#the not-bird lives on the side of a red brick wall and runs around in circles vertically

[goredoesstuff]

some dumb little sketches of the continuity dreams i keep having

beware the not-bird

idk what their deal is but it sure is SOMETHIN

[frenchbreadandeggs]

Willow

CW!: attempted r*pe, violence, fem! reader

°This took me a while and I am surprised this finished first than the Yasuo fic I was writing. I haven't proofread this so you have been warned!

Kayn had yet to wander around the woods again.

Or any place that has woods really.

He had successfully beaten Rhaast unintentionally but with a cost of loneliness. Talking to the scythe or per se the Darkin was all he had after Zed died and killing Jhin.

This happens whenever he slanders groups or goblins that he finds in his way. Stealing their valuable belongings and selling them to merchants. It's rare for him to take any interest in them, he just wants power—to kill. He would then go to the nearest forest, walk around or take a stop and listen to the whispering sounds of the trees.

He thinks it's much better than silence and denying the fact that he missed Rhaast's Darkin ramblings.

Today was different or so he thought.

He saw a camp with small bandits and thought of a chance to swiftly kill them and steal goods. The unlucky part was that they called reinforcements, almost catching Kayn and leaving wounds around his body as he escaped.

Almost

He thought, it was fine at least. It is better to go home with heavy wounds than to be dead.

Kayn limped to a village, a possible scenario coming in his head: as he limps towards the village, someone would spot him, help him clean and heal his wounds, and with him fully healed he can have the chance to steal—if they resisted he would not give them any chance to live.

Instead of lively markets and kids running around—he found an abandoned village.

"Today is not my lucky day, I see."

Despite the calmness, he wanted to throw a fit and scream. He can't die because of blood loss from a big wound given by a stupid hunk taller than him. He shouldn't be!

Kayn rested his back on the brick wall of an abandoned house and sat. He couldn’t see or hear any noise but the wind passed by his ear as it sang.

The sun was going down, a sunset. Colors of orange-red and the faint yellow slowly disperse as a deep blue color rises into the sky with the glittering stars. Other than listening to the silent melancholy of the forest, Kayn thinks the sight of the night sky is beautiful. He can make out the constellations or even make a new one.

He looked down at his resting body, dried blood and grime. Kayn grimaced when he moved his body to make himself comfortable. He should think of something that could help stop the blood, wrap a cloth around it before he could drop on the sandy floor and slowly die from blood loss.

A soft melody he heard. His ears perked like a cat hearing its prey. Kayn shakily stood up, the scythe as his support. Putting his weight on the brick walls Kayn limps again to follow the sound lingering to his ear.

The moonlight glowed on a tree—a weeping willow tree perhaps. Its leaves softly danced with the wind, the melody becoming louder. There he saw a lone girl, sitting under the tree a lute cradled with her hands.

Kayn stopped and stared at the girl in silence. Eyes would move to the birds flocking around the girl and look back at the girl. He could see her fingers strumming on the strings and her eyes closed as if she is also drowning in her music as Kayn is.

He felt tired. The heaviness on his shoulder didn’t help, his head then started to spin and his vision went blurry.

Pain shot his side, Kayn gasped for air and cupped his hands at the side to grab his scythe. His heart fell when he couldn't feel the familiar weapon. Noticing he was sitting on a bed almost smaller than him and the bandages neatly wrapped around his wounds.

"You're… awake." A soft voice emerged from the door he didn't notice. 

His eyes widened at the person standing at the door, "You… you are that person playing the lute." Kayn internally cringed at the roughness of his voice, he saw the flinch of the girl's body.

An easy target

You placed down the wooden tray beside him and poured tea on his cup and gave it to him, "Drink it, it will regain your strength—or at least help you."

Kayn reluctantly accepted the cup from you. He couldn't trust you immediately, though he is injured and the scythe is nowhere to be found so he is helpless in your hands.

At least he could try befriending you before killing or selling you.

He quickly drank the tea clean and right after Kayn asked your name.

"...I don't tell my name to people like you."

Kayn's fake smile fell, "What?"

"No—I can't tell you my name." You didn't elaborate why and left him alone in the room, leaving the tray beside Kayn.

He tried to stand up and catch up to you but the gash on his torso sent him a painful feeling. Kayn cursed under his breath, the wound had opened and blood started to seep in the pristine bandages. 

Have you ever tried to stitch his wound while he was unconscious? Or were you doing it on purpose knowing who he is.

Nothing to do, Kayn laid down on the bed and stared at the dully looking ceiling, cobwebs in each corner of the room. His eyes squinted, there were drawings on the ceiling from stick man to trees and ugly looking houses. This might have been a child’s room, he wouldn’t know at first because there was nothing in the room other than the dresser and the bed he’s using. 

What are you doing right now? Maybe you found out that he is a wandering assassin and also found his scythe—

He shot from his bed, he winced loudly enough for you to hear.

“What is wrong with you!?” You cried as you ran to the assassin curling in the bed. 

You shoved his arms away from his torso to take a look at his bandages. Horror filled your face. The bandages you wrapped around him in the morning have been soaked by his blood, you lightly touched the bloody part of his torso, red painted your whole palm.

“Ev-everything is blurry.” 

The assassin weakly stretched his hand toward you as you hurriedly took your lute.

“Don’t move.” You said as you prepared your lute. Surprisingly, he followed and slowly lay down on the bed. His eyes never left you.

You closed your eyes and started to strum your lute.

Slowly, Kayn’s eyes were closing and his breathing became calm, but you didn’t stop. The faint green glow from the assassin’s torso brightened as you quickly played the instrument. Your breathing became rigid and your heart quickly ran, you needed to at least close his wound completely, forget the anesthesia later.

When you felt the wound slowly closing you stopped playing and took a deep breath. You never healed a person for awhile, especially this critical. You were taught to heal small scratches and cuts from knives, not in this kind of situation.

You placed the lute beside the bed and opened the dresser to take the bandages. 

Slowly, you removed the soaked bandages with a swift cut after you reached out to pluck a tone out of your lute. You throw the bandage somewhere in the room, you take note to throw it in a proper place later after patching the man’s wounds.

You took your lute and the bloody bandage and left the room.

Bard! That man is dangerous!

“I couldn’t let him lay there bloodied.” 

He is a wandering assassin! Zed’s child!

“You, little bird, should stop snooping around people’s business. Also I don’t know who Zed is and I don’t want to know what he does.”

You shaked off the sparrow and walked outside the house to do the things you usually do. You swing the lute behind you and throw the dirty bandage beside the work table.

Were you injured!?

Bard there is an injured fawn! Help him!

You ignored the question and hastily followed the forest wolf to the woods.

“Ah, stepped on a bear trap.” You winced as you looked at the trap gritting on the fawn’s left leg. The fawn turned its head at you and tried to run but fell. You slowly walked towards the forest animal, careful not to startle it.

“It’s okay, I can help you.” You said with softness in your voice, scared that it would try to run and hurt itself even more. You reached your hand to pet the fawn’s body and it calmed, its head slowly laid on the grass. This was your time to use your lute again.

Thank you for treating my son, bard of healers. Said the mother. You are the only one I trust among the humans.

“There are others that are like me, you don’t see them often.” You said to the mother deer who is laying down in front of you with her children, the fawn you healed is on your lap as you continuously pet his head.

Quite unlucky then. Unlike you, they hunt us and use our heads as trophies, I am glad a person like you exists. A gem.

“Well I exist to help the injured, nothing special about the bard of healers mama doe.”

Hmpf! Nonsense, you do not place traps in the forest.

“Speaking of traps, I will remove them so you and the other families can roam freely.”

You stood up, the mother followed you and her other children. The fawn who laid on your lap ran to his mother.

What do you say to her?

Thank you bard!

“You are most welcome.” You said, putting your green cloak on and its hood over your head.

You waved the family goodbye and started to walk back to the village to get your pack for taking out traps and ropes scattered in the forest.

“I did not know you were strange.”

You froze on your tracks, the crunch of leaves slowly drew near you. It stopped when a hand grabbed your arm and forced you to turn around. Gosh you hate having those eyes stare at you like you were prey. You tried to shake his grip on you but it tightened instead.

“Let go of me.” You gritted between your teeth. How could this man recover so quickly even losing that much blood, you couldn’t imagine the possibilities that this man is immortal.

Your heart dropped when he chuckled, his wicked smile fading when he looked at you.

“Not until you explain what you did to my wound.” 

Kayn aggressively dragged you down the hill, ignoring your trips on rocks here and there. When you two reached the house Kayn’s grip on you let go as he almost threw you on the wall. You gripped on the chair beside you.

“Sit.”

It was risky if you tried to fight him and you were drained from healing two things an hour apart. So you sat, quietly as you stared at his eyes. He stared back at you while he leaned on the door frame, ready to capture you if you tried to escape.

“Obedient. You are smart not to go against me.” Kayn said as he lifted himself from the frame, slowly advancing his way towards you.

“I recommend you not to hurt me.” You spoke, clutching your back to ease the aching pain Kayn had caused. “That will cause you problems.”

Kayn scoffed, leaning down at the level of your face. Your noses an inch close to touching, “Why? A healer isn’t rare around the place, no?”

You bit your lip. Healers… were not rare— not, until slave traders raided the village and took everyone except for you. This person might not know about the abduction years ago or he is insulting you and your people.

“You don’t know what is circling in your veins.”

“My veins?” Kayn’s eyes widened as he stood away from you, his brows then furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Your wound, the big one on your torso is infected. The weapon used might be spelled by venom, if you kill me no one will heal or help you.”

“Why?”

“You’re a wandering assassin.”

You quickly raise your arm and slashed Kayn’s arm with a whip. He quickly dodged but the end of your whip still hit him, earning a slash on his arm. You saw him raising his hand to his back, his face fell when he realized there was nothing hanging on his back.

“Where is it?!” Kayn screamed, his panicked cries caught you off guard. He looks like a child throwing a tantrum because he couldn’t find his toy. You would expect more anger from him, charge at you immediately when he noticed his little toy was taken away from him.

Kayn looked around the empty room, hoping he could find his scythe and kill this girl for threatening him. You rolled your temporary whip and hung it at the back of your waist, walking up to him you looked down meeting his eyes.

“Let me be your companion, then I can heal you.” As you stared at him you pointed the lone cabinet at the other side of the room. Expected, Kayn scrambled up to his feet and ran towards the cabinet and opened it.

Kayn smiled as he raised his scythe as a trophy, “Hah I have you again—” he turned around, “Oh I can not wait to have your blood on my scythe hea—”

You were not in the room. Kayn had realized, his smile becoming sickening knowing that you had run away—scared of the scythe, him. Kayn likes a swift death, a death the victim could not expect but he likes it when people try to run away from him, beg for his mercy—it was his definition of fun . With his grip on the scythe Kayn walked out of the room to chase you down.

Or so he thought.

He saw you, instead of running, was on the floor packing things in your big bag. Kayn stood there, confusion painted on his face, confused why were you not running away—crying for your dear life. You had noticed his gloomy presence behind you as you finished packing your things with a big zip of the bag.

You stood up from the dusty cement and swinged the bag to your back.

“I do not think you have anything with you, we should go.”

"You know I could kill you—"

"But you did not." You said as you whirled around to face the assassin. His messy hair, uneven breathing as he desperately gripped his scythe gave you the hint not to push his buttons. Simply, you turned against him and continued with your business.

Walking to the workshop standing at the back of your house, you gave it a swift brush on the surface and whispered i will miss you and stretched your hand to let the birds rest. Years of using the desk, you finally—maybe buy a new one if the possible journeys with the assassin give you money.

You looked at the empty desk, remembering the memories and the things you made with it.

‘I’m going to have a better one’

Stay with us!

I miss you already!

She is old enough to make her decisions, let her be.

Glancing at the birds on your arm, their bickering and attempts to talk to you made your lips twitch a smile. A yellow bird flew on your shoulder, you can hear its small chirps in order to talk to you.

“Now now,” You laughed, as a hoard of animals surrounded you. “Let’s not be mushy, it will be hard for me to leave.”

“I have not accepted you coming with me, healer.” A hushed voice hissed at you, making your eyes roll and politely made the animal get off you.

Looking at him with a hard gaze, you crossed your arms, “Then you can leave without me,” Your face softened, but your lips pressed in a thin line, “But you are going to die in a few hours or so.”

“What is it?!” Kayn desperately asked, his eyes intensely looked down at your form.

“A venom spell from black magic, only born of healers, could remove that from a human’s body.”

A white barn owl flew past Kayn, hitting his head on purpose and landed on your shoulders. You smiled as you communicated with your feathery friend, as it asked to be your animal companion in your adventures.

Kayn could only stare at you, if he is fully healed by you, later on he will kill you.

Kayn thinks of how he could kill you in a hundred ways while traveling city to city, while you on the other hand are talking to your now new companion. Animals who talk to you don't necessarily need to open their mouth and speak with barks, meows, or chirps—they would look at you and speak in your mind, you don’t know how that is possible but you are determined to figure it out while on your journey with the assassin.

Be careful around him, I can’t be that much of a help—but I will try my best to protect you.

“Do not fret about it, there is a reason I own a work desk for items I use around the forest.”

I trust you, bard. I am your animal companion after all.

The owl broke his gaze from you for a second and turned his neck to you.

He is deep in thought I suppose.

You looked at your back to see Kayn talking to himself, you couldn’t figure out what he was saying, you hoped it wouldn't be the ways on how he could kill you.

“I mean, he is the first man who came here after a few years… of the raid. So he would be a good shot, I can’t wait for another ten years for a person to find this place.” 

I agree, Ishlacan Village is a hidden place.

‘was’  You frowned at your thought of the hidden place of your village being found.

Your owl noticed the change of your expression and flapped his wings to get your attention.

Let us… call the assassin, he might lose his mind.

"You," you called, earning the assassin's attention, "Your name."

He looked at you, both of his eyes going up and down to yoir form as if you were something before replying to you.

"Kayn."

" Kayn? " you narrowed.

He glared, "Kayn."

"Alright, Kayn. I decided to be your traveling companion until I found clues about my people's disappearance, and of course, until the venom is cured and you are fully healed."

"A horrible decision."

"But it benefits us both, is it not?"

He didn't say anything to your commentary, so you think he agreed. He slightly agreed . Walking up to him, you handed a bottle to him—it was runny and clear like water, but it was sparkling.

"What is that?" Kayn eyed the bottle like a picky kid, his eyes looking at you and to the bottle.

"Medicine for the venom in you— I do brews with my magic, it is convenient when I can't use my magic." you replied, crossing your arms after Kayn reluctantly accepted your medicine.

"Does it fully heal?"

"No,"

Somehow you think you saw Kayn's ears flop like a sad wolf for a minute before you continued.

"I have them packed with me so do not worry. You drink once a day—when emergencies then you will drink extra."

What happens when the emergency comes with no medicine of yours, bard?

'Then we have no one to guard us.'

"Does this actually work?"

"Obviously,—are you doubting my magic?"

"This is brewed—"

"By my magic, I made it so we won't be stopping minute by minute to unwrap your bandage and heal you directly inside the deep forest."

"You get tired by using your magic?"

"Like all people who wield magic, it drains us like how people fight using their energy."

He looked at you before drinking the whole bottle, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his palm. You reached your hand to him, he stared at it before realizing that you needed the bottle back. 

The bottle now stashed in your bag, you whispered to your owl before he flew away.

“Where is it going?” Kayn looked up at the sky trying to look for your animal companion.

“Tyto is scouting for anything unusal.”

The walk was silent, you were actually nervous as you disabled the traps you see. Kayn could kill you here and there in the deep woods, after all that is what an assassin does, excecute you in times you don’t excpect, or in the dark—but fortunately he was just there following you, the crunch of the dead leaves against his boots audible to your ears.

It was a bad idea to have him follow you at the back, but you know Tyto is looking down at you—ready to call for assistance from the animals living in the forest.

After you disabled a trap, you heard Kayn clear his throat.

“What?” You said, not looking at him but looking for the traps you could find.

“What happened to your people?” He asked. It made you stop. You never get that question very often, not only there were no people stumbling on your abandoned village but the animals you talked to had witnessed it.

“Gone. Kidnapped by raiders.” You continued on your way.

It was silent. You sighed.

“You want a story time? Sure.”

You took a stick and used it to poke the ground.

“My ancestors were mages, but a few hundred years ago we were seperated in groups by what magic we could do. I was born with the hands of a healer, we are named Ishlacan—we often have special abilities when we reach the age of six. And I, can speak and understand animal language.” You raised your sleeve and showed your inner wrist to the assassin, a green tattoo of the caduceus to distinguish your people from others and to be a proud healer.

You lowered the sleeve to your hand where it couldn’t be seen, “ I remember it was daylight when it happened, children my age are running around with me near the fountain waving their hands to boast their newly formed magic. We would laugh and run away from their scolding mothers telling us not to play the magic blessed to us.”

Your grip on the stick tightened, “There was a scream, then before I knew it the raiders found our village. Taking children, women, and even men—the ones who go against them were knocked conscious or beaten into submission.”

Both you and Kayn immediately looked up after a familiar screech. Tyto flew to your shoulders.

A marketplace up ahead, there are swarms of people.

“What did it say?”

“A marketplace,” You placed your hood up and looked at Kayn, “Are you coming?”

“No,” Kayn replied, his brows knitted as if you said something wrong, “I prefer in the shadows.”

You handed out your hand to him. Kayn looked at it questionably.

“Give me your coins, I know you have them.”

He deadpanned at you, shoving his hands in his pockets and aggressively handed you a handful of coins—some fell on the ground but you didn’t bother to crouch down and take them.

“This will do,” You turned away from Kayn and faced your owl. “Stay here, we won’t want people to look at us.”

Will do.

You then walked towards the marketplace Tyto directed you before going back to the forest by your command. You never did look back, thinking there would be people alreadly looking at you, so you walked with the swarm of buyers in the marketplace.

There were nothing but meat and skinned animals hanging on each stall. You scruched your nose and immediately walked to another place where no stink of dead meat invaded your nose.

The crowd never died, some people still pushed you here and there though you do not mind. Around you were filled with vegetables and fruits, some sell spices and sweets in the corner. 

Now this is what you want.

You wanted a healthy dinner later, especially for Kayn—he was healing after all and needed the energy for his athletically fit body, so it is possible he needed big portions and healthy food. This was never your first time cooking for someone (who is human), your grandparents would teach you how to cook the basics—what is good and what is to avoid eating. You would get compliments as a kid, the people telling you that you indeed have the hands of a healer even without magic.

With those ego boosting words, you’re hoping you still have it to this day.

In a flash, you stood at the front of the vegetable stalls. The greens are freshly laid on the wooden crates on display for you to choose. After picking the ones that passed your “who is the best” test, you hand them to the trader with the coins Kayn has given to you.

Thanking the old man, you proceeded to the next stall which was filled with oranges. You could feel the freshness of the oranges by just a touch.

“They were freshly picked just this morning.” the merchant said, moving a crate full of oranges.

This would be good for his skin while he heals.

When you didn’t respond to the merchant, he eyed you up and down. You were… ordinary, like those people who are obsessed with hiding their faces or cloth themselves head to toe. As you reached for another orange his eyes squinted at your wrist, something green popping out from your sleeve. His eyes widened, just to be sure the shopkeeper reached his hand to yours while you were busy looking for the perfect orange to feed to Kayn.

“I will buy five of these—” 

You gasped when a body collided onto yours, hands a snake— it slithered around your waist with lips near your ears for you to hear the whisper.

“Play along,” whispered by a familiar voice. “I was looking for you and here you are standing in front of a stall that sells… oranges.”

The man was hooded like you, but you knew that voice—spiteful and hushed. Right now he sounded like he was trying hard to be enlightened by finding you standing in an orange stall. You could feel his firm hand grip your waist tightly, he wanted you to respond.

“O-Oh, I was looking for fruits for us to eat at home.” you half-truthfully said.

“Then I will pay for it, you already paid enough let me do it for you.” 

With a swift you and Kayn are already outside the marketplace with five oranges in your bag. Kayn removed his hood and stood in your way, his amber eyes angrily stares you down.

“You almost got caught. ” he said with gritted teeth.

“What do you mean by that,” you looked at yourself, there was nothing visible even your hair. “I have myself perfectly covered.”

You gasped when he took your hand, showing your tattoo peeking out of your sleeve. When you get a good look he lets go of your wrist.

“I saw the orange merchant reaching out to your wrist, he saw your tattoo.” Kayn angrily said, his eyes looking around if there is someone lurking at the both of you. He sets his gaze on you as he reaches the hood to place it on his head.

“We need to stay low, stay in the forest.”

“What? That is dangerous!” you resisted.

Staying in the forest for the night was the least you wanted. Sure you talk to animals and you live near a forest but that doesn’t ease you anyhow. Even when you can talk to animals, some you can’t persuade.

“It would be more dangerous when we go straight to a city, they can easily spot us,” he turned around. “After all there are a dozen or more of them in the city.” 

“But—”

“If you want me to be with you,” Kayn bent in front of you, his eyes directly staring into yours, almost making a hole. “You listen to me.”

‘How atrocious!’

You could only curse in your mind before stomping to follow Kayn into the woods. Tyto flew back on your shoulders, his wings flapped gently before settling down to rest on you.

What did he say?

‘We are staying in the woods for the night.’

Hm, I can rest on branches how much I would like then.

‘Please not also you’

I could not help myself, sorry in advance.

The walk to the woods was silent, only Tyto’s fluttering wings were heard whenever he flew back to you after surveying the area. Other than that there was nothing but you and Kayn’s light footsteps.

“Do you have at least a blanket to lay on?” you asked him when he found a good spot to stay in for the night.

“No,” he said. “I don’t need one.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. How can this man be comfortable resting in this forest? You could only sigh and place your bag down and take out the things you needed for the night: a blanket, a small pot, and a knife.

