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silky-nereid · 3 months

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— jealousy is not a pretty look on you

Yanderes being jealous

Crumbled King / His majesty Casimir Dragomir

Yandere!Crumbled king who notices you getting too comfortable with the local vegetable stall and he will secretly do anything to make the vegetable stall owner not reputable to you.

Yandere!Crumbled king who smiles when he finds a rotten vegetables in the bag and purposely puts them in the front of the bag.

Yandere!Crumbled king who purposely makes himself sick after eating the meals, only for you to rush over to him and desperately try to help him.

“He..I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t notice. I’m sorry, your majesty.”

You pulling his hair back while hearing the him seemingly throw up the remaining food into the bucket. Your hand rubbed his trembling back; perhaps he overdid it.

His hazel eyes flickered over to you and your hands gripped the handkerchief, wiping away the remaining saliva and food from his lips. The cold rings on his bony hands gripped your shoulder before tightening.

You left for a moment to get the pitcher of fresh water to help him get rehydrated and replacing the bucket with a empty flower pot. You helped him drink and covering your nose, dumping out the contents of the bucket in the dirt patch in the backyard.

“I’ll figure something out,” you mumbled.

You removed the pot from him and immediately replaced it with the bucket. You poured out the contents and stopped, bones ached. Standing in the hallway that pointed to the small dining room to where he was, you looked down then to the window that shown the greenery that you occasionally stepped onto before entering this place.

You couldn’t quit besides if anyone found him; former king and stain on the royal family. He would end up tossed away in an unmarked grave and it would be your fault for it.

“I will try to plant some vegetables for us.” You sighed, walking into the dining room and sitting down next to him.

Caretaker / Ellison Sawyer

Yandere! Caretaker who continues to treat your injuries and reassures you that nothing bad will happen to you but often has to hide you whenever anyone comes into the farmhouse.

Yandere! Caretaker who notices you clinging to the remaining shirt that was accidentally left behind by their friend and notices you stubbornly refuses to give up the shirt.

Yandere! Caretaker who manages to get the shirt to wash it to return it to their friend. They took off the fur/feathers that somehow stuck on the shirt and was surprised that it wasn’t torn.

“I’m returning this to them, okay.” They held up the shirt and away from you. “No, stay there.”

Your pupils dilated, staring up at the shirt and a light purr/chirp escaped your mouth. Your limbs stretched out, rolled on your back while you sprawled on the tiny couch, then you went to them; still desperately trying to get back the shirt.

They lost. Your face was buried in the shirt that somehow still held remnants of their friend’s scent, limbs curled up on the tiny couch.

“Come on.” They waved around food in front of you. “I know how much you like this.”

Your dilated eyes looked up at the food and dug in the food which they managed to swipe away the shirt to wash it again despite being covered with fur/feathers in such a short time. Soon, they would look down while putting the shirt back in the washing machine and return back to the living room and wipe away the remains from your mouth.

Race car driver / Richard Temples

Yandere! Race car driver who begrudgingly takes you to your therapy appointments and doesn’t enjoy how the therapist’s eyes are constantly on you when you do specific movements.

Yandere! Race car driver who watches you on the empty track, desperately trying to work on your skills on relearning how exquisite you were before the accident that pushed you into a long awaited recovery.

Yandere! Race car driver who watches old race videos where you win the competitions and sees the joy in your eyes. He sees how much the accident took from you and occasionally heard the phone calls that rang through the empty halls that once held extravagant after parties.

Your hand trembling, grabbing the mug and putting it on the counter before using your better hand to grab the mug, drinking the contents.

“You don’t need to be here every single day,” you said. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Practicing done for the day,” he said. “Just had to see you again. Do you still have to go to that?”

You looked at him before sitting down on the wooden chair, putting the mug down on the table.

“You mean my therapy?” You replied. “From the accident that you caused. Yes, I still have to go to that to help my recovery.”

You looked at him again, still wearing the racing suit covered in vibrant colors due to the amount of sponsors, helmet plastered with the same amount of vibrant sponsors on it. You gritted your teeth while getting up and grabbing the countertop for stability.

