#will probably post this on ao3 today

[dear-ao3]

i think the japan update of the f1 silly season post may in fact be the thing that kills me. this is all for you all.

[blitzwhore]

Ship: Andrealphus x Vassago Word: Ocean Number: 374

Oooh, what a good prompt! I love the ocean 🩵 here you go, 374 words of Vassalphus + ocean:

“It's quite stunning, don't you think?”

When no reply came, Vassago tore his eyes from the dark, imposing waves of the Atlantic to glance at Andrealphus. The peacock was leaning forward, his cheek resting on an elegant hand. His eyes parted from the ocean momentarily, and scanned Vassago's face briefly before returning to the relentless waves.

“Why are we here, Vassago?”

Vassago, too, looked back at the sea, then at the Milky Way above. Sighing, he leaned back, resting his hands on the rock behind him.

“Because it helps,” he admitted in a low voice that still felt too loud for comfort, even next to the roaring waves. “It's easy to get overwhelmed down there, you know. I find that visiting the mortal realm can be a good reminder of how… small and fleeting some of our problems really are.” Leaning forward again, he hugged his knees, resting his chin on them. “I thought it might help you, too. You've seemed… off, lately.”

For a moment, neither spoke. Uncaring, a wave crashed against the rocks below, sending drops of water high enough to dampen some of their feathers.

Then, Andrealphus stood. “This is stupid.”

Vassago was already on his feet.

“Andrealphus, wait,” he pleaded, wrapping a hand around the peacock's slender wrist. “Please. I just want to help you.”

“You, better than anyone else, know what my duties are, Vassago.” Andrealphus did not turn to look at him, though he also didn't pull away from Vassago's grasp.

Standing tall under the earthly sky, with nothing but the moon and stars illuminating his glimmering back, he looked nothing short of beautiful.

“I do not need help,” he murmured. “And even if I did, there's nothing you can do, Vassago. So I suggest you stay out of it.”

“I can't,” he breathed, hoping Andrealphus would hear his desperation over the thundering waves. “I'm too involved.”

I want you, were the words he didn't dare say out loud. I care for you. I wish you'd trust me.

Andrealphus’ shoulders slumped. He tugged lightly at his wrist, and Vassago let go, breath held.

“Please,” he begged one last time, though he knew it was hopeless.

After a painful, endless moment, Andrealphus waved a hand and portaled silently away.

(On AO3)

[courfeyrec]

saw ao3 off to war (scheduled maintenance) with tears in my eyes this evening

[angstigone]

ngl I think I give up on tumblr.

[nejackdaw]

Also speaking of ao3, what the hell do you put on there. Like. I'll occasionally consider posting my Celann posts there but (1) the paralyzing and mortifying ordeal of being known (2) how the fuck do you tag things over there (<- should know this with how often I'm there) (3) most of my Celann posts are little drabbles, I should put those in one work, right??? So they're contained???? Do I just leave that Chapter x/??? so it doesn't show up as completed and then months later I add something else? (4) I become the embodiment of self doubt every time I consider it. Like I consider it. But also. The Horrors. But also there's like nothing in the ao3 Celann tag. But again, the Horrors

[alfhildr-the-word-weaver]

When I think about it, I think one of my favorite things about the Curse of DarKastle lore is how it presents an almost comical inversion of the classic Beauty and the Beast story. Instead of being rude to and angering a witch who curses him to be trapped in a beastly form until true love can break his curse, Prince Ludwig gets startled by a witch and howls, to which she responds by bestowing werewolf powers upon him--I don't think the ride specifies, but it seems like he can turn at will? Or it may have been more emotionally linked. But in any case, it's not presented as a curse (in spite of the ride's name -- I think that comes later when everyone gets trapped as ghosts, at least in my interpretation) but rather as a gift in service of his "dark destiny". She prophetically tells him that he's going to become the "wicked ruler of a corrupt kingdom" and then turns into a wolf herself and actively guides him in overthrowing his parents and ruling the kingdom with an iron fist. It's like the same setup as the witch in Beauty and the Beast, only instead of trying to teach him a moral lesson, the witch in Curse of DarKastle looked at this awful little prince and went "I can make him worse" and then enabled and encouraged his many subsequent murders. It's such a wild story setup for a ride and I kind of love how bonkers it is.

[snek-of-eden]

happy trektober everyone!!!

[purgatory-is-life]

Warmth and Cuddling - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

hey guys. do u want to read my mechs fluff that i wrote

[skoulsons]

“Ellie?”

She had kept herself closed off most of the day, doing as much as skipping meals, not sketching, and declining their routine movie night.

Joel turned the knob, opening the door only slightly. “Ellie?”

“What?” She bit. She was around the corner, still in bed.

He bit his cheek. “Can I come in?”

