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the-pouncing-puppy · 4 months

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Tales from the Pouncing Puppy, serial #0001

[Kindly narrator: Once upon a time, deep deep in the forest, north of the big tree that is owned and defended by the squirrels who throw debris at everyone who passes by, and south of the big rock that is shaped like a *censored*, there stood a curious establishment by the name of The Pouncing Puppy. Weary travelers in search of alcoholic beverages were frequently disappointed to find that the tavern’s menu was mostly limited to herbal tea, porridge, cottage cheese, and crackers. Nevertheless, the quality of the porridge was outstanding, and the staff was highly trained in the arts of hospitality and interior decorating. Welcome to the Pouncing Puppy!]

Jorgen the Skull Collector smoothed his terrifying beard and absently swung his signature spiked club around. He was enroute to his highschool reunion, and in search of a strong drink. The squirrels about a mile back had pelted him with a hail of acorns with such fury that he had fled and lost the path. He needed a tank of ale and a slab of meat to refresh his spirits.

The building was vaguely in the shape of a teapot. The chimney spout emitted steam of a warm and pleasant fragrance. The sign’s gold embossed lettering read: THE POUNCING PUPPY. However, Jorgen could not read. He had only graduated highschool because the teachers had given him all A’s for fear of retribution. (College had been much the same. He had graduated with a degree in Philosophy, with honors, and a secondary certification in Chemistry.)

Jorgen squeezed his fearsome muscular body through the doorway and looked around in confusion. He had expected a typical tavern, with giant barrels of ale and hot waitresses and perhaps some brawling. But the bar— solid mahogany by the way— was currently empty. The eating gallery’s tables were also mostly vacant. A butler was positioning tasteful flower arrangements, while a maid feather dusted the edges of framed wall art and sculptures of mysterious and fantastic animals.

“Hello!!” called the butler, and hurried over. “The Pouncing Puppy is happy to welcome you as an honored guest. May I take your order?”

“Ale,” grunted Jorgen. “Meat.”

The butler bowed and presented him with a small menu. “We are an oatmeal tavern actually. Our specialties include medicinal herbal tea and artisan porridge cooked with the finest oats and spices in all the land.”

Jorgen glared at the butler. “What kinda tavern don’t got no ale, no meat? So many pillows?” Indeed, there were cushions and pillows almost everywhere he looked. He picked one up and found it delightfully soft and fluffy.

“Well, we only serve alcohol at special periodic events in partnership with Martha’s Grapes, who supplies wine. And on holidays we do add several items to our menu featuring roast turkey. May I interest you in a cup of tea and a bowl of savory porridge?”

Confounded, Jorgen followed the butler over to the bar. He was relieved when a hot waitress came out of the back room. Maybe this place was okay. “Jorgen will try the tea and porridge… if I don’t like it I ain’t payin.”

The butler bowed again, even more deeply. “My good sir, anything that does not earn your complete satisfaction and approval is of course on the house. We stand by our reputation.” He glanced at a plaque on the wall. “We have been the first prize winner at the kingdom’s annual artisan porridge contest for seven years in a row. His eyes gleamed with tears of emotion, and the maid who had been dusting hurried over with a handkerchief so that he could dab his eyes. The maid was pretty hot too.

Jorgen brushed some more acorns out of his beard and winked at the ladies. “Jorgen is strong and famous,” he boasted. “Never lost a fight.”

The waitress and the maid seemed indifferent to this announcement as they disappeared into the backroom. But they seemed to return almost instantly with a laden tray, and their manners were friendly as they beckoned him to the bar and laid out his meal.

Several fellows with instruments also strode into the room. Jorgen recogized harp, flute, and tambourine. The fourth musician’s instrument was unfamiliar. The butler, as if reading his thoughts, supplied, “It is called a synth wave base guitar. A gift from extraterrestrials. Their spacecraft once crash landed on our flower garden. It was a recompensory gift. They come back every now and again for tea.”

Jorgen shrugged and settled down. The band struck up an ambient tune that made him a bit tingly. He sipped the tea. Warmth flooded his body, while the scent caused him to sigh. Entranced, he tried a spoonful of the porridge. It was the house special— a savory recipe with notes of garlic, thyme, sage, and a hint of parmesan. The butler looked on happily, still dabbing his eyes, while the maid and the waitress took a seat opposite of Jorgen. Their conversational skills were considerable, and soon Jorgen the Skull Collector was recounting childhood memories that he had never shared with anyone in his entire life.

As it turned out, Jorgen had, in his youth, collected paper clips. The maid had collected animal figurines, and the waitress had collected spoons.

“Aren’t collections wonderul?” said the butler. “I have been collecting fragrances for over twenty years.”

As the day waned, several more travelers entered and were drawn in to the merry gathering. At some point, Jorgen nodded off. When he woke up, sunset gleamed through the windows. Someone had placed a garland of little yellow flowers atop his head. Suddenly self-conscious, Jorgen hastily brushed the flowers off, paid his bill, and set off back into the forest. The strange music grew fainter, carried away by a cool evening breeze. Jorgen found himself before a familiar big tree. Dozens of squirrels peered at him from the branches, silent and threatening.

He scratched his head. Must have hit his head and had an odd dream earlier.

#creative writing #serial story #the pouncing puppy oatmeal tavern #porridge #hospitality #cozy decor #friendly mysterious encounters

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hedgehog-moss · 5 months

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I meant to go admire a frozen waterfall yesterday, but I'm scared of driving on slippery roads so I ended up abandoning my car and my dreams and just wandering about by foot, following random roads.

(These first two photos are a little bit blurry because I took them while walking, but it does give them a certain je ne sais quoi... They look like childhood memories)

The soles of my boots had zero grip and were therefore great for sliding, so I ended up taking two sticks and using them like cross-country skiing poles to propel myself forward on the iciest portions of the road. It was fun! Pandolf thought I was insane. He was being extremely prudent on the icy patches, testing each step:

At the beginning of our walk he was prancing as usual but then at one point his front paws slipped forward without warning, turning him into a very long slinky dog. It was pretty funny. I laughed. I admit. He wasn't hurt but definitely a bit vexed.

We did leave the icy road on numerous occasions, to slip under fences and cross promising pastures (promising = lots of footprints; potential friends.) We met several creatures! Like this adorable shetland pony—I tried to take a photo from afar, with Pandolf nearby for scale, to show how scandalously tiny he was, but that turned out to be impossible because he was too friendly. Every time I took a step back he took two steps forward. Clearly he thought he was even better-looking from up close.

We also ran into the darling goat I mentioned yesterday, and I was told by several people on here that she looked more like a ewe.

Sorry for the mistake! But also I tried to look further into this and became more and more confused, as every source that mentioned a foolproof way to tell goats from sheep was disproven by another source—I found one that said sheep had a split upper lip while goats didn't (and my mystery friend didn't), but then another website contradicted it. I ended up with 32 tabs open with photos of goats and sheep of all kinds, some of which looked downright bizarre (what's with the Jar Jar Binks ears), and I began losing my grasp on the concept of animal species altogether. I understood how Darwin must have felt when he tried to figure out the differences between species of barnacles and asked people to send him various specimens and ended up with giant teetering piles of wet smelly boxes full of barnacles in his study that threatened to collapse and bury him alive. Then I closed my 32 tabs.

Honestly ever since learning that some sheep have horns and some goats don't, I've been lost. Not to mention, our mystery girl had a sheep-like tail but a goat-like beard. Are there sheep out there with beards and if yes, how do we make sense of the world? We should be able to point at a mammal with a goatee and say "goat" without doubting ourselves. That's my manifesto.

Whatever she was, the goat-ewe was very sweet, and she baa-ed a lot—at first I thought she was making conversation and I politely baa-ed back, before realising she was calling her horse bodyguards, just in case. Two horses soon showed up from behind a tree, very "What seems to be the problem ma'am?"

I offered nose scritches to the friendliest of the two and she went to report to the goat like "We've neutralised the threat."

Let me insert another (blurry) photo of a travelling Pandolf to symbolise the passing of time before moving on to our last encounter:

... I also had trouble taking photos of this one at first, because she kept coming closer to inspect my scarf—I thought she wanted to explore my pockets for potential treats like Pirlouit often does but no, she was very interested in the smell (texture?) of my scarf specifically.

The sky had cleared as we went down from 1300 to 1100m, as if we'd slipped under the clouds, so I tried to take a photo of this nice late-afternoon sky, and the horse finally stopped focusing on my scarf and instead started insistently positioning herself between me and my beautiful landscape.

Look at this lovely golden light in the snow over there which I was almost able to capture!

Meanwhile her pasture mate was eating a whole broom plant, slowly and thoughtfully, which makes me jealous because my llamas are supposed to eat brooms and they mostly don't, they think they're too good for brooms. They eat the very young ones but not adult brooms, so I have to do the work of three llamas and cut them myself. I wish I could send the Pampses as interns in this pasture, to learn the art of brush-clearing from this wise old horse.

I tried to take one last landscape photo and gave up when the aspiring model came to pose again.

Where was Pandolf, you might ask? Pandolf doesn't trust horses, especially large farm horses, and was quietly and insistently trying to convince me to leave. When Model Horse tried to greet him (it looks like she's chasing him but no, she was just stretching her neck to sniff him) he beat a hasty retreat toward the icy road, his former enemy. Some guard dog.

It may sound like Pandolf didn't have a very fun time on this walk, slipping on ice and running from horses, but don't worry, he found plenty of suitable empty pastures to practise his favourite hobby! Though I think at this point he has moved beyond a hobbyist and is ready to play in professional leagues. He does this thing now where he jumps up a bit to gain momentum; I don't remember him doing this last winter. He's an entirely self-taught dog (in the art of snow diving) and I'm proud of him.

#crawling along #(* edit because the first sentence said 'today' but this was yesterday)#(i got distracted by my goat vs sheep studies last night and didn't have time to finish this post!)

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roses-for-rosalyn · 2 months

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Cowboys

Ellie x reader (for now)

Part 2

summary: A stranger comes to your door- it turns out it's not one of your usual encounters cw: guns, cowboy lingo, fem! reader, cowboy crossdresser Ellie, eventual smut, blood, injuries, your average confusing lesbianism, eventual smut, no use of y/n wc: 3.6k

for those who prefer ao3 <3 gotchu minors DNI (I will steal all you pillowcases)

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Nothing could beat the beauty of the sunset in the desert. Purples, blues, oranges, and yellows swirled together to paint a new masterpiece every night. And every night you would sit on your small, wooden porch with a cup of tea and watch as the sun slowly sinks into the horizon. Tonight was no exception.

The sky becomes darker and darker until the moon and the stars come out, bathing the desert in a silver light. You struggle with the stubborn, old front door for a moment before you step into your little ranch house.

A chill runs through you as the temperature outside rapidly declines. You kneel in front of the fireplace and use the little kindling you have for a fire. It was enough to keep you warm for a few hours while you read yourself to sleep. Sometimes you felt lucky that it was a small enough house that the small fire would warm up the whole place. Your bed was just a few paces away from the mantle.

You stand up and dust off your hands before starting to undress for bed. As you begin to unbutton your bodice a knock sounds from the front door.

You scramble for your rifle by your bedside and check to make sure it’s loaded. You peek through one of your front windows to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger. At this hour and on the edge of town, your visitors weren’t usually friendly.

It seems a cowboy has paid you a visit this evening. Haven’t seen one of those in a damn long time. A gun is proudly holstered on his hip next to a lasso, and his black large-brimmed hat keeps his face dark enough that you can’t quite make it out.

He knocks again, louder. You creep up to the front door and slowly open it. Before he can process who opened the door you aim your rifle right at his chest.

“Hands up.” You demand, your voice is surprisingly steady.

“Woah there, I just stopped to ask for some directions.” A deep, yet feminine voice replies. It sounds like she was all too sure you weren’t going to be using that weapon on her, she didn’t even bother to move. You cock the gun, trying like hell to keep your expression blank, unphased while your entire body fills with adrenaline. She takes a step back and puts her hands up. Her hat still covers her face in shadow, it’s like confronting a ghost.

“You should have stopped somewhere else.” You take a step towards her, closing the door behind you while keeping your vision trained on the woman.

“You’re much different than the other women I’ve run into out here.” She looks up slightly, the moonlight illuminating pink, slightly chapped lips forming a smug smirk. “Where’s your husband, miss?”

“I swear if you don’t get back on your goddamn horse I’ll put a hole right through your chest.” she steps towards you, the muzzle of the gun pokes right under her collarbone.

She finally looks at you, silver light exposes a sharp, feminine face dotted with freckles darkened by days in the sun. The sight of her face catches you off guard for just enough time, allowing her to grab the barrel of the rifle and pull it right out of your hands. She drops the gun and it clatters loudly to the ground, echoing through the empty desert landscape. She grabs your wrists before you can start fighting back and pins them above your head against the door with one hand.

“There,” she grunts as you struggle against her grip, she’s surprisingly strong, “now we can have a conversation.”

“Go to Hell.” You say, seething with rage and frustration because she was able to overpower you so easily. She shakes her head and laughs for a moment, saying something under her breath like all this trouble.