“Why are you even here?” You asked. “Don’t say that you want to learn from me.”

“But,”he said, “I didn’t want it to get that bad, you need to understand. It was a mistake.”

“Then, why didn’t you tell my crew chief?” You questioned. “Why—get out, just get out.”

Cult leader / Charis

Yandere! Cult leader who helps you with your appearance the day after finishing your cleansing ritual since you must’ve been too exhausted to dress yourself.

Yandere! Cult leader who makes you stay awake during the sermon and has you stay after to give you daily reassurance that you’re still magnificent and has assigned simple jobs for you.

Yandere! Cult leader who notices the wandering gaze of a fellow member on you, their eyes shouldn’t be looking at you with such deviance. He kept you close to him for the remainder of the time you were sent to work on the simple tasks.

His hands pulled you closer to him, he smiles and kissed your temple in the same spot.

“Such deviance cannot be tolerated.” He looked down at you. “I know that it is not your fault but they need to be dealt with.”

“Can you perform the cleansing on them?” You looked at him. “It helped me and it must help them, right?”

“My heart,” he said, ” I cannot perform it on them. I only manage to save you in the mere seconds before you almost were fully tainted but they’re far too gone, mind wrapped in deviant intent. The only option is to remind them.”

Dinner was pushed further back than usual but you still managed to sneak in small pastries to eat them to hush your aching stomach that was still recovering. You sat in the front row of the chapel, your hands still trembling seeing him as your eyes focused on him who bound them with rope; face was somewhat recognizable and blouse was drenched in dried and fresh blood.

“Don’t be afraid.” He smiled, holding the hot poker. “Wicked, blasphemous eyes such as yours must be exterminated.”

Noble friend / Evangeline Abel

Yandere! Noble friend who always has her hands on you such as on your waist, shoulder or just simple hand-holding or elbows interwoven with each other.

Yandere! Noble friend who still has to dress in her mourning dresses and she noticed a fellow noble asking you to dance despite you starting to wear color after finishing your mourning period. She still pretends to be saddened by the loss of her late spouse but feels a boiling rage in her because she should be the one asking you to dance, not them.

Yandere! Noble friend who holds you close to her while you wear somewhat soft colors despite your heart still aching from the loss. She still tries to understand the feeling but she can’t help but feel the still boiling rage as why were you still thinking about a person who was long gone?

She untied the robe and sat down across from you which the latest day you had taken sanctuary in burying your face in the vanity. Her hands held a handkerchief that always seemed to be soaked with your tears from the previous days, her hands softly squeezed your shoulders that hung low.

“My dear,” she said, “always crying these days that’s my job. I’ve put our son to bed and the night is still young.”

You looked up at her, eyes reddened from crying despite the vibrant colors of your undergarments; you should be happy now.

She carefully placed a soft tune on the recently bought item called the gramophone and helped you up and her hand wrapped around your waist.

“Let’s dance,” she said. “A simple waltz will suffice, I will lead it. You shouldn’t let other people dance with you, my dear.”

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sanguineterrain · 1 year

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"won't you let me lean against your shoulder for the smallest bit?"

w Stevie boyyyyy pls n thank u

Thanks for the request! Hope you like it :) tw for hospital setting, Steve is on pain meds and is so in love with the reader <3 gn!reader

****

His hand moves first. It squeezes yours with nowhere near the normal amount of strength usually involved.

You're awake in an instant.

"Steve?"

Your neck aches from spending the night in the chair next to Steve's bed. Robin had had to go home and no one had been hopeful about Deborah and Richard Harrington rushing home to visit their only child in the hospital.

So you're here.

Steve's eyes crack open. His cheek is still swollen, and there are about a hundred cuts and bruises along his face. But he's alive.

"Steve," you whisper, and lean over to kiss his hand.

He grunts and you pull back.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," you say in a rush. "You okay?"

"You're here," he says.

You nod. "I'm here."

"It's not—" Steve slowly turns his head, surveying the room. "'S not a dream?"

