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dlartistanon · 5 months

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I want to share some interesting discussion about Arturia (and Executor by extension), including some discussion about neurodivergency--a lot of this informs their characters and actions and shines better light on how it can reflect real life.

Also, here's her prequel comic which gives more context

The outcomes of her actions are not often good, but she's definitely not supposed to be evil/malicious/sadistic. She is ideologically driven and, because of her morality axis being different from most, genuinely believes what she's doing is good/correct. She has reason for what she does, such as being opposed to Laterano's limited empathy and discrimination, and what happened in her childhood.

It can be read as a commentary on how the vast majority would rather remain sheep to survive, then be true and (possibly) die.

Her motivation can be summed up as: she wants people to stop repressing themselves. Which theoretically sounds good on paper, but obviously impractical in practice. Sometimes honesty isn't the best policy.

Kriede's fate, his death, was out of his own real volition. What resulted in him wanting to save Ebenholz.

It's unconfirmed, but she may be a victim to her own Arts. She has no inhibitions about removing other people's inhibitions. Or she gaslights herself/disassociates when it comes to her mother's death. She was probably traumatized, but underreacted. To her, Mom dying and using her Arts on her mom are two separate things that have no causation.

She does not regret using her Arts on her mother. She does regret being unable to have helped her mother go further to achieve her dream before she died. Arturia considers it her own failure that Mom died before she reached self-actualization. At the core of it all, Arturia wants to see more people be like her mother, willing to act on what they truly want.

People's despair are all worthy of being addressed and felt and released. That's extremely relevant to her worldview. It's what separates humans from animals acting on instinct. Arturia doesn't care for the Seaborn and thinks they are beneath notice. They are Nothing to her. You can be Good or Evil, but you must be human. Have human desires, because animalistic desire is boring. Human irrationality is what makes them beautiful to her.

People who say that Arturia caused everything to happen in Hortus de Escapismo ignore the fact that the overall situation had been deteriorating long before she set foot there. If anything, she may have just sped up the process of things that were going to happen anyway. Which is not the same as causing it. Looking at it from the perspective of the people living at the monastery, it's reasonable that there would be depressing thoughts floating around everywhere. But the Abbot tells Arturia that her music soothes the pain.

Laterano's response to the situation did nothing to alleviate the actual problem, the material conditions (ie no food). If Arturia's abilities worked the way some people think they do, everyone at the monastery would've been dead in a week or less.

If you're debating jumping off a cliff, then she isn't going to make you jump, nor will she influence you to jump. If someone is worried about Arturia's Arts affecting them, causing them to do bad things they otherwise wouldn't have, because of intrusive thoughts, then they shouldn't even be concerned. Because Arturia is not interested in that. Acting on intrusive thoughts is not what she looks for. It's more akin to helping someone dive deep into their subconscious to face the thing(s) they refuse to face. Some people choose to take this back up with them to the surface. People who contemplate doing bad things for brief moments normally don't have those kinds of thoughts sitting deep within their psyche to drag up.

Arturia obviously needs therapy, but the most important thing to her is whether you have the conviction to act on your desires. Let go and embrace how you truly feel. The extremities of pain and despair (and perhaps even happiness) are among what she values. A very complicated individual.

#dltext #arturia giallo #at worst she's an irresponsible driving instructor and would certainly not be licensed #not the most upstanding person since people have died; but she means well :)#after all; what's so bad about people realizing their potential?#(rhetorical question)#there's a difference between removing restraints/indecision for someone to properly make a choice #and being the person making the choice #someone compared her arts to anti-depression medication; while they don't cause sui/cide #they make your brain functional enough to go through with it; if you really want to #but to write off meds entirely bc of an unfortunate side effect is unreasonable #arknights

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 1 year

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chapter x - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 3,800+

Warnings: negative reflections on sexual relationships, spoilers for entire ACOTAR series

masterlist

All of the servants and guards in the Forest House avoided any eye contact as Eris stomped down the halls. They could sense his foul mood. On days like this, Eris wondered if he was any better than his father with the way people feared him in this court.

Eris had gone hunting with his hounds in an attempt to cure his current disposition. But it had done very little to help him.

Even his mother had caught onto it this morning when they had tea and coffee.

“It’s her,” she had told him.

“What do you mean?” Eris bit back without meaning to.

But his mother had only smirked at him. “When one already feels the bond, being away from one’s mate for long periods of time can have…negative consequences.” She’d cleared her throat slightly. “Foul moods, easily irritated.”

“I’m fine,” Eris had tried to argue.

But now, as he glared at anyone and everyone in the Forest House, he knew his mother had probably been onto something.

The sun had just set, making the sky a glowing orange that only Autumn Court could manifest. When he walked into his bedchambers, the light from the window made it seem like the whole place was on fire. In a way, it always had been.

Eris ripped his leather riding gloves off and chucked them on the nearest table.

He poured himself some wine, already knowing it wouldn’t making him feel any better.

Eris poured himself a second glass already. He turned to the fireplace and snapped his finger, setting it alight instantly.

Just as he sat down, a piece of paper fell into his lap.

Eris’ stomach dropped for a moment, immediately imagining the worst. Had Y/N been hurt again? No, surely she hadn’t. He would’ve felt it.

Lucien wishes to meet with you tomorrow at dusk. The manor where the exiles reside. He’s met her. I think he knows who she is to you.

Eris swore at Rhysand’s meaning. Of all the days to receive such a letter…

The obvious instinct was to blow off his youngest brother’s request. Who did Lucien think he was, demanding such things from him?

But Eris knew that Lucien wouldn’t give up so easily. And if he ignored the meeting, it would most likely only answer his brother’s suspicions of who Y/N was.

Eris sighed and rubbed his face. Now he had to find a way to sneak out of Autumn Court without notice.

––––––––

Cassian and Nesta met at Y/N’s shop just as she was finished closing up.

“Hello!” Y/N greeted them cheerfully.

Nesta gave her a subtle smirk, while her mate beamed at her.

“Ready for some drinking and dancing?” Cassian asked.

Y/N nodded enthusiastically as she grabbed her coat. The keys to the store jingled in her hand as she practically skipped to the door.

The couple followed her outside, waiting patiently as she looked up the door of the shop.

When they got to pleasure hall, it was already bustling with people. And the energy was contagious.

Y/N smiled with delight.

Parties with such strangers was not something she’d ever really experienced. Yes, her coven would have seances and celebrate holidays. However, it never included anyone outside her coven. There was always drinking and dancing. But there was never the allure that you could meet a stranger at any moment.

“What will ya be havin’, Y/N?” Cassian asked just as she spotted their friends.

Feyre, Rhysand, Morrigan, and Azriel were tucked away at a corner booth, somewhat hidden in the darkest part of the pleasure hall.

Y/N still found it shocking that the High Lord and Lady of this court could live almost normally. Most people at Rita’s didn’t even acknowledge them. Some would do a double take, but then move on with their night.

“Who’s watching Nyx?” Y/N asked without thinking.

Since that terrifying day, she was always concerned about the toddler’s safety. Perhaps the boy was still in danger. After all, they still didn’t know who had attacked them. Was it Hybern, still fighting after the war? Another court?

Nesta answered with, “Elain and Amren…and obviously the twins are always hiding about.” Then she nudged Y/N’s arm. “Don’t worry. There’s a million wards on that River House. Rhys and Feyre would never leave his side if they felt he wasn’t completely safe.”

“Still, no one has given me their poison for this evening,” Cassian reminded them.

Y/N laughed as she said, “Wine, please.”

Nesta smirked and nodded. “I shall do the same.”

Cassian nodded, gave Nesta a kiss, and then went off to the bar.

As they walked to the table their friends were waiting at, Y/N asked Nesta, “Why didn’t Emerie and Gywn come?”

Nesta shrugged. “Emerie had to restock her store with new shipments. And Gwyn…she still struggles with crowds and new places.”

Y/N nodded in understanding. When she'd heard Gwyn’s story, her heart had broken. That was unfortunately true for all of the priestesses and others that joined their Valkyrie training. The hardships and heartbreak never ended.

Cassian returned with giant goblets of wine for both Nesta and Y/N.

And both of them barely drank half of them before Morrigan was dragging the females onto the dance floor.

Y/N giggled at the aggressiveness of it all. But it didn’t take much to convince her to dance. She loved it, after all.

She turned back to their booth to see that Cassian and Rhys were talking amongst themselves. But Azriel…Azriel was subtly watching them. No…not them. Her.

“He refuses to dance,” Morrigan muttered in her ear, obviously catching the two watching each other. She spun Y/N around and forced them to face one another. “It took me centuries just to get him to start coming here with me.”

“And Cassian?” Y/N asked Nesta with a laugh.

Nesta smirked mischievously. “He will make his way over as soon as he catches another male trying to dance with me.”

Y/N’s gaze moved to Feyre, who looked the least happy to be forced onto the dance floor.

“Rhys will do whatever his High Lady wishes,” Morrigan giggled.

“He is a better dancer than I ever could be,” Feyre admitted with a subtle blush to her cheeks.

Morrigan spun Y/N once again, making them both laugh.

“I need more wine,” Y/N admitted, skipping back to their table.

She once again shared a look with Azriel. The shadowsinger never failed to confuse her. Even the winds could tell her very little about him. He kept his secrets close, which made his mystery even more alluring to Y/N.

There was a part of her who wished to dare and ask him to dance with her – just to see what he would say.

But Azriel broke there connection as he looked over her shoulder at someone behind Y/N.

He didn’t exactly glare, because the shadow singer was much more controlled than that. But it was obvious he was watching someone he was not fond of.

“Who invited him?” Azriel asked evenly, trying to seem unfazed as he took a sip of wine.

Y/N turned around to discover that it was Lucien.

“I did,” she answered confidently, turning back around to defy the shadowsinger. Then raised a brow to Azriel, silently daring him to challenge the decision.

Azriel blinked, somewhat surprised.

But Y/N had already turned and rushed to Lucien with a welcoming smile.

“You came!”

Lucien smiled, not expecting her to be genuinely happy that he took her up on the invitation. “I told you I would.”

“Dance with me?” But Y/N didn’t really give him room to actually answer. Instead, she grabbed his wrist and brought him to the dance floor.

Y/N jumped and spun on her own.

It took her a few moments to realize Lucien was simply standing still and smirking at her.

“What?” She asked. “Don’t dance?”

The next second, the music slowed down. Everyone around her grabbed a partner and the rest took a break at their tables or went to the bar for more refreshments.

“I’m much better with a partner,” Lucien admitted, and offered his hand.

Y/N hesitated before taking it. “I don’t know…umm…f-formal dances.”

Lucien looked around at the other dancers surrounding them. “I don’t believe you’ll need to in such an establishment.”

Y/N did the same and realized most partners were just swaying and stepping.

“Do you like dancing?” Lucien asked her quietly.

“I do. Though I hadn’t realized how long it’s been since I did it. My…c-coven used to dance around bonfires, under every full moon.” She smirked before adding, “Naked.”

“You are trouble…” Lucien shook his head, trying to hide his smile. “And where is this coven now?”

“Dead,” Y/N said lightly, the wine clearly refusing to let the subject bring her down.

She needed to dance after all.

Lucien's movements stumbled, but his hands were still on her. He gave her a genuine sympathetic look, “I’m so very sorry.”

Y/N shrugged. “I know I’m not the only one who has suffered great loss…”

The song was over and the next one was back to its high energy. And their small moment of vulnerability was over.

In its place, there was a strange tension between the two of them.

Y/N bowed her head, no longer meeting his gaze.

“I-I-I’m going to get more wine,” she mumbled before leaving Lucien alone on the dance floor and hurrying to the bar.

As the night went on, Y/N got drunker and drunker.

The anxiety of bringing Lucien was forcing her to drink more than she had planned on. But she also couldn’t remember the last time she let herself go and just…have fun. She was always on the run, always in danger. And being drunk was not a way to survive – it was irresponsible.

If her drunkenness was obvious, none of her friends seemed to mind. Cassian danced with her, and then Mor or Nesta would steal here away.

Late into the night, they were all taking a break at the booth when Morrigan giggled and told Y/N, “Some handsome males have their eyes on you…”

If she was telling the truth, Y/N hadn’t noticed.

So, she just laughed too and took a quick sip of wine.

“Will you not talk to any of them?” Nesta asked.

Y/N was too busy feeling her face get red and staring into her goblet of wine to see that the rest of the table was giving Mor warning looks. She was entering dangerous territory.

But Y/N just shrugged at the question and became somewhat bashful.

“Do you not enjoy the company of men?” Mor pushed.

Clearly, she hadn’t noticed the subtle look from their friends to stop. In fact, for all Mor knew, she and Y/N were having a private conversation.