Here are some sticks, bard.

Tyto laid a few sticks in front of you. Thanking the owl, you started to make a bonfire.

Kayn stared at you before walking to another direction. His scythe in hand.

"I will look for more." he said before disappearing into the shadows.

Sighing, you rested your shoulders and took the food you bought from the marketplace. Luckily you had the small wood for you to cut the ingrefirents and poured the water from your waterskin into the pot and lit the bonfire.

While waiting for the water to boil. Would you play music, bard?

"If you say so.”

With a swing from your hand, music played out in your lute. Humming in the tune your grandparents taught you when you were a child. It was a song mostly played in your village, a classic, like by old people to children, maybe it is because it was one of your people’s traditions.

“It’s late to play music,” in a swift Kayn appeared from the shadows, startling you. He noticed you immediately putting away your lute and grabbed a stick to poke it to the fire.

Putting the scrapes of wood he collected, Kayn sat down across you with his eyes staring down on the cooking pot with eagerness.

You knew he was hungry, so you took a cup and poured the soup in it with a spoon and handed it to Kayn. He thankfully accepted it with his right hand, amber eyes now bore at you.

"You have been doing this for…?"

"Almost ten years."

Kayn hummed in reply. Softly blowing the hot soup served to him. You told him more about your people while both of you were eating dinner, he would ask things like what your village’s customs were and so on. Thankfully he didn’t ask anything about you. Like you have something to say about it anyways.

“Your tattoos, are they part of your clan?” you asked, gazing over Kayn’s bare body. You never pay attention to human features even when you patched Kayn while he was unconscious. You were too busy trying to save his life.

“No, they are not—though I was a part of an Order.”

You raised your brow, “Order?”

"Order of Shadows, it was run by my old master, Zed, but later on he was killed by the Golden Demon we were trying to catch. After my master's death, I searched for the Golden Demon high and low until I found him and killed him myself."

Zed

You remembered a bird mentioning that name to you. With curiosity you asked Kayn about the order, what happened after his master died, why is he wandering instead of becoming the new master?

He looked at you for a moment, disbelief painted on his face. Are you not scared that you asked too many questions about him and his order? You should be, yet you are here sitting across him, eager to hear his story like a child.

Kayn shifted on the lumpy ground, then told you the story and even answered your questions. He was there, Kayn’s eyes not leaving Zed’s bleeding body. There were no words exchanged between them, only silence and the shifting of brushes from the escaping Golden Demon. He gave his master a proper burial, the Order in chaos, of course, knowing that their master had been killed by the Golden Demon himself after they faced each other. 

At some point in his life he wanted to be the master and surpass Zed. But all he is after right now is the Golden Demon, Jhin. Not so long he met the demon, but before he could strike him down something has taken control of him and woke up to a dead Jhin a few steps away from him, brutally stricken down by the scythe multiple times.

“Does that explain your appearance right now?” you asked.

“It… doesn’t, I shouldn’t be like this or be even the Kayn you know right now.”

You gave him a confused glance, he could only shrug at you.

“So the whole thing taking you over was supposed to be permanent?” you shifted, more eager to know about him now, “Did you bargain with the Devil?”

Kayn gave you a look, “No,” he turned away, “It’s late and we should rest for tomorrow’s energy.”

You groaned, “Tell me about it?”

“No, what I said tonight is enough. Ask another day.

Kayn grunts as he lays on the tree trunk, his scythe beside him. You looked at him before turning to your bag to shuffle at something, throwing an old sleeping bag in his way, he caught it with his hands. He raised his eyebrow and glanced at your way but you were already laid on the sleeping bag with your blanket, your back facing him.

His face softened, unfolding the sleeping bag and laid on it, not engulfing himself inside the fabric knowing that there are still dangers lurking in the woods.

☤

“Kayn,” you said, poking Kayn’s shoulders.

He slowly opened his eyes as he adjusted from the rising sun’s light. You sat besides his resting body, a vial in your hands. After he saw the vial, he rose up looking at you expectantly.

“Drink this, then remove your bandages after I’ll try to heal it faster.” you said, turning around to stir the pot after Kayn took the vial from you.

He removed the cork and drank the contents of the glass then started removing the bandage around his torso. Kayn waited for you, looking at your form, your arms moving from putting food into the bowl.

Turning around you handed him his serving and took your lute.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked.

You only nodded, not having the energy to talk.

You hummed, slowly but steadily strum the strings of the lute. Your hands began to glow faint green so does Kayn’s bruised torso. He could only stare at you, the bowl you gave him was untouched because of how mesmerized he was while you were healing his wound.

With the last strum you sighed, plopping yourself on the ground.

“The venom should be gone by the next few hours, you might get your strength back soon,” you breathlessly said, “Tyto found a nearby city, I think we should hit up there, he said there is a library. I should not miss it.”

You looked at him, he did not notice until now how tired you are, sweating like it was a hot summer day even though it was just morning and the day’s winds are cold and breezy.

“Did you sleep last night?” he asked, putting the bowl down.

“Yes.”

“Properly?”

“Uh… somehow.”

Kayn stood from the sleeping bag, took his cloak and grabbed your bag.

“H-Hey!” you shouted, wanting to stand up but exhaust washed over you, “At least take a sip of the soup I made? It’s not good to drink a magical medicine and leave it with an empty stomach.”

He looked at you before snatching the bowl and took a big gulp, finishing it an instant.

“We should go to the city and find an inn, I don’t trust you having a ‘proper’ rest, you could not even stand up by yourself.”

Your face turned red, suddenly you feel hot, though you did not try to stand up on your feet. You are tired. Kayn sighs, walking up to you and outstretched his hand for you to reach out. He helped you to your feet and placed the cloak over your shoulders and fastened it above your chest.

“Wait here, I’ll pack up the rest.” he said, putting your bag down and taking the things from the camp and stuffed them into your bag.

Kayn stopped, “Did you eat?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why did you look tired then?”

You sighed, “I put all of my effort removing the venom, thus I am tired. You see two big bowls there?” Kayn looked at where you were pointing at, “That’s how big I ate before I healed you. I did have a proper rest.”

“Good then,” Kayn stood, your bag on his shoulder, “Where is your owl.”

You two stared up at the sky when Tyto screeched, earning your attention. Kayn looked at you and began to walk by your side, following Tyto who is leading you to the nearest city.

The city is bustling with merchants and shops. Children screaming and running around the streets with laughter passed by you and Kayn. The assassin stuck by your side, as if he is going to lose you to the noisy crowd. Tyto was nowhere to be seen but you can feel his sharp gaze on you.

“There,” Kayn pointed, “An inn.”

He pushed through the crowd, you still by his side as the both of you walk towards the inn. With a shut of the door the noise was muffled by the wooden door and was replaced by soft clinks of glass and someone playing the drum followed by soft chatters and laughter.

“We would like to rent a room,”

“Twenty for two, sir,”

“One is enough."

Kayn placed ten coins on the shopkeeper’s counter. You gave a look at Kayn, he was not looking at you but to the shopkeeper who walked out of her counter and led the way to the room.

“Here’s your room,” she said, “Though I recommend not to be loud, especially at night, I don’t want angry customers drumming on my counter. Call me when you need anything.”

Before you could explain that she misunderstood the shopkeeper had already left and Kayn closed the door. He placed the bag on the floor and removed his cloak to reveal his bare body. You looked away before he could even catch you staring at him, walking towards the bed to sit.

“Go and rest, I’ll go outside to scout anything unusual.” Kayn said, putting his scythe behind him.

“What about you?”

“I slept and felt better than ever thanks to you,” he stopped, “You should really rest.”

After hearing an  ‘okay’ from you Kayn left the room. He walked down the stairs and opened the inn’s door and stepped outside, hearing the clamorous place again. He leaned back on the wall, observing the city street. Normal he thought and very noisy . Kayn could only shake his head, if he wanted to settle down, the city would not be his fit with all of the noise coming from people and the wagon’s noise.

“Hi mister!”

Kayn looked down to see a child, about the age of six, he had a stick in his mouth and his other hand holding something, a candy.

“You look lonely,”

He gets that commentary often, he did not mind. After all, he is destined to be lonely after Zed’s death and Rhaast’s mysterious disappearance. You being his companion will be temporary, knowing after you found your people you will leave too.

“Here,” the kid stretched out his little arm, holding out the candy to him, “To keep you happy.”

Kayn took the candy from the kid, saying thank you after. The kid waved him goodbye and left. He looked at the thing, hard and somehow translucent when it’s color red.

He put the candy in his pocket and stood there for a while, until frantic claws found its way to Kayn’s bare shoulder.

“Wha—”

He turned around to see Tyto flapping his wings aggressively, small screeches coming out from his beak. Kayn can’t figure out what the owl was saying, he doesn’t have your magic to understand and talk to animals, he could only see an owl trying to scream at him.

Tyto, forgetting that Kayn can’t understand him flew over the inn’s door, pecking it frantic like something is—

“Fuck!”

Kayn opened the door, entering the inn, Tyto following him. He hurriedly took the stairs, almost tripping on one of them. Opening the door, he found you on the bed, a buff man’s arm around your neck and a mage’s hand beside your head, visible electricity running on the mage’s hands. He looked at you, your face terrified as you gripped on the muscular arm. You mouthed no at Kayn when he reached for his scythe.

“An inn,” said someone. “Not likely to be used by an assassin I’m afraid.” They came out from the shadows—no it’s not him, looking at his light armor and an obvious mark on the shoulder pads of his armor says that he is a raid leader.

He could be the one who took all your people or maybe another person. He has white hair, a bald spot on top of his head, face covered with freckles and  wrinkles.

Too old

Kayn reached out for his scythe, only for the arm around you to tighten—threatening to break your neck. Kayn lowered his hand and the arms loosened around you, giving you time to breathe.

“You will get your dearest here with her severed head if you try to take a hold of your… weapon there.” the old man said as he eyed Kayn's scythe.

Kayn gritted his teeth, not knowing what to do when you are held hostage.

“Put your weapon down, slowly, kick it towards the guy in the cloak.” the man nudged his head to the left. Kayn had no choice but to slowly put his weapon down on the floor and aggressively kicked it to the person in the cloak.

The man chuckled at Kayn’s attitude, a biter, he thought.

“Zubair is my name,” said him, “and you are?”

“Is it necessary for you to know?”

“Yes, your information is helpful when it comes to shipping you out. Less work.”

“What do you want?”

“Not telling me your name?” Zubair scoffed, “Zap the healer to dea—”

“KAYN!” he screamed, earning Zubair’s attention, “Kayn is my name.”

Zubair smiled grimly, “Kayn, I see, what a beautiful name.”

“Are you going to hurt her?”

“If you do what I tell you, then she will be safe as a pet living in luxury.” Zubair turned around to face you, gripping your chin for you to face him, “It is a waste to kill off a rare breed of a descendant of ancient mages. A pretty face too.”

You winced when Zubair flicked your face to the side. You are scared, you don’t know what to do now that Kayn is unarmed and open. You don’t even know destruction magic, healing magic and healing magic only. Tears started to swell up but you tried to stop them, not wanting any of these men see your weakness, or even Kayn.

“Anyways, sack their heads, tie up Kayn and don’t let a single scratch leave on the healer. We are going now.”

Darkness engulfed your vision, the constant shuffling of cloth and metal was heard. No noise, not even from Kayn, everything is quiet. You let out a gasp when unfamiliar arms wrapped around the back of your knees and brought you up on someone’s shoulder.

With a few steps, you were placed on something wooden, and suddenly something—or someone was thrown besides you.

“Bastard.” you heard Kayn’s whisper.

“Kayn,” you called out to him with a shaky breath, “Where will they take us?”

“I don’t know.”

“Kayn, I’m scared.”

“I know,” he softly said, “I’m here, I won’t leave.”

Kayn shifted towards you, bumping his knee against yours as an attempt to calm you down. There was this warm feeling inside your chest, you could not figure out what it is, though that is the least of your problems and you two are facing a big one. What matters right now is Kayn at your side. You leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, hoping that sooner this will end.

You were woken up by a demanding voice booming in front of you. Kayn is forcefully dragged away from you, your face dropping on the wooden floor. You winced at the pain stinging on your cheek, before you could recover a hand grabbed your arm and dragged you down the wagon (or what you thought they used).

“Kayn?” you said in worry, not knowing where he is because of the sack still covering your vision.

“I’m here,” you heard his faint reply. To your demise he is far away from you he won’t be at your side as you are to be surrounded by unknown strangers.

“Walk.” a deep voice commanded you.

You did, following where the person is leading you. They stopped, their hands still tightly holding your arms, you heard a door opening and you were led again. You were forced down to sit on a soft chair, the sack removed from your head.

You were in a room, a bedroom to be specific. It is not big nor is it small, a normal room that can be used by one person. The color of dark red painted most of the room, even the sheets of the bed are dark red silk. Brown dresser beside the door and a vanity from the corner of the room where the bed is, and the floors are completely covered with velvet carpet.

“Am I supposed to be in jail?” you asked the large man leaning on the door frame.

He shaked his head, somehow he looked like you are not supposed to be here. Or somewhere worse.

“To women like you captured by Zubair, this IS prison.”

Your heart dropped, “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t think he will care talking about him,” the man sighed,

“Zubair is a raid leader, he also takes the people he raided as slaves, some were sold off to rich people.”

“Am I going to be sold off?”

“No.”

Your heart lightened.

“What will happen to me?"

“Something not good.”

The door opened, revealing Zubair. He walked inside the room with women scarcely any clothing covering them followed behind him. Zubair stood in front of you but kept distance as the women surrounded you like pigeons flocking on little pieces of bread. They swarmed you, touching you with no permission. Gaze at your skin, your face complimenting how perfect they are, and even look at the whole of your body judgingly.

A clap stopped the women from touching you further, when Zubair flicked his wrists the women who surrounded you were out in a flash. It was only you and Zubair in the room, the bodyguard you talked to earlier was long gone, maybe was told off by Zubair when the women looked over you.

“What do you want?” you spoke, hard even you know you are scared of what will happen to you.

Zubair smiled, he stayed put, no intentions to go near you or touch you.

“Oh it’s nice to see an Ishlac again.”

Again

You felt anger bubbling inside you, “You were there—it was you.”

“Surprising isn’t it?”

“What did you do to them?” you kept yourself intact, even if you tried to attack this man your fate won’t end well.

Zubair only shrugged, “I don’t know exactly, they could be everywhere—slaves— dead .”

“What did my people even do to you?”

“Nothing really, it is my line of work. No grudges, nothing personal, just about work.”

“Selling people? Hurt them? Put them as slaves? What are you trying to achieve here?”

“None of your business.”

He walked to the door before he could go outside, Zubair looked back, his smirk not leaving his wrinkly face.

“Oh, to inform you Kayn will be shipped out tomorrow. Though I don’t give goodbyes to my employees.”

You sat on the stool, Ravika, a woman you met who is nice, paced from the vanity to you as she was doing your makeup. You shifted on your seat, uncomfortable in the clothes provided to you by Zubair himself. It was disgusting, there was barely any cloth covering you, only shining rocks hung around your skin.

“You’ll get used to it,” Ravika said after seeing your discomfort with the dress, “There, it’s finished I’ll lead you to the sofa room where he is.”

After she placed jewelry from top to your ankles, she led you to where Zubair was waiting. The gold and diamonds you wore tinkle every step you take, eyes are on you as Ravika assisted you to the sofa room.

“Ah, Kalos,” Zubair greeted. He sat on the biggest couch you’ve ever seen, you could even sleep there if you want to.

Ravika patted you on the shoulder, you gave her a nod and she walked away. This man for sure loves the color velvet, every furniture and things were in color of velvet and gold. But mostly velvet.

“Come, sit, here.” he pointed beside him.

No

With no choice, you obeyed, walking up to him and sat.

Please

Uncomfortable, you could only think, your attention was caught by something in front of you. It was the nightclub, neon colors filled the dim room, you tried to find Ravika only to see her serving drink for those filthy men.

“What do you want from me exactly?” you asked, so boldly.

Zubair raised an eyebrow, but answered your question nonetheless, “You are the only one left of your people, you are deemed to be a big-ticket.”

He is telling you you are worth something so much that he wants to flaunt how rich he is and how horrible of a person he is. You could only stay in silence, not wanting to have a conversation with Zubair no more. Your worries lay more on Kayn, you don’t know where he is or what they could be doing to him. You need to find a way.

As Zubair minds his own business looking over the nightclub you look around the room. Everything is decorated with expensive things, even throphy animals were hung on the wall. How cruel . You saw a jug of water placed on a glass tray with golden cups surrounding it, it was beside a metal pot. There were no guards inside or even outside the room, you know since the room has a doorway, the outside is empty.

“Say, should I pour you a drink?” you ushered, hoping that he will say yes.

He looked at you and raised an eyebrow at your action, you could only shrug at him, “Isn’t it more flashy if the last of the Ishlac is serving you?”

He smirked at your statement, “Smart, go on, I could use a drink for myself.”

You stood up from your seat, walking up to the metal pot, looking behind you making sure he was watching the nightclub. To be less suspicious you used the jar and poured wine on the cup, putting it down and reaching for the pot.

Slowly, you walked towards him, the metal in hand.

“Why are you taking a while to pou—”

Before he could fully turn around you, you smashed the pot on his head giving him a good night’s sleep. You grabbed his collar before he could fall on the floor and slowly laid him on the sofa, you placed the metal pot on the floor. Looking at his body, you turned around and ran for the doorway only to be stopped by a large figure. Your heart dropped, looking up to see the man you saw in your room earlier looking down at you.

“I—I—”

“Turn three lefts and the fifth right, you can see the dungeon where your pretty boy is.” he said, “Go, before he wakes up.”

He steped aside for you to walk out, you looked at him, shock still plastered on your face. You could only whisper a thank you and rush out of the room, not looking back.

You followed the man’s directions given to you, after entering the fifth right, dark metal gates loomed. It was open, you took a peek looking left and right if there was someone inside. You entered, trying to find the cell where Kayn is.

“Kayn?” you whispered.

“Kayn?” you said. Louder this time.

“Healer?”

You ran to the voice that seemingly called you, you never told your name to him. Grabbing on the metal bars you saw Kayn walking up to you, his face inches away from yours, the bars keeping you from him.

“I—I don’t know where the keys are.”

“No need for keys,” he still has his eyes on you, scared that you might disappear, “Take the scythe and give it to me.”

You looked at where he pointed, the scythe was laid on the brick wall, besides it was your lute. With haste, you ran to the scythe and took it. Before you could take another step towards Kayn’s cell, your hair was immediately pulled making you scream in pain, letting go of the scythe having it fall and slide on the floor, you tried to grab the hand gripping your hair.

“You dare to smash a metal pot on my head?” Zubair whispered to your ear, “You will regret that.”

You were thrown on the cold floor, knocking off your flute in the process.

He saw the lute, he smirked and took it, smashing it on the wall, green smoke emmits from the lute then it disappeared. Leaving only a dull broken lute.  You could only look at the broken lute in horror, all those wood from your village, the handicraft made by both of your grandparents. Gone.

Zubair loomed over you, his hand wrapped around your neck, choking you. You tried to gasp for air as you squeezed on Zubair’s hand. His other hand started to take a hold of your clothes, you panicked, you tried to wriggle while his hand was around your neck.

You choked a cry, Zubair smiled, “You look beautiful this way.”

Disgusting

You closed your eyes and screamed, “Kayn!”

Then it was silence, the hands prying on you were gone, you heard a thump followed by a warm liquid pooling around your feet.

“Don’t open your eyes, stay here.” said Kayn, you followed what he said, in fear of what you see in front of you after you heard a loud thud earlier.

Everything was silent, though you could hear muffled thuds through the walls of the dungeon. You still have your eyes closed, followed by heavy breathing from you, you heard footsteps. It stopped when it found itself in front of you. You felt a cloth placed on your shoulders, keeping you from the cold and giving you warmth. Arms found itself around you to help you stand on your feet, you felt the warm ooze on your sole. You decided to ingore it and followed the arms that are guiding you.

“We are safe now.” Kayn whispered into your ear, “Don’t open them yet.”

You only nodded, finally knowing that you are now safe in the assassin’s arms.

“Steady your stance,” Kayn said, “Swing it towards me.”

You swung the dagger to Kayn, he easily dodges it.

“Not fair, I don’t have your skill.”

“That is why we are doing this,” he positioned himself, you could only groan in frustration.

After the incident and knowing what happened to your people, you and Kayn ventured around taking small quests or even participating in Kayn’s work and meaning by his work means him killing bandits, stealing their things and selling them. You were willing to help him, not knowing what it is, and when you knew you promised to yourself you won’t be helping him anytime soon.

He asked you what you will do now that most of your people are gone or scattered around the world. It is almost impossible for you to find them, you just told him you will be his company from now on. He was silent, of course, since you knew in your first meeting with him he was not willing to take you as his temporary company until you found out what happened to your people. You told him it’s fine if he doesn’t want you—though he cuts you off, telling you he likes your company.

Then here you are, getting trained by the assassin Kayn.

“Okay, time out, that was tiring.”

“I’ll be cooking this time then.” Kayn said, walking to your camp, leaving you in the temporary training grounds you use.

“Well at least your cooking is getting better, so go on.” you smiled, placing your dagger down on the stump and followed Kayn.

You sat on the ground, looking up at the sky. Night will soon take over.

“Hey,” you called out.

“Yeah?” Kayn replied.

“Come look at this.” your eyes never left the turning sky, colors of orange-red disperse as the darkest blue took over with glittering stars in the sky.

You heard a soft thump beside you, Kayn sat close to you.

“Beautiful,” Kayn smiled, “Reminded me of a senario that happened a few months ago.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is the same sky, same time where I first saw you in your village, playing the lute under the willow tree.” He looked at you with such intensity in his eyes, too close to each other, you were liking it. “Such a melody caught me almost in trance, before I fell.”

