#yes i caved and played all of this lovely game on my large break between college classes

[shinotail]

so the ending updates am i right ahaha

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “What Happened.”

Sorry for any issues this one might have, but I am trying to write it between flights and and scrambling to find a plug that will work, so I hope you like it anyway, and I hope it answers some questions you have 

Three months leave

IT was going to take an extra three months  before the ship would be ready for launch. Even as they spoke, it was docked at the Europa station as they put on the final finishing touches. Until then, it had been Commander Vir’s job to go through files on the personnel he wanted aboard his new crew.

He had suggested some alien additions to make the crew more diverse, which the GA had loved considering that the ship was an amalgamation of both human and alien technology. It had Rundi communications systems, Celzex weaponry, Vrul shields, and  a Tesraki warp core. The design otherwise was completely human. But for those reasons, the project was obviously very time consuming, and they were lucky that it was going to be finished in as little a time as it was.

Sunny hadn’t seen Adam very much in the last month or so considering that he had been working hard to find an extra five hundred members for his crew, and speak with the brass about what he had seen on the other side of the wormhole.

Sunny knew that it was important that Adam do his job, but a part of her was annoyed they hadn’t been able to speak properly since getting back.

Instead, she was stuck in base housing on the cost, alone and with nothing to do aside from long walks on the beach. She had never been the the beach beforehand as anin didn’t have any substantial bodies of water like that, at least near her, and there was something about the endless water that unsettled her. Even Krill and Conn were off doing important things. Krill was giving his services to a level one trauma center in New York, and Conn was helping the base MPs conduct polygraph tests, though he had sort of replaced the polygraph.

That left Sunny alone most days to think.

She hadn’t gotten over Adam’s disappearance, and not how he had tricked her, pushing her from the bridge before turning around and preparing himself for death. She felt a bit cheated, and like a decision had been made for her. She wasn’t stupid, logically she knew that is what she would have done if she were in his place, so she couldnt fault him for that, though she still coudln’t help feeling hurt over it.

And these thoughts she was left to stew on, tossing and turning in the quiet of the night while everyone else was out and busy.

Needless to say she didn’t expect the little bell on her front door to ring late one evening, and when she opened the door she certainly didn’t expect to see Adam waiting on her front porch.

HE was smiling, though the skin around his face and neck were already flushed a light pink with embarrassment.

In his arms, he held a large collection of flowers.

“May I come in?”

“Adam!” Her surprise was a bit delayed 

He shuffled his feet, “I uh, I got the go ahead to take the day off so I…. thought I would see you.”

He shifted again.

He looked better now than he had on returning from his ordeal, face clean-shaven and in clean clothes that actually fit, though she had to admit his cave-man look hadn’t been so bad.

She stepped aside, and he tentatively followed.

She closed the door and he turned to face her, “I uh…. um … well I…. flower…. Or I mean, I got you, flowers I…… Bought some, but also picked…. some ….. I not that that really matters I just.”He sighed took a deep breath and cleared his throat, “I got you flowers.” he held them out, and she took them in half amusement, picking one from the top and popping it into her mouth before setting them down on the little side table.

“Look, I’m sorry we haven't been able to talk since I got back… and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little bit of me avoiding having a tough conversation.”

“I like that you are at least being honest with me.” She said quietly., “Do you want to sit down?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Actually, I was going to ask you if you wanted to go on a walk…. I.. I think better when I walk.”

She shrugged and agreed, following him outside to where a thin layer of clouds had veiled the sun which was slowly inching towards the horizon. The clouds muted the colors and the sea was grey in the distance.

Together they walked a little ways along the sand, him shifting nervously, and her walking to the side, relaxed though she didn’t feel like it 

The silence stretched on for nearly a mile before Sunny -- growing frustrated -- was forced to break it.

“You tricked me.”

He looked down at his feet, “I did.”

“You tricked me, and because of that I have had some of the worst few months of my life.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I understand you did what you thought you had to, and I get it that if I was in your place, I would have done the same without hesitation, but…. I I feel cheated, and I feel used, and for some reason I can’t stop it.”

He looked away, “I’m not sure what to say.”

“At least say SOMETHING.”

HE turned to face her single green eye wide. Looking down she could sense that his hands were shaking. A part of her felt bad about that, but they needed to have this conversation, and she wasn’t going to let him out of it.

“I… would do it again to save your life, and I won’t apologize for that, but I’m sorry that that’s how you feel.”

“I thought we were a team.”

“And we are.”

She paused, her feet digging hard into the sand, and he drew to a halt beside her, “I need you to understand Adam, when Drev say a team, they mean a battle pair and that means….”

“I know, I know……. I know what it means, and I am agreeing with you.”

“Will, you try, for me.”

“Yes, but sunny, I I don’t know how well it will work out, I…. well I’m broken when it comes to this sort of thing I don’t even know if I can.”

They went silent again and she could see the veins pulsing in the side of his neck. Beads of sweat collected on his brown and face. He looked almost nauseous, like he was scared or something, that too made her feel bad, but she didn’t really know how to help.

On instinct, she reached out a hand, inches from his before pausing, “I…. Can I?”

He paused look down at her hand.

His clenched into a fist.

He was pale whit like snow now.

“I…. I don’t think I can right now but…. Thanks for asking.”

She watched the expression on his face closely, and on his face she saw him proceed through a rapid series of emotions starting with fear, working over to shame, sadness and finally ending on guilt.

He turned away.

She walked up next to him, head tilted, “You don’t have to, Adam, but maybe if you told me why I could better understand. Of course you don’t have to.”

He took a deep shaky breath, “You deserve to know. But just don’t… I don’t know laugh or something. I know logically it wasn’t a big deal but….”

“Adam, I promise I won't laugh, you have my word.”

He nodded his head slowly and sighed, “I can trace it all back to one event I think. It was MY freshman year of high school…. Maybe and I was the awkward, nerdy sci-fi weirdo who believed in UFOs and Aliens.

***

Adam Sat Under a tree outside the school arms wrapped around his knees back tucked against the bowl of a tree which cast the shadow of its leaves down over the ground to wave and rustle in a light breeze.

It was lunch break, and he was watching the other teens standing around in their cliches. The football jocks were playing a game to one side, the cheerleaders were clustered around a bench, and all the rednecks were sitting in the back of their trucks in the parking lot laughing loudly and occasionally turning on their trucks just to rev the engines as loud as possible.

His hair was long-ish, kind of scruffy and hanging down around his ears. The clothes he wore were baggy hand me downs from his older brother Jeremy (a senior) and shoes with holes in them from his older brother Thomas.

He didn’t mention the holes to his mom, dad was in between jobs right now, not that it was a big deal, he would find work, it was just paperwork in the way, but he didn’t want to worry her with something extra that didn’t matter right now.

He looked down at the ground where he had a stack of books waiting in the grass for him, The Martian, War of the Worlds, and an old tatty compendium of start wars stuff with pictures and diagrams.

The T-shirt he was wearing was one he had purchased online, and had a diagram of the star-trek enterprise on it.

He shuffled his feet in the grass waiting for his brothers to show up and feeling sort of lonely as he waited.

Since he was a little younger, he got out a half an hour before they did, and only got to spend thirty minutes of his half hour lunch break with them, otherwise he tried to avoid people as much as possible. It wasn’t that he was bullied per-se, because he wasn’t really, neglected by his peers was probably a better term for it.

They were nice to him in the way you are nice to small children or crazy people, keeping up polite conversation just long enough to leave as soon as possible. He was used to the treatment, and didn’t bother subjecting people to his presence more than he had to. He knew he was weird.

He was sure he would have a harder time if it were not for his older brothers. Jeremy, who was a popular football player, David because he was student body president, and arguably the best looking guy in school, though he never seemed to be dating anyone, and Thomas, who was a bit of a loose cannon and didn’t mind getting in fights to protect his family members when he wasn’t hanging out with the other weird and unpredictable kids.

He was sitting there thinking about his brothers and staring down at the grass, when he saw a pair of shoes appear in his vision. They were white vans, or something similar with bright green laces, and when he looked up he saw a girl standing over him. The school was small enough that he recognized her immediately. Her name was Amanda and she jumped between the Drill team and the Basketball Girls click.

She was smiling, and he watched her as she turned her head back to her group of friends who were giggling and trying not to look like they were looking over in their direction.

Adam sat up a little straighter, “Can I help you.”

She smiled at him, her cheeks slightly pink, “HI…. Adam.”

He frowned, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

She shuffled her feet, and off in the distance, her friends giggled and looked away.

“Can I help you with something?’ He wondered, waiting for the punchline somewhere. Something about the weird UFO kid, or maybe they were going to ask him to help them do something against school rules, so when they got caught they could all blame it on him. Or maybe they were going to ask him to be the designated Sherpa for their bags or something.

He had been tricked into most of those things before, though by now the teachers and the principal knew that he was just socially stupid and not a troublemaker.

“Relax ok, I’ve just come to say sorry?”

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for treating you like you were weird.” When she smiled it seemed genuine, “You see its…. One of my friends.” More giggling I the background, “She thinks you’re cute, but she didn’t know how to act before.”

He glanced past her to where  the group of girls had burst in to excessive giggling.

He frowned again, “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

She crossed her arms, “Serious, Adam.”

“Who is this friend of your.” His eyes narrowed, but past that he was looking towards one of the girls in the group. She was pretty  with honey blonde hair and an infectious smile.  She played the violin, and he knew for a fact that she was a comic book nerd. He had seen her carrying them around, and she was a petty good artist too. He felt his face flush a bit but tried to fight it back.”

“She smiled, “Avery.”

His eyes shot wide, and he felt his face turn scarlet. The part of his brain that had been skeptical immediately shut off as the human brain is prone to do when they think something good might be about to happen.

“I… really.”

She grinned, “Really.” She reached into her pocket and passed him a note, “She wants you to meet her by the stadium.”

His hands were shaking a bit as he took the note, but he felt his heart hammering in excitement.

Was this his way out of exile?

He had always been extroverted, starved for all the friends he wanted and all the people he wanted to talk to. Avery had the life that he wished he did, a large circle of friends, and fun things to do every weekend.

Maybe with her around, he would finally have that.

All the better if they were dating, but he was getting ahead of himself.

He watched as the group of girls dispersed and Avery moved towards the back of the building over towards the stadium, her beautiful, honey-blond hair blowing in the wind.

He stood awkwardly gathering up his things and shoving them in his bag without zipping the zipper all the way before turning and cutting around the other side of the school. His heart hammered in his chest and his hands were cold and sweaty as he made his way around the other side of the building and towards the stadium.

His heart only began to race faster when he saw her standing alone under the stadium between the cross-bars and in the shade of the metal benches above.

He approached nervously, his hands shaking in excitement.

She turned her head, bright blue eyes catching his.

He stopped in place at the edge of the shadow. But she smiled and waved him in, “Adam over here.”

He followed nervously his feet trailing in the dirt. As she approached she nervously rocked back and fourth on her heels hands in her pockets. He paused a few feet away. She looked up at him through her lashes, and he noted she was wearing little Iron Man earrings.

“Hi.” She said nervously

“Hi.” He replied back

She shuffled her feet, “Look I…. I’m sorry about laughing at you earlier today In class I…. well I think your funny, not, like in a bad way or anything.”

HE knew he was bright red at this moment, probably brighter red than any tomato, “Really?”

“Yeah, so I wanted to say sorry, and…. And maybe make it up to you.”

His heart was in his throat, “Oh, you, you don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

It went quiet as she stepped forward, and he was frozen in place. She was right in front of him now. She leaned forward a little, and he was frozen in place. Her eyes closed, and then so did his, he waited for the moment, and waited, and waited, but nothing came.

Someone snickered, and he cracked an eye to see Avery’s once pretty face twisted up into a sneer of contempt and malicious amusement.

“April fools.” She jumped at him, and in surprise he tripped backwards over one of the metal bars landing hard. The zipper of his backpack, not all the way done up, erupted outward spilling all his books out onto the dirt.

Laughter.

He turned his head looking around to the cracks in the stadium seats where dozens of eyes stared at him laughing.

Avery stood over him as others began flooding down from their spots laughing.

He crawled back, his head down, “But it’s not even April.” He whispered

“Its not even April.” Someone mimicked from behind, and he ran into soemthing hard looking up to see one of Avery’s friends standing over him. She was state shotput champion last years, and her arms were as big as his head, “What is this.” She reached down and picked his book off the ground.

“Please, give it back.” He said crawling to his knees and reaching up for it.

“The Martian.”

“please.”

She flipped open a few of the pages. He stood up trying to reach for his book but he was blocked by another two of her friends.

The laughter continued, the mocking voices over and over and over again.

He tried to push forward reaching for his books which had been picked up off the ground.

“Gross, Its all sticky!” the friend yelled.

“No it isn’t.” He protested, it was true, he took very good care of his books. But of course no one listened. A chorus of disgust rose up around him. His books were dropped, one clattering to the rocks its pages bending, the other one landing halfway in a puddle of stagnant water.

He cried out and dove forward pulling it out of the water even as mud dripped form the hardback.

He cradled it in his arms, feeling hot tears of anger and humiliation begin to prickle at the corners of his eyes.

Laughter continued.

“Look.”

Fingers pointed.

HE stood fists clenched ready to hurt someone, but when he turned the same girl from before hand his book in either hand and when he moved she pulled.

There was a sharp ripping noise as the spine of the book tore a quarter, and as he cried out she laughed and dropped it into the puddle.

As a paperback, the book didn’t stand a chance.

Mud and water caked his hands as he reached in to pull it out on his hands and knees. Something hit him hard in the back and he pitched forward into the puddle getting the book wet a second time as the kids laughed.

He scrambled sitting up coughing and spluttering feeling the slimy grittiness of the water on his lips.

Someone knelt down next to him. A voice in his ear, “If you tell anyone. I’ll tell the teacher you tried to touch me.”

Tears dripped down his cheeks as he tried wiping mud from his face. The laughter receded and he was left along kneeling on the gravel.

His face grew hot and read as he stared down at the ruined cover of his book. Hot tears dripped onto the mud coating his hands.

His breathing started up in great gasps his heart hammered so fast he thought it was going to burst out of his chest. His head was going to explode either from anger or frustration he didn’t know. Choked sobs broke from his mouth as he knelt over the books ruined in his hands. He couldn’t breathe. He stood vision clouded face hot wet and muggy from the heat.

And then he ran.

He had no idea where he was going or what he was doing.

His paperback held muddy and dripping in one hand he pelted into the woods and didn’t stop running until his foot caught on a branch and he went rolling into the leaves.

He lay there on his stomach heart still hammering breath still coming in ragged gasps. He just couldn’t calm his breathing down.

He didn’t know where he was.

He felt like he was having a heart attack, or dying, or something. He lay there gasping on the forest floor for hours.

It grew dark. The mud dried on the back of his book and against his chest and hands.

It was only when he heard the voices did he finally sit up, mud caked and bleary eyed.

“Adam!”

“Adam!”

There were no other sounds for a long moment before the call started up again.

He stumbled over, it was dark so his feet kept coughing on branches and twigs.

“Adam, ADAM! I swear ADAM.”

“Thomas?” He said his voice so raw it was barely above a whisper.

“ADAM!” Footsteps rushed towards him through the trees, and Thomas burst from the foliage his scruffy blind hair run wild, his jeans covered in dirt, “Adam there you are where have you-“

He didn’t have time to say much else as he was hugged tight around the middle.

“Adam I…. what’s wrong. What happened! Who did this to you!”

Thomas looked ready to rip someone apart, but Adam didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t say anything about the event for the next two years.

***

Sunny stared wide eyed as Adam turned away again.

“Look, I know its stupid, it happens to plenty of kids and they don’t take it the way I did, but. I mean, with the panic attack on top of it, and then a few years later the same thing happened on my first date, so now I just… I can’t…”

Sunny was quiet for a moment while he looked away.

“Who the FUCK do they think they are.” She snarled.

He looked up in surprise, “I what.”

She marched around in a circle, “What the hell kind of person does that to someone. That’s just sick and wrong. That is just… horrible.”  She pulled out her spear, “I swear If i ever meet someone like that if i ever meet THEM, I am going to-”

He caught her arm, “Sunny stop, it was a long time ago.”

“It doesnt matter!”

A small smile cut across his face, “IT doesn't matter sunny, you want to know why.”

“Why.”

“Because I saw their pictures.” he grinned, “Avery got really fat and her friend got hit by a car, not fatally but I consider it Karma doing me a solid.” He paused, “It’ll be ok…. I just need some time. Think you can do that for me?”

She paused and nodded her head, “Yes, I think I can.”

[that-sw-writer]

Intoxicated pt 2?!? ;)

Ayo this was so fun to write, I’ve love doing this mini-series!  Also thanks for being patient, I know it took me a while to write!

And shoutout to @wasntpriscilla for suggesting some of the scenes in this!

PART ONE | MASTERLIST

Summary: With you and Kylo spending more and more time together, the other Knights of Ren predictably notice, and they can’t help but meddle.

Word count: 3520

Warnings: some minor violence, alcohol consumption, drunk sex but this time with feelings

Intoxicated II

"So you and Master Ren-" Trudgen's voice cut through the action as you pushed your double-bladed scimitar through the chest of another Resistance officer, "-what's going on there?"

"Now?"  You briefly turned to him, your deadpan expression covered by your helmet, "you want to do this now?"

"Well we got bored of asking you during training sessions."  Cardo quipped in the midst of the fight.

"Funnily enough, nothing has changed since you asked me yesterday... and the day before, and the day before that too."  You drawled, spinning your weapon over your head before sinking it into another officer.

It had been a few months since your drunken night with Kylo Ren.  Since then, the two of you had been spending most nights together.  At first it had just been sex, but now there was something deeper there.  Some nights you would sneak into his quarters and just stay up talking to him all night.

Of course, it had taken no time at all for the knights to catch onto this budding relationship between you and Kylo, although neither of you saw it that way.  You weren't in love with him, and he wasn't in love with you, you were just friends... friends with a few benefits thrown in.  But the knights could see it, even if you and Kylo couldn't - they could see how hopelessly in love with each other you really were.

Naturally, your brothers were trying to push the two of your together, but every time they seemed to fail.

"So you're telling me that you're not going to his quarters tonight?"  Ap'lek chimed in with an accusing tone.

"I don't need to go to his quarters tonight."  You tried to play it off.

"Ah, but that doesn't mean you won't go!"  He concluded.

"Which obviously means that you will go."  Ushar was next to interject.

"Fine, if I have to prove to you that there's nothing going on between us, then I won't-" you were cut off when the last Resistance officer standing swung a huge war hammer at your face, catching your helmet and sending you flying to the ground.

Kuruk swept in and killed the man, whilst Vicrul moved to help you up.

Your ears were ringing as Vicrul pulled you to your feet, and you were quick to remove your helmet.

"Shit, he's gonna kill us."  Kuruk grumbled, placing a gloved hand under your chin to bring your face upwards for him to inspect.

"What?"  You groggily asked as the other knights also gathered around to get a look at the damage, "is it bad?"

"You don't look concussed."  Ushar added, which was a relief considering you felt slightly dizzy.

"Forget concussed Ushar, there's no hiding the giant scratch across her face from Master Ren."  Clearly going into panic-mode, Cardo elbowed his brother.

"It's just a scratch."  You snorted, "chill out, I'm fine.  He won't care."  With that you began to dizzily walk back towards the ship now that your work wiping out this Resistance post was done.

The knights all exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging that it certainly wouldn't be okay before they followed you.

When you landed back on the Finalizer, you were in the refresher trying to clean some of the dried bloody from the scratch up a bit.  It wasn't as bad as it had looked, and you figured it would heal in a couple a days.  The knights meanwhile were gathered around the boarding ramp as Kylo stormed on board.

"Don't get comfortable, I need you to go back out and-" he paused, looking at them all, "-where's Y/N?"  He asked, his tone immediately shifting to a darker one.

"She's definitely alive, if that's what you're asking."  Cardo was first to speak up, met by a swift elbow from Vicrul.

"What Cardo means to say is that she's just in the refresher."  Vicrul tried to calmly explain, despite the fact that none of them were calm.

"Man I need a nap, my head is killing me."  You stifled a yawn as you emerged from behind the knights, stopping when you saw everyone staring at you, Kylo included.  "What?  Did I miss a spot?"  You innocently asked, rubbing at the scratch on your face to see if there was any blood leftover.

"What happened?"  Kylo's voice came out as a loud bark as he stormed over to you, gloved hand immediately coming to gently trace the wound.

"Nothing happened."  You scoffed, "it's just a scratch."

Without another word he turned to the knights with an expectant look on his face, and they of course immediately caved.

"One of the Resistance officers clocked her with a war hammer."  Ushar admitted, and they all knew Kylo would likely scold them later.  You meanwhile really didn't understand the fuss.

"Med-bay, right now."  He huffed, grabbing your wrist and attempting to pull you away with him.  "The rest of you prepare to take off again, I'll be back in a minute with your orders."

"There is no way in the kriffing galaxy that you're leaving me here!"  You struggled until eventually Kylo stopped walking and released your wrist.

"You're injured, you can't go."  He was being stubborn as ever, but you did wonder why he worried about you so much.

"It's a scratch Ky- Master Ren, I'm fine."  You were quick to correct yourself before your brothers could tease you for calling him Kylo.

He also sensed the impending teasing from the knights, because they full well knew that he wouldn't overreact like this if it were anybody else.  Exhaling a sigh, he took a second to calculate things before he cleared his throat and stood upright.  "Fine, all of you prepare the ship, and don't leave without me."  He ordered.

"You're coming with us?"  Trudgen asked, raising an eyebrow.  It was clearly a snap-second decision on Kylo's part, and everyone except you could tell that he was obviously only coming to keep an eye on you.

"Yes."  He plainly answered, storming off towards his quarters and leaving them all alone on board.

"Someone's in love, and it's Master Ren."  Trudgen muttered to his brothers, and they all nodded in agreement.

Kylo returned a few minutes later, seemingly ready to go.

"Did you pack an extra shirt Master Ren?  Y/N might need it."  Ap'lek snorted, and the other knights' laughter all followed like a pack of hyenas.

"She's already wandered off with half of my wardrobe, she doesn't need more."  He took the teasing in his stride, as usual, and once again left you stood in the corner wondering how the hell things had ended up being like this.

><><><><><><><><><><

The mission was simple, well it should have been.

You were on a small planet in the outer rim called Catheela, looking for yet another Sith artefact that Kylo insisted he needed.  You had no issue tracking it down, but the harsh climate meant that you could only travel during the day - at night the environment got so cold that anyone left outside wouldn't survive until morning.

After a long time of desperate searching, you thought you would have to trek all the way back to The Night Buzzard to sleep, but you eventually stumbled across a fairly large cabin in the undergrowth.  Inside there was just about enough room to fit you all in for a night, but a large lounging area with a fire-pit was the real win.

Whilst you helped Cardo and Ushar light a fire, the others did the usual routine of looking for food.  They found a few pieces of dried fruit which were edible, but once again it seemed to be mostly a liquid dinner, with bottles of liquor being passed around.

Once you were all sat around the blazing fire, you took your first sip.  The liquor had a smoky taste to it and burned its way all down your throat.

"That's disgusting."  You grumbled.