Y/N’s face scrunched in honest consideration. “I-I’ve had my fair share of lovers during my travels – with mortal men,” she clarified.

Then she sputtered, spitting out laughter at herself for using the word ‘lovers’.

“Lovers,” Y/N repeated her own words in a giggle. “As if they were even worthy of the title.”

Y/N’s face suddenly became somewhat sober, twisting into something almost sad.

Her eyes grew distant. “It never really ended up feeling how I wanted it to. I was always left feeling…used.”

She let out a drunken, huff of a laugh. “So I stopped bothering…”

After a few moments of silence from her friends, Y/N finally lifted her gaze and realized everyone at the table was looking at her.

Y/N blinked, now realizing what she had just admitted to her friends.

Feyre, Mor, and Nesta looked back at her with sympathy.

But then Y/N’s gaze shifted to the males.

Cassian appeared sad. Rhysand and Lucien, both disgusted. But Azriel…Azriel looked…almost furious.

And every second, Y/N regretted saying anything at all.

Mor saved her as she dragged here away from the table and everyone's reactions, “Come, let us get back to dancing!”

After a few songs, Y/N started to notice the stares of those males Mor had been referencing. They were all handsome. Perhaps all in their own way, but still handsome.

“I would like to believe that a few centuries of immortality has made male faes much better lovers,” Mor whispered in her ear when she caught Y/N looking.

The witch smirked, not breaking eye contact with one of them.

He was tall, with blonde hair so light that it was almost white. It was cut shorter on the sides and longer on top. His eyes were an icy blue. He had a strong jaw, a wide mouth, and almost perfect lips.

He was definitely more beautiful than any man Y/N had ever let touch her.

Y/N started stepping towards him.

He seemed pleased with her approach, standing up straighter.

“Hello,” she cooed, sounding surprisingly sober.

“Hello,” he greeted in return. Then he tilted his head, slowly looking her up and down. “They tell me you are the witch.”

The witch. Not a witch. Had she already gained some sort of reputation in Velaris?

“The witch has a name,” she answered with a narrowed gaze. “Y/N.”

“My apologies, Y/N. I meant no offense. I only bring it up because I started to believe you were casting some sort of spell on all the poor and helpless males in this pleasure hall.”

Oh, he just had to be charming, too. Didn’t he?

“My names Donton,” he added with a smirk.

Just as Y/N was about to ask Donton to take her somewhere private, the males gaze darkened and he eyed someone over her shoulder.

“Y/N, time to go,” a deep voice said behind her.

Her face dropped with annoyance as she turned to face Azriel.

“I never said anything about going home,” Y/N curtly told him.

“Cassian and Nesta just left. I am your only way home.”

“I don’t believe she had any interest in going home,” Donton cut in.

Y/N was impressed by his boldness. She had seen how people reacted to Azriel. Most feared him. But really, they just didn’t understand him.

Azriel ignored the male.

But he stepped closer to Y/N and lowered his voice as he said, “You are drunk, Y/N. And it is time to go.”

Y/N squared up with him, but she knew there was no winning. Azriel wouldn’t make a scene, but she could fully expect him to drag her into his shadows and whisk her to the other side of Velaris. And her pride wouldn’t allow such a thing.

So, she turned back to Donton.

“Perhaps another night,” she told him gently, trying not to appear embarrassed.

He gave her a polite bow of his head. “Any night that you wish, Y/N.”

She was grateful that he wasn’t deterred by the overprotective Illyrian spymaster.

But as Y/N turned to leave, she shouldered Azriel hard. Even though she knew it hurt her more than it could ever hurt him.

The rest of the group had left, except Mor, who now talked to a group of females at a different table.

As soon as they were outside, the brisk night air woke Y/N up a bit.

She turned around and got into Azriel’s face. “Am I a grown woman?”

Azriel blinked. And his shadows hid behind his shoulders.

Y/N stepped even closer. “I asked you: Am I a grown woman?”

“Yes,” he finally answered evenly.

“Then you are not my nanny. I may do as I wish,” Y/N huffed and shoved past him again to march onward.

He called out, “Where are you going?”

“Back to the House of Wind,” she growled over her shoulder without stopping.

But then Y/N was suddenly picked up and launched into the air, yelping with surprise.

“You bastard!” She snapped at him, trying to wiggle out of his hold before they got too high.

The Illyrian had the audacity to smirk at her outrage and flapped his wings harder, making them launch even higher at a speed she didn’t appreciate.

As soon as they landed at the House of Wind, Y/N shoved her way out of his arms and started stomping away.

“Y/N, wait,” Azriel called out to her gently.

For some reason, she did as he asked and turned to look at him expectantly.

“I did not mean to embarrass you. After what you said tonight…” his words died out. “You had a lot of wine and I didn’t want you to regret your actions.”

Y/N wanted to still be angry. But Azriel’s eyes were soft and only filled with concern. “Perhaps you are right…about the wine. But I am not yours to publicly claim. I am a free woman – and I’ve spent my whole life making sure it stays that way.”

Azriel gave a final nod. “I understand. I am sorry, Y/N.”

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment longer before she finally continued on to her bedroom.

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Eris knocked on the arched, wooden door of the manor. Surely Lucien would’ve sensed his arrival. But his brother wasn’t the only one who resided here.

Lucien was swift in answering.

He took one look at his eldest brother and said, “You look like shit.”

Eris wanted to bite back even harsher. But he knew his brother was only speaking the truth. His mother was right: staying away from his unbounded mate was starting to take a toll on him.

But instead, Eris snapped, “You do not understand how much you put at risk, asking for such impromptu meetings.”

No greeting. No pleasantries.

Lucien glared. “Would you have preferred that I write a letter inquiring about your mate, one that could easily be intercepted by our father?”

Eris flexed his right hand, immersing it in dangerous flames. Without any invitation, Eris pushed his way into the manor by grabbing hold of Lucien’s collar and shoving him back.

Lucien scoffed at such an attack. “So it is true…she is your mate.”

“I said nothing of the sort,” Eris growled.

However, Lucien didn’t look victorious from discovery the truth of Y/N.

Instead, his face dropped as he asked, “Why did you go to the Night Court? Why not come to me?”

Eris finally let go of his brother and put out his fire. “Last I heard, you were an emissary for the same court…” His eyes looked around the entry hall of the manor. “Or is this your home now, brother? Truly, I can’t keep track of where your loyalties lie any longer.”

Lucien ignored the passive insults directed towards him and brushed off invisible dirt from his outfit.

“Do you not find it ironic that you call this place home? This manor that was gifted to all of you by your mate’s once-fiancé?”

Eris was bating his brother now, trying to get the attention off himself.

“So this is your plan?” Lucien asked. “To hide her forever?”

There was no use in pretending Y/N was anything else to Eris. Lucien would not be fooled by any lies.

Eris’ glare tore into his brother. “You of all people should understand what would happen if I did anything else.”

“Yes, and I recall being forced to watch as you did nothing,” Lucien hissed.

Eris surprised them both by bellowing, “I could not save you both!”

Lucien froze as he watched his brother take in quick and heavy breaths.

“I chose my brother,” Eris declared. “And I would do it again.”

Lucien stared in disbelief.

Tamlin had never shared if Eris had helped him escape Autumn Court on that dreadful day. And perhaps Lucien just didn’t want to believe it. Maybe he had to convince himself that there was nothing left for him in Autumn Court – except his mother, who remained a prisoner with no chance of escaping.

“What are you truly mad about, Lucien? That I’m protecting her in a way you failed to so with your lover…or because all of this might be proving that I’m the not the monster you have conjured up in your head?”

Lucien was speechless.

“If Beron would torture one of his son’s lovers for merely being Lesser Fae,” Eris paused, feeling sick at the thought. “What do you think he would do to my mortal mate?”

But Lucien didn’t need to answer, because they both already knew.

“You were more of a father to me than that bastard ever was,” Lucien pointed out. “Yet, you have hunted me just the same as the others.”

“I have done what I must,” was all Eris responded with.

Lucien should’ve known better than to try and get his eldest brother to admit to even slightly caring about him.

Instead, he decided to truly take his brother in, noting the deep shadows under his eyes and the less than perfect posture. “I’ve seen what happens when two mates are separated…”

“We are not mated. And she is oblivious to the bond,” Eris corrected.

“Perhaps,” Lucien shrugged. “But you also should not feel the bond so strongly with a mortal. And she is more than that: she is a powerful and gifted witch.”

Eris had reached his tipping point. “I will take my leave now.”

“She has opened a store,” Lucien quickly added. “In Velaris. She’s helping them with injuries and ailments, both of the body and mind. Already they have started to adore her.”

Eris tried to control his heart, to stop it from quickening as he heard more about his forbidden mate.

So, he responded with a harsh, “Good. Night Court will truly become her home.”

But Lucien wasn't done yet. “Cassian tells me that she is training with the Valkyrie now. Apparently, she has quite the talent with the bow,” he added with a smirk.

Eris stored such information, but said nothing.

He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope, slapping it to his brother’s chest as he walked to the door.

A letter from their mother.

“Did you read it?” Lucien asked, only somewhat concerned.

“I don’t have to,” Eris muttered. “I already know you are her favorite.”

Lucien had followed as his brother walked outside the manor.

“Eris,” he called.

The eldest Vanserra almost didn’t stop to turn around, almost winnowed away without hearing his brother’s final words.

But he paused and gave Lucien an impatient look.

“Whatever your plan is…do not underestimate our father. You may fool everyone else into believing you are equal in evil. But I know you better than you realize. He will not give up his throne without bloodshed.”

Eris didn’t respond, only winnowing away.

–––––––

OK. I was really excited about this chapter.

I also have had a terrible past week, so please write nice comment, reblogs, and book report message. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

chapter xi

#eris vanserra #gust & flame #acotar #a court of thorns & roses #eris acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #lucien vanserra #autumn court #inner circle #night court #azriel #nesta archeron #feysand #morrigan #cassian #rita's #velaris

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notroosterbradshaw · 7 months

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Number 3 - Instinctively pressing your hands against your lover's cheek as they passionately rave, only for them to stop talking and gape, completely distracted by the lack of distance.

I have no doubts you're going to kill it!

- XOXO Star

I haven't intentionally been sitting on this, I've just had a year and I'm sorry it's taken so long to get back to this, Star. I'm sure you've forgotten about it but thank you for submitting it:

Number 3 - Instinctively pressing your hands against your lover's cheek as they passionately rave, only for them to stop talking and gape, completely distracted by the lack of distance.

From Meaningful Gestures Prompts.

You sat perfectly still from your spot on the kitchen bench, wine in hand as Bradley ranted about a training run maneuverer from earlier in the day that easily could have gotten someone injured... or worse. He rarely brought his work home with him, but the last few weeks with Maverick returning to his life... it'd been a very different story.

"And then, he has the gall, the fuckin' gall, to ask Phoenix where Mav is hiding," he laughed in spite of it all. The anger that seeped through his rasp made you quake to try and calm him, but you knew it was fruitless until he got it all out.

"What did she say?" you asked, taking a dubious sip, watching his hard body in motion, tense in his agitation. You took all the steps you knew he needed to get through before he'd see any reason and tried to ignore how sexy he was when gruff, flight suit wrapped around his waist, the stench of the day's sweat still drifting from him, muscles taut from the punishment he'd put it through that day. Lactic acid building up as he had missed the gym to rush to his friends' sides.

He paused and licked back a grin, trying to deny his humour. "That she was dead and called him a dickhead."

"Well, Phoenix can't be accused of not having a quick whip of the tongue," you reckoned and you were so proud of her for giving as good as she got. And it was true - Hangman Seresin was a dickhead. She couldn't be accused of misinformation.

"But then it all went haywire, baby. I can't believe I get to say that she and Bob survived this," he pressed his palms into the edge of the bench top, knuckles white with anger and leaned over the bench, head dipped in sorrow. You gently took his cheeks in your warm hands and brought his gaze to yours. He sighed, his body edging towards you and resting between your thighs, his strong torso pressing against yours and you tangled your legs around him, not letting him get free for anything, waiting anxiously for him to melt against you.

"She and Bob are okay, baby. They've got the scare of a lifetime and angels on their shoulders, but they're okay. They will be released in the morning and probably have more to prove than ever before."

"How do you always know the right thing to say?" he looked up at you as he eased his big hands around your ribs, searching your face as perspective started to come him.

"Fluke," you told him as he couldn't resist the way his lip quirked, a slow smile coming to his face. "So tomorrow, you get up in the air and blow Hangman outta the sky. Make him the example, okay?"

Bradley nodded. "I don't think I'll have to, Phoenix 'n Bob will have him deep in their sights," he said, breathing deep.

"She loves a good grudge."

