#that is rudely interrupted by inconsiderate demands | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xdarkhowlx · 3 months

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Raiju, where the hell you been, loca?

TIMING: Shortly after the cemetery incident with Van and Nora. LOCATION: Midnight Drive-In PARTIES: @xdarkhowlx and @bountyhaunter SUMMARY: Kyle and Daiyu try to enjoy their movie. They're interrupted by a real-life Pokémon. CONTENT WARNING: gun use

The mere idea of a Twilight marathon was enough to gain Kyle’s attention. The viewing being at Midnight Drive-in only piqued his interest further. An emo cinema icon, in an iconic format. What more could he ask for? Of course, he had to be parked behind the one truck to block his view. The owner of the truck sat atop the vehicle instead of inside, which put her at just the right height to obscure his view. At first, he decided not to say anything. He figured out quickly that if he leaned out his window a little, and craned his neck, he could see much better. This was fine for a while, but his favorite scene was approaching and he was beginning to get a crick in his neck. He debated just moving his car, but that seemed inconvenient at best, not to mention inconsiderate. He weighed his options briefly, before deciding he had no choice but to ask the truck owner to move.

With a drawn out sigh, Kyle stepped out of his Jeep and approached the truck parked in front of him. “Hey,” he called, trying not to interrupt the movie for anyone. “Could you maybe actually get off of your truck? I can’t really see past you, and the baseball scene is coming up.” A stranger on their truck would not ruin the scene for him.

—

Maybe it was sad, how big an accomplishment this was to Daiyu. But she’d never done something like this — a neighborhood initiative. Most of the time her ‘initiatives’ involved causing a ruckus and accidentally lighting a trash can. Besides, she never tended to tie herself to places and so to organize something like this rather than just watch the bad movies at home was something. But it had been a funny idea that had snowballed into something real and now here she was, sitting on top of her truck cross-legged. She wasn’t doing it to be rude — she just wasn’t thinking.

So when someone approached her about it and she was pulled out of her focus on the movie, she felt the urge to apologize and then, immediately after it, the inner demand that she shouldn’t. “Can’t see it well through my window, though,” she said simply, giving him a glance before looking up again. In the distance the sky rumbled. Whether it was another quake, the movie’s audio being very good or a storm coming, she didn’t know, but it barely mattered. Something tugged in her stomach and she wondered what it was – this guy, or one of the other people surrounding them. She couldn’t go a day without having something in her body go off, though, so she tried to ignore it. She was here for the movie, not for her hunting instincts. Daiyu sighed, straightening her legs and sliding down her window onto the hood of her car. The window held, much to her relief. (She had wanted to look cool and totally had.) “There. Better? Don’t wanna ruin your Supermassive Black Hole needledrop.”

—

Can’t see it well through my window, was a flimsy excuse in Kyle’s eyes. He frowned. “Better clean your windows, bestie,” he said. His ears pricked at the sound of thunder. He hoped it wouldn’t be a storm. His dad complained when he came home smelling like wet dog. On the other hand, that would make for a wicked cool backdrop for the rest of the flick.

Kyle’s smile returned at the Supermassive Black Hole comment. “Hey,” he said, raising his hands in mock defense. “You can’t tell me it’s not the most iconic scene in the first movie.” He shrugged, looking from the stranger to the screen. “Alice and Jasper in the baseball scene were a crucial part of my bisexual awakening.” Looking back to the stranger, something clicked for Kyle. “Hey, aren’t you the one who, like, organized all this?” In the distance, thunder rumbled again. Maybe that background storm would pop off after all.

—

She glared at the other and his unwarranted advice. “Clean your own windows,” she retorted, which made no sense but was still a very good comeback. Better than pointing out that she was in the forest a lot and that keeping her windows clean was a sisyphean task. She didn’t know what the word sisyphean meant, anyway.

Daiyu let out a chuckle. Even if this person had come to complain, he made a good point. “It absolutely is. Banger soundtrack, Alice being an icon, et cetera. I’m not going to lie, I know Vic is a villain and all but she was a crucial part in my gay awakening.” She shot a look at the screen, where Esme was talking to Bella. It wasn’t very important. “Hell yeah I am. I also organized the thunder, actually. Talked to the weather gods and everything to make it fit the mood.” She hadn’t, but she liked having bragging rights. As if on cue, there was a flash of lightning. Two seconds, and then a roar of thunder. “You’re welcome.”

—

Oh, so it was like that. “My windows are clean,” Kyle contested with a grand gesture at his clean, albeit cracked, windshield. “I just can’t see through people on top of trucks.” He wasn’t actually upset, mostly inconvenienced. His car didn’t have the height benefit of a truck. If he sat on top of his car, he figured he probably still wouldn’t be tall enough to see.

“You’re into gingers?” he said, sounding critical. After a moment’s pause, he nodded in approval. “Good taste.” The well timed thunder sent a shiver down Kyle’s spine. “Wow, impressive.” He gazed up at the sky, half expecting the rain to start, too. “You’ll have to show me your raindance, eh? Teach me what the weather taught you.” Glancing back at his car, Kyle started to excuse himself back to the movie, but he was drowned out by another rip of thunder. He could almost feel it in his chest. Another flash of lightning arched across the sky and connected with the ground somewhere in the distance. He could almost see where it flickered just beyond the farthest cars from where they stood. It was too close for comfort. Kyle let out a whoop. “Your storm is shaping up to be something.”

—

“Mine are clean too,” she retorted easily. She was very good at these kinds of endless exchanges, the back and forth, the yes-no, did not-did too’s of the world. Spending a youth with two older siblings did do that to a person. “Well, you should get x-ray vision, then. Next time, that is. I’m down now.”

Daiyu wondered if he’d slam her for liking the villain as he critiqued her. Logically, she should despise Victoria the most — she was the kind of vampire that required putting down by slayer or even a skilled ranger. But she’d liked her, because it was all nonsense. “Yeah,” she said, nodding fervently. “I’m known for my amazing taste, you should follow me o—” Her self promotion was cut in half as the lightning crashed through the sky again. She looked up, impressed at what the sky was capable of. “Damn.” She was a little impressed with herself before remembering she hadn’t actually caused the storm.

As her eyes traveled from the sky to the screen something caught her eye. It was lightning, but not quite in the way lightning tended to travel. It was like a ball passing past the treeline behind the screen. Another roar of thunder crashed through the sky and this time there were no flashes of light in the sky — just the creature. “Shit.” Daiyu glared at the creature, then rolled off her truck and rushed to her passenger seat door and swung it over. She eyed the other person from the other side. “Hey, yo — you should get the fuck out of here.” She pointed up. “Weather. Bad.”

___

“Then why— y’know what? Forget it. Thanks for moving.” Kyle wanted to argue back, but there was no real point to it. He could already tell he was being wound up just to end up chasing his tail. Metaphorically, of course. “I’ll work on being a little more Clark Kent and a little less Lois.”

Kyle followed the stranger’s gaze up toward the sky as the first couple notes of Supermassive Black Hole began. Shit, he was gonna miss it anyway. “Woo, good job on that timing,” he said, cracking a smile and taking a few steps back. But the mood had changed suddenly. The stranger was distracted. Her focus was elsewhere. Again, Kyle tried to figure out where she was looking. He could see that flickering lightning low at the ground again, but this time it was closer. As he was urged to leave, he didn’t look away from it. The lightning seemed to bend around something; it was vaguely animal shaped, and coming closer.

“What the hell?” he thought aloud. He looked between the electrified animal and his new acquaintance. She looked tense, maybe even a little worried. “What is that? Is that like—like a generator? A power box? Should I call the fire department? I mean, I can—“ He was cut off by another rip of thunder, with no accompanying lightning. The beast seemed to light up brighter at that and Kyle stepped around the truck to stand beside the other movie goer. “This might be outside of the fire department’s jurisdiction,” he posited.

—

Once, a long time ago, Daiyu had asked her father if she’d been named after raiju. He’d not liked the question, as it was his late wife who’d chosen their youngest name. Besides, the idea that a ranger’s name could be inspired by a beast was absolutely unacceptable, and he’d made that very clear. That hadn’t stopped her brother from calling her one, especially when she was throwing a tantrum. Storm’s coming!, he’d yell, mimicking the sound of thunder.

But whatever kinship she felt with the beasts was ignored in the face of the situation at hand. There was a storm. There were multiple people sitting in metal cars that would become death traps if touched by the raiju. There was the baseball scene still playing, too — and she couldn’t even give it her full attention. She pulled a crossbow from under the passenger seat, grabbing a set of bolts with her other hand. The human – was he human? – was talking and Daiyu popped her head up, staring at him.

She wasn’t very good at this. “Do not call them,” she said. A firetruck was an even bigger death trap. Water would make everything worse. She’d gotten electrocuted by a raiju before – years and years ago – and she didn't recommend it. “You need to – fuck!” She cursed, realizing the impossible way the cars were parked as she glanced around. Daiyu felt frustration rise, the white hot anger that so often cradled her but also sometimes rendered her useless. She could not give into it now, with all these people. (Maybe the person in the woods was right, maybe she was a protector – or wanted to be, anyway.)

She glanced at the screen, where Edward was running through the forest. The raiju seemed bothered by the noises. Dread rose. She threw a look at the other person. “We need to take it out. I need to – you should —” She was no good with words and just started to make a run for the creature, synchronizing with the Cullen’s as she left her car door open, leaving her arsenal open for the picking.

—-

Watching from across the truck, Kyle tossed his hands up defensively as the crossbow was withdrawn. “Easy, cvpon,” he said. “Maybe we should just chill out with the weapons. What are you gonna do? Shoot the electricity? Fuck’s sake.” If he wasn’t supposed to call the fire department, what was there for him to do? He glanced around at the cars surrounding them. Maybe someone had a fire extinguisher in the boot of their car. His new acquaintance cursed and he snapped his attention back to her. All he’d wanted to do was watch a classic film from the comfort of his car. Now, he was caught up in something he didn’t quite understand.

Coming to this town had been one strange experience after another. Goo, and crystals, and werewolves—now a trigger happy Twilight enthusiast going after a moving ball of electricity. Kyle opened his mouth to protest further, but before he could get much out, she was running off. “I just don’t think— wait! Wait, where are you going?” He cursed under his breath and ran around the truck to at least close the door. What he found inside wasn’t exactly expected. There were knives and ammunition of a few different calibers, as well as a hunting rifle sitting ripe for the taking. Kyle looked over his shoulder at the stranger running headlong into battle, then to the screen where Jasper and Alice whisked Bella to safety. Wouldn’t that be too easy. He glanced back at the stranger, then the rifle. “Fuck.” He grabbed the rifle, fumbled with ammunition, and took off towards the electrified mass.

“Hold up!” Kyle called. He was immediately shushed by fellow movie goers as he dashed between cars and called out again. “I’m coming with you!” He flipped the bird at a particularly upset man in a Kia. “Don’t yell at me, I’m trying to save the day, bruh!”

—-

It was good that humans didn’t know about all the shit that lurked in the shadows. Real good, as it meant they got to live life in ignorance without worrying about being eaten by werewolves or vampires or being trapped by weird grass or sand. Daiyu envied them sometimes. But right now, she thought regular humans were very annoying. None of them were seeing the ball of lightning as a threat and worse, the guy who did see her shooting into action telling her to chill.

She didn’t have the time or tact to explain the situation, which was why she just ran. She tended to hunt alone, anyway — and maybe this time it would be with an unwanted and annoyed audience, but hey. She wasn’t going to see all these cars go bzzzt with electricity and the people’s skeletons light up when they did. If that was even real. The guy was following her and at least it confirmed something: he was the cause for the tug in her stomach.

Fucking awesome. A shifter was helping her kill some beast.

“Alright, okay, cool, that’s awesome and also great!” Maybe the shifter knew something about raijus. Or maybe he was just … stupidly brave. Which Daiyu didn’t want, because those were qualities she liked in people. She ignored all the protests from viewers (even if it was very nice that people were this passionate about Twilight in 2024!) and jumped on the hood of one of the cars in front to get a good look. She whipped her head around, her ponytail smacking her in the face. “Do not get too close.” She noted the rifle – her rifle – in his hands. Well, good. As long as she got it back. “It’s gonna shock you if you do. Yeah? How’s your aim?” She whipped her head back, the cacophony of sound – movie, yelling moviegoers, storm, someone eating popcorn with their mouth open – made her dizzy but she tugged at the sound and made it one large hum of noise as she attempted to take her aim.

—

The closer they got, the more the creature took shape. Kyle figured it mostly resembled a dog, you know, if dogs went Super Saiyan. That would be a show he’d watch. Dragon Ball Z, but they’re all dogs? Focus, Kyle. He could daydream about anime when he wasn’t in imminent danger of being barbecued. He came up next to Daiyu, mouth agape as he looked at the dog. “I’m gonna have so many questions after this,” he whispered, glancing at Daiyu. He didn’t know if the dog could hear them, but if its hearing was anything like his, it definitely would.

“Don’t get too close, don’t get shocked, don’t die. Got it,” Kyle replied. He didn’t want to take his eyes off the ball of lightning, but it was getting hard to look at, like looking into the sun. He blinked hard and steadied himself. He drew the rifle and scoffed at the question. “How’s my aim? You think I would pick up a gun if I wasn't pretty confident I could use it? I’ll follow your lead.” He had hunted back in Canada with his cousins. He knew how to take down a deer, or any manner of wild fowl, and even coyotes if the situation called for it. This was probably like coyotes, if the coyotes could decimate the power grid. Simple.

After a moment, he looked at his new partner in crime—or maybe partner in justice was a better title. “I’m Kyle, by the way. I just figure we should know each other’s names in case we, y’know…” He made a cut throat gesture paired with sound effects.

——

At least the shifter was down to clown — or, like, kill a raiju. Even if he didn’t know what it was. Daiyu tried to shrug off the comment about having to explain what was going on, as that was the part of hunterisms she was worst at, but she offered a quick look and a random thumbs up. “Gotcha!” Which was not a promise or an agreement, but just something to say so she could go on with her purpose.

Which was … what, exactly? Hadn’t she decided to make her code be as simple as the local bounty board? To be moved by money, not by considerations of morality or heroism. Still — even if she wasn’t going to catch any coin for this, could she just let the people die? It wasn’t something worth pondering about. It was simple. Almost as simple as picking a random bounty from the board and going for it so she could pay her rent. These people were in death traps without knowing it. Daiyu wanted to watch her movie without people dying.

“I don’t know, people are pretty stupid when it comes to guns,” she responded, before offering her name as well: “Daiyu! You’re a —” She changed her mind halfway, deciding it better to not ask what kind of shifter the other is. “Not going to die.” She swished her head towards the raiju, squinting one eye close and taking aim. Soon enough her finger pushed the trigger and her bolt shot towards the lightning creature, piercing its hind thigh.

—

Kyle was satisfied with the thumbs up as a clear promise to fill him in if neither of them died. He was pretty sure that the stranger–Daiyu, as she identified herself–knew what she was doing. Otherwise she was doing a damn fine job pretending. The thought gave him a moment’s pause. Was she pretending? Was Kyle about to be on the bad side of killing a creature like him? The thing didn’t seem to have any sense of rationality, as it was actively walking into a minefield of sitting duck humans. But then, Kyle couldn’t call himself rational when he shifted. He had never taken issue with hunting before. Each animal gave its life for the greater picture. That was simple. It was nature. But where did he, a werewolf, fit into the greater picture? It was never something he’d considered.

As the creature’s leg was struck, a shower of sparks burst around it. He flinched, abandoning the existential crisis for later. It would keep him up every night this week, but it wasn’t important now. The sparks and crackles from the beast reminded Kyle of a transformer exploding. Like live wires, the beast writhed in pain for a moment. In that same moment, the storm above them roared some of the loudest thunder he had ever heard. It left his ears ringing. Werewolf hearing be damned. The creature recovered itself, and charged in their direction. Beginning to back up, the rifle snapped up as Kyle reflexively took aim. “Aim where they’re going, not where they’ve been,” he murmured to himself, and lined up his shot. A crack rang out, and another shower of sparks rained down around the animal, halting its approach. He breathed a steadying sigh, and smirked at his new accomplice. “Nice to meet you, Daiyu.”

—

Frustration rippled through her, a familiar yet always unpleasant sensation, as her bolt did not pierce the creature through the heart or head but rather its legs. It was fine, she could have just used the immobility to fire another shot. But there was an audience, kind of. There was a hunting partner, which was really not her speed. And the hunting partner – Kyle, the shapeshifter – had a gun and that guy managed to get the killing shot in. The sparks were a welcome distraction, though, a large rain of them sprinkling around the screen. And then, it was done. No more sparks, no more rumbling thunder that came from the creature — just a still corpse.

Daiyu was still for a moment, disregarding Kyle the shifter and staring at the dead body before sliding down the hood of the strangers’ car. She patted it awkwardly before approaching the beast. If she was a hunter with a code to protect humans and keep them ignorant – which she wasn’t – she should get rid of the body. She gave a something to Kyle, though she wasn’t entirely sure what it was. A scowl, a grin, a smirk. “Yeah, man, that was a great shot. Nice to meet you.” He got the killing shot. He had her gun. And she’d … really made a mess of whatever it was she’d tried to do here. She extended a grabby hand. “Can I get that back?” The rifle, she meant. “So you … whatever. I’m gonna clean up.”

—-

He followed Daiyu to the dead beast, approaching it cautiously. It was certainly dead, but Kyle wasn’t sure if it still held a charge. “Sorry to steal your shine,” he said, passing the rifle back as asked. He couldn’t tell exactly what emotion she was feeling, but he got the impression that it was directly linked to the final blow. “My family is big on hunting. I’ve been going on hunting trips practically since before I could walk. I know my way around a rifle.” Maybe his experience would assuage whatever emotions were going through her head. He wasn’t some inexperienced punk rolling in off the street. He was a well-versed punk.

Looking over the body, Kyle grimaced. Up close it looked even more like just some unfortunate dog. Again, that guilt he’d never felt before tugged at his stomach. Was he so much different than this dog? “Okay,” he said, turning his attention on Daiyu. “Now is the part where you answer my questions. Like what the fuck just happened? Do you do this often?” Having just handed the rifle over into her hands, he shook his head. “Scratch that last one, I don’t need to know. How did you know what that was?”

—-

She wanted to burst out laughing at the notion. Not that Kyle the shifter was apologizing for stealing her shine, as that was very bothersome because she felt very seen, but that he said that his family was big on hunting. Daiyu wondered what that meant, but didn’t want to pry. She didn’t recognize the other and that meant she hadn’t seen him on the board, which meant there was no good reason to pry. “Oh, awesome. Yeah, my family’s like that I guess too, you know? Hunting elk and pheasants and stuff.”