"Just think Y/N, the more you drink, the less you'll taste it."  Trudgen shrugged, reminding you of the cardinal rule when it came to drinking.

You took Trudgen's words to heart and forced a lot of that liquor down you, until eventually the taste dulled down to nothing, which meant that you were a suitable level of drunk.

As usual, the question game started with the same rules as always: you can ask any question no matter how probing, and if the person doesn't answer they have to drink, which usually means they'll get themselves drunk enough to answer later.

You noticed Kylo's gaze fixating on you very frequently, but considering you were both beyond tipsy he was probably just trying to work out if he was going to get laid tonight or not.

The rest of the knights were being suspiciously well behaved.  Over the past few months every single question had been about you and Master Ren, but tonight they seemed to almost be shying away from the topic... could it be because he was there with you all?  Or was it that they were just biding their time and waiting until you were both drunk enough to actually answer their questions?

You didn't have to wait long to get your answer, because you gave your own drunken state away when Kuruk finally directed a question at Kylo.

"Master Ren, what would you say is your biggest weakness?"

"Unhooking bras."  The words tumbled from your mouth before you could even process them, and you immediately grimaced at Kylo who was sat next to you.  He looked like you had just betrayed him.

Silence fell in the room for a moment, but it was quickly broken by a poorly stifled laugh from Trudgen which then immediately was followed by all of the knights breaking into howls of laughter.

You were used to being the one of the receiving end of the teasing, so just for once it felt nice to be making fun of Kylo rather than vice versa.

"That's it, I know you can't win this game, but Y/N just did."  Trudgen cackled through his words.

"Master Ren can kill people without lifting a finger but gets defeated by a bra clasp!"  Ap'lek snorted, and they all erupted into even more laughter at that.  Even you were trying to stifle your laughter, because Kylo was still glaring at you.

"Maybe now we're even?"  You tried to suggest, your words being broken by the infectious laughter.

"Y/N used to have a fantasy about having sex on The Night Buzzard."  Kylo suddenly blurted out, his tone remaining level as ever.

The knights were all immediately silenced by that, staring at you with their jaws practically on the floor, you meanwhile shot Kylo daggers with your eyes and he just glanced at you, a smug look on his face.

"Now we're even."  He leaned across to whisper in your ear.

The laughter rose again, but was cut short this time by Cardo's voice, "wait, why did you said 'used to?'"

Knowing that Kylo would pull no punches now, you took a long swig of your drink.  He simply shrugged, smirking as he also took a long drink.

"You didn't-" Ushar gaped, clearly none of them wanting to believe the obvious.  But your fearless leader was enjoying how much he had just managed to embarrass you.

"No..."  You awkwardly tried to say, your tone wavering.

"You are such a liar."  Kylo snorted and you elbowed him in return, something you probably never would have done sober and in front of the other knights.  Even though Kylo knew you were lying because he had been there, you all knew each other well enough to tell what was a lie and what wasn't.

"Man that's disgusting!"  Cardo whined.

Revelations about your sex life aside, the game continued.  Now that the knights knew both you and Kylo were drunk enough to openly answer their questions they began to throw some probing ones your way.

It started subtle:

"Y/N, how many nights a week do you stay in Master Ren's quarters?"

And then became a bit more personal:

"Master Ren, have you slept with anyone else since the first time you slept with Y/N?"

You had both answered these questions, but eventually the other knights all started whispering amongst themselves, causing you and Kylo to exchange a suspicious glance.

"What?"  He eventually prompted, and they all looked at you both like deer caught in headlights.

"We uh- we were just coming up with another question."  Vicrul said with a lopsided grin on his face.  You were clearly all far beyond tipsy at this point.

"Go on then."  Kylo snorted, his own drunken state becoming very clear by how vocal he was being.

They all looked at each other, clearly silently deciding who would be bold enough to ask the question that they had been planning on asking all night.

"Y/N, are you in love?"  Of course they had targeted you rather than Kylo.  But you knew the answer, you weren't in love at all... were you?

You cast your mind back to the countless mornings spent in Kylo's quarters, and your reluctance to leave.  You found yourself wanting to spend time with him, not just for sex but because you enjoyed his company.  You thought about all the little glances you would exchange during training sessions, and even though the other knights would constantly tease you, they had certainly noticed how much happier both you and Kylo had been.  Even earlier that very day he had been so worried about a simple scratch on your face - because he cared.

Were you in love with Kylo Ren?  You had spent so long assuming that you weren't that you had completely missed the truth staring you right in the face.

"Well, are you?"  Vicrul prompted, and you forced your brain to refocus on the scenario at hand.

"I-" you hesitated, feeling your heart racing.  You ventured a glance at Kylo, and his expression was just as curious as the knights'.  You wondered what he was thinking, whether he was hoping you would say yes or no.  You couldn't risk baring your soul in front of them all, you had barely processed your emotions yourself - so you lied.

"No," you snorted, taking a long swig of your drink, "Master Ren barely puts up with me as it is."  You attempted to play it off, but you weren't fooling anyone as silence befell the room.  You caught Kylo's gaze, and you both just stared at each other, wishing you could read him.

"Y'know what, I'm exhausted."  Ushar broke through the silence, rising to his feet, clearly a bit wobbly.

Faking a yawn, Ap'lek followed, "yep, I think we need to turn in for the night."

"Are you kidding?  This is just getting good."  Kuruk mumbled, but was met with a gentle kick from Vicrul who pulled him to his feet.

Knowing they had orchestrated this entire situation, the knights were quick to shove each other out of the living area and into separate bedrooms.  They obviously knew you better than you and Kylo knew yourselves, there had been no way either of you would ever had admitted to any feelings whilst sober, but drunk was a different story.

Suddenly it was just the two of you, drunk, and sitting by the dimming fire.

"You lied."  He finally said, "you thought I wouldn't notice?"

"I don't know what I thought."  You exhaled a dry laugh, "until about five minutes ago I believed my own lie."

"If they'd asked me, I probably would have lied too."  He admitted, his voice slurring ever so slightly, "it probably doesn't look good for me to have favourites."

"Are you saying I'm your favourite Knight of Ren?"  You teased him, giving him a gentle nudge as you tried to lighten the mood and distract yourself from the fact that you had just subtly admitted that you're in love with Kylo Ren.

"I'm only saying that if you promise not to tell anyone."  He flashed you a sloppy grin, and you laughed in response.

"I think they already know... they seem to know how we feel before we do."  You pointed out.

"True."  He exhaled a short chuckle before rising to his feet, managing to not stumble as he did so.  "Come on, we had better at least get some sleep before setting off tomorrow."  He said, reaching out a hand for you to take.

You allowed him to haul you to your feet, at which point you crashed into his chest, definitely not having expected to be as wobbly on your feet as you were.  Taking this as an opportunity, Kylo swept you up and threw you over his shoulder.

"Kriffing hell Kylo, what are you doing?"  You huffed, giving him a firm smack on his back for taking you by surprise.

"Going to bed, what are you doing?"  He laughed at his own humour, the staple of drunk Kylo Ren.

"Apparently being kidnapped."  You drawled, sarcasm dripping from your tone.

He just exhaled a short laugh at this before going into the only room which still had its door open and tossing you onto the bed.  It was much colder being away from the fire, but still just about bearable.

Kylo followed suit and was soon crawling on top of you and capturing your lips in a hungry, drunken kiss, and from there it didn't take you long to warm up.  He tore your clothes off and vice versa, but was cautious to regularly keep a hand clamped over your mouth - the walls were thin, and the last thing either of you needed was for the knights to hear the two of you going at it.

When you finally did go to sleep, you were just drifting off in Kylo's arms when you unmistakably heard him mumble those three little words: "I love you."

After pausing for a beat and shaking yourself back to reality, you quietly replied, "I love you too."

It wasn't until morning broke and you woke up still in his grip that you regained some clarity of everything that had actually happened last night.  But unlike your first drunken encounter, you didn't suddenly feel awkward and embarrassed.

Kylo had said he loved you, and you had said it back.  In all honesty, it felt good to have gotten that off your chest.

"Morning."  He grumbled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to where you shoulder met your neck.

"Hey."  You groggily replied, wriggling in bed to turn around and face him, "sleep well?"

"I've slept worse."  He smirked slightly, "but we can't afford a lie in this morning."  He pointed out before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips and climbing out of bed.

With a reluctant sigh you followed him, both of you silently dressing yourselves before leaving the room together to find the knights, who were predictably up earlier than you both and all in the living area.

"Well good morning."  With a teasing smirk on his face, Ap'lek was the first to address you.

They all looked slightly hungover, but a majority of your missions ended with hangovers, so you were all used to it by now.

"Did you sleep well?"  Kuruk asked, before Cardo added.

"It sounded like you slept well."  He snorted.

Both you and Kylo exchanged a glance as embarrassment washed over you.  Of course, he took it in his stride as usual.

"At least I tried to keep it down."  He shrugged, nonchalantly walking to the cupboards to search for food.

"And I..." you paused, "I just didn't realise the walls were that thin."  You admitted, rubbing the back of your neck.

The usual relentless teasing continued over breakfast, but the elephant in the room was obviously still lurking.  The knights wanted to know if their big plan to have you both realise your feelings for each other had worked or not.

They didn't outwardly ask you, but they more-or-less got their answer when you split into two teams to recover the artefact later that day.

"If she comes back with so much as a scratch on her, I swear-" Kylo warned Kuruk, Trudgen and Vicrul, who were going with your team.

"Kylo, I'll be fine.  You need to stop worrying about me, it's showing a bit too much favouritism."  You teased him, eyebrows being raised by the other knights.

"Fine, but just promise me you'll be careful."  He mumbled, only just in earshot of everyone else.  He leaned in and pressed a short kiss to your lips, both of you still revelling in the high of actually realising your feelings for one another.

"I promise I'll-" the feeling of six gazes burning a hole into the back of your head caused you to stop speaking and turn around to face your brothers.

All six of them stood with big grins on their faces, all staring at you.

"Ap'lek, you owe me fifty credits.  I told you they'd never admit that they love each other sober."  Cardo snorted, elbowing his brother.

"And you owe me seventy credits, because I told you they'd be placing bets on us."  You then smugly looked up at Kylo, who just rolled his eyes.

"I hate you all."  Kylo just grumbled in response.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Juxtaposition Between Lucy/Snow and Katniss/Peeta

More random thoughts about the comparisons I saw between Snow/Lucy and Katniss/Peeta:

(Got so long I’m putting it under the cut):

(Plot twist, I can’t figure out how to do a read-more on mobile so I’m super sorry, this is a long post.)

It’s, in a way, almost a complete juxtaposition between Everlark and Snow/Lucy. Because first off, to start slow, Snow and Lucy don’t understand each other at all. That’s partially what kind of draws Snow to her. She’s a mystery, she’s quick on her feet and constantly surprises him and he seems to enjoy that. But him and her have such different ideologies and, their relationship never fleshed out and developed too far so we never had the chance to see, but if his selfish, murderous, competitive tendencies didn’t come between them, their differences in views would have.

Katniss and Peeta almost have the opposite situation. They are reapted and Katniss keeps thinking she knows exactly how Peeta is and what his intentions are—i.e she keeps thinking he’s trying to sabotaged or kill her—and yes, he keeps taking her by surprise and he’s quick on his feet as well, but in a completely different way.

Katniss thinks he’d never understand how or why she feels like she does but she learns in the cave that that’s not even true. One example being that she had to hunt for her food herself to feed her family whereas his food is almost always a given since his family owns the bakery, but it’s stale and old and never good. They’re different but they understand the same general concept.

As for Everlark’s ideologies, Katniss doesn’t seem to understand how she feels for a long time because so much of her mind is preoccupied with mothering Prim and taking care of her. She knows she thinks the games are inhumane but she’s more resigned to what they’ll inevitably do to her in them. The night before the games Peeta displays his understanding of how the Capitol wants to make him a piece in their game and to make him lose his identity altogether. And he refuses the idea, refuses to play along with them. Katniss doesn’t grasp this at first but, eventually, his and her ideologies become one and the same. They see eye to eye and understand why the other feels the way they do and why they have to do what they do. As exemplified in Catching Fire, during their individual assessments. They both hold the Capitol responsible or take responsibility for different occurrences in the 74th games, because they won’t sit back and be a piece in the games anymore.

Now, another difference in the two couples that I found striking was, Snow claimed Lucy as the love of his life, he said he never wanted to love again and vowed never to, because of her. And yet, he was willing to give up, practically nothing for her.

He was willing to give up only what would benefit him in the end for the girl he claimed to love more than anything. Power always meant more to him than any human life and that extended towards the girl he claimed was his entire life. And, if you want to examine it, Lucy didn’t give up anything for Snow either. Whatever they did, they did for their own well-being and if it was convenient for the other, all the better.

Katniss and Peeta, on the hand... I don’t think I have to say this or go into too much depth about this because it has clearly been said before, much more eloquently, but they were willing to sacrifice everything for each other. Everything. Peeta could have easily had the same thoughts as Snow did in Songbirds and Snakes, he could have had the same temptations as Snow, and said “Katniss handed me the berries, this is on her, she doesn’t love me, this is all an act for her, not me,” and his life would have been easier for it. He probably would have been rewarded for it too. Given a much cushier, luxurious life if he hadn’t unequivocally supported and protected her at all costs to himself.

It’s almost interesting because there’s a similar line in Catching Fire as there is at the end of Songbirds and Snakes.

Katniss thinks before going back on camera in front of the Capitol : “And I know I’m not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won’t expose me in front of the camera. Won’t condemn me with a halfhearted kiss.”

Snow thinks before going to search for Lucy to tell her he’s leaving to go to District Two and bailing on their runaway plans : “Well, no matter. She would never tell. She wouldn’t be thrilled, obviously, when he told her there’d been a change of plans. That he was returning to the Peacekeepers and heading to District 2 tomorrow at dawn, essentially leaving her to her fate. Still, she’d never rat him out.”

Even broken-hearted, Katniss and Peeta never turned on each other. But Snow and Lucy quickly did, in the drop of a hat. Katniss’ assessment of Peeta’s character and loyalty to her is proven right, whereas only a couple pages, if that, after that quote from Snow, him and Lucy are attacking each other and the “love” between them evaporates.

In Mockingjay, yes, Peeta was hijacked but all that aside, be real, he almost murdered her. And yet, deep down, she never gave up on him, even when she told herself she’d have to kill him. She dissociated him from the person she loved, the boy with the bread who’d protected her against everything he possibly could, but when it came down it, she fought to get him to come back to her.

“It’s a long shot, it’s suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body is shuddering but I keep my lips pressed against his until I have to come up for air.... ‘Stay with me.’”

“‘Always.’”

And

“Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.”

And this concept between them even reversed in the end Mockingjay, even after he had been programmed and injected with mind-altering serum,

“Let me go.”

“I can’t.”

Or even his warning to Katniss about the District Thirteen bombings. He knew he’d potentially lose his life—and because of that he lost his mind—but he still chose to protect her anyway. Just like Katniss, he did it at the cost of himself.

Whereas Snow, at the first sign of betrayal, in his own words, said

“If he’d felt better, he’d have laughed at the irony of how quickly their relationship had deteriorated into their own private Hunger Games.”

The two relationships actually represent a lot of opposite ends of the spectrum, because Snow and Lucy will never let go of their own power and control, whereas Katniss and Peeta, consciously or unconsciously give the other all the power they have to offer.

Another example of the contrast in sacrifices between the two relationships is :

Snow’s quote really just... speaks for itself.

“He had to think of just the right way to break the news. But what would that be? ‘I love you deeply, but I love officers’ school more?’ That wasn’t going to go over well.”

Whereas I don’t have an exact quote in my head—if you want, let me know if you think of one and I’ll edit with it—but overall, just the fact that, in large part, Katniss was going to the Capitol to kill Snow in Mockingjay for taking Peeta, mentally if nothing else, away from her. She was willing to sacrifice her freedom, her safety, her friends, ever seeing her little sister again, her life itself, in order to get revenge on Snow for what he did to Peeta.

The juxtaposition between the two relationships was high if you analyze it, and there were way more examples I didn’t mention, that I’ll make more posts about later. But overall, even though Lucy had too many Katniss parallels than I enjoyed—I was super into it for the first half, until Snow got to Twelve and it became a complete overkill—Everlark and Snow/Lucy had very little in common.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 3 (Mafia AU)

Summary:  For Rus, things seem to be going from bad to worse,

Notes: Well, I can’t stop now.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warnings: Some violence. A wee bit of unwanted touching and some innuendo.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Since they came to the surface, most of Rus's days were pretty much the same old, same old. He got up, yanked the blankets over his mussed sheets in a semblance of making the bed, and got dressed: uniform on workdays, and his grubs on days off. He’d go to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee in the wheezy old Bunn that Rus found in someone’s trash, tinkering with it in the evenings until he got it working. He’d drink a cup of coffee that always had a faint burnt note to it no matter how fresh it was, leaving the rest for Blue when he got up, and he’d head into the shop to make the floral arrangements for the afternoon deliveries. When his shift was over, currently doubles until they managed to hire someone who wouldn’t either steal from them or quit three days in, Rus would head home and shower away the stink of soil and plant food before flopping on the sofa to fall asleep in front of the tv until Blue came home and made dinner.

He couldn’t say it was better than the Underground, but then, he couldn’t say it was worse either and once the newness of the Surface wore off it was, well, it just was. Such was life and all it meant was Rus tended to cling a bit to anything fresh and different; like a stranger wandering in on his mornings for a single red rose.

He soaked those moments up like fuel for his what-ifs, his little daydreams as he worked with his clippers and floral wire, writing out small cards that declared ‘happy birthdays’ or ‘with love’ or ‘my condolences’.

Same old, same old, sure, with a few bright spots in between.

This week, though, ah, this was a week of first. First time he'd been shot at, for sure, first time a mysteriously gorgeous stranger ever gave him a kiss, even if it was hardly more than a brush of teeth. First time the police ever put up even the pretense of being on his side without an unspoken warning to stay in his place.

Also, his first time at being kidnapped and Rus couldn't say that he was very happy that his second chance came so soon after.

Point of fact, he was fucking terrified.

He'd woken up with a dismally aching skull and his magic still lingering out of reach, unable to see as he struggled against bonds that held him immobile no matter how hard he fought, until the throb in his skill matched his freshly strained joints. From the way it felt, he was tied to a chair and he couldn't see because of a blindfold that didn't budge no matter how hard he shook his pained head. The throbbing pain was worsening, threatening to make him black out again and Rus finally subsided, trying to keep panic at bay as he took a mental assessment.

His arms were uncomfortably bent and bound on either side of him at the wrists and he could feel the smoothness of wood against his bared forearms. His knees were tethered together, the joints straining as his feet were spread apart, each ankle tied to a separate chair leg. More ropes were wound around his upper body and across his femurs so when he tried to move, he couldn’t so much as rock the chair. He couldn't budge an inch in any direction without hurting himself which was probably the point.

Worse, they hadn't gagged him and somehow that seemed more frightening, not less, that they didn't care if anyone heard him scream.

Rus licked his teeth, drying flecks of marrow clinging disgustingly to his tongue. Tentatively, he called, "hello?"

He thought he heard someone move, cocked his head in that direction.

"hello?" he persisted. "is anyone there?” His voice seemed to echo around him, reverberating, “please, this is all a mistake! i run a florist shop i…i'm nobody…"

"Yes, we know."

Rus jerked instinctively towards that voice, stupid, he couldn't see anything around the blindfold. Not even the glow that voice suggested he should, that was the language of the Fire Monsters, a strange combination of crackling and sibilant consonants. Almost impossible for anyone who wasn't flame to speak and the only reason Rus could understand it was because of a childhood friend.

This Monster didn't sound anywhere near as cheery as his old pal. Those brief, smoldering words were the cold burn of near frostbite and there was no echo, only silence followed them.

Rus swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in his mouth, rasping out, “what do you want?”

There was a scrabbling shuffle of unknown feet and a new voice, “He said—"

“i know what he said!” Rus snapped. He choked off more desperately angry words, grimacing. His bro always said his mouth was gonna get him into trouble and yeah, this problem wasn’t one he’d started but better not to make it worse.

“Do you now.” A single step, the scrape of a shoe against concrete. “Well, that is interesting. A flower shop clerk who can understand flame-speak, how…unusual.”

What did that mean? Rus wasn’t sure and he didn’t know if he should explain his quirk with languages. His head ached painfully and so did his nasal aperture where he'd taken that hard punch. Licking at his teeth found one that was a little loose in its socket. He really hoped Blue could heal it. He really hoped Blue had a chance.

From close by came a soft murmur of indecipherable words and the sound of clawed footsteps walking away, a closing door.

An unexpectedly touch between his shoulder blades made Rus stifle a cry and he tried not to cringe as the heat blazed a path down his spine down before drawing away at the back of the chair. “I admit, I was disappointed when I first saw you. His taste has certainly gone downhill.”

There was an unspoken question there that Rus didn’t know how to answer. “please. what do you want?”

His question was ignored. “But perhaps you have,” that crackling voice lowered, scalding hot breath gusting uncomfortably against the side of his skull, “hidden depths. He’s quite enamored of you, isn’t he.”

“who is?” Although Rus was very much afraid he already knew.

The snap/pop of that scoff meant his captor knew as well. “You’d best be careful, if you’re dealing with the Fells.” A swath of searing heat fell across his skull as a large, flaming hand settled on top of it, burning fingers lightly digging in, “When they’re done with their toys, they break them.”

Rus tried to nod, desperate to get away from that paining touch. That blazing grip only tightened, the temperature rising until Rus whined, cooling tears seeping from the corners of his sockets to wet the blindfold.

“You should be thanking me for the warning." The flame monster chided. There was an impression of a large body, moving closer, blanketing Rus entirely in heat as his voice whispered in lowered luminescence, "Well? Thank me."

"thank you," Rus gasped out. The grip on his skull released and Rus sagged against his bonds, breathing heavily. All his clothes were clinging sweatily to his bones, his wrists aching anew from chafing against the ropes. He hadn’t even been consciously trying to struggle, only desperate to get away from that painful heat…wait. Was that shouting he could hear? Some calamity was going on not far away, muffled through the walls and doors that Rus knew must be around him.

It was impossible for hope not to swell in his soul, shriveling back when that aching heat shifted to stand in front of him.

“You do have a pretty mouth.” Thoughtfully, as Rus’s chin was gripped painfully in a simmering grip, a hot thumb smoothed over his teeth. A new, unthinkable fear rose in Rus, one he hadn’t considered; he’d been afraid for his life, not his body, but the implication was unmistakable. “I’d give it a try but from the sound of things, that’s all the time we have together, lovely. We’ll have to play again sometime.” Then louder, he called, “You’re slipping. I expected you much sooner, old friend.”

The grip on Rus’s chin abruptly released and instead an arm slipped around his neck and tightened, his cervical vertebrae squalled in uncomfortable protest at a threatening upward tug. “Ah ah. Not too close, darling.”

“Stop this.” There was no halting the wave of shameful relief at Edge’s rich voice, oceanic and deep. Only to be choked away by the arm around his throat and Rus couldn’t move, but he couldn’t stop trying to thrash away from the pull that threatened to separate his skull from his neck, straining against the unyielding ropes as he tried to rise even a bare inch for some relief.