"She really does."

"Like someone else I know."

He made a face. "Don't start on Mav again, okay?"

"I'm not, I'm not," you told him softly, kissing between his brows, smoothing the lines with your lips as they calmed under your touch. "You don't need me to remind you he's your commanding officer and if you want to be picked for this mission - which I really wish you would renege on - you have to find a common ground for him or else you're no better than Hangman, okay?"

He nodded, staring intently into your eyes. "You're right, I know."

"I'm always right," you told him as he rolled his eyes and kissed you momentarily. He was interrupted by his phone pinging and he checked the message, relief evident on his handsome features. He showed you the words from Phoenix, telling him he'd better bring his A-game tomorrow because she and Bob were not going to let a blip like letting a bird strike ruin their intent to fly the mission. "Looks like you don't need to fight her battles, huh?"

"Nope," he grinned, a little proudly. "She'd blow me away even if I tried."

"Then you had better get your head right and worry about you because if I know Nat, she's not concerned about your grudges and only concerned about how she gets her and Bob on this team."

He nodded and kissed you. "You're right. You're always so fuckin' right."

"You knew this long before you married me, flyboy."

He giggled quietly. "S'pose so."

"And you're welcome."

"Wish you were up there with us..." he confided, so sweetly. And for a millisecond, you agreed with him and with the cry through the baby monitor beside you, you grinned. "Got something else to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground these days, thanks, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

He gave you that smug look of satisfaction when you teased his rank. "I'll go," Bradley whispered, wanting to see his baby girl for the first time today and he let you let go of him to head down the hallway to the nursery.

"You're a good man, Bradley Bradshaw," you said after him as he looked back with a wink over his shoulder before disappearing from your view and you'd never tell him how scared you were for him, because he didn't need the to compound the stress he was already under. You would only pray he came home safely, he had more to live for than ever before.

#5 minute ficlet #rooster #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster drabble #bradley bradshaw drabble #not edited not proofed #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff

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akutasoda · 3 months

Note

hello!! 🐊anon here! I'm greatly excited to see the requests are finally open!! I've waited for this moment since december jiji, can I request bsd men (you can choose them but pls add ranpo and grandpa fukuzawa) with a child!fem! Reader (platonic obv) who's like Lucy from Elfen Lied? I've just re-watched the anime but I didn't remember it so bloody O_o" anyways, if you dont know about her, i quickly explain it to you, she is not human she is a diclonius, this race has vectors, which are invisible and intangible weapons and have the shape of arms with incredible physical strength, although they only reach 2 meters. Female diclonius have pink hair with 2 little horns on each side of their head, while males... They are bald and ugly lol 😭. That would be my 'quick' explanation, ofc you can ignore the blood here blood there part, but i'd like it more if you at least describe her as 'dangerous'.

At the end of the day, Reader is not a villain, just a misunderstood girl who has been through a lot, she just wants a hug and to cry in someone's arms :c. Ah i forgot, angst with some fluff if u want :3 you can ignore this if you consider it out of the rules!! Its fine for me i have more ideas to share!! Have a nuce day ill be waiting patiently, take your time and takd care of yourself!!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

childhood misunderstandings

synopsis - maybe you really were just a misunderstood child

includes - ranpo, fukuzawa, sigma, oda - all platonic!

warnings - fem!child!reader, angst to comfort, fluff, mentions of blood and violence, wc - 1k

a/n: hii! sorry this took so long but hope you're having a nice day! take care of yourself aswell <3

ranpo edogawa ★↷

↪while ranpo may be outgoing, he doesn't really use that to form many relationships with the people he talks to. however he may realise how much fukuzawa's care has affected him when he finds you.

↪he is by no means an idiot, and so he can immediately understand that you aren't as dangerous as everyone made you out to be. some people really just have to do what they can to survive and so for you that meant you perhaps had to hurt some people.

↪he had no issue with offering to take you in just like fukuzawa did for him - he knew fukuzawa also wouldn't have an issue. mainly because he also knew that not many would have the same confidence to turn a blind eye and understand your situation.

↪he always thought your pink hair reminded him of the kind of pink that was on sweet wrappers - he also thought your little ears on the side of your head were adorable.

↪your combative side to your ability mattered very little to him. sure it was pretty cool and very dangerous in close quarters but he never really cared about what other people's abilities were. most times.

↪ranpo can be rather expressing, more often with people closer to him and it's not really physical contact. but he could sympathise with your situation and understand that one simple comforting hug could open a floodgate.

↪and when he does give you the biggest hug you'd ever receive, you really couldn't help but feel a sense of home in his arms (his hugs are the perfect mix of a comforting weight that doesn't feel overbearing)

yukichi fukuzawa ★↷

↪fukuzawa was no stranger to finding troubled children and taking them under his care even if a few were literal criminals - some may say he had that fatherly instinct. so when he found you in a mess of blood he wouldn't think twice.

↪of course he couldn't completely ignore the fact that he did find you in a rather concerning display of blood that was most definitely not yours, as much as he would like to. however he could happily tell himself that people always had some reason for doing what they did.

↪he thought your appearance, because of you ability, was quite lovely. your pink hair rather sweet and the small little ears on the side of your head really made him melt.

↪because of the fact that his ability helped others, that eventually extended to you. in turn making your vectors that much more controllable and therefore stronger. he could agree that your ability's more combative side was dangerous but he wanted to refrain you from using it in such ways.

↪the first time he ever gave you a hug you cried immediately. he was the first person to realise how you weren't dangerous for villainous reasons - when you realised this you grew that much more attached to him.

↪ fukuzawa practically radiates a maternal instinct and he has no problem in helping troubled children. as a result he has no problem when they view him as the father figure they might so desperately need.

sigma ★↷

↪sigma has barely lived his life. he was created 3 years ago and ever since he's been serving duties for the oda and running the sky casino. therefore, he was left with very little time to do anything else.

↪he wasn't quite as desensitized as his colleagues and so when he found you, he panicked quite a bit. the last thing he'd expect to see would be the sight of a young child surrounded by blood from what he could only assume was someone else's.

↪ although, if there was one thing that he had in common with you would be the search for a home - he barely had a past and you had a past full of unfortunate experiences. you both just wanted somewhere to be safe and feel comfort.

↪your ability with your vectors did make him wary at first, mainly because he couldn't see them. but he thought your pink hair and little ears were beautiful and unique.

↪sigma isn't exactly the most forward with any kinds of physical expression. he has probably never received a hug in his life but he would try his hardest to give you that comfort he never had. a home for the both of you.

sakunosuke oda ★↷

↪it was certainly no secret that oda loved kids - more specifically loved taking after them. even after a long day's work there's nothing more he'd like to do than visit the orphans he regularly visits. but he'd never really adopted one of his own.

↪but that all changed when he met you. finding you in a mess of blood that vaguely reminded him of how he met a certain brunette, but this time it wasn't your own. he could immediately sympathise with your situation despite probably not being in a similar one.

↪he probably had the mafia to thank for his desensitisation to anything violent and so you being classed as 'dangerous' didn't mean anything to him. to him you were a child. a child in need of proper care.

↪your pink hair and small ears were loved by the orphans that he eventually introduced you to when he couldn't let you tag alongside him - he also thought they were quite adorable.

↪your ability was the reason you were seen as 'dangerous' but he didn't care. as long as you learnt to utilise the vectors and have complete control, he wouldn't mind - he would also gladly help you learn how to control them if need be.

↪oda would be quite happy to give you a very much needed hug. if you really needed somewhere to know that you were safe and that nothing bad would happen, his arms were the perfect place.

#🐊 anon↩#x reader #x fem reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bsd x female reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader #bsd fukuzawa #fukuzawa x reader #bsd sigma #sigma x reader #bsd odasaku #odasaku x reader #oda x reader

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gaysindistress · 7 months

Text

Van Helsing Retold - four

pairings: vamp hunter!reader x vamp!bucky

Summary: Under the cover of night, vampires and their hunters have been at war for centuries, never letting their bloodshed reach the light of day. That is until the wife of a powerful vampire leader, Steve Rogers is murdered and he demands revenge. Y/N Van Helsing is the target of his crusade and she comes face to face with his right hand man, Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death

Word count: 2.9k

three | series masterlist

Tag list: @vonalyn @hidden-treasures21 @cakesandtom @nerdytif @teambarnes72

disclaimer:credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest.

“Is she always this stubborn?” Bucky asks without looking back to Sam who’s returned from dropping off the she in question.

“Sometimes but we did just tell her that her entire life has been a lie,” Sam pauses, “why didn’t you tell her about being her mate?”

Bucky takes in a deep shaky breath as he stares at his hands that are clasped between his knees.

“I don’t see how that would’ve gone well for either of us. I half expected her to pull out a stake when I released her from my persuasion.”

“But she needs to know,” Sam urges.

“Don’t you think I know that?” He snaps back with an edge in his voice, “Don’t you think I know that I could help her but she won’t let me? It kills me to know that all it would take is for her to drink some of my blood and she would be healthy again. She would be safe but she doesn’t want anything to do with me. I can feel that hatred radiating from her when she sees me.”

Sam purses his lips for a moment before coming to sit next to Bucky, “She’s scared Bucky. She doesn’t want to die and she definitely doesn’t want to be the one thing she’s been taught to kill. You might be right in that she hates what you are but not who you are. None of that matters though because she’s terrified and her only chance at survival is one that she’s too afraid to take.”

Bucky can feel the heartbreak that Y/N is trying to ignore as she turns restlessly in her bed down the hall. He yearns to go to her and comfort her, lay next to her and take away any pain that she has.

But she would sooner kill him than accept any affection from him.

“I’ve never seen her hesitate the way she does with you; it’s her training fighting against her instinct and she’s never had that before. They’ve always been the same thing but with you, she hesitates, she fights against everything she knows,” Sam continues, “I’m not saying barge into her room right now and express your undying love for her but be honest with her. Tell her about your bond and tell her that you don’t expect anything, you wanted her to know so that everything is on the table. Give her the chance to fight her training and choose you.”

Sleep and I need to have an open and honest conversation because this whole flopping like a fish for hours on end is not cutting it. It’s been at least 6 hours of this and I’m starting to think that sleep will never come.

I tell myself that it’s because of what they told me about my mom or the fact that I’m a vampire safehouse (I can only assume so) but that’s not it. Nothing that I would be willing to openly admit is the cause of my restlessness. The true cause is the empty cavern that sits inside my heart and the gnawing feeling of barrenness that accompanies it. There’s a tug and small flood of warmth that follows but in its wake are more crushing feelings of nothingness.

I curl into a ball and tuck myself as close to the wall as I can. The kid in me hopes that if I make myself small enough, I’ll disappear but I know that won’t happen. No amount of shrinking could make me or these…feelings go away. They will always be there and the only time they lessen, if only for a moment, is when I’m near him.

There’s a shuffle outside of my door and a pause before a small knock. The person doesn’t come in and I groan as I lift my head enough to tell them they can, in fact, come in. Still facing the wall, I don’t see who it is and honestly I can’t find it in myself to guess. Whoever it is, takes a hesitant seat at the foot of the bed, just far enough away to not touch me or invade my space. I’m grateful for it but say nothing. They shift, causing the bed to groan under their weight. I can’t feel their eyes on me but I can hear the anxiety in their breathing.

“Sam, please don’t,” I start but the person interrupts me.

“Not Sam,” Bucky’s voice is small and timid, like a child too afraid of being scolded to speak any louder.

I still but the cavern inside of my heart feels like it’s beginning to fill in and I relax as much as I can at the welcomed feeling.

“Why are you here?”

“There’s…there’s more I wanted to tell you.”

I don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue but he doesn’t. Turning over so I can at least face him and he’s waiting for me to give him approval to speak like he did when he knocked. He’s just barely sitting on the edge of the bed. Almost to the point of falling off as he leans his forearms on his Jean clad thighs. He’s put on a black sweatshirt which surprises me. Vamps don’t get cold but here before me is an example of how wrong I am about his kind.

“If it has to do with my mom, I’d rather not know.”

His downcast gaze and long lashes hide his eyes from me but they flicker over to me for a moment before casting back to the ground.

“It's not about that.”

“Then what is it?” I know my voice isn’t as gentle as it should be and I immediately regret not fixing my tone as he flinches ever so slightly.

The faint sound of metal clinging together draws my attention to his hands where one ring sits. The sound came from him rubbing that ring against a bracelet tucked under his sleeve. Most vamos do wear jewelry but it’s usually massive and flashy to show off their wealth. It’s unusual to see such a plain signet ring and even more plain silver cuff. I’m half tempted to ask about them but I don’t. I don’t want to know anymore about him. I don’t want to know anything about him that would humanize him and validate the warmth that the vacancy in my chest.