You were just about to spit in her face when she said, “Where’s the nearest hotel darlin’?” Your eyes widen at the innocent question, slightly embarrassed. This was a first, she really just needed directions. She uses your stunned silence to talk some more, “I’ve been savin’ up so I could have a bed for the night. And I could really really use a bed tonight, miss.” You stop struggling against her grip and she lets go. She still has that stupid smirk on her face. “So if you could point me in the right direction it would be much appreciated.”

“Head southwest, you’ll hit a trail that will lead you right into town.” You dust off your dress and straighten it out.

“Much appreciated, darlin’.” She tips her hat and walks off toward her horse. You watch in shock as she mounts her horse and before riding away she says just loud enough, “I’ll be seein’ you.” And with a nod, she was off.

You slowly bend down to pick up the Winchester, cradling it against your chest as you watch the stranger disappear into the night. As you head inside you wonder if you ever will see that strange woman again, and fall asleep debating whether or not you would want to.

** **

The next morning you head to the school house. The steady feeling and sound of your horse trotting along the dirt path always forced your mind to wander elsewhere. Right now you couldn’t stop thinking about the woman from last night. The schoolhouse was right in the middle of town, would you see her again? Would she even recognize you? If she did, would she even try to talk to you?

The interaction was a bit embarrassing for you, but to be fair you had your fair share of vile men looking for trouble and hostile groups of Apache knocking on your front door. Your father had taught you how to use his Winchester rifle, the very same rifle you use now, and you mentally thanked him for it every night. You had only used it to kill one man, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and you gave him plenty of warnings. He didn’t believe your threats so now he was buried about 500 feet from the house in an unmarked grave, you were sure no one would miss a man like that. Most of the time the Apache would just come to ask questions about men passing through the area, they never tried to attack you, thankfully, but they would always come at the most ungodly hours and were quite impatient.

Last night was a first, you had never had a cowboy knock at your door, and then she ended up being a woman. The idea of her was so intriguing and you couldn’t figure out why. For some reason, she shook you more than anyone else had since you lived out here. And you’d seen quite a lot.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you reach town, the sound of rickety carriages, hooves against the packed dirt road, and the chatter of men in front of the Sheriff’s Office make it hard to focus.

“Hello there, sunshine!” you hear a male voice call out. You turn towards the voice to see Jesse making his way past you on horseback, lugging today's newspapers to the apothecary. He made the trip from Sante Fe every morning. He was nice enough, you liked talking to him, but not as much as you felt like you should. The ladies at the apothecary, Dina, and Maria, would always encourage you to talk to him. They desperately wanted you to move on from your husband. He was long gone and you knew that, you were even thankful for it, which is why you were nervous to start again. You didn’t want to have to go through anything like that again.

You wave back and smile, “Hi there, Jesse.” You decide to be polite, “Hear anything good today?” He tightens the reins of his horse and stops right next to you.

“They struck gold in Elizabethtown, and there’s gonna be a shortage of tobacco ‘round these parts within the week because of a dust storm over in Tennessee.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll have a panic on their hands pretty soon then. I don’t know a man here who can live without their cigars.” You smile and Jesse laughs politely at your attempt at a joke.

“Alright, don’t want the kids to show up before I do, I'd best be headin’ to the school.” You yearned to leave this awkward conversation through any means possible. Today was not the day for small talk.

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then, miss.” Your head snaps towards Jesse. You’re suddenly transported to last night and listening to the way the cowboy’s words would drip from her lips, smooth as honey “Miss”. Calm and sure even with a gun pointed right to her heart.

You quickly snap out of it and nod politely at Jesse as you begin to part ways. You head to the schoolhouse in a hurry, the kids gave you hell if you were late.

** **

You’re beginning to lock up the schoolhouse when you hear footsteps approaching. “Well hello there, miss.” You recognize the voice all too quickly, you don’t even need to turn around. “Was really hopin’ I’d find you here.”

As you fish into your pocket for the key you respond, “And how exactly did you find me here?” you turn around and begin to walk past her toward your horse. She follows you. From a brief glance at her, you can see she wears a bandana to cover her face, you could only see her eyes. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I just asked those nice ladies at the apothecary if they knew the women who lived just outside of town, they were more than happy a “nice gentleman” took interest in you. They told me just about everything they knew, your name, some snippets of gossip. I’m sure if I stayed they would’ve told me your life story” You finally turn to face her, your expression unamused. She took her hat off at some point when she was talking to you, her eyes are green, radiant in the unrelenting desert sunlight. You were almost jealous. She wore a dark blue button-down that sat surprisingly flat against her chest and suspenders. She could pass for a man if she wanted to. “So, I take it you don’t have a husband then?”

“What’s it to you?” you cross your arms, defensively.

“I was just curious, I asked last night, but you weren’t exactly in a talking mood.” You swear you can make out her smirk under the bandana.

“No, I haven’t had a husband for quite a while. Is that what you came all the way here to ask me?” She lowers her bandana and steps towards you, backing you into your horse.

“No, I came to ask a favor.” She hesitates for a moment, “No one here can know that I’m, um, well you know..”

“A woman?” pretty easy to piece together after seeing the bandana.

“Yea,” She backs away from you a little. Seems like someone is embarrassed to ask a favor. “It’s just easier for me to get things this way and it’s lookin’ like I’ll be staying later than I planned so..”

“Alright, I won’t say anything.” She opens her mouth to begin to thank you, but you weren’t about to let an opportunity like this pass you by. “But, you owe me a favor then.”

Her excited expression disappeared as quickly as it came, if you weren’t looking you could have missed it, “Um, alright, what do ya need?”

“You know your little visit last night?” You had been cooking this proposition up all day, hoping she would run into you again.

“Yes.”

“Well, that happens to me about every other day. I don’t want a husband, but I do need a guard dog of some kind.” You didn’t want a man in your home, but you did want the protection of one, this was the perfect opportunity, almost too perfect.

“A guard dog?” She seems mildly offended by you comparing her to a dog.

“I’m tired of not being able to sleep because of surprise visitors. And I’ll pay you in two square meals a day, tea, and my homemade moonshine.” She does not look amused. “And I won’t tell anyone you’re a lady.”

“I don’t know-”

“I know you’re almost out of money, I’m sure Tommy is bleeding you dry as an outside visitor. I won’t charge you anything.” Something in her loosens, you can see it.

“So do I sleep on your floor?”

“Or outside if you’d like, makes no difference to me. There’s a fire pit out there for ya” You turn around and mount your horse, eager to get home. “We got a deal?” You reach your hand down towards her. She hesitates before shaking it.

“I’m Ellie by the way.” You nod

“Alright Ellie, I’ll see you at my house then. I trust you’re familiar with the address” She just nods, slightly shocked. You smile and then head off, the comforting sound of hoofbeats clearing the thoughts in your head. On the way home you tend to just listen to the sounds of the desert. After a day of loud, squealing children it was healing. You’re sure you’d go crazy if you lived in town.

** **

You had just finished making your evening tea when you heard a knock on your door. For the first time in a long time, you don’t go into fight or flight mode. You open the door with a smile, part of you is surprised she even showed up. Your proposition was a little ridiculous, but that truly shows how desperate you are.

“Hello there stranger.” You are really pushing it with this attitude, you can tell, but something in you likes it when she gets annoyed.

“Hi.” She takes off her hat and lowers her bandana, something you’ve observed as a habit of hers, one of respect possibly. “So am I sleepin’ with the rattlesnakes or on your floor?”

“You get bit by a rattlesnake come to me and I’ll suck the venom out myself. Until then you best set up camp before dark darlin’.” You smile at her sweetly.

“Figured as much.” She smirks and walks away to set up camp.

“Dinner’ll be ready in 20 minutes. I hope ya like stew.” You call out to her. “Oh, and there’s a spring out back if you need any water!”

** **

The stew finally thickens up to the way you like it, you pour it into two bowls and quickly slurp up your serving. Didn’t taste amazing, but it was food.

You open your front door to bring Ellie her food and see that she’s already started a fire, she’s sipping from a silver flask just staring at the flames.

You approach and wordlessly hand her a bowl of stew and a spoon. She looks up at you “You gonna eat?”

“No, I- uh already ate.” More like inhaled but she didn’t need to know that. You point at her flask. “What’s in there?”

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t know what’s in here?” She raises her eyebrows.

“I know it’s liquor, Ellie, I’m just askin’ what kind.” Her confused expression drops.

“Whiskey.” She looks at the flask in her hand, then at you. “Want some?” She clearly did not want to offer it to you. But you sit down next to her and reach your hand out for it.

“Hand it over.” She hands you the flask. The metal was cool to the touch, almost shocking after the desert heat all day. You take a sip and the liquor burns its way down your throat, and your face scrunches a little. You were used to shooting whiskey, but this was particularly terrible, even worse than your moonshine. “Wow, that’s pretty awful.”

Ellie laughs between bites of stew, “You’re stew isn’t the greatest thing I’ve tasted either.”

“Hey!” You lightly punch her shoulder. She giggles even more. “You’re welcome for the food by the way.” You take another swig of whiskey and then hand the flask back to the cowgirl.

“Thank you,” she takes the flask, “for the meal.” she hands you her empty bowl. “And a place to stay, even if it’s outside.”

“We’ll see, maybe you’ll earn your way inside.” You take her bowl and turn to head inside.

“Is that a challenge?” She calls after you.

“Maybe.” You call back.

You step inside and immediately undress for bed, the whiskey making your eyes droop closed. You can barely get your buttons undone before you fall into bed, for the first time in a while, not having to worry about dangerous strangers knocking down your door.

** **

You wake up to a hasty knock coming from the front door. It’s still dark outside. You weren’t supposed to have to deal with this anymore. You grab your rifle and don’t even bother checking who is at the door simply out of annoyance. Would have bit you in the ass later if it was a surprise visitor. You open the door and cock the rifle. To your astonishment, you open the door to Ellie, holding her side. There’s a dark stain forming under her hands, her face is bloody and bruised. And yet she’s got a smug yet pained smile on her face. “This how you’re always gonna greet me?”

“Jesus Ellie,” you usher her inside quickly. “What happened?”

“You got some visitors, a group of Apache men.” She sits down in one of your wooden dining room chairs. You rush over to grab the small medical kit you had managed to fashion over the years. “They wanted to see you in particular, when I told them you weren’t accepting visitors they sort of attacked me. It was one versus six”

“They don’t trust many people.” You undo Ellie’s suspenders and begin unbuttoning her shirt without even thinking. “Most folks round here shoot first and ask questions later, they don’t have any respect or patience for a stubborn cowboy.” You walk over, grab a candle and some matches, and light it so you can see. “Can’t say I blame them. I am sorry though I’d thought they’d see your gun and back off”

“That is real optimistic of ya.” You remove her right arm from the sleeve of her shirt. She is wearing some sort of binding around her chest- so that’s how she’s managed to pass for a man.

“Wow, that’s a big word for you.” You smirk at her as you clean your hands with some moonshine.

“Really? I’m bleedin’ out and you’re making fun of me?” You press gauze to her wound, she hisses through her teeth.

“Please, you’re not bleeding out. Shouldn’t even need stitches, just some cleaning and dressing.” You look up at her, you’re not quite sure, but even in the dim candlelight, you could swear she was blushing. You wouldn’t dare mention it when she’s already made herself so vulnerable.

“Now for the hard part.” You take out a small bottle of vinegar.

“Alright.” Ellie leans back in the chair, ready for the sting of the vinegar.

“Here.” You take her left hand and place it on your shoulder. “Squeeze if you need to.” She nods and you take that as your cue to begin. You pour the vinegar on the wound and you watch as her abs contract, her hand squeezes your shoulder, pretty hard, but you know she was trying not to hurt you, even in pain.

You stand up and gently wrap a few layers of gauze around her mid-section, just in case it starts bleeding again during the night. You were so, so close to her, you could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “You always wear that?”

“Wear what?”

“The-the bandages, round your chest.” She looks down at them like she almost forgot they were there. Suddenly you realize how personal that question must be. “Sorry, I shouldn’t said anything. You don’t have to answer”

“No, It’s alright. I don’t mind. Yes, I’ve worn this for a while now, easier to get around when you look like a man.” You nod and finish wrapping the gauze around her and pin it in place. You put a bit of vinegar on a piece of gauze and begin cleaning the cuts on her face. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, miss.”

“Please just let me clean off your face. Were you planning on walkin’ around town tomorrow with dried blood on your cheeks?” She opens her mouth to say something but closes it. She’s quiet as you gently clean her face, you can see every freckle, every scar, her eyes shining in the candlelight. It was odd being this close to her. You had never felt comfortable being this physically close to someone. Her warmth almost invited you in, made you want to press your nose to her neck, run your hands across her skin, feeling along all the freckles and scars, memorizing the spot of each one. you wanted to know her in a way you have never wanted to know anybody else.

“Hey,” a gentle voice grounds you back into reality. “I think my face is clean.” She smiles softly. She was right, at some point, you had gotten her face completely clean, you’re not sure how long she let you drag the cloth across her freckled cheeks before she said something.

“Yeah, sorry.” You back away and put the blood-soaked gauze in the burn pile. “You should sleep in here. Don’t think anyone else will be coming tonight. I’ll go get your bedroll.” Ellie just nods and you go out to grab her things.