She took the gun back from him. It was getting harder and harder to ignore all the sounds around them so she trudged forward towards the dead creature. It looked almost like something normal, but she knew better than to just leave it there. “Well,” she said, “We just killed a lightning creature. That could have made all these cars go –” She made a crackling sound with her mouth, followed by a booom. “Oh, I just know. You know? Some people know how to do math. I know how about weird shit.” Like how the other person was a shifter. “Like you and anyone else in this town doesn’t.” She slung the rifle over her shoulder after flicking the safety on and then crouched down at the raiju. “We should get it away from here.”

—-

“Yeah, elk, deer–hell, squirrels if you can get ‘em.” Kyle nodded in agreement, bonding over their shared hunting skill. He wanted to tell her to not let her nerves get to her next time, genuinely wanting to be of assistance. But something told him that would not be received as intended, and he was okay letting it drop. “I used to go out with the uncles, and then my cousins when we were old enough. Family traditions and whatever.” He waved his train of thought away with his hand. This was a stranger, and she didn’t need the specifics of his upbringing. Especially when he had more questions.

He looked from the carcass to the cars, nodding slowly. As he’d pictured in his head, it would be absolute chaos, carnage, and bloodshed. “Good thing you were here, then,” Kyle affirmed. “I might know how to use a gun, but you provided it for me. Which brings me to another question; why are you driving around strapped like that? You get in trouble a lot?” It was another question he didn’t really want the answer to. He was connecting some dots, and the image he was piecing together unsettled him. What if she killed all sorts of creatures? What if she found out he was a werewolf? Would she kill him, too? Or did he need to present himself as a threat first? Those questions he left unsaid.

Kyle wanted to protest to her that he knew more than he let on. But to do so was a tricky needle to thread, so he simply nodded. “I’m learning.” It was the truth. He’d learned about werebears, and maybe cemetery spirits. He’d heard talk of vampires and zombies, though he hadn’t ascertained if those were real or not. Now, he was learning about real life Pokémon. Kyle crouched beside her, looking down at the sad little coyote. It was much less threatening when it wasn’t actively sparking. “You need help carrying Jolteon here?”

—

Hunters were traditionally meant to keep humans safe and separate from the supernatural world, but the Volkovs had lost that traditional and honorable cause a long time ago. A higher purpose was so easily translated into something uglier — like the divine right of kings, for example. So Daiyu didn’t do this often and Daiyu didn’t fucking know what to do. Especially because this guy wasn’t human, or at least not fully, or not all the time. So what did it mean when he said he hunted with his family? Were they a bunch of sirens, chasing prey, or bugbears? Or did they hold up human traditions despite being something else? Or was he unfortunately cursed with a werewolf’s bite?

The thoughts were dizzying. “Yeah, same here. Hunting trips with the fam, what a time,” she said off-handedly. Daiyu glanced at Kyle, then back at the raiju. It would be little issue to carry it, with her hunter strength. Should she still be trying not to come off as a ranger, though? Or was that too little too late? She chewed on her cheek as his question bounced around her head. “Nah, I usually am the trouble.” Cheekiness seemed like a safe bet. “But yeah, whatever, I’m just someone who’s prepared for these kinds of things. I try to be more subtle about it usually, though.”

She took the hind legs of the creature, gesturing that he could take the other. A laugh left her lips at the mention of Jolteon. “Fuck.” She huffed. “That’s good. That’s — yeah, Jolteon, that’s right on the god damn nose. Let’s just take –” Her eyes scanned their surroundings, the angry people in their cars. It’d be best to store the creature in her car until she could find a proper way to dispose of it, but to walk it past all those moviegoers was asking for trouble. “Into the woods. Hide it for now.”

—

The mention of her own hunting trips brought forth yet another question that Kyle couldn’t keep from tumbling out of his mouth. “When you say hunting, you mean the elk and not these—,” he looked down at the corpse, but without a real word for it, continued unsure. “These…monsters, right? That’s what this is, a monster?” Yet another question he didn’t want the answer to, but this time the need for it pressed him on. “You know, since you’re so prepared for anything.” He gestured with his chin to the rifle she now held.

Kyle shouldn’t be prying, not here in the middle of a movie, not with Kristen Stewart monologuing in the background. But hunters were a fairly novel idea. He hadn’t thought they were real, just more fairytale fodder. Like werewolves. It felt stupid to admit to himself that he hadn’t once worried about being hunted down for the crime of being bitten. The very idea made the hairs on the back of his neck raise. It wasn’t something he’d had to consider. The apartment he lived in was above a cryptid-themed souvenir shop, which, conveniently, had a basement for mostly storage of old junk, tools, and broken mannequins. The basement did a pretty good job of holding a bloodthirsty werewolf, and his dad being the building’s super was just the cherry on top of his cover story.

Kyle tried to keep his tone and his expression neutral. He didn’t want the skepticism of being predator and prey to cross his face and give him away as he danced carefully around the topic. “Sorry, Jolteon,” he said, trying to break some of the tension as he took the front legs of the animal and hoisted it with Daiyu. “Can’t catch ‘em all.”

——

She stared at him, at his clumsy way of speaking, at the way he hesitated to name the raiju anything. Beast, monster, creature, pest, prey. So what was she supposed to say? That she hunted elk? She didn’t, she hated hunting regular animals. She found it — well, she didn’t try to pass judgment, as that started a whole moral debate in her head, but she found it something. “I mean, this is just a coyote with sparks,” she quipped. Daiyu lifted the creature up, wanting to tell the other to fuck off, but here she was. Doing teamwork again. With a shifter, again.

She could feel it rise within her, the clumsiness. Her father hated this about her, the way she had no control over the things that came from her mouth. Not just because she was vulgar, but because she was too forward. Daiyu tried to press her lips together, to keep her from blurting something out, “But yes, a monster. I hunt monsters. What are you?” Her eyes slanted upwards and she cursed herself inside her head – something she did very commonly – before starting to move. She didn’t owe the other secrecy, because he wasn’t human, but she did owe herself secrecy, didn’t she? But it had to be clear by now what she was.

The pokémon references didn’t help. It made the other too damn likable. Daiyu kept trudging into the woods, the raiju swinging between them. (If pokémon were real, would she be hunting them? That would be really fucked up.) She grit her teeth and managed to not reply this time, for which she still cursed herself.

—

More questions pressed to the front of Kyle’s mind. Why was she so hesitant to confirm his suspicions that this Pokémon-from-Hell was a part of the weird shit? He knew it was supposed to be left unsaid, (he had heard enough from his grandmother,) but they had clearly passed that point when they took it down. A coyote with sparks didn’t satiate the need to understand what he’d just witnessed. His thoughts were beginning to race as his mouth tried to form multiple questions at a time. How much of the oddities of Wicked’s Rest had she known? Would she have answers about werebears, too? Shit, did she know more about werewolves than Kyle? He thought of those questions as off of the table. Surely he couldn’t just ask–

What are you? The question hit him like a crossbow bolt of lightning between the eyes. Every hair on his body stood at attention. “Um.” He floundered for a moment, grasping for any words to respond. He almost tripped over his own feet and dropped the stupid–monster. If this dog was a monster, was that what Daiyu was looking for? For Kyle to admit to being a monster? Was that what he was to her? His stomach felt like a stone falling through him. “Could you be more specific with that, uh, question? Please?”

—

Her hunting training hadn’t covered this. Truth be told, her training hadn’t covered a lot of communication techniques, unless you considered the best ways to trick shifters or interrogation tactics as such. Daiyu felt frustration fly through her system, heard Vissa yell something about a storm coming as her face turned a little stormy. There was at least the creature between them, a good distraction from how the other fumbled with his reply to her forward question.

“Whatever,” she said, “I’m not gonna hunt you.” He wasn’t on the board. Besides, he’d helped. Her sister would talk this guy into the woods and prod and poke until he’d reveal his true nature and then slit his throat, to trick the shifter the way she’d been taught. But Daiyu didn’t want to hunt this guy, and it was only because he wasn’t on the board. No ulterior motive. It wasn’t because of the weeping heart in her chest that her sister Inna had chastised all her life. Just because there was no point in it. (The Raiju hadn’t been on the board, either, but somehow that distinction wasn’t made.) “But like … snake? Wolf? Bird? What are you?”

—

I’m not gonna hunt you, was all the confirmation Kyle needed. He was on the menu, so to speak. Maybe not to Daiyu, maybe not now, but to someone out there. It took him a beat to grapple with his new place on the proverbial food chain before he could get anything out. “Wait,” he said, immediately derailing once more. “There’s weresnakes and werebirds? I mean, fuck, it makes sense, you know, I’ve heard about the little people all my life, but I oonly knew about the bears and the wolves.” There were dozens of questions he had about the other shifters. Like, did the birds follow the same rules? Were they bound to the sun rather than the moon? Could you get bit by a snake and get turned into a snake? Even if the snake was venomous? Was it like Spider-Man, and the venom is what turned you into the snake? He set aside the questions for later (and maybe for Google).

Licking his lips and shrugging, Kyle replied, “I guess I’m the wolf variety.” He clicked his teeth and continued, “Shtah, I feel stupid being at a fuckin’ Twilight viewing and admitting this, man.”

—

Oh, shit. This was not the first time her big mouth had talked too fast and too much. Daiyu assumed that shifters all knew about each other, that they had some kind of big shifter text chain where they talked about eating humans and shedding issues, but maybe werewolves were excluded from that. “Yeah! Those totally exist too,” she said, nodding. It would be strange if lamia and sirens only transformed during the full moon, but probably better for society and humanity as a whole.

She let out a huff of amusement, looking over her shoulder at the drive in behind them as she kept walking further into the woods. “Nah, it’s cool. It’s fun. I like these movies ‘cus of it.” There was something about watching bad movies about the supernatural that made Daiyu feel comforted. It was why she’d watched all of the Vampire Diaries multiple times — but mostly just the first three seasons. “Little bit stupid for telling me though.” She dropped the raiju to the ground. “Kidding.”

—-

Fueled with knowledge, Kyle couldn’t keep his mouth from running. “You probably have so much knowledge on all this stuff, right? I mean, probably more than me. Definitely more than me.” That felt like a mistake to admit as soon as he’d said it. He didn’t want to come off as inexperienced or ignorant. Worse yet, he didn’t want to come off as a problem. “There’s no real guidebook for all of this. Lot of trial and error and error and error,” he amended with a toothy grin. “It’s,” he gestured vaguely to the space around them, “all about learning and shit, though, right?” Maybe that didn’t help his case, but he’d rather be somewhat honest with the hunter. She had given him her word. She wouldn’t hunt him.

“As far as werewolves go, it’s bad,” Kyle mused. He had a lot to say on the topic, but kept it succinct for now. His head snapped up at the joke threat, but he relaxed when he realized she wasn’t serious. Cracking a grin, he huffed a laugh. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t have much experience with, uh, hunters. That’s what you’d call yourself, right?” He looked down at the animal at their feet. He almost wanted to ask what Daiyu planned to do with the pelt, but it didn’t seem particularly germane, given the circumstances.

—-

If there was any way to appeal to Daiyu, it was by saying that she was better at something than someone else. And though this wasn’t something she was particularly proud of, it was still true. She was more knowledgeable than this stranger, “Yup! I know a lot. I’m pretty much a genius when it comes to this.” Compared to him, she certainly was. Compared to other hunters, especially her siblings … well, it wasn’t knowledge she’d ever excelled in. Reciting species’ weaknesses had always been something that tired her — she’d rather find out through just hitting them. “Guess you’re gonna have to find shit out, huh?”

It had to be hard to be a werewolf. At least most other shifters were raised amongst one another, were taught what they were and how they could use that against others. But bitten werewolves, they were just left to their own shitty devices. “Twilight’s a shit resource for sure. And um, yeah, yeah, hunters — maybe that’s coolest for you, right? Just stay outta trouble. Don’t eat people or whatever.” She considered their surroundings, the dead animal at their feet, and started to gather some twigs, sticks and leaves to cover up its white fur. “This one’s called a Raiju, FYI.”

—-

The urge to ask for more and more information wouldn’t die down inside Kyle. He didn’t want to come off as entirely ignorant, but the hunter said she was a genius when it came to this particular subject. “Alright, Encyclopedia Daiyu, I’ll have to have you teach me more about all this sometime,” he said, hoping she’d agree so he could flood her inbox later. “I think I have a lot to learn.” The admission felt like one of weakness rather than simple ignorance. The feeling didn’t sit well inside his chest. Exposing your belly to the enemy couldn’t be a smart move. He had to remind himself that she had said she wouldn’t hunt him.

The comment about eating people had Kyle grimacing. He had shifted a handful of times outside the safety of his building’s basement walls, but he hadn’t eaten anyone. Had he? The thought made his stomach do a somersault. “I’m good on the not eating people.” He followed the hunter’s lead, covering the animal’s corpse with forest detritus. “Raiju. Ha, kinda rhymes with your name.” He didn’t want to make another Pokémon reference, lest she think of him as a nerd. But there was a Pokémon based on the creature before them. “Real life Pokémon,” he quipped, unable to keep his mouth shut.

—

The concept of her – a ranger – helping a werewolf was absolutely beyond her comprehension. The whole situation was hard to grasp in general, what with her hunting this creature out of some kind of feeling of duty, enlisting a shifter for help and standing here, still and without action. Daiyu swallowed, shrugged, “Whatever, man,” she said, which was non-committal and not an answer at all to his non-question. She didn’t deal with unshifted werewolves a lot — the most she saw of them was when they were feral and wild in the woods.

She felt something press in her skull. A headache. A moral quandary that she didn’t have the tools to solve. These days those were the same. “Neat. I mean, that’s kinda … not cool, you know. Guess that’s gonna get you … targeted. Anyway.” She frowned at the twigs and leaves. “Maybe. I’m not a good — I don’t help people.” She poured some sand over the dead creature, let out a huff of air. “Yeah, it does. And yeah, it is. I used to wonder if the creator of Pokémon like, knew of these kinda creatures.” She started wiping her hands on her trousers, looking up. “Good enough, I guess. There’s still … movie left.” She’d get the creature a proper hiding place later. She held out her hand, though didn’t specify if it was to get her weapons back or to have it shaken.

—

Kyle got the feeling that maybe he’d overstepped some invisible line he hadn’t known was there. Maybe befriending a hunter was reckless, even when she didn’t feel like a threat. At least, she hadn’t felt like a threat. Her deflection read as dismissive to Kyle. Perhaps he didn’t view her as a threat because she didn’t view him as a threat. Something unfamiliar tugged inside his gut. He wanted to be respected by her, not brushed aside. Part of him wanted the hunter to fear him. The thought felt almost out of place as soon as he’d thought it, but wasn’t it sort of true? Wasn’t he a beast to be feared? He huffed a chuckle to himself. That didn’t feel like it fit right, either. Better, but not exactly. “Yeah,” he said, after considering Daiyu’s words for a moment. “I’ll do my, uh, best, I guess.” He met her extended hand with his own, both passing her back the ammunition she’d lent, and shaking her hand at the same time. “For the record, I don’t help people either. One time Pokémon battle.” He turned back towards the screen, frowning at the movie. It didn’t feel worth it to stay. It didn’t feel worth it to leave either. He looked back to his new not-enemy. “Walk you back to your truck?”

—

There should be another bolt in her crossbow, aimed at the heart of the untransformed werewolf. This could be her easiest hunt of the year. But that wasn’t her hunter’s code — if she even had one. Hunting the raiju also wasn’t part of her code, but maybe saving a bunch of people who are watching Twilight could be something she added. As for Kyle the Werewolf, there was nothing that demanded she hunt him besides the nagging lessons taught in youth. There was no immediate threat, nor was there a bounty on his head as far as she knew. So Daiyu simply shook his hand and took her weapon back and tried not to think about it all too much.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she said, starting the walk back to her truck with one weapon in each hand, wondering if someone had called the authorities. Hopefully the sounds of thunder and Supermassive Black Hole had covered the sounds of the gunshot, though. “Was a good one, though. Good Pokémon battle. No fried people and shit.” She gave Kyle a look, a semi-grin. It wasn’t so bad, what they’d done. “Edward would be proud.”

—

There was still some kind of unease that sat alert at the back of Kyle’s mind. On one hand, Daiyu had promised not to hunt him. On the other, she was a total stranger who had just played a hand in taking out a creature. Was he feeling conflicted about hunting the creature? He hadn’t long considered his new role in nature. Were he and the raiju equals? Had he too implicitly trusted this gun wielding Twilight-goer? He would have to sit with the topic later. He thought the hunter might combust if he started grilling her about her moral compass, and he didn’t want to put out any fires tonight either.

Kyle scoffed. “You think I care about Edward’s opinion? He would be a normal type trainer in the most boring way. He would have a team of fuckin’ pidgey and–y’know, never mind.” His face wrinkled in disgust. “Point being, I’m not ‘Team Edward,’” he concluded, with air quotes accenting his words. He crossed his arms across his chest as they reached the truck. Goodbyes felt awkward, especially given the circumstance of their meeting. “Hey, thanks for being cool,” he said flatly, with an air of hesitation. “I mean, letting me make you look like a chump with a bow.” He cracked a teasing grin and gave her finger guns. “You’ll get ‘em next time, bro.”

—

Once arrived at the truck, Daiyu worked on returning her weapons to it, making sure they wouldn’t go off if she went too hard over a speed bump (a common occurrence). A small laugh left her lips at the other’s response to her throwaway comment and she looked up with a quirked eyebrow. “Team Jacob, then? I think you’re biased.” She shrugged, straightened up and closed the door. “I mean, I’m totally team Alice, for what it’s worth. And she’d be totally proud too.” She would probably hate Daiyu for what she was, but luckily she wasn’t real.

She nodded at his comment, head bopping at his thanks. There were no guides for situations like these and Daiyu wished there were, and that they were shared at hunter camps. Guidelines for social interactions where you accidentally roped in a shifter into a hunt and didn’t kill them, or whatever. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome. Totally let you win, for the record.” She hadn’t, and it was annoying — because even though she was certain she would have been able to kill the raiju if it had been just her, she hadn’t killed it this time. “I sure will. Er – enjoy the rest of the movie. Won’t get in your way again or whatever.” She raised her hand in goodbye, ready to continue to watch the rest of the movie in escapist solitude.

#ch: raiju where the hell you been loca #ch: daiyu #chatzy

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Mismatch-Part 11

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

You know... just a trip to the aquarium... what could possibly go wrong?

First < Previous > Next

-----

“Don't you think we should wake him up?” Adrien asks, looking towards Nino’s door.

