t you load the twins up in the car? Armazd already put the stroller away. I’ll finish up here.”

Roman’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and then he said, “Alright, V,” and accepted the second infant into his other arm, toting them both outside. Varya looked at Mark and smiled sympathetically, holding out her hand for the machine; Mark handed it over, absently pulling at a loose thread on his apron as she started carefully inputting the card number.

“Do you have children, Mark?” she asked conversationally. “A partner?”

“Uh,” he replied very intelligently. “N-No. No ma’am. I mean, miss. No, I don’t have either of those, miss.”

“It is definitely a life change,” she said by way of agreement, pocketing the card and waiting for the machine to process. “Suddenly, your hands are full all the time.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up out of him, and he nodded his head; the seconds ticked by, agonizing as Varya hummed and gathered up the bag until it finally beeped its approval of the transaction.

“Thank you, my darling!” she called over her shoulder. “I am sure I will be back.”

“Welcome,” he replied weakly. He watched her make her way to the door, nearly out; it wasn’t until his shoulders slumped in a bit of relief that she stopped and turned to look at him, a sly little smile on her face.

“Before I forget,” Varya began, “perhaps, if you find yourself thinking about any of the conversation you heard today—you know, about business—it is best to keep it to yourself. It is not particularly confidential, you see, but...Well, I would just hate to feel like I could not bring my business back here because I cannot trust you.”

An unpleasant little chill sprinted down his spine. He shifted on his feet, wetting his lips for a moment as he tried to figure out what it was he wanted to say; how many times could he swear up and down that nothing he heard today about guns or Kazakhstan to assure her that she wouldn’t have to worry about it? That he would literally rather put pencil shavings in his eyes than put the Sionis target on his back?

“Mark,” she said, “all you have to say is that you understand.”

“I do,” he blurted out quickly, “I do understand.”

She smiled brightly. “I knew you were a good boy. Have a lovely afternoon!”

Just like that, she swept out of the shop; he was finally alone. Mark slumped into his chair, passing a hand over his face for a moment—long enough for him to sit up, press his face into the palms of his hands, and say:

“I have to quit my job.”

[obeymeluv]

Ohhh how about the boys reacting to a lower demon hitting on reader? Like aggressively hitting on them that it’s already quite uncomfortable? Or it could be the shy, almost sweet type?

Hey there! Holy wow, how long has this been here? I usually check Tumblr from my phone and I guess message notifications don’t come through? So sorry T_T

Either way, Nonnie, this isn’t good :o

Divider from Glitter Geeks

♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥ ♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥  ♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥

“It cannot be helped, for I am born of sin and they inspire it in me.”

♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥ ♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥ ♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥

Lucifer

This is the BIGGEST, ULTIMATE NO

Like, all of Mammon’s past transgressions don’t POSSIBLY add up to this insult

At first Lucifer pays no mind because you seem to be integrating into the Devildom and furthering Diavolo’s grand plan. Good!

Then it starts to gnaw at him and he really pays attention. Call it the keen eye of an ex-angel, to watch over humans

Half of him is earnestly trying to plan things to say on the way over, not hearing how his own footsteps echo thunderously with impending doom, but half of him can’t even concentrate due to the overwhelming sense of wrong.

You seem very uncomfortable, this lesser demon is more incompetent than he thought possible, and there’s something hot and nauseating burning in him. It almost hurts to clear his throat, honestly

It feels like the part he’d forgotten about...almost all that Satan was. He honestly thought he didn’t have any wrath left in him, for pride seemed far nastier a thing to be stuck with

He lets those big black wings, once the pride of the Celestial Realm, unfurl in a great and terrifying display. He used to shine in the Celestial Realm when he revealed his true form, but in the Devildom it translates as pure heat

He fans his wings to cool the air around you but the lesser demon now knows his looming shadow and his terrifying presence

If the demon is bold enough to stick around, Lucifer introduces you as the resident human transfer, discourages them from making you late, and suggests any further interaction happen in the presence of one of your seven guardians (“Of which I am one.”)

Although he mentioned seven guardians, it’s clear that he’s the key guardian. The one who will oversee all, and that’s enough to send the demon skittering away.

It takes a few minutes for the air to cool and his wings to fold back in and Lucifer uses that time to glare a burning hole into the lesser creature.

Finally he looks at you and asks you how you’re feeling. Nothing bad happened? Do you need to file paperwork?

Would probably consort with Diavolo to cast a minor enchantment so you could protect yourself if one of the brothers weren’t around

Mammon

You think another demon’s going to get close enough to talk to you? While in the presence of your NUMBER ONE MAN?! Ha!

Mammon may complain about having to go to classes and tries to convince you to ditch more often than not, but he really does look out for you

And boy is Greed’s Avatar so he’s not going to skimp on the company

That also means he’s not going to share your company when he doesn’t feel like it

Mammon may not be openly flirtatious like Asmo, but he knows all about swindling people for their heart (for it is just as valuable as money) and he knows when this demon comes slithering up that he’s BAD NEWS

He’s clever with money-making schemes, has successfully stolen from almost all of his brothers to pawn things, and has brokered deals with witches in such a way that he’s barely affected. Boy’s going to know how to dodge a creep

And for a while, it works. He teaches you back passages and all sorts of little things

But, inevitably, you have to face it alone. He’s not going to always be there.

And he kicks himself when he’s not. Seems he’s only minutes late but ANYBODY who knows you--like your number one man!--knows you’re uncomfortable and THE GREAT MAMMON has to do something!

What does he do? The biggest, loudest, flashiest thing possible. THE BIGGEST SIGN YOU COULD GIVE ANYBODY

If the demon isn’t discouraged from Mammon yell-talking at you halfway down the corridor, Mammon gets to see the delicious way he deflates after he throws an arm around your neck and starts apologizing to ‘his human’ about being late

If he’s in a bad mood that day, he’ll probably toss the demon a single Grimm and tell him to get lost or go buy himself something nice.

The height difference is probably pretty significant so it’s easier for him to just scoop you under his arm and carry you down the hall. Or let his tail wrap around you and walk you down the hall.

Leviathan

I’d be interested to see Levi in this position, honestly. Part of me thinks he’d be too shy to do anything, instead sulking in his room, but part of me thinks once he sees you as a friend (or something more) he’s going to go to bat for you

If it’s that second one, he’d be slyly demeaning. Being the third-born, he’s probably got an intelligent sarcastic streak like Lucifer and a subtle underhandedness like Mammon.

As the Avatar of Envy, his main game is to make the lesser demon feel insignificant by pointing out how little they know you. They’re not your real friend like him so obviously they’re nothing.

He’s much better, anyways. They’re an NPC, he’s Player 1.

I’m also very, very curious about his position in the Devildom Navy. Is that some kind of a switch-flip moment where he can command a room no questions asked, or is it some kind of wickedly good strategy innateness?

Being a background person (and having Asmo as a brother), he probably overhears a lot of gossip. He’d probably drop some real gossip, something embarrassing. Probably say you were needed by Lucifer, as that’s more to-the-point and believable

The aim of the game is to send the demon away, to create distance. Mission accomplished.

Satan

He won’t intervene until he gets the idea that you’re uncomfortable. It’s a whole process with this one.

On the one hand, he wants you to be able to handle yourself. If you are not enough to send the creature away, then he’ll intervene. Partly because he’s technically responsible for you, partly because he cannot stand idly by and entertain this idiocy.

Satan has many tricks but his favorite one is to freeze the demon out by ignoring him.

Totally dominates/inserts himself into the conversation. Makes the demon feel like he isn’t there.

If that doesn’t work and your scrambling to corroborate him or just back out of the conversation, Satan speaks for you. (”We’re studying later.”, etc.). If the demon tries for another day, Satan just coolly adds ‘and tomorrow’ or ‘for the rest of the week’ until the point is made.

The longer this issue continues--despite his help--the more the Avatar of Wrath begins to reveal himself. That aura alone is usually enough to send anything running.

Kinda feels like he made an ass of himself no matter what, and apologizes after you two are alone. Is very cute and embarrassed.

Gives you a biting book. It’s an enchanted tome you can train not to bite certain people. You two are the only ones that can hold it. He looks forward to seeing how many people it bites before the week is over (a little too happy). 

Asmodeus

Oh the many ways this could be handled! Asmo has so many ideas!

At first his little heart skips a beat because how cute is this?! A cliche romance unfolding in the halls of RAD between a human and a demon? Then his little ‘radar’ begins to ping and he realizes not all is well or cute

He was kind of glad, honestly. You could do MUCH better (like him!)

It could be as easy as Asmo sliding in and charming the lesser demon to leave you alone, walking away in a stupor, or more complicated and sinister

Asmo’s never done anything truly, intentionally sinister but rumor mills can be pretty devastating. The lesser demon may find himself at the center of some unsavory rumors that cause him to slink around the general populous

The narcissistic fifth-born probably has something of a following. He may appoint some of his followers as body guards or just extra eyes to keep you safe

Or he could do a total 180 and make this lesser demon seem totally dreamy to others so they get chased and leave you alone. Yes, he quite likes that one!

Then there’s the traditional route, the most obvious (which Asmo prefers because, honestly, you two would be the CUTEST couple) where he’s your boyfriend and you guys didn’t want to tell anyone but OOPS! SECRET’S OUT! Great, now go away! Wait, take a picture for his Devilgram first! Okay, now go. 

Beelzebub

Probably takes Beel a bit to notice your discomfort. If he’s not distracted with food, it’s because he didn’t want to act in bad faith. What if you actually liked talking to that demon? What if you were just awkward like Levi? It’s a delicate matter.

Beel is no fool, though. He’s very friendly. If he introduces himself and the lesser demon doesn’t quit his behavior, Beel will then turn serious.

Tries to emphasize to the demon that you’ve said no

May show muscle or offer up a challenge. Sometimes people are hard-headed like that and need action.

“You want to date them? Beat me in an arm-wrestling competition.” (they won’t)

Beelzebub can be down-right crafty. “You want to date them? Beat me in an eating competition.” (he’s the undisputed champion).

I think he’d use his size in a good way. If this demon keeps cornering you/pestering you, Beel’s going to make a habit of walking between you or just picking you up until the demon gets the hint that if Beel’s around, he’s not talking to you

Belphegor

The smallest part of him is too tired to deal with this but he’s powered by the sheer amount of HELL NO and decides he has to fix it.

Fix it once and it stops

Belphie, like Satan and Lucifer, has  a low tolerance for stupid things. This demon is one of them.

Very cut-throat and point blank. “They’re not interested. Go away.”

Lord Diavolo and Lucifer expressly mentioned they couldn’t use their powers on YOU, not other demons. Belphie can probably make people really sleepy. He’d make this demon so deliriously tired that he couldn’t flirt with you

Definitely the type to make the demon pass out in the hall and leave him there. Head injury? No clue, he had to go to class. It’s okay, the other RAD students probably won’t step on them.

So mad about the demon. “Honestly!” as he fluffs his pillow angrily after you two have settled in your next class. It’s the angriest nap he’s ever taken.

I don’t think he takes his pillow to school but you can bet he’d but a brick or something in it and whack them. Maybe try to suffocate them. Probably wouldn’t risk his precious pillow like that.

I bet he’d fake nap if the demon tries to flirt with you in class. LOUD, OBNOXIOUS, GRATING fake snoring.  