You hurry back and set up her bedroll on the floor right next to your bed. She makes her way to it and sits down on the floor with a thud, careful to not contort her body in a way that could re-open the wound. She collapses onto the wool blankets. When you’re sure she’s settled you place your rifle back next to your bed and fall into your mattress, knowing you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.

lmk what you think! Likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated!

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Part 2 >>

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #tlou 2 ellie #tlou2 #cowboy!au #western! au #cowboy!Ellie #cleaning wounds trope hehe

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vintagegeekculture · 19 days

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Because she was an intentionally mysterious woman initially only seen in a single episode, and before she got an on-air backstory in the recent streaming series, Star Trek supplementary material developed contradictory information on who - or what - Number One, the female first executive officer of the Enterprise, was. To my count, she has four different, completely incompatible backstories in the comics and novels, and this is absolutely unique in Star Trek, which usually keeps it consistent.

Peter David, in his New Frontier novels, identified Number One as a long lived immortal human mutant (like Flint from the original series) named “Morgan Primus” who was an early genius in cybernetics and artificial intelligence, which is why the Enterprise computer has her voice. One of the names Morgan Primus assumed to hide her immortality was Morgan Lefler, and one of her daughters was Robin Lefler, Wesley Crusher’s love interest from the Next Generation Series played by Ashley Judd. Robin Lefler did not inherit her mutant ability to heal all injuries.

Alternatively, the DC Star Trek Comics of the early 1980s said that Number One was from an obscure planet of peaceful, open, friendly telepaths who resemble humans exactly, and that she was present at first contact with Starfleet. They explained that her blunt, direct, undiplomatic manner is due to her being from a telepathic culture that values total honesty. This would make her the first telepath on the Enterprise, with Spock and Arex coming later. Her planet was created before the Next Generation, but her species being a peaceful, open, telepathic race resembling Mediterranean humans who are not well known or commonly encountered in the original series era….well, that certainly sounds an awful lot like Betazoids to me. If this backstory is true, she may have been the first Betazoid seen on screen, in much the same way fans generally believe Trelane was either Q or a member of the Q Continuum.

D.C. Fontana’s only Star Trek novel, “Vulcan’s Glory,” was one of the earliest attempts to give the character a backstory, and was the most consequential long term. The first novel set in the era of the first Star Trek pilot with Captain Pike and a young Spock, "Vulcan's Glory" identified Number One as being an Illyrian, a race of human-like beings who specialize in species wide breeding programs and genetic improvement. This genetic superiority is why she was cool, intellectual, aloof, and a bit arrogant. Her nickname “Number One” came from the fact she was the supreme product of the hyper-competitive Illyrian system, and won at everything from academics to athletics. According to DC Fontana, her actual Illyrian name is impossible to pronounce, so when dealing with humans, she assumed the human name “Una Chin-Riley.” Una of course, being “Number One” in Greek.

As DC Fontana is such an important figure in Star Trek history and only actually wrote one Star Trek novel in her life, many future materials used the backstory established in “Vulcan’s Glory,” like the David Stern Pike-era novels of the 2010s....but more importantly, the Discovery and Strange New Worlds series, which canonized the “Una Chin-Reilly” name by using it on screen (I remember gasping when Pike called her Una in a Discovery episode, meaning they were going with the Fontana backstory, a detail that may not have been significant to the casual viewer). Since DC Fontana wrote “Vulcan’s Glory” in the 80s, a lot more information was learned about the role of genetic engineering in the Federation, however, and interesting things were done in that series to bring her in line with everything we’ve learned since in Deep Space 9 and Enterprise about augmentation and the society wide prejudice against it. For example, they established that the fact Number One was Illyrian was not public knowledge, but that she pretended to be human her entire life.

The one person who didn’t see fit to give her a backstory or even a real name was John "Johnny Redbeard" Byrne in his comic series about the Cage era Enterprise, who thought the mystery of the character was the most interesting thing about her, and he was deliberately cagey about any details. To Johnny Redbeard, she was just “Number One.” There was a running joke that every time someone says her actual name, or when we see her personnel file, it was blurred out, or somebody’s thumb was over it, and so on. It was rather like the running joke where Mr. Burns never remembers Homer Simpson's name. Johnny Redbeard loves mystery men and women who don't talk about their past, since that was the characterization he famously gave to Wolverine in his X-Men comics.

The one detail of Number One's past that is clear is that Number One in Byrne's comics is competent, mysterious, and has mystique, certainly, but she is completely human, without any powers. Byrne always got exasperated that his X-Men co-creator Chris Claremont added fantastical and far out details to the background of X-Men characters (like how Nightcrawler's girlfriend Amanda turned out to be a sorceress) because he felt "some people should just be allowed to be normal." Byrne always said his original idea for Wolverine's "true" backstory was that he was a Vietnam veteran in intelligence who volunteered for bionic experiments that wiped his memory, and disliked the idea he was immortal, and vetoed the very, very early Dave Cockrum idea Wolverine was an actual mutated wolverine who achieved sentience and a human shape (which early X-Men comics hint at). Byrne was reportedly enraged that they gave Moira MacTaggart a mutant power, as he saw her as just being a scrappy Scottish housekeeper.

Johnny Redbeard didn’t give Number One a past (other than to show she was on the Enterprise's shakedown cruise with Robert April as a rookie officer), but he did give her a future, as he showed an older Number One as a starship commander in the Kirk era (aging gracefully with a white tuft like Tongolele), and later, a flag officer in the Motion Picture era.

To what extent are these backstories compatible? Well, with what we currently know about Number One, that she hid her true species and status to avoid prejudice, it could be that some of the other versions were tall tales she spread to obscure her true origins. The John Byrne idea she served as an Ensign with Robert April in the Enterprise's very first mission hasn't been confirmed, but hasn't been denied, either. The Peter David "Morgan Primus" backstory is completely incompatible, but perhaps there are some elements to it that are true, like the idea that the early part of her career involved working as a computer engineer in artificial intelligence, which is why the computer has her voice.

#star trek #tos #snw #number one

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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months

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New Light | B. Barnes

Character: Neighbors!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Y/N meets a mysterious neighbor in a stuck elevator.

A/N: I live in an apartment and often encounter different people. I wish I could start a conversation like the reader 😭

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Y/N had become a recognizable presence in her apartment building, exchanging greetings with familiar faces each time she entered the lift.

One tenant, however, remained an enigma—Bucky. Tall and always clad in a large black hoodie, he never uttered a word during their encounters.

One evening, after a long day at work, Y/N stepped into the lift, and to her surprise, Bucky entered just before the doors closed.

As the elevator ascended, an unusual silence settled between them. Y/N, feeling the need to break the ice, finally spoke up, "It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

Bucky, still maintaining his stoic demeanor, nodded in agreement. The hum of the elevator provided an awkward backdrop to their brief exchange.

As they continued in silence, the lift abruptly stopped, causing them both to shift their attention to the sudden halt.

"It's probably just a minor glitch," Y/N reassured, attempting to ease the tension. She reached for the Ring button, pressing it to summon help.

The building security's voice crackled through the speaker, providing assurance that maintenance were on their way.

With a shared glance, Y/N and Bucky exchanged a subtle acknowledgment of the situation. Y/N tried to strike up a conversation again, "So, Bucky, do you live on the same floor as me?"

Bucky, though initially hesitant, replied with a simple nod. The conversation was slow to develop, yet Y/N persisted, asking about his day and interests.

Bucky, gradually opening up, revealed snippets of his life. "I work from home most days, I'm a graphicdesigner," he admitted, his mysterious aura starting to unravel.

In turn, Y/N shared stories from her workplace, finding common ground in the challenges and triumphs of daily life.

In the middle of their conversation, Y/N noticed subtle movements within Bucky's hoodie. Curiosity getting the better of her, she finally asked, "Is everything okay in there?"

Bucky hesitated for a moment before revealing a small, furry face peeking out—the source of the movement. To Y/N's astonishment, Bucky introduced her to Alpine, his cat.

Y/N was awestruck when she caught sight of an incredibly adorable cat. Its fluffy fur and playful antics immediately captured her attention, eliciting a warm and delighted smile.

Approaching cautiously, Y/N couldn't resist commenting, "Alpine is such a sweetheart! Does he always greet everyone like this?"

Bucky, Alpine's owner, looked pleasantly surprised as he replied, "Actually, Alpine is usually quite reserved. He doesn't warm up to strangers easily."

Feeling a bit special, Y/N observed as Alpine continued to display an unexpectedly friendly demeanor, rubbing against her legs. Bucky chuckled, "This is a rare sight. Alpine doesn't usually take kindly to newcomers."

The atmosphere shifted as Bucky eagerly shared stories about Alpine's quirky habits and endearing antics.

Initially taken aback, Y/N found herself engaged in a lively conversation with Bucky about their shared experiences as pet owners. "Alpine loves to climb onto my shoulders when I'm working on my laptop," Bucky chuckled, his reserved demeanor giving way to warmth.

Sensing Bucky's willingness to share, Y/N asked about his hobbies. "Besides graphic design, what do you do for fun?"

Bucky cracked a faint smile, "I'm a bit of a movie buff, and I like taking Alpine for walks." Y/N's eyes lit up, "Really? I love movies too, and I've been meaning to explore the nearby parks."

As they exchanged stories and discovered shared interests, the once awkward elevator space transformed into a comfortable setting for connection. Bucky, now more animated, even shared amusing anecdotes about Alpine's adventures, eliciting laughter from Y/N.

Y/N thought Bucky was a scary person, but it turns out he's not. She sees him in a new light.

In the end, as the building security announced that they had successfully repaired the elevator.

Relieved, Y/N couldn't help but express gratitude for the unexpected camaraderie. Before parting ways, Bucky suggested, "You know, since we've become elevator buddies, how about we walk Alpine together to the park sometime?"

Genuinely pleased by the idea, Y/N smiled and replied, "I'd love that!" The invitation marked the beginning of a new chapter in their connection.

Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

Tag list:

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@rebeccapineapple

@ordelixx

@winters1917

@kandis-mom

A/N: I'm sorry I couldn't tag everyone because I wrote and edited this on my phone.

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yandere-writer-momo · 4 months

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Yandere Baki Head Canon: Let’s Play A Game

Yandere Reverse Baki Harem x Afab fighter Reader

Otome Game AU

TW: unhealthy behavior, yandere themes, stalking, obsession, HORROR, etc

You, a famous fighter, had accidentally died in a horrific car accident by saving the life of a child that was supposed to pass away. Luckily, a deity had taken pity on you and decided to give you a second chance at life. One where you must play a game in order to go back to your world. Romance five of the male leads and you’ll be able to return to your world. Katsumi Orochi, Baki Hanma, Kaioh Retsu, Hanayama Kaoru, and Jack Hanma are the five main males you must romance in order to go home but the deity had thrown in some other mystery men just for shits and giggles. He even gave you a house that’s exactly like your old one! Just don’t invite anyone over… Sounds simple enough right? Wrong. How were you to know these emotionally constipated men have never experienced love before?

Katsumi Orochi

The first man you met when you landed in this strange world. His eyes were wide when you suddenly appeared in the rain before him. What on earth was a woman doing in the rain by herself? He rushes over with his umbrella to place it over your head. He’s surprised by how attractive you are. How soft you look… he doesn’t realize he’s staring until you place your hands over his cheek and smile at him.

There was a bar above his head that rapidly began to grow pink when you touched him. He must be one of the male leads you had to romance… perfect!

“I’m a bit lost… can you help me?” Katsumi was quick to offer you his coat when he saw you shiver. There was something almost magical about you… he was a moth to your flame.

“Of course, here. Let’s head into the dojo.” Katsumi ushered you into Shinshinkai while the rain continued to pour. He was immediately smitten with you.

Katsumi offers you a Karate uniform to wear since your clothes are wet. The two of you share small talk and he’s excited to learn that you’re a practitioner of taekwondo. You were pretty and you could fight? It must have been destiny for the two of you to meet!

He by far was the easiest to romance or so you thought… poor you had gotten a little in over your head about this particular man. He’s so obsessive and delusional. A horrible combination but one he developed due to dedicating his entire life to karate.

Katsumi offered free training at Shinshinkai and he was always eager to spar with you. It wasn’t uncommon for him to wrestle with you or to take you out to eat after training. You didn’t notice the way he’d slowly become more and more touchy. Nor did you notice how weird he was when babies were around.

“Don’t you think that baby is so cute?” Katsumi asked when a baby was sat with its mother in a table near the two of you. The baby was super cute with their chubby cheeks. “(Your name), would you ever want to have kids?”

And you stupidly told this man yes… you shared how you wanted to get married one day and have kids that hopefully wanted to be marital artists. You stupid girl! You didn’t even notice the obsession that lied behind his chocolate eyes or the lingering touches whenever he’d pin you to the floor beneath him when you sparred. Not until it was too late. Not until you’re introduced to his parents as his future wife. And there no way to run from him. He has over a million members at Shinshinkai and they’d hunt you down if you ever tried to escape from your doting fiancé.

Hanayama Kaoru

Once you had settled into your house (and carefully made sure not to invite the overly friendly Katsumi over), you ran into him on the street. It was just a chance meeting, but it was one that caught Hanayama by surprise. You had bumped into him and knocked his cigar onto him.