His face was an inch away from yours, “Hey I—”

You kissed him on the cheek, cutting him off guard. You could only look at him and smile.

“Kayn you’re too obvious, even Tyto noticed it too.” you laughed, a screech from Tyto you both heard.

“Dang bird, did he tell you?”

You nodded, he smiled.

“Well my intentions have been exposed,” he held your hand, “Then?”

“I have nowhere to go, my people are gone, some are around the world far away from me to which it is impossible to find them. You accepted me as your companion with your adventures… and as your look out when you do your assassination work. I think this is obvious too, Kayn.” you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“More than that actually, as my—uh—parnter?”

“Of course, aren’t we already?”

“Oh,”

You could only laugh, you felt his shoulders shake, trying to prevent himself from laughing.

“Do you love me then?”

“Depends.”

“...”

“...I do.”

You smiled, placing your head on Kayn’s shoulders as you two both lay on the soft grass while looking at the starry night. Bodies cuddled together for warmth from the cold night. You liked this, no doubt Kayn too. You hoped this would last forever, forever in his arms.

[mslanna]

First Day of the Rest of Their Lives

Gentle, mushy softness for soppy hearts like mine. Chapter 28 of Be My Guest now up on AO3

Tav wakes and it is morning somewhere. They are buried under devil arm and wing, engulfed in the heavy musk of the night and soft overtones of cherry lingering. Their body hums content with satisfaction and exertion. A few crescent marks pulse on their skin, familiar and comforting. It is almost as if they never left.

Almost.

They are free. There is no contract binding their soul. Free to come and go as they please. Free to stay for however long they long to. Tav snuggles closer to Raphael, infernal heat washing over them.

The devil tightens his grip in return, nuzzling Tav's ear softly. "A penny for your thoughts."

"Cheapsake." Tav turns their head slightly to intercept his mouth. When they pull apart, they run their fingers through his hair. "Does your tight schedule allow for such delays?"

"I am Archdevil of Five Hells," he replies in mock offence. "I make my own schedule. People wait for me, not the other way round."

"Then let's make them wait." Tav pulls him against their comfortably sore body and Raphael follows back into a deep kiss.

Whoever has appointments waits for a long time indeed. Raphael has no hurry and indulges any of Tav's desires. He hums under the care of their hands on his horns. A comfort he missed dearly. When the human finishes, he turns around and places a soft kiss on their forehead.

"Find me when you are ready." His hands trail down their sides as his eyes rake over the thin red lines marking them clearly as his once again. He leaves and Tav notes that a slight swing remains in his tail.

Tav smiles to themself and looks around their retrieved home. They will have to return to Baldur's gate soon and explain their sudden disappearance to Karlach and Wyll. But first, their eyes settle on the huge tub, ready for a sweltering bath abounding with scented salts and luxurious oils.

They barely moved from the bed, when the door opens again, and Raphael strides in, tail dancing in agitation. "You have – visitors. I managed to sit them down in the Feast Hall, but they are unhappy and demand to see you. Now."

Tav's jaw drops. This is way faster than they expected. Any thought of a slothful bath is discarded unhappily. "Tell them I'll be there in five and a half minutes. I need to wash at least. Fuck. I was – doesn't matter. Bath's not going anywhere. Pleas ask them to leave you in once piece because I still need you."

Raphael raises a brow but Tav shoos him away, ready to speed-run a cleaning routine. After washing and brushing their teeth perfunctory, they grab one of their shirts that smells of disuse and dust. When they see the teeth marks on their throat, Tav hesitates for a moment, fingers feathering over the angry red crusts on their skin.

They shake it off. This is who they are and they will not be ashamed. If a devil can give up a soul, they can give up some of their dignity. Tav ends up running through the House of Hope, hair still damp to keep to their time. When they reach the Feast Hall, Tav runs into the disapproving stares of their friends like into a brick wall.

Still, their heart jumps at the sight of Karlach, Wyll and Astarion, lined up like birds on a branch at the table, plates laden with untouched food. Tav grins, and bounces to them, ready to hug them, come what may.

Their excitement smooths over some of the resentment, though Tav feels the glances hitch on the marks on their skin. They slip onto a chair next to their friends and help themself to buns, butter and bacon. "I am sorry for slipping away. I couldn't sleep. I tried, I promise."

"And so you decided to gallivant off to the hells without letting us know?" Hurt is clear in Wyll's words.

"I didn't think I'd stay this long," Tav admits sheepishly. "I just wanted to say thanks and be back by breakfast. I swear."

"That did not go as planned, did it now?" Astarion inquires.

"Heh." Tav blushes. "Not all the way, no. But it went better."

Incredulous stares make them drop the knife, bun still stuck on it. "Firstly, the problem with people hunting me down as part of a bargain with Raphael is dealt with. So I should not find myself in such a – predicament again."

"You worried the hells out of us, soldier," Karlach reaches for Tav's arm and grasps it tightly. "You could have left a note."

"I could and I'm sorry." Tav looks at their plate for a moment. "I'd say 'next time' but there won't be one. Raphael burnt my contract."

Silence falls over the group.

"He did?" Karlach finally asks.

"Yes." Tav looks at their hands. "I didn't even ask for it, he just -" Tav saps their fingers. "Like that."

"I have not heard of a devil forsaking a soul they own before," Wyll raises a suspicious brow. "You are certain it was your contract?"

"You feel it, don't you, when it is yours and then it is gone." They look Wyll in the eye. "You know what I mean, don't you?"

Reluctantly he nods. "I am happy for you."

"So am I, but where does it leave you?" Astarion wants to know.

"Here." Tav shrugs. "I never left because I didn't want to be here. It was the circumstances. And with those changed." Their cheeks burn even hotter. "I like it here. It is – home. And now that I can come and go as I please." They grin and look at Astarion. "I hear we have quite an adventure ahead of us."

"That's it?" Wyll asks. "He burns your contract and you stay?"

"In broad strokes, yes. Of course I still need a way to come and go easily. Can't rely on poor Helsik for that forever. But once I have my own door, this is home base."

"I hope you know what you're doing." Karlach shakes her head. But there is only so much she can do, considering who get her heart repaired and what negligible price she paid for that. "Well, that back door of yours will come in very handy if things get out of control," Astarion smirks. "The Sunburst Solace has been lost for centuries. We will not be without competition once word gets around."

"It will be such fun." Tav beams and picks up their bun again. "Tell me all the new intel you got."

The chance to shift to another topic is accepted eagerly and Tav spends a happy breakfast with their friends planning to retrieve an artefact that hopefully allows Astarion to walk under the sun again. When the three leave through the portal Tav feels light and elated in a way they haven't for a long time. Maybe since before the nautiloid snatched them up. But that is nothing to dwell on now. A long hot bath is waiting.

Tav skips down the stairs back into their suite. They emerge much later, their skin red from hot water and perfumed with bathing salts. Every muscle in their body feels soft and relaxed and the door to Raphael's study stands open. For a moment Tav wonders if he has means to watch every place in his house. The idea paints a mischievous grin over their lips. There are ways to test that. Some day soon.

For now, all they want is to be close to their devil. Raphael beckons them in and shuts the door with a wave of his hands. "I assume your friends left the house placated?"

"As much as possible." Tav leans against his shoulder over the armrest. "Which leaves the question of how I will get in and out on my own. I don't see Helsik approving of me breaking into her place every other day."

"Oh, so you think you will be leaving?" Raphael pulls them onto his lap and warps an arm around Tav to continue working. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Tav snuggles against his chest with a snort. "Just try to keep me taped down. You won't get anything done but me."

Raphael laughs and Tav shakes on his lap, holding on to him. They missed his laughter, to know he can be carefree around them – his true self.

"I see where that may pose a problem to ruling five hells." He tilts Tav back to look at their face and the lines of mirth edged into it. "Delightful as the image is, I there are other things that will occupy my time."

"My thoughts exactly." Tav traces his jaw. "But with an insta-portal or something similar, I can be back home from wherever, whenever. Sleep in my own bed without chancing the diabolists ire each time."

"I am certain a solution will present itself within the day." Raphael puts down his quill. "Where will you go?"

"Uncertain. Astarion has leads on an item that will protect him from the sun. We will find it. Though," Tav smirks, "I worry. It seems unlikely nobody has ever heard of the Sunburst Solace. Such powerful magic. Even if it was lost for a long time."

Raphael rumbles non-committal. "There will be reasons and you will find them."

"Depending on where we are, I may just stay in camp, though. I missed the companionship of that. Being miserable and cold and wet together." Tav closes their eyes and leans their head back against the devil's chest. "You should try it some time."

"In your wildest dreams." He drops a kiss on their hair.

It's beneath Tav to reply to that. For a while the scratching of the quill on parchment is the only sound in the room.

"And what are your plans for now, pray tell?" Raphael asks as he reaches for another parchment, movement slightly encumbered by the human on his lap.

"Now?" Tav murmurs drowsily. "I just want to sit here and listen to the beat of your heart."

Raphael stills, hand frozen in its tight grip around Tav's waist. "For now," he finally says. "But know that later you won't be able to avoid a clandestine dinner."

"I shall arm myself for the ordeal with a book," Tav hums. "And an emergency plan of seduction."

"Is this how you plan to win your arguments?"

"As long as it works." They reach up and pull his head down for a gentle kiss. "Nobody stopping you from adopting the same strategy."

"Hmm." Raphael hums onto the kiss before resting his chin on Tav's head.

Maybe it's not perfect. Evening will come with clandestine dinner and heated words leading to burning desire. Morning will come and they will leave to help their friend. But right here, right now, the world balances on the tip of perfection, wrapped up against Raphael's heart. And that is enough.

[ol1veflower]

Duck Flambé (Fluffybird Fic)

(Disclaimer: Red/Duck undercut. No vore. No smut. Duck doesn’t get eaten. But there are some disturbing thoughts and imagery surrounding meat)

Description: Red wants to treat Duck to a meal at a fancy restaurant. It’s their first date, but Red has overlooked one significant detail…duck is on the menu! An AU where they live in a society consisting mostly of red string people.

The pair sit across from each other. Their table among many.  The general noise of polite conversation and tender expressions surround them. A fine establishment for an equally fine date. Red had picked this restaurant hoping to impress the bird. But as he looks about he realises he’d overlooked one significant detail. A bead of sweat dribbles down his brow, everywhere he looks he can see his mistake. In the eyes of other guests, he sees his fatale flaw. Hushed voices mimic the exact words that burn into his brain. “Is that a duck? Is he dating a duck? But isn’t duck on the me-“

‘Oi! I was talking to you.’

‘Huh?’

A groan. ‘I can’t believe you for, the third and final time, hand me the menu! I’m starving.’

Usually lazy and somber, a frantic Red whips the menu far from Duck’s reach. A nervous chuckle. ‘Why not just order a salad or something?’

A scoff. Feathers ruffle and brows narrow. ‘What are you trying to say?!’

‘No,no that’s not what I meant- I- what about the lasagna then.’ He’d seen Duck eat lasagna before. He likes lasagna, there is no need for him to see the Chef’s recommendation.

Duck cocks his head to one side, like some perplexed puppy. Finally, he clocks that something is up. Red is clearly disturbed…and it’s not just the usual butterflies one gets on a first date.  He decides to surrender the menu…this once. ‘Well, I do like lasagna.’ The bird muses.

— 

Duck has always had an appetite, Red considers, watching the bird munch a good portion of his lasagna. He remembers how the small bird had engulfed 13 inches of a Hawaiian pizza all by himself the night they met. Meanwhile his food remains barely touched. He cannot bare to eat. A roast duck is served to the couple neighbouring their table. The remains of a duck flambé passes them on its way back to the kitchen. The waiter even has the audacity to offer him duck liver parfait- right.in front. Of Duck. 

Yet, Duck seems completely unfazed… or perhaps he is just completely oblivious. The bird seems so determined to gossip about a client of his that he just seems to miss it all. That annoyingly yet somehow endearing squawking laughter of his, amplifying the noise in the restaurant. Red stares at the avian, all animated, eyes closed in an expression of sheer delight. Laughing away at his own joke. And Red question’s everything; how could anyone look at such a beautiful creature and think ‘food’. It just doesn’t seem to make any sense. Duck is annoying and, honestly, kind of an asshole but somehow cute and pleasant to be around…how could anyone-

‘Red?! Red!’ 

A feathered hand waves at him, bringing him back into the moment. ‘What?’ Duck had apparently hopped onto the table in an effort to shake Red from his thoughts. 

His date sighs, folds his arms and pouts. ‘You haven’t been listening to me! You haven’t even tried to listen to me.’ Red flinches a little as Duck throws his hands up in frustration. ‘I might as well just speak to a brick wall.’ He complains.

The date is a total disaster… perhaps Red should have suggested a trip to the cinema instead. He hangs his head, staring down at his fumbling hands. 

‘What is going on with you? You haven’t even touched your hot pot!’ A layer of concern begins to coat his tone. His hands move to hold Red’s. The mop monster locks eyes with Duck.

 ‘I just-‘ His eyes look away. The churning feeling in his stomach only worsening. The sounds of cutlery seem deafening, it pierces his ears. His thoughts spiralling and a chill runs down his spine. He wants to throw up but focuses hard on the feeling of Duck’s hands in his. They ground him…just  enough for him to find the words. ‘This place is- can we go?’

Duck squeezes his hands a little.

‘We could go and get ice cream or something?’ Perhaps he can convince himself to eat something sweet… or at least make amends for a terrible date through heaps of sugary goodness.

Finally he has the courage to look Duck in the eyes. A sympathetic gaze stares back at him. Duck isn’t sure what’s gotten Red so unnerved but he knows it only began when they entered this place. He is given a nod. 

‘Alright.’ The bird climbs down from the table and gathers up his coat. No questions asked.

—-

The night air is refreshing, calming even, a welcome contrast from the unbearable tension inside the restaurant. Duck wordlessly pads beside the bigger creature. Carefully linking their arms.

As they near the ice cream parlour Red holts. He wants to be sure that Duck understands something. ‘Wait.’ Crouching to the mallard’s level he stares straight into the other’s eyes. ‘I just want you to know, I don’t eat duck. I don’t even like it. It’s disgusting and-‘

Squawking laughter has him flinch once again. Is he laughing? Why is he-

‘I know that! Obviously!’ Duck chortles, hands moving to his hips in that ‘I know everything’ manner that this annoying little shit shows on the daily. ‘And quite honestly I wouldn’t care if you did! I just demolished an entire beef lasagna.’

‘Yeah but it’s not like we have any friends who are cows or anything-‘ Duck meat just seems so personal. What with him literally being in love with a duck.

‘Oh Red you are always so sensitive!’ He smirks, giving the red fellow a patronising pat on the arm.

Offended. Red pulls his arm away from the short bastard. ‘Alright. Don’t make fun of me… it’s just… I don’t know… I kind of like you and the thought of someone eating you is- it’s just personal okay.’ … ‘you just don’t understand.’

Something shifts in the bird and his expression softens. His hand grazes the tip of his stomach scar and there is a flash of something. Something almost painful.  It’s fleeting though and quickly replaced with a toothy smile. ‘Well, no. But… perhaps a little hand hold and some ice cream might help?’

‘Yeah. Yeah. I think it might.’ His gigantic mit moves to hold a small feathery hand. 

And as they move inside the parlour. ‘I like you too. Just for the record… you’re welcome.’ A shit eating grin, earns a playful nudge and a fit of giggles as the two disappear through the door.

[forgetmenot-mymoon]

Inside The Walls

The Walls of Me Series, Part 5

Authors note: Hey this is a series of writings that's kinda autobiographical, it's gonna be VERY venty and depressing with a hint of philosophy. I don't know how much I'm gonna write for it, I might keep it up for months of years. Enjoy!

Stay safe!

Cw: abandonment, relationship issues, mental illness, mention of past issues, implication of abuse

While these walls keep me safe, they also keep my loves and memories safe. A sentinel to my heart. This will be an introduction to the interior, the buildings, and the lives of me, dear spectator.

One building is a dark grey box made of bricks, it's a whole cafeteria, I sit alone, my hands glued to my ears. Another is a living room. Stuffed animals all around and a cape, dolls, and houses. Frozen yogurt, banana pudding, and a stuffed giraffe are at my side always. My childhood if you ignored the dust and scratching. Next, the ending of that. A blurry building, red bricks, maybe some pillars, glass doors. People chatter around me. It’s a funeral, an open casket, I don’t know who it is. An urn is set on a dirty shelf. I hear a door slam then a click. –

A small baby blue pet store, filled with dogs in small crates. Beagle looks at me, others sleep. He goes and picks out one, wrinkled just like the one before. I pet her as he plays with a peanut butter bone, dad wants her, and I love her even if I didn’t pick her. The cashier asks me, and I say “Chewy” She’s my constant. She breaks anything she can, including her own leg once. She death stares, barks, and licks my hand. We’ve grown up together, even got implants together. Metal detectors hate us both. I love her. But sometimes I worry as the sun sets,

Would she have been better off not in this house of smoke and webs?

The next building is covered in smoke but when you open the door, it's fresh with an open window.. The walls are speedboat blue and the carpet is Ocean waves. Filled with nautical decor, a hiding place in the smoke. Some cobwebs are growing on the ships in a bottle on the corner shelves. Picture frames of some smiles of a little kid. Signed books- so many books, a corner full of books! The walls are covered in, posters of ships, movies, and drawings. A bed filled with warm stuffed animals… but it’s empty as a robbed tomb.

A small classroom in a box decorated with painted flowers, There are posters all around with le and la on the walls. Compliments, and beliefs I can learn. I stay in the corner, silent but I am loved nonetheless.

In the corner we have a giant mansion, most of it is blocked off except for one room. A room of sunlight, but it's not bright. A rainbow bird stuck in a cage, its life being drained while they laugh behind me- I can't unlock it- I compromise, and care for the sweet bird from outside. I make a mistake, I'm pulled away. He’s crying for me, I never wanted to leave. I’m so sorry my Bo Bo I couldn't save you. Maybe one day I can return to you. He’s dying, I don’t want to remember I run out the door, I look to the sky, and my face smiles, let's continue!

The walls also have a theater. A stage where I perform my hands shaking with anguish, I smile after. I want to do it again.

An air of familiarity hits me as I walk into the huge doors. Smiling faces of paper. Books cover the shells, mystical colors, angels, demons, essays, poems, smells of India Ink with a touch of papyrus, some smell of smoke in grandma's house, and some of a decaying whale. smells of markets and dragons with a touch of coffee stains, smells of cloudy memories forgotten in ink and time of the tick-tock, some smell of a shattered hourglass. All of these smelled sprinkled with knowledge and fruitful trees. Feathers and leaves, a nest, eggs being laid in the mind. Some of these smells may sound gruesome but that's what reading is, imagination is. The book fits the smell. This room with the electricity of life is my magical castle. Room to pace, room to organize, a walk, a run, everything’s fun. I am in this place, a quiet stowaway, for I will leave soon. It's still nice, even if the train is due to rip the smiles off. A library of safety.

A dinner with everyone but me The table is set, played clash with cake, salad and some other foods I can’t name. I want the apple juice though. I’m alone once again, on this beige couch with my hands to my ears while they all laugh, I’m not full-blood after all.

There's a whole walled-off city, a parade even with flags of all different colors. A little frog buddy, a hand to hold. But no one’s there, all alone with my colors.

Then near the opposite side, there’s a big building, It's dull with smoke, booze, and time. People love it anyway. Everyone watches as on a small stage, I walk and shake hands. Then the curtains close on everything before. – A beach house, with a mini lighthouse out front. When you open the door it's a house but then there are more doors. Some leading to boardwalks, and one is to a pool of memory, I sink in. The sun burns us all as we laugh, comforted in unfamiliarity, sitting at a small table with scallops and fries in my hand. Sitting at a dock, a fishing line gone with the waves, we laugh, a pathetic thing.. Kids laugh and sob forbade sheep's sleep. Then on a beach, too much sand overflows all the cracks in my skin, I want out as an oriental beetle dies. A puzzle of cards, fruit in my hand. A roller coaster that goes upside down, finally! My spine rocked and a kid's tears. Neither salt the night. Laughter in my soul as I listen to new tunes as the speed fluctuates. My first vacation without my parents, its a pillar I want to keep in the walls, I hope for many more I think as I lay in the old room filled with posters and stuffed animals.

I awake with a jolt as the alarms go off one by one, it’s time for the final stop in this tour.

Warm arms grasp me as I enter the docks, our final stop in the walls. The docks where two adults turn to ash in the wind, a dog barks, and others wave, all waiting for me to return, maybe a bird as well. I won't give up hope. I board the old, dainty ship, rusted with time. A ship filled with Google Docs of my words, my beach of escapism. A voice chat with love and screams in my hand. All sailing towards a dorm with a faceless beast, I shiver. There are gardens around the vessel, One of forget-me-not flowers, one full of marigolds, a rainbow of roses, and outside the pilot house, snapdragons with an azalea in the middle, suffocating it.

[unikittybigbrightworldau]

Location “Wiki Pages”: Swan Lake

—–

Debut: Broken and Frozen

Location Influences: Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake

Ruler(s): Odetta (prime minister), the swan ministers

Inhabitants: Siegfried, Phil, Armot, Fiona, Edmund, Lila, swans, other birds, forest animals

Visitors: Swanna

Sublocations: Grand Swan Mansion, Moonlight Sound

—–

Swan Lake is a location in the Unikitty: Big Bright World series. It is led by Prime Minister Odetta and is where Swanna is from. Swanna calls it a land of style and dancing.

—–

Geography: Swan Lake is located east of where the Unikingdom is. It’s a wooded area that surrounds a far, wide clearing with a huge lake in it.

Between the woods and the lake are fields with sage green grass. The lake itself is Swan Lake’s most prominent feature. It’s so big that you can’t see the other side. The lake is a rich hue of blue and has many rivers flowing out from it. These rivers lead to the Moonlight Sound and the marsh on the other side of the woods. Connected to Moonlight Sound is another river that runs into the open sea.