“Absolutely not,” Marion picks through his sugary cereal, “You may not understand, as a natural morning person, but waking us up is a death sentence,”

“We’re going to be late,” Adrien seems nervous stirring his cereal, Marion tries not to snort, only someone who has their life planned to the minute would think so.

“Then he’ll rush to get ready and be out the door in five minutes,” Marion bites done, trying not to cringe at the sweetness, speaking through his mouthful, “Like any non-morning person does,”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just get up early?”

“I have no idea how to explain just how wrong you are,”

Marion pushes the bowl away, why Adrien insisted on trying it he had no idea. He goes to double check his bag. He was carrying the miracle box today. It’s compartment taking up half his satchel. Something Klakki seemed annoyed by while Plagg was happy to curl up, like any cat would.

As it got closer to time to leave Adrien keeps glancing at Nino’s door then back to Marion. Marion tries not to smile as he brainstormed names and researched birds. He had found one called Sabine's Gull, tempting but not enough to risk his Maman's life, even if the chances were slim. Adrein keeps reminding Marion of the time, down to the last seven minutes before the bus is meant to leave.

“And three, two,” Marion caught Adrien's attention, “one,”

“I”m Late!” Nino yells from his room, followed by a yelp and some crashing.

Marion chuckles, ignoring Adrien’s ‘I told you so look,’. That was quickly replaced by Marion's one as in only four minutes fifty six seconds Nino was dressed, fed and out the door. They race downstairs, reaching the ground floor to see a crowd outside the building. Marion frowns, they were blocking the way out, and he could see the bus over their heads. Most people held cameras and a few with microphones. They walk outside, trying to push their way to the bus, when Marion spots Marinette in the middle of the crowd.

“Whats going on?” He interrupts Marinette talking with someone rudely shoving a microphone in her face, which filled with relief at seeing him.

“I’ve been trying to explain to these people that-”

“Excuse me but what's your relationship to Bruce Wayne?” A... reporter? cuts Marinette off.

“Bruce Wayne?” Marion casts a confused look to Marinette, “I hardly know him,”

“So he hasn't been a very involved Father?” The reporter asks, and Marion’s does a double take.

“Wh-what?” Marion looks to Marinette who only sighs, “He’s not my Father,”

“Did he tell you to say that?” Another reporter butts in.

“Yes, people who aren’t my Papa usually do,” Marion says sarcastically, pushing the microphone away from his face.

“So he did tell you to say that?” The reporter asks, a glint in their eye that he was most familiar with Alya having when asking Chat Noir questions(when Ladybug wasn't available of course).

“Do you not recognise sarcasm?” He turns to Marinette, “Do they not know sarcasm?”

“No, they also don’t know the term, ‘He’s not my Father,” Marinette chastises, looking at the surrounding crowd like they were three year olds, “and, ‘I already have a Papa’,”

“But you were adopted,” Someone calls out, making Marion reel back and Marinette flinch. Ok. things that are not ok for strangers to talk about; that.

“First of all, it’s creepy that you know that,” Marion snaps, “Second it’s rude to bring that up to a stranger, if at all, and third that doesn't mean that of all people Bruce Wayne is our Father,”

“You heard it here first folks,” A reporter to the side announces, “Confirmation of the Wayne twins,”

“How was that confirmation! Did our english tutor skew us over!?” Marion yells, spinning to Marinette.

“Mari, let’s just go,” Marinette tries to pull him away only to be blocked by multiple reporters all talking-yelling over each other to ask invasive questions.

They were used to reporters as Ladybug and Chat Noir even MDC and MCD, but no one knew anything personal about them. Well mostly. This was not the same. They had apparently done their research as they were shouting out specific questions about their lives. Someone mentioned Chloe asking if the Wayne's were friends with the Mayor of Paris. Marion doubts that, the Wayne's charity work did not line up with the Mayor’s self-serving nature.

They try to ignore any more questions and side step the crowd, slowly making their way to the bus. To their horror the bus pulls away as they reach the curb. Watching the rear window Lila’s smug face is smirking back at their stupor. Neither even have enough sense to reach for their phones before a motorbike pulls up in front of them. The reporters scramble to get out of the way, or get run over.

“Saw the news, thought you could use some rescuing,” Jason pulls off his helmet gesturing to the bike, and the twins hop on, the press snapping pictures like crazy, “Where to?”

“Aquarium, the bus left without us,” Marinette answers, holding onto Marion as they speed away.

Marion can hear Jason mutter unsavoury curses under his breath about the class, and can’t help but agree. They see the bus and Jason speeds up, riding alongside it. No one looks over until Jason practically punches the side. The loud clang making even Marion jump. When their classmates look out to see the twins waving. Marion watches as Kagami starts yelling and the bus signals to pull over. Jason slows down to trail behind the bus as it does. The second the doors open their friends rush out, as the twins get off the bike.

“I’m so sorry,” Adrien frets, “We tried to hold them off,”

“Little miss liar decided that it would be a waste of time waiting for you,” Chloe scoffs, Marion bats her hands away trying to tame his hair himself.

“She convinced everyone you could get your own ride,” Kagami looks like she was planning to throw Lila into traffic.

“We sorta did,” Marion laughs, turning to Jason, “Thanks for that,”

“No problem, didn’t want Bruce picking you up, he’d probably drive you straight to the nearest adoption agency,” Jason pulls his helmet back on, mounting his bike, “Have fun,”

“Thank you,” Marinette calls, and they both wave goodbye.

“Marinette, Marion, please get on the bus we are already very late,” Madam Bustier reprimands, looking out the bus door.

They shuffle back onto the bus, the entire class, minus Max, looking annoyed, if not angry. They bus starts up again, tempting Marion to just walk. Instead he holds onto the bar, Marinette next to him, letting the others take back their seats. The one next to Adrien noticeably empty.

“Was that really necessary?” Alya speaks first, passive aggressive, leaning into the aggressive.

“Well, the bus left, so yeah?” Marion asks, He would be confused why they were angry when they should be upset. But he knew exactly what happened; Lila.

“Only because you stopped to chat with the reporters,” Rose says not unkindly, she has a reassuring look as if there was no ill intentions. There probably wasn't, from her, the rest of the class was hit or miss, mostly hit.

“We weren't trying-”

“It was quite inconsiderate,” Lila cuts Marinette off, “I get hounded by reporters day in, day out but I always do my best to make sure they never come near or disrupt the class,”

Marion could almost snort at that, Lila giving herself away without even knowing it. No reporter would stop trying to corner her if anything she says were really true. Lila bats her eyelashes and gets agreements from the class, Which as per usual spurs her on.

“I mean it’s one thing to spread that awful lie , but to actually call the press to sabotage our trip?” Lila fakes a sniffle at the end. Marion can’t help but suspect she had more to do with this morning than he realised.

“We didn’t do anything, and we certainly didn’t call them,” Marinette says defensively, calmly but visibly restraining her anger. And it Marinette was angry Marion was livid.

“Right and every time your with the Waynes there just happen to be cameras around?" Sabrina sneers, arms crossed Marion glowers down at her. He holds his hand out to Kagami who stands to argue, she sits down begrudgingly.

"Not to mention you've never even mentioned the Waynes before, while Lila has known them for years," Nathaniel mutters, not meeting Marion's gaze as it snaps to him.

"If you want to say something just say it," Marion addresses the whole class, opening the flood gates.

“You’re just looking for attention!” Kim stands up, slamming his hands onto the seat in front of him, startling Mylene.

“Attention?!” Marion rears back, he can feel the anger radiating from his friends behind him.

“Yeah! your jealous of Lila knowing the Waynes so your trying to ruin the trip for her!" Kim points at Marion, although he suspected he meant both of them.

"We know your just trying to distract everyone from the charity she set up in Gotham, so she doesn't get any recognition!" Mylene accuses, genuine rage and hurt behind it.

"The Mayor of Gotham even cancelled the celebration for Lila because you two are causing so much trouble," Rose cries, voice quivering.

"She was going to invite the whole class! Even you two!" Sabrina spits, yeah right.

"You're filling the news up with Tabloid lies!" Alya joins, yelling over Madame Bustiers meek protests.

“What the?!" Marion re orientates himself from the barrage, "Those are all lies! how can you not see that?"

“Don’t start this again, I thought you were over the whole liar thing?" Alya half demands, half mutters.

“We’d be ‘over it’ is she stopped lying!" Marion's eyes follow where his finger points, smug grin churning his stomach uneasily.

“Thats rich coming from you," Kim scoffs, bitter tone so unlike his usual default rage or cheer.

“ What," Marion turns to him, but only gets a glare back.

“You two are always lying to get out of class and school events," Ivan answers for him. Well that was true but they couldn’t admit it.

“Thats not-

“Save it we know you can’t stand to be around us," Juleka cuts off Marinette, her sour tone practically screaming compared to her normal volume. Also true but probably for different reasons then they think.

“If you spread this whole rumour as a way to get out of the trip, fine, do that, but don’t keep disrupting out trip for your five minutes of fame," Alix startles Marion by cutting in. She usually didn't speak to anyone anymore, let alone Lila.

“Five minutes of fame?- spread the rumour? Do you honestly think we wanted this?” Marinette doesn't expect an answer.

“Yes,” It came from Alya, cold and bitter. With one look at Marinette he could tell exactly what his sister was remembering.

Alya has pretty much migrated to Lila after plans being cancelled with Marinette one to many times. After which marintte tried to organise another plan but Alya told her in the nicest way possible(Still pretty crushing) that she would perfer to hang out wwiht lie la and that she and Mari had drifted apart. Mari does point out that this isn’t fair but Alya says she deserves better than a secondary plan, Mari points out that Alya had done that plenty of times. Alya agrees, apologies and lists it as another reason they should renounce their friendship. The rest of the class:

Marinette bounces up to her best friend. She finally had a weekend off, so concerts, no urgent commissions and her manager promised to keep it that way. The only thing that could interrupt this weekend was Hawkmoth himself. Marion even offered to take her earrings.

"Hey Alya are you free-"

"No," It's a single word, but spoken with such resentment and conviction it couldn't be missed,

"I didn’t-" Marinette's face scrunches, was dark Cupid on a rampage again?

"No Marinette I’m done, done with making plans, getting excited only to be cancelled or stood up, I’m done,” The aspiring reporter sounds so strangely defeated, completely unlike herself.

“Alya I’m so sorry about last week-” Marinette apologises again, gut twisting at the though she hurt her best friend this badly.

“It’s not just last week, its the one before and the one before that and every other week, I’m sick of it!” Alya spits, meeting Marinette's eyes for the first time, seeing nothing but rage and hurt.

“Alya I'm really sorry, I’ve had a lot going on and-” Marinette frets, gesturing wildly.

“I know Marinette, you’ve been busy in the bakery and with your designs and every other excuse you've given me, I deserve better,”

“Of course you do Alya, I promise I-”

“No, Marinette its fine,” Alya sounds tired, stepping away from Marinette's outstretched hand, “We’ve been drifting apart for a long time now and I’m tired of acting like nothings changed, I can’t keep putting more effort into this friendship, more time than you, I have friends who are actually there for me, like Lila,”

At that Marinette saw red. Of course it was Lila who put her up to this, whispering in her ear, turning Alya against Marinette.

“That’s not fair! Your not even giving me a chance!” Marinette snaps, her jaw tenses as Alya glares.

“I’ve given you plenty of chances,” Alya glowers.

“Why is this the first I’m hearing of it,” Marinette crosses her arms.

“I shouldn’t have to threaten to end our friendship for you to show up!” Alya shouts, taking a step forward as Marinette stumbles back.

"What did Lila say?!" There was no way Alya would say this, would do this, they were meant to stick together through thick and thin, "Is she making you do this?!"

"So help me- yes Lila talked to me!" Alya throws her hands up, "But not because she's out to get you, like your so convinced, but because she's a good friend who cares when I come crying over getting stood up by you!"

“You’ve cancelled on me plenty of times!” Marinette defends, she had her blog and Marinette was always understanding.

“I know and I’m sorry,” Alya takes a deep breath, “I don’t think either of us are being fair to each other, it’s better to just renounce our friendship before it all comes crashing down,”

“Alya please," Marinette begs, reaching out, tears pricking her eyes.

“I’m sorry Marinette but this is the right decision for me,” Alya walks away, not looking back at the tears streaming down her former friends face, “and I hope in time you’ll realise it was the right thing for you too,”

Marion remembers that day so well. Marinette coming home crying, the Akuma. Bunnix jumping into their room followed by the adult version of them, with miraculous holders he didn’t recognise. They battle with an akumatized Ladybug was tough, even with the extra help. The Akuma was cleansed and the rest of Paris had their memories wiped, leaving Marion the only one in their time who remembers. He never brought it up to Marinette and he never will.

“Well your wrong, we worked hard to get this trip and why would we want to ruin it?" Marion answers, Marinette remaining silent.

“Please we all know you stole Lila’s work," Sabrina rolls her eyes, Marion catches Chloe scowling at her.

“Wh-what!” Marinette splutters, Marion tries to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry, I accidentally let slip that I wrote up the essay to get us this trip,” Lila bats her eyes, curling in on herself as if they're going to attack her for it. Marion just might.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything Lila," Alya places a comforting hand on her shoulder, "They stole the essay you worked so hard, one that you managed to write even when setting up a charity!"

“I wasn't doing to impress everyone, I just wanted everyone to get to go on this amazing trip, so when you two said you weren’t going to make a submission because it was so much work, I just had to, but at least you sent it in, I couldn't do that since I’m not class president,

“Maybe she should be," Marion doesn't care who muttered it, it doesn't matter.

“That's it,” The entire class freezes, at his tone or expression, doesn't matter, they don't matter, “Marinette worked hard day and night trying to get that submitted on time, she had to research and find all the information and evidence to what this class has done because none of you would talk to her and give all the details, you refused to help out in even the most minuscule ways, No not even! you all actively made it harder!”

“Thats not-

“Enough!” Marion hones in on Lila who falls quite for once, “You lie and scheme and take credit for whats not yours, you treat the class like a bunch of mindless sheep and you know what? I’m starting to see why,”

“Marion,” Madame Bustier reprimands, finally being heard in the following silence “That is quite enough thats no example for your friends-”

“They aren’t my friends,” Marion sends a cold look over the bus, “None of them are,”

The class goes silent. Marion wouldn’t be surprised if that came as a shock to most of them. Despite them not ever talking or spending time together. It was true that the only person who had truly cut them out was Alya, probably because Marinette kept trying even after they had long since stopped with their class. Mostly he was sure they were shocked that he was the one breaking it off, not even giving them a say. They didn’t deserve one. Not that they weren't going to try.

“Fine then! I don’t want anything to do with you anyway!”

“Yeah! You act like a complete jerk then have the gall to say that?”

“We haven't been friends for a long time anyway!”

“You’re nothing but mean to Lila and think we want to be friends?!”

“Don't go forgetting you said that when your all alone!"

He sits down and resolutely stares out the window. More insults are hurled out, Marion paying no mind to the source. Madame Busiter tries to reprimand him for saying 'such hurtful things;. Lila is sobbing and everyone is offering her pointless comfort. Marion doesn't listen but is vaguely aware of Kagami and Chloe arguing with the teacher. He lets the hushed whispers fall behind him. He feels a push against his thigh where his bag rests, knowing it’s Plagg. The small comfort doing nothing.

He notices the bus is driving faster than strictly allowed. He looks over to the bus driver and feels bad for the clearly uncomfortable man stuck right in the middle of their teenage angst.

They arrive at the aquarium. Marion doesn't even try to hide his anger. Let Lila revel in his reaction. His friends try to calm him down, or rather Adrien does, Chloe and Kagami are still glaring daggers. Luckily Marinette convinces Adrien to stop before Marion snaps at him.

He catches a group near them whispering and pointing with their phones held up. Marion sends his deadliest glare and they immediately back off, scuttling off to some other area of the aquarium.

He is left alone after that. Adrien has redirected his attention to cheering Marinette up, the two pointing out fish. Seeing them smiling together Marion feels some anger slip through his grasp. Only to be promptly returned when he accidentally looks over at Lila’s gaggle, whispering and glaring. Marion glares right back making a few of them flinch. He turns and storms off to another part of the aquarium, away from the rest of the class.

“Hey kid you alright?” A fair distance away Plagg whispers from his bag.

“No! Obviously not!” Marion whisper-shouts, not looking down.

“Want to get out of here?” Now Marion does look down at Plagg grinning.

Klakki is off to the one side of the bag, looking up but not interrupting. He and the Kwami are close but they all knew he and Plagg were two halves of a whole. So the other Kwami let him handle it.

“Can’t exactly go running around Gotham right now,” Marion comes to stand in the typical tunnel that you see in aquariums, surrounded on both sides by colourful fish and a few larger creatures like stingrays and sharks.

“We can go back to Paris,” Plagg offers, he glances down at the bag to see Klakki nod.

The Kwami usually didn’t like their miraculous being used for anything but heroics. Still he got a sure nod from Klakki. Marion takes a deep breath, looking out to the fish swimming around the tank, darting in and out of coral. He forced down his anger in the same way he would in Paris. He usually didn’t let himself stay angry that long, or Marinette would help him calm down sooner.

“It’s fine,” Marion sighs, pushing the anger, or rather, his class out of mind, “I’m fine,”

Plagg doesn't comment on his obvious lie, all too used to it. He sees Plagg dart into his pocket out the corner of his eye. Marion smiles, zipping his bag back up with a smile at Klakki who gives a curt nod. He stuff his hands into his hoodie’s pocket and feels the small Kwami inside. Marion lets a small smile settle on his face. Looking out at the fish as he is pulled along by the conveyor belt as he pets Plagg purring from his pocket.

His smile only fades when he notices the rest of the class enter the tunnel, looking from the other side of the glass. He makes no move to join them, even when his friends do a minute later. He turns to look at the other side of the tunnel, doing his best to avoid them.

This becomes the least of his problems when gunshots ring. He ducks down on the non moving part of the sidewalk. Screams can be heard and he looks up through the tank where the class is still in view. Marinette is looking around for him and he curses himself, not being able to change into costume without her. Voices get closer and Marinette starts herding the class further down the tunnel, Marion losing sight of them behind coral. He moves to meet to her when two men each in a gas mask and carrying guns enter the tunnel.

“Where are the Wayne twins!” One yells, another shot making those near scream.

“You know, I’m starting to think Aunt Selina doesn't have this handled,” Marion mutters to Plagg, staying where he is to keep the thugs in sight.

“Forget about that, this won’t end well,” Klakki scolds, Marion watches as the thugs start walking in opposite directions.

“Tell me about, Lila’s going to have a field day,” Marion pulls his hood up, losing sight of the goon going towards the class, focusing now on the one heading his way.

“Not the point,” Klakki sighs, Marion zips up the bag realising he also has the Miracle box.

