#they were dead all along! my mind latched onto that! wow

[boyfrillish]

I miss pokewood... while it’s also affected by the big memory wipe on my brain, the love and battles part 3 – particularly the ending – lived in my head rent free after all these years

[a-is-for-abel]

“It’s a very odd sensation, standing over your own grave.” prompt from @givethispromptatry

Crows barked, throaty and dry, from their perch high in the gnarled branches of the tree at the head of the cemetery. The letters etched into the granite before him shined and the heavy mist settled over his shoulders, oppressive and thick.

He counted the crows in the tree, a rhyme coming to mind as the black winged birds called into the fog. "One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a funeral… Four-- Four for..."

A funeral… His brow furrowed. The name on the gravestone drew him back in and he eyed the letters. Bells from the steeple of a church coughed in the distance.

"It's a very odd sensation, standing over your own grave." He turned to see a man leaned against a tall gravestone, a lit cigarette in his fingers. "But you seem to be taking it rather well."

The man flicked a lick of hellish embers off the end and took a long drag. Smoke trailed from his lips and curled over his salt-flat empty eyes. "Say, you haven't died before have you? That'd make this a bit awkward-- See, I don't really do the whole doing someone else's do-over. Those contracts tend to get a little messy, if you know what I mean."

Dressed sharply in a suit jacket and trousers to match, the man didn't stand out quite that oddly against the backdrop of a graveyard. However, with no procession, he was out of place without the rest of the mourners to stand shoulder to shoulder with.

It was even harder not to notice the way he stood a little too tall, a little too pale, and a little too thin...

And the eyes--

He couldn't remember having ever seen eyes like that. Though, he also really couldn't remember how he had gotten here either.

The man frowned, cigarette dangled from his lips. "You're not very talkative are you. That's gonna make this a little hard if you don't at least start asking some questions."

"Who are you?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Ah, there it is-- Everyone always starts with that one. Never a 'where am I, how'd I get here', it's always the who are you?" The man shrugged. "I got a lot of names, kid. Just make one up, it'll probably be better that way."

Paul. It was the first name that came to mind, risen like the valleys of weathered hands and deep-set wrinkles the name brought with it.

"Paul?" The man hissed, eyes scrunching as he flicked the cigarette onto the ground and ground it out with the toe of his dress shoe. "Wow, you're real bad at this. Look, I'll settle for something like, uh-- How's Paal sound? Good? Great."

Even as Paal dismissed it, he tried to latch onto the name Paul and the hands that came with it. Somehow, he knew those hands had shown him how to hold a chisel and carve with the grain and not against it. That they had smoothed down his hair and lain flat against the crown of his skull as the other drew a new line against the door jamb, and he had childishly smiled at the inch gap that had grown between it and the old one below.

"Well, now that we got names out of the way--" Paal reached into his coat and pulled free a scroll. "Let's get down to business."

The parchment unfurled with a dry cough, ink dripped over the page and rearranged itself into letters that shimmered, ruddy and wet.

"So, for starters, my contracts are pretty straightforward. I don't do all that funny business the others do." Paal pointed to the second line. "The overall payment is going to be your eternal soul, of course. The only exception I'll make here is if you can name something of equal value and I also deem said thing of equal value. Now, don't get all excited. Not a lot of things add up to a human soul. Unless you'll be trading someone's else's soul as your payment. Simple math and all of that."

His eternal soul? He looked at the cross atop the gravestone and wine-dipped stained glass and the pulpit of a church flitted to the forefront along with it.

"We on the same page here? You look a little lost?" Paal asked, tilting his head.

"Sorry, I just--" He furrowed his brow. "Am I dead?"

Paal pointed to the grave. "Is that your body in there?"

"I--" He looked at his hands. "I think so."

"I wouldn't say I'm a genius myself, but I think we can both put two and two together here."

He grit his teeth. "Right…"

"Fantastic-- Now, onto the good stuff." Paal pointed further down the parchment. "So, in exchange for said eternal soul, I grant you a few things. First off, you get to get up on your own two feet and walk out of that grave. A pretty good deal, right?"

"Deals go two ways."

"See, now you're catching on--" Paal pointed at him and then tapped the next line on the scroll. "Alright, so it's pretty damn expensive to bring a soul back to life. Maker's got an idea in mind and tampering with that's always gonna cost you a little extra."

"Do you mean money? I don't exactly..." He held his hands out, the empty state of his pockets hopefully obvious.

Paal laughed. "Money? What the hell am I going to do with money? No, no, no-- I need a favor."

"A favor?" He asked, eyes narrowing.

"Yeah! A favor. something pretty simple, actually. But to get that body back and with all your precious little memories intact, you gotta do something to pay for that. More than just signing off your soul, that is."

"And who exactly am I paying back?"

Paal grimaced. "You're asking questions you really don't want the answers to, kid."

"Fine." He rubbed at his jaw. "What's the favor then?"

"Bounty hunting. Or collecting, I guess?" Paal gestured vaguely. "Whatever-- Basically, a few folks deferred on their contracts and I need to collect on their souls a little early."

"How early is early?" he asked, squinting.

"Well, I'd say I'm a pretty generous dealer. I give you about how much worldly time you should've had-- Had things not gone absolutely shit for you." Paal held up a finger. "So, in this case, I'd be collecting these souls well before they croak from becoming all ripe and old like they normally would've."

"So, I get my life back..." He chewed the inside of his cheek and glanced at the cross on the gravestone. "Is that it?"

"Is that it?'" Paal mocked and then grinned. "Look at you, already driving a hard bargain."

"You wouldn't have come to me if my soul wasn't worth something."

"Did you come to that astonishing conclusion all by yourself?" Paal said flatly.

He glanced over the demon.

Or devil... Or whatever hellish equivalent he was supposed to be. The lack of the classic horns or even a tail made it hard to pin any kind of fiendish charm to him. Besides the eyes and the pallor of someone who's never seen the light of day, he looked rather ordinary...

And his memories, few and far between-- muddled even-- like he was reliving them from underwater-- As unreliable as those memories were, he still remembered sitting upon a pew in a sun-washed room, a pastor at the head of the church, attesting how the devil would always wager in ways that would seem fair and just, but never were.

"What else do I get?"

"Greedy, aren't you? Fine." Paal rolled up the scroll part way and pointed at a line halfway down. "You can't die. At least while you're contracted under me to collect souls. If you call on me and I deem the request reasonable enough I can and will help you. Think of it like, uh-- Praying to a guardian angel. Except I'm absolutely nothing like that and I'll actually show up."

"And collecting on these contracts? What does that entail?"

"Killing them, for starters." Paal said simply. "I can't exactly grab their souls when they're still kicking around like that. And a lot of them have found ways to sort of, eh-- protect themselves from me. But you're just a bag of bones, maybe a little bit juiced up when I'm done with you, but you'll be human enough."

He didn't feel like picking that last aside apart too much. "So, you want me to kill for you?"

"Yes."

"How exactly?"

Paal flicked his hand and the scroll snapped out of sight with a thwick. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled free a revolver. Six-shot, shined, scarred with engravings up and down the muzzle and wrapped around the barrel. Handle a bone-white ivory, pale and unblemished.

Paal held it out to him. "With this."

Dropped into his palms with little fanfare, he cradled it, as if a newborn lamb. He glanced up from the gunmetal shine after a beat. "I can't shoot."

"Oh, you won't have to. You just have to aim." Paal formed his fingers into a mock-gun and pointed it at his forehead before mouthing ‘pow'. "It does all the hard work for you. Unless you're into that kind of thing, then by all means I'll take the training wheels off of it and let you do the trigger pulling."

"No…" he swallowed, careful to keep the muzzle pointed away from himself. "Training wheels is fine."

"Fantastic. Do we have a deal then? All of this--" Paal gestured to the whole of him. "--for the meager, one time price of doing a simple chore for me."

He stared flatly.

"And your eternal soul after you've lived a long and happy life, but that's just semantics," Paal laughed, waving him off.

He tilted the gun in his palms and glanced down at his pockets. It wouldn't exactly fit very well… "Is there a holster?"

"Oh, right--" Paal patted his chest and fished around in his suit jacket before drawing out a belt. "Here. It's a bit used, but at least it's already worn in, right?"

Mottled stains scattered the edges of the leather belt and where intricate markings had been stamped and tooled into the holster itself.

"Thanks…" he said, pinching it between two fingers while trying to find a good way to hold the pistol with his other hand.

"Woah, don't sound too grateful there, champ," Paal said. "You'd think I wasn't about to do you the biggest favor of your life."

He paused in his inspection of the holster and gave Paal the flattest look he could muster.

"Get it?" Paal's grin dropped. "Not a funny guy then… Noted."

Finally, managing to holster the gun he slipped the belt around his waist and fumbled with the buckle before fastening it. "How exactly do we seal the deal?"

"Eager, are we?" Paal held out his hand. "Just shake my hand and that's it. None of that writ in blood nonsense."

He wrinkled his nose.

Paal flexed his fingers and held his hand out further. "Look, if you really need me to draw up a traditional contract and give you a copy, I can do that too, but it's dreadfully boring and I do enough paperwork as it is. I mean, what do you have to lose, honestly? You're already dead. I'm just offering you a second chance… and a little bit of revenge."

"Revenge?"

"No one ends up dead in a ditch with a pack of dogs eating their face without being fucked over somewhere along the road."

"I don't…" He knitted his brow. "It's hard to remember."

"Oh, it'll be like that for a bit. It gets better once we get everything settled. Trust me though, you've got quite the bone to pick with someone back up there. And I for one would love to see how it all pans out."

"This is a form of entertainment for you," he said flatly, eyeing the still outstretched hand.

"What's the harm in mixing business and pleasure?" Paal smirked. "Plus it'll be fun to see what you do."

"Can you not bring back the memories now?"

Paal tutted. "That's quite expensive, and we haven't made a deal yet."

"How do I know I even want to go back then?"

"Does it even matter who you were before if you get a re-do?"

He looked at the name on the gravestone. "Won't they recognize me?"

"Oh, no-- Uh, see, you're not going back into your original body." Paal grimaced. "I can only repair so much and those dogs really did a number on you."

"Great…"

"Don't worry though, I got a good one picked out for you. Close enough to be uncanny even. Just some little differences, barely noticeable."

He grimaced.

"Don't you humans love taking leaps of faith? What's with all the hemming and hawing? What happened to all that stupid recklessness?"

"Not all of us are stupid."

Paal groaned. "I would get stuck with the biggest coward this side of the Mississippi."

'Look, it's lil' yellow-bellied Bern!'

'Just take it from him. He's not gonna do shit-- He'd flinch at a fly if it looked at him wrong.'

'Pa said he's soft. That his own daddy made him like that.'

He blinked, flinching and scrunching up his eyes at the sudden, sharp jab that needled at his skull. "I'm not a coward."

"Then take my hand."

His head pounded, and if he really was dead he wondered why he could still feel that out of everything. If the sweat pricked along the back of his neck was more memory than actual sensation, or if the way his tongue had grown heavy in his jaw was all made up too. He eyed Paal's hand and the discolored fingernails, the sheet white skin, the odd scarring along the knuckles and on the palms.

'Leave and don't you ever come back here. And if I ever see you again, you'll be begging the devil to take your soul from me first.'

He grit his teeth, fingers curling into fists.

The voice bit across his cheek like knuckles, like blood on his tongue and smattered across his hands. It curled like snake oil and melted wax, like the dust settled over the rafters of an ever empty church and like floorboards stained with drying flecks of rust.

He reached for Paal's hand and Paal grabbed his wrist instead, wrapped his fingers around him and squeezed, hard enough he twisted with the motion. Paal didn't budge, no matter how he pried at him, and the hand burned-- Burned the way laying your palm across a sheet of ice stung and wormed its way deeper and deeper the longer you left it there.

He stumbled as Paal released him, clutching at his wrist and hissing. "What the hell?"

"Part of the contract. It'll fade in a second."

The burning stopped and when he let go of his wrist, a coiling band of white took its place. Sat snugly, flat and lined with black, was an ivory snake wrapped three times about his wrist. The head of the serpent rested along the heel of his thumb, eyes a nearly translucent blue. It faded, still standing out against his skin, more like an impossibly pale tattoo and less like the actual snake it was a moment ago. His arm ached dully with it, like he had come in from a long frigid day, and his fingers cramped as the feeling returned to the very tips of him.

"Oh, right-- You'll be needing bullets." Paal grabbed his hand and dropped a freezing piece of metal into it.

More followed as Paal fished around in his suit jacket for them. At the fourth one Paal paused. "What was that little rhyme you were doing before I arrived? I rather enjoy that one. The ending is always my favorite."

He watched where the bullets settled in his palm. The casings a blood-red ebony and the bullet itself the shade of bone.

"And four for birth…" Paal dropped another bullet. "Five for heaven..." Another. "And six for hell," Paal said with a smirk, manually curling his hand around the bullets and patting it. "Now keep track of those, they're not exactly easy to make."

He didn't tell Paal that he didn't finish the poem, that there was still one more line that needed to be said to complete it. Instead, he pocketed the bullets.

"Walk with me a sec--" Paal grabbed his shoulder and nudged him forward.

They meandered along the lines of graves, passing headstones that varied in shape and size, some cared for, with flowers and candles and even worn sepia photos left at their feet. Others were less fortunate. Grown over, dulled, and abandoned.

They stopped before one with a less modest headstone. A large stone cross jutted up from the top and an angel carved above the name of the soul that was laid to rest below their feet.

"You know, I really do think this is the start of a great partnership..."

He raised a brow.

"Marcus J. Bern--" He flinched at the name, not expecting it to fall from Paal's mouth so casually. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

He hesitated, shoulders drawing up, hand coming to rest on the gun at his hip. "Uh, you too…?"

Paal smiled, like he found that amusing. And he hadn't noticed how sharp his teeth looked until he was staring the oversized canines dead in the face.

"Now--" Paal said, placing his hands on his shoulders, dusting them off before squeezing lightly. "This might hurt a bit."

"What--"

Paal shoved him.

He fell and fell and the earth swallowed him whole.

Dirt and silt and death surrounded him. Impossibly endless and vast, the grave didn't catch him as it should have. And the chill that bit at his limbs gnawed feverishly, right down to the core of him until he felt a yell clog up with the hallowed ground packed against his tongue. Further and further he descended, gut flipping and twisting with him, until he thought this would be his new forever. That Paal had lied to him, and he would simply be doomed to free fall for the rest of eternity, until all returned to dust as it had once emerged and longer still.

Light broke up the darkness overhead and he reached for it, arm outstretched. The white snake coiled around his wrist writhed and burned at the first touch of it and dripping with pale ichor, his veins stood out a ghastly silver against him. A venom coursed through him as it wound further and further down, closer and closer to where his heart had thrummed to life and kicked against his ribs in a fevered fit. He clutched at his chest as the ground-- as something-- hurtled towards him.

Breath slammed into him with a rattling gasp and his eyes shot open.

Blinded, he blinked and squinted against the grace of a new day, trembling and shaking where he had woken upon the dirt. The cross of the gravestone cast a merciful shadow over him and he could see the tangled fingers of the tree beyond it.

Raucous caws chorused above him. A murder of crows dotted the grey sky overhead, having flighted from their perches high in the dead limbed oak.

One, two, three, four, five, six--

"And seven for the devil, his own self..." he muttered, hand falling to his hip and the gun now holstered there.

[alaynaantics]

A Feminine Touch-- Part 1

(( Yeah stuff about the cartoon Regular Show will now haunt my page until I feel like it. I’m binge watching this again on Hulu soooo yep yep yep. So without further ado I present to you a Regular Show Fanfiction Featuring Y/N and her friend Dakota.

Regular show is a cartoon network original not my own work obvi.  

Enjoy ))

A Feminine Touch 

Part 1

“Chick’s ain’t nothing bro!” Muscle Man started “I totally would’ve won that free t-shirt if that chick with the pigtails shut her mouth.” 

Muscle Man continued to unfold into great detail of the event that had recently occurred. Earlier that evening himself and High Five Ghost participated in an eating challenge at Cheezers and were a hairs length away from winning. However, before Muscle Man could finish his last couple wings, his female competitor caught him using an illegal eating technique which caused him to be immediately disqualified. 

The event left a sour taste in his mouth for the remainder of the day which led him to express his anger to Mordecai and Rigby who had also experienced a similar scenario themselves.

“Ugh! I know right! It feels like girls have it out for us today.” Rigby exclaimed, he leaned back on seat and took a firm swig of the soda he swiped from the snack bar. 

“Hm, Hm, Totally dude. Earlier today me and Rigby saw this girl drop her purse on the sidewalk and we tried to help her but then she freaked out saying we tried to harass her or something. Almost got us arrested!” Mordecai spoke with a high level of irritation alongside Rigby who nodded in agreement. 

“Sounds like she should stop taking birth control and start taking some chill pills! WOOOOOOOOAH!” Mordecai and Rigby call out in union, leaving Muscle Man and High Fives in a hysterical fit of laughter. 