She sniffled, a mumbled yeah from around the corner to let him know it was okay. He entered, keeping the door somewhat open behind him. He found her on her back, covers pulled up to her shoulders as she stared at the ceiling, counting imaginary stars.

The look on her face was a sure sign, as any, that things were not good.

He sat by her feet, the corner of the mattress sinking down as he sat, her feet following suit and lightly falling against his lower back.

“Do you need something?”

Joel inhaled and exhaled. He kept his hands awkwardly in his lap. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“Why? I’m fine,” she grumbled, eyes still glued to the ceiling.

“You sure?”

She wasn’t. She knew she wasn’t fine. Every possible thought about Joel, Tommy, Maria, Riley, Sam, or Henry that wasn’t positive made its way to the forefront of her brain, twisting everything she knew about them. Making her believe things that she was sure weren’t true. Convincing her of truths that were hard to shake.

Everything is still so new to them. Young and needing navigation and direction. Their relationship and being together now, no plan in sight of leaving or disregarding the other.

She has someone in her life now who cares about her. Who has cared about her for over a year. Someone who dedicates every single day to being present. Who always makes breakfast for the two of them. Someone who holds her when she cries and who lifts her up even higher when she’s happy. Who carries her to bed when she needs it and finds her new comics when he’s outside the walls. Who protects her at every moment and encourages her to eat and shower when she struggles.

Someone who loves her.

And that revelation is what makes these days even harder.

“Hey…” he nudged, turning his body slightly more towards her. “What’s goin’ on, baby?”

Ellie sighed, closing her eyes tightly, waves of colors forming in the black of her vision the harder she squeezed. She opened them, her eyesight wavering as tears pooled at her eyelids. The imaginary stars on the ceiling kept her gaze, still avoiding Joel’s concern.

“Today just… hasn’t been good.”

And while he knew it, hearing it from her still hurts to know. Whatever happened, it hurts to know she’s struggling.

“I think it’s been little worse than hasn’t been good.” It felt inappropriate to point out her near crying and the tight-lipped expression on her face in an attempt to keep her emotions at bay.

“I’m just… having fucked up thoughts,” she sighed, tracing all the constellations she knew into the white of the ceiling.

Joel didn’t say anything. In all honesty, he didn’t know what to say.

Neither of them were the best at talking. Sharing something that pissed them off, frustrated them, or upset them and navigating that conversation in a healthy manner always felt like forcefully pulling teeth before they ever broke the surface of the gums.

Joel hopes his silence is an invitation for her to continue. He wants to help, to walk through what bothering her with her.

“I…,” she started, choking slightly on the syllable. “I feel like people don’t care. They don’t care, they don’t…love.”

Joel tilted his head to the side, eyeing her avoidant gaze.

Ellie brought her hand up and wiped it across her right temple. Her voice wavered, her lip quivering as she spoke, “me.”

Joel had an inclination, but hearing it still hurt all the same.

“I feel like people…” she paused, sniffled heavily. She lazily raised her arm off the bed in his direction, “you… don’t.”

Frustrated, Ellie sat up, her back making content with the headboard harder than she intended. She locked eyes with him momentarily before avoiding his gaze again, fixing hers around the room. Her dresser, a heap of clothes on the floor, her blinds, and the open door.

She stopped keeping her head upright and let the crown of her head fall back, banging against the headboard. She sighed, a wet, embarrassing laugh escaping her. “I… I know. I know you do. I do. But sometimes, I just… get convinced you don’t.”

She fiddles with her hands in her lap as her tears threaten to spill over, Ellie massaging her fingers and cracking her knuckles, even with nothing left to crack. She picks at her cuticles and nails uncomfortably, clearing her throat to get rid of the tight burning that has coated it.

“What convinces you?” Joel asked, his eyes looking twenty years younger—like he’s talking to someone else entirely. Like he’s held a similar conversation before.

His question stumps her.

And she realizes it’s nothing. Nothing has ever convinced her. Nothing could convince her that Joel doesn’t care about her. Nothing could ever truly convince her that Joel doesn’t love her.

He may get frustrated over something. He may be extra tired some days. He may spend a little more strength some days fighting his own demons that it’s hard to be there 100% for her.

But those things don’t mean he doesn’t love her. They don’t mean he wouldn’t lay down his life for her at any given moment. They don’t mean he doesn’t look at her with anything less than adoration, devotion, and appreciation for who she is. Who she is and what she has come to mean to him.

“Have I ever done anything-“

She cut him off. “No. No, no. Fuck no, never.” She threw the crown of her against the headboard again, a few tears spilling down the side of her face and flowing along her jawline. She hastily wiped them away, clearing her throat.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I guess I… don’t think I deserve it or something. So I look at you or Tommy or I… I remember Riley or Sam or anyone else and I… I think they don’t—didn’t care.”