“I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t looking where I was going-“ You were shocked to see such a tall man covered in scars. The heart bar above his head was slightly pink by the small encounter with him. Neither one of you looked away from each other’s eyes.

Hanayama nodded his head and went to turn away but he was surprised when he heard your voice again. “You have ashes all over your jacket… please let me at least brush you off.” Hanayama blushed when you quickly brushed the ashes off him without his answer. How brazen of you! He’s never been hit on first like this…

When you walk away, you noticed his romance bar is already at twenty percent. Perhaps you’d be able to go home sooner than you thought if you kept this up?

A shame you didn’t notice the blush on Hanayama’s face. He’s never been so excited in his life… and now it was your problem. How were you to know how possessive he was?

He was a silent presence compared to the chatty Katsumi and Baki. He would randomly sit beside you when you weren’t preoccupied by the other men which wouldn’t have been such a bad thing if he didn’t stare at you. His gaze was unnerving and terrifying. Yet you must accept him in order to go home. So you tolerated his presence with gentle smiles and one sided small talk. You didn’t realize how much Hanayama truly enjoyed your company.

He began to bring you gifts. Roses, jewelry, and clothing. Loud gestures of adoration despite his stoic exterior. You’d always thank him with a smile because his romance bar would rise with each gift… but his pink bar was the first to reach a blood red. Why was his bar so red? And why did you always feel as if someone was watching you?

His gifts began to become inappropriate. Rather than regular clothes, he’d gift you red, black, and violet lingerie. And then it was chocolates and invitations to fancy dinners where oysters were almost always served. You were starting to become really scared when you found out what his occupation was. How were you to know he was a yakuza boss?! And there was no escape from Hanayama, he was too powerful and he was too obsessed with you to share you.

Baki Hanma

You were on a jog when you met the twenty year old. He was sitting on a bench all alone looking so down. The heart bar above his head was a depressing shade of blue. Oh no! Why did he look so sad?

Baki was shocked when you sat beside him with a smile. You offer him your hand to introduce yourself and you offered to listen to him since he looked so sad. He instantly clung to you like a tick. You were so warm and sweet… he adored it. He’s never had affection like this since his ex girlfriend… you’re warm like a mom!

You pat Baki’s head as he cries in your arms. You’re shocked by how his heart bar sky rockets to a sixty percent with this small interaction. Holy smokes! You were crushing this game!

You exchanged numbers with him and offered him solace so kindly. Baki was so thrilled to finally have someone care about him. It was what he has always wanted…

Baki spent almost as much time with you as Katsumi did. The two friendly men running around you like little kids as they excitedly would take you on lots of dates. It was a little overwhelming.

But you didn’t think Baki would be so clingy… please don’t leave him! Don’t leave him, he’d do anything for you! Please only look at him! Love him!

Jack Hanma

The hardest to romance. This man was mean. Mean as hell. He had no interest in you whatsoever, he only had his goal of strength in mind. Jack constantly rebuffed you, but your persistence began to wear down his walls

Why did you insist on being so close to him anyways? He was a mess. He was always sweaty and he would train to the point of incontinence… did you have a piss kink? You were weird as hell and he didn’t like the way the other fighters hovered around you like helicopters. You were nothing special… at least that’s what he told himself until he overheard you defend him when someone bad mouthed him.

“Sure Jack can be a little rough around the edges, but he works harder than any of you!” Jack clenched his jaw when he heard you berate some of the fighters who commented on his methods for strength. “You don’t have half of what it takes to want to be the best.” Your words made something flutter in his heart. It was a weird feeling but it wasn’t something entirely unwelcomed.

Jack’s presence usually sent the other men running away with their tails between their legs but he began to like the way you smiled so warmly at him. For the first time in years, someone didn’t look at him like he was a monster. And he didn’t ever want you to disappear. No. Jack wouldn’t ever let anything happen to you. He’d rather die.

You became as important to him as his journey to strength. You were his one and only friend. His companion. It didn’t matter to him that there were others. Jack was just happy to have you by his side.

Jack enjoyed how you’d sit beside him whenever he sat alone or how you’d occasionally lean on him when it was cold. Jack slowly warmed up to you and his romance bar slowly began to rise. He took the longest to romance out of all the others but he’s the most normal out of all of them. Jack rarely sought you out unless he had a gut feeling you needed him. Jack slowly began to become easier to talk to… and you made the mistake of venting to him. Of showing him your most vulnerable side.

So when he saw you crying for the first time about how weird everyone was to you, something in him snapped. How dare they make you uncomfortable. How dare they make you cry! And now you realized just how over protective Jack was of you…

And from that day forth, Jack began to protect you. He was like a giant, blonde tank that shoved the other men out of the way. You didn’t have to worry anymore. Jack would protect you!

Kaioh Retsu

You met him at the dojo. Retsu was very nice to you. He was a voice of reason and usually would step between you and Katsumi when he noticed Katsumi being particularly weird to you.

You’d spar with Retsu and you were always awestruck by his Kenpo. Retsu enjoyed your compliments and even taught you some Kenpo. He was thrilled that someone was interested in his martial art. To have it be appreciated.

His romance bar was hidden from you, which was strange. Occasionally it would pop up with a high percentage but then it would fade into obscurity. Retsu would always give you a soft smile and reassure you whenever you were particularly overwhelmed. He was a really good friend.

Retsu was easy to talk to and he made the best tea. And Retsu always had a logical response whenever you vented about the other men. You felt safe with Retsu… like you could trust him.

And so you shared with him the truth of you situation. Which made the Chinese man sympathize with you. He’d help you get home!

A shame you didn’t realize how he secretly manipulated you. How he pretended to be reasonable and level headed. He used his maturity and kindness to lower your guard but he didn’t realize just how much you were hiding. You’re from another world? That would explain why you were so unique compared to everyone else in this world of his… Retsu found you fascinating.

Now Retsu was going to help you leave this world… but he was going with you. You entrusted him with such precious information and didn’t he deserve a reward for helping you?

Pickle

A wild card. You will only meet him if you decide to go hiking on a Thursday.

You were not supposed to meet him but you did. On a complete accident too. You decided to go on a hike in the forest to get away from your… suitors.

He was just hunting in the forest when he noticed you. And he was curious about you. He began to follow you around like a lost dog. It would take a few miles of hiking to notice him but once you did, you were very puzzled. Who was this guy and why was his romance bar red from the get go? And that’s when you finally put together that the red bars that were above all the men you have been around meant danger.

Pickle was quick to snatch you up in his arms but rather than attack you, he sniffed you. He was surprised to smell all those fighters he’s fought on you! It fascinated him.

You were quick to escape him and run but he chased after you. He was so happy to play! If he caught you, could he keep you? Pickle would like a mate.

A shame Baki was waiting for you at the edge of the forest. The redhead glared at Pickle who began to throw a tantrum. No fair! Pickle wanted to play with you too! To keep you and to mate with you! That wasn’t fair.

Now you didn’t leave the city often because Pickle was always watching… always waiting to strike. For you had caught his eye.

Hector Doyle

Another wild card. You weren’t supposed to meet him but you did at the dojo. He was supposedly a reformed convict, one that didn’t have much of an interest in you… at first.

Doyle was kind of mean but in a snarky way. He always had something smart to say whenever you’d talk to Katsumi. You thought he was gay when you first met him since he liked Katsumi so much. But after you got to know him, you realized he was just attached to the Karateka since he defeated him.

Doyle slowly opened up to you since you were a constant presence in Katsumi’s life. You were very nice to him despite his sharp tongue so Doyle respected you. The two of you slowly became friends… but you constantly had to stop him from stealing products from the mall. Doyle had sticky fingers despite being blind. He insisted he knew the quality of what he took by the way it smelled and felt in his fingers. It was kind of silly.

Doyle’s romance bar slowly rises up the more you go out with him. He’s secretly a softie beneath his rough exterior. (If you’re a touchy person, it’ll shoot up faster. Doyle is easily flustered). Doyle is also very jealous of Katsumi

You seemed to make his friend happy so he was happy with you… until he noticed a change in Katsumi. The Karateka was obsessed with you to the point it was concerning. At least in the way Katsumi spoke of you, since Doyle was blind.

“Katsumi told everyone that you’re his fiancée but I never heard you talk about it.” Doyle whispered to you as the two of you stretched in a corner in the dojo. The blind assassin adjusted his blindfold. “I may be blind, but I’m not stupid. Are you okay?”

Doyle was shocked when you answered back in a choked sob. “No, I’ve tried to get away but he’s sent the whole dojo after me… I’m scared, Doyle.”

Doyle was so shocked when you hugged him. His body shook when he felt his first hug since he was a child. He instantly wrapped his arms around you and lost himself within you. He could imagine a life with you. You were so sweet and you were capable… he had money from his old job as an assassin and he had favors he was owed by people. Doyle could help you escape.

You pulled away and you felt your blood run cold at the red bar that was now above Doyle’s head. Oh no…

“I’ll help you escape.” Doyle whispered in your ear. “But we’d constantly be on the run. Would you want to live like that, darling?”

The choice is up to you with him. Doyle will help you but you’d lose your opportunity to go home… forever.

Jun Guevara

Another wild card. This dashing man can be found on Fridays at the docks by his boat. He’s usually shirtless with a jacket draped over his shoulders and a cigarette between his lips. He is also very easy to attract if you ask him about the ocean. This man loves the ocean. He won’t stop talking about it and he may even give you a shell if you’re extra sweet.

Jun is incredibly flirtatious but don’t let that fool you, he’s also extremely possessive. His heart bar will only rise if you’re charismatic. You have to be able to talk the talk too. And once you successfully romance him, you have the opportunity to get onto his ship! Hurray!

Jun will share rum and stories with you if you sneak off to come see him. He’ll even drape his jacket around you and call you, “Meu amor” or “Meu anjo.” You don’t have a clue what that means but it seems like a nickname!

Jun is great to use as an escape option if the other men become overwhelming. Just keep in mind that he won’t let you off that boat, because he’s determined to make you his wife! And eventually the mother of his four children.

Biscuit Oliva

Another wild card but can be encountered if you interact with criminals (Jun or Doyle). Biscuit may ask you about their whereabouts but you should lie to him to save your friends. Compliment this man to distract him! He’s a pretty revered bounty hunter so it won’t take much.

He’s recently a widow and he’s easily flustered since he’s never been flirted with before. Oliva is very easy to romance once you stoke the fires of his ego.

Oliva is a gift giver just like Hanayama except his gifts are more from the heart rather than his pants…

Oliva will buy you very nice clothes and offer to take you abroad. His romance bar will only ever turn red if you share your woes with him.

Just like Jack, Oliva is extremely protective. And he will not lose another love so he’s willing to whisk you away and lock you up forever.

Just be his cute sugar baby and everything will be okay! So long as the other men don’t crash your date… then you may never get home.

Once you successfully romance all the men, the deity will appear to you. But sadly they won’t be able to send you home anyways because you’ve ruined the story here since all their bars all turned red. Sorry toots, but he can’t take you away from these men who are willing to kill each other to have you. The deity just hopes you can make a choice.

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lovebites-if · 7 months

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DEMO (tba) - FAQ - NAVIGATION

Tag(s): Slice of Life, Fantasy, Comedy, Drama, Romance, YA, LGBTQ+, Text-based, Lighthearted. Inspired by The Office and What We Do In The Shadows.

Congratulations, human!

You have been chosen to join the extraordinary Creature Mediation Center (CMC), a unique workplace where all kinds of different monsters creatures collaborate to bridge the specieist gap in our society. As the newest and only human of our team, you'll navigate a world of diverse creatures, handling counseling sessions, managing projects, and making critical decisions to foster harmony between two worlds.

Welcome to a realm where diplomacy is a blend of corporate intrigue and fantastical diversity!

Customize your human MC's physical appearance, personality, age (25-35) and many more features.

Build relationships with diverse colleagues, each with unique personalities, backgrounds, and challenges. Strengthen alliances or face consequences based on your interactions.

Encounter a plethora of fantastical creatures, each with its own cultural nuances, habits, and communication styles. Learn to navigate this rich tapestry of diversity.

Juggle various projects aimed at fostering understanding and cooperation between monsters and humans. Successes and failures affect the overall atmosphere in the office.

Engage in crucial decision-making that impacts office dynamics, relationships, and the overall course of monster and human relations. Your choices influence the harmony or discord between both species. Good luck, human!

RO Intros • Choosing a route

Among the various members of your team, we present you the Monsters Working With the Human Division (MWHD) provisional name.

Naira/Namid (she/her or he/him) • THE WEREWOLF • 32 years old

Animated, bubbly and incredibly friendly, our beloved N brings an energetic and passionate, and lively spirit to the office. As a Werewolf, their empathetic nature makes them adept at counseling. They joined the office seeking a bridge between the worlds, hoping to dispel misconceptions about werewolves and foster understanding.

Friends to lovers, idiots in love, (possible) friends with benefits. It's possible to enter a poly relationship with N and Val.

