#the puzzle itch calls!! but i don't know if i want to sink time into a platformer

[gramophoneturtle]

Snacks! Nom Nom!

I just wanted to draw something involving Super Puzzled Cat and Void Stranger cause they're both from super cool but maybe kinda tough puzzle games that have latched onto my brain lately so uh here are the two protagonists are eating food stuffs from their games.

Void Stranger is not new to me but there's some stuff I hadn't done yet that's so tempting to try it and SPC is thankfully(?) a platformer which is deterring me from buying the full game. (They have a demo!)

For...now?

[box-architecture]

Weighty, bright red bricks slowly filled the bags strapped to his flank, balanced carefully to prevent straining himself on one side. It wasn't always beneficial to be a centaur sort of hybrid, but the ability to carry more- both in size and in weight- was deeply appreciated, especially when he needed to carry a person.

Satisfied with his luggage, he made his way through the community house, mindful of odds and ends that George had left lying around in an attempt to do… something??? He couldn't be sure. There were vines strung up around the entrance, poorly concealing a tripwire that had no discernible purpose. There had been a prank war going on the past few days, but Sam had opted out of this one so he could spend time building a base, and now he was out of the loop.

From another room, a voice called out. "Hey Sam, could you come help me with something?"

His tail wiggled. Crossing over into the bathroom, he was met with the sight of Dream's narrowed eyes squinting at his reflection, or more likely, the hairstyle he was attempting.

"Could you get this?" Dream vaguely gestured with his elbow to the hair tie in his mouth. Sam tried to avoid his fingers touching Dream's lips, tried not to think about them at all, but there was a bit of syrup left at the corner of his mouth from breakfast- it only made sense to help while Dreams hands were occupied-

"Oh! Thanks Sam, you didn't need to do that." Dream chuckled. There was a pretty pink flush to his cheeks now, and Sam felt his own cheeks begin to match as he handed over the tie.

"Just happy to help." He mumbled. He stared at the way Dream's hands moved as they tied back his hair, then he quickly realized what he was doing and looked away.

After a few moments, Dream sighed. "Okay, that's not perfect, but it's done."

Sam peeked back: a messy braid had taken its place over Dream's shoulder. He'd seen Dream braid before- had the friendship bracelet to prove it- but never with his own hair. It was always tied back in a secure knot, had been as long as Sam had known him.

It was pretty.

He wasn't sure that was appropriate to say, though. "You look nice."

Dream scowled. "It could be better. The way they had it in Sapnap's show had it go all the way up."

"If it's anime, it might not be able to be replicated in reality." Sam offered, but Dream shook his head.

"This one was in live-action. I don't know what you'd call it. But this one guy, he had a hairstyle with a braid like this, but better, and I wanted to try it." Dream explained. He blew a strand away from his face and leaned against the sink, frustration ever so familiar.

Dream always liked to do things as close to perfect as humanely possible. He'd get invested, trying every possible technique until he refined and streamlined it in a way that felt natural to him alone. Sam admired that about him. It was passion, but not always like the passion of thunder and lightning. It felt like- puzzle solving, that rush that you got when you were one move away from completing the game. The energy was enthralling to witness, and Sam would gladly watch it happen, if only it didn't come with the spirals and frustration of the bad days, when nothing went right for Dream at all.

Sam didn't know how to help with those. He wish he did. If he ever figured out how to make a bad day like that become good, things would be perfect.

"I'm sure everyone who looks at it will think its well done." Sam offered. He knew it wasn't going to fix the itch in Dream's brain- even if everyone in the world thought it looked right, Dream knew differently, and that was the problem- but his friend still quirked his lips.

"Oh yeah, you think they'll tell me I look all pretty?" Dream teased. "I'll catch all the attention today, I'm sure."

"You will." Sam insisted, eager to push away his friends perfectionism to something softer, kinder. "Everyone already thinks you look handsome. And pushing your hair back shows off your face, so they'll be able to see you smile. It's your best feature."