“The bond can heal you,” he starts as he lets out a deep sigh, “it’ll hurt but it’ll stop the infection and you'll be healthy again.”

I push my blanket off of me and sit with my back against the wall. My legs are folded under me and I allow my eyes to settle on his back.

“How do we find my mate then, if I even have one? I know you’re supposed to feel something drawing you towards them and werewolves can scent theirs but I’m not a vamp. I’m still human.”

Bucky doesn’t say a word or let out a breath for that matter.

“Bucky?”

Nothing.

“Bucky?”

Of course he chooses the silent treatment during the worst possible fucking moment. Of course he would be that big of an asshole to do something like this….

Oh.

Oh my god.

Oh my fucking god.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” John’s angry voice threatens to burst everyone’s ear drums. The crowd that’s gathered inside of the Guild shrinks back at the sound of his voice.

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t find her?”

The man who John is yelling at, tries to stand tall but it’s nearly impossible.

“She was resting and Sam Wilson was watching over her. During the guard change…”

“I ALREADY KNOW HOW YOU FUCKING LOST HER, WHAT I WANT TO KNOW IS HOW YOU CANT FIND HER!”

The man squeezes his eyes shut, “she went into the Masked Club and after that the trail went cold. There are no other leads for us to follow.”

“Fucking pathetic,” John spits at the shaking man. He spins, giving the man a false sense of relief, before he turns back and throws a stake at his heart. The man stumbles back from the impact and chokes as he falls to the ground.

“Let that piece of shit be a warning to all of you; find Y/N Van Helsing and Sam Wilson or you will end up with a stake in your chest.”

No.

This simply cannot be.

This simply cannot be possible.

The panic must be evident in my rapid breathing because Bucky barely tilts his head to look at me. His face softens and he turns his body to face me, his hands reaching out to comfort me but they fall to the bed. He searches my face for anything at all but all he would find is sheer confusion and panic.

“Talk to me,” he gently whispers to me.

I can’t though. I can’t get the words out. I can’t get my mouth or tongue to work. I can’t get my lungs to expand or my brain to function. All I can do is look at him with bewilderment.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way but you need to know everything if I expect you to trust me.”

I stare at him.

I stare at the vampire who’d saved me at least twice.

I stare at the vampire who I'd only known for maybe a week but who has still taken up all of my mental space.

I stare at the man who I felt a strange sense of overwhelming comfort and safety when I’m around him.

I stare at the man who is offering to risk death to save me, someone who should’ve killed him that first night.

I stare at Bucky, the man who I know to be my mate, and I can’t find the strength to say anything to him.

“I’m not telling you this to manipulate you if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“How long have you known?” The words feel heavy in my mouth, like I haven’t spoken in years.

“Since the night you killed Peggy.”

I raise my eyebrows, “what did it feel like?”

“Like my entire world was falling apart and I couldn’t stop it but it didn’t matter because I’d finally found…you.”

my brows knit together at his sincerity and I have a million questions I want to ask, alas none of them come out.

It seems as though he can read my mind and answer the most pressing, “some humans will feel it too but not always. Sometimes it doesn’t happen until after they’re turned.”

“Would it affect the bond?” I mumble.

He sighs again, “I’m not sure.”

“And it could kill you? Breaking the bond?”

He nods, “but if that's what it takes to keep you safe and healthy, then i'll do it.”

I nod too, slowly and more to myself. Did I feel it that night? Did I feel the bond snap into place? I honestly can’t say that I did but I was also preoccupied with my head wound and Peggy having spit on me. It would make sense if it did and I just didn’t happen to feel it. Given everything I have been feeling, all signs point to that likelihood.

“It doesn’t have to be now or even soon. We can wait until you’re feeling stronger. It’ll take a toll on you too.”

My eyes make a slow ascent from the hand closest to my knee to his pale blue eyes. They're unyielding in the way they hold my attention but yet soft enough that I don’t shy away.

“It’ll kill you.”

“It could.”

“You’ll die,” I whisper as I search for any hesitation in his face.

“But if that's…”he starts and I stop him almost immediately.

“No there’s no ‘if that's what it takes’, Bucky. You can’t sacrifice yourself like this for someone you don’t even know.”

“I do know you.”

I scoff, “no you don’t. Besides would you let me do this for you? Would you let me risk dying to save you?”

He hesitates but shakes his head. He would never dream of letting me do the same for him.

“It’s different with me. I’ve lived my life and you haven’t.”

I lean forward and grip his hand without thinking, “You turned when you were 26, I hardly call that ‘living your life’. I can’t ask you to do this for me no matter what we are to each other.”

Bucky looks at our joined hands and then to me, “did you feel it?”

His eyes flutter shut when I gently squeeze his hand, “did you feel it that night?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

My blunt words shock him and he tries to pull his hand away but I clamp down on it.

“That’s not what… that’s not what I meant. I don’t remember feeling anything but a lot happened and now I feel something, I just don’t know what it is.”

He furrows his brows at me, well at the fact I wouldn’t let his hand go, but he keeps the conversation moving, “describe it.”

“Well,it feels like there’s an empty void inside of my chest that wasn’t there before. It’s like a door was unlocked somewhere down the line but I don’t know when and it aches all of the time. My chest, my whole body really, hurts constantly and nothing I do or take makes it go away. At first I thought it was because of my head but it gets better.”

I stop. I can’t say the next part. I can’t admit that. I can’t tell him that.

Bucky begins to rub his thumb over the tops of my knuckles in a soothing way and the words spill out.

“It doesn’t hurt as much when I’m near you. It still gnaws at me but it’s better. It feels better…I feel better.”

“What about the pull?” He asks softly.

I tug at his hand, urging him to come closer and he does. He climbs further into the bed and sits in front of me, his own legs folded under him like mine. Our hands are joined in between us as he keeps his head bent so he can focus on our hands.

“It’s there too. That and the emotions. I think I’ve felt some of your stronger emotions like at the club with Helmut.”

Nodding, Bucky takes a deep breath before flickering his eyes up to mine. His long lashes hide their full intensity from me but nonetheless, it’s there. He holds my half gaze for a moment and I feel a wave of warmth; adoration, comfort, safety…and something more ways over me. My infected hand, ever the cruel reminder of my situation, screams out in both joy and rage.

I think he can feel it too because he drops my other hand to hold just the sickly one. Once again he’s gentle in his motions as he rubs his thumb over the protruding veins and bones.

“Are you happy?” He asks without warning or context.

“Are you happy as a human?” He clarifies.

“Of course,” I say but it’s rather unconvincing. A week ago I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat because I was doing what I thought was my destiny. I am a Van Helsing, the last of the greatest line of Vampire Hunters. Slaying the creatures of the night is in my very DNA and I’m exceptionally good at it. I had been happy before I met him although bored but I was happy…I think.

Now I can’t say for certain. Now one of my hands is infected with venom and it’s slowly starting to unthaw the protections the doctors tried to use. The only way to cure me is to turn or essentially kill the one person the universe chose for me. Now the worst vampire on the American East Coast wants my head on a silver platter while his right hand man sits before me asking me if I’m happy. Now I don’t know what the fuck the word even means and I don’t know how to answer him in a way that’s believable.

“Tell me the truth; are you happy?”

I drop my head, I can't look at him anymore.

“No.”

“Would being free of the venom make you happy?”

“No.”

“Then what would?”

You.

While unspoken, the simple word fills both sides of the bond and wraps us in a cocoon of warmth.

You.

Him.

Me.

Us.

Bucky shakes his head like he’s shaking out the thought, “Your happiness will be found in your freedom.”

I hadn’t noticed that he’d grabbed my chin and was looking me in the eyes when he said that. I hadn’t felt the way of complacency that overcomes me as I nod along with his instructions.

You will remember that we are mates but you will feel no different about me.

You will remember that we are mates but you will go through with the curing of her hand.

You will remember that we are mates but you will not feel anything when I die as a result of the bond being severed.

Next thing I know I’m laying in my ball of blankets again and it’s been hours since I thought I saw Bucky. The cold of his touch still chills my skin but it’s nothing compared to the freezing of the connection between us.

Tears slid down my cheek but I can’t figure out why. I have no reason to cry. I have no reason to care that the connection feels like it’s dying. I have no reason to care about him.

He made sure of that.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel #van helsing retold bucky #van helsing retold bucky barnes #vampire!bucky x reader #vampire bucky barnes #vampire au #vampire

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medusapelagia · 7 months

Text

Harringrove Kinktober - day 11 Toys/ ABO Dynamics [NSFW]

written for @harringrovekinktober

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove WT: omegaverse, Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Billy Hargrove, sex toys, knotting WC: 2163

Being an alpha is not always easy.

In particular when the omega you are in love with is ignoring you no matter how hard you try.

And Billy is not the kind of Alpha that will ever be seen begging an omega.

But Steve smell so fucking incredible.

Apple and cinnamon.

What else could an alpha ask for?

Steve is not the average omega.

He is athletic, well-built, and strong.

He is protective and fierce, and he has never exposed his neck in submission to anyone, not even to Nancy, and Billy is literally dying to know how he tastes.

But he will not beg.

Not Billy.

Another alpha, maybe.

But not him.

“What are you staring at, Hargrove?” the omega asks annoyedly while he is waiting for the kids.

“Nothing. I’m waiting for Max.”

“I can drive her home too.”

“No. I’ll drive her.” My father will kill me and you if I don’t drive her home like every fucking other day goes unsaid while Billy drags some smoke from a cigarette.

“What? Don’t you trust an omega driving? I can assure you that I drive so much better than you.”

That’s probably true, Billy loves speed and drives too fast but that’s not why he doesn’t want Steve to drive Max home.

Finally, the shitbird arrives and he growls something to her while getting in the car.

Max is pissed, as always, but Billy is not going to listen to her rambling, he never does.

In the rear mirror, he can still see Steve’s car, he will take the first turn to the right and go to the Sinclairs and then the Hendersons.

“You two could be friends, you know that right?” Max asks him.

“Who?” Billy asks, turning toward her.

“You and Steve.”

Billy snorts “He is an omega.”

“He is not like the other omegas.”

Billy chuckles “Oh, and please, tell me, how are the other omegas?”

“Silly.” she replies.

Billy glares at her but she is not wrong, the other omegas are all female omegas that have in front of them a future as housewives and mothers, but Steve is different. He still has the instinct to protect his pack but he is a fighter.

“You are going to be a terrible alpha.” Billy says to Max, looking at the street in front of them.

It’s not true.

She is going to be a good alpha, she is not fucked up like him and Billy will do what he can to let the thing stay like that.

***

“Code red. I repeat! Code red!”

Billy grunts. It’s seven o’clock in the morning on a fucking Saturday! Neil is out fishing with some colleagues and Billy should be able to rest, but no! Max's stupid friends are screaming in the silly walkie-talkie.

“That’s Max. What’s the code red?” she asks.

“It’s Steve. Over.”

Billy’s attention turns toward the walkie-talkie.

“What does it mean?”

The annoying voice of Dustin Henderson comes through the walkie-talkie “Max, you have to say over, otherwise, how am I supposed to know that you have finished talking?”

“What’s up with the babysitter?” Billy asks with a glass of water in his hand and wearing only his boxer.

“Billy! Put something on!” Max complains throwing him a pillow but he quickly grabs the walkie.

“What’s up with Harrington?” he asks again.

“Billy? That’s a private conversation and…”

“Tell me what the fuck is going on. Now. It’s Upside Down shit?” he asks. Last time he barely survived and he still has the scars from his encounter with the Mind Flayer.

“No… I don’t think so… but… it’s private.”

“Henderson.” he growls.

“Fuck, tell him that you think that Steve has got his heat and finish this stupid conversation!” Mike intervenes and Billy’s grip on the walkie tightens.

“What?”

“He wasn’t feeling well yesterday, he was too hot and he told me that he thought he was getting the flu but I think he was going into heat and he is not answering.” Dustin explains.

Billy shrugs “So? He is an omega. Give him a couple of days and he will be ok.”

There is a moment of silence and then Dustin adds “You don’t know about Steve, right?”

“What is there to know?”

“His heats are… intense. He might need help. Usually, Robin is with him during his heat but she is out of town with the band and if he really got into heat… he is alone.”

Billy sighs “So what? Are you going to get into the nest of an omega in heat? It doesn’t seem really clever, does it?”

“But someone has to check on him! And if we don’t do it no one else will.”

The stupid shrimp is not wrong. Steve’s parents are never home and if his heat is so intense as they say someone should check on him. But Billy is a fucking alpha. He shouldn’t go. It’s a stupid idea.

Stupid and dangerous.

“I’ll go.” he replies, then gives the walkie back to Max.