Architecture: Buildings in Swan Lake are built quite stylishly. While homes tend to be small, places of business tend to be very large. In the woods, people live in cabins and cottages, and the buildings are spaced out from each other. Outside the woods, they are closer together, and people live in village houses. Many Swan Lakers also live in lakefront houses on the sides of the lake, or houses next to other bodies of water. There are even buildings in the water, accessible by stairways leading to underground tunnels. The buildings are usually built out of bricks. They tend to be the color of a certain bird's feathers, such as the Grand Swan Mansion in which Prime Minister Odetta lives. The tiles of the roof are black, and the walls are white like a swan's feathers. Most boats and ships that Swan Lake's citizens sail on are swan boats, airships, and ships that are shaped like swans.

Clothing: Because dancing, especially ballet, are such a key part of life in Swan Lake, most of the people living there wear fashions inspired by ballet and dance. Even if they don't wear dancing clothes, Swan Lakers are known for having quite the sense of style. In Swan Lake, it's considered proper to wear clothes.

At Swan Lake weddings, the “wedding party” stands around the marrying people wearing white outfits. The marrying people themselves will wear ballet-influenced outfits. If there is a bride, or if one of them is wearing bridal attire, they will wear a crown of feathers and a feathery, fluffy skirt. If there’s a groom, or if one is wearing groom attire, their outfit will resemble a prince’s regalia. 

Swan Lakers wear red or purple outfits that resemble curtains to a funeral. They also wear veils on their faces, which also look like curtains. This is to show that the curtains have come down on the deceased person.

Currency: Swan Lake’s form of currency is the slipper. Each denomination, from 5 to 1000, comes in the form of silvery coins. They got their name from dancing slippers that were lined with the material the coins are made from.

Education: Children in Swan Lake attend primary school and then secondary school. School days there are notably longer than they are in the other lands. Also, unlike the other lands, the average age that kids start attending school is 3.

Culture: Swan Lake's demonym is the name of the land itself. So, when describing something related to it, you say its name (i.e. Swan Lake sailboats). Swan Lake people can be called Swan Lakers as well.

The people of Swan Lake are known for their willingness to seize the day, and for being spirited and graceful entertainers. They also enjoy traveling, as there are many ships, boats and airships docked in the harbor of Moonlight Sound. They ride swan boats to navigate the rivers around the land.

Some Swan Lakers are named after what kind of animal or being they are while others aren't.

Swan Lake's slang and terminology seems to come from their love of performing. Swanna says that Swan Lake has places to rest from Act One to now, which means they have them everywhere you look.

Swan Lake celebrates Christmas, but it's not a major holiday to them. They observe it by decorating the land with motifs of the Nutcracker. Their major, more anticipated winter holiday is the Sweets Ball, which comes after Christmas. On that day, they eat lots of sweets and candies and dance with them, envisioning themselves in the Land of Sweets after the defeat of the Mouse King.

The Harvest is a multiple-day event that takes place in autumn. On those days, Swan Lakers pick and collect grapes. They also attempt to court someone wearing a funny costume. Based on the Giselle ballet, it is an holiday associated with romance, similarly to Valentine’s Day.

Their idea of wealth stems from your sense of style or fanciness, and also your skill in activities like dancing.

Swan Lakers celebrate someone’s birthday by putting on a show about that person’s life for them. The show is done in the style of a ballet. Afterwards, the person is gifted with things that match their virtues and positive personality traits.

People in Swan Lake get engaged by going to the large lake, where one of them makes a vow of everlasting love to the other(s). They then exchange rings to make their engagement official. 

Swan Lake wedding ceremonies begin with a legal process in an office to ensure that the marriage is binding. They proceed to the venue, where they re-recite their vow of love, extinguish a small fire to symbolize vanquishing evil, and stand on a stool to show they are rising together in love. A fun wedding tradition in Swan Lake is pretending that one of the marrying people got cursed and their beloved(s) has to save them. 

For a Swan Lake funeral, dancing shoes are put on the foot pieces of the deceased person so that they’ll always be able to dance, even in spirit. They put the pieces in a cubic box that’s smaller than a coffin. There’s a picture of a ghost dancer on its top. Like birthdays, the person’s life is retold from start to finish in the style of a dance. Then, everyone goes to the nearest river, where they send the box spinning as it floats away. If Swan Lakers have their curtains drawn or their windows covered up with sheets, it means they’ve lost someone. 

Dancing is the universal language of Swan Lake, and the most popular type of dance is ballet. This is to the extent that dance has influence on people's fashion choices, gestures and education. There are numerous theaters in Swan Lake where dance productions are put on and many dance studios throughout the land. Drama is quite known as well. Secondary schools in Swan Lake usually have their own ballet company for students to dance in. In all of their productions, the music is played by a live concert ensemble.

-----

Trivia:

Swan Lake is an obvious nod to Pyotr Tchaikovsky's famous ballet, but other ballets are referenced there as well.

In past versions, Swan Lake was an archipelago of islands under Germafrost's control, but Jezabat didn't want him to have been a villain. She also wanted to utilize the Lake in the land's name in some way.

Odetta’s name was Annabelle in earlier versions, and she was the mayor of Swan Lake instead of the prime minister.

Swan Lake is one of the first lands to have sent up a space probe, and some of its residents have been in space before. They’re looking to stage their first production on the moon, according to Swanna.

Swan Lake and Elegancia are allied with each other, but they don’t interact very often. They’re mostly focused on their own things, and they only mention each other in business-related topics.

Swan Lake used to be a monarchy.

An evil sprite overthrew the last queen of Swan Lake, and while the citizens managed to defeat her, they were unable to replace the monarchy. So, a group of swans who had a sisterly bond decided to run the land, becoming the first swan ministers.

Odetta is named after a queen named Odette, who once ruled the land. Her husband, Siegfried, is named after a prince from long ago.

A former Doom Lord who was from Swan Lake was an owl named Rothbart, who worked under the name Master Curses.

-----

In Other Languages

Arabic: بحيرة البجع / "Buhayrat Albaje" (Swan Lake)

Spanish: Lago de los Cisnes

German: Schwanensee

Swedish: Svansjön

Italian: Il Lago dei Cigni

Swahili: Ziwa la Swan

Portuguese: Lago dos Cisnes

Korean: 백조의 호수 / "Bakjon Hosu" (Swan Lake)

Japanese: スワン��イク / "Suwanreiku"

Chinese: 天鹅湖 / "Tiānéhú" (Swan Lake)

Polish: Jezioro Łabędzie

Greek: Η Λίμνη των Κύκνων / "I Límni ton Kýknon" (The Lake of Swans)

French: Le Lac des Cygnes

Russian: Лебединое Oзеро / "Lebedinoye Ozero" (Swan Lake)

Hindi: स्वान झील / "Svaan Jheel" (Swan Lake)

Thai: สวอนเลก / "Swanleg"

Turkish: Kuğu Gölü

[aneixart]

sun feb 5 2023

I dont know where this dream begins, I was inside a dark house ranting about bft about how I didn't trust them and all the things they were telling me I was telling this to shn which was weird because they weren't my friend more of an acquaintance ,they listened intensely, the house was dark like there were no lights on but being lite by the light from outside nothing sunny, I heard a cough and realized that bft was sleeping in one of the rooms and possible heard everything. Part of the ground fell exposing an rectangular tunnel I put a flashlight down and saw all these red and cream colored crabs below shn and there spouse followed we went underground to this place but it didn't seem underground it was bright high wall the walls were not brick but like redish brown colored and there was aqua blue circle there was a pool for some reason the water was clear. I saw this tunnel while the other two explored then i heard a strange noise like machine turning in the tunnel a door begin to slide opebeing fixed my attention on the door i tried to tell myself to alert the others and run, but I was fixed on the tunnel soon I saw crabs emerge then behind them this giant creature grey it reminded me of Mr waternoose. but this version wasn't any cartoon it was a live creature there seem to be another behind it. I couldn't run around without it getting me I had no choice but to jump in the pool to cross and it all felt like it slowed me down. I reached the other side by these two giant pillars and had nowhere to go two giants emerged and tried to capture me when I became aware and begin to fly to escape. I shifted to another scene and saw myself drawing what I had seen I was then in a grocery store collecting my items that feel on the floor another customer tall man was rude saying I was stealing I told him these were my items then he handed me a bottle of white grape champagne and asked if that to was mine i told him no and handed it back to him his mother was with him and she gave me a ride there but it seem like she left me I began to walk home there was feilds of land next to the road and sidewalk another girl joined me she didn't want to walk alone I told her we might as well travel together as we walked we talked about things I seem to find a stroller to push my items it was slightly broken but it helped we passed this building I seem to be in Dallas it was a dull day but the sun came out I climbed up on the roof and was watching the nest of birds , I eventually made it to my mothers apartment were she was asleep and then I woke.

[totiredtowrite]

Nonononono hear me out right? Imagine Oikawa, one of the most powerful demons around, snags a reader who wants to be a hero and just kind of says 'aight this ones mine now'

Powerless

Warnings - Mentions of killing, the word blade, a religious joke here or there, cursing, referenced nsfw, the req was short but I managed to make this long af, sorry if the ending is trash :(, might do a part 2

Note: I have one mood and this is it

Male Reader - Fem Readers DNI, Respect The Boundaries of the Writers. ✨This isn't about you✨

Demon King Oikawa Tooru.

Infamous for a...multitude of things. For one, his power. Two, the astounding number of people who lust after him. Cults and chapels have been erected in his favour, solely because of his attraction. Nobodies even sure if he's a demon of lust at this point, or if he's just naturally handsome.

And lastly, of course, his ego. His power gives him a big head, though that isn't undeserved. He's just as cocky as he's allowed to be. While it may seem like overkill to some people, they'll quickly find that all of his self conceit is well earned.

Of course, that makes him a big target. Any heroes career would be made if they could kill the demon king. Hell, some get publicity just by returning alive. Young, naive, aspiring heroes want to get his head on a platter more than anything.

And, of course, you were no exception.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛ 🃑 ┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I just don't think you're cut out for this, son."

At first you'd scoffed. Chalked it up to your mentor being crazy. After all, he was the one who trained you for this!

Nearing the end of the dead forest though, you were starting to wish that you'd listened to him. The energy, the atmosphere, felt like it was wrapping around your neck. You could almost see the dark tendrils around your throat.

The whispers of the forest- prominent, though unintelligible- faded the farther you got from the tree line. Anyone with eyes, ears, or even a nose could tell how corrupt the land was here. Dead birds, ravens to be exact, littered the grounds. Every few yards, you had to step over or around a carcass.

Your torch, near burnt out, clattered to the ground.

There wasn't any need for it anymore, the dim sunset illuminating the deathly area. A small shudder tore through your body. It's like you could feel eyes on you, even in the obviously vacated expanse.

The castle wasn't any better.

Cracked and broken cobblestone lined the pathway up to the doors, travelling up a rather steep hill. From where you stood, you could see the different layers. True to it's unholy resident, the castle was make of dark brick and stone. Sharp, jagged pillars jutted up at the tips of towers, pyres in small heaps littering the area. Some looked as if they were already burnt.

Your hand drifted to your side. There your sword hung, sheathed tightly in a leather casing. The sword was all you really needed, though a couple extra daggers and limited magic items were helpful. After all, it was the demon king. Just a sword wasn't going to kill him off.

You smiled at the thought of your sword being framed when you became a well-known hero, famous for being the blade to deliver the finishing blow.

Those thoughts were quickly disrupted as a bird fell to the ground at your feet.

You grimaced, gently kicking the corpse out of the way and continuing on the rocky cobblestone path. There hasn't been any sign of people for the last two miles. You knew that there was an immensely powerful demon king not even twenty minutes away from you, but it felt like there was nobody for miles on end.

Obviously though, no sane person would get as close to this place as you were.

With one final, (and tentative) step, you arrived at the front door. It felt like any and all sound was swallowed by the walls, all of your senses instantly on edge. Nothing felt right here. It almost made you want to turn around, but you've already made it this far. It would make no sense.

Drawing in another shaky breath, your hand made its way to the door handle. Not much skin touched it through your gloves, yet you could just sense how wrong it felt.

You could only hope that the next time you see these doors, you'd still have your head.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛ 🃑 ┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nobody told Oikawa that being the demon king would be so...boring.

As opposed to what everyone thinks, it's actually rather monotonous. Wake up, go seduce some townspeople, maybe burn a village or two, kill some heroes who come by, and repeat. Nothing happened that he didn't expect anymore.

Hell, it's gotten to the point where he just smites heroes before they even finish their little speech!

In his defense though, their speeches were starting to sound the same. All the "you are an ungodly creature of darkness"s and "I must avenge my family"s just felt the exact same. They only wanted to kill him for the publicity, the bounty, or some stupid thing about their families legacy. He's so bored.

His thoughts were quickly interrupted, (thank god), by the sound of footsteps pounding on the floor. All at once the door to the throne room swung open, a sweating and panting Kuroo standing there. His black hair was wind tousled, sweat glinting on his forehead.

"Wow," Oikawa scoffed. "Somethings got you running."

Kuroo stood up straight, shrugging and attempting to appear collected. "What do you mean?"

Oikawa raised his brows.

"Right, there's a hero in the castle." Kuroo chuckled awkwardly. "Want us to take care of him?"

Oikawa perked up. Another hero? Really? He wasn't looking forward to doing the same dance again, though maybe this time it would be slightly different. "Let him in," he grinned. "Maybe this one will have something for me." He was never one to turn down opportunity.

Kuroo, plagued by a bit of disbelief, nodded and left the throne room. Presumably it was to tell the fox twins.

Another wicked smile split the Demon King's face, brown hair shifting as he tilted his head to the side. Somehow, he got the feeling that this time, something interesting would happen.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛ 🃑 ┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You figured that the castle would be partly deserted, but this was just weird.

No sign of any living beings. Demons, animals, humans, nothing. Was it an ambush? Quite possibly. Still though, you continued on through the halls.

The inside, just like the outside, was made of dark stone and brick. The floors were marbled and grey, veins of gold running through it. It was actually relatively pretty. You thought that there would be skulls and bones everywhere, bodies even. The castle was well taken care of.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. Seriously, there was no one. You thought that the all powerful Demon King would at least have some guards stationed around. You were grateful for it though, the lack of protection making it easier for you to get into the castle.

In truth you weren't exactly sure where you were headed. You believed the demon king to be in his throne room, though where exactly that was remained a mystery.

Using your limited knowledge of how castles are built, you slowly tried to make your way to the center of the castle. The back center, specifically. You hoped that you'd find the throne room there, plus you were following the remnants of magic.

Even not being a magic user yourself, it would be hard not to feel the weird fluctuations of energy in these halls. Demons always left some kind of trail behind. Which, of course, made this weirder. Nobody was stopping you, but it was clear that there were being in the castle aside from the king himself.

A thought struck you as you reached two huge double doors. (They no doubt led to the throne room). Was it possible that the demons were letting you get this close? Of course, there had to be some kind of second meaning behind it, right?

Drawing in a breath, you flung the doors open.

The throne room was different than the rest of the castle, if only slightly. Grey marble and gold veins staying the same of course, the walls slightly lighter than before. If you had the time to look closely, you'd notice the oxidized bloodstains on the walls.

"Well well, look who's finally showed up!"

Your breath hitched in your throat, barely registering the door creaking closed behind you the moment you stepped forward. He was just as...no, more terrifying up close. The horns jutting out from the sides of his head, twisted upward, held a muted purple colour that shined in the equally muted light. His tone of voice was teasing, almost whiny.

You couldn't tell if his eyes were brown or red, but either way they glowed dangerously. "Well, boy?" He tilted his head, soft brown hair bouncing slightly. "You are here to kill me...aren't you?" His tone shifted. Deeper, more serious.

Your hand quickly made its way to your sword, eyes darting from his horns to his eyes.

He laughed. "Why do you keep looking at my horns like that? You are here for my head, are you not?" You wanted to nod, though he spoke before you could get an answer out.

"Wait a minute. You're here for something more...carnal, aren't you?"

Your eyes widened. "What- no! I'm here for your head!" Your grip on the swords hilt tightened. The rumors about his looks were true, (maybe even understating them), however that is not what you're here to do.

The teasing smirk dropped off of his face. "Oh. Lame."

Your brows knitted together. "Lame?" What was that supposed to mean?

"Oh nothing," he rolled his eyes. "So if you're going to deliver a speech, best do it now. Before I, you know, kill you real bad."

You only looked more confused.

Oikawa scoffed at your lack of response. "Jeez, come on, you know what a soliloquy is right?"

"Well yes but I don't think that really applies here-"

"Tomato whatever, get on with it!" He'd turned around, hands firmly gripping your shoulders.

Your breath stopped short for a second.

"Oh come one," his face moved closer. "Is a little proximity all it takes for you to freeze up? Maybe you aren't cut out to be a hero, boy," he snickered. His nose was brushing yours, breath minty and cold.

Without thinking, your sword was at his side in a flash of silver. Maybe it was just out of reflex, the need to defend yourself. The blank, shocked look on your face morphing into one of confusion. Why wasn't your sword moving further? "Was that the best you could do?" The king whispered.

Looking down, you realize just why he was so revered. He'd caught the blade in his hand, a trickle of black blood visible on his palm. No grimace, no noise of pain, nothing. "Hey, eyes up here sweetheart," one of his clawed hands was on your chin now. The wound, one that would cut almost anyone's hand off, didn't seem to throw him off his rhythm at all.

Horror and realization befell you as your eyes met his. You weren't ready. You didn't know what to do, except relax and let instinct take over. So that's what you did.

You let the sword fall out of your hand, causing him to have to catch it at an awkward angle. Using his moment of distraction, you reached into a bag at your hip. Sand. Sure, he was a demon, though it's not like his eyes were impervious to sand.

The dust hit him in the eyes, a startled, strangled noise leaving him. You turned, darting to the only open window as fast as possible. Jumping was not a good idea by any means, though maybe you could use the little magic you knew to your own advantage. You hesitated. You didn't mean to, but really it was just in your nature to be a little cautious.

Oikawa's eyes cleared just in time to see you fall out the window, hands darting back and forth and lips moving. Magic. "You clever little thing," he snarled, at the window in only a few seconds flat. He almost jumped out after you, but then he stopped. Sure he could follow you, but what would be the point? It makes more sense to simply leave you to come back on your own.

"Hey!"

You didn't look back at the sound of his voice, though you did catch the next words to fall from his mouth. "The names Tooru, by the way!"

You didn't say a word, focused on the cold burn of your heart pounding and your legs moving. You'd failed far faster than you thought you would, but you'd be back. You didn't even bother to step around the birds, only focused on getting out. After all, he'd let you leave. There wasn't any way you were taking that for granted.

Back at the castle, Oikawa's hands were still gripping the window's edge. He'd watched your form run until he could hardly see you, still gazing off in that direction. The twins were hovering behind him, wondering when the right time would be to speak. The bloodied sword on the ground, (and the grains of sand), were clear signs that you'd done something.

After elbowing one another for a minute, Osamu spoke up. "Would you like us to take care of it, Lord?" He pushed Atsumu back in an attempt to seem more dignified.

They got silence for a second before he responded. "No. That one is mine. Leave him be." The twins nodded in unison, leaving the room like they were never there.

You didn't do much. There were other heroes who'd done far more to him then you had, though still, something stuck with him. Maybe it was the utterly useless conversation you'd shared before anything actually happened. Maybe it was the vague potential he saw.

In any case, he was going to see you once more. Somewhere you'd least expect him.

Oikawa never was fond of leaving unfinished business.

[wlw-peachylsbn]

i think i need some fresh air (feeling under pressure) (narcissa malfoy x reader)

A/N: okay, so my only notes for this fic was "narcissa reads you poems while you suck her tiddy? mommy kink yay". so that's what you're going to get! thanks to @daffodilmoons for inspiring me with their post here!

we have some mommy kink (yes, i am predictable go away), a bit of tit sucking, and fluff.

You sigh, tossing the covers off as you sit up, rubbing your eyes. The clock hanging on the wall reads 2:34 a.m. Great.

You turn to look at Narcissa, a smile instantly coming to your face. She’s sound asleep, of course, but she looks like some sort of angel, her blonde hair tumbling in waves, a peaceful expression on her face. You quietly take her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her fingertips, before stealing her robe and padding to the living room. You’ve never been more grateful that her manor is so large. You can just wander around with little chance of waking up.

Of course, you find your way to the library. Multiple bookshelves tower over you, and the soft carpet muffles your footsteps as you take your favourite seat. It’s a plushy, cherry red chair by the window that sticks out from the elegant, silver decor. Narcissa ordered it for you after a playful argument (darling, I love the comfort factor, but it doesn’t match!), and you fell in love at first sight. Or first seat.

A table rests at the side of your chair, adorned with your favourite books and trinkets, and a glass of cold water (on top of a coaster, of course). You take a book of poetry—love poems—and idly flip through the pages before tossing it back onto the table. Usually, you can lose yourself in poetry, but tonight, you just feel restless.

You grab a nearby blanket and wrap it around your shoulders as you stand up, looking out the window. It’s a bit of a chilly evening, but it’s quiet. There are no more of those damned peacocks, just some birds calling and the rustle of the wind. The moon is shining brightly, too.

You sigh, tightening your hold on the blanket that smells like Narcissa. You’ve been having trouble sleeping for the past few days, with nightmares waking you up or simple insomnia. It seems like tonight is the latter.

You sigh again. Life just sucks sometimes! No way around it. School has been an absolute bitch lately. With finals coming up, and multiple projects and essays due, your stress levels are extremely high. Every day makes you come closer to your deadlines. You don’t want your grades to slip, but you’ve spent every waking moment hunched over your desk, your quill scribbling. You haven’t even had time for dates with Narcissa, even.