Val (she/her or he/him) • THE VAMPIRE • age undisclosed (200+)

Mysterious and meticulous, Val is the epitome of a centuries-old vampire. Their adherence to rules and structure contrasts with the unfortunate chaotic nature of the office. Val took on this role to observe and maintain order, ensuring the delicate balance between humans and monsters.

Slow-burn, (Val's) First love. It's possible to enter a poly relationship with N and Val.

Maureen/Marius (she/her or he/him) • THE GRIM REAPER • age undisclosed (300+)

Enigmatic yet compassionate, M retired from their reaping decades ago. They've been part of the office for a few years now, working almost exclusively with ghosts and their human relatives. M's unique perspective offers profound insights into life and afterlife.

Forbidden love, friends to lovers, mutual pining.

Devan (they/them) • THE ONI • 28 years old

Devan embodies the mischievous spirit of an Oni, their playful and curious personality makes them difficult to handle, yet very useful in dynamic environments. Their love for challenges drew them to the office, eager to tackle the complexities of monster and human relations.

Idiots in love, (possible) friends with benefits. Oblivious to love (Devan).

Lucian/Leah (he/him or she/her) • THE MERMAID • 25 years old

L's calm and observant personality brings a tranquil presence to the office. As a Mermaid, they contribute a unique perspective on the challenges of both land and sea. L joined to explore new horizons and bridge the gap between underwater and terrestrial life.

Rivals to lovers, (possible) rivals with benefits, pining (one-sided, mostly MC's).

Cyrus (he/him or she/her) • THE ZOMBIE • 30 years old

Cyrus defies zombie stereotypes. Their ability to empathize and understand others' emotions makes them an excellent counselor. Cyrus joined the office seeking redemption and a chance to demonstrate that even the undead can contribute positively to society.

Everyone can see it, Girl/Boy next door, Soft love.

??? (he/him or she/her) • ??? • ???

Are you sure about that?

Enemies to lovers. Red flag RO. “I can fix them.”

While we support, Human-Monster relationships, dating a coworker is prohibited. If you suspect anyone in your work environment of engaging in such behavior, contact your boss and supervisor Arion/Arianne (a proud gorgon).

We hope your time with us is fruitful, human.

#love bites if #love bites #cog #choice of games #choice script #hosted games #interactive fiction #if game #cog wip #intro post #interactive fiction game #if intro

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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The Lost 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

This one's a bit longer than the intro.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your first shift at the store goes well enough. Aziz, the manager, shows you where everything is and goes over the policies. The till is behind a window, a slot just big enough to get products and money through. It’s close to your apartment so not the best part of town. The next day, you’ll be alone.

You head home with a dented can of ginger ale in your bag. Aziz said you could have it for free since half the paint was scraped off during shipping. You don’t drink much soda but it would be a nice treat.

You find yourself dragging your feet as you come onto your street. You’re still getting your bearings but you recognize the boarded up white brick building across from the converted two-storey house. You stare at the faded brown facade of your abode, fumbling with your keys nervously. You still feel so out of place.

You cross the road and climb the steep iron staircase that leads up the side of the house to the second floor. The heavy metal grate that shields the thick wooden door rattles as you open it and clanks behind you loudly despite your efforts to keep quiet. The place feels desolate as you enter. Aside from last night, you haven’t encountered anyone else.

You creep into the kitchen and go to the fridge. On it, there’s a yellow paper with blue ink on it; numbered bullets that you read slowly. ‘House Rules’, the jagged capitals spell out the title above at least a dozen lines. ‘Clean up after yourself; mark your food; no stealing.’ That paper feels very apathetic, suggesting that no one really talks to each other here. Maybe it’s better that way.

You open the fridge and search your bag for your can of ginger ale. You hesitate to put it inside. You have no way of marking it. You consider the remnants of the logo on the side. You could just have it warm.

“There’s a sharpie in the top drawer,” a voice breaks the rigid silence like cracking ice.

You glance over at the man standing in the doorway, the same that leads to your bedroom. You quickly peel away your eyes and nod. You can’t manage a thank you as your surprise has your adrenaline pulsing.

You close the fridge and put the can on the counter. You open a drawer, not much inside besides electric tape and the promised sharpie. You write your initials on the top of the can as the man enters and stops a few feet from you, popping open a cupboard with a harsh click.

You think it must be the same man as the night before. He’s about the same size as the ominous shadow, at least from your periphery glance. You sidle over and pull the fridge open once more, setting your can in the door before you close it gently.

Tension roils around you as the man takes out a large container. It’s unmarked except for the sharpie emblazoned on the white plastic; ‘S’. Just a single letter.

You back away and fix your bag on your shoulder, shuffling around him in the small kitchen. He doesn’t say anything but you can hear his long exhale. It sticks with you how easily he’s snuck up on you twice. You shrug it off as paranoia from the shelter.

You’ll be okay. You have a lock on the door here. You have your own space. A tiny haven in an immense world.

🚪

Your first shift alone isn’t as intimidating as you thought. Most people come in and grab what they need then go. You ring them through with as much friendliness as you can muster. Most don’t respond, some chatter a bit, rambling about a thousand different things, and others even glare at you as they point to the small earbud in their ears. The flow of customers is ebbs and flows, busier around lunchtime and dull after two.

You’re almost done with your hours there. You take the time to bring out the bag of chips Aziz marked for stocking. You sit on the step stool as you set to find the palace for each brand. You put the Cheetos on the shelf as the door chimes and signals the entry of a customer.

You stand and peek over the shelf. You see only a man’s shoulders and the back of his head as he turns his back to you, perusing the wall of magazines. His hair pokes out in shaggy shanks from a ball cap. You grab the folding foot stool and the box and quickly scurry back behind the counter.

You put them down clumsily, a loud clap as the stool falls against the back of the counter. You pull shut the divider behind you and go to the till. You brace the counter as you peer over at the man again but try not to stalk him.

He strides slowly through the store, just along the back wall as he peruses the bottles and cans of cold drinks. He opens a door and takes something out. You look down and review the checklist for your shift. The last thing you need to do is balance the till before the evening shift gets here.

You listen to the man’s steps, flicking your eyes up now and again to keep track of him. You can also see him on the security screen through the black and white lens. You don’t even get a good look at him then as he keeps his chin straight, the beak of his cap effectively hiding his features.

He approaches the counter and you pop your head up. You’re stunned to recognise him. The same man from your flat. Your neighbour. Nameless and mysterious.

“Hey,” he says as he puts his fare on the other side of the plastic barrier.

“Hello,” you eke out. You’re getting used to your own voice again. In this job, you don’t have a choice. “This everything?”

“Mhmm,” the hum is rocky in his throat.

You grab the two bottles, part of a two for three deal, and scan the premade protein milkshakes one at a time, then the magazine, Time, and a bag of pretzels. Nothing too unusual. His fingertips scratch the coarse hair along his jaw as he clears his throat.

You read out his total and he reaches into his jacket. He pulls out several bills and counts them out before handing them over. You take them and tally his change from the drawer.

“Shouldn’t be working alone,” he comments as he holds his hand out for the change.

You drop the coins into his cupped palm and recoil at his remark.

“Not to scare you,” he tucks the change away.

You shake your head. No, you thought it before but a job’s a job. You scrunch your lips and look around evasively.

“Do you want a bag?” You offer, not knowing how else to respond.

“Please,” he accepts, “and thank you.”

You nod and pull out a bag. You take his items and shove them inside as he watches quietly. You push them through the slot and he takes the handles, pausing as you feel him looking at you.

“When you walk home, avoid Mason Street. Go one up to Doxtator. Safer,” he advises.

You dip your chin, embarrassed. You know you don’t look like much but you can take care of yourself. You have so far.

He leans back on his heel before twisting on his soles. It squeaks with his slow hesitation and he marches to the door. You look up as the chime goes off and he disappears into the street. Only forty minutes to go.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the lost #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #nomad!steve

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 2 months

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Supersons +1 prompt answer Parte Dos

Parte Uno

Original Prompt

Jon couldn't help but take a peek at the large metal ring constructed behind the massive form of Dr Fenton, its size and shape dwarfing man and son. He couldn't watch for much longer, however, as their encounter with Daniel was expedited by Damian's impatience. Maybe he was just itching for a fight, or a supervillain to beat down. Either way, as Superboy, it was his job to make sure Daniel walked out with all his limbs intact!

"Daniel Fenton." But Damian was interrupted just as fast as he had started.

"Ew, no, it's Danny thank you very much. Only my parents when they're angry, and- bleh- Vlad, call me Daniel."

Damian scowled (he was doing that a lot today). "Daniel Fenton, we have some questions for you."

"Guess that's not gonna happen."

Time to intervene. Jon stepped between Damian and Danny, arms outstretched, with a friendly but diplomatic smile. "What Damian here means is we're suuuuper curious about your dad's research, aren't you Damian?"

"...Yes."

"If you wanna know more about my Dad's research, why don't you uhh." Danny bobbed his head at Mr Fenton's direction, the man in the midst of grabbing onto an unfortunate bystander and extolling the virtues of his next invention.

"Your father has proven lacking in his ability to explain his own work, which is why the responsibility now falls on to you, Daniel Fenton, if that's even your real name."

Wow, laying it on real thick, aren't you Damian.

Danny very pointedly ignores the death stare (hehe, death stare) from Dami to look to Jon. "And you are...?"

"Jon, I'm here with my dad too! He's a reporter, but some of this stuff's got me bored out of my mind. I mean, a flying toilet? Really??"

This manages to get a chuckle out of Danny. "You saw that too? And here I thought I'd get to see some normal inventions around here."

"I know right! I feel subconscious even with bathroom stalls and stuff. What are you gonna do, bring a flying curtain?"

"Honestly I know some folks back home who could find it handy." Danny said, a mysterious smirk on his lip. What could be so mysterious about a bunch of streakers back home? Or...

"Would you like to elaborate on that statement, Fenton?" Damian cut in. "Or the function of the garish-looking gateway erected by your Father?"

"Oh that? That's the Fenton PortaPortal."

"Porta what?" Jon asked.

"The Porta Portal. Portable Portal. It's like the one back home, 'cept it's light enough to move around."

"Portal to where exactly?"

Danny shrugs. "The Ghost Zone, where else?"

"You mean to say your parents have breached the afterlife using science?"

"Hah!" Danny laughs. "But it won't work, trust me." There was that knowing grin again.

"You seem pretty sure, Danny. Also wait, you have one of these back home?"

"Yeah, and it let in the raging hordes of the undead on my town. Overshadowing (that's possession btw), taking over the school with meat, box-based assault, replacing people like changelings, that one time a ghost tried to blow up my sister with a laser, that one time the Ghost King kidnapped the entire town and transported it to the Realms..." Danny listed out various dangerous situations like it was Tuesday, ignorant of the dawning horror upon his audience's faces. Jon himself was starting to feel a little green. Ghosts? Hundreds of ghosts? Each of them capable of possession, and according to Danny, much more?!

"How has the Justice League not heard of this kind of thing?" Jon tried, but failed to hide the slight shiver in his voice.

Danny shrugged. "Guess they dismissed our calls as pranks or something."

"Your father wishes to unleash the legions of undead upon Gotham?!" Damian stepped forward, getting up in Danny's face.

"Woah woah woah, chill out man. Mom and Dad actually learned from the last time and built like eight layers of shielding around the portal, not that it'll be necessary since it won't work anyway."

"And why are you so sure? Did you sabotage it? For whwat purpose would you tamper with your own parents' inventions?"

"Dami, maybe we shouldn't jump to conclusions." Jon said, trying to pull Damian away without any obvious use of super strength.

"Yeah Dami, I'm just a kid, like you. You see an engineering degree anywhere that can be used to sAboTAgE anything? 'Cause I don't."

Damian glared at the other boy for just a second longer, before Jon was finally able to pry him off the poor kid. "I'm so sorry, Damian's just kinda intense sometimes, he really means well I-"

"It's fine. Besides, I'm bored as hell over here too. Since we're about sixty-nine million years below the average age of this place. what say we hang and laugh?" Danny got up and stretched his legs.

"Sure! Hey you seen the oven that's supposed to bake pizza in under ten seconds? Come on, Damian spotted this amazing design flaw, you just have to come with."