Hope you liked it :)

[merthurkissfest]

Merthur Kiss Fest 2019  Masterlist

The Merthur Kiss Fest has concluded for yet another year! We're sad to see it go, but so very glad that it happened. Quick apology for the wait, as this was meant to go up a bit ago already. But thank you all for your patience. <3

We have a total of (drumroll please)... 61 works this year! That's incredible!!

A huge thank you and round of applause to our amazing writers and artists for their wonderful contributions, whose hard work is at the heart and soul of this fest, as well as to the creator and my fellow mod, @arthur-of-the-pendragons​, who did most of the work putting this together and keeping it running, and last but not least, to the rest of the community who spread the word, shared the work, and left kudos and comments!

I know I speak for the both of us when I say that none of this would've been possible without the love, dedication, and generosity of the Merlin community. So from the bottom of our tiny little fangirl hearts, Thank you. Under the cut is the masterlist of all the works. I would like to ask that the creators check over it and let me know ASAP if there's any mistakes, or anything I missed! Thank you!

✧･ﾟ: * 🌸 SPRING 🌸 *:･ﾟ✧

Of Sunrises and Stardust by Victori Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 903 Summary: "Merlin had lived through a thousand springs, and had learned that nothing ever began again. Spring wasn’t hope; it was a cycle, one that came and went as Merlin stood still and watched it fly by. Spring was life as a reminder of death." OR Merlin has been waiting too long, and is on the verge of giving up. But his destiny was written in the stars, and it's not willing to let him go that easily.

A Better Fate than Wisdom: About a Secret by Leandra Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 3200 Summary: In which Arthur is drunk, Merlin is inconvenienced and secrets are kept, but barely.The first part in a four-part series for the Merlin/Arthur Kiss Fest 2019. Each part will feature a different season, a different set of kisses and at least one trope :-)Series Title comes from the e.e.cummings poem "since feeling is first": and kisses are a better fate than wisdom. MERRY XMAS!!!

April Violets (Five First Kisses) by athousandvictories [FIC+ART] Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 5604 Summary: Merlin's journey to his last first kiss, or five stories of new beginnings. A set of behind-the-scenes moments beginning before Merlin goes to Camelot. Vaguely canon compliant until the end. Plenty of drunken idiocy and poorly executed flirtation. Because we deserve it.

In Which Arthur Gets Jealous of an Owl by AeonTheDimensionalGirl Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 3482 Summary: Arthur decided he must officially be going insane if he was suddenly craving Merlin’s liking after seeing the owl give fond peaks to the raven haired servant.

A Springtime Betrothal by tehfanglyfish Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2213 Summary:  It’s a beautiful spring day – the perfect setting for young royals to enter into a betrothal. Too bad Princess Elena is convinced that Arthur is a would-be assassin, out to kill her with a poisoned kiss. To prove that there is no danger, Arthur has no choice but to kiss Merlin, leading to several unexpected, though not unwelcome, developments.

Spring Night (oh so wrong) by CandiceWright Rating: E Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1509 Summary: Because ever since Gwen left Arthur’s looks have been hotter than his touches, his few words filled with unspoken promises that Merlin is scared to take. He’s scared because he doesn’t want it to be just a remedy for his fractured pride, doesn't want it to be done out of spite. But he does want it, he really does. And now Arthur's gaze is heavy upon him, making his body shiver in anticipation and all he can think is this is wrong, wrong. But then Arthur tells him to come to his bed, and how could Merlin say no to that?

Weaving Crowns by Mischel [FIC+ART] Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 569 Summary:  Now that Merlin and Arthur are both kings and married, they hardly have time for each other anymore. Merlin's decided to do something about it, and he takes Arthur to a meadow, where they can finally have a moment alone to- make flower crowns? Well, that's not what Arthur expected. (But maybe that's exactly what he needed.)

Blossom by Blossom by Caledonia Rating: Not Rated Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1614 Summary: Merlin builds floral crowns in advance of the spring celebrations, and there is a secret hidden in Arthur's."Blossom by blossom the spring begins." Algernon Charles Swinburne

Spring (cleaning) Kisses by Lao-Pendragon [ART] Rating: Not Rated

Young Man’s Fancy by Caledonia Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1866 Summary: Merlin's mum has moved to a quaint village with a strangely competitive spring tradition. Cue Merlin being clumsy and Arthur manning the first aid tent. "In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." - Alfred Lord Tennyson

Love in Spring by CallMeHopeless and Maryluis [FIC+ART] Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2026 Summary:  Arthur and Merlin are in a secret relationship - for now. Hiding their love takes a toll on them both and communicating with each other isn’t much better...

King in a (flower) crown by brokenfannibal_art [ART] Rating: G Summary:  I saw a post a while back about how the children of the lower town probably make flower crowns for Merlin. And lets be honest Arthur would absolutely melt when he saw Merlin wearing one. Of course Merlin would make one for Arthur as well.

The gifts from Spring by Shadow_Hole Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1487 Summary:  Once, Gaius had told him that Spring, would eventually notice Merlin’s hardships and will gift him with what he needed the most, a ‘helping hand from nature’ as the old men had said at the time. Merlin knew that this wasn't true.

True Love’s Kiss by broken_fannibal Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 3705 Summary:  Arthur was cursed by a water spirit to drown himself in a certain lake. Will they be able to find a way to lift the curse? A race against time begins.

I Need Your Hand by FervidAsAFlame Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2781 Summary: Gwen manages to drag her best friend Arthur to the university’s semi-formal dance, even though he won’t stop sulking that his boyfriend can’t make it. Luckily, Gwen’s got a surprise for him.

Dog Walking Disaster by surprisinglyblunt Rating: M Chapters: 3/4 Word Count: 4540 Summary:  When Merlin finds a lost dog after one of the worst encounters of his life, he thinks fate might be punishing him for something, but is it really punishment or is the universe actually on his side this time?

✧･ﾟ: * 🔆 SUMMER 🔆 *:･ﾟ✧

Merlin’s Knight by AeonTheDimensionalGirl Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 8537 Summary: He comes in the dark of night; never speaking or letting his full face show, but Merlin appreciates the company anyway.After all, who’s foolish enough to venture into the dungeons and comfort an accused sorcerer?

A Better Fate than Wisdom: About a Transgression by Leandra Rating: M Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 5738 Summary: Merlin had joined him in the water, coming towards him with long, even strokes of his arm. He was a good swimmer, better than most of Arthur’s knights and he caught up with Arthur quickly, briefly ducking and diving underneath the water to emerge just in front of him with a grin and water streaming down his face, his hair plastered against his skull, his ears seemingly more prominent than usual. Arthur felt his earlier confusion slip away. It was just Merlin. Clumsy, bumbling, ridiculous Merlin with his silly ears and too insolent grin.-*- After riding all day during a heatwave, Arthur and Merlin stop for a swim. A bit of roughhousing turns awkward and Arthur finds out that silly ears or not, there's just something about Merlin ;-)

Going Underground by Caledonia Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1628 Summary:  Merlin is stuck on a sweltering hot underground train and he considers getting off and walking home instead. That is until a rather handsome blond man boards the train beside Merlin and things begin to get interesting.

Arthur - The Prince to never get anything by CallMeHopeless and Maryluis [FIC+ART] Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2779 Summary: 5 Times Merlin does something nice for people who are not Arthur. And one time, when it's finally Arthur's turn.

Hold My Hand, Let the Waves Come by Mischel Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 834 Summary: The world is full of new and exciting experiences for Arthur now that he came back from Avalon. But standing only in his "special swimming underwear" on an overcrowded beach where it feels like hundreds of people are watching him, doesn't seem like one of them.Merlin is there to help him realize that even with many more people than Arthur is used to, it can still be fun when they're together :)

And Turn the White Snow Red as Strawberries in Summertime by Caledonia Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 910 Summary:  Arthur and Merlin conjure memories of summer while cooped up during a winter storm.

Boys of Summer by Victori Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 4450 Summary: "It started, as most problems in Merlin’s life, with a boy. A bloody gorgeous boy, with eyes as blue as the sea and wet blond hair plastered to his forehead. An Adonis if there ever was one, complete with a Roman nose. A boy who Merlin spilled Rocky Road all over in a stunning display of clumsiness."ORMerlin and Arthur met, fell in love, and messed it up. Maybe their summer romance isn't as far gone as they think.

Summer of New Beginnings (what I would do for you) by CandiceWright Rating: M Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1801 Summary:  That night Merlin sees just how deep the wound of Agravaine’s betrayal is. He wants to hold him and tell him that everything will be okay, that he won’t have to go through the same thing again but he can’t because he’s betraying him far more than anyone else ever has and it hurts.

Sweet Summer Kisses by Nattymctatty [ART] Rating: Not Rated

Can We Always Be This Close by tehfanglyfish Rating: E Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 7982 Summary: Merlin takes a trip to Ealdor to tend his mother’s farm while she visits a friend in another village. He thinks he’ll have a week of solitude until Arthur decides to tag along. The days they spend together lead to numerous revelations.Or… the one where the author indulges Arthur and allows him to run off to a farm with Merlin.

Arthur’s Flowers by lefayart [ART] Rating: Not Rated Summary: Arthur gets what he asked for.... but only because he asked nicely.

A Day at the Lake by Impala_Chick Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1080 Summary: It's too hot in the Castle, so Arthur and Merlin sneak off to the lake to cool off.

✧･ﾟ: * 🍁 FALL 🍁 *:･ﾟ✧

Trembling Fingers and Sure Strides by arsenicandsunshine Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2474 Summary:  It's a beautiful day, the birds are singing, the sun is shining. Merlin's nervous as fuck. For no good reason, either. It's a tournament, like any other tournament. Nothing to indicate Arthur is in danger of dying. At least, not today.

Take Me Apart by tehfanglyfish Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1212 Summary:  One otherwise dull autumn day, Arthur meets an insolent stranger in the Camelot marketplace who claims to be able to take him apart with less than one blow. Arthur decides to let him try.

A Better Fate than Wisdom: About Attraction by Leandra Rating: E Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 5861 Summary: “Seriously, Merlin,” Arthur drawled, stepping closer and halting his hands, “you are so terribly clumsy, it’s a wonder you haven’t cut something off with your sickle that isn’t a rye ear.” He reached with steady fingers, hooking the waterskin safely back into Merlin’s belt. They were standing close, so close, and Arthur’s hands were at his waist and Merlin, who was already flustered, felt his heart skip a beat. Please, he thought, please, not knowing what it really was he wanted. He sighed in relief when Arthur stepped back to pick up his sickle again and bent to retrieve his own. *-* Sex pollen, a rye field, filthy kissing and too many feelings.

Of Foreign Nobility and Hidden Magic by AeonTheDimensionalGirl Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 5709 Summary: Merlin’s fair skin should not be covered in dark purple bruises.

Kissing It Better by Mischel Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 685 Summary: Merlin and Arthur are on an important mission, but the weather betrays them and they end up being chased through a forest all the way to a cliff. There are only two options now - jump or be killed, and, well . . . kissing isn't one of them. So . . . what are you doing, Arthur?

I love you with or without fleas by CallMeHopeless and Maryluis [FIC+ART] Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1627 Summary: Morgana challenges Arthur to kiss the Person he loves most...