“What? And spoil the game? See you soon, and do tell your brother I miss him, won’t you? Ta.”

Then that agonizing grip released and the burning presence was abruptly gone, leaving Rus to sag against the ropes, gasping in sweet, cool air.

Rus’s blindfold was soaked with tears and sweat, clinging uncomfortably against his face. More tears felt like they were strangling in his bruised throat, desperate to be shed. It was difficult to hear anything over the aching pounding in his skull and the rattle of his bones as he trembled, but he couldn’t feel anyone close by, had they left him here, bound and helpless to anyone who might wander in?

“is anyone there?” Rus asked pathetically. All his panic seemed to have caved in, collapsed in on itself to numbness that left him empty and spent. Feebly, he tried to twist his hands free again, if he could only get one loose—

“Hold still, you’ll hurt yourself.” Unexpected and gently said, it set a candle flame of hope flickering in Rus’s soul and…no. No more flame metaphors, not today.

The blindfold was suddenly gone and Rus blinked at the flood of light, trying to see anything past a blur. When his vision cleared, he could see he was in a sort of warehouse, one that didn’t look like it’d been used in a long time. There were crates and broken pallets stacked all around them on a dusty floor and the overhead lights were sodium-yellow and dim.

Edge was already moving to kneel at his feet, inspecting the ropes binding him. Somehow, the way he moved, the powerful grace in his long legs as he bent to crouch before Rus was desperately appealing and fuck, Rus really was as stupid as their pop always said. All of this could be laid right back at Edge’s doorstep, he knew that, only his stupid libido didn’t seem to have gotten the message. Rus stifled it, stuffed it down back into the back of his mind with all the rest of the bullshit that usually crept out to taunt him in the middle of the night.

Whatever Edge saw, he didn’t seem to like it; his brow bone pulled down into a frown and he made a low, rude sound before pulling something out of his pocket. Rus couldn’t help flinching from the mellow gleam of metal as a knife flicked out, but there was nowhere for him to go. He could only sit mutely as Edge got to work, the ropes parting easily beneath the sharpened blade until thy lay on the floor around them like thin, unmoving snakes.

A moment or an eternity later and he was loose. His shoulder joints felt sprung and achy, his hands flopping loosely into his lap as Rus tried to work feeling back into his fingers. The bones at his wrists were painfully chafed and bruises were already darkening the bone. He wondered absently where there might be other bruises, his ankles certainly, maybe at his knees, on his upper arms where the ropes dug in so terribly.

Edge stood next to him, waiting, his long coat pulled open by his hands in his trouser pockets. He seemed in no undue hurry, allowing Rus to assess the damages and he only spoke again when Rus finally looked up at him, pouring out all his desperate fears and confusion in one look. There were no answers forthcoming, Edge only held out a single gloved hand in offering.

"Come on," Edge said quietly. His clothing was unruffled, the same sort of obscenely expensive suit he’d always worn to the shop. Even his tie was perfectly straight, not a single snag in the rich crimson silk. He practically exuded calm competence and the only sign he might be feeling anything else was in his eye lights, the dimmed shadow of regret. "I'll take you to your brother.”

That sounded…that sounded like a slice of heaven right about now, to be wrapped up in the blanket of his brother’s love and concern. Rus ignored that extended hand and tried to stand on his own. His legs disagreed vehemently, knees achingly wobbly and he would have fallen to the ground if Edge didn't catch hold of him.

“don’t!” Rus tried, but he couldn’t stop Edge from lifting him into his arms, his weak struggles useless against that strength. All the questions bleating around in his skull –who was that, what was going on, why is this happening— twittered away into a single painful realization, one that Rus’s daydreams never even considered. “you—” His breathing was a ragged sob, “you’re some kind of criminal, aren’t you!”

Edge didn’t deny it. He only walked towards the far side of the room where a large cargo door was hanging open, leading out into a hallway.

He should have known. That scarred face he’d thought was so sexy was as much a warning as a damn sign, only it looked like Rus wasn’t very good at reading what was right in front of his sockets, too busy getting his panties wet to worry about the flashing neon ‘danger’ blinking in his face.

Rus let his head fall against Edge’s shoulder, burying his face against his wool coat and uncaring that he was smearing it with tears and other fluids as he moaned out, “what have you gotten me into? what did you do?”

There was no answer and as they stepped out into the hallway, Rus could barely stifle a shriek as he caught sight of what lay within. There were bodies lying everywhere, splashed with a rainbow’s worth of various bloods, ungainly limbs twisted into impossible configuration and pinned by jagged bone constructs that were slowly dissolving away.

“Easy. They aren’t dead or they’d be dust,” Edge reminded him patiently. Like that was so much better. His footsteps were even, heels clicking lightly on the concrete as he walked towards another doorway with daylight pouring through a broken pane.

Outside was a car with windows tinted almost as dark as the glossy black exterior. Edge didn’t set Rus down even to open the door, holding him close until he set Rus into the passenger seat. For a humiliating moment, Rus’s fingers refused to loosen their grip on Edge’s coat, the heavy material nearly tearing under his blunt fingertips as Edge tried and failed to draw away. Strong hands circled his bruised wrists with care, thumbs working their way coaxingly into Rus’s palms until he finally let go. Edge buckled his seat belt on for him like he was a child and then rounded the front to settle into the driver’s side.

The car pulled away with a near silent purr, smoothly guiding them through narrow alleyways between the warehouses, out into the main street.

There were other cars on the road, driving along without a single clue that there were terrible people out in the world right now, driving right next to them. Reality was slowly settling back in, brutal and implacable, stealing away his blessed numbness. Rus kept his gaze on his hands, tracing the bruises he could see purpling on the bones, unable to keep from prodding at them even as it blossomed hurt.

“i want to go home,” Rus said, pettishly.

Edge’s focus was on the road, both hands on the wheel at a proper ten and two. “I told you I’d take you to your brother.”

Implying that wasn’t the same place and Rus turned his head to stare at Edge mutely, then slumped back into the seat. More fine leather, great, hatefully comfortable as it cradled his aching bones. He wondered how well it would muffle the sound if he buried his face into it and started screaming.

He didn’t bother. Rus didn’t feel much like talking anymore.

~~*~~

tbc

Read Next Chapter

[wthelvetica21]

🔗💀Linked Souls

in the Digital Cabaret’s lobby

All four of the Mystery Skulls investigators found themselves in a calmly lit room with skull decor. It was quaint to say the least. There were also musical instruments like guitars and old fashion keyboards on the walls as well like it was a recording studio. All of them were laying on the same large circular sofa with two tables.

Lewis: What… The hell… just happened…? Guys?

Vivi: Just a few more minutes okay Lew. I swear… mar 

Vivi rolled back sleeping with her plush turtle that she kept in her backpack before they headed out.

Arthur: (yawn) Can you keep it down… Whoa OH HOLY SHIT! Where are we guys? This can’t get any weirder man.

Mystery: *soft barking* (I must keep a low profile for now. I have a feeling that we’re not… in our world anymore. I sense four none hostile souls and least one that’s harbors some justifiable apprehension towards us.)

Lewis is the only one who could hear Mystery via supernatural telepathy.

Lewis: Huh? I hear voices from outside… 

Lewis along with Mystery and Arthur put their heads on the double doors to listen in.

Teenage Male Voice: I don’t know if this is a good Idea Doc. They seem sketchy as hell if you ask me. Especially the ghost rider reject in particular.

Calm Female Voice: I’m sure hun, my tombsona can since people’s intentions right away. They seem to be looking for someone or something whom was involved with the murder of the young man in the suit who has become a ghost. It’s all I could glean however. But the dog though.. is odd… He’s not a threat to us but that might not be his true form.

Suave German Voice: He could be a lycan… What? It’s possible since that ghost is particularly one that still has his body. 

 Mystery: *tilts his head* (A lycan? As in a werewolf? He also knows that Lewis is a special case as well.)

Softer Male Voice: … 

Strangely Familiar Voice: What’s that Armstrong? You think that we should meet them one by one? Maybe 2 by 2 would work better. I would rather meet them later… I’m still having a hard time processing this whole situation. I just woke up after all.

Lewis: Wait?… Is that the? (Is that the guy singing in that weird dream from earlier? Could it be that comatose guy who was begging for help? It’s modulated a bit but it’s that voice I heard. I just know it.)

Mystery: whimper (Lewis? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You know that voice?)

Lewis: Uhh… I could’ve sworn I heard his voice before. (he said softly)

Calm Female Voice: Don’t worry cher. We’ll go first. Come on Rust since you’ve been itching to meet them.

All three backed up from the door so they wouldn’t get hit.

Teenage Male Voice: WHAT!? Why the hell me? Why not Tesla, Armstrong, or even your… Hey don’t give me that look. Dammit okay fine… let’s meet them already. (mumbles in Spanish)

Lewis: Tch… (Yeah you’re already gonna be a pain in the ass from the get go. Must be a high schooler or somethin’.)

Strangely Familiar Voice: Wait! I changed my mind. I’m very curious about these people from another universe.

The double doors open and two individuals come out. One was a woman who had discolored blue skin with glowing neon blue paint. And she had flowing hair that acted like willow wisps. She also had the attire of a stage magician with some witch doctor elements. The most noteworthy thing about her was the navy blue mask with glowing cyan eyes and outlines that took up most of the top portion of her face. She could even be mistaken for a ghost like Lewis. 

Vivi: OMG, she’s… so… cool! Oh man I wish I had that classy outfit she’s wearing. I could match with Lewis for once.

Mystery: *tilting his head groaning* (She’s certainly someone Vivi and Lewis could get along with very well. Maybe she patched us up from that elevator.)

Doc: My name is Doc or you could call me Ms. Doc for convenience. I’m the drummer for The Living Tombstone. Next to me is zero_one. He’s our keyboardist and composer. He also does the vocals as well.

The other individual was a tall svelte man who was shorter than Lewis but slightly taller than Arthur.  He looked like he was wearing a skin tight jump suit with yellow circuit lines with an orange fade to them. In the center of his torso is a rectangle that looks like a microchip with a heart beat indicator. He also was wearing a helmet that had a plume of golden orange hair made out of plasma and a pair of headphones. But what really caught Lewis’s attention was the LED skull with a bolt shaped crack on the right. He recognizes him as that guy from that dream he while he was passed out on that mining elevator. Almost immediately both of them blurted out…

Lewis & zero_one in unison : Do I know you from somewhere? But how?

Lewis : Hold up… Um Hey… (Aw man this shit just got weird already.)

zero_one : Uh… Hi there… (Oh… awkward.)

Arthur: Welp… This just got awkward and weird fast. What is going on here man? You recognize the dude with the mohawk?

Lewis : It’s a… 

Rust: Oh that does it… I’m going in. What flying fu…. oh… This is already got a weird vibe. Who the hell are you people anyway? AND You… yes you the ghost rider reject how do you recognize our front man hah?

Lewis : growls (Great another asshole with a green motif. But he’s some kind of punk who’s just got outta high school). 

sigh (trying to contain his anger) I’m not sure, I just seen someone like him that’s all…

Stoping the young man in biker attire with the green skull mask from lunging at Lewis was a slightly older gentleman who’s color scheme was similar to Lewis’s. He had the attire of a mad scientist with a winter hat.

Tesla: Can you not be hasty Rust for just a moment. They are not a threat to us remember. Herr Geist (german : Mr. Ghost) I still have so many questions. How did you find the elevator to this universe?

Lewis : Umm… (Who the hell is this guy? He looks like he just stepped out of an anime or a game or something.)

Long story short but it may sound batshit crazy ; we were chasin’ a dismembered gang green arm with a single black eye. Did ya’ll see him.

Rust: uhh… what? What kinda story is that? You must be tripping on something really strong to come up with that.

Behind the slightly befuddled young man in the green was a larger skull faced man with a burnt space suit who’s glowing red. He looks like he’s trying to calm things down before a fight breaks out between Lewis and Rust. 

Armstrong : … signing (I believe we all need to calm down first before we get our stories out there. I’m Armstrong gentlemen, lady, and… dog. You hail from another universe?)

Lewis : Huh… good point sir. (Why do I know what he’s saying even though I don’t know sign language. This shit really couldn’t get any weirder.)

Lewis then gives a paraphrased version of what Armstrong was saying to rest of the Mystery Skulls gang. Doc explained that Armstrong has tinnitus but can still play the guitar very well despite that. His tomesona can also give some form of synesthesia to compensate for his hearing loss.

Rust: (shakes his head in disbelief) Fine whatever. Names Rust, don’t ya’ll forget it. I do the vocals and rap.

Tesla: Guten Tag, my name is Tesla Herr Geist, Chicken with Mechanical Arm, Mysterious Dog, and Liebshen.

Lewis : *groan of frustration* (Oh that’s effing lovely. He better be usin’ that word as a term of endearment and not trying to flirt with her. But at least he isn’t an annoying little punk like the green one.)

Vivi: Oh how rude of us not to introduce ourselves. We are the Mystery Skulls ; we’re paranormal investigators. I’m Vivi Yukino, I’m the researcher of the group. But my day job is at a used comic book shop called TomeTomb. Oh I also know how to play electric guitar.

Tesla: Oh is that right Liebshen? Very nice indeed.

Armstrong : … (puts both of his thumbs up for approval and nodding)

Doc: Huh, TomeTomb(soft chuckle) what an interesting name. And you are young man?

Arthur: I’m Arthur Kingsmen, I’m just the mechanic of the group and I’m not as interested with this paranormal crap as much as Lewis and Vivi. And I work with my uncle Lance at his auto repair shop called Kingsmen repair. Also I play keyboard and actually own three keytars as well (he said proudly). Ha they almost costed me an arm… and a… (nervous chuckle). Yeah, the arm is a different story though. (he said sheepishly scratching his head.)

Rust: Well it must have… literately. Holy shit man, three of them? Talk about overkill.

Lewis could see zero_one light up like a kid in a candy store as soon as Arthur mentioned his keytars. He could feel this feeling radiating in the core of his locket ; its joy. He then sees zero_one approach Arthur like someone who was reunited with a long lost sibling.

zero_one : Three keytars? (in rapid secession) What brand are they? How did you get them? What year were they made? Do you have any pictures of them? 

Arthur: (he had a smile that the rest of the Mystery Skulls gang haven’t seen in months) Really? I have a 1980s Casio, a late 90s Korg, and an early 2000s Yamaha. I had some connections back then and I usually find them used online even though they were still…kinda expensive. And yeah I have pictures of them on my phone, you can come and look if you want.

The Orange-Yellow color coded duo sat next to each other like they just got a new hand held game and rambled on and on about mods and midi plug ins for keytars for a good 20 minutes. Lewis wished that he didn’t go into that cave in the first place. The relationship between Arthur and zero_one was not just like two long lost brothers but it was like his friendship with Arthur before this whole third wheel and ghost thing ever came about. Lewis felt a small pang of guilt before getting interrupted with a question.

Lewis : sigh… (At least Arthur is feelin’ better already after all the shit I put him through. Maybe comin’ here isn’t going to be that bad after all. Just Maybe…)

Rust: Who’s the dog though? Gotta say though he kinda looks badass with the red and black.

Mystery: *shrugs in embarrassment* (Yabai. (Japanese: Oh Crap.) Maybe I shouldn’t show my true form now, maybe wait til they are ready or Vivi or Lewis mention it.)

Vivi: Oh his name is Mystery. He’s our mascot, sorta. I know he isn’t a ghost like my boyfriend over here.

Tesla: Boyfriend ha… Oh well, but you could do so much better then…

Doc: Tesla stop. Lewis is Vivi’s beau, just leave it be. There are other women you know…

Tesla: Uhh. Gut, I’m a man of honor.

Lewis : (Oh sure you are hat guy.) 

Okay then, I’m Lewis Pepper and I’m more the guy who handles the heavy equipment in our paranormal investigations. My day job is waiter and chef at my adopted family’s restaurant “Pepper Paradiso”. I also play violin and I am a train vocalist.

Rust: Oh… really? Come on zero_one, me and you, let’s nock this amateur down a peg or two.

zero_one : You’re kind of putting me on the spot here Rust. Lewis did say he was trained, maybe you should’ve not called him that.

Lewis : (narrows his eyes) (Oh, I’ll knock this Rust punk down a peg or two.)

 Oh really Rust. Alright I’m game but just you and me. Mono a mono. Let the best vocalist wi…. huh?

Then a feeling comes over both Lewis and zero_one that made both of them and harmonize a beautiful arpeggio that brings all the room in awe. Rust was drowned out by both of them because he was just as shocked as everyone else in the lobby.

Doc: Oh honey, both of ya’ll voices are like two angels. And you thought he was an amateur Rust?

Rust: Well, damn I’ll admit it, you and zero_one won on this one. For now.

Armstrong : … signing 

zero_one : interpreting for Armstrong : Well since the introductions are out of the way, I believe you said something about a dismembered arm earlier. Is that the reason why you stumbled into our universe?

Lewis : Well yeah, it said it lead us into a trap or some shit like that. It was also working with someone or something else that wanted to do all of us in. 

* Loud Alarm *

A I Voice: Warning security breach detected. / Subject identified as a green dismembered arm that has already made entry into timeline v. / prerecorded transmission from the multi-universal edge by Helvetica. 

Helvetica: Something has just breached the reality layline. Sending distress signal to prime universe about Null’s escape. Butterfly effect radiating towards other divergent TLT timelines. Three inter-universal ones from the prime timeline. At least three no… it’s five from the universe MSA (Mystery Skulls universe). I’m making my way to timeline v as soon as possible. End of Transmission.

Lewis : Welp… I can see things have gone to shit already. At least we know where it is now. Might as well go looking for it but we’re do we even freakin’ start huh?

Tesla: I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise you. My prime self told me about this Null character but… what is it doing at this time period I wonder? Poor fraulein Helvetica sounds like she can’t handle this on her own. She might be proto_type’s student but even a student needs some extra help. We should worry about the four ones from our universe first before the one’s from our visitor’s universe.

zero_one : Wait? There are people from Lewis’s universe that crossed over to this universe too? What’s going on here?

Tesla: It’s most likely a butterfly effect like the distress called mentioned. Oh I believe we already have a lead or two, that’s gut. Really gut.

A I Voice: First sightings found downtown at High May’s Junior, Le Macabre Dance club, and Toriyama’s School for the Arts.

They decide to split up into teams to not only look for the possessed arm but for at least three people from the prime timeline in TLT’s universe.

 Mystery, Tesla, and Vivi are going to that Toriyama Art school in Japan since Vivi is fluent in Japanese. Lewis is thankful that Mystery is with her if Tesla tries anything.

Arthur, Rust, and Doc decide head to that Le Macabre Dance club which is in Puerto Rico. Rust apparently knows his way around there.

While Armstrong, Lewis and zero_one head towards a popular hot spot on San Francisco’s Yvette district; more specifically a hole in the wall bar known as High May’s Jr. Lewis decides to go there alone since he can change his form at will unlike Armstrong or zero_one but has agreed to meet up with them later once they found whom ever they are looking for. Armstrong thinks he’s way too conspicuous to be seen in public and decides to rendezvous with this Helvetica woman who made that distress call earlier along with zero_one.

End of Transmission

Lewis :  Well. I still have my ID and all. But I don’t think it’ll matter all that much. I swear this whole thing with timelines , butterfly effect and shit makes me feel like I’m in a very anime video game. Was something like Blaze blue or whatever? Or someone’s fanfic… Umm… Nah, that’s fu_king bonkers.

[kcatta-wodahs]

Hey there :3 May I request a matchup🙈? I'm a 5'6 tall, queer, chin long dyed red haired girl(she/her) and you can call me Karo if you need a name :p I don't really care if it's a single pairing or a poly one as well as the kind of relationship (platonic/romantic/sexual), but maybe a romantic one would be sweet🤔 I'm a INFP and was born under the sign of Pisces and I think the stereotype fits me pretty well lol. I don't think I would describe myself as clingy, I definetely need my space (part1)

and me-time, but sometimes it's also nice to have someone who will drag me outside to do stuff or socialize if I'm isolating myself too much or another depressive episode seems to creep up on me. I think they need to understand, doesn't matter if it's a platonic or romantic relationship, that sometimes I can't give them much(time etc) and that that's nothing personal and that they're still very important to me. Hmmm I think I would prefer my relationship like I like my fanfics hehe, slow burning, like first get to know each other, (enemies to) friends to lovers is just *chefs kiss* for me <3 I really love to draw and sing, to dance too, I like to spend time in nature and with animals, help them too. But I also like adrenaline rushes, like rollercoasters, cave exploring, bungee jumping, exploring lost places etc, I would say I'm almost up to anything if it's exciting or interesting, but I definetely like just chilling and watching netflix, playing games or watching Vine compilations or crackhead satire twilight tiktoks(which is tbh the things I do most of the time until someone drags me out). I love making others laugh with just random outbursts(thats pretty much my humour, just randomness and gen z memes). I try not to judge anyone for anything and be open for all kinds of stuff, except for like non-negotiable things for me like racism, homophobia, sexism etc, like, full offense but I have absolutely a zero tolerance for that. I also get very emotional very easily, doesn't matter if it's something not so important like a touching movie scene(so many things make me cry so easily haha) or like in an argument. I really have a hard time argueing, I hate it SO much, I either try to avoid conflict(and run away like a coward lol) or if it's really something we have to discuss I sometimes need time and space in between(not the best under stress talker/thinker), but if the other side is being calm and considerate then I think I would be fine too Oh almost forgot,I love cuddling(definetely also platonic)and am not afraid to just throw myself at my friends/lover/s I am getting better at not caring about what others think, but sometimes I'm still pretty insecure about everything(my actions,my future,my appearence..),but my motto is fake it till you make it,so feck other people,I can do whatever the hell I like and nobody's gonna stop me hehe😈🙈 Soo yes,I think that will be enough😂Thank you for your time and effort👐💕👐

A/N: I promise you fake it til you make it is 100000% good strategy and also i see feck are you from ireland

I pair you with.... The Attic Sandwich!

Beel and Belphie would be perfect partners for you. The two of them balance each other out in many ways, and you fit right into that. They value the connection between them and because of it they don't expect to always be around each other. This connection extends to you. Beel takes you out to all sorts of places (usually ones where there's unique food) and would definitely have fun with some adrenaline rushes. It makes him forget about his hunger for a bit. Belphie is absolutely there for your sense of humor and he's very good at watching your depression and arranging something to cheer you up.

More Below the Cut!

The plot of the first 20 chapters is what really gets you close to these two. (Spoilers for that follow and in the last three bullet points) Beel opens up more and more to you, and just absolutely falls for you. Belphie gives us that sweet, sweet enemies to lovers trope. He becomes curious about you, especially with how smitten Beel is, and ends up falling along the way.

THIS is the cuddliest group to ever cuddle oh my goodness when you want snuggles you will have them

They adore just relaxing with you. The three of you become a pile on the couch while watching movies or other videos.

Beel will watch you scroll through tumblr while he engulfs you with his arms. Belphie somehow worms his way into yours and alternates between sleeping against your chest and watching your screen as well. You hear an occasional snort of laughter from him.

Beel is very emotionally intelligent, so he can quickly determine your mood and what he can do to help.