“Are you serious?! He is an omega and you are an alpha and if…”

“I can control my instincts.”

“Can you?” she asks, pointing at the hole that Billy made punching his own door a few days ago.

He shrugs, then he goes into his room and gets ready.

***

The house is eerily silent but he can smell the scent of omega in heat from the door, and to have a scent so strong there is something that is not right.

Billy knows that Steve’s scent is strong, but this is too strong even for an omega in heat. There is only one reason for all of this and Billy can’t believe that he never suspected that.

There is no point in knocking on the door so he looks around the house until he finds an open window and gets into Steve’s house. Steve’s room is empty, everything is on the floor, like someone had rushed there, taken a few important things, and gone hiding somewhere else.

Billy starts to smell the air and follows the scent toward the basement.

“Steve?” he calls, but the only answer he gets is a whimper.

Fuck.

"I'm getting in. Is that all right?” he asks, but the door is closed.

Billy kicks the door open and he sees Steve in the corner of the room, his eyes shining in the semi darkness growling at the stranger who has got into his sanctuary.

“Steve. It’s me. Billy.”

Steve growls again.

Feral.

Fuck.

Steve jumps at him, sending him to the floor.

He is so fucking beautiful.

Strong and sexy.

Steve grits his teeth a few inches from his neck. Billy knows that an omega bite is not permanent but it would be a bitch to explain to Neil in any case.

“Steve.”

“Alpha.”

“Yeah. I’m an alpha.”

Steve nuzzles at him “My alpha.”

Billy stares at him while the scent of aroused omega is filling his lungs “Your alpha.” he confirms.

He shouldn’t. Steve is not coherent, but neither is Billy.

That was a fucking terrible idea. Max was right.

Shit.

Max.

He should call her.

But Steve is above him, his cocklette hard and his hole dripping slick that, Billy is sure, tastes like ambrosia.

“Steve. Tell me what you need.”

“Hurt.” Steve replies, and Billy sees the discharged toys around the room and the red scratch on Steve’s legs. It seems that the omega wasn’t able to satisfy his natural instinct.

“I’m going to take care of you.” Billy promises.

“Knot.”

“Do you want my knot?” he asks, still pinned to the ground under Steve.

The omega opens Billy’s jeans, freeing his erection.

“Knot.” he repeats and Billy couldn’t deny him even if he wanted to because Steve is almost impaling himself on Billy’s dick.

“Slowly, baby…”

But Steve is not listening. He starts to ride Billy as if he was one of his toys and Billy lets him get what he needs, doing his best to keep still.

Steve keeps rocking on his dick until Billy’s knot forms and the alpha knows that he has never got a knot so big and so hard.

The omega moans, finally satisfied now that the knot ties them together and he keeps moving, feeling the knot pushing his inside.

For a moment Steve seems to come back to himself “Billy?” he asks confusedly, but it’s just a moment of lucidity and then he keeps riding him into oblivion.

Billy takes Steve’s cocklette into his hand and starts to jerk him off until Steve spurts on his chest.

It’s not much, probably the omega came already more than once and he definitely needs water to keep hydrated, but Billy will take care of all of that later, when Steve will rest for a little bit, for the moment he grips his hips and keeps thrusting inside him brushing against Steve’s prostate while Steve’s slick pour down his dick.

“Can you give me another, pretty boy?” he asks, and Steve moans but comes another time, and finally Billy comes inside him filling him with alpha’s cum that will ease the pain that Steve is feeling.

“Alpha…” he calls again, before collapsing on him.

“That’s good… you did so good, baby.” Billy praises him, caressing his back while they are still connected, waiting for Billy’s knot to go down.

Steve’s skin is sweaty and sticky. How long has he been in this state, Billy wonders while he cuddles him.

When finally his knot goes down he gets up, helps Steve to the couch, and goes into the kitchen to get some water.

The omega whimpers in the absence of the alpha but Billy knows that he needs to drink and to eat something, so he comes back with some crackers and two bottles of water.

He helps Steve sip some water and then drinks some himself. It’s going to be a long couple of days. Thank god Neil will sleep at the lake with his coworkers, but he will have to get back for Sunday dinner and he really hopes that Steve’s heat will be over by that time.

***

Billy fucks Steve into the couch, filling him as much as he can, but after the third time he knots Steve, the omega is still whimpering and he has no more energy to fuck him.

He looks around and takes one of the discharged toys.

Billy has never used a toy before and he is not sure how to use it on the omega who is too weak to do more than mewl pitifully and try to jerk his hips.

He doesn’t even snarl anymore.

“I know, I know. You need something to fill you, don’t you?” Billy says getting the big purple knot.

Steve seems ready to complain, so Billy stops him “I know you prefer my knot but I need a little bit of rest. You don’t want your Alpha to strain himself, do you?”

Steve shakes his head and Billy smiles getting closer “I’m going to help you feel so nice and full.”

Luckily Steve’s body is still full of Billy’s come so he just pushes the fake knot inside him, getting it inside to the knot and then pulling it enough to stretch Steve’s hole but not enough to tear him.

“Does it feel good?” he asks while moving the toy.

“Alpha…” Steve whispers, trying to tell him something but he is too tired so he just lies there taking what Billy is giving him until he comes another time and finally falls asleep.

Billy has never taken care of an omega in heat before but he studied a thing or two in sexual education and he knows that Steve would probably sleep a few hours, so he cleans him with a wet cloth even in his most private parts, and then pushes a little plug inside his hole to keep the cum inside, hoping that is will lessen the pain as they say in the books, then he goes to Steve’s room and takes Steve’s walkie.

“The babysitter is ok. I think he will be back on duty on Monday.” Billy says to no one in particular, but obviously, it is Max who answers.

“Was he…”

“Yes.”

“And did you…”

“Yes.”

“Shit.”

“Yes.”

Billy leaves the walkie on the bed and goes back to Steve who is still soundly asleep.

When he will wake up he will fuck him at least another couple of times before Steve’s heat will finally end and he really hopes that once he will be more lucid he will not be furious with Billy, but for the moment he sits on the couch with Steve’s head in his lap and keeps caressing his hair like the good mate he is.

#NotSFW #hgkinktober2k23 #omegaverse #tumblr prompt #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #harringrove #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #my fanfic #tumblr fic #day 11: Toys/ ABO Dynamics #omega steve harrington #alpha Billy Hargrove #medusapelagia #medusapelagia fanfic

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antianakin · 7 months

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Forgive the silly premise but I saw a meme video that inspired this question, feel free to ignore. The meme was Anakin and Palpatine in that "Have you ever heard the tragedy of Darth Plageius the Wise?" scene but Anakin answers; "Oh yeah that's the story of the the Sith Lord whose apprentice cowardly killed him in his sleep. It was a real eye-opener for me, it taught me that you should never, under no circumstance whatsoever, trust a Sith."

With that ridiculous background out of the way my question is what do you think Anakin would do if he came to the conclusion that he absolutely couldn't trust Palpatine to save Padme or help him learn something that could? What do you think he'd do in that kind of situation?

I mean, my first instinct is to say it doesn't matter. Anakin is already someone who believes he cannot, under any circumstances, trust a Sith. He fully belives the Sith are "evil" and his initial response to finding out Palpatine is a Sith IS not to trust him, to turn him in to the Jedi and let justice have its way with him. But the more he thinks about it, the more Palpatine's words slither into his soul and cause him to realize that what Palpatine is offering him is worth more than the possible consequences of leaving Palpatine alive. He'd rather have Padme and doom the Jedi and the Republic than the other way around. He also is explicitly planning to kill Palpatine himself, he says as much to Padme, he's just waiting until he can guarantee Padme will survive past childbirth or whatever. So even when he chooses to save Palpatine, he ultimately doesn't REALLY trust him that much because he KNOWS Palpatine is inherently untrustworthy. The possibility of saving Padme is worth working with someone he doesn't trust. He doesn't see any other options.

But just for the sake of argument, let's say something caused Anakin to decide Palpatine couldn't help him save Padme AT ALL, that Palpatine is lying to him or something and doesn't truly know shit all of some kind of secret power to keep people from dying. There's really no reason to believe he does, so Anakin has no reason to bother keeping him alive.

My assumption in that kind of scenario is that he'd just stick with the Jedi for the time being, he'd let them kill Palpatine or kill Palpatine himself, but then he'd probably fuck off on his own to go look for some kind of cure. I don't think Palpatine's death would keep him from obsessing over saving Padme, it would just force him to run off and look for alternatives. So he'd run, he'd abandon everyone and everything in search of some kind of miracle power or cure to keep people from dying and in the process he'd still probably lose himself to the darkness and to the desire for power for power's sake alone and he'd either remember to come back too late (after Padme had already given birth) or he'd just never come back at all because the thing that motivated him originally has lost all meaning in the quest for more and more power.

Padme would have the twins, Anakin would be gone, and what happens there is probably up to you and what you think Padme would actually choose to do with two powerful Force-sensitive twins. Maybe she refuses to give them up to the Jedi and raises them on Naboo as best she can. Maybe she DOES give them up to the Jedi because Anakin left her and the twins are now a constant reminder of that loss and the pain she associates with him and she can't stand to look at them most of the time. Maybe Padme dies in childbirth anyway and the Jedi take the children with them afterwards because she gives them away in her last breaths or something. Take your pick, I guess.

#star wars #padme amidala #luke skywalker #leia organa #anti anakin #anti anakin skywalker #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical

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cvntyworld · 1 month

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OUR FALLOUT MASTERLIST

below here you will find all our fics relating to fallout and their respective links, we take turns in writing or editing to come up with good ideas we'll think other readers may like. requests are also allowed so do not be shy in asking anything, anonymous is on if you're feeling shy or don't want people to see your account, we've all been there.

what we do write: we will write literally anything that we put our minds to, whether it be something cute or something a little more extravagant, ask away and we will do our best with what we are given. we don't just post requests as we also have ideas of our own that's just as fun to share with those interested.

what we don't write: everyone has their comfort zone in writing and we often like to step out of it and take a chance but some things we just won't write for, when it comes to our account we want everyone to feel like they can be comfortable with what they're reading so we draw the line at things such as r*pe, sexual assault, abusive relationships, in the past we have had the odd request for those type of things but they're never ever written and won't be accepted if requested.

LUCY MACLEAN

WAR OF THE WORLDS

summary: in which a friendly yet naive to the wastelands vault dweller, offers some useful advice to a survivor that doesn't trust easy and thought vault dwellers were some myth that died out long ago. for once they decide to put their lack of trust on hold and give lucy maclean a single chance at accompanying them cross the wastelands, an offer of safe travel, because anyone who's anyone knows that vault dwellers don't survive for long up here and the small part of kindness left feels the need to help.

SUGAR AND SPICE

THE GHOUL / COOPER HOWARD

summary: you didn't know what it was about the vaultie that had you keeping a closer eye on her, maybe it was a protective instinct, how naive she was up on the surface compared to how she is in her vault. you'd known about peoples hatred towards the vaults and she stuck out like a sore thumb, and usually you would ignore it, let them be eaten alive by the harsh truth of the surface, so why you were protective of her was a mystery even to lucy maclean herself.

STORMY NIGHT

summary: you were used to the unpredictable weather of the surface, lucy, however, wasn't, and seemed to carry a terrible fear for thunder. luckily, you were used to the big storms in the wasteland so she wouldn't have to be afraid for much longer.

KLEPTO

summary: you had a rule to being a thief, do not ever get caught and you were doing well until you decided to be a little more bold and steal from a ghoul, snatching away a ring he was carrying in his pocket and lets just say that he wanted it back, too bad you'd already sold it.

NO REFUNDS ↑ PART TWO TO KLEPTO

summary: after finding the culprit behind his stolen ring, the ghoul decides to take you with him for a visit to your local pawn shop to get it back, to hell with the no refund policy, there's always option two.

MAXIMUS

WASTELAND SURVIVAL GUIDE

summary: you didn't trust easy, but the unconscious man on your porch was way too pretty to let die, and you were way too curious as to why someone from that cult known as the brotherhood would have collapsed on your door in need of help and expecting you to help was an even more insane point of view.

#fallout #fallout tv show #fallout tv series #cooper howard #lucy maclean #maximus

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helaelaemond · 8 months

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50 Helaemond Kisses

day 14 - casually

Helaena and Aemond spend time with the children.

Words: 1.3k

"Jaehaera, kostagon vestrā Vhagar?"

Helaena smiles as she watches Aemond hold her daughter in his lap, asking her if she can say the name of his dragon. The little princess looks up at her uncle and touches the scarred skin around his sapphire. Gently, he takes her hand and guides it away, and gives her an encouraging nod.

"My love, what is the name of your dragon?" she asks softly. She crouches in front of them and her daughter gives her a special smile. It spreads so wide that bright peals of laughter follow.