He throws the satchel on his back tightening the strap across his chest. Plagg was complaining, but Marion only ignores him watching the oncoming goon. He was pointing his gun at some people but wasn’t looking at their faces. Probably clothes then, there were probably plenty of pictures of what they were wearing today. Perfect.

Marion takes off his Jacket followed by his hoodie. He debates keeping his staff for a split second but quickly stuffs it in his satchel followed by his gloves. Turing both his hoodie and Jacket inside out to matching black, he ties the hoodie around his waist and shrugs on the jacket.

He lies down on the moving sidewalk slowly moving him towards the thug. Marion hugs his bag and covers his face. He tenses at the heavy footsteps going by as he slowly moves past. The goon doesn't even stop and he makes a mental note to thank Marinette. He feels the turn of a corner and rolls up onto the unmoving part to the side. Keeping his head below the glass, he crouches down running as fast as he can while refastening his satchel around his chest.

“Found one!” Marion hears a yell just as he reaches the entrance.

He ducks to the side just as all eyes in the room snap to where he was. Marion shrinks into the shadow of a fish tank just outside the entrance, ducking down and covering his head. If anyone actually saw him in his now all black outfit they could easily shrug it off as just missing him the first time.

Marion doesn't look up as people go past, no one noticing him in the shadows. He waits for a few cautious seconds for any more footsteps to go by before scanning the room. There's many civilians huddled around, the nearest security exit being covered by another thug in a gas mask, a trend it seems.

Alright plan time, Marinette can handle herself for a few minutes. Presumably these guys are working for Scarecrow if the gas masks are any indication. Scarecrow was probably with Marinette in the tunnel. If he clears an exit quietly here then he can get the civilians closest to the fight out of danger. It could also provide an entrance to whoever comes to save them.

There's no other thugs in the room so he moves silently, sticking to the shadows to get close to the emergency exit. Luckily the goon is distracted by an octopus in a nearby tank so Marion stays out of his line of sight. He gets up behind the goon, not breathing, and pounces. One hand unlatches the gas mask and covers his mouth and the other grabbing the hand holding the gun. He digs his fingers hard enough into his hand to make the wrist bleed and the gun is dropped. Marion catches it with one foot, balancing as much as possible with the man thrashing in his grip. He gently lowers the gun to the ground so it doesn't clatter. Letting go of his wrist, nails bloody Marion brings his arm around his neck. Squeezing for a minute until the goon passed out. Marion gently lowers him to the ground.

“Quietly,” He hisses to the room.

They do get up quietly. Parents with children covering their mouths as they exit. Marion makes sure they're all a good ways down the hall before tracking back to the tunnel. He can see them through the glass and as he predicted there was Scarecrow, in a very familiar monologue stance. A glimpse at Marinette's expression was all the confirmation he needed. He heads in the same direction as the moving walkway, knowing he’ll be in a blind spot.

“Still not answering,” Marion catches Scarecrow say, stopping as soon as he can hear them, “I think it’s time you screamed so he knows this is serious,”

“Going to show me the rest of your wardrobe?”

Marion's smirk quickly fades with the tell tale snap of a bone breaking. He sprints down the tunnel. Marinette groans. Marion rounds the corner. His sister holding her arm, bending at an unnatural angle. The rest of the class are huddled to the sides with various degrees of horror.

Marion doesn't give Scarecrow enough time to consider trying anything else before he attacks the nearest goon. They shout out and Marion blindly throws quick punches at whoever gets to close. The belt is moving along, Marion now being surrounded by his classmates. Kim cheers as he sends a particularly brutal punch into one guy's face. Marion hears the hiss of a guns release, looking up to see Scarecrow pointing a gun at the now very quiet Kim. Marion anticipates the shot, diving in the bullets path before it can reach its target.

There's a gasp from somewhere, someone. He feels a burst not of pain, but fear. It’s something he's used to Akuma doing, dragging up all his anxieties from the recesses of his mind. Marion shuts his eyes tight, visions dancing across the darkness. He takes a practiced slow breath. He had learnt long ago that letting fear take hold in battle would only lead to fantasy becoming reality.

Marion cracks open his eyes, focusing on where he was. They were still on the belt moving slowly. Everything around him was warped from a few seconds ago but he was still standing in the narrow-too narrow tunnel.

Alright then what is reality. Giant sharks jumping out at him? No, there’s glass. Swarm of purple butterflies? No this is Gotham they probably don’t have flowers. The past Akuma? Just regular people. Marinette covered in blood? She only broke her arm. His parents dead on the floor? They are in Paris. Lila with devil horns cackling? Probably reality.

He takes another calming breath, nothing but the images of Akuma mattered here. But there were dozens more than there had been people a minute ago so some were fake. He could still work with this. Marion takes a deep breath straightening up. The Hawkmoth in front of him looks surprised, he had to guess that was his stand in for Scarecrow right now.

He stumbles a step forward. The akumatized versions of his classmates jeer, most yelling things he had heard that day. The first Akuma leaps out at him, Marion decks him, the weight under his fist feels real and the Akuma goes right down. Focusing his fear on the fight part of fight of flight, he goes to punch the second Akuma with as much force. The blow goes right through the image and Marion stumbles forward. Alright so there were definitely fakes. Marion tousles with any Akuma that comes after him, sometimes landing hits on empty air. It’s typically the more difficult Akuma that are real, so Marion almost scoffs when Mr Pigeon comes at him. He doesn't even block the blow to his ribs. Big mistake, he is kicked back with a burst of pain and a sickening crack.

‘Alright so that was real’ Marion thinks to himself, back connecting with the glass behind him. He falls forward, right on his chest. Marion groans into the metal below, losing focus, letting images of Akumas flying into his ring play on loop. Marion can feel pressure at his back but is far too focused on trying to heave air back into his lungs to care. The weight lifts and Marion watches Marinette's akumatized form crash in front of him, punching what looks like Viperion. Not sure if it's a memory or not he shudders a breath as she knocks out Viperion and leans over Marion.

“Good job C, I’ve got it from here,” Marinette words come out sickeningly sinister, blood running out her eyes and mouth. A great contrast to how she gently pushes him onto his side, making it somewhat easier to breathe.

Marion watches as the twisted version of his sister attacks what looks like civilians. Part of him itches to get up to stop her. Marinette's arm hangs limply at her side. He focuses on that. an Akuma's arm wouldn’t be broken. Civilians wouldn’t have guns. Marinette dodges the bullets instead of deflecting them. Bullets wouldn’t just go through sharks with more rows of teeth than possible. Water doesn't look like blood.

Marion takes a deep breath, his chest burst with pain. It’s fine he can handle that. And with that Marion notices his body bending at an odd angle. He looks down ignoring the corpses of his family laying around him. His legs are still propped up on the unmoving part of the sidewalk. With a grunt Marion pulls them onto the moving part, still not comfortable on top of the shifting plates.

Marion hears screaming, more grounded than the shrieks that have been playing in his head so far. Looking back to Marinette she looked like herself again, yay. But now Hawkmoth was pointing a gun at their friends, oh no. Why would Hawk Moth have a gun? Oh right, fear toxin. Marinette surrenders, letting Mayura come up behind and hold her.

“You have been a pain,” Hawkmoth drawls, Marion hisses, drawing his attention, “Well, it’s not like we need both of you alive,”

The gun points at him, Marinette is shouting but it sounds under water. Marion's visions clear slightly, focusing in on the slow press of the trigger. At the last second the gun jerks to the side, the sound of glass breaking followed by a stream of water landing on Marion. He looks up to see Chloe has tackled Hawkmoth and Kagami is after Mayura.

Fighting breaks out again, he tries to refocus. He closes his eyes, he can hear the same echoing shrieks and cries for help, accusations and insults. Cold water beats down on his side and slowly moves down his leg. He tries to take a deep breath, only to inhale water. Marion's eyes snap open to what looks like a pool of blood as he is cast into a coughing fit, his chest screaming in protest.

“Are you ok!” Kagami yells, Marion looks up to where they were only for the space to be empty. He looks back down the tunnel where they are now fighting, streams of water jetting out from the walls in all directions.

Marion keeps coughing, trolling onto his back to get away from the water. When he's done he takes short shallow breaths, chest still throbbing with pain. He looks back up and is now a fair way from the fight, about to go around the corner.

“Don’t worry I’ll be back in five minutes!” he shouts, hair dripping water in his eyes. That doesn't stop him from seeing Marinette's clearly deadpan face, that cant even be hidden by all the blood.

He lies back, looking up at the ceiling. Or rather Jaws' source of envy grinning down at him. Well at least that's better- oh nope that's his family floating dead in the water. He just sighs ignoring his chest protest, staring right back into the sharks beady black eyes. He remember the good old days where he would tease Marinette over her demented nightmare version of Adrien, who now that he though of also appeared in the water, banging on the glass shouting for help. Marion sticks his tongue out at him.

The minutes drag on Marion trying to be more fascinated than terrified with whatever his mind conjured. It was easier to calm down when the scene wasn't changing every ten seconds.

“Are you ok?” Batman is looming over him, Marion stares unimpressed at the blood dripping from his sharp teeth. A vampire? Really? His nightmares could be so uncreative.

“I’m fine,” Marion keeps his face straight at the nightmare before him, “Go ahead I’ll catch up,”

“You should stay here,” Batman reprimands, voice sounding like a growled threat, probably was.

“Don’t really have much choice,” Marion dismisses, trying not to cringe at the ‘blood’ dripping onto his face.

Marion leans back slightly to watch Batman join Robin running down the tunnel. Marion hears more gunshots seconds later. He hums to himself stubbornly ignoring his chest.

“Dude are you ok?” Nino is now leaning over him, hollowed out eyes and shadows behind him shouting about Marion's insecurities.

“Leave me demon,” Marion watches him reel back, he would probably look confused if Marion could actually read his face.

“We need to move you-”

“Do not,” Marion cuts him off, glaring down at Kim or at least a demon that looked like him trying to pick him up, “My ribs are very much broken and moving would hurt very much right now, thank you,”

“But you’re heading right for the villain!” Mylene shouts, voice sounding hollow, drowned out by echoing screams.

“Then I hope they don’t step on me, good day,” Marion focuses back on the shark which is somehow easier to deal with than his class.

“Everyone we need to go,” Lila's voice sounds normal, and that's probably the worst thing he's heard today, “Batman said-”

“We’re not just going to leave him here!” Kim shouts. Actually shouts. At Lila. Marion can’t keep the smile off his face.

“Kim, just go get an ambulance or something, right now you’re all freaking me out,” Marion says honestly, tired of sugar coating his words. Lila gives them enough sugar to get diabetes as is.

“A-are you sure?” Max asks, or a strange mix between him and Markov.

“Yes floating head I’m sure, now go,”

“... stay safe,” Nino hesitantly stands.

“Don’t really have a choice in the matter,” Marion doesn't bother watching them go.

He hears the last of their footsteps retreat and glances up at the shark. A petty part of him categories that as the second time they’ve left him today. Then again he was staring up at his personal hell so his thought process wasn’t exactly un hindered.

Marion keeps humming, noticing a knocked out thug to his side, followed by another.

“Why did you come back?” Robin snarls from above him, horns sprouting from his head.

“I didn’t by choice,” Marion says calmly as Robin throws a knife he doesn't care to keep track of, “Moving sidewalk brought me,”

“Why didn’t you get off?” Robin talks down to him like an idiot child, punching an approaching goon.

“Oh yeah, my ribs are broken,” Marion tries to shrug, lying on his back it’s hard.

“What!?” Robin thunders, the sound sending warning flares off in his paranoid state.

“Oh look at that,” Marion says, idly watching a man come up behind Robin, who apparently isn't an apparition because Robin attacks him, “Well, see ya,”

Marion is carried away, leaving the two behind.

He flinches back when Batman steps over him, attacking Scarecrow on his other side.

“What are you doing?” He growls, Marion can’t be sure if that's the fear toxin or how he usually speaks.

“Thought you could use the moral support,” Marion gives a lazy cheer as Batman punches Scarecrow. Getting a glare from Batman he had become quite accustomed to the night before. This Batman looked demented but there was the same lingering satisfaction of annoying him.

“Hey Mari,” Marinette crouches down next to him, covered in blood he can’t be sure isn’t real, but at least she's not dead in a fish tank, “How’re you holding up,”

“You’re covered in blood,” Marion blurts as she starts bleeding more.

“No I’m not, don’t worry I’m fine, just wait a second,” Marion runs over to Batman, distracting him from stopping Scarecrow from standing. Batman looks over at him before handing Marinette a needle.

“Oh sure use needles, one of the most common fears, to fix fear, what a grand idea,” Marion mutters, glaring back at Batman as Scarecrow attacks with a knife.

“Ah ha, stop complaining,” Marinette sticks the needle right in his arm without warning, Marion gasps visions fading into darkness.

“That…. was rude,” He weakly curses, feeling his conscious fade.

“You’ll forgive me,” Marinette promises sitting by his side as his eyes droop, “Get some rest, I’ll watch out for you,”

“Always do, Bug,” Marion slurs, Marinette's bright smile contrasts the darkness that follows.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #bio mum selina #bio dad bruce wayne #Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020 #Mismatch #Marinette #marinette is mdc #twins au #vigilante au #pop star au #bio dad au #bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #b!dbwm2020 #Maribat #mlb

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creative-frequency · 4 years

Text

Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Reader: Bright Time

Word count: 2321 Pairing: Inquisitor Cal Kestis x Reader Notes: Thank you all for the support and the lovely messages I’ve been receiving concerning this fic. You guys are definitely what has kept me writing since I never would’ve thought anyone else would be interested in this Inquisitor AU. So, thank you ❤️ This is the third part of the series!

Previous Part

My Writing Masterlist

It’s been another tedious week in Fortress Inquisitorius. Each day has been filled with dull tasks, really making you work for what they pay you. In a sense, you’re glad that there is no shortage of work but still time has moved extremely slowly. You’re anxiously waiting for any sign or a message from a certain Inquisitor.

You haven’t heard of or seen Cal ever since the day you fixed the melted control panel of the door to his quarters. Just thinking about the incident makes your blood boil and the Inquisitor will certainly get what he deserves. Somehow, one day. The details are still a little unclear, but you’re determined.

In the tranquility of your own living accommodations, you can finally strip off the dark overalls and faintly ponder the fact that it’s the only outfit Cal has ever seen you in. The uniform isn’t exactly complementing. Though, he didn’t seem to mind on your last encounter.

You sigh and toss the clothes to where you’ll to pick them up again in the morning, which means in eight hours – a luxury, really, in the light of the recent week.

As you slump on the elevated mattress posing as bed, one of your most faithful engineering droids rolls into the room.

“What’s up, MK?” you ask without getting up to look. Your back muscles are crying a symphony at finally relaxing on a soft surface.

The droid makes an uppish beep and you roll your eyes. This one has a handful of a personality.

“If it’s that important, why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you question, full-well knowing the MK droid will be galled by your lack of interested in its business. It lets out a series of drills, which sound a lot like scoffs for a being that has no respiratory channels.

“A message?” You frown lightly and get up to your elbows. A bad feeling creeps into the back of your mind. “Let’s hear it.”

The MK droid boops coolly and plays the recording.

“Hey, uhh, I think there’s a busted light bulb in here? Can you come and fix it today? Thanks.”

You freeze, blinking and staring at the messenger. You only just got away from work and now he wants you to go over to the other side of the base and urgh.

That kriffing stupid Inquisitor.

Ten minutes later you’re dragging your feet, once again wearing the stupid overalls and carrying a small toolbox. Fixing a light bulb shouldn’t be a big deal. You’re as equally vexed about having to get up as you’re anxious about getting to see Cal.

There has been no shortage of subconscious reminders about the last incident in his quarters and the more you try not to think about it, the faster your heart beats. Getting worked up about having to go and do your job doesn’t really help but at least you feel better when you think about all the ways to tell the stupid Inquisitor off. How can he be one of the Empire’s finest if he can’t even fix a kriffing light.

That inconsiderate man-child and his stupid pecs. If he weren’t an Inquisitor, I swear I’d–

It’s so late that the hallways are mostly empty save for the guards that you greet with yawns and earn a few sympathetic nods in return. If Cal isn’t wearing a shirt this time, you’ll give him a good old slap across the cheek, to hell with the consequences.

That perv might actually like it if I hit him. Oh, for kriff’s sake–

By the time you reach the right door, you’re positively fuming.

“How many Inquisitors does it take to switch a light bulb? Oh, I don’t know? None, since they have nerf shit as brains and can’t even– oh, hi. Ahem.” You settle the most perfectly neutral look to your face and hope Cal didn’t catch you muttering to yourself.

He gives you a cursory glance from your head to toes. At least he is wearing a shirt, even though it’s a very snug one.

“Come in,” he says.

Cal’s timid smile and casual tone set your cheeks alight and heart fluttering.

You clear your throat. “…Thanks.”

The sound of the door closing surges you into a mild inner panic but you draw in a breath to hide it and put the toolbox to the floor. Cal stays skulking by the entrance as you look up to find the target, eager to be on your way before he can think of anything reckless like the last time.

“Which one was it?” you ask slowly, craning your neck. All the lights seem fine and staring at them is making you see stars.

“The one in the middle,” Cal says and nods towards the culprit.

The light is as bright as the others and your eyes are starting to water from looking at them. You turn to Cal – his smile is nothing like timid anymore. It’s downright impish.

You should’ve known it was a trap.

“What’s the meaning of this?” You try to hold back the exasperation in your tone but it’s difficult. “Cal?”

The Inquisitor holds the eye contact and shrugs. You’re about to open your mouth to give him an earful when a loud crack makes you jump and you turn just in time to see the bulb explode into millions of tiny pieces. The shards scatter all over the floor as you instinctively hold your arms up to cover your face from the shrapnel, but not a piece even touches you.

The energy that was pouring into keeping the light on, no longer has a proper outlet and the fuse blows with a loud pop. You’re standing in the middle of the now dark room with the idiot Inquisitor.

The emergency lights near the floor cast an eerie red light and you can just barely make out Cal’s silhouette. Your eyes will need a moment to adjust to the darkness.

“Happy now?” is what you eventually set into snapping out at him.

The fuse box is in the hallway, but to get to it you need to find a way past the Inquisitor.

“Did you plan this?” The bravery falters in your tone. You swallow.

“Not really,” Cal says but you don’t believe him. “Hold on. Don’t move.”

Light clatter of glass against the floor echoes all around you and while you don’t see what happens, you assume that Cal just cleaned up the mess he made.

“Right,” you sigh, gather the ripples of your anger, and start walking towards the exit in resolute steps. Cal doesn’t move a muscle as you march past him. You’re almost to the door, already heaving out a relieved breath but come to the realization that you’re no longer moving.