For a second, Dream looked entirely taken aback. Then his eyes crinkled with warmth, and he wheezed, that beautiful smile full on display.

"My best feature?" He giggled. "I didn't know I had a best feature, Sam."

Sam felt his face burn hot. "You have a lot of good features, but- your smile is like, it's your trademark, yeah? So it's your best one."

"That sounds right, of course of course." Dream stifled his giggles and reached out to pull Sam into a hug. Instantly, Sam melted, trying not to purr at the way his dear friend buried his face into his shoulder.

"I appreciate you." Dream said warmly, breath causing Sam's ears to twitch, and for his heart to flutter.

"I… you too?" Sam tried, and Dream snorted a laugh again. He pulled back with dancing eyes.

"I'm glad."

Suddenly, loud, pointed stomping echoed around the house.

"Hey George, your stupid trap didn't work!" Sapnap's voice shouted. The stomping, Sam realized, was accompanied by the crunch of vines beneath leather boots. "Maybe next time don't try leaving these bright, obvious vines in such a conspicuous place."

"I didn't know you knew such a big word, Sapnap." Dream called with glee. Sam snickered loudly, enough for Sapnap to hear.

"Dream, you said you wouldn't join his side this time." He whined. "I thought we had something speci- ACK"

There was a crash along with a loud THUMP. Sam practically jumped to the ceiling, nearly knocking over Dream, who looked equally alarmed.

"Sapnap?!"

They both darted out of the room into the main entrance. Where there should have been solid flooring, there was now a large hole.

"What the hell?" Sam gaped. Dream rushed past him, kneeling over the side.

"Sap! Are you okay?"

Sam went to peer in himself. The sight was thankfully not gruesome; Sapnap had landed face-first into what looked like a large pile of oak leaves. The remains of the flooring were scattered around him, mostly undamaged. Sapnap was also mostly undamaged, that was very important and good to know.

The man groaned, rolling over until they could see his face. He blew a leaf out of his hair- and his eyes- and squinted up at them. "Did you do something with your hair?"

"Sapnap."

[pavlovianfuckery]

i made another muppet joke and it's getting out of hand

A/N: Re-uploading all my fics after having a slight mental breakdown and deleting everything, bone apple tea and all that anyway

AO3

The Master-masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

Summary: The party don't start until *checks notes* local asshole just walks in on you, or something

Pairing: Blaine DeBeers/F!Reader

Notes: fingering (and then some, like seriously, here be fisting), piv sex, no use of y/n

Length: 4100~ words

You're not pining. Just because he left you hanging and hasn't called or texted in over a week does not mean that you're doing something as stupid as pining, you repeat to yourself. Maybe offering him a key to your place had been a mistake. But it's not like you had been asking for his hand in marriage like some blushing maiden. All you'd done was tell him as he was leaving that there was an extra key on the hook by the door if he wanted it. Sure, he hadn't really responded, but he'd taken it.

Trying to justify whatever this has turned into makes you feel foolish. It's not like you didn't know who and what he was from the start. Dangerous, for one. Fickle. A liar, albeit a good-looking one, which is probably why you're in this mess to begin with. Not exactly boyfriend material. Besides, you know a front when you see one and it's fairly obvious that there are so many things broken inside of him that it's a wonder he doesn't rattle when he walks.

You should have stayed as far away as possible but he could be very charming when he wanted something, and when he'd decided that what he wanted was you, it had been nearly impossible to resist. In hindsight, it was almost funny because you knew better, you did, but he had still reeled you in like a dumb fucking fish. And when he had, it turned out that he could be funny, sometimes almost sweet, and then you had started falling before you even realised it. You're a grown woman but he's got you acting like a teenager all over again and not only is it unwise on your part, it's pathetic and it should probably make you angrier than it does. The humiliation of it all is only partly made up for by the sex.