You slump against the window. The sword of Damocles hangs over your head, and you’re keenly aware of every slipping inch. You know you shouldn’t overthink, but still, your mind falls down a negative rabbit hole with no rope to hold onto.

Dark whispers infiltrate your mind, and the demons in the shadows tip-toe forward, ready to grab you in their claws. You can’t even muster up any courage to fight back; you just allow them to control.

Until you feel a hand on your shoulder. You know who it is. Your love, Narcissa, of course. You would know her blind or deaf, by the warmth of her hand and the softness of her footsteps.

When you turn to face her, the monsters fade away. Her hair is like her halo, and the way she’s smiling at you can only be described as angelic. She’ll protect you; she always does.

“Cissa,” you breathe.

“Darling. What on Earth are you doing up so late?”

“I thought it was early?”

“Early or late, there’s no reason for you to be up at this hour.” She tsks, and although it’s meant to reprimand you, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. She’s worried about you; she cares about you.

“I know. I just couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Why ever not?”

“You looked too beautiful to disturb.”

“Oh, hush.” Narcissa rolls her eyes, but you still spot the pleased smile she tries to hide. “I don’t want you to hide from me. Your troubles are my troubles. I can help you, do you understand?”

You glance away, squinting at the door over her shoulder. “I know, I know….”

“Good. You’re not alone, not anymore.” She takes a seat in your favourite chair and tugs your waist, making you tumble into her lap.

A laugh escapes you as you shift to get more comfortable. “Cissa! What was that for?”

“Because I wanted you close,” she replies simply. “Now, what’s been keeping you up at night, darling? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. You’ve been eating less and less and working more and more.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to ignore you.”

“I know you don’t. I never said you were. But I am rather worried.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’m fine. Please don’t worry anymore.” The lie slips out without your consent, and judging by her raised eyebrow, Narcissa doesn’t believe you one bit.

“Don’t you remember what I just said?”

“Yes, we’re a team, my troubles are yours, blah blah.” You wiggle closer, moving her silk robe to the side so you can nuzzle into the soft skin revealed.

“ ‘Blah blah?’ And is that my robe?” She tsks again. “It seems you’ve developed a bit of an attitude, little one.”

“Me? I don’t have an attitude!” You ignore how her nickname makes you shiver, instead pressing a kiss to her neck again. “I don’t, Cissa.”

“Well, if you’re a good girl, then you’ll tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh loudly but rest against her chest, closing your eyes. You’re tired. You’re always so tired. But you push through your exhaustion and say, “I’m just really stressed because of school. I was having a good start to the semester, but now, I’m feeling pretty burnt out. I don’t want to disappoint …”

“Disappoint?” she prompts. “Finish your thought, sweetheart.”

“Disappoint my family. Disappoint me.” You swallow. “Disappoint you.”

“Oh, honey.” The kindness in her tone makes you grip her robe in your fists, trying to stop yourself from crying. “Sweetheart, it’s alright. Everything is going to be alright. Look at me. Look at me, please.”

You don’t want to, but she grabs your chin gently, tugging so you’re looking into each other’s eyes. You can’t imagine how you look, hair mussed up, dark eye bags, and a slowly escaping tear. But Narcissa looks at you tenderly as ever, reaching up to wipe your tear away. “You won’t disappoint me.”

“But—”

“Hush. You could never disappoint me. Never. Especially over a grade. I just want you to try your best. That’s all.”

“Everyone says that but—what if my best is not enough? I’ll be a failure, Mommy.” To your utter humiliation, the nickname you associate with comfort and safety slips out. You bury your head in the crook of her neck again, this time intending to never leave.

“Sometimes, the things we love and work hard for, don’t work out. That has nothing to do with our failures or triumphs, simply that the time wasn’t quite right.” Her hand comes up to rub your back in long, smooth strokes, thankfully not commenting on your Freudian slip. “Your grades have nothing to do with you as a person. They are a separate entity, completely. The only things that define us are the things we allow, understand?”

You nod shakily. “ ‘m still really worried.”

“I know, my love. I’m not expecting that fear to go away in five minutes. But if you allow me to stay by your side, I swear I will always be your support when you fall. Always.”

“Always,” you whisper. A seed of hope worms its way to your chest. With Narcissa by your side, how can you do anything but fight?

“But we can plan tomorrow, darling. Our goal for tonight is to get some sleep.”

You nod, already half-asleep on her chest. The exhaustion you’ve been pushing away slams into you like a ton of bricks, and you yawn. “M’kay.”

“Shall I read you some poems? I know you love them.”

“If you don’t mind, Mommy.”

“Of course I don’t, darling girl.” Her hair tickles your cheek as she leans forward to grab the book you were reading earlier. “Would you like to hear Sonnet 43 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning?”

“Mhm.”

“ ‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.’ ”

You know the next line by heart. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. It’s quite close to how you feel about Narcissa, but not entirely. There are no words for how you feel for her. Sometimes the truest feelings are the hardest to put into words because there simply are no words. But it’s close. And you think she knows.

Narcissa’s voice is so lovely. Husky from sleep and soft and melodic. She has a perfect reading voice. She’s perfect.

You shift, a little whine leaving your mouth. You’re on the verge of falling asleep, but you’re missing one key thing.

“Oh, what’s wrong, sweetheart? Tired?”

You nod, snuggling closer to her.

“That’s alright, dear heart. Just rest now.”

“Mommy,” you whine again. You don’t want to say it, so you grasp her robe and tug, exposing her breast. “Please?”

“Oh, I see now, darling. You just want Mommy’s help to fall asleep, don’t you, lovely?” Narcissa coos, pulling her robe more to the side. “I know, baby, I know. Come here.”

Finally. This is what you’ve been waiting for. You eagerly latch your mouth on her nipple, closing your eyes and sucking.

She laughs quietly, running her hand through your hair, playing with the ends. “Slow down, darling. Just relax now. Mommy’s got you.”

You nod, eyes half-lidded. The bud in your mouth hardens with every suck or lick, and it is arousing, to an extent, but it’s mostly just … comforting. There’s something you can focus all your attention on, something that’s anchoring you. You keep sucking, listening to Narcissa read, and finally allow yourself to fall asleep.

[thetravelerwrites]

Alexei (Satyr) Part 1

Rating: Mature Relationships: Female Human/Male Satyr Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Satyr, Arranged Marriage, Fake Marriage, Strangers to Lovers, Reader Insert Words: 5834

A commission for @thebimess​! A woman escaping an arranged marriage proposes an unusual agreement with a man she just met: marry her for six months to get out of the marriage contract. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Being on the road was rather terrifying for a woman traveling on her own, but you weren’t wavering in your intent. You had to get to Dunmountain and disappear. You didn’t care if you lived in a hovel shoveling shit for a living, you weren’t marrying that man. Not in a million years.

A few days on the road sleeping rough hadn’t done much to deter you, though it was cold and uncomfortable. You managed to get to Chesterfield long enough to buy road provisions and get rid of your old clothes, but you didn’t want to stay there too long. You didn’t know if they’d have people out looking for you.

You ached for a bath and a bed. You didn’t realize how much you’d taken being clean and comfortable for granted. And it looked like rain tonight. You figured the horses wouldn’t mind a bunk mate.

As you were coming around to go into the stables, it began to rain rather hard. As you ducked in, the stablehand shouted at you.

“Oy! Get out of here! No homeless wenches sleeping in here for free. Go get a room or sleep in a gutter!”

“Oh, but sir--”

“No buts! Out with you!”

You had no choice but to duck back out of the stable and into the pouring rain. You went around the back, praying that there was a cart you could sleep under.

Instead of a cart, there was a lovely lavender vardo parked there. The front and rear doors were locked, but there was a window. It was small, but you thought you could squeeze through. And if you got stuck, at least half of you would be dry.

The shutters had a latch on the inside, but it was easy enough to open with a hair stick. Using the wheel as a boost, you threw your bag inside and jumped up. Getting your shoulders through was the hardest part, and your hips were a bit of a struggle, but finally you fell to the floor of the vardo like a spilled sack of potatoes. Slightly bruised, you re-latched the shutter windows and looked around.

It was fairly neat and tidy, looking a bit larger on the inside that it did on the outside, with things secured safely to the walls and inside trunks. The walls had beautiful filigree scrolling all the way up and the roof had a lovely fresco of a countryside near a body of water, the field full of flowers. There were things that hung along the ceiling, making gentle jingling noises as the vardo moved.

There was a small cot latched up against the wall that would fold down. Wearily, you folded it down, pulled out your cloak, which was still dry in your bag, and laid it over the cot to prevent the wet from your clothes from seeping through, and settled down on it. You’d deal with the owner in the morning. If you weren’t arrested for trespassing, that is.

Once you were horizontal, you fell asleep immediately.

You were awakened rudely when you felt water being poured on your face. You sputtered and shielded your face, sitting up abruptly.

“Ah, the stowaway is awake at last,” You heard a masculine voice say. “Since you seem to have had a nice rest, you can get out now.”

You wiped the water out of your eyes and looked up. Standing there was a satyr with deep brown fur on his legs and tan skin. With his short, black horns jutting up just behind his hairline, you thought he might be only slightly shorter than you. He had hair the same dark color as his fur and bright blue eyes, a closely trimmed beard and mustache, and dimples you could see even with the beard. He wore no trousers, covered by his fur, but had on an off-white tunic and a buttoned-up brick red vest with gold embroidery. His cloven hooves were shiny black and dainty.

“I’m sorry,” You said, coughing and sniff the water out of your nose. “I’m sorry, I just needed a dry place to sleep.”

“And so you did,” He said, putting his water skin aside and folding his arms. “I’ve been on the road for hours now, and I didn’t know you were back here until I stopped for lunch. So, you’ve had your sleep. Get out.”

“Which way have you traveled?”

“I’m halfway to Red Landing,” He said.

“No!” You moaned, your head in your hands. “It took me so long to get to Chesterfield from Red Landing. That’s almost a full day backwards!”

“That’s not my problem,” He huffed. “You’re the one who trespassed in what is ostensibly my home.”

“Can I pay you to take me back to Chesterfield? I’ll give you ten gold. That has to be enough to ferry me for a few hours.”

He sighed sharply. “I mean… I guess? I don’t owe you any favors, you know.��

“No, I know,” You replied, fishing around in your bag. “Here,” You pressed ten coins into his hand. “It’s not much for inconveniencing you, I know, but I don’t have much as it is.”

He bounced the coins in his hand, frowning down at them.

“What’s so important in Chesterfield?” He asked.

“I’m not going to Chesterfield, I’m going to Dunmountain,” You replied. “Do you really care why?”

He snorted. “I guess not. Fine, fine. You’ve already taken up too much of my time, I might as well get paid for it.” He snatched up your bag and began looking through it.

“Hey!” You said, grabbing the bag back. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure you didn’t steal anything of mine while you were in here,” He retorted. “Let me see or I’ll dump you off right here.”

You scoffed, but held open your bag so that he could see inside, refusing to let it go. He shuffled things around and you waited anxiously until he was satisfied and straightened up.

“You’re not riding in here,” He said. “Get up in the driver’s box. I want to be able to watch you.”

“Alright,” You said, standing and following him out of the back of the vardo and led you to the front. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know my name and I don’t need to know yours,” He said, vaulting up and not offering his hand. You were forced to clamor up the opposite side. “Once we get to Chesterfield, I expect to never see you again.”

“Fair enough,” You said, hunkering down in the driver’s box, sitting as far away from him as you could, and fell silent as the carriage lurched forward.

He pulled out a small bag of puffed grains and dried fruits and began to munch on them as the vardo trundled on, the lone mule’s head bobbing up and down as it took each step. You took out a small amount of hard cheese and nibbled on it.

“I’ll trade you a bite of cheese for a handful of your trail snacks,” You told him.

He shrugged. “Sure,” He replied, taking the morsel of cheese you offered him and pouring some of the grains and fruits in your palm.

“What were you going to Red Landing for?” You asked him.

He looked at you sidelong before answering. “I was going to buy some shells to make paint.”

“Are you a painter?” You asked.

“Yes,” He replied.

“Did you do the scrollwork and the fresco in the vardo?”

“I did.”

“Wow,” You replied, impressed. “It’s really good work. I mean, I’m not an expert, but I enjoyed it very much.”

“I don’t know what weight the praise of a trespasser might carry, but thank you all the same.”

You bristled. “I said I was sorry. And I’ve paid you. There’s no reason to be rude.”

That effectively killed conversation and your appetite. You put your food back in your bag and sat still and quiet, staring at the trees as they passed.

After an hour, the vardo stopped, and you looked at the satyr for the first time since his quip.

“Why have we stopped?” You asked.

“Shh,” He replied. “Listen. Do you hear that?”

You strained your hearing. “I just hear birds and the trees rustling.”

“Stay here,” He said, throwing down the reins and jumping down. “If you run off with my stuff, I’ll hunt you down.”

“I’m not going to run off, relax,” You said in annoyance.

He sniffed and walked into the trees and out of sight. You waited nervously for him to return, clutching your bag against your body, until eventually you heard a sniffling and whimpering. The satyr emerged from the trees carrying what you thought was a dog at first, but on closer inspection, it was wearing a shirt and pants.

“Oh, my goodness!” You cried, putting down your bag and hopping down. “Are you alright, little one!”

He whined much like a puppy. You reached from him, and he crawled into your arms, hiding his snout in your hair.

“I haven’t been able to get much out of him,” The satyr said. “But I remember the sheriff in Willowridge is a gnoll and has a couple of young sons. The crossroads to Willowridge is nearby. We may be making a detour.”

“That’s just fine, isn’t it?” You cooed to the little gnoll boy. “That’s no problem, eh? Let’s get you home, sweet pea. I’ve got some jerky in my bag. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” The boy said watery.

“Alright, sweetie pie, let’s get you some food, then.” You popped back up into the driver’s box with the boy clinging to you like a baby possum. The satyr got back up and snapped the reins, pushing the mule to movement.

After he ate, he seemed a bit more calm, and you were able to get him to talk to you. You learned that his name was Declan and he was indeed the youngest son of Willowridge’s sheriff, Feera. He was three years old and apparently a sleepwalker, having woken up in the forest a little while before the satyr heard him crying. How he managed to cross so much land in his sleep was unimaginable, but at least he was heading home now.

It didn’t take long for him to become rambunctious, and the satyr pulled Declan into his lap and let him take the reins. Declan squealed happily as he wiggled the reins back and forth. The mule was patient and didn’t take off when he felt the slapping on his back.

After a while, he fell asleep in the satyr’s arms. The satyr cradled him while still keeping a firm hand on the reins.

“You’re good with kids,” You remarked.

He shrugged. “I grew up around a bunch of kids, so I’m used to handling them.”

“Do you have a lot of younger siblings?”

“Something like that,” He replied.

As you rounded the bend, Willowridge came into view. You’d only been there once when you were ten when your father was still a builder. He’d retired from construction just afterward.

“Hey, Declan!” You said, tickling him awake. “Look, you’re home!”

Declan woke up in the satyr’s arms and looked around, his ears perking up. He yipped excitedly.

“Oy!” The satyr called out. “Anyone missing a kid?”

“Oh, thank goodness!” An older woman said, running out from a nearby trail. She was wearing trousers and had long brown hair with wisps of white in it. “Where have you been, you naughty thing! We’ve been looking for you everywhere! You come to Gramma right this instant!” She took the little boy from the satyr’s arms and hugged him tight. She turned and called to a large centaur that was next to her. “Can you go and fetch Eris and Feera?”

“Yes, Mama,” He said, and he dashed off with a flick of his tail.

“Thank you two so much,” She said, reaching up to shake your hand.

“Oh, it was all him,” You said. “He heard Declan crying in the forest.”

“Keen hearing,” The satyr said, flicking his long ears. “Alexei, pleasure to meet you, madam.” You introduced yourself as well.

“My name is Ryel. Let me buy you folks dinner and a bed for the evening. It’s the least I can do. Who knows what might have happened to Declan if you two hadn’t found him.

As you were about to answer, a large gnoll and a woman with a river of golden hair flying behind her sprinted toward you. The gnoll was on all fours and much faster than the woman, who was clutching her skirts in her fists so she didn’t trip on them as she ran. Running at her side was another gnoll child, slightly bigger than Declan.

“Declan!” The gnoll cried out, and Ryel handed the boy off to his father as soon as he skidded to a stop and reared up on his hind legs. “By the gods, son, you scared the life out of me!”

The woman, Eris, stopped next to her husband, her face wet with tears, and she took the boy without a word, squeezing him tight and crying silently. Feera encircled both of them in his arms and held them for a moment. The other gnoll boy stood with his grandmother, holding her hand and biting at one of his claws in wide-eyed confusion.

After a moment, Feera let go of his wife and approached you.

“Thank you, strangers,” He said, reaching up to shake your hands like his mother had.

“It’s my pleasure, sir,” Alexei replied, shaking firmly.

“Please, let me buy the two of you a drink,” Feera said, waving over a stable boy from the nearby tavern. “We’ll take your mule and cart and make sure they’re both taken care of. Are you folks hungry?”

The family ushered you and Alexei into the inn and sat you down at a table, ordering ale and a meal for everyone. Eris had a firm grip on her youngest son and an arm around her oldest. Declan now seemed to be completely over his sojourn into the woods by himself, though his parents still seemed slightly traumatized by it.

“That’s the farthest he’s ever gone,” Eris said. She was a taciturn woman who didn’t smile much, which made her appear rather stern. “We’re usually good about keeping everything locked up tight. I still don’t know how he got out. We’ve even nailed the windows closed.”

“Who knows?” Feera said, rubbing his wife’s back soothingly. “He could have shimmied out of the slats in the attic. Looks like I’ll have to nail that shut too.”

“Here you go, dearies,” The innkeeper said, laying a key on the table. “Here’s your room for the night. The bed is nice and big, so you’ll both be comfortable.”

“Oh,” Alexei said. “No, we’re not together. I was giving her a ride. I hadn’t met her before today.”

“Oh,” The innkeeper said, dismayed. “I’m afraid I only have the one room available right now.”

“That’s alright, we’ll take it. Thank you for your generosity,” You said, taking the key and smiling. In an undertone, you said to Alexei, “It’s fine, I’ll sleep on the floor, it’s no big deal.”

He grimaced but said nothing.

That night, you unrolled your bedroll and got ready to lay down. He had taken the bed, since you offered it, and was already half asleep. He had taken off his vest but left his tunic on. You stared at him thoughtfully, debating with yourself.

“Alexei,” You called.

He snorted and opened his eyes, looking over at you blearily. “What?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it? I’m trying to sleep.”

“Would you marry me?”

His eyes shot open and he stared at the ceiling for a full minute before sitting up to glare at you.

“What?”

“Look, I know it’s a weird thing to ask--”

“It’s a crazy thing to ask!”

“Can I just explain myself before you think I’m crazy?”

“It’s too late for that, but please, go ahead.” He sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed and his hands clasped in his lap, looking at you expectantly.

“I’m escaping an arranged marriage,” You began bluntly. “I was only told of the engagement three days prior to leaving home. I met him at a dinner the night before what was to be our wedding day for the first time. You could not imagine a more boorish, rude, inept man.”

“I bet I could.”

You snorted. “He did nothing but drink wine during the dinner, leering at both me and the serving staff and making rather unseemly comments about my face and body, considering he’d only just met me. His parents just shushed him, but in a dismissive, boys-will-be-boys kind of way that made me want to tear my hair out.”

“When was this whole thing set up?”

“I’d apparently been promised to him since I was five years old. His family is rich from textile money, but they have a less that immaculate reputation. His parents need the respectability that my family’s name offers in order to regain many of their clients and trade routes.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s the son’s, my so-called husband-to-be’s, fault. I learned through conversation with his parents that he didn’t work in his family business at all and traveled quite often on his parent’s dime. After they had gotten rather drunk, his parents admitted that he had already fathered two children out of wedlock that they knew of.”

His head rocked back. “That’s concerning. Are your parents still on board with the wedding?”

“Yes. Part of the deal is a large investment from my fiance’s parents; my parents need the money to retire.”

“So you decided to escape in the middle of the night, is that it?”

You nodded. “Thankfully, my parents hadn’t paid the officiant yet, and therefore the wedding hadn’t been formally recorded with the county as a done-deal, so I decided to leave until the contract ran its course. I knew where my parents kept their money and only took what I thought I would need to get to Dunmountain. They aren’t exactly rich, after all, just well-respected. I plan to pay them back at some point. I just pray they understand.”

“So, you’re asking me to marry you to get out of the engagement?”

“Yes,” You said. “The contract is void if I turn twenty five before the wedding or if I have been married to someone else for a minimum of six months with verifiable proof. Meaning I have to have both my husband and the marriage certificate in hand and meet with a mediator to authenticate it. And since twenty five is three years away, the only hope I have of freedom is to marry someone else.”

He folded his arms. “And exactly what do I get out of this? Six months is a long time to be stuck with a stranger, you know.”

“I know. I’ll give you every penny I have. Wherever we end up, I’ll pick up jobs. I’ll pay for everything. I’ll cook and clean. You won’t have to lift a finger. I’ll do whatever I can to make this as painless for you as possible, and then when it’s over, we can have the marriage annulled and you never have to see me again.”

He considered you for a long moment, chewing his lip.

“I know it’s sudden and out of the blue,” You continued. “But I’m desperate and willing to put my trust, and money, in a stranger.”

He sighed and raked his fingers through his beard. “Look, give me a day to consider it. This is a lot for me to process.”

“Alright,” You said. “Thank you for even entertaining the idea. I haven’t done much to endear myself to you, so I appreciate that you didn’t turn me down outright.”

He flopped back down on the bed. “Go to sleep.”

“You still don’t know my name,” You said, lying down.