In fact, your feet are taking you backwards. You yelp in surprise and almost get knocked over when the back of your legs hits the sofa in the middle of the room. You take purchase from the furniture to stay on your feet. Your eyes are steadily becoming acclimated to the darkness and you can see Cal’s silhouette coming closer.

Your blood pressure will lead to an early retirement at this rate.

“You need to stop breaking stuff to get me here,” you whine, “I’ll give you my personal comm frequency.”

“That’s not very exciting,” Cal huffs amused. He is standing right in front of you. The scarce light reflects enough from his eyes to hint where you should be facing.

“Well, sorry for not living up to your standards,” you quip frustrated and barely manage to finish the sentence since Cal’s hand comes to rest on your neck. The careful touch makes you quiver and your heart beats a mile a minute.

The breeze from Cal’s shallow breaths hits your skin as he leans forward. You would be lying if you claimed you were not waiting for this. He is smiling when your lips touch and you sink to sit down on the sofa back.

At least the door lock is fixed now.

“I’ve been, mmh, thinking… about you,” you confess even though Cal tries to make sure you can’t waste your mouth on talking. His lips move down to your jaw with a thoughtful hum and start trailing down towards your neck. It’s difficult to stay still with your already precarious balance.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one,” Cal husks.

His hands come down to rest on your waist and before you can reply, your world revolves again with a yelp as your back softly hits the sofa cushions. Cal climbs over and lifts you up to straddle him. Faintly, you register that the sofa is really large and comfy, and this man is done playing around.

Cal’s lips find yours again, more demanding and eager. He starts unzipping your uniform and thrill shoots up your spine. A pleasant haze is starting to settle into your mind and you have to strive to keep your wits about you.

“I don’t suppose you have any more requests when the light is fixed?” you ask as you let Cal do his thing with your work overalls and pull down the part covering your upper body. You’re still wearing a tank top underneath it.

“Mm. I want a kitchen droid,” Cal replies and plants his lips onto your shoulder. Pushing your nose into his hair makes you giddy and you don’t at first realize what he said.

“Huh? A kitchen droid? Why?” you fumble to question.

“The meals in the commissary are horrible,” he simply says and continues peppering your exposed skin with kisses. You can’t argue with that point.

“Mm. I’ll see what I can do.”

You ease yourself better into Cal’s lap, perfectly accidentally grinding yourself against him – to which he responds with a grunt and furrowed brows. It’s music to your ears.

Cal stops and straightens up, hands still somewhere around your middle body, rudely interrupted from hiking your top up. Even in the dark, you can see the warning in his eyes and it sends your pulse flying.

“Look. Do you want me to hold back or not? ‘Cause I can’t if you–”

You grind yourself again against the growing hardness in his pants and cut him mid-sentence.

“Who said anything about holding back?” you purr in a bit too seductive tone.

You hide your devilish smile by taking the turn to kiss the side of Cal’s neck. He groans again and you can feel his body going slightly rigid underneath you. Serves him right to taste his own medicine. Stupid Inquisitor.

“Alright. You asked for it,” Cal coos gently. His grip on your waist tightens and he throws you to your back on the sofa.

“Oh!” you yelp but quickly regain your stance even though your positions have been reversed.

You kick your shoes off and wiggle down the overalls with Cal’s help. Gripping his shirt hem, you yank the piece of clothing up to get it off. If you’re going to do this, you deserve to get a glimpse at how well his training has paid off.

When you reach his pants and open the zipper for access, the fervent undressing slows down and molds into a make out session. This time horizontally, on the sofa, with the Inquisitor on top of you and your legs tangled with his – and hands in each other’s pants. It’s hot and messy and you can’t see a thing, but who needs eyes when his fingers dip inside you and it feels so good that you want to cry out loud. The hums and moans Cal makes against your mouth as you massage him drive you deeper into the moment. With each passing second you fight the regret about still having your underwear and top on.

You’re feeling so dizzy and elated that you’ve completely forgotten who you’re playing with. You’re in the den of an Imperial Inquisitor. The kind of who is not known for his mercy or empathy.

“You should stay for the night,” Cal utters suddenly.

In a motion so quick and nimble that you didn’t think you’d have it in you, you’re up and away from Cal’s arms, heart drumming in your ears and panicking. Every breathe is a drag and your hair must be in upheaval. Your underpants are uncomfortably damp and the room feels chilly when Cal’s body is no longer warming you.

“S-stay? You mean like… I, uh, wouldn’t want to impose… on your…” Your eyes skim the Inquisitor’s almost naked frame in the dark. “Hospitality.”

Cal straightens up but you bounce away from the reach.

“What? You’re not imposing. I’ll make you coffee in the morning,” he says slyly, clearly not understanding what is going through your head.

You almost give in. Your very soul hurts as you shake your head. If he wants you to risk life and limb and stay, he will have to do better than high-end coffee and what presumably would’ve been the beginnings of amazing sex.

You grab your overalls and almost fall onto your nose trying to put them on as swiftly as possibly.

No, this is bad. Worse than what you should get yourself into.

“So, uhh, sorry! I’ll fix the bulb tomorrow!” You snag your shoes, tugging them under your arm and take the toolbox from the floor. With a free hand, you fumble for the button to open the door before Cal can retaliate. What were you even thinking? People who get too involved with the Inquisitors disappear and you wish to keep existing.

“Wha– Hold on!”

“Nope. Bye!” You wave as you tiptoe into the hallway, praying that it’s empty. It’d be fun explaining to a Stormtrooper why you’re barely dressed behind the Inquisitor’s door.

Cal stays sitting on the sofa in the dark, looking after you, pants halfway down and utterly confused. He cannot comprehend what he did wrong.

Tagging (please lmk if you want to be tagged or not! I probably forgot someone cause I couldn’t find the list anymore OTL): @europhiacs @froyuhh @sinner-effy @droidrights @annoyedguildmaster @mysteriouswritingzonthewall @boxfullofcats @maulblr @sevansheart

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #inquisitor cal kestis #inquisitor cal kestis x reader #jedi fallen order #swjfo #swjfo fanfiction #star wars #my writings #oc #ffxv oc

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btsqualityy · 4 years

Note

I am pretty sure Ava and Aria sometimes fight or have heavy arguments where they won't talk to each other for multiple days, can you please write a drabble in which jungkook tries to help solve the fight between them

Ava is 17 in this drabble and Aria is 13

“Ari, don’t you think that maybe you should apologize to your sister?” Jungkook suggested, only for Aria to scoff loudly.

“Why should I apologize?” Aria wondered. “I wasn’t the one being rude for no reason.”

“I wasn’t being rude,” Ava replied calmly. “You’re the one that called me demanding that I take you to the mall when I was already hanging out with Spence and Kade.”

“Mama told me to ask you,” Aria explained.

“She said to ask me if I weren’t already doing something, and I was,” Ava added. “You’re inconsiderate.”

“I’m inconsiderate?” Aria repeated. “You’re the one who walks around this house as if you’re the most perfect Angel to ever exist.”

“I never said that I was perfect but I know I’m better than you,” Ava shot back. “You’re selfish and you walk around this house acting like you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“Ok you two, enough,” Jungkook interrupted, making the both of them look up at him. “Now Ari, Ave is right. It was inconsiderate of you to just expect her to drop what she was doing in order to take you somewhere.”

“Exactly,” Ava smiled smugly.

“And you Ave,” Jungkook said as he looked at her. “You could’ve been a little bit more understanding. It’s hard for Ari to be 13 and not be able to just come and go like you can.”

“I guess I didn’t think about it like that,” Ava admitted quietly.

“Me either,” Aria agreed. “I’m sorry Unnie. I didn’t mean to be inconsiderate.”

“I’m sorry too,” Ava nodded, opening her arms and smiling when Aria almost tackled her in a hug.

“You didn’t mean what you said, did you Unnie?” Aria mumbled. “About me being selfish?”

“Of course not,” Ava whispered. “Unnie’s sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s ok, I didn’t mean what I said about you either,” Aria told her.

“Well, I guess my job here is done,” Jungkook grinned as he leaned down to press a kiss to both Ava’s and Aria’s foreheads.

#btsqualityy drabbles #drabble day

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transmogrified-in-the-void · 4 years

Text

Aro!Loki AU: Loki enters Earth with no memories about his past life or how to use seiðr. All he knows is that his name is Loki and he just wants a place where he feels safe. So he makes a cafe. Note: when they are in the office, there are just lots of elementary school desks in it.

Loki looks back at Gemini, who is talking with the new regular. It’s been almost 2 years since he started Rainbow Bridge, and he couldn’t be happier with how it’s turned out. The small corner cafe quickly grew into something bigger, something safer. That’s what it had always been, anyways. A place for everyone to be themselves.

Almost four years ago, to the day, he had woken up knowing nothing but his name and the deep set feeling of fear. Fear of someone, something. What? He still doesn’t remember, but it doesn’t matter anymore. That feeling has long since passed.

He met Gemini under 3 years ago. She had been saving up for years for her own business, and Loki had been a barista for what was coming up on 2. Together, they made Rainbow Bridge. The name was Gemini’s idea, inspired by the LGBTQ+ community (she’s a trans lesbian). Not long after, Loki found out he was aromantic. Gemini joked about how she should have seen the signs earlier. His favorite color is green for goodness sake!

“Hey Succulent!” Gemini’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “No fat coconut latte!”

Loki shakes his head at the nickname and smiles. “Got it, Pluto!”

Gemini rolls her eyes, and turns back to the customer. Loki can see her give the customer a slip of paper and quickly turns away. He yells out the order once he finishes and goes to start the next order when Gemini gasps.

“Uh, hi Mr. Stark!” She squeaks, and Loki almost drops a cup. He doesn’t know much about Tony Stark, but what he does know (all provided by late night rants from Gemini), is that he’s rich and famous. Intimidating. Looking up, he sees who he guesses to be Tony Stark, and next to him a man with bright blue eyes and golden hair.

The feeling of fear starts to slither back into his mind. He feels a need to hide, to run away. Loki finishes the coffee he had started to make.

He hears Gemini tell him Stark’s order, and then the blue eyed man’s. He starts to complete the order almost mechanically. He feels Gemini standing behind him. He hears her say that she’s going to touch his shoulder, and he feels it.

He calls out the order.

“Loki?” Loki looks up to see the blue eyed man staring at him. hidehidehidehide

He feels Gemini and Stark looking at him. He takes a deep breath. “Do I know you?” He concentrates on Gemini’s hand still on his shoulder. Deep breaths.

“Loki, it’s me. Thor. Your brother.” He blinks, the world coming fully to him. He sees Stark looking confused.

“This is your brother? The one who tricked you and disappeared?” He asks the man - Thor - who nods.

Thor looks at Loki almost longingly. “Brother, I have missed you-”

“I don’t know you.” Loki says firmly. This feeling, it cannot be connected to a brother. He would choose Phil before he chose this stranger, who cast such fear into his soul.

But you cannot chose brothers, can you?

Maybe not, but he can try.

Thor looks heartbroken. “Brother. . .” He trails off, and Stark says something about Loki being rude and inconsiderate.

Gemini steps in. “Look, Succulent here doesn’t remember anything from before about 4 years ago. If he says he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know you.”

The door rings, signaling that a customer has arrived. Loki, knowing that this is far from over and it would be better to deal with now, shrugs Gemini’s hand off and walks to the counter.

“Hi, I am so sorry, we are having an issue with the coffee machines. If you want, you can have a free coffee next time you come in.” He says smoothly, and the customer nods. He takes out a sheet of paper and writes “free coffee -loki” on it and hands it to the customer.

“Again, so sorry.” He apologizes, and the customer waves goodbye. He turns to the two near-strangers. “My office. Now.” He demands, and Gemini leads them to his office on the second floor, where he deals with all the finances. Gemini sits on the edge of a desk while Stark and Thor stand. Loki has no chairs in his office.

Loki leans on another desk and looks at the two. “How do you two know each other?” He asks.

“We’re the Avengers!” Thor smiles, and Gemini tilts her head.

“Seriously? And you are coming here? Unqualified.” She drawls, and Loki holds in a snicker. Only she would pretend to ban some vigilante group from a cafe.

Stark starts to open his mouth when Loki interrupts. “If you are gonna say something about money, please know that Gem and I are socialists.”

Stark shuts his mouth. Gemini nods to Loki to start.

“Here’s the deal kids. I only have 4 years of memory, and I only knew my name on day one. Whatever you tell me I have no reason to believe unless you have proof. I can answer questions, but I might not be able to answer them all. Capiche?”

They nod.

“Why does the woman call you succulent?” Thor asks, and Gemini stifles a laugh.

“I have an army of succulents next question.” Loki answers smoothly, hearing Gemini mutter you would never put any of them to war under her breath. Loki shoots her a glare, but it only makes her shoulders shake more.

Thor asks questions about how Loki got to earth, which Loki has to continue saying over and over again that he is human.

Stark stops Thor’s endless questioning. “So, you got a girlfriend?”

Loki goes still. He feels something in him stir. “Leave.”

Stark chokes. “What?!”

“We are done here. Leave.”

Thor storms towards Loki. “No, I am not leaving until-”

Loki is behind Thor. “Leave.”

If there was a mirror in front of Loki, he would see the dark green aura around his eyes and body, wispy like smoke rising from a fire. Thor glares.

“I see you are still using tricks brother.” He spits in a fit of rage. He takes out a hammer and throws it at Loki, who glides past it and grabs its leather grip. Thor gasps.

“Leave. And do not return. You are a threat to this haven and I will not allow it.” He says smoothly. He sets the hammer on the ground, where Thor picks it up and leaves, temper clearly still flaring.

Once the door closes, the fire inside him dies down a bit, but it still feels warm under his skin. He looks down to see the green. And smiles.

#loki #aromantic loki #writing #p bangs the keys

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galoots · 4 years

Note

Magica teaches Donald a little bit of magic, as a treat.

This took me twenty thousand years to fulfill this request, but I did it. Enjoy Magica teaching Donald a little bit of magic... as a treat.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119300/chapters/58460413

Please reblog and comment if you read and enjoyed this chapter! I read all my comments and try to respond to each one!

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A loud bang had Donald rushing towards his uncle’s office. With Scrooge away on a trip and Duckworth out shopping, he was the designated man of the house, therefore it fell to him to guard against whatever heinous invaders that besieged it. This was Donald’s first time watching himself and, even though it was only for an hour or so, he was determined to prove how responsible he could be. Duckworth would come home with the shopping and praise him for the adult he’d become in their first hour apart. Truly, Donald nodded, the last 15 minutes had hardened him to the life of a responsible adult. He’d weathered great obstacles that day. He made his own peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He even cleaned up his mess afterwards completely unprompted. It wasn’t easy out there for a kid like him, but he’d shored up his strength and cut the crust off his sandwich all by himself.

Now, his willpower would truly be put to the test as he faced whatever horrors lay beyond the thick, wooden door of his uncle’s study. He took a deep measured breath before turning the knob. Mustering his courage, Donald apprehensively inched the door open. Peering around the edge of the door, he caught a glance of black iridescent feathers shining in the sunlight and his fear turned to delight.

“Magica!” He threw the door open the rest of the way with aplomb, rushing to hug his very best friend.

The witch wasn’t having any of it. With a sneer, she flicked her wand in his direction. “No,” she replied in monotone. The spell she cast sent Donald floating up into the air. Denied a hug, he waved at Magica as he gently bobbed in the air like a feather on a rippling lake. Magica did not wave back. She fixed Donald with a look and demanded of him, “Where is your uncle, spawn?”

Donald waggled his arms in an attempt to swim closer towards Magica. “He’s on a business trip!” He flapped his arms hard but made no progress whatsoever.

“Ugh!” Magica threw her head back in disgust. “That is so like him. I come all the way here to try out a new spell and he doesn’t even bother to be here. So inconsiderate.” She glanced around for something to take her annoyance out on. Spotting the documents neatly stacked on Scrooge’s desk, she swiped them onto the floor. “This is why I hate McDuck’s.”

Donald’s hand flew to his beak in surprise when he gasped. “You hate McDuck’s?”

She shot him a bored look. “Yes.” She flicked her wand again in Donald’s direction.

Donald fell abruptly to the floor, landing directly on his behind. He stood up, rubbing his behind to mitigate the pain. “My butt!”

Magica paid his cry no heed. She had already blown past him, out of the door and into the hallway. Donald chased after her, calling after her. “Why do you hate McDuck’s?”

The witch crossed her arms and tapped her wand against her upper left arm in a testy gesture. “Hundreds of years ago, long before you were ever born,” she paused and looked pointedly at Donald, “I visited medieval Scotland. I was shopping in the bazaar for a goat. I needed it for a ritual.”

“Wow…” Donald nodded as he stumbled after the pacing witch. “Hundreds of years ago…” He counted on his fingers. “That’s like… a bajillion years old! You’re almost as old as my uncle!”

“Ha!” Magica stopped her furious pacing. The small bark of laughter and her sudden halt surprised Donald, and he crashed into her back. He clutched at her black dress to steady himself and looked up at Magica with awe. “You’re terrible at math.” She tapped her wand against her chin as she recalled centuries old events.

“I was about to speak with the shepherd when bam,” Magica shot some sparks from her wand, “one of your ancestors cut in front of me and interrupted me.”

Donald stared at Magica, waiting for her to continue. She didn’t. That was the end of the story.

“That’s it?” Donald asked.

“That’s it?” Magica brushed the boy off of her. She was not his mum and wouldn’t abide having a brat cling to her skirts like she was. “It was so rude! And he said, sorry ma’am, in his stupid Scottish accent. Just like that. Disgusting.” Magica smiled to herself. “From that day forward, I swore to exact my revenge on his entire familial line by bedeviling their lives with as many inconveniences as possible.”

Donald rubbed his chin as he let her words sink in. Her story of his long-deceased ancestor left him unsatisfied. Certainly, it wasn’t the pinnacle of polite behavior to cut in front of someone, but it hardly seemed like a reason for such a deep-rooted grudge. Yet for centuries, Magica would target a McDuck and plague his life with minor spells.

“That seems like a silly reason to dislike someone.” Donald extended his hand towards Magica in a friendly gesture. “Why don’t we let bygone be bygones and be friends instead?”

“Gross.” She swatted away his hand. “I don’t have friends.”

Donald’s hand dropped. He looked at her with a pitiful expression. “You don’t have any friends? That’s so sad!”

Magica was startled, flinching back and raising her hands defensively in response. “No, it isn’t!” She spat back. With a deep inhale, she composed herself and crossed her arms once again. “Besides,” she glanced, almost shyly, at Donald, “I do have one friend…”

“Is it me?” Donald’s eyes sparkled with hope. It had to be him.