Because the sex is very good. You're not naive enough to think that you're anything special to him, but when he's in your bed it's so easy to forget that. Too easy. Aside from just being plain fun to sleep with, there's a focus and a hunger there, like you're either a puzzle to pull apart or prey to be devoured, and it's nothing short of addictive. Just the memory of it makes you flush and squeeze your legs together. Once you start thinking about it, it's hard to stop. The taste of him, his voice in your ear as he slides into you, how he feels inside of you. The way his breath hitches when he's close to coming. It makes you ache until it's hard to concentrate on anything else, and your thoughts go to the box under the bed. You don't have to wait for him to text you. It's been over a week and at this rate you'll get nothing productive done until you blow off some steam.

After a bit of digging you find something that will hopefully do the job and lay back on the bed. It's not going to be what you really need, but desperate times call for desperate measures so you try to make the best of it with what you have available. His touch is burned into your memory at this point and closing your eyes makes it easier to pretend that it's his hands sliding over your skin, rather than your own.

"Please..." you breathe, cupping your breasts and imagining the way his eyes darken when you beg, "Please..." Of course, it's not as good as the real thing, but when you get on your knees and sink down onto the dildo it's even less satisfying than you'd hoped. Not that a hunk of silicone could ever compare but the only thing it shares with the genuine article seems to be the temperature, because it's like trying to scratch an itch in a spot you can't quite reach by yourself. It's frustrating, but you're nothing if not determined. It's less fun and more work than it should be, leaving you sweaty and out of breath as you chase your release, which remains stubbornly out of reach. Rolling your hips and grinding down on it makes it feel a bit better, and you can feel it slowly starting to build, just a minute more and-

The sound of the lock turning over is like getting doused with a bucket of ice water and there's only a moment between the door closing and him calling your name, leaving you scrambling. You've never been more grateful for the drapery shielding the alcove containing the bed from the rest of the room, because it buys you a few seconds more to collect yourself, for all the good it does. In the end you do manage to cover yourself and sit up in what you hope is a nonchalant and completely un-suspicious way.

"In here." It comes out a bit breathy and unsteady, making you wince as the drapery twitches to the side and a very familiar head of bright hair pops in."So, I take it you're not a big fan of, I don't know, knocking?"

"You gave me a key, remember?" He jingles said key in the air merrily before pocketing it, flicking his eyes over you. You can almost see a cartoon lightbulb turn on above his head because his expression quickly changes into that of a cat who has just been offered a complimentary bowl of fresh cream to go with their organic, free-range canaries. "Now, why am I getting the distinct impression that I'm interrupting something?"

"Beats me." You shrug, hoping he doesn't notice your burning cheeks. By the look in his eye, it probably isn't your most convincing performance.

"Huh. Is that so?" The mattress dips under his weight as he sits down and sneaks his hand under the covers, fingers slowly trailing up your leg. "Somehow I don't think you're being entirely honest with me right now." It feels so good to be touched again that when he puts just the slightest pressure on the inside of your knee you're unable to resist, legs spreading almost on their own. Walking his fingers up the inside of your thigh, it doesn't take long until he brushes against the base of the toy.”Someone's been busy." Quirking a brow, he gives you a pitying look. "Did you miss me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," you roll your eyes at him, trying to ignore it when he flicks it a few times with his fingers, the vibrations reverberating in your core.

"You know..." he grabs the base of the dildo and gives it a few slow thrusts, which for some stupid reason feels so much better than when you were doing it, making you whimper despite yourself, "I can take care of you better than this ever will." You both know that's true, but that doesn't mean he has to be so damn smug about it.

"I don't need you to get off." Maybe the words come out a bit harsher than you intended them to, but he just grins at you, tugging at the sheets.

"That's an interesting choice of words because I never said you did." Stretching himself out on his side next to you, he props himself up on his elbow. "Go on, then," he leans in close, his breath tickling your ear, "fuck yourself. That's what you were doing when I walked in, wasn't it?" The words make a wave of heat wash over you and for a moment it's hard to think.

"You could help a girl out?"

"Sure I could," he drawls, pulling the sheet away and leaving you bare. "But you don't need me, right?" He looks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth as he blinks at you.

It's only half putting on a show as you start working the toy in and out, biting your lip. The embarrassment doesn't last long, because it feels much better like this, with him whispering encouragement in your ear, hungry eyes watching your every move. The slick sound of the toy moving inside of you is loud in the confined space, somehow even more so than when you were alone. Finding a good angle isn't hard and you can hear his breath hitch as you let out a low moan, legs spreading a fraction wider. It still isn't enough though, making you curse under your breath.

"You planning to be a dick about this for much longer?" Winded and miserable, you shoot him a glare.

"Haven't decided yet." His lips brush your ear as he continues, "Besides, you're so cute when you're struggling. It's really working for me." He grabs your free hand and guides it to his fly, pressing up against your palm. You can feel him throbbing, and you're not sure when you last wanted something this badly before. Actually scratch that, because it was probably a little over a week ago.

"I'm not struggling," you huff, turning your face away. He's going to be insufferable after this

"Funny, because it sure looks like it from here." When he grabs the toy and pulls it from you, you don't resist. "I can give you a hand if you want. You've just got to ask." He ghosts his fingers over you, barely touching but just enough to feel how wet you are. When you grab his wrist out of frustration and try to rub against his hand, he tuts disapprovingly. "You don't ask, you don't get. Come on, just three little words..." For a split second, it's an entirely different sort of torture and you can only barely keep from flinching.

"Please don't, just..." Patience close to running out, you groan. "I haven't come in over a week." You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth because you can see him quickly put two and two together.

"So you did miss me." He dips between your folds with a self-satisfied smirk, making you shiver as he teases your entrance with the tip of his finger. "You could've just said so, you know."

"Maybe I didn't want to give you the wrong idea but yeah, I missed you, just a little bit. Happy?" At this rate, he's going to drive you insane with his teasing.

"Not quite. Close, though." Feeling the way you clench against his fingertip he grins, "What else?"

"Fine, I take it back, I need you, so can you please just-" When he slides a single finger into your aching cunt it's somehow worse than being empty, and the last shreds of your self-control evaporate." Please, I need more," you slide your fingers around his wrist, "I want all of you. Can I have you like that? Please?"

"How can I refuse when you ask so nicely?" he gives a breathy little laugh, "I've had plenty of girls wrapped around my finger before, but you're something else." You're not sure if that's supposed to be a compliment or not but then he's kneeling between your legs and it doesn't seem important anymore. When he slides three fingers into you, it's almost gentle.

"You don't have to be so damn careful with me," the words come out a bit breathless and stuttered as he thrusts into you, making it hard to talk.

"Maybe not," he hums as he adds a fourth finger, smiling at the way your eyes start to glaze over, "but I try not to make a habit out of breaking my toys, so..." When he hooks his fingers up and wiggles his hand, you can't hold back a whimper.

"Please..." you scramble to grab his wrist again, "Just give me, please, I promise I won't break, please..." The last part comes out in a drawn-out whine. It's pathetic, but you're beyond caring.

"Greedy is such a good look on you." He shakes his head with a small smile and strokes the inside of your thigh before pushing his hand into you a fraction of an inch at a time, and the only thing you can do is try to breathe. Hitting the slope of his knuckles, you have a fleeting thought about lube but it proves unnecessary as a few shallow thrusts to spread your own wetness turns out to be enough to get past that point. When your body sucks him in the rest of the way, he lets out a gasping little moan right along with you. Rather than going straight to making a fist, he flexes his fingers inside of you, feeling you out. You can feel those stupid bracelets he's always wearing rub against your pussy lips as he bottoms out, your cervix nestling between his fingers.

"This what you wanted?" He's barely moving but between his knuckles and his fingertips, you're lost in the sensation, insides quivering as he rubs every sweet spot at once. This isn't the first time he's had his hand inside of you, but that had been different. The thought of him actually letting you come like this, making you come like this is intimate in a way that makes your head feel as if it's filled with static.

"Yeah," you gasp, "god, don't stop, love your hands so fucking much, fuck..." The way he fills you up is dizzying and it's exactly what you needed. He's slow and methodical as he pulls you apart bit by bit until you're arching off the bed.