"Not a dream," you confirm. "How are you feeling?"

"Hm." Steve considers your hand linked to his. "Kinda like my arms aren't attached to my body."

"That would be the pain meds they have you on," you say.

"Finally, a reward for my hard work."

You smile and lean in to kiss Steve's cheek. He scrunches his face, blinking sleepily.

His smile suddenly drops.

"Holy shit. Max, Eddie—"

"They're fine," you soothe. "Eddie's asleep. They're both stable."

Steve frowns. "I should've—"

"Steve, I swear to God, if you say "I should've done more," I'll..." You huff, thinking. "I won't give you any more kisses until you're released."

Steve's mouth falls open.

"No!" he whines. "No, no! You can't do that! You can't hold kisses hostage. I'm a sick boy, I won't last!"

You press a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth. Steve tries to return it, uncoordinated due to the medication. He ends up kissing the air.

"Okay, I'm sorry. That was a little mean," you say.

"A lot mean," Steve insists with a pout. "Meanie."

"Sorry, baby. I'll give you a million kisses to make up for it."

"'Kay." Steve tilts his cheek to you. "Start."

You snicker and pepper light kisses all over his cheek.

"That was only ten," he says when you pull away. "I counted."

"I'll give you some more later, okay?"

Steve's eyes go wide. "Don' go!"

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetie. I'll stay here until you fall asleep. But you really need to rest more."

Steve's mouth pulls into a frown. "Wan' you to be closer."

He pats the bed.

"Stevie, I don't know if I should—"

"No, 's okay," he says. "If the nurse says somethin', I'll tell her 'm a Harrington and make her back off."

You snort. "That's not very reformed-king of you, honey pie."

"We just saved the world. Cut me s'm slack."

He feels for your hand, clumsy and sweet.

"Won't you let me lean against your shoulder for the smallest bit?" he asks, eyes big and glassy from the meds.

You slip off your sneakers and pretend like you have to think about it. Then you climb in next to Steve, your right side tucked into his left. He tries to move and nearly yanks the I.V. free, so you move instead, easing his head onto your shoulder.

He looks up at you, hand on your belly.

"Hi," he says.

You smile and kiss the top of his hair.

"Hey there, handsome. Feeling okay?"

"Like a million bucks now that you're here."

"A million, huh?"

"Mmhm. That's how many kisses you owe me. Well, I guess it's really..."

Steve's eyebrows scrunch in thought. He absently plays with the hem of your shirt as he thinks.

"Nine hundred thousand and nine hundred ninety," he finally says. "That's how many kisses you have to gimme."

"That's some good mental math you pulled," you reply, and kiss his forehead.

"Now you owe nine hundred and... please don't make me say it again."

He yawns, and you fluff his pillow behind his head.

"Might fall asleep, but I'll be back."

You hum, pushing his hair away from his face.

"I'll be here, baby. I'll give you all your kisses when you wake up."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #inbox #blurb

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budgiegryphon · 9 months

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This year's r/place really fucking sucked, terribly run and an obvious(failed) distraction, but we did get some nice stuff done

Another bench! 45 communities! Here's the fully planned piece, Quote sadly got added last minute and wasn't visible before blackout.

Full character list below the cut.

Batter from OFF, Beheaded from Dead Cells, Ori from Ori and the blind forest, Bugs from APICO above Ori, Moon from Outer Wilds next to bugs, Purple guy from FnAF, Mae from Night in the woods, Omori from Omori, Commando from Risk of Rain, Madeline from Celeste above Commando, Engi, Bosco and Lootbug from Deep Rock Galactic, Soul Knight logo below Engi, Tiny Niko on top of Bosco, Sprite Companion from Hyperlight Drifter next to Tiny Niko, Isaac from Binding of Isaac, Chompy from Bug Fables underneath Isaac, Engineer from Factorio, Strabby on Engineer's shoulder, a penguin from Starbound, Junimo from Stardew Valley, Oneshot bulb above Stardew Valley's apple, A router from Mindustry, Keg from sea of thