#shhhh let me self project a little bit

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

if you’re someone who gets aches and pains a lot, Foul Legacy will absolutely help massage your joints. he’ll gently press his knuckles into your back, kneading carefully as you sigh in relief, or pausing when you tense up over a particularly knotted muscle. whenever you stretch and pop your back Foul Legacy’s fur poofs up in alarm- have you been working too much? are you stressed? your bones shouldn’t be that stiff!!! he’ll make you take a break at least, laying you down on either your bed or the couch and snuggling against you

he does the same thing for smaller joints as well. cracking your knuckles? Foul Legacy will gently squeeze and roll them to loosen them up a little. shoulders sore? he’s nipping your fingers until you relent and allow him to give you a back rub. if you ever have a pinched nerve anywhere, he’ll help you carefully and slowly stretch to relieve some of the pain!! he wants you to be comfortable!!

[bandnerdlevel43]

Don't Leave Me

Ravio x LU Legend (Ravioli)

Summary: Ravio decides to tidy up their house a bit. Legend disappears to his room, as per usual, to do Goddess knows what. Ravio thinks nothing of it, until he hears the tell-tale sounds of his partner having a breakdown.

Word count: 1,650

Warnings: Grief, Legend has Koholint Trauma, hurt/comfort (but mostly fluff), writer projects her low self-esteem onto Ravio (shhhh it’s fine don’t worry about it), baby’s first time writing gay men

A/N: Hello, Ravioli fandom! Uhhh this is my first time posting my writing (ignore the cringefics I wrote on Wattpad when I was twelve coughs awkwardly), so any positive reinforcement/constructive criticism is not only welcome but encouraged! Also, not only is this my first time writing this sort of content, I myself am not part of the LGBTQ+ community. If I get something wrong, please tell me.

I was just kinda in the mood for these two when I realized I’ve already read all the content. Basically I had the “fine I’ll do it myself” moment that all writers have at some point. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Love you all!

----

Ravio hummed contently, arranging the dishes in a neat pile on the counter. He ignored the various crumbs scattered across it. Instead, he picked up the duster, reached in the cabinet, and swept up the film of particles. He poked it into a corner, and in response, received a small tink. Ravio tilted his head curiously and delicately brushed the object into view. It was another ring- not cursed, thankfully, but horrifyingly unpolished. Ravio reached in to pocket the trinket that had gone so long without care, and continued his chore with a cheery whistle.

But what was that? A sharp rustling sound, followed by… coughing, perhaps? Ravio’s ears pricked; he paused. Sheerow, playing around in some empty boxes? Ravio's brow furrowed. No, the sounds were human in origin. His eyes widened when a soft whimper reached his ears. Legend!

Ravio dropped the duster. He scrambled out of the kitchen and down by the hallway, skidding to a stop by the closed door to their shared room. He knocked timidly, calling out, “Mister Hero?”

No response. 

“...Link, please. You know I'll come in even if you don't answer.”

The silence only made Ravio more scared. He would take a “Get lost, Ravio” or a “Leave me alone, Idiot” over this. This quiet meant his Link was drowning in some way Ravio was still struggling to understand, let alone help heal, no matter how desperately he wished he could. 

He opened the door anyway. 

Ravio peeked inside, and almost immediately his heart sank. Legend was in the middle of the room, hunched over something that Ravio couldn't see. His shoulders were trembling with silent sobs. It was always a stab in the gut for Ravio, to see him like this. It hurt, but he had to ignore it. For Legend's sake. 

Ravio made sure his footsteps were easily heard. Legend didn't flinch, twist, or jump. Either he expected his entrance, or he was so deeply buried in his emotions that he didn't notice him. Ravio shuddered at the thought.

The Lolian sat beside the hero, careful not to make any sudden movements. He reached out, touching the other’s shoulder lightly. Legend inhaled sharply, provoking a violent bout of coughing. He shied away from Ravio’s touch, eyeing him warily. He clutched what looked like a sketchbook close to his chest.

“Hey,” Ravio said softly. “You can trust me. Remember?”

Legend squeezed his eyes shut, curling further in on himself. His breathing stuttered, and this time Ravio could see the tears spill from his eyes. He felt an ache in his chest, reaching again for Legend's arm. This time he didn't pull away as his hand rested on his shoulder, tracing little half-circles with his thumb. Ravio didn't dare do more, lest he worsen Legend's state.

“Please, tell me what’s bothering you,” Ravio whispered. “I want to help.” Legend still didn’t speak. Worry made Ravio’s heart beat as rapidly as a rabbit’s twitching nose. Abandoning all caution, Ravio nuzzled his head in the crook of Legend’s neck, puring as much love into the gesture as possible. Hopefully it would snap him out of his sorrow.

It didn’t. Legend stared sightlessly ahead, his eyes glassy with tears.

“Link…” Ravio pleaded. “Say something.”

Legend blinked, turning to look at Ravio as though just noticing his presence. He loosened his grip on the sketchbook, his breath hitching as he let Ravio see.

The drawing was of a woman, the invisible wind tossing her long dress and fluid hair to the side. A large flower of a deep shade pinned some of it back. Her posture was welcoming and bright, but the face… Something was off. The features didn't seem to fit. They just felt wrong.

Legend hugged the drawing back to his chest, shaking again with suppressed sobs. “I'm forgetting her,” he choked out. “I c-can’t remember her eyes. I'm losing her.”

Ravio swallowed hard. He tried not to feel spite, he really tried. But how was he supposed to comfort him when all he was was Marin’s replacement?

Ravio felt himself withdraw his hands. He was suddenly unsure, watching Legend mourn the love that came before him. Now he felt guilty for intruding. Legend must think him inadequate, a second-rate substitute.

“Oh,” Ravio finally said, lips dry and numb. “S-Sorry. I didn't mean to- I'll just-”

Ravio cut himself off, standing suddenly with the intent to leave the veteran alone. To remove himself as a burden. Yet he never had the chance. To his bewilderment, Legend had grabbed his wrist, his grasp like a vice and his gaze just as intent. Desperate, even.

“Don't leave me,” he whispered.

Ravio blanked. Baffled at his words, Ravio wondered why he would want him of all people to remain. He was just a reminder of someone far more precious; nothing more, no one special. But when he heard Legend croak the single word, “Stay,” in a voice so vulnerable, so scared, Ravio slowly sat down again, concern still lacing his every thought and emotion.

Immediately, Legend's arms surrounded him, pulling him close and forcing a small startled squeak from his lips. The Hylian gripped him tight, holding him like a man would a piece of flotsam adrift in a sea wracked with tempests. Legend buried his face in Ravio's dark curls. His actions were almost protective, in a way, and Ravio found himself melting into his embrace. Part of him was still in denial that Legend didn't want him to leave, but when Legend took Ravio's sudden lack of tension as a signal to bring him even closer, those doubts evaporated. Tucked in Legend's arms, he felt a reassurance that he hadn't felt in years. You're safe now, the touch said. You'll never hurt again, because I'll protect you. 

Except… Lolia. It wasn't hurt, was it? It was disappear. 

Legend was making sure Ravio didn't disappear.

Legend was making sure he didn't disappear. 

Ravio promptly burst into tears. Unlike Legend, who was quiet and subtle, Ravio sobbed hard enough he was sure the goddess could hear him. He hiccuped and he sniffled, unable to control the wave of emotions that came crashing down on him. 

Of course, Legend's natural reaction was to panic. “Ravio, what happened?” he exclaimed. “Did I hurt you?” 

His hands flew to his chest in an obvious display of how startled he was. Ravio's instinct was to pout at the sudden lack of contact. Instead, he hugged him around the middle and laughed wetly. “It's nothing.”

Legend's bloodshot eyes met Ravio's own moist ones. Something akin to worry flashed across his expression, but was quickly overtaken by a pink tint dusting his cheeks. “Stop it, then,” he sputtered.

Ravio merely hugged him tighter. Legend hesitated before digging his fingers in Ravio's silly hair. “I didn't think you'd want me here,” Ravio mumbled, his voice muffled from burying his face in Legend's tunic. “I thought I was making it worse.”

Ravio was quickly flabbergasted at his own boldness. His throat was dry as he stammered, “I-I didn't mean to say that! I'm so sorry, I just- I wanted- I-”

“Ravio.”

Ravio met the hero's eyes and immediately realized he had overstepped. Link's dark, violet eyes were as intense as ever, glaring at him with such a ferocity that wasn't typically directed at him. If he wasn't afraid five seconds ago, he was now. His ears tilted downwards.

“Don't you ever say that again,” Link growled, “or I'll kick you out, for good this time.”

First, Link's words surprised him. Then, they made him so unbelievably happy. He hiccuped out another sob as he squeezed Link's torso tighter, a wide, giddy smile spreading across his face that was so big it hurt. “Promise?” he whispered.

Link snorted. “Don't push it. I might just throw you out anyway.”

Despite the rough words, Ravio's heart soared. He never really meant it (probably), and it meant he was back to normal. No longer lost in the anguish of mourning. Not only that- Ravio wasn't a burden. Somehow, he didn't mess up. And he was so, so happy. 

“Thank you,” he finally sighed. “I'm glad you're back.”

“Sap.”

“I am!” Ravio protested with a laugh.

“I know. That still makes you a sap, Rodent,” Legend retorted. He hesitated, toying absently with Ravio's hair. It felt good. He liked it. “But… yeah. I… I needed that. Thanks. I guess.”

“Awwww,” Ravio cooed teasingly. “That was so sweet of you, Mister Hero!”

“Oh, Goddess forbid I show any positive emotion around you!” Ravio could practically feel Legend's eye roll. “Never mind, I take it back! Maybe I should kick you out.”

Ravio shifted so he could look up at the hero, his head in his lap. “You wouldn't, though.”

Legend raised a brow.

Ravio gave him his best puppy-dog eyes.

Legend swatted at him. Ravio yelped as the Hylian shoved him off his lap, a badly suppressed grin on his face.

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Ravio giggled, jumping to his feet. He laughed at the hero's oh-so-grumpy expression. It went well with his flushed cheeks. 

“Get back to work, you freeloader,” Legend scoffed. “I don't keep you around to be obnoxious.”

“Your pink ears say otherwise,” Ravio pointed out smugly.

“Ravio!”

That was his cue. Ravio made his escape, twirling out the door and shutting it on the red-faced Hylian. Legend didn't follow. He didn't follow because he cared. Lolia, he cared!

Sheerow was waiting for him outside, fluttering lightly on the breeze drifting in from the open window. Ravio greeted the bird with a warm “Hello, Sheerow”, and opened his palm to offer a space for him to land. His companion complied, perching on his fingers, who in turn tickled the top of his head with a finger.

“Come on, Sheerow,” he said, bouncing, almost skipping, towards the kitchen where he had abandoned his project. “Let's get back to work.”

[avourel]

Quick summary: Shen Yuan transmigrates into Proud Immortal Demon Way as a Bai Zhan Peak disciple.

FIC REC

okay so i just spent the last few hours binging this and it was such a good time that i feel the need to rec it to anyone who will listen

do you enjoy fic where SY transmigrates into someone other than SQQ? like, say, a random Bai Zhan disciple? then you will like this.

do you enjoy fic where SY is NOTICEABLY competent and gets recognised for it? then you will like this.

do you enjoy fic where shixiong!SY takes lil' LBH under his wing and teaches him competently and confidently and is overall just that cool strong shixiong that won't let him be bullied? then you will like this.

do you enjoy fic where SY and LBH essentially act married and everyone recognises this and treats them as such even as SY remains oblivious despite how doting and openly affectionate he is, with LBH reciprocating? do you enjoy reading about these two just being happy and lovey-dovey in Cang Qiong as they grow up?? then you will like this.

and do you enjoy fic where SQQ is actually mean and violent and unfair and SY gets to be really fucking pissed off and BEAT UP A PEAK LORD? THEN YOU WILL DEFINITELY LIKE THIS

hell yeah this fic is such a good time! and there's 86k of it!!!! no, shhhh, listen to me. those chores you have to do can wait. it's only a couple of hours and you'll enjoy reading it so much. you know you want to. c'mon.

[jade-parcels]

hi! am really sad rn, so can i just request smthn sweet and nice?

maybe how each of the genshin boys would cuddle their s/o, if you haven't done it? thanks:)

Cuddling <3

With Diluc, Zhongli, Childe, Kaeya and Xiao

—————————

Diluc:

He’s got some big, strong arms that he hides under that thick coat of his

He’s pretty ripped, I mean he’s gotta be in order to fling that claymore around like it’s nothing!

So cuddling with Diluc is so nice cause when he holds you, you feel secure. He isn’t gonna let go anytime soon, you get to rest your head against his chest or shoulder and absorb his body heat

Diluc radiates warmth, he’s a walking furnace!! So cuddling while it rains or snows is heavenly :’) you just get to lay there in his warm embrace :’)

Play with his hair while you cuddle and he’ll fall asleep within a minute. He can’t help it, it’s just soothing...and he’s overworked...And your hands feel so nice in his hair...Then boom he’s asleep! He does try to stay awake though, it’s pretty cute watching him fight sleep only to succumb to it

Zhongli:

Zhongli isn’t an intense cuddler but he does enjoy when you sit in his lap and curl yourself into him

He’ll happily hold you close while he tells you stories :’) and if/when you fall asleep, he’ll carry you to bed and tuck you in

He also likes laying so he can rest his head in your lap! So he can look up into your beautiful eyes

When he isn’t wearing his dress clothes and gloves, his beautiful, strong black and gold arms are on display with all of his archon markings so even though he isn’t the most intense cuddler in the world, being wrapped in his strong arms is worth it :)

Childe:

He is a huge cuddle bug. When he’s in the mood for it, that is

When he wants your attention, he wants it NOW!!!! He doesn’t care what you’re doing, he’ll pick you up and take you to the sofa so he can hold you

His favorite way to cuddle is when you sit between his legs with your back to his chest. Then he drapes a blanket over you both! See? Warm and cosy

He’ll wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. He’ll ask you about what you did that day or who you met while pressing little kisses to your neck and jaw as you talk

Kaeya:

Oh boy

Kaeya will latch onto you and not let you go

He’ll press kisses alllll over your face and neck, whispering jokes and compliments as he pretty much suffocates you as he clutches onto you

He’ll encourage you to rest your head on his shoulder so the soft fur of his cape(is it a cape??) can tickle your cheek

Self projecting a bit but when you rest your head on his chest he’ll think it’s cute “You just wanted to get me shirtless, huh? How cheeky~”

You won’t be falling asleep though cause he’ll want to talk about anything and everything! You guys won’t ever stick to one topic cause the two of you have plenty of funny stories to share! That’s probably the best part of cuddling with Kaeya, the closeness and the laughs <3 :) and his tits shhhh

Xiao:

Xiao isn’t very cuddly per se but he’ll sit under a blanket with you

At first he’s gonna be very stiff and awkward, it doesn’t matter if this is your first or hundredth time cuddling he’s just an awkward guy. He doesn’t know where to put his hands

Once you get situated, he’ll just stare at you until you bring up a topic of conversation lmao

His favorite way to cuddle though is when he’s the little spoon :( he loves that feeling of being secure and it takes a lot of trust too, he doesn’t often let people be behind him where he can’t see them. He trusts you and wants you to hold him :’) please and thank you

In return he’ll run your shoulders and hold you close to his chest while you fall asleep...before he has to return to his duties

[sergeantsporks]

Do You Want the Knife You Left in My Back, or Can I Keep It?

Rating: Teen and up, Gen

An injured Hunter wanders into Hexside. What was Luz supposed to do, just let him bleed out on the floor?

Ch 6/6: Separate Paths

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5

Ao3

Hunter lifted one arm slowly. “Ow.” He lifted it a little more. “Ow.” C’mon—just—a little bit—“Ow.”

“Y’know, if it hurts that much, maybe you shouldn’t do it,” King commented from where he was curled up in Hunter’s lap, “Seems pretty obvious to me.”

“They’re just sore muscles. I have to move them, or they won’t get better.”

“What’re you in such a rush for? Are we really that bad?”

“I can’t be away this long.” Hunter rolled his shoulders with a wince. “What if—what if the emperor is mad that I’ve been away?”

“You got stabbed. I think it’s excusable.”

“Doesn’t matter. I should have found a way to check in.”

King tilted his head, looking up at Hunter. “You have one messed-up life.”

“I do not! I should have called in, told him what happened, or at least let him know that I would be a while. He’ll get worried, he—he needs me for something, he wants to keep me safe.”

“Right. So he sent you off into the woods alone with a stab-happy demon. Certainly sounds like he cares about your well-being.”

Hunter snorted. “Kikimora’s wanted me dead for a while. Belos never finds out, and without any evidence, it’s just my word versus hers. She’s never succeeded, so it doesn’t matter.”

“She almost did this time. Are you sure that your emperor doesn’t want you dead and is looking the other way?”

Kikimora has her intricate little schemes.

Did he know? Was he letting her get away with it for some reason?

Hunter shook his head. “No. You don’t know him at all, you can’t judge him!”

“I can judge him all I want, he tried to kill Eda and Luz! And me!”

“Well, he’s different to me, okay?” He had to stop letting people like Eda and King get into his head—they were the enemy, of course they would say the worst of Belos.

King put his head back down, closing his eyes. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

Xxx

Luz slammed open the door to the owl house, dashing towards the stairs. “I’m going to the library,” she called, “I’ll be back in time for dinner!” Wait. Something had been off down there. She pounded back down the stairs to see King curled up on the couch. “Hey, where’d Hunter go?!”

“Busy breaking his promises,” King grumbled from his spot, “He’s been running around, trying to make himself heal faster by stretching and whatnot.”

“Running around? Viney said—”

“Viney didn’t take into account that he’s stubborn, lives for the emperor, and has a bit of a usefulness complex.”

Luz heard a thump and an ow from upstairs. “…I’m guessing that was him?”

“All day, Luz. All. Day. Thump. ‘Ow.’ Thump. ‘Ow.’ ‘Ow. Ow this hurts.’ If it hurts so much, why doesn’t he just stop!”

“I think that applies to a lot of things in his life,” Luz muttered, thumping back up the stairs. Hunter was hauling himself off of the ground using a doorframe. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Getting better.” Hunter yipped as he lost his grip on the doorframe and fell back down. He held up one finger. “Don’t! Say anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Luz replied serenely, “Got somewhere to be?”

“Yeah. Back where I belong.”

Right. She wasn’t even going to get into it this time—even if she didn’t want him going back to the emperor’s coven, she knew that she’d just scare him off if she kept arguing the point. Luz offered him a hand up. “If you’re looking to get some exercise, I was gonna visit Amity in the library. You want to come?”

Hunter accepted her hand, but snorted. “Be in a room with you two lovebirds? Blech. I’d rather dangle above the boiling sea while King sat on my shoulder and begged for crackers.”

Luz pushed his shoulder. “Hey! You could have just said no thank you!” She hopped from one foot to another. “Look, Hunter, I know the last few days have been… odd. I know that being in the Owl House is just about the opposite of what your old life was like. And I know, I know, I know that you want to go back.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay. Yeah. I just… you can come here. If you want. If you need.”

Hunter walked stiffly back towards the stairs. “It doesn’t matter. Because I’m going back home. And I’m not going to come back.”

“But—”

“I get it, okay, Luz, you’re the hero, Belos is the evil tyrant, and I’m—I don’t know—”

“Tragic-faced antihero?” Luz offered.

“Whatever! But I don’t need—” His voice cracked, and he looked down at the ground. “I don’t need your pity or your therapy or whatever it is you’re trying to do here. I have a place where I belong, and maybe it’s not perfect, maybe someone there is trying to kill me, but at least I have a purpose, and people listen to me. I appreciate you saving my life, Luz, I really do. But just… leave me alone, okay?”

Luz rubbed her arms. “Okay,” she said softly, walking past him to go back down the stairs, “If that’s what you want. I just… hoped that maybe we could be friends. But if you just want to be the Golden Guard instead… then I guess keep healing, keep on trying to get yourself back to normal. Because you wouldn’t want to stay away from the coven to hang out with a bunch of criminals, now would you?” She bit her wobbling lip. What had she expected? She’d said it wasn’t a business transaction, she wasn’t supposed to expect friendship from him.

But she’d hoped—just maybe…

“Luz—”

Luz hurried down the stairs while he followed more slowly. “I’m going to go visit Amity. I’ll see you at dinner. If you still want to be here.”

Xxx

Hunter groaned as Luz slammed the door shut behind her. “What did I do now?!”

His palisman twittered that it was actually pretty obvious, and likely had something to do with the fact that he’d literally just told her to leave him alone.

“I—okay, yeah, fine. But she had to know—I can’t just abandon everything for her! And… I don’t want her to get it into her head that I will. She’d end up more hurt that way. No. It’s way better that I establish that we’re not friends and let her down now, before she… before…”

The cardinal pecked his ear affectionately, chirping.

“I am NOT self-projecting! I never self-project! Name one time I’ve self-projected!”

One low chirp.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hunter opened the door to a room he’d never been in before, shuffling in to see—

“My staff!” he blurted, limping across the room to grab it, “So this is where they’ve been hiding you!” He glanced around. This room was chock full to the brim with weapons, wow.

One knife caught Hunter’s attention, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He leaned his staff back up against the wall and gingerly picked up a knife, carved with runes. Its surface glittered up at him, cold and merciless, and his back ached as if he’d been stabbed all over again.

The knife fell to the floor with a clatter, and Hunter followed pretty fast, the events of the last few days all playing through his mind at lightning speed. He felt sick. Kikimora had come so close to killing him. And Luz would have taken the fall. It was a bit surprising how much that second thought upset him.

“Hunter?” Eda’s voice called, “Was that you?”

Hunter shoved the knife under his shirt, wrapping it up in the loose end. “Are you stockpiling for war in here?”

His palisman tweeted scoldingly at him. “Shhhh,” he hissed, “It’s not their knife either! I mean, Kikimora did give it to me.”

The bird chirped again, and Hunter caught the meaning perfectly.

Not funny.

Eda poked her head in. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She peered down at him. “You okay? You’re looking a little pale.”

“Your skin is literally the color of paper.”

“Touché. Have you seen Luz?”

“She’s at the library.”

Eda “ah”ed knowingly. “Gotcha.”

“Why did you hide my staff?” Hunter blurted the words before he could think about it.

Eda sighed. “Honestly? At first it was because I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t use it to hurt Luz.”

“And… now?”

She eyed him. “Now I think I’m more worried about you hurting yourself. I wasn’t really hiding it, I just… wasn’t leaving it lying around.” She crossed the room and hefted the staff, giving it a twirl. “Handy. Reeks of Belos, though.”

Hunter snatched it away. “Belos gave me magic. Without him I’d be dead.”

Eda flicked the end of the staff. “Ever ask yourself how he made it? Who he had to squash to make something like this?”

Hunter collapsed the staff and tucked it in his belt, uncomfortably close to the hidden knife. “Do you usually spend this much of your time denouncing the emperor?”

“Only when I’m trying to convince someone that the Emperor’s Coven is a bad career track. Which it is.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, government bad, living like a crazy criminal in the woods good. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Xxx

“And I thought, y’know, since he was completely dependent on me for a few days he’d be a little bit more willing to be friends, but he’s not and—Amity, am I the bad guy for being upset?”

“No, of course not. He just…” Amity sighed. “When we were at eclipse lake, he said… well, he said a lot of stuff. But he said something about how everyone had a use, and if you didn’t… well, then you were out on your ear.”

“But I don’t need him to be useful!” Luz almost yelled, getting shushes from other library patrons. “Sorry,” she whispered, “I don’t need him to be useful,” she repeated more quietly, “And he shouldn’t have to feel that way! I don’t want to make him feel that way! But it seems like when I try to let him know that, he thinks it’s a personal attack!”

Amity laced her hand through Luz’s. “Just… give him time. Keep being nice. It worked on me. Worked a little too well. He’ll come around, too.”

Luz smiled a little bit at that. “Heh. Guess that’s true. Thanks, Amity.”

“Of course.” Amity held up a book. “Want to help me do voices in the next reading circle?”

“You know it!”

Xxx

Luz raced through the streets. Oh, she was late. She was so, so late! She made it to the forest, but halfway through, she slammed into a magic barrier. Luz touched it gently. “What the—”

“Human!”

Luz whirled around to see Kikimora standing there, breathing heavily, leaves in her hand-hair and mud and twigs caught in her robes. “Wow, you do not look so good.”

Kikimora took in a deep breath. “Human. I propose a trade. If you release the Golden Guard to me, I will speak on your behalf to the emperor. I will attempt to get you first access through our portal. You will be able to return home, no other strings attached.”

Luz shook her head. “You really don’t get it, do you? There is absolutely nothing that you can offer me that will get me to hand Hunter over. Maybe you’d sell someone out for one corn chip, but I wouldn’t.”

“Isn’t that noble.” Kikimora’s eyes flashed. “You know, you may have prompted my basilisk to run away. But using the real you as bait… Oh, well, I think that would be just as effective.”

Luz brought out her glyphs. “I’d like to see you try.”

Xxx

Hunter paced the floor. It was late—an hour past when the Owl House usually had dinner, if he had figured out their schedule right. “Eda? Luz didn’t sneak in a window, did she?”

Eda poked her head out of the kitchen. “Ah, geeze, is she still not back? She probably lost track of the time staring into Amity’s eyes again.” The wild witch opened the door, summoning her staff. “Alright, I’ll go get her.” She made an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture at King and Hunter. “Stay in the house. Both of you.”

She hopped on her staff and flew off. Hunter started pacing again. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“She’s probably fine. Geeze, when did you start getting all worried about her?”

“I just—” Hunter expanded his staff, inching towards the door. “I’ve got this feeling. I’m going to check. Just in case. Don’t tell Eda?”

King eyed him. “You’re being weird. But fine. I won’t tell her. You’d better hurry, though, it won’t take her long to check the library and come back.”

Hunter nodded and bolted out of the door, his palisman fluttering to his shoulder with a chirp.

“It’s just—Kikimora’s still out there. What if…”

Another chirp.

“I know she can handle herself, I just… I need to check, okay?” Hunter lit the tip of his staff. “Eda and King are probably right, it’s probably fine, but if it’s not… no one should have to face Kikimora alone.”

Xxx

Luz ducked behind a tree, panting, as Kikimora shot another magic blast at her. She really hadn’t anticipated how strong the little demon was, and she was running out of pre-drawn glyphs. She took in a deep breath, pulled out a glyph, and ducked around the tree, shooting a bolt of fire at Kikimora. The emperor’s assistant absorbed it in a magical shield, and responded with a blast of her own. Luz rolled to the side, but the blast shifted into a whip of golden energy that wrapped around her ankle, yanking her to the side and slamming her into a tree.

“It’s over,” Kikimora hissed.

Then a familiar red shape dive-bombed the demon, pecking at her head. Luz squinted. “…Lil Rascal?”

Hunter jumped over her, swinging his staff at Kikimora. The demon dodged to the side, her eyes wide.

“How?! You shouldn’t be able to—”

Hunter blasted magic at her. “Found a healer more clever than you.”

“You—you traitor, you’re working with the human?!”

Luz started to sketch in the dirt, tracing glyph after glyph in a sequence.

“What? Oh, Belos wants her alive, I’m making sure you don’t kill her.” Hunter zipped around her, scoring a hit with his staff, sending Kikimora flying. “Besides, you’ve got a lot of nerve calling me a traitor.”

“Enough!” Kikimora howled. She drew a circle, and a blast of magic caught Hunter squarely in the chest, knocking him back into a tree. She held out her hand, and his staff zoomed through the air to her. “You don’t deserve this,” she hissed, “I’ll deal with you in a moment.”

Lil Rascal dove back down, pecking at her head again, and she swatted them to the side. “Stupid bird.” She turned to Luz. “Now, where were—”

Luz slapped the glyph sequence, and a massive block of ice rose up, flying towards Kikimora. The demon blasted it with magic, cracking it open.

“You can’t hit me so—”

Luz grinned as the ice block started to glow. “Your mistake.”

The block exploded, throwing Kikimora backwards. Luz slumped backwards, drained. Wow, that had really taken a lot out of her. She winced. Plus, she was pretty sure she’d bruised a rib or two.

Kikimora staggered out of the crater. “I—will—end—you!” she howled, drawing another circle. Luz winced, bracing herself.

Kikimora fell forward with a scream. Luz blinked, then scrambled forward. The demon had a knife buried in her back.

An awfully familiar knife.

Hunter limped forward, Lil Rascal perched on his shoulder. He picked up his staff. “Good thing—I can throw a knife.” He nudged Kikimora with one foot. “Hey, are you dead? C’mon, I’m sure you can handle a knife in your back, I did.” Kikimora let out a guttural groan, and he nodded. “Good. Because you’re going to get to tell Belos what you did!”

“That’s it, then?” Luz panted, “You’re going back?”

He nodded. “Time I got a move on. Now that I don’t have to worry about her… no reason to stay away.”

Luz looked down at the ground. “Look. I… don’t have any glyphs left—and I don’t want to fight you. But if you try to capture me—”

He looked off back towards Bonesborough, eyes distant. “Wild magic is just. So strong and unpredictable.”

“What does that have to do with any—”

“I was so busy fighting Kikimora, it’s such a shame you got away while I was fighting for my life. But I just couldn’t handle two fights at once.”

“Huh?” Wait. “Oh! Are you—are you sure? What about Belos? Won’t he be mad if you come back without me?”

Hunter winced. “He’ll be angrier about Kikimora’s betrayal. I think. Hopefully.”

“What will you tell him? About what happened when you got stabbed, I mean.”

“The truth. That Kikimora attacked me. I was found by a kind Hexside student who took me in and brought me to a healer. Kikimora attacked me again on the way back, but I was able to defeat her this time.” He picked the demon up and slung her over one shoulder. “Just… go. Before I change my mind.”

Luz got up, a warm, fuzzy feeling blooming in her chest. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

Hunter bit his lip. “Uh—no. You—you don’t owe me anything.” He looked up at the sky, one foot tapping. “F-friends don’t… expect anything back.”

Luz thought she might just have to pick her jaw off of the ground. “Oh! I—”

He turned to go. “I’ve got to go. Eda’s looking for you, you might want to get back to the Owl House.”

“H-Hunter?”

He twisted back to look at her. “What?”

Luz rubbed her arms. “You think… that when all of this is over… no matter which side wins… you think we can still be friends?”

He turned away again. “That’s… it’s a nice thought, but I… I’m not sure this fight can end with both of us alive.”

“I wouldn’t kill you,” Luz called after him, “If we come out on top.”

“I’m not sure I have that same luxury,” he responded softly, “Goodbye, Luz. And… good luck.”

[free-pancakes]

couldn’t sleep last night and decided to elaborate more on this prompt! thanks again for the ask, @agoldenheartedsnkfan​! i ended up changing my original answer a bit as i kept writing

it’s a bunch of levihan fluff and banter and it’s not very exciting, so you are officially forewarned lol

Summary: Levi confronts his feelings about Hange after the Sawney/Bean incident

cross-posted to ao3

“Levi, do you mind holding these for me?” Hange shoved her papers into Levi’s hands and ran back into her office. “Moblit couldn’t carry all my stuff, so this is a huge help, thanks Levi!” “Oi, four-eyes, what’s all this shit for?”

Hange ran back out of her office holding more tools and notebooks. “I’m doing some more experiments on Sawney and Bean tomorrow and I’m setting it all up! Remember, I’ll be meeting up with your squad and Eren later!”

“Hmph. Well you might as well just move your entire office out towards those damn titans, then. Carrying this stuff back and forth is a waste of time.” Hange threw her head back and laughed. “It would take ages to move my entire office out here, shorty! And THAT would be a waste of time!”

Levi rolled his eyes at her comment, and they started walking together to the tents outside the compound where the titans were held captive.

“Thanks for your help, Levi!” Hange smiled widely, and dropped half the things she was holding just to hug him, causing him to do the same.

“Oi four-eyes, we just got here and you’re already making a mess,” he muttered as he immediately started tidying up all the papers strewn across the floor. “Wow Levi, you can’t let a mess sit for even a second before you have to clean it up!” As she bent down next to him gathering the notebooks on the floor, the sweet scent of lavender reached Levi’s nose. “Yeah well good thing you started using the shampoo I bought you, because then this shit wouldn’t be the only mess on the floor I’d have to clean up.” Hange let out a small giggle, “Aw Levi, stop being so uptight! That’s why you have that permanent, constipated look on your face all the time!”

Nifa looked at Moblit. “God you were right, their weird little banter and bickering really doesn’t end, does it?”

“SHHHH NIFA they might hear you! I’d be caught dead if Levi finds out I’ve been ranting to our squad about the two of them! I’m glad Hange’s happy when Levi’s around but honestly I’d like some peace and quiet sometimes,” Moblit sighed.

Nifa whispered, “Hm, well if we said something, maybe they’d finally realize they actually do like each other, maybe they’ll stop fighting all the time!”

“Oh Nifa, with my luck, their banter will never end no matter what happens. Come on, we have a lot of work to do.”

“Ughhh fine,” Nifa said, defeated.

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

Levi stood with his arms crossed in front of Erwin’s desk. “Moblit said you wanted to see me?”

“Yes. I’m a bit, concerned about Hange. I haven’t seen her since we completed the ODM checks. I’m not entirely sure who really killed Sawney and Bean at this point, but I have some feeling that Hange is still blaming herself over it. I haven’t heard or seen her for the past couple days—I know it’s your day off, but do you think you could find her and see how she’s doing, Levi?”

“Sure.” Levi turned to walk out the door.

“And Levi?”“Yes?”

“I asked you because well…I know you’d be able to bring her spirits back up. It’s been awfully quiet without her around.”

Levi nodded, and left to find Hange.

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

Levi searched all throughout the barracks—the lab, Hange’s office, the mess hall, and all her usual spots he’d find her sitting and scribbling notes. He checked with his squad and Hange’s squad, and no one knew where Hange was.

It was getting late, and the sun began to set lazily in sky. Levi was about to leave to look through their usual hangout places in town, when he heard Nifa jogging to catch up to him. “Hey Levi! I did notice one thing—Hange’s ODM gear is missing! She must have it with her!” Levi was grateful for how observant Hange’s squad members were, because now, he knew exactly where she was. He reached out to ruffle Nifa’s hair, and headed out.

Levi scaled the wall with his ODM gear, and started walking through the path of walkway around all the supply boxes and materials stored up by the center looking post. He wandered around for a few minutes until he turned around a tall pile of supplies and saw Hange, sitting with her legs dangling off the side of the wall, holding her face in her hands. He was entranced by her appearance, tears streaming into her hands, traveling slowly down her arms. He had seen Hange cry before, mourning over dead comrades and failed experiments, but this was different. Hange was sunshine personified—a fierce fire ever present in her eyes, a person radiating energy and self-confidence every minute Levi had known her. But in that moment, it was nowhere to be found, and it made Levi feel so cold that he shivered where he stood. He woke himself out of his trance, and stepped silently towards Hange. As he got closer, he heard Hange muttering to herself—

“God, Hange. It’s all your fault, you’re such an idiot. You just keep on letting everyone down don’t you? Why can’t you just stop being so goddamn useless?”

Levi stopped at hearing those words and felt nothing but anger—“How could she even think that?” he thought to himself. He was overwhelmed with fierce feelings to protect her and wanted nothing but for her to know how important she was to the survey corps, to those 104th brats, to his squad, to their friends, and more importantly—to him. His chest swelled with emotion, overwhelming his senses. He closed his eyes, took a moment to breathe and calm himself.

He avoided dwelling on these types of feelings, but to his annoyance, he was constantly pestered with comments and questions on the nature of his relationship was with Hange. However, the more Levi let himself simmer in these thoughts, the more he realized that he couldn’t just keep denying how he truly felt. Three years was long enough.

He walked towards her until he was standing directly behind her, looking down at the top of her head, mesmerized by the purple-orange glow of the sunset illuminating the tears on her face, and her flowing locks of hair draping softly over her shoulders—he rarely ever saw it out of a ponytail. “God, even when she's sad, everything about her is still beautiful,” Levi thought.

Hange didn’t notice Levi until she suddenly felt his hands gently cupping her cheeks, which then carefully pushed her chin upwards to look at him. She was startled at first, as she thought she was alone, but she recognized it to be Levi fairly quickly. She found herself staring into Levi’s face, his bangs barely brushing the tip of her nose. She was angry at first, upset that anyone would find the scout’s section commander crying and doubting her own abilities. But as she frowned and opened her mouth to yell and project her frustrations onto him, Levi wiped away the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs and sat down next to her, his actions calming her sudden surge of anger. They made eye contact, and Hange knew exactly what was on Levi’s mind—he didn’t need to say a word.

Hange laughed, and placed her hand on Levi’s shoulder. “You always know what to say… without even saying it, don’t you Levi?”

A few moments of silenced passed.

“Hm. Well, your eyesight might be trash, but other than that, you do know you’re not useless, right?”

Hange looked down with embarrassment, surprised he had heard her talking to herself. She opened her mouth to speak in protest, but Levi gently placed his hand on her head and pulled her into his gaze. “I don’t want to hear any of that nonsense ever again, Hange. Focus on what lies ahead, and I’ll be right here by your side to hold your shit, or whatever you need. Okay?”

Hange’s eyes widened. Levi might not be great with words, but Hange was always good at “translating” for him, or at least understanding what he really meant. “Levi, are you saying… what I think you’re saying?”

Levi was at a loss for words, and beads of sweat instantly started forming on the side of his brow. Hange noticed this immediately and laughed so hard that tears started welling up around her eyes. “Oi four-eyes, this isn’t funny!” Hange kept laughing and laid her head on his shoulder. It took all of Levi’s energy to suppress a smile—he hated to admit it, but her laughter was contagious. “Hange I’m serious, okay? I—“

“I love you too, yknow?” Hange whispered.

Levi’s expression softened at her response. Minutes passed before either of them could say anything. They sat, dwelling on the words they just exchanged, staring out to the vast land in front of them, the last rays of sun peaking over the horizon.

“…How long have you known?” Levi asked curiously.

“Well Nanaba really just pulled me aside the last time we all went drinking about a few months ago, and pushed me in the right direction, I guess. It’s funny, in retrospect, I think the moment I knew that you might be a little more than just my best friend was—“

“At the Sina military ball 3 years ago,” Levi and Hange echoed simultaneously.

“W-wait, you started having feelings for me the same night I did for you?” Hange exclaimed.

“Pfft, pulling those pranks on all those dumb military police morons with you wasn’t bad.” Hange smiled as she reminisced over the trouble they got into that night, the laughter they shared, and… their first dance together. “Hey Levi, the two of us make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“Yeah, all 3 of us.”“Oi what do you mean by 3 of us? What are you talking about??”

“Yeah, 3. You, me, and your shitty glasses.”

Hange laughed heartily, and kissed Levi on the cheek. He immediately blushed and she giggled more at his embarrassment. She stood up, and said, “Hah, well I guess it’s time to head back. Erwin’s probably wondering where we are, and the debrief meeting is gonna start pretty soon.” She excitedly held her hand out towards Levi to help him up. He couldn’t help but smile at her goofy grin, and grabbed her hand.

[mundungs]

ϟ.  → robert sheehan : genderfluid : he/they/she : dealer of illicit objects and substances : the raven by the alan parsons project ϟ  did you see mundungus fletcher ? you know ,  31 year old halfblood who was formally in ravenclaw. some say dung can be quite furtive but are known to be unreliable. they are aligned with the order .  maybe that’s why they remind me of naming stray cats, flicking a lighter over and over again, falling asleep on the subway. ϟ 

some links for food

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ciannán o’donnell is a flighty man, one of many relationships and flings and little loyalty, and so his affair with maeve fletcher does not last long. when she tells him she is pregnant, he moves on to a different woman, and maeve has her son alone, with her sister on her side. and thus, mundungus is born (and giving an arguably atrocious name).

he grows up with his mum – a halfblooded witch and by far his favourite person in the world – in limerick, attending muggle school there. he knew who his dad was, but wasn’t quite sure how to feel about — his father is a criminal, a prominent member of the irish mob. 

he meets his dad for the first time at age seven, and was nothing but impressed. his dad showered him with gifts, his mum watching with a furious look on her face but biting her tongue. that moment was a switch for mundungus; he felt the need to impress his dad. he stole some sweets from a store on his way home from school a week later, fished some pennies out of the pockets of his classmates a few months later. when he phoned his dad to tell him, his laugh was warm and filled with life. his relationship with his dad got better as his behaviour got worse. the thrill of stealing, of doing stuff he wasn’t supposed to, lit him not only on fire because it was exciting, but also because he knew his dad would adore it. 

but ciannan, a flighty man, pushes and pulls. and so mundungus was fed disappointment by his father, liking love off a shiny knife rather than a spoon ( silver or plastic, what the fuck does it matter ). details omitted, long story made short: his dad sucks and his mother tries, but mundungus is pulled towards that what smells of danger.

DRUGS MENT. at hogwarts, dung is sorted into ravenclaw. not at all the booksmart type, he falls more into the chaotic-creativity, random-bursts-of-wanting-to-learn-everything-about-something type of ravenclaw. there’s two worlds, then: the muggle world, where he slowly dips his water further in criminal waters, and the wizarding one, where he’s chaotic and messy but a student. when he grows older, these overlap: dung starts selling some of his dad’s weed at hogwarts, and soon gains a reputation of being able to get people less-than-legal shit. 

not getting high off your own supply is not a sentiment he agrees with. not then, not later, not now. dung is fun, always in for a party and willing to supply the goods to throw it. if some rich purebloods lose a few galleons at said party, well, it sure isn’t him! END OF TW

he graduates with two newts, in herbology and potions, failing his dada and charms exams. he’s not an academic.

falling into the family business after graduation is easy. mundungus is attracted by the criminal underworld, both that of muggle ireland and that of the wizarding world. knockturn alley was a place frequented in teenage years, but now becomes more his place. he makes connections, exchanges strange potion recipes for other things. makes an odd wager on a bunch of stolen brass scales and turns a profit. 

a career is not something that interests him; he is more interested in bending rules and making quick money. thievery, selling illegal shit, heists, fraud, fuck-all. mundungus is not limited by one descriptor, one kind of criminality. he just does what he wants and hopes to make a good penny.

but then he almost gets sent to azkaban over some, in his frank opinion, bullshit. it’s dumbledore who talks the wizengamot out of it, saddling dung up with some community service and persuading him towards the order. he’s twenty three. the war is still fresh. he has no interest in it, but he owes the old man. fine.

mundungus does vehemently oppose blood purity and any kind of discriminatory ideals, an anarchist in his very bones, but he is also cowardly. to side with self-proclaimed rebels is not in his blood and yet it’s where he ends up, bringing shady ties to the underworld to the table and a sheer ability to sneak around and fuck the law. and maybe, amidst the ranks of the order, dung finds something he’s not very familiar with: a large family. and dung? well, he’s the stoner, gay, super-fucking-chaotic cousin.

personality

if jesper fahey and kaz brekker had a child, it would be dung. 

other character parallels: fezco ( euphoria ), boris ( the goldfinch ), doug judy ( b99 ), jason mendoza ( the good place ), chris miles ( skins ),  nick miller ( new girl ), creed bratton ( the office ), scott lang ( marvel ), lillian ( unbreakable kimmy schmidt )

technically he’s homeless. he’s got a bedroom at his ma’s place, has a ton of squatter connects in the muggle scene and couch surfes aplenty, but dung doesn’t rent a place. why? landlords are evil. he could afford a place, just doesn’t see the point. life’s better with some adventure.

appears very neutral in public as it’s beneficial to his role in the order??? 

.... tortured artist. writes poetry and loves to draw and paint. 

tattooed the fuck up. some are his own designs.

can usually be spotted wearing The Coat, a rly expensive, vintage long coat that he once stole of a pureblood. he’s enlarged the pockets with some handy spellwork and pretty much carries everything he owes in there, like his produce and his money and his second pair of shoes and his art supplies and probably some random trash. 

loves animals. he loves stray cats especially <3 they are his kin. 

an anarchist. a bit of a punk. a deep idealist with a cowardly heart so constantly betraying himself (and sometimes others?)

queer! enby! genderfluid! i used he/him pronouns throughout this intro but dung truly doesn’t give a damn what u use. loves to dress up in feminine clothes. 

has a ton of aliases, lol, the most important one being marigold fincher. 

cusses too fuckin much to be healthy :/

oh no he is a big sad insecure kid deep inside :/ dont tell anyone how embarrassing!!!! shhhh!! it’s a secret.

quick connection ideas

victim. wow please. if your character is rich. let me steal from u. pick ur pockets. break into ur house. get some of ur stuff and drop it on the black market. 

customer. dung sells. whatever u need. drugs. weird magical things. ask and ye shall receive. his prices are whack but he does deliver <3

pal. party friends! order friends! random encounter friends! dung has a trashmouth and loves to talk pls let him chat u up and u will never be rid of him <3

couch. he couch surfs. a lot. if ur character trusts dung enough to let him into their home (which they shouldnt) then pls let him sleep over for a night. he will leave a strangely expensive necklace on ur kitchen table as a thank u. or wilted flowers. no in between.

skeptic. ur char is in the order and thinks dung is a liability and maybe they have a point. a point mundungus would rather not face :)

dmle bitches. dung hates anyone authoritative but esp the coppers at the ministry (hit wix & aurors) (yea he calls them coppers sorry he doesnt respect them enough to call them aurors <3). give me that doug judy/jake peralta dynamic. or just someone in the dmle who is like ... sigh this guy again??? 

fwb/one night stand/fling/etc. he’s a bit slutty <333 give him some ppl he’s hooked up with / will hook up with.

[quinn-tessence]

Nocturne for a Clown

Part 3

Summary: you're tormented by the realization Arthur is the killer clown on the news, yet no bone in your body feels any different for him. Not even Casanova's advances could sway your from wanting to hold Arthur in your arms and alleviate his sorrow. He's had a bad day, and retreats on your couch, broken and confused.

Length: 5k words

Warnings: mentions of murder, lack of remorse, guilt and grief, seeking comfort where he'd never had it from. Smut with dear Arthur that could cause a rush of tremors, be warned. 🤭❤

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

You sat and watched. Then watched and watched some more. There were no words, no voice, no sound coming through your gaping mouth as the skin on your lips almost started to crack. It made sense. The blood, the bruise, the liberating sex, the wretched guilt. Oh God, what has he done?, you repeated in his voice over and over, that impossible puzzle putting itself together before you as you hid your gouging eyes underneath heavy, sweaty palms in a much too similar reflex to his own.

What has he done? He'd been beaten down surely, given his frail nature you could see how he'd be fluent in being at the receiving end, but as grievous as the thought was, it made it no less valid. This was bad, he’d land straight into Arkham if you picked up that phone to call the authorities, the way a considerate citizen would, as if Gotham deserved any at all. But you weren't one of them, were you? Never had you really fit in, yet you tried for the sake of appearances, it had become so burdening of late, only the thought of Arthur could provide the comfort you'd been seeking.

The news reports kept blaring, yet all your compassion overflowed for the clown, had you been able to see things objectively you'd still think he was hero. Three fewer assholes in Gotham, only a million more to go, you heard an inner voice say, even if you knew that was enough reason to throw you into the depths of Arkham Asylum. You'd sadly known that place from family, and you never wanted to set foot in that Tartarus again, but perhaps the apple didn't fall far from the tree. You couldn't stomach the thought of Arthur sitting opposite the glass wall from you, so dozed up on sedatives he'd hardly even recognize you. No, no, no. You wouldn't let that happen, and yet he'd need his own time and space to process.

You resisted the urge to bang on his door and ask for a full account, it felt as if you were a passenger on a derailing, speeding train. Regardless of how breathtaking the turquoise water under the rails, your gut wrenched at the thought of plunging into it head first. You were a decent swimmer, but you knew you’d be incapable of fighting those waters from swallowing you whole. You'd just given yourself to him, entirely and shamelessly, and regret was nowhere in sight. Had you been the forth prey of his killing spree, he would have killed you already. Yet he did the exact opposite, in distress and quivering like a leaf, but it was your door he opened after his rupture. He trusted you to keep this secret for him. And you welcomed the trust.

Within a few days you noticed you'd returned to your bad habit of unconscious nails biting. As if the deafening tumult between your temples wasn't enough, you also had to self flagellate as you desperately waited in silence.

You were busy enough at work, and the newest addition to your team had become daring enough to invade your private space little by little. Tall. Lean. Broad shouldered. Curly caramel hair and eyes of obsidian, winking at you shamelessly each time he passed by you. Patrick was a force in his field, yet he rolled his eyes and tongued his cheek whenever you'd call on him for a task, as if wanting to taunt you. Quite quirky and unprofessional, but restrictive enough to question yourself if you were merely projecting. Not once had he failed to deliver, on the contrary, yet that sly attitude never left him. Hm. The distraction was welcome, but it was nothing more. You'd catch yourself staring through him, picturing sparkling emeralds and cocoa, having to snap yourself back to reality before he'd think it was him you were aching for just like all your infatuated colleagues.

He must have checked with your giggly girlfriends before casually slipping in an invitation to your favorite bar after hours, casual drinks with a few colleagues, of course. Perhaps you should have politely declined, but you needed the respite from the heart wrenching torment, even if just for a few hours.

As empty as the venue was, he insisted on strolling in your visual field, intriguingly charming, maybe a bit too charismatic. It was time to maintain a level of dignity with your colleagues and remove yourself before getting into a state where you'd find yourself in Arthur's apartment, this time fully conscious. Yet Patrick gallantly offered to drive you over, posing a certain concern for your safety alone in the streets with a murdering clown on the loose. HA! You giggled at the joke being on him, silently talking to yourself. No thank you, you rascal, protection from that clown is the last thing I need. He insisted on paying for the taxi at least, and you’d had two drinks and wanted to be home already.

The thunderstorm washed the streets rapidly as you entered your building. You loved ravenous thunderstorms, especially as they traversed the sky over your cozy apartment bathed in lily scent. You took comfort in the hot shower and the chilly air in the room, lightning bolts clearing up the sky for a flash of a second as you wrapped yourself in the bathrobe, ready for Murray's dry humor.

Oh God! Your heart leapt to your throat as a soaked silhouette bathed your floors in cocoa flavor. At last.

‘Arthur! You scared me!’ he lay motionless, your words passing through him as if he wasn't even there. ‘Is everything ok?’

His damp fingers absently traced a faint line over the glass of your coffee table, his body slouched and stiff, the edges of his hair dripping on the couch.

‘I had a bad day.’

The words had come from a deep dark pit inside his chest, a wretched misery draped across his face as you kneeled next to him, cupping his cheeks. You'd ached to see his sparkling jades, yet you'd met them covered in a thick coat of tears, on the edge of dropping.

‘Arthur, what happened, sweetheart? Talk to me, please' He was so tired and withered, not even the wicked cackle would surface in this state.

‘I had a bad day…’

‘You said that, sweetheart, tell me what happened. Are you hurt?’

‘Kitten. I've done something… I…’ for seconds he tried to articulate, but the cackle fought its way up his throat.

‘Arthur shhhh. I know it was you. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I won't force you… I won’t judge you for it, I promise. Just sit with me for a second’ his head already leaning on your chest, your palm caressing his piercing bones, even through sets of clothes. He sat sedated, limbs heavy, flesh trembling, voice cackling in wrenching anguish for what felt like minutes on end.

‘You do?’ he asked between ruptures as if to steer his initial subject into whatever you'd conveniently brought up.

‘I do. I knew it the moment I heard the news after you stormed out. I saw the blood and the bruise on your face. You won't find any judgement here, I promise. I know you needed time to process, but you’re here now. Shhh' you almost cradled him in your arms, the most powerful instinct to protect him even from himself overbearing. He was all bone and sinew, like a hungry lone wolf, but there now was a sinister vibe to him.

‘Good. I'm glad you know. I lost my job that day, and then they attacked me in the subway, beating me to a pulp. Hm. Now you'll know that killing them hasn't bothered me at all. How's that for casual conversation?’

An unnerving tremor slid down your spine at the tone of his voice. You'd known him for a while, yet this resentful sneer was far from something you'd expect from timorous Arthur. Dreadful it's what it was, spine-tingling, intriguing, you were utterly mad to clasp this deranged man to your bosom when another prince charming just waited for one damn look from you. Who cared, you thought, Gotham’s gonna claim all of us sooner or later.

‘All I want is for you to be safe, Arthur. I won't tell anyone, but you need to be careful, sweetheart, you can't be saying things like those to anyone, please'

‘I have no one to tell, Y/N. And you’re not just anyone. You know. I’m still here, although you could have thrown me in police custody for the past few days.’ The cackles had given him a short respite, even if still lingering on the edge of bursting. He wheezed heavily before speaking. ‘My whole life I didn't even know if I really existed. And today, I feel… hollow…’

You'd asked and asked again as you touched his face and held it close to yours, his forehead as cold as the thunderstorm outside this comforting protective bubble.

‘My mother had a heart attack. She's in the hospital. Hah. My mother…’ a late instinct turned your skin to prickles hearing him speak from a different octave, a thick air of mustering resentment filling the room. ‘I had a few days to myself and I decided to deliver a letter to Thomas Wayne from her, seeing how he never bothered to write back. I'd told you she worked for him 30 years ago, and I read it although I shouldn’t have. I'd never known my father, but the letter said it was him. I confronted my mother and she told me everything about the two of them. But… instead of some warmth or a bit of decency, he told me my mother was insane and that I had been adopted. That and a punch to the face is what I got. Hm. Who am I, then? You tell me'

Your own eyes on the brink of overflowing, your soul coiled. You couldn't do much, but he needed comfort. Where would you even start, though? His tone of voice, the grief weighing him down, the droplets off his wet hair disintegrating whatever pieces were left of him, a question mark in stead of whomever he thought he'd been his whole life. Yet he didn't expect comfort. Such a foreign concept to him, as if reserved only to an elite he was not part of and would not dare intrude upon. You could easily hear how he'd just laugh it out into his pillow at night, his cries stifled, lacking a corner of privacy and personal intimacy where he could really build up that forced smile he'd put on every next day. You’d go utterly mad if you were in his shoes, no comfort and no expectation of it. So used to being overlooked, deep down he knew he was alone, and that filled him with fear and hopelessness. So you shushed and nuzzled him to your chest, hoping the warmth of your body would be soothing enough for the chaos that he was.

‘I don't know who I am, kitten. So I went down to Arkham and stole my mother's file just to find that he'd been right. The… horrors… she subjected me to as a child had gotten me locked up in Arkham years ago, but now I think I was just trying to hide from her, from this rotten city, from this world. I felt safe in that white room, ironically. When they released me, the heavy medication was supposed to make me feel better, instead it suffocated even my most basic impulses.’

Laughter ripped at his throat and pulled his face into a grimace, your palms clasping him so tightly you were afraid you might smother him. How much pain and grief could a man take, his poor soul must have been bound to an eternal rock, forever pecked by hungry vultures.

‘How can you even welcome me into your home if I don't even know that much? I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I should go, no need to burden you with any of this' he meant every word, as he kissed your hands with teary lips and dragged himself half upright.

‘Don't go' you close to begged. ‘Please stay.’

The grooves in his forehead you loved, just as the distinctive scar on his upper lip and the deep dark eye bags crowning his jades, his state of mind added another couple decades to his age. As you took him in through your pores, you remembered the shy clown peering through the shelves, and how the makeup would do the exact opposite of its intended purpose. Somehow he'd been unaware of how the makeup brightened his eyes to a clarity and sharpness you could cut yourself into. It was endearing how he'd stared at you when you'd first seen him wearing the costume, thinking he could hide under that mask when really it only brought him to life, his facial expressivity more riveting than ever. Yet he was here with you, more Carnival than Arthur even without the paint, as broken as a mirror in infinite shards.

‘Will you still have me here after this?’

‘I would. Please. I'm glad you came here after all this instead of going back home.’

The thought he'd ever been intimate with a woman before you had dissipated in an endless pool of murky turquoise, the genuine surprise in his eyes cutting you to your bone. There was no question, you knew.

‘Thank you, kitten. I'll stay, if you want me here'. There was no hiding anymore, you'd made it sparkling clear by being an accessory after the fact.

‘I do, Arthur, so much. I wanted you here… since you held that elevator for me, yet somehow we always missed our moment. No need to thank me…’

Had it not been for the roaring thunder, he'd probably hear your galloping heart, yet his composure betrayed just that acknowledgement. Every fiber in your body ached to touch his soul and mend it. The erotic tension you couldn't deny, but that wasn't anywhere near the reason why you'd willfully allowed yourself to become his accomplice. He sat back down, timidly reaching for your hand with his own smooth fingers, to place it on his cheek, now as warm as to ignite all the fires inside you with only one touch. Regardless of the endless torment of his life, it was so effortless to feel safe in his presence, even if he'd just killed three men in cold blood and joggled his life as he balanced on a thin string.

‘But I want to. Will you... let me thank you?’ his eyes had meekly turned to yours with a restless heeding for that glimpse of complicity you'd joined in a few times before.

‘If you insist, sweetheart, I guess you already did. You're welcome.’ And through that smile you could feel your body radiating as intensely as a candle flame in the dark. You’d tripped and fell into feelings for him, and nothing could brush them off.

‘No... I really want to thank you, kitten...’ Painfully slowly, he drew himself closer to you, a cocktail of demureness and ardor shaping his beautifully chiseled face into one that you'd missed your whole life, without even knowing. ‘I want to... put my mouth on you...’

Oh… He'd shown you a short, blissful glimpse of this other Arthur, the less tense, less uptight, more daring when he'd taken what you both wanted. There was always a limit to his courage, and yet he’d usually fall back into the timid, maiden like demeanor that he was. This felt different though, as there was a glimpse of unbridling in the way he inhaled, in the twitch of his contoured eyebrow, his whispering husky voice demanding consent. He needed this. Perhaps it would help deafen the torment for a quiet minute, and you were willing to let him try. Oh, who were you fooling, your heart had leapt at the thought of this since you saw him motionless on your couch, albeit in your mind the roles had been reversed. You'd bitten your lip instinctively, a most nonverbal cue of compliance to his plea, and within a short second he was tasting it, sucking it, biting it gently, as his nimble fingers strolled so tenderly through your hair to uncover your face, your eyes already deeply sunk behind fluttering eyelids.

‘I want to feel you shiver in my mouth' he whispered with a faltering voice, taking in all of your scent through avid nostrils. ‘You always smell so good, so clean… I want to taste you…'

So tender he was, you'd forgotten what it felt like to be wished for, body and soul alike, yet his palms willingly showed you a striking contrast to the tenacious Arthur who'd barged in days ago, as if your skin was porcelain and he wouldn't want to break you. He uncovered your naked skin underneath the fluffy bathrobe and smoothly tasted the growing prickles with curious fingertips, lowering himself towards your thighs at a painstakingly slow pace that would soon have you beg.

Pulling you to the edge of the couch where he’d slid himself, he finally broke the jarring tension of his eye contact just to move his head lower, descending decisively. The instant his curious lips parted, a shiver jolted through your flesh and your heart leapt into a marathon, you let yourself fall into his mouth without any control. How beautiful he was, you reminded him over and over as your fingers slicked his damp hair back, curling it around his ears, uncovering his furrowed forehead and perfect chiseled jawline. The sight of him between your thighs was no stranger, but you’d only seen it from afar until now, deep within the corner of each of your fantasies. Such a kind soul he was, but that mouth a wretched devil… oh my…

For a second he looked as if he'd forgotten all his sorrows as he strolled his tongue over your petals, tasting your skin one inch at a time, gently exploring to test your every reaction to his laps, his eyes fascinated with each of your whimpers. The throbbing love button he'd unveiled, a curiosity he had to touch with his tongue to feel the pulsation, your purrs a source of the validation in an endless sea of self doubt. Taking his time, curiously exploring this newfound medication for his sorrowful blues, he quickly grew hungry and greedy as an addict for a stronger fix, yet somewhat cautious to not overdose. His dilated basil eyes etched onto your contorted face, delighting in each tiny reaction he drew from you with his mouth, yet the catalyst to set you fully ablaze were his own moans as he enjoyed himself enjoying you. Oh God, what is he doing to me, I never want him to stop…

You’d thought you'd be the one comforting him, but it seemed as if he was doing it for both of you. His eyes moved around maniacally, taking in the shape of your naked breasts, of your nipples hardened at the thunderous air in the room, your moans guiding him into a delicate rhythm that could make you climb walls, even with the clumsiness that came with tasting a new person. He couldn't be a novice, although his curiosity was striking and enticing. Regardless of all that sorrow he'd brought with him, he curled a satisfied smirk under his scar and an impertinent twitch of his eyebrow sent you into a frenzy. His jades dilated at seeing your lips bitten, your eyebrows furrowed, close to crying in ecstasy, unable to move at the pleasure he gave and gave some more.

The mercury in your thermometer jumped at knot speed towards one big show of fireworks whose fuse got consumed by his kindling flame at a slow pace. Thoughts of his recent killing spree rushed through your mind, yet you were as high as a kite. You didn't care. So you let them ooze out to leave a hazy emptiness behind to be filled with all this spectacle of indulgence.

The pleas were whimpering whispers as you arched and etched your fingers in his smooth cocoa hair to anchor him, the other palm clenching a poor throw pillow to deformation. You hips guided by the rhythm of his palms on your waist, your moans deepening as he'd made you move onto his face, using it as a fine tuned instrument to orchestrate the crescendo of both your pleasure. Now that all your 8000 sensory nerve endings could light Gotham for Christmas if visible, his tongue flickered around your pearl, feeling the climax building up towards that overwhelming rapture. Moans turned to shrieks, toes and fingers clenched in reflex, his eyes and mouth on you as he winked from under long dark eyelashes. You combusted so powerfully into his mouth, within a few blissful seconds you'd left him glistening in traces of yourself.

Only as you quivered your last drop of pleasure in his mouth did you realize why he'd needed this so badly, he craved the validation of being a man even if his identity in shatters. It was one thing to have no identity, but another to not even be a man. Pleasuring you was one damn win that would hold his feet on the ground if he did it right, and that he could control. He had been scrutinizing you as you gasped for air, your eyebrows furrowed almost painfully, your flushed delicate muscles still throbbing under his tongue.

‘Oh, Arthur, that was… amazing…’

Still lingering his lips onto your inner thighs, he kissed tenderly as your flesh still twitched. You wanted him even more now than you did before. But tonight should be about him, even if he'd taken the lead so gracefully, so skillfully, so deliciously.

‘Yeah…’ the shyest smile draped across his tinted face, 'I felt that, kitten. I've… never really done this before…’ You'd known, deep down, and yet hearing him say the words was the most tender of piano nocturnes to your ears, so you latched at his mouth to taste him through your flavor, one that if you could bottle up, it would drive mankind rabid into destructive adoration.

Come here, Arthur, you whispered as you pulled him next to you, the puzzlement over his arching eyebrows an absolute delight you'd dreamt of relentlessly. He didn't fight it, yet the stiffness in his bones betrayed an urge he'd palmed away many nights without resolution, anxiety creeping over him at the realization it was now staring him in the face.

‘Wh… what are you doing?’, you shushed him as a response.

‘Kitten, please, don't feel like you need to give me anything back…’

‘Who said anything about giving back? I'm taking this for myself, Arthur. Let go, baby, let me take care of you'

‘Kitten… ohh' his eyes went straight to the back of his head, heavy eyelids covering his jades, his lips parted as your fingers traced the bulge straining his pants to suffocation. ‘Ok…’ he exhaled anxiously, a timidly bouncing knee betraying the rush of emotion flowing through him as you dragged his clothes over his head, his pants crowning the floor within a few seconds, leaving him naked to your hungry gazes.

The flickering light of the candles reflected over his protruding ribs as if a part of his body had caved in under the weight of his shoulders, his palms on your face strolling and tasting the reality of your flesh, he must have thought you were a side effect of his medication. Yet the prickling shivers traversing his body as you trailed your fingers over it were not. You reached for his lips as you lay him across the couch, your breasts invading his chest, the warmth of your body soothing his anxious trembling. That defeated look on his face, so vulnerable he'd made himself to you, he had nothing to give yet you still wanted him. He was mystified with even the remote possibility, let alone you giving him that adoration he'd chased endlessly, but never caught.

‘You are so beautiful, Arthur, let me show you, please…’ He was your paradise lost in the depravity of Gotham, a villain in itself, weighing down on each of its residents and having chosen Arthur to crush mercilessly under its own lack of a well defined identity, ready to teach us all lessons in humility that could lead to desperation.

He nodded shyly, his jades coated with an acute layer of yearning over something he'd never been given before. His body was a withered Stradivarius, abandoned in the corner of a cold, damp world, subjected to years of weathering and painful lack of any care, no wonder he was so feeble in between your fingers. But his strings were steel, and steel doesn't weather. It would naturally respond to external factors just like anything else but no amount of forcing, pushing, suppressing would bring out the brilliant austere sound it was designed to bring. Had he been less frail, you'd relate him to a cello, one that needs to be held tight to one's chest before playing it, where its resonating chamber rests upon the artist's heart as she moves the bow on the saddest of instruments. Yet he was so fragile, the wails of his chords almost bringing you to tears as you ghosted over them, testing what amount of pressure would bring the vibration, how to explore the potential of the sound and bring it closer to perfection. You were there to give him all that, to polish all the dust away, his wrinkles, his chiseled edges, to practice on his strings and validate his worth until he felt himself a Stradivarius for the first time in his life. He'd been blessed with a beautiful instrument that could bring such intense sensory bliss if only he'd find the right hands, and you longed to play him through the night, to tear your fingers into his chords and to sing his melancholy away.

What a trembling mess he'd become as soon as your lips strolled down his neck, the smell of rain and cigarettes off his skin intoxicating you into indelible addiction. The farthest you went, the more you saw how little he expected that you'd turn your full attention to him, as if never daring to expect anything other than what you'd allow him to take. You kissed your way down from his chest, palms exploring and fondling every bony texture, every inch of soft skin until reaching an extremity that felt to your fingertips as both together. Trembling, he slicked back his hair and sunk deeper into the couch, scrutinizing your face in detail and feeding you those micro expressions of Arthur and Carnival together, the twitch in his eyebrow a give away that you'd be playing for an audience of two tonight.

So immersed in the overflow of sensation he was as you took him into your mouth, his only verbal response a muffled ‘F-fuck, kitten', but his whole body screamed a different story of twitches at the touch of your tongue and lips. How demure the sounds he made as he shivered over and over, his eyes shut tightly, his mouth half open, heavy breaths raising his chest, quivering lips alternating silent approvals or four letter curses, as if careful to not be caught. So painfully expressive, all you wanted was to see him melt under your touches like silver over a burning flame without a hurry in the world, your tongue tracing a tale more evocative than any words could ever express.

With each stroke of your lips, he let go to all but that intense pleasure, as if your mouth held the power to oust the very fabric of reality, offering him an escape into a wonderland he'd been denied entrance all his life. He wants to be wanted, needs to he needed, lusts to be lusted for, his quivering lips more than enough validation for that thought. As you felt his muscles unwind, his fingers tremoring, his breath traversing his trembling body, you'd made him float in an isolation tank of indulgence. When you stopped, his voice would growl and whimper in reflex, the purring sounds begging for more. Some would call it schadenfreude, you called it your tiny overdose in hearing him say 'please' as you teased and inflamed him. His taste in your mouth, his smooth texture, his delicate skin, you wanted nothing more than to lock that door and trap him in this perpetual state of bliss. For eternity wouldn't be enough to put together all his broken pieces, but it would be a start.

The meekness in his jade eyes was wrenching, yet as he looked into yours, you quickly understood why. You couldn't hear his silent whispers, yet you knew he was begging for more as the throb in your mouth intensified and his whimpering green eyes slid to the back of his head, his palms clenching the couch so forcefully he could tear into it. It mattered no less as you felt him completely let go throb after throb, his body convulsing in spasms, the taste of him ambrosia hidden from all other mortals.

His head sunk deep in the couch pillow, his arms and body heavy and immobile, breath ragged, he giggled for the first time that day, a laugh so genuine it felt foreign to both of you, a rattled stranger you both wanted to welcome in and nurture back to his feet. As he lay sprawled on your couch, naked and ecstatic, you wished he was happy, for once. You needed a minute to freshen up, and as you returned to shut the windows and lay a blanket over him, he'd almost dozed off from exhaustion.

You sunk next to him as slick as a cat, laying him onto your chest and fondling your fingers in his damp cocoa hair, his limbs latching at you rendering you almost breathless with the radiating warmth of his body.

‘Kitten, I… I don't know how to thank you…’, he whispered in the nook of your neck, asleep had his flesh not sweetly twitched him back to a half awake state. ‘I've been off my medication for a few days, but I might have found an endless supply of pure morphine…’. His body had finally rested its convulsion, his limbs falling heavier, his breath slower, within a few seconds of his thought his eyes already moved spastically under heavy eyelids.

He was right, he'd found pure morphine, and so had you. It would consume you both, but him in your arms was that feeling humanity had sought since its birth. A once in a lifetime adventure they'd write sonnets about in the past, one that was yours to experience and live through with Arthur. That morphine had just kicked in for both, and you were floating on a cloud high above the thunder slowly roaring away in the night.

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

Thank you for reading this far! ❤

A special thanks to a few of the lovely people in this community that inspires me to keep putting my odes to Arthur on paper:

@wuika @iartsometimes @impulsiveclown @arthurflecc @littlebird92 @life-or-something-like-lt @jokers-puddin-pop @arthurfleckownsmysoul @jokersdoll @bananabreaddough @paperorigami @ransomguest49 @daydreamhustler @arthurjokersgirl @forever-fleck @sweet-nothings04 jokerlicious @ajokeformur-ray @shaw-2000 @jaraysha1121 @jofic059​ @shit-i-love-clowns

[thefantasygirl3]

Negaverse stories: Bushroot's backstory

Genre/warnings: Comedy, Slice of life, Action, Drama.

Word count: 3 581

Summary:  After the events of Darkwing Duck coming to the Negaverse and helping the now called “Darkwing Ducks” save st. Canard, the four heroes   decided to adopt the adorable little Gosalyn, buy a house and start a   life together. But the little duckling is curious over how all her dads became heroes to start with, so she asks them to tell her that story.

Notes:  The third story out of four, featuring the friendly four. I almost forgot to upload it here, but here it is. Only one more to go. Link  to other parts of the story: 1 - Megavolt. 2 - Quackerjack. 4 - Liquidator.

It was 9:00 am in st. Canard. Most kids were busy in school, learning their ABCs and 123s. Emphasis on "most". In the Darkwing ducks' household, the little duckling Gosalyn was laying in bed with an ice pack on her head. She had gotten sick that morning and her parents had made her stay home, which she thought stunk! What is she going to do when she's stuck in bed? While she's laying like a sack of sneezing potatoes in bed, all her friends are having fun at school, playing with their new dolls and talking about their pets. She wanted to hang out with all the other kids! But at least she wasn't completely alone, not only was Bushroot home, as he was a stay-at-home-dad, but Quackerjack also left Mr. Banana brain to keep her company while her papa was busy.

She let out a big, bored sigh and sank more into her bed, almost disappearing in the covers. But then she heard something from outside her window, making her push herself up with a groan and head over to take a peek. And outside she saw her papa, Bushroot, kneeled down by his garden and tending to the pretty little flowers, yet to bloom while he hummed happily. His fly trap was helping him by carrying the watering can for him. One of the buds started to make strange little noises before it burst out crying like a child. He gasped softly and bent down to give the baby bud soothing pats to calm it down. "Shhhh. Don't cry, my widdle baby! It's ok! Shhhh… it's ok. Go back to sleep. Papa's here" he whispered in a baby voice to the bud as it stopped crying.

Gosalyn puffed up her cheeks grumpily and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at her papa acting like that to one of his mutated flowers. Always doting on them like babies. He never treated her like that! Was she getting jealous of flowers? Yes! Yes she was!

She walked over to the door to head out into the garden, but was interrupted as she let out a big, loud sneeze. She snivled and rubbed her beak of snot while glancing back at the bed, where Banana brain was looking over at her while lying lazily on the bed. "Don't look at me like that. I'm just going outside" she told him with a stuffy nose before she sniffed a bit and continued towards the stairs. 

As she was half way down the stairs, she spotted the plant man starting to hurry inside and soon thereafter spotted the sick little girl dragging herself down from her room. "Oh nonono!" he shouted surprised as he ran over towards her and stopped her at the end of the stairwell. "Chickpea! You shouldn't be walking around! You should be trying to sleep the sickness off!" the nervous duck man started to gently usher her up the stairs, until he noticed her grumpy face and came to a stop.

"Hun? What's the matter? You don't look happy" he muttered concerned and crouched down to be on her level. "... I was lonely" she mumbled and lowered her head, getting red cheeks from the feeling of embarrassment. The plant let out a big sigh and stood up so he could walk over towards the couch. Gosalyn, without a word, followed after him and crawled up beside him. "Dandelion, you need to rest. But if you're feeling lonely, I guess I can sit with you for a while. So… what did you want to do?" He asked while reaching an arm out to wrap around her and pull her in closer. "... can you… tell me about when you became a hero?" She muttered weakly and looked up at him with a pair of puppy eyes. "Ah… so it's my turn now? I… guess it was inevitable. Very well… I can't say no to you when you make those eyes" he let out a soft chuckle before giving his daughter a smile and giving her a gentle hug.

Before I became… this, I used to be the head scientist in a food lab. We would find the best, cheapest ways to make our food. But I was… let's just say rebellious and used the lab to make my own interesting food experiments. See I wasn't exactly cooperative, I would bully the scientists beneath me to get my way and I'd use all of the equipment to do my own things. I'd even manipulate and bully my boss so I had him in my grasp as well. There was only one person I couldn't push around in the workplace and that was ms. Rhoda Dendron. 

Rhoda… she was… beautiful. She was smart and headstrong, an amazing addition to our little lab team. She'd treat me so coldly and would not give me the time of day at all. And I was crazy over her. She was so confident, I just couldn't help but fall head over heels in love with this feisty woman. But she absolutely despised me. She saw me as a jerk who disrespected everyone and didn't mind using others for my own self gain. And… she was kind of right. I'd be so nice and romantic to her, but she couldn't care less.

"What? Why would you like someone who doesn't like you?" Gosalyn asked confused as she nuzzled into her papa's side, glancing up at him slightly. Bushroot blushed up lightly and looked away from her, a drop of sweat rolling down his forehead. "Um… well… she was… you know! She was pretty! And confident!" He tried to excuse himself while getting progressively redder. "Eh. It's fine. Love is weird. Please keep going" she told him softly as she dismissed the question as fast as she had asked it.

Anyways. One day, I was working in the lab, ordering around the other two scientists to do my work for me while I was investigating the growth of my lovely little plants. They were rushing around with hamburgers or something, doing whatever it was we were trying to do at the time. I honestly can't remember. But then, suddenly, one of the guys ran into me and spilled ketchup all over my plant. I gasped in shock and turned to him, face covered in rage. "You MORONS!" I yelled "Can't you watch where you're going?! You might just have ruined my experiment!". The other man ran over and helped his friend up, looking at me while apologizing. "Why I OUGHTA-" as I was just threatening them, I heard the door open and I looked up to see Rhoda enter. I was immediately smitten and I reached out to pull up the scared scientist I had just raised my hand to, finishing my sentence with "Help you up, you poor man!". 

She simply gave me the dirtiest look and turned her head away, walking straight past me without any acknowledgement. I just watched her walk past and ignore me, throwing my labmates to the floor in frustration. As soon as I did, the door opened again and my boss came in. He looked over at me with a big grin. "Ah! Mr. Bushroot sir! It's great to see how far you've gotten on today's assignment! I really am lucky to have you on the team!" He kept praising me, like always. I just huffed at him and went back to clean my plant off. "It's really those two you should be thanking! Reginald was probably playing with his flowers the whole time!" Rhoda scoffed as she took out her lab notes and pens, glaring back at me like I was the scum of the earth. My boss turned to her with a gasp and stormed over with an angry look. "Ms. Dendron! We don't make such harsh, unfounded statements towards our labmates! Plus, he wasn't the one who came late today, now was he?" He scolded her while she simply rolled her eyes and looked at him irritated. "And because of your tardiness, I will be forced to cut your pay!" He added on, finally earning a reaction out of her. "What?! How dare you?!" She barked in shock. 

I shot up straight as I heard that, realizing I could do something that I thought would be sure to make her like me. "Um, actually! I asked her to get me some documents that I really needed! That's why she came in a little late. Those documents were very important" I told my boss calmly while I slid up beside him, giving Rhoda a smug grin and a raise of my eyebrows. She frowned grumpily at me. "Oh! Very well then! Sorry for the confusion! Carry on!" My boss told the two of us before he left the room. I turned to Rhoda to smile at her, but she just turned away from me and huffed angrily. "Thanks, but I don't need your pity! I'd rather be fired!" She growled at me before storming off to her papers again. I was left standing there, sour and annoyed. I just stared and muttered under my breath "I will impress you… you'll see. I'll be amazing the next time you see me".

That evening I went back to my green house where I conducted most of my experiments. I was determined to show Rhoda what she was missing out on, so I had decided to put my most ambitious project into play. I had been working on a way for people to survive on only water and sunlight, just like plants do. If I could somehow combine a plant's DNA with a person's physical form then I was sure I would be on the front of every magazine and newspaper. But most importantly, Rhoda would be so impressed that she'd fall in love with me instantly. At least that's what I thought at the time. So I set up the machine, connecting a simple house plant to one end and getting myself ready for the other end. But before I started, I had set up a camera to film my achievement and I had just pressed record and started talking to the camera. "Attempt number 14, time 6:42 pm. Date- wait. The recording lists the date. He he! Well I have finalized all the components of the photosynthesis converter and I believe now is the perfect time to try it out on a living subject. And that will be me! Thank me later for making you famous, future me! Oh! And if I die and you find this tape, Rhoda, I want to say that I love you and that you deserve my position in the lab. I formally give it to her if this is seen after my death. Alright! Let's begin!" I finished my statement and ran over to the lab table so I could lay down on it. I hooked myself up and started the process, watching myself and the plant get raised up from the ground.

Everything became blurry after that. I barely remember anything until a while after I had woken up. I must have stumbled around in a daze for a while until I regained my composure. When I did, I was laying on a big leaf, as if it had caught my fall. My head was spinning and pounding, making my vision all white. When everything in my lab started fading into view, I finally sat up and rubbed my head, groaning and whining. Then I heard the sound of a gasp, catching my attention. I looked up and saw none other than my love herself, Rhoda, staring at me in absolute horror before letting out a blood curdling scream. I screamed too and shot up from the leaf. "Ms. Dendron! Wh-what are you doing-?!" Before I could finish, she grabbed a nearby broom and started hitting me with it. I yelped in pain at her hits and started to back away from her, backing up into a window where I saw a frightening sight.

I was a plant. I had turned myself into a duck-plant-mutant, green with a head full of petals. I was shocked, until I got another whack by the broom. I turned around to her and pleaded "W-wait! Rhoda! I-i-it's me! Reginald Bushroot!". She stopped hitting me and stared surprised. "Mr. Bushroot?!?" She asked in disbelief as I let out a sigh of relief. She then smacked me again, even though she just realized it was me. "H-hey! Stop! Stop hitting me! I'm not a monster! H-h-help! HELP ME!!!" I yelled and begged as she kept hitting me, until she stopped all of a sudden and screamed in fear. I looked up and saw one of my plants had grabbed a hold of her arm and was pulling her away from me, as if it was trying to save me. Instinctively, I ran over and grabbed her other arm, yelling "No! Let go of her! Don't hurt her!". And it did exactly that, releasing her and pulling back. We were both left in stunned silence, until Rhoda broke it with "you… can talk to plants now?!". "No… no! I never meant for this to happen! I was supposed to photosynthesize! I was going to eat like a plant, not be one! I'm going to be INFAMOUS Now! I'll be some sort of freak of nature, literally! It's awful! It's horrible! It's-!" I kept rambling and pacing back and forth, starting to panic over what an awful failure this experiment was. 

"Amazing! You're a super duck! You can make plants do what you want! That's so impressive!" She suddenly interrupted me, making me stiffen up in surprise. "It… is?" I muttered, clearly having this flattered grin on my face, judging by the sudden thoughtful grin that she got. "Oh… of course it is! Reggie! This is so cool! If I knew you could do something like this… why I'm just sorry for how I've acted!" Rhoda said in this sugar sweet voice, tilting towards me and giving me these big pretty eyes. I just blushed up and felt my body start to shake, like there was an assault of butterflies in my stomach. "R-re-r-reggie…?" I could only utter before I collapsed backwards, getting caught by the branches of a tree behind me before I hit the ground. "Oh you're so silly, Reggie. It's kinda cute" she commented with a small giggle.

Me and Rhoda had moved toward the front door of the greenhouse while I explained to her what happened. She interrupted me somewhere near the end by putting a finger to my beak. "No need to explain more. Why don't we go outside and try those powers out, huh?" She suggested as we headed out through the door and stood outside. I felt a little nervous as I removed her hand and smiled nervously. "Um… I'm not sure I should do that. What if someone sees me? I'll be taken away!" I told her, looking around nervously to make sure no one was around. Rhoda leaned over and grabbed my arm, whispering softly "do it for me". I just gulped and walked past her, looking around for something to do to impress her. I saw a few pretty flowers bit away and thought they would do nicely. '"Alright! How about you show me some fun tricks, cuties?" I asked kindly, watching as the flowers grew up taller and twisted around each other delicately. I watched with this big smile on my face, until they suddenly reached out to grab the nearby bench and threw it into a lamp post. "Oh no! Don't do that!" I gasped and tried to pull the flowers back while the lamp post collapsed at the middle and came crashing down beside me. Those tiny flowers sure were strong! Rhoda just watched me, mumbling something, sounding very impressed by what just happened.

"I'm sorry Rhoda! I didn't Think they would get so violent. Maybe I am just a monster now! I make plants come to life and attack people!" I started panicking as me and her were heading back inside. "Oh you're being silly, Reggie! Maybe… they just misunderstood you! Or wanted… to impress you? Who cares anyways? What you did was really amazing! Imagine what you could do with these powers. You could rule the whole city. With your… girlfriend by your side?" she told me as she hung onto my shoulders and gave me this sensual look. I just stared at her, not able to enjoy the moment after her mentioning the ruling the city thing. I just removed her arms and backed up a bit. "Ha ha! Funny joke!" I just said while still backing away. "No! I'm serious! You and I could finally make a mark on history! Who cares about science anymore!? We could be more than scientists! Reggie!" She insisted as she started to approach me more, this devilish smile on her face. "Uuuh! R-rhoda! I think you're misunderstanding me! I'm not an evil scientist! I just want to experiment with plants!" I insisted as I backed up faster, a big leaf coming down to help hide me since I was clearly scared. 

"Ugh! What's wrong with you, Bushroot?! Why are you such a coward?! You weren't acting like this in the lab! Guess I finally see who you really are, a loser! You have this fantastic opportunity and you're not taking it!" Rhoda suddenly started yelling at me as she swatted the leaf out of the way and stomped closer, causing me to fall backwards and crawl back towards my lab area. I grabbed the machine that mutated me and used it to pull myself up off the floor, looking at the angry woman horrified. Her attention was pulled towards the machine and her scowl turned to a light frown. "Well if you're not using these powers, then I will" she growled and ran to connect herself to the machine. But I grabbed her with my vine arms and threw her back away from it. "No! I'm not letting this happen to anyone else! I'M NOT CREATING ANOTHER MONSTER! THIS MACHINE WILL NEVER BE ACTIVATED AGAIN! EVER!!!" I started screaming as I turned around to face the machine. "PLANTS! DESTROY IT!!!" I demanded with a stomp, watching as the biggest plant in the room reached down to grab a hold of the whole appliance, ripping it off of it's wires. "NO!!!" Rhoda screamed and grabbed the emergency axe, swinging it at the tall flora and making it drop the apparatus back down. It broke open in a huge explosion, knocking me out cold.

I don't remember much after that. I was out for quite some time. I just remember my consciousness fading in and out as I was trapped under the debris. At one point, I could hear faint talking, yelling, as if there were people trying to put out the fire I assume was going on around me. Then my sight faded back in when I was free from the collapsed greenhouse. I was watching it grow further and further away as I was seemingly being carried away by someone wearing rather colorful clothes. When I finally woke up completely, I was staring at an unfamiliar roof, laying on a mattress, bandaged up and treated. I sat up and saw these two people in weird outfits sitting nearby, sighing in relief as they saw me awake. "Hey! You're ok!" The duck in the jester outfit cheered and smiled brightly at me. I completely ignored him and said the first thing on my mind. "My lab… what happened to…?" Before I could finish, the look on the rat's face told me everything I needed to know. It was all gone. My life work was gone. My eyes filled with tears and I just cried quietly. "H-hey! Not everything burned! This little guy made it!" The rat then said as he ushered over this adorable venus fly trap to me, which licked my face and nuzzled me gently. I just cried and hugged onto him tightly, letting the tears just flow as I began to sob uncontrollably. The rat and duck moved closer to me and tried to comfort me the best they could. I was crying like a baby for quite some time.

"After that… the guys took care of me until I was back on my feet. When I was, I told them my story and they offered to let me join them and help them fight crime. So that's what I did. And now I'm here" Bushroot finished his story and smiled down at his kid, who was half asleep in his lap, cuddling up to him. "So she didn't really like you… that's awful" She commented and let out a yawn. "It was… the biggest heartbreak of my life. I was never able to feel attracted to another woman after that. But I did find love… in my wonderful family!" He sighed as he hugged onto her gently and patted her head. Gosalyn smiled brightly and closed her eyes, muttering "I love you, papa". "I love you too" Bushroot responded with a huge grin, picking her up to head off to bed. Spike the fly trap took a peek out of curiosity, making the duck hush him softly. "Shhh. Let the angel sleep" he whispered before carrying her off to her room, Spike close behind.

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 15

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark casual reminder: this story is r o u g h. themes of rape, kidnapping, power imbalances, etc.. This story does not depict healthy or safe relationships. Trigger warning for blood. 

Steve could tell she didn't remember when she woke up. It was still dark and she was cocooned between them, her body not even touching the bed but instead splayed across theirs. Her legs had tangled with his during the night, one hitched over his thigh while the other brushed against his shin, squished between him and Bucky. She was mostly laid out across his torso, flat on her stomach with her head rested in the crook of his neck. Her lips nearly brushed his skin every time she breathed, soft, sleepy sounds escaping. 

Several precious moments went by, where she didn't tense up or try to pull away. She curled her neck down, forehead brushing his skin like she wanted to burrow into his chest and tucked her arms closer to her torso, fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake as she shifted. 

It was a small, squeaky mewing from the end of the bed that caused her reaction. Her movements stopped all at once, her breathing freezing in her lungs. The cats, of course, served as a reminder of the night before. After all, they’d been a supplication gift. 

An “oh sorry we made you throw up three times because we tortured a man in front of you” present. “Remember that time you watched me systematically brutalize another human being? Take some cats while we pretend we didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He felt how hard she swallowed in the short, jerky movements that followed, as she remembered Rumlow’s screams with every hit. His eyes had swollen completely shut over the course of the hour, blood was pouring from his mouth where teeth had become entirely dislodged and then, of course, he’d gone and ripped the man’s finger off completely. 

It began again all at once, with Penny shoving against his chest so hard she practically threw herself off the bed. She teetered on the edge for several seconds in panic before visibly deciding to fall rather than reach for help. A slow sigh escaped Steve at the resulting thud; they were back to step one, where she was so afraid that she abandoned any concern for her safety. Their bed could’ve just as easily been the one in the spare room several floors away, the scene played out just the same, if short a bit of violence. Steve went to the end of the bed just the same, only for her to pop up on her own accord before he could help her. 

It was like any and all progress had been erased. Penny’s eyes were darting around the room, searching for any possible escapes. She almost stumbled over her own feet in her haste to back away from him, arms out to her sides for both balance and to keep him at a distance as he approached. 

“Penny, doll��”

“P-Please, please I’ll be better,” Bucky had sat up by this point, the blanket pooled over his waist, face twisting upon hearing Penny’s whimpering, “I can do better, I swear.” 

When Buck stood up, a keening cry escaped her and her back hit the wall from trying to prevent them from getting too close, "wait, please! Wait, just wait, please! Please, please!" 

Please became a much more important facet of her vocabulary when she was trying to Be Sweet. Usually it was when she didn't know how to make them happy, when she didn't know what behavior constituted as breaking the rules. He knew she didn't necessarily care about them being happy, she was trying anything she could to avoid punishments. It would've been cute if it weren't accompanied by tears and violent, fearful shaking. Steve stopped approaching, motioning for Bucky to do the same, and held his hands up placatingly. 

"Take a deep breath, Penny," he ordered gently, "try to rationalize baby. We haven't been aggressive, haven't done anything that would make you think we're angry. Just try to think, Penny, you're not in any danger, we're not going to hurt you, you're safe here." 

There was a visible fight or flight reaction. Her muscles locked and both Steve and Bucky had to immediately drop into defensive stances—Penny chose fight 9 times out of 10 with no hesitation or forethought. She had a tendency to get the drop on them too, just because her movements were always so brutal. Whoever taught Penny self-defense must’ve put a lot of emphasis on disabling an attacker and disengaging from the situation, because she wanted to cause as much bodily damage as possible. It was actually almost impressive but neither of them was looking to receive a cock shot any time soon.

“Penny, you don’t have to be better,” Bucky implored quietly, staying far across the room just in case he needed to play back up to Steve in the event of violence, “we know how stressful this is for you, precious. You’re going through a really hard time.” 

Steve was quick to nod in agreement, “you’re so scared baby, let us help you. Let us take care of you. That’s all we want.” 

Her dark eyes darted between them for several prolonged seconds, face crumbling as she did so before she burst into tears. She slid down the wall, coming to rest in a crumpled pile on the floor. Both soldiers immediately advanced, dropping down to the ground on either side of her and simultaneously engulfing her in their arms. Please, please, please. She was just repeating the words over and over through sobs, her hands shaking as she held them in front of her, elbows curled against her sides. It was a defenseless position, one that desperately sought space and projected don’t touch me, stop touching me, let go.

"Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh," Steve's lips brushed her temple, both his and Bucky's hands running over any skin they could find. 

She'd never admit it, never tell them, but the skin to skin contact was immediately successful. She'd resigned to quietly crying, spread across both of their laps. Steve carefully shifted her to lay chest to chest with him, catching the mass of her curly hair to fall away from her face. 

"I hate how scared you are baby," he murmured after a few moments, the three of them comfortably settled in a pile, "we don't want you to be upset. All we want is for you to be happy, Penny doll. We want to make you happy, for you to be happy."

The skin contact was brutally unfair; Penny was touch starved in an almost incapacitating way. Her skin was on fire from the sensations of their hands, her brain flooding with happy chemicals despite how much she hated them. She didn't want to be touched. They were monsters among men but somehow she leaned in anyway, absorbing the body heat. Her cheek brushed Steve's bare chest, eyes slipping shut at the sensation of his skin beneath hers. 

She’d been scared for ages now. Fear had permeated her entire existence since the moment she’d searched for Tony Stark online, her heart beat with a steady thrum of underlying terror at all times. The fear had been real when she’d woken up in the Tower when the soldiers’ purpose was revealed and when she realized Stark had taken Peter. It had gone effete to a degree, the intensity depleting with the consistency. 

This fear was different. It was overwhelming and all-encompassing. Tony Stark was dangerous and powerful and she’d been so, so afraid of him. She’d been afraid of his power over everyone he came in contact with, the overwhelming control he seemed to have over his world and everything in his orbit. But her fear of the soldiers was worse. Never in her life had there been such a dire and immediate threat to her safety. She was literally wrapped in the arms of men who would rip a man’s finger off and shove it into his mouth. To prove a point. They would do that just to prove a point.  

What if they got sick of her fighting them? What would they do when their infatuation with her wore off? She knew very clearly that Peter was the prime target in this whole situation, that she was the equivalent of a kid's toy and could be thrown away with the same level of apathy. She, personally, was not safe and it had honestly never been so clear to her before. 

Peter was going to be alone, after everything she did to make sure he wouldn't be. Paul and Olivia would've taken care of him, would've loved him like a little brother just like she had. Penny had no delusions; she was going to die and Peter was going to live surrounded by monsters for the rest of his life. 

She'd failed him, in the worst possible way, Penny had failed him. 

Bucky carefully arranged Penny to rest completely on Steve, standing up and walking to the bed to collect the weighted blanket they’d brought out the night before. The blond helped him arrange it around her, cocooning her in the fabric. She was covered in goosebumps but felt like she was burning up, a shiver went down her spine and her teeth clenched together to prevent them from chattering. Over her head, the soldiers spoke with nothing more than facial expressions and minute hand gestures. Small sighs escaped both of them and Steve arched his neck to rest his forehead against the crown of her hair. 

“I’m gonna stay home with you today, okay precious?” He murmured, “We’ll rest, play with the kittens. Do your plants need to be watered?” 

Penny felt like her bones were expanding under her skin, pressing out and out and out until they burst through her flesh and ripped her entire body to pieces— a hair raising sensation that almost equaled the substantial level of unrelenting terror she felt at the thought of being alone with Steve all day long. Did they forget she’d watched him rip a man’s finger off about twelve hours ago? Because she had. She was almost sure she’d seen it. 

But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what happened, because they didn’t care. They didn’t care how she felt, how her stomach was twisting into such tight knots she felt like she’d never eat again. Nothing about her mattered to them beyond a surface level obsession. 

“Ss... some of.. them,” the words barely escaped, a desperate attempt to placate the psychopaths surrounding her with a response; she had to make them happy. She had to make them happy or she was literally going to die. 

She didn’t see the glance exchanged over her head, the sad expression on Steve’s face; her eyes were wide open, moving even but she was hardly saw anything but blurs. Between the tears and the near mental breakdown, she was blind to the way both men seemed almost lost. 

“How about we go make breakfast,” Steve asked softly, getting to his feet and carefully setting Penny on hers, his hands on her hips to keep her steady. 

A jerky nod was his only response and Bucky sighed a little, leaning over to kiss her forehead before heading into the bathroom; Steve might be staying home, but he’d need to get into the ‘office’ by about 9 A.M. to prevent Tony from pitching a fit. He’d take over the blond’s work for the day, some internal investigation Steve had been working on. His interrogations could always wait— if there was one thing he and Stark agreed on, it was that anticipation was its own form of torture.

Rumlow would need several days to stew before he and Steve returned. That was the kind of anticipation Bucky really like causing. A bone deep chill that grew worse and worse with each passing hour, until the victim was a shivering mass curled up on the floor. His lips twisted as he stepped out of the shower and quickly dressed in work clothes. Usually he liked causing that kind of anticipation, but the image in his head replayed Penny sliding down the wall bawling, over and over. Their poor girl was a mess and it was at least 30% their fault. 

Sure, Tony was largely at fault and Peter had a hand in it all, no matter how unwittingly. And Penny had proved she obviously needed a lesson. But seeing her so scared hurt his heart, especially since he had a part in causing it. 

It was hard knowing that Penny didn't believe how much they adored her. They'd waited a hundred years for her, endured countless agonies and survived it all, and somehow were found worthy of finding their doll at the end of it. Fate had tried to keep them from her, had tried everything to prevent them from their happy ending, and fate had failed. She was their supplication present, sent by whatever monsters had put them through hell for so long, and they adored her. 

They'd known from the beginning, when they made their decision to take her, that Penny's acceptance would take a lot of time and effort on their part. The constant rejections were frustrating and depressing but they could handle it. That didn't mean they wouldn't do anything in their power to shorten the time and suffering. It was likely time to call in the big guns. 

"JARVIS, tell everyone I need a meeting during lunch today," he sighed, pulling his hair back into a bun, "we need some strategic assistance." 

"I'll alert you once I have received responses, Sargeant." 

"Thanks buddy," Bucky replied absently, adjusting his shirt sleeves as he stepped out of the bathroom and into their room. 

His ears picked up the sound of shattering glass as he approached the living room, stopping him in his tracks. Anxiety flooded the entire apartment, tension rising up to choke him.

"I d-didn't mean to," Penny's voice was hardly more than a whisper, Bucky wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't doubled timed it to the kitchen as soon as he regained control. 

The sink was still running behind her while she faced Steve at the oven, wet, soapy hands still held out at her waist where she'd been holding the glass now broken on the tile. Her eyes were locked on the floor, pupils blown wide with terror.

"Penny—" 

"I'm sorry!" Penny dropped to her knees immediately, brutally shredding her skin and reaching out to begin sweeping the glass into a pile with her hands, "I'll clean it, I'm sorry!" 

Bucky blew past Steve, shoes crunching over the glass as he scooped Penny off the floor and deposited her onto the counter. Her blood was smeared over the white tile, a nearly nauseating sight to the soldiers. The blond had already darted off for the first aid kit and come back, easily battling away Penny's attempts to keep him from touching her wounds. 

"JARVIS, call for Dr. Banner immediately!" 

"Dr. Banner is en route with the emergency kit." 

"Penny, baby— Jesus baby, why did you do that? JARVIS, open the apartment door so Dr. Banner can get in once the elevator arrives."

"Please, I'm so sorry!" She sobbed, "I lost my grip, I swear! I didn't mean to, please—"

"We know, baby, we know!" Bucky cooed, trying with Steve to carefully restrain her flailing limbs and steady her head without making her feel trapped, blood covering their hands, "it was an accident baby, it's okay! Steve?"

He has gauze in hand and was trying to clean her knees without pressing the glass further into her skin, "come on baby, stay still for me." 

"Penny you've got to calm down before Dr. Banner gets here or we'll have to give you a sedative so he can clean your wounds, do you understand?" Bucky caught her chin in his flesh hand, trying to ignore the sight of the blood he smeared over her chin and cheek. 

Penny visibly tried to reel herself in, sobs coming out in bubbling breaths and her entire body shaking. The soldiers carefully cooed around her as she quieted, bloody hands running over her bare skin. She was streaked red, her legs and neck and face. It looked like she’d been assaulted, all bloody and small and trembling. The elevator dinged and Bruce quickly made his way in to the kitchen, shouldering them both out of his way.

“JARVIS told me what happened,” he stated, setting the emergency kit next to Penny on the counter, “Penny, sweetheart, try to take deep breaths, okay? I need you to be still.” 

“She’s trying,” Bucky snapped, hand wrapping around to cup the back of her neck. 

“She’s already calmed down a lot, Bruce,” Steve stepped in before his boyfriend could get anymore heated, “just give her a second, I think it’s the adrenaline.” 

Bucky sighed and glanced over at the doctor remorsefully, “sorry Bruce. I’ll clean up the glass.” 

But when the brunet tried to pull away, Penny let out a sharp cry and latched onto his arm. A whine of pain followed, the movement pushing glass further into her hands, but she tightened her grip anyway. She was saying something, but the words were Hebrew and none of the men understood what she was trying to say. 

“Shit, it’s okay doll,” he scooped Penny up into his arms and walked over to the kitchen table, swinging a chair out and settling into it with her on his lap, “here baby, let me hold you.” 

The elevator dinged once again, this time revealing Stark and, surprisingly, Pepper, meaning JARVIS must've either left the door open after Bruce came in, or Tony has used his override. Steve did what Bucky called the ‘confused puppy’ head tilt but was waved off by the pair as they walked into the kitchen. Both were dressed to the nines, likely for some sort of press conference. Pepper was one of the only people who could properly reign Tony in and regularly made a point of showing up to supervise him during press events. The soldiers hadn’t even been aware she’d gotten back from her most recent business trip.

“JARVIS said we had an accident,” Tony came to crouch in front of Penny with Bruce, eyes scanning over her knees and outstretched hands, “oh, angel, you did a number on yourself didn’t you?” 

Quiet, hiccuping cries continued to to escape Penny but she gave no other response. She hadn’t even acknowledged Stark’s presence, which just emphasized how distraught she was; Penny was hypervigilant around Tony 90% of the time. 

“Poor thing,” Pepper sighed, hand rested on her forehead, “we need to get a psychiatrist in here.” 

Penny yelped loudly when Bruce dug a small piece of glass from her knee, jerking against Bucky’s hold unintentionally, “I’m not that kind of doctor.” 

“We know, we know,” Tony brushed his words off, standing up and dragging a hand over his beard, “get someone on it, Pep. We’ve got to get going or we’ll be late, Rogers—”

“I’m staying home with her today, Buck’ll go in once she calms down,” the blond cut him off before he could finish. 

The older man nodded, leaning over to press a kiss to Penny’s forehead before standing up, “I’ll be back later, we’ve got a press conference.” 

The pair exited just as quickly as they’d entered, Pepper giving JARVIS orders while Tony talked incessantly at her. It was the kind of dynamic that to a stranger looked like regular behavior, but the soldiers and Bruce knew it revealed their discomfort; Pepper made very polite requests to JARVIS, always, because she knew how annoying it was to have orders barked at her and Tony didn’t speak over her, out of a sense of respect he only had very a select few people. They weren’t sure if it was Penny’s current state, or the press event they were likely on their way to, or both, but Tony and Pepper were definitely distraught.

“You’re doing very well, Penny,” Bruce spoke quietly as he moved from her right knee to her left knee, having successfully removed all of the glass, “there’s not too much in this one, it’s just a little deeper. Just squeeze Bucky’s hands when it hurts, okay?” 

The trembling brunette nodded, still hiccuping every few seconds. It took a good half hour for Bruce to get all of the glass out and after double checking his work three separate times, he finally bandaged her up. Sitting in her panties and an oversized henley in Bucky's lap, with bandages on her hands and knees, she lookes like a little girl who'd fallen while playing outside. It was almost like when Steve had been so small, when Bucky could still cradle him in his lap. His arms squeezed around her waist and he kissed the back of her head softly. 

"Alright Penny, we're finished," Bruce gave her a smile and stood up, handing off some sterile packaging to Steve to be thrown away, "just keep an eye out for signs of infection, change the bandages regularly, and you'll be good to go." 

"Thanks for coming, Bruce," the blond sounded just as sad as he felt as he led him out towards the open front door and into the hallway that held the elevator. 

"The emotional trauma will recede, Steve," Bruce put a hand on the taller man's shoulder, "she's going to be okay, humans are incredibly adaptable. You just have to keep pressing." 

"It's just hard when she's so sad," Steve sighed, "we knew she would be scared, but I hate that we're making her sad." 

"That's because you're a good person," Bruce's face cracked into a crooked smile, "now, go comfort her." 

[blue-mood-blue]

2020 Fanfiction Review

Tagged by @northisnotup - thank you! Pls ignore the fact that we are a week into the new year, shhhh

Fics Written This Year:

I went back to look and there's a few! Fifteen on ao3, not counting tumblr ficlets! Most are Ace Attorney - eight this year and an honest attempt at an event week that I did not finish, but I did try my best and got a good few fics out of. There's one Hollow Knight fic, which is a fandom I'll have to revisit in writing (maybe once I have more than the one ending). Three October Daye fics, definitely a fandom I'll be writing more for at some point. And three for Juno Steel!

(And then of course there are the ideas I had this year that I haven't gotten to act on yet. There's always so much more in my head than I get down on paper, but I'm working on that.)

Takeaways from your kick-ass writing, or kick-ass lack of writing, during a year more focused on survival than perhaps any other:

It's been a weird year! Between quarantine and contract nonsense, there's been a lot of back-and-forth with "home all the time" and "going to work every day." Free time at home does not always translate to more writing done, for me, which is something I've been trying to crack the code on this year especially. I'm still just as much about aus and angst as I've ever been! And I generate ideas at an ungodly rate, so I've been spending more time deciding which ones I really want and which ones are free to a good home.

Most surprising fic you wrote this year:

Probably Directive Four! It was one of those headcanons that could technically happen in the canon of the story - technically Dark Matters could do some funky stuff with robots, and wouldn't it be interesting if they pushed their technology? I really thought it was gonna be a silly one-off, mostly-idea ficlet on tumblr; the kind of thing you write a blurb about just to get the thought out of your head to share with other people. A thousand words at most, and something to take people's minds off of election+destiel+what the fuck. And it... grew, every time I worked on it. And I got committed and really worked on it and HECK if I wasn't expecting to get so invested I REALLY wasn't expecting the response. "This will just be my self-indulgent thing and it'll be fine if I'm the only one who likes it" was the mantra, but a lot of you loved it and I am so, SO appreciative <3 One of the highlights of this year

(There was also the Ib ficlet which no one expected, including me. And Crazy Capsaicin Charlie, who lives on in our memory)

How you grew as a writer this year:

I don't necessarily have any evidence to support this, but I feel more... solid, about big projects? I feel more committed to finishing long fics, which doesn't necessarily mean that I will. But I feel better about my ability to do so. It's work and it's hard, but I can get that fic to look the way I want it to - or, if I can't, it's worth finding a way to tell the story in a way I can share even if it's not perfect. I hope that means I'm letting go of the perfectionism a little bit, because I feel like I could get so many more of my ideas written if not for that.

What's coming in 2021:

WELL, I guess the good thing about coming in late with this is, I've already written the first fic of 2021! By the hardest, too - there was the unexpected ep drop (and since it was speculation fic I really wanted to have it out before the next ep), and then tumblr said "you can't post that, that's too long" after so much formatting. And then after more formatting ao3 said "what if the whole site was down, as a treat." Sleep Awake is not what I expected it to be - it might have been much longer, in different circumstances - but I still think it's good, and I'm glad I didn't give up on it.