"Are you going to be a good girl and come for me?" He looks very pleased with himself for reducing you to a whimpering mess so easily but it doesn't even matter because your release is already curling at the base of your spine, swelling until it feels like it might flood your throat and spill out of your mouth. You wish he'd just keep talking because he sounds so good.

"Yes, please, oh please," you claw at his wrist, desperate for more, faster, harder, something, but it's like trying to dig your nails into marble. There's a high-pitched ringing in your ears and nothing else seems to matter except him and the way he's making you unravel around his hand. You'd say anything, do anything, just to make him keep going. "I'm gonna, please, love you, please don't stop, don't stop..."

"That's it," he murmurs as you start to tense up, "that's my good girl, go on..." The litany of begging sticks in your throat as he tips you over the edge, making your cunt clench down around his wrist. As you spasm helplessly around his hand he moves with your body, drawing the waves of pleasure out until tears sting the corners of your eyes. It takes a long time to come down because he doesn't stop until you're shuddering and oversensitive. You're so fuzzy around the edges when he finally stops that him fishing his phone out from his pocket doesn't faze you too much.

"What are you doing?" Too blissed out to really care, the words lack any real heat.

"Just grabbing myself a little souvenir. " he grins, snapping a quick close-up of your cunt, puffy and still twitching around his wrist. "You don't mind, do you? You're just so pretty like this." Before you can respond there is the chime of him pressing record and then he's twisting his hand inside of you, making you arch off the bed again. It feels as if your nerves are completely exposed, his touch throwing up sparks as he rubs against every single one of them. By the time he slowly pulls his hand out and puts the phone away you're sweaty and shaking, the beginnings of another orgasm starting to curl low in your belly.

"You're such an asshole," you huff, head falling back against the pillows.

"That's a bit uncalled for, don't you think?" Wiping his hand on the covers he stretches out next to you, nipping at your shoulder. "I'm pretty sure I made you come your brains out a few minutes ago, so how about some gratitude, hm?"

"Right, gratitude." Hooking a finger in the waistband of his jeans, you giggle. "So, should I say thank you, or...?"

"Actually," he runs a fingertip around one of your nipples, making it pucker, "I was thinking more along the lines of me fucking you within an inch of your life." It's a stupid line that has no business sounding as good as it does, but it still sends a hot stab of want through you.

"That works," you swallow thickly, very aware of how sensitive you still are, almost bordering on sore. "yeah, that definitely works."

As he makes quick work of his t-shirt and starts undoing his fly, you just watch him. The afternoon sun hitting the drapery makes dappled spots of light dance across his skin and mussed hair, painting him in a kaleidoscope of colours, and something about the way he looks right now makes your chest ache. He's so out of place in your worn-down, shitty apartment. This can't last, you tell yourself, this is a mistake, this is-

"You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?" The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think, "I can barely stand to look at you sometimes." For a split second, there's a tension to his shoulders that wasn't there before and you bite your lip. Stupid. In the end, he doesn't say anything. The moment his expensive designer denim hits the floor he's crawling up your body, capturing your mouth in a demanding kiss.

"Less talking," he breathes against your lips as he grinds against you, stiff cock rubbing through your slick folds.

"Okay," you slide a hand across the nape of his neck, the pale wisps of his hair tickling your fingertips as he bites down on the curve of your shoulder. "Okay." With the way he attacks your bare skin with his teeth and tongue, it's as if he's out to devour you, littering nearly every inch of your neck and your breasts in angry red splotches. There's going to be bruises after this, you can tell.

"You're so," he pants as he slides into you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, "how are you so fucking soft?" As he rolls his hips and bottoms out you can hear his breath catch. "Fuck."

It starts out slow, the way he rocks into you. Not tender, but slow, and it has you digging your nails into his back as he splits you open all over again. It's torture in the best way as he slides into you. His weight feels so good on you and you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist as tension inside of you coils tighter and tighter. Every noise he makes goes right into your ear and it makes your head swim, because it's for you, you're doing that. Sneaking a hand down to rub at yourself you half expect him to stop you but instead, he encourages you.