From Love We Fall (I want to understand) by CandiceWright Rating: M Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1138 Summary: Merlin doesn’t talk to Arthur after his betrothal to Gwen. He helps with the preparations, he can’t not, but he can’t bear to talk to Arthur after what he did. And Arthur makes no effort to talk to him either. His eyes still follow him while he’s doing his chores, refusing to utter a single word, not even to explain. Not that Merlin would listen to anything he has to say. Because after all they’ve been through, after what they’ve shared he deserves more than him just fucking him and leaving him alone. He feels used, betrayed. And he knows in his heart that it wasn’t meant to last, but he knows just as much that what they had was real, the love was there. But he can’t do it anymore, not like this. Not when he feels like he can’t get out of bed every morning, when every step he takes feels like torture, when he’s forced to see everyone’s happiness at the prospect of having a new and wonderful queen.

Foiled By Fall by MapleBreeze Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1597 Summary: Arthur decides to pick flowers as an anonymous gift for Merlin but is hit with the realization that it is Autumn and this is no longer a simple task. But this is only the first way his plan goes wrong.

Deliration of Love by arsenicandsunshine Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2653 Summary: Tall. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Shimmers in the sun. Is an utter prat. How could anyone not fall in love with Arthur Pendragon? Don't fall in love with destiny. Merlin has given up any hope of those deepest secrets of his ever coming to light and resigned himself to being happy because Arthur was happy. With someone else. Arthur may just surprise him once again. Or. In sorting through his feelings after banishing Gwen, Arthur realizes there's another person he's been stifling his emotions for.

Dead Ends and New Beginnings by Caledonia Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1827 Summary: On a beautiful, sunny autumn day Merlin agrees to accompany his friends to a corn maze, not telling any of them that he's just a little bit claustrophobic. He ends up in a dead-end of the maze with only Arthur where Arthur tries to calm him and comfort him by sharing a fear of his own.

Lavender by Excaliburstark Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1373 Summary: Merlin likes to please his king and Arthur likes his baths. 

✧･ﾟ: * ❄️ WINTER ❄️ *:･ﾟ✧

Well I Won’t Be Your Winter by Caledonia Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1582 Summary: Stranded in a cave during a winter blizzard, Merlin must use magic to light the fire. He knows this will be a death sentence for himself, but hopefully, Arthur will be saved. But first, Merlin will fulfil the promise he had made himself."I am going to do something now that will make you want to kill me, and then I am going to do something that will make it easier."

Even The Weariest River by Caledonia Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1306 Summary: Arthur is offered many things in life that he does not want, and the one thing he does want he believes he is utterly unworthy of.(I'm sorry- this one is quite angsty-read the tags, please <3)

Blame it on the Mistletoe by Caledonia Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 792 Summary: Merlin works for Arthur which means he's out of bounds. Except maybe it's time to change that...Or, why you should never invite your sister as your date to the office Christmas Party.

popcorn & prats by cominupforair Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 3434 Summary: In which Merlin really wants to spend NYE on his own, but Arthur is a prat.

Kiss Him! by tehfanglyfish Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1291 Summary: After being abducted by an infuriating dragon, Arthur finds Merlin unresponsive, suffering ill-effects from a sorcerer's attack. According to the dragon, there's only way for Arthur to save him.

One Thing To Make You Mine by FervidAsAFlame Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 9907 Summary: When Arthur asks for Merlin’s help with asking someone out for Valentine’s Day, Merlin does his best to give his friend excellent advice -- even if he’d rather it was him Arthur was asking out. Unsurprisingly, Arthur seems up to the task of pulling this mystery man, but Merlin can’t help but wonder – who could he be? And why does Arthur keep testing all his methods on Merlin first?

Untitled by Kawaroki [ART] Rating: Not Rated Summary: merthur kissfest: winter ❄

Superstitious Love Confessions by CallMeHopeless and MaryLuis [FIC+ART] Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2821 Summary: Arthur is gifted a plant. It is not mistletoe. So what is he doing holding it over his head?

No Scorching Sun Nor Freezing Coly (Or Interrupting Owls and Knights) by AeonTheDimentionalGirl Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 3620 Summary: It’s moments like these, in which they’re not master and servant or king and (secret) warlock, just Arthur and Merlin, that Merlin most treasures.

A Better Fate than Wisdom: About Truth by Leandra Rating: E Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 10117 Summary: “Was everything else a lie, too?” he asked darkly, hating the desperation in his tone, thinking of the friendship he valued so much, of Merlin laughing at his jokes, of fighting side by side and how it had given him strength again and again, knowing that Merlin would always be there, would always choose to stand with him, no matter what. Of Merlin’s soft sob of pleasure, gasped into his mouth as his fingers clawed the small of his back. *-* Arthur finds out that Merlin has magic. Conclusion of the series.

It was all yellow/they shine for you by Excaliburstark Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 956 Summary: The apple bowl scene with a twist

Next Year Then, Stranger by Mischel Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1658 Summary: When Merlin tells Arthur the news that he'll be moving from Ealdor to Camelot, Arthur can't contain his delight and kisses Merlin right there, in the snowy meadow. This is the story of Merlin and Arthur who had known each other for years but could only ever meet once a year in the winter. This is the moment that changes their lives forever.

The Shape of My Beautiful Lies by Caledonia Rating: M Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2451 Summary: Merlin’s fingertips were thieves. They mapped the surface of Arthur’s body in fleeting, casual touches, and they stole. Merlin was not allowed to touch his king, not in the ways that he wanted; so when he went about his duties he made every contact an unrequited crime.

Paper Planes by Excaliburstark Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 585 Summary: Merlin is leaving on a flight to Venezuela where he'll live with his dad for a while.

Always Break My Fall by arsenicandsunshine Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2459 Summary: Merlin may be a police constable, but that doesn't mean he can ice skate. A fact he's been hiding from his best mate who just insisted on dragging him ice skating. His best mate who also made it clear he doesn't feel the same way about Merlin as Merlin does about him. How the hell did he let Arthur drag him ice skating, of all things? Oh right, Merlin has no willpower where a certain blonde prat is concerned. This is going to end well.

We are Nowhere and It’s Now by theskyisgay Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 4462 Summary: The waiting, and what comes after.

The Future Queen Commands by tehfanglyfish Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 3026 Summary: The outbreak of a midwinter fever leaves the castle short staffed and Arthur in the uncomfortable position of looking after four small children. Who knew that children had so much energy? Or that they asked so many nosy questions? And were quite skilled at getting answers? By no means did the king of Camelot expect a little girl to discover a secret he’d been keeping for years, one involving Merlin and feelings, or to put him in a position where he must reveal it.

like a lover (with no shame) by Elizabeth Rating: M Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2029 Summary: The last bitter freeze of winter finds Arthur and Merlin deep in the forest. Ever gallant, Arthur is willing to go to great lengths to keep his manservant alive and unfrozen. He'll share his cloak, his bedding, and--if he must--even the warmth of his own body. Spring is almost here, but not without one final bedwarming fic for the Merthur Kiss Fest 2019/20. Thanks for Amnesty Week! "Midmorning sun is casting its rays against the tent walls, and Arthur is having his way with his half-sleeping manservant. He slept half the day, and he’s holding Merlin like a lover, with no shame."

What Winter Took Away (love is not enough) by CandiceWright Rating: M Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 4290 Summary: But Arthur is hurt and his words cut through Merlin like a knife. How could they not? Saying that he admires him only to dismiss him in the next breath. And if that's the last time he's going to see his King he wishes he could be remembered as the brave one, the lionheart, not the coward that he appears to be now, that he feels like he is. But it isn't the last time, it can't be. He will see him again even if he has to tear the earth in half to do so. He can and he will.With that thought in mind, he leaves the castle to go to the crystal cave.

Dark Before Dawn by MapleBreeze Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 3227 Summary: During a winter feast, Merlin still longs for a brighter future. But, for the present, all he has is stolen moments with Arthur.

Freoðuweard by Camelittle Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 100 Summary: Arthur pays tribute to his friend. Avalon looks on.

✧･ﾟ: * 🌸🔆 ALL SEASONS 🍁❄️ *:･ﾟ✧

The Four Times That It was Forbidden (And the One Time it Wasn’t) by sdewan6 Rating: T+ Chapters: 3/5 Word Count: 3815 Summary: “Bloody Hell, Merlin, I care so much I think I’ll kill myself if you ever leave me. If there's ever a day where I don’t love you, you can stab me in the heart. Surely you do not think that lowly of me, do you? I love-” He had a quiet, unreadable expression his face. “No,” he said softly, cutting him off. “Stop. I’m sorry. I just- I can’t  can’t keep on  doing this.” Four times Merlin and Arthur shared forbidden kisses, and the one time it wasn't forbidden at all.

From Grey Into Golden by witching_wingthorns Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 693 Summary:  It starts simple enough with an arrogant prince and a brave peasant  It starts simple with playful banter and the beginnings of a friendship with a challenge and an answer, a fight you should’ve won A poem from Arthur’s perspective, a love letter, really, describing his countless lives with Merlin.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Day 23 : Confession - Satan

“I am very upset to announce you that we will have to prepare for that puny human holiday called “Christmas”. “ Lucifer stated clearly, yet with much disgust in his voice, at lunch where all 8 of us were gathered. “YAY! Finally something fun in this Hell!” I fist-pumped the air, making Lucifer glare at me. “I take it it’s your fault Diavolo came up with this idiocy, right, Katrina?” he asked in a darker voice, but I only smiled innocently at him. “Whatever could you mean, Lucifer, dear? You and Diavolo were the ones to want the exchange program, and thus, the Next Demon Lord thought it wise to make the humans feel at home! I don’t see why you’d blame me?” I giggled, shrugging my shoulders as if I had nothing to do with it. “This just confirms it’s your fault.” he sighed in defeat, as I winked at him. “That just means we’ll have to make the best out of it! Decorating the place, the Christmas Tree, giving gifts, baking and cooking, fireworks-...” I trail of, already making a list with whatever we need to do, but Lucifer put his hands on my shoulders, stopping me in my tracks. “Enough, please stop. One at a time. Since you’re so knowledgeable in the human traditions, I will make you responsible with organisation. From now on, all of you will be listening to Katrina and will do as she commands. Dismissed.” just as he left, a triumphant smirk came on my face. “Well, since there’s 8 of us, we will be paired up in teams of 2, okay? Let’s see...Beel, I would like you and Belphie to get a Christmas Tree and start decorating it in the Ball room. Asmo, could you and Lucifer decorate the place? I trust you the most when it comes to great taste, and besides, after they’re all done, they will come help you out, and when that happens, Asmo is in charge of it. That leaves...Mammon and Levi to cook and bake. I will be giving you simple recipes that you can follow, and more, I will look with Levi for YouTube tutorials to follow. On top of that, everyone needs to give each other presents, so I will make sure to get lots of wrapping paper and ribbons for you. Moreover, I think Diavolo would love it if we would dress him up as Santa, so he could be the one to give the gifts around. I and Satan will go to the human world and gather all the useful items that we will be needing, and we’ll make sure they will arrive here as fast as possible. Is that okay with everyone?” I asked, writing down everything in my agenda. “Aww, Kat, I’m so happy you trust me with such an important task! After this, want to go to a Spa Day with me? We haven’t been in more than 2 weeks!” Asmodeus grinned, satisfied with his task. “Of course we can, Asmo! Our skin has to be as soft and flawless as possible!” I put my hands on my cheek, thinking how great it would be to relax again at the Spa. “Why can’t I be in charge of cooking?” Beel pouted, looking up at me from the table. “Because, dear...You would be eating everything.” I sighed, patting his hair. “Don’t worry, tomorrow is Christmas and you will be able to eat as much as you want. You will love it!” I cheered him up, earning a small smile. “Well then! Now that everything’s settled, I will give each of you the task you have to do. I and Satan will have to go now, but please go inform Lucifer and give him this paper with the tasks too, okay? He won’t be able to complain, since the complain will be directed to Diavolo, which is a big no-no, so you’re all safe.” I gave them a thumbs up, before looking at Satan, who seemed very passive. “Are you ready to go?” I asked with a soft smile on my face. “Sure, let’s go.” he nodded, getting up and following me to the human world, where it was already evening.