“What?! Baphomet, no!” Magica gagged dramatically. “My only friend is Ratface.”

Donald was disappointed to hear they weren’t friends. He wanted so desperately to be. At least, he reasoned, Magica did have one friend. He said none of this. Instead, blurting out, “that’s a weird name.”

Magica swiped her hand across her head. Her feathers shined under the halogen lights. “It’s just a nickname.” She paused, glancing at the enraptured duckling. “For my brother. His name is Poe.”

Donald stomped his feet in a frenetic, excited jig. “You have a brother?!” He clapped in delight. “I’m learning so much about you today.”

Magica sneered. She turned sharply on his heel and retreated to the nearest window.

“Wait!” Donald dived to stop her. He clutched to her ankle for dear life as she continued to walk, dragging him along with her. “Don’t leave yet!”

Magica kept walking. The ninety-pound duckling shackled to her leg did nothing to slow her down. “McDuck isn’t here. So, there is no reason for me to be either.”

“Um… but…” Donald sputtered. There had to be a way to make her stay. Even a few moments longer. “Maybe, um, you could teach me the spell?”

Magica slowed her walk slightly. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Um,” Donald continued, “’cause, um, well…” The gears in his head churned. “You can teach me the spell so that, um, when Uncle Scrooge comes home, I can cast it!”

Magica stopped her hasty retreat. She was silent for a few moments, considering the proposition. “That’s just stupid enough to work.” A wicked grin slithered across her face. “If you mess it up, you might make his head explode. That’d be funny.”

Donald gulped. He wasn’t feeling so good about this plan.

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Magica had walked Donald through the spell what felt like a million times. She broke down the pronunciation of the Latin words into digestible chunks for the duckling to learn. The words felt foreign and strange in his mouth. She drilled him over and over again until he had learned the spell by heart. Satisfied he’d met her qualifications, Magica once again brandished her wand. In a grand puff of smoke, she disappeared into the ether. The only physical remembrance of her presence that remained was one single black feather that floated gently to the ground as the smoke dissipated. Donald bent down to retrieve. Holding the feather up to the light, he watched as the iridescent plume shifted from a radiant purple to a metallic blue to a beetle-green. Donald tucked it into the front pocket of his sailor-suit, near his heart. He patted the pocket which held his treasure. He mulled over the promise he had made to Magica. He didn’t want to trouble his uncle, much less explode his head, but he dearly wanted impress Magica. He knew that one day, he would finally win over Magica. Until then, whether she accepted it or not, she had a friend in Donald.

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Scrooge slumped up the front steps. Home again, home again. He was exhausted from travelling. But he knew waiting for him inside was a delicious homecooked meal, a soft bed all his own, and, best of all, a nephew ready to receive a hug. Donald always waited impatiently for his uncle to return home from business trips. Even with Duckworth to care for him, Donald got awful lonesome for his uncle when he was away. Truthfully, Scrooge felt the same. He couldn’t wait to embrace his little boy and tell him wondrous tales of where he had been and what he had done.

He opened the door with his arms spread wide, ready to receive a hug. As expected, Donald had rushed to the foyer upon hearing the taxi pull into their driveway. His boy was bounding down the staircase and towards him with glee. He had a peculiar black feather sticking from the plumage of his head. It had been placed there deliberately, sticking straight up like a signal. It looked familiar but Scrooge couldn’t quite place why.

Inches from their embrace, Donald screeched to a halt. “Wait!” he cried.

Scrooge waited, his arms still spread wide, utterly confused. Donald breathed in deeply and recited three words in a solemn voice. “Ranunculi galerum diruptio.”

As soon as he spoken these words, the crown of Scrooge’s top hat blew open with the violent force of a volcanic explosion from which hundreds of frogs spilled. The frogs landed one after another on the floor with a splat. Dazed but unhurt, they began to hop frantically about the enclosed space, loudly croaking their distress.

The force of the spell had caused Scrooge to fall back onto his behind. Despite the violence of the explosion, Scrooge was whole and hearty. Physically, at least. Mentally, his mind was reeling with confusion and utterly shaken by shock. The crown of his top hat flapped pitifully in the breeze that issued from the open door behind him. He clutched his heart and felt it race. His first rational thought he was able to conceive was checking to see if Donald was okay.

Donald was much more than okay. He was ecstatic. He danced around in glee and let a holler. “Pets!”

“Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” Donald waddled furiously after the frogs, scooping them into his arms and depositing them into his pockets. With each frog he captured, he rattled off a name for his new pet. Jeremy, Samantha, Bernard, Donald Jr… On and on, he went as frogs hopped out of his grasp in a frightened bid for freedom.

Scrooge slid a hand down his face. He slumped over in relief. Donald was fine. That’s all that mattered. But as he sat and collected his thoughts, a sudden realization came over him.

He knew that feather. It belonged to Magica de Spell. Suddenly several puzzle pieces clicked into place for him. Of course, this bizarre occurrence was Magica’s fault. It always was.

Donald shoved a frog into his uncle’s face. Scrooge flinched away from the slimy beast.

“Unkie.” Donald peered at him with expectation. “Kiss the frog. He might turn into a prince!”

Scrooge sighed. Over the faint chorus of ribbiting frogs, he heard the far off cackle of a familiar witch. So much for his peaceful return home.

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captainmymarvel · 5 years

Text

lets remind him, you’re mine now.

pairing: carol x fem!reader, past thor x fem!reader

warnings: smut! (18+), light d/s, light degration, fluff at the end.

word count: 1,402

things were peaceful at the avengers tower, and that wasn’t often. you had gone on a mission earlier with thor and clint, but it wasn’t anything too bad - and that, you were grateful for. your girlfriend carol had her own mission, a solo mission in space. she should have returned at this point, and it was getting pretty late - - so, naturally, you were worried. you knew deep down that you had nothing to worry about, carol was strong, by far the toughest on the team but there was still those awful knots in your tummy as your imagination got the best of you.

by this point, everyone had retired to bed - everyone but thor and you. the asgardian always knew when you were worried and he knew how to make you feel better. that was probably why your relationship worked to a degree - - however, when it became obvious that the love you two shared worked much better platonically, the relationship turned to that of a pair of best friends. there was a calming vibe between you two, and when carol wasn’t there, he was the only one who could put you at ease. carol knew this, and it really didn’t sit well with her. simply put, she was jealous. she knew the both of your’s past, she knew feelings seldom went away - - and no matter how many times you told her it was over, that thor was really just your best friend, she couldn’t stop thinking of the past.

which is why, when carol came back to the tower a few hours later to find you asleep in thor’s arms, as the little spoon, she was filled with nothing but envy. you were woken by her loud footsteps, but only stirred - - smiling up sleepily at your girlfriend, but she didn’t return the smile. “ you’re back late - -” you began, only to be interrupted by a stern and demanding

“up.”

“wha--?”

“i said, get up. now.”

“but...” you whispered out, not trying to disobey... when you did that, you always made sure you were way more defiant. you gestured to thor, not wanting to wake him up - because clearly, he already slept through all this.

carol’s eyes locked to yours with that look. the look that you know means you were getting punished, and the visual of that look, and the image in your head of what was to come sent a burning sensation of lust through your whole body. her look remained on you, as if it was an ultimatum, but for some reason - - you weren’t cracking. now you were being defiant. “fine. stay with him. you two look GREAT together.”

as carol spit those last words, your head spun - - as you saw the hurt on your girlfriends face as she turned. . . ‘great job, y/n. you went too far.’ your scolded yourself mentally, before pulling yourself off thor’s body and followed carol to your shared room. thor stirred on the couch before rolling over and going back to sleep. “ c a r o l ... baby, i’m sorry. i was just - -” you begin, as carol is turned, back to you, looking out the window.

“don’t.”

“alright.”

the thing was, as hurt and as frustrated as carol was - - she knew you’d come running to apologize. she knew her jealousy was unjustified, because she really trusted you, deep down she knew that you were hers. but did he? “you’re mine, y/n.”

“i am.”

“be quiet for just one second, babygirl.”

you obeyed, studying her silhouette from the dawn peeking in through the window. a rush of wetness seeped through your cotton panties at the nickname and the very energy radiating off of the blonde.

“he knows that, right? because, i’m not so sure.” carol spoke, voice low, nearly primal. she turned, coming inches from your face, moving her thumb to your bottom lip as you graciously took it into your mouth, sucking and teasing the digit with your tongue. “lets remind him, you’re mine now.” carol all but growled, and you let out a muffled mused purr in agreement. before you knew it, carol had hungrily attacked your lips in a passionate swarm of kisses, lifted you up and lightly tossed you on the bed. you were so entangled by the tango of your tongues fighting for dominance you hardly noticed carol literally ripping your clothes off you - until the cold air chilled against your bare chest - lets hope you didn’t like that old stark industries shirt too much because it was in two now.

“ the door. . .” you pointed, seeing as though it was slightly ajar.

“ did you not - -” a pause as she pulled down your skin tight spandex, placing a kiss right above the waist band “ - - understand the point of reminding him - -” another delayed pause as your panties found their way across the bedroom, “ - - that you’re MY little slut?” her hands and mouth then made their way all around your inner thighs, “you are my little slut, right?” making you grow increasingly wetter - stumbling out a sound of agreement before her lips found their way to hover above your swollen bundle of nerves, hot breath teasing the sensitive and needy area, “use your words, baby.”

“yes, captain ! i -- i am your little slut. only yours.” you stumble out, just needing something, anything. her breath and the closeness drove you crazy. “please?”

“please, what?” carol asked, lowering her tongue to swipe lightly across your swollen clit.

“please. . . i need it. you. i need you to --”

“spit it out.” she demanded, as she trailed a finger through your folds, collecting the growing arousal in it’s path.

“f-fucking fuck me, captian. please, p-please!!”

“all you had to do was ask, my princess.”

from there, carol needed no more, her mouth was well trained to exactly what drove you crazy at this point, she sucked, nipped and licked with such precision while one hand worked your tender, erect nipples and the other dipped into your soaking core: one finger, two fingers, three. pumping, sucking and twisting as if you were her ship and she knew how to captain it like it was her own body.

it didn’t take long for you to be pushed over the edge, both your busy schedules made it so you two hadn’t fucked in weeks - which wasn’t long, but for you and carol, it was forever. and GOD, carol knew what she was doing. your moans were pornographic at this point, the bed was slamming and both carol and you knew more than just thor was able to hear. “ ca- aptain ... i’m i -- can ...?” you stumbled, words incoherent from the pleasure alone as your girlfriend took out her jealous rage on your pussy, “ can -- i come?”

“only if you tell me honestly, slut. did thor ever make you feel like this?”

“ no - - no, no n-n-o, captain.”

“and who owns this pussy?”

“y- you do, ca-captain.”

“good girl. come for me, babygirl.

your legs were firmly wrapped around carol’s neck when you finally came, with a fit of loud, shameless moans. eyes rolling back, sinking into total bliss into the feather pillow. carol continued through your orgasm, before coming up to kiss you lightly and hold you as you came down.

there you two laid in bliss for a few seconds before you were interrupted by a loud, and tired asgardian voice from outside the door, “ you two are disgusting and rude, just so -- inconsiderate.” both you and carol fought off laughter, burying your face in carols chest to contain your embarrassment and giggles. “ and just for the record, carol, y/n and i have never had sexual relations.”

with that, thor stormed out of the common area and presumably to his own room. “wait, you what?” carol spoke, shocked as she prodded you gently with her elbow.

“yeah, i tried telling you that, but you were way too stubborn to listen past, ‘thor and i ...’”

“oh, my god.”

_______________________

author note: hi guys! i hope you enjoyed my first fic! i’m new at this so, i figured i’d start out light! feel free to give any advice/notes/constructive criticism/straight up bash it. :) also recs are open !!

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers smut #marvel smut #n.sfw #captain marvel x reader #marvel imagine #self insert #my fic

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ykiyori · 4 years

Text

Social Abuse and Communication Abuse: Abuse that will affect the way socialize and see yourself within a social group, and the way you’re able to express and communicate. Bold or copy ones done to you, italicize and copy if you’re not sure! Alternatively, just count how many apply to you and write down the numbers.

Communication abuse:

abuser punishing you for not showing enough interest in what they’re saying

abuser deciding what are appropriate reactions to their words and actions

abuser humiliating you for showing excitement/happiness

abuser shaming you for not showing will to participate when they think you should

abuser punishing you for a certain face expression(s)

abuser punishing you for having a certain emotional reaction to their words and actions

abuser demanding you shut down your emotions except for the ones they find convenient

abuser punishing you for contradicting them/challenging them on anything they say

abuser punishing you for confronting them on their lies

abuser comparing you to others to point out how you’re lacking/somehow worse than everyone else

abuser using any kind of inexperience/lack of knowledge/lack of skill to humiliate and depict you as a failure or an idiot

abuser making you extremely self-conscious about how you look and sound while you’re trying to socialize/communicate

abuser making you feel like everyone is noticing the same faults in you

abuser forcing you to consider how you’re viewed by them to the point of being unable to focus on what you want to say/express/do

abuser watching you when you’re not aware of it and proceeding to humiliate/hurt you for what you were doing while you thought you were unwatched

abuser making you feel like you’re always watched and judged by repeatedly catching you off guard and punishing you for it

abuser disregarding all your expressions of needs and emotions, letting you know that what you want and need is not important, and making you feel stupid for even voicing it

abuser ignoring your expression of pain or repeatedly insisting that you stop expressing it, have no reason to express it and finding your expression of pain an annoyance or a bother or even an attack on them

abuser hurting you even worse in reaction to your expression of pain, convincing you that the more you express it, the more they will hurt you, effectively making you scared of expressing pain and connecting it to further punishments

abuser taking your expressions of emotions as a personal insult and accusing you of hurting them on purpose, or even punishing you for it, just for expressing your personal emotions

Social abuse:

abuser showing off their control and authority over you in front of others

abuser humiliating you in front of others

abuser ordering you around, minimizing your presence and importance, and twisting your words and expressions in front of others

abuser talking in your name to others and making decisions for you

abuser making you seem selfish/cruel/inconsiderate/rude/mean to others if you disagree with their decisions

abuser publicly criticizing your appearance, actions, achievements or problems

abuser talking as if they’re the absolute authority on who you are and what your potential is

abuser talking about you to others as if you’re beneath them, and as if it’s okay to ignore your needs and interests completely, and not feel guilty or concerned about it

abuser encouraging and succeeding in having other people approve of abuse/perpetuate the abuse as well

abuser convincing other people the abuse is for your own good and getting validation for it

abuser having people on their side and rutting them against you

abuser successfully convincing other people you’re just trying to get attention and they should ignore you

abuser spreading information about you to your peers/friends/teachers that humiliates, ridicules, invalidates or villainaizes you

abuser painting a picture of you as a liar, hysterical, too emotional, delusional, crazy, unstable and not to be trusted in order to make sure you will not be believed when you try to speak out against them, or about any issue that bothers you

abuser telling others about abuse and trauma you’ve been thru without your permission/blaming the symptoms you show on trauma of their choosing

abuser telling others you’re abusive/selfish and twisting your intentions and actions to vilify you

abuser telling others about your mental illness, sexual orientation or other sensitive personal information that can easily be used against you, without your permission

abuser isolating you from your friends, support, and community and convincing you that nobody will stand on your side when it matters

abuser punishing you for who you choose to include in your social life and finding ways to make you regret it in order to dictate who you’re allowed to talk to

abuser stalking/eavesdropping/invading your privacy and using information they found against you/to control you

abuser convincing you that even people you thought care about you couldn’t possibly care because of who you are as a person, and shaming you for thinking for a second that you could be lovable to someone

abuser reacting to anything you say as if it was a stupid and unnecessary thing to say, and using it as a proof of you being of less intelligence

abuser continually reminding you how badly will others think of you if you continue doing what they disapprove of

abuser continually finding something wrong with you and pointing out how will others react to it if you don’t change it

abuser lying to you about what others have said about you/what they think of you

abuser deciding how others perceive you and what they think of you

abuser deciding what your place is in society and reminding you to “know your place” if you act outside the role

abuser displaying anger and punishing you if others give you positive attention

abuser denying others the chance to give you positive attention (taking their attention, getting them away from you, interrupting and starting a new topic when they’re trying to talk to you)

abuser making a show of caring about you, only to change it into ridicule and humiliation

abuser putting you in situation they already know is going to end up in public humiliation

abuser having you spend time in an abusive and hostile environment, being forced to endure socializing with people who will take any chance to attack and emotionally abuse you, without the ability to confront them or escape

abuser forcing you to change what you think of yourself based on how they see you, having you look at yourself only from their point of view and deciding it’s who you are

abuser taking away your means of communication (phone, internet, and any other means you would usually use to communicate with others)

If you bold more than 5 of these, you’ve been abused and sabotaged from ever establishing a healthy way of expressing, communicating and socializing with others. In other words, no you’re not bad at expressing, you’re not bad at communication, you’re not at fault for struggling to socialize, this was done to you to sabotage you from ever having a healthy start. (also if you’re struggling with social anxiety it’s very likely abuse has played a part in it, or at least made it worse)

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nortromthesilencer · 4 years

Text

List of Negative Character Traits

A: abusive, accident-prone, addicted, afraid to take risks, affected, affected by peer pressure, afraid of change, aggressive, aloof, annoying, anti-social, anxious, argumentative, arrogant, artless, attention seeker, authoritarian(self), avaricious, awkward

B: backstabbing, badgering, barks orders, base, belligerent, belittling, blames everyone else, boorish, boring, bossy, bovine, brags, brutal, bully, bumbling

C: callous, catty, caustic, chauvinistic, cheap, cheats, cheerless, childish, clumsy, cocky, cold, cold-hearted, combative, competitive, complacent, complainer, conceited, confrontational, confused, conniving, controlling, corrects others constantly, corrupt, covetous, coward, critical, cruel, cynic

D: deceitful, defeating, delusional, demanding, denial, deranged, destructive, directed by externals, directionless, disagreeable, discourteous, dishonest, disorganized, disrespectful, dissatisfied, distant, does everything by the book, does what is convenient, doesn’t listen, doesn’t think things through, dogmatic, dominating, domineering, doubtful, dour, downer, draconian, drags people down, drama queen, drinker, drugs, dull, dysfunctional

E: easily aggravated, easily fooled, easily offended, easily threatened, egoist, embarrassing, emotionless, envious, erratic, evasive, exacting, excessive, exhibitionistic, extravagant

F: facetious, faded, false, false bravado, fanatical, fawning, fearful, fearless (yes I know these contradict but it’s situational), feels superior to others, fickle, fidgety, finicky, finishes sentences for others, flippant, follower, foolish, forgetful, frantic, fraudulent, furtive, fussy