And I have a whole list of Juno Steel fics to get working on! There's a circus au, a hanahaki au, lots of requests left to fill, amnesia to inflict... I'm very excited! I hope you are, too!

~~~

Tagging any and everyone who wants to talk about their year of fic! :D

[histoireettralala]

How the (Quarantined) Murats broke the Internet (and Lannes).

Hello friends! I know we already have several ongoing projects with @joachimnapoleon, but we couldn’t resist unleashing this one.

It’s set in the Quarantine!AU which is itself a spin off of the Roadtrip!AU, Trifecta Universe, name it as you will :^)

Inspired by real world situation, unfortunately. Hoping this will bring to those of you who are in lockdown (same here!) some much needed levity.

****************************************************************************************

Caroline is cursing the day Napoléon enrolled her in Mme Campan's Institute; no, scrap that/rewind, she is cursing the day he met Joséphine, and consequently, Hortense, bane of her life, goody-two-shoes of the century who has inspired Napoleon with the truly visionary idea of trying to copy and paste Hortense's behaviour onto Caroline's whole self.

Now, Caroline is mature enough to admit some slight controlling tendencies. And maybe a contrarian streak - but try being the youngest sister in the Bonaparte family - you have to fight twice as hard to make yourself a place and get some respect.

Her point is, she hasn't taken to the Institute. For excellent reasons. If Hortense has made it a point of honor to excel in some subject, Caroline has systematically hated it. No use fighting for scraps after the star pupil has received the old hag's whole quota of praise, after all. Now Caroline wholeheartedly embraces whatever makes Madame Campan pinch her lips, shake her head, or sigh (as much as the snobby old lady allows herself to), treasuring every sign of disappointment the way Hortense collects gold stars. (Not to brag, but Caroline is now a master at it).

Even her marriage is a testament to that superhuman ability of hers.

Not that she didn't love Joachim anyway - she's been ridiculously besotted with the man since she was fifteen, and nothing has yet managed to abate her feelings towards the maddening, adorable goofball. But honestly, the way Mme Campan's face had fallen (oh, ever so slightly, but Caroline knows how to look) in disapproval had been the cherry on top of the delightful, curly-haired, long-legged cake.

She has relished every single one of their subsequent media appearances, and she would lie if she says she hasn't occasionally baited the press with their nationwide famous PDA. For now, Caroline admits, in spite of the "scandals" and all the choices she has made, the old witch is still standing and tutting in disapproval - like that would work. But someday, yes, oh someday she would break, and it would be all thanks to Caroline.

So - she is cursing. Because, of course, Hortense has always been committed to arts and crafts, and Caroline, therefore, has pointedly ignored them.

And now she can't sew to save her life.

Literally.

Because masks are mandatory now.

And she has four kids to protect.

And, well, she may suck as a student, but she does NOT suck as a mother. So, taking a deep breath, she watches videos, buys fabric, filters, and elastic bands, and sets herself to the task.

Two hours later, her eyes are red, her voice hoarse, her fingers raw and pricked, and she is irreparably breaking her ties with the sewing machine.

She vaguely considers calling Pauline - even if she can't sew herself (can she ?) Pauline will surely know someone who can, and at least she is kind enough not to let anyone know of Caroline's embarrassing problem.

She is still scowling fiercely when the shrieking chorus begins (the kids' usual reaction to Joachim's arrival), promptly followed by the sound of bags hitting ground and little feet running, three, two, one, impact. And Joachim's laugh.

God but that sound can still bring a smile to her face.

She wipes her eyes and straightens herself up before opening the door to the entry hall where the kids are now swarming around their father and drowning him in cuddles and kisses, stuffing their drawings under his nose and chattering excitedly. ** Beneath the squealing, adoring, warm little pile of his children's wriggling bodies, Joachim soaks up the innocent love and its side dish of kicking little feet and shrieks in the ear. As Louise's sticky little fingers pat his cheek, he sees from the corner of his eye the door open on his wife.

His sunshine.

His glorious little dynamo.

But there's a problem, Joachim thinks frantically (what has he done now ??? nothing comes up!!), because she doesn't spark her usual energy - oh my God, she's disappointed, that's it, disappointed and SAD (WHAT I HAVE DONE ???), her walk is nothing like her usual triumphant gait (it's the COUCH), even her hair looks listless (Lannes may still let me crash, where is my sleeping bag ??). Joachim takes a deep breath and centers himself before looking at her again, and - oh. She's not angry at him.

Oh.

Then whatever has her so bothered is going to die a fiery death and if she wants, Joachim will stomp it to death (with his hooves, Achille's voice adds in his mind).

** Famous last words, Joachim muses, hesitantly fingering the white cotton.

He has watched the video. Three times, to make sure.

He has cut the necessary length and width for six masks (his ambition for tonight is moderate). 

The machine looks back at him, reminding him of a crouched feline, poised to pounce. He eyes it warily. Caroline's explanations, though thorough, had been... fast paced. Joachim has caught the general idea and in what order the different steps of the process are supposed to happen. He has minded every fold of the fabric and set aside the elastic bands.

It's... daunting. If he messes that up his family will be stuck inside forever and the house will probably catch fire spontaneously from the sheer frustration burning inside them. Murats need to be OUTSIDE (Bonapartes don't deal much better with being locked up).

He carefully selects the stitch and folds the fabric by instinct - patterns are as useless as maps, anyway - he'll go with his guts and God bless the bold.

He takes a deep breath and lines up the three layers of material - with the elastic bands properly tucked inside- under the needle, lowers the presser foot, and gently pushes on the pedal.

Oh my God.

Oh my God it's happening.

Joachim marvels at the speed the machine uses to execute its task, remembering to steer the fabric only if needed, and being careful with it ("To be honest, sweetie, I'm not even sure if it's working well, " Caroline had admitted. "I think Mama gave it to me, ugh, when I went to the Institute. " Joachim hadn't pushed because he wasn't that insane, some things were taboo in this house).

When the first side is done, he takes a moment to inspect his work before switching to the other side.

Wow.

It's... Pretty okay ?

The mask all done, Joachim holds it to his face, and stands up to find a mirror (they're everywhere in this house, and see, it's useful).

He tries it on.

It's very... white.

Time for some color, he decides.

Heh. If anyone had told him before tonight that he was going to sew a mask and like it, he would have sent them to a psychiatrist. Because, even though he'd been quick to assure Caroline he totally could do this (I've repaired my suits several times! ), his skills were limited to a temporary little tweak and quick repair when he didn't have the time to go to the tailor.

In front of the mirror, Joachim smiles beneath the mask.

This is going swimmingly. ** Caroline grumbles when a weight hollows the mattress out.

"It's late," she mutters.

"Shhhh, " says the voice. Then, with a giddy sort of energy Caroline can only wonder at (who the hell is so alive at such an ungodly hour -oh yeah, that's right, only Joachim). "Love."

A pause.

"Sweetheart ?"

Caroline groans.

"Yeah", she forces out.

"We have seven masks!"

The proclamation wakes Caroline completely and her hand is already searching for the light switch.

"What?"

She pushes the switch and looks at Joachim's face. Blinking under the sudden flood of light, he looks …

Surprised and happy. A little bit like a dog who has just learned a new trick. The smile on his face is infectious.

"You want to see them ?"

Caroline is already up.

In her office, the old machine sleeps and seven masks wait in a wicker basket. They're real. They look like the models Caroline vainly tried to follow. She touches them, putting one over her face. It fits. The elastics do not hurt.

They have masks.

Joachim watches her, waiting anxiously for her verdict. Her eyes shine in the mirror, and then she turns towards him, takes off the mask and sets it aside.

A purring Caroline leaps into his arms.

So much for sleep.

** At the usual hour, Lannes, bottle and glass at the ready, flicks on Skype. He has so much to tell Murat (to be honest, he never knew before quarantine how much of a gossip he'd turn out to be, but what can you do) and even without any grand news (which is the case most of the time) it's always a highlight of his day.

The kids are lovely but sometimes you need an adult conversation, okay ?

An adult male conversation.

A bro discussion, yeah, okay.

"Murat ?" he calls.

Weird. Usually Joachim leaps onto any greeting, if he's not the first one to call.

"Yo ? Murat ?"

Nothing.

"JOACHIM MURAT" he bellows.

Finally,  a harried face appears. The black curls are everywhere and the eyes seem inhabited by some unholy light.

Has Joachim started to drink without him ?

Or worse, with someone else ?

Lannes feels oddly cheated at the idea.

"Ah, yeah, okay, hello, Lannes!" says Murat, blinking. "Is it already time ?"

Already ? The day had dragged on.

"What the hell is happening," he blurts out. "Have you started drinking ?"

Murat looks weirdly offended, scrunching up his nose.

"Drink- what ? No!"

He straightens up and clears his throat.

"No, Lannes, I didn't cheat on our Skype cocktail hour with some random booze harlot, I respect you too much for that. I was just, " he lowers his voice and Lannes instinctively leans towards his screen, intrigued.

"I was busy.

- Are the kids okay ?

- Yeah, they're fine! Excellent! The spirit is undaunted, yeah!

- Joachim," Lannes slowly articulates.

Artless blue eyes look up at him.

"I was making masks, and I forgot the time, that's all!"

- Masks, " Lannes repeats in a bland tone.

- Masks," Joachim nods.

- Masks ?" What the hell, Lannes wonders, masks, like, actual masks against Coronavirus ? Masks, as in, paper masks or clown masks for the kids, right ?

- Masks, as in, mandatory masks, yeah, I'm making them, " and Lannes has stepped into an alternate dimension.

- You're making masks.

- I am.

- Masks.

- Masks, " Joachim patiently assures him.

- Making ? As in, as in SEWING them ?"

The black curls fly as Murat vehemently nods.

Holy shit.

Lannes almost busts a gut laughing.

" I could show you", Murat says with a hint of disapproval in his voice (it was weird) "but if this is the way you react I might not bother."

The laughter stops short. Murat's headmasterly tones are frankly weirding Lannes out.

Is this a prank ?

Lannes knows it's not. It's all over Murat's face. He's actually serious.

Holy shit.

"Why are you the one sewing the masks ?" he finally asks.

"Because," Murat shrugs. "I volunteered."

Lannes blinks.

"Plus, " he adds, with a smile, " Turns out I'm great at it!"

That is still to be seen, Lannes thinks, remembering, oh, way too many boasts.

"You'll see", Murat nods sagely.

"Right", Lannes croaks.

The evening goes on.

** He made the haberdashery's day, Joachim thinks, fabric piled up in his arms.

Good for them, and good for his family.

Today, he is going to let the kids choose the fabric for their masks. Just because they are young doesn't mean they have to settle for their parents' choice, right ? He carefully picked anything that could interest or amuse the little ones.

He has turtles, an armada of kittens, various birds, flowers, geometric patterns, dots and stripes of all sorts.

"What are you doing, Papa ?"

Joachim turns to face Letitia.

"I just bought some fabric to make some masks for you all, sweetheart. Do you want to choose yours ?"

The little girl nods eagerly.

"Can I stay with you ?" she says, leaning into him.

Joachim can't resist such a request.

** Caroline climbs up the stairs to Joachim's office where he finally set camp with the sewing machine two days ago.

She is still mesmerized by his mastery over the beast.

He has adopted a routine, and tonight, she needs proof that Joachim sewing actually happened (Pauline had laughed, and Joséphine had asked for receipts), so she's carrying her camera. She scowls inwardly, why can't anyone ever believe them ? Joachim told her about Lannes the other day - well, what is so extraordinary about it ? Being male doesn't make you genetically unable to sew, you know. Men!

Hushed voices wash over her, Letitia's flute-like voice overlapping with Joachim's warm tones.

"And then I put the fabric here," their little girl is saying.

"Uh huh," her man agrees, with the softness he saves for his children (and herself). " Perfect!"

Letitia giggles.

Caroline, readying her camera, silently enters the room. Both father and daughter are so absorbed by their task and by each other that they don't notice her presence.

Letitia sits on her father's knee, her little hands holding the fabric - a giraffe pattern - and Joachim is entirely focused on her.

Caroline starts filming.

When the giraffe-adorned mask is ready, Letitia snuggles into her father's chest and he offers her the next selection, apparently a swarm of tropical fishes.

"Your turn, Papa", says the little girl.

"Oh, you're right, princess", Joachim smiles, mock chastened. "Shall I ?"

Letitia nods determinedly. “Go on good Sir".

Joachim sews the next mask.

It's very sweet, Caroline thinks, beaming behind her camera. This is the perfect proof that she was right, not only about his sewing ability, but about her own choice years ago. I'm so going to upload this as soon as I'm out of here, she rejoices.

** New video uploaded, by @carolinemurat, 7.54

@pauline-borghese, 8.01: oh my god it's so cute!

@pauline-borghese, 8.01: and he's doing great!! how many has joachim already sewn ?

@pauline-borghese, 8.08: sorry, just had to watch it again. (<3) This is an adorable duo and you were totally right, I should never have doubted you.

@joséphine-malmaison, 8.14: wow

@hortense-beauharnais-bonaparte, 8.14: I'm speechless.

@hortense-beauharnais-bonaparte, 8.14: In a very good way!! Congratulations to Joachim.

@joséphine-malmaison, 8.17: very sweet and actually educational! Congratulations!

@aimée-davout, 8.26: I wish Louis would do that with our little one!

@joséphine-malmaison, 8.34: Can I share this on other social medias , Caroline ?

@pauline-borghese, 8.36: was about to suggest the same! I can boost it up with my contacts. Up for it sister ?

The phone rings.

"Mama ?"

"Uh huh, he did that. He's... Yes, Mama, he actually offered, and.. Mama. Mama! Listen to me please ? Yes, I promise. Uh huh. Yes. Yes, really. Did you watch the video ? You really should, your namesake is on it too. "

Ten minutes later.

"Yes, Mama ? Is everything  - oh. Oh. Well, yes, he's still sewing. Wha- yes, Mama, I won't disturb him. Of course, Mama. You.. what ? His favorite dessert ? Why... Mama we're in lockdown, he can't go to Corsica. You.. Ah, yes, of course, I'll ask him. And yes, of course, I'm feeding him! Mama!"

@aglaéauguiéney, 8.47: mind boggling.

@eleonoredenuelle, 8.49: how talented can a man be ?

@hortense-beauharnais-bonaparte, 8.53: It's actually a better tutorial than the official ones ? And so much cuter.

@hortense-beauharnais-bonaparte, 8.55: I wish I had a little girl.

@carolinemurat, to @joséphine-malmaison, @pauline-borghese, 8.58: Yes.

TBF...

[pixs-pinings]

Me? Interested in Persona 5? No wayyy...

Warning for long post!

I had this written differently before I accidentally closed this tab, but I recovered the infodump well!

So... Yeah, Ribbon! My Persona 5 SI, my Phantom Thief SI. Still want to work on a possible real name- I wanted to go with a continuation of the plot threads I thought of with my P4 si, but... nah. Two separate SIs. Even if P5 si was also from the real world, I want them to be different for. Reasons.

She would awaken in the same place as Makoto- Kaneshiro's palace. I want to slip her in somewhere, and I feel like that case would feel the most... Natural? After futaba, a lot of shit picks up, and, as seen with Haru, can be a bit awkward. (And... Yes. I'm going to try to make that arc...... Not Suck? Maybe keep Morgana self loathing but...)

As for her awakening itself... She and Makoto have similar reasons! Both of them were previously known as prim and proper students, but then awaken to a sense of Justice, and are able to go all out. After looking a bit into myself, I was like "wow Makoto really is sorta like how I would awaken maybe" because like... I want to fight against injustice and hatred in society, but I'm scared because of the law- and, like Makoto, in p5, I could snap past that. Fuck the law, I want to stop people from being HURT by society's ineptitude. Haha...

Also, a reason for the involvement in the first place- Kaneshiro's reach is... far. Its very possible that people in Kosei were affected- and, in fact, judging by Yusuke being able to gather information, they were. So... Say that one of Ribbon's friends were being used... selling her body, perhaps... Hmmm...

Yes, both Makoto and my p5 SI- can I call her just Ribbon for now?- are third year students at their school. Yes, for Ribbon's backstory, I think I want her to be a Kosei student! Maybe there because of an art scholarship- writing??- or maybe a financial education scholarship, or maybe just that whoever her guardians are, biological or not, they sent her to that school with the money they had. But... Third year. I am 19 irl- and she would be 18 during the majority of the story, turning 19 in that february because surprise I'm a February baby.

Oh, yes, and her costume! She's a magical girl. Supposed to be based off of one- I gave her ribbons and feathers and a poofy dress and high boots with thick soles and gloves... Also, her mask is simple, but... I had the base form of a butterfly, and added on some mask details and also feathers. The ribbons on the lower part of her dress are more noticeable, though. Hence, her name of Ribbon. Unless y'all can think of any better...

As for WHY magical girls? Well, she thought magical girls were cool! Yes, this reflects on me! Ribbon watched magical girl shows ever since she was a young child, and always got this idea of fighting off evil by using bright magic! And punches. And kicks. When Ribbon grew older, while she never grew out of it, she tried to keep it to the back of her mind. She always still kept an eye on one of the magical girl shows- hmm... Beauty Cure? Beaucure? (Yes. Based on Precure.) And it was pulled back to the front with her awakening, because that's always the type of stuff she liked believing in- a magical force of good fighting against forces of evil... OUTSIDE OF THE NORMAL FIGHT AGAINST EVIL SOCIETY TRIES TO DO... Yeah. Mhm. Doesn't that seem familiar.

Oh, yes, I'm going to call the SI by the name of Ribbon- still unsure of if I should use Pix or if I should make up a japanese name that fits a bit closer to my real one, haha.

Her role of the team is... Well, sorta like a magical girl? She has light attacks, which does include the instant kill ones later (points @ magical girls and the series having magical attacks be the magical girl's finishing move), but she also can serve another role... Providing Buffs and giving Debuffs. I mean, magical girl power ups over the season is like a buff... And their attacks debuff the enemy... I would be tempted to also give her some healing things... Maybe later. After all, there are buff moves that are like "gain all three buffs at once!" And she'll get those! So maybe she can also be the status healer...? Dunno. Haven't really watched battle gameplay of p5- even if it's fancy, its... Boring to watch. Oops. Battle dynamics...

As for who her Persona is... I haven't thought of it. I haven't even looked into it either. I was thinking... Her first Persona would be probably an ancient magical girl? Pfft. Funny to say it like that. Maybe a fictional magical girl who was definitely outside the bounds of rules. Maybe villain, maybe hero. Her second persona would... be a goddess. Not the goddess of Magic, since. (stares at Ann.) But. A goddess of something important. Light? Hmm.

Her weapon is... A staff. Kinda a stick, but also it IS something to hurt with. Swing it around, smack someone in the side or head... Use it to adjust your position... Twirling it around... A magical girl doesn't use conventional weapons.

Oh, yeah! Here's where I closed out of the tab by accident. I went to go look at something and my phone pulled a trick on me... Anyway, moving on...

Futaba Sakura is 4'11. Ribbon is 5'. Short squad! Ribbon is irritated about getting teased for it, but is indeed 18- during the story, anyway- and just... Hasn't. Grown. Makoto is 5 inches taller. Interesting.

Ribbon's (outside of battle) role is... well, data gathering, and plan pulling. Makoto thinks of the plans, and can, indeed, push them out to the team... But for group planning sessions, Ribbon is the one listening to everyone's suggestions, and then addressing them... and giving them to the leader to mull over, as well. Make sure everyone is heard.

Oh, idea there... Ribbon also, like me, used to be a theater kid! It helped her grow more used to people around her, more used to speaking, and also technical details on things. Even if she isn't all outgoing, she still shows influences of it with analogies she makes sometimes.

(Spoilers for P5... Brief Warning. Skip to next parantheses for past that spoiler gone.)

During the Phantom Thieves' plans to decieve Akechi into believing he is totally fooling them, Ribbon could easily be very important with that acting experience. While coming up with the plan, Ribbon will definitely state theater terms, backstage, actors, scene changes... And she will definitely help the others get more into character. Staring at you, Ann... For a more believable lie... pull forth a truth similar to this situation and keep that tucked next to your heart... say your lines... and then, when that's over, let it go.

(Spoilers over! Yayyy)

So. Have you guessed who i want to f/o yet? If the answer is yes, congrats, you ain't blind to subtext!

Ribbon's costume is definitely on the lighter side! And... Yes, its definitely pink based. Solid pink ribbons... Light, soft pink dress... A mainly pink mask... I do think the feathers are another color, with those little x marker things that most of the feathers belonging to sharing a similar color, though maybe a different shade. I am... Not good with costume design, though. The accents on her mask would be similar colors to it...

Her hair is black. Darker than Makoto's, yes. She is light skinned, with barely a tan forming on her. Her mask actually covers up her obvious freckles on her face! Her arms, however, still have their freckles showing. (Not in the picture, because i forget about my arm freckles a lot...) (Also not in the picture is the frills on her dress but shhhh)

As for her Confidant? Uh... Hmm... To get to know her... Oh! She can show you her art and writing, sort of brush off her achievements with it because haha not as good as Yusuke Kitagawa's more official art... And her confidant would be helping her tap more into her confident side, whether it be for her own personal projects, or even for her just in society in general! While not as bad as Futaba, she still doesn't like approaching other people... And when that happens, and maybe culminates in her verbally cussing at someone who's been pressing her down for a while now and getting them to lay off her thanks to that newfound confidence. Not a Mementos Target, though she does bring that up but brushes it off as 'just a petty bully thing', but something she deals with herself!

.... Oh, Arcana... Uh. I think... you know how the Jester arcana was like... Another version of the Fool? Wait, the Thoth deck doesn't have an alt Priestess...? Fuck. Uh. Congrats, Akira! You get SUPER DUPER PRIESTESS BONUS. ... Please help

For her Confidant Ability.... Probably something to do with her Magical Girl influnces? The first idea I thought of was like... being able to be a temporary "safe" zone- while in the palace, she could... extend her magical girl light out and create a Barrier that prevents the shadows from noticing her. It will always stay a temporary ability, of course, since otherwise would pribably negate difficulty? But the period would become longer as her confidant goes up. The period of time would be extremly cut down during the times of actually stealing a treasure- after all, the palace ruler is EXPECTING the phantom thieves. No amount of magical girl protecting light would hide that expectation... Or. Something like that.

Also, her last skill. Instead of being like... Making the ability of protecting/anti detecting light last practically forever, its a SUPER STRONG BATTLE ABILITY. What is it? Well... uh... Still have to decide. My current idea has to do with a magical girl blast. Like, activate her light ability right as you get into a battle, and that actually does something- fires a big blast as the battle starts and inflicts damage on the enemy... Hmm. That, or she gets a special version of the all out attack that always kills? Has to be her leading the all out attack, though. What do y'all think...?

Oh, speaking of all out attacks! Hers (or her normal one if I go with the second idea in the above paragraph) would have her landing, spinning around, and doing a sharp "v" pose with her fingers, standing tall and with a grin. Think... Uh... Sailor Moon? I looked up some images and a few I found, with the peace sign arm outstretched, fit that mental image. The other hand would be on her hip, and, of course, she would be winking. Ah, girl vibes.

Yes. I am aware that could be similar to Ann. When i thought of it, i was like "hmmm" but then was like "I do that! and also there's a different between a lean and a wink with the peace sign to your chin rather than a stand/slight slouch and a wink and a peace sign held upward rather than close to the body"

Also, her little line in the background would be "light has prevailed!" In like... Bubbly letters? And it looks like light is shining from behind the letters.

Sure, Ribbon would have a romance route with Akira... but I don't consider that canon. It would make sense that he could POSSIBLY fit my type? But. Nah. Not SUPER attached. Pal at most. Speaking from outside here... In game, with the friendship forming? Maybe so. Anyway, not canon.

Oh my god i just realized Queen and Ribbon have like... Opposite sorta aesthetics. Dark Biker to Light Mage.

Anything else I can think of... Oh, a spoilerly thing.

(I don't believe I can think of anything else to say, so for those who want to be unspoiled on certain things in p5, end of post is the next paranthesis. For others...)

For her reaction to the announcement of Akira's "suicide", it would be something like... Well... A hand to her mouth, and a furrow to her brow... but she doesn't sound like she is going to cry. Instead, she goes, "Ah...", like... Realizing. Like a "hmmm" tone instead of one trying to hold back tears. And then like... Ryuji's scene is after that. And those of you who have seen the scene know what the scene is. So like, if the player was confused by Ribbon, Ryuji smacks them with a direct confirmation.

(And... That's it! Sorry for the long post, I am both unsure of if the read more code trick works on mobile anymore and also am unsure of, if it does work, which version of the trick is the correct one. Because i remember two different versions. Fuck.)