“If I accept, you can tell me. Just go to sleep. Or don’t, I don’t care.” He rolled over toward the wall, facing away from you, clearly indicating the conversation was over. You covered yourself with your cloak, your thoughts in a roil, and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning, Alexei was gone. After a moment of panic, you packed up your things and rushed downstairs, hoping to ask after him, only to find him sitting and eating breakfast. He looked up when you came stumbling down, but made no gesture of greeting, simply continued to eat. You almost went to go sit with him, but thought, why? You don’t know him, after all. Instead, you went to sit at the bar.

“Getcha anythin’, darlin’?” The barmaid asked. She had a friendly north-eastern Scottish accent.

“You folks offer a breakfast plate or something like that?” You asked.

“Sure do. Mulled cider to go with?”

“Sounds great, thank you.”

She went off to get your food and drink and you sat there, feeling anxious.

“Pardon me,” A voice said to your right. It was Eris, the young mother of the gnoll child. Despite her somber face, she was actually rather lovely when she wasn’t crying.

“Oh, yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?”

“Take this, please,” She said, holding out a small drawstring sack. “It’s not much, but I wouldn’t feel right if you walked away with no reward for what you did for my family.”

“Oh, ma’am, no, you don’t have to do this,” You protested, but she held up a hand to stop you.

“Please, it would mean a lot to me. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to him,” She said. She scratched her neck self-consciously. Though she wore a high collared dress, you could see a scar peeking out of the neckline.

“Really, Alexei should get this, he’s the one who found him,” You told her.

“He’s already been given his share,” She said. “Take it, please.”

You smiled and sighed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” Her normally reserved, neutral expression lightened into a smile. “I hope we meet again.” And she took her leave.

The barmaid laid a plate of scrambled eggs and a fried potato hash in front of you along with a large tankard of cider.

You’d eaten half of it when Alexei sidled up and sat on the stool next to you. He didn’t look at you, but set his tankard in front of him and flagged down the barmaid, who refilled it.

“Do you get on with your folks? Are they good parents?”

“Yeah,” You replied, stunned by the sudden question. “They’re nice parents, they’ve never been cruel to me. I supposed I’m closer to my mother than my father, but we all get along well. I’ve never had to doubt if they loved me, if that’s what you mean.”

“But they’re okay with you marrying this pissant, though?”

You sighed. “Their marriage was arranged, and they were fine with it. I suppose they think that my fiance, Gregory, will settle down when we marry, but I doubt it. I don’t see how being married to a stranger is supposed to make someone like him straighten up.” You set down your fork and leaned your elbows on the bar. “Besides, even good parents may not always do what’s best for their kids. Sometimes they do what’s best for themselves. They’re just as capable of being selfish at the expense of others as any other person can be.” You took a gulp of cider and blew out a breath of frustration.

“Do you hate them?”

“No,” You said slowly. “I’m angry at them, but that doesn’t mean I hate them.”

He took a drink and huffed. “It’s all so confusing.”

“How do you mean?” You asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. What were you going to do once you got to Dunmountain?”

“Hide. Get a job somewhere, anywhere. Sleep in a shed, if I have to. Lie low until I turned twenty five. Maybe go back when the contract runs out. Maybe.”

“You don’t want to see your parents again?”

“It’s not that,” You said, poking at your food. “I didn’t want to leave in the first place. If it wasn’t for the engagement, I wouldn’t have had to. I don’t know what they’ll do if I ever go back. Maybe they’ll disown me. Maybe they’ll force me to work or write up another marriage contract with Gregory or someone else to get the money they need. I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have a say?”

You scoffed. “Of course not. Women are the property of their fathers until they get married, and then they’re the property of their husbands. Property doesn’t get a say.”

He was silent for a long time, every so often reaching over to pick an onion off of your plate.

“I guess I just have one thing left to ask you, then,” He said.

“Which is?”

He turned to you and clicked his tongue. “What’s your name, pet?”

The two of you left Willowridge heading for Dunmountain, stopping for a few days in Chesterfield to have a quick courthouse wedding. He managed to find a simple iron ring in his belongings to use as a wedding band. After the wedding, you gave him half of your money, telling him he’d get the other half after the annulment.

Once in Dunmountain, you left Alexei to handle the mule and vardo, and immediately began to look for work. The bathhouses were your best bet; there was always laundry that needed doing.

You also found a small apartment at an inn made up of a single room with a fireplace one could cook over. It wasn’t furnished with anything, not even a bed, but you figured you could make do with a bedroll and a simple table and chairs. You paid the rent for the next month and got the keys, rushing back to Alexei to tell him where you’d be living.

He drove you back to the apartment on his carriage, and the two of you began hauling your belongings up the stairs to your room.

“I’ll buy furnishings tomorrow,” You told him. “We’re not staying here long, so we won’t need much.”

“Didn’t you say you’d see to my every comfort?” He teased. “I want a canopy bed with feather down and a lounging sofa and--”

You shushed him. “I said I’d cook and clean and pay the necessary expenses. You want anything else, you can pay for it yourself.”

He chuckled. “Did you find a job?”

“I start at the bathhouse adjacent to the inn in two days. I’ll leave you food for the day and cook when I get home. That’ll have to do.” You opened the door to the room and stepped inside. “I have enough provisions to make a simple stew, unless you’d like something else.”

“Stew sounds fine,” He said, setting down a small trunk. “I think I’ll go out tomorrow and look for paint supplies. I sold all of my paintings on my trip and I need to create some new ones. If I go too long without painting, I get irritable.”

“I’d hate to see what that looks like,” You said snidely. The only thing in the room provided by the inn was a bucket for drawing water from the nearby fountain. “I’ll fetch some water for dinner.”

A few months passed awkwardly but uneventfully. Alexei was companionable enough, but the two of you hadn’t made any attempts to bond or become close. You exchanged passing pleasantries, but the two of you didn’t converse much. He sometimes teased you by asking if your “wifely duties” extended to sharing the marital bed, seeing as how your bedrolls had been placed on opposite sides of the room. You merely smacked his backside with a hand towel and told him to get back to his paintings.

“Would you ever consider sitting for a painting, pet?” He asked you once as you were cleaning dishes.

You snorted. “I expected you’d want me to model nude for you or some nonsense.”

He laughed. “Only if that’s what you’d like, dear wife of mine.”

“Don’t call me that,” You said, lobbing a crumb of bread at his head. He didn’t duck, just let it hit him and caught it, popping it in his mouth. “And I will do no such thing.”

“Offer is open, if you ever change your mind.”

“If the earth opened and the devil himself ordered me to do it, I’d still refuse.”

Alexei laughed full-throated. “That’d be a sight worth seeing.”

As annoying as he could be, he wasn’t an unpleasant man to live with. He didn’t do any of the washing or cooking, but you didn’t care since you promised to do it yourself. Even still, he was fairly tidy and didn’t make much of a mess. He liked to joke and tease, but he was mostly harmless. For all his teasing, he never once made a move on you or gave you any reason to fear he might take advantage of you.

You also had to admit, he was very talented. He sold his paintings just as fast as he made them, which was a little bit of a shame, you thought: your room was a little plain and dour, and you’d have liked one or two of them to hang on the wall to brighten the place up. You never asked, though. You couldn’t go asking for favors from the man who’d already promised six months of his life to you.

On your birthday, you got permission to finish work early and decided to go and buy the ingredients to make an apple and honey pot pie to go with dinner that night. Since you didn’t have a stove, you’d have to bake it in a pan over the fire, but you knew how to do it. It was one of the first treats your mother had ever taught you to make.

Apples were in season and would be cheap enough--the cheapest of the fruits available anyway--but honey would be quite expensive. A single spoonful cost several days worth of work. But you figured, you’d been working hard. You’d earned it.

When you arrived back at the apartment, he stood up from his painting stool to take your shopping basket.

“Is that honey I smell?” He said, sniffing. “That’s pricey. What’s the occasion, pet?”

“It’s my birthday,” You told him. “I was going to make a pie.”

“Is it!” He said, smiling. “That certainly is reason for celebration. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s not like we have regular conversations, you know,” You said, unpacking the shopping. “Besides, I didn’t think it would matter to you.”

“Well, that’s a bit unfair,” He said, frowning. “Are we not friends?”

“Are we?” You asked, stopping to quirk an eyebrow at him. “Out of the way, please. I need to start the crust now or I’ll be cooking all night.”

He frowned at you still but said nothing, taking two steps back so you could bustle about making dinner.

“What would you want as a gift?” He asked, leaning against the wall and watching you work.

“I don’t want anything,” You replied, not looking up. “If I did, I’d get it myself.”  

“Oh, come now,” He said, tsking. “You may not think of us as friends, but after four months, I would assume we’d have developed some kind of rapport. What would you ask of a friend?”

“I wouldn’t ask anything of a friend,” You said. “I’m not the type of person who expects gifts.”

“Didn’t your parents ever give you gifts?”

“That’s different, they’re my parents.”

“Family, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m family now, aren’t I?” He asked.

“I will throw a plate at you.”

“Just tell me,” He said, his voice a little wheedling. “There must be one thing I can get you that you’d allow.”

You sighed forcefully and stopped kneading the dough, turning to him and looking him up and down. “Are you serious about this?”

“Have you ever known me not to be serious?” He asked, grinning.

You rolled your eyes and when back to work, and he stuttered a retraction.

“No, no, I am, I’m serious. Please, tell me, what would you like?”

You stopped again and wiped your hands on your apron, and then crossed them over your chest. “Well… I’d like a painting.”

He looked like you’d hit him in the head with your baking pan. “What?”

“It doesn’t have to be anything grand, just a little painting of anything, flowers or trees or something like that, to brighten up the room. It’s a bit drab here.” You waved around vaguely. “There isn’t even a window. Just… some color. That’s all.”

“You want me to paint for you?” He asked, incredulous. “That’s all?”

“Well… I know painting supplies are expensive and I didn’t want to ask for anything, seeing as I promised to take care of everything myself. Like I said, I’m not the type to expect presents or things like that.”

“You don’t like to ask for things for yourself, do you, pet?” He asked shrewdly. “Not just from me, huh? In general.”

You turned your back to him and started kneading again. “My parents were both born peasants. Peasants don’t get gifts. When they married, they lived in a one-room cruck house that my father built them as a wedding gift. A house of straw and dirt was all my father could offer my mother, and it was good enough. They both worked their hands to the bone to get where they are. They live in a much nicer house now and don’t have to work as hard as they used to, but they raised me to appreciate what I could do with my own hands and not to rely on gifts. ‘A gift is never free,’ they’d always say.” You stopped working again and stared at your hands. “They used to tell me that I was ‘a gift’ to them. I wonder now if that meant they always saw me as a means to an end.”

“I always thought parents were supposed to put their children above everything else,” He said softly from behind you, continuing to watch you.

“Is that what your parents were like?” You asked in return. He didn’t answer and you looked over your shoulder at him.

“I wouldn’t know,” He said eventually, sitting down at the table and taking an apple from the basket. “Never met them. I grew up in an orphanage.” He took a knife from his pocket and began to peel and slice the apples.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” You remarked.

“Hush,” He said, not looking at you. “It’s your birthday.”

Dinner was pleasant, and the pie was delicious. There was enough left over to to have for breakfast the next morning. Alexei even helped you tidy up. The day had been rather nice.

So why, when you lay down for bed, did it suddenly feel like you couldn’t breathe?

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 14: Loss

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Loss Rated: T (Presumed Major Character Death) Based on the trailer for the upcoming Gotham Knights game: https://youtu.be/IhVf_3TeTQE (TW: flashing images towards the end of the trailer)

Jason is walking home on a rainy night in Gotham after a long day working with Roy.  He was hoping to quickly get back home to his girlfriend and relax for a few days. He felt his phone vibrate, he took it out from his pocket to see it was a call from Batman. The words “Incoming Transmission: Code Black” were written boldly across his screen. Jason had a bad feeling about this. He walked into a nearby alley and looked around to see if he was truly alone before taking this urgent call.

He was unsure whether to pick up the call or not, his relationship with Bruce had been strained ever since he was killed by the Joker and came back as the Red Hood. Even if they had reconciled, they still argued and disagreed with one another.  This was probably him asking if he was willing to go undercover again like he had done with Black Mask.  He continued to stare at the phone, thinking of all the possible reasons that Bruce may have wanted to call him. “What is Code Black?” He thought to himself as he answered the call.

His phone sparks to life with the image of Bruce, Jason immediately knew something was wrong. Bruce never showed his face in any Bat related communication. “If you’re watching this, I’m dead.” Jason could not believe what he was seeing, he barely registers the rest of the message. Thinking back to how he first met Batman, trying to steal the wheels off the Batmobile. To him, Batman was invincible, invisible and unstoppable. After all his training as Robin and even after his return as Red Hood, a small piece of him had felt that Batman could not be beaten. He had watched Batman face aliens from outer space and gods from another world. Knowing that Batman was well and truly gone felt...impossible.

He slowly trudges home, his vision blurs as he slowly makes it home on autopilot. He enters his apartment, not even taking his wet clothes or shoes off. Marinette hears him walk in, “Welcome home Jay, I made boeuf bourguignon.” Jason doesn’t even notice her, and in that moment she knew something wasn’t quite right. Normally Jason would joke about how it was a miracle nothing was burning, it could happen, given how clumsy Marinette was.  He slowly drags his feet to the living room and slumps on the sofa, his head in his hands. Marinette peeks her head around the corner, looking visibly concerned.  

Marinette slowly walked to the sofa and sat next to Jason, putting a hand on his thigh. “Jay?” she quietly asked.

Jason’s voice begins to crack “He’s gone, I can’t believe it, he's really gone.” He lifts his head up to look Marinette dead in the eye, “Mari, Bruce is gone.”

Marinette gasps, she had heard the news report but she didn’t think it was true.  She had assumed it was the start of an elaborate ruse, but the look in Jason’s eyes told her otherwise.  Marinette knew Jason and Bruce’s relationship was complicated, but he was visibly hurt and shocked by the news.  Jason wanted a lot of things, he never really wanted Bruce to die, not like this anyway. If that were the case he would have gone through with his plan of blowing up the Batmobile, all those years ago.  Marinette reached up to gently wipe a tear from his face, he held her hand close to his face before she could pull it away.  It was the first of many that would be shed at that moment.

For so many years, before and after he died, Jason wanted Bruce to understand him.  He seemed like a pointy-eared brick wall at times, he never thought there would come a day when it would fall.  Batman had almost seemed untouchable, even when Bane broke his back, he came back stronger than any of them.  Marinette gave a startled little squeak as he pulled her close to him, before wrapping her arms around him. He pulled away slightly but her face was still very close to his, he ran his thumb along her cheek as she leaned into his touch.  He savoured the warm softness beneath his fingertips.  His teary eyes looked into hers for a moment, before he leaned in close to kiss her.  At that moment, he needed to feel the warmth that radiated off of her.  He needed to hold her close to him, he needed to know that she was really there, and not just a cruel fleeting dream.  

Marinette was surprised, in the years that she had known him this wasn't a side of Jason that she had seen before.  There was a feeling of desperation in that kiss, one that only Marinette was privy to.  Whenever Jason kissed her in the past, sometimes it was passion, sometimes with a gentle softness, and other times because he took a certain delight in making her blush.  This time there was passion, but almost never with the desperation and anguish he felt at that very moment.  By contrast, Marinette was a lot more trusting, more forgiving, more optimistic.  It was something that Jason didn’t take lightly, especially considering the person he was by comparison.  With the Kwamis' help, she had seen him through his bouts of pit madness.  Nevertheless, when the kiss broke, she was breathless for a moment, but she didn't pull away.   She rested her forehead against his, brushing aside the occasional tear from his eyes.

For the rest of the night Jason continued to hold Marinette close to him, his chest heaved with sobs every so often. Even with his complicated relationship with Bruce, he was still the one who adopted, taught and cared for this street urchin of Gotham. As the two held each other, Jason’s phone began to ring, displaying Nightwing’s blue bird symbol on screen. Jason took out the phone and looked to see who was calling. He stared at the screen, unsure how to talk to Dick after the loss of Bruce. He looks back to Marinette, ”answer it” she told him with a gentle smile, he needs to be with his family now.

Jason took a deep breath and answered “Hello?”

He could hear Dick’s voice, unusually hoarse on the other end “Hey Little Wing, you saw the message didn’t you?”

Jason solemnly responded “Yeah. I got his message.”

“We need you Jason, just as Bruce said, Gotham needs its guardians. We’re all here at the Belfry. Babs, Tim, Steph, even Duke and Cass. Are you with us?” asked Dick.

Jason looks back to Marinette, who then nodded to him with a smile and mouthed “Go.”

He turns back to the phone, “I’ll be there in an hour, Ladybug can handle things here”.

As he ends the call and stands up from the sofa, Marinette puts a hand to his chest and lifts a finger, signaling to wait just a moment before running to the bedroom. She returns with two wrapped presents, “They were meant for your birthday next month, but...I think you need it now more than ever.”

She places the two boxes next to Jason, and asks him to open them up. Jason picks up the first box, slowly unwrapping to reveal new body armour. His eyes widen, he runs a hand across the large red bat symbol on its chest.

“Mr. Fox and I worked on this for you, he may be an excellent inventor but he lacks a tailor’s touch.” she explained. Taking out a cue card from the gift box, Marinette clears her throat and begins reading from it. “The tri-weave bodysuit consists of an outer and inner layer made from a titanium-dipped tri-weave fiber mesh.”  Marinette tried to read the words with some confidence, despite the fact that English was her second language. She wasn’t even sure if English speakers understood what these words meant. “Sandwiched in between is the MR-fluid based liquid armor system. The proprietary WayneTech Smart MR-fluid hardens in response to impacts, specifically designed to provide superior shock absorption.” As she read the cue card, Marinette thought working these materials into the design was challenging enough, never mind having to list out what they were for.  Still, not everyone had her magical super suit, so she never really thought about how a normal human would have to shield themselves.  Judging by the smile growing on Jason’s face, clearly she was reading some things right. “The liquid body armor layer is also more flexible than the ceramic or fiber-based armour, allowing for greater maneuverability.”  Marinette took a breath and gently placed the cue card back into the box, “I hope you understood those words, because I didn’t” she joked, and for the first time since he’d come home she saw Jason smile. “I also modelled it after your favourite hoodie for maximum comfort.” Saying the last two with emphasis as if it was the most important thing when it came to armour.

Jason chuckles, “This is perfect Pixie, thank you.” As he stands up to give her a hug, she stops him and gestures to the other gift. As he opens the second box he sees within a new Red Hood helmet. “Same materials as your suit. Light, breathable and comfortable.”

Jason picks up the new helmet and begins inspecting it from all angles. He is curious about the black embellishments around the vision slits of the helmet. “Hey Pixie, what's with the dark eye rings?” he asks, turning his head to face her.

She gives him a wink “Red Hood with a pinch of Ladybug.”

Jason places the helmet down and goes to the bedroom to change into his new armour.  Tikki zooms over and both of them give each other a firm nod. If Jason was putting his trust in Marinette to hold the fort here, there was no way she was going to let him down.

[gumnut-logic]

Virgil took a step back as the man loomed at him, his finger pointedly trying to hit baldric.

“Do you have any idea what was in that suitcase?”

“Sir, it was your life or that suitcase. I chose your life.”

The woman behind the angry man clutched her two children to her. Her eyes were ever so grateful for Virgil hauling them off their house as it was washing away, pulled from its embankment by the flooded and raging river still roaring enough to dull the thunder of his ‘bird hovering above. Virgil was surrounded by a wall of sound.

Punctuated by a very angry man who took yet another step towards Virgil.

“Everything I own was in that suitcase! You have ruined everything!”

“Sir, International Rescue rescues lives, not possessions.” Virgil straightened. It was understandable that the man was upset, he had lost everything, but Virgil had a rescue to complete… “I’m sorry for your loss, but I have further work to do.” Virgil stepped to one side.

Only to be confronted by the man again as he shoved himself into Virgil’s personal space.

He took another step back. “Sir, please step aside.”

“Not until you locate and retrieve my suitcase.”

Virgil stared at him a moment. He did not have time for this. That house had not been alone on that embankment and Virgil hadn’t finished scanning the remaining houses.

He needed to get out there now.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but there is no time.” Again, he moved to walk around the man.

And again his path was blocked.

“Henry, please!”

“Shut up, Janine.” The man stepped forward. “I need that briefcase.”

Too bad. Virgil didn’t bother to answer and pushed past the man instead.

Only to be grabbed from behind, an arm suddenly tight around his neck.

Something sharp pierced through the seal at his throat.

Virgil froze a split second before grabbing at his wrist control.

Kayo was going to be so pissed at him…again.

“Please, Henry, not in front of the children.” The woman sounded like she was in tears. “God, he’s International Rescue.”

“Which means he’s a Tracy and worth millions. He lost me millions, he can earn me some more.”

Virgil heard the subtle change in his ‘bird’s VTOL as she shifted ever so slightly above. It was masked by the roar of the river, but he picked it up like his own heartbeat.

Henry didn’t notice.

Virgil swallowed and the point of what was likely a knife scraped against skin.

Shit. Kayo was going to lecture and work him to death over this.

“Sir, please don’t.”

The knife pierced skin and Virgil was hard put not to yelp. “Don’t tell me what t-“

Something hit them like a tonne of bricks. The arm around Virgil’s throat was wrenched away with a crack and he stumbled and fell to his knees.

A yelp, a grunt, a woman’s scream and the sound of a body hitting the dirt.

A roar as another Thunderbird swooped in to join his ‘bird.

He was never going to live this down.

“Virgil, you okay?” Gordon grabbed his arm, assessing eyes seeking injury.

“Yeah, I think so.” He prodded at his throat with one gloved hand.

His fingertips came back red. Aw, crap.

“Okay, bro. Sit down, let me have a look.”

“We don’t have time, Gordon.” He batted his brother’s hands away.

“We have time to make sure you’re not going to bleed out or keel over on me. Let me have a look.” And Gordon gave up on asking further. Reaching over, he unclipped Virgil’s helmet and gently removed it.