"Yeah," he murmurs, nipping at you, "make yourself come for me, I want to feel you." Between his cock and his voice you're already halfway there, and the words go straight to your core. When he starts to pull away you wind your fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head and keeping him still. Dragging your nails across his scalp and tugging on his hair makes his eyes widen as he lets out a surprised huff of breath against your lips. The way he fucks you makes it hard to touch yourself with any real accuracy and as the headboard starts smacking into the wall it makes you fumble and slip, but in the end it doesn't matter much because you could probably get off from just the noises he's making. It's not that he's particularly loud, because he isn't, but the hitched breaths and unsteady little moans falling so freely from his mouth sounds like music to your ears. When your release rips through you for the second time it's intense, leaving you gasping for breath and digging your nails into the back of his neck as you spasm around his cock.

Between the pleasure almost drowning you and the way he looks as he gets close, it takes more willpower than it probably should to keep yourself from calling him beautiful again. Brow furrowed, he's almost frantic as he chases it, driving into you as deep as possible when he finally tips over the edge. You can feel every throb and twitch as he comes, hips stuttering as he rides it out. It's easy to forget what this really is when you're caged in by his arms as he trembles above you, chest heaving. As he comes down, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and for just a few short seconds, you let yourself pretend.

It doesn't last, of course. As he rolls away from you, you're not sure what to say. It's not like pillow talk is ever on the table. Rather than wait for him to slink off, you do something potentially stupid. It's a bit of a scramble to get on top of him before he gets up, but you manage to straddle him. Perhaps right on top of him isn't the best place to stage a sit-in, but you do it anyway.

"Not so fast." The element of surprise or possibly your breasts being right in his face seems to work in your favour.

"Is this your way of asking for another round?" He frowns and grabs you by the waist, but he doesn't push you away, at least not yet. The idea of going again so soon sounds very tempting in theory, but less so in practice.

"Maybe," you stretch, drawing his eyes to your breasts. "But I was mostly hoping you could hang around for at least a few minutes since I haven't seen you in a bit." You trail a few quick kisses from his shoulder to his jaw, the hint of stubble rough against your lips. "Your whole 'boink and bounce'-routine is getting old, by the way. I'm sure you can spare five minutes so I can feel a bit less like a used tissue."

"Used tissue, really?" He lets out a deep sigh but doesn't move. "Sounds to me like someone's a bit testy over having to go without for a week."

"I'm not testy," you huff, rolling your eyes. Tracing a finger over his clavicle and the hollow of his throat you continue, a bit scared of fucking this up and scaring him off. God knows if there's anything you're good at, it's fucking up. "Don't get me wrong, we have fun, I like you, but I'm under no illusions, here. It's just..." You shrug, "This is nice."

"Oh, so you like me now?" he chuckles, "Funny, I could swear you were calling me an asshole earlier."

"Maybe I have a soft spot for assholes, then."

"Yeah, that must be it." He nods, thumbs drawing lazy circles across your hips as the silence stretches out. "You could've called, you know."

You scoff.

"I'm not going to call you every time I feel like having an orgasm. Besides, you've been pretty clear on how this is going to work, remember?" You do your best impression of his voice as you continue, "Don't call us, we'll call you, yadda yadda yadda..."

"Is that what you think I sound like?" He frowns, and you're not sure if the offended look on his face is genuine or not.

"A little bit." You hold your thumb and pointer finger up, nearly pinching them together. "Just a little. Now..." you press a quick kiss to his cheek, "I'm going to shower. You're free to join me, if you want."

"I've seen your shower," he pulls a face, "I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself." It feels good to be the one who walks away for once.