“But seriously guys we should get back to work before Benson finds us slacking off.” Mordecai said as he stood to return to his assigned task as the others followed in his footsteps. Not one man took notice of the figure that hid near the snack bar, every word spoken was heard by keen ears not about to be forgotten any time soon. 

~~~

“Okay, Everyone listen up there are a few important announcements I have for today so I need everyone to pay close attention, I'm looking at you Rigby.” Benson voiced at the brunette raccoon which caused him to roll his eyes in annoyance. 

“Now first order of businesses we have a CEO visiting the park today for a special proposal!” With new information everyone voiced their excitement between one another but before another word could be spoken a woman appeared from out of thin air. This caused everyone to halt with their chatter and focus on the strange individual before them. 

“Ah! Diane, welcome my name is Benson and I'm the Park manager and these are my employee’s Skips, Pops-” unfortunately, Benson never finished naming the rest of his crew once the hand of Diane, the CEO, placed itself right in front of his face. 

“I don't need names of your boyish workers who reek of sweat and testosterone.” She spoke with a heavy Russian accent. For obvious reasons this caused the guys to jeer at Diane with anger. 

“GAH you girls are all the same! Always complaining and hating on guys when in all actuality it's your fault you're so uptight in the first place! You-you bitch!” Rigby blurted out to Diane who stood unfazed before him. 

“Yeah, I get that you’re this big fancy CEO but that doesn't give you the right to pick on us because we're guys!” Mordecai joined Rigby against Diane alongside Muscle Man who joined in due to Rigby’s outburst. 

“Yeah, you're just stuck up because no man would wanna hit that! Bahaha am I right Fives?” Questioned Muscleman who leaned over to his ghostly best friend for a high five. What should have been a celebratory high five in his eyes turned out to be the breaking point for Diane.

“Wow” she muttered her heavy accent now non existent “looks like I am in the right to discipline the lot of you.” 

Diane shook her head in disappointment before she turned her head to the sky and released a powerful shriek that shook the earth to its core. The sound of the waves created a blast power so great it caused all fragile objects within a ninety mile radius to shatter into dust. 

Luckily for Benson Skips protected his head from the soundwave which delayed the damage that would have caused his immediate demise. 

“Run!” Shouted Skips but his words were left with no prevail due to massive tree roots that sprouted from the earth that continued to wrap themselves around their ankles in a viper clasp. Diane's eyes shined an envious green before the glow of her hues caused momentary blindness to the park employee’s. Their vision was temporarily impaired even when they cower beneath her gaze they could not escape the wrath of an angry woman. Suddenly, the tremors and screaming all came to a halt that left everything in dead silence. 

Skips was the first to uncover his eyes but once his gaze settled upon the being in front of his he cursed beneath his breath. Since Skips rarely cursed in dire situations the other park employees opened their eyes and were not met with Diane but with a giant doe. 

“Workers of this so-called Park heed my words!” A voice roared from above.

“It is I, Mother Nature! the Creatress of this planet you house yourselves upon. For centuries I have done nothing but nurture and provide the very resources that give you the very breath you take. So care take why do you believe I am here man?” She questioned, her voice stern yet diligent such as a mother would speak to a mere child. 

Benson was the first fool to speak his mind. 

“...To make a deal with the park?” 

This displeased Mother Nature greatly, so much in fact that she struck lightning near Benson in a slight fit of rage for his incompetence. This caused Benson to shriek and therefore leap into Skips’s arms who skillfully caught him. 

“No you blubbering fool! I stand before you today because of how you men view the actions of women! Throughout this disastrous day I have bore witness to everything shorter than a candle’s lick of compassion towards women. Only for heinous comments to follow soon after those encounters from these treacherous snakes you so call friends. Mordecai, Rigby, Muscle Man, and High-five Ghost since you’re so unappreciative of the gifts my kin bestow upon you I shall reap this land from this earth! And take you along with it!” 

As she finished her words Mother Nature cast her arms amongst the park grounds leaching the essence and beauty of the land within her grasp. A bitter breeze ripped through the sky that ripped away any vegetation the park acquired through the years. Benson looked around in horror as he witnessed his park being destroyed for the up tenth time within the past few days. His gumballs turn a fierce shade of red as he turned to his two workers who latched onto the house for stability. 

“MORDECAI AND RIGBY FIX THIS MESS OR YOUR FIRED!!” Benson screamed across the house lot where he too dangled from the neighboring park light pole. 

“Yeah Benson like we totally know how to fix this!” Rigby yelled from afar using sarcasm directed entirely at Benson. 

“Yeah Man even if we knew how to fix this I don't know if she’ll listen to us!” Mordecai chimed in next to his best friend a look of confusion stapled upon his features. Benson could feel the strength in his grip depleting by the second and by the looks of his surroundings if they don't act accordingly they won't have anything to hold onto much longer. So, he mustered up whatever professionalism he had left to make an offer in an attempt to save his workers. 

“Skips! Skips! I’m begging you please find a way to get us out of this, please Skips help us!” Benson pleaded to his immortal companion, hot tears threatening to overflow and stream down his face. Skips sighed in defeat knowing that it was inevitable that he himself would have to fix everything this time. The white haired man took a deep breath and bet everything on his next words. 

“How about we cut a deal?!” Skips yelled aloud and luckily his booming howl reached the Goddesses fluffy ears. Mother Nature hummed with interest allowing the discord to cease momentarily to hear the rest of Skips offer.

“Very well Sir Skips I will adhere to your offer and induct a challenge of my choosing. Understood?”

Skips nodded then continued to hear out her offer.  

“I will give yourself and your companions precisely one hour to hire two female workers to be a permanent part of your team. These two individuals will be of my choosing, however, it will be up to you seven to decipher who these chosen ones are within a group of many others. If you hire the correct girls I will spare you and the park but choose wrong and I will drain the essence of your life back into the earth's crust. Do we have a deal?” Her words were sweet but laced with venomous intent as her outstretched hand dangled in anticipation.  

This challenge was going to be difficult. They knew this, they all know that the chance of them finding the correct pair is like finding a needle in a haystack. Nevertheless, they all knew what was at stake and with an unspoken unison they all shared a glance with one another in a silent agreement to accept her challenge. 

They each stood and placed their hand atop the tip of Mother Nature's massive finger, giving a firm squeeze as a sign of agreement. 

“Deal.”

[angryschnauzer]

Superior Specimen - Chapter 6

Summary: One night when you are following the Archaeology tag on instagram you stumbled across a fun looking dig… and an even more interesting Paleontologist who soon follows you back. Over the following weeks you start chatting and a friendship soon grows.

Relationship: AU Henry Cavill x Female Reader (No race or body shape mentioned)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Warnings: Slow Burn, NSFW, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Drunken Piggy Back Rides, Oral Sex (Female Recieving), Drama, Theft, Amateur Heroics, Hospital Visit, Shower Sex, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Blow Job, Fingering, Lavish lifestyle, Henry is loaded, The Shard, Expensive Gifts, Sixty nine, Unprotected Sex

I do not operate a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified whenever i post something new.

I don’t have a masterlist, but all my works are on AO3, link here. Usually i post oneshots to Tumblr and AO3, and multichapters exclusively to AO3, but as this is my first henry story and its going to be a short series, i’ll post to both places.

Chapter 6

 Henry left soon after, grabbing a slice of toast as you’d stood in the kitchen in just your dressing gown, apologising for not being able to spend the day with you but he had meetings for work and for future dig’s planned for the southern hemisphere in the winter. You’d stood in the kitchen sipping your coffee for a long while after he’d left, thinking over what he’d casually dropped into conversation; was this a fling?, Was the fact that he would spend months at a time out of the country the reason why such a catch was still single? Or was this something he did; find a girl, romance them, and then leave them on ‘business’ once things got boring? You shook your head to rid yourself of those thought and immediately regretted it, your head hurting from your wound. You gingerly touched it and brought your fingers in front of your face, letting out a sigh of relief when you saw there was no blood, but you realised you’d need to be careful for the next couple of days. 

 As you continued to sip your coffee you read over your emails again, re-reading the one from your boss and frowning; it seemed very short and curt, but he was probably just annoyed that one of his staff was due time off in their busiest season due to what was essentially a workplace injury.

 You decided you were going to head to yoga, even without the joke earlier about needing to limber up, it would help you focus and recharge your mind as well as your body.

 -

 By the time Friday afternoon had arrived your week off was surprisingly busy; finally finding time to do all those small chores that you had put off for weeks, but also you’d taken the chance to go shopping for a dress for your date.

 Rather than hit the chaos of Oxford Street or Westfield, instead you’d sought out a couple of vintage and secondhand dress agencies. Your morning had been fun, searching through unique pieces until you’d found it, the dress that was perfect. The woman that ran the vintage shop had guessed it had been a custom piece made in the 80’s, the midnight blue velvet piece fitting you like a glove. It had a thigh high split on one side and was patterned with silver sequins hand sewn on sporadically to make it resemble the night sky. It was strapless but had little hooks along the scalloped bust line that could hook over the cups of a strapless bra for extra security. You had a pair of silver heels in your wardrobe at home that would work perfectly with it, and with a bargain clutch from Primark you were sorted. 

 As you primped and preened that afternoon, fixing your hair and makeup, you smiled at your reflection as you pulled the dress on just a few minutes before Henry was due to pick you up. You were checking the contents of your clutch when the doorbell rang, frowning as you answered it and saw Henry on the small intercom screen;

 “Henry? You know the code”

 He grinned at the camera;

 “Yes, but I’m being gentlemanly… this time I don’t already have you drunk or drugged in my arms…”

 You pressed the buzzer to let him in, flicking the latch on the door as you went to fasten the straps on your heels, looking up just as he peered around the open doorway and stopped dead on his feet;

 “Wow…”

 He looked you up and down, his eyes wide as he took in your curves in the vintage dress, his gaze pausing at your chest on his way down and then on his way back up again. 

 You had a similar reaction when you saw how he was dressed; navy suit and kingfisher blue shirt, the top few buttons undone where it fitted his chest like a glove. He crossed the room slowly, like a predator stalking his prey, resting his hands on your hips and ducking his head to kiss you before pulling back to admire your cleavage close up;

 “I must say, I am a big fan of this dress” He ran a fingernail over the top of your breast, your skin prickling in Goosebumps at his touch before he opened his jacket and pulled a flat velvet box from the inside pocket and handed it to you; 

 “You remember when we first started talking properly, that I said I’d brought you something back from Siberia?”

 Your eyes went wide;

 “Henry… what is this?”

 “Open it and see”

 In disbelief you pulled the box open and let out a small gasp; nestled within the box was a delicate necklace, a raw amethyst gemstone set into a delicate silver chain. As you held the box he lifted the chain, walking behind you so he could bring it over your head, his fingers nimbly fastening it before he traced his fingertips over your bare shoulders and pressed a kiss to your neck;

 “You look stunning… the platinum looks beautiful on you”

 You spun around, your hand resting on the necklace;

 “Platinum?! I thought it was silver! Henry, this is too much… I can’t take this, not when it’s only our first date…”

 He brought his hands to yours and gently clasped them, pressing a kiss to your fingers before he smiled kindly;

 “It’s not really our first date though, is it? We’ve had drinks, I’ve spent the night… And please, let me give you this…”

 “But it’s too expensive!”

 “Not to me it isn’t… I’m lucky enough to me more than comfortable financially, let me share it with you” He closed his hands gently around yours as they held the necklace, pressing a kiss to your knuckles; “It suits you… and I can’t exactly keep it, the chain would get caught on my chest hair”

 You laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips;

 “Thank you”

 -

 Henry had driven you through the early evening London streets with ease, confident and calm even when cabs would cut in front of him or Uber Eats bicycles would whizz past your door at traffic lights. As much as you’d asked him where you were going, he just smiled and replied ‘you’ll see’ before returning his attention back to the road. 

 Finally you recognised some familiar sights as you passed the entrance to Borough Market, before he swung a left and your eyes went wide;

 “We’re going to The Shard?”

 He grinned as he steered the car into the space outside the entrance, the valet opening your door was Henry strode around the car and took your hand whilst handing his keys to the valet. The ride up through the building in the silent elevator gave you butterflies, before he took your hand as the doors chimed. Henry offered you his arm and you tucked your own through it, your stomach flipping nervously as he walked with confidence up to the maitre’d;

 “Good Evening Dr Cavill”

 You had to try and keep your face neutral that the staff knew who he was, and Henry greeted him in return as if he was an old friend;

 “How are you Michael? Family good?”

 “Yes, thank you Sir. My daughter will be starting Oxford university in September, thank you for your letter of endorsement”

 “Wonderful, great to hear. Are we ok to have some drinks and take in the view before we sit down for dinner?”

 “Of course, Sir. I can prepare your table for whenever you need it. You’re booked into the Westminster Suite tonight?”

 “Yes, that’s the one”

 The man smiled as he led you and Henry to a small bar table near the window, and as soon as you’d rested your small clutch bag on it a waiter appeared;

 “Can I get you some drinks tonight?”

 Henry glanced at you;

 “Champers?” You nodded as he continued; “We’ll have a bottle of the Krug 1996”

 The waiter nodded once and walked away, and it was only when Henry lightly touched your arm and made you jump did you realise you’d zoned out a little;

 “Princess?”

 “Sorry, just trying to process this is all real” you laughed quietly

 “Very real” he took your hand and was about to say something when the waiter returned, setting the small tray with two champagne flutes and a small bowl of strawberries onto the table, before quietly opening the expensive bottle in front of you. Pouring two glasses he set the bottle onto the table and left without another word, letting you return your attention to Henry;

 “What’s on your mind? You were quiet in the car the whole way over. Is this too much?”

 You smiled;

 “No, it’s wonderful. Obviously it’s not a standard night out for me, but you know…”

 “What else is bothering you?”

 You took a deep breath and smiled, pointing to your glass of champagne;

 “Ok firstly, this; I’m not taking a sip until I tell you that I one hundred percent want to sleep with you”

 “Ok, that’s good to hear” he grinned

 “You are so kind and caring, specifically waiting until I was sober before we would sleep together, and now obviously you have thought tonight through, you’ve got a suite here - that was a bit of a surprise I’ll add, but a pleasant one - so I want to get this completely agreed to before you waste all this money and then not asking for consent…”

 He nodded and sipped his glass, smiling and a kind look on his face as you continued;

 “Also, my safe word is Nerd”

 “Nerd?”

 “Yes. In case of later…”

 “Gotcha” he paused for a moment before nodding to your glass; “Do you want a drink now?”

 “God yes” You tipped the glass and sipped at the bubbles, feeling them burst over your tongue, and as you were setting the glass down and reaching for a strawberry Henry rested a hand on your hip;

 “Is there anything else?”

 “You said you were organising digs in the Southern Hemisphere for the winter… where would that leave us, you and me? Would this between us just be a summer fling? I just kind of want to know where I stand before you break my heart”

 “So firstly, I do not see this as just a summer fling. I feel like I’ve known you for years, and remember we were talking on Instagram for months before I finally worked up enough courage to say more than just asking if your day was ok… But the winter digs, it’s what I do. Obviously I’m attached to the museum, but I’m also linked to several others all around the world. I can be away for a month or six months at a time, it’s all dependant on the weather and permits, local politics, but I’d fly back whenever I could, and fly you out when you could take time off work”

 “You would do that? You would wait for me?”

 He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you gently to his chest as he ran a finger gently down your cheek;

 “Of course I’d wait for you. I have always waited… I have found people don’t wait for me”

 “What?! But… but you’re a catch! You’re kind and caring… you know how to treat a partner in every way!”

 He shrugged, looking a little pensive;

 “I don’t know what to say… but the last couple of girlfriends presumed I would cheat so ended things ‘before I broke their heart’... which I would never do…”

 He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before a quiet cough sounded behind you, the pair of you turning to see the waiter;

 “Would you like your table now or would you like to continue with drinks here?”

 Henry smiled at you;

 “I could eat, you?”

 “Yes, please”

 The waiter nodded and loading your drinks onto a tray before you followed him, Henry leaning to whisper in your ear;

 “I look forward to eating you later too”

 -

 Dinner was fabulous, each dish seemingly better than the last, flavours dancing on your tongue and you had to struggle not to make obscene moaning sounds, but when the occasional one did escape Henry’s smile would spread further across his face until you laughed as well. By the time the dessert menu was brought over you declined;

 “Are you sure?” Henry pushed; “Really, you can have anything you like, this whole night is on me”

 You laughed quietly;

 “I’m not looking at the prices…” you leant back and rested a hand on your stomach; “But I am *just* the right amount of full at the moment to be happy to do any other activities tonight… if I eat dessert I wouldn’t”

 Henry nodded and gave a nod to the waiter, quietly speaking to him before turning his attention back to you;

 “Princess, shall we retire back to our suite? A nightcap whilst we take in the view; there’s a telescope in the room”

 Nodding you sipped on the last of your drink as Henry signed the bill, slipping a stack of notes into the clip before closing the small black file and handing it back. He stood and quickly circled the table, helping to pull your chair out before offering you his arm. 

 The ride in the lift to the luxury suites was quiet, the atmosphere almost sparking with the energy the pair of you were giving off from the sexual tension. Henry walked you to the door and you were ready to rip his clothing from his body, but as he pushed the door open he smiled and pressed a finger to his lips before speaking, and not to you;

 “Michael, thank you, but we won’t be requiring the butler service tonight”

 The man you recognised from the restaurant emerged from what you could see what the small kitchenette area, wiping his hands on a pristine tea towel;

 “Understood Dr Cavill. I hope you have an enjoyable stay. Your request from the restaurant has been stored safely in the refrigerator”

 “Thank you, Michael,”

 As the man passed you saw Henry slip him a £50 note as he quickly shook his hand, before taking the Do Not Disturb sign and slipping it over the gold hook on the outside of the door and quietly closing it.

 You watched as he shrugged his jacket off and slowly stalked across the room, wrapping his arm around your back, his other hand gently tilting your chin towards his lips as he kissed you, the press of his hot hard body against your own. The kiss was soft, yet he managed to completely dominate you, his tongue pushing against your own and you could taste the whiskey he’d finished his meal with just a few moments before. Your fingers clawed at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and yet as you managed to get one unfastened he pulled away, slipping his hand into yours;

 “Come on, let me show you the view”

 The noise that escaped your lips was a cross between a laugh and a toddlers disgruntled moan;

 “Henry…” you whined; “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but please, I’m so fucking horny right now, I need you to fuck me into the mattress”

 He turned and walked backwards, tugging you to the panoramic windows and the telescope that sat on the full-length tripod, a quiet laugh filling the void between the two of you;

 “Princess, I promise you will get that… we have all night, all weekend! I just have one thing I want to show you…”

 He peered through the telescope before stepping back and nodding to you, gently guiding you until he was standing behind you, his hands on your hips. You looked through the  eyepiece and let out a gasp; on the roof of a building in Canary Wharf was a light display… and yet it wasn’t just lasers, there was light patterns of dinosaurs; Diplodocus reaching for high leaves, T-rex stalking in the bushes, a group of Raptors running across the building.

 “Oh Henry… how did you?”

 “I have some friends in the city… and some more friends that run outdoor events… just called in a couple of favours”

 You watched through the scope and smiled as you felt Henry wrap his arms around your waist, pressing his hard body flush with your own and started to caress your neck with soft kisses. One hand slipped to your thigh and gently started to tug your dress up until it was high enough for him to slip his hand into the thigh high slit and curl around to seek out your pussy. He was still firmly holding you in place, letting you watch the light show in the relative darkness of the luxury suite, but as his fingers dipped beneath the thin elastic of your lacy thong he let out an appreciative groan as he found you already dripping wet;

 “You really are horny, aren’t you?”

 He found your clit and started to tease it with tight circles, at the same time grinding into the crease of your ass with the hardness still confined to his smart trousers. Under his expert ministrations you soon found yourself swaying your hips, working between pushing harder against his hand then pushing back to feel that delicious friction from behind. Your head fell back against his shoulder and he let out a feral growl against your neck, his teeth grazing against your smooth flesh before gently biting, causing a shudder to run the length of your spine;

 “Ok, Dinosaurs are great, but I need a different bone…” 

 Your words were breathless and were greeted with a low chuckle. Henry withdrew his fingers and you watched as he brought them to his mouth, tasting your juices from the glistening digits, before he moved them to the zip of your dress and slowly started to unzip you. The dress fell to the floor and he let out an appreciative moan;

 “No bra?”

 “You complaining?”

 “Absolutely not”

 Your fingers started quick work of his shirt buttons, unfastening them all before pushing the fabric over his massive shoulders. As he cast the garment aside you unbuttoned his trousers, lowering the zip and palming the massive bulge his boxers could barely contain, Henry’s hips pushing against your palm involuntarily as you felt the heat of his skin though the fabric. Your tongue painted patterns against his chest and his voice stuttered;

 “I want you to sit on my face, ride my tongue Princess, let me make you cum”

 He dropped to his knees and pulled your lace thong down your legs, before unfastening the tiny straps of your heels, running the tips of his fingers up the length of your body as he stood and rid himself of his own clothing, pulling you to the bed.

 He lay on the soft covers, pulling you up his body until your knees were either side of his head, his strong hands gripping onto your thighs as his tongue darted out and parted your folds. His eyes glinted with mischief and you could feel yourself shaking with anticipation as he spoke;

 “Turn around”

 Taking a couple of moments to shift 180º, you rested your hands on his broad chest as he pulled you down to his mouth. At the first touch of his tongue swiping through your folds again you groaned and curled your fingers through the coarse hair on his chest, shuddering at his expert touch. With each pass of the strong muscle you could feel your body rapidly heading towards orgasm already, but when you felt a wide hand flat on your back, pushing you forwards it was heaven as his lips latched onto your clit and he slid two fingers of his other hand into your soaked channel.

 Resting your chest against his abdomen you were face to face with his dick, hard and thick as it rested against his stomach, reaching up to his navel where it wept precum. Wrapping your hand around it you smoothed your thumb over the clear liquid, wishing you could reach it with your mouth, but instead spitting on your other hand to work the hot hard flesh. The groan that was muffled from between your thighs told you he was enjoying it, and in return he slid a finger into you, stretching you, and you knew you were done for. 

 Your attention waived from him as he worked you closer and closer towards your orgasm, before he managed to curl his fingers just right and you were cumming over his face, his strong arm holding you to his mouth as you shook with pleasure. 

 Finally he carefully withdrew his fingers from you, lifting you so he could lay you head to foot on the bed beside him before resting one massive hand on your soft stomach as your breath came out in rapid pants, your heart racing. You felt the bed shift and the welcome touch of his warm hands parting your legs so he could crawl up your body, pressing open mouthed kisses to every spot he crossed. Eventually he reached your own lips, kissing you deeply, his tongue wide and strong and you could taste yourself as your own tongue danced with his. You could feel his hardness nestled against your folds, slipping against you as your bodies writhed together before he finally pushed himself up on his powerful arms;

 “Are you ready?”

 “Yes… please Henry…”

 Reaching down he took hold of himself and slid the tip up and down through your folds until you felt that delicious notch of his swollen crown resting at your entrance, he looked back to you;

 “I’ll go slow… just relax…”

 He started to push forwards, your velvet walls slowly parting as he filled you inch by delicious inch, your eyes going wider with each push. He tilted his hips and immediately found your g-spot, your eyes rolling back in their sockets and you let out a groan that would have rattled the glass in the windows had the building not been fitted with hurricane proof panes. You felt Henry’s soft lips press a kiss to your neck, his mouth moving gently over your skin as he spoke;

 “You feel like heaven Princess, taking me so well”

 “H-Henry… please…”

 “What Princess? Is it too much?”

 “NO! No, oh my god, please… please move… fuck me… fuck me like you mean it…”

 “Princess…” he warned

 “I can take it… I want it…”

 You looked into his eyes and saw a glint of concern, before a wide smile spread across his face;

 “You can, you’re a good girl…”

Pulling his hips back he pushed back in, parting your walls further and the feeling of being so full was almost indescribable. Sure, you’d had partners with big dicks in the past. Some with small dicks. But no-one that had ever been both long and as wide as Henry was. He wasn’t obscenely long, so there wasn’t the uncomfortable stabbing in the cervix, but every inch of his was thick and meaty, and you could feel him completely. Each thrust was becoming harder and faster, and soon he was wrapping one arm around your thigh to pull your legs open wider, tilting his hips so he could change the angle as he fucking railed you into the mattress, your fingers clawing at his back as you begged him for more and more. 

 The room faded around you, it was just you and Henry, the pleasure each other’s bodies were sharing with the other, feral grunts and moans as you felt pleasure like never before. You fitted together like two pristine pieces of a jigsaw, working together in unity. The rough brush of his chest hair against your hypersensitive nipples was yet another added stimulation, and with each rapid push and thrust your bodies rubbed together to bring you closer to your peak. You were trembling around him, your legs shaking where you were so close to orgasm. 

 He let go of your leg, now resting both hands either side of your body as he moved quicker, each thrust more powerful than the last, and with each push you had slid a little more along the bed, your head now hanging over the end and resting on the chaise lounge that sat there, the blood rushing to your brain giving you a head rush. You wrapped your legs around Henry’s waist, hooking one foot over another as you pressed them against his ripe ass. Your bodies were slick with sweat, and when you felt that tell-tale sign that your orgasm was starting a guttural moan emerged slowly through your throat.

 Your body shook with intense pleasure, you could feel for the very first time your internal muscles squeezing and massaging Henry’s massive girth within you, realising that you had never felt so complete.

As you rode out your orgasm Henry evened his thrusts out, and as your own pleasure was starting to ebb away it set off his own, his thick seed filling you as you felt him twitch and buck within you. You watched as he threw his head back and moaned your name, the smooth expanse of his neck aching for you to touch, and with the last ounce of strength you had you did just that and pressed an open mouthed kiss to his Adams Apple.

 With one final grunt you felt him twitch for the last time before his body relaxed, and those steel blue eyes met yours in the twilight of the room, your bodies only illuminated by the bright lights of the London night skyline. He shifted, moving one hand behind your head to support and cup it in his massive palm, the other resting on his elbow so your bodies were pressed together yet he wasn’t resting his entire weight atop of you. There were no words, the smiles on your faces told the other all the words your mouths couldn’t articulate. 

 The passing of time didn’t register in your mind, and it was only when Henry’s entire body did an involuntary shudder did you both come back to reality. Steadying himself on his arms he slowly pulled out of you, letting out a string of gentle ‘hoo-ha’s as the pull of your body against his over sensitive flesh was almost overwhelming for him. Kneeling on the bed he ran his hands over your thighs, warm against the now goose bumped skin and he pulled your legs apart slightly;

 “Wanna watch my cum drip out of you Princess”

 His hands rested on your inner thighs at the apex, his thumbs pulling apart your lips and you watched as he watched his thick seed slowly pool at your entrance. With one thumb he swiped it through the cum before spreading it over your swollen folds. He let out a grunt and moved, sliding an arm behind your back and helped you sit up, pressing his thumb to your lips which you eagerly took into your mouth, sucking on the thick pad as you tasted your combined essence on his salty skin. 

 “Let’s rest for a while before the next round” he muttered before kissing your cheek. 

 You nodded, muttering about needing to pee, and on wobbly legs you staggered to the bathroom like a new-born fawn.

Chapter 7 >>>

Chapter 6 notes:

In case you wanted to be nosey and see just how much Henry spent on their date:

Champagne:

https://thechampagnecompany.com/krug-1996-vintage-champagne-75cl-gift-box Restaurant at the Shard: https://www.the-shard.com/restaurants/aquashard/ Room at the Shard: https://www.shangri-la.com/london/shangrila/rooms-suites/suites/westminster-suite/

[songfell-ut]

Happy birthday to:

@venelona! I set out to prove that I could do a gift on time, and even if time zones have come between us, it’s totally the 4th right now for me, dammit. So here you go, stolen directly from your conversation on @lailosh‘s server and based of course on these comics.

(Omfg, I told my daughter I was happy I finished a birthday gift on time and now she’s nattering to her class on Zoom about how today is her mom’s friend’s birthday and the teacher is asking if we’re doing anything)

Anyway

The bedroom was quiet. Not too quiet—the air conditioner hummed and traffic noises filtered in from the busy street outside, as usual. It was just the quiet of an early-evening bedroom with no one in it yet, sleeping or playing on their phone or doing you-know-what…

…Not that the room’s usual occupant ever did much know-what. In fact, she never did any of it. He definitely would’ve noticed. He noticed everything.

For example, he knew the moment the sun’s last rays finally died out and warm, sweet darkness began sinking into the room, pooling under her bed and creating the ideal space for someone – something – like him to emerge.

Nightmare permitted himself a tiny grin, letting his tentacles writhe in anticipation. He’d been resting and gathering his power for over a month, building enough strength to invade the waking world. Let her think he’d grown tired of trying to reach her again after…after that, her shocking indecency, showing him all that soft warm naked skin and touching him with no he had to focus

Yes. She probably thought she’d won and driven him off with her horrible wiles! Well, what would she say when he came for her—no, when he completely platonically attacked her in her own world, where she thought she was safe? There was nowhere to run from him in her nightmares, but she could always wake up. Here, though…

Nightmare took the magical equivalent of a deep breath, running his tentacles along the barrier between his world and the reality inhabited by humans. It was a delicate process, but he used the barest touch of power to find the barrier’s weak spot, nudge the folds of subspace aside and insert his tentacles one at a why did this feel so inappropriate time, until he was through!

The space under her bed was…not spacious. In fact, if he hadn’t been so viscous, Nightmare could well have found himself stuck. It was enough to make him contemplate giving up and slipping back into his own world, where an eldritch being could stretch properly and not think terrible, untoward things from something as innocuous as penetrating into her wo—

No! As a being of infinite cosmic horror who fed on the suffering of lesser creatures, Nightmare had no intention of backing out now…not the least because he couldn’t back up any further without hitting the wall. What kind of pathetically undersized dwelling was this?

At least he knew her routine, and that she’d be in here soon enough: she was doing the dishes, and then it was time for her shower. Should he strike while she was rummaging in her closet for her favorite cotton robe, the one with the stupid pink flowers? Or lie in wait until she came in afterward, threw her towel off, and eventually got into her pajamas? …Assuming she bothered wearing any. He never watched that part, no matter how much he…well…

Nightmare squeezed his eye shut. Things would be different after tonight, he vowed. Once he’d given her another glimpse of real terror, she’d never taunt him again! He would unleash his most hideous abominations upon his not-scantily-clad victim, and her fear would make him strong enough to finally see—

—a set of dainty black paws wandering in through the half-open door. The skeletal creature froze, slipping a little further back under the bed. Since when did Frisk have a damned cat? And where was it going?! Surely the beast wasn’t stupid enough to approach him?

The cat took a few hesitant steps, then stopped and growled under its breath, tail lashing. Good! Let it make all the noise it wanted. If it got close enough to grab, he’d—

Nightmare was so busy thinking of ways to make the cat sorry for existing that he didn’t notice one of his tentacles eagerly creeping out from under the bed, reaching to grab the little animal…until the cat’s paw went whapwhapwhap and smacked him with needle-sharp claws. “Oww!” he snarled. “You…!”

The kitchen was just down the hall; to his alarm, Frisk had turned the water off. “Nero?” she called. Her footsteps drifted toward the bedroom, and Nightmare crammed himself back against the wall. “Ne—geez!” she yelped as the cat came rocketing out of her room. “What’s wrong with you?” the young woman demanded, her voice trailing after him. “Come back here and answer me, you little…!”

That was too close. Nightmare breathed a sigh of relief, and considered reaching across the room to shut the door; his powers of telekinesis had all but vanished as his…other talents developed. But no, she was an intelligent young lady, and she’d wonder why it was suddenly closed. Besides, the substance coating his limbs would leave telltale greenish-black traces. He just had to hope she wouldn’t notice the flecks of it on the carpet that had been whacked off—that had been forcibly removed by the cat clawing his tentacle.

So the skeletal abomination settled himself to wait, very patiently, as befitted a creature of his age and magical stature. He was always happy to pass the time devising new tortures to inflict upon his victims. Frisk never failed to disappoint him, provided she had clothes on, and once he’d had his way with—once he was finished platonically terrorizing her, she’d never say any ridiculous things about naked or marriage ever again!

Only a minute later, Frisk came back down the hall. “I know, Mom,” she was saying, presumably on the phone. The hall light came on; Nightmare steeled himself for the bedroom light, but to his intense relief, she went to the bathroom instead. “Yeah, I’m gonna go to bed early tonight. I’ve got new contacts, and they’re giving me a headache.” There was a rummage through her medicine cabinet, then some vaguely cloth-sounding noises. “Of course Nero’s doing fine. He just got his wet food, and…he’s already heading to the litter box again. Goody.” Sigh. “Are you guys having fun on your amazing cruise that you wouldn’t take me on?”

Ah. That explained the cat’s presence. And it was also excellent nightmare fuel: he could make her see her parents out on the ocean, having a wonderful time until, say, the walls of the ship split open and grew teeth to begin devouring the passengers, or some kind of disease started spreading that made people turn inside out…Frisk was always susceptible to body horror. Oh, yes, he knew how he could take advantage of her. …Platonically!

“Thanks, Mom,” she said loudly, breaking in on his definitely-not-filthy thoughts. “Have fun. Love you.” He heard her set something down in the kitchen, then sigh, padding back down the hall.

Nightmare settled down to wait again, only to flinch at the sound of sudden, rapid footsteps: Frisk burst into her room and leapt onto her bed with a little “Whee!” The mattress flattened beneath her weight, mashing into his skull; he cursed silently in the tongues of a thousand mortal worlds as Frisk flopped onto her back. “Oh, man, what a day,” she muttered. “Stupid contacts.” Yawn. “Don’t care about the shower, do it in the mornin’…”

That was…remarkably cute, Nightmare thought, then tried to un-think it as she rolled onto her side, relieving some of the pressure. If only they were in his realm! Her mind would be an open book, and he could effortlessly seize her subconscious and steer it in any direction he chose. In this world, he had to wait till her breathing slowed, then grip the carpet and glide out from under the bed on a layer of the noxious stuff coating his body.

Once his torso was free, he silently eased his legs out and rose to his knees. His tentacles quivered with eagerness as he started to turn toward the b—

“Gotcha!”

…If Nightmare had had any friends, and one of them had asked him the likelihood of his next victim not just taking him by surprise, but grabbing him by the neck with rubber kitchen gloves? He would have laughed, and then killed them, because they were clearly insane and he didn’t have any friends.

But by all that was unholy, his theoretical dead friend was not insane. Instead of giving Frisk a (perfectly chaste) glimpse into her own personal Hell, Nightmare found himself being scruffed like an indignant kitten and hauled toward the light switch; instead of latching onto her and ripping her flesh from her bones, his tentacles had just enough time to form a protective seal over his eye before the room was flooded with foul, searing light.

“Oh my God, shut up!” Frisk shouted over his wails of pain. “It’s just one lightbulb!” She shouldered the door open and began dragging him down the hall. “You’re not melting or anything! But if you want to, go for it—it’d probably be an improvement!”

“How dare you!” The eldritch skeleton flailed with both arms and kicked at random, to no avail. “Release me now!”

“Why?” she snapped. Nightmare made another series of agonized noises as she pulled him all the way into the brightly lit bathroom. “I’m not letting you go till you apologize and we get everything cleaned up!” She slammed the door shut and locked it for emphasis. “Got it?!”

He still couldn’t bring himself to uncover his eye. “How? How did you know—”

“The cat had a bunch of gross slime all over his paw! Who do I know that gets gunk everywhere and smells like a hot dumpster? Gee, let me think!” Frisk still had an iron grip on his neck, fingers digging between the vertebrae. With her other rubber-gloved hand, she banged open the linen closet and began pulling things out, piling them on the toilet lid. “I had to scrub it off him so he wouldn’t eat it and die or something. So then I thought to myself, Wow, Self! I already had to wash one dumb thing I didn’t want here! Why not go for a double?”

The implication hit him as she yanked a knob and started the shower full-blast. “You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed.

Frisk stopped dead. For a moment, Nightmare entertained hopes of mustering enough strength to break loose and reach the light switch. When one tentacle eased free, though, she pivoted until he was fully facing the vanity lights, holding firm as he writhed in agony. It felt like miniature suns burning into his slime and bone…

…but only for a moment. The next thing he knew, Frisk had turned him away again, leaning over to shield him from the light. “Believe it or not, I don’t like hurting you,” she said severely. “But you’re in my world now, literally, and you’re not Mr. Big Scary Hentai Monster. You’re more like a vampire in a crappy horror game—all I have to do is turn the lights on. So, you’d better behave. Got it?” Her grip somehow tightened. “Here we go. Hold your breath!”

Nightmare didn’t have time to request any further details, because she was already ripping back the shower curtain and stepping into the tub with him, holding him under the water as she pulled the curtain shut. “There! I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” she said cheerfully, patting his topmost tentacle. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

It did not feel nice. The hot water felt like…like…it was bad and he hated it. Yes. It was terrible, and not oddly pleasant or soothing once he got used to it, not at all like being massaged by a thousand tiny hands. In fact, he hated it so much that he relaxed, telling himself he was tricking her into dropping her guard.

Behind him, Frisk hummed in satisfaction and reached out of the curtain. Nightmare’s tentacles began to loosen almost imperceptibly, but constricted again as the human tapped on them. “Hold still. I don’t even know if this stuff hurts when it gets in your eyes…well, eye. But like I said, I don’t get off on torturing people.” Something – probably a bottle – made a sploot sound as she squeezed it. “You just smell really bad.”

Nightmare couldn’t help flinching at the first cold, rough touch of the shower loofa. “I do not ‘get off’ on it,” he informed her. “I can’t help what I am, can I?”

“Hmmm. Yeah,” she said absently. “Yeah, you absolutely can. At least, you can control what you do.” A strange floral scent filled the room as she began a brisk, gentle scrub-down, removing most of his protective slime; he unconsciously folded his legs to sit forward more comfortably, letting her angle the showerhead so that more water streamed over him. “Would you die if you went too long without scaring the crap out of someone?”

The skeletal monster had to suppress a shudder as her fingers slipped between two of the tentacles. No one had touched him like this in…ever, or at least as far back as he could remember. “Probably,” he muttered, telling himself to calm down. It was perfectly innocent, just a wretched human daring to lay hands on him, earning the most terrible punishment imaginable— “Would you die if you went for too long without eating?” he added.

Scrub. Scrub. “Well, duh. But if I want a burger, I don’t sneak into the cow’s house to taunt it first.”

Nightmare did shudder this time as her hand glided over the same spot over and over again, leaving a very sensitive layer of ectoplasmic flesh. His tentacles were stirring with interest, and the more firmly he told them to stop it, the more they all wanted to be washed. One was actually angling itself to let her rub it harder. “I…fine! Just hurry it up.”

“Aww, see? It’s not so bad,” she chirped. The tentacle stretched luxuriously, and Nightmare fought to keep another one from rising to demand the same treatment. “At this rate, you’ll be nice and clean in just a few hours!”

Hours?! He did his best to open his eye, raising one hand to protect him from the light. “You’re joking. Right?” She made an indifferent noise, and he tried to grab at the loofa with his other hand. “Let me do it, then!”

“Nope,” said Frisk, giving the shower curtain a threatening nudge with her elbow; he twitched as the light flickered around its edge. “Just relax, okay? Let your loving wife take care of you~”

He felt his entire skull flush bright green. “You are not my wife!”

The human made a pouty sound. “How can you say that, honey? After all we’ve been through together!” The scrubbing intensified. “I know you wanted more romance. Is that why you came all the way here to see me?” The scrubbing paused. “How did you get into the real world, anyway?” she asked, much more seriously.

Nightmare willed more of his tentacles to peel themselves off his skull, and to behave themselves. “With magic. Don’t waste my time with stupid questions.” The light was just a bit dimmer in here through the shower curtain – enough for the pain to start receding – and he needed to adjust to it; no point formulating an escape plan if he couldn’t see what he was doing.

Frisk slowly removed her grip from around his neck. “Okay, then. I see how it is.” She heaved a sigh, then picked up the bottle again.

This was his chance—Frisk was distracted, with both hands occupied, and his vision was clear. Nightmare grinned in silent malice, flexing his bony fingers as they lay in his lap. Most of his power was still depleted from entering this world, but he had more physical strength in one tentacle than ten mortal men. And this was one slim, soft, pliant young woman! He could take her—he could overpower her with virtually no effort!

It would be ridiculously simple: turn around, grab her, and force her to turn the lights off, for starters. Then they could talk about how she had treated him like a misbehaving cat, and—

She chose that moment to drop the body wash and make him jump. “Crap! Sorry,” Frisk said.

The monster made what he hoped was an agreeable noise and picked up the bottle, which was pretty slippery. “Here,” he murmured. “If you’re going to—”

Without warning, Nightmare sprang to his feet and whirled around, backing the startled human against the shower wall. “Now,” he snarled, “you daaaaaaaaaaaaaugh”

Frisk watched, disbelieving, as the dripping-wet monstrosity jerked backward, arms flung up to shield his eye, as though she had turned a spotlight on him and also thrown some holy water. “I was wondering if you’d noticed,” she remarked. “Did you think I was actually talking with my mom that whole time? I just didn’t want you to know I was taking my clothes off.”

“Why?!” he nearly shrieked. “Why would you do that?”

“‘Cause I didn’t want them to get gunked up! That stuff doesn’t look like it washes out. You’d better help me get it off the carpet, by the way.” Frisk chuckled, and that teasing note crept back into her voice, the one he’d heard so many times in his own nightmares: “If I lose my security deposit, it’ll be your fault. How do you plan to compensate me for that, I wonder~”

Nightmare couldn’t speak; he just emitted a stream of “Y-y-y-y-y—”

“Yyyes, I’m naked,” she agreed, retrieving the bottle. Almost against his will, Nightmare’s eye cracked open in time to watch her set down the loofa, peel the gloves off, goop some body wash onto her hand, and begin blithely rubbing it over her skin. “No offense, but I don’t want you all over me yet.”

The monster’s eye bulged so hard that Frisk snorted. “I meant this, dummy!” She indicated the slimy loofa, and leered at him. “What did you think I meant?”

It was tempting to throw himself out of the shower and hope for death’s sweet embrace, but to his steadily increasing horror, the skeleton couldn’t move his feet. As his gaze swept unwillingly up and down her body, the way her skin glistened as her hands squeezed and stroked it, Nightmare’s desire to grab her shifted…and his tentacles agreed.

Frisk was opening her mouth to say something when one appendage snaked up and began petting her shoulder, which was somehow even warmer and smoother than it looked. “Whoa,” she remarked, looking from it to him and back with wide eyes. To his dismay, her mouth quirked a little. “What happened to romance, Nightmare? Didn’t you want to dance in the moonlight, eat Peking duck, or whatever?”

“I’m n-not—” Nightmare tugged at the errant tentacle, first with his hand, then his magic. To his very dismay, Frisk was reaching up to poke at it, giggling as it brushed her cheek. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded of the world at large.

As if mocking him, another tentacle lurched at the young woman, making him stagger forward till he had to catch himself with his hands on either side of her. Frozen in place, Nightmare unwillingly watched a few errant suds trickle down her neck, sliding merrily off her collarbone and along the side of her breast before continuing to the brave new worlds beyond—

“Um,” said Frisk, still sounding more amused than perturbed. Her eyes met his, then flicked to her left meaningfully.

Aaaand of course another tentacle had slid around her wrist and along her arm. “Oh, my,” she said, bemused. Nightmare’s soul did a backflip as the young woman moved forward, the tentacles drawing her closer, till her breasts were nearly touching his soaking-wet jacket. “Are you actually coming on to me, or—eep!”

That was probably due to yet another tentacle worming around behind her and running up and down her back, eliciting a little moan. The skeleton wanted desperately to wrench himself free, or at least tell her to be quiet, but…

Frisk was flushed, her breath coming quick and shallow. Nightmare watched her hands come up to rest on his ribcage, picking off bits of slime. “What now?” she murmured.

Nightmare wanted to tell her that she’d won, and please go put on clothes now so he could leave and never come back. He also wanted to tell her that this wasn’t how he’d envisioned their next encounter, or that young women in his day knew better than to trap extradimensional beings in the shower with them; he wanted to be very stern about doing this kind of thing the right way, because she deserved the right way, not…this.

He wanted to stop himself as his fingers rose to brush her damp hair off her face and his skull drooped to rest on her bare shoulder…but he didn’t.

He didn’t want to give up and let his tentacles wind around Frisk to pull her against him, or to put his arms around her, encasing her entire body. But he did.

“Nightmare?” Frisk whispered.

It wasn’t romantic. But if she didn’t care—

Nightmare summoned his scant reserves of magic, and raised his hand long enough to snap his fingers.

The lights went out.

 ~

 Not long afterward – just a few days after her parents got back and collected Nero, with only a few inquiries as to what that smell was – Frisk went on a shopping trip that raised several eyebrows: she bought several shower curtain liners, a dozen bottles each of Amber Sunrise and Moonlit Jasmine body wash, every single Stain Stick on the shelf, and a steam cleaner.

If that wasn’t strange enough, her neighbors soon started complaining about odd noises in the middle of the night, and at least one of them made rude remarks about how she had to be hoarding trash or something. When the landlord came in for an inspection, though, all he saw was a scrupulously clean apartment with a faint, lingering odor that he couldn’t identify.

It was hard not to see a heap of folded plastic in the corner of her room, but there were no bloodstains – or recent unsolved murders that he knew of – and anything else she chose to use it for was none of his business; Frisk accepted his admonishment to keep it down, whatever it was, and promised to maintain her new cleaning schedule.

Her neighbors didn’t hear much of anything after that. There was nowhere to run from him in her nightmares, but that was fine—she was in no hurry to wake up. After all, she wasn’t the one who’d been caught, was she?

[reddrobins]

of coffee cups + criminals - four [j.todd]

TW: blood, language, gore(?)

ONE - TWO - THREE

How long they had been driving was beyond [Y/N]. After an awfully hostile awakening, courtesy of Black Mask, the trade off had been initiated. One of the Mask’s men had gone behind her, tying a blindfold tight on her - already sore - eyes. From there, what happened was a mystery to her. 

There was a bunch of movement, yet never her leaving the chair. They had carried her restrained form onto - what she could only assume to be - a truck. Placing her down, not gently at all, a loud bang sounded and darkness enclosed the smaller space.

This, [Y/N] felt, was worse than anything she had persisted through thus far. 

Being punched? Not optimal, but fine.

Restrained? Okay.

Left alone in an unknown dark and dank container - not her favourite choice.

It was more so the fact that she was now aware of who would be accompanying her in said truck that instilled the terror in [Y/N]. He had been uncharacteristically silent since his appearance. Not a single laugh or chuckle or anything. That was what scared her most. It was like entering the uncanny valley, a land with silent Jokers, quiet clowns, everything the prince of Gotham was not.

Feeling her anxieties start to get the better of her, [Y/N] steadied her breathing - centering herself. If there was anything she had learned from her time with Jason, it was to remain calm in Gotham. Take everything as it's thrown at you, don't let your consciousness morph it into fear. Stay Calm.

Though her brain was yelling at her to scream, shout, do anything to alert help, [Y/N] knew that it would most definitely gain the attention of those only wanting to hurt. Crossing that off of her mental escape checklist, she tried to upperhand the blindfold. Wiggling her ears, she felt the cloth give a bit. Seemingly not as tight as it had felt, [Y/N] began to furiously shake her head, doing her best to loosen it completely.

As if a higher power answered her prayer, the right side of the blindfold slipped down, allowing her to peak out that eye. Scrunching her nose, she then maneuvered the left side to fall as well, both eyes now at her disposal. Though, evidently, removing the blindfold was not much help as the area around her was still as dark as can be. 

Turning her neck as far as possible, she scanned her surroundings - trying to grasp onto any detail that could aid her in her escape. In the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of silver. Using all of her might to shuffle the chair she sat in, [Y/N] got closer to the object. 

It was attached to the wall, a small metal lever - one that normally was used to open a moving truck. So she had been right, though the confirmation of her thoughts did little to help her out of her situation. 

If she could just grasp the bar, she may be able to open the trailer - grantering her freedom.

Once more scooting her chair towards the lever, she leaned forward, lifting her tied arms upward. One of her fingers made contact with the cool metal, not close enough to grab it yet. She bumped back once more, successfully getting a hold of the bar.

Then it seemed that all hell broke loose. A series of loud bangs and rattles echoed throughout the metal box. The floor shook, little scraps jingling about. The chair [Y/N] sat in bounced as well, moving along the rattling ground. The bar slipped out of her hold the further the chair gilded. That was until she was suddenly rammed back into the wall, the truck all but rolling onto its side.