As Jon dragged them away, Damian muttered under his breath, deviously. "Good job, Kent, escorting Fenton to a secondary location for further questioning."

~~~~~ They spent the next hour roaming the convention centre, laughing and snorting their lungs out at the inventions, and the rich suckers lapping them up. Although Damian was initially as frosty as Superman's ice breath, Danny's mention of a glowing green ghost dog managed to gain his attention, if veiled behind suspicion and accusation. Looks like no squeezing was necessary, but the idea of a whole town of magical beings that possessed as easily as they breathed still made Jon nauseous.

"My parents actually get me keep him, without the threat of dissection, it's amazing!"

"Your parents dissect animals?" Damian spat out with all the hatred of a thousand dying suns.

"Ghosts, and they never have. Kept getting away. For some reason. Nowadays they're more into non-invasive study. and by non-invasive I mean totally invasive of things like privacy, and alone time." Danny grumbled.

"I feel you, man." Imagine having a dad with super hearing. Or growing up with the world's greatest stalkers.

"Privacy is an illusion." Damian being normal challenge IMPOSSIBLE

They had no more time to banter before Dr Fenton's booming voice echoed across the centre.

"AND NOW FOR THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR, THE SHOWCASE OF THE FENTON PORTAPORTAL AND THE LATEST IN FENTON SURVEILLANCE TECHNOLOGY, BEHOLD!"

"Just watch." Danny said.

Jack slammed his fist upon the on button, which was thankfully on the outside this time. The circular rings around the portal spun and spun, creating an electric whirring sound building up to a crescendo...

Only for the portal to fizzle out, as the crowd's jeers reached a fever pitch.

"Told you so."

Danny's triumph lasted not for another minute, however, when his body shivered and a cold mist broke through his lips. "Shit." He muttered. At least Jon and Damian were looking away. Danny's eyes scanned the crowd. Jack Fenton's sorrow was wiped away as the sensors in his suit came to life. He whipped out a comically large ecto-gun, shouting. "I KNEW IT! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK FROM GHOSTS!!!"

Danny needed look no longer as piercing laughter filled the auditorium. A swarm of green bats descended upon the centre, causing chaos and confusion. Those among the crowd sensible enough to run for the exits found themselves halted by bars locking them shut. Jack opened fire, but was overwhelmed by dozens of ghost bats.

Danny looked for anywhere he could silp away and transform. Damian and Jon did the same. None of them could an opportunity, as two pairs of hands swept them off their feet, and bindings tied them together. Their eyes widened as they gazed upon their captors. Two men adorned with white face paint. One in a gothic waistcoat, the other with green hair and a purple suit.

The infamous Joker, and the not as infamous Freakshow, both in hysterical laughter.

"I really gotta give it to you Danny-boy, that sabotage act you pulled really put us for a loop!" The Joker gasped out between laughs. He pulled out a remote with a large red button. "But I, the Joker, have out-sabotaged your sabotage! AHAHAHAH"

The Joker pressed the buttom, causing the portal to roar back to life.

"Damian!" Bruce Wayne yelled.

"Jon!" Clark Kent shouted.

"DANNY BOY!" Jack cried out, but they were too late to stop the swarm of bats carrying all three boys through the newly reactivated portal, and were too late to follow before the whole thing blew to pieces in a fiery halo.

To be continued....

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #crack #prompt answer #jon kent #jack fenton #damian wayne #shenanigans #supersons #ghost zone #infinite realms #good parents jack and maddie #we need more good parents content where they still try to shoot danny #it needs to happen #i am an amateur writer plz forgive me #I am a stoopid so sowwy for any OOC ;-;

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cryptids-of-the-world · 8 months

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The Sandown Clown is a mysterious humanoid that was encountered by 2 children in May of 1973 at Lake Common in Sandown on the Isle of Wight in the UK. The Sandown Clown is described as a tall humanoid standing around 6.5 feet tall and very thin with white skin that had the feel and look of paper; it's hands and feet also only had three digits on them and it had two triangular blue eyes, a brown rectangular shaped nose, and yellow lips which all appeared to be painted on it and it also wore a hat in where reddish-brown hair could be seen under it; it also had two antenna which appeared to be made of wood and it also carried a microphone. The Sandown Clown was said to be friendly but very shy and scared of humans; it was so scared of humans in fact that it said if it were attacked, it would not defend itself. It drank water from the stream that it cleaned before drinking it and ate berries that it ate oddly; it ate them by putting its head forward and moving the berries back and forth between both of its eyes and then down into its mouth. It had a sign that had the words, "Sam" and "All colors". When the kids asked if it was a ghost the Sandown Clown replied, Well not really, but I am in an odd sort of way." Any other questions the children asked it about itself it replied with "You know". The kids talked to it for 30 minutes then it was never seen again. To this day, the Sandown Clown still remains a mystery.

#Sandown Clown #Lake Common #Isle of Wight #United Kingdom #UK #Clown #Clowns #Alien #Aliens #Extraterrestrial #Extraterrestrials #Extraterrestrial Life #Cryptid #Cryptids #Unknown #Paranormal

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kiisstuff · 3 months

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The Bakshi Family

Summary:

"The Bakshi Family" is an interactive fiction inspired by the sitcom Full House. After the untimely death of their mother, Rakesh Bakshi finds himself navigating the challenges of parenting his four children— The twins Alisha & Asim, Bevis, and the youngest, Darsh. The family's dynamics are further complicated by the arrival of their 25-year-old aunt/uncle, the MC, who must balance their own life while helping the Bakshi family cope with their loss. Amidst the chaos, the MC encounters five potential romantic interests: Bo Wu, Rakesh's best friend; Rakesh himself; Grace Clarke, a celebrity; S Smith, the neighbor; and Charlie Andrew, the teacher. As the MC forms bonds and supports the Bakshi family, they discover that love and laughter can heal even the deepest wounds in this heartwarming and entertaining interactive narrative.

Aunt/Uncle MC: Play as the 25-year-old aunt/uncle, juggling personal life and responsibilities to support the Bakshi family in the aftermath of their mother's death. (decide to play male or female and create a personality and a appearance)

Diverse Romantic Interests: Choose from five distinct romantic interests, each with their own personalities and backgrounds. Will you pursue a relationship with Rakesh, the best friend Bo, the celebrity Grace, the neighbor S, or the teacher Charlie?

Coping Mechanisms: Witness how each family member copes with grief in their own way. Delve into the emotional nuances of the characters as they navigate the healing process.

Parenting Challenges: Assist Rakesh, the father, in overcoming his chaotic and embarrassing parenting style. Navigate the ups and downs of family life while trying to understand the needs and emotions of each child.

Slice-of-Life Situations: Experience everyday situations reminiscent of the Full House sitcom, including heartwarming family moments, humorous mishaps in the kitchen, and the joys and challenges of raising children.

Bo Wu:

Personality: Bo is a 28-year-old Asian-American with a flare for the dramatic. He exudes arrogance, flirts unabashedly, and considers himself the coolest person in the room. Despite his rude exterior, there's a mysterious charm that draws people in.

Appearance: Bo has fair skin, dark brown eyes, and shoulder-length black hair tied in a small ponytail. Standing at 6'0ft, he embraces a relaxed and effortlessly cool style.

Rakesh Bakshi:

Personality: At 36, Rakesh is the Indian father of the Bakshi family. Despite his embarrassing and chaotic parenting, he is genuinely nice and friendly. He enjoys baseball, snowboarding (though it always ends badly), and casual cooking sessions that often result in culinary mishaps.

Appearance: Rakesh has tan skin, messy brown hair, a casual stumble, and stands tall at 6'4ft, giving him a laid-back and approachable look.

Grace Clarke:

Personality: Grace, a 23-year-old British celebrity, is sweet, insightful, outgoing, and enthusiastic. She enjoys singing, acting, dressing up, surfing, yoga, and cooking. Grace brings a positive and vibrant energy to every situation.

Appearance: Grace boasts porcelain skin, mid-length wavy auburn hair, and ocean-blue eyes. Standing at 5'3ft, she carries herself with a sensual and graceful demeanor.

Scott/Skye Smith:

Personality: S a 29 American Person, is the athletic neighbour with a shy, spontaneous, logical, caring, and strategic personality. They have a love for various sports and photography, bringing a unique dynamic to the neighborhood.

Appearance: Scott, at 5'8ft, features blond, bald hair, a beard, sharp features, rosy skin and an athletic, sporty look, while Skye, standing at 5'6ft, has blond hair in a loose bun, sharp features, rosy skin and also an athletic, sporty look.

Charlie Andrew:

Personality: Charlie, the 28-year-old Native American teacher, is efficient, reliable, playful, and intellectual. They enjoy reading, hiking, and drawing.

Appearance: Charlie has shoulder-length aqua blue hair, brown eyes, golden brown skin, and a professional look, standing at 5'8ft. They radiate a calm and intellectual aura.

demo: tba probably April

forum: tba probably April

other: soulmate-if , TBFamily-If

#interactive fiction #if wip #wip #no demo #romance #family #interactive novel #interactive game #TheBakshiFamily #The Bakshi Family #second if

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doukeshi-kun · 2 months

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𝙖𝙡𝙩!𝙜𝙖𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙡 + 𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

notes ✥ omg keshi finally writes another character??

content ✥ gn!reader, petnames (my child, little lamb, dearest), alt!gabe is being creepy but nothing serious, is this horror or an attempt

“I really can't thank you enough.”

“Oh, dearest. You have repeated such gratefulness so many times.”

“I-I know. It's just… you know, it's dangerous out there at this hour and you went through the trouble to get me some groceries.” You sigh as you unpack the groceries that your friend had bought for you. He is just standing right at the entrance of your kitchen, watching you. His stance is straight and tall.

You met ‘Gabriel’ through an internet online space. Though you know the danger of technology these days, especially in Mandela County, you cannot help but keep connecting with Gabriel. After several online conversations—both of you decided to go out for a friendly date, as you call it.

And you are glad that you decided to continue talking with him in that online space. Fortunately, he is not an Alternate or some kind of monster you have heard stories about. Gabriel looks like a literal angel—his skin is fair and flawless, his hair is blonde and long. Though he looks slender from afar, he is much more toned than you expected. His eyes are sharp and dark—for some reason, his gaze is full of mystery as if he possessed some kind of forbidden knowledge. Plus, his gaze does feel a bit malicious—but that's probably your imagination.

“Is it that dangerous?” Gabriel asks as you are unloading stuff into your fridge. You pause and turn your head towards him, confused. Is he unaware of Alternate’s existence?

“W-Well… Yes.” You say. “Have you never experienced any… paranormal encounters?” You ask. As you remember correctly, Gabriel has said he has been here in Mandela County since long ago. He looks older than you—it is very likely he has seen some shit, no?

Gabriel instead smiles before he cackles. His cackle does not sound humanly for a quick second before he eyes you again. “Right…” He says before he leaves the kitchen. You frown, confused by his strange act. He feels… off, tonight.

You shrug and continue to arrange the stuff in your fridge before you hear a loud thud coming from the living room. You rush out from the kitchen, only to find nothing out of the ordinary in your living room.

Your living room is dark, lacking any lights other than the moonlight from the window. You look around, trying to find Gabriel. He wouldn't just leave unannounced, right? He is a polite man.

“Gabe?” Your small voice echoes in the room. “Gabe, where are you?” You ask again as you walk slowly to the door, making sure it is locked—it is a basic step to avoid confrontation with any Alternate after all.

You check the window and for a second, you see Gabriel's reflection in the glass—he is standing at the kitchen’s entrance, with a strange wide grin on his face. You gasp, turning around quickly, only to find no one is standing there.

And the first thing that comes to your mind is just—you are having an encounter.

Breathing hastens, legs fasten, you run to your room and immediately, you slam the door shut and twist the lock. You drag the stool from your dressing table and block the door with it.

“The window…” you mumble, remembering the only window you have in the bedroom. You rush there and push the curtain away to check the lock. However, you notice that the night sky which is supposed to be illuminated with moonlight has turned solid black.

There's no cloud waving away, there's no moon shining through. A complete darkness.

“My, my.”

Your fingers are shaking and your fingertips feel numb as you notice a very tall man in a white robe, dark eyes and sinister grin standing just right behind you from the reflection on the window. He is staring at you, right at your reflection.

Your throat is struggling to make a noise, even a simple call for help. Even when your body has a little courage to take an inch step back, you only stumble against his chest and it dooms on you when you realize how close he is right now to you and how dangerous this situation is.

You don't even know if praying even helps.

And yet, your heart is repeating prayers to God, asking Him to forgive all your sins, give you an ounce of mercy and save you from this misfortune—just save me, save me, God, please save me, help me, help me, help me

“It is almost endearing to hear you beg for me to save you from myself, my child.”

His voice is a deep haunting whisper as he brings his hand—his fingers are strangely slender and long, his nails are sharp—and traces your face with the tip of his nails. You shut your eyes, trembling in fear as you feel slight pain from the tiny scratches on your skin.

“God, h-help me, h-help…” The words come out like a string of cries—and the being behind you just laughs, mocking your fruitless prayer. You refuse to open your eyes, in fear you might stare back into his reflection.

Gabriel’s hand strokes your cheek before you feel his touches slowly leaving you. He traces his finger from your cheek to your neck and down down to your spine before it retracts away.

“I have feared my little lamb too much, it seems. It was fun to play with you for a moment, my dear. I will see you tomorrow. Do not hide. I will find you.”

if you like my works, consider buy me a ko-fi!

#道化師-jest❃ུ۪ #tmc x reader #mandela catalogue x reader #alternate gabriel x reader #alt gabriel x reader #the mandela catalogue x reader #tmc gabriel x reader #tmc alt gabriel #alternate gabriel #the mandela catalogue

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unluckiestmember · 1 year

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Makima x Innocent! Reader

Characters: Makima, Kishibe (Mentioned)