"Morghul!"

"Kony drēje issa," Aemond praises quietly. That's right!

"My dragon is called Shrykos!" Jaehaerys calls from where he's playing on the plush rug, a stone dragon in his hand. He makes it soar through the air, making whooshing noises and roars.

"Ah, ah," Aemond chides. "Isse Valyrīha." In Valyrian.

The boy huffs. He ignores Aemond's command for a moment, focusing instead on his toy which flies around his head.

"Jaehaerys," Aemond says. In his lap, Jaehaera watches his sapphire eye closely. Helaena knows she likes the way light reflects off it, makes it sparkle.

Her son gets up with an irritated sigh, and drags his feet as he walks over to Aemond. He pouts slightly, but when Aemond straights up in the chair, the child mimics him. Helaena bites back a smile.

"Ñuha zaldrīzes issa brōstan Shrykos."

Aemond shakes his head. "That is the literal translation. Remember your grammar."

Jaehaerys sighs dramatically, and rests his hand on his uncle's leg. "It's too hard."

"You know all the words. Put them in the right order."

The boy looks over at his mother, and Helaena gives him a smile, nodding. "You know this. Show Uncle Aemond how hard you have been practising."

"I'm better than her," he says suddenly. He looks at his twin sister in Aemond's lap accusingly. "She doesn't even try!"

Instinctively, Aemond holds her a little closer, and Helaena sees him struggle to keep his face neutral. "Your sister tries as best she can."

"Mittys iksā!" the boy answers in frustration. You're a fool! He tries to push her, but Aemond shields her. Sharing a look with Helaena, he passes the child to her and bends on one knee in front of his nephew. To keep him in place, he firmly grasps his upper arms and forces him to look at him.

The children have never been frightened of him, not even with his missing eye. But they know to listen when he speaks. And so little Jaehaerys' attention does not waver now.

"Your sister is no fool," Aemond says quietly. It is loud enough for Helaena and her daughter to hear, though. It is important Jaehaera hears this. "She is a rare gift, one that you shall treasure in the years to come."

Confusion passes over the boy's face. "But she doesn't even talk!"

"She does," Aemond replies patiently. "When there is something important to say."

"Kepa, yn-!" But Father-!

"No," Aemond interrupts fiercely. The boy shrinks slightly. "Kepus." Uncle.

Jaehaerys, who looks so much like Aegon, purses his lips and furrows his brow, before sighing and nodding. "Kepus."

"Good. Do you trust me, young prince?"

In Helaena's arms, Jaehaera smiles at Aemond, and leans her head against her mother's shoulder.

He nods, his head tilted down slightly. "Yes."

"Then you must trust me with what I am about to say." Aemond glances at Helaena, before turning his attention back to the boy. "We are the blood of Old Valyria. You, and I, your mother and your sister, and your brother. Our family survived the Doom. And it is not just in dragons that we find our power - it is in dreams, too. Remember the story of Daenys?"

"She saw it in a dream, and she saved our family."

Aemond smiles slightly. "Good. There is power in prophecy, and it is given to those who heed it. Your sister is much like your mother. She will be a dreamer, too - and you must listen when she speaks."

"But-"

"Jaehaerys." Aemond's voice is firm.

The boy opens his mouth to protest again, but thinks better of it, and after a moment, he nods.

"You are to apologise for being unkind to your sister."

As if he carries the weight of the world on his little shoulders, the prince groans and drags himself over to his mother and sister. It's so difficult not to laugh at the theatricality of it, but Helaena just about manages. She crouches down so the twins are eye level, although the sister does not look the brother in the eye.

"Drējī usōven, mandia." I am very sorry, sister. Then he glances over at Aemond and grins slightly, clearly very proud of his Valyrian now. Aemond gives him a slight nod, and the boy puffs up his chest smugly.

If Jaehaera hears, she does not react. But she slips from her mother's arms and wanders onto the plush rug where the stone dragon has been abandoned. Careful fingers pick it up, and careless fingers let it drop.

As the children settle back into playing side by side - not necessarily together, but peacefully in companionship, - Aemond goes to his own sister. There are no servants here to see, and the children aren't watching. So he wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her close and kisses her cheek. It's close to her lips, the tender touch, and she smiles.

So casual. So intimate. It makes butterflies appear in her stomach, the tenderness in his kiss. "You handle him well," she murmurs quietly.

"He is a good child," whispers Aemond close to her ear. "Aegon's son he may be, but Aegon he is not."

A soft laugh comes through her nose. "They love you as a father, I think. Jaehaera especially."

"I hope so. She does remind me of you."

"You have always been good at understanding me." She looks up at him, her sweet brother.

He meets her gaze with a softness that no one else will ever see. "Understanding is the least you deserve."

"And you give me so much more besides," she laughs. Looking back over at the children, she notices that Jaehaera's gaze is now fixed on them. She steps out of Aemond's embrace with a knot in her stomach, and then kneels beside her daughter to quietly ask her more questions about Morghul. It is one of the few things that will draw words from her.

Across the room, Aemond goes to Maelor's cot and lifts the happy toddler out of it as he comes out of sleep. He kisses his forehead and holds him close, bouncing slightly to make sure the little one is as content with the real world as he is with dreams.

"Kepa," Jaehaera says, her dreamy gaze on Aemond and Maelor.

"Kepus," Helaena reminds her gently. Uncle.

"Kepa. Se kepa Maelor hen." Father. The father of Maelor.

Helaena closes her eyes for a moment. It is not always the future that dreamers see. The past, the present, they are gifts and curses, too. But what is truth, really, other than the stories they tell each other? By the time she opens them again, her daughter's attention has returned to the stone dragon abandoned on the floor. Sighing softly, Helaena looks back at where Aemond cradles Maelor, and what fear momentarily cooled her, now dissipates.

Whatever risk there is, is worth it. They are a family, truly. Her, her children, and Aemond. Whatever that may mean, whatever consequence they must one day face, will be worth it for this moment now, this little piece of bliss.

#helaemond #helaemond fic #mine #aemond targaryen fic #helaena targaryen fic

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 7 months

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tagged by : @aceghosts (thank you so much!!)

tagging: @wrathfulrook @anonymousmalkavian @fourlittleseedlings @harmonyowl @mccarthycormac @mxanigel @madparadoxum @jillvalentinesday @confidentandgood @trench-rot @nightbloodbix @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @clicheantagonist @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @statichvm @neverthesameneveranother @sukoshimikan @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @josephseedismyfather @v0idbuggy @direwombat @florbelles @poetikat @fangsandroses @shallow-gravy @cassietrn @strangefable @stacispratt

writing tag list here to be added/removed

Back to working on American Beasts, and I am in the thick of Kit meeting Carter and Quinn for the first time. (warnings for mentions of death/ animal death, and Kit's general mental health):

The sprawling wilderness of evergreen trees carried on around Kit in all directions with no sign of stopping. Clinging to the trunks of the trees, she moved forward at a careful crawl, trying to keep her energy from depleting further. Plodding forward, her boots melted into the mossy carpet below her feet, comforting like a mattress she could topple onto. She could close her weary eyes and rest. Just a short rest…

Pain stabbed through her and her knees began to buckle. She was a crushed soda can, the contents of her pouring out of the wound in her chest. Barking out dry, ragged coughs into the frigid air, clawing at her chest, desperate to rip the bullet from herself like an animal with stitches, chewing despite the harm it would do. Blood caught under her nails. She remembered hearing about other vets taking to meth when they came home as a way to deal with the pain and the nightmares, only to be burdened with imaginary bugs crawling under their skin, picking and scratching away at themselves to get the insects out. She understood that feeling now. Understood that fear. She was burning alive. God, it felt like her skin was on fire as the bullet lodged itself deeper inside, searching out the warm, dark places of her – if she wasn’t slowly dying from it, she might have laughed – her heart was certainly a fitting place as the lead seeped throughout her flesh, poisoning her.

Her thoughts began to drift, survival still very much on the tip of her tongue as she started to replay Jacob’s speeches in her head. Humans were born with an innate sense of survival. Fight or flight. Her whole life she had lived with these apparent laws in her head, the same laws her father had instilled in her. Survival was something she knew intimately about. It defined her, a characteristic of who she was, something brought to the surface when most others became soft and learned to ignore what had been programmed into them over millions of years of evolution. The fear of snakes, spiders and sharks bred into the DNA. She was an anomaly. Most people didn’t go running into fire, they didn’t search out the danger the way she did. She faced it headlong, determined to make it bow to her, it was like she couldn’t feel it. Her brain muted the fear, quieting the sense that would have made her stop if she were a reasonable person.

Yet more things left broken inside her.

Crumpling to her knees, the blood rushing from her head, Kit could feel the world spinning around her, all one thousand miles per hour of it. Her breaths leaked out in gasps, hitching in her throat before her lungs would deflate again. Vision tunneling…seeing in black and white…pinpricks of light scattered before her eyes, a universe coming into being as everything went dark. Her whole chest cavity about to implode. All she had left to run on was instinct, her senses failing as they shut down around her.

This was the end.

But like a zombie, her body carried on, searching out the path back home. It had no compass, no map, it wandered aimlessly. Survival hinged on her giving in, succumbing, relying on the hands of her maker to guide her. Like Moses through the desert she wandered, her weary mind unable to detect even East from West using what little of the sun was left. Her feet would carry her, one step in front of the other. Marching. Forever marching. As if it were fated for her to never settle.

The spongy layer of top soil and black earth she was sure she would fall into and be buried by, left to rot for all time, gave way to gravel. The distinct crunch pulled her to reality like a tether, tying her to the here and the now. She stared down at her boot, the toe scuffed and worn, caked with mud and beaded with rain water. Kit had walked for miles on end, into the silence that consumed the mountains and created its own plane of existence. One where she had been free to become a beast, to bleed out the sins of others, punishing them before the new world came crashing down upon the county. She looked up and the gravel hadn’t appeared without sense, it had purpose. Dotted with wilted flowers, frozen and thawed so many times they had become brown and rotten, the petals blackened with mold, a pathway led forward. There was a break in the trees…

…there was a house.

–

A shadow passed the window. A creeping thing, it’s visage unseen, but the shiver still crept down Carter’s spine. He’d been warned by his parents about the people that lived on that little island and about that old hospital at the top of the mountain. He’d read Jack and the Beanstalk and he knew about the evil giant at the top of it. He had read about the big, bad wolf and how he ate little children who went off the path. Fairy tales had become reality these last few months, especially once their father, the hunter, never came back home. He was the one meant to cut open the wolf’s stomach and pull the children out in the end. Not end up eaten as well. A cautionary tale gone wrong.

The howling of the wolves and the cries of cougars rang out as the night began to fall and the temperature dropped even further. He and Quinn were wrapped in quilts trying to stay warm together on their parents’ bed, their fingers chilled to the point of being pink and sore, their breath escaping them in a fog inside their little wooden home. He wasn’t sure how much longer they could last. Carter knew about death, he’d grown up with it from the family farm they once had, to hunting with his father. He’d even had a pet hamster, Mr. Chippy, who didn’t last more than a year. He knew that sometimes things had to die so others could live, he knew that sometimes the heart just gave out. He wondered if it hurt when it happened the way everything seemed to now. His stomach, his body, the cramps and the cold. He wondered whether they’d ever even be found. The cat they had when he was barely older than Quinn wasn’t until they smelled it weeks later, having crawled under the house to die. Is that what they would smell like too, or would it be so cold they’d be covered in frost like the elk steaks in the freezer?

He pulled Quinn a little closer to him and listened to the wind whisper through the house. There were times it would wake him in the night, after he’d dream of his mother, imagining it was her voice. Believing for half an instant that his wishes had come true and she’d come back to them. To save them. But ever since that birthday where he’d wished for a bike and ended up alone in the woods with his sister, he’d learned not to put much faith into wishes.

There was a knock outside, someone had crossed the trip wire his father had set up so long ago now. It wasn’t a shadow, it was a nightmare. A prowler. The monster in the dark had come to get them. Finally.

“Quinn, you gotta listen to me, okay?” She looked up at him, her lower lip trembling as she pulled the covers tighter around herself, shaking uncontrollably. “You gotta get under the bed, and you have to be real quiet. Can you do that?”

“Whatsamatter?”

“Just listen to me.” He slipped off the bed and pulled back the ruffle sheet that draped over the frame, hiding the floor underneath it. “Come on Quinny, you gotta do as I say.”

“No.”

They didn’t have time for this. He looked at her with narrowed eyes, determined to keep her safe. His jaw went stiff and he leaned down towards her, lowering his voice. “The boogeyman is coming.”

“What?” Her eyes widened, her irises bleeding into the inky depths of her pupils.