She now layed sideways, the wall now acting as the floor. A warm substance had gathered on the side of her arm, when she was thrown against the lever, it had cut her forearm. That's not all it had cut though.

[Y/N] felt a newfound freedom in her joints, the lever had sliced through the rope holding her hands hostage. So she may have been bleeding, but now she could escape.

Cheek pressed against the cold floor, she wiggled her arms up and down, gliding the rope off of her wrists. Successfully untangling herself, [Y/N] pushed herself back into a sitting position, beginning to untie her legs.

A slam sounded from the front of the carrier, freezing [Y/N] in her place. Whomever had been driving now was out of the truck - there was no way of telling how much time she had left alone… that is, if she was in the first place.

Blocking the horrid thought from her mind, [Y/N] went back to untying the bonds, freeing her legs from the chair. She placed her hand down onto the floor to steady herself, but quicking retracted it, her fingertips now lightly coated in blood.

Covering her cut with the opposite arm, [Y/N] felt around for the latch. Finally, she felt the circular shape of the metal and pulled up as hard as she could manage with one arm. 

It wouldn't budge.

Though [Y/N] never considered herself as weak, she knew that this was a two handed job. Pushing through the sting of the injury - she used both arms to move the lever - this time it reacted.

Light seeped in slowly as the door opened, each stream of sun bringing a sense of safety into the small compartment. The gleam was harsh compared to the darkness [Y/N] had grown used to, forcing her to lift her hand over her eyes, blocking the direct rays. 

The exit slid to completion, the click alerting [Y/N] it was done - that she was free now.

Uncovering her eyes, she slowly blinked, trying to adjust to the daylight. Vision blurry, she squeezed her eyes shut then squinted them, in an attempt to make out her surroundings.

Once her vision settled, a low hiss of “oh fuck.” came out of her mouth.

Standing in front of the open truck, a sick smile plastered onto his face, Joker waved.

His laugh vibrated around the interior of the metal box, “Wow!” He started, “Quite a show you’ve put on my dear!” Joker clapped his hands, “I didn't take you for a modern Houdini, but brava!” His mock applause continued as [Y/N] stared in awe at the man before her.

She had only ever seen the Joker in full on the TV or her phone. Being before him without a screen of separation was the most terrifying experience [Y/N] had ever had. If she really were a magician, she would have loved to put on a disappearing act. 

“Well! Since you’ve so nicely done half the work for me,”  The clown now entered the truck, [Y/N] instinctively backing away. He outstretched his hand, “Come along now!” His voice was sing-songlike, horrid and shrill, “Time to get a move on.” Turning in on himself, he muttered, “As I don't think our chauffeur can drive on any longer…” The sentence was followed by his signature haunting laugh.

The Joker shook his hand, presenting an air of urgency. [Y/N], fear stapling her to the floor, hadn't moved a muscle - not that she would have accepted his hand otherwise.

Annoyed, the clown rolled his eyes, “Oh come on now. I haven't killed you yet, have I?” He phrased it as a joke, going into a set of hysterics afterward. Then just like that, his straight face was back - as if the episode hadn't happened. Thrusting his hand forward, he wrapped his icy fingers around her arm, pulling [Y/N] out of the truck.

The grip was not as rough as Sionis’ had been, but [Y/N] let out a wince - pain firing through her. Joker had grabbed her bleeding arm, white hands now wet with crimson. Letting out a laugh he lifted his hand up, inspecting the blood. A sadistic smile etched across his face, he spoke, “Looks like you’ve done more than half the work! Shame, no audience to see it.” He sighed, “Poor stagecraft on your part.”

Glancing back down at his hand, he shrugged - “Well, can't waste fresh product now, can we?”

She had yet to utter a single word. At this point she was surprised she was still alive. A finger against her face brought [Y/N] out of her semi-shock. She looked down, the acid stained digit tracing a gory smile across her face.

As Joker wiped his hands together, spreading the residue onto the other - [Y/N] shakily reached up to touch her face. Her unsteady hand made contact with her cheek, feeling her own blood painted on her skin. 

Until this point, [Y/N] had felt as though she had been handling the situation pretty well. But now as she stood in the middle of a concrete lot, in who knows where, with none other than the Joker as company, [Y/N] felt like the world was caving in. 

Pulling her hand off of her cheek, a sob escaped out of her - the blood on her fingers a final confirmation that this was not a dream. That she wouldn't wake up next to Jason, that she wasn't in some alternate reality - no, it confirmed her fears. She was awake, she was alive and most terrifyingly she was conscious. This wasn't some wack fantasy her brain had made, rather it was life, her life specifically - and she had no control over it.

“Oh no! Oh no no no.” Joker tsked, furiously shaking his head, “We can't have you crying now! I haven't even had the curtain call!” He rushed towards her, hands outward - immediately going to rub at her eyes. A mix of salt and iron smeared over her face, the blood and tears seeping into her pores. His attempt to stop her from crying failed, the physical touch only pulling more sobs out. 

The Joker, in an outburst of annoyance, gripped at his viridescent hair, “I was going to wait until he arrived, but if you insist.”  Once more grasping her arm, he dragged her towards a decrepit building. He dragged her past the front of the truck, which now she could see had clearly flipped over. The front of the vehicle was the worst, so much so - [Y/N] almost fainted. 

There was blood everywhere, spilling out of the window onto the pavement, splattered against the seat, anywhere there could be blood - there was. It was easy to deduce who it came from. The driver, or rather what was left of him, was clearly dead… and worse - dismembered. 

A sharp pull took her attention away, the Joker not waiting to spare his last victim a glance. Offhandedly he spoke, “Least good old uncle Joker could do. Couldn't have a pure soul like him going back to work for Romie, just didn't feel right.”  

Trying still to ease her nerves - solely for the sake of her sanity - [Y/N] centered her attention to their new surroundings. He had led her into the building, the disrepair showing the buildings age. After the Falcone family had dispersed Carmines extra funds, the GCPD had gentrified a bit of Gotham in an attempt to get them on the map again. The majority of central Gotham now was pretty decent, so [Y/N] knew that she had been dragged to the edges of the city. Maybe even the Bowery… 

Their steps echoed throughout the room, broken linoleum tiles reverberating with each click of the Joker's shoes. Light peaked into the halls through boarded up windows, the wood rotted and creaking with each blow of wind. In short, the building was straight out of a nightmare. It was exactly like how [Y/N] had imagined all of Gotham to be, prior to moving there. The only thing truly out of place in the dated building was in the back. 

A large makeshift stage had been poorly put together, different materials and nails clashing against one another. A homemade stage curtain accompanied it, also sewed together with multiple fabrics - some plaid, some polka dotted and eerily enough, most stained with a rusty colored substance. 

[Y/N] knew he was a maniac, but had failed to truly grasp the sanity - or lack thereof -  of the clown before her. This was nothing more than a show to him. What she presumed to be her death, was nothing but stagecraft. The last act of a Shakespearean tragedy, though it seems that there would be no knight in shining armour for this damsel in distress.

On centre stage, there sat a single seat. The set dressings bland, but speaking volumes to the audience in the room. The Joker already knew how this act would end, [Y/N] however, was left guessing, theorizing her role in the show. Would she take the crown and come out a stronger person? Or would her character simply be a pawn in the long game of life, a death with little influence.

In the midst of her melancholic monologue, the Joker had ushered her up onto the platform - his grin growing larger and larger every step she took. She was in a trance-like state, her subconscious tuning out as a protective measure for what was about to ensue. Shoving her shoulders, [Y/N] was forced onto the chair - now able to see the ‘theatre’ in full. There were rows of crates and boxes, all placed together to mimic a real auditorium. It was almost as if The Joker expected this performance to get a full house.

The clown then went off stage right, leaving [Y/N] on her own. He hadn't tied her down, but he knew she wasn't going anywhere and deep down, [Y/N] knew he was right. She was far too scared, too shocked to even think about running. Not to mention the gash on her arm, nor the amount of blood lost so far.

A squeak of wheels alerted her that the rogue was back, and this time not empty handed. The stage now hosted a horrifying bright purple cart, the wheels rusted but vibrant nonetheless. The colour was not the scary part however. On each shelf of the metal rack were several different objects, ranging from a ‘can of worms’ to a meat cleaver. 

As [Y/N] eyed the cart, the Joker walked down stage, arms outstretched in a greeting. “Good evening all!” He yelled into the empty theatre. “Boy, do I have a show for you tonight! Meet our special guest Miss. LN herself!” Doing a stage turn, he gestured to her, “And look folks, she even got all dolled up for us! Isn't that just darling?” A laughing fit followed after, the shrill sound bouncing around the vacant room. 

Crazy as the situation was, [Y/N] couldn't help but wonder, ‘why’, still. Why her? What did this all stem from, her not knowing enough about The Red Hood? Better yet, why was Joker involved? Why was he making this a spectacle for absolutely no one? Though to question the ways of a madman seemed a little mad in itself.

The laughing ceased, the Joker heading back towards the cart. “Now, I figured since Miss. LN has been such a lovely guest, coming out here to grace us with her presence - we should give her thanks.” He then turned to [Y/N], a wicked smile stretched across his white face, “And what better way to say ‘Thank You’, than a little game?” 

“Lights!” The Joker yelled, a series of clicks and flickers following. A myriad of colorful lights filled the room, some stage lights, some bedside lamps and others random bulbs all connected into an awful collage.

‘WHEEL OF DEMISE’ was spelled out with lights, the sign hanging precariously on the back wall.

“That's right all!” The Joker announced as he made his way backstage again, “I’m rehashing my ‘Wheel of Demise’ - just for good old [Y/N] over here.”

He came back onstage, a gigantic purple and green spinning wheel rolling on the floor behind him.

“If you’re not familiar with this treat, Miss. LN will spin the wheel and let it decide her gift!” Joker faced the wheel towards her, egging her on to spin it. [Y/N] remained frozen.

Sighing, he spoke to the ghosts in the house, “It seems as though our talent has gotten stage fright. Not to worry, Mr. J is happy to spin it himself!” 

A sickeningly white hand theatrically grasped the dial, giving the wheel a whirl. [Y/N] held her breath as she watched the choices tick by. 

PINWHEEL PERRIL.

SILLY STRING SNUFFING.

BALLOON BEATDOWN.

ASPHYXIATION.

FACE PAINT FATALITY.

The spinning stopped. The arrow, pointed at a bright green box, the purple letters read: TICKLE TERMINATION.

She released her breath, though at the hands of the Joker, surly tickling wasn't that bad.

The clown prince frowned, this was not what he wanted. Deciding his audience would get bored by such a bland show, he prefaced, “Well seeing as [Y/N] is the guest, it wouldn't be fair for me to choose. Think of that as a ‘test run’ if you will.” Facing her, he smirked - voice threatening, “Give it a spin, it's not nice to keep the audience waiting.”

Accepting that she wasn't getting out of here alive anyway, [Y/N] leaned forward, reaching a shaky hand out and spun the wheel.

It went around and around and around, her getting dizzy at the clashing colors mixing in her vision. Finally, it slowed down and [Y/N] almost let out a cry of happiness, the wheel was going to stop on TICKLE TERMINATION again.

Joker had caught the small glimmer of hope in her eye, and being the saint he was, diminished it as soon as possible. He would hate for false possibilities to form in her mind. So with a slight motion of his hand, he grasped onto one of the wheels pegs, bridging the spinning to a shortstop.

Both of the stage presences looked at the wheel, though their reactions were poles apart. [Y/N]’s the face of tragedy whilst Joker’s the face of comedy.

‘BLADE BEREAVEMENT’ 

“Well, well, well! It seems as though [Y/N] has chosen wonderfully! I know this is always a favourite amongst the house!” He laughed, wheeling the cart towards him. “Now the only question is, which one will be the lucky tool tonight?”

His pasty hand glided over the assortment of sharp metals, a facade of thought on his face. “Shall it be this one?” He lifted a small surgical blade, the hardware glimmering against the harsh lights. The Joker's expression showed the audience's distaste of the item, he placed it back. “How about… This one!” A larger kitchen knife was in his grip, the edges serrated and sharp.

As he continued to mime a conversation, [Y/N] was trying to stay awake. Whether it was from the blood loss or just the constant reminder of death on her shoulder - her body wanted nothing more than to shut down. She continued to remind herself why she needed to be awake. [Y/N] thought of escaping, of getting out alive, of seeing the coffee shop again, of seeing Jason again… Jason. 

God, throughout all of this craziness she never thought about how he must be feeling. He's probably at the GCPD right now, reporting her disappearance. Fuck. She was going to die and Jason would never really know why, he would just see the reports of another one of Joker's sorry victims.

A loud crash broke [Y/N] from her thoughts. Initially, she thought it was the cart, maybe Joker had knocked it over. But upon looking up, she realised that he had heard it too. The clown narrowed his eyes, looking around the spacious room for a sign of the intruder.

“It’s over fuck-face.” the voice had sounded from above them, “Let her go and maybe I won't kill you slowly.” 

As her confusion grew, the malicious smile she had gotten used to formed itself on Joker's face once more. “Oh ho ho ho! Lookie here audience, it seems like our final guest of honor has arrived!” He clapped his hands together, eyes still glued above them in search of the person.

A stray can rolled onto the stage, smoke pooling out of it, stinging [Y/N]’s eyes. She coughed and covered her face, then a lightbulb went off. The smoke. Joker can't see!

[Y/N] stood from the chair, ducking low to the ground trying to feel her way around the stage. 

“We can't have the talent leave! I hadn't called you off stage yet!” His cry took [Y/N] by surprise, as did the grip that came with it. A white claw was now locked around her throat, partnering to the cold barrel that was pressed against her temple.

“Ever the dramatist you are Hoodie! Just like your father… And I’m not talking about Batsy!” Another clang sounded from the audience, the mystery guest had decided to show themself. 

The first thing [Y/N] saw was the glimmer of crimson. Even through the smoke she could make out its blood-red color, the cool metal of the helmet reflecting the lights. 

“Ah, finally.” The Joker spoke, “You’re just in time for the show. Why don't you take a seat, Jason Todd?”

[thewritewolf]

Etude Du Coeur

Summary: Working on a last minute research project, it isn't just the topic of their presentation that Adrien and Marinette getting to know better, but each other as well.

This was originally intended for a zine centered around Adrienette, but that... ended poorly and I've finally gotten around to posting it here.

Also, Happy New Year, everyone! Let's see about if we can get started on the right foot this time.

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“We’re all clear on the plan, right?”

Adrien looked at Marinette, who in turn had her eyes narrowed suspiciously at Alya for some reason. All four of them were shrugging off their winter coats as they stepped out of the freezing cold and into the merely chilly interior of the old library.

“Yeah, chill girl,” Alya said dismissively. “We’re going to get as much work done on our project as we can.” She glanced around the large space of the library, with its tall bookshelves packed to the brim.

“Good…”

“We’ll probably need to split up to handle this though.”

“Wait no! That’s not what we-”

“I’m pretty sure there is a computer bay in the back,” Alya said over her shoulder as she grabbed Nino’s arm and all but ran that way. “Good luck with Adrien!”

“Wh- Alya!” Marinette yelled after her, but a nearby librarian shushed her. Looking irritated and a little panicked, she slowly turned to him. “So, um… looks like they wanted some space to themselves?”

Adrien laughed. “Yeah, those two are really into each other. Hopefully they actually do what they’re supposed to and don’t just… well... play super penguino all day.”

To his relief, she laughed with him at his joke, but she still seemed uncomfortable. Her hands stayed latched to the straps of her backpack as she wandered around the mostly empty library, Adrien following behind a couple steps behind her. Besides a few lonesome stragglers, the only other people they saw as they tried to find the ideal spot was Rose and Juleka. Only Rose, tired rings around her eyes, managed a quick smile and half-hearted squeak of joy when she spotted them before returning to their project.

At least they weren’t the only ones who had put this off until the last minute.

Eventually, they got a spot next to a merrily burning fireplace. He had known that Marinette didn’t like the cold much, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise. They left their coats and bags on the library table and although Marinette didn’t realize it, they were well protected under the semi-watchful eyes of a kwami. If nothing else, Plagg would make sure his cheese supply wasn’t stolen.

There wasn’t a whole lot of time to talk as they kept apart while looking for books. Adrien didn’t mind that, though. Talking or not, he liked to spend time with his friends in person. It also didn’t escape his notice that he almost never got any alone time with Marinette - and what few times he did get usually ended up in embarrassment for one of them. Like when they got chased across Paris by rabid fans, or when Adrien pretended to be a statue.

He winced. Not his best moment. Hopefully today would turn out better. After all, they were stuck together for at least the next few hours. Who knew if Nino and Alya would be meeting back up with them? Maybe Marinette and Adrien would be stuck together for the rest of the entire day.

All in all, as he sat down across from her at their space in front of the fireplace, saw her face scrunch up in adorable concentration as she began poring over a book and making notes on her laptop, the idea didn’t bother him in the slightest.

It was forty minutes into their study session before his attention started to falter and he looked for something to distract himself.

“Marinette?”

She fumbled the book she was holding, nearly dropping it. She only barely managed to catch it, but in the process closed it with such force that it echoed in the contemplative quiet of the library. With a wince, she set the book down and briefly glanced at him.

“Y-yes?”

“So… you don’t like the cold?” Although he kept a pleasant smile plastered on his face, he was screaming on the inside. Could he have come up with a lamer ice breaker? Science has yet to decide, but data is pointing in that direction.

“Y-yeah… I’ve never really liked it but it has been especially bad ever since-” Her eyes widened and she suddenly threw her hands over her mouth.

Naturally, this got him curious.

“Since… what?”

“Oh, just, um… since a little over a year ago. I, uh… I don’t know what happened exactly, but I got, ah, got even worse with the cold!” She laughed nervously before petering out. “So… yeah. Me and winter? We don’t get along.”

Adrien chuckled and spared a glance at the roaring fireplace to his left. “I can see that.”

With that conversation arriving at a dead end, Adrien tried to come up with some other topic. There had to be something that could get her talking for a while.

“Fashion!” Poor Marinette had been trying to take a book out of a stack when he blurted out that word and only managed to keep the stack from falling over by leaping up and hugging it. He winced. “Sorry. I just remembered I’ve been meaning to ask you about your fashion projects and stuff. I don’t get updated on them much.”

“Oh…” Marinette blinked in surprise. “Well, I’ve been juggling a lot of projects lately.” She put her hand on her face as she stared into the wood of the table in front of them, deep in thought. “Christmas is coming up after all and I… may have bitten off a little too much this time.”

“Really?” Adrien’s eyebrows rose. “How many people are you making gifts for this year?” He flashed a teasing smirk. “Am I one of them?”

“Well… yes.”

Adrien blinked in surprise. “Wait, really?”

“Of course!” Marinette frowned and looked at him with concern. “...Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I guess I figured you would be busy with everything else.”

“I’ll always make time for my friends.”

Adrien smiled softly at her. “Thanks.” A thought occurred to him. “Do you need my measurements?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that-” Again, she suddenly froze and cut herself off.

His voice took on a teasing quality. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, you are a big fan of my work after all.”

There was a glimpse of a blush spreading across her cheeks before she buried her face in her hands. She groaned.

“Aw, I’m sorry Marinette.” His smile faded. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

After a few moments she sighed and uncurled herself. “It's fine. Just a little... embarrassing is all.”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “That seems to happen a lot when we hang out.”

“I guess that means we’ll have to hang out more to break that curse.” Her eyes widened as if she was surprised at her own words and she immediately began to backtrack. “I mean- that’s not the only reason we’d hang out! If you even want to hang out, it's totally cool if you-”

“Marinette?”

“Yes?”

“Breathe.”

“R-right.”

While she took a few calming breaths, he added, “Let’s just see if I can get through today without embarrassing you any more and we’ll see how you feel after that.”

She giggled, and Adrien thought it was one of the best sounds in the world.

“Well, what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. What, um, what do you do for hobbies?”

“Oh, well I’ve got…” He held up his hand and counted down on his fingers. “Fencing, piano, basketball, modeling, and sometimes voice acting.”

“Wow! That all sounds pretty fun. It’s got to be interesting at least.”

Adrien shrugged. “I guess so.”

“...Are they not?” Marinette’s enthusiasm dampened.

“Well, they would be by themselves. Fencing is a great way to stay in shape and I like playing the piano sometimes. It’s just…” He ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “I can’t just enjoy them. I’ve got to be the best at them or be perfect. Otherwise Father chews me out about it.” He leaned forward again, shaking his head as he hunched over the table. ��That kind of takes all the fun out of it.”

“Oh,” Marinette said simply. “I never thought about it like that… That sounds exhausting since that takes up pretty much all of your time.” He gave her a curious look and she cleared her throat, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Or, um, that’s what it sounds like. It’s not like I’ve memorized your schedule or anything.”

“Of course.” He smiled at her. She said the weirdest things when she got nervous. Feeling a little mischievous he added, “Posters of me all on your wall? That’s fine. Keeping track of what things I do? Now that’s a bridge too far.”

“If only your fans could see you now,” Marinette said, shaking her head sadly. “They’d see how mean you really are.” Adrien laughed and she quickly joined him.

“You two seem to be getting along alright.”

Adrien jumped at the sudden new voice, his eyes flying open to reveal Alya and Nino approaching their table. There was a calculating gleam in her eye, while Nino simply wore a pleased look on his face as he looked between him and Marinette.

“How is the research coming along?” Adrien glanced between them and allowed himself a smirk. “You… have been doing at least some research, right?”

“Chill, bro,” Nino said, rolling his eyes. “We’ve been supes on top of things. We just wanna make sure you dudes are on the level too.”

“Say, blondie.” Alya surprised him by pulling up a seat next to him rather than next to Marinette. Instead, Nino had taken that spot. “Have you been a long time fan of the Ladyblog?”

Adrien blinked and tried to keep up with the sudden topic change. “I- um- yes?”

“Cool, cool. Did I ever tell you about Darkblade and Syren?”

“I… read the articles.” Plus he'd been part of the fights, but he wasn’t about to say that.

“Yeah but this part I didn’t write much about. My girl-” she gestured across the table toward Marinette, where Nino was grinning and pointing toward her “-really took charge during those akumas.”

“Alya-” Marinette began, whining. Her face was getting red with embarrassment, but Adrien was intrigued. He knew that his classmates had been close to ground zero in those akuma battles, but he wasn’t sure what exactly happened to them after he transformed.

“During Darkblade’s attack, our girl rallied the whole class and fortified the capital building. That’s probably why we lasted as long as we did while Ladybug and Chat Noir fought the knights.”

“Oh wow, really?” He looked over to Marinette. “That was pretty brave of you, Marinette!”

“Then get ready for this, blondie.” Alya pushed up her glasses while her best friend groaned and faceplanted the table. “During Syren’s attack, she got us all to higher ground and then jumped into a garbage bin.”

“A… garbage bin?” Adrien blinked, running it over in his head. Nope, still didn’t make sense. “Why?”

“Well, she started paddling off to go get help. The cure fixed everything before it was too big of a problem, but it takes guts to go onto akuma-infested waters with nothing but a trash can for a ship, right?”

“That is pretty gutsy of you, Marinette,” Adrien addressed the mass of flattered embarrassment that was his study partner.

“It’s been nice chatting, but we should probably get back to our end of the research.” Alya and Nino quickly got up and started walking away. “Good luck you two!”

Adrien waved but once they had left he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Did they even ask about how far along they were in their research? He didn’t think so, but he wasn’t sure.

Still, what they had said had given him something to think about as he slowly got Marinette talking again. He knew that he was the one who had given her the nickname of their ‘everyday Ladybug’, but he hadn’t realized just how apt it was. She had a lot of the qualities that he so loved in his lady - bravery, natural leadership, creativity.

That revelation stuck in his head as they worked, stayed in there for hours and hours. By the end of the day, it was still at the forefront of his mind.

Maybe it shouldn’t have come as any surprise when Marinette asked, “So, um… this was nice. Spending time with you and everything. I was wondering if… maybe, if you could find the time and felt up to it… if you wanted to maybe get a coffee or something with me?”

That he replied, “That sounds great.”

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- The Tale of the Three Brothers

James flipped to the last story with nostalgia, this had been his absolute favorite when he was younger, and he couldn't wait to tell Harry about it and watch him understand why.

As he read the title though, Harry felt that flash through his mind, a squirm through his innards. An understanding he still had no knowledge of, why this story must be what had caught his eye to begin with, what on earth it all could mean...

There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across.

Even as James began the feeling only intensified, though oddly Harry's vision swam double for a moment and he was sure it should be Hermione reading this to him, in a much different place...but it was all gone the moment he tried to latch onto it, and instead he settled back in his seat and tried to listen with the same attentiveness he had all the other silly tales.

However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure.

And Death spoke to them.