When you get out of the shower he's nowhere to be found, but you weren't really expecting anything else. As you make your way to the kitchen counter to fix a cup of coffee you flick your eyes to the door, and for a second your stomach drops all the way to the floor. Did he put the key back? On closer inspection, it's not your spare key dangling from the hook. You turn the bracelet over in your hand. One of the little beads is shaped like a skull, and it almost looks as if it's laughing at you. Looks like you'll have an excuse to call him.

⁂

The Master-masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

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[valatheapprentice]

Magick to medicine

Vala x Julian (first meeting before death)

(This is Arthur)

The slamming of the door echoes in memory in my head, bouncing off the walls of my aching chest. Asra left. Of course he left. I yelled at him to go. I dry swallow my growing guilt as my legs give from under me. Falling onto the textured floor beneath me, I rake my hands through my hair as my thoughts are pushed around between hating myself and my anger towards him. Tears stain my burning skin as I sink into my knees as my nails drag across my scalp.

Its not long before Arthur's pawing at my leg. With a wet sniff, I reach towards his soft fur. Letting my leg fall flush to the wooden floor, he climbs on and clings to the drape of my dress. His resting panic expression is replaced by confusion and sadness. "I dont know." I whispered. "This isn't like before, baby boy. Things went really far this time. I just... No. No. You know what? Fuck him. Im going to do something to help around here and then... and..." my voice breaks at my pitiful attempt. He climbs further up my chest just as my eye start to burn.

I reach for my necklace to find nothing on my chest. Next to me, a gold clasp lays on the dull floor, all thats left of it since he left. The colorless gravity of the fight, of my words, crashes around me. I cling to my familiar for dear life. For hours, I weep as my voice echoes in the stale air around us. Though Arthur helps sooth my soul, it still breaks like a rock to a window.

My eyes eventually dry. A buzzing ache pounds behind the skin of my face. An itch forms inside of me, small but vocal. I take a few less shakey breaths before scooping him in my arms as I rise to my feet. I groan as my back finally straightens out. "I'm sorry baby boy." I stretch the muscles of my legs. "But I cant stay here any longer. I need to get out. Maybe get a drink." A purring of disapprove vibrates in my arms as I pick my bag up from the table. "I'm sorry.. I just... can't take another second like this..." He wiggles in my arms before jumping out and scurries to his bed. With a sigh, I tie my bag to my belt and walk out of the door.

I walk through the moon lit streets, through the night time patrons shopping and drinking in their own jovial light. The smiles and laughter of my neighbors feel a world away. My feet move, my hands wrap around my stomach, but I do not feel in control of my movements. I make my way through Vesuvia with a numbing haze surrounding my brain. Its not until I walk into a man do I snap out of my daze. I apologize and look around. I couldn't tell you where I am but this street feels strangely familiar. To my left, the sound of yelling and laughter permeates the crowd around me. I look over to the sign above it. The Rowdy Raven. It sounds as good of a place as any. With a deep breath I make my way inside.

Once I walk through the flimsy door, the pungent aroma of liquor and body odor meets my nose. I have to laugh to myself. Its been years since I've been in a bar like this. I squeeze and shuffle through the ruffians until I finally rest myself on a stool. I prop myself against the too as the bar keep walks up to me. "What can I do ya for?" He asked.

"Um." I look around at the other patrons. "I'm not sure. Whats good around here?"

A laugh comes from beside me. I turn my head to the tall, lanky man beside me. He meets my gaze with a crooked smile. "Get the girl a salty bitter, my good man."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "That sounds absolutely horrible."

"Oh it is." He takes a large gulp of his dwindling drink. "Won't be able to stop drinking it."

And soon a large pint of the beverage is placed in front of me before another is given to the man. I raise it and toast him. "To our livers." He chuckles and clinks his glass against mine. I raise it to my lips. After a moment of mild saltiness, im aggressively greeted with a gross, bitter flavor that swells in my mouth, lingering on my tongue as my face pinches together. "Good gods! Why the hell would you-" I yell, calling for the laughter of the man. It doesn't register at first that I'm reaching for another sip. "Why the fuck do I like this?"

He shrugs into his drink. "No one knows. Nothing short of black magick, I'd reckon."