“He’s gonna get ya. Do it!”

She crawled off the bed, dragging the blanket with her. Sliding under the bed frame, clutching Cookie Monster as she pulled the quilt over her head to hide.

“Whatever you hear, whatever happens, don’t come out. Promise me.”

“Promise,” she whimpered, holding back tears through choked breaths.

“Good.” He dropped the ruffle sheet and pulled open his father’s sock drawer, grabbing the old revolver shoved at the back. It was heavy, heavier than he had expected. He’d spent many an afternoon just staring at it. He knew well enough not to touch it, even when the urge to reared its head. His dad had told him never to play with guns, they weren’t toys, they were weapons. Holding one meant you aimed to kill.

Pulling the sheet back once more, Carter crawled in under the bed beside Quinn. Laying there, he clasped his hand over her mouth to help keep her quiet. There could be no mistakes, no do overs. If this was the men with crosses, if they were found, it would be the end.

#wip wednesday #american beasts #chapter 49 #oc: kit cross #oc: carter seed #oc: quinn seed #(eventually they'll be seeds)#far cry 5

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shepherds-of-haven · 10 months

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Hi Lena! I hope your week has been pleasant thus far!

I’m not sure if this question has already been asked yet, but what kind of characters would the ROs be in a horror movie? Like, who’s the cynical character that doesn’t believe the monster is real, the cocky guy who is all like “yeah I can beat this idiot no problem”, the “survivor” character that shows up later in the movie to help the main cast, etc.

Sorry if this question doesn’t really make any sense, feel free to ignore this is you want! 😅

Hi there, I sort of answered this question in various different ways--I'd recommend checking out the Halloween horror masterpost, which has a few different horror AUs!--but I didn't really specify what "tropes" the characters might fall into, so here goes!

Blade: I'd think he's the leader character who tries to give everyone the best chances of survival by directing them to defend themselves and makes you feel safe with his presence (you know, like the older brother who was in the military or the super strong athlete boyfriend or the hyper-competent neighbor with a mysterious set of skills or what have you), but then he has to leave the group because he stands the best chance of getting help (thus removing the comfort of his presence and rocketing up the anxiety of the film); he probably gets "killed" by the killer in a jumpscare and is knocked out and left for dead for most of the movie, then shows up all bloodied to stab the killer in the back at the last minute when the audience thought he was dead! So he survives, but he's pretty heavily injured and the rest of the group has to help him make it out

Trouble: he's full of confident bravado, like "you know what? *grabs kitchen knife* fuck this guy, I can take him! he can't get all of us!!" *immediately gets killed* or *power goes out* *in an effort to reassure the group* "don't worry guys, I'll go out there by myself to check the circuit box, nothing could go wrong!" Or he's the guy who "sacrifices" himself so the rest of the group can get away, potentially with the surprise ending of coming back with the police to arrest the killer and finding him alive after all! So he has a very low chance of survival, but he might live depending on how things shake out!

Tallys: she has final girl energy for sure, she's the one hearing Trouble offering to go outside in the storm alone and is savvy enough to be like "mm-mm. nope. we're not doing that. not today!" She's the one who doesn't seem like she's doing much throughout the movie as all the people are getting picked off, but then you see her doing really clever things like rigging booby traps or hiding under a bed so she can stab the killer in a foot or something crazy like that. Her self-preservation instincts and cunning definitely means she's going to make it through to the end: whether she's the lone survivor or if her skills guided the group to safety after Blade and Trouble got taken out just depends on what type of movie we're watching, lol!

Shery: sadly, she has helpless victim energy where she's so terrified and unskilled that someone (like Trouble) might first die defending her, making the audience frustrated, and then she might end up dying as well! Or she might end up just hiding away somewhere, not able to contribute but not dying, either! ...But yeah, she has sweet, innocent, sacrificial lamb energy, so she might die just to show the audience how wicked the villain truly is 😭

Riel: he's the skeptic of the group, he's the one who refuses to believe that anything supernatural is going on, he's the logician who flatly says, "this can't be happening. there has to be some other explanation." I feel like those types of people generally die in horror movies, so he's probably dead, but if we're not going by horror movie rules, he's probably smart enough to outwit the killer/supernatural threat if he can break through his own disbelief and actually start scheming against it! If it's like a monster or something like that, he stands a good chance, but if it's a demon or a ghost, he's probably dead 😵

Chase: he's the comic relief, he's the one keeping the morale group high, he's the clown who seems largely unfazed by what's happening but is skilled and capable enough to help defend the group. I feel like those types stand a solid 50/50 chance in most horror movies, where if they're minor characters, they'll definitely die, but if they're major members of the cast, they end up being one of the heroes of the story because the audience is fond of and rooting for them. Given Chase's uncanny ability to survive most things life throws at him, however improbable, I think he's one of the last ones standing, kind of like in Cabin in the Woods!

Red: he's the source of information, the smart one who's providing everyone with the backstory/information/mythology of the killer/threat. The guy who's been researching local anthropology in the area and just happens to have extensive knowledge of "that one serial killer in the 80s who [insert backstory] here." He might lack the common sense or hard survival instincts of a Tallys or a Blade, but he stands a good chance of surviving so long as no one sends him off by himself! If he's caught out alone, he's 100% a goner 😔

Ayla: she has like "batshit final girl" energy, the member of the group who seems sullen and withdrawn at a party and strangers are like, "what's her deal?" and there's some backstory or implied allusion to her dark past where she survived being kidnapped by Jigsaw or her parents were killed by a serial killer or something like that, and you think it's all speculation until someone starts killing people off and she's already in the corner sticking nails in a bat or busting out the chainsaw saying grimly, "Not like this. Not again." She stands a very good chance of survival so long as her trauma doesn't make her act reckless and the killer doesn't outsmart her by digging a booby trap or something!

Briony: I feel like she either has badass final girl energy or the energy of someone who vastly underestimates her opponent, like I could see her taking charge after some of the others get taken out and is like, "Don't worry guys, I've taken tae kwon do for ten years!" and she just is like not really processing the level of depravity that is going on and just gets annihilated, or she's the one keeping the group together and like plows the killer down with a car in the chaos or something like that. If Shery causes anyone to die to protect her, though, it's definitely going to be her BFF Briony 😭

Lavinet: this is not who Lavinet is in real life, but in a horror movie AU I could definitely see her being cast as the pretty, popular, spoiled rich girl who gets gruesomely murdered first lol... realistically in her "real life" persona I definitely think she'd be a final girl, almost to the point of prioritizing her own survival over someone else's, but in horror movie trope standards I think she'd be the one making out with some random jock in the car outside before the killer pops up in the backseat and then you cut to the characters walking outside and finding the car on, idling, with the windows covered in blood 😭

Halek: he is absent/sleeps through the majority of the spooky stuff (or, like, he's the guy you see at the beginning of the movie who can't go on the trip to the haunted cabin because he has to work or some bullshit and you sort of forget he's a part of the cast but then he shows up to save the day at the end because he felt like something was off when no one was answering his text messages)! He's sort of baffled when everyone piles into his car screaming bloody murder and can't relate to their ✨ trauma ✨ but at least he saved them!

#Shepherds of Haven #horror #horror movie AU #AU #all characters #Caine is someone's little brother and should be kept far away from these events unless it's a paranormal thing #and he's the one who keeps talking to his “imaginary friend” lol #but those kids pretty much always live so he's okay!

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factorialsotherfandoms · 2 months

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Well Saga clicked the like button and she's already seen most of this, but... A little bit of first draft of some xcomau Pac and Mike backstory (from the period between escaping prison and being recruited by the army). I say little bit. I'm not supposed to be working on this fic at all, but its a sizable middle chunk.

He is conscious, just about, and curled around Mike. The air is thinner, now, but still tainted green; he keeps his hoodie tight over his mouth, and keeps fabric stretched over Mike's slack face. It won't stop the poison, but with less in the air hopefully it means they will outlast it.

It will disperse. It has to disperse. A bit of time. All gases disperse with time. It's making him dizzy now - it's easier to breathe up here on the third floor than it was on the street, at least - and sick, and his vision is fading, but give it time. Just a little time.

It burns, but it is not as though he has not been burnt before.

Pac just… He just needs to hold on… And protect Mike. Keep Mike safe, that is all…

The world is darkness and silence, and then it is tinted some colour Pac cannot quite pin down, and there are loud footsteps and louder voices. They speak Portuguese, and yet… Pac cannot quite manage to understand it.

He presses himself tighter over Mike. Mike's breathing is worse, but he's still breathing.

How long has it been? It's easier to see now, but how long has it been?

And then there's another loud sound.

Pac barely understands what is happening, except that he is being pulled away from Mike. He kicks and he fights, but he has always been too weak, and the toxins have sapped his strength. Despite his best efforts, his hoodie is being peeled from his face, and something pressed to his face.

And then they let go.

Confused - terrified - he holds his breath and throws himself over Mike. Someone swears as the thing falls, only for it to be back a few moments later.

They do not take him away from Mike this time, though. As long as he has Mike, as long as he has Mike, then they're going to be okay… He just…

Pac clings to Mike across their bond, pulling the blur of drugged oblivion close and protecting him. Wrapping him in his own reality, in his own mind, even as Pac's desperate nails dig so deep into the unconscious Mike's arm that he bleeds.

And yet, Pac still does not breathe, frozen and eyes wild as he watches a figure reaches around his head, pulling a strap -

Oh. It's a proper mask. A gas mask.

That's…

Pac nearly rips it from his own face - Pac is conscious, Pac can breathe, Mike needs it, Mike need it, he needs it so, so much more than him - stopped only by hands grabbing his. He struggles and fights, until a second pair of hands place another gas mask in his hands. He ignores whatever the two figures say, grabbing it himself and expertly affixing it to Mike's face.

All that practice is good for something, it seems.

Only then can he relax a little, still huddled over Mike's unconscious body, still clinging to the drugged haze where Mike's thoughts should be, but relaxed a little.

Mike is still breathing, still there, wrapped in his mind; it should be a little easier, now that charcoal steals the poison from the air.

"Hi, we're sorry for scaring you," one figure - a police officer, a woman - says. "We weren't expecting to see anyone this close to the impact."

Not anyone alive, she doesn't say.

Or maybe outside the bodies have been vaporised too.

Pac wouldn't know, not when they followed their first instincts - ran and scrambled and hid just like the rats that they are.

"Is your friend…?"

She's treating him like a terrified child. Pac will take it, over many other options.

"He's breathing," Pac tells her, only to find himself coughing every could of words as his body adjusts back to the oxygen. "It's… thank you- for the masks; we'll give them- back, when its gone."

The other figure is a man, also a cop, and he waves a placating gesture, the woman looks curiously at them.

"If you don't mind, how did you survive it? You must have been pretty close here."

"There's three poisons," Pac is very sure of that. This time as he talks, he forces his breathing to remain deep, and even, and everything his instincts scream against. "One knocks you out, one is paralytic, the third does… it made more of those things. From people. I'm not… the mechanisms… Mike recognised the taste of the paralytic fast, so we didn't bother trying to get away. Covered up best we could, and got indoors. Sealed up. Hid. Its not… not perfect. But the dose isn't as bad. He's still breathing. He… shouldn't die. The gas particles… he shouldn't die. But… We got off the street, so we didn't get the third one. They're good at chasing, and following screaming, but not finding you if you're quiet and still. We're not a danger to you, I promise, we're no danger to you!"

It's as the cops glance at one another that Pac realises that that is not information most people would know. He and Mike do - similar chemicals are common in less ethical security systems - but…

Fuck, fuck he's being looked at now. Mike's still out of it, and he himself is still not all there. How can he…

"Sorry, er, sorry. I'm-" fuck what was the name on that id. Doesn't matter. "Department of biochem. Used to be. But…" he gestures at his leg. "Didn't have lifts, and still can't walk somedays. Mikey quit with me when they couldn't guarantee ground floor labs."

It doesn't seem to make the two any less curious, though something in their expressions shifts.

"We've got a medical post set up nearby," the woman says. "We can escort you-"

"I'm not leaving Mike," Pac cuts across her, the one thing that really matters. He says it, clings to Mike's sleeve, breathes a moment. Still here. Still here. Mike is still here. "And, I don't… I just woke up from it. I don't think i can stand."

His eyes flitter between the pair.

"We can carry you to the truck downstairs. One of the medics will take you from there," the gentleman says.

He doesn't trust it. Pac does not trust it. It's easy - too easy. THis pair wear police uniforms. They don't know who he is, the fake ID exists in the government databases, but it's too fucking easy. They shouldn't, he shouldn't… Are they recognised? Do they realise? He can't… What if they hurt Mike while he can't defend himself? You beat people if you catch them running, right?

It's risky, so risky, if he could just… Just pick Mike up, then they could run. Avoid these cops, and disappear back into the now ruined city.

But… his body is still riddled with pain, and breathing is still a struggle, and Mike probably needs actual medical attention. He… shouldn't stop breathing. If the paralytic was going to take his lungs, it would have already. But… if it does… its a weird one. It might. And if it does, he needs a hospital. Needs help until his liver breaks all the poison down. Pac… its a weird poison. They should probably both be near help, just in case. The full symptoms aren't known. With how quickly they set in if they aren't dead yet it's not likely, but with so many unknowns… They should try be near a doctor.

It's just…

They can escape again. If they need to, they can escape again.

Still torn, but desperate and with Mike unable to help form a decision, Pac nods. The woman helps him up, while he watches the man scoop Mike into his arms. He's gentle enough, though, even careful with his spine; the only grounds that Pac can find to object is the screaming desperation to have his soulmate in his arms.

It's hard, staying conscious with the poisons inside his body.

He makes it half way down the first flight of stairs before his legs crumple, and the woman swings him into her arms.

He makes it to seeing Mike placed next to him in the truck before he passes out again.

#qsmp draft fanfic #qsmp pac #qsmp mike #fanfic snips #curly and saga there are some edits from what I showed you last night #because of course I edited this a bit instead of working on anything I'm supposed to work on #this is like... idk the end of the third to last or fourth to last scene?#qsmp au #qsmp x xcom

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zeb-z · 6 months

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minecraft-sinfonia family in the Star Wars au, because brain worms never sleep

Chayanne is hardly a toddler in the crèche when the Jedi temple falls and the Empire is born. Phil saves him, cares for him, raises him as his own on a homestead after meeting Missa, far from the core worlds. He grows up learning to farm, to cook, to find his own resources and how to make do with what you have. He has no idea where he’s from - his records were sealed in a holocron along with the other younglings his age, and who knows where that is now. Not that it matters all that much to him - his family are his parents who have raised him, and later his sister.

Tallulah is also force sensitive, but was never picked up by the Jedi. She knows where she’s from - an outer rim dustball of a planet where she had no one but the other street kids, where they all had to eat dirt. According to Wilbur, who picked her up and took her in, she had been crying in the rubble in an ally, where a building had managed to collapse sideways into, somehow entirely unscathed, the only survivor. Now that she’s older, and has an understanding of her powers, she can guess she had used the force in some sort of subconscious survival instinct. She spent a good year or two with her father, before she had been dropped off during a visit to her “abuelo Phil”, and never picked back up. It’s another year before she starts calling Phil her Pa instead.

For a year after the fall of the Jedi, Phil travels with Wilbur, and tries to take care of a very young Chayanne as best as he can. He tries to make it easy on Wil as he can, but he know it can’t be simple, traveling with an ex-Jedi on the run and a force sensitive toddler who makes all the noise a toddler does. Whatever guilt he has is buried under the knowledge that this is safest. Staying in the wind, between the stars, without making a name or life for himself, is necessary until the panic around the Jedi dies down.

Phil meets Missa shortly after he parts ways with Wilbur, on some forgettable, relatively mild planet on the edges of the mid rim, in a town full of farmers and workers. He’s clearly lost, and exhausted, and struggling to find something he can afford to feed the hungry child in his arms, and Missa may not have much but for this he has a few credits to spare, and well - he just can’t ignore that feeling, tugging in his gut and wrapping around his chest, that’s pulling him towards the two strangers. Kindness has him buying them a meal and offering his home to them for the night, and when Phil asks if they can stay for just a while, to figure out where to go next, he says yes before he even processes the question. A little foolish, maybe, given the state of the galaxy, but Phil would be lost without that kindness.

Phil makes himself useful helping around the farm, feeding the growzers and nerfs, pulling weeds, planting new crops, at least when Chayanne doesn’t demand attention. Missa works as he always does, keeps them all fed, and looks up all the articles he can find about childcare - and then double checks with a few parents when they drop into town for market, because surely Chayanne isnt old enough to be eating full carrots yet, his teeth are just so small - that’s when he realizes he’s far more open to Phil and Chayanne staying around than he thought he was. It isn’t much longer until Phil comes to a similar conclusion, during a dinner like any other night before, where Missa had taken care to cut Chayanne’s carrots and had made a pot of tea that was Phil’s favorite (one he got based on a hunch back in town a few days prior), and he realizes that he doesn’t want to lose this. That he wants to stay.

After he finds that Missa himself is also force sensitive, and he comes clean about who he actually is, their life continues on without the idea that this just a temporary set up. They get officially married just before Tallulah comes into the picture, which gives Phil an official new identity to the Empire, from a legal standpoint.

Chayanne and Tallulah both grow up learning Jedi techniques to balance their connection with the force. They learn early on the extent of their powers and how to meditate. The better trained you are, and the more you know of your own powers, the better you can master self control - that’s what their dads say, at least. While Phil had been anxious when Tallulah first arrived - wondering if them knowing their powers would make them all more obvious to those hunting for them - it’s cemented when Chayanne uses the force in the market, floating a fruit from a street vendor towards him when he couldn’t reach it himself. They were extremely lucky he wasn’t noticed. Chayanne, with enough core memories in the temple, where using the force and connecting wasn’t only second nature, but was encouraged all around him, would only struggle if they pretended anything different. Besides - as much as they have to keep themselves hidden and safe from the Empire, the force was something to celebrate. They were never taught that their gifts were anything but special - it wasn’t them that was wrong, but the Empire for hunting them.

After their home is raided, and the kids go with Phil to the rebellion, separated from Missa, is when they learn to fight. Chayanne is extremely disappointed he can’t actually train to learn how to wield his dads lightsaber. Tallulah leans less into physical training, and gets a better handle at using the force to interact with the world. She learns a technique to help plants grow just a little faster, and a little stronger, and likes to help around the gardens and greenhouses. It makes Phil a little sad, but only sometimes - she would have loved the Room of a Thousand Fountains, had this universe been kinder.

When Missa manages to find them again, worn and weary and somehow with Phil’s lightsaber still intact and all his limbs attached, he joins the rebels cause and fights with his family. Phil insists Missa keeps his lightsaber on him, pretending like it isn’t as big of a deal as it is, saying he’s grown used to fighting without it - but Missa knows better. A lightsaber is a Jedi’s life, their being connected to their crystal that gives it power, the weapon an extension of themselves. He understands the significance, of Phil’s life humming in his hands, protecting him above all else. There’s an immense amount of love, of trust, in the decision. It makes Phil a terrible Jedi - giving up his saber by choice, for a familial attachment he should never have made in the first place. But who gives a fuck - the temple has long been gone, the Jedi and all their believers dead with it, and Missa is here in front of him, alive, unlike the fucking Jedi council, the merry band of hypocrites. He’d like to keep it that way.

Chayanne still gets Phil to train him with the lightsaber, and it’s the coolest thing ever of all time.

#thank you for coming to my TED talk. please keep asking me about them about anyone in this au to keep the speeches going lnfjsjfoaofjej #out of everyone they’re who I’m working on an actual fic for. them and etoiles #Also okay. listen I know growzers are like specifically native to celwis. a chiss world. if you also know this pls suspend your disbelief #sorry once again I don’t know brevity. take my word dump I hope you like it #mcyt #qsmp #sw #Star Wars #qsmp au #z speaks

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noodyl-blasstal · 6 months

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Look into my Eyes

Day 29 of @taznovembercelebration, one more day to go! Today's prompt was "ignore" and you can read it below or on Ao3. Missed yesterday's? Catch up here!

“You’re gonna have to kill me, Lup. I’ve had a good run, I’ll miss you most of all, but we all knew this is how it would end. It’s what I would have wanted.” Taako opens his arms wide and waits for Lup to stab him through the heart with her handy dandy kitchen sword or whatever weapon she has on hand. Tenderising mace?

“Hello Taako, lovely to see you too, why yes, I did have a great day, thank you for caring, brother mine. It’s so touching that you’re so interested in my life.” Lup grins infuriatingly instead of murdering him where he stands. Rude.

“C’mon!” Taako keeps waiting.

“You’re sure this is what you want?”

“Positive.”

Lup strides towards him, kitchen scissors in hand.

“Wait no! Taako wants to live, nevermind.” He tucks his arms around his chest and makes himself as small as possible. It turns out his survival instinct is strong. Who knew?

Lup wraps her arms around his ball of self-preservation, scissors discarded on the counter. “That’s what I thought. Wanna tell cha’girl what’s going on?”

“Taako’s fine, great even!” He doesn’t know why he’s even bothering to lie, but it drips out easily.

“Uh huh.”

Not necessarily believably.

“Yuh huh.”

“Is it Kravitz?”

“He only cares about dead people.”

“And you’ve decided this because?”

“He’s always hanging out with them.”

“It’s his job, KoKo, and he’s not so much ‘hanging out’ as ‘preparing them for their funeral’. Slight difference.”

“Not when it involves not going out with Taako.”

“Did you actually ask him this time?”

Taako hesitates. “I see how it is, you ask ‘did you ask him Taako?’ and not ‘shall we go and tell that bastard off, Taako’?” This isn’t the support Taako deserves.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“I did ask him!” Taako’s indignant now, how dare she not believe him?

“How?” Lup says and raises an eyebrow in the way that means she’s full not going to pander to any of Taako’s bullshit.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.” Lup stares into his soul.

Taako gives up. “With my eyes.”

“You fucking what now?” Lup’s mouth is a firm line and she’s breathing deeply through her nose.

“I did the thing. You know.” He flaps his hand dismissively.

“Show me the thing?”

“You know the one, the thing.”

“I don’t, remind me.” Lup’s tone leaves no room to argue.

“You might fall in love with me and that’s illegal pretty much everywhere.” Maybe the cold hard truth will shock her out of unreasonable demands.

“Taako!”

“Fine.” Taako gives Lup his most soulful eyes.

“Fuck, I’m in love with you.”

“I warned you! Shit! You have to leave the house, not me, it’s not cha’boy’s fault.” He’ll miss her, but it’ll wear off within the year probably.

“Oh wait, no, hang on, that’s not love, that’s a deep confusion about what the fuck you were just doing with your face.” Lup’s mouth is twitching and Taako knows she’s trying to hold a laugh in. How dare she? This is serious!

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a bit funny, Ko.”

Taako scowls. He scowls hard. Double hard in fact!

“Let's go over the facts. Here…” Lup points to the sofa. “... you go sit down, I’ll get us a drink, and we can talk it through.”

Taako flops obediently on the sofa, but ragdolls as much as possible. If he lists sadly enough to the side Lup might not decide to use facts against him.

“Move.” She says, nudging him with her toe.

Taako flops the other way, then straightens up again when he realises she’s sacrificed some of her fancy bitch presse stash for him.

Lup rolls her eyes, hands him the cup, then sits down onto the other side of the sofa and draws her legs up under her.

“So you want to ask Kravitz out.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Taako takes a long sip of his drink, decides he may as well just go with it. “Yes.” He answers anyway.

“And you’ve been seeing him three times a week for the last two months?”

“When he’s not hanging out with the dearly departed instead.”

“Yes, we’ve covered that.” Lup unfurls a leg to nudge him with her foot. “Stay on topic. So you’ve been hanging out?”

“Yes.” Taako could say more, he could say a lot more, but he’ll try and stick to the questions so she doesn’t bully him further.

“Going to dinner together?”

Taako nods.

“Sleeping over at his house sometimes.”

“Once or twice.”

“How many rooms does he have?”

This is a trap. “One.”

“Huh.” Says Lup, but doesn’t press any further.

“And on these ‘friend hang outs.’” Lup does quote marks with her fingers. “...would you say you’ve been asking him out with your eyes?”

“Yes!” Taako’s glad she gets it.

“And he hasn’t reciprocated?”

“No.” There’s no need for her to rub it in.

“Not even with his eyes?”

Taako pauses. Fuck. This was a trap in a trap. The ol’ double trap fake trap trap. If he doesn’t answer she can’t get him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought… Taako, I have a novel idea.”

Taako keeps his mouth shut. Inclines his head. He can’t be arrested for that.

“Why don’t you try asking him with words?”

“Gross.” Taako wrinkles his nose.

He could swear Lup growls slightly under her breath.

“Why?”

“Because then he could say no!”

“So your plan is to be a corpse?”

“He likes spending time with them.”

“Uh huh. And how are you going to enjoy that time together if you’re dead?”

Taako thinks for a long moment. “Fuck.”

#There's just one teensy tiny flaw in his plan; but apart from that it's golden!#TAZNC #Taz november celebration #Noodyl Writes #Taakitz #Taz balance spoilers

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