Belphie encourages you to break out of your shell and be yourself. He's very blunt about his opinion of other people lol

He finds himself staying awake longer with you just so he can hear you. He thinks you're hilarious, honestly, and loves talking with you.

When you throw yourself at Beel he catches you. He big and strong and loves affection from you. but also this happens https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NIhl1cW9Me8

Belphie thinks its the funniest shit he can't breathe

If you do it to Belphie honestly he just stands there - either to let you fall or cling to him like a koala. He looks so Done but I promise he loves it. He laughs at you either way. He saves hugs and cuddling for when laying in bed or sitting. Too tired to hold you.

They both understand needing space, and will often just go off and do their own thing. They have complete faith in your feelings for each other, and will never doubt that you love them.

At least not for needing alone time - Belphie has lingering guilt over plot but he tries to make up for it by protecting you.

The others in the house can't help but be reminded of the trio they were with Lilith as angels.

While it still hurts to remember, Beel and Belphie feel almost as if they've come home around you. A part of them that was lost is found again. 

Snippet!

Cleaning day is nobody's favorite, but least of all Belphie's. Too much work. Just don't take ou your stuff and then you don't have to clean it later, right? The problem to him seems to be all the time people spend awake and he shouldn't have to deal with it!

But cleaning day is a little better with Beel and Karo. With their laughs and energy. Usually seeing other people so active drained him, but not with those two. He watched as Karo danced around the room to the music she had put on, while she and Beel tidied up. It was frankly adorable, and best of all: Belphie wasn't expected to join.

He was happy to watch. He watched as Karo spun into Beel's side, surprising him and causing him to stumble before he laughed and swept her up into a spin together. He watched as Beel picked Karo up with ease to put something on the top shelves of the room. He watched Karo find pillows in all the nooks and crannies of the room, and he huffed and whined when she threw each one at him on the bed.

Belphie was on snack duty. In exchange for the two helping him with cleaning day, he was expected to provide the rewards. This was not a small feat when Beel was involved, but it was far better than cleaning.

"Hah! The closet is done!" Karo declared, brandishing her feather duster. "Snack us, Belphie!"

He couldn't help but chuckle. It was an awful phrase. Silly and stupid, but Karo's enthusiasm was just so contagious. 

"Good job. C'mere," he told them, reaching to his hoard of treats.

Karo practically jumped onto the bed, grinning at him, while Beel was close behind looking very expectant. Belphie hid the curling smile of his lips by lifting up a large bag. "The closet is the biggest monster of them all - so for defeating it, you two get this."

Karo gasped and Beel's eyes gleamed. "Oh, those are my favorite..." he said, already reaching out.

"Ah-ah," Belphie pulled the bag back, to be met with a pout from Beel. "You'll eat them too fast for Karo to get any, so we're gonna do something different."

"Different?" Karo asked. 

Belphie smirked and opened the bag, which led to a very audible tummy rumble from Beel. He and Karo couldn't help but laugh. He pulled out a snack - just one - and held it up. "Karo, say 'aaah'." 

She beamed at him and opened her mouth. "Aaah!" Belphie tried really hard to keep his blush down as he dropped the snack in her mouth. She was so darn cute about everything. 

"Now you give one to Beel."

"Just one?" 

"Just one," Belphie agreed, smirking at the pout.

It didn't last long though, as Karo held up the snack and said "aaah" to Beel. He eagerly opened his mouth for the treat, but shocked himself by blushing heavily once she leaned over to feed him. Karo didn't comment, but seemd to be rather proud of the fact.

Belphie fed her another, and she followed up with Beel - but Beel took her hand after stealing the snack from her fingertips. He couldn't help but kiss the palm of her hand. "You're... so cute," he mumbled. "I like this."

"I thought you would," Belphie said, pleased with himself. "Karo?" he held up another. 

She went for the treat, but instead he pulled it away, holding it above his head. "Beel gave you a kiss, don't I get one too?"

Karo paused and blinked before laughing and leaning in. "You're adding new rules," she told him. 

"Never said I couldn't," he answered, giving her a light peck on the lips before presenting her with the treat. The look of satisfaction in her eyes made his heart pound, and he could tell that Beel's was just as busy.

"My turn," Beel said quickly. Whether he meant for a snack or for a kiss... well. We shall see.

[lov3nerdstuff]

I Found

*Loki x reader*

Part: 1/8

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: mention of blood, violence, slavery, sexual stuff

Summary: Loki finds himself stranded in Underworld, a kingdom hidden deep inside a desolate planet. In order to survive, he puts himself in the service of the tyrant king, who promises to give Loki his freedom back if he fulfills one simple task. Loki is to set out and bring the mad king his newest toy: You.

~A dangerous, forbidden love. Abduction. Slavery. Tortured conscience. A mad tyrant... Escape?~

Request: A song fic based on 'I found' by Amber Run, requested by @strawberrysandcream 💗 Hope no one minds that I'm making another mini series!

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

__________________________________

It had been weeks since Loki had last seen the sky. Weeks since he had felt the wind in his hair, chilling him in the most pleasant manner and tousling his raven locks even more than they had previously been. Weeks since he had felt the sun's warm rays on his skin, a calming comfort bearing the promise of a day yet to come. Weeks since he had crashed on this horrible planet, been stranded in this place that consisted only of ragged rock and stone. Weeks since he had been brought into the caves, the tunnels and catacombs winding through the entire planet like an anthill, the city underneath the surface of all that cold stone. Weeks since he had managed to gain the favor of the king, pledging his unyielding loyalty to yet another ruler. This was starting to become an infestation in his life, really… changing allegiance like others changed their garments.

Yet, Loki was a smart man, to say the least. He knew what it took to survive in a seemingly inescapable purgatory like this, hell, even profit off it if he went about it correctly. And as long as he sensed a personal advantage, he was all for it. At least until he would see a chance to escape this place without drawing any severe harm to himself.

Thus it was no surprise that after a few weeks of flattery, of strategically placed opportunities to prove himself valuable and of some minor felonies, Loki became a highly valued yet not fully trusted member of the royal court of Underworld. That's what they called their kingdom… Underworld. Not very creative, in Loki's eyes. But the king was a nuisance anyway, a brutal and cruel tyrant one shouldn't underestimate; Loki had learned that quite soon. When the king asked for something, or rather demanded for something to be done, one couldn't refuse. Not if they wanted to live to see another day.

And so it came the day – or night? – when Loki was summoned to the grand throne hall. Honestly, he had lost track of whether it was day or nighttime, for life down here went by different rules anyhow. As he strode through the many narrow, torch-lit tunnels leading from his assigned quarters (a rather small cave that at least was equipped with everything he deemed necessary) towards his place of summoning, he wondered what the king might want this time around. Someone to scratch his back maybe? Or to tell another story to keep him entertained while he dined? Loki snorted at his own thoughts.

Yes, life down here was rather easy for him. He had a bed and a fireplace against the insufferable cold of the eternally ongoing stone, food and fresh water in the plenty. But he knew that not everyone was as lucky. He had been outside of the area one could consider a palace a couple times, and he had returned deeply shaken. The people of Underworld suffered, very greatly so. Certainly, there were always some people in every kingdom who suffered, for that could hardly be prevented for a longer period of time. But here, it wasn't merely some people who suffered. It was THE people. Singular form.

Loki may be mostly concerned about himself and his own affairs and well-being, but he wasn't cruel. He still had a conscience, and a heart… even though he wished he didn't, for it made his life down here so much harder to bear. Yet, he knew that there was very little he could do about that and thus the knowledge that he was highly privileged weighed heavy on his conscience at all times. He just couldn't shake it off, couldn't become the cold and heartless man he pretended to be on the outside.

As he entered the large throne hall, he cringed internally. It was stuffed with prestige objects, valuables from other realms that might have excited him in a previous life, but that now only served to him the purpose of proving the king's vanity. Had Loki himself really wanted to be like that at some point…? That version of himself seemed more distant now than ever before.

"Loki, my friend!" The king's croaky tenor voice greeted him a moment later and Loki flashed his most charming, and most fake smile.

"You called for me, your majesty?" He replied politely, bowing ever so slightly while his stomach turned at the action.

"I did indeed. I need you to so something for me, god of trickery." The king started in his condescending, almost mocking manner that Loki had grown increasingly numb to. "It seems I have broken one of my toys. You are to fetch me a new one."

The words made Loki's blood freeze over and the bile rise in his throat. By the norns, why did it have to be him this time around? He had been able to close his eyes to this before, had been able to block it out of his mind… but now he couldn't any longer.

The truth came crashing down on him like a cave's contraction, crushing him between miles deep of stone. Loki felt sick to the stomach. The king's 'toys' were nothing he wanted to become affiliated with. Poor, innocent girls reaped from their families at any age the king saw fit. And now Loki would become the reaper, if he wished not to be tortured to death.

"You see…" The king continued to speak and drew Loki back out of his mind. "...this is a matter of trust. I trust you, Loki, to bring me the girl of my choice unharmed and untouched. If you accomplish your task you will be rewarded with certain… liberties, in this kingdom. Like the freedom to venture wherever you please. But if you fail to fulfill your task, I'm afraid you will breathe your last."

Loki flashed on of his brightest smiles once more, bowing yet again. "As you wish, your majesty." Then he turned around, trying to convince himself that he was NOT fleeing as he walked back towards the exit.

"And Loki?" The king called out to him again, upon which he turned around with as neutral an expression as he could manage. "My head of guards will see you to the destined girl's residence and detail some men for your protection."

Loki nodded once, then turned back around and his eyes fell upon the swarm of men waiting for him at the entrance. Surely they weren't detailed for his protection, but for his supervision indeed. Obviously he wasn't the first person assigned this task who considered choosing escape over obedience. Oh and Loki wanted to escape, now more than any time before. He needed to come up with a plan of how to get himself out of this mess, and off this planet. Underworld was no place for him to stay.

The first step always was to gather some more information. Thus he took the opportunity of the small army of guards leading him out of the palace and towards the city for some questions.

"May I ask, why does this… reaping require my presence?" He started off, hoping that some easier questions would loosen the tongues of the guards and make them warm up to him.

"He needs someone to take the blame." A guard in simple leather armor answered. "If the people have another face to hate, they won't know that we take the girls for the king. And he likes to play games."

"Charming." Loki sighed, frowning to himself. Of course, if someone to take the blame was needed it would always be him, no matter the realm he was in. How truly wonderful that at least some things never change. He rolled his eyes once he knew that no one was observing him too closely. "How often does he break his… toys?"

"Every couple weeks." Another guard shrugged. "Sometimes he does it on purpose though, when he grows bored of them. Or when they… fall ill."

A very much unwanted shiver ran down Loki's spine, but he kept his cool, knowing that he had to. But he wanted to know more, even if he wished he didn't have to. "What happens to them afterwards?"

"You don't want to know." The guard mumbled in return. "No one wants to know."

"And what happens once we… what are we doing again, officially? Once we reach the girl's home?"

"We escort her back to the palace."

"And then?" Loki inquired further, trying to squeeze as many questions into this unpleasant experience as possible.

"Then she won't be your concern anymore, and you'll be better off forgetting about her altogether. The king is very strict about that."

"Strict about what exactly?"

"Anyone who touches what is his, who lusts for what is his will not live to see any trial."

"A bit possessive, isn't it?" Loki commented sarcastically and one of the guards snorted, only to be nudged in the side by one of his fellows.

Loki sighed to himself. These men knew nothing of relevance and even less of importance.

Thus, all he could do was to let the guards lead him through the maze of tunnels and the differently sized caves, until they halted all of a sudden in a rather narrow tunnel. Loki's brows furrowing in an instant, every fiber in his body on high alert. The dim torchlight danced across the stone walls and created deep shadows in the corners of the tunnel, casting illusions on the rough surfaces.

"You will wait here." The guard in the front spoke to Loki, who only lifted his brows in question. "We get the girl, then we're going back."

Before Loki could complain as for why he had to come all the way here just to wait in the shadows now, half of the guards hurried on into the next part of the tunnel while the rest remained watching him. Now… he could easily overpower them, sure, but he also knew that he wouldn't find his way out of the maze of tunnels alone. He only knew his way around the palace, vaguely, not all the way to the surface of the planet. And being lost down here in the tunnels was probably the only thing worse than being a royal prisoner.

Suddenly a loud scream echoed through the damp and chilled air, reflecting off the stone walls like the light of the torches and creating an eerie sound that made the remaining guards jump. It would've made Loki jump too, had he not spent centuries training his body to react visibly only at his will. Yet, he found the deep silence that followed upon the loud noise to be more sinister than the bone-chilling scream had been in the first place. Nothing good ever came out of a silence as looming as the one surrounding him and his guards at the very moment.

Then, finally the silence was broken by approaching footsteps, and Loki was almost glad that the guards were coming back at last. The first thing he saw was the glow of their torches at the curve of the tunnel, then they became visible as they approached quickly. One guard was carrying a limp body in his arms and Loki's eyes fixed on it immediately. The closer they got, the better he could see the outlines of your small form pressed awkwardly against the guard's feeble body. The poor guy looked like his legs might give out under your additional weight any second and Loki rose an eyebrow at them once they joined his guards in the tunnel. What he did not expect however was that the young man carrying you came straight towards him with a relieved expression.

"You will carry her back." He pressed out, looking like he might just drop you any second now.

"Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen." Loki replied with one of his signature breathy laughs reserved for internal moments of utter irritation, as he took a step backwards.

"Oh, you must. It's not up for discussion." Another guard said almost lightly.

"Why couldn't you just let her walk on her own legs?" Loki asked in what sounded more like snapping than he had intended. Luckily, the guards didn't seem to care much for his ways of conversing.

"They tend to make too much noise, and struggle more than necessary. It makes things easier to just knock them out for the way." The guard replied calmly. Loki had to realize that this must be a regular thing for them, a routine almost. The thought made his stomach drop and his head hurt.

"I'm going to drop her if you don't take her." The skimpy guard groaned and his legs started shaking dangerous, as did his arms.

"Fine, drop her then. Whatever. Not my problem." Loki commented coldly, looking at the guard in false indifference. He couldn't allow himself to care about anything but his goal of escaping as soon as possible. Everything, and everyone, else was a mere distraction to his own cause.

A few seconds later the guard's arms gave out indeed he dropped your body in an attempt to keep from breaking down himself. Loki watched you falling as if time had been slowed down just to torture him. Even in the dim light he could see your beautiful face, the dark bruise starting to form on your right cheekbone, the slightly parted lips… you looked so peaceful. So innocent. And for the first time in a decade his body didn't obey his reason as he caught you in his arms, only a broken second before you would have hit the ground. Time went back to moving at a normal speed, and he closed his eyes for a second as he stood upright once more, jaw clenching. Damn his conscience, and damn your stupid angelic face! This only made matters more complicated, and he hated it.

"Look who's not as tough as he always carries himself…" A guard to Loki's left laughed, only to find himself pressed against the wall of the tunnel a second later with a blade of pure ice pressed against his throat.

"Be careful who you speak to, and mindful of the ways in which they can kill you." Loki spoke in his most threatening voice as he tried to keep your body balanced on only one arm while holding the blade pressed against the man with the other. Yet, upon the beyond frightened face of the guard, he let the blade disappear again and hoisted you up higher against his chest with both arms. He wasn't particularly strong for a god, but in comparison to the people of Underworld he was Hercules himself, and thus he found no trouble at all in carrying you. What did trouble him a great deal on the other hand was not to stare down at you while they made their way back towards the palace. And not to let himself care.

"What's her name?" He finally couldn't resist asking, already blaming himself for the first signs of attachment forming in his mind. Gosh, he couldn't let himself get sucked into this.

"Y/n." One of the guards answered him. "She has been on the king's list for a very long time."

"And why has he waited until now to reap her? He does not seem like a man inclined to take pleasure in delayed gratification." Loki was beyond careful in wording this statement, for he knew that an insult to the king equalled a self-imposed death sentence.

"She's been hard to find and even harder to capture. Usually the girls he goes for aren't much of a challenge when it comes to their reaping. But this girl, Y/n… she's killed more guards than the beasts living in the caves below our feet!" The guard mumbled in disdain at the loss of his friends. Loki couldn't feel sympathy at all for the men who willingly stole innocent people away from their lives only for them to pleasure the mad tyrant on the throne. In his opinion, every single one of them deserved death more than most people he had killed himself in the past. But he couldn't be the one bringing them their end this time, for he needed to remain in the favor of the king a little while longer.

When he finally allowed himself to look at you, it left him wondering how a person could look so innocent while obviously being so lethal. Somehow, he felt a sense of pride in that, and a sense of very faint relief at the knowledge that you were a fighter. Maybe you could survive becoming the king's new plaything. He felt sick yet again at the thought, and even more so now that he was the one carrying you towards your doom. But he needed the reward he would get for accomplishing this task, he needed the freedom to roam the tunnels of Underworld to find a way to the surface. Maybe he could offer to take you along with him on his escape, if you lived to see that day. The prospect didn't make him feel any better. What he was doing here was wrong, very wrong indeed, and he was well aware of that.

"How did you knock her out?" He heard himself asking as his eyes remained fixed on the gentle curve of your jaw, the bruises and cuts, the dried blood just below your bottom lip.

"Poison." One man answered easily enough and Loki found himself shivering yet again. "So she doesn't run even when she wakes up. The only possible antidote is safely stored in the palace."

"Didn't you mean to say so that I don't run, with her?" Loki snapped before he could keep his mouth shut. How could these people do such cruel things with a smile on their face? Prior to his stay in Underworld Loki had believed himself to be a cruel man… oh how wrong he had been.

Since running with you wasn't an option, because of the poison, and neither was running without you, because of the tunnels, Loki found himself walking all the way back to the palace with you in his arms. He hoped dearly that he could just drop you off somewhere and forget about you for good, but if he was honest with himself, he knew that he wouldn't be able to forget. Not after spending forty minutes carrying you to the point of his arms going numb, after using his own precious magic and energy to keep you from shivering all too badly, after shielding you from the hungry gazes of the guards. Honestly, Loki didn't know why he was doing any of this… developing a weird sense of protectiveness over you only to hand you over like prey the next moment.

Finally, once they reached the gates of the palace, he realized that to him, you were a warning sign. Reminding him that this place was despicable, that he needed to flee as soon as possible, that the king was not to be messed with. Reminding him that if fate had played him any differently, it could very well be him on the throne. A mad tyrant caught up in an illusion and unaware of what he was doing to the people around him. And for once Loki found himself glad that he still had a conscience, still head a heart. Otherwise he would not be any better than the people bringing your doom upon you. Yet, if his conscience kept talking sense to him, he knew that he would lose his mind. Over you.

______________________________

If you would like to be tagged in this series or on the general tag list, tell me in the comments 💗✨ Hope everyone enjoyed this first part!!! Special thanks to @kthemarsian @beenthroughalot @strawberrysandcream

General Tags:

@its-remy-not-ratatouille @wegingerangelica @thidls12333 @tomstoobeautiful @dreary-skies-stuff @averyhill4445 @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @kthemarsian @lady-of-lies @sadly-falling-through-wonderland @strawberrysandcream @noplacelikehome77 @theoneanna @mishaandthebrits @mygodisloki @i-am-a-mes @nonsensicalobsessions @exygon @hiddles-lobotomy @rjohnson1280 @annwhojumps @spookycatqueen @salempoe @headoverhiddleston @fanfiction-and-stress @createdfromblue @halszka-potter @thecreatiivecorner @themusingsofmany @inthemarvelvoid @from-hel-i-with-love @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpionchild81 @foodthatsgoodforyoursoul @crystal-28 @adefectivedetective

[kyukun]

Operation D.I.C.E. HQ! (OumaSai)

i love writing dice sm tbh. theyre all so much fun to write and aaaaaaa

hope you enjoy!

title: Operation D.I.C.E. HQ!

summary: Shuichi finally caves in, and Kokichi takes him on a little adventure. What's the point of this adventure you might ask? Well, to make Shuichi his second in command of course!

word count: 1425

~~ prompt starts after cut! ~~

"Saihara-chan! Just the detective I've been looking for!" 

 Saihara raised an eyebrow from his book, staring into the purple eyes that beamed so bright and hopeful at him. "Yes?" He asked. He wasn't quite sure what Kokichi wanted. His facial expressions weren't any help either, but then again, they never really are. He could be saying one thing but mean the total opposite. Whatever it was, it wasn't any good he bet. 

 "I need you, my beloved Shumai, to go and investigate a place with me." 

 Huh? That was certainly an… unusual request. Regardless, he pressed forward in order to get to the real deal. "A place?" The question came out more like a statement but the latter continued and answered. "Yes! It's a super super duper secret place that I really want you to come look at with me! Please?" He pleaded further, clasping both his hands together while his eyes were in puppy dog mode. 

 Well, he had no reason to object, and his curiosity seemed to get the best of him yet again. Besides, he trusted Kokichi. 

 For the most part.

 Kokichi was pretty playful in nature. Despite saying malicious things, Shuichi knew he would never act on them. Kokichi wasn't that type of person. He sighed, setting down his book on the table in front of him. "Fine. Uhm, right now?"

 "Absolutely. Come on, I'll lead the way." He giggled, taking the detective by his wrist and leading him out of the room which they were in before. Shuichi swore he saw Kokichi smirk but maybe he was just seeing things. He followed the smaller leader for what seemed like hours. Though, it was only an hour but it still took forever. The place was hidden, well, sort of. It was some sort of alleyway in between two stores. The area was definitely sketchy, but lively.

 Shuichi felt uncomfortable. "Uh, Kokichi? Where are we?" He spoke up, timidity arising in his voice as he nervously glanced around as Kokichi paid no mind to his apparent hesitancy. He knocked on the door in what he could only assume was a pattern. He remained silent as Kokichi held his hand in his, beads of sweat forming in his palm as his nervousness had begun to dwell on him. 

 There was a slit on the metal door that had opened only a bit to peer at the two. "Red scroll, yellow scroll, blue scroll." He spoke, earning a raise from Saihara. Was that some sort of pass code? A Japanese tongue twister? The person behind the door nodded and opened the door after sliding the open slit closed. Kokichi turned towards Shuichi and flashed a toothy grin. He had a bad feeling about this. "Well, come on in."

 Shuichi felt Kokichi release his hand as he waltzed into the suspicious room nonchalantly. The room had posters as well as graffiti on the inside with pink fluorescent lights. Where exactly was this place?

 He walked in and noticed the room was somewhat empty other than a few desks and a bookshelf pushed up against the wall. The person that held the door open was in a clown mask and had a scarf and an outfit very similar to Kokichi. They had a red afro that was almost cartoonish to a degree. He waved gently at the figure who in turn, waved back. The latter shut the door and locked it with the hatchet that was attached.

 Kokichi walked over to the bookshelf and pulled on a book. Shuichi was startled with the shelf had begun retracting to the side, leading to a secret passageway. "After you." Kokichi teased, motioning for Shuichi to walk inside of the darkened area. Shuichi complied and walked inside, Kokichi and the other person following him inside. He walked through the hall and noticed it was… like a hideout.

 Like a stereotypical movie villain hideout but it wasn't. Sure, it may have looked the part from afar but you could see most of the "villain" aspects of the lair were props. The room had a mix of blue and white lights. Kokichi skipped in front of the group and held his hands open wide. "Welcome to the D.I.C.E. headquarters!"

 Shuichi took a look around and saw eight other (he assumed) members who were in similar outfits as the person behind him. They joined him and took off their mask, as did the others except one. "Kokichi, why am I here?"

 "See, I knew you'd ask that. So… I lied!"

 Of course.

 "I knew that if I told you where we were going, you'd say: "Aw man, sorry. Maybe next time." or some shit like that!" He rolled his eyes and collapsed down onto the dark greenish couch in the corner beside the door. "Right…" He trailed off and glanced around the members. 

 So they are real then. Interesting.

 "Oh! How rude of me. I should introduce everyone to you!" Kokichi sprung up from the couch, bits of the couch cushion springing from underneath him in all its yellow, fluffy glory. Kokichi took the detective by the hand once more and walked him over to the group who were greeting him with friendly smiles. Kokichi pointed first to a young girl with long brown hair and a braid to the side of her head, though she still wore her mask. He wondered why.

 "This is Two! She's not much of a talker but she's great at prank planning." Two waved, and Shuichi did the same. Next to her was another girl, she had an outfit similar to the rest but the only difference was she had cleavage showing. She was a bit taller than Two, maybe around two or three inches taller. "This is Three. She's basically our mom!"

 "Pleasure to meet you, hun." Three extended her hand with a grin. Shuichi shook her hand and moved along to the next, "He's Four. Prepare yourself." 

 "What?" Before he could process Ouma's warning, he felt a pair of large yet fluffy arms grip him and held him tight. Next thing he knew, he was in the air as Four hugged the life out of him. "So you're the famous one we've heard so much about huh?! Man, Boss does not shut up about ya!" His voice was loud yet joyful. He could see Kokichi in the corner of his eye begin to fluster, "Ahaha! Four! What are you talking about, you big goof?" His words were drawn out but still menacing. 

 Four blinked absentmindedly before making an "oh" sound and set down Shuichi. "Nothin' at all, Boss." 

 Shuichi held his suspicions but decided to ultimately drop it. "Anyway, that's Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine." 

 "The one behind you is One."

 Shuichi stared as the group of misfits gathered in a circle, whispering amongst themselves. He couldn't help but somewhat admire what Kokichi had been doing. They all seemed like such a big and happy family. He was happy Kokichi had them. 

 The day continued. Shuichi and the rest of D.I.C.E. had played a bunch of games together and Shuichi (reluctantly,) ended up helping on planning for their next prank. Kokichi could see how brightly the detective shined. And in this train of thought, he pulled him aside. "Saihara-chan, you seem to be enjoying yourself."

 "Yeah, I really am." He giggled, glancing back at the others who were sat in a circle playing a round of Connect Four. His eyes then drew back to Kokichi, "They're all great. You know, you're a great leader. They seem to respect you a lot."

 Damnit, Shuichi. Why are you so unexpectedly smooth? The leader felt his cheeks turn red, "W-well yeah! But… you know, sometimes even leaders need breaks from their subordinates sometimes so…"

 "So?"

 "Would you mind… joining me and being my second in command?" Shuichi couldn't see much of his face, but he could tell he was red. Kokichi had one hand on his scarf, which had been brought up to his face and the other had been placed on his hip. His eyes were averted but Shuichi didn't mind. He smiled at Kokichi warmly as if he were the cutest thing he'd ever laid eyes on. 

 Shuichi said nothing and instead took this opportunity to untie Kokichi's scarf. The smaller male stared at him in confusion, watching as he wrapped the scarf around his own neck. Shuichi bent down a bit, tilting his chin upward with his thumb and index finger and kissed his lips gently.

 "Gladly."

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 31: A Devil By Any Other Name

The theatre is already full when we arrive, but the best seats are reserved for le Comte and me. From our box, we can oversee the crowd below, eagerly awaiting the start of the play. As the lights dim, I pull out a cigarillo and quickly light it with my red plastic clipper, hidden from view. Soon, the audience in front of us becomes enveloped by darkness, their chatter dying down to a dead silence as the curtains begin to open.

They reveal a woman. She sits alone on a wooden chair on the left side of the stage, which has been made to look like the interior of a humble home. She glances to the other side, nervous, as the chants of an angry mob grow louder. They enter from the right, carrying pitchforks and torches, and begin to pound on the detached door that separates them from the other half of the stage.

Meanwhile, the woman pours salt on the floor, drawing a circle, and falls to her knees in front of it. It is not God that she prays to, no. Instead, she summons a tall man in a black cape and a mask made of a goat’s skull, who appears through a trapdoor on the floor amidst a puff of smoke, earning a few gasps from the audience. The Devil is here.

She has been accused of witchcraft, she tells him through tears of desperation, and the villagers want to burn her at the stake. And so, she sells her soul in exchange for shelter in order to escape such a horrible fate. The Devil, having agreed to hide her, extends his hand to the witch. The second she takes it, the theatre grows dark once again. This is the end of the first act.

During the brief pause, I turn to le Comte. He has been completely absorbed by the play, just as I was.

“Interesting story, isn’t it, my chérie?” he leans down to whisper. I agree with a nod.

“I heard he only writes about things he has seen,” I say in the same tone. I believe it, though clearly there is more metaphor than pure fact in the script. “Who do you think this one is about?”

“I have a pretty good idea...” I look at him, tilting my head. He does not take his golden eyes off the stage. I guess he anticipates my question, because he dismisses his own answer before it ever leaves his mouth. “But it’s still too soon to tell.”

I narrow my eyes. I wonder what he’s truly thinking, what he is refusing to tell me. Before I can probe any further, however, the curtains open again.

This time, the witch and the Devil are alone on the stage, with him holding onto her protectively. The set has changed to look like a dark cave, decorated with luxurious furniture in what looks like an attempt to make it look like an expensive home. No, not any home. Hell. The Devil’s realm. I must admit, whoever worked on the props did an amazing job setting the mood.

Le Comte remains completely silent for the rest of the play, even during the brief breaks between the five acts. I make no attempt to talk to him, to ask him more questions, for I know that he will not provide the answers I want. I see his jaw clench when he notices me observing him. He’s hiding something.

Meanwhile, the witch is welcomed into Hell as the Devil’s special guest. She is hesitant and scared, at first, but quickly becomes accustomed to her new living situation. The Devil treats her kindly, cares for her as part of the deal, and soon she falls in love with him. At some point there is a monologue during which the actress laments that she has given him his soul, and debates with herself whether she should give him her heart as well, ultimately concluding that, despite her feelings, it would be too dangerous.

Back on her little cottage, the villagers search for her, to no avail. Time passes, only for the witch who disappeared to have become a legend. She sees that, from Hell, and deems it safe to go back, so she decides to ask the Devil to let her go. He has completed his part of the deal, she tells him, and now it is time for her to return.

The Devil laughs. There is a slight problem, he says, menacingly stroking her cheek. Her soul is his forever, which means she can never leave. She uselessly fights to escape, but ends up bound by chains beside the Devil’s throne. When he leaves her alone, there is another monologue. The witch is determined to get back at him for taking not only her soul, but her life as well. In order to attain revenge, she will play along, seduce him. The play ends with her having become the queen of Hell, ruling beside the Devil like the Persephone to his Hades, but visibly unhappy. It is a tragic fate, to be trapped in the role of his unwilling lover for all eternity.

The curtains close, obscuring the image of the Devil smiling under his mask, a terrible laugh echoing across the theatre, as a single tear falls down the witch’s cheek. When they open again, the cast lines up to take a bow, revelling in the audience clamor. I clap, and glance to my side to see le Comte doing the same.

“That was really good,” I say in an attempt to prompt some words out of him. It doesn’t work.

“Hm,” he nods thoughtfully. Okay, I need to know what this is about. Asking him would be useless, so I wait until most of the audience has left to make my way towards the stage. I can hear the actors celebrate their success from the wings. Once there is no one but le Comte and me in the theatre, I climb onto the stage.

“Hey! Guillaume!”

The main actress peeks her head from behind the curtain. She looks a lot taller from here, practically towering over me. She takes a look at the seating to check if everyone has left before disappearing again behind the heavy fabric. The curtains open, this time clumsily pulled away by some of the actors.

“There’s a woman looking for you,” I hear the actress say to Shakespeare, ushering him forward. He smiles when he sees me.

“Anaïs, my dear!” He takes my hand ad tries to bring it to his lips in his usual greeting, but I use the gesture to pull him towards me, standing on my toes to peck both his cheeks like I would with everyone else. 

“I loved the play. Looks like the audience did, too, congratulations,” I chuckle, amused by the surprised expression on his face. He recovers quickly, wrapping his arm around my waist as I turn to the cast, that observe me with mild curiosity. “You were all fantastic. And you,” I point at the lead, the tall woman that played the witch. “Girl, you were amazing. I almost cried at the end.”

“Aw, thank you!” she laughs. “I’m Bernadette, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

Le Comte, who has been standing to the side, steps forward to congratulate Shakespeare on the play. I give them some space to talk, deciding to mingle with the actors instead, but their conversation is over quickly.

“I should head home. Have a good evening, Guillaume,” le Comte says before looking at me. “Shall we, ma chérie?”

“We were thinking of going to a tavern to celebrate,” Bernadette interrupts before I can answer, a friendly smile on her freckled face. “Needles to say, since you are friends of Guillaume, you are both invited. What do you say?”

“Count me in,” I smile. Le Comte politely excuses himself, something about him having work to do at the mansion. We leave shortly after him, once the actors have changed out of their costumes.

Our destination is conveniently placed right beside the theatre. It is much larger than the one I went to with Arthur and Theo, but the atmosphere is the same. We make our way to the back, and the men from the troupe join a few tables together to allow seating for the entire group. I pick a spot on the bench in the corner, next to where Shakespeare has left his coat.

“I would like thou to meet someone, my sweet rose,” he tells me. When I look up from adjusting my dress, I notice a young man that wasn’t at the theatre. “This is my friend, Antonio.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The newcomer greets me with a nod and a charming smile that reminds me of Mozart’s when we were at the ball. He has an accent strong enough for me to place.

“Likewise, Antonio. Italiano?” I ask, tilting my head. His smile grows wider with amusement.

“Sì. Tu lo parli? (Yes. Do you speak it?)”

“Ehh, solo un po’, ma capisco quasi tutto (Only a little, but I understand almost everything),” I humbly reply, shuffling to the side to make space for him. “Sono spagnola (I’m Spanish).”

“That’s... actually decent,” he replies, surprised.

Shakespeare, who I hadn’t noticed leave, returns with a large tray full of champagne glasses and an uncorked bottle.

“I want to thank you all for your hard work, and for being the best troupe in all of France,” he declares. “For the rest of the night, drinks are on me!”

His announcement is met with cheering from the actors, who quickly serve themselves a drink. The man who played the Devil, whose name I have forgotten, passes me two glasses from across the table. I give one to Antonio.

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players,” he continues, raising his champagne. “To the best players I have ever had the pleasure to work with!”

“And to the best director!” The tall actor chimes in with a surprisingly boyish smile. The rest of the group echo that sentiment before we all drink. After taking a sip, Shakespeare finally makes his way around the table and sits down beside me, effectively trapping me on the bench between him and Antonio.

“Did I mention Anaïs here is an outstanding dancer?”

“No, Guillaume, don’t make this about me,” I complain, blushing.

“It’s true!” he laughs. “I saw her with mine own eyes, with none other than Wolfram Theophilus Perti. That ball surely was something, dost thou not agree, my rose?”

"Are you wearing perfume? It smells lovely!” I change the topic, elbowing him under the table. I lean closer to ‘smell’ him, but whisper in his ear instead. “What game are you playing, William?”

He smiles innocently, fully aware that I’m not buying it for a second, but I play along. It is too late, however, for Antonio has already heard what he said.

“You know Perti?” he asks, looking at me with wide eyes. “Are you his friend?”

“Something like that,” I answer, taking a large sip of champagne. “We live together.”

“Ooh, lucky girl!” Bernadette chimes in from across the table. “I watched him perform once, and my God, he is beaucoup trop jolie! The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

“I know, right?” I giggle. Though I have recovered most of my strength, I can still feel the effects of my recent blood loss. The alcohol is certainly getting to me a lot faster, making my cheeks burn red. I notice Antonio staring intensely at me, but I don’t know what to make of it. “Why, do you know him too?”

“N-no,” he stutters, unconvincingly. “I am just an admirer of his work.”

Normally, I would find his reaction at least a slight bit suspicious, but my tipsy brain chucks it down as him being a flustered fan, so I don’t give it much thought.

“So, how do you know Guillaume?” I ask, trying to make conversation. Antonio’s eyes focus behind me, I guess exchanging a look with the subject of my inquiry.

“We have a friend in common,” he simply says. That statement means nothing to me. From what I’ve seen, ‘Guillaume’ is friends with everybody.

I leave it alone for the rest of the evening, talking to the actors instead. Bernadette is surprisingly hilarious, and the one who played the Devil, whose name I now know is Timothée, is a total sweetheart. He is the youngest of the troupe, barely nineteen, and the reason he was chosen for the role is that he was the only one tall enough to wear the costume, but he did an astounding job. Regardless, the rest of the actors still tease him like a little brother.

When the time to leave arrives, Shakespeare kindly finds me a carriage to go back to the mansion. I say goodbye to the rest of the group and step out into the street, only accompanied by him. He opens the door for me and helps me climb into the carriage, and I politely thank him. Before I shut the door, though, I pull him closer.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Will, but whatever it is, stop it,” I tell him, suddenly serious.

“Whatever dost thou mean, my rose?. 'Tis merely a favour for a friend,” he says, his melodic voice seeping low through his smile. I narrow my eyes at him, wondering what that favor could be.

“Are you pimping me out?” I gasp, incredulous. He just laughs and shakes his head, but does not correct me.

“Farewell, Anaïs.”

And with that, he pulls away, shuts the door between us, and slaps the roof of the carriage, signalling the driver to start moving. I glare at him through the window, unsatisfied with how the conversation ended, until he is out of sight. With a tired sigh, I sink into the stiff leather seat and close my eyes. It’s been a long day.

[olderthannetfic]

Fuck branding and consistency: For my precious Miami Vice, we’re going full 80s!

Miami Vice is a cop show from the 80s that helped usher in an era of neo noir and radically altered how television is cut and scored. It is both an ensemble crime show and a buddy cop show. The central duo are Sonny Crockett (Don Johnson, center) and Ricardo Tubbs (Philip Michael Thomas, on the left). They start out pointing guns at each other and end up best friends... with a detour through amnesia and attempted murder along the way.

Their boss, Martin Castillo, is played by Edward James Olmos, who has had the exact same death glare for his entire career as you can see above. Rounding out the main ensemble were two comic relief guys, Switek and Zito, and two women, Trudy Joplin and Gina Calabrese.

Yes, they’re super hot, and I ship them too, along with the very obvious Crockett/Tubbs, but that is... not what the fandom shipped. More on that later.

MV had only a medium size fanfic fandom. As a source of annoying middle aged men who own that speedboat and still don’t wear socks, however, it is unparalleled. It was a mega-hit in its day but is largely ignored now.

As far as I can tell, the height of the slash fandom was just after the show ended, around the time Escapade was getting going. It was something that was in the air (hah) at the time but not popular enough to make it onto the program much. There were a scattering of vids and panels in that era, including:

1992 - Miami Vice (cops and music, right, well, maybe there's a little more here...)

Indeed there was, but you won’t find that out from most people! The cultural osmosis version of this show is deeply offensive to me, far worse than “womanizer Kirk” and its ilk.

I. How I got into the fandom

Miami Vice is a brilliant show, so far ahead of its time that it instantly dated itself and has been a subject of constant mockery by people who only know it vaguely from cultural osmosis during the 90s. Its revolutionary editing is what inspired me to go back to film school. Its cinematography is equally iconic. The soundtrack literally changed television forever. And no, children, synthesizer is not automatically a bad or cheesy instrument. Jesus.

I got into MV in 2010. I’d been reading about it in the first Film Noir Reader and had been intrigued by the black and white stills. I looked it up and found that it was a rare DVD release that secured all of the music rights, unlike the butchery of Wiseguy and too many other shows. I bought it on the spot.

It was a religious experience.

By 2010, even the little Yahoo Groups fandom it had eventually grown was long gone. The zine fandom certainly was. I started buying all of the used zines I could get my hands on. One thing stood out to me over and over: Rico, my favorite character, does have great fic, but it’s all gen and het. The slash zines treated him with absolute contempt. The only fan from the 90s slash fandom who had any clue how to write him was @flamingoslim​.

So I did what any fan would do: I got into her current fandom, Starsky & Hutch, and stalked her to her S&H con.

What?

II. Why didn’t fandom love Rico?

So why were the slash zines like that? Yes, okay, the answer is racism.

But the more zines I read and the more oldschool fans I’ve talked to, the more apparent it is that the way it played out is specific and interesting, not some generic “he’s not hot” thing. The big problem was that the slash zines came from a tiny handful of publishers, with the more popular ones coming from a single publisher. Looking at their editorials in the front of volumes, I see cartoons of the two of them dressed as their ship, Crockett/Castillo. I’m getting full on otherkin vibes from how they talk about that ship.

This was very clearly a case of hating the other man who got in the way of the OTP. Even so, the particular way Rico was written in many of the stories in those zines is incredibly racist. Flamingo writes him as a supportive best friend to Crockett. This was... not the norm.

This wouldn’t be such a big problem except that this was not an era when you just go on AO3 or even FFN and post whatever you want. Getting a zine together is hard. It takes money. It means finding a printer that is willing to print gay shit--something that can still be an issue in 2020. It means having a job and a lifestyle where being outed as a publisher of gay shit will not fuck you over. They were the only game in town, and their bad takes ruled the fandom.

Contrast to the gen/het zines: Rico wasn’t specifically more popular than other characters, but he wasn’t in the way of somebody’s OTP, so he shows up pretty often as a major character, written similarly to how he is in canon.

The gen/het zines are also just plain well written, making all of the characters more nuanced and interesting than in a lot of the slash fic. That’s what happens when you’re dealing with tiny fandoms and tiny numbers of writers: one or two great talents shape the whole feeling.

The other answer to why people weren’t super into Rico is simple: Castillo.

MV is a show full of buddy duos. And then there is the boss, a mysterious lone wolf whose identity only goes back a handful of years. He is aggressively moral and incorruptible, yet also executes a counter-revolutionary in cold blood rather than let the CIA take him back to South America to continue his reign of terror.

What, you think Castillo isn’t a murderer?

Hate to break it to you, but not only is he, but Rico is the one who found out and never reported him. It’s one of the most interesting moments between them.

I’m not surprised fandom wanted to ship Castillo with someone. I just wish people hadn’t only ever reached for Crockett/Castillo when Castillo/Tubbs has just as much great material. But if I get started on my ship manifesto for that, we’ll be here all day!

Suffice it to say that MV suffers from what lots of old fandoms do: people only rewatch certain parts, and it’s hard to remember which bits are fanon.

I’ve heard people say that Rico didn’t seem like he really cared about Sonny on the same level that the oldschool slash juggernauts did. I think this is a combo of not rewatching the episodes more heavily focused on him and of fandom liking a particular kind of woobie/enabler ship. Rico usually caved in the end, but he set boundaries in a way some of these ships never did. He was also portrayed with a particular kind of bragging confidence that is way more common in black characters. I think it reads wrong to some people, though in fact, he’s just as much of a ride-or-die bestie as the usual slash duos from back in the day.

The same thing happens with a lot of specific moments fic does heavily reference. Many significant Crockett/Castillo moments involve Crockett being the only one who can get through to Castillo, yet in those actual scenes, it’s Tubbs who does or it’s both Crockett and Tubbs.

Yes, friends who I will be seeing at Escapade, even that scene and also that one. You are just flat out wrong.

III. The Fanworks

First, my eternal rec. It’s het with an OFC. No, no, come back! MV was one of those fandoms where this was sometimes the best fic, and all the more so since the ship is with Castillo, he of the mysterious past and not enough personal connections.

Dark Side of the Moon by @dejlah​

I also really love Temper of Revenge by Mary Van Deusen. It’s one of three she did to the same song and it’s about the dark, dark ending for the comedy relief duo. If you’ve heard Francesca Coppa talk about vidding history, you’ll have heard of this vid. (No, we’re still not the same person.)

I’m also a big fan of MVD’s Crockett/Castillo vid, Ready for the Times. It manages to perfectly capture the dominant fanon take on the ship. I can’t even put into words exactly why, but it brought back all that fic powerfully.

This fan-made trailer does a good job of showing the kinds of twisty episodes he got:

My first vid I ever sent to Vividcon was a Gina/Trudy one that gives a good sense of the awesome costumes and also how often they had to go undercover as hookers. (AO3)

And finally, for those of you who don’t want to watch five whole seasons of 80s TV, I vidded that arc. (AO3)

Wow, this is only like 15 screens. Practically a haiku when it comes to me talking about Miami Vice!

[codyfernmorelikedaddyfern]

Killer Queen - Duncan x Royal fem!reader // Part Five

It’s missing Duncan Shepherd o’clock. Which it all the time when you’re someone like me...

Read it all here.

Description: After a difficult revelation from Annette, Duncan falls off the radar without warning his pretend girlfriend. Vulnerable and hurt, he runs to (Y/N), the last person he opened up to.

Warnings: Sad Duncan, Happy Duncan, Sexy Duncan. Angst, sparse use of strong language, things gets sad and heated?

Word count: 3574.

Let’s take a minute to appreciate how big Cody's hand are for a second, thanks (Yes, Duncan isn’t the only one with a size kink, leave me alone)

Worry stirred (Y/N)’s stomach when she pulled herself out of bed. Her first reflex had been to check her phone. Nothing. Her concern grew thicker and it felt like a blow to her gut. It had been 5 days since she last saw Duncan and 3 since he had gone apparently missing. The last piece of information she had received from his mother was that they had jumped into a plane to DC in a bit of a hurry after she had a heated conversation with her boy.

Pride pulsing through her veins, she had refused to call him. Knuckles white and her jaw clenched, she shook the dread from her bones and stepped to her bathroom, turning on the water of her shower. She stripped from her pyjama and stood by the glass door, waiting for the temperature to grow warm.

 A loud banging shook her apartment and her worry picked up some more. (Y/N) quickly turned off the water, wrapped the bathrobe hanging on the peg across her frame and quickly made her way to the door. For a second, she cursed her father for giving her one of the only flat with no peepholes. Turning the key in the lock caused the knocking to stop and the view of an extremely dishevelled Duncan standing there had something new clutch at her chest. His eyes were heavy and hooded, bloodshot and wet. The duchess’ gaze interrogated him silently before allowing him inside.

Duncan stepped inside, not bothered by breaking the first rule of his host of removing his shoes. His steps were out of sync, aimless, and his hands seemed to reach for the thick fabric of his long coat in the same manner before crossing behind his back. “I know our deal finishes tomorrow”. The sound of his broken voice shook (Y/N) to her core. Her fingers wrapped around the key, locking the door while he spoke again. “I know I spent most of this time being an idiot as well” he continued, pushing the Brit to pull her eyebrows together. Her feet walked them to the living room where she sat on her couch. But he stayed standing.