Tags: Fluff, Developing/Established Relationship, Soft! Makima, dogs, worrying, Kishibe being Kishibe, denial of feelings and misunderstandings.

Warnings: Spoiler Warning for the International Assassins Arc and the Gun Devil Arc. SFW.

A/N: Soft Makima = Best Makima?

SFW

Makima is a controller. For her it is either her way or no way. And if you dare to defy her, she will be the last thing you ever see.

She treats everyone like they are her dogs, toys and pawns in a larger game to win…

But not you. No, she treats you like an angel.

After missions and days at work, she will take you out to relax. No ifs ands or buts.

Gives you the best massages.

Isn't a fan of PDA. But if she feels threatened, she will grab you and show everyone who you belong to.

She won't force anything onto you unless important. She knows how timid you can be when making decisions.

She has no problem explaining to you her missions and tactics, though she will sugar coat some moments for your "safety".

Her dogs love you. They literally run in your direction when you go to Makima's home and just jump on you.

Yes, Makima is a little jealous of it.

Watches any movie you want to watch, good or bad.

If it's a horror movie, she'll hold your hand the entire time. And if there's a jumpscare, she'll hold you when you jump.

Loves when you get easily flustered but wont show it.

She'll literally stare at you with a small smile and quietly be in delight at your timid state.

Will ask about your day, which is something she doesn't do for ANYONE.

If you want a sleepover, Makima will do the whole nine yards. Endless snacks, a batch of good movies, bad movies and a bunch of blankets.

She only has ONE rule; Don't speak of what you two do outside of work to coworkers. You're her little secret. No one can have you but her. Not to mention she has a reputation to keep.

Will ask Kishibe, yes, Kishibe of all people, advice on how to care more and be better for you.

Will also ask how to tread lightly around you as to not scare you away. But will never admit it or say it out loud.

Say her eyes are beautiful or pretty. She'll melt just laugh and call you cute. Maybe even kiss you on the cheek.

In-Story (Spoilers Ahead)

When Makima fell for you, she thought she was sick.

So sick that she took a few days off of work to wonder what was happening to her.

She asked her higher ups and even Kishibe what was wrong in subtle ways.

They all concluded; she wasn't sick. She was in love.

But she didn't want to be. No, she wanted to just focus on Chainsaw Man and Denji! You were ruining her plans! You had to go.

So why couldn't she kill you?

She just couldn't kill you…

Though she continued to think her attraction to you was unnatural, she soon asked you out.

Say yes. Makima doesn't show it, but she wants you to accept her confession.

Though your relationship is not displayed around your co-workers, they know something is going on between you two.

They all think the same thing; "Good for her." "I'm happy for them." "She's dating someone? I thought she was just a scary emotionless woman!" "Lucky!"

Makima doesn't worry about anything.

So she's surprised she worries about you so much.

After your encounter with the Darkness Devil in hell, Makima was her usual quiet and mysterious self.

But Kishibe informs you she was worried sick when she found you.

And don't even get him started on how she was during the return of the Gun Devil.

She tries her best not to tell you her true motives with Denji, but if you give her puppy eyes she'll spill.

Please support her. The last thing she wants to do is kill her precious angel.

When you noticed her being extra friendly to Denji and Aki, your cute little head started to worry she would leave you for them.

She'll assure you in a sweet whisper that she only belongs to you.

Be on the look out for a jealous Denji...

"I'll admit. My motives will be seen as evil. But it is a necessary evil. I hope you understand... You have to understand. I know I can accomplish my mission, but it might be near impossible without you... Oh, I wasn't saying I-... Haha. Yes. I love you too."

Makima is a devil. A control devil. And could destroy the whole world.

But maybe. Just maybe. She'd sacrifice it all if it was for you…

Chainsaw Man requests are currently open! :D

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, be safe and have a good day! <3

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musings-of-miss-j · 2 months

Text

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part six: in which you wrangle out information about the doctor's segments, discover a library and obtain the favour of its obscenely wealthy resident

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will most likely not be romantic interests)

notes: is the burn even burning. slow burn, gn neutral reader who is occasionally referred to as 'miss', smart-ass reader with just a sprinkle of social anxiety and a healthy dose of skepticism

warnings: blood and organs. are we even surprised at this point

series masterlist

as always, let me know if you find any pronoun slips!! oh, and friendly reminder that reblogs help circulate my work much better than likes <3

word count: 4628 words

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“They are not clones,” he replied dismissively. “Have you nothing to say to explain yourself?”

“In that case, how precisely do you define them?” You prodded, all anxiety at your lateness forgotten in the face of this engrossing new mystery. “I’m assuming you created them. How, if not by cloning?”

The Doctor crossed his arms and stared you down. You gazed back up at him, resolute and unmoving in your curiosity. You looked different today, he noted; you apparently still hadn’t found your cloak judging from the fact you were wearing Childe’s, damn him,and the shadows under your eyes were more pronounced than usual. He frowned behind his mask. Had you not gotten enough sleep? Perhaps he shouldn’t have kept you in the lab so late; after all, sleep deprivation would make you more prone to committing foolish blunders in the vicinity of his precious experiments. He couldn’t have that.

“My segments are none of your concern,” he said with an air of finality.

“Doctor, as your apprentice, am I not entitled to having any questions outside my realm of expertise answered by you?”

Oh, you devious thing.

With a dismissive wave of his gloved hand, the Doctor swept past you towards the reflux apparatus he set up the night before.

“Provide an acceptable excuse for your tardiness, and perhaps then I’ll be more accommodating.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, unsurprised by his persistent give-and-take mentality, and made your way to your array of petri dishes. Under different conditions, the fungi growing within them developed a multitude of characteristics; under direct sunlight, tendrils of green plantlife snaked through the mycelium, when submerged in water the fungi formed tiny yet distinctive fins, and many other such phenomena.

“I had an encounter with Lady Eight and Lord Eleven after the lab session.”

“One that lasted well past midnight?” He asked, stealing glances at you as he set up the next step of his current experiment.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a disdainful roll of your eyes. “Hence my lack of punctuality. I had to entertain guests.”

Outrage flared in Dottore’s chest. How dare they intrude upon you at such an inopportune time? Of course, he conveniently dismissed the fact that he was the one who kept you so late in the first place; as far as he was concerned, he was entitled to your company. You were his apprentice, after all.

“Understandable enough,” he conceded.

You shot him a look. “Well? Your… segments? What are they, precisely?”

He muttered something unintelligible before responding. “Iterations of myself at various ages.”

“I counted seven of them. Are there any more? What purpose does their existence serve? How did you create them?”

“You’re terribly inquisitive today, dear student,” he drawled, holding a test tube to the light and swirling the contents. You frowned. Did he intend to leave your questions unanswered? You really were awfully curious. “Count yourself lucky that I’m in fine spirits today.”

Visibly brightening, you rested your chin in your hands and your elbows on the workbench as you waited for him to go on. You never did seem to notice that he was always in a good mood whenever it came to you and your ceaseless inquiries.

“You counted correctly, there are indeed only seven of them,” he began, preparing a solution for the day’s work with the various test tubes in front of him. “I created them using techniques similar to those utilised in ancient ruin guards, but imbedded with my consciousness and the ideals I held at different phases of my life. This allows me to approach any problem from multiple perspectives, and prevents me from becoming restricted to familiar cognitive patterns.”

You hummed thoughtfully, brow furrowed as you mulled over his answer.

“But how did you ensure that the segment’s outlooks are exactly the same as the ones you used to have? Does your current personality not create some sort of bias and alter the way in which you view your… past self?”

The Doctor nodded his approval; you were asking the right questions.

“I am not heralded as a genius for nothing,” came his amused reply.

“That is a wholly unsatisfactory answer,” you grumbled, but let it slide. “Why haven’t I seen them before now?”

He elected to ignore that.

You managed to wriggle out of the Doctor’s snide remarks that you were getting lazy and make your way to the dining hall on time, for once. A restock was absolutely necessary; you’d run out of food in your dorm, and considering the sizeable journey you had to make to reach the dining hall it was a much easier endeavour to just hoard quick meals like an animal going into hibernation. Besides, you didn’t want to leave Arlie waiting, either. While you still didn’t know what kind of power she held, nor to what extent it would affect you, you were far from excited to have her demonstrate that power if you somehow managed to displease her. Even the Doctor, Childe and Signora appeared more manageable; at the very least, you knew exactly how they could make your life miserable if they wished, while Arlie was shrouded in mystery save for her dizzying, razor-sharp grace. Her special brand of courtesy felt like it would leave you scarred and bleeding out if you didn’t watch your step; a knife’s edge you had to dance around and an irresistible enigma for someone as relentlessly inquisitive as you.

After loading up a plate and sliding one of the chefs a tidy stack of mora to have packaged meals sent to your dorm, you slid into the seat across from Arlie at the table by the window you were somehow consistently lucky enough to snag (luck had nothing to do with it, really. She made damn sure no one else would sit there). Clearly she’d arrived some time ago, judging from the empty pot of coffee in front of her, and she offered you a nod of acknowledgment as you sat down. After your first meeting, she’d abandoned the purple robes that had were meant to serve the purpose of disguising her as an electro cicin mage, and now whenever you saw her she donned sleek, finely-tailored suits. You couldn’t say they didn’t look marvellous on her.

“I was expecting to see you at dinner, not this early.”

“The doctor was an in amicable mood,” you replied, buttering your roll and slathering on a layer of too-sweet jam. Mona had perfected both the art of astrology and jams; you missed her and the flawlessly balanced confections she’d make during the rare instances she had the mora to spare.

“Why are you staring at that bread roll as though it made you an orphan before your very eyes?” Arlie’s silky voice took on a bemused edge, snapping you out of your reverie. You were more than a little surprised by her question; you liked to think of yourself as somewhat difficult to read. Perhaps you were, but nothing escaped her searching gaze.

“I was just ruminating over my research.” It no longer unsettled you how smoothly the lie flowed from your tongue.

Annoyance spiked in her chest. Inconceivable, that you would entertain any thoughts that didn’t involve her. You smiled slightly. “And your ever-cryptic identity.”

She shook her head, laughing quietly. The previous frustration quickly dissipated. “Cheeky, aren’t you?”

“Tastefully curious,” you corrected with a laugh of your own.

“It’s hardly as if you’re the most comprehensible of people, either.”

You grinned. “I’m inclined to disagree, Arlie. Why, I’m an open book!”

“I’m having trouble translating your pages, then.”

“Linguistics isn’t your area of expertise, I take it?” You teased, lifting your fork to your lips. Casual conversation with Arlie felt less like balancing on a tightrope over a clearing swarming with tigers and more like finding that one of the tigers was actually quite civil and pleasant company, if you overlooked the teeth and claws and minded your manners.

“I’ll gladly learn if it means understanding you better.” Her silver-tongued reply and suave smile had you blushing and taking a moment to collect yourself.

“And you have the unprecedented confidence to call me cheeky,” you quipped.

Savouring the lapse in your composure, she replied bracingly. “Being timid doesn’t get you anywhere. Listen. Request forms will be issued later today. Make sure to submit yours before midnight.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Ah, I see. To restock any necessities we might have exhausted, yes?”

“Precisely.”

Fantastic. You needed a new turtleneck sweater after the eventful dissection with the Doctor left if bloodstained beyond repair.

“I assume the Regrator is the one responsible for overseeing such matters?”

She frowned behind her mask. Just what did he have to do with anything? Why would you bring him into the conversation? Or anyone, for that matter? “Yes, that’s right.”

You shot her a puzzled glance at the sudden frigidity in her voice. Maybe she held a grudge against him, you reasoned; it was entirely possible that she was one of his higher-ranking subordinates. Or maybe she was a Harbinger who held contempt for one of her colleagues.

“The palace truly is a self-sustaining community,” you remarked. “Do soldiers and recruits ever leave for anything besides missions?”

“No. Snezhnaya is far from a forgiving place, and there’s safety to be had between these walls.”

So the Fatui were effectively isolated from the rest of Snezhnayan society, then. You vaguely remembered from an introductory politics lecture that such physical separation between civilians and the ruling body could easily cause unrest and eventually conflict, tearing the nation apart. Oh, well. Hopefully your diploma would be complete long before that happened.

With food in your stomach and the usual vague wonderings about Arlie in your head, you returned to the lab.

“Oh, good,” Dottore remarked without looking up from organ modification he was performing. He insisted that it was enhancement, optimisation, and you firmly maintained that it was nothing but needless meddling. “You’ve finally returned. Come here and help me locate the damned tricuspid valve.”

“Surely you’re not so old that your eyesight is failing, doctor?” You asked, removing your leather gloves in favour of the horrible yellow plasticky pair. With a contemplative hum, you leaned over the countertop to survey the bleeding heart (ha, ha) more closely. Remarkable, really, how precise the Doctor’s incisions were; even you had to swallow your pride and admit that he truly was the best of the best, the epitome of perfection so highly sought after by any academic. Noting the blood dripping onto the floor, you winced. Perfection tampered by a thorough indifference to anything that wasn’t his research would be a more accurate description. You batted away his hands and took the scalpel the two of you were always fighting over, making a clean cut through the right atrium and gently peeling away the torn muscle until you could see the flimsy tissue you were looking for.