The fresh air was welcome and Virgil took a deep breath.

Gentle fingers peeled away his neck seal. “Ooh, ouch. He sliced you a good one.”

Virgil grunted, only to catch sight of another brother running towards them. “I’m just dead.”

“Yep. Can I borrow one of your medkits?”

Virgil nodded only to wince when he moved his neck. “Ow.”

Gordon fiddled with Virgil’s baldric and a gauze pad was thrust up against his throat. “Hold that there. You know the drill.”

Virgil let his shoulders drop just a little. “You didn’t injure him permanently, I hope.”

“Nope, just taught him a lesson. Eos is searching the criminal databases as we speak. Aunt Val is pissed again.”

“Shit. Not Aunt Val as well?”

“This is the third time, Virgil. When are you going to learn to stand up for yourself? It’s not like you’re not made of muscle. You could have bench pressed the guy.”

“He had kids.”

“So? He was going to sell you to the highest bidder.”

“It wouldn’t have gotten that far.”

“No, not with me hanging around, but still. What if I wasn’t?”

“Virgil! Report!”

Virgil opened his mouth as Scott approached, eyeing the restrained and unconscious man on the ground, before turning back to Virgil, worry blatant.

“He’s fine, Scott. Still the softie, still not standing up for himself, but fine. Just a little cut up this time.”

Of course, Scott demanded to see the damage. Worried blue eyes became exasperated. “Virgil…”

“I know. I’m sorry. His kids were watching.”

Speaking of which…he turned and found the small family exactly where he had left them. Janine was pale and the two kids wide-eyed. Virgil stumbled to his feet, Gordon protesting the entire way. Scott grabbed him, but Virgil shook him off, still holding the gauze to his bleeding throat.

He approached the woman and she took a step back. Virgil halted. “I’m sorry.”

The woman brought a hand to her mouth and burst out crying.

Virgil couldn’t help himself and reached out a hand.

She shook her head, grabbed both her children and scurried away.

The river continued to roar as Virgil let his arm drop.

A brotherly hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. “C’mon, let’s get you taped up and in the air. We have a rescue to finish.”

Virgil stared after the woman. Voice quiet and barely heard above all the noise. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

An arm slipped around his shoulders and Scott led him back to a waiting Gordon.

-o-o-o-

[passivenovember]

mama said to smile while I still have teeth : PART TWO

(part one)

(or) Billy gets his wisdom teeth removed and Steve understands things will not grow back in the spaces we leave for them.

--

Billy hops down from the passenger side like it’s written in a script or something. Part B of his master plan, logical in the journey of what happens next.

He swings the car door open and charges through wet grass. Neon green blades stick to the heel of his boot, lopsided smile drawn forward to inspect the ferns nestled on either side of a welcome mat that says Bless this Mess. 

It’s as if he’s been here before. 

As if he belongs.

Steve watches Billy collapse on the porch swing, arms and legs folded under him like a house of cards toppled over in the wind. He must not realize that it’s functional, or something, because Billy sits bolt upright and uses the toe of his boot to get the swing moving, once he does.

Really moving, like. Banging against the bay window his mother leaves clear for her azaleas, moving. 

Billy hollers. Makes grabby hands, like, “Push me!”

“You’re gonna get sea sick.” Steve chuckles, watching Billy shrug and take it for a ride. 

Billy brings the swing to a sudden halt, when. “How come you’re all the way down there?” he asks. 

Catching on. 

Steve watches him struggle to get his feet up on the swing. Feels his heart shudder in fondness, when Billy grins up at him triumphantly. 

“Didn’t know there were other options.” Steve says.

“There aren’t. Come here.” Billy gestures to the porch when Steve’s legs decide to fizzle out. “It’s a carnival ride. You got one on your porch, at your house, and--”

Steve claims of the second cushion when Billy removes the thumb from his mouth long enough to spell it out for him. “Cuddles.” He says.

Simple.

And his eyes are so blue. Bright. Steve doesn’t have a choice because, really, they’ve swapped sides with the rope. 

Up and left this dimension all together when the flea got squashed by the acrobat deciding that they could skip the apologies and get to the good part.

Steve realizes that he wants this. 

Billy. Scooting impossibly closer and humming the bridge to Mama Mia. “You smell good, Stever.” Billy says around the pad of his thumb. Dripping more blood down the front of his hoodie, and. Trying to get his face in Steve’s neck. 

Which should be gross, but. 

Steve just clears a path. Makes room for the warm nose that sniffs a trail up and around one ear. “You said I smelled like ass,” He accuses, sounding shaky. Star struck. 

Billy’s breath feels like fairy wings. “Wrong. I said you smell like sweet grass and have a sweet ass, didn’t you pay attention to my context clues?”

“Um.” There’s something warm on Steve’s throat. Going wet in the middle, parting and sucking and--

He pulls away. 

Billy smiles at him. tries to get in Steve’s lap but the bench moves with him and when the bench moves with him, Steve’s got a brick wall glued to his side. 

Shivering. Cold, or afraid. Nervous.

“You tired?”

Billy shakes his head. With his whole body. “Wanna hang out.”

“You can sleep for a little bit. I’ll still be there, when you--”

Billy grunts. Refuses, so. Steve rubs the side of Billy’s shoulder, instead. Fabric and muscle and heat living somewhere beneath his fingertips. “You don’t wanna go in?” 

“Nope.” Billy somehow works his way under Steve’s arm. 

Feels right, striking oil in the heartland.

--

It starts raining again. Somewhere along the way, it starts getting cold and Billy shivers, peering up at Steve like he made it happen. 

Like the heavens split open and bleeding at his command.

Steve chuckles, pushing off the swing and laughing harder when Billy squawks like an angry rooster. 

“Where are we going?” He demands.

“Inside.”

Billy seems to hate that, like. Instantly. 

“Don’t make me carry you, Hargrove.” 

“Oh, look who’s got Popeye arms all of a sudden.” Billy leans back on the porch swing, thighs spread like. He has no idea how fucking--

It doesn’t matter.

“You need to eat.”

“My stitches haven’t fallen out.”

“Yeah, and they won’t. Not for days.” Steve leans against one of the porch posts, trying not to crack a smile when Billy’s thumb finds his mouth again. “Unless you’re planning to eat your hand, we gotta get some mac and cheese--”

Billy’s off the swing before Steve realizes what’s happened. He wanders in between the ferns in their bright orange pots. Jamming a thumb at the number above the doorbell, like, “This door?”

And. “Yeah?”

“This is the one with the cheese?”

“And the mac too.” Steve winks at him, watching a warm blush spread across a sea of freckles. He cocks his head, like, “What’s up?”

“Maybe we can do inside.” Billy says harshly. “For a minute. To kiss the noodles, or something--”

“Kiss the?”

“Open the door.” Billy suggests. “Now.”

So Steve does, biting down on a smile when Billy clomps through the foyer, tracking dirt and grass and pieces of Steve’s heart across imported marble.

“This is so huge.” Billy says softly. His eyes go bright all of a sudden and he’s right in Steve’s face. “You probably have so many pillows here. And chairs. And blankets, too, like. The big ones--”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s build a fort, Stever.” Billy says desperately. He bounces a little, managing to knock more mud onto the floor beneath him. “Let’s build a house. For me and you, and the noodles if they wanna stay the night.”

Steve grins, untangling Billy’s fingers from his hair. “Yeah, I guess we could do that.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” Steve points to the ground. “Boots off first, though.”

Billy jerks away. “No.”

“Stop being a little shit for like, three seconds--”

“Stop being party pooper. For like. Your entire adulthood.” Billy shoots back, collapsing onto the staircase and holding his foot in one hand anyway. 

Steve holds his breath. 

Billy stares at the boot, and his foot inside the boot, like maybe the connection between them is lost. 

Steve feels like an asshole for finding it adorable, but. Billy looks up at him through his eyelashes. 

“I think I’m still high.” He theorizes.

“Yup.” Steve tugs his own shoes off, placing them on the rack by the door.

“I don’t think I can untangle the knots.” Billy says miserably. He tries, though, scowling like the laces have done it on purpose.

Steve watches him struggle, and laughs at the struggle, before holding out his hands. “Give me your foot.”

Billy stares at him. “Really?”

“Our only other option is to wait around until you figure it out, and who knows how long that’ll take.” Steve says, waiting for Billy to shoot back with something venomous. 

He doesn’t. 

He coos, instead. Like a little baby bird, pointing his toes in the air with a giggle. “I’m Cinderella and you’re the prince,” Billy declares, laughing harder when Steve drops to his knees and gets the boot off in one go. “Prince Charming, Prince--”

“You’re just saying that because I have amazing hair and you have little blonde princess curls.”

“Hey.” Billy deadpans, holding out his second foot. “It grows out of my hair like that.”

“Head.” Steve chuckles.

Billy’s mouth falls open in a silent O, brows drawn in confusion. 

Steve puts both muddy boots on the rack next to his own, smiling down at Billy’s puzzled face. “Your hair grows out of your head like that.”

“It does?” Billy asks in wonder. “I like it. Do you like it?”

And. “Yeah. It’s cute.” Steve says, holding out his hand. “Come on. Lunch time.”

Billy lets Steve pull him up, swaying a little bit at their proximity. 

He doesn’t pull away, and.

This close his eyes aren’t just blue, they’re green. And yellow. And brown, like a kaleidoscope. 

“Am I a cute person, Stever?” Billy asks softly.

“The cutest.” Steve says. Without thinking, but.

It doesn’t seem to matter. Because Billy’s high as a fucking kite, wiggling his hips and saying, “I think you’re cuter than me. Softer. Like an opil painting, or maybe a box of raspberry macaroons.”

Steve chuckles, not even trying to pull away when Billy’s fingers try to force their way into his mouth. “When have you had macaroons?”

“I haven’t,” Billy admits easily. “But I always thought that maybe you tasted like one.” 

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but. Billy’s gone after that. Running his fingers along the wall and disappearing around the corner. 

“C’mon, Stever! I want cheese flavored kisses.”

And Steve.

Doesn’t think Billy will remember this. 

--

They order pizza instead. Steve knows that Billy’s gotta be careful with his incision marks. Not go to heavy on the fat and grease less than three hours after his surgery, but. 

Steve tries to hold blue eyes even as they slip through his fingers. Pools and rivers disappearing beneath the Earth.

He’s starting to think that maybe. 

All it would take is bat of those stupid eyelash and Steve would throw every responsible thought out the window. 

Billy says, “You got a laundry machine?” After the pizza performs its vanishing act. 

And Steve says, “Yeah, why?” 

Two seconds before Billy is stripping down naked. 

“Woah, woah, hey--”

“There’s Kool-Aid on my hoodie.” Billy says from behind a wall of fabric. “I can’t walk around with red juice on my clothes, people will know I’m a vampire then.”

“You’re a vampire?” Steve tries to look away from Billy’s stomach. 

The smooth planes of skin, soft just above a layer of muscle. He puts a hand over his eyes for good measure. Safe keeping when Billy gets the hoodie off in one go and he’s standing there. 

Shirtless.

In the middle of the room like some kind of wet dream Steve never even realized he had. 

Billy grins, curls sticking out in every direction. “They’d think it.”

And Steve’s brain is, fucking. 

Offline. Distracted. He blinks, tearing his eyes way from Billy’s chest long enough to go, “Think what?”

“That I’m a vampire.”

And Steve thinks he couldn’t be. Too tan. Too--

Alive. Steve shrugs. “I don’t think it.”

“That’s because you don’t think.” Billy tosses the hoodie onto floor. He points at Steve, like, “Can I wear your sweater?”

And Steve looks down at himself. “This one?”

“Yeah.” Billy says. “Smells like you.”

And Steve doesn’t even have to think about it. Doesn’t even consider what it might mean, pulling the fabric over his head and handing it to an asshole who examines his Kate Bush tee shirt and says, “That one too.”

Like he’s trying to make Steve catch on fire.

Steve shakes his head. “What will I wear if you take all my clothes?”

Billy shrugs, like, “Not my problem.”

And he’s uncovering truths with those eyes. Getting a little too close to the root of it, the revelation, so. 

Steve gives Billy the shirt too. 

And tries not to think about the four seconds that they’re both shirtless. Standing in a room together, just. looking. Charting unmarked skin, eyes glazing silver springs on bronze soil. 

Billy puts the tee shirt on, and the sweater over the top of that, until It’s just Steve. 

Half naked in the living room.

“I’ll go grab another shirt, and then, um.” It feels like the walls are burning down. Steve’s thoughts fall like bullet points. “We should go outside,” He says. “Wanna go sit on the swing?”

Billy frowns. “’S cold outside.” 

“Yeah, but.” Steve picks the hoodie off the ground. “I’ll keep you warm.”

--

Billy’s fingers don’t leave his skin. Don’t soothe, when they light trails of smoke over his collarbone. 

Steve leans into the touch anyway. 

Gives into the pull, anyway, when Billy grabs his cheek and brings their eyes together, looking every bit like he’s got something to say. 

Something important.

“What?” Steve asks. Wanting to touch. Wanting to--

“You know my mom threw a plate at my old man,” Billy says, eyes resting on a scar they both know is there. Hidden, like gold beneath caverns of rock. “The day she left, she. Threw my Mickie Mouse at him.”

“Your plate?”

“It was a bowl.” 

“I’m sure he deserved it.” Steve says easily. “I’m sure it was the only way to win.”

“There aren’t any winners with stuff like that.” Billy says gently. His eyes are watery again. Steve’s getting suspicious of it, like maybe that’s just how the world comes together for Billy. With water and sphere’s of blue. 

God hovering over the surface of the deep. 

Billy sighs, thumb twitching against his leg. “Neil would’ve killed her.”

And Steve hates Neil.

Knows more than be probably should. Pays attention, takes notes.

“That just means she’s resourceful, right?” Steve whispers. “Using the stuff around her to fight fair.”

“Wasn’t fair.” Billy whispers, finally looking away. Eyes studying the rain as it drips from the trees above. 

“Clean, then.” Steve shifts, rocking the porch swing as he sits criss-cross with his knees pressed against Billy’s thigh. “Even fight. Clean break.”

He wonders how he can get those eyes on him again. 

How he can be taken apart. 

“No such thing.” 

Steve doesn’t get it. “What do you mean?”

“All breaks sever the bone.”

And Steve thinks. Maybe. “Are you high?” He squints at Billy’s face, trying to see if it’s written on his forehead. 

Billy smirks. “I think so.”

“Still high.” Steve says, wanting to lift his fingers. Prod at swollen cheeks. He doesn’t, when Billy’s eyes start welling up again. “Don’t cry.” Steve suggests, sliding closer. “Don’t cry, Billy--”

“I’m sorry about--”

“I know.”

“That night. It was. I never should’ve--”

“She’s your sister.” Steve says fiercely. Because. “We were trying to protect you.” And he was. At the root of it all, deep in the center of himself. Steve turns outward again, feet planted on the ground. “We didn’t want you to get roped into our shit. With the monsters, you were.”

Billy’s staring at him. 

Watching. Steve can feel it, so. He closes his own eyes, just to even the score. To make it easier when his lips say, “You’re too beautiful to have your life cracked open like that.”

Billy doesn’t speak until he does, voice flickering like candle light behind a window covered in frost. “Life was already laying in pieces on the rug.”

And there are fingers in Steve’s hair. Brushing tears from his cheeks. Billy grabs him by the throat with more care, more. 

Love.

Than Steve ever thought he would get in this life. Billy moves him until they’re right in each other’s space. Breathing the same air, no longer running races to escape one another. 

It feels right. 

Billy smiles at him. “Thank you.”

And Steve doesn’t know what for. Doesn’t care what for, but there’s a finger on his mouth, parting his lips. Billy’s eyes burn a hole in his tongue. Clear a path through muscle and bone, until Steve is pulled forward. 

Into an embrace. 

Into a trilogy of kisses; on the corner of his eye. On the bridge of his nose. On the bow of his lip that turns biting. And bruising.

Billy asks if he can lay on Steve’s chest, because. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He says shyly. Billy kisses him once more and  and Steve.

Goes down easy.

[sweetest-honeybee]

Down to Dust

Chapter 4

Fic Summary: Grian will have to keep the dragon egg secure for the Watchers. But, they’re not the only ones who want it. On a completely unrelated note, Mumbo will have to deal with a version of himself thats only amplified by his No Killing mindset.

Chapter Sumamry: Mumbo was surprised to find that Grian was right when he said the egg was magical.

TW: Slight electrocution I suppose, and descriptions of lightning

Word Count: 2415

Notes: Again, the two farms are in the overworld, not in the Nether or End for the sake of the fic

Enjoy! And this one deserves a Read More because it’s long lol

——————

By the end of the next day, Mumbo had finished his first farm and half of his second farm. Much to his surprise, the egg didn’t bear any harm. It was strangely quiet recently but it didn’t bother him any. At the moment, it was in his inventory should anyone come by and see that he had it. It’d ruin his plans and he didn’t want to give up the egg just yet. Really, he could probably keep it forever. It had been completely safe and comfortable- or, as comfortable as an egg can be- since he stole it. Mumbo called that pretty responsible.

Who was he kidding, Grian would kill him eventually if he never found it himself.

He laid down the last of the comparators for the third row, focused more on finishing his farm than overthinking the egg situation. If all went well so far, they should be able to work on their own if he flipped a lever. The redstoner pulled the egg from his inventory and held it up to his face.

“I think everything looks about right so far, yeah?” He turned the egg as if there was a face to show his work. The egg quite obviously never spoke but it helped to explain the redstone and find the flaws in his contraptions.

Nothing seemed out of place. The first row’s test went swimmingly and by replicating that a few more times, all should go as planned when he tested them together. With his luck it may not happen but he could stand to be a little optimistic at least. Mumbo went on to build the last of the uniform rows and easily finished another quarter of the farm. All was down to just encasing said farm in a wall of glass to avoid the items spilling over the sides.

He stood back once more with his hands on his hips, the egg now by his feet. The redstoner was proud to say the least. He looked down at the egg which only sat stock still. Leaving the egg, he turned to dig in his chest for more materials.

Unbeknownst to him, however, the egg wouldn’t stay still for much longer.

“Glass, glass, where on Earth did I put the glass?” He mumbled to himself. He continued to rummage. Eventually, he pulled away from the chest with an internal cheer. “Of course it was next to the pistons.”

He swirled back around when he began to hear small pops from behind him. As he did, Mumbo’s eyes widened. Small purple sparks crackled every so often at the base of the egg and quickly began to grow in size. The egg itself launched into a fit of rapid vibrating.

“Oh! Uh-oh!” He dropped the glass next to him, shattering upon impact, and hurriedly jogged to the now terrifyingly lively egg. “Please tell me you're supposed to do that!”

The redstoner hesitated, going to touch it, then pulling away with a worried whimper. Mumbo didn’t want to touch it but he panicked as he was at a loss of what to do. The egg was calm for weeks before now. Even Grian would’ve said something if the egg had done something like this before Mumbo stole it.

Ah…Grian did tell him it was a magical egg.

Mumbo only thought Grian was joking to keep him from taking it. He’s never seen a dragon egg do that! It was just from the update, he suggested to himself. Eggs were just suddenly powerful and might destroy his days of work. He laughed nervously and pulled at his tie. It didn’t matter what he thought, the small sparks were now large bolts that shot their way into the ground. It singed the grass around it, turning it to a coal black. He had to back away from the egg’s ever expanding radius of energy.

“Oh what do I do- what do I do?!” Then, the obvious idea appeared and he palmed his forehead. “Grian!”

The redstoner fumbled to get his communicator from his pocket, almost dropping it several times. He miss-clicked several icons with petrified fingers and growled in frustration. Only when he finally opened the chat, the egg ceased its episode with an immediate halt. He looked up from the screen with caution and took another step away from the egg.

The area fell silent. Not a bird’s chirp or leave’s rustle broke the blanket of stillness that suddenly washed over everything. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, though.

He inched forward with small steps, clutching his communicator. Seconds passed, then a minute.

“H…Hello?” He said tentatively. He stuck a leg out, poking at it with the tip of his shoe then retracting his leg once more. A sigh escaped his lips. “Good, I guess that’s over with then.”

But it wasn’t. The egg was hardly finished as the bolts started again, much much larger than their already massive size they reached before it stopped the first time. Mumbo shrieked and attempted to retreat back to his chest. It took no longer than five seconds before a wave of the purple energy resonated through the ground and absorbed into the two farms. It knocked Mumbo from his feet and onto the grass, sending an electric shiver through his body.

He shielded his neck with his arms and waited. He only turned over when the sounds of roaring pistons caught his attention. But, that was hardly what he worried about as he watched in awe- good or bad, he wasn’t sure yet- at the effects of the egg’s sudden show of magic.

Both farms were activated and running faster than any farm he’d ever seen. Items upon items flowed down water streams and into stacks of chests. Some items avoided their intended route and simply floated in all directions above the farms. It was loud, incredibly loud. Mumbo nearly had to cover his ears as he initially cowered from the noise. However, he soon pulled himself to his feet and slowly approached the over-efficient farms.

A violet haze emitted from the redstone, replacing its originally reddish color, and from the cracks between each set of stone bricks. Each block crackled and hissed with energy, and it almost felt as if he were gaining some of that energy himself. Small bolts fizzled out over his suit. He lifted his left hand and turned it over, watching as sparks flew over and down his fingers to their tips.

To put it simply, it was a beautiful and supernatural sight. He wasn't sure how to react. His own heart was still racing- from the energy around him or his nerves, he also didn’t know.

While in the middle of the two farms, he glanced back at the egg which no longer twisted and turned, but sat with slowly flowing violet streams of energy penetrating the ground. Much like the hum of a conduit sounded from it. Now, it seemed very calm in contrast to its earlier fit. Mumbo assumed- for obvious reasons, really- that the egg powered the farms despite the contraptions having been able to power themselves via redstone. It was captivating and he couldn’t help but to become curious about what was inside the egg that would’ve given it so much power. That or had it already been created with it. Either way, he yearned to learn more about it. It could be revolutionary and improve efficiency immensely.