“I’m the type of man who is true to his words. I’ve always told myself that I would never have to break up with a woman over the phone” his breath broken up by the sobs he tried so hard to supress. (Y/N) opened her mouth to talk but was quickly stopped by his tone again. “There is no point in us doing this anymore. My mother- Annette, has never been my real mother so playing this game is now useless”.

(Y/N) stood to her feet and closed the space between them, her arms pushing him close to her chest. The height difference prickled his mind again, his arms falling on her hips. “What are you talking about, Duncan?” she gently whispered. “Can I fix you up with something?” she continued, pushing back the tears that had peppered her tear ducts.

“I’m here to stop this, (Y/N). Before it’s too late and you end up stuck” the tears he was desperately trying to hold back seeped when her arms tightened against him, pushing his face down the crook of her neck. His fingers pressed on her hips, pulling away from the embrace. “I’m not a Shepherd. Never has been. My m-mother was the housekeeper. Annette t-took me in because my birth mother could not look after me” he turned his back to her, unable to show his face stained with tears.

 (Y/N) gingerly sat back down, trying to register the information Duncan was unpacking. “I don’t have a family to try and fight for now so, we can drop the act” his voice was harsh. He hoped she would accept it and get on with her life, marry into someone of her rank, live a life filled with adventures, travels and new experiences. But he wanted her to call him to extend that little deal just as much as he wanted her to run away from it. “I’m afraid this isn’t going to be possible, Duncan” (Y/N)’s gentle voice took him aback and he shifted on his heels, swallowing his pride and allowing the Brit to feast upon the tears and pain rolling off of his eyes.

“I really don’t need this” his voice stuttered some more and the young woman rolled her eyes at his answer. “What you don’t need right now is loneliness. There is obviously something wrong and you shouldn’t keep people away because of your pride” (Y/N) continued, her arms now crossing over her chest.

She motioned to the spot next to her and he caved in, sitting next to her small frame. “First of all, good morning to you too” she tried teasing, watching the vulnerability seeping out of his gaze. “I don’t think you being alone when you are in such a state is a good idea, Duncan”. The Brit’s small fingers brushed his knee, causing a halted breath to escape the chest of the American. “What I think we should do is stay here and talk it out, okay?” her (Y/E/C) gaze looked for his. “Have you told her you were coming here?” she asked, pulling him gently closer to her. “No” he simply said, anger lacing through his features.

 “Okay, well, you’re welcome to stay here for a couple of days and talk about it if you want. The two weeks are not over y-“. “I don’t want to go out for the goddamn cameras, (Y/N)” his harsh tone interrupted her as he rose to his feet. “I want to get out there because I care about you and I hope you do too”.

A blush spread across her cheeks and she averted her gaze again. “I mean, I have grown quite fond of you, yes, so whether you are a Shepherd or not, I couldn’t care less”. (Y/N) watched him drop to his knee, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of her calf. “We don’t need this deal anymore”. The beautiful shades of red deepened at his words, and once more when Duncan pressed his lips against her cheek.

 She coughed to miserably cover the sound of her heart thrumming in her chest. “I-I need to shower” she excused herself, practically running to the bathroom. As she turned on the water and dropped the dressing gown to her feet, she jumped in the shower, thanking the cold water for dispersing the crimson from her cheeks.

Duncan sat back on the couch, lost in his broken thoughts. He fumbled with his thumb as he reviewed the actions he had taken over the past few days. His mother had felt obliged to uncover her deepest secret to Duncan and the lack of words from his uncle only twisted the knife heavily plunged in his chest. Annette signing adoption paper did not change the tone Bill had used when he told his sister that Duncan was “Not one of us” and the pain subsided.

The validation he had been working on so hard throughout his life had been in vain. “If you and I are to have any chance, you need to stay right here” he remembered Annette saying as she gripped his hand tightly. But the only thing he could think of as their car drove down the streets was I need to get away from here and his first instinct was to book the first tickets he could jump into and run to the last human contact he had opened up to, (Y/N).

And there he was, sitting on her couch, regretting even coming in her apartment. What was he thinking? A heavy sigh rumbled Duncan’s chest and he rose to his feet. The sound of the water quieting stopped him in his tracks as he was getting ready to leave. The door creaked open and his eyes devoured the sight bestowed upon him. (Y/N) slinked out of the bathroom, tightly wrapped in a large white towel. But she was avoiding his gaze once more, trotting to the bedroom to get somewhat of an outfit sorted out.

 He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t bear to see her. As much as he loved watching her prowl around in her fancy clothes or in her comfortable sweatpants, he hated the bitter reminder that she had been his last effort to prove himself to his family. And seeing her walk out of her bedroom, her hair still a knotted and wet, her small frame approaching him while she zipped up the hoodie she chose to wear over the comfortable pair of sweatpants and tee shirt, it made him doubt his presence once more. So dainty and small, he groaned as she sat next to him.

 He wanted to leave yet he watched her place her hand on his. Then he watched her lean and pull his chest closer and he let himself droop in her arms. “Talk to me, Duncan” her gentle voice spoke again. Always so soft and tender. (Y/N)’s fingers gently combed through his hair why he started to unwind on her chest, his tears staining her hoodie. Duncan needed to go. He needed to go away from her before he could get hurt, or worst, hurt her.

Because he cared about the both of them and so did she, otherwise, why would she have thrown her phone on the other side of the coffee table, pulled him against her chest and let him be so open and vulnerable? Why did she want to know everything that pained him? Because she cared and she was listening to him intently while her fingers brushed through his chocolaty locks. A comfortable silence fell upon them as he ran out of pain to convey. Duncan was a broken man in desperate need of someone to fix him.

 “I need you to listen to me, Duncan” she whispered after gently planting her lips of his forehead. “I think everything happens for a reason. I enjoy your company and as far as I can understand, you enjoy mine. So what we’re going to do right now is enjoy this without anybody’s interferences” her voice was gentle and rippled through him with waves of warmth.

“You are capable and you don’t have to listen to ‘mummy’ anymore so you can be your own person. The person I’m rather enjoying spending time with behind closed doors”. Duncan lifted his gaze to meet hers and the vision of his tortured expression made her shudder painfully. She pressed a soft kiss against the bridge of his nose, her thumb brushing the light stubble covering his jaw and he rose against her chest, pushed himself higher to crash his mouth against hers.

 A soft sigh escaped (Y/N)’s lungs as her lips melted against his, her arms coiled around his neck, hooking Duncan gently in place until they had to part for air. But his lips dove straight down to her jaw, peppering and wetting it with sloppy and open mouth kisses while his hands crept up under the fabric of her tee-shirt. She wrapped her hand around his wrist once the pad of his fingers reached her ribcage. “This isn’t right, Duncan. You’re not in the right headspace” she breathed, her face tainted with deep shades of red. “So you don’t want me?” his gaze met hers, dripping with concern.

“I did not say that. I said you’re not in the right headspace. Have you even had breakfast?” (Y/N)’s hand released his grip on him and he shook his head no. “Alright, let’s get up and have something to eat, okay?” Duncan sighed before pushing himself off of her and holding his hands out for her. She linked her palms in his and, with a quick and fluid motion, she was up on her feet, the American’s hands had snaked around her waist and she was consumed by another burning kiss.

Duncan chuckled against her when their lips left each other and (Y/N) was looking up to him with big round eyes. “Have I ever told you that I think you’re beautiful?” he whispered, brushing a few strands of her wet hair away from her face. She rewarded him with a gentle smile, leaning in for his touch and nodding. “You’re not too bad either” she stopped herself mid-sentence, trying her hardest not to punctuate her sentence with her usual “Mr. Shepherd” to avoid for her guest to burry himself in his thoughts again.

 Her small hands pushed her out of his embrace and just like that, the warmth of her body left his and she disappeared to the kitchen. “What do you feel like eating?” were her next words while she fished in her fridge. “Your grace, I’m afraid that none of the possible choices I would rather have are one the menu” he leaned against the frame of the door only for her to roll her eyes.

“What, isn’t this the backbone you wanted me to grow so badly?” Duncan chuckled. Touché, she thought while pulling out a carton of eggs from the fridge. “Fancy an omelette?” He shrugged in response, propping his elbows on the kitchen island and then resting his face between his hands. Duncan watched her work the hob. “Could you grab me two plates, please? Will save me grabbing my step stool” she pointed at the cupboard above her head and Duncan obliged. As he stood behind her, he placed one hand on her shoulder and reached up for the dinnerware.

(Y/N) could not help but blush at his towering presence beside her. “You know you’re really tall, right?” she whispered, trying to focus on not burning the eggs in the pan. “I’m not really tall, you’re just incredibly short” he scoffed, watching over her before leaning in and whispering to the shell of her ear. “I’m not going to lie, the difference of height is actually turning me on”. His voice was husky and raspy in her ear and her eyes widen in shock.

“So you have a size kink?” she threw him a side glance before watching him drop a languid and slow open mouth kiss to her collarbones. Yes, indeed, he did. The tension dissipated as he went to retrieve his stool. The conversation gave space for the clattering of cutlery and the praises dripping off of Duncan’s tongue, devouring the content of the plate his host had cooked for him.

  “So you have the day off today?” Duncan asked as he removed both of the empty plates that (Y/N) had previously served their breakfast in. “I was supposed to, yeah. Something else came up though” the princess spoke after taking a sip of her hot cuppa. “Oh, what is it?” he leaned against the fridge, after dropping the dinnerware in the sink next to it. “I don’t know, about 6ft tall, smouldering and all, brunette, great to look at” she shrugged while spinning on her stool, resting her cheek on the palm of her hand.

“Thanks” Duncan blushed. “He also keeps on kissing me and dropping dirty innuendo’s thinking it’s going to make me fall” (Y/N) teased, absentmindedly smiling at the tall man on the other side of the kitchen. He lifted an eyebrow and leaned his head in her direction, looking smug as all hell. “Is it working?” Duncan asked.

(Y/N) gave him a shrug before getting to her feet. “Nah, but he can be quite domestic when he wants to, luckily he hasn’t started giving me a pet name yet, that really would get me going” she finished, standing in the frame of the archway leading to the living room. She then slipped out of his view as soon as he started to step towards her. A little jog brought him out of the kitchen only to watch her pull out the mattress from her couch. “A pet name, ugh?” he chuckled. “That only happens after the 3rd date, my dear” he pulled an eyebrow up mischievously.

 “Well, won’t you look at that, we’re about to have our 4th one” (Y/N) pushed her features in a shocked expression as she pulled all of the cushions from one couch to the other and plopping a thick duvet down on the sofa. “4th? When were the first 3?” Duncan laughed, finally deciding to join her and help turning the pull out mattress into a comfortable bed.

“Well, the first one was when we went for breakfast the first morning we spent together. The second was when you came over for dinner and we both opened up about our mummy and daddy issues and the third was the morning after that when you kissed me. Am I missing one, sweetheart?” she teased, crossing her arms across her chest.

 Duncan chuckled once more. Even when the animosity was gone, she still managed to have the upper hand on him. He was still at the mercy of her own rules and he enjoyed playing her games more than he would be able to admit. “Pick a movie” she instructed while making her way to the large display of DVDs and Blu-Rays. His hands went to rest on her shoulders once again as he looked around. “The Green Mile! No hesitation” Duncan reached forward to grab the case, letting the Brit take it from his hands and dealing with the rest of the process. “Get all tucked in” she gently instructed, closing the blinds before jumping between the folds of the duvet next to him.

 “Make yourself comfortable” she whispered as her hands worked on peeling off her hoodie and considered discarding her sweats too. Duncan stood up, quickly despatching the heaving sweatshirt on his chest and starting to unbuckle his belt. He paused for a second before having his gaze meet hers’, seemingly in the middle of wiggling out of her own trousers.

“How comfortable am I allowed to get?” the brunette wondered. As he watched her throw her sweatpants on the other side of the room. “I would way however you want but I don’t expect you’re getting nude either” she shrugged while pushing the covers against her waist.

 His pair of black slacks quickly pooled to his ankles and he gently joined her one he got rid of his shirt as well. Leaning back against the cushions, he opened his arms to her, inviting her to nestle against her warm and exposed chest, she did after a little bit of hesitation. “What pet name are we settling on, then?” Duncan asked, unbothered by the fact that the movie was now playing. “Take a little guess?” (Y/N) teased while the American’s arms snaked around her waist, softly stroking her back in the process.

“Princess?” she scrunched her nose in disdain and he chuckled. “Honey?” she shook her head no. “Baby?”. She looked up as if she was deep in her thoughts before giving him another negative nod. “Kitten?”. A series of shivers coursed through her body, prickling the pad of Duncan’s fingers.

 She shook her head no once more, pushing a scoff out of the young man’s chest. “Really? How about...” he paused, bringing his lips by the shell of her ear “My little kitten?”. As much as she wanted to hide the fluttering in her stomach, the slight squirming of her hips against him while her legs wrapped around his as well as the gentle mewl escaping her chest did not work in her favour. Duncan’s eyes blew open in shock.

He cleared his throat before whispering again, “Oh, I’m sorry, was that because I called you Little or Kitten?”. The bucking of her hips pulled him to realise she was only wearing her underwear besides the simple tee-shirt covering her chest. He could feel his heart thrumming in his chest.

 “That depends on what you want me to call you, Duncan” she softly whimpered back in his own ear and his hands clenched directly to her thigh with a deep groan. “You’re playing with fire, kitten” he continued, pushing a kiss to the supple skin of her shoulder. “I didn’t tell you, it should be spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E” her fingers hooked in his hair while she leaned her head back and pulled his closer, his hands practically hoisting her to rest on his hips.

The alarming feeling of his mouth suckling on her skin shrouded (Y/N) in a cold sweat and besides the sound of the tender  moans parting her lips, she pulled him away, quickly bringing her hand to the spot he had just started to work on bruising. “Oh my god, Duncan, you can’t give me a hickey right where people can see it” she whimpered. His hands travelled from her thighs to her waist, pushing her down gently. “How are people going to know you’re mine then?” Duncan shrugged with a stupid smile plastered on his face.

“I don’t know, hold my hand in public or something, not with love bites.” She scolded, still allowing his large hands to guide her hips to grind against him with a soft groan. “Why not?” he sat up, peppering gentle kisses to her collarbones, thrusting his pelvis up to meet hers with a shared moan. “Duncan, I’m fucking royalty and I-“. She was interrupted by him twisting their bodies around and resting between her thighs.

 “Oh, kitten, give me a couple of minutes to get yourself worked up enough and then I’ll be fucking royalty too”

______________________________________________________________

I think you guys should buckle up for the next part... Just saying...

Tagged : @idespac​, @psychobitchtess, @hplotrfan​, @tea-party-at-wonderland​, @langdxn​, @hecohansen31​​ & @blakewaterxx​​

Also tagging my bae @wroteclassicaly​

Just let me know if you would like to be tagged whenever I post a piece!

[katedrakeohd]

Twas the Day before Christmas

(Catch up on the first three Parts Here)

Part Four of A Very Valtorian Christmas

The kitchen at the manor in Valtoria was a bustling hive of activity. Cakes and pies were being made for the meal on Christmas day, and the warm scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger and vanilla filled the air. Standing at the long marble island, Hana and Kate are rolling out sugar cookie dough and cutting out shapes to bake.

Hana picks up a star-shaped cutter, "I love stars, they're my favorite shape of Christmas cookie."

"I'm partial to snowflakes myself." Kate says, laying the cut shapes carefully on the baking tray.

Kate feels the baby move and lays a hand on her belly. "What about you little one? Will you be a snowflake lover like Mommy or a star lover like your Daddy and Auntie Hana?"

"Speaking of Daddy, I wonder how Drake and Maxwell are getting along with their mission to spread Christmas cheer." Hana says as she hands off the tray of cookies to one of the cooks.

Kate giggles as she rolls out more cookie dough, "I'm sure they're fine. I know that Maxwell can be unpredictable at times, but Drake assured me that he would let him help in whatever way Maxwell as an elf can. I'm proud of Drake for taking on the responsibility of playing Santa this year. I can imagine all of the smiling faces of the little children."

"I'm still trying to get over seeing Drake in a Santa suit. Shockingly he wears it well. Who knew Mr.Grumpy would make such a good jolly old elf."

Kate swipes a bowl of gum drops as the bakers shoo her and Hana out of the kitchen. There was still much to be prepared, and having the Duchess and her Lady friend in the way was slowing them down.

The two women giggle like school girls as they make their way back to the Great Room. "Well I guess that officially takes us off baking duties. Now what?"

Hana links her arm through Kate's, grabbing a red gumdrop out of the bowl, "Any gift wrapping left to do?"

Kate shakes her head, "No, all done."

Hana takes in the lavish decorations around the Great Room as they sit down on one of the sofas to relax. "Thanks so much for inviting me to your home for Christmas Kate, it really is a nice place to spend a holiday. And you and Drake have really captured the spirit of the season in your beautiful decorations."

Kate smiles and reaches out to squeeze Hana's hand. "You're always welcome here sweety, and Drake and I wouldn't dream of letting a friend spend Christmas alone. I'm so glad to have you, Maxwell and Nicholas here. You're part of the family."

Hana wipes away a tear, "You're the best, Kate."

Pulling her friend into a hug, Hana giggles as the baby belly ends up in the way. "And our family is growing too. I can't wait to meet your sweet little baby."

Kate looks down and smoothes her hands across her belly in a gentle hug of her own, "Can you believe my child is going to be King or Queen someday?"

"You and Drake must be over the moon excited about being parents. This little royal heir is going to be born into such a world of love. Between all the attention from Mommy and Daddy, plus their Aunts and Uncles. I truly believe they're blessed."

"We're both excited and a little nervous, as any first time parents would be. But we also know we've no shortage of help if we need it."

"Have you picked out names yet?"

"We've talked about it, but haven't narrowed down a list."

Hana frowns, "I suppose it's a little complicated to pick out baby names when there's going to be so much importance attached to it."

Kate's eyebrows shoot up, "Exactly! Knowing that the title of King or Queen is going to be forever associated with their first name is a heavy burden on my mind."

"Have you thought about picking a name from ancient Cordonian history and giving it new life?"

Kate smiles, "Ooh that sounds like a great idea. It would give our son or daughter a connection to history and we can tell them stories about who they've been named after. Plus where I'm not from here it's a way to show the people that I'm embracing their Country as my own."

Hana glances around the Great Room, "Does the manor have a library? Surely there's a Cordonian History book around here."

"We don't have a library, but there are plenty of books in the study."

Hana helps Kate up off of the sofa. "Cool, what do you say we score a plate of cookies and some hot chocolate and head down to the study and research some cool baby names?"

Kate tucks her arm through Hana's and gives it a squeeze. "I'm so glad you're here Hana. Do you have to go back to the Palace tomorrow? Because I'd love it if you could stay longer."

Hana grins at her best friend, "Wouldn't I get in the way of you and Drake having time alone?"

Kate laughs, "As sweet and comforting as Drake can be, he can be a bit too helpful sometimes and I have to shoo him away to do something else. I know he means well, but I can tell he gets bored just sitting around while I sit and read or take a nap. And there's only so many romantic comedies on Netflix he can suffer through before he just pretends to take a nap or finds a game to play on his phone."

Hana scoffs, "Well that won't do. You need another girl around to binge watch stuff with you and to gush over cute baby things online."

"Exactly! Drake doesn't have a clue about all the adorable baby clothes, toys and other gear there is out there. I want my nursery to be fully stocked."

"Do you think Drake will change diapers? Or if he knows how?"

"He said he was willing to learn how to do all of that stuff, but I guess we'll have to wait and see."

"Hasn't he helped Savannah with Bartie before?"

"He has, but beyond holding his nephew and chasing him away from things he shouldn't touch I don't know what else he's helped her with."

After stealing a plate of cookies from the kitchen along with two glasses of milk. Hana and Kate head for the study.

As they pass by Kate's office, they can here Nicholas on the other side of the door, his voice is raised and he's talking to someone.

Hana frowns, "What's going on in there? I was wondering where Nicholas was hiding."

"Oh you know Nicholas, you can take the King out of the Palace but he can't leave the Crown and everything that goes along with it behind. He asked me if he could use my office as a base of operations while he's here in Valtoria. I'm hoping he takes a break at some point from running the country and enjoy the Holidays."

The main Study is in the room next to Kate's office, and as the women enter Kate turns on the lights. Hana sets the tray of cookies and milk down on the large oak desk.

"So as the Duchess, you have an office. Does Drake have an office too?" Hana asks, picking up a cookie.

Kate smiles as she leans her hip against the desk and folds her arms. "Well, it's not quite an Office for business anymore. The room next to this one used to be the Duke's office, but Drake had it converted into his own personal man cave."

Hana giggles. "Let me guess, it's upholstered in leather, dark wood and smells of whiskey?"

"Pretty much. He's basicly turned it into his own pub. With a bar and a pool table. Although he still calls it his Office."

Hana looks at the array of bookshelves lining the walls of the Study. "Hmm, where do we start. Do you think Drake would be upset if we start researching names without him?"

Kate shrugs, dunking a cookie into her glass of milk. "I think he would just be happy to have a list to pick from."

Hana runs her fingers along the spines of the books, "So how far back into history should we go? There are books here going back to the 17th century."

"Is there one that chronicles the nobility from way back then til now?"

Hana picks two books, "Yes, two actually."

Kate clears a spot on the desk for the two books. "Cool, let's take a look."

Hana and Kate settle into the desk chairs and each grab a book. Kate pulls a couple of notepads from the drawer and hands one to Hana, along with a pen.

"Ok Hana my love, you pick me out some nice girl names and I'll look at names for boys. And we'll take note of any interesting facts about these people as we go."

Nicholas opens the door to the adjoining office, "I thought I heard voices in here. What are you Ladies up to?"

Kate waves him over, "Welcome your Majesty! Just the royal brain we need to help us out."

Nicholas grabs a cookie from the plate and leans over to see the open books on the table. "Doing research?"

"Well kinda, we're looking up baby names." Hana says from behind her glass of milk.

"I don't want to impose my opinions on Kate or influence her in any way. She made it clear this is her and Drake's child first, and heir to the throne second. If it got back to Drake that any of my suggestions made the list I don't think he'd be very happy."

Hana and Kate exchange a worried look, "Well I'm sure Drake wouldn't protest that much would he? You know Cordonian history better than we do. I'd hate to pick someone bad out of history to name my child after."

Nicholas nods, "Well I can help steer you away from repeating that kind of history for sure."

"Ok good, pull up a chair."

Hana looks through ancient family trees from the 17th century, "So are you partial to any letter of the Alphabet for name starters?"

Kate blushes slightly, "Well I do have a soft spot for names starting with K. Or containing the letter K. Since Drake and I both have that in common. I figured it could be our new Walker family tradition."

Hana smiles, "That would be nice, plus it would help narrow things down."

.........

Drake and Maxwell opened up the back doors of the SUV and climbed in. Pulling off his Santa hat, Drake settled back against the seat wearily.

“Take us home, Preston.”

In the front seat Preston nods and makes eye contact with Drake in the rearview mirror, “Very well, Your Grace.”