G: gives up easily, glares often, glib, gold-digging, goody-goody, gossiper, greedy, grim, grumpy, guarded, gullible

H: harasses, hard, harsh, hateful, heartless, high-handed, hogs spotlight, holier-than-thou, hostile, hot-tempered, humorous, hyper

I: ignorant, ill-behaved, ill-bred, ill-will, immature, immodest, impatient, imperious, impolite, impractical, impulsive, inactive, inarticulate, inconsiderate, inconsistent, indecisive, indifferent, indulgent, inefficient, infantile, inflexible, inhibited, insane, insecure, insensitive, insincere, inspires guilt, interrupts, irresponsible, intimidator, intolerant, irritable, isolated

J: jealous, jittery, judgmental

K: kept-back, killjoy, know-it-all

L: lacking conscience, lack of effort, lack of self-confidence, lack of stamina, lazy, liar, life stinks attitude, lonely, low energy, lordly, loud, low drive, low self-esteem

M: macho, mad, makes fun of people, makes others uneasy, malicious, manipulative, martyr attitude, materialistic, mean, meek, melodramatic, merciless, messianic, messy, misanthropic, miserable, miserly, mistrusting, monosyllabic, moody, mopey, morbid

N: nagging, naïve, narcissistic, narrow-minded, naughty, needling, negative, negligent, never happy unless miserable, non engaging, noisy, nosy

O: oblivious, obnoxious, one-dimensional, opinionated, ostentatious, outrageous, outspoken, overbearing, overly emotional/excitable, overly flirtatious, overly polite, overly proper, overly sensitive, overly serious, over wrought

P: panicky, paranoid, passive, pathetic, pessimist, petty, petulant, phony, pigheaded, pitiful, plotting, pompous, poor judgment, posturing, power-hungry, predatory, predictable, prejudiced, pretentious, prim, prissy, procrastinate, promiscuous, proud, prudish, puritanical

Q: quarrelsome, quixotic, quitter, quick tempered

R: racist, radical, random, rash, rebellious, recalcitrant, reckless, rejects change, reluctant, remote, repressed, repulsive, reserved, rigid, rude, ruled by peer pressure, rules with an iron fist, ruthless

S: sanctimonious, sarcastic, sardonic, scathing, scatterbrained, schemer, scornful, sadistic, second-guessing, secretive, sees bad in everything, self-centered, self-conscious, selfish, self-righteous, self-satisfied, self-serving, severe, sexist, shallow, shameless, shifty, short-sighted, show off, shy, short-fused, slanderer, sloppy, slovenly, small goals, smug, sneaky, snobby, social approval required, sociopathic, soft, somber, sophomoric behavior, speaks in monotone, spendthrift, spiteful, squeamish, static, stalker, starchy, stick-in-the-mud, stingy, stoic, stony-faced, stubborn, stuck up, sullen, suspicious, swaggering

T: taciturn, tacky, taker, take over, talker, talks over people, tattletale, temper, temperamental, terse, thinks everyone is stupid, thin-skinned, thoughtless, timid, tiresome, touchy, trivial, troubled, two-faced, typical

U: unable to relax, unappreciative, uncaring, uncompassionate, uncommitted, uncommunicative, uncooperative, uncouth, uncreative, undemonstrative, undependable, undisciplined, unethical, unexpressive, unfeeling, unfocused, unforgiving, unfriendly, ungrateful, unhappy, unhelpful, unkempt, unimaginative, unmotivated, underhanded, unorganized, unpolished, unprincipled, unproductive, unrealistic, unreceptive, unreliable, unresourceful, unresponsive, unrestrained, unruly, unscrupulous, unsmiling, unsophisticated, unsure, unsympathetic, uptight, untrustworthy, user

V: vacant, vague, vain, vengeful, venomous, vindictive, violent, visionless, volatile, vulgar, vicious

W: wary, wasteful, weak, wears drab clothes, weird, weary, wet blanket, whimsical, whines, willful, wily, wise-assed, wishy-washy, womanizing, worrier, wretched

X: N/A

Y: yellow-bellied

Z: zealot

#Some of these should be bolded or even not #but it's all super situational #he has gotten more grim since the Brother thing though #meme

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madeofflint · 4 years

Text

List of Negative Character Traits image

A: ABUSIVE, accident-prone, addicted, afraid to take risks, affected, affected by peer pressure, AFRAID OF CHANGE, aggressive, ALOOF, annoying, anti-social, anxious, ARGUMENTATIVE, ARROGANT, artless, ATTENTION SEEKER, authoritarian, AVARICIOUS, AWKWARD

B: BACKSTABBING, badgering, BARKS ORDERS, base, BELLIGERENT, BELITTLING, BLAMES EVERYONE ELSE, BORING, BOSSY, bovine, brags, brutal, bully, bumbling

C: CALLOUS, catty, caustic, chauvinistic, cheap, cheats, cheerless, childish, clumsy, COCKY, cold, cold-hearted,COMBATIVE, COMPETITIVE, COMPLACENT, complainer, CONCEITED, confrontational, confused, CONNIVING, controlling, corrects others constantly, CORRUPT, COVETOUS, coward, CRITICAL, cruel, cynic

D: DECEITFUL, defeating, delusional, demanding, denial, deranged, destructive, directed by externals, directionless, disagreeable, discourteous, DISHONEST, disorganized, disrespectful, dissatisfied, distant, does everything by the book, does what is convenient, doesn’t listen, doesn’t think things through, dogmatic, DOMINATING, domineering, doubtful, dour, downer, draconian, drags people down, DRAMA QUEEN, drinker, drugs, dull, dysfunctional

E: easily aggravated, easily fooled, easily offended, easily threatened, egoist, embarrassing, emotionless, ENVIOUS, erratic, evasive, exacting, EXCESSIVE, exhibitionistic, extravagant

F: FACETIOUS, faded, false, false bravado, fanatical, fawning, fearful, FEELS SUPERIOR TO OTHERS, fickle, fidgety, finicky, finishes sentences for others, flippant, follower, foolish, forgetful, frantic, fraudulent, furtive, fussy

G: gives up easily, GLARES OFTEN, GLIB, gold-digging, goody-goody, GOSSIPER, GREEDY, grim, GRUMPY, guarded, gullible

H: harasses, hard, harsh, hateful, heartless, HIGH-HANDED, hogs spotlight, holier-than-thou, hostile, hot-tempered, humorous, hyper

I: ignorant, ill-behaved, ill-bred, ill-will, immature, immodest, impatient, imperious, impolite, impractical, IMPULSIVE, inactive, inarticulate, inconsiderate, inconsistent, indecisive, INDIFFERENT, indulgent, inefficient, infantile, inflexible, inhibited, insane, insecure, insensitive, insincere, inspires guilt, INTERRUPTS, irresponsible, intimidator, intolerant, irritable, isolated

J: jealous, jittery, JUDGMENTAL

K: kept-back, killjoy, KNOW-IT-ALL

L: lacking conscience, lack of effort, lack of self-confidence, lack of stamina, lazy, LIAR, life stinks attitude, lonely, low energy, lordly, LOUD, low drive, low self-esteem

M: macho, mad, makes fun of people, makes others uneasy, malicious, MANIPULATIVE, martyr attitude, materialistic, mean, meek, melodramatic, merciless, messianic, messy, misanthropic, miserable, miserly, mistrusting, monosyllabic, MOODY, mopey, MORBID, misogynistic

N: nagging, naïve, NARCISSISTIC, narrow-minded, NAUGHTY, needling, negative, negligent, never happy unless miserable, non engaging, noisy, nosy

O: oblivious, obnoxious, one-dimensional, OPINIONATED, ostentatious, outrageous, OUTSPOKEN, overbearing, overly emotional/excitable, overly flirtatious, overly polite, overly proper, overly sensitive, overly serious, overwrought

P: panicky, paranoid, passive, pathetic, pessimist, PETTY, petulant, phony, pigheaded, pitiful, PLOTTING, POMPOUS, poor judgment, posturing, POWER-HUNGRY, predatory, predictable, prejudiced, pretentious, prim, prissy, procrastinate, promiscuous, PROUD, prudish, puritanical

Q: quarrelsome, quixotic, quitter, quick tempered

R: radical, random, rash, rebellious, recalcitrant, reckless, rejects change, reluctant, remote, repressed, repulsive, reserved, rigid, rude, ruled by peer pressure, rules with an iron fist, ruthless

S: sanctimonious, SARCASTIC, SARDONIC, scathing, scatterbrained, schemer, scornful, sadistic, second-guessing, secretive, sees bad in everything, SELF-CENTERED, self-conscious, SELFISH, self-righteous, SELF-SATISFIED, SELF-SERVING, severe, sexist, shallow, shameless, SHIFTY, short-sighted, SHOW OFF, shy, short-fused, slanderer, sloppy, slovenly, small goals, SMUG, sneaky, snobby, social approval required, sociopathic, soft, somber, sophomoric behavior, speaks in monotone, spendthrift, SPITEFUL, squeamish, static, stalker, starchy, stick-in-the-mud, stingy, stoic, stony-faced, stubborn, stuck up, sullen, suspicious, SWAGGERING

U: unable to relax, unappreciative, uncaring, uncompassionate, uncommitted, uncommunicative, uncooperative, uncouth, uncreative, undemonstrative, undependable, undisciplined, UNETHICAL, unexpressive, unfeeling, unfocused, unforgiving, unfriendly, ungrateful, unhappy, unhelpful, unkempt, unimaginative, unmotivated, UNDERHANDED, unorganized, unpolished, unprincipled, unproductive, unrealistic, unreceptive, unreliable, unresourceful, unresponsive, unrestrained, unruly, unscrupulous, unsmiling, unsophisticated, unsure, unsympathetic, uptight, untrustworthy, user

V: vacant, vague, VAIN, vengeful, venomous, VINDICTIVE, violent, visionless, volatile, VULGAR, vicious

W: wary, wasteful, weak, wears drab clothes, weird, weary, wet blanket, whimsical, whines, WILLFUL, wily, WISE-ASSED, wishy-washy, womanizing, worrier, wretched

X: N/A

Y: yellow-bellied

Z: zealot

Tagged by: @shackledspectre

Tagging: Anyone who wants to

#Inside the Shell(About)

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shackledspectre · 4 years

Text

List of Negative Character Traits

A: abusive, accident-prone, addicted, afraid to take risks, affected, affected by peer pressure, afraid of change, aggressive, aloof, annoying, anti-social, anxious, ARGUMENTATIVE, ARROGANT, artless, ATTENTION SEEKER, authoritarian, avaricious, awkward

B: backstabbing, badgering, barks orders, base, belligerent, belittling, BLAMES EVERYONE ELSE, boring, BOSSY, bovine, BRAGS, brutal, bully, bumbling

C: callous, catty, caustic, chauvinistic, cheap, cheats, cheerless, childish, clumsy, COCKY, cold, cold-hearted, combative, COMPETITIVE, COMPLACENT, complainer, CONCEITED, confrontational, confused, CONNIVING, controlling, corrects others constantly, CORRUPT, COVETOUS, coward, CRITICAL, cruel, cynic

E: easily aggravated, easily fooled, easily offended, easily threatened, egoist, embarrassing, emotionless, ENVIOUS, erratic, evasive, exacting, EXCESSIVE, exhibitionistic, extravagant

G: gives up easily, GLARES OFTEN, GLIB, gold-digging, goody-goody, GOSSIPER, GREEDY, grim, GRUMPY, guarded, gullible

H: harasses, hard, harsh, hateful, heartless, HIGH-HANDED, hogs spotlight, holier-than-thou, hostile, hot-tempered, HUMOROUS, hyper

J: jealous, jittery, JUDGMENTAL

K: kept-back, killjoy, KNOW-IT-ALL

L: lacking conscience, lack of effort, lack of self-confidence, lack of stamina, lazy, LIAR, life stinks attitude, lonely, low energy, lordly, LOUD, low drive, low self-esteem

M: macho, mad, makes fun of people, makes others uneasy, malicious, MANIPULATIVE, martyr attitude, MATERIALISTIC, mean, meek, melodramatic, merciless, messianic, messy, misanthropic, miserable, miserly, mistrusting, monosyllabic, MOODY, mopey, MORBID, misogynistic

N: nagging, naïve, NARCISSISTIC, narrow-minded, NAUGHTY, needling, negative, negligent, never happy unless miserable, non engaging, noisy, NOSY

Q: quarrelsome, quixotic, quitter, quick tempered

R: radical, random, rash, REBELLIOUS, recalcitrant, reckless, rejects change, reluctant, remote, repressed, repulsive, reserved, rigid, rude, ruled by peer pressure, rules with an iron fist, ruthless

T: taciturn, tacky, taker, take over, TALKER, talks over people, tattletale, temper, temperamental, terse, thinks everyone is stupid, thin-skinned, thoughtless, timid, tiresome, touchy, trivial, TROUBLED, two-faced, typical

U: unable to relax, unappreciative, uncaring, uncompassionate, uncommitted, uncommunicative, uncooperative, uncouth, uncreative, undemonstrative, undependable, undisciplined, UNETHICAL, unexpressive, unfeeling, unfocused, unforgiving, unfriendly, ungrateful, unhappy, unhelpful, unkempt, unimaginative, unmotivated, UNDERHANDED, unorganized, unpolished, unprincipled, unproductive, unrealistic, unreceptive, unreliable, unresourceful, unresponsive, unrestrained, unruly, unscrupulous, unsmiling, unsophisticated, unsure, unsympathetic, uptight, untrustworthy, user

V: vacant, vague, VAIN, vengeful, venomous, VINDICTIVE, violent, visionless, volatile, VULGAR, vicious

W: wary, wasteful, weak, wears drab clothes, weird, weary, wet blanket, WHIMSICAL, whines, WILLFUL, wily, WISE-ASSED, wishy-washy, womanizing, worrier, wretched

X: N/A

Y: yellow-bellied

Z: zealot

Tagged By: Taken from an old blog Tagging: Tagging @madeofflint specifically but whoever wants to do it go right ahead

#( Lockboxes and Ledgers ) Headcanon

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warriorofdragons · 6 years

Text

Meeting the Mother

Nervously you smooth down your dress as you step out of the car, doing your best to ensure there was not a single wrinkle in the fabric. Kandomere exits from the driver’s side and walks around to you and extends a hand towards you. You look at his hand and reach out, and taking it in your own you look up at him, a soft smile on his face, and smile back. When the two of you begin walking he says, “Don’t be so nervous.” Letting out an exasperated sigh you reply, “I’m trying, I just,” you stop sighing again, “Do you think she’ll like me?” Glancing up at him you notice he avoids eye contact for a moment. Gasping, “You hesitated,” you say. Looking down at you Kandomere says, “I’m sure my mother will love you.”

The two of you stop in front of the restaurant and you look at the door reluctantly, feeling him squeeze your hand, you look up at him. “Everything will be fine, my love,” he says bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it. Taking a deep breath, “Alright,” you respond. He opens the door and you walk inside with Kandomere following close behind. Once inside Kandomere speaks with someone about the reservation and the two of you are escorted to a table where a gorgeous silver and blue haired elven woman is already seated.

Her hair seems to cascade down her shoulders like a waterfall, and her face is scarcely covered with any wrinkles despite her great age. And her eyes, her eyes are sharp like a bird of prey regarding a mouse as she watches the two of you approach.

Looking at her, your eyes dart from her to Kandomere and you can plainly see where he gets it from. She stands as the two of you near the table, extending her arms towards Kandomere.

“Kandomere, my son, its so good to see you,” you hear her say to him in elvish.

“Good to see you too, mother,” he replies as he hugs her and presses a kiss to her cheek. His mother then turns her attention to you. You introduce yourself and she says, “So nice to finally meet you I am Verona,” she then extends her arms towards you and you hug her, albeit a little awkwardly. She sits back down and Kandomere pulls out your chair first. You sit down and then he seats himself. When you finally glance at the menu you notice, to your dismay, that its almost entirely in elvish. Perhaps sensing your distress, Verona peers over her menu at you and says with a smirk, “Need any help dear?”

“No I-“ you begin, “Do you need me to read it for you?” Verona asks interrupting you.

“No, that won’t be necessary, mother” Kandomere interjects, taking your menu from you while shooting a glare at his mother. He looks at you and says, “I’m certain I already know what you want,” smiling at you. When the waiter comes to the table he takes Verona’s order first and then Kandomere orders for the both of you. When you hear him order your favorite elven dish, after the waiter leaves, you turn to Kandomere and say, “You know me so well.”

“Of course, hermosa,” he says as he takes your hand and strokes it with his thumb. The two of you smile fondly at each other for a moment. Verona clears her throat and when you both look at her, she smiles at you.

“So where do you work?” his mother asks you in an overly sweet tone. She continues on this line of questioning, where are you from? How did you two meet? How long have you been dating my son? Cordial in her tone and showing interest in your responses. You’re overjoyed by the time the food finally arrives; this lunch date is starting to feel like an interrogation. As you eat your meal, she finally turns her attention to Kandomere and catches up with him on everything going on in his life lately. You catch her glance out of the corner of her eye at you more than a few times during the conversation, which in turn only makes you more nervous.

Sensing your anxiety, Kandomere slips his hand under the table and rests it on your thigh squeezing lightly. Placing your hand on top of his you feel him turn his hand to hold yours and you squeeze back, relaxing a little.

After you finish your food Kandomere asks, “How was it?”

“It was good,” you reply, “but not as good as when you cook it for me.” He smiles wide and kisses your hand, “Mi amor, you-“

“Kandomere!” Verona shouts, standing abruptly and slamming her hands down on the table, “how could you break your poor mother’s heart like this?”

“Mother,” he warns. “You can’t seriously be in love with her?” she demands. “I am, I am in love with her,” he shouts back at her, also standing up. You look around; everyone else in the restaurant has started to stare over at your table. Clutching your face you turn back to the argument now taking place at the table.

“Do you plan on marrying this girl? Having children with her? She’s not even an elf!” his mother exclaims.

“What does that even matter? Is the fact that I love her not enough for you?” Kandomere asks.

“I do speak elvish you know,” you say at a normal volume.

Both elves’ hearing pick up on your voice regardless and both of them turn to you. Verona seems genuinely taken aback, “Oh, you do,” she says attempting to return to a cordial tone. “Don’t bother,” you snap, glaring up at her, “you’ve made it very clear how you feel about me.”

Kandomere looks at you and reaches for your hand on the table but you slide it away from him and cross your arms. “I’m sorry, my love, this is not how I wanted this to go,” he says quietly to you. “As for you, mother, how dare you speak about her like that,” Kandomere says now turning to his mother. “How dare you be so rude and inconsiderate and-“ he stops. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out his phone, still vibrating in his hand and looks at the number displayed on the screen.