She knows they do. Riley—she knows. Sam she knows. Henry, too. Tommy and Maria—she knows. Joel—he she knows better than any of the others.

“I remember them or I…” she brought her head down from her gaze on the ceiling and looked at him, clearly, for the first time. “I look at you and I wonder why.”

She cries. Her lips pressed together, not enough breath in her lungs to combat the tears falling down her face and slipping down her neck, soaking the collar of her shirt. She wipes and wipes and wipes until her tear-soaked hands can’t catch anymore and they flow freely. She dries her hands on her sheets and it’s still not enough to catch every single one.

Joel moves quickly, his right hand lightly on her shin as he reaches his left out towards her, keeping it held right above her lap for her to feel.

She can barely see, and yet she reaches out, knowing he’s there. Trusting he’s there.

She grabs his left hand with her right, holding it until her knuckles turn white and it hurts. Until it stings and her fingers go numb. Until her hand shakes and the blood flow is cut off from her fingertips.

He moves his right hand from her shin to press a fist into the mattress on the other side of her, scooting himself closer to her. He settles closer to her, bringing his right hand up her shoulder and eventually finding its home on her cheek. He strokes his thumb across it, more tears falling as she leans into it. She turns her head into it, her lips in his palm as he continues wiping her tears.

He pulls his hand back from her face and brings it to her other cheek, sliding his knuckles across to clear the streaks of tears. He returns his hand back to her other cheek, lightly scratching at the roots of her hair on the back of her neck.

Ellie grabs the collar of her shirt with her left hand, wiping the snot from her nose and using any drier part of her shirt to dry her neck and chin.

Joel lifts his left hand to bring up to her face, but a mumbled, snotty no keeps it in her lap, Ellie still clutching it.

She continues to sniffle, finally opening her eyes to see Joel looking back at her, a streak down the left side of his face, right by his ear.

“I’m sorry,” she says, quickly averting her gaze from his.

He smiles slightly, rubbing those all-comforting circles with his thumb over hand. He brings his hand up from her cheek as she closes her eyes, using two fingers to drag hairs down her forehead and tuck them behind her ear.

They didn’t need to be tucked away—but the affection always comforts her.

She takes his right hand in her left, bringing it down into her lap next to their other hands. She watches their hands intently as she rubs circles on his with her right hand and he rubs circles on hers with his right.

“Hey,” he whispers, trying to get her attention. It does, and she looks up at him. The tug on the corner of his lips reaches his eyes. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“No it’s… it’s stupid. I shouldn’t be crying over something I know isn’t true…”

“You know it’s not true?”

She inhales a shaky breath and exhales one just as heavy. She focuses on it, keeping any other tears down as best she can through controlled breathing.

“Yeah. Yeah I… I know.” She pauses for another breath. “But sometimes it’s… fucking difficult. I don’t…” she hesitates, shaking slightly, “I don’t want to look at you and wonder why.”

She chokes, wiping her cheek on the shoulder of her shirt. She feels her back against the headboard and adjusts slightly, rolling her shoulder blades over it.

She looks up at him. His eyes still hold that twenty-year-old look. They glisten because of the tears gathered in them, and the loving smile that hasn’t quite reached his lips has already hit his eyes.

“I’ll remind you. Every day, if I have to—if you want me to. Even if you don’t, I might jus’ have to-“

She laughs—giggles—at that. He laughs too, the kind of laugh that resides deep in his chest. The one that sounds better through his rare toothy smile. The laugh she only hears so often. The laugh when he thinks he’s done something right. The almost triumphant laugh when he seems to have cheered her up.

Ellie smiles, watching his own unwavering smile. “You can, if you think about it. I mean, I won’t expect it every day. If you forget some days, it’s fine. I’m not-”

“Ellie.”

“Sorry.”

Joel takes note of her. The dried tears along her cheeks. Her red and puffy eyes. The way her nose is red. The soaked collar of her shirt.

He doesn’t want to see her like this again. Not over thoughts like this.

“Will reminding you help? You know… keep thoughts like this away?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but it hits her that she doesn’t know. She’s never been positively reminded, certainly not daily, that someone cares for and loves her. No one’s been constant enough to tell her the truths she missed out on as a child. No one’s stuck around long enough for them to mean anything. No one has ever loved her enough to say them and mean them. Nothing other than doubt, hesitation, or reluctance has followed such reminders.

“I don’t know. I think, I… I hope. I don’t know, I’ve… never had someone who did something like that.”

He doesn’t frown at the thought, but his smile fades. Sadness, disbelief at the thought, the truth that she’d never had this before. “Well… we can try it out. You can tell me if you hate it ‘n we can try something’ else.” He smiled again as he rubbed more circles along her hands. “Sound fair?”

She smiles, tears welling at her eyes again. One spills over, Ellie fervently nodding in response to Joel’s question before too many more tears follow.

He lets go of her left hand and opens his arm up, welcoming her in. She scoots into him, tucking her body against him. She lets her legs freely fall into his as she leans against his body, his right arm coming across her back and holding her shoulder tightly. She keeps her face hidden away as best she can in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Her right hand finds the bottom of his shirt, rubbing the fabric back and forth between her fingers.

Joel kisses her head, leaving his lips pressed into her hair briefly. “I just… I don’t want this to become something you know is true. Cause it ain’t.”

“It won’t. I… I know it’s not true.”

He kisses her head again, a muffled good reverberating through her. He rubs her upper arm a few times.

“Come here,” he says, letting go of her shoulder and standing up.

She smiles shyly, standing up and wasting no time to hold on to him, her arms wrapping around his middle and settling behind his back. She rests her ear right over his heart, the thump-thump drowning the world out. Drowning her thoughts. Her feet stand in between his, Ellie attempting to get as close to him as she can.

Joel, just like every time before and every time to come after, keeps a steady hand across her back and one behind her head, carefully threading his fingers through her hair. He tilts his head down, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

He sways them gently, covering her back in hand-drawn lines, circles, and a myriad of other shapes. “This is your first reminder.”

She giggles at that.

Something bubbles in her chest. A fire. Butterflies—as cheesy as she thinks that is—it fits. It tickles, in a way. It reaches her finger tips and warms her skin. It helps her breathe easier and keeps her heartbeat beat in rhythm with his. It slows her thoughts and relaxes her shoulder. It lets her relax completely against his embrace.

The reminder is there. The reminder of his care and protection, no matter what. The reminder of the steadfast, uncompromising, sacrificial love that he has for her.

[headfullof-ideas]

Something a little different here. I’ve been working on various stuff for the story, like redesigns, actual chapters, timeline plots, Headcanon and storyboard doodles, and other stuff. I’ve also been trying to figure out that future stuff, with the Next Gen stuff, trying to figure out what story I’d tell if I even decide to, what the kids would look like, and all that jazz. While scrolling through Pinterest I found a Draw the Squad, and immediately thought of some of the existing kids that I’ve already designed and developed…and so procrastinated on all of the actual story stuff I was in the literal middle of doing to draw that instead.

Some of them are a little wonky, as I kinda rushed it, but these are the next generation of Nekton kids that i’ve spent nearly the entire time I’ve been into The Deep designing and developing as characters. They’ve gone through a lot of concepts and variations, but this is what I’ve permanently settled on. I’m posting this merely to see if anyone is interested in learning about them, as I’m still a little on the fence due to teasing about actually going through with writing a Next Gen installment of the story(that I haven’t even FINISHED yet). I kinda don’t wanna say which Nekton sibling each kiddo belongs to, as I kinda want people to guess

Also some closeups

[rapono-writes-stuff]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Lethal Company (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bracken | Flower Man (Lethal Company) & Reader Characters: Reader, Bracken | Flower Man (Lethal Company), Employees (Lethal Company) Additional Tags: inspired by a tumblr post, Unusual monster behavior, Horror, somber, Hurt/Comfort, Giving Up, I'm back on my bullshit (positive), lethal company is not immune to my tropes, being hunted by the Bracken is terrifying and that's why I love them, ambiguous ending Summary:

You're alone in the abanonded darkness, aimlessly searching, when it finds you. There's hands around your neck, and you know there's no use in fighting them.

---

*whips* 

Hey guess who's not dead (and went to therapy!)

[adsdragonlover]

Work Song

A Spideypool Songfic Drabble,

Thank god for Hozier

Peter trembles as he finally finishes speaking. It still hurts to talk about all those he’s lost. Ben, Harry, Gwen. So many of his loved ones laid in the cold, dark earth.

He can’t look at Wade, too ashamed.

“It’s not your fault,” Wade says, and Peter flinches.

“Yes it is,” Peter whispers. “It’s- all my fault. I’m the reason they’re in the ground.” He clenches his fists in the spandex of his suit, not caring how it’ll warp the fabric.

“I could’ve stopped the man who killed Ben. But I didn’t. And then he died. And I- I should’ve been able to help Harry. I should’ve- I could’ve tried harder.” He hastily wipes at the tears that are beginning to fall. “And Gwen,” his voice cracks. “I didn’t catch her.”

“She’s dead. They’re all dead. And I- I’ll never forgive myself.”

Wade reaches out and takes Peter’s hand. “I don’t really know what to say,” he admits. “But I don’t blame you.”

Peter sighs and squeezes Wade’s hand. “If it makes you feel better, you can’t kill me. No grave can hold my body down. I’ll always come back to you.”

Peter smiles, pulling Wade into a hug. “Thanks.”

[crescentmoonrider]

Help(less)

Summary :

Senjurou works at Douma's office, and learns to help. Senjurou works at Douma's office, and learns that he can't do anything at all. Senjurou works, and learns that closure is something only some ghosts can give. (He wants to become more like Kyoujurou, more like Douma, more like Michikatsu. Wants to be someone the dead and the living can rely on.)

>read on AO3

>AU tag

[josado]

The pleasure is to play

Chapter 1

- A Joseph Joestar x OC fanfic -

Word count: 3.3k

Tags: yumeship, female OC, gambling, mostly just Speedwagon for this chapter

Speedwagon sighed, a gentle smile on his face as he shook his head lightly. "Fine.. I suppose I could indulge you in a friendly game", he said, slowly walking towards the other room with the help of his cane. "But only if there are truly no stakes. I'm mostly doing this just to meet your associate, anyway - I'm not very good at poker myself".

The other man chuckled, patting Speedwagon on his back. "Mate, you're not supposed to tell people that.. You're giving yourself away and we haven't even started yet".

"Ah... I fear that the second we start playing you'll realize I lack the so-called poker face, so it won't make much of a difference. But...", he stopped at the door to the meeting room, his hand resting on the doorknob. He looked over to the other man, a serious look on his face. "But I really do hope you are on the correct trail. The Speedwagon Foundation has caught whiff of similar phenomena happening around the world... If you think this is one of such cases, well... It could change everything for us."

The other man nodded. He was slightly younger than him, his hair only beginning to go gray on the sides. He had a serious look on his face just like Speedwagon, but his was quite nervous as well - nervous for both his personal reputation and for all the future business he planned on doing with the foundation's founder. This meeting was his idea after all, so he really needed it to go well and show he's reliable. He was certain this was a textbook case which would fit perfectly in Speedwagon's new research. Meeting over a poker game felt less than appropriate for making new business connections and trying to understand and better the world.. But it would all make sense soon enough. "She might not accept right away.. But I believe the lady will not need too much convincing. If nothing else, then she will accept purely out of boredom. She is...", he nodded, letting Speedwagon know it was alright to enter, "...a bit... addicted to the feeling of uncertainty... one would not be wrong to call it that."

Speedwagon opened the door, taking a few steps inside. His brows furrowed a bit, not expecting the new associate to be this young. No alarms went off in his head though, and although it wasn't what it once was, he still had great faith in his ability to sniff out someone's character. His nose was currently telling him that the worst thing that could happen here would be wasting his time. A young lady in her 20s sat at the table, smiling a little awkwardly. She had long dark ashy blonde hair with a single platinum streak in her fringe. She wore minimal makeup, but her eyelashes were definitely covered in mascara, clumping together intentionally to bring even more attention to her doll-like hazel eyes. Speedwagon slowly walked closer and extended his hand out to her. "My name is Robert E. O. Speedwagon, founder of The Speedwagon Foundation. My associate has, surprisingly, not told me a lot about you at all."

"A girl has to keep some secrets, doesn't she?", she said playfully as a small chuckle escaped her lips. She shook his hand, her grip on the handshake unusually confident for a woman her age. Speedwagon found this promising, as it implied she had something to be confident about. Perhaps the intel would prove to be correct. "Adora Dodie. A pleasure to meet you".

"Quite a grip you've got there, Adora", Speedwagon said, raising both eyebrows and looking right into her eyes. His amber ones studied hers, his nose working overtime. He finally let go of the handshake and sat down at the table, right across from her. "And quite a beautiful fake name as well".

Slight shock appeared on the girl's face as she didn't expect him to figure it out right away. The associate also sat down at a seat between the two, looking really anxious. The only thing that was keeping him sane right now was the fact that Speedwagon himself didn't appear any more nervous than usual. The associate had only recently met her (and under this name), but never once questioned it. She just raised one eyebrow, cocking her head to the side, now amused by his keen perception, her facial expression not even trying to deny the accusation. "Oh?"

"He mentioned you were Slavic, and your fashion sense is certainly not typical American..", Speedwagon started explaining, gesturing to the girl's outfit. It was rather chilly outside, less so inside, yet she still wore her short leopard fur coat - although, only around her shoulders, her black sweater peeking through from underneath. She also wore an insanely short skirt, which immediately made him think that she must be used to colder weather than America has to offer, as she wasn't shivering or seeming like she minded it at all. Her legs were fully covered in sheer black nylon tights, which told him she had no patriotism for this country considering the nylon shortage the war caused to help the troops. The black leg warmers scrunched at the very bottom of her legs certainly weren't doing a great job at keeping her warm or at hiding the expensive tights. They were merely a fashion accessory. "So I would assume you came here with the rest of the refugees at the start of the war, not that you've lived here for a good portion of your life.. The name certainly doesn't sound Slavic either, so perhaps it's an alias?" He stared at her for a few more moments, studying her before speaking again. Her smell was balsamic, an odd mixture of sour cherries and bitter almonds. It was sweet but melancholy, like a strange sadness hiding behind the sourness of the cherries. "But the lie wasn't malicious, was it, Adora?"