The streets, trees and buildings were heavily decorated and the fact that it was night and the beautiful silver Moon was illuminating the city, along with the colourful fairy lights, didn’t stop me from staring in awe at the city.

All around, everyone seemed to be feeling festive and happy since there were only good vibes and smiles on their faces. “This is beautiful...” I gazed at the place as my heart clenched in happiness, raising my hand into the sky, saying a little incantation I learnt in the Celestial realm, making it snow softly, with big and delicate snowflakes. “I didn’t know you could do that.” Satan stated in wonder. “I have a few little tricks up my sleeve from up there. After all...Lucifer wasn’t the only favourite of God. And...I liked my magic.” I winked at him as I started on ahead, guiding him to the huge decoration market that left me as mesmerised as never before (by human standards). “That’s...A lot of decorations and colours. What should we get?” he asked, shocked by the never-ending variety. “We could either settle for a combination of 2 colours for the whole place...Or Choose 2 colours that would match everyone’s colour scheme for their rooms, and choose Diavolo’s colours for most of the place. What do you think?” I looked at him with a pondering face, and after a few seconds, he seemed to agree with the 2nd option. “Okay.Diavolo, definitely Red and Gold. For Lucifer, maybe Red and Black? Mammon...Yellow and White? Levi...Dark blue and Silver? How’s that so far?” I ask, looking up at the different colours of tinsels displayed. “I think that’s fine. Green and Yellow for me, please. I bet Asmodeus would like Pink and Silver, Beelzebub would go for Orange and Yellow and Belphie...Blue and...” Satan began, and as he was thinking, I blurted out “Purple!” “Yeah, that’s nice, I bet he would love it. What about you, Katrina?” he asked, which made me widen my eyes. “Ah, right, I completely forgot about me! Well...I think Light blue and Silver works for me.” I grinned, clapping my hands together in glee. “Sounds like a nice combination. Well then, let’s put the decoration in the shopping carts. Great thing they’re very large...We will need all the space.” he hummed in amusement as we started putting boxes of decorations in the cart, as if we were playing Tetris.

“Well then, now that we’re done with the more difficult part, let’s take everything outside so I can put a spell on them and teleport everything inside the Mansion.” I looked at the carts filled to the brim with decoration boxes as we pushed them outside, in a dark alley where nobody could see us. “Now, then...”

I look left and right to make sure nobody was watching, so I could transform in my demon self, making it easier to use my magic and send everything to the Devildom...But that left me rather exhausted, and I fell on my knees, panting slightly for air.

“Katrina, are you okay?” Satan asked, kneeling down next to me, helping me get up. “Yeah, don’t worry about me. Magic outside Devildom takes more of a toll on me than I realised. But it’s fine, our job is basically done. We can go back now, if you want.” I smiled at him tenderly, thanking him for helping me out. “Lucifer and Asmodeus are there to make sure everything goes well. I’m sure they won’t be missing us for a few hours more.” he let out an amused breath. “It’s not every day when we get to the human realm, so why not explore a bit?” he suggested, motioning for me to hook my hand to his arm, like a gentleman would. “I like what I’m hearing! Oh, I know a nice little vintage tea shop where we could go to. I bet you’ll like it. They always put classical music, and since today is Friday, it’s gonna be Debussy and Tchaikovsky, I’m sure you’re gonna love it!” I exclaimed in a gleeful voice, not noticing the look he was giving me, nor the tender smile.

As we arrived there, we got immediately greeted by the rich aroma of sweet tea and Debussy’s melodies bringing peace into our hearts. We sat down at a table next to the fireplace, and admired the pretty decorations.

“You were right, this place is really...Calming. Worth it after all the chaos from the Devildom. Thank you for bringing me here.” he smiled softly, blushing as he sipped from his tea. “I’m just glad I can enjoy this with someone else. I’m not sure who else would have been able to properly enjoy this experience without ruining it in some way.” I hummed in amusement, holding the cup in both my hands, letting it warm them. “Oh...Claire de Lune...” my eyes widened slightly as my smile curved upwards. “Do you like it?” he asked in a hushed voice. “It’s...My favourite song. I haven’t played it in a long time...” I looked down in reminescence. “I didn’t know you could play the piano.” he raised his eyebrow in curiosity. “I...Haven’t, in a very long while. Didn’t really want any of those normies to find out. You know how they can be. I do play occasionally with Diavolo, though, so I’m not that rusty.” I chuckled thinking of the duets I’ve done with him. “I see. Would you...Play for me, some day?” he asked in an uncharacteristically timid voice, making me smile tenderly at him. “Christmas is all about giving and miracles. When we get home, I promise I will. I really hope you’ll like it!” my smile never faltering.

We enjoyed the peace and melody of the place for just a while longer, before we went back home, to see everyone arguing for some reason, and decorations all over the place, making both I and Satan facepalm.

“Will you SHUT UP?!” Satan’s voice boomed through the room, making everyone halt in place. “It’s his fault!” they all yelled at once, but one look from Satan made them all shut up again. “How did this happen? Lucifer, explain.” I crossed my arms, not ready for all this mess.

Of course, the brothers can’t cooperate and do something right no matter how hard they try, so Beel ended up eating the food, decorations ended up randomly put in all the wrong places, Belphie fell asleep, Asmo became a dictator...But at least the Tree was put where it should be.

“I am very disappointed in all of you. Honestly...You are grown up men, and yet, you behave like little children. Get to your rooms right now, I don’t want to see you until tomorrow.” I reprimand all of them, and thankfully, instead of arguing, they all left. “What are you going to do now?” Satan asked, still irked. “You should go to your room too. It will be easier if I take care of things on my own. I will give everyone their decoration since they can at least do that themselves...And when I’m done, I will let the human put the Star on top of the Tree. Thank you for today, Satan, I really appreciate you helping me out today. Goodnight.” I smiled at him, kissing his cheek before waving at him. “Are you sure you don’t need help?” he asked again, but I shook my head. “It’s better this way, trust me.” I winked at him playfully, letting him know I will be okay.

Which...I hope I will.

I transform in my demon form and use magic to arrange everything in its rightful box, and then put them all in front of their rooms, letting them know they can decorate already.

After that, I decorated the Tree and the Ballroom, but it was extremely exhausting and I couldn’t do think I would be able to cook or bake anything for the night. Hopefully, tomorrow I would have time until evening.

I didn’t even realise I fell asleep on the couch, but when I woke up, I noticed a green blanket over me and the smell of gingerbread in the air. I look at my D.D.D. to see that it was afternoon already...I can’t believe I overslept so much...!  Never mind that, I have to hurry and see what’s going on in the kitchen!

Holding the green blanket close to me like a cap, I walk still sleepily in the kitchen, only to gasp in shock as I see Beel, Belphie, Levi and Mammon cooking and baking, and batches of gingerbread figures and cupcakes already done and ready to be eaten. “This is torture...My stomach wants to eat everything at once...” Beel muttered, clutching his stomach. “Whose initiative was it?” I ask, somehow surprising them. “Ah, Kat, you’re awake! We’re sorry about last night...But I see Satan made sure you’re okay.” Mammon sniggered like a schoolgirl, making me raise my eyebrow in confusion. “What do you mean?” I as, tilting my head. “That’s Satan’s blanket.” Belphie yawned, pointing at the green fluffy blanket. “O-Oh...Then, I can safely guess he was the one with the initiative, wasn’t he?” I half-smiled, grateful for his kindness. “Yep.” Beel nodded, making Levi smirk. “Satan and Katrina sitting in a tree~!” he began, but I stopped him by bonking his head, not wanting to hear more teasing than needed. “Before you leave, Diavolo said the party in at 8pm, so be ready by then, okay? You know how they can be.” Belphie pointed out once again, and thanking him, I leave to my room to get ready for the party properly and wrap all the gifts neatly, before putting them under the huge Christmas tree.

I put on a black dress with black leather boots, some accessories and left the room, making sure my fire red hair cascaded over my shoulders gracefully. In the Ballroom, and everyone was already there, including the angels and humans.

“Woaw, you’re all looking great! So festive!” I clapped my hands together, grinning widely seeing everything looking so nicely. “Katrina, I was right, you did such an amazing job with this Anti-Christmas!” Diavolo chuckled gleefully, making everyone around sweatdrop. “Diavolo, dear, I’m sure you said it like that on purpose. Honestly, you look great today, but why don’t you try the Anti-Christ Santa suit I gave you?” I wink at him playfully. “This way, you can be the one giving everyone the gifts! You’re the perfect person for that!” I flash him a peace sign, making his laugh boom through the wide room. “Very well, I’ll go change now. Y’all better behave.” his usual cheerful grin sparkled as usual as he patted my head and left. “Now then, is Kitsune ready to put the Star on top of the Tree? I hope you don’t mind, Solomon.” I smile at them, getting closer to the tree. “I...! Well, yes! But how am I gonna reach so far up, the tree is at least 3-4 meters tall!” the little human girl gasped, looking up at the huge tree towering over everyone. “Now, now, Kitsune, don’t be silly.” I giggled at her, letting my demon for take place, my big black wings like the abyss fluttering around me. “Are you ready?” I smirked, extending my arm towards her. “HELL YES!” she shrieked as I picked her up and jumped into the air, close to the peak of the Tree, and the sparkling face she held as she put on the Silver Star was everything I hoped for. “SO COOL!” she cheered up as I let her down, high-fiving each other.

For the rest of the evening, we ate the amazing meal the guys prepare, which were surprisingly amazing, and all was well, people got drunk, as usual...

And when the night was over, I felt refreshed... My heart felt so warm that I went back to the Ballroom, gliding my fingers on the keys of the piano, before siting down and playing Claire de Lune, just like I hoped for. It’s been so long since I’ve played this particular song...That it felt surprisingly nostalgic.

“You play much better than I imagined. I’m impressed.” a low, velvety voice called out from behind me, and upon further inspection, it seemed to be Satan, my favourite blond. “Thank you. Want to stay?” I asked, patting the place next to me. “I would love to.” he smiled, sitting next to me, as I started playing another song. “Say, Katrina, you know more about these human traditions, correct?” he asked, a bit evasively. “I suppose I do. Are you interested in one of them?” I smiled at him, ready to answer. “Asmodeus mentioned this plant that’s hanging from some places.” he continued, and yet, it seemed he was holding back. “Oh, yeah, of course. It’s called Mistletoe. You’re supposed to kiss whoever is with you underneath it. It’s supposed to bring fortune and happiness throughout the year and whatever nice things you can think of.” I shrugged, chuckling softly at the weird traditions humans come up with. “Interesting. Which reminds me...Here. This is my gift for you. What was it Kitsune said...Ah! Yes, Happy Christmas, Katrina.” he blushed slightly, handing me a neatly wrapped green gift with a beautiful golden ribbon. “Awwww, thank you, Satan. I really appreciate it.” I thank him, holding the gift to my chest as I kiss his cheek. “Here, this is my gift for you.” I smile at him tenderly, urging him to unwrap it. “Oh, is this a music box?” he asked, opening the lid, as a figurine with red hair, dressed in black, with black wings spun in circles and the soft tune of Claire the Lune rung peacefully through the air. “I recorded myself playing it. Hope it doesn’t sounds condescending or anything...” I look away timidly, but I was met with a sweet chuckle. “I like it. You play really well, and now I can listen to you playing even when you’re not with me. Thank you.” he kissed my forehead as a thank you, before urging me to unwrap the gift. “Oh...! It’s my favourite book, thank you so much!” I grin, opening the book, only to find a beautiful confession of love written on the front page.

“Thank you for showing me I’m still alive and I can feel other emotions other than wrath, what I’m most known for.

I love you, Katrina.

Satan xx “

“I suppose...Mistletoe would be useful now.” I smiled widely, looking down as I felt my heart beat faster than usual. “Good thing Asmo put some above everything...Including the piano.” he raised my face up so I could look at him, his gorgeous emerald eyes gazing right into my soul. “Guess he is useful once in a while.” I joke breathlessly, as he inched closer to me, pressing his soft lips over mine gently, before putting his hand on the back of my head, deepening the kiss more. “I love you too, Satan. Happy Christmas.” I whispered, putting my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. “I guess Christmas isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.” he smirked in the kiss. “We should do this more often.” I suggest, before leaning my head on his shoulder, enjoying the peace and quiet, combined with the warmth my heart felt and the sweet aroma of Christmas dessert.

[purplebenjy]

Good Ol’ Fashioned Nightmare || British AU

The lights are too bright and the people are too loud as eight year old Benjy Fenwick creeps down the stairs. He’d had that dream again; something with teeth is behind him, its jaws snapping, and Benjy is running as fast as he can. When he finally musters the courage to turn around, all he sees is a woman, smiling at him. 

“Who are you?” He asks, his voice too clear and perfect to be in a dream. 

In response, the woman opens her arms, silently asking for a hug. Benjy knows this must be his mother, even though he has no idea what she looks like. 

Benjy moves in for the hug and the sound of jaws snapping returns. He looks up in time just to see that the woman has grown sharp teeth, and she is bending down towards him, salivating. 

He had woken up in a cold sweat, realizing a second too late that he was wetting the bed. He changed into new pajamas as quick as he could, burying the soiled pair in his hamper, but then came the matter of the bed. 

After 45 minutes, he decided the risk was one he had to take. He was going to have to ask Mrs. Black for help. 

They were throwing a party, Benjy had forgotten that was tonight, but they happened almost weekly at the Black Estate. Rich people dressed up to out impress each other, show off without speaking a word. Benjy wasn’t allowed to attend these parties-but even if he was, it was nearly eleven at night, far past when he should be up. He stands on the last landing of the stairs, frozen and somewhat dazzled by the bright display, forgetting his purpose of coming downstairs as he gets caught up in the moment and the chaos of the room. 

“Hello.” An older woman, her grey hair elegantly swept up onto the side of her head, the fur around her shoulders offset by the elegance of her black gown, says, startling him. Her eyes are kind as she addresses Benjy in his haphazard pajamas on the landing. 

“Do you need your mummy?”

Benjy opens his mouth to say that Mrs. Black isn’t his mother but he finds he cannot talk. This woman and now several other party goers have stopped to address him. It’s too many strangers and he feels very small. 

Wordlessly, Benjy nods and the woman smiles at him now as she extends her hand. 

“Let’s go find her together, shall we?” 

Surprised by the offer, Benjy takes her hand without even thinking about it. Her touch his gentle and her skin is warm if not a little rough. She smells like flowers-Benjy gets a whiff of it as she guides him down the rest of the stairs. 

His nerves recede slightly holding her hand-Benjy is sort of in awe at how nice it feels, how kind this woman is being. His nerves return to him in tenfold when he spots Mrs. Black-decked out in emerald green and laughing with a circle of very important looking men. Mr. Black is nowhere to be seen. 

“Dru!” Benjy’s new friend calls, her voice cutting through the noise of the party effortlessly. His foster mother turns, her expression stiffens upon seeing Benjy but she remembers herself after a second. 

“Oh what do we have here?” She trills, entirely for the benefit of everyone else. Benjy feels his knees start to shake as she crouches down in front of him, her skirts sweeping the floor. He was so small, even then; he is certain those with faux parental smiles behind Druella thought him to be four or five instead of eight. 

“What is it, Benjy?” She prods, her voice dangerous. Benjy swallows hard, willing himself to speak despite how every one of his instincts is screaming not to. 

“I-I had a bad dream. And-“ his lip quavers but he holds off tears, knowing it’ll make it worse. “An accident.” He breathes, shame oozing out of him. 

“An accident?!” Druella crows, laughing and setting off titters and patronizing murmurs in the crowd. “Aren’t you a little old for that?” 

Benjy hangs his head.

“Yes ma’am.”

She tsks her tongue, saying something to the crowd again that makes them all laugh, but Benjy doesn’t hear her, he’s putting all of his energy into not crying. 

“Come, then.” Druella says, grabbing his hand viciously. Her grasp hurts, but Benjy tries not to let that show on his face. Two tears leak out as she marches him back towards the stairs and starts back up to his attic room. He glances back at the party; most of the guests have resumed their merriment, but not the grey haired woman. She watches Benjy and Druella carefully, a small frown in place. She sees Benjy looking and her smile returns, and the last thing he sees until Druella drags him out of sight is her wave. 

As soon as they are out of the view of the onlookers, Druella’s grip tightens, so much so that Benjy cries out in pain. 

“Oh shut up.” She glowers, all but throwing him through the doorway to his bedroom when they finally reach the top. She’s mad-madder than Benjy has ever seen her in his two years of staying here, and that’s saying something. 

“What the hell are you playing at, coming down while we have guests?! You know that’s against the rules, Benjamin. No one wants to visit with the likes of you hanging around. Are our rules not good enough for you? Do you think they don’t apply?”

Benjy is fully trembling now. “No, b-b-but-“

“B-b-b-“ Druella says back in a mocking tone. 

“Since you think you’re better than us, Benjamin, I say you get to spend the next few days all on your own, hmm? See how superior you are without us generously sharing our home with you. Maybe then you’ll learn to be grateful, maybe then you’ll do as you’re told!” 

Benjy starts to cry now, panic over taking him as he realizes what she’s saying. “No! Please I’m sorry I’m sorry-“

Druella smacks him, firmly and soundly, with a loud crack across his right cheek. Benjy is stunned into silence. 

“Shut up, for the love of god. There’s no changing my mind. We’ll see you after the weekend is over, hmm? Maybe then you’ll be fit enough to be around.” 

She shoves him further into the room, causing Benjy to backward onto the floor. Druella slams the door shut and in his daze from the ground, Benjy hears the lock click. He hears footsteps descend the stairs and then there’s nothing but the sound of his own breathing, ragged and shallow.  After several minutes, he finds the strength to stand and, seeing no other option, clumsily pulls the soiled sheets off of the bed. The mess has soaked through the mattress, so Benjy curls up in a fetal position with his pillow, crying softly until he finally falls back into uneasy sleep. 

~

He’s starving. She’s locked him up here again. Benjy makes his way to the loose floorboard under his bed-he feels like he’s moving through syrup. His eye is pulsing-she must have hit him again. Benjy looks into where his food is supposed to be stashed and finds nothing. He heads the stairs move and he knows she’s out there. Knows she’s going to make him do horrible and humiliating things if he wants any of the food she has. It usually takes two days for him to get desperate enough and give in, but now, if she’s found his food-will she even offer him anything at all?

“We’re untouchable” the voice of his foster father creeps under the door. 

“If something happens to you, do you know how easily you’ll be written off as a runaway? Another failure the system and good intentions couldn’t save. You’ll be forgotten about faster than they can say your name. You’re nothing. You’re a mistake.”

Benjy can smell the food they have out there, he’s so hungry he doesn’t even care what they call him-he needs to eat. Now. He’s dying. He crawls to the door which opens before him, Cygnus is holding a piece of pizza in one hand and wielding his belt in the other. 

“You hungry?”

As Benjy nods, the man transforms in front of him, his features sinking back into youth but his eyes staying cold and loveless. 

“Forest?” Benjy gasps, clambering to his feet, relieved.

“You’re here to save me?”

Forest shakes his head. “How hungry are you, Benjy?”

Benjy feels fear fill his every atom. 

“Are you desperate?” Forest’s voice is taunting, amused. Benjy nods, his mouth too dry to speak. Forest chuckles, cracking the belt in the air. 

“Prove it.”

Benjy wakes and jolts up with a gasp, panic gripping him from the inside out as he comes back to himself. His breathing slows as he realizes where he is. Forest’s flat. Their flat. His eye is throbbing because Forest hit him earlier that night-he didn’t like what Benjy had cooked for dinner. They had made up shortly after by fucking like animals all over the apartment-and Benjy had collapsed beside his boyfriend, spent, after his fourth orgasm. 

“What’s wrong?” Forest rasps sleepily. Benjy feels his shoulders relax as Forest sits up. 

“N-nothing. Just a bad dream. I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.” 

Benjy’s eyes are adjusted to the darkness enough to see Forest frown-and panic wells back up inside him just as his boyfriend speaks. 

“Are you the one who gives orders, Benjamin?” 

It’s the same taunting, faux stupid voice from his dream. Benjy swallows hard. 

“N-no, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Did I not make it abundantly clear earlier that I have a very important, very stressful meeting tomorrow and I don’t need your idiocy piling onto that?”

“You did, sir, you made it very-“

WHAM. Forest slaps Benjy with incredible force, using his left hand with the rings. Benjy whimpers in pain but does his best to control his volume. 

“I don’t remember asking you to speak.” 

Benjy hangs his head, silent, waiting. His eye is throbbing even harder now and he’s sure his face will be covered in bruises for days and days. Forest sighs dramatically. 

“Great, now you’ve gotten me all keyed up. I hate to do this since you actually enjoy it-and lord knows you don’t deserve a reward right now, but on your knees, slut.” 

Shaking just slightly, Benjy does what he’s told, waiting wordlessly for further instruction. Forest fucks his mouth roughly, choking Benjy just slightly from time to time to keep him in check and to remind him whose in charge, his hands resting at the base of his neck. Forest comes down his throat lazily before casting Benjy aside and laying back down on the bed. Knowing better than to try the bed again, Benjy stays on his knees until he hears Forest’s breath even out. Then, as quietly as he can, he makes his way into the bathroom and starts the tub. With any luck, he can stave off the soreness he’ll feel from sleeping on the floor. 

~

The door won’t open. He tries the handle again and again, his hands stinging from the desperate way he pounds the door. His throat burns from pleading but he knows it’s no good. Eventually he gives up, resigns himself to his fate. He goes and lays on the cushion set up for him on the floor and he must fall asleep because the next thing he knows he’s being woken up by someone touching him. Thick fingers pry his legs apart and Benjy is so happy to be touched-to be in contact with another human being-that he doesn’t protest as one of the fingers enters him. A different pair of hands lift his head and Benjy looks up to see Forest staring back at him, cold. 

“You’ve still got a lot to do to make it up to me.” Forest says, his voice low. Whoever is behind Benjy is still fingering him-it hurts. 

“I know, sir.”

Forest scoffs. “I doubt it. I let you stay here out of the goodness of my own heart-out of pure kindness and you pay me back by enjoying the company of others?”

Cass-he knows about Cass. Cass had given up on him. Cass was never coming back. The person enters him, Benjy is too tight, he’s not ready. He cries out in pain as Forest laughs. 

“By the time they’re done with you, you’ll be begging for just me”

He raises his hand to slap Benjy-

“Benjy-“

“Please no, please sir, I’m so sorry-“

“Angel, come on. It’s just a dream-“

“Please-“ Panic starts to choke him, and then Forest’s hands are around his throat as someone starts to drill into him from behind. 

“Wake up, Benjy.”

Benjy’s eyes shoot open and his hands fly to his throat, taking deep, gasping breaths as he sits up, shoving invisible hands away. Someone touches him gently on the side of his hip-not aggressive, not commanding-just keeping him in place. 

“Hey-“ a soft voice says as the hand on his hip starts to move in small circles. 

“You’re safe with me, remember?” 

Benjy’s eyes grow used to the dark as his breathing slows slightly.  He’s in a room painted a dark, pretty blue. He’s got a ridiculously bright blanket tangled in his feet. His body is slick with sweat-he can smell his own panic. Cass is still touching his hip, looking at Benjy with a calm if not concerned expression. 

Cass. Cass.

He must say it out loud because his boyfriend offers him a worried smile. 

“That’s right, love. It’s me. You’re here with me. You’re awake. It was just a dream.” 

Benjy lets his words register. He lets his breath slow further. Carefully, as if he’ll break something, he finds Cass’s hand on his hip and holds it with both of his own. Benjy squeezes it, Cass squeezes back. 

“You were really upset.” Cass says softly. “You were shouting.” 

Benjy hangs his head. 

“S-sorry.”

“Oh god, Benjy don’t be sorry.” 

He feels Cass get up and, without taking his hand away from Benjy, move so he’s sitting across from him. Their knees touch. 

“Do you want to talk about it? I-do you think that would help? You don’t have to. But I promise you’re safe here. You’re safe with me. 

His ribs, still healing, are buzzing with pain as the adrenaline starts to wear off. Benjy’s mouth is dry but he makes himself speak, hating how scared he sounds even to himself.

“I was-you didn’t want me to stay here anymore. You gave me back to Him.” Benjy still can’t look up at him. 

“Oh my god.” Cass says softly, his hand that Benjy isn’t holding coming to rest gingerly on the side of his cheek. 

“I - you’re not-“ Cass takes a breath, tucking a bit of Benjy’s sweaty hair back into place. 

“I promise, Benjy, with everything I have, that you never, ever, ever have to see him again. And he will never touch you again. You’ll never have to do what he says, ever again.” 

It sounds too good to be true. It’d only been a week since Benjy got here-surely Cass would get tired of him. Surely this was something else that would disappear. 

“Benjy, baby, can you look at me?” 

It takes a lot of work, but Benjy manages to raise his head. He’s struck instantly by the truth in Cass’s gaze, so much love and concern and genuine softness, all directed at him. It’s too much-Benjy feels himself start to cry as Cass’s thumb traces his cheek bone. 

“I promise.” Cass says again. “You’re safe. You’re gonna be just fine. Okay?”

Benjy nods and Cass smiles. 

“Can I hear you say it, my love?” 

“Okay.” Benjy croaks, sagging with emotion and exhaustion. Cass picks up on it and, while still holding his hand, guides Benjy back down on his side. Cass maneuvers himself to lie beside him, one arm around his shoulders and under him so Benjy can still hold his hand, the other draped carefully across his chest. 

“Let’s both try to get some more sleep, okay angel?” 

“Okay.” Benjy says, sleepy all of a sudden, surprised how safe an embrace can feel. 

“That’s my Benj.” Cass says softly, pressing a kiss behind his ear. 

“Cass?” 

“Yeah, honey?”

“Can we get waffles in the morning?”

Benjy smiles sleepily as Cass chuckles, feeling the sound reverb off his chest and into Benjy’s. 

“Sure, whatever you want.”

And what a notion it was, wanting; to have every need met to the point where there was room for preference. To be safe enough and protected enough that the only choices you had to make were largely inconsequential. To be comforted, without being asked. 

Benjy tries to tell Cass he loves him, but he’s not sure if it comes out. Sleep takes him again and this time, dreams don’t come. 

[minidigidestined]

Fatal Mistake

CW: One shot sfw vore story with implied fatal and digestion. Sadistic pred and mostly unwilling prey, fearplay. Very whump-y. N/S/F/W blogs do not interact.

A quick little "AU" babble of two of my Digimon OCs from the POV of my digidestined OC featuring one of her friend digimon, Voltboutamon, as the pred. When the human servant to the illustrious digimon lord makes a messy mistake in front of her master's guests during a dinner party, he becomes enraged and has finally had enough of her ineptitude. Not so fun hijinks ensue.

I made sure to smooth out the creases in my apron and dress, my breath short and strained. I knew that for something like this, my lord needed me to look perfectly presentable--I was as much a part of the setting as the crystal wineglasses or gilded chairs, after all.

I adjusted the bloom of curls atop my head and steadied myself the best I could. I knew he could detect my fear and discomfort miles away and while it was usually a delight to him, tonight the smallest sign of irritation could be fatal.

I pushed open the heavy doors to the dining room, exhaling anxiety as another servant bustled past me with empty trays.

"Good luck," She mouthed as I emerged, the expensive scent of the guests' cuisine wreathing around me. I clutched the bottle of wine tightly in my hands, speedwalking out into the elegantly decorated chamber, the diamond chandelier casting ominous candlelight out over the decadent scene.

My lord sat at the head of the head of the table, perfectly poised in regal silence among the chatter. He cut an imposing figure, all sharp edges, straight lines and the finest silks. His red eyes burned like twin hot coals, his clawed fingers wrapped around the stem of his empty goblet. He impatiently tapped the stone floor with the toe of his boot, almost looking bored even though it was his affair.

His crimson eyes found me near instantly, locking onto my own earthy gaze and sending a chill up my spine. I bypassed his guests with shaky steps, robotically greeting and inquiring as to their pleasure. The stern line of his mouth relaxed into a self-satisfied smirk as I approached, his food still steaming and untouched.

I approached his side, his figure looming over me a good seven feet even while sitting. He leaned back luxuriously, his long legs crossed at the ankle.

"Human. You kept me waiting. I hope you brought the good wine." He said languorously.

"Yes, Lord Voltaboutamon. Only the best for you and your patrons." I heard the tremble in my voice and felt dread curl in my chest like a frightened child.

"Good." His tone was almost indulgent, his smirk all dark edges. "Get on with it then, woman."

I swallowed, my throat thick as he lowered his goblet, as royal as everything else in his gothic noir estate. I hastily uncorked the bottle, feeling more than one pair of eyes on me. With shaking hands, I lifted the wine to pour, praying to anyone willing to listen and--

My mind blanked into white hot panic when my wrist twitched, a product of anxiety and damaged motor skills. The wash of shame and fear froze me in place as the wine, dark as blood, spilled over me, my digimon lord and the floor.

I saw the moment rage blossomed in his breast, as dark as the splashed wine as his easy posture and icy smirk twisted into unadulterated anger. His eyes narrowed to thin slits--blazing hellfire--mouth curling into a snarl, his edges sharpening instantaneously.

"You stupid little brat," He hissed between his teeth, fangs gleaming dangerously. "Can you ever do a damn thing right?"

At his scathing tone I flashed back to his effortless grace in the art of killing. Back to blood and marrow and incomprehensible danger. Back to fear and insecurity and nightmares.

He's not like that...not with me, not anymore. He’s just playing it up in front of the guests. I repeat it to myself like a mantra, my entire sense of self on white-hot fire. No matter what I told myself, I knew the truth though. I knew how important tonight was and of course I fumbled it, like always. 

Stupid.

He rose to his full height, his second pair of arms unfolding behind him like a reaper's scythes, tail uncoiling from his waist and twisting about in a hypnotic dance, like a snake ready to strike.

Yes, my master is as beautiful and deadly as a serpent, quick as a whip and more clever than most...if not all. Despite his lanky build, he seemed to encompass the entire room with his presence alone, his brilliance demanding absolute attention. I saw a certain hunger twist his features, the lust for violence in that moment carving out a hole in his very heart.

I watched his face, unable to look away as that hole began to fill.

"I have had enough of your fumbling and bumbling, maid," He sneered, his voice righteous and cruel. "I've given you chance after chance, and still you remain a thorn in my side, a leftover piece of a puzzle with no place to go. Nowhere you fit in."

"Please sir," I begin to beg, black tinting the edges of my vision in sheer panic. I thought of his blades, of his guns, even of the strength in his spidery limbs and whip-like tail.

"I gave you a chance because I pitied you, but now you're out of chances and out of time." He gripped my chin, taloned fingers digging into my doughy face. I looked up at him with tear filled eyes and found not a single shred of mercy there.

"Please."

"No," He growled, and if looks could kill, I'd be in hell. "I'm going to make an example of you. I know you neglect your job to sit and eat and read, lazing about like a useless stain. Even knowing that I won't settle for less than perfection. Even knowing that I see everything. But you'll be perfect for one thing..."

I stared blankly, shaking and not daring to move. 

He smiled softly, his voice growing syrupy and taunting. He let one hand glide mockingly over his midriff, "I see how you stare at me and the annoying things you say to the other servants--I always thought your desires the most foolish thing I had ever heard. What better way to end you than by showing you how that particular brand of idiocy has made a bumbling fool of you and distracted you from your job? What its reality leads to?” 

I felt myself flush, immediately trying to twist out of his iron grip. "I'm sorry, Voltaboutamon, please no--"

"Too late " He crooned, a lullaby and a death sentence all in one. "And this way, your end won't lead to the other servants having to clean up after you. Again."

My head began to swim, my chest tightening as his hand encompassed my entire head. My vision completely blacked out, and the sensation of becoming less overtook me, my mind, and even the humiliation.

Before I knew it, I sat on Voltaboutamon's hand, dizzy and still burning with the echoing pain of shrinking. I gazed up at him, his massive visage a blood moon hanging over my earth. Despite myself I panicked with a

 eripping the wrinkled, wine-stained hem of my dress with utterly frayed nerves and tried to look anywhere else but the line of his rage-twisted lips.

It really was happening. Just not the way I'd dreamed. Not with the ending I hoped for. But still...his scowling mouth was mere inches away from me, to the point where I could hear the irritated breath flaring from his nostrils like wind.