“It’s work, I have to take this,” he says excusing himself from the table. You turn in your chair to watch him. Verona finally sits back down and is silent as well. You watch Kandomere pace back and forth for a bit before putting a hand to his face. Your heart sinks a little as he finishes the phone call and returns to the table.

“You have to go, don’t you?” you ask quietly already knowing the answer.

He looks at you, “Yes,” he replies.

“Oh well not to worry I’ll pay for lunch,” Verona chimes in.

“I already paid for lunch,” Kandomere responds flatly, Verona surprised asks, “When? I didn’t see you-“ Kandomere cuts her off, “When I made the reservation.” His mother just sits back in her chair in stunned silence. You’re not really paying much attention to her anymore though, you’re only focus is on Kandomere. When he turns back to you he doesn’t miss the growing concern in your eyes. His jaw tightens a little as he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the car keys and hands them to you. As you take them from him he says, “Montehugh is already on his way over, he’ll be here in a few minutes.” You look back up at him even more worried now; Montehugh wouldn’t be coming to get Kandomere if it wasn’t serious. Standing up from the table you take Kandomere’s hand in your own and the two of you walk outside together.

When you stop next to the street you lace your fingers in his and just stare at his hand for a moment. Kandomere using his free hand rests it under your chin and gently raises your eyes to meet his.

He doesn’t want to leave either, but he has to.

You both know he has to.

He leans in and you close your eyes as he kisses you. When the two of you break the kiss neither of you pull away from the other. You rest your forehead against his, gently rubbing back and forth. Kandomere reaches up and pushes the hair out of your face, slowly caressing the shell of your ear, before coming to rest on your cheek.

“Come back to me,” you finally say, he pulls back to look at you, face serious.

“There is no power on this Earth that could keep me from you,” Kandomere says.

You lean in and kiss him again, this time slower hoping somehow to keep him with you in this moment. Kandomere pulls away and looks behind him, you glance over his shoulder to see Montehugh pulling up to the curb. Kandomere turns back to you and brings your hand to his lips once more, to kiss your knuckles.

“I love you,” you say, “I love you, too,” he responds and pulls away from your touch entirely. Leaning down you wave at Montehugh in the car, who waves back and offers you a small reassuring smile, and you smile back. Watching Kandomere get in the car, you whisper, “Be safe.” He turns to look back at you and says, “I will” before closing the door. You watch the two of them drive off.

You watch until you see the car disappear from view.

And then you watch a little while longer.

“You really love him don’t you?” you hear a voice ask behind you. Turning around you see Verona standing there, you don’t know how long she’s been standing there, but you don’t really care either. You turn to look back down the street and say softly, “I do,” before turning around to walk back to the car, keys in hand.

#kandomere #kandomere x reader #bright netflix #fic #the elvish is in bold

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kiwi-cake · 6 years

Text

Arranged Part 2

Prince!Luke

Warnings: language... I guess??

Masterlist

A/n: lemme know if you guys actually want me to keep re-writing or if you would rather me just keep the existing parts the same and I’ll write the epilogue. You can find all existing and upcoming parts on our masterlist

Y/n awoke to the sound of a loud bang. Waking up in the middle of the night in a strange bed was not the ideal situation, especially when a certain inconsiderate ass was slamming the drawers to his dresser loudly. Y/n huffed and threw one of the unbelievably soft pillows over her head, trying to block out the sound. She tried to close her eyes and drift off again, but a very tall, broad figure came into her eye line, distracting her. He had no shirt on and he was smirking like he was up to no good.

“Jesus christ!” y/n exclaimed, slapping her hands over her eyes.

“Oh, don’t be such a prude,” he sneered.

“I’m not a prude, it’s just you haven’t spoken three words to me and now the image of you half naked is burned into my brain!” she responded defensively, still not removing her hands from her face.

“Feel free to use that later, love,” she could hear the wink in his voice, “anyway I thought I’d let you know the reception is starting downstairs in five minutes, so you may want to get up. Or, on second thought, just go back to sleep. It’ll be a tough to find someone to fuck tonight if I’ve got a pesky wife on my arm.” Her mouth hung open from his words. She knew he was a grouch, but she didn’t expect him to say something so blatantly rude within the first sentence he ever spoke to her. An abrupt knock on the door interrupted her chance for rebuttal. Luke shouted for the maid to come in, and he brushed past her on his swift exit out the door.

“Ready for the party, miss?” the maid asked. Y/n only nodded, still stunned from the encounter.

…..

“Is your own wedding reception that boring?” a voice asks stirring her awake. She must have drifted off in front of her plate of food. The man in front of her was tall with curly black hair.

“No, it’s just been a long day,” she replied with a flat tone, still not sure why this man had interrupted her nap. The party was actually very boring considering she knew no one and the only spectacle for her to watch was Luke down a bottle of alcohol, which was more pathetic than interesting.

“Well we can’t have you falling asleep, it’s a party! Do you want to dance?” the boy smiled kindly at her. She shrugged, what did she have to lose?

He led her to a spot within the crowd and they danced at a respectable distance. It was pleasant enough, he even made her laugh a few times with his jokes about the uptight lords and ladies. As he spun her around, she caught a glimpse of Luke making his way toward them, an unhappy look on his face.

“Y/n it’s time to go,” he said stiffly. She rolled her eyes back.

“Calum, mate, would you mind? We have some business to attend to, if you know what I mean.” Calum stepped away immediately and y/n’s eyes widened at what he was implying. Luke took her arm lightly, led her out of the banquet hall, and toward where their quarters were. They got about halfway there before she snapped out of her shock-induced trance and slapped his hand away.

“You’re crazy if you think you’re getting anywhere near me tonight,” she took several steps away from him.

“Obviously,” he replied and kept walking as if he hadn’t practically announced they were about to have sex just minutes ago. When she reached the door to her private room, she attempted to open it, eager to sleep, but he pulled her away from the handle.

“You can’t sleep in there!”

“Why the hell not?” she demanded.

“Because then everyone will know we didn’t consummate the marriage, breaking the truce agreement between our countries, and putting us back in war. Is that what you want?” She shook her head, but stubbornly didn’t move her hand from the handle.

“You’ll have to sleep in here,” he said, nodding his head to a few doors over where their shared room was.

“Fine.” she sniffed, walking towards the other room, “you can take the couch.”

……

Y/n was awake and she didn’t know why. The room was barely light, she probably had a good four hours left before she had to get up. It didn’t become apparent until her tired brain finally realized it might have something to do with the loud snoring in her ear and something hard pressed against her back. Her eyes widened when she realized what had happened. “Luke.” she said angrily. No response. She sat up and gave a harsh shove to his body, sending him toppling off the bed.

“What the fuck y/n?!” he yelled, rubbing the spot where his head hit the hard floor.

“Stop getting drunk and getting into bed with me at 4am,” she said, settling back onto her pillow.

“Drunk me knows I shouldn’t put up with sleeping on the couch,” he retorted as he pulled one of the many pillows off the bed, which also happened to be the one she was resting her head on.

“God! Can you grow up? You’re twenty years old and you’re already an alcoholic. I’m tired of dealing with your snoring when you’re hungover from drinking all night.”

“Get over it, princess, Besides, how else am I supposed to block out your constant nagging?” he mumbled, flopping down onto the couch. She took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes. She’d rather get a few more hours of sleep than spend all morning bickering. It’s been a month since their wedding and their relationship has hardly improved, in fact, it might be getting worse. They both tried their best to just ignore the others existence, but it’s hard when they have to sleep ten feet away from each other.

The maids came in to help her get ready for the day around 8. Usually, she would insist on doing things herself, but a corset isn’t something she’d have much luck tackling alone. She opened the curtains before leaving for breakfast, tired of the room always being so dark. The bright light caused the sleeping lump on the couch to groan and cover his eyes with the pillow.

“Get over it, princess,” she smirked as she passed the couch, ignoring the jumble of curses he threw back.

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spicybeaurito · 6 years

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Do you have more to say on player etiquette? I like your insight into this & it might expand what I've gleaned through my limited experience

Ask me about DnD!

There’s a lot to be said on player etiquette, though I feel like I can’t just leave it at etiquette issues I’ve noticed with players, there are other issues of etiquette related to DnD that happen mostly because there are a lot of different interactions going on in a session. You have, of course, the interactions between players and the interactions between players and DMs, but there’s also the interactions between players, DM and spectators that perhaps should be addressed as well, and so I’ll touch on that here as well.

It’s such a complicated matter, and I don’t think I can be brief on it, so you’ll have to excuse the long post that is to follow.

I’ll start with etiquette between players, because that’s one of the basic interactions of DnD: you are all at the table because you want to tell a story together, and to do that, there are some things to consider:

Be considerate of new players. I’m still new to DnD myself, but I can say that it’s important to be kind and welcoming to new players. That doesn’t mean you have to hold their hand the entire time, but don’t be a jerk to them. If you know they’re a new player (whether new to the system or new to the entire hobby), be nice, offer to share some organization/note-taking tips, and if they ask you how this class feature or that spell works, tell them. Don’t expect them to do their research all on their own, or memorize the number and type of dice, plus the damage type, saving throw and imposed conditions of every spell on their spell sheet. Understand that new players might be a bit slow to learn how something works at first, or unaccustomed to the way that combat works, and be patient with them. The DnD community is one that is open to anyone who wants to come, and if you snap at new players for building their class so it’s not optimal, or rolling the wrong sort of damage the first few times, or forgetting about an ability, it’ll only discourage new players from joining a community that is supposed to be open and welcoming to all

Don’t hog the spotlight. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, DnD is not a single player game, and if you want to go on an epic fantasy quest but make yourself the center of the narrative, play Skyrim, or write a book. I think most people are very aware of this, but every so often, you encounter that one person who decides they are going to drag these other random adventurers who they’ve just met, maybe killed one pack of gnolls with, and take them on a quest to kill the evil tyrant who murdered their family and claimed their title, and then make everything else about them. I’ve encountered plenty of rangers or rogues who decide they don’t like being with people (in the edgy loner way) and you aren’t really sure why this kind of character is then being used for a collaborative storytelling game, when all they want to do is be on their own, and so they go off and do their own thing. Don’t be that guy, please- it’s not all about you, it’s about the group. It makes the game a lot less fun for the other players and can stress out the DM if you do it consistently (more on that later).

Don’t speak over one another. This is a tough one, because I know you do reach moments when your character would try to interrupt another, and that’s fine, but when you have four or five players talking over each other, it can get to be too much. Not just because of the general confusion of it all, but because there’s other things to consider might be affected by your decision to try and talk over another player. First of all, it’s inconsiderate to other players (such as myself) who are easily overstimulated by aural stimuli, and can sometimes lead to an anxiety attack if it continues for too long. Second, it’s just rude to talk over one another, to the point it doesn’t even matter what would happen in character. It’s inconsiderate to players who are trying to follow one line of conversation, or to more quiet players who don’t usually speak up but are now getting steamrolled because you absolutely have to say something.

Don’t touch other people’s dice. Please. I know dice superstitions are sometimes silly and Probably Fake, but let people have them. If you need more dice to roll damage, or because you forgot yours, or whatever, just ask first, and wait for them to be handed to you. Don’t wait for the affirmative, then go grab them out of whatever arrangement the other player has them in. The dice are their possessions, superstitions or no, and it isn’t polite to just go grabbing for something that doesn’t belong to you. Ask permission, and allow the player to select the dice and hand them to you. Also, remember to return people’s dice if you borrow any. There’s nothing more sad than an incomplete or missing set of dice.

Don’t have your phone out. There are exceptions to this. If a player has a loved one in the hospital, for example, or, on an even smaller level, if they need an app to look up spells or calculate hit points, then you’re fine to be on your phone. The main issue there is players not paying attention because they’re on Twitter and then demanding that information be repeated, or players who take forever to decide what to do on a turn because they were on Facebook before they made a plan.

That’s what I can think to say about interactions between players and etiquette to consider there, so I’ll move on to DM and player interactions, specifically pointers for players interacting with DMs, because there’s a few things that I’ve seen that are worth noting.

Be considerate of your DM. Being considerate of your DM means a lot of things. It means recognizing that your DM is a human with a job or other obligations outside of DnD, and sometimes, those obligations have to take precedence, and those obligations can and will stress your DM out. There are other plates spinning besides the plan for next session, and I think sometimes there is a tendency to think of DMs as these tireless creatures whose sole occupation is writing this story. Be considerate of the other stresses that might exist, and don’t complain if a session is cancelled because your DM has a term paper due in a week, because real life comes first.

Offer help. This is more of something that is away from the table, rather than at the table. The DM does a lot of work for the players. They build the encounters, the monsters, the NPCs, the battle maps, they wear many faces and hats (and sometimes voices), and they do their best to make sure you have a good time. Oftentimes, they will host the session, which is a lot of stress not just on them to clean and have the space ready, but those they live with, to have this constant presence that might not always be a welcome one. That said, offer to help in any way you can, and this can be in a lot of ways. You can offer to host a few sessions at your place, or help the DM transport any materials (no peeking though!), or even offer to run a oneshot so they can have a break. The possibilities for helping your DM in these little ways are kind of endless, and can be done any way, not necessarily in ways related to DnD.

Talk with your DM before executing a concept, and be willing to work with them to develop it. I love weird character concepts, whether it’s weird in a flavor way, or weird in a mechanical way, I love it, and I’m sure a lot of other DMs would agree. That said, don’t just go ahead and have a character who is the result of this bizarre concept without consulting the DM. Make sure you talk with the DM first and are willing to find a way to make it work in the setting, before you go and execute your plan. And this might mean you’ll have to let go of some parts of the concept, which is fine, because the DM knows what will work best in their world. If you have an aspect of the character you want to translate as a mechanic in-game, such as a phobia or trauma, you can work with the DM to establish the trigger for the mechanic (for example, a Wisdom saving throw whenever a fire spell from the character lands the killing blow), and then the DM would determine things like the DC and what happens based on discussions between them and the player if the DC is not met. A lot of DMs I know (myself included) are usually very open to this kind of discussion with players, and are willing to, if you bring us a concept, work with the player to develop it so it fits the world a bit more.

Tell your DM everything about your character, and stick to what you tel them. Okay, maybe don’t tell them everything, but do give them as detailed a backstory as you can, as well as any goals or NPCs that you might bring up. The DM is the only one at the table who should have everybody’s secrets and everybody’s histories. This makes it easy on the DM when they’re building a session so they can include threads to a backstory or when you, the player, want to make a decision that would be considered out of character, but can be completely justified by backstory. If you don’t have your Uncle Legolas, Prince of the Wood Elves included in your significant NPCs, and you just pull him out of thin air, you should maybe talk with the DM about that first, just to make sure it’s okay.

Don’t be a backseat DM. Unless you are a DM yourself and the DM asks for your opinion on a ruling, or asks for advice explicitly, don’t tell the DM what you would do or how you would rule it. All DMs have different rules for different things, and it’s important to respect that it’s how they’re comfortable running their game. It’s exhausting to try and run an adventure and someone is constantly telling you that you shouldn’t have made them roll for this or that, or that this roll shouldn’t work that way.

Trust the DM. I know we all like to joke that the DM is out to kill us, and it’s a funny joke…the first few times. Every DM is different, but most DMs won’t put the party too far out of their depth- they’re not out to cause a TPK. Is a TPK a risk? Of course. There’s nothing in DnD that is done without risk, and that is part of what makes the game great. The DM wants to help you guys tell a great story, and no one likes to deal with a TPK or even a single character death, but on the other hand, it’s not something you can expect to be easy to recover from. It’s not easy for the DM either- they want the players to succeed, want good to triumph over evil, etc- but they are in the position of having to walk the line of making it fun and making it a challenge.

Don’t speak when your DM is speaking. I see this a lot in games, and it’s a bit upsetting, really. I have a friend who is a fantastic DM, their descriptions are so vivd, their NPCs are wonderful, and their entire world is absolutely enthralling, but when I dropped in on their campaign last year, I noticed a lot of times, players would interrupt with a description. I understand that some people want to skip straight to the action- who cares what the villain’s lair looks like, I want to hit them with a sword- but when you have these DMs who put so much thought into certain details and you go and interrupt them, that’s just rude. It’s like having someone describe this incredibly intricate wedding cake but you don’t care so you dig right in and have no time to appreciate the flavors that had to come together to make this, or the technique of the piping, etc.

Don’t blame the DM when you forget things. I’ve seen this one a few times as well, where a player has an ability or feature that they’ve had for a while, and they don’t use it or don’t know they have it because they didn’t write it down, but the blame falls to the DM. There are a lot of things to keep track of in DnD, but it’s not the DM’s fault if you forget you have Sneak Attack or that when you Rage you only take half damage. It’s not the DM’s fault to tell you that you have this ability or that feature, and they’re under no obligation to fix anything that might have been affected by your negligence.

Something that I know isn’t common, but I am still going to address, is the presence of spectators at DnD sessions. These people are maybe friends of the DM or players, a player or the DM’s significant other, or any variation thereof. They have been invited into this space to watch the story unfold, and sometimes, it’s important to remember a few things when you are spectating.

Be respectful. Being a spectator is a privilege, and so it falls to you to be respectful of any rules that exist within the playing space. If the DM asks you not to talk while they’re playing, or not to stand behind their DM screen, peering over their shoulder, you listen. You don’t make phone calls in the space, you go outside. If you need to listen to music, you use headphones. Basically a lot of common decency things, because you are a guest in that space, and that’s important to remember.

The snacks at the table are for the players- don’t eat them without permission, or without contributing some yourself. This is an issue that’s come up a few times, where we have a guest spectating and they just abduct our entire bag of popcorn to the sofa where they’re watching from, without contributing anything to the table themselves. This is kind of a rude thing to do, because if you are spectating, you are a guest, and the food is not laid out for you. If you contribute, however, taking snacks from the table is slightly more okay, so long as you aren’t disruptive or distracting.

Don’t distract the players or DM. This one kind of explains itself, really. Don’t chime in with every little comment on everything, don’t sit on the floor by your significant other or do anything that pulls the players and DM away from the game.

The issue of spectators is a bit more complex than I lay out here, but those are definitely key points I can offer to anyone spectating.

There’s a few miscellaneous points as well, mostly to do with things like snacks, and player conflict, and the like, but what I’ve mentioned here are several important etiquette things that I’ve encountered with my experience playing DnD. If folks want me to go more in-depth with a certain point, I would be more than happy to, but this post is long enough as it is.

#yashas strong arms #sarah talks dnd #it's long again and i hope this answers your question!#dnd tag #okay to reblog #dnd etiquette #d&d tag

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