Beside Drake in the backseat, Maxwell's tank of exuberant Christmas energy is still half full. If it weren’t for the requirement to wear a seat belt for safe travelling, he'd be bouncing all over the car like a rubber ball. Between Drake and Maxwell there's a large bag of candy on the seat. They're leftovers from the parade, and Maxwell has already had more than his share. Drake pulls it over closer and throws his hat over top to discourage Maxwell from eating anymore of it. Who needs little children to worry about when you have a Maxwell?

Maxwell looks like he might explode if he doesn't talk about his day, so Drake reluctantly engages him to let him let off steam. “Ok Maxwell, out with it. Did you have fun today?”

Maxwell beams, “Yes! This was the best Christmas adventure ever. Bertrand never lets me do this sort of thing. Now that he has Savannah, Bartie and now dear old Dad to keep him busy he has even less time for doing fun stuff.”

The warmth inside of the SUV is starting to get to Drake and he struggles his way out of his Santa coat, Max grabs a sleeve to help him get free of it. “Best adventure ever, huh? So what was your favorite part of today?”

“Seeing all the kids happy faces when I handed them candy canes and presents. They were so excited. What was your favorite part?”

Drake looked at Maxwell and thought about his answer. He didn't want to admit to Maxwell that the happy children were his favorite part too. Every smiling, rosy cheeked, grateful child reminded him that he was going to be a father himself soon. That warm, emotional feeling he felt every time one of the kids said: “thank you Santa..” had nearly brought him to tears.

Oh my God what's happening to me? I’ve gotta maintain my tough, grumpy guy persona in front of Maxwell or he’ll tease me like the schmuck that he is.

“Uh, sure the kids were great, but driving that sleigh was definitely the highlight of my day. Three horse power doesn’t mean shit as far as motors go, but with three actual horses? Damn that sleigh flew.”

Maxwell frowns, “But the drive to town was terrifying. I fell off, remember?”

Drake gives Maxwell a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “Well that part sucked, sure, but after you got back on the sleigh and sat up front with me; you had fun right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” The corner of Maxwell’s mouth turns up in a smirk as he shrugs his shoulders.

“The children really did seem to enjoy the sleigh’s jingling bells, and the fancy horses.”

Drake gives Maxwell a gentle punch to the shoulder, “See? That’s why the sleigh was my favorite part. Besides, I couldn’t have handed out all of those candy canes by myself. You did good today, Max. Heck, if we do this thing again next year maybe you can play Santa, and I’ll …”

Maxwell’s face lights up, “O..M..G, could I really play Santa?”

Drake nods, scratching at the itchy white beard on his cheek. “Well sure you could. But just let somebody else drive the sleigh for you OK?”

Maxwell grins at Drake, “And would Daddy Drake be my elf helper?”

“Nope, not a chance.”

°•~⭐❄🎅🍭🎄🎁🏰~•°

Continued in ^♡^ Part Five ^♡^

[rollthehighlightswiththelowlifes]

The Cannibals Curse

Based off of THIS post by @dafaq2, which I absolutely loved, btw.

It had been a few years since Mark had crashed on that archipelago with his best friend and honestly, it hadn’t been that bad. The food was great, the company was fun, and he’d barely been sad or panicked.

They played a lot of games similar to the ones their friend had seen on TV before he’d been trapped on the island. Apparently Friendo, the only thing he let them call him, had watched a lot of game shows in his youth.

He’d also learned that feeling bad was a BIG nono. To quote Friendo, ‘All the world’s a game show and there are two types of people on. The players who have no control, and the host who set the game. You need to stay smiling so you can become a host yourself… Like Me...’ Whenever Mark or his friend frowned cried or panicked or so much as frowned, he’d become twitchy and threaten them with his knife.

‘I think we should leave,’ his best friend had signed to him on several occasions. Mark would always respond with ‘Nonsense. Friendo is perfectly fine! He’s been feeding us and helping us have a jolly old time. Besides, it was your idea to come in,’ which they would frown, nod, and continue on with life.

It had been a few years since Mark had crashed on that archipelago with his best friend and honestly, it hadn’t been that bad. The food was great, the company was fun, and he’d barely been sad or panicked. 

They played a lot of games similar to the ones their friend had seen on TV before he’d been trapped on the island. Apparently Friendo, the only thing he let them call him, had watched a lot of game shows in his youth.

He’d also learned that feeling bad was a BIG nono. To quote Friendo, ‘All the world’s a game show and there are two types of people on. The players who have no control, and the host who set the game. You need to stay smiling so you can become a host yourself… Like Me...’ Whenever Mark or his friend frowned cried or panicked or so much as frowned, he’d become twitchy and threaten them with his knife.

‘I think we should leave,’ his best friend had signed to him on several occasions. Mark would always respond with ‘Nonsense. Friendo is perfectly fine! He’s been feeding us and helping us have a jolly old time. Besides, it was your idea to come in,’ which they would frown, nod, and continue on with life.

-

Mark sat up in the hammock- his friend had made it for him a few years ago- as he woke up. He looked to the right where his friends’ leaf-padded mattress laid on the ground, only to frown when he realized they weren't there. He remembered that he’d heard some movement in the middle of the night. Something in his gut told him that something was wrong. He quickly shook his head as he got up.

“No matter. Maybe they got up early. There's not a problem with that,” he said. Smiling a bit wider as he made his way into the main part of the cave where Friendo was sitting at the table eating some of the food set out. Just like every meal Friendo made, it was vegetables and some kind of meat.

“Morning, Friendo!” Mark said, grinning brightly as his eyes flickered between the dining throne and the other empty chair before sitting in the empty one, leaving the Special Dining Throne vacant.

“Morning, Pal,” Friendo said, his smile diminishing slightly as his eyes also shot to the Throne. “Why not take the throne today, Friendo?” he asked, laughing a little bit.

“Nah. I had the throne yesterday. It’s not my turn,” Mark said, eyeing the food in front of him. It looked like some kind of pot roast and he couldn’t wait to dig in.

“Yeah, well… our third friend isn’t here right now…” he said, making Mark tear his eyes away from the meal so they landed on the other man. He was cleaner today, surprisingly. Something he only did if he got blood on him from his latest butcher when making food.

“Not here? Where are they?” he asked. Something in the back of his mind kept whispering that something was wrong. Something… wasn’t adding up.

“Oh, they went to the beach. Decided they wanted to spend the day alone there. Don’t worry about them, just enjoy some food and take the dining throne,” he said, waving Mark towards the dining throne.

“No way is that the truth. They hate the beach. Why are you lying?” Mark asked, standing up quickly.

“Ok, Fine! They’re Not Here! Just Eat The D**n Food!” Friendo yelled, his eye twitching as he stood up as well before pulling his knife out of its sheath, making Mark jump back a good few feet.

“I’ve Been Eating Your Food For Five-F**king-Years! How About You Tell Me What That Food Actually Is Before You Start Screaming At Me!” Mark yelled back, grabbing a large bone that had been left in the cave, holding it like a club to defend himself from Friendo.

“Fine!...” Friendo said, his wide grin bordering on satanic. “Fine… fine, fine, fine, fine, fine… FINE! You wanna know where your friend is?”

“Yes!” Mark yelled.

“They’re here, Friend. Right. Over. There,” he said, waving a hand towards the table.

“What… what do you mean?” Mark asked, lowering the bone-club slightly.

“Why… They’re Breakfast! Where Else Do You Think I Get Our Food? People Who Run Away From Me! People Who Don’t Respect Me And My Cave!... Friend, You’ve Been Eatin’ Human…” Friendo said, before breaking down laughing.

Marks' stomach squirmed before dropping completely. Blood was rushing in his ears as his heart thudded, unable to hear Friendo at this point. His breathing came in several harsh gasps and before he was able to understand what he was feeling or why... his vision went red.

-

He didn’t remember anything when he woke up. Sitting on a raft, floating in the ocean. He turned back to stare at the island, which was just barely visible through a thick mist that seemed to be spreading over the water quickly, like claws extending to grab him and never let him leave the island. He shook his head and turned to face the direction he was floating too. There was heavy overcast, but not enough for rain, meaning there probably wouldn’t be some crazy storm like last time he was on a raft like this.

He shook his head, trying to remember how he’d gotten here and where the raft had come from. He didn’t remember much after learning the sick truth about the food he’d been eating. That… food… It hadn’t actually tasted… bad. Like veal, if anything. Actually… it’d been pretty good-

Mark shook his head again. That food came from other human beings. 

He’d had almost eaten his best friend. There was nothing good about it, he told himself. He told himself for the next three days and nights whenever his stomach growled until a large trading ship picked him up. That was what he told himself for the week he was on that vessel whenever he found himself unsatisfied with the food onboard. That’s what he told himself for the two weeks he was in the hospital whenever he ate one of the overly bland meals prepared.

But no matter how many times he said it, it just… didn’t sound true.

One day, in a desperate attempt to forget his misery, he started searching the internet for his old friends. 

He went from friend, to friend, to friend. He became a little saddened when he realized they had appeared to move on without him, but the worst came when he Eventually ended up looking up his girlfriend. In the four years he’d been gone, she’d found someone else and was ENGAGED. 

A part of him, the selfish and egotistical side, wanted to go see her, let her know he was alive, and take her back. His eyes flicked down to a scar on his wrist.

He’d gotten it on the island when he’d gotten hurt when mountain climbing with his best friend, on one of those days where there was nothing to do in the cave and Friendo was ‘busy’. And so, Mark came to the sad truth that life had moved on, and he’d been left in the dust in the process.

That’s when the idea to google his name came up. After several minutes of scrolling through the internet, he found that a grave had been made for him. A sharp pain in his stomach made him forget about that for a minute, before the pain passed and his mind wandered again.

Mark… didn’t exist anymore, he realized. He was still here, yes, but not only was he thought dead by anyone who cared about him, but he wasn’t the same person. Not anymore. His family, his friends, his life, everyone was gone.

Except his appetite.

-

As he walked out of the legal build, he was glad to have a new name. Mark was almost dead. Almost. He had one more thing he needed to do before Mark would be gone and he’d be starting his new job.

One quick walk later, he was entering the cemetery his grave was. It took twice as long to find the ugly stone with his name carved in. He pulled a folded up piece of paper out of his suit jacket, unfolding it as he did. He read it over a few times despite knowing everything on there. His name, date of birth, birthplace, gender, his parents' names, occupations, birthplaces, and his mother’s maiden name. Digging into another pocket, he pulled out a lighter.

“Goodbye, Mark. It wasn’t nice knowing you,” he said before lighting the birth certificate on fire. He dropped it onto the uplifted dirt patch and stood, watching it burn as it started snowing around him.

It was the Tenth of December that he was born. Not that anyone would know but him. Like how they wouldn’t know of the dead body stored in the hidden fridge at his place of business.

-

“Is everyone in place?” Several people yelled backstage as he adjusted his tie. His eyes flickered over to the contestants who would soon be his dinner. After he’d started eating again, he’d been unable to go to long without eating human flesh, almost like with-drawl. His mind would become clouded, too, making him forget things. Not often, but enough that he’d realize he’d forgotten something important like his favorite dogs’ name. So how better to get free food without suspicion, then a game show with all kinds of special effects.

He briefly wondered if this was wrong to eat like this just to remember and avoid withdrawal symptoms, when his mind went to his best friend. The idea of forgetting anything about them confirmed his decision as he was called ahead by another crew member.

The starting music for his show played up and he grinned as he stepped into center stage. Time for another meal and another game.

“Hire my A*s! The Only Game Show That Gives You The Chance To Win Your Dream Job, My Name Is Bim Trimmer, Let’s Meet Our Contests.”

[chibinightowl]

Down the Rabbit Hole, Chapter Eight (end)

Well. Has it really been an entire year since I started this story? Apparently it has. Happy birthday once more to the amazingly talented @tanekore!!! 

Read the previous chapters on Ao3!

~*~*~

In the cool darkness of the Batcave, Tim sits beside Jason’s bed and watches as the Martian Manhunter probes the dream of the one he loves. It’s been almost two full days since he’s heard that voice and the sarcastic yet witty comments that practically define Jason. He misses him so much even though he’s laying right here in front of him.

Dick is seated beside him, having claimed oldest bird privilege when he displaced Damian, who hovers around the end of the bed while Bruce and Alfred wait across from him and Dick. It’s been almost an hour since J’onn entered Jason’s mind, his expression remaining as cool and unflappable as always.

The straps have been put back in place, the reprieve from earlier over and done with as Jason resumed the activity occurring in his head. If Tim had to guess, there’s a lot of running and walking involved as his legs have been in almost constant motion, twitching and jerking about. Something else apparently happened too, much to his surprise earlier in the afternoon when he woke up and spelled Alfred from his vigil.

Tim is quietly glad no one else was around for that as it raised more questions than it provided answers. He still wonders who Jason is dreaming about, who it is that made him cry out and find his release like he did. It would be nice if it’s him; in fact, he really hopes it is, but he refuses to begrudge Jason his happiness, even if it is only a dream.

They have so few of those moments as it is with the life they lead.

J’onn finally looks up from his intense study, though his hands remain on either side of Jason’s head. Everyone tenses, waiting on his words. “The Red Hood is lost inside his own mind. He has created an entire world of his own, full of people that hold particular meaning to him, good and bad.”

“Can you get him out?” Bruce asks roughly. His face is lined with worry.

“I can, but it will be difficult unless I have his cooperation. He believes that he has to complete a quest to find a particular sword and return it to its rightful owner before he’ll be shown the way home.”

“Does he know that he’s dreaming then?” Tim interjects before Bruce can.

“Yes. From what I’ve gleaned of his thoughts and memories within the dream, he was growing fearful that it wasn’t, that he was somehow trapped in a different reality. But recent events have made the Red Hood reevaluate that belief.” J’onn’s voice takes on a warning note. “However, while he is on the verge of completing his quest, there no guarantee that he will wake up on his own. He might very well stay locked in that world until the end of his days.”

Dick surges to his feet. “We’ve got to get him out of there now. It can be done before the quest is complete, right?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, there’s another person in this same state,” Damian adds, always the one to play devil’s advocate. “The man Todd was fighting when he got gassed, he’s also like this.”

“We'll take care of him next,” Bruce states firmly. “At least we know whatever this particular toxin is, it runs its course on its own. Jason’s bloodwork and the spinal tap from earlier are completely clean.”

“Then why hasn’t Todd woken up on his own?” Damian counters. “If the toxin is gone, then he should have by now.”

Dick shakes his head. “The mind is a tricky thing, D. As I’m sure J’onn can attest to.”

“It most certainly is.” The Martian nods in agreement, his long fingers still laced against Jason’s skull. “In his dream, the Red Hood is about to do battle with his greatest nightmare. His sole ally has left him in favor of his own beloved one. It is possible that I can bring him out before the battle commences, but the Red Hood has discovered he has some semblance of control over the dream itself. I suspect that if I were to try and remove him on my own, he would resist me, so great is his desire to purge this evil from his mind.”

He pauses, and glances around at each of them.

Tim can see what he’s about to say from a mile away. “If anyone is going to retrieve Jason from the inside of his own head, it’ll be me,” he says before anyone else can speak up.

Bruce opens his mouth to protest, but Dick rests a hand on Tim's shoulder. “I’m with Tim on this one.”

J'onn is already nodding, even as Bruce looks like he’s swallowed a sour grape. “The close relationship between the Red Hood and Red Robin should be more than enough to convince him.”

“I will not risk losing both of them,” Bruce snaps, eyes hot as he struggles to contain himself. Risking their necks out on the streets each night is one thing. Out there, the enemy is tangible and can be fought with their fists or their wits. But this?

It’s all in Jason’s head.

And considering some of the things that he still has nightmares about, going in there may be even more dangerous than what they face out here in the real world. Jason often jokes that the universe likes to use him as a punching bag and there are times Tim believes he’s not entirely off the mark.

“Bruce, you can’t make that decision for me,” Tim replies levelly. “Everything we do, each night we go out there, we don’t know if we’ll come back. But we do it anyway because we believe in our training and each other. We believe in you, so please, have a little faith in us. In me.”

The cave is eerily quiet as Bruce struggles, torn between his own desire to be the one to save his son, the one he’d failed to save before, and to let his other son be the hero he’s more than proven himself to be.

“Fine,” he finally says gruffly and looks away.

Alfred pats him on the shoulder. “Good lad,” he murmurs.

Tim lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding.

“Okay, so now that that’s been decided,” Dick speaks up to break the tension. “How is this supposed to work, J’onn?”

The Martian gestures toward the bed. “It will be easiest if you lay beside the Red Hood, Red Robin. I will lull you to the cusp of sleep and when you are about to enter your own dream, I will direct you into the Red Hood’s instead.”

That sounds simple enough and Tim hops up to settle in as best he can next to Jason. The straps are in the way, but with how he’s twitching and occasionally thrashing, they’ll have to stay in place.

“What exactly is Todd dreaming about, Martian?” Damian asks from the end of the bed. “You mentioned a sword quest earlier.” He actually sounds curious, probably because a sharp, pointy object is involved.

J’onn places a hand over Tim’s eyes, blocking the overhead light. Instinctively, Tim closes them. Time to get this show on the road.

“He is about to face off against a foe known as the Jabberwocky with a blade called the vorpal sword. For most of his quest, he was with person called the Cheshire Cat, but he has just left the Red Hood to retreat from the battle with a mind-controlled man who was formerly the White Knight.”

Dick snorts and even Damian scoffs. “The fool is dreaming he’s in Wonderland?”

“I don’t see anything wonderful about it,” J’onn states in his somber tone, fingers gently settling over Tim’s temples. Lethargy flows through him and Tim feels more relaxed than he has in years. It’s a shame he can’t fall asleep like this every night. “The Red Queen is Harley Quinn and the Joker is the Jabberwocky.”

Oh, shit. This isn’t going to be easy. Far from it.

~*~*~

Jason has the distinct impression he’s walking into a gunfight with the wrong weapon. Not that the vorpal sword is a bad weapon, far from it. What sucks is that he’d rather not have to get anywhere close to the Joker if he can avoid it. One shot right between the eyes is too merciful for that shit stain Bruce will never let him eradicate, but he’s vowed to himself that if the opportunity ever comes, he’ll do it and to hell with the consequences. He messed up once before and he won’t do it again.

Tim knows this too. When they were still feeling their way around in the beginning of their relationship, Jason made this fact crystal clear because he wouldn’t go further if Tim couldn’t accept it.

The little shit did, actually. But what blew Jason’s mind was his own story about how through a series of carefully orchestrated events, Tim almost killed Captain Boomerang, the man who murdered his father. The piece of garbage that the universe gave another chance to, that at times he wishes he still had the conviction to finish the job.

Yeah, Jason can relate.

The Joker’s rictus grin grows the closer he gets to the house, a constant between the two forms he’s shifting between. “You never answered my question, bird boy,” he calls out, holding up a crowbar that’s dripping blood. “Forehand or backhand?”

Fuck the mind-games already. He doesn’t want to deal with them, not now, not ever again. “Who says you’re any good at either of them?”

That earns him a pouty frown and a flicker into the beast his mind apparently has conjured for the Jabberwocky. He rises up, towering higher than the house like a demon from the depths of hell. “You will die here, Jason Todd,” the Jokerwocky howls. “Unloved. Unwelcome. Completely and utterly alone.”

“Dramatic much?” a wry voice comments from behind Jason. “Seriously, I know you’re a drama queen, Jay, but this is ridiculous.”

What the fuck?

Jason looks over his shoulder, then turns fully because his mind has to be playing tricks on him. There is no way Tim is standing there. His Tim, with his stupid black cowl that looks like a condom and even stupider oh shit handles strapped across his chest.

It can’t be him. Especially since his Tim doesn’t walk around with a large green lizard on his shoulder that has rather familiar beady red eyes.

Tim pushes back his cowl, revealing bright blue eyes that Jason could lose himself in for days. “Come on, Jay. It’s time to wake up.”

“You’re not here. You can’t be here.” Christ, but does he want it to be real. Tim-Cat is all well and good, but there’s no one he’d rather have to watch his back than his Tim. The real Tim.

“I’m here thanks to J’onn.” Tim gestures at the lizard. “I think you’ve met the Martian Manhunter before, right? We called him in when you wouldn’t wake up. We’re all physically in the cave, Jay. You and me, sleeping. Dick, Bruce, Alfred, even Damian, they’re all waiting for us.”

Jason scoffs. “Like that brat would ever want me to open my eyes again.”

“You’d be surprised. He expressed actual concern for your well-being before J’onn put me to sleep.”

That’s something he’d pay good money to see.

Behind him, the Jokerwocky screams in anger. “You are mine! Mine to destroy, mine to enslave! Mine!”

It’s the fact that the Joker is pitching a bitch fit over Tim’s words that convinces Jason he’s real.

“Tim?”

He takes a step closer and holds out his hand. “I’m here, Jay. You don’t have to fight the Joker. Just take my hand and we can wake up. All of this is just a dream.”

Jason sighs, shaking his head while sheathing the vorpal sword. “That’s just it, Tim. I want to fight him. I want to kill him. Who knows if I’ll ever have the chance in the real world? We’re all here in my head, so what does it really matter?”

Tim frowns. “Is this the only reason why you don’t want to wake up?”

The Jokerwocky howls and flaps his massive wings, sending gusts of wind out across the overgrown lawn strong enough to make Jason and Tim stagger. “Yes, fight amongst yourselves! You will never leave! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”

“Shut the fuck up while the adults are talkin’, you piece of shit!” Jason snatches one of his guns and fires it at the Joker, wishing the bullets were real instead of rubber. While he’s at it, might as well wish for a rocket launcher.

The Joker screams in pain but oddly enough, doesn’t attack. It occurs to Jason that the beast appears to be metaphorically chained to the house and can’t move past it, so they can mostly ignore him. Which is fine with him because he’s got some business to hash out with Tim. Perhaps he’s not quite as on board with his real-life plans after all.

“Tim, I know this is a dream. I want to wake up. But before I do, I just wanna do this one thing. Just let me kill him and we can get out of here.”

A dream that has been so damned real that it’s almost painful to want to leave. But it’s not like Tim-Cat is real and besides, he’s got his Knight back. Even if this wasn’t a dream, chances were likely he wouldn’t want to shack up with them both. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to live with two Tims. They’d probably end up burying him alive somewhere and running off together.

It doesn’t look like Tim is convinced. “How does killing the Joker in a dream do any good when he’s still alive out there? That’s where it matters, not in here. I know you want that, if the opportunity presents itself and I’ve said I won’t stop you.”

He also said he wouldn’t help him either.

“What if that doesn’t happen though?” Jason persists. “Maybe this will be almost as cathartic as the real deal. Maybe, just maybe, killing him in here will finally mean I can sleep through the night in peace.”

Not every night because their lives are shit for that to even be a remote possibility, but perhaps he’ll be able to wake up next to Tim and not be covered in sweat from the terrors that stalk his nightmares.

Tim glances at the Jokerwocky still raging behind him and back to Jason. The pensive look on his face tells him that he’s about to give in, but with misgivings. “J’onn seems to be on your side,” he comments idly. “Not that he’s giving a reason why.”

Jason has almost completely forgotten the third member of their little party. Big mistake there as the Martian Manhunter is one of the most powerful members of the Justice League, a fact easily overlooked considering how reserved he is compared to other members. Back in his Robin days, he’d never heard Bruce speak of him with anything other than respect. He could probably yank them all out of here in a heartbeat.