Without anymore ceremony, he plucked me from his palm two claws pinching the back of my dress. I swung upwards--unable to even inhale one last breath before the finale--until I was impossibly high up, dangling up above the proud arch of his hat and the menacing sculpt of his mask.

I covered my face with my hands, a low moan of despair escaping me despite my near daily voracious daydreams. I felt as heavy as lead, as good as gone, as dead as--

He let go.

I dropped like a stone, his mouth snapping me up near instantaneously. I felt him struggle a bit to accommodate me in his narrow maw, the pinpricks of his teeth scraping against me and drawing blood. I cried out in fear, pummeling the muscle of his tongue with my slippered feet and desperately tried to scramble for an escape.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, whether it was one of pleasure or annoyance, I couldn't place--perhaps both. He seemed to enjoy the taste of the wine on my skin, but in a matter of seconds he was already bored and done, tilting his head back and gulping me back with a throaty swallow.

I whimpered when I felt his throat hitch, unaccustomed to such a sizable and girthy morsel of food, but he swallowed thickly once more and I was sent down without fuss.

Covered head to toe in his saliva, the muscles of his elegant throat crushed against me, sending me down toward the prison of his gut. I felt his slim fingers press inquisitively against the bulge I created during my descent, cursing my eternal foolishness as my cheeks set aflame.

As I was pulled downward, I heard the laughter and excitement of his guests--I'm sure they enjoyed both his melodramatics and his near playful display of cruelty. Classic Voltboutamon! Soon though, all I could hear was the rush of his breath and the steady tempo of his heart, my head popping into a slightly more open cavern and the rest of my body toppling down seconds later.

I struggled to right myself, slipping in chyme and stomach juices and struggling to breathe in my lord's unrelenting body heat. I pushed my hands against his stomach walls in desperation, trying to wipe the itchy fluids from my eyes.

I imagined the little bulge I'd make in his skinny midsection, considering the fact that I was locked in his belly for the rest of my short life and cringed when I felt my panicking heart betray itself even when there was no way out. It was as if flowers blossomed between my ribs, and even though I was nothing but a punished servant turned snack, I felt as though he had finally seen me.

He had noticed me and my lingering stares--and now I got to be part of him. Perhaps forever, if he truly was without mercy. That meant something, right?

I yelped, jerked out of my thoughts when something dropped onto my head. With a start I realized it was a bit of chewed up meat. So...he was still hungry. Delicately picking at his food while his stomach growled around me, the little human he hungrily gulped down mere moments away from digestion.

The feelings of insignificance and delight battled within me.

More and more food dropped over me, bits of the finest and most decadent the manor's kitchens had to offer, and soon the stomach began to churn away at its meal. The walls pulsed and pressed against me, flipping me all around and nearly drowning me in the stomach fluids and masticated food. I was tossed about like nothing, completely at the mercy of my vicious lord's equally vicious stomach.

I screamed, pressing harder against the stomach walls as my new home seemed to grow hotter and burn with the acrid stench of stomach acid. I struggled for air and tried to push back against the slick muscles, but found myself growing weaker and weaker... Wine soon flooded over me, making me sputter and flail even more, the smell of grapes sickly bitter in the pit of his gut.

I thought I felt his hand pressing against his middle, and found the thought of him stuffing himself into a bellyache to further punish and disgust me made me giddy--I wondered if I was making a bulge in his perfect diamond-cut figure and smiled. Oh, how the blush on my cheeks would spite and enrage him ever further, a fun little game between the two of us.

Unfortunately, whatever bit of heaven I managed to find in my demise still made me the loser of this game. After all, I was going to be nothing more than chyme and fuel for his graceful power soon enough... Truly this was the magnum opus of his callous sadism, the complete erasure of one's personhood. He and his ruthless nature would always win. It always did.

If only he heard my screams and cared. If only he'd set me free in a few more minutes... If only he coughed me up, revealed his heart, and we became true friends. Maybe more, if he confessed he loved me too. If only this really were a game, a playful cat and mouse, and not my execution. But I already knew there would be no salvation tonight. There would be no tenderness from the pitiless digimon, not after my constant failings.

My skin began to truly itch, burning from the thick juices pooling up around me, massaged deep into my flesh by the churning stomach walls. I slumped down in defeat, mind going blank--I was sure that Voltaboutamon and his extravagant guests had already forgotten about me beyond a silly and fanciful dinner story for future parties.

As much as I'd begged and screamed though, it wasn't so bad... Leaning back into it felt as if I became warmth itself, and despite the danger I was in, I almost felt cradled by my lord's body. I could pretend.

My head swam with the heat, my eyes fluttering shut as the stomach bubbled and churned around me, feeling as if the sensation in my skin was fading and my body was beginning to melt. Now, I was nothing but food, fallen prey to my decadent lord.

Nothing but food... Nothing but... Nothing...

***

"Why are you staring at me, Charissa?"

I started with a jolt at Voltaboutamon's grumble. He hovered at the edge of the small kitchen, disgruntled and dissecting a slice of pizza with a fork and knife.

"Ah! Sorry, I was zoning out..." I prayed he hadn't noticed my eyes on the bowed frown of his mouth, on the silky swallows he took of cranberry juice and steaming pizza. I returned my attention to my own slice, stuffing it into my mouth messily.

He looked down his nose at me and scowled even deeper with disapproval, huffing. "Well look somewhere else."

I rolled my eyes and gave a sarcastic salute, desperately hoping my blush wasn't enough to be noticed as I tried not to imagine disappearing down his long, elegant throat, slipping between his menacing teeth and into the cruel and unrelenting confines of his stomach...

I really needed to get a reign on this daydreaming habit. Especially before my reluctant new friend noticed.

Especially before my fixation on his guts and his heart ruined everything.

[possiblyimbiassed]

The Science of Reduction

In my view, John’s blog and Sherlock’s website both represent a more realistic version of what might actually have happened in the BBC Sherlock narrative; a believable kind of ‘reality’ that doesn’t need extraordinary explanations or complicated assumptions to make sense. As opposed to the big Drama we see in the actual show, these online versions - slightly childish as they may be - tell a kind of story that appears to be at least plausible. But maybe they’re also a bit more limited and therefore boring?

It goes to show, I think, that “Poetry or Truth”, which Lestrade claims are the same thing in TAB, indeed are very different concepts. As an enhanced version of reality, enriched by human creativity and emotion, Poetry can give far more interesting results than any attempt at approaching Truth ‘scientifically’. But it can also derail into absurdity, as shown by S4. 

Sherlock’s website is, in a sense, ‘scientific’; very logically constructed and categorized, brief and minimalistic. No superfluous information to be found, no dramatic embroidery of the facts. Occam’s razor. 

On the surface, the only hints of emotion being involved are Sherlock’s whining about people being stupid, predictable and boring, showing us how lonely that makes him feel. The contrast to how he comes across in the show, and its display of his ‘inner life’, is striking. But now the website has - unlike John’s blog - been taken down, which I suspect might reflect the fact that Sherlock has left ‘reality’ and chosen to go deeper into himself.

But after realising from this post that The Science of Deduction is actually still there, saved on the Way Back Machine (thanks for that, @khanhizon1999!), I took to look a little further into it, and noticed several interesting things:

1. Sherlock seems to be a very lazy ‘blogger’, who has reduced the info on his own website to a minimum, since he has only written down one single case for his readers to look at: The Green Ladder. Not even his analyses of tobacco (referred to in ASiB, dismissed by John) or perfume (referred to in THoB, when he encourages Mrs Hudson to look it up) are actually posted. For the rest of the ‘new’ cases - The Blind Banker and ‘The Serial Suicides’ (A Study in Pink) - he simply refers to John’s blog. And for The Aluminium Crutch and The Great Game he doesn’t even bother to do that. 

TBC under the cut. 

2. So, what was so special about The Green Ladder for Sherlock to both do the effort of writing it down, and then not erase it like he did with the tobacco analysis? I mean, since this case is about a guy who actually gets killed for being both superstitious and predictable (a bit like Lord Carmichael’s idiocy in TAB, perhaps), what could possibly raise Sherlock’s interest about it to the point of discussing details on his website? I bet it’s out of nostalgic Sentiment. ;) It definitely seems like this was the case Sherlock was working on when he first met John. Which we can deduce by the text message he left on John’s phone:

I’ll also speculate that he deleted the tobacco study because John didn’t like it, while he kept this one because it just might impress John. 

3. It also strikes me, however, that nowhere on this website can we read about how Sherlock can identify “a software designer by his tie” or "a retired plumber by his left hand” (PILOT) or “an airline pilot by his left thumb” (ASiP). Did Sherlock delete that as well, just because John seemed incredulous? :) Or were these claims parts of the now archived cases, for example ‘The Laughing Pilot’? 

4. The names of the cases. I used to believe that all the fanciful titles of John’s blog posts were due to his own creativity. But here we have a whole bunch of inspiring case names created by Sherlock himself:

Some of these titles definitely seem to be little nods to canon: 

The Man With Four Legs - The Man With the Twisted Lip (TWIS)

The Crooked House - The Crooked Man (CROO)

The Missing Jars - The Missing Three-Quarter (MISS)

The Abernetty Family - The Abbey Grange (ABBE)

The Purple Woman - The Red Circle (CIRC)

The Confusion of Isadora Persano is reduced to a mere title, but it’s actually taken directly from canon’s The Problem of Thor Bridge (THOR), where Watson tells us: “A third case worthy of note is that of Isadora Persano, the wellknown journalist and duellist, who was found stark staring mad with a matchbox in front of him which contained a remarkable worm, said to be unknown to science.”  

Which immediately makes me think of John’s blog post The Inexplicable Matchbox: “The situation with Isaac Persano hit the headlines, obviously. He was found, in a hotel room, surrounded by matchboxes. And he couldn't speak”. A case which Sherlock included in his Best Man speech in TSoT: “A French decathlete found completely out of his mind, surrounded by one thousand, eight hundred and twelve matchboxes – all empty except this one”. 

We never got to know what this matchbox contained, though. In the show, there’s only one worm I can think of (and no - I don’t count the maggots Sherlock shows Archie in TSoT, or the ones crawling out of Emelia Ricoletti’s dead body in TAB; they’re larvae, not worms, and they’re not new to science :) ). The one I’m thinking of is the ‘earworm’ of Eurus’ suggestions that drives Doctor Taylor mad enough to kill his family, according to the Governor of Sherrinford in TFP. I don’t know if such a thing is ‘unknown to science’, but it’s certainly quite unlikely, isn’t it?

But what about the rest of the cases? What’s with, for example, the Subdivided Crooner? :))) It’s also interesting to know that there’s a ghost at Barts’ hospital. Is that supposed to be a premonition about Sherlock? :)

5. There’s also a (supposedly) ongoing case called The Major's Cat. How many majors do we meet in the show? Well, there’s Major Barrymore in THoB, Major Reed in TSoT and Major Sholto, also in TSoT. But none of them comes across as a cat lover, though, do they? :) And this case happens before we get to know either of these majors. An interesting piece in this puzzle is a client, a poster called T Thompson who wants help with a missing cat.