Although, the event was short lived as the egg’s energy flow sputtered and dissipated, leading to the farms shutting down with it. Mumbo looked up as items began to rain over his shoulders when they fell. But, he was hardly bothered. At this moment he realized a few things.

His farms worked, thankfully; The egg held an amount of power that could power several farms; Mumbo wanted to keep the egg for even longer to experiment.

Of course, he still wanted to eventually return it but as someone who couldn’t kill anything, the egg could help him for the time being...He already had many ideas popping into his head by the second. It only made him giddy for what was to come. He ran over and scooped up the egg with an ear-to-ear grin, holding it up to his face.

“You, my friend, are one wicked egg,” he complimented. Then, he put it in his inventory and prepared to fly home. He’d clean up the mess later.

As he rocketed off to his base, he noticed his red sweatered friend sitting alone on the roof of his house. Even when Mumbo flew by, Grian didn’t wave or nod up to him or really even look at him. Piquing his curiosity, though he should just go home and avoid confrontation, he landed behind Grian and carefully stepped down the slope of the roof.

“Hey! Haven’t heard from you much today,” he greeted. Mumbo was only met with silence. “Are you okay?”

After a second, Grian twitched when he realized that someone was talking to him. He turned his head to where Mumbo crouched down next to him.

“Oh! Sorry, I was just thinking. This is my thinking roof.”

The redstoner hummed. “Ah, don’t wear yourself out then,” he laughed.

“You should try it sometime with that empty head of yours.” The avian chuckled dryly and looked back to the setting sun, the small smile falling from his face.

“Thanks,” Mumbo replied, initially with a smile himself but found himself meeting Grian’s frown. He waited a few seconds before speaking again. Then, he tapped his fingers on the deepslate. “So...what’re you thinking about?”

“A lot, honestly. It's still the beginning of the season, I’m sure everyone is.” He waved a hand dismissively then looked at Mumbo. “What about you? Have you been thinking about anything?”

Mumbo snorted, attempting to lighten the mood. “Thinking isn’t good for me. I overthink when I do and it hurts my brain.” He paused. “But, if you’d really like to know, I’ve been thinking about the egg.”

This made Grian perk up. “What about it? Do you know where it is?”

The redstoner hesitated. Not yet, he can’t give it up just yet. “What? No, not at all. But, I had a question.”

Grian deflated, then looked away with his chin on his arms, legs tucked to his chest. “Alright, shoot.”

Mumbo’s stomach twisted. “I uh- maybe now isn’t the best time actually. You know, while it’s missing and all.” He cracked a half smile.

“Yeah, while it’s missing,” the builder scoffed. “Just ask me, I’m sure I can answer.”

“Ah- um, sure. Why...why is the egg so special to you? I understand sentimentality, but it just seemed more…” He sighed. “I don’t know. I wondered maybe- maybe it uh… did something, you know? You said it was a magical egg. Maybe you could tell me about it?”

He heard a low chuckle from Grian. “It’s just some stupid egg, it’s not magical.”

“I- oh.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that was disappointing for you, wasn’t it,” Grian sneered. The two stopped. Grian pulled his head up and Mumbo furrowed his brows. “Nevermind, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry. Just stressed.”

Mumbo stood and tightened his jaw, ignoring the builder’s excuse. “You know, you’ve been real onto me about that egg. Why don’t you tell me about that instead or go bother Scar. Every conversation I have with you now is just accusing me of taking it.”

Grian thought back to what Aisling said, then his last thought before he came to the roof. “Because maybe I saw you sneak into my house and steal the egg. And maybe, I don’t know, it’s my stuff.” He stood and faced Mumbo with a finger to the redstoner’s chest. “And maybe it’s because you are an insanely terrible liar.”

The other was at a loss for words, opening his mouth then clamping it shut repeatedly. The tips of his ears reddened in embarrassment. Of course Grian probably saw him take it, anyone could’ve. But why didn’t he say anything before? Satisfaction? Did he want Mumbo to just admit to it?

It didn’t matter now, the jig was up and all of his plans for the egg were now down the drain.

“I- I’m sorry,” was all he could muster. “I didn’t think it was such a problem.” He looked down at his shoes. “You…have been acting differently since it was gone, I didn’t think I made you mad.”

The avian sighed in relief and put a hand on Mumbo’s shoulder. “I’m not- look at me,” Mumbo lifted his head, “I’m not mad. Really, I’m not. A little annoyed, maybe, but not mad.”

“But you just scolded me like a toddler!” The redstoner whined.

Grian laughed. “Because you have to do that when a toddler lies to you. But, I’m not angry at you, at Scar, or anyone else. I want to tell you why that egg is important, I do, but it’s not the time for that, yet.” He patted his friend’s shoulder. It was clear Mumbo had more questions but decided to avoid them. “So, where is it?”

“Ah- well, I should warn you first about something.” Grian’s eyes widened. “No, no! Nothing happened to it! But um- well, it’s not ‘just some stupid egg’, it’s one seriously powerful egg, dude. What kind of dragon did you fight?!”

“...Excuse me?”

“Yeah! It powered two of my farms at once, did this huge explosion thing with a bunch of lightning, and it was awesome, but the egg-”

Grian took a hold of Mumbo’s shoulders roughly. “Mumbo, did it do anything to you.” The builder was suddenly very serious, as if Mumbo would die if he said yes.

So, of course he lied. “No? I was well away from it.” Grian let go and crossed his arms with a raised brow. “I was! I ran away because I obviously didn’t want to die.”

The other sighed. “Good, I need it now, then.”

Mumbo pulled it from his inventory, hesitating to give it back. Then, he put it in Grian’s outstretched palm. With nothing more to say, he waved goodbye and glided back to his van. Grian watched as he did and once the van’s door slid shut, he looked down at the egg. While he inspected the egg, he noticed a new detail to its shell that made his stomach sink.

A cursive two letter initial, MJ.

[shadow--writer]

Hi!! I LOVE your writing!! may I request something for modern! Muriel where he goes to a school, never talks to anyone and maybe still lives in a hut, so he doesn’t really know all the modern stuff. He sees the MC (fem would be nice) and develops a crush on her. One day he sits in like a library and he’s on his laptop and the poor guy just doesn’t know what to do with it, so the MC offers him help and he’s a big blushing mess. She invites him to come to her house to study and she has this small apartment with like lots of flowers and animals so he feels right at home and they talk about plants,animals and stuff? it’s so much I’m sorry, I thought it’s cute 🥺

awwwww omg thank you so so much! I’m still super surprised people like my writing and like me enough to follow just I love y’all. 

So these are in headcanon form and I went a little wild. Also this counts as a little birthday present for @tabbybells​ since I thought of Bink and Muriel the whole time I was writing~ Lov u and your amazing artwork. You’re super fun and very sweet, if y’all have the time go check them out! Wonderful art of Muriel and a super adorable MC cat bastard named Bink. (there is a bonus with Bink and Muriel too after the other headcanons just for fun! Lmfao hope I got Bink right XD)

Muriel x MC modern au. Made it college, he’s a Veterinary Science Major MC is not specified with gender and major (you two have science classes together tho ;3)!

~~~~

Muriel is the more reserved student, SUPER DUPER smart and really good at what he does but more reserved 

Hear me out here but: he has glasses. Thick black frames, he pushes them up his nose with his shoulder a lot when he gets distracted 

He does struggle to use his new laptop because he was just fine with his old one until it broke on him. 

You found this kinda funny. You’re studying in the library for a science test and this really big dude is just pouting at his laptop with the blue error screen

Of course this gets you out of studying so you go over to help him. At first he waves off your help, until you show him you have the same laptop and know what you’re doing

Then he gives in

“Good luck trying to fix this mess. Ugh my old laptop was better than this junk.”

...he had a 10 year old laptop that was the size of a brick and ran like a 94 year old woman with arthritis it was not better

He’s smart just not super tech savvy. Think ye old dad’s asking their kids for help with tech kinda not tech savvy. 

It’s okay because he’s freaking adorable when he pouts over his laptop not working for the eight billionth time

You two start to chat a little bit after helping him boot up his laptop, and it’s goodbyes from there when you’re done

But he started going to the library pretty often after that in hopes of seeing you again

You come in every day to study and check out something new (or pester the librarians.)

So the two of you run into one another a bunch. Each time he has a new problem with his laptop (sometimes they’re real other times it’s an excuse to talk to you. O-Only to get help of course!)

Depending on you it might take a few days or a few months to catch on to his plan

And once you do, it makes you smile and laugh a little because gosh he is quite the dork

Of course you developed a little crush on him too during this time, but one day he comes in to actually study 

You two have a science exam together to you invite him to come study over at your house

He tries to hide it but he lights up at the idea of spending more time with you, so of course he accepts (after...a moment of pretending to think about it. He didn’t want to seem too eager and scare you off)

When he first sees your apartment he’s....in shock to put it lightly 

So. Many. Things.

He likes it a lot. The amount of animal stuff you have on your walls, plants hanging from the ceiling and a bunch on every window sill. Birds/cats/dogs/hamsters etc chattering around 

It’s very bright and warm he feels at home immediately

You make warm drinks while he sets up in your living room, looking super large in this almost dollhouse couch and coffee table

It’s quite a sight, but he accepts the drink eagerly. You two study for a bit before the books get forgotten and you just...talk

About anything. Everything. The weather. Your classes. And it moves to animals. 

He gets all excited and lights up when he starts talking about Inanna (met her injured in the woods outside of town when she was a pup. He nursed her back to health and she’s never left his side since)

When he talks about her he gets all animated and opens up a lot more. Still soft spoken and shy

If he notices you staring he’ll blush red and go quiet

But when you ask questions and ask for more stories he’ll slowly warm up to being animated again

You’re...really easy to talk to like this

When it gets late and he has to go home you kiss his cheek and send him off

Bright red he is.

But he can’t wait to see you tomorrow. 

MODERN BINK AND MURIEL HEADCANONS UNDER THE CUT. This is what im good at so Happy Birthday Tabby! 😎👉👉

Modern au Bink feels like a cat person to me. All the cats. Any cat he runs into he gets. House is filled with cats. It’s hilarious 

Muriel calls him Grandma because of this. Bink in turn calls Muriel Grandpa due to his troubles with tech

Asra knits them both matching ugly sweaters

They wear them every time they see Asra

Bink and Faust have gotten into staring contests when they go over. Muriel finds them amusing and they can go on forever 

Bink loses every time but he will not give up

“...you do know she doesn’t have eyelids right?” “I DON’T CARE I’LL BEAT HER”

Bink (to me) seems like a reigning champ of roller skating. Super graceful and finds it fun (gonna add Maeve in here real quick because this hit me: Bink and Maeve are the power couple of roller-skating.)

Muriel is uhh...not that. Clumsy, and VERY out of his element. Bink takes it upon himself to hold Muriel’s hand and guide him around

To outsiders it’s hilarious as Bink is 5′5 and Muriel is 6′10 and looks like he can bench press a truck 

Muriel whittles Bink little presents and cat toys

He keeps the wooden animals on a shelf dedicated to them. You could map out their relationship through the wooden carvings.

Muriel lives on coffee. Bink is banned from drinking coffee

Asra has a polaroid camera and a cork board of pictures of Bink and Muriel 

Faust and Inanna are good friends

Inanna and some of Bink’s cats are not friends 

Inanna is banned from Bink’s apartment due to this fact 

Bink and Muriel go on a lot of late night dates. They both like to nap with one another in a sunbeam on a couch 

Muriel is the dad that passes out when he sits in a comfy chair. Bink is the cat that curls up on Muriel’s chest to soak in the warmth 

Said cats will gather around them as well if they can

Asra has taken to calling them the oldest married couple

They are an old married couple, sinking into home like routine 

Muriel carries Bink on his back when they go out into town because Bink does not want to walk

Bink and studying don’t go together well due to poor attention span (FAIR) Muriel has created a reward system for him (yes Muriel still has his glasses, and yes Bink steals them and wears them himself. yes he has gone blind in them. Yes Muriel has lecture him. yes Asra has a picture of this)

[bartistic]

@redrobinperiodt requested Tim Drake Angst so here we go

- - - - -

CW: Panic Attack, blood, injury, head injury, Joker, self-loathing

Tim felt sick to his stomach as the night rolled and tossed around him. He was breathing very hard— possibly, no, probably on the verge of a panic attack. He clenched his fists, which seemed stuck to his sides. Okay, five things you can see—

He opened his eyes. He couldn’t see anything. Not just pitch black, but darker. True, deep, nothingness black. With his mask on, though, he couldn’t tell whether he was blinded, blindfolded, or simply in a very dark room.

He could vaguely feel his limbs, which could be a good or bad sign. He couldn’t remember whether it ought to be a good or bad sign. With a numb hand he attempted to reach up to his face to check for a blindfold, but doubled over in pain as his arms met ropes instead. The movement stretched a wound he didn’t know he had, slick wet fluid making his clothes tacky.

Or maybe the fluid was something else entirely? Now that he was more tuned in, he noticed the smell. It was hard to believe he hadn���t noticed it before— the invasive and sluggish stench of Gotham’s sewers. He shifted his feet, hearing a soft and wet shlop echo through the wide chambers. He could hear the dripping of the condensation now, and the bustle of the city outside. Was it daytime? Tim couldn’t recall. He couldn’t hear anything out of the usual for the sewers... Killer Croc was still in Arkham, last time he checked, and without him the sewers were a relatively quiet, if definitely toxic, affair.

So the question remained: why was he in the sewers? He couldn’t recall how he got there— wracking his brain, the last memory he could think of was leaving to patrol. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually saw any of his family outside of uniform... He had his own apartment now. Where he could be a slob in peace, and not have to worry about sharing the coffee pot.

Shifting his arms served a dual purpose— it helped him to attempt to shimmy out of his bonds, gasping in pain all the while, and to feel the rope itself. The knot was surprisingly easy to loosen... suspiciously easy, in fact. With his arms free, Tim reached for his face, careful to mind the wound on his side.

He was relieved to find a blindfold tied securely over his mask. It was giving him a bit of a headache, actually, so it was a relief to pull it down. He carefully brushed past a tender bump that was sticky with blood.

Tim blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light— dim light, for sure, but enough to confirm his surroundings. He looked down at his feet. They were padlocked together, with a literal ball and chain attached and sitting in the muck a few feet away. He leaned back against the wall, which was moist (as expected. Ew.), and slid down the grungy bricks into a squat. Taking the lock picks out of his mask, he began to work at picking the padlock. With a finger, he absentmindedly brushed his hair out of the way behind his ear.

His ear, which ought to have a comms unit in it. Why didn’t it?

Breaking free of the lock he lifted a foot to step forward, but was stopped by a cackle. A familiar cackle.

A laugh familiar to any Gothamite, and more than familiar to any Bat.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, little birdie. A ha ha. Hee hee. OOH HOO HOO HOO we— we wouldn’t want to spoil the main event before we even got ready now would we? No, ha, we want to wait for the rest of the little birdies to come along and play before we can BLOW YOU ALL SKY HIGH AH ha HEE HEE,”

Sure enough, as Tim looked beneath the grime under his feet, he could see a pressurized plate. A mine, that would go off if he even shifted his balance too much to the side. There was a countdown on it as well, set to 18 mins and 20 seconds. 19 seconds. 18 seconds.

Tim was suddenly very glad he had only shifted his feet a little bit earlier, and while picking the lock.

“That is... if they even come for you. I don’t see, ha, why they’d care about such a miserable little bird! Look,” the Joker attempted to pout as he came prancing into view, “his poor wings are all soggy. Naughty naughty oil slicks, gooping up the birdies wings so they can’t fly! HAHAHA!” He leaned in close to Tim, using his hands to lift the sides of his cape, drenched in raw sewage, and flapping them. Tim stiffened slightly, preparing to attack, but the Joker stepped back, holding a small remote in his hand. “Ooh, good one boy blunder! You switch places with me, and I’ll press this lil button here! It does just the HA the funniest thing, y’see... it’ll set off a nice little chain reaction that will make the whole sewer go BOOM! HA HA HEE HA!” Joker pranced around, kicking sewage everywhere, splattering onto the walls, onto Tim, even onto his own purple suit. “Now let’s see. How shall we pass the time while we wait for dear old Daddy Bats to realize you’re missing? I think we ought to have a few days or so... HA! I ought to have a few days. You, ha, don’t have that much time, babybird.” Tim wasn’t sure where the clown had heard that nickname, but it made him sick to his stomach. Or maybe that was just the almost certain concussion. “Now how about a game of Go Fish?” Joker pulled a deck of cards out of his suit pocket. He shuffled them haphazardly, most of them falling into the lazy brown river below. They were all Jokers.

Tim’s attention was brought back to the man himself as the clown roughly grasped his hand, forced it open, and placed in it a hand of cards. Then with the same about of force, he shut the hand. Tim let out a stuttered inhale at the pain in his side. “Now, do you know how to play Go Fish?” Tim glared, but didn’t say anything. “So what you’re HA gonna do is, you’re gonna say a card. Like this:” he did a nasally, whiny imitation of Tim’s voice, “Do you have any sevens, Mr. Joker sir? And then *I* get to say NO!” He cackled and shoved Tim’s head all the way into the ground, through the sewage. Hard. Tim sputtered and flailed and desperately tried to keep balance as a spindly yet strong hand held his head in place. It was like a more tortuous version of the swirlies he’d never had to endure, but had heard about on the internet. “Go fish! A HA HA HEE HOO HEH. You’re no fun.” Tim’s head lolled on his neck, feeling too heavy to hold up. “I’m going to go hunt down some more friends for us to play with, alrighty? Have fun while I’m gone! Or don’t. HEE HEE HA HOO HOO!” The Joker kicked tim’s head from where he was kneeling on the ground. Then he left.

Tim’s thoughts were swirling, much like the muck they were surrounded by. It had to be daytime by now, surely Bruce and the others would have noticed he was missing. But would they? Asked another part of his brain. You’re the forgotten Robin, the unimportant one, you’re not even a real part of the family. Dick created the role, Jason died for it, Damian was born for it, what were you? Were you even needed? You just shoved yourself into their lives and everything became all the worse because of it. When’s the last time you’ve spoken to them, any of them? They don’t want to even be near you. They all hate you. They’ve noticed you’re gone alright, but whatever would make them want to come find you?

Tim settled onto the plate. 10 minutes, 57 seconds. He closed his eyes and tried to not think.

He didn’t know how long it was until he heard voices again.

“Hey assholes, I found him! He’s over here! He’s... oh fuck Timmy, that’s a lot of blood. You’re okay. Batman apprehended the bastard. I’ll kill him for you later though, okay babybird?” Tim shuddered at the nickname, letting out what could be called a whimper. “We got you, we’re taking you home.” Home. What was home. The manor? He looked up, head swaying. Red Hood was crouched in front of him, hands out in a placating gesture. He was flickering at the edges. Great, a caffeine-withdrawal-induced hallucination.

“No... y’ can’t...” He mumbled under his breath, his voice scratchy and dry-feeling. “Y’r not real. Y’r not coffee.” Jason— the hallucination— looked concerned. Tim felt a pressure on his head. He yelped. “G’t away... Y’ll set off th’ bomb...” The hallucination-possible-not-a-hallucination-jason cussed. Tim let out a soft huff of laughter. Who knew his imagination was so colorful.

“B, there’s a bomb here. We need immediate extraction and medical for Red Robin, I’ll do what I can to defuse it.”

“Pr’ssure Plate...” Tim murmured before he was under once more. And then there was shouting, and slapping of his face, which made his neck hurt and his face sting.

“No, you are not falling asleep on me! Dammit B, get here now!” Tim had never been the best at following orders. And he was running on no caffeine. He was going to take a nap now, and nobody could stop him.

Flashes.

Strong arms holding him, carrying him through the sewers.

Shouting from someone who sounded a lot like Dick, but that was impossible, because Dick wasn’t there.

Strong arms holding him, loading him into a car, careful of his head.

A squeeze from a small hand. “You are not going to die by the hand of that clown, Drake, I will not allow it.”

Pressure on his stomach, overwhelming pressure and pain and he was jackknifing and fighting whoever was pressing on his wound and there was more screaming but this screaming was him.

Finally, a steady beeping. He opened his eyes, then immediately shut them again. Too bright. He wished he had his Robin shades. He snuffled his nose and heard a noise in return. Someone at his bedside, then. He grunted. There was a gasp.

“Too bright. H’rts.” He watched from behind his eyelids as the flourescent lights were turned off with a click. Then he hazarded opening his eyes again. Bruce was sitting, asleep in a chair by the side of the bed, clearly in a very uncomfortable position. Tim had no doubts he’d had worse. At the door were Dick, Duke, and Stephanie. They looked as if they wanted to talk to him but didn’t want to risk waking a sleeping batman. Damian was at the light switch. Tim was officially confused. Fuck the sleeping Batman, he wanted answers. “J’ker?”

Dick scowled. “Arkham. Although he definitely won’t be out again for a while after Hood’s through with him.”

Cass spoke up from the other side of the room, “Wheelchair.”

Tim nodded. “Bomb?”

“It was a dud.” Tim frowned. That made no sense. Also, they were definitely hiding something.

“How long w’s i out?”

“4 days. You flatlined two times. Between the wound in your side getting infected by fucking sewage water and your memory-hazy brain injury, it’s a miracle you survived.” Steph looked angry. Then she began to cry. “You asshole! You almost died!” She looked as if she wanted to either hug him or punch him, but neither were a feasible option for the moment, so she settled on sniffing angrily at her tears and then purposely walking out. “I’m going to go make coffee. For myself.”

————

whoo boy that’s all i got in me tonight. thanks for the request lol!