So why hasn’t he? He remembers seeing the lizard earlier before he and Tim-Cat stormed the hedge. J’onn could have woken him up right then and there instead of letting him get up in the Bandersnatch’s business and wander into that psychedelic nightmare of a house. It’s almost as if he wants him to complete his quest...

Gleaming red eyes stare back at him and Jason swears he winks.

Well, well, well.

Tim frowns harder. “You are so damned stubborn.”

“You say that like it’s a surprise.”

“Let’s get this over with.” Tim jerks his head toward the house. “Now make up your mind. Hell beast or human?”

A victory is a victory and right now, he’ll take what he can get. Jason grins as he turns his attention back to the Jokerwocky. The flickering is worse now, switching from one terrifying visage to the other and back again. All he has to do is decide.  

The demonic beast is frightening beyond belief, black as sin and the darkness that haunts his deepest nightmares. Stifling pitch darkness that surrounds and suffocates him, that has him clawing for air and freedom and light. But for all of that, it’s not what tortures him most.

Night is followed by day, after all. Tim, hell, even the rest of his family, have taught him that. The lesson just took a few years to sink in. Jason can just hear Damian muttering about him being a slow learner.

Just like that, the beast disappears, leaving a man clutching the railing across the front of the house with a grin so wide that it would put the original Cheshire Cat to shame.

“Ready to come and play, birdbrain?”

Jason is more than ready and resumes his steady march back toward Arkham, this time with Tim keeping pace at his side.

“What’s the plan?” Tim asks, voice pitched low.

“Keep an eye out for Harley. She’s around here somewhere.” Better that Harley becomes Tim’s problem, it’ll give him one less thing to worry about. The vague concern about having to take on both the Joker and his annoying as fuck, but no less deadly psychotic girlfriend dissipates. Why can’t the Harley in his dream be the same as the one out in the real world? That one would be marching right along with them with her giant fucking mallet to beat the shit out of her former puddin’.

“Fine, but what’s your plan for taking him on?”

“It’ll come to me.”

“In the next ten seconds or so?”

“Sure.”

Truth be told, Jason has no set plan for killing the Joker. He knows how he’d prefer to do it, but a sword isn’t exactly the right weapon for shooting someone. It means he has to get right up close and personal, parry that damn crowbar a few times before the blade breaks it and he can make with the stabbing.

Too many things can go wrong with that scenario. It’s the Joker and his nightmare, so why would things go right?

As they approach the steps to the wide portico, the Joker comes to meet them, his stride long and nonchalant, like this was nothing but a walk in the park for him. In one hand is the crowbar that still drips blood from some unseen source. He stops at the top of the steps to face them, tapping the tip of the bleeding metal against his other hand with wet smacks that send splatters of red flying.

Jason’s memory helpfully provides another time he and the Joker faced off over a crowbar and his ribs twinge in agony.

Gee, no, his imagination isn’t fucking with him, really. Nope, this is all nice and normal, right here.

“Alright you fuckin’ clown. Let’s get this over with so I can wake up.”

The Joker’s grin grows wider, his teeth stained yellow under the pale light of the moon. “You will never wake up, Jason. It’s just you and me and the crowbar for as long as your heart beats. Those others are lying to you, just as they always have. No one wants you except for me, little robin.”

He breaks off into another maniacal laugh.

Jason shakes his head and lets the words fall away. Once upon a time, he’d have believed them, he really would have. But while he has many doubts about his place in Gotham, in his family, there is one relationship he doesn’t, and that person stands by his side. “Jesus Christ, you are such a fuckin’ liar.”

His hand falls to his waist to grasp the hilt of the vorpal sword.

But rather than unsheathing a sword, he raises a gun, the gleaming silvery metal a match for either of the .45s strapped to his thighs.

“What the hell?” Tim gapes at the weapon the vorpal sword has morphed into.

Jason doesn’t question it. His dream, his weapon. Finally, something is going his way. He flips the safety and takes aim. “Tweet, tweet, motherfucker.”

Okay, so it’s not the most original line in the world, but damn is it satisfying.

The gunshot rips through the night with a snicker-snack, and the Joker appears surprised at the unexpected assault, eyes crossing as he tries to take in the hole that now adorns his forehead. But Jason is confident that the vorpal sword picked up on his preferred ammo, so while the damage to the Joker’s face is rather minimal, there’s nothing left to the back of his head after the bullet ripped apart his brain and shattered against the skull.

The Joker falls to the ground, a puppet who’s lost his strings. The crowbar lands beside him, a soft thunk as it falls from that long-fingered grip.

One, two! One, two! And through and through, the vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head, he went galumphing back.

Tempting as it was to decapitate the Joker, there really wasn’t much left of his skull to make it worth his while. Besides, Jason doubts the White Queen really wants to mount the Jokerwocky’s head on her wall.

Tim-Cat is an entirely different story.

A loud wail echoes from the Asylum as Harley makes herself known. “Puddin’! My puddin’!” Her cries fade away as the house shudders again, foundations cracking and quaking as the earth heaves.

Jason grabs Tim’s shoulder and yanks. “Run!”

For the second time that night, he races toward the hedge and the safety of the garden beyond. Behind him, wood splinters and stone groans as Arkham Asylum is swallowed into the ground, sinking into the caves beneath the surface.

Tim is hot on his heels, cape whipping behind him as he keeps pace.

There’s no Bandersnatch blocking the way, so Jason stops to catch his breath as soon as they reach the trees.

“What…happened?” Tim gasps, sucking in air like it’s going out of style. They’re both in great shape, but a sprint of that magnitude is bound to make them both need to relearn how to breathe.

Rather like how they did the first time they’d had sex.

Jason holds up the vorpal gun that’s still clasped tightly in his hand. “I shot him.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Tim pushes away from the tree he’s leaning against. “Since when has the vorpal sword been able to turn into a gun?”

“The vorpal blade takes whatever form it’s bearer needs it to.” The voice speaks from up in the branches of the tree. “My Knight is swordsman. You are a gunman. Didn’t you know that?”

Tim-Cat drops gracefully to the ground.

Jason wants to choke at the sight of two Tims standing before him. “No, I didn’t,” he replies somewhat testily as his Tim stares in amazement at his doppelgänger. “Don’t cha think that would have been a helpful bit of information to share?”

The Cheshire Cat is staring just as curiously at his human counterpart. “I was distracted,” he replies, clearly not paying Jason much attention.

“Why are you here?” Jason asks, holstering the gun. “I thought you’d be further along with your Knight.”

“He and the Bandersnatch are under Absalom’s care. She’s one of the most trusted agents of the White Queen.” Tim-Cat finally tears his gaze away from Tim’s. “I came back because I thought you’d need help.” He smirks, fangs flashing in the moonlight. “But I see I was already with you.”

Tim slowly shakes his head. “Jay, is this how you see me? Really?”

The grin sharpens. “How do you think I feel? My Knight and your Jason are identical in all ways. Right down to that little thing they do with their –”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Jason steps forward before Tim-Cat can finish that sentence. “No one is comparing notes here, got it?”

The look Tim gives him says they’re having a long talk later. Great. Just great.

Jason unclips the vorpal gun from his belt to hand it over to Tim-Cat. “Here. According to that green lizard, I don’t have to actually return this to the White Queen in order to wake up. But I do want to give it to you.”

Tim-Cat accepts it, claws wrapping around the grip. As Jason lets go, the vorpal gun morphs again, this time into a long, slender staff that is all too familiar. “Thank you for returning this to us, Jason. My queen appreciates your efforts.”

The words are stiffly formal, but Jason is fluent in Tim-speak and knows that look behind those eyes, even slitted as they are. “And you? Do you still think I’m an asshole?”

Those luminescent orbs blink wetly before Tim-Cat slinks forward and wraps his arms around Jason’s neck. “Of course, you are. We wouldn’t love you like we do if you weren’t.”

Warm lips press against his, hot and hungry. Then, in the blink of an eye, the Cheshire Cat and the vorpal staff disappear.

Tim arches an eyebrow. “Something you want to tell me?”

Jason runs a hand through his hair, already feeling like more than a little bit of a tool for what he did with Tim-Cat, even if this is all simply an incredibly vivid and realistic dream. “Yeah, but after we wake up. How’s that supposed to work anyway?”

The lizard’s ruby eyes blaze in sudden fire. “All you have to do is want to. I will take care of the rest.”

After the last couple of days Jason has had, a telepathic lizard is the least of his concerns. He reaches for Tim’s hand and clasps it firmly. “Oh, I definitely believe it’s time for me to wake the fuck up. Do I need to click my heels three times? Say there’s no place like home?”

Tim shoves a bony elbow into his side. “Wrong story, Jay.”

“Do you have any idea how many genres I’ve been crossing since I woke up in here?”

“Tell me when we’re awake.”

Jason winks at him as darkness begins to fall around the edge of his vision. “As you wish.”

~*~*~

It doesn’t take long after Jason emerges from his slumber to wish he were unconscious again. “For the last fucking time, Dickie, I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t you have someone else to annoy?”

Dick heaves a massive sigh and glares. “If you don’t tell me, then Bruce will get all up in your face about what happened for his report. Do you really want that?”

Jason scowls because of course he doesn’t want that. At the same time, he doesn’t want to tell Dickface either, so he settles on the happy medium. “Some of the things that happened in there are a little too personal and I need some time to process before I even contemplate telling another person.”

The frustration on Dick’s face eases at the surprisingly honest answer. “You’re lucky Bruce went with J’onn to Gotham General.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Jason sits up in the bed he and Tim share when they have to stay at the Manor for some reason or other. It’s rare they ever do together, but Alfred has put his foot down, so there’s no escaping tonight. Today. Whatever the hell the time is. His internal clock is all kinds of jacked up. “Look, there’s a lot of shit in my head that I try not to think about on the regular, but this dream hallucination brought most of it back to the surface. The last thing I need is Bruce breathing down my neck.”

Dick nods, rising from the chair he’d moved to the side of the bed upon entering the room earlier. “I can respect that. And I’ll make sure he does too. Just… try not to run away too soon? You scared the crap out of everyone, so at the very least, you can cut Alfred some slack and let him fuss over you.”

“I think I can deal with that for a day.” He’s already eaten a plateful of fresh cookies, his favorite ones too.

“Good. I’ll handle Bruce then. Get some rest, Little Wing. You haven’t been sleeping well.” Dick winks and escapes from the room before the pillow Jason throws at him manages to hit the back of his head.

“And people say I’m the asshole.” Jason sighs and wonders if he can convince Tim to pick up the pillow when he gets out of the shower. He’d do it, but he’s on strict orders from Alfred to stay on bedrest after he’d fallen down in the Cave when his legs gave out on him as he got up from the hospital gurney. Not exactly his best moment.

Even if it did earn him a sponge bath from Tim when they made it upstairs. He aches for a normal shower, but he’s still feeling shaky, so that’s not a good idea. Slipping on wet tile and cracking his skull is a rather ignominious ending. When he kicks the bucket a second time, he wants to go out in a roaring fury, staring death in the face while he does something awesome.

Like saving the world. That’s so much better than last time.

Although, he’ll also settle for simple falling asleep and never waking up again, preferably after having lived a long and full second life with Tim by his side.

Yeah, that sounds a lot better.

Jason dutifully sips at the hot tea the old butler left for him and settles back into the mountain of other pillows that adorn the bed. It’s easy to say Tim is the pillow monster, but really, it’s him.

“Did Dick leave on his own or did you throw him out?” Tim asks, stepping out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and using another to dry his hair.

“I fed him a few lines and convinced him to exit stage left.” Jason takes another sip.

“Are you tired?” Tim opens a dresser drawer to remove a clean pair of boxers and some pajama pants. Both towels fall to the floor and Jason is momentarily distracted by all the bare skin before it gets hidden away again.

“Yes and no?” He knows better than to try and evade Tim. “Just have a lot to think about.”

“I’d say so.” Tim picks up the towels and disappears back into the bathroom to hang them up, then joins him in the large bed.

He either doesn’t see the pillow by the door or doesn’t care.

Once he settles in, Jason wraps an arm around him, breathing in the scent of Tim’s hair. It soothes raw nerves in ways that it has no right to, better than anything really, including the good drugs or the hard booze.

“Do you think it worked?” Tim asks, idly drawing circles on Jason’s bare chest with the tip of a finger. “Killing the Jokerwocky, I mean.”

Jason shrugs and doesn’t move. “Dunno. It sure as hell felt good. Still don’t think I’ll ever be okay around crowbars though.”

Tim shifts around in the bed, sitting up and gazing thoughtfully at him. “That’s what you dream about with the Joker, isn’t it? Him and the crowbar standing over you, wet with your own blood?”

He doesn’t want to face those knowing eyes. He’s already dealt with one traumatic event today, it’ll be awhile before he’s ready for another. “Yeah,” is all he offers in reply.

“Were we all in your dream?” Tim asks, taking another track, one that Jason is quietly grateful for. “I had no idea I could pull off the cat look so well.”

Jason laughs and tugs Tim down into the bed so they can better wrap around each other. “Everyone I care about was in there.” He tells him about Tweedle Dick and Damian, which has Tim in stitches in no time flat. About Cass the butterfly, Steph the White Rabbit, and Babs the White Queen. “Honestly though? I about lost my shit when I met Mad Hatter Brucie and Alfred the March Hare. If facing the Jabberwocky was about me and my worst nightmares, then seeing Alfred with bunny ears and a little cotton ball tail was enough to make me want to sign myself into Arkham and never come back out.”

Tim smacks him lightly. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“What? You didn’t see him!”

“Tell me more about the Cheshire Cat.” Tim rolls over and props himself up, chin resting on his hands. “You can’t tell me you didn’t find that version of me attractive.”

There’s a glint in his eye that tells Jason he knows more than he’s letting on. Shit. He’s in so much trouble. “Yeah, about that… Did you know that dream you really likes having his ears scratched?”

“Oh, so does that mean he discovered how much you enjoy having your belly rubbed?”

[queen-mischief-fanfiction]

Drabbles about the Black and White Siblings

An: I can’t seem to get these ideas out of my head so my solution is to write them out. Each chapter isn’t connected, each chapter is just a different stage of their story.Here is the story of how Alonzo, Quaxo and Victoria joined the Jellicle tribe and grew into the young cats we know and love, well first things first here’s their introduction.

How they met the Jellicles

It was a dark and stormy night at Victoria grove, and the rain was pouring non stop and humans ran home for cover. However, huddling under the cover of a broken umbrella that was dropped by a human was three kittens, cold and hungry, Alonzo the oldest was a black and white Tom that was still a kitten and was drenched from the rain, looking down he smiles sadly at his brother Quaxo, a black tuxedo kitten, he smiles back wrapping his small arms around the pure white fluff ball that is there little sister Victoria, barely a day old and already she’s left to the care of her brothers without their parents. Where were their parents well from Alonzo’s understanding they never had a father only a mother who lived in the streets and didn’t live long after giving birth to her last child. Alonzo had dreams that he would find a home for his siblings and one day hopefully he will.

  Later in the night three large Tom cats were walking down the street towards the junkyard, the smallest, yet still big was a known as Gus the theatre cat, the second was a round tuxedo cat and lastly had the biggest cat of all known as Old Deuteronomy. “Gus that was a lovely performance tonight you deserve those five stars” old Deut, compliments “I quite enjoyed the show too” “i know Firefrorefiddle the fiend of the fell is my favourite role yet I’m sure the kittens will love to hear about it” unbeknownst to Gus or Bustopher, Deuteronomy was looking over at the corner of the street as he saw a big shadow, moving closer he could see that it was a small Tom kitten and a slightly older Tom both cradling between them a tiny kitten. “Oh everlasting cat” he said sadly moving closer to them alerting Bustopher and Gus to his movement, “brother what is it?” Gus asked running after him and Bustopher groans moving as well but slower than Gus or Deuteronomy who had stopped by the kittens as the two started to wake up and notice a giant cat in front of them. Weekly pushing the youngest behind him, in a way to seem less threatening Deuteronomy laid himself flat on the ground, Alonzo sniffed around him, sensing the big cat wasn’t a threat “w-w-What do you want?” Deuteronomy’s heart nearly caved in at how week the Tom sounded “I mean no harm, I merely want to know where are your mother and father?” “We don’t have any” the small tuxedo cat interrupted before being scolded by Alonzo “in that case please let me bring you and your siblings to my home,” Alonzo was sceptical since his parents were gone he was more defensive when it came to outside help. Seeing the distrust Deuteronomy explained, “my name is Old Deuteronomy, my brother Gus and old friend Bustopher Jones, we belong to a tribe called the Jellicle Cats and since you don’t have a home I want to welcome you into mine,” Alonzo still didn’t think it was a good idea “,at least to get out from the cold and to have a little food there’s plenty to go around back home” Gus invited and looking at how thin Quaxo already was and knowing Victoria needed to be drinking plenty of milk he accepted on the condition that they can leave if they want to.

  Deuteronomy goes to pick up the littlest but stops when Quaxo pulls her closer “she’s mine to look after” he says making the old cat chuckle and instead he picked the two up together. Quaxo purrs already feeling the warmth, whilst Gus coaxes Alonzo to climb onto his shoulders and Alonzo did so liking the feeling of being tall. “Hey Bustopher that little Tom looks like you,” Gus calls to their friend, Bustopher look at the cats in Deut’s paws “,you’re right Gus and the littlest has a striking resemblance to my little sister, but she doesn’t have any kits”. Alonzo didn’t listen to the conversation Gus and Bustopher were having as he was looking at his brother and sister, keeping watch on them which made Deuteronomy chuckle “my oldest would like to have a cat as watchful as you to help protect the tribe” “you have kittens?” Alonzo asked him “yes I have thr- sorry just two sons and one grandchild whose looks to be from the same little as your brother, I must ask do your siblings have names?” “I’m Quaxo, and this is Victoria, I named her” Quaxo said being very proud of that fact. “And its a wonderful name for her, very elegant and I can tell she will be very beautiful when she becomes a queen”. They walked for a while, Quaxo falling back asleep and Victoria still hadn’t made a peep or even opened her eyes, Old Deuteronomy hoped there was nothing seriously wrong with her. Making it to the Junkyard the Jellicles lived in, an orange tabby cat and a small multicoloured brown Tom watched the group walk in, the orange tabby rushed down to see that they had three kittens and raced ahead to the large den that holds the kittens, whilst the small Tom fetched Deuteronomy’s family. “Jenny, Jelly emergency!” He yelled until a yellow coloured tabby queen forced her paw onto his mouth “Skimbleshanks, the kittens are asleep. What is the emergency that you needed to wake everyone up for” she demands as Gus and Deuteronomy walk in “Jennyanydots we have found three kits that need food, water and a good clean” he says making her gasp, and her sister Jellyorum came out after hearing this and instantly grabs Alonzo and takes him in for a bath, Jenny tries to grab the small kitten from Quaxo but he doesn’t let go “she’s mine, I need to protect her it’s my job” her heart was breaking the more his tiny voice spoke and Skimble decided to take the reigns from her “listen to me laddie, we don’t want to hurt her but Jenny here needs to look over your sister while you have a bath alright afterwards once we can tell she in fine then we will hand her back to you, we promise”. Quaxo reluctantly hands Victoria over to Jenny and jelly took him to the bath with Alonzo, “Thank you for the help dear” Jenny says to Skimble “naw don’t mention it I learn from the best” Skimble winks making her blush as she goes to give the new kitten a check up. “I think I’ll take my leave now but I’ll come by in the morning to check on the kits, tootle pip” he waves off leaving before the other Tom comes back with a grey striped Tom, a slightly younger Tom with slick brown fur that had patches of leopard spots following in with a small brown and white kitten in his mouth, huffing and puffing out of breath. “Sorry father we took too long we had to wait for Tugger” Munkustrap said bowing to Old Deuteronomy “Excuse me but not only do you both have longer legs but I was carrying a Tom kitten too” Tugger complained to his older brother as he put the kit down “thank you Uncle Tugger” “don’t thank me Plato I would do it again in a heartbeat” the kit Plato was nuzzling his grandfather in greeting as his youngest got his breath back “So father why did Asparagus jr say it was urgent for us to be here?” The Tom in question was nuzzling his father asking how the play went and how he wished he could have seen it. “Tonight on my way home I rescued three kittens, they had no home, no family, the youngest was only a day old and I want you here to meet them and maybe Make some new friends” he tells his sons as Jenny comes back with Victoria wrapped up, placing her in a little cot before walking to Deuteronomy “she’s very lucky, there’s no signs of damage and I was able to give her some milk” “her eyes are very blue like sapphires” a small voice interrupted the adults and looking over Plato was leaning over into the cot and the small queen’s were wide looking at him with interest. She giggles playfully booing his nose as her siblings enter the room again, “Hey!” Quaxo calls pushing Plato out of the way and picking Victoria up again “, don’t get too close she’s mine to protect”. Alonzo groans whispering to his brother “don’t be rude they were helping”. Quaxo didn’t stop his glare until Victoria was once again out of his arms by Jenny who said that she needed rest. “Boys these are the kittens I found, Quaxo, Victoria and I’m sorry I didn’t get your name” Deuteronomy turned to the oldest who stood straighter as the attention was on him “um I’m Alonzo their older brother”. Quaxo was pouting during the introductions until something new was spotted in his vision, a long fluffy tail, Quaxo silently stalks getting closer to his new find until he finally pounces on it, chewing on it until the tail and himself were suspended in front of a Maine Coon who didn’t look happy at all. “I’m guessing no one told this one to not chew on others tails” his tail went down making the kitten roll back over to his brother who rolled his eyes at how childish he was being, however what Tugger didn’t know what that Quaxo thought it was a game and did it again “listen closely stay off!” He said harshly but Quaxo still tried to get it until Alonzo stopped him “stay” he commands. “Worried he’ll ruin your coat” Munk says smirking at Tugger as said cat was combing his tail “just wait till I grow out my mane then you’ll be jealous that you won’t look as good as me”. Quaxo quickly grew bored and went to chew on his brother’s tail, but it wasn’t as good as the fluffy one, Tugger notice the pouting kitten look at his tail. He wanted to say no but the tuxedo was too cute so he laid his tail down and motioned for the kitten to come over “just this once and only because you are cute” Quaxo smiled running over to him “thank you sir” he says whilst chewing on his tail “just Tugger is fine kid” Tugger told him smiling gently at the kit. 

  Old Deuteronomy could already tell these kittens would be good for his family even if they couldn’t see it yet, noticing Plato off to the side he calls him over “everything alright?” Plato sighs “I can’t play with Toria” he complained making the older cat chuckle “she’s only a day old, and this world is still new here, give her a day or two to settle and I’m sure she would play with you and the other kits” the cat then heard a “I don’t want to share her with the others” through his yawns. “Boys it’s very late, let's let the new kittens rest and this one needs it too” Old Deuteronomy says before he leaves for his den. Alonzo had to pick Quaxo up and take him over to their spot to sleep in the den whilst Tugger picked up a sleepy Plato and he and Munk walked out of that den and Munk bid his brother a goodbye, going to his den and Tugger took Plato to his father’s where they both slept curled up to Old Dueteronomy.