OK, so this is the major - a famous boxer named T. ‘The Major’ Thompson! Clearly something more than a missing cat is going on in this case. Sherlock deduces brilliantly that his client is secretive because he wants to avoid a scandal; thus, he’s probably famous. Cats are also linked to Greenwich in the title The Killer Cats of Greenwich, which in turn makes me think of “the bloody Greenwich pips” in TGG - the episode in which the naked cat Sekhmet figures. Lots of cats here. ;)

Eventually, Sherlock posts a new comment  - possibly having to do with the case of the Major’s missing cat:

“Ha! Brilliant! Oh, very very clever! I love it when a criminal knows what he's doing. The cat was in the television! Fake screen. Brilliant.” I’d love to know what this case was actually about (apart from cat abuse) - it’s not often we see Sherlock expressing that kind of emotion :) But, anyway: more cats?! I can’t find a single dog on Sherlock’s website, which surprises me, since the show is full of them, and there’s also a few on John’s blog.

It’s also interesting to see Mike Stanford tell Sherlock about John’s blog, shortly after he’s moved in to 221B. Pretty soon Sherlock also starts to get anonymous threats on his website, combined with some ciphers, which Sherlock uses to entertain his readers. 

6. The three encrypted messages sent to Sherlock’s website by an anonymous reader - *cough* Moriarty *cough* - bring rather scarce information. I’ve tried to apply all three of the ciphers to seemingly meaningless words like “UMQRA” or “AGRA”, but of no result this far. Just like Sherlock’s declarations of the case solutions to Moriarty in TGG about Carl Powers, Ian Monkford and Raoul de Santos, I think these ciphers are the least interesting items on the website. But I might be proven very wrong of course! :)

7. Then, finally, we have the Forum, where the most substantial message is from little Kirsty Stapleton who lost her glowing rabbit to science (fully investigated in THoB). One thing that strikes me is that Kirsty asks about John “Is he a real Dr?”. Which very much reminds me of TLD, where Culverton asks John: “Are you really a doctor?”  

Also the rest of the Forum’s old comments do have some interest, even if they’re usually reduced to exchanges of a few words between Sherlock and the people who knows him: John, Lestrade, Molly, Mike Stanford, Sarah Sawyer, the fan Jacob Sowersby and long-term poster Moriarty ‘theimprobableone’. First of all we learn that Sherlock moved out from Montague street due to “disagreement with landlord”. Very strange indeed, seeing as Sherlock must be such a lovely tenant. ;)) 

We also learn that Moriarty ‘theimprobableone’ is flirting with Sherlock via his website from start; he tries to ask him out and even offers Sherlock to move in with him! In this context maybe we should remember that the last time we heard from Moriarty ‘theimprobableone’ was after John’s wedding, when Sherlock had hacked into his blog and tried to find some company online. The answer was: “i am interested but I am going out on a date”.

And - back to Sherlock’s website - there’s also Molly, trying to get Sherlock’s attention by claiming she found a tie at Barts that might be his. We also see Lestrade getting desperate over the serial ‘suicides’ and wanting Sherlock’s help, which the latter deflects. Hard to see how Sherlock is ‘married to his job’ here. :)

Sherlock’s reaction to the ‘Bond night’ is also quite entertaining:

He calls Bond ‘ridiculous’ until ‘theimprobableone’ butts in, then he suddenly begins to appreciate it more. ;)

And we do get a possible explanation as to why Sherlock takes on the dubious Belarus case of Barry Berwick: John needs the money! :)

Finally, I think an interesting little detail is that, once again, an ambassador is mentioned in BBC Sherlock - a recurring theme! ;)

Tagging some people who might be interested:

@ebaeschnbliah @sarahthecoat @raggedyblue @gosherlocked @the-signs-of-two @loveismyrevolution @sagestreet 

[pineaberry]

Fictober: #21 and 22

SWTOR

STARRING: THERON SHAN as dumb slut in distress #2!

PART 1: [X]

PART 2: [X]

PART 3: [X]

PART 4: [X]

PART 5: [X]

Just came back from my trip! Here’s the promised continuation!

I’m definitely not behind on Fictober!

For @anchanted-one and @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond. You keep me going through these trying times!

_________________________________

Theron hung from the ceiling in a dark cell as he awaited the Imperial Interrogators. He was familiar with the Empire’s holding cells but he had never had the ‘pleasure’ of experiencing one first-hand before dealing with the Gilded Lady. This was the second time he was being gifted with Imperial hospitality and he doubted there would be a miraculous rescue this time around.

Alright, lets think strategies… what are my options?

His implants were still frazzled from the deep scrub the virus left, and even if he could access them, there was probably a disruptor somewhere in the cell. They’d all but stripped him down and took everything on his person including a very incriminating data spike. They would kill him.

No. That’s not right. They’ll torture me first, then they’ll kill me.

His wrists and ankles were immobilized at an awkward angle making it just uncomfortable enough to make breathing difficult. His eyes closed and he clenched his fists testing the restraints. No dice. His jacket and everything else had been confiscated and were probably being analyzed for clues. Despite his better judgement, his brain decided to begin conjuring the possible tortures that awaited him.

The door slid open sharply and the sudden light blinded Theron. It was a standard interrogation method to disorient the victim, he played along as a tall Chiss man with a captain’s insignia on his uniform entered.

“Hey, hey you… you got the wrong guy!” he said mimicking what he’d heard a thousand times from small time thieves.

The captain did not respond and instead stared at him in mild apathy. Theron noted that the man did not display the blinding arrogance stereotypical of all Imperials.

“Why are you on my station?”

And so it begins…

“I told you! You got the wrong-” his words cut off in a sudden choking sound as electricity ran through his body.

“Why are you on my station?”

Theron took a shuddering breath as he twitched within the restraints. The SIS had trained him for this moment. He would die loyal. If he was particularly good, he would die giving up false intel. If he was brilliant, he would die setting the enemy up to fail.

The question was repeated over and over again. Sometimes his obstinance was punished through a jolt of electricity, other times it was a sharp blow from a metal cane, or a crack of a searing whip. Still the same emotionless voice droned on, wearing away at his resistance like an ocean wave against the boulder, it was only a matter of time. And still the man’s voice persisted.

“What… what was the question again?” Theron asked in a display of defiance.

“I was told you were funny. I am sure your handler finds you amusing,” the Chiss smirked before placing a case down on the table. “I have dealt with your people before. You lot have a… unique slicing method. In cases like these, the Empire authorizes any and all method of information extraction. Your tech is quite advanced.”

He opened the case and retrieved something that looked like a curved blade. Theron’s teeth clenched and his implants automatically released the last of his pain suppressants.

“I suppose a bit of introduction is necessary. You may call me Captain Astor. I was Lord Grathan’s chief scientist on Dromund Kaas. Together we created a method for extracting a human brain and encasing it within a droid’s body. It was… perfection. What luck that you’re already cybernetically inclined. Tell me, what color would you prefer your chassis to be?”

______________________________________

The ship was quiet without Theron. The only occupant drifted in space and prepared a hyper jump. As the Gilded Lady calculated the route she seemed to glare at the controls. Theron had ruined a perfectly clean getaway and for what? A few glowsticks?

He should have known better than to ruin his chances over sentiment and pride. It was his own fault for believing she would indulge his stupidity. She had what she’d come for and what’s more she had laid the groundwork for business contracts with the station. Having access to Reaver Station would open up her smuggling business to new clients.

It would be the peak of idiocy to throw all of that away because of a plaything’s whims. The new contacts were too important. The math didn’t work out that way and Theron certainly wouldn’t be expecting a rescue. He’d done this to himself. If anything, she should thank the Empire for tying off that particular loose end.

“Gods kriffing dammit.” Her fingers clenched around the controls before growling in frustration and turning the ship around.

She had been right of course, he wasn’t expecting anyone to rescue him. He struggled a bit as he was laid down on a slab of metal and his head was strapped down for extraction. The Chiss-red eyes betrayed nothing but cruel apathy as he picked up the bone cutter and held it before his captive’s gaze. “I suggest you keep still. This part is messy and the extraction has to be done in one piece.”

Theron tensed against his restraints before the door snapped open once more. Standing there was a Sith Acolyte looking pale and startled before he was cut down by a sharp slice of a lightsaber blade. The Captain dropped the instrument and reached for his blaster only for a black and blue crescent of light to dart forward and decapitate him. The flash of light snapped back and was caught by a black gloved hand.

Her gold mask glittered under the interrogation lights and Theron breathed a sigh of relief before relaxing.

“G.L. Right on time… you changed your mind…” he smiled.

“Change is annoyingly difficult,” she snapped as she holstered her lightsaber and disabled his restraints.

Theron hobbled to his feet only to slump back down when she tossed a lieutenant’s jacket and shoes at him. He smiled through bloodied lips up at her. “I knew you liked me.”

“Don’t test me. Put those on we have about five minutes before they realize I’m here.”

For once, he did as he was told and hobbled after her as she led the way out. As he walked through the hallways, he noticed the burn marks on the corridor and the bodies littered every step of the way.

“Wait, we can’t leave. The lightsabers-”

His rescuer turned around and grabbed him by the front of his jacket. “Are trinkets and you have no use for them. Leave them.”

“You can’t just let the Sith have them! If you help me… if you tried… We could have a chance!”

“A chance for what? To get killed?! They’re spoils of war, if the Jedi wanted to keep them out of Sith hands then they should have trained their knights not to die so easily,” she spat before shoving him away, “the ship is this way, come on.”

Theron frowned but hobbled after her. He was fairly certain he had broken ribs and numerous other injuries, but the pain killers were working as intentioned and he still had a few more minutes before their effects passed. His mind still churned with doubt. What side was she on? A lightsaber usually meant Jedi, but she killed without remorse and didn’t care for the Order. What was she?

“HALT!” a particularly brave or suicidal trooper appeared in front of the Lady and was quickly dispatched. No sooner had they turned the corner when an alarm rang.

“I have to know, please. I can’t… I don’t think I can keep this up unless you tell me. What are you? Who are you? Are you a Sith?”

“And if I am, are you going to turn away my help?”

He frowned and looked away as though he were searching for danger but in reality, he didn’t want to make eye contact. “I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

“That’s our cue,” she sighed and grabbed Theron’s arm before pulling him towards the hangar.

As was to be expected, her ship was surrounded by troopers all of which trained their sights on her the moment she stepped forward. He ducked under a cargo crate as the fight erupted. His implants flickered back to life as they finally purged the last of the virus from his system. He searched for opportunities and found them in the nearest terminal. He gauged the distance and bolted for it skidding out of the way of and dodging the red blaster bolts. Using his implants he sliced into the local defense array and used a quick override node to activate the turrets in the hangar ceiling. With them, he blew up the control tower and disabled the hangar gates.

The Gilded Lady kept the path opened and yelled at him to get onboard the ship as she held them off. Theron didn’t need to be told twice. Repair droids were already on the scene to fix the broken hangar doors and soon his slicing would be patched by the station’s AI. He ran up the gangplank and had very nearly made it to the door, when a blaster bolt clipped his side, followed by another that struck the back of his knee. The edges of his vision began to darken as he crashed onto the metal flooring. Distantly he heard the sound of blaster fire and someone calling his name, but the pain and shock won out. He wondered if he would ever be able to return to Coruscant, just before he passed out.

________________________

Original Fictober Promp List HERE!