Lily did a double take in surprise, and Harry's eyes popped, causing the other three to laugh, but the shock passed quickly. This really wasn't any more weird than any other things going on with these novels.

  He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.

"Why aren't we ever awarded for doing shit?" Sirius sighed.

"Eventually the teachers would run out of rewards and circle back to punishment anyways, I suppose they just skipped ahead," Remus shrugged.

So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother.

Harry couldn't help it, shifting his weight around more and more, a burn he'd been peacefully lacking while not having to relearn his old memories sadly paining him now again over something clearly so stupid. He clenched his shaking hand tight and resisted the impulse with all his might not to clutch at his aching head again, just concentrated on his dads voice.

Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.

His feeling only growing worse by the second, somehow James trying to read in a goofy lighthearted tone contrasting heavily with a deep echo of words he knew his father also once saying to him...

The others noticed of course, but Harry looking so pained over something like this they had no clue of was sadly nothing new. So Lily placed her arm gently around his shoulders and waited as long as he needed to take a moment to breath again before nodding at James, who was monstrously disappointed something they'd thought Harry would just simply enjoy for once was still actually causing him pain.

And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death.

'The third brother...' this more than the others resonated with Harry, even as he kept rubbing at his forehead with pain he latched onto anything his mind could make sense of. He had not a clue why remembering this was hurting him so, as painful as if he were trying to remember something before it happened to him again, but thankfully like before so long as he didn't force the feeling it began to ebb.

James glanced hopefully at Harry and kept going with that same excitement, glad to see whatever Harry was struggling with he was fighting off, this was his favorite part!

So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.

"You have got to be kidding me," Lily said in exasperation, actually eyeing James like she worried he was making this up as he went along. Knowing her husband, it wasn't even that crazy.

"Nope," James insisted, popping the P for emphasis even as he kept his eyes on Harry while still addressing Lily. "My dad read this story to me all the time when I was little, loved to go on about how this was where my Cloak came from."

Lily had honestly never thought why James cloak worked the way it had, he'd only shown it to her in the last year and by that time he had no real use for it. She'd had other things on her mind

when he'd showed it to her, like realizing one of her friends was a werewolf, so she'd never questioned too deeply his declaration it had been in his family for generations.

Now though, she raised a skeptical brow at him and demanded, "and you really think your Cloak came from the manifestation of Death?"

"Nah," he brushed off, a bit disappointed it wasn't Harry going along, but at least it was clear he was listening with his head tilted towards them even as he kept flattening his hair and clearly trying to repress rubbing his scar more. "I don't think my dad really did either, most of us have just come to the conclusion someone along the line made it but lost the record of how they did. Now it's just more of a family secret. Still fun how it somehow made it's way into a kids novel, maybe even where the original idea of creating it came from, so technically..." he trailed off with a still superior little smile no one acknowledged. His friends had heard all this too many times and just yawned when he looked over, and he pouted before continuing.

Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts.

In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination.

The first brother traveled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, he sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel.

Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed.

Harry's mind wanted to seize painfully on this, talk of the Elder Wand had cropped up once in here already, but he was instantly distracted by the others once more.

"I always wonder how much of that is just confidence," Remus couldn't help but scoff. "It really does wonders, and then his boasting just caused this tail to begin with."

"Bragging only takes you so far until you have to prove it," Sirius disagreed, his eyes gleaming with want.

When it was clear they had no more to say on it than before though, he tried desperately to ignore his disappointment and continued headache.

Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible.

That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat.

"Charming," Lily crinkled her nose in disgust.

And so Death took the first brother for his own.

Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry before her untimely death appeared at once before him.

Harry could not seem to settle during this story, shifting anxiously more every second, now twirling his ring around in unease as if some part of him knew to be worried abut this. At least he did know why his eyes lingered on his parents now, what he would have given for that stone some point before all this- then his mind went blank with another snap of pain and he just shook his head miserably for his brain never working properly.

Yet she was silent and cold, separated from him as though by a veil.

All of them flinched heavily at that description, none appreciating the reminder.

Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her.

Lily tightened her hold on her son, feeling the urge to be sick at still seeing that lingering look of longing in place. She disliked this one most of all for that line alone, why was that in a story for kids?!

And so Death took the second brother for his own.

But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son.

James declared this with contentment, his eyes lingering on his child more than the words now as he finished. His infant sat in his godfathers lap, gurgling happily, and it still gave the father comfort that no matter his child's future, his heirloom would still hold.

And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.

"Wow, I think that was the shortest one yet," Lily crinkled her brow in fascination. She wasn't even sure where the moral in that one was. After mulling it over for a moment while the boys all declared which object they'd pick, James and Remus the cloak and Sirius the wand, she interrupted Harry, "what exactly is the point of including that one?"

"Oh come on Lily, not everything needs to have a point," James sighed. "It's a fun novelty, gives kids a chance to dream of some cool objects one day."

"I actually have a fond memory of me and Regulus on a 'quest,' looking for these," Sirius smiled reminiscently. "Of course it ended with us nabbing our fathers wand and being grounded for a week, but it was fun for an hour or two."

"So you guys don't believe they're real?" Harry interrupted, causing them all to look at him in surprise.

"Well," James began slowly, weary of the intensity with which Harry had asked. "Like I said, my cloak, I think anyways, was built from this myth as far back as my family tree will trace, yet it doesn't mean Death gave it to someone so long ago. So there's really no proof the others don't exist-"

"But there's no more proof they do either," Remus shook his head with such exasperated skepticism Harry could already feel they'd had this argument long before. "This Stone sounds like another idea of the Philosophers Stone, and though that was once made, the recipe for that is as lost as James' cloak, or at least, Flamel and Dumbledore certainly aren't sharing; so it's existence is still nothing but questionable."

"The wand is all about how you read your history," Sirius quickly tacked in before Moony could go off again on more theory's. "People have been claiming since the existence of wands to have an unbeatable one-"

"And it's caused nothing but more bloodshed and murder," Lily said with finality. As if they needed more of that in their life to be sitting around discussing it.

Sirius shrugged but made no argument so James gave Harry a curious look before going on into what Dumbledore had to say about this, honestly very curious.

Albus Dumbledore on "The Tale of the Three Brothers"

This story made a profound impression on me as a boy. I heard it first from my mother, and it soon became the tale I requested more often than any other at bedtime.

James couldn't help but chuckle slightly he had something so in common with Dumbledore. As angry as he still was at him, he really was trying his hardest not to let that linger for now at least.

This frequently led to arguments with my younger brother, Aberforth, whose favorite story was "Grumble the Grubby Goat".

Sirius snorted randomly, honestly just thankful to have any more information about this brother they'd kept hearing about but had no knowledge of before this.

The moral of "The Tale of the Three Brothers" could not be any clearer: human efforts to evade or overcome death are always doomed to disappointment.

James looked pleased and turned gloatingly to his wife, who still had a sour face, thinking there were better ways to have this in a story that didn't involve murder and suicide.

The third brother in the story ("the humblest and also the wisest") is the only one who understands that, having narrowly escaped Death once, the best he can hope for is to postpone their next meeting for as long as possible.

"Really makes you wonder how he copulated under a cloak, I mean the broad-"

Remus reached over and plugged his nose while James kept going loudly around him.

This youngest brother knows that taunting Death by engaging in violence, like the first brother, or by meddling in the shadowy art of necromancy,1 like the second brother - means pitting oneself against a wily enemy who cannot lose.

The irony is that a curious legend has grown up around this story, which precisely contradicts the message of the original. This legend holds that the gifts Death gives the brothers "an unbeatable wand, a stone that can bring back the dead, and an Invisibility Cloak that endures forever" are genuine objects that exist in the real world. The legend goes further: if any person becomes the rightful owner of all three, then he or she will become "master of Death", which has usually been understood to mean that they will be invulnerable, even immortal.

Harry couldn't help but make a keening noise of frustration, shaking his head frantically and wishing more than anything right now his brain would quit setting itself on fire. He wasn't relearning any memories more than he should, so why on earth did all of this feel so monumental, and also decide to torment him for learning it all too soon before other things to come? All of this felt like little puzzles that would not weld together, so thankfully he wasn't suffering as bad as he could, but more than any before, he simply wished this would just end.

James fully realized this and wanted to close this in disappointment and be done as well. Clearly this was doing nothing but hurting his son no matter how much they couldn't understand why, but then Harry surprised them by telling without even looking up, "go ahead and finish, it's a better distraction than wondering why this is all supposed to mean something I suppose."

James disagreed, clearly Harry had a conversation about this with Dumbledore at some point and it was paining him to have to remember even vague details about it now, but to deny Harry would only make what he said all the more true, so he fingered the next page and just tried to keep going with more urgency than some silly story should provide.

We may smile, a little sadly, at what this tells us about human nature. The kindest interpretation would be: "Hope springs eternal".

Lily couldn't help but smile for that line, aware that none but her would recognize a quote from a muggle poet Alexander Pope, but it was one she'd carried through most of her life, where her optimism so often sprang from as well, hope.

In spite of the fact that, according to Beedle, two of the three objects are highly dangerous, in spite of the clear message that Death comes for us all in the end, a tiny minority of the wizarding community persists in believing that Beedle was sending them a coded message, which is the exact reverse of the one set down in ink, and that they alone are clever enough to understand it.

Sirius couldn't help but snort with mirth at that line. Who on earth was mad enough to go looking for coded messages in a kids tale?*

Their theory (or perhaps "desperate hope" might be a more accurate term) is supported by little actual evidence. True Invisibility Cloaks, though rare, exist in this world of ours; however, the story makes it clear that Death's Cloak is of a durable nature.2

Through all the centuries that have intervened between Beedle's day and our own, nobody has ever claimed to have found Death's Cloak.

"I do wonder how no one in your family was mad enough to try," Lily couldn't help but ask him. "I understand why you didn't," she unconscionably inclined her head towards Remus, their cloak had been invaluable in their attempts to help him in much of their youth, "but no one before you?"

"I've only met my granddad once, but he told me an epic tale about his great-granddad trying," James told with a nostalgic smile, and finally Harry was looking on with that interest he so deserved in learning more about his history. "Tried to find a way to replicate the cloak, mass produce it for more money, our inheritance from the line was running thin by then. Anyways, something went awfully wrong right away, before the man could put one spell on it, and so I was told there's a curse upon it, wrought to anyone who attempts to divulge it's secrets." He finished in a goofy mystical voice.

"So only use it for good and not to steal, got it," Harry couldn't help but laugh lightly, which helped him to ignore a funny tickle in his memory he may have learned that the hard way as well.

This is explained away by true believers thus: either the third brother's descendants do not know where their Cloak came from, or they know and are determined to show their ancestor's wisdom by not trumpeting the fact.

"Well that ones out the bush," Sirius said at once. "Prongs can't show an ounce of wisdom unless he's threatened with wrought!"

James gave him a calculating look before reminding, "who exactly was it who got caught underneath it by Flitwick and had to give the lamest excuse ever for it's existence?"

Sirius let out a lengthy breath, realized his mate wasn't going to go on until Harry stopped looking at him with an already twitching smile for whatever this could be, and finally muttered, "I was, when I told him I was just trying to smuggle in a demiguise from Kettleburn."

"So who had to steal it back?" James wouldn't let go.

"You did, by spending the whole weekend and fifty Galleons to buy a demiguise and give it to Kettleburn while Remus snuck into his office to get the cloak."

"Exactly," he finished pleasantly before going on while Sirius still muttered profanities about that mess.

Naturally enough, the stone has never been found, either. As I have already noted in the commentary for "Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump", we remain incapable of raising the dead, and there is every reason to suppose that this will never happen. Vile substitutions have, of course, been attempted by Dark wizards, who have created Inferi,3

They all made faces at the mention of those, though Harry gave the nastiest little shiver he was sure he didn't want to understand so didn't question what they were.

but these are ghastly puppets, not truly reawoken humans. What is more, Beedle's story is quite explicit about the fact that the second brother's lost love has not really returned from the dead. She has been sent by Death to lure the second brother into Death's clutches, and is therefore cold, remote, tantalizingly both present and absent.4

James breath caught enough all on its own he didn't notice Harry's and he had to resist the urge with all his might not to squeeze his eyes shut in pain lest he have a horrifying vision of Sirius looking anything like that.

This leaves us with the wand, and here the obstinate believers in Beedle's hidden message have at least some historical evidence to back up their wild claims. For it is the case whether because they liked to glorify themselves, or to intimidate possible attackers, or because they truly believed what they were saying, that wizards down the ages have claimed to possess a wand more powerful than the ordinary, even an "unbeatable" wand. Some of these wizards have gone so far as to claim that their wand is made of elder, like the wand supposedly made by Death. Such wands have been given many names, among them "the Wand of Destiny" and "the Deathstick".

It is hardly surprising that old superstitions have grown up around our wands, which are, after all, our most important magical tools and weapons. Certain wands (and therefore their owners) are supposed to be incompatible:

When his wand's oak and hers is holly, then to marry would be folly.

"Wonder what it says about mahogany and willow," James asked pleasantly while batting his eyes at his wife.

"The first is an idiot and the second is the fool who fell for that idiot," Lily returned pleasantly.

"You can do better than that Evans, it didn't even rhym," Sirius scoffed.

"Potter," they both corrected him, causing the two to smile at each other and Sirius to smirk.

or to denote flaws in the owner's character:

Rowan gossips,

"I never gossiped," Sirius muttered, "wandlore is stupid anyways."

"You're right, you should have had chestnut," Remus rolled his eyes while Sirius huffed at him.

chestnut drones, Ash is stubborn, hazel moans.

And sure enough, within this category of unproven sayings we find:

Wand of elder, never prosper.

Whether because of the fact that Death makes the fictional wand out of elder in Beedle's story, or because power-hungry or violent wizards have persistently claimed that their own wands are made of elder, it is not a wood that is much favored among wandmakers.

The first well-documented mention of a wand made of elder

"Ugh, isn't he done yet!" Sirius groaned. "I didn't care this much, I'm starting to feel like I'm being force fed a history lesson!"

"Still the most interesting one we've ever had," James shrugged, continuing with honest curiosity, as it had yet to say what Dumbledore felt about any of this, just stating the facts of others.

that had particularly strong and dangerous powers was owned by Emeric, commonly called "the Evil", a short-lived but exceptionally aggressive wizard who terrorized the South of England in the early Middle Ages. He died as he had lived, in a ferocious duel with a wizard known as Egbert. What became of Egbert is unknown, although the life expectancy of medieval duellers was generally short. In the days before there was a Ministry of Magic to regulate the use of Dark Magic, dueling was usually fatal.

"I am fairly confident dueling is still fatal," Lily muttered.

A full century later, another unpleasant character, this time named Godelot, advanced the study of Dark Magic by writing a collection of dangerous spells with the help of a wand he described in his notebook as "my most wicked and subtle friend, with bodie of Ellhorn,6 who knowes ways of magick moste evile". (Magick Moste Evile became the title of Godelot's masterwork.)

As can be seen, Godelot considers his wand to be a helpmeet, almost an instructor. Those who are knowledgeable about wandlore5 will agree that wands do indeed absorb the expertise of those who use them, though this is an unpredictable and imperfect business;

one must consider all kinds of additional factors, such as the relationship between the wand and the user, to understand how well it is likely to perform with any particular individual.

Nevertheless, a hypothetical wand that had passed through the hands of many Dark wizards would be likely to have, at the very least, a marked affinity for the most dangerous kinds of magic.

Harry had been rubbing his palm against his knee through most of that passage, wishing that tingling sensation would vanish already almost as much as this loaded feeling there was much more to be remembered about all of this, not much of it pleasant.

Most witches and wizards prefer a wand that has "chosen" them to any kind of second-hand wand, precisely because the latter is likely to have learned habits from its previous owner that might not be compatible with the new user's style of magic. The general practice of burying (or burning) the wand with its owner, once he or she has died, also tends to prevent any individual wand learning from too many masters. Believers in the Elder Wand, however, hold that because of the way in which it has always passed allegiance between owners "the next master overcoming the first, usually by killing him."

"How can it be an unbeatable wand if it's passed along through death?" Remus couldn't resist poking at Sirius who was still trying to pretend he was bored with this by twirling his wand about even as he kept his head tilted towards James to hear these details giving him away. "That feels redundant."

"Use your imagination Moony, wands pass along without consent. It doesn't happen often-"

"But every single time?" Remus persisted.

Lily cleared her throat obnoxiously so that they'd stop carrying on while Harry gave her a grateful look and flattened his hair again, though it did no more good than banishing his headache.

the Elder Wand has never been destroyed or buried, but has survived to accumulate wisdom, strength and power far beyond the ordinary.

"You think that's why Mrs. Longbottom gave Neville his dads wand?" Harry pointed out something that had lingered in his mind, aside from the rest of that torture going on inside the Department of Mysteries.

"Neville didn't get his parents killed," Sirius said so sharply Harry jumped and looked at him in surprise.

"Not that, the accumulating wisdom bit, strength and power over time. I'll bet she's looking for Frank in Neville or something," he finished with still distant eyes, and they were all wondering what he was really thinking of, yet sure they were all missing it.

"Well, he'll be getting his own now, so whatever her intent was it's gone," Lily said gently.

"I'll bet Neville's magic will be loads better this year because of that," James agreed happily. "Even better than he was showing in the DA."

"Least that's one good thing to be looking forward to," Remus muttered.

Godelot is known to have perished in his own cellar, where he was locked by his mad son, Hereward. We must assume that Hereward took his father's wand, or the latter would have been able to escape, but what Hereward did with the wand after that we cannot be sure. All that is certain is that a wand called "the Eldrun6 Wand" by its owner, Barnabas Deverill, appeared in the early eighteenth century, and that Deverill used it to carve himself out a reputation as a fearsome warlock, until his reign of terror was ended by the equally notorious Loxias, who took the wand, rechristened it "the Deathstick", and used it to lay waste to anyone who displeased him. It is difficult to trace the subsequent history of Loxias's wand, as many claimed to have finished him off, including his own mother.

"Dumbledore's sure done a lot of research on this," James flipped to the next page and was actually relieved to see it was the last. "I'm starting to agree with Sirius, what's the point of all this?"

"The man does his homework?" Remus shrugged indifferently while Lily didn't care past wanting it to be done with as well.

Harry just looked around at all of them and ground his teeth together rather than blurt out something he'd regret.

What must strike any intelligent witch or wizard on studying the so-called history of the Elder Wand is that every man who claims to have owned it7 has insisted that it is "unbeatable", when the known facts of its passage through many owners' hands demonstrate that not only has it been beaten hundreds of times, but that it also attracts trouble as Grumble the Grubby Goat attracted flies.

Remus still couldn't help a little smirk of victory he and Dumbledore seemed to agree on that front, than he caught sight of Harry and fully remembered all that Dumbledore would do in this future, and the smile slipped away just as fast.

Ultimately, the quest for the Elder Wand merely supports an observation I have had occasion to make many times over the course of my long life: that humans have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them.

"Wonder if he's speaking from experience," Lily said waspishly, having several accounts of the man doing just that.

But which of us would have shown the wisdom of the third brother, if offered the pick of Death's gifts?

James couldn't help but hum thoughtfully at that. Even now, with all his years he'd had with his cloak, given the choice of the three this moment, would he still pick the same? To see his parents again, to have even just one more protection for his family? He honestly wasn't at all sure no matter what he said aloud.

Wizards and Muggles alike are imbued with a lust for power; how many would resist "the Wand of Destiny"? Which human being, having lost someone they loved, could withstand the temptation of the Resurrection Stone? Even I, Albus Dumbledore, would find it easiest to refuse the Invisibility Cloak; which only goes to show that, clever as I am, I remain just as big a fool as anyone else.

"Ah, he does admit it, even to himself," Sirius growled.

"Wonder what changes then in times for him to take so long to do so," Harry snapped at no one in here while his dad finished.

1 Necromancy is the Dark Art of raising the dead. It is a branch of magic that has never worked, as this story makes clear.

2 Invisibility Cloaks are not, generally, infallible. They may rip or grow opaque with age, of the charms placed upon them may wear off, or be countered by charms of revealment. This is why witches and wizards usually turn, in the first instance, to Disillusionment Charms for self-camouflage or concealment. I have been known to be able to perform a Disillusionment Charm so powerful as to render myself invisible without the need for a Cloak.

3 Inferi are corpses reanimated by Dark Magic.

Harry crinkled up his nose in disgust. He was right, he hadn't wanted to know.

4 Many critics believe that Beedle was inspired by the Philosopher's Stone, which makes the immortality-inducing Elixir of Life, when creating this stone that can raise the dead.

5 Such as myself.

6 Also an old name for "elder".

7 No witch has ever claimed to own the Elder Wand. Make of that what you will.

James finished with a roaring laugh while Lily snatched the book away and gave him a light swat for whatever that laugh meant. James got it back before flipping through pages randomly instead of fully addressing Harry as he uneasily told him, "well, that was the last of them."

"I'm still taking the rest of the day," Sirius said at once, he knew he couldn't handle just yet hearing of Harry's next year, it helped nothing this couldn't even end on a truly pleasant note as Harry kept eyeing that story with some deep look none of them could know until it was too late.

The others agreed with him at once, and left Harry's next year for another day, still trying to enjoy whatever distance they could without having to spend the next indeterminable amount of time for the rest of this nightmare of a future.

HPHPHPHP

Hope you enjoyed these! They really are so much fun to read and they still make me smile, plus I absolutely inhale anything to do with this world, the extra knowledge in these pages and even something as silly as what kids would have been told as their bedtimes stories in conjunction with ours endlessly fascinates me.

*I am, unashamedly. I've spent many a countless hours on Harry Potter fan sites full of inner messages of these novels, leading to the existence of this fic, so you're welcome Sirius.

[sick-in-luv]

Yandere!Alien (Atlas) Pt1

A/n:Got this idea and just had to write it👽

Warnings⚠️: gore?

'So this is what they meant when they said humans are made of stars' Altas thought,scoffing as his hands dug deeper into the open chest cavity of the man laying in front of him. The smell of iron was heavy in the air as blood pooled around them,staining the overalls Atlas had taken from him

"ꉓꂦꎭꍟ ꂦꈤ! ꀤ ꀭꀎꌗ꓄ ꈤꍟꍟꀸ ꌩꂦꀎꋪ...ꍏꃅ ꃅꍏ!" The man was still alive,his quick breaths coming out gargled as blood gathered in his mouth. Atlas moved his hand up into the man's throat, his fingers wrapping around his larynx.

He pressed his pointed nail into the soft tissue,a glowing green liquid flowing into the mans veins,spreading across his face and neck. Atlas sighed as he watched the man squirm,his strength slowly fading.

"ᖘ꒒ꍟꍏꌗꍟ ꌗ꓄ꂦᖘ ꎭꂦᐯꀤꈤꁅ ꃅꀎꎭꍏꈤ. ꀤ ꂦꈤ꒒ꌩ ꈤꍟꍟꀸ ꓄ꂦ ꓄ꍏꀘꍟ ꀤꈤ ꌩꂦꀎꋪ ꒒ꍏꈤꁅꀎꍏꁅꍟ ꍏꈤꀸ ꌗᖘꍟꍏꀘꀤꈤꁅ ᖘꍏ꓄ꍟꋪꈤꌗ. ꅏꂦꈤ'꓄ ꌃꍟ ꒒ꂦꈤꁅ." True to his word,Atlas moved his hand out of the man only a few seconds later,a satisfied smile on his face.

"There! Ain't that much better?" He said gleefully,testing out his new voice,the slight southern drawl making him pause. "Weird,not what i expected it would sound like after i heard you scream."

Atlas shook his head " well I guess it doesn't matter. Now,lets close you up shall we?" He smiled,moving to stand up and walk back to his landing area to find the tool he needed.

He froze however when he heard a click,followed by something cold and hard pressing against the back of his head.

"M-make one move and I'll blow y-yer goddam brains out!" Atlas sighed and stood up,hearing the person behind him gasp and stumble backwards, falling over and dropping his gun in the process.

Atlas turned around and looked down at the terrified man,blinking in surprise as he saw the striking resemblance between him and the other man who was barely clinging to life behind him.

"D-demon" Atlas heard the man mumble as he picked up his shotgun,pointing it at the 7ft tall blood coved figure in front of him. "Y-you killed my brother"

Atlas frowned,trying to find the right words to tell the man that his brother wasn't dead. He moved forward only to stop when he heard a loud bang,followed by a seering pain in his side as the man pulled the trigger.

👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽

You always loved coming to visit your uncle. His small cabin in the woods was so peaceful,a huge change from the city life that you were used to.

There was nothing but farmlands and forests for miles, so apart from the occasional sound of an animal,it was quiet.

You were alone in the cabin. Your uncle left earlier to go to work,leaving you to do what you wanted until he came back.

Of course, there wasn't much to do,so you opted for sitting in front of the old box tv in the livingroom,eating microwave pizza and trying to solve crossword puzzles

It wasn't much,but it kept you entertained. The TV was only on for backround noise,but occasionally something interesting caught your eye,like when the news broadcaster started talking about a foreign object entering orbit.

It didn't hold your attention for long though,because soon after she said that the signal cut out,leaving nothing but static on the tv. You sighed but didn't bother to try and fix it, only shrugging before going back to your puzzle.

About half an hour and 3 puzzles later you decided to go to bed,seeing as your primary source of entertainment was down and you already finished the last slice of pizza.

After a short shower,you threw on a oversized t shirt and went to brush your teeth,moving sluggishly through your suitcase to find your toothbrush.

After finally finding it along with your mouthwash and hairbrush,you moved back to the bathroom. You desperately tried to keep your eyes open as you moved the toothbrush through your mouth,nearly falling asleep at the sink before a loud bang sounded out outside.

You let out a short scream,your toothbrush slipping through your fingers as you jumped. You scrambled to try and catch it only to loose your footing and fall over backwards,hitting your head on the side of the tub.

You sat there for a second,toes curling in pain as your hands shot up to where your head was throbbing.

The pain subsided after a few seconds,and you cursed your neighbors for thinking it was okay to start shooting at this hour of the night,slowly standing up and making your way back to your room.

"Stupid Clive and his stupid guns. It's 2 am for god sakes. I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind when i see him again that no good little-" you stopped abruptly as you heard something shuffling outside.

"Whaaaatt the fuck" you whispered to yourself,slowly moving towards the front of the cabin to peek out the window. You grabbed a phone on the way,getting ready to call your uncle if it was something serious.

Pulling back the plaid curtain,you scanned the dimly lit porch,holding your breath in anticipation.

Once you were certain that there was nothing there,you let out a relieved sigh,moving to close the curtain and finally go to bed,when a very large blood covered hand slammed against the window.

You let out a scream,your knees going weak, once again sending you towards the ground. You grabbed the phone,filled with adrenaline as you started dialing your uncles number until-

"H-help. Puh-please! I-I need help" you paused putting the phone down and listening. You heard a pained groan followed by a weird chittering noise.

You slowly got onto your knees,peeking out the window,passed the bloody handprint,to see a person laying on the wooden porch,covered in blood.

"Oh shit!" You ran towards the door,not even hesitating as you threw it open,rushing towards the person.

"Oh shit oh fuck a-are you okay? Oh damnit! come on lets get you inside." The man groaned and sat up slowly,and you had to keep yourself from gasping at not only his height,but also the mess of unnaturall, almost glowing neon green hair on his head,almost completely covering his eyes.

"Holy shit." You heard the man let out a pained chuckle "wow your teaching me all sorts of new words"

You raised your eyebrow,wanting to ask him what he meant when he let out another groan. "Ah,lets get you to the bathroom yeah? We got a first aid kit in there i think." You quickly stood up,throwing his large arm over your shoulders and trying to help him up. He must've noticed your struggle, because he let out another chuckle and supported more of his own weight, only occasionally leaning on you as you led him to the bathroom.

It was only when you saw him under the florescent light when you noticed that his skin had a strange greenish hue to it,and he was wearing clothes that didn't really seem to fit him properly. You paid no mind to it as you helped him sit down on the toilet,frantically scrambling to find the first aid kit.

"What happened to you? You look like you were run over." You cringed at yourself. You really didnt mean to sound so blunt but you were still filled with adrenaline from the big ass scare he gave you.

"A silly human shot me with his primative weapon. Unfortunately i couldn't reach my ship in time to grab any of my healing supplies or any proper covering so i opted for finding the nearest form of civilization."

You paused at his words,slowly turning to look at him,first aid kit clutched in your shaking hands. You looked up at his tall form sitting calmly with his hand pressed against the wound in his side,his jet black eyes looking straight into yours.

Wait a minute

Black eyes.

"H-human? Ship? What the fuck are you on about my guy?" He smiled sweetly,showing off his razor sharp teeth. Al three rows of them.

Your eyes widened as you slowly backed away,causing his smile to fade. "Oh! Oh nono no human don't look so afraid! Im not here to hurt anyone! And I'm certainly not going to hurt you after you let me into your home"

You shook you head and stood still,not letting your gaurd down just yet. "How do i know your telling the truth? What are you?"

He made a little chittering noise,moving a bit of neon green hair out of his eyes. "Ah yes. I forgot your species hasn't had any public outside contact yet. My name is Atlas. I am what your kind know as an 'extra terrestrial' or an 'alien' or whatever" he stood up,slowly moving towards you.

He stopped just inches away and bent down to look you in the eye,his own black orbs glistening in the light. "As for the whole truth thing,well I really don't have any reason to lie to you pet."

He placed his large hand over the first aid kit,gently pulling it from your grip and moving closer towards your face,his nose brushing yours. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as he sighed softly.

"Your a good little human right? So i really have no desire to hurt you." He suddenly stood up straight, making you squeal softly. "But i do really need you to help me repair my injuries."

You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding,before looking up at Atlas,who was struggling to open the box,turning it over in his hands multiple times.

After taking a few more deep breaths,trying to process everything,you giggled softly making him stop and look at you.

"What are you doing?" Atlas huffed and felt around the box again. "Where is the scanning device?? How do you open this stupid thing??" Your giggles turned into full blown laughter as you took the box from him,pressing the small latch and opening the box.

He looked at you in awe for a second before crossing his arms. "Primitive human devices" you snorted as you laughed harder ,bringing your hand up to your mouth to try and stop the noises.

Atlas gave you a deadpan look scoffing and sitting back down on the toilet. Once you calmed yourself down enough,you moved over to him. "Wow i can't belive i was terrified of you a second ago" you smiled pulling down the straps of his overalls.

He scoffed again and bared his teeth. "Oh you should be terrified now little human. Lauging at my struggles. How dare you" you laughed again,before lifting his shirt amd kneeling between his legs to be eyelevel with his wound. "My name is (Y/n) by the way. Not "little human" you stared in slight surprise at the odd dark blueish color of his blood before grabbing a rag from the box and covering it in rubbing alcohol.

Atlas made a noise as you pressed the alcohol covered rag onto his wound,leaning back to grant you more access.

He hummed as you continued to clean the wound,a small smile on his face. "I'll call you whatever i want little human" you looked up at him,confused at his happy tone.

"Doesn't this hurt? Why do you look so happy?" Atlas chittered again and looked down at you "I like the burning."

You blushed a bit and opened your mouth to say something before a loud knock came from the front door.

"Damnit what now?" You stood up slowly,throwing the rag in the sink. "Just be quiet,they'll think no ones home." You grabbed a bandage from the box and went to bend down again and finish fixing his wound before a familiar voice stated yelling at the door as the banging continued.

"(Y/n)! You in there? It's Clive! Ya gotta get out here i think that thing made its way into your house!" You raised your eyebrow and looked back at Atlas.

"Thats the human who shot me. He must've followed my blood the cretin." You sighed and put down the bandage "I'll be right back okay? Just lemme go take care of this."

You only got so far as the bathroom door before you felt arms wrap around you,pulling you back. "No! Your MY human. I wont allow that disgusting cretin anywhere near you."

You looked up at Atlas,who had his teeth bared. He was starting intensely in the direction of the front door,where the banging now turned frantic,along with the voices.

"Atlas just let me get him to leave. I won't be long i promise."

He looked down at you,his eyes gleaming dangerously. You squimed a bit,feeling his grip falter as you pulled out of his arms. "I-ill be right back okay?"

You pushed him back into the bathroom,closing the door behind you and making your way over to the front of the house.

"I'm coming Clive calm down." You sighed as you opened the door,putting on your best 'just woke up' look. "What do you want? Its really late."

Clive looked panicked. His flannel shirt was covered in a mix of dark blue and crimson and he had a shotgun in his hand.

"(,Y/n)! Thank God your okay! I was bouta break down the door cause i thought somethin' happened to ya. Theres somethin'out here. A demon or somethin'. It killed Marcus. It killed my brother" you stared at Clive as he sobbed,not sure what to do.

He couldn't be talking about Atlas right? He said it himself,he didn't come here to kill humans. You looked back at the bathroom and saw Atlas standing there,a feral look on his face. "Fuck" you whispered moving outside and closing the front door.

Clive calmed down and looked at you confused. "S-sorry Clive. I haven't seen anything. But if you want I'll call the cops for you okay? Or the ranger?" Clive ignored your frantic words and tried to move passed you to the door

"Are ya hidin' it in there? You are arent ya? Let me in there (Y/n). I'm going to kill that fucking thing!" You moved in front of him

Trying desperately to stop him from going in.

"Wait Clive you can't just-" you squeaked as he grabbed your arms trying,throwing you to the side and opening the door,his gun ready.

He moved into the house and you scrambled to get up and stop him,only to be pulled back down,a hand covering your mouth.

You looked behind you and saw Atlas glaring at the door,his sharp teeth bared. He picked you up and threw you over his shoulder,you groaned a bit as his shoulder knocked the wind out of you,and Clives frantic footsteps could be heard rushing back towards the porch.

Before he made it out the door,Atlas had already started running across the open field in front of the house.

You heard Clive yell something before running out after you,but at this point it wasnt likely for him to catch up.

"A-Atlas where are we going?" He let out a grunt and stoped,putting you down but not letting go of your arm. "We're going to my ship. That stupid human ruined everything. And he has the gull to blame me for his brothers death? Honestly."

You stumbled after him,desperately trying to keep up. ""S-so you didn't kill his brother?" Atlas scoffed. "Of course not. That idiot just got on the way before i could

Heal him."

You raised your eyebrow as he finally came to a stop,letting go of your arm and dashing towards the green and blue pod that stood on a scorched plot of grass. "What do you mean heal..."

Your question died in your throat as your eyes landed on what you recognized to be Clive's younger brother Markus,laying on the blood stained grass with a blank look in his glassy eyes. His chest was ripped wide open,displaying all of his organs.

"He got in the way of my ship before i could grab the device i needed to heal him. I never meant for him to-" Atlas looked up from his pod,having already found what he was looking for to heal his wound,only to see you backing away,tears slowly dripping down your face.

"Hey. Whats the matter? Huma-" Atlas was cut off when you turned around and started running back towards your cabin. He let out a low growl before sprinting after you,catching up in a matter of seconds and grabbing your arm.

You struggled as he turned you around,trying to get you to stop squirming. "Listen! I didn't kill him!" You struggled more as you heard Clive's voice in the distance,screaming for you.

Atlas growled again and pushed you to the ground,pinning your arms to your sides. "I didn't kill the human,but if you don't stop struggling right now I AM going to kill that one."

You instantly stopped,looking up at him with tearly eyes. "Wonderfull" Atlas said,picking you up once again and carrying you towatds his ship as Clive came into veiw.

"I didn't lie to you human." He started,gently placing your shivering form in his ship. "I didn't come to this dirt planet to harm any humans." He got in next to you and you could only watch as the ship fired up,flashing bright blues and greens before slowly starting to hover,just as Clive showed up.

"I came here to find a pet."

[bookwyrminspiration]

hello hello its been a few days but i, the dream nonsie, am back! (also my name actually means "dream" irl 👀) personally, i think a silveny flavored popsicle would be cinnamon-y as u said, but also... sparkly? in a way? not- not like actual glitter, thats disgusting, but.. when u eat it it just *feels* magical. not sure if im making sense lol ^^ aww, glad my crazy dream made you happy! :D ask word limit is getting close so imma continue in another ask if thats okay with you! <3 1/?

hello!! welcome back--i gotta admit I was not expecting this, but it's so nice of you and I really appreciate it <33. I hope you don't mind me compiling this all into one post, that way it's just a little more organized. you're entirely welcome to send as many asks as you want, so don't worry about continuing in others! I don't mind at all!

1. oo that's a really cool name meaning!! I always think it's interesting to hear what other people's name mean, or they meanings they've chosen to associate with them (as some have more that one). Quil doesn't really have a meaning, so I love hearing others'!! The only thing I miss about my dead name is the meaning, tbh, because it was pretty !!

also, I can totally imagine the cinnamon/sparkly popsicle. when you say that I immediately think of sparkling water for some reason, like it's not a taste it's a feeling. you put it in your mouth and it's an experience. you're wild dream was probably the highlight of my day!! something about it just stood out and I kept coming back to think about it. long silveny popsicles can do that to you, i guess

2. oopsie! my bad! when someone says writing I usually just default to the wings au, because that's the writing most people know me for. but!! i'm glad you like all the analyses I've done! I don't think they'll be stopping anytime soon--it's like everytime I answer an ask I get two more, which means there will be a steady stream of them for the forseable future. I really enjoy doing them, so I love hearing that people enjoy reading them! they're mostly just me rambling until I find a pattern or connection to latch onto, and then I build from there. and depending on the ask I might grab a book from my shelf to reference something if needed

also: thank you! The wings au is a pretty big project I've wanted to take on for a while, so it's absolutely thrilling to see people interact with it and talk about it--even if they haven't read it. There's absolutely no pressure on you to read it, just so you know! Honestly sometimes baffles me that I've gotten fanart and so many asks and comments on it, enough so that people who haven't read it still know what it is. like?? my wings au?? silly little idea I had all because of one stray thought one day?

as for writing it while taking college classes: yes! that's what I've been doing! I think i've had a combined total of like three weeks of break since January (i don't get summer), but aside from that i've had four or five classes while writing the au. Actually was taking an A&P class (which are notoriously difficult, even more so on summer schedule) this summer while working on it, which was wild. But a lot of the excited comments and theories and general interaction helped motivate me to keep going.

3. it's not dissapointing at all! I don't expect for anyone to read it, it's not something you have to do in order to interact with me and the stuff on my blog. it's just something I happen to be doing so if you like it you're welcome to engage with it! I actually don't read fanfic very often either, which may be surprising as I write it. Occasionally I binge a bunch of fics in a certain ship when I'm in the mood, but that's only once every few months. Ships just don't hold huge appeal for me, so I don't find a lot of fic that interests me. Also wow! mine was one of the first you've heard of?? that's a huge accomplishment to me, thank you! Where did you hear about it? I honestly don't know where people find my au, so I'm curious.

speaking of reading fanfic, Nattie's (theunmappedstar) fic is one of the few I've read! I haven't talked to them in a while, but they're very accomplished and it's an honor to be considered alongside them in terms of writing!

as for committing to mine, feel free to take your time! no rush! it's always going to be there! although I will say it does just keep getting longer, so be prepared for that. I update every two weeks on sunday, so you've got time. if you do read it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. truly, comments and just hearing what people think are the best motivation. it also enriches the story! I never know what's going to stick out to people or what they'll remember, so hearing from people gives me ideas for scenes in the future! I have a general idea of where this au is heading, but a lot of the details have been impacted by theories and comments. You absolutely don't have to though, just if you'd like I'd love to hear

4. thank you so much <33. I'd love to get back more into traditional art, as i've been focusing on digital recently. I just love how watercolors look! I actually have a few art requests from an embarrasingly long time ago (April) that I'd like to do in a traditional style. I also just haven't posted as much art recently, so I'd love to get back into that. Coloring and lighting were mostly me just winging it, trying to imagine a few colors that would look nice next to each other and then just going for it. Also, i cant even count how many times I would accidentally switch up the light source in in the middle of a piece. I actually took an art class a few semesters ago, so I have leftover supplies from that I could use for some keeper pieces! I've had a few ideas, so hopefully your encouragement can help me get back into that <33

the writer and artist thing: thank you!! both writing and art are interests of mine, so it's so cool to get recognized for both!! I remember when I started posting art I was doing it as a "I'll do this for now until I get to the writing" thing and then i accidentally became fairly well-known as an fanartist and i was just there like wait a minute this wasn't supposed to happen. But I love it!! I love doing fanart and I'd love to do more. But I also love writing! i have some ideas for aus and other one shots I'd like to do when the wings au is done, not that I'm trying to hurry that along. I thoroughly enjoy working on the wings au, and i'm not in any rush to get through it.

and don't worry, you have nothing to apologize for!! i'm glad you feel comfortable talking to me! You don't need to be concise or anything, you're welcome to take up as much space and use as many words as you'd like. I think it'd be a little hypocritical if i didn't believe that, considering how long my responses to the asks i get are (partially why they sometimes take a bit to answer). it was very much so a fun read!! I really appreciate you and wasn't even sure how to respond to everything in a way that conveyed that. I absolutely blown away by how genuine and sweet you are

i really loved this ask, and I've reread it several times because it's just so kind. thank you so much <33

[konietzko-sylvoran]

The Fire Dancer

Daily Writing Challenge Day 18 -  Tradition/Fire 10/7

((Some music to enjoy dedicated to todays story ♥ )) I’ll never forget the first time I saw him, how he captivated me in ways only a true performer can. So much energy, such confidence... he truly left everyone speechless who set eyes on him that night with his magnificent display. The poi lit, he danced his way into the hearts of all who watched him as he showed us his agility and grace with the element feared by many. But when touched by him, he made it look beautiful, magnificent. I didn’t think much of him then more than anyone fantasizes about an attractive performer but he certainly made me think of those undisclosed desires in my heart at that time. I admired him, respected him... and hoped that one day I would see him perform again.  All those years ago, I had no idea that it was only the first of many performances I would see. When I saw him with the Owls however, it was back when they first started and yet despite Club Nightowl being new I remember how impressed I was with the setup and atmosphere of the coffee house downstairs. Again, I was dazzled by the awe inspiring performance that he and his crew put on that night, including the night that followed as I lost myself to the beat of the dance in their club upstairs. I remember vague memories of those days, mostly because of my chosen path of destruction but the few memories I had of seeing him had left me again with that star-struck admiration. Admiration for someone far, far out of my reach but someone that a small part of me aspired to be one day. Sadly, the drugs numbed that desire in me to ever reach that high, but I kept those memories with me for some reason and never forgot that amazing fire dancer.

Time has a funny way of reminding you that not everything in the past was a bad thing no matter how horrible the memories your mind seems to latch onto and linger on the bad. But as I was wrapped up in embracing Talthorn in my life and therefore helping him to enjoy and experience more of his own... I noticed a flyer that caught my attention while visiting him in Dalaran. As I read over the Howling Owl Festival flyer it was in fact the image of him... that fire dancer from years ago that caught my eye. As stated on the poster, he had made his return and was a featured performer at the Festival in one weeks time. Recalling how amazing he had been in the past, I was elated to take Talthorn to such an experience.  He hadn’t changed at all since I first saw him, if anything he was better. I pointed him out in the crowd to Talthorn that first night we attended, and later that night much to our surprise we spent some time dancing on the dance floor for the first night of the festival with the famed fire dancer and the rest of his owls that joined him. While it had been a most memorable night, what I hadn’t realized then was that those were the first steps of many we would share together dancing our way into each others lives. 

Talthorn had not missed how star struck I was with the famed fire dancer, and I was. Perhaps I am still just a little if honest. The second night of the Festival before the opening acts started, he asked me my name. I truly can’t remember even how it came about, I just remember being so shock stricken that he would ask my name at all but then I remembered that any good performer knows how to charm their fans. It was the first time we exchanged names and while we knew him to be Saeil Moonblade to me he was still the fire dancer.  We watched him on that stage during his performance as he danced with that cube and let his inner fire kiss along his skin. I think Talthorn was just as mesmerized as I was but truthfully I am not certain as like always when I watched the fire dancer perform before it demanded every ounce of my attention and this time all these years later was still no exception. What I didn’t know at that time was that it had also not escaped Talthorn’s notice.

Amused by my reaction earlier, Talthorn made a bold move as the dance floor opened up and we jumped right in as always to join the others. During the dance prizes were being announced, and unknown to Tal, I had put all my raffle tickets under his name. So when he was called out as one of the winners and went to claim his prize I happened to overhear the fire dancer tell him that -he- was his prize. I truly thought he was joking as why wouldn’t he be? But even so it stopped me dead in my tracks as I was left staring up at Talthorn and him with a mix of shock and a small small hope that maybe just maybe he was serious. As he tried to tell Talthorn he was kidding, Talthorn INSISTED that he would collect his prize as stated. I had no idea what that entailed just then but I was lost in the idea of it.  The fire dancer joined us on the dance floor as did his fellow owls and our friends that all attended that night and once more we danced the night away. I was almost saddened by the nights end despite being one hot mess from hours of dancing but I had no idea that this was just the beginning of things to come.

As fate would have it, Talthorn and I chose to make a bold step in the next chapter of our lives together. After much discussion and thought, we agreed to sign on and join not just the Tarts as Sharpen had first given us the idea too a month prior... but also with the Owls! In a matter of a week the fire dancer had  went from being a performer I admired and was admittedly very fond of to Saeil, our boss and employer but also... our coworker. It seemed we were not the only ones who were to be both Owl and Tart and we were elated to know we’d be getting to know him all the more!  In what felt like hardly any time at all, day by day, event by event the more time we spent with him the more Talthorn and I came to realize that there was an undeniable chemistry between us that we could not ignore. While I myself was more than happy to explore this and see where it would go it was Talthorn who was my voice of reason. One of the reasons I love him so much, he keeps me in check I’m coming to learn and steers me away from my own reckless abandon I approach most everything in my life with.  Through conversation, heavy consideration and a more careful approach than I certainly had ever approached a potential partner with before... Talthorn and I both came to know Saeil as a person, a performer and a friend. And yes, we did receive our private dance! From that moment on, the three of us agreed to see what might come of this, of us together. I get the sense that like myself Saeil is certainly not used to such a slower pace in life. But also like myself, I am confident that he will come to appreciate what Talthorn has offered me, no, us as partners. 

We agreed to take things slow, no expectations. And as hard as that has proven to be at times it does make me appreciate the time we spend together all the more. From social event to social event we continue to dance our way into each others lives more and more as we share with one another. Together we’re exploring just how much of a connection truly lies between us. 

This is a new chapter for all of us, but I remain confident that this is a path not one of us can ignore and why should we? We each come from broken pasts. We each have suffered the loss of those we care most for and know the scars of loneliness more intimately than most. We each were lost in our own ways even if we had someone special at our sides.  And yet the more time we spend together the more we’re starting to feel whole despite how terrifying this can be. Experience has taught us each that obstacles will always be present, that nothing seems to last forever and that sometimes it hurts more to hope and to love only to lose it all in the blink of a moment. But yet here we are, the three of us together boldly choosing to walk this path together and see where it might lead. He was no longer just the Fire Dancer to me, no more than Talthorn was simply the Extravagant One.  Four years ago if you would have told me that I would be sitting hand in hand embracing the fire dancer on that stage with hope in my mind and passion in my heart for a life of wonder and possibilities together, I’d have told you only in my wildest dreams. If you would have told me I’d be doing all that along with the love of my life without giving into lust and desire first? Well, I would have laughed at you. Yet here I sit, hand in hand with both Saeil and Talthorn. My Flame, and my guiding Star. Despite all odds, we choose to attempt what has never worked for us in the past but this time... this time we’re doing it together, one dance step at a time.

@daily-writing-challenge​ @talthorn-sylvoran​ @saeil-moonblade​ - you two are an absolute joy to write with and I can’t express enough how much I appreciate this development and coming to know your characters as time goes on. I love how us long term rpers meet through one toon or another along the way and never can fathom that we’ll meet again in the future but that is the beauty of wow’s communities for those that choose to embrace it. This was a joy to write. It’s even better/sweeter that this was NOT intended nor planned just something that naturally happened through live rp four years ago, three years ago and current day - totally unexpected but yet another shocking development made possible by attending a festival the character enjoyed in the past just as it happened with Talthorn. ♥ 

[cutietobio]

scenarios w iwaizumi, lev and yaku with an s/o who usually dresses super conservative and comfort>style but wants to try stepping out of her comfort zone so on one of their dates she shows up more put together and wearing clothes that show a bit more skin? (like off the shoulder tops, shorts, skirts w/o leggings etc) n the boys get a little flustered or excited?? ;);) thank u! im trying to step out kf my comfort zone too so i felt like this would b cute nd make me more motivated not to give up!!

mmm yessss good stuff. this is the fluff I’m after. I hope you enjoy these, anon!! and I really really hope they motivate you because you’re beautiful and deserve to feel comfortable!! i love how these scenarios gradually increase in word amount as I go along I’m so sorry for the inconsistency oops.

IWAIZUMI

For your movie date with Iwaizumi, you were feeling a bit experimental with your choices in clothing. Instead of your usual conservative style, you wore a shorter skirt with your legs fully exposed, choosing not to wear leggings like you usually did. The rest of your outfit went along together nicely, but you felt a little self-conscious whilst overlooking yourself in the mirror. You have never taken such a risky clothing choice before, one gust of wind and your legs wouldn’t be the only thing on display. Luckily, the evening weather was quite calm.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest as you approached the movie theatre, eyes scanning the many bodies of people in search of your boyfriend. You spotted him leaning against the wall, casually watching the crowd walk by, your mouth dried at the sight of him. His style was one you always loved, a mixture between edgy and casual. He looked good, and you could only hope he thought the same about you.

“Hey, Hajime-kun!” you greet with a friendly smile, opting to stand a few feet away from him due to nerves. Your voice caught his attention immediately and he opened his mouth to ask why you were standing all the way over there until his eyes fell on your outfit and his words died off in his throat, his eyes widening at your exposed skin.

“Babe?” you question, your smile fading ever-so-slightly. You weren’t sure whether his speechlessness was meant to excite or worry you.

“You…You look nice,” Iwaizumi muttered out, coughing into his fist as he turned to look to the side, avoiding eye contact with you. The tips of his ears were tinged red and his cheeks were equally as flushed. Catching this, your smile widened.

“Thank you, but I think you look better.” He scoffed at your words and held an arm out for you, which you hooked your own arm around without a moment to spare.

“Whatever, believe that. Let’s get inside,” you nodded in reply, enjoying his blushing state. Both of you shuffled inside, buying your tickets and snacks before heading into the movie.

After your date, Iwaizumi took you home. Both of you stood outside your house, gazing at each other, neither wanting to leave. 

“You looked great tonight. I think you should…dress like this more often,” Iwaizumi trailed off shyly, annoyed by how fast his heart was beating just by standing so close to you.

“Really? I was actually worried you wouldn’t like it. I’ve never dressed outside my comfort zone like this before but… you make me feel beautiful, so maybe I will,” you offer him a delicate smile, blushing hard at your admittance. 

“I make you feel beautiful?” Iwaizumi questioned in a whisper, and you nodded in reply. He appeared to be taken aback by your words.

“Yes, you do.” There was a bit of lingering silence before Iwaizumi took a step closer to you, his hand grasping your own gently.

“I’ll make sure you always feel that way.”

LEV

Your boyfriend always took you out on fun dates that mainly consisted of you going outside, you thought it would be time to dress more appropriately for the occasion of the summer festival that he wanted to take you to. The afternoon sun would be hot, added with the running around he would likely make you do, you wanted to expose more skin to keep you cool. That and you also wanted to push yourself to dress outside of your comfort zone and experiment with new styles.

You wore a cropped t-shirt, with a denim overalls/denim shorts and a suiting pair of shoes. Having never worn something so exposing before, you were obviously a bit self-conscious and found yourself continuously tugging at the hem of your shirt to cover up your skin. Due to its short cut, the material merely snapped back in place. It was too late to bail and wear something else as you were already a few minutes late for your date, so you swallowed up your doubt and headed out.

Lev was standing at the festival’s colourful entrance, actively searching the heads of people in hopes of spotting you. You did text him saying you were running a bit late, but he had faith you would be there any second now. Once he saw you, you were given no time to prepare and anticipate his reaction to your outfit, as he immediately manoeuvered through the crowd and brought you close to him with a tight hug.

“Found you!” he laughed out joyously with closed eyes, which popped wide open as he felt the silky texture of your skin underneath his hands. Pulling back, he stared down at you in curiosity. You gulped, wishing the earth would swallow you up as he took in your appearance.

“Waah! You look so beautiful!” Lev cried out, bringing you into another hug which you slowly returned whilst processing his words. He…liked it? “You always look beautiful, but these clothes on you look great!” He pulled away again, examining you with gleaming eyes of adoration.

“Thanks, I was nervous that you might not like it…” you admit sheepishly.

“Me?! How could I dislike anything about you?!” he whined out about your assumption, “you worry too much, princess! Let’s go have some fun!” Before you could blink, Lev grabbed his much larger hand in your own, lacing his fingers with yours as he guided you safely through the crowd. Despite his exciting demeanour, he always handled you with such care and love it made your heart swell.

Throughout the day, Lev could barely shut up about how great you looked. He would constantly remind you how good you looked with your outfit and point out things he liked about it. You ended your day with one last ride on the Ferris wheel, and whilst furthest from the top, he turned to look at you.

“I’m glad you’re feeling more comfortable!” his words touched your heart directly, and you hugged him, catching him off guard slightly but he returned the hug a second later.

“I should thank you for that, you’ve made me feel more open to trying new things. Like…getting on a Ferris wheel,” you giggle, breaking from the hug to peer down the edge of the cart. You paled at how high up you were, but Lev tugged you back before you could worry about the height more.

“I’ll always be here to support you, princess!” he said with his usual happy tone, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

YAKU

Your boyfriend had always enjoyed taking you on traditional and romantic dates, this time, he had really outdone himself, wanting to take you to a pretty fancy restaurant where even a dress code was required. You took this opportunity to exit your comfort zone when it came to your style choices and decided to go shopping for a dress. It hugged your figure perfectly, exposing your collarbone and also dipping to your lower back. You had never worn something like it before and scrutinized it intently in the mirror.

Despite the unease you felt wearing it, you forced yourself to ignore those feelings and finished dressing with a pair of heels/flats and minimal accessories since the dress itself was quite eye-catching. You were dropped off at the restaurant and entered in, hoping your nervousness didn’t display across your features.

A figure approached you from your peripheral vision and you turned to find Yaku looking handsome in a crisp black suit. Your heartbeat wildly against your chest, feeling much more nervous than before. He looked so good, you could practically be moved to tears. At that moment, you forgot all about the insecurity you felt wearing your uncharacteristic dress and smiled at him warmly.

“(Name), wow…” he stated breathlessly, taking in the sight of you. He felt his cheeks warming up instantly, convinced that he truly had the most breathtaking girlfriend in the world. Yaku wished he could tell you that, but he feared you might think him to be too cheesy. “You look stunning,” his eyes met yours and he held out an arm for you to take.

“Thank you, I’m glad it’s okay,” you mumble with a blush matching his own, latching onto his forearm as he redirected you to your table that was decorated with white and gold cutlery and trinkets. 

“Okay?” he turned to give you an incredulous look, “It’s more than okay, you really made me lose my breath back there.”

“Stop,” you whine out softly, dipping your head to hide your worsening blush. Yaku merely chuckled, kissing your temple and pulling your chair out for you. You thanked him after having been scooted forward and the evening was spent indulging in delicious food and almost crying of laughter due to your wild conversations. He took your mind off of everything, and you honestly felt good in your dress.

Once the evening came to a close after desert, Yaku offered to drive you home rather than taking an Uber. Obviously, you agreed and enjoyed furthering your conversation in the warm confines of his car as you could admire him openly and tease him about keeping his eyes on the road if he turned to meet your gaze.

Upon reaching home, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, Yaku making no attempts to unlock the doors and you making no attempt to question why. You wanted to stay with him longer, so even if they were unlocked, you wouldn’t have left.

“Thank you for tonight, you really spoil me too much,” you speak softly, for it’s easy to hear each other over the dead silence.

“I don’t think I’m spoiling you, I’m treating you to what you deserve,” he argues warmheartedly, turning to give you a small smirk. It fell quickly, as his face morphed into that of seriousness.

“Oh no,” you express with a small laugh, “I know that look, you’re gonna-”

“You look really beautiful, (Name), I mean it. I can’t express how glad I am that you’re feeling more comfortable with yourself, and even around me. That really means the world to me,” Yaku declares with the utmost sincerity, grabbing both of your hands in your own.

Your eyes narrow affectionately, your mouth opening but closing shortly after as you have nothing to say. Pulling your hands from his, you reach over and tug him into a hug, your arms around his neck and your chin resting on his shoulder.

“Mori-kun, I swear I’m going to marry you one day,” you mumble, sighing out contently as he rubs small circles into the exposed skin of your lower back.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[sjbuchananbarnes]

The one where she finds out

Steve rogers x reader 

W.c: 1814

-

“Ok we have the steak ,rice,chips,tortillas,salsa and guac.” Nat pointed at each of the items of food. “What else are we missing?”

“Nothing, beer is cooling along with the tequila, will take everything out once everyone is here.” Wanda assured, looking down to see if she got any stains on her high waisted shorts and white tank top.

“Alright where's the girl of the hour?” Sam walked in the kitchen with Bucky not far behind.

“She had a quick phone call ,she’ll should be done any minute now.” Natasha threw her apron and smoothed down her mini cotton white dress and fixed her tan sandals.  

“What’s up bitches!” You walked into the kitchen, in a cute mini red floral dress and white sandals.

“Congrats babe!” Nat and Wanda made there way to hug you, which ended up being a big group hug.

“400 missions how does that feel,hot stuff?” Bucky asked his arm still around your waist.

“Amazing.” Smiling up at him. “Now what do we have here?” You looked around the kitchen.

“We have your favorites.” Wanda voice was filled with excitement since Nat and her self cooked dinner.

“Thank you girls.” Hugging them once again.

“Anything for our favorite girl.” Nat pinched your cheeks.

“So when are going to eat?” Sam rubbed his belly.

“Just waiting on Steve.” And right on cue the blonde came walking in with a duffle bag in his hand and a small gift in his hand.

“I got called in for a last minute conference call in DC.” He sighed,sad that he had to leave you. “I’ll be back in a week,I’m sorry sweetheart.” Saddened that he couldn't be here with you tonight.

“It’s okay Steve, will go out to dinner, just me and you when you come back.” You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around him, resting in his arms for a couple of seconds.

“I’d love that.” Steve mumbled into your hair, hugging you tighter, and earning teasing thumbs up and winks from the group,which he only rolled his eyes at. As much as he dread pulling away he finally let you go and shoved two neatly wrapped box into your hand.

“Steve, you shouldn't have.”

“It was nothing.”

“Should I open it now?”

“No!” He yelled but tried to play it off “Maybe later, with everyone else's.”Scratching the back of his neck.    

“Mr.Rogers, I’ve been told to inform you that the quinjet it ready.” Fridays voice interrupted you.

“I have to go know.”

“Thank you Steve.” Giving him one last quick hug he walked out.

“It’s always a pleasure, pretty lady.” He walked out.

“Now, let’s feast!” Wanda clapped her hands in excitement and soon you only heard laughs and plates clattering together.

-

“My god I’m stuffed.” Tony groaned and plopped next to heavily pregnant wife,whose swollen feet  rested on the coffee table.

“Me too, everything was delicious, thank you girls.” Laying your head in Bucky’s lap and quickly his hand was giving you a scalp massage. “Buck, stop.” You mumbled,but made no effort to stop him. “ ‘M going to fall asleep,Buck!”

“Ok stop,stop.” Wanda got from her spot next to Vis and made her way to you, with her hands behind her back. “Close your eyes.” Excitement filled her voice, quickly doing as you were told you sat up and closed your eyes. “Tada, open.”

“Wanda you shouldn't have.” You got up to hug her and opened up your gift, it was a photo of the team, in front of the new Stark facility,the one up state, all giving a toothy grin, cuddled up next to one another,happy, you never got to see how the picture came out and this was the first time seeing it.“I love it.” You gasped and held it up to your chest. “Thank you,Wanda.”

“Okay, okay me next.” Nat handed you her gift, it was a small display box that held a scrap of metal along with a bullet and underneath it read. ‘Kabul, Afghanistan,2009.’ “Our first mission.” The two of you were driving a nuclear engineer out of the city , but you were ambushed by the Winter Soldier, both of you shot by him, she worse than you, left for dead.

“ I would've died without you.”

“And now I think I’ll die without you.” You latched onto her.

“Sorry about that,again.” Bucky murmured.

“It’s okay,Buck. We know it wasn’t you.” Resting a hand on his lap for reinsurance. After opening up the rest of the gifts, which were really thought full you were only left with two gifts, Steve’s gifts. Going for the smaller box first, you opened it contained another small black velvet box, after opening it up you let out a gasp.

“He remembered.” You whispered, eyes filling with tears as you traced ever so lightly the bracelet.

“What? What is it?” Natasha was basically jumping out of her seat, everyone around you was just as eager as there redheaded friend.

“One time we went to the mall, you know we were trying vamp up his wardrobe.” Chuckling at the memory of Steve standing in front of your door, asking for fashion advice, which Tony scoffed.

“Why didn’t he ask me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.”You have horrible sense of fashion.”

“Anyways.” You threw a playful glare at Tony. “He asked for my wonderful taste in fashion and we walked by a Tiffany and Co and I saw a bracelet, and it was exactly like the one my mother had, the one she was buried in.” There were tears down your cheeks, memories of your mother flooded your mind, her laugh filled your ears. The horrible sight of your dad holding your fifteen year old hand as she was lowered into the ground.

And before you knew it, you were engulfed into a big group hug as you cried into Sam’s chest.

“I’m sorry.” After a couple more minutes of crying you pulled your self of Sam’s chest, but was still begin surrounded by the group.

“No need, sweety pie.” Pepper gave you her award giving smile.

“Can we see the bracelet?”

“Oh yeah.” You handed them the black velvet box.

Tony let out whistles as examined the bracelet. “ Capsical really out did him self.”

“That must of cost him a fortune.” Wanda couldn't keep her eyes away from the bracelet.

“I can't believe he did this.” Pepper was at ‘aw’ with the gesture.

Bucky quickly let a snort,”C’mon it’s like you guys don’t know him, one time he blew out so much money for a Walther PPK/S, for Peggy because he was so in love with her.” He snorted at his friend.

The whole team stared at Bucky with wide eyes.

“What did you just say?” You questioned him.

Bucky’s eyes widened at shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “ U-uh a W-walther PPK/S, that’s what he got her.”

“No, no, the love part.”

“Uhhh, uhh.”

“Bucky?’

“No, no, no.” He mumbled rubbing his temple.

“Yeah, that’s helping, keep doing that.” Sam patted his thigh.

“So your telling me all you fuckers knew he was in love with me yet decided to tell me nothing?” You paced back and forth through the living room, biting on your thumb.

“It wasn’t something for us to say, sweetheart.” Pepper spoke up.

“Pepper we literally told you that Stark was in love with you, because you were to blind to see.” You threw a questioning look.

“True.” She pointed her finger at you.

“So do you like him?” Bucky aked.

“Of course I do you idiot, It’s so painfully obvious, I thought I was going to have show up naked in his room.” You threw up your hands in frustration.

“What stopped you?” Nat smirked as she leaned back on the couch.

“I kept thinking he didn’t like me, I mean I know he likes me as a friend but I didn’t think it went further than that.” You mumbled and played with your fingers.

“Oh c’mon, your telling you never knew?” Sam questioned.

“Samuel.” You raised your eyebrow at him.

“Okay, okay.” He threw his hands up in defence.

“It’s just that.” Letting a sigh out, “If we were to go on a date, it would be like if we were on our twentieth date. We know everything about each other, if we do go out and then break up it’s going to be so awkward.” You were talking out loud but you were basically talking to yourself .

“But what if you do work out, and live happily ever after.” Tony lifted his brow.

“Yeah, look at us.” Pepper rubbed her belly and laid her head on Tony’s shoulder.

“Fuck it, I’m going to talk to him.” Declaring and standing up.

“He’s already asleep.” Sam informed.

“I’ll just call him tomorrow then.”

-

“No luck.” Wanda asked as she threw herself on your bed.

“I had one second with him before they called him in again.” You sighed and massaged your temple. “He told me he’s not going to be able to talk to ‘till he gets back.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to wait for him when he gets back.”

-

“He’ll be arriving soon, so I’ll tell you how it goes.” You decided to go with  miniable makeup and threw on a pair of jeans and the other gift Steve gave you, a plain white t with a small pocket on the left breast, and it smelled just like him. It was his and he knew how much you loved his clothes felt on your skin and how it smelled so much like him.

One last look on mirror you tied a knot on the shirt so it showed just a bit of your stomach and put on your shoes.

“Good luck.” Wanda and Nat threw you a thumbs up.

“Thanks.”

-

“You got this girl.” You mumbled to yourself as you paced back and forth in the room before going to the actual departure room and before you knew it Maria came running to you out of breath, resting her self on your shoulder.

“Wow, you okay?”

“He’s -He’s not-Woo.” She clenched her side. “Wow I can’t breath.”

“Maria what is wrong?” You stared at your friend who was freakishly out of breath for begin an agent.

“He’s not alone!” She whispered yelled at you not sure who could hear.

“Who Maria?”

“Steve.” She finally stood up straight, and then you felt your heart drop.

“What?” Devastation filled your voice.

And right on cue Steve walked into the room with a very smiling Sharon Carter wrapped in his arm.

“Hi Y/n, I missed you, how was the party?” He gave you a side hug.

“Great.” You threw him a fake smile, you were late.

-

The one where Steve finds out

[iron--spider]

topsy turvy

hey

omg that delivered

you’re right, Stark phones are far superior

or is it just this particular one you gave me

 Tony stares at his phone as the messages come in, and he narrows his eyes. He shifts a little on the couch, glances at Pepper.

 “What?” she asks, catching his eye. She looks down at his phone. “What did Peter do?”

 “Do I have a Peter face?” Tony asks. “Peter in danger expression?”

 “I don’t know,” Pepper says. “Is he in danger?”

 Tony sighs. “I hope not, but I’m—I’m not optimistic.”

He composes a response. Why are you worried about service? Where are you? He sends it fast before he can start making passive threats about checking Karen, tracking his phone. He tries to wait to do both things. He sighs, waiting, and sees the three dots pop up. 

 okay don’t like freak out

 Tony sighs again, rolling his eyes so hard that it hurts. 

 “Uh oh,” Pepper says.

 Tony sets his jaw.

 Yeah, surefire way to get me to do exactly that. Where are you and what’s going on? Let’s go, complete honesty, or I’m calling May.

 He sends it, tapping his finger on the side of the couch.

 “Friday,” he says. “Track Peter’s phone.”

 “Sure, Boss.”

 Tony’s phone buzzes. And his breath catches in his throat.

 so i’m, uh, buried alive! i’m in a coffin. I was fighting some crazy big dude and he knocked me out cold and then I woke up here. I’m absolutely under the ground. I definitely did not think my messages were gonna go through! trying not to talk to conserve oxygen :) 

 Tony covers his face with his whole hand. He presses his fingers into his temples and tries not to rip his own head from his neck. “Peter. Is buried alive. And he has the nerve—the audacity—to start his messages with ‘hey’ and to include an emoji. A smiley face, at that.”

 “Oh Jesus,” Pepper says. “Friday, do you have his location?”

 Tony’s phone buzzes again. 

 uh oh! that went through, right? It says delivered. don’t be mad. I said don’t be mad!

 Tony is attempting to breathe. He feels seconds away from a heart attack, knowing full well he’s gotta move. Move at the speed of fucking light, if Friday would just pull up the damn location—

 “Peter Parker’s phone seems to be located at a junk yard on 91st, but the tracking is weak.”

 Tony leaps to his feet, relinquishing the death grip he had on his face. He starts striding towards the stairwell with a deep sense of purpose, each step tinged with the bleak horror of what’s in front of him. He holds onto his phone like a lifeline, hoping he doesn’t crush it with the force of his fear.

 “You got this?” Pepper yells after him.

 “Yeah, I’m gonna go dig my kid out of the ground,” Tony says, nearly vomiting on the spot.

 “Don’t get mad at him when you see him!” Pepper yells. “He’s going through something!”

 “He’s putting me through something,” Tony mutters, starting down the stairs.

 ~

 Tony finds him like he’s searching for gold on a beach with a metal detector, and he blasts away at the ground until he gets close enough to worry about hitting Peter. There’s a little red outline on his screens that represents Peter’s location, and he really fucking hopes he doesn’t see the kid taking a selfie. Maybe he’s just hallucinating. Maybe he’s just losing his goddamn mind because Peter is buried alive.

 Tony’s glad the junk yard is closed, because he probably would have utterly gone off on someone by now. And he can be pretty intimidating, in and out of the suit.

 The night is closing in on him—he can barely see his surroundings in the weak light, and he keeps going, unable to focus on or register anything around him. It’s all a fucking blur. He digs with metal hands, swiping dirt away, and shit, this asshole buried Peter deep. Tony can’t believe the Stark phone has service, and it probably is because he added every possible safety precaution to Peter’s phone. Thank God. 

 He finally gets to the top of the coffin and he feels bile rise up in his throat. His—his kid is in there, Peter is in a coffin—and Tony tries to blink away the nightmares blotting his vision. He digs around the edges, trying to clear everything away.

 He gets the suit to let him out and he nearly collapses when he’s on his own feet, standing in, for all intents and purposes, Peter’s goddamn grave. When there’s enough of a hole and most of the coffin is out in open air, Tony latches onto the side and immediately yanks it open.

 Peter is laying there, clutching his phone and his mask in his hands, and his eyes go wide when the light floods in.

 “Oh my God,” he breathes, as Tony stares down at him. “That was so fast.”

 Tony almost has a fatal brain malfunction, and he has to get the kid out of the coffin immediately. He’s heard tales of mothers lifting cars off their children, that kind of protective adrenaline that kicks in when someone they love is in danger, and Tony feels that now, even though Peter is just lying there, seemingly lounging in what should be the body’s final respite. Tony nearly blacks out, bending over, grabbing the kid around his middle and hauling him up. He doesn’t stop dragging him backwards until he’s completely out of the coffin, like Peter weighs nothing, but even then he doesn’t let go. They tumble backwards in dust and dirt, and a mountain of relief. But the panic is still stabbing pain in Tony’s chest.

 “Out of this hole,” Tony mutters. “Out of this goddamn hole.”

 Peter braces his hands on Tony’s shoulders. “Wow, same brain.”

 It looks more like a meteor crater than a hole, but Tony doesn’t give a shit what they call it, he just has to get the hell away from it. They clamor out, and so does the suit, and the disturbed earth sinks beneath their feet. Tony stands, drags Peter up along with him, and pulls him into a hug before he can say anything else. It’s bone crushing, and too tight, but Peter doesn’t complain.

 “I said don’t be mad,” Peter says, muffled against Tony’s shoulder. He’s holding on like he’s afraid of falling, but Tony refuses to let that happen.

 “Not mad,” Tony says. “Trying to stave off a heart attack.” He squeezes Peter’s shoulder, reminds himself that he’s solid. Right here. Not in a box under the ground. And he never will be again, not if Tony has anything to do with it. He cups the back of the kid’s head, closing his eyes and letting out a breath.

 “I thought about, uh, punching through it,” Peter says. “But I didn’t think—I wasn’t sure if all the compacted dirt, would, uh—I didn’t know if I could get out in time…”

 Without suffocating. Tony doesn’t say it. Peter doesn’t say it either.

 Crickets and car horns make a merry melody all around them, and the darkness is deep. Peter sighs, wilts a little bit in Tony’s arms, and claps him on the back a couple times.

 “I’m good,” he says, after a few moments pass. “I’m good, I’m good.”

 Tony doesn’t wanna be more overbearing than he already is so he pulls back, but keeps his hands on Peter’s shoulders. He dips his head down a bit to look at the kid’s face, the single streetlight above the junkyard’s main office casting a yellow glow on them both. 

 “You think the bad guy saw your face?” Tony asks.

 Peter winces a little bit, shifting his mouth. “Don’t think so,” he says. “I woke up with my mask on.”

 “Got a shiner,” Tony says, briefly touching it with the back of his knuckle. 

 “Yeah,” Peter says, rolling his eyes. “Felt that before he knocked my lights out.” 

 “Don’t be embarrassed,” Tony says, fast. 

 “Oh, I’m not,” Peter says. He leans down, resting his forehead on Tony’s shoulder. “He was like eight feet tall, covered in a steel suit, and had a rhino horn. I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

 Tony narrows his eyes, gripping the back of Peter’s neck. “The fuck? And this guy buried you?”

 “He was with some bald leather jacket guy. They electrocuted me and then the rhino dude hit me and it was—a perfect storm.” He sighs heavily. 

 Tony’s mind works fast. Doesn’t sound good, but this rhino guy sounds like someone who won’t be able to hide for long.

 “Did they, uh—did they think you were dead?” Tony asks, mouth going a little sour. He knows Peter probably doesn’t know that. Tony doesn’t know why he’s even asking. His mind is still all topsy turvy out of whack. The goddamn coffin.

 “Maybe,” Peter says. “I don’t know. They—they took me by surprise.”

 “Happens,” Tony says, ruffling the kid’s hair.

 Peter straightens back up, and he looks dejected. 

 Tony goes into fix-it mode. “Alright. I’ll fly you back to the compound, we’ll get May over there. Check you over, make sure we’re all good, order in some Chinese, and start searching for these dickheads. We’ll find ‘em, you’ll get ‘em, they’ll go to the Raft. They’ll wish you buried them alive.” He doesn’t know if that last line is too harsh, but Peter nods, blowing out another sigh.

 Tony makes a mental note to erase any security this place might have, but it seems broken down enough that he doesn’t think about it too hard. He looks Peter up and down, and worries so much he feels his heart stuttering. “You alright?” he croaks.

 Peter meets his eyes. “I’m just really, really impressed with my phone.”

 He’s obviously going for nonchalance, whether he’s traumatized or not, so Tony will let him come around when he comes around. Tony himself is on the verge of a complete breakdown, and the image of Peter inside of that coffin will forever be tattooed on the backs of his eyelids. Where the fuck did they even get a coffin? Were they planning this shit? He doesn’t want to know. He needs to know, but he doesn’t want to know. 

 “Top of the line,” he says. “Not that I ever want that tested again—but if, if, in some alternate reality it does happen again, I don’t want to get a message from you, from under the ground, that begins with ‘hey’ and contains an emoji. I know you have a Gen Z persona to keep up, but I just—I cannot handle it. I physically cannot ever open that message with the smiley face again.”

 Peter snorts. “Noted.”

 “Alright,” Tony says, trying to focus on the fact that Peter’s alive, he’s alive, he’s right here. “Mask up, I’ll fly you back.”

 “Okay,” Peter says, clutching his mask in his hands. He slips his phone into the compartment on his hip, and Tony turns towards the suit, anxious to get the kid home and get to work.

 He hears Peter clear his throat. “Hey, uh—I mean. Thanks, thanks for...coming to get me.” He laughs a little bit.

 Tony turns around, his brows furrowed. “Every time, Pete,” he says, without thinking. He feels a little knocked out by the statement. In what world wouldn’t he come? He clears his throat, knows his emotions are laid bare. “I mean, I can’t let all this tech go to waste. Phone included. Look what it can do.”

 “Ha Ha,” Peter says, putting his mask back on. 

 Tony grins, hooking an arm around Peter’s neck and tugging him closer. “C’mon, Spidey,” he says. “Let’s get these morons.”

 Because someone doesn’t just bury his kid and get away with it. And once May finds out? Shit. Tony’s already anticipating the yelling.

(find it on ao3)

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Mind of Misery: Reflections, Part 5

[Forward:  Since the end of “In Depths Below” the Nine have been busy trying to reclaim Lazarius’ family fortune, rebuilding, and forging new allies.  We are current in the WoW Timeline with this entry, NZoth has risen, the world is in chaos, and now, the Council of Nine are at a disadvantage.  New Readers, please note each of the roleplayers as the following...

[ L.K ] - Lazarius Kashebahl,  Algus Kross, Doctor Whistletorque, Marseille

[ V.D ]  Verzatea Duskflame , Pame

[ S.K ] Siida-Ray Kashebahl

[ K.A ] Koltun Ancientveil

[ J ] Jursol (AND JIMBA!)

And as always, thank you so much for continued support, posting, reblogs, likes and friendly messages!  Please enjoy! ]

[ L.K ]  “This is where we fail most when valuable time could be spent finding my sister and possibly others who are injured with her.”. Lazarius spoke softly; and much more relaxed than either of the three in question.

“You are all right.  There are three factors at play here that I feel you all are overlooking, one...NZoth has risen.  Any use of power be they void, death, blood, spells...it will result in the eyes of the old god noticing.  It will result in our locations being encroached.  We can not forsake Pyravari to wander alone with her trusted, but we cannot allow our own to be struck here either.  Two...”

Lazarius very calmly moved toward Verzatea as he placed a soft mummified hand on her shoulder.

“Kross IS CAPABLE.  He can handle himself.  And would put the least risk on thin resources we already have.  His presence remains unnoticed because he is dead.”. Lazarius glanced back toward Koltun and then turned to face Verza again.

“My sister is dangerous.  Much more when she is unhinged.  The fact that my link with her is severed is cause enough for alarm.  If anyone should be going for her it should be me.  But...”. He tapped the lovely infestation on his side that was currently covered by his tunic.

“Koltun deserves no less respect to aid the woman he loves.  You would risk your neck for me would you not?”. Lazarius gently eased his hand to Verzateas face.

“Patience.  And find reason Confessor.  You cannot overlook his attachment to the Fel either.  Koltun is one of the only, among us who also remains under the radar of Nzoths eyes.” Lazarius finally turned to peer at Koltun.

“See the doctor. Please, for me.  Let him hydrate you at least, and the two of you can leave at nightfall.”

“Come on sthweet cheeksth, I’ll have ya patched up before you can sthay ‘big sthlappy sthquirel sthacks’.”. The good doctor said hopping up and waddling toward the door.

“Oh...and third. If Raelyndia is doing this.  You better all be aware that your may need to turn your attention toward me.  If she somehow has returned from the grave and can manage some sort of magic beyond her life.  And that latches onto me...”.  He shook his head. “I would consider the contingency plan of placing me inside the void forge before I destroy us all...”

[ K.A ]  It was a rare to receive anything but stoicism or playfulness from the demon hunter, his fury reserved primarily for the battlefield and when it was needed to fuel his body through hardship. Such as the flight back to the Bastille. The possibility of losing Pyravari -again-, of failing her -again-, was enough to stoke those reserved fires, letting them flare in a minor display of what most saw before death... and so; apparently, did Verzatea's condescension.

Koltun turned slowly, felfire eyes narrowing dangerously as she spoke and dabbled notes. Thankfully, he had reigned most of himself in and beyond a light growl of warning, he left it at that. She hated inaction as much as he did, he could smell it on her as keenly as her perfume. He could hardly fault her for it, but he would remember what she had said to him this day, even while letting it go for now. And then came Whistletorque...

"oh no... Lazzy-poo you dont mean that do you?" The Blademaster groaned, watching the gnome waddle towards the door. Having no other choice but to obey, he heaved a sigh and started after the doctor, muttering under his breath "big sthlappy sthquirel sthacks....mnhrhm.”

“If N'zoth got a hold of your mind, Snookums, -he'd- go insane instead." Looking back to Laz, he nodded his thanks... albeit grudgingly, and motioned that he wanted to talk before he departed, and hopefully before being dissected by a far too eager gnome.

Tea earned herself a rather childish stuck out tongue.

'Mneh'.

[ V.D ]   The uncertainty Verzatea reserved within remained bottled up, but still she couldn't help but doubt the success rate of this half assed plan... And she had to wonder why the uncertainty and unpredictability of what awaited them never concerned anyone but herself. That was an internal issue she'd have to handle in time, whether it her fault for not having more faith, being too over protective or whatever the issue was.

Either way, Lazarius's shushing the Confessor was not amusing but as her thought softened, her narrow eyed glance his way was followed up with the woman making a face toward Koltun. Tit for tat. Though her demeanor, along with Pames, would relax after. No ill will, merely concern.

"Very well Lazarius," she concedes at last, promptly marking a line through her last written note before she'd wiggle the quill toward Laz.

"Then my biggest concern henceforth, with the issue of the Harbinger resolved, is your well being, and The well being of those in your immediate vicinity."

[ J ] Jursol stood silent as she listened to what was being said. Her eyes watched everyone closely as she thought to herself. She was unsure what exactly to say at this time. Thinking of where the missing woman could be did worry her. It was clear she was well loved, and someone they needed to find alive.

Wondering to herself if the Loa could, or even would help with this. While she was amused at how the siblings would bicker, there was a clear threat to worry about. One that could destroy everything they all held dear. She held herself upright as she kept a calm expression on her face. It was clear she was ready to do anything she could to help. These were her family now. Already she cared for each one of them. Even Pame.

[ L.K ] “Then since this mission will require us to be at our most stealthy and subtle; Pame and I will take point.  Wherever we plan to go.  Jursol and her raptor entourage may watch our flank, and Confessor; I suggest you stay close to our Inquisitor since your warding could prove most helpful if we are ambushed.”.

Marseille held both hands on his belt; one against the edge of his hatchet while the other rested on his spoon.  The large serving spoon he’d kept since the night of the infamous Dawnseeker Massacre.

“There was a small grotto hidden away beneath the southern edge of the Ghostlands in Quelthalas; there was a laboratory Raelyndia kept there.  That was my lead and where I was heading first.”.

Lazarius said as he peered between the four others.

“*We can get passage to Quelthalas from the Horde capital; and go by cart to the southern border before needing to walk.”

[ V.D ]   Gently Tea closes her book, promptly expressing as though speaking to everyone -- especially given she pointedly looks at each individual,

"I trust any of you with my life, and Id protect you all with mine," her eyes move toward Lazarius before her small smiling lips would part to express,

"If you intend for us to leave as soon as possible Id like to request atleast an hour to prepare? What awaits us is unknown, the old Mistress was quite crafty-," she pokes her finger into Lazarius side where the eye can be found,

"So... In the event that something goes wrong, I'd like to ensure all will be well here."

Her eyes move to the door where last her daughter had been whisked out of. Quite suddenly the floor would become a more interesting place to look rather than admit her selfish fear of dying without at least saying goodbye to her own child. Such strange insecurities the Confessor held.

[ L.K ]  “One hour it is.  Verza, please take me to Brin.”. In an odd turn of events for most there but probably more shocking Verza, Laz wanted to see his daughter as well.  He seemed to have the same sentiment about wanting to see her one more time.

Before he would leave though; one last glance was made toward the Shal’dorei Shade who oversaw the subterfuge of Lazarius’ operation. He knew exactly what that look meant and would certainly address it before they left.

Marseille stood with the troll and Kaldorei and thumbed the edges of the bandolier with his throwing knives. “Ancient Queldorei witch ruins...I would bet booby traps.  And plenty.”

[ V.D ]   "Foolish to think it's quite so simple as walking in, and walking out,"

Pame agrees, her attention finally moving from the intimidating demon hunter. The flare of the Kaldoreis nostrils were the only sign of expression on the womans otherwise stoic facade, purple skin glowing in the dim lighting of the library. Itd cast a ghostly expression, deepening the bags beneath her eyes and exagerrating the dip of her cheeks from skin stretching taut over her bones.

Though she was anything but ill or malnourished, simply... Tired. Likely from all the fucking sparring,  but for a woman who loved sword play it wasnt much she could complain about.

"Alas, between the three of us... A timeless scholar, a wilderness amazonian and an ex-abomination huntress, not to mention the Confessor-,"Pames silver eyes fixate solely on Mars after acknowledging Jursol - who surely would've been brought into the conversation - as if to coax an answer from him,

"One still has to wonder... Is it enough of a chance against the likes of this Raylen?"

Such was a conversation Verzatea wouldn't indulge. "Of course," Tea acknowledges Lazarius. Her focus was on the Inquisitor, one hand wrapping about the elbow of the Inquisitor before she'd begin to guide him from the library. All the while she was a troubled smile.

[ J ]   Jursol nodded as she and Jimba gave agreeing nods or sounds. Pressing her lips together, Jursol whistled softy in a pattern. The sound seemed to be a call to Mawa. A faint distance souls echoed though the place.

“It be our pleasure to help all dat we can. We can’t be leaving one our own behind. It be time for action. Den we can plan our next moves once all are accounted for, alive.”

Deep down she knew many died, and many more will die. However now was not the time to think they way. It was time to hunt and return the missing one.

[ V.D ]   A twitch of the ear would be the greatest indication of a reaction from Pame with the spoops besides the kaldoreis eyes fixated solely on Jursol. She'd lean closer after a moment, murmuring in an affirming tone,

"The foolish who challenge us in this journey will tremble in the afterlife once we've finished with them."

[ J ]   Jursol grinned at the idea of forcing enemies to submit, to make them suffer even in death would please her, and her Loa. She whispered back softly still with a damaged grin.

“Dey will know da power of Bwonsamdi. In death will they tremble before him. We shall see ta that.”

Nodding in agreement to Pame.

[ L.K ]  “I will be content with just knowing how the Master will get out of this.  I do not foresee his fallen Mistress having any way of deterring us that would be conventional in its genetics. This is all dangerous water to tread.  Those who follow NZoth that get in our way though...”. Marseille gave a wicked smirk as he flipped one of his knives out on one of his fingers.

“Let them come...”

[ V.D ] "I imagine a I'll use this hour to pack, however," Pame nods at once,

"After all... I hardly imagine loose, casual attire such as this will offer me the advantage of resilience to most attacks- If any are to come. Better safe than sorry," she snorts, swiftly bowing her head toward both troll and shaldorei,

"Might you both find good use of this hour yourselves."

[ L.K ] Marseille peered toward the elven woman as his silvery eyes narrowed. He would take several strides toward the exit now as he made very little effort to converse any further.

“I think I will see to a few loose ends before we depart. . . “

@whatadarkbitch​

@pyravari-kashebahl​

@thebladeitself​

@zandalaridruidofgonk​

@miss-irascible​

@siidaraykashebahl​

@frompage112​

To Be Continued in: In Mind of Misery: Wrath, Part 1

[doctorgerth]

Prompt Winner #4

Winner: @doflomingos-glasses

Prompt: “Did you just slap my ass?” / “Actually, I firmly grasped it.” / “Did you just quote Spongebob?”

Description: Sabo got a booty and you wanna grab it and give it the attention it deserves. Turns out, Sabo likes the attention way more than you had anticipated... (modern au) (fem s/o)

Rating: Sabo smut, but also some funny moments!

Warnings: cursing, explicit sexual content, Sabo’s delicious ass 

Note: nothing much to say here! NSFW begins under the cut

Firmly Grasp It (Sabo)

NSFW

Prompt Story

(Word count: 2198)

You watched with fervor as your boyfriend stood in the kitchen, cooking a rather delicious smelling dinner for the two of you. Thankfully Luffy and Ace weren't home to smell the savor of the steaks he was cooking, otherwise your perfect opportunity would be amiss.

Sabo had no idea you were watching him, and you could hardly contain your giddiness at his every adorable facial expression, so concentrated on his preparations. Your breath hitched in your throat as he started whistling a song you weren't so familiar with, but it sounded like sweet music nevertheless. His hips danced a little, swaying a ever so slightly to his tune, and you knew he would be embarrassed as hell if he were caught like this.

You stood in the doorway, hiding as much of your body behind the wall as possible while you ogled, practically entranced by Sabo's little cooking show tune. He was absolutely adorable, but the way his hips swayed, causing his backside to sway and jiggle in consequence had you sweating buckets. You didn't want to admit it, but you were entirely enamored with Sabo's ass.

Your nails dug into the wall with his every move and you bit your lip to suppress your lecherous desires. This wasn't meant to be a seductive scene by any means, but his body always wowed you in more ways than one. Quite honestly, everything he did was sexy as hell to you. How could someone be so sexy without even trying?

It was currently 4:03, and you knew Ace would be off work at 6:00 and Luffy was staying at Zoro's house for the night. You had Sabo and his magical ass all to yourself for at least a little while, and you were determined to take advantage of that. For the past few weeks, Sabo had developed a habit of gently slapping or groping your butt in passing. It didn't always lead to more, sometimes it was a strictly casual greeting, but still, it left your heart beat racing uncontrollably at his suggestive touching.

And you wanted to give him that same feeling. During your more intimate moments, you never thought to focus on his backside, at least not nearly in the same affectionate way he treated yours. Would he like that? You've always admired his butt from afar, perhaps it was time to give it the attention it deserved.

With mouse-like steps, you tip-toed towards your lover. Thankfully, he was far too engrossed in his cooking to really notice your presence, so you made your way behind his figure with ease. For some reason, you were insanely nervous, like you were about to commit something inexplicably wrong. You gulped to yourself as your shaky hand went reaching, clouded by lust and desire as his hips began swaying more fervently. His perky ass was yours for the taking, and so you took it with great need.

With nimble fingers you quickly ghosted over the curvature of his booty, then squeezed with eagerness at his left ass cheek. You were completely satisfied as it was just as firm yet soft as you had predicted. What you didn't predict, however, was the way his body jolted at the unfamiliar sensation. He knew it was you immediately, but your lewd notion definitely caught him off guard. His spatula dropped to the floor, bringing you back to your senses and you seemed to freeze in your thoughts. Your hand quickly retreated as he turned to look at you, a quite unreadable expression on his face.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, waiting to hear him scold you.

"Did you just slap my ass?" He questioned, eyes narrowing in your direction.

There was an awkward pause for a minute as you gathered yourself to respond to his question. Why did this catch you so off guard? You were just grabbing your boyfriend's butt! That's completely normal right? Why did his questioning stare make you feel otherwise?

"Actually, I firmly grasped it." Was the first thing to spill from your lips and you instantly wanted to crawl in a hole and die there. What the fuck was wrong with you?

He scoffed, a smirk graced his lips in amusement at your choice of a response, "Did you just quote Spongebob?"

You fought the urge to face palm yourself as you just shrugged and smiled innocently, knowing you were incapable of making any logical sense beyond this point of utter embarrassment. With swiftness, he turned to a knob on the stove, instantly switching the burning eye off. Your head was swimming from uncertainties as his face was still indecipherable even as he approached you.

It wasn't until his face was merely inches from yours and he rested his hands loosely along your hips that your mind seemed to unravel, focusing on the playful look that gleamed in his eyes. Waves of blonde fell along his face, clouding his appearance to where he looked almost devilish for a second as his hands trailed down to grip ferociously into your own cheeks. You gasped at the force of his fingers digging needy markings into your skin.

"Mighty touchy today, aren't we, (Name)? If you wanted a piece of this ass you should've just said so." He smirked, lifting you up onto the island before you could even blink in response.

He secured your thighs around his waist, pulling your shamefully aching core against his hard on, a small moan escaping his lips at having you so close to him. His lips trembled above yours and for a split second his eyes changed to a look of innocence, silently asking if he was acting a little too rough with you. The both of you were utterly shocked that just a simple butt grab had Sabo pinning you onto the island, his cock mindlessly rubbing against you in desperation, but you accepted it graciously as your lips latched onto his without hesitation.

Your lips melded together in an instant, tongues dancing while little mewls escaped from the both of you into your heated mouths, hands roaming eagerly along each other's bodies and in each other's hair. It was if you were trying to absorb each other whole, no contact was ever close enough as you both only craved more and more of each other against your heated bodies. You had absolutely no idea where such desperation for each other came from, but you paid it no mind as you allowed Sabo to ravish your body to his heart's content.

Clothing was discarded everywhere along the kitchen floor within minutes of your heated making out, the both of you taking full advantage of your rare alone time. Sabo's massive hands went for your breasts, licking and sucking and biting at them once they were free to explore. Your head threw back in ecstasy at his ministrations, nails scratching into his shoulders and biceps which flexed deliciously under your claws. As he came up for air, he kissed you harshly one last time before pulling you to the very edge of the island, spreading your legs even further for him.

A lone finger quickly found it's place between your slick folds, teasing just the entrance of your aching pussy, "Sabo, please..." you whispered as your head fell into the crook of his neck in exasperation.

He chuckled to himself before plunging his digit deep into you, eliciting a sweet wail from your throat, "So needy. You were the one groping me, you dirty girl."

You blushed at his words, but accepted his penetrating finger with the utmost desire, keeping your legs spread wide and bucking against his every movement. Another digit was added and you clawed at his back, a hand trailing further and further south to give his booty a little squeeze. He gritted his teeth, a bit ashamed at how much he enjoyed such a simple touch, nevertheless he harshly pounded his fingers knuckle-deep into you at your notion.

Though your body was being rocked by his fingers, you smiled against the skin of his shoulders, completely satisfied to know you had so much power over Sabo now. Your fingers traced over the smoothness of his bare ass once again and his fingers retreated from you, the loss of sensation enough to stop you dead in your tracks and whine in response.

"You think you're slick, don't ya?" He muttered, not even warning you before he plunged his throbbing cock inside of you. Your entire body shook from his rough actions, but considering how turned on you were, your tight cunt adjusted well to his size, swallowing him in his entirety. Sabo wasn't prepared for it, and he groaned hoarsely into your neck, fingers digging into your hips in sweet agony.

You moaned right along with him, and as soon as he gathered himself he began a steady pace inside you, thrusts already a bit rougher than normal. You were driving Sabo absolutely mad with your sensual touching in such an uncharted area. He never realized he'd enjoy his ass receiving some loving attention from you, but he needed so much more of it.

"Fuck, touch me baby, please." You smiled amidst your cries of pleasure, and it didn't take a genius to know just where he wanted your touch. To have your sexy as fuck boyfriend beg for your touch really caused a burning heat to pool at your abused pussy. Your hands eagerly flew to his ass with a swift smack and his hips bucked savagely into you in response. He was worried he had overreacted and had hurt you in the process, but the way you moaned his name and squeezed his ass with admiration reassured him to keep going. Your groping only encouraged him to fuck into you with more intensity, your body writhing uncontrollably under him by his rapid movements.

Every squeeze of your palms on his ass was like an electric shock shooting up into his hips, inspiring them to drive into you with increasing force until you were practically screaming his name, sure enough to let the neighbors know just what was going on next door. The two of you could care less as this new found passion from Sabo was sending you closer into blissful euphoria by the second and though his mind was clouded from pure lust at your naughty groping, he only wanted you to scream louder for him.

His hands slid from your hips to grab onto the sides of your ass, sweat dripping from his golden locks onto your connected bodies. He could feel your cunt tightening around him in anticipation for your release, and that only sent the chills of his own impending release throughout his being. He couldn't possibly fuck into you any harsher, but the way your nails dug into the softness of his ass while you came all over his cock, he couldn't help but buck into you with utmost force as he finished inside you with a loud, desperate call of your name. Your limp body finally released it's hold onto his back side and you fell back against the cool marble counter, chest rising and falling rapidly in order to catch your breath from the intense session you two just had.

Sabo released the last of his load inside you with a small whimper before collapsing on top of your tired body to lazily trail kisses along your damp skin. His fingers interlocked with yours in a reassuring manner, something he always did to apologize for being rough with you, but it wasn't as if you ever cared. You always enjoyed the way Sabo rocked your body so well, and no matter how rough he was, you could always feel every ounce of his love for you. The way you eyeballed his post-sex face, and the smirk he offered your teasing eyes, you both knew that this butt admiration wasn't going to end any time soon.

Bonus:

The house was quiet as you rose to the kitchen to make some cereal for yourself. All of the boys were still asleep, disregarding how late in the morning it was becoming. You waltzed into the kitchen, stretching your arms and yawning rather loudly as you reached for a clean bowl, gathering the rest of the necessary items for cereal shortly after. Your mind was still a bit clouded by sleep, so you couldn't feel Sabo's burning eyes staring at your back side.

He watched you intently, and waited for the perfect moment to approach you, like a predator preparing to attack its prey. The way your ass cheeks were poking out ever so slightly from under your pajama shorts had Sabo ready for the kill. When you were completely distracted by your pouring of cereal, Sabo took his chance.

He approached you quietly, completely catching you off guard as you dropped your cereal at his sudden presence flushed against you. A large hand went to cover your surprised yelp, lips already trailing along your neck, full of desire. His dick pressed firm against the curvature of your ass, hips gyrating sensually against it and you could feel his cock twitching in desperation. You couldn't help but heat up at his bold movements, squeaking a little as his free hand cupped your cheeks, squeezing them with vigor.

"Firmly grasp it." He whispered seductively in your ear.