“There’s your valve,” you said, handing him back the scalpel with no small measure of reluctance. The rules dictated that he’d get to use it for the rest of the day since he got it first, after all.

He ran his bloodied thumb along the edge of his mask before going back to poking delicately at the tissue. You grimaced, watching the white leather of his mask stain crimson where he touched it.

“Flawless,” he murmured.

“Yes, quite,” you agreed, surveying the heart over his shoulder. It had clearly been removed by someone exceptionally skilled, every slice through the tender flesh perfectly made.

Ironically, Dottore was referring to your work. And you, in general.

You left the lab tired but satisfied. The day’s experiment had involved lifting several heavy mechanical components; ruin guard’s remains, to be precise. To your eternal chagrin the Doctor hadn’t struggled in the slightest, although you knew for a fact his sleep schedule was deplorable and he so rarely ate anything at all; in fact, you’d made a habit of discreetly leaving plates of food around the lab for him. A dish of vegetable stir fry you’d made in a sleep-deprived haze when your stomach rumbled loud enough to wake you and most likely every one of the castle’s inhabitants, a bowl of fruit, an exquisite chocolate mousse Anya had whipped up for you, and other such snacks scattered throughout the lab far away from any dangerous chemicals. Not that you’d admit to bringing them for him, much like how he’d deny having eaten any. What a strange, prideful pair the two of you made.

Your (well. Childe’s) coat snagged on something as you walked back to the dorm, yanking you back and forcing an obscene curse from your mouth. You crouched to inspect the source, and to your surprise found it to be the edge of a door that was left cracked. It would’ve been invisible if it were closed, and hooking your fingers into the narrow gap and pulling yielded no results. The door didn’t budge. Intrigued, you knelt fully to inspect the wedge; upon running your fingers up and down the seam you discovered a series of tiny, circular indents in the wood.

“Eureka,” you whispered softly. A similar mechanism could be found in several other places in the palace after careful inspection, and to your amusement they all required the same pattern to unlock. Terrible security. You tapped the indents in the order you’d long since memorised, and allowed a tiny, smug smile to overtake your lips when the door swung dutifully open. You slipped inside. The sheer height of hundreds of rows of bookshelves made itself known, and you let out a tiny ‘oh’ of astonishment. A library. The most beautiful one you’d ever stepped foot in, at that; even the House of Daena with its towering arches and marble couldn’t compare to the soft, weathered charm of this place, all hand-woven rugs and big windows framed by velvet curtains, plush armchairs and an array of tasteful stationery littered across every surface, cream paper and deeply coloured quills and ebony ink. You stood frozen in the doorway, taking it all in. If only you’d discovered this place long ago. A quick inspection of the books on the shelves revealed a myriad of genres and topics, even a few analyses bound in leather of subjects you’d itched to study but couldn’t because they were forbidden by the Akademiya. You glanced furtively around. Silent as the grave. Before you could lose your nerve, you quickly began pulling tomes from the shelves and stowing them in your leather satchel; surely no one would complain if you borrowed a few until the next time you could visit this miraculous place. Looking back, you were appalled by your own bravado.

“Oh? And what have we here?”

You froze, a book on the intricacies of destroying Visions halfway in your satchel. Oh, curses.

“Nothing but a curious student, sir,” you replied as smoothly as you could, turning to face the owner of the voice: a well-groomed man dressed entirely in black, from his raven hair to the shimmering jewels studded on the high collar of his shirt. Nauseatingly wealthy, that much was obvious from the fineness of the fur he wore and what seemed to be a diamond ring on his finger. The part of your brain that wasn’t panicking at being caught wondered if he’d let you test whether it was real or not; a simple and visually pleasing procedure to determine the refractive index was all it would take.

The stranger picked at his gloves, watching you over the rim of a rather excellent pair of glasses (you could tell from the set of the lenses in the frames; seamless as the door you’d unlocked to get into the library.)

“Really, now? A thirst for knowledge is all that drove you here, then?”

You swallowed nervously. Just how would you get yourself out of this predicament?

“The door was ajar, and I couldn’t help but wonder what might be inside.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“And how did you manage to open the door all the way?”

You bit back the smug smile that was threatening to appear. Best to downplay yourself so as not to seem too clever; a man this rich would obviously be powerful too, and nothing good could come of revealing your assets to him.

“I don’t know, sir,” you replied, injecting as much cluelessness into your voice as you could. “I just pulled it open. My apologies for intruding, it wasn’t my intention.”

“That would be believable if I were just a touch more foolish. Unfortunately for you, I’m not convinced by your innocent act.” He smiled. “At all.”

Rich and intelligent. What a bothersome combination.

“I suppose my only defence is that I was unaware this was a private library,” you conceded, re-shelving the tome. The wistful look in your eyes as you did so was quite amusing, he thought.

“And how do you plan on earning my forgiveness?”

“What are my options?” You countered without missing a beat.

Hm. Not bad, he thought approvingly.

“Why not introduce yourself? I’d quite like to know the name of the thief who knows how to break into a library I thought impenetrable.”

You cleared your throat, embarrassed, and fidgeted discreetly with your gloves.

“I wouldn’t call myself a thief, sir. I fully intended on returning these once I had read them,” you protested, then gave him your name. “I’m an apprentice of the Doctor’s.”

Subtle realisation dawned on the man’s face.

“Oh, I see. The infamous ‘Trixy,’ no?”

“That… is indeed the nickname Lord Eleven insists on calling me by.” You were going to kill him, you really were.

He smiled. “I thought Dottore was exaggerating when he referred to you as ‘overly cunning.’ It looks like I was wrong.”

You frowned slightly at the casual use of the Doctor’s name. Archons. Just my luck, being caught nicking books from a Harbinger’s library.

“I am the Regrator.” Reaching towards you, he took hold of your hand and kissed the back of it. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, sir- my lord,” you replied, flustered by his greeting and your mistake. “Truly an honour. Allow me to once again extend my apologies for imposing myself on your property.”

“Not to worry, one apology was quite enough,” he replied with another smile. How quickly he changed his tune; a moment ago you were quite worried he’d do much worse than throw you out, but now he was all class and geniality. These two-faced Harbingers really would be the death of you, forcing you to switch between subtle defensiveness and gracefully accepting compliments.

“I’ll see myself out,” you said, breaking the impending silence. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lord.”

“No, no. Stay, I insist. In fact…” He took hold of your shoulders and steered you towards the fireplace, nudging you into a chair. “Why not take a seat? If my memory serves, today you’re to receive the requests forms, is that right?”

He grinned, satisfied, when you nodded in confirmation.

“Lovely. Tell me what it is you were going to have brought to the palace, and I’ll ensure its timely delivery.”

Your eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch.

“And what do you gain from providing me this assistance?”

“Your favour,” he replied promptly, so matter-of-fact that you thought you’d misheard. Well. If he was going to take the first shot and be such a flatterer, then you could certainly play along.

“Why, you’ve already gained it by extending your cordiality,” you said, lifting a gloved hand to your mouth to hide the grin threatening to overtake your features.

Regrator laughed, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. The flickering glow of the fireplace threw the planes of his face into sharp relief, all razor-sharp angles that could cut through diamond. Unsettled, you took to pulling at the fingertips of your gloves for a moment’s respite from his eerie black gaze, glinting like the surface of a bottomless lake at night. Maybe, just maybe, masks were preferable.

“You’re something of a smooth talker,” he remarked. “Perhaps I’ve met my match.”

“I couldn’t hope to live up to your articulacy, my lord, though I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be so humble. I understand that you’re quite the genius in your own field, no?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Whatever gave you such an impression?”

“It’s not often Dottore goes larking about others’ intelligence,” he replied with equal amusement, watching the swirling clouds of snow outside the stained glass window. Now that caught you by surprise. Surely the Doctor, legend of the Akademiya and one of the arrogant men you ever had the displeasure of meeting, wouldn’t bestow you with such praise.

“I’m clever enough to get by,” you settled on saying, fingers itching to check your pocket watch. It had to be late, but the Regrator imposed a strange aura that compelled you to follow what little etiquette you knew of. The moment you realised this, however, you made a point of taking your watch out and checking the time. The only nonsensical rules you would allow to influence your behaviour were those that could eventually be explained; the laws of science.

“Terribly humble,” he murmured, repeating his previous statement with a touch more gratification.

“It never pays to be egotistical without good reason,” you concluded, making to get up. “It’s been a pleasure, my lord”-

“Sit, sit,” he said firmly, cutting you off. “You won’t have time to submit the request form now,” he pointed out. ‘You might as well stay and tell me what it is you need so I can take care of it.”

You cursed softly under your breath. He was right, unfortunately, and you really were in dire need of several necessities. Resignedly, you sat back down. The Regrator’s pleased twitch of his lips didn’t escape your notice; clearly he’d planned this out. Sneak.

“Much obliged,” you muttered, not without a healthy amount of resentment you didn’t bother hiding.

“But of course.”

He stared at you expectantly, that maddeningly unbothered half-smile never budging from his lips. You bit back a sigh. Best get this over with.

“Well, for starters, I need at least seventy grams each of qingxin, violetgrass, mourning flowers and lumidouce bells. Oh, and ten grams of sunsettia seeds. Other than that, one kilogram each of copper, crystal marrow and white iron, and as many chaos devices and spectral husks as you can afford.”

“That sounds similar to Dottore’s usual order, yes,” he mused. “But forgive me for asking… why the sunsettia seeds?”

“Sunsettia trees can be coaxed into growing under very harsh conditions, and I happen to quite like the fruit,” you answered with a shrug.

The half-smile widened just a touch.

“I see. Everything else on your list seems to pertain to laboratory work. Are you certain you won’t require any… more personal items?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Although, the doctor did say you would know why I didn’t receive the standard uniform for Fatui recruits,” you added as an afterthought. He blinked, as if caught by surprise.

“Why, it’s quite simple. You’re not considered a recruit at all.”

You stared unabashedly at him. “What?”

“It’s true,” he continued, toying with the fine silver chain of his glasses. “Your file simply has 'scholar' written as the rank.”

“How ambiguous,” you bit out, dragging a hand down your face. For all their bluster and pomp, you’d decided that the Fatui were a ragtag group of disorderly misfits with no sense of how to run such a large and influential organisation. ‘Rank: Scholar? Seriously? Keqing’s voice in your head pointedly asked if you thought you would me more up to the task of filing accurate records on thousands of people. You mentally grumbled.

“Quite fitting for a mysterious person like you.”

You lifted your head to shoot him an incredulous glance. “Yes, absolutely, my lord,” you muttered sarcastically under your breath. “My every action is so veiled in mystique, I can hardly see a metre in front of me from all the smoke and mirrors.”

The Regrator chuckled quietly.

“Clearly you understand that brevity is the soul of wit.”

“Just bursting with wisecracks, my lord,” you deadpanned. “It’s time I should be going.” Rising from your chair, you cast a longing glance across the library. “…Would it be too presumptuous of me to ask for permission to visit your library now and again?”

“Permission granted,” he conceded with a nod and twinkle in his fathomless eyes. “You’d be a welcome guest at any time.”

With a grateful ‘thank you’ and a brief smile, you hurried out of the secret door and back to your dorm.

As far as you were concerned, morning had yet to begin if it was almost noon. The sky was completely clouded over, not a glimpse of the tenuous blue visible through the layers upon layers of cottony white. In your professional opinion, if the sun wasn’t visible then the day hadn’t even started; hence why you were still in bed savouring your only day off of the week.

With a contented sigh, you pulled the blankets up to your chin and settled in a more comfortable positon, the battering of the wind against your window and the distant crowing of ravens forming a lulling symphony. Sleep was just around the corner.

A crash startled you out of your pleasant half-awake reverie, the suddenness of the movement quite effectively acquainting your skull with the wooden headboard. You muttered a string of curses, electing to ignore whoever had the unparalleled audacity to make such a noise and go back to sleep. The intruder wasn’t as agreeable about your plan, unfortunately.

“Rise and shine, Trixy!” An all too familiar voice rang out. You groaned and buried your head beneath the covers. Maybe it was a hallucination that would disappear if you ignored it. Hallucinations weren’t tangible, however, but Childe very much was, judging from how he shook your shoulder and prevented you from slipping back into your slumber. You made a half-hearted attempt to bat his hand away.

“Heavens’ sake, Childe,” you rasped, curling up tighter and willing him to go away. The use of his name rather than a snidely bit out title, or worse still, just his rank, gave him pause. You congratulated yourself on managing to shock him long enough to allow yourself to settle back into the mattress. Not even a moment later you felt a freezing pair of hands grab your ankles and pull.

“H-hey!” You kicked and thrashed, but Childe just laughed and tugged you out of bed. You could’ve sobbed. “What do you want?” You grumbled, crossing your arms.

“Awww, it’s almost as if you don’t want me here,” he said with a pout, watching you rub your eyes and push the hair out of your face. You were softer around the edges like this, he thought, hackles lowered slightly and the suspicion in your eyes worn away by sleep.

“You’re slow on the uptake, but know that I’m proud of you for finally coming to a correct conclusion,” you deadpanned. “Now tell me what’s so bloody important that you saw it fit to wake me.”

He grinned brightly. “It’s your day off, isn’t it? I wanted to take you to the city!”

You opened your mouth to snap out a scathing retort that would probably have him leaving the room in a huff, then closed it again. He looked so hopeful, all wide eyes wrinkling at the corners from the wideness of his boyish grin. You wanted to kick yourself for going so soft on him.

“Alright,” you conceded. “Let’s go to the city.”

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