Adora, or whatever her real name was, nodded softly, as she started to shuffle the cards in front of her. "I'm a professional gambler, sir. And as you can imagine, the job isn't exactly ideal for making friends and giving them my actual name.."

Speedwagon looked at their shared associate, piecing together how he even met this lady. The guy definitely had gambling as a vice, it was no tightly kept secret, but Speedwagon still didn't expect to see him testing his luck against professionals. That being said, what even was a professional gambler, anyway? Surely, it must have just meant bigger amounts being wagered, as it was a purely luck-based activity after all. He now carefully watched her shuffle the cards, trying to catch a glimpse of any sleights of hand. He had seen Joseph cheat at cards enough times that he felt positive he could catch any funny movements if they occurred. "So how do you become a professional at something that requires no skill?"

"By simply never losing", she said, a slight smirk on her face.

"I can vouch for her being a professional", the associate added, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like it - it's like a superpower!" He also watched her shuffle the cards, but more in awe, rather than trying to catch her cheating. He knew there was no trickery involved, just pure luck. He knew that the girl enjoyed the sense of uncertainty that gambling brought, the stress, the adrenaline rush... Even the feeling that you could lose everything in an instant, the outcome being fully out of one's control. She loved this feeling, and he knew she wouldn't cheat now, purely to be able to experience it just a little. "But, dear, that's not entirely correct, though, now is it? You lose a great deal, actually".

Adora dealt the cards to each of them, her hands clearly experienced in holding a deck. "I suppose, but that's not what you brought Mr. Speedwagon here to see, was it? You want him to see me winning, no?"

"Correct", the man confirmed, turning fully to Speedwagon to explain. "No matter how badly she loses, she never ends a game on a loss."

"Well... Being lucky is hardly a good example of what I was hoping to find here..", Speedwagon said, feeling a bit like the guy wasn't fully grasping his research topic. "When I said supernatural powers, I didn't mean something as vague as this..." He sighed and rested his face against his palm, his elbow planted firmly on the table, and used his other hand to look at the cards he was just dealt. They weren't that bad, honestly. An 8 of hearts and a 10 of hearts - depending on what got pulled next, this could be an easy victory.

"Trust me, this is not normal luck", the man defended his stance. "At first, it seemed like a random string of wins and losses to me, but then I started watching her more carefully. It seemed like she had some wins that were pleasant surprises, which makes sense, but then some brought absolutely no emotion to her face. Just a good poker face, most people would think. But then why would she have such a visible reaction in other situations, right?"

"I never thought you to be such a devoted fan", Adora teased the older man, looking at her own cards. Upon seeing them she gave a little downturned smile - neither too pleased or displeased with her cards.

"Honestly, I just assumed you were a huge cheater and I kept following your games hoping you'd finally get caught. Though, if I may speak freely, Miss Dodie... I'd still argue you are one. A much worse one than I originally thought, even." Both of them shared a chuckle, much to Speedwagon's confusion. The man turned to him again, continuing his story. "You could see it on her face - plain as day. She was cheating. She wasn't surprised at some wins, because she knew they were going to happen."

"Did you ever get caught?", Speedwagon asked her directly, carefully watching her hands as she shuffled the deck.

“I would have to actually cheat first, in order to get caught”, she said, shooting the associate a small playful smirk. “In fact, Mr. Speedwagon, if it eases your nerves, you may shuffle the cards yourself”. Adora slid the deck across the table, leaving them right in front of him. Speedwagon took the cards and started shuffling them himself, though with much less ease than she did.

“She never got caught. Not once. And they did everything they could to try and catch her in the act.”, the associate said, shaking his head. “I approached her at the bar recently and told her I thought she was born under a lucky star. After a few drinks, she confessed that she was always this lucky, even as a kid. She even said it makes life boring…”

“..To always feel in control..”, she finished his sentence, sighing. “I won’t pretend like it’s a bad thing, obviously, but it’s certainly got its bad side as well."

“So she’s either born with a gift.. Or she’s the best cheater in the world”. The associate looked at his own cards, having a pair of 9s. He felt good about his hand, but he knew there was no point to it, as he knew Adora would still find a way to luck out and win. Speedwagon dealt the cards for the game, revealing them all on the table. A 5 of spades.. A 2 of hearts… Queen of spades… A 4 of spades... And the 6 of clubs. Both men thought the same thing for a brief moment - I could at least easily have the high card. They both revealed their cards, looking to her to see if she would win or not.

