#whatever this will feed me for such a stupidly long time

[vanityangel]

the enemy of my enemy is his cousin who has also tried to murder me on several counts but is still somehow the lesser evil so he is my friend (for like one minute)

[m4dm4yhem]

(⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃ EARTH 42 MILES ROMANCE HCS

PAIRING: MILES G. MORALES X FEM READER

SUMMARY: RELATIONSHIP W/ MILES

INSPIRED BY: @cyb3rspyd3r

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

___________________________________________________

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU whenever you leave your phone with him when you leave the room, he’s going through.. in a way to make sure you’re behaving the way you promise him you are, to see what new numbers you have in your phone, to see if you talk about him with your friends, anything that shows him he isn’t wasting his time by being with you.. don’t mistake that for him not trusting you… he does, he’s just a nosy bastard.

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU his mood can be adjusted by the sheer sight of you, let’s say he’s mad about something.. maybe his counselor was feeding him bullshit about his future; that he needed to mention the fact he was struggling in order for colleges to give him any kind of time of day… that pissed him off, because who are you.. to tell him that he’s just a struggling poor kid but the second he laid his eyes on you.. he was smiling again, and forgot why he was mad in the first place

“ whatchu smilin’ all hard for?”

“ nothin… I just.. like being around you, mama.”

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU the littlest things will remind him of you, miles morales.. who is so in love with you.. that he once gave you a rock he found on the ground because it had a smooth front, and he remembered the time your arms were smooth after shaving.. that he couldn’t stop touching them, even when you wore long sleeves; he’d just sneak two fingers into your sleeve and run them down your arm.. it would usually be a surprise too..

“ eek- what! miles?! can you get your cold ass fingers off me.. please..”

“ mami.. c’mon, you feel so good though.. like a countertop or sum.”

“ boy… you stupid if that’s the only thing you can compare it too..”

“ stupidly in love with you.. that’s the only thing I’m stupid in.. don’t play with me before I fuck you up.”

“ nigga.. miles shut the fuck up, you ain’t touching me niggatron..”

“ …”

“ yeah exactly..”

“ oh, no.. trust.. I will take care of that attitude.. but what the fuck is a niggatron..?”

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU that he takes pride in being your ‘ mini me’ every single saying that you have said around him; he’s said it around his friends, his uncle, everyone.. it just slips out, like one time he accidentally said one thing you say quite often around his uncle, after his uncle

“ girl..you did not eat that.. you thought you did, but I still see the lil ceasar’s hot and ready on the table.. why is that?”

“ nigga what?”

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU he never says no to you, whatever you want.. he will get it.. if it’s within his budget.. he’s fifteen years old not a sugar daddy, as well as the fact his mother is struggling with the bills so most of his money goes towards her; but with the extra money she refuses to take from him.. you’re spoiled with it.. if he hears you need a new lip liner, he’s asking what color.. suggesting a reddish brown or a black, his favorite colors on you.. if you want a new stuffed animal he’s buying one from the nearest store, while he usually has to stretch his dollar, and most trips are made with him asking you which one you need more.. a teddy bear.. or chick fil a, and he gets whichever one you want more.

“ mama..”

“ you can’t rush perfection, miles! I’m thinking..”

“ girl.. perfection? I asked you if you wanted ice cream now or chipotle later..”

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU he tells everyone who will listen all the wonderful things about you.. and by wonderful I mean everything you did.. whenever his girlfriend is mentioned or the possibility of hanging out with someone who isn’t you.. he will start yapping about you

“ hey man.. you coming over to TJ’s? we gon be playing basketball.. and then going down to the mall.. “

“ nah man, my girl said she wanted to come over tonight.. meet my ma n shit..”

“ man.. didn’t you have your girl over last night too? “

“ yeah .. she comin to meet my mami tonight though.”

“ she couldn’t have met her last night?”

“ my ma be at work.. ion think she even remember me telling her about my girl, to be honest with you mane.”

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU he steals his uncle’s car to see you late at night, he knocks on your window at two in the morning, because his uncle is working… not a normal job but that job, so he drives over there.. illegally may I add; since he’s 15, he only has his learners. he does this just to lay in bed with you, to spoon you and tell you how much he loves you.. how much he lives for you

“ I love you.. so much, [name] you make my life.. so easy.. so tolerable.. I’m not as.. sad and depressed now that you’re with me, I love staying and being with you. you make my world brighter, you make my life better.. I love you, I can’t imagine a world with you.. cariño..”

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU he asked you to marry him one day, he had gave you a plastic ring he got from one of those coin machines when he was going to wash clothes with his mom; he had got a pretty one that had a plastic gem shaped into a heart.. he told you how much he valued you.. how much he cared, how he never wanted to lose you.. how he knew you two were only teenagers.. but he wanted to be with you forever nonetheless.

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU that he has your face plastered on every social media platform he has, your face is his profile picture on the very few he has. ( instagram, twitter, & tiktok.. he has snapchat too, where the main things he posts are just recycled videos he already sent you, and a private story with all the girls he knows has a crush on him added, and he just show cases your love)

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU after the first date, he walked into his room with a big grin on his face. you two had went to the aquarium, and he saw a shark plushie he wanted but didn’t have enough money for.. and you had bought it for him.. no hesitation.. he was so in love with you in that moment.. that he had named it after you.

“ I don’t give a fuck if this shark a boy.. his name gon be [name] today.”

overall.. he’s just so in love with you.. he’d do whatever it takes to make sure you know he loves you.

[svtcrus]

───── `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 BABY LOVE ME EVENT SERIES

SHUT UP & KISS ME || gojo satoru x afab!reader

SMUT , MDNI

note : oral (m recieving) , blowjob lol , rough play , hair pulling , degradation , lowkey toxic relationship(??) , not proof-read

synopsis : a heated argument turns into a heated resolution.

a/n : here we go part 2 with a gojo smutt. gotta go back to my roots ofc for my bae. sorry it took so long, studies are so ass.

the room is ringing, screams of fury echo throughout the bedroom and nobody seems to be getting their side heard.

it's frustrating when satoru is only dense on the topic of love. he's a sweetheart, but he's also a jerk sometimes. a horny bastard albeit—does he even love you at this point?

"baby, I hear you loud and clear. just tone it down will you?" annoyance along with slight malice is seeping through his teeth, he's getting tired of this. constant fighting over this and that upon hours only to make up the next day. the reason behind such arguments are lost in the fragments of your memories.

satoru is really trying here. yet those stupidly pretty lips of yours are berating him—he's immature, how the thought of him being the strongest doesn't mean he's always safe.

he's really fighting it now, there's no way he's getting turned on from your anger. he just can't help himself. one half is telling him to stop, the other telling him the argument is long lost and it should be dealt with.

fuck it.

"shut up & kiss me." he seethes as those soft fingers of his grab you with force onto your cheeks. the grasp is pulling you into him, smashing his lips with your beautifully painted ones. it's a harsh kiss. you could practically still taste the anger through the lust, but it doesn't stop you from feeding into his desires. you already so tired from the screams and falsity.

it's ironic in a way that you find warmth and safety as he begins to completely encase you. the palms of his hands grab your face so roughly yet lovingly at the same time. tongues twirling, as he's nibbling at your top lip with low groans. with as much effort as you could muster, you're pushing satoru down onto the bed.

"mm..trying to take control honey?" your lips part with a slight trail of saliva, hot gasps fill this invisible bubble that you find yourselves concealed in. he's grinning with so much cockiness, and it's beginning to piss you off again. much to your dismay, you were very much still pissed at this perverted boyfriend of yours. however he's making every second more difficult as he manhandles you atop the comforter. now he was the one towering you.

before you could even blink satoru is ripping whatever piece of cloth that was covering that sweet body of yours. he's giggling, watching you just fall under his gaze. watching you fully allow him to feed into his raging fantasy. you were getting a piece of him tonight.

he's unzipping his pants with eagerness, the tent was very much evident. he's gripping onto your waist with such ease, you were now face to face with his cock and shit he was hard. there's no way that'll fit, you think.

"toru there's-"

"shut up & suck it." you couldn't even reciprocate his sentence, the sudden death grip of his fingers forcing you to suck his dick makes you yelp in surprise. his bitterment from the argument is clearly showing through this rough play—you're whimpering as he begins to shove himself deep into your throat—yet this new side of him is so enlightening to see.

a side so cruel at how he was receiving pleasure from you, so cruel of you to be gagging on his cock when you were "biting" his ear off moments ago. his girth was something, the length of satoru's cock was a whole story. his tip leaking precum was hitting the back of your throat, forceful thrusts of him trying to chase a high he oh so desperately needed.

"f-fuck, such a fucking whore. working that pretty mouth of yours to such good use hm?" slender fingers tangled themselves into your hair, then dragging down to your chin, squeezing your cheeks together. a mixture of cum and spit spilling out the corners of your mouth.

he's throwing his head back in ecstasy, the palm of his hand back to gripping your crown. fucking you faster—god, your mouth is doing wonders to him—harder, using you so goddamn well.

"shi- fuck. m'gonna-!" you used one hand to start rubbing him fast, gags getting louder just to drive him to the edge. whatever you were angry at him over it was long gone. your pussy was dripping wet, eyes pooling with tears as you felt him release inside your mouth making you choke a slight. that didn't prevent you from kitten licking him clean of cum, swallowing every bit of his seed. the sight before him made him grin in pride.

"mm.. putting that berateful mouth to better use...swallowing it all up so well." is all he says before leaning down to kiss you more intimately. he can taste himself through the kiss, tongue swirling onto yours.

"s'not over yet baby. lemme take my fill too hm? can you stay obedient?" you nod quickly. all you want is for his cock to be inside you. to pound you till all you could see is the stars that sparkle in his ocean eyes.

"isn't that so easy hm? no need for you to be so angry. i'll fuck you so well, you won't even remember us fighting." soft, hot whispers linger near your ear. hands pushing you back down onto the bed, knee prodding up your inner thigh—you whimper.

"so just shush that pretty mouth & behave 'kay sweets?"

©️ svtcrus || 09.24.25 ; BABY LOVE ME EVENT

do not modify, use, copy or plagiarize my work.

[vickyvicarious]

With joy I hurried to the window, and saw drive into the yard two great leiter-wagons, each drawn by eight sturdy horses, and at the head of each pair a Slovak, with his wide hat, great nail-studded belt, dirty sheepskin, and high boots. They had also their long staves in hand. I ran to the door, intending to descend and try and join them through the main hall, as I thought that way might be opened for them. Again a shock: my door was fastened on the outside.

Dracula's taking no chances. If anyone comes inside the castle, then Jonathan's locked in his room. This suggests a couple things: he doesn't have the time to personally watch over Jonathan because he is too busy managing whatever they're doing himself; he knows Jonathan has not lost hope and will try to leave or get a message out; he doesn't trust the people working for him not to assist if they get close enough to his captive; he knows being locked up in his room where he can see the way he's being ignored but is unable to do anything about it will be more agonizing for Jonathan. I'll take all of the above.

Another thing thought that's kind of interesting, is the descriptors of this group of people are all pretty neutral at first. It's stuff they have/are wearing, nothing that could be called negative except maybe "dirty sheepskin" at most. This is when Jonathan is rushing to the window "with joy" at the sight of them. But after he finds he is trapped in his room, and once his interactions with them go sour, he gets harsher: he describes them looking "stupidly" as they point at him, and "lazily" going to their horses as they leave. (Of course this is all written after the fact but I think in a way that is generally reflective of his opinions during the events.)

Jonathan's initial reaction to new people is still hope, but it seems as though Dracula's reinforcement of prejudices is working once they don't respond well. Of course, the narrative itself is telling both him and us that he's wrong to look to them for help in the first place, but I like to put that down to authorial racism. In my headcanon, the hetman makes a kind of bitter joke ("the Count has another guest") that they laugh at not out of genuine amusement or malice but out a kind of black humor which comes from knowing they don't have any power to save him. The fact that they "resolutely turned away" is because it's hard enough for them to ignore his pleas for help, and looking at him would make it even more emotionally wrenching or even tempt them to do something stupid to try and help him. And they know they can't, not if they want to make it out of here alive. Jonathan is too far away to see them wincing and gritting their teeth, to see the effort it takes not to look back, doesn't know the weight on their consciences and the 'it's you or both of us' choice they're making. His hopes are being disappointed again and it's feeding into stereotypes he's heard relayed as fact, so he loses trust in them and sees stupidity and malice where there isn't any.

Of course, this is all me working overtime to try and correct for the racism that Stoker was very much playing straight. But as I've said before, it works so much better with the themes of the book anyway. In any fanwork that doesn't want to be reinforcing the same awful stereotypes, but still staying in line with canon, I'd suggest taking this sort of tack. Give them a POV or even bring back a character who was here to see what they say about it when they can act more freely, that sort of thing.

[whumpsoda]

are you up for a continuation

https://www.tumblr.com/whumpsoda/734400660214366208/i-raise-that-anon-who-raised-you-vampire-keeps?source=share

WOHEO Masterlist

This ask wasn’t super specific, so I kinda just went with whatever idea I had, which was just a sort of normal?? Day for these two. I also named them, whumpee 2 is now Nevan, and whumper 2 is Darius!! So thanks to the anon who gave me those names! :D

Taglist- @softvampirewhump

cw: hints of past abuse, vampire whumper, human whumpee, pet whump, brainwashing, servant whump,

———————————————————————

Nevan adjusted the platter by only a smidge, studying the set up with watchful eyes. An expensive bottle of wine sat atop, along with a pristine glass of which he had poured the delectable liquid into. With just a finger, he pushed it a sliver to the other side.

It had to be perfect.

Once as satisfied as he would get, he stood back to his feet and surveyed the whole room. Several plush blankets were draped over the couch in the chance they got cold, Darius’ foot rest was just where he liked it, and his beverage was just in arms reach. Nevan had even grabbed a handful of DVD’s from his master’s small collection, displaying them in a dainty fashion on the table, just so Darius could choose what they watched.

It had to be perfect.

His nerves rattling him, Nevan swiftly made a beeline for the nearest mirror- really the only one in the home- that was hidden in one of the storage rooms. 

Every room he passed he was tempted to check through just one last time, having to remind himself that he’d already done a total sweep of the house probably nine times. Not a speck of grime remained in the abode, but he had to be sure of it.

As he reached the oversized storage closet, Nevan stood at attention before the tall mirror rested on a pile of junk. He intently dissected his appearance in the reflection, picking apart every possible imperfection. Smoothing stray hairs, shifting his dainty collar, and practicing his eager smile, Nevan tried to maintain deep breaths. 

Master was hard to please. Almost irritatingly so. 

Almost.

Any slight flaw could infect his gorgeous face with disappointment, and bring bitterness to his soothing voice. Nevan just couldn’t take it! Tonight was so important, he couldn’t risk any idiotic mistake ruining it for them. He valued Darius’ happiness over all else, and he couldn’t help but wish to see the vampire enjoy himself.

Maybe tonight, if all went along with his meticulously crafted plan, Darius would even smile. Even just a little grin, and Nevan would melt on the spot. 

And maybe, just maybe, the two of them would have such a wonderful time, his master would even grant him an extra feeding!

But he couldn’t get his hopes up. Darius agreed to have a movie night with his thrall, probably a once in a lifetime chance, and it would be a wonderful gift as long as Nevan didn’t stupidly ruin it.

Then he heard it. The sing-song ringing, even while distant filled his ears and consumed his brain. His worries instantly washed away with the reverberation of Master, Master, Master! Nevan’s entire body calmed against his will, and robotically his hands folded neatly in front of his chest.

He quickly strode to the sound, getting louder and more pleasing as he neared. The thrall was led back to the living room, where his Master had already made himself comfortable on the couch. Nevan stood before him, immaculately posed and made up, as Darius eyed him for just a moment.

“Are we doing this, or what?” He questioned, Nevan’s heart fluttering merely at the sound of his voice. Suprisingly, Darius’ words held no bitterness. Just calm.

“Yes! Y-yes, please. Master.” Nevan stumbled over his words for a moment, wincing at the sound. But Darius didn’t so much as scowl. 

His face remained the same. Neutral. “Sit then.” Darius was already studying the selection of movies, not granting his thrall a moment to digest his lack of irritation. 

Master must’ve had a good day.

A good day!

There was no other conclusion. Why else would he want to spend quality time with Nevan? His little blood bag? Good days for Darius happened so little Nevan could barely remember the last time he’d seen the vampire not on edge.

Lately though, there was just the slightest change. Nevan could only blame the slight lift of his master’s spirits on the more frequent company of another vampire, one he knew his master was exceedingly fond of. Nevan hoped they would see each other more often if it made his master even that much happier.

The vampire continued searching through the DVD’s, picking them up and putting them down, before holding one up for his thrall to read. “This one?” He questioned. The cover displayed some generic romance, and if Nevan had ever seen it in the time before he was a thrall, he surely didn’t remember.

Nevan stared back, wide eyed with no response. Was Master asking him? He had never done that before. He’d always said it himself that opinions weren’t in a thrall’s jurisdiction.

“Um,” Nevan swallowed thick saliva. “Whatever pleases you, Master.” That was an acceptable answer. It had to be. 

“Good.” Darius stated, to Nevan’s relief. He pushed the object to his thrall. “Set it up.” Eagerly, Nevan did exactly as commanded, while his master sipped on his drink and watched.

Once finished, Nevan carefully made his way back to the couch. Darius was lenient in that regard, most of the time allowing his thrall on the furniture. If he was ever in a mood where that behavior was unacceptable, Nevan would know. 

The thrall made a point to sit a comfortable deal away from the other man, as to not come off too presumptuous. He sat rigidly, making sure his form would be to Darius’ usual liking.

The movie droned on, filling the awkward silence, but Nevan could barely pay attention. He couldn’t stop himself from constantly glancing over at Darius, checking his expression for the slightest implication of annoyance.

The vampire kept his gaze glued to the screen, leaning back into the cushion behind him and taking a sip of his beverage every so often.

He looked simply magical.

“Wine.” Darius commanded, prompting Nevan to instantly rush to pour him more of the rich red. The vampire barely paid his pet any mind as the drink filled the glass between his fingers, splashing against the sides of the cup.

Once finished, he simply shooed Nevan back to his seat to resume his anxiousness.

Nevan needed to clean. Cleaning made him feel grounded and wanted, and cleaning made Master happy, so he needed to do it. He needed to clean, he needed to clean, he needed to clean, but he didn't want to. He wanted to watch the movie, he wanted to spend time with Master, but he couldn't help his endless fretting every passing second.

Nevan picked aggressively at the skin around his nails, an anxious habit his master hadn’t yet succeeded in breaking.

Darius must’ve noticed, as just a moment later his supple, icy hand begun stroking up and down his thrall’s agitated arm, shocking Nevan into stopping.

“You’ll ruin your nails.” He muttered passively, not even turning his gaze from the television.

Master was touching him. Not viciously or violently, like when Nevan needed to be punished, but soothingly. Even if the purpose of the contact was to keep his silly thrall from damaging his body, Master was practically petting him. 

The motion was repetitive and sweet, casting a wash of  contentment through him. Nevan could sense his breaths evening, and his posture softening. 

Master was so kind.

Any form of worry or discomfort was swept from his mind, leaving only the entrancement of the television’s glow. The noise of conversing actors and actresses were like a muffled buzz that desensitized him to the world around. 

After sitting in mindless contentment for however long, Darius began to slide a blanket from its folded spot on the couch’s back. Nevan almost offered to get it for him, before realizing the vampire would have most likely accused him of thinking he needed a feeble thrall to do everything for him. 

Darius unfolded it elegantly, before draping it across his slender legs. Nevan could simply see how fluffy and comfortable it was, and just a hint of jealousy sparked. 

“Come here.” The vampire’s words were sharp and powerful, cutting through Nevan’s haziness like a knife. The thrall stood instantly, making his way swiftly to his master’s side. “Down.”

Nevan dropped to his knees, gazing upward with puppy dog eyes. Darius didn’t even look back at him. Instead, his large hand sat at the back of Nevan’s head, brushing against his chilled neck. The pressure was firm yet gentle, and guided Nevan’s head into his leg.

Nevan’s breath hitched with each new touch to his flesh, particularly the feeling of plush skin on skin. The sensation was still so unfamiliar, but so nice he had no want to pull away. His cheek pressed up on Darius’ cotton pant leg, and he eagerly nuzzled into it like a kitten. 

Warmth built in his chest, drowning his mind in a pool of liquid pleasure as Darius lazily stroked his hair and scratched at his scalp. A hazy, purring mewl escaped his lips.

Nevan wrapped his toned arms around his owner’s leg, effectively hugging it in a tight embrace. He could practically feel the drumming of his heart, and each beat acted almost like a pulse of pleasure that ran through him.

Everything was so good, better than any time he could ever remember.

“I, um, I,” He stammered, tripping over the delight overtaking him and the fear of speaking. “I, I love you Master. I love you.” 

Fearfully, Nevan lifted his head to meet Darius piercing eyes. Thankfully, there was no evident anger in his expression. 

Just a smile.

Nevan could’ve vomited from excitement.

“As you should,” the vampire said. Master’s satisfaction alone could make his thrall’s entire week, but what he continued with could’ve destroyed Nevan then and there.

“Good boy.”

Darius barely ever praised him. He really didn’t need to, Nevan’s purpose was obedience, but his heart couldn’t help but soar when his master did.

A wide, dull eyed smile beamed across his face, and he cuddled even closer to Darius’ leg. “I love you. I love you Master, I love you, I love you.” The affection spilled from his mouth, an overwhelming need to express his adoration. 

Normally, Darius would’ve ignored him. Maybe called him an idiot. This time, he continued to just smile down at his human, tenderly petting his freshly washed hair.

Nevan couldn’t think of any other words to explain the overwhelming endearment he had for his master, most cognitive abilities seeped dry by Darius’ current touch, but the vampire didn’t seem to mind. “I love, love, love, you. I love you, I love you.” Nevan repeated, until the words jumbled together and became incoherent.

“Perfect.”

Even if tomorrow Darius would go right back to punishing him for the slightest of mistake without batting an eye, which he probably would, Nevan couldn’t help but bask greedily in the warmth of the moment.

[normal-thoughts-official]

You are getting me intrigued about Bladeweave, and i want to know your thoughts on:

A) Do they get a pet together? (The correct answer is yes)

B) Do you imagine them like, in a specific Bladeweave universe, or like canon-ish one, but like after the Hell Trip?

C) Do you think Tara and Wyll team up to make sure Gale doesn't forget to take care of himself and then Tara teams up with Gale to do the same to Wyll?

D) What do you think Wyll's father thinks of Gale?

Also feels weirdly nostalgic to be on your asks

omg hiiiii beloved. first of all finish the damn game 🔫 second of all damn i missed your asks 💕

in order:

A) they get a frankly ridiculous amount of pets but neither of them will admit it because they're the "they're not my pets, i just feed them" kind of mfs. i mean, that's canon on gale's end but we all know wyll is just as bad if not worse with the whole "hm actually animals are fully fledged individuals who belong to no one but themselves and only a tyrant would wish to conquer them and reduce them to something to be owned and,"- bullshit.

(also, honestly? after being called a pet and a pup by mizora for so long, the last thing he wants is to be reminded of her. and considering how in wyll origins he says his biggest fear is to become the devil he was made to look as, i think it'd be highly triggering for him to say anything at all that sounded like it could've come from her mouth, even in a completely different context. so, no, he'll never have "pets", he'll have loyal animal friends whom he feeds and takes care of and who live with him and always come back to him but they're not pets how dare you)

gale is more of a cat/tressym person, and of course tara is gale's friend first and foremost and wyll and her mostly bond over their love for gale. wyll however has no discrimination when it comes to species and i mean none. he'll show up at the tower or wherever else they live all like "hey gale so hear me out" and it's just as likely that he'll have a cat, a dog, a pigeon, a horse, or a crocodile in tow. gale just sighs and goes magic up whatever sort of specialized environment their new tennant will need because he knew what he was getting into when he married Literal Disney Princess, got-speak-with-animals-as-a-cantrip-out-of-a-devil-deal Wyll Ravengard. those are mostly wyll's friends (not pets, the dekarios-ravengard household is completely pet free, ignore the first 10 levels of the tower) but they also get along well with gale too. he makes them tea when they to to their area upstairs for a chat or whatever

B) usually the canon universe, yes. i mean it's fully possible to have a canon run without ever even meeting karlach so it's not like i'd need a fully fledged AU if I didn't wanna include the going to hell part (plus other ending possibilities im not spoiling you about). but also i feel like gale is the kind of stupidly self sacrificial mf who would go to hell with wyll and karlach if that's what it takes, both to be with his love and because karlach does deserve to live and be safe. and he knows that he can help try to look into arcane solutions for her heart. and if anyone understands having a ticking time bomb in their chest and needing support to grow back hope that you'll be able to live without it being a risk, and deserve to, it's him. wyll's saved him from his own time bomb; he would never deny karlach the same sort of redemption, especially when she got in that situation through no fault of her own

so, yes, i can imagine him joining them, even if not 24/7, and trying to help with her heart before they come back. and then we can have bladeweave and karlachzel (? what's their ship name called man) or Fucking Whatever lol. i mean part of the appeal of wyllach to me is that i feel like it makes 0 difference whether it's platonic or romantic, so i can see a platonic helping each other in hell before we can go back to our respective baes sort of situation

C) duh. tara and wyll have a whole routine they've executed to perfection for when gale is having a bad depression day, or a bad back/joint pain day, or an orb flare-up day, or whichever other flavor of disabling situation gale faces (semi-)regularly. tara is both relieved to have someone else to take care of him (both so she gets room to take care of herself as well and just from knowing that no matter what, someone else has gale's back) and pleased to see that, at least as far as depression days go, gale has been having those less and less. not because true love cures all or whatever but because now gale has a significant support network with all the tadfools, plus with the orb stabilized he doesn't have to fear going out, seeing his family, and making friends anymore. nothing is perfect or cured but slowly and steadily he's been building the kind of support net that allows him to breathe and keep himself alive more easily, you know

as for wyll's own disability days, tara is kind of slow to trust and even slower to show said trust. naturally she would always be there to support them both when wyll needed, if anything because it mattered to gale. but it was mostly supporting gale while he supported wyll at the beginning, because she was still wary of anyone who could potentially break her wizard's heart and make him even more fragile

also, he kind of waltzed into her house and then started bringing dogs. yuck.

but wyll is nothing if not explicitly and selflessly loving of gale and completely polite and respectful of tara's boundaries, which means he earns her love faster than any other humanoid ever has. so at first she was kind of tsundere about it - trying to hide her concern when wyll was having PTSD episodes by being kind of focused on gale, being a bit snarky (although never in a mean way), that kind of thing. over time though she fully gave up on pretending and became very involved in helping him. nothing like having a tressym purr to help pull you out of a flashback, or having someone to pet during a depression day, etc.

she is also one of the few people who always keeps in mind that wyll is not, in fact, fully sighted. whenever they go somewhere new or something changes in the layout of the tower she always helps him figure out clues to make up for his lack of depth perception while he's getting used to the state of things. gale also has a tendency to clutter and leave his stuff everywhere when he's particularly invested in a subject so she always makes sure to point out to wyll if there's anything in his path. especially when they're in waterdeep, she always takes the lead when they're walking through crowds, helping make the way so wyll won't bump into anybody by accident. with gale she's more of a supportive friend/housemate but with wyll she goes full on service animal without him ever asking. neither of them ever say anything about it but when she starts doing it wyll knows that he is, officially, part of the family. and most of all, loved

(and they take care of her too, of course. with food and pets and help when she's in pain or sad too. gale is aware that he put quite a heavy load on her when she was literally the only thing keeping him alive after the orb, and wyll is endlessly thankful to her for making sure he was cared for during that time. so they make sure she has all the resting and support she needs, and she is, quite frankly, the most spoiled tressym in the sword coast. wyll also went to ridiculous lengths to make sure everything in their tower was accessible for a non-opposable-thumbs-haver, especially the wizardy stuff because tara is, as gale said, a fine wizard on her own right)

also, sometimes she kneads the bases of wyll's horns when they hurt or feel particularly heavy, physically or emotionally, and it's really cute

D) difficult one. i kinda struggle to imagine ulder having a good relationship with any of wyll's partners, considering he... like... didn't even have a healthy relationship with wyll lol. so he'd probably be distant and kind of strained, but as far as partner choices go, i feel like gale is some of the best he could be hoping for among the tadfools. he is smart and can be charming, and he thrives with older people tbh. ulder wouldn't be a fan of the fact that he's the wizard-living-in-a-tower stereotype and has never really gotten his hands in the mud, so to speak, but gale is respectful, polite, interesting to talk to, intelligent, compassionate, and honorable and ethical to boot, which i think ulder would see as more important. also, he obviously loves wyll, and there's not much more ulder can ask of a partner, especially after he himself failed to provide wyll the love he needed for so long

so i believe he'd like him, although they'd never really be close. the real question though is what gale would think of ulder, because while i think he would be nothing if not polite to him, especially since he knows how much he means to wyll, i also think gale would be playing 5d chess to subtly insult his parenting skills at every opportunity. he is way too nice to be explicit about it but the way he keeps going for the softest, most subtle and hidden of stings, can be more devastating than calling him a bitch. ulder will suddenly realize that two weeks ago gale implied that he was a dumbass, and given that he only noticed that afterwards, he feels like he was probably right. it keeps him up at night sometimes, trying to figure out if gale lightly insulted him or was genuinely just commenting on the weather. the fact that it drives him mad only makes it all the more satisfying to gale. wyll has no clue this is happening at all

this got long and far too detailed but I won't apologize cuz what did you expect really. anyway i love they

[conkreetmonkey]

Fuck, my leopard gecko has fallen ill. He's had a squinty, slightly puffy eye for about two weeks now, which I was hoping was just irritation from a bit of substrate. He was still functional, just with worse vision, but he's tong-fed anyway so it didn't really matter. I had to help him remove shed from that eye at one point, which he did NOT make easy because, understandably, animals generally don't like it when big metal tweezers come within a millimeter of their eyeball.

NOW his other eye has started to go in the same direction; he can still open it, but doesn't seem to like to, and when he does it looks wrong, as if it's fully black and matte-er than it should be (it's hard to tell, because he naturally has dark grey eyes with black patterning on the irises/scleras and black pupils, and also his eyelids are mostly rimmed with black), AND his right "gonad" (whatever you call the two lumps on male gecko genitals, I honestly forget) is pink and swollen... he's definitely sick.

I tried to feed him, but he wasn't having it, and I can't tell if it's because he's refusing food as seriously ill animals often do, or if he simply can't see the waxworm. When a leopard gecko keeps its mouth firmly shut as you rub a dusted waxworm against his nose, you KNOW something's wrong. I was honestly hoping to annoy him into chomping down on it, upon which, if it's a vision issue, I imagine he'd recognize it as food, swallow, and understand I was trying to feed him. He eventually hid in his hole (so he can still navigate his tank to some degree, but maybe it's just memory?), so I'll try to feed him again and use our old "feeding time" pavlov signal (scrunching plastic) to hopefully get him in an eating mood. I know he can hear, because he has been following my voice.

What rotten timing, I now need to find an exotic vet before they all shut down for the holidays. I messaged one right after noticing his eye, and after several days they emailed me back saying that their reptile specialist was out for an indeterminate period of time and recommended other offices in the area. After this, I foolishly, irresponsibly thought I could just use some eye flush on him to get the substrate out, but it's clearly not substrate but an illness at this point... Guess it's time to get searching. I should probably try to find and contact the couple that ran the small local mom-and-pop herp store before an improbable chain of unlucky life events forced them to temporarily shut down (injury, illness, the landlord jacking up the price, AND car troubles all within a month... poor guys), they'll likely have advice.

Honestly, this is almost certainly 100% my fault. I procrastinated on obtaining the eye flush, because I'd need to get a ride to the store and was stupidly afraid of asking my own parents or sister for help for almost a WEEK... I keep him on sub-par substrate because it's easier to clean, and feed him a sub-par diet because he's picky and too bad at hunting for crickets so he lives mainly on dusted worms (the equivalent of a human living mainly on red meat).

I've felt guilt over this for about as long as I've owned him, but if he survives this, I may well just bite the bullet and rehome him to someone more capable or the local sanctuary. I'm a serial procrastinator and generally just an irresponsible pos who has killed multiple cactuses... I shouldn't own an exotic pet. I got him when I was 10, and I shouldn't have. I have no business owning such an advanced, finicky animal now, let alone did I as a child. I've avoided facing this for too long, and now my pet is paying the price for my unwillingness to face my guilt.

FUCK.

(If anybody thinks they know what this illness is and/or anything I can do to help him before I'm able to get him to a herp-qualified vet, PLEASE let me know)

[melit0n]

for the lyrics thing: “there’s something in the way you lay / that makes the dead switch graves / you take your leave” from Jericho. is “you lay” a euphemism for sleeping around (so the person is so sexually active that they make the dead roll in their grave)? or is it saying that the person is so wonderful that they can even move the dead? i’ve never been able to figure it out so i’d love to hear your thoughts!

I was hoping someone would ask about the Two ep! Just my luck, thank you anon <33

In the UK, and in America as well I'm pretty sure, "lay" is used as slang for having sex with someone, so you're right on that part, definitely. However, the line "there's something in the way you lay" brings both negative and positive connotations to me. He's saying 'there's just something about you. The way you look like that.' There's either a sense of stillness and serenity with it; a calm brought about by the way they lay, possibly asleep next to their partner.

On note of the next line, which I'll talk about in a moment, a large amount of people are known to 'sleep like they're dead', and others note that having Sleep Paralysis feels like death. The Dead are often confused for the sleeping as well, as long as they don't have any noticible abnormalities.

Even though two is quite sexually charged, I mean hey, take a look at Nazareth, I'd like to go with it being they're just so wonderful, or, in the least, appear to be so.

"Enough to make the dead switch graves" Is a stupidly powerful line. Whoever this is is just asleep, or sleeping around, and they have enough authority to make the dead switch graves.

In addition to this, a typical euphemism you may hear is 'make the dead roll in their grave'. It's one thing to do something so disgusting that you make the dead roll around, but this is something enough for these corpses to get reanimated, dig their selves out, get up, walk to another grave, and switch. This person's mere existence is potent enough that it causes the deceased to get up and leave.

It gives the vibe of a shift in the natural order of things, if that makes sense.

Plus, plus, in Islam (I know, I'm back at the religion again, bare with me lads), after a person has died, it is believed they will rest in their grave until The Day Of Judgement where they will be full body resurrected and either be taken to Paradice or Hell. Aka, the corpse will be reanimated to be eternally judged. There's also a similar idea in Christian theology; some denominations believe they die and either straight up go to Heaven or Hell, or will wait in their grave to be reanimated and judged on Judgement Day. Just something to think about.

Further, Jericho is the 'oldest city in the world', and makes an appearance in the Bible and the Qur'an; Israelites conquer the city and destroy it's protective walls. Nazareth was the home of Mary in the Bible and also where she received Annunciation. Calcutta is the old name for the capital of British India (now called Kolkata). Overarching theme of big cities with violent histories.

Lastly, we have "you take your leave". It's sung in a very final tone, if you get what I mean. Basically a 'you leaving isn't a big deal...but it means a lot to me. You've hurt me; again.'. There's not much to analyse here; it's simple and it's final. Whoever this is is gone, either 'dead' and so thoroughly disgusted/angered by Vessel that they've reanimated themselves and walked off, and Vessel will spend his time dissecting old encounters and feeding off of whatever he can salvage.

On the note of 'death', a bed can also be a grave for some people, either a metaphorical one or a literal one.

[hungwy-sinner]

Any favorite stuffing fantasies?

My fantasies vary day to day tbh, but there are a couple I like to return to regularly.

Forced intox: anything where I’m stuffed and intoxicated at the same time is gold. Whether it’s chugging melted alcoholic ice cream or being funneled drinks until I’m beyond tipsy before being hand fed til my stomach feels like it’s gonna explode. As long as I’m too out of it to resist, I’ll stupidly do whatever you say <3

Scientifically altered metabolism: this one is kind of weirdly specific, but the idea of being injected with something that radically changes the way I absorb nutrients really gets me. I want to be scientifically altered so that I absorb the maximum amount of calories from my food and store as much of it as possible as fat. Then of course, I would eat until I can’t move just to see the effects ;)

Traditional funnel feeding: good old traditional stuffings are always great. Tie me up and put a funnel in my mouth so I can’t get away or do anything but swallow more and more calories. Bonus points if I’m standing and can’t hide how big my belly is getting from all the slop you pour into it…

[domesticated-feral]

small town AU where:

Scott and Melissa moved there after losing the house during the divorce and she's working at the rural clinic while he's working under Dr. Deaton.

Stiles is still the kid of a sheriff and the sheriff's department takes care of beacon hills as well as the surrounding other small towns in the county :)

Four words, Livestock Veterinarian Alan Deaton! Four more bonus words Livestock Veterinary Assistant Scott!!! A bunch of more words Deaton and Scott with cute little baby farm animals!!!!!!!!

(if i truly had the energy to do so, i would love to continue writing my livestock vet Scott + farmhand Stiles fic, but that's a different AU)

Derek Hale is a city kid turned farmhand on an old man's farm (the old man in question is Elias, Stiles' grandfather)(and to the question why is Stiles or his father working at the farm is because 1. Elias lets his son work as a sheriff because whatever and 2. Stiles is a walking disaster no way is he letting that boy in charge of farm chores nuh uh not even on a lazy almost fall summer day where there's not much than the usual morning feeding also 3. Derek was only hired after Elias accepted that he was not as young and capable as he used to be and Noah and Stiles put themselves in charge of finding a farmhand)(Derek was the only one to send in a reply to their job ad) and the farm primarily raises sheep for meat and wool but I'd like to think that after Derek started working there a few years back he'd regularly add in new animals every summer or so. Sometimes he'd raise poultry, sometimes it's a small drove of pigs, sometimes it's not even animals but just a crop of pumpkins and squash and tomatoes and cucumbers!!

Derek loves the sheep. He's a shepherd through and through.

Jackson is not a whittemore but a miller, except his parents just died a bit later into his life and he lives with the whittemores on their large scale hay farm where there's an added bonus (to me)! h o r s e s !!!!

(all of this is just a way for me to write my fav characters interacting with my longest running obsession of all time, horses)

Lydia's mother owns the town's bistro/bar, her father owns the lodge built next to it. It used to be a whole business but it split with the divorce but there's still the whole B&B package deal to this day as it's wayyyyy too popular to risk losing business by stopping it.

Allison moved there pretty recently and the guns business her family owns fits in pretty well with the need for safety of the farmer and their livestock from predators and also for the wild game hunters in the late summer through fall hunting season.

Scott and Lydia bonding over being two kids from a divorced family. Scott and Lydia bonding over having pet dogs (Roxy is alive and Prada and her are absolute besties). Scott and Lydia being partners in science projects. Scott and Lydia spending wayy too long staring into each others eyes than how much friends would. Scott and Lydia realizing they want to be more than friends.

Stiles spouting off cool animal facts that Scott 100% already knew but acts like he didn't because both of them are stupidly in love with each other.

Scott meeting Derek when on the job. He can't help but crush over Derek and his enthusiasm over regenerative agricultural practices.

Jackson trying to impress Scott and Stiles by trotting up and down the main street on his horse. (I live laugh love by my Scott/Stiles/Jackson agenda) He also gets his dad to bring his horse over to school so he can just ride on it back home, in hopes of impressing Scott and Stiles but Scott is too invested in Stiles animal facts that they only way Jackson really has a chance was when Scott came over with Deaton for an emergency check up on a rogue cow on their property that was limping bad. Jackson straight up embarasses himself because he's a loser :P but Scott finds the attempt endearing and asks if he'd want to hang out with him and Stiles. It's the beginning of a slippery slope of 'Oh. Oh.' realizations for the three of them.

Scott and Allison meeting each other at the bistro and it starts a blossoming relationship that tugs at the heartstrings. It's cute little notes during class and hanging out at the bistro over hot chocolate even on hot days and going over to each others house to watch TV to cuddle under the same blanket and quick glances at each other and it's so goshdarn cute.

BASICALLY, SCOTT/EVERYONE because I can't choose which ship to go with this au because Scott DESERVES everyone and everyones ALSO DESERVES Scott :D

[lizard-shifter-noms]

Still Subject to Change Epilogue

——————————————————————————-

Hello everyone! i decided to repost arc 1 of SSTC

(the chapters were way too long and had a bunch of typos but hopefully this will make reading easier)

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

if there are still any grammatical errors i’m sorry.

——————————————————————————

Continuing to stand here wouldn’t make that any better.

“Yeah, you are right, I’d better bring these to him, hey you wanna try planting one too?”

I separated about five of the plants and held them towards him as he nodded. 

He gently took them and started putting his tools away.

“Well, i’ll be off then, good luck with the plants and see you later”

He waved and put a few more stones around the perimeter of the garden before continuing to put his stuff back in the toolbox he got from Barsen.

Speaking of Barsen, where was he anyway?

While he had the habit of finding everything in the Garden it was a nightmare to search for him as he sometimes just disappeared into the greenery.

Well, I still didn’t want these to wilt so I’d better find him.

Going methodical might be best here, so I would go back and see if he was near the rock anywhere.

He’d been there last i saw him, and it was likely he’d go back there to collect the plants he asked for.

And I hoped that at this point he finally went to get the wheelbarrow repaired.

Ducking under a branch back into the unobstructed space next to the rock I could see him, so I had been right.

He did come back to collect the plants he asked for, and this time he was not carrying a wheelbarrow on his shoulders.

He turned to face me before i could draw any attention to myself, Once again a bit eerie but he was the gardener and probably knew what made the different sounds in the underbrush.

He smiled when he saw me and the bluebells I was carrying with me and I gently passed them along when I reached him, but instead of once again disappearing like he did so often he looked at me with a serious face.

Uh oh, did I do something wrong?

Did I step on some prized plant as an Ardua?

But it appeared that I was wrong in that aspect.

“There is someone in the main hall that knows your name, your entire name, and he asked to speak to you.

He’s waiting somewhere in front of the throne for you, you better hurry i have no idea how long he’ll actually wait”

Someone that knew my name? My full name at that?

The only ones who I had told that were Robin, Arthur and Rikaad.

So who the fuck waltzed in here with the knowledge of my name?

Well, there was only one way to find out, and I couldn’t deny that I was curious as to who this person was.

And also ask how they knew my name, because that was very weird.

I knew I had not told anyone my name as there really wasn’t much opportunity to since Fae blooded people were basically hunted for sport.

Maybe it was an estranged uncle or something?

After all, claiming to be related to a Fae Bastard was not something people would have freely admitted just a month ago.

Still wouldn’t really.

But if the guy wanted to freeload on the fact that i lived in the castle i would tell him to fuck off.

I now had people that liked me for who I was and not because I was rich or whatever.

I wasn’t even rich either, the only thing I got here was shelter and the occasional sweet treat from the kitchen.

Well, feeding something the size of an Ardua would get fucking expensive really quick so it was good that i could live off of sunlight.

But there were still things I could not resist, like cinnamon bread.

The loaves made by the Castle were really good though.

Speaking of Castle there it was, including the, at least in my opinion, stupidly oversized door.

So the guy that knew my name was in there, I briefly wondered what he would look like but since I was about to go see for myself that wasn’t necessary.

Going in I could see that the room was almost empty, safe for Norrin who was talking to Rikaad and a few other Guards in one of the corners.

And of course the man Barsen had said that he knew my full name.

He wasn’t facing me, he was facing the throne instead and I could see he was tall and had long off-white hair.

Since I couldn’t see his face I couldn’t tell how old he was, but he seemed to be fit, an archer perhaps? Or a dancer?

Maybe the off-white hair threw me out of the loop a bit.

But I could also tell that he was tall, very much so, taller than Rikaad even.

I’d guess he was at least six foot something and he was clad in a weirdly sewn green tunic that had leaves embroidered on the upper part of the sleeves and light beige pants with sturdy boots.

So that was the guy that knew my name and wanted to see me, Well, I’d better greet him then.

“Hello, are you the one that wanted to see me?”

The man turned around and suddenly I wished Barsen would have told me beforehand that this was an Elf, an actual one and not a Bastard.

His pointy ears were even longer than mine so there was no doubt about that, and now it made sense why he was so tall too.

The strangest thing about him however was that he was the palest person i had ever seen and possessed a pair of red eyes that looked like dull rubies.

An albino then, huh, but on top of that he looked eerily like one of those expensive porcelain dolls that Noble children sometimes had.

Something was off about him though, but I couldn’t say what, just an inherent sense that something was weird about him.

His movements were graceful, but seemed overly practiced and his face was like an emotionless mask even as he smiled.

A perfectly symmetrical smile that did not reach his eyes and seemed almost painted on with practice.

He opened his arms in what was probably meant to be a welcoming gesture but to me it still seemed strangely puppet like and practiced.

Then he spoke in a calm and melodious voice, still smiling that weird and a bit unnerving smile of his.

“Hello little Brother”

PREVIOUS / NEXT / OVERSIGHT

[aimmyarrowshigh]

14. What have you been finding frustrating with writing this chapter/fic?

Complain a lil bit at me. I love me some complaining. Brains are the absolute worst, honestly, there has to be a better way to have a consciousness.

GAH, well, since you asked for complaining, haha...

I HAD written all of Lent From Tomorrow. Or, well. I had written fully-fully the first 3/4 of it and had a robust outline and chunklets in the last quarter. So I felt safe to start posting it. I KNOW myself. I am BAD at posting WIPs. I am bad at it. My track record of my entire life illustrates this.

So I started posting it and things were going swimmingly! "Yes!" I told myself. "I'm successfully posting a WIP!"

But then I pulled a WandaVision and went, "oh, dear, everyone consuming this story figured out my red herrings much faster than anticipated, I must CHANGE THE STORY" but not in a "screw the audience over" way like WandaVision, just in a "this reveal comes much sooner than I had written, because otherwise I'm worried it will come across like beating a dead horse to keep dropping hints when y'all already know."

So... that completely undid the back HALF of the story, and I started writing it chapter-by-chapter as I posted, and I was doing okay. It wasn't the weekly update schedule I'd had with the prewritten chapters, but that's fine. It's fanfiction. People go years without updating sometimes, especially me, because I AM BAD AT WIPS. But it was still going okay!

And then April and May happened, and I'm ngl, literally every day of April, something cartoonishly horrible happened in my real life and I did not write a word for the entire month. Or do much of anything. I don't even think I read any comic books. I did zero. And then May was... not much better. Like, maybe something cartoonishly horrible happened every three days instead of every day, but it was still way too much.

I actually wrote more in May than I've written in that same time span since 2024 started, which I'm really proud of myself for -- I wrote 14,000 words (plus like 800 words of unpostable noodling) in three weeks, and that's not, like, Impressive or Enough but it's better than I've been able to produce in a while. I told myself just focus on the drabbles and tiny ficlets that were coming out of the prompt/pairing list I'd set up for myself for MLMay, and I tried not to freak myself out, and words happened, and it was nice! And then the last week of May also happened and we're back to Very Bad Brain Times.

So... I know what happens in the last quarter of Lent. I WANT to be writing it. But my brain is just not "together" enough right now to slip into the mindset for such a heavy-duty, plotty, researchy, emotional longfic, and I'm just spiraling and making myself feel even worse by getting more and more anxious about how long it's taking me to write it.

I know, logically, that it's not a huge deal. If people are gonna stick around to read what comes next, they will, and if they don't, they don't, and that's fine. That's how posting serial fiction works. I mean, that's even how TV used to work in the before-streaming times, and it's not like I worried about the feelings of a showrunner if I got behind on a show or decided it went somewhere I didn't care to follow. That's just serialized art! It's fine! I know logically that it's fine!

But reader, Emotionally, It Is Not Fine. I love this story so much, and I'm so invested in actually finishing something for once and I've stupidly pinned like... a lot of my beliefs about my Worth As A Person on "whether I can finish and successfully post an entire longfic," which, I get it, that in itself is not the biggest issue at play here, but whatever. Baby steps. And I just... it sounds so stupid. And I KNOW that it's small potatoes.

I just want people to like it.*

And I know that every passing day that I don't update, fewer people are going to read it and/or like it, and that also feeds the Bad Brain Spiral. And I don't know.

So tl;dr, the most frustrating part of writing this chapter is myself? I guess????

*Before anyone jumps in to whine about and/or laugh at this statement, I'm not saying "I want it to be a stucky fandom classic," or anything ridiculous like that. I literally just mean that I want the people who choose to read it to enjoy it enough to finish it and maybe have an emotionally positive experience from reading it.

**I also feel very. This is another dumb complaint that I know won't come across right, because internet, but -- I feel very like... separated from stucky fandom (in part because I'm a newer fan who came to the fandom after its heyday, in part because I don't like a lot of currently-popular fanons, in part because I am way too shy for Discord?) and I feel bad bugging uninterested people with thoughts/feelings about my own stories, so I've kind of just... stoppered up my excitement for this story for a long time. Also, an asshole ex-friend of mine straight-up told me that "stuckies are going to hate it because there isn't enough sex and it's really boring for being a fic, especially since it's Steve POV and not Bucky POV" and that just kind of made me feel like. I couldn't squee about the story. And it's HARD to write longfic and not feel like you can share it with people??? IDK. Stuff and thoughts. Whatever. etc.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

destroyer chris and reader like cheers? maybe she ran away from a wedding and ends up at his bar

pairing: bar owner destroyer!chris x reader

She didn't know how she'd ended up here. She'd grown up happy, or at least, happy-ish. Her parents weren't rich but they weren't at the bottom of the feed chain, they'd help her get into an Ivy League school and somehow in the middle, they'd gotten distracted. They'd gotten distracted by having a daughter marry into a wealthy family, the lifestyle that came with old money and soon enough, she found herself trying to make a relationship work just to make her parents happy - after all, didn't her parents deserve this after doing so much for her? She didn't know, but just like she found herself trying to make a relationship work, she was now finding herself escaping from a window. She should've called it off, she should've stopped this the moment she noticed she didn't even like the dress or her fiancé for all that matter.

She didn't know where she was, she didn't know this place, this town, this city. It had all been picked to match a tradition which she didn't even understand and now she was walking across a dirt road trying to hail a taxi, even though she barely had money to get back home. She didn’t know when but at some point she began crying, she was cold, she was tired and all she wanted to go is go back home. Maybe her roommate could lend her some money so she could fly back home or she could come and pick her up. She just needed a phone, she just needed to find a phone to call her. After what felt like walking for miles, her feet numb from the white heels, she spotted a small biker bar and it seemed as if she reached oasis. However, once she stepped inside, it was if all eyes were on her. 

      - Look at that, Bill. - she heard a male voice followed by a whistle. - A pretty little bride. 

      - Come on, girlie, come seat with us. 

She had stupidly thought that perhaps this bar would have a standing phone - at least they always do in movies. Yet again, perhaps it had been naive of hers to base of her safety on movie knowledge. She felt stupid, ridiculous that she didn’t thought about what to do if her plan A didn’t work. 

     - If you’re not gonna buy something, you gonna have to leave. - a man from behind the bar spoke up. She locked eyes with him and he honestly did not look like he would help her. In all honesty, he looked like the kind of man she would avoid on the street. His hair was shaved on the sides and his fingers covered in bulky silver rings, she would’ve definitely avoid him if this was any situation. - Hey, Diane Chambers, you listening to me? 

She didn’t know why and once she felt the first warm tear roll down her cheeks, all she could feel is embarrassment, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop the tears from coming down. She’d gotten herself in a mess and she didn’t know what to do, she just wanted to go back to her flat, she just wanted to go back to the flat. 

     - Hey, come on, stop crying. - she hadn’t noticed that he’d crossed the bar to meet her. - Please, stop crying. You’re killing the mood and driving away costumers. 

      - I’m sorry. - she attempted to stop crying, but the tears were still running down her face and the hiccups were still present. 

      - Jesus, woman, your guy dumped you or something? 

      - I ran away and I thought that there would be a phone so I could call my roommate, I’m so sorry ...

      - Didn’t think your plan through, did you?

      - Didn’t you think about costumer service before taking a job here? 

      - This is my bar, doll. I can do whatever the heck I deem fit. Hell, I can put you outside if I want to. 

      - I just need to call my roommate and I’ll be out of your hair, not that you have much to begin with. 

      - I’ll do anything to see you out of my bar. - he grabbed his phone from the pocket of his jeans, handing it over to her. - Come on, I don’t want to see your and your horrible dress for much longer. 

     - Thank you.

Her roommate sounded too excited that her friend was no longer engaged, a bit too excited; yet Y/N couldn’t really complain. All she wanted was to run away from this place, to be somewhere else and even if that was Georgia’s run down car. She finished the call feeling slightly calmer than before. She just needed Georgia to come pick her up so she wouldn’t come back to that hellish wedding and make the worse mistake of her life.

    - Here. - he placed a pint of Coke in front of her. - Your friend coming to pick you up?

    - She said so but with New York traffic. 

    - I don’t think she’ll actually get here. Fucking storm going towards New York last I checked. 

    - Do you take pleasure in torturing me? Isn’t it enough that I’m in an awful wedding dress in a biker bar? Isn’t that enough?

    - Could be worse. - he took his phone back. - I would start to try and look for a motel if I were you.

Chris, on the other hand, found himself entranced by the woman. Sure, the fact that she was wearing a white wedding dress that seemed to swallow her made her very noticeable - but there was something else he couldn’t put his finger on. The time passed, the customers started to leave but she remained there, staring at the frosted glass in front of her.  The sun went down and she continued there, staring at her glass as the wind and the rain fell faster than before. Deep within her she knew the rude bartender was probably right and she was about to have to go outside in the pouring rain. The last customer left, the only two people remaining being her and the bartender. 

     - You want me to drop you at the motel? - he mumbled as he finished polishing some glasses. - It ain’t much but usually they have free bedrooms. 

     - I can’t. - she sighed. - I left my phone and my wallet at the bridal suite. Unless they accept a wedding dress as a form of payment, I am fucked. 

     - Didn’t think that exit through, did ya? 

     - Are you gonna keep telling me that? You think if I had thought anything through I would’ve gone ahead with this marriage?

     - Fella can’t be that bad. Call him, I’m sure he’d let you crash in your bridal suite.

     - He’s probably thinking about how he can sue me for running away from the wedding at this moment. 

     - You’re a pain, Diane Chambers. - he walked away from the bar, sitting in front of her. - Maybe you can make a pillow out of all that fabric. 

      - Thank you for your phone. - she got up. - I have to go and figure out where I’m staying until Georgia comes. 

       - You’re not gonna find anything close by. The motel is a 30 minute car-drive and it is pouring rain outside. Just stay here until your friend comes to pick you up.  

       - I don’t need your pity. 

       - Oh, doll, I don’t pity you. Spoiled rich girl ran away from her wedding? I’m laughing at you, yet at the same time, I don’t want ‘ya dying anywhere near my bar and bringing bad publicity.

       - Bad publicity? To a biker bar? That’s rich. 

       - Offer is fading every second. 

       - I guess. 

He guided her upstairs where a few doors were locked. She wondered if this had been a bed and breakfast before or if he had attempted to turn it into a bed and breakfast ad had quit. Whatever reason it was, she was happy to find a warm bed awaiting her, a soft place to land and forget that she was still wearing her wedding clothing. 

      - Thank you. - she mumbled. - I will pay you once I get my wallet. 

      - I seriously doubt it, doll. Anyway, we open at 6AM, you’ll probably hear it. 

      - That’s ok. 

      - Well ... - he puts his hands in his pockets. - Goodnight, Diane Chambers. 

      - My name’s Y/N. - she said. - I’d rather you call me Y/N. 

      - Chris. Anyway, my bedroom is two doors down the hall if you need me. 

(...)

The day broke, yet she did not wake up with the sound of the glasses clinking and everyone cheering and drinking until she heard a knock on her door. She groaned, yawning as she got up from the pillow, her legs twisted in the fabric of her wedding dress as another knock was heard. God, was someone dying?

     - Y/N. - a familiar voice had her slightly more alert. - There’s a jittery nightmare of a woman looking for you.

     - Georgia! - she mumbled happily to herself, getting up from the bed and opening the door to see Chris standing there in a very low cut shirt. Low cut enough to make her cheeks heat. - Is it Georgia?

     - Whoever it is, get her out my bar.

She rushed down the stairs to find her friend, looking confused and worried about where she was. Georgia had always been a indie bar sort of person, Y/N guessed a biker bar was not something she’d be interested in, unless she found someone attractive or interesting enough to keep her around. 

     - Oh god, you’re alive. - she rushed to hug her friend. - That dress is an absolute disgrace! I’m so glad I RSVP no to your wedding.

     - If you’d gone you would’ve saved me the hassle. 

     - You know I hate your fiancé ... well, ex-fiancé now but don’t worry, I got a moving company to get whatever’s yours from his flat, and your bridesmaids got you your phone and wallet.

     - Thanks, G. I’m sorry you had to drive down so early.

     - Would’ve been here earlier if it wasn’t for shitty New York weather. Anyway, should we get going? We can get McDonalds on the way home. 

     - As long as you two are out of my bar. - Chris snickered from behind them. - Try not to run away from any more weddings, Diane Chambers.

     - Who’s Diane Chambers? - Georgia turned towards Y/N. 

     - Nevermind. - Y/N sighed. - Thank you, Chris. Really, I’m really thankful.

     - Whatever. - he mumbled.

(...)

Running a bar was easy, Chris found. It didn’t take much brain power as most customers were too drunk or too busy in their own thoughts to cause him any trouble. Days were the same and he was alright with it, he was alright with serving alcohol and peanuts and cleaning glasses. It was much better than his past position and despite bikers gathering a bad rep, they didn’t cause him that much trouble. 

    - Heard the little bride spent the night here. - Bill looked at him through his beer glass. - Did you have fun? 

    - Wouldn’t you like to know, Bill?

    - Wouldn’t hurt ‘ya to sleep with a nice lady every once in a while. 

    - I gotta save all the ladies for you, Bill. - he smirked. - Besides, the last thing I need is a spoiled rich girl in my bed. 

    - That’s not very nice. - he turned towards the source of the voice to see her standing there. He almost didn’t recognise her not in her wedding dress. Instead of the copious amounts of lace and silk, she was dress in smart clothing, a tight black pencil skirt and a white see through blouse. Heck, Chris was almost sure he could smell her perfume and it was doing ... things to him. - You would be so lucky to a spoiled rich girl in your bed. 

    - It’s the little bride. - Bill turned around in his seat. - Came back from me, sweets? 

    - Drink your beer. - Chris rolled his eyes. - Diane Chambers, you clean up nice. Run away from a meeting this time?

    - I came to pay you. - she took her wallet from her bag. - How much is it for the night?

    - I don’t need your charity.

    - It’s not charity. I’m paying you for your services.

    - Well, I don’t need it. - he shrugged. 

    - I’d like another Coke then. - she sat down. - Would you like something, sir? I’m buying. 

    - You should come around more often. - Bill happily got another beer. 

Chris wasn’t sure when it became part of his routine to see her in his bar every Friday night. She clearly didn’t fit, always walking in her smart clothing, looking like a sheep in a wolf’s den. The usual bikers had taken a liking to her, treating her like their daughter but Chris was yet to warm up to her. They were not similar, she was a lawyer at a prestigious law firm and he, well, he ran a bar. 

    - Why do you have so many bedrooms upstairs? - she asked as he finished cleaning up some glasses. 

    - Came with the place when I bought it. 

    - You could make a little bed and a breakfast. 30 minutes away from New York, people would like it. 

    - It’s in the middle of nowhere, little lawyer Diane. 

    - Would it kill you to call me Y/N? 

    - Yes, actually. - he shrugged. - Should you be heading back home?

    - I guess maybe I should call you Sam Malone. You’re just as a much of an asshole. - she smiled. 

    - Ooo ... mean. - he chuckled. - Hanging out here is not gonna find you a new fiancé.

    - Being this grumpy won’t find you a fiancée either. 

    - Don’t need a lady all up on my business. 

    - If I didn’t know you better, I’d say someone broke your non-existent heart. 

He placed a glass back on the shelf in a rather forceful manner, ignoring her. Y/N furrowed her brows, looking around the empty bar and wondering if she’d hit a soft spot. 

    - Who broke your heart? - she asked, softly this time. 

    - I thought you said I had a non-existent heart, Y/N. 

    - Y/N? Wow, I must’ve hit a really painful spot for you to call me by my name. - she attempted to lightened the mood but it didn’t work. Instead, he continued drying and polishing his glasses. - I’m sorry if I hurt you, Chris. I didn’t mean to. 

    - My fianceé took a page from your book and ran away from our wedding. 

    - Oh ...

    - With my best friend. Got the money from the wedding refunds and the deposit from the house and bought this bar. Trust me, I don’t need a lady all up in my business, specially if they all run away at weddings. 

    - Is that why you were rude to me when I first came here?

    - Don’t be over conceited. I was rude to you because you get in my nerves.

    - Well, I can’t get that much on your nerves if you offered me to stay and still let me drink here. 

    - The only reason I let you drink here is because Bill likes you around. 

    - Sure. - she got up from her seat, picking her bag. - Well, goodnight, Chris.

    - Diane? - he called up to her. - You coming next week?

    - I don’t know. - she smirked. - Maybe. 

    - Don’t be a pain and arrive 5 minutes before closure or I’ll throw you off one day. 

    - Goodnight, Chris.

    - Goodnight, Y/N. 

[giggly-squiggily]

~Nozel Silva Headcanons~

Hi hello your girl Squiggily is brain rotting still over this beautiful man so here's me yelling about him for however long it takes me to write these :P

~For tickly headcanons~

First things first we must address the elephant in the room: He does his own hair. Actually, he does all his siblings hair- he had since they were toddlers. He's got that whole "personal bubble, back off" attitude to pretty much everyone that breathes, so he feels more comfortable doing it himself. Also- big brother energy.

Absolutely believes in ghosts- not just curses but spirits and such (might also believe in Yokai- thanks Yami) He'd never admit it cause he doesn't want to come off a coward or weak, but if there's a loud noise in the middle of the night you KNOW he's searching for whatever the sound is, grimoire in hand. One time Solid dropped a spoon during a midnight snack run and a half-asleep bed headed, no shirt, battle ready Nozel busted in like: "BRING IT ON DEMONS!"

No one knows after the first time he treated Noelle harshly he flew up high into the sky with his mercury bird and screamed until his throat was raw and the tears on his face stopped feeling like acid. Nor does anyone know about the sting in his palms from digging his nails in when sitting by Fuegoleon's bed, willing him to come back. He's too proud of a person to ever let even his family see him break.

He's feather sensitive- I'm calling it like it is. His neck isn't even that ticklish but if you manage to steal a feather off his uniform and torment him with it he'll die. (Rill found paint brushes also worked nicely for this- he almost lost them though through a sludge of mercury. He's since got Yami and Fuego to help.)

Has a stupidly nice singing voice- especially when it comes to lullabies. Before all the bad happened, he used to sing to Noelle when she was a baby, rocking her in his arms as he hummed out a song their mom sang him. He won't ever confess to it, but sometimes if it's late and his guard is down you can catch him still singing it.

Nozel's got a sharp glare and even sharper tongue, so verbal comfort isn't...his forte. That said, he has the patience of a saint and has the best advice for most if not every situation. He looks at things logically, and if you can get past his sharp tongue you'd find a rather helpful solution waiting for you. (That said- he isn't stubborn; if you feel like he's being too harsh or blunt say something. He will try to soften his words if requested.)

Absolutely amazing with kids. No one expects it cause he's so...him, but he grew up with three younger siblings and two of them still act like brats even today so he's got the whole child thing down. Whether he actually wants kids depends heavily on where he's at in canon- pre You-Know-What, absolutely not. Post You-Know-What, maybe? He'd be a good dad y'all I'm calling it (Credit to @/duckymcdoorknob for Dad!Nozel thoughts)

Very few things make him laugh naturally but the ones that do are as follows: Fuegoleon attempting to cook; the one time Solid as a kid tried to feed a goose and got chased for a good 30 minutes (he still grins at the memory from time to time) and watching Mereoleona and Fuegoleon bicker. It won't earn you full belly laughs (Well- Fuego's cooking and the goose memory will) but you'll see him smiling in his hand from time to time.

For someone so proud, if you're his S/O and kiss his cheek without warning, he will get so flustered. I'm talking ears bright red, stammering through his words, won't meet your eyes cause he's suddenly very interested in the ground or the thread of his sandals or just- anything else. It's stupid cute and he'll never acknowledge it. Same thing if you kiss his hand, he's DEAD.

Can't draw to save his life. Even his stick figures look bad. "Hey Nozel why are you drawing a wiggly turd on your notes?" "....it's a stick figure, Rill." "*sucks teeth*.....yikes." Yami hasn't let him live that one down, even after Nozel threatened to stab him with a pen.

That's all I got for now! Thanks for reading!

[vizthedatum]

You were causing so much of my self-doubt!!! I tried so hard. I tried so hard to listen to you.

You would tell me how you were hurt after you lashed out at me. After I was hurt.

I did not reverse the situation - it was my situation.

You crossed my boundary REPEATEDLY when I begged you that I needed to step away or when I needed a break from the emotional conversation/argument.

So when I said “you can hurt me for as long as you’d like” - I mean what other choice did I have? You wouldn’t stop yelling at me. You were hurting me.

I called myself a monster BECAUSE I WAS MADE TO FEEL LIKE ONE.

You told me that I lost all your trust.

That’s why I said it. Because you told me.

You did publicly shame me. Your friend thought I was going to kill people with my “covid-risk taking behavior.”

I am not making this up.

—

Do you know how much I “covered” for you?

People were already concerned. I loved you. I tried to listen and be there as much as I could. I sincerely attempted to hold you and your feelings. You hurt me over and over again. I was so dysregulated. And then when I started being social again. When I started to go out with people. I realized what I had done. I covered for you too much.

People didn’t think I was unreasonable. I was able to speak more! Like I used to. People didn’t think my logic was unreasonable. When I kissed people, they would kiss me back. I didn’t realize you weren’t really kissing me back. When people were upset, we could talk about it. I was over explaining things constantly - because you had me do this - because I had to justify all my actions. Was this just a game to you to soothe your ego? People trusted me - and I could tell nonverbally. You questioned so much of what I did - were you curious or were you abusive? You were inflexible in the worst way - remember how I refused to make any commitments about doing things because how much you’d lash out at me?

Back to when you forced me to isolate after I went to a party full of my immunocompromised friends:

If you really had all this to say to me - if I really was making you suicidal - then WHY THE FUCK DID YOU REFUSE TO GO TO COUPLE’S COUNSELING OR MY REQUEST OF HAVING A THIRD PARTY WITNESS OUR ARGUMENTS?

Why did you get mad at me as I tried to figure out how I could help us?

I kept trying. Have you told your friends how much I tried and how much … you didn’t. What was your plan? Have me shut up and just pretend? What the fuck did you want me to do. I already told my therapist the stuff you had me read to her about my actions.

You *convinced* me that this was my problem. That I was the problem.

But my meds were working. All my psych meds have been working for a while now. My therapist and psychiatrist assured me I was sane but traumatized.

I felt like I was burning up. I didn’t admit how emotionally damaged I was from you - because I stupidly thought that the level of emotional and physical abuse I had already endured were more serious.

But the more time I spent with other people… and more time away from you, I realized how warped you and our relationship truly was.

*sobs*

You weren’t beating me or raping me - but you were murdering my soul and feeding on it. And then you violated my touch boundaries. And then you didn’t even pretend to have empathy. And then you looked at me like I was an object. You looked at me so many times when I was crying or trembling or shaken or panicked or medically sedated so much - it is obvious - and you chose to keep wearing me down.

Wtf was the sex we were having?! No pretense? You weren’t having sex WITH me - you were having sex with someone who was so touch-starved, so affection-starved that they willingly decided to give up everything that they wanted so that they could get a breadcrumb of any physical affection.

You had me so scared to touch you but we had sex anyway - so I just didn’t touch you and let you do whatever you wanted to me. My pleasure was way too much work so you didn’t bother. You stopped taking care of me a long time ago - I felt so unwanted. Sometimes I didn’t even want sex. I wanted you to actually have passion for me instead of being just some body that turned you on. You cuddled me often and I was so grateful, but you did it for you - not for me. Sometimes you didn’t even bother doing anything except what would get you off because washing yourself or your hands was such a chore.

You weren’t a selfish lover - I can handle those. You were using me without checking to see if I wanted to be used like that. You used my sex drive and my ability to push myself mentally/physically to fuel your own narcissistic desires.

You used sex as a weapon.

You ruined my favorite activity. And then you shamed me for it later. You slut shamed me. You kink shamed me. You shamed me for my sex drive. You shamed me for my attraction. You shamed me.

I’d initiate and it would be too much. And then I would be too much.

You’d initiate and you would take any rejection so poorly that I’d just say yes. Plus I didn’t think I’d get a chance to be touched the way I wanted so I said yes.

Who initiated on my birthday, minutes before we went to the ER because I was in so much pain? I don’t know but I said yes because I just wanted to be close to you. 😭 it is so surreal to feel wanted when you’re not really wanted while being told all the love-bombing things that you crave to hear.

-

And now I’m falling apart but holding together best as I can. I’m so upset. I am really trying to help myself but I’m GRIEVING. And I’m so traumatized. I can’t hold it in.

I just didn’t imagine things could get better again.

Good things are happening. Amidst the chaos and uncertainty.

And it makes me feel so horrible to know I could have been stuck like that if I didn’t believe in myself.

I told myself and ppl that I left partially because I loved you. And it was true.

You told me I hurt you so much that I left, finally.

And now I’m writing about my experience in the most haphazard way.

And my friends are reaching out. I didn’t know if anyone would believe me - my initial writings (when I left) gave you so much benefit of the doubt.

My friends SAVED me. Everyone I talked to in the past year SAVED me.

Do you know how much I protested that you weren’t abusing me? 😭😭 do you know?

I protested against myself constantly.

My heart was already broken but I just didn’t want to feel it.

And now I do.

—

“But I’m autistic and traumatized!!”

SO AM I, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, AND I AM GETTING HELP. Your abuse has caused me so much harm, I literally have evidence of PHYSICAL DAMAGE, and I know there is brain damage.

[chaosbutautism]

“So, Lucky, where did you go on your…’break’?”

“I..uh, I don’t really know. The place, I mean.”

Freddy looked at him with a professional neutrality; calm, polite, yet to the point. This must be how he acts with clients, such a far cry from his usual dry sarcasm.

“Were you lead there or was one of Miss Nightingale’s…capabilities used?”

“She blindfolded me, dragged me through the room and then suddenly I was somewhere else! I mean, I can do a bit of magic myself, it’s a perk of the job, but no teleportation for me.”

“Mhm. Could you describe the space you were taken to? Please make it as detailed as possible.”

“It was a large room, like, really large. It had some dividers and partition walls to section the space off though. The ceiling had a bunch of different drawings on it, the Cycle symbol in the middle, that’s the same symbol as Oletus uses as its crest, and a bunch of…animals. Mostly crows and birds, but others too.”

Freddy motioned him to halt dis rambling, the sound of a typewriter quickly clacking out whatever notes the Lawyer was making onto paper. Once he was done, Lucky continued.

“The floor was regular hardwood, like almost all the flooring at the manor. Sometimes it was broken up by stupidly chic carpets. They were soft, sure, but they were so detailed they should’ve been hung on a wall instead of walked over. There were no windows and no doors and the room was lit up by chandeliers. They looked like they were made of brass or something.”

Freddy’s fingers were typing at a mesmerizing speed. It went so fast, there was a slight bit of motion blur.

“It was always comfortably warm in the room, which was nice. It smelled of lavender. There was this ridiculously huge bed, so big I could lay spread-eagle in the middle and would still have a good bit of room on either side. The closet was huge too, but locked. My clothing, all loungewear, was put in drawers at the bottom. There was a giant bath, with constant warm water, a fancy dinner table with very fancy plates and stuff. There was a really soft couch, lots of books and a fireplace. It was so obviously expensive, I felt guilty just for staying there. I think it might’ve been Miss Nightingale’s room.”

After two minutes of furious typing, Freddy looked back up.

“Thank you. The description was sufficient. Lucky, could I ask you why you were, as you say it, ‘put on leave’?”

“Ehm…I hand an incident with a hunter.”

“A violent one?”

“Not really. A hunter, the…uh, clown one, came in. He didn’t even say anything before I had, like, just the biggest panic attack ever! Like, I threw up and passed out. I walked around with a fever for a week after! The worst part was, it kept happening. I’d see this guy come in, almost die from my brain feeding me panic chemicals and get sick for a week afterwards. Miss Nightingale temporarily took me out of commission to, according to her, ‘solve some internal issues’. I was forced into a lot of rest, warm food and so much medicine. She’d bring me pills, refuse to tell me what they did, claim it was in ‘the contract’ and make me take them. I don’t even have a contract!”

“No contract…I think you might be working illegally. Are you sure you haven’t signed anything?”

“…No. I don’t want to talk about this one anymore.”

Freddy nodded, showing his willingness to back off.

“Alright. Have your Smileyface-related ailments stopped now that you’ve finished your leave?”

“Mostly. I’m still nervous whenever he comes in and Miss Nightingales takes over whenever he wants to buy something, but for the rest I’m fine.”

“That’s good to hear. I am sorry for the unprompted interrogation and the abduction beforehand…I have been worried about you.”

“Freddy—“

“The only human staff other than you was coerced into handling the physical affairs of the manor and human experimentation. I think I have a right to worry about you. You disappeared for a long time, Lucky. Half the manor essentially believed we were lying about you, until you came back. After our much less civil interrogation of Orpheus, we were horrified of what he went through. I just…needed to know that you are alright.”

“I was—am fine, just a bit lonely at the time. I don’t work directly for whatever creature runs this place, Miss Nightingale is my boss. She’s a bit strict and doesn’t like me socializing, but she cares…in her own way. I haven’t , and probably never will, seen the big big boss. Miss Nightingale is too happy with her assistant to let me get taken.”

Freddy hums. They drink the last of their tea in silence. Freddy stores his notes in a folder with the label ‘Manor—Affiliates’ that in turn gets locked into a safe. He sells an excuse about Lucky helping him move some newly purchased furniture, something he actually did buy to make it believable, to Miss Nightingale. Lucky doesn’t get in trouble. All is well. Lucky’s back.

Sometimes I wonder where Lucky disappeared to after Miss Nightingale sent him on a "break." (Literally made the au)

Was he just at the back? Forced to listen to his friends' voices coming and going, hearing new voices join the fray?

Somewhere else entirely? A pocket dimension? Wondering when would be the next time he'd be able to see the lawyer who always made him laugh with his sarcastic humor? The thief he always gave not-miss-nightingale approved discounts?

The gardener who always stayed behind an extra minute or two to browse the shop with stars in her eyes? The doctor who left him snacks and drinks whenever there was a special occasion?

Maybe he was just hidden away in the manor, kept out of sight and right under everyone's noses. Despite the number of newcomers that arrive, making the manor more lively, Lucky has never felt so alone.