I let out a laugh. "Yeah. I can see that."

I suffer through another sip before he faces me again. "Julian."

I turn my head to meet his gaze. "Vala. Pleasure to meet you."

"Oh trust me, the pleasure is all mine." He eyes me once over before grinning wider. "So what is a pretty think like you doing in a place like this?"

I shake my head, a smile planted firm on my lips. I turn my body towards him. I scan from his chest to his face. Bags weigh around his eyes that compliment the mismatched smile he flashes. I take in his disposition, surprisingly very drawn to him. He couldn't have picked a worse night for this. I sigh and reach for my glass. "Fight with my boyfriend. Pretty bad one..."

A wave of disappointment fades in and out before returning to a small smile. "What better place to talk about it than woth a stranger you'll never see again?"

I hesitate for a moment. I really do not want to think about it. My chest still weighs heavy with the words we spat out before. But something about him is just... welcoming. Troubled? Maybe. But misery loves company. "He wanted to leave. The plague is just... getting so much worse. He wanted to take me and leave Vesuvia. But like... this is my home. These are my people. I cant leave if there's something I can do to help. I'm just not sure how. It got heated. I said things I wouldn't have. I threw a necklace he got me at him and told him to leave and not come back..." I rush to finish as my voice begins to crack.

I finish my drink and signal for another. Through the side of my vision I see him do the same as one of his hands comb and pull at his hair. "Yeah. Just when I think it can't get worse, they do. Gods if only I could..." he says in a low, pained voice.

I look at him, his energy growing more and more tense. I reach out and rest my hand on his shoulder. "You seem like you need to talk too."

"Yeah." He huffs. "I just happen to be one of the doctors working on a cure. Its bad enough we are no closer to finding a cure, but, and of course!" He throws his hand up and let's it fall back on to the bar top. "I lost yet another apprentice. Im just... I'm sorry. Its just been a lot."

My heart twists just trying to imagine what he's had to go through. What he's seen. I gently rub my hand in a circle around his shoulder. "Well. Maybe we could use each other." He looks pointedly at me. "I need to help in some way. You need an apprentice-"

"Oh no." He shakes his head. "No way I'm pulling someone in on a whim. Thats just reckless. Even for me."

"Most things I do are on a whim." I press the bitter to my lips. "Besides. Id have someone who knows what their doing making sure I don't do anything stupid."

He looks at me like a toddler who's been too quiet. "As desperate as we are, I cant just say yes. Its too much of a gamble." His words just barely start to slur.

I feel my heart sink as I look around the bar. Off in a corner is a knife stuck in a hanging peice of wood. "Do you believe in fate, doctor?"

I look back to him to meet a puzzled expression. "I hardly think this is the time to get philosophical."

I point behind me. "What do you say? 3 good throws and you got yourself a new apprentice."

"Are you actually insane?" He laughs. "Thats not... do you even know how to throw a knife?"

I shake my head. "Not at all. Wouldn't be the most dangerous thing I've done though."

He looks at me, unsure of how to respond. He stares for a brief moment. "So you really want to gamble with your life twice in one night?"

"Better than sitting at home doing nothing." I say. "Besides, id have a very skilled and very handsome doctor to look after me." My fingers tip around his arm. By the way his cheeks flush further, surely he's drank enough to convince.

He laughs softly. "Taking advantage of this, huh?" He tips back the rest of his drink and looks off into space for a few seconds. "I cant believe I'm far enough gone to consider this."

With out warning, I grab his hand and lead him through the staggering crowd to the spot. I pull the knife from the wall as he scratches the back of his neck. I step back a few paces and stare at the board. "Alright. I get these, and I get to help find a cure."

"Fine." He sighs, though amusement shine through on his face. "And if you don't?"

"I dont know." I look back to his long and pale sillihoette. He's brushed his hair from his tired face. Completely different from Asra. Maybe thats why I feel so drawn to him, though I cant be sure. All I know is I need something . "I'll let you choose."

I wink at his reddening face. I look back to the board and take aim.