Adora showed hers as well, a 3 of hearts and a 4 of clubs. “Looks like a Straight.. Two, three, four, five, six… Yep. And a pair of 4s as well”, she said, giving her cards back to Speedwagon to shuffle again, a cocky smirk on her face.

As he started dealing the cards for the second round, he wasn’t exactly convinced yet. It would take a lot more than that to prove this was some sort of supernatural power rather than just plain old luck. But he wasn’t about to start complaining either, as there were certainly much less entertaining ways to conduct research. “Help me understand though.. So why would you come to me willingly? Isn’t this basically an admission to cheating of sorts?”, he asked her, raising both of his bushy eyebrows and dealing the cards to each of them.

Adora chuckled. “Hardly. I’d argue being lucky is a requirement for gambling.. Otherwise you are just giving your money away for no reason.” As she received her cards she didn't even take a quick look at them. Both men looked at theirs, both trying to maintain some sort of poker face. “Plus.. The way it was described..” She looked directly into Speedwagon’s amber eyes, as if trying to speak to him without using words. She seemed to have really resonated with the overall topic of the research, which was the only reason she even agreed to meet with him. "I feel like... This luck has been haunting me my whole life. I don't want it gone, but I would like a better understanding of what's going on and why it is here. Why it acts the way it does. If that makes sense". She emphasized certain words as she spoke to him, as if alluding to something. It was a test of her own and the real game she and Speedwagon were playing now - figuring out if they are talking about the same thing without giving anything away before any formal deal is made. She watched Speedwagon as he revealed the cards on the table. "So they're all clubs and they're just a Queen shy of it being a Royal Flush... Perhaps the queen of clubs in my cards would convince you a bit more about my... situation."

"But...", Speedwagon started, looking at her confused. He took a few moments to look around the table and under it, just in case, before continuing. "You haven't even looked at your cards yet. How could you possibly know you have the missing card?"

She revealed her cards to them by extending her arm so that they could clearly see the queen of clubs staring back at them. And yet she still hasn't looked at the cards herself. The associate sighed, shaking his head and turning to Speedwagon. "See? And she even does this often, as if being smug about it helps her case with the cheating allegations..."

"But, how?!"

Adora shrugged, finally taking a look at her own cards, before giving them back for the next round. "Just requires more luck than a Straight does, I suppose".

Speedwagon looked at her, squinting his eyes and studying her features one last time. She had a small mole under her right eye and another one above her left eyebrow, but the asymmetry was surprisingly pleasing to look at. It drew even more attention to her eyes, which she clearly treated as her best facial feature. Her eyebrows were very straight, her cheeks pink and her lipstick intentionally smeared across her lip lines in a shade that wasn't very bold, looking as if she just finished eating strawberries messily. Everything on her face was carefully set up to point in the direction of her looking gentle and almost angelic, and yet here she was in all her actual glory. A smug gambling addict and an obvious cheater. Still, he could see past the surface and smell out what was going on. He didn't know how she was doing it, and she would clearly never openly admit to it either, but he knew this was her confessing and seeking help. Clearly she was doing something. He thought for a moment as he shuffled the cards. He then picked up one random card and set it face-down at the table. "Try to guess which card this is, Miss Dodie."

"It's a four", she said, her voice monotone and unimpressed. Clearly he wasn't the first person to attempt this approach.

"A four of what?"

"I'll have to guess... A four of hearts".

Speedwagon nodded, revealing the card to indeed be a four or hearts. He thought for another moment, scratching his face as he did. It was definitely starting to look like more than dumb luck. "Hmm... Now I'm thinking of a number between one and one hundr-"

"Sixty seven."

He gulped. It actually was exactly 67. The associate nodded enthusiastically as he watched her guess everything right, hoping this will seal the deal. "It's insane, I'm telling you. It's not even just gambling, sometimes I fear she can read minds".

The girl chuckled at this, lowkey enjoying both the praise from her associate and the shocked look that Speedwagon was sending her way. "Oh, I wish I could read minds, but I assure you I unfortunately can not. If I could then I wouldn't even have to ask you this... But what is it exactly that you are even offering to me?"

Speedwagon thought about it for a moment before deciding that he would like to pursue this phenomena further. It seemed promising. "Well, is there more information that you have that you have not disclosed to me yet?"

"I will only say that yes, I have a clear understanding of the principle of how this luck works, just not... Why me, of all people?"

"And you would share this information with the Speedwagon foundation, correct?"

"Only if we are officially partners, but yes, I suppose."

He nodded, leaving the cards on the table and slowly getting up from his seat with the help of his cane. He extended his arm to her, finally officially making her a business offer. "I can offer you to stay at my house and have all your expences paid for the entire duration of the research. In return I would like to run some tests, hear your thoughts on the whole phenomena, get to know your personality, lineage, history…”

Adora nodded as she listened to his proposal. Certainly, having all your expences be paid for was an enticing offer, one which she would have a hard time justifying to herself if she were to decline it. She also simply wanted to know more about her own situation. The luck came at a price, one which she wanted to truly understand and perhaps even keep under control better. She extended her own arm to him as well, shaking his hand firmly. Speedwagon let go of her hand and started walking away, subtly gesturing to his associate to follow him so that they could discuss the oil business somewhere more private. He turned to her one last time, giving her a reassuring look. "Come to my house tomorrow and we'll get you settled in and start with the basics - getting to know each other." He then pointed to the associate. "He'll make sure you are given the proper address as well as take care of any transportation needs to my property for you or your luggage. Alright?"

Both Adora and the associate nodded. "Understood", she said, still thinking about this whole thing in her head. It was a little insane, perhaps even very risky on her end, but she was certain that she would have realised by now if this meeting was a stroke of bad luck rather than just an interesting new experience. And she definitely wouldn't mind shaking up the monotone routine she built up lately that consisted of nothing but her hotel room and various casinos. Perhaps it was the perfect time to get to know herself and her history better. "I will be there after lunch, then."

[captainderyn]

[Fictober24] Day 10: "Is this normal?"

Prompt: "Is this normal?"

Fandom: LOTRO Pairing: Established/fledgling Eldarion/Faewryn Warnings: None Spoilers: None

Kissing the man who had been her closest friend forever while on a walk along the ramparts should have been a dream come true. Yet one thought plagued Faewryn and she pulled back with a start like her own mind had zapped her. 

“Is this normal?” Faewryn asked, gripping Eldarion’s sleeves so tight the fabric wrinkled beneath her white knuckled fingertips. Her heart threatened to gallop out of her chest, pounding an atypical rhythm against her ribs. 

Eldarion chuckled, brushing his nose against hers as he went in for another kiss. She sank into it, body melting against his.

“Normal?” he hummed against her lips, mind anywhere except the trail her rapid sprint 

“We’ve known each other since childhood, have done everything together, our parents have known each other for decades…I don’t think you can get much more normal than that.” he said lightly, though his eyes searched hers as he pulled back to really look at her. “Why wouldn’t it be, Fae?” 

She ran her hands up and down his sleeves, finding grounding in the feeling of the fabric beneath her hands. She painstakingly smoothed out every wrinkle she had created as she gathered her thoughts. 

“We’ve known each other forever.” she started hesitantly. “What if we aren’t meant to do this. What if it's not normal and we ruin it all?” 

It was obvious to her that Eldarion was trying to remain neutral, though the corner of his mouth inched up into a grin despite himself, “You’re worried because we’ve known each other…too long?” 

“Eldarion!” she exclaimed, stepping back to throw her hands up in the air and move her feet as she paced along the rampart. She paused on the edge, looking out across the fields outside the city. 

He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. It was a familiar action, a position they’d been in countless times over the years even before their feelings had snuck out the cracks. She relaxed back against his chest, despite herself. 

“We can go down to one of the taverns in plainclothes.” he offered. “And I can pretend that I’ve spotted you across the bar, become enamored, and announce my intentions to win your hand.” 

She glowered at him from the corner of her eye and she caught a glimpse of his smirk before she looked back out across the city walls and fields. Banners bearing the White Tree snapped along the walls in the wind, a reminder of the great city but also the tall tales surrounding it. 

“Is love supposed to feel this…mundane?” she wondered aloud, admitting despite herself the one thing that had been troubling her. “This all feels so…easy.” 

Their parents’ love stories were too great to tell outside of a ballad or story, even though her own parents insisted time and time again that it was no grand tale. Though she’d certainly seen many mundane moments shared between her parents as they’d settled into post-war life, so she’d been told, she had no idea what that was meant to look like for herself. 

Eldarion pressed a kiss to her cheek, “What was that thing your mother always told me when I would get too impatient in training?” 

Faewryn paused, thinking about all the various things Wulfwryn had tossed Eldarion’s way in every training session she had attended. 

“That she and many others want things to be normal for their children?” she hedged a guess and Eldarion nodded, his scruff scratching against her cheek. She ducked back to avoid it, pressing herself more tightly against his chest. 

Eldarion said, “Have you considered that maybe the same goes for love? That getting to know each other long enough and being stable enough to fall in love is the very blessing those who fought were hoping for?” 

She pondered on this, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. She tilted her head back to look up at him, running her fingers along his that wrapped around her waist. 

“Do you think so?” she asked. 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I think many would consider us the lucky ones.” 

[woodswolf]

SWEET WINE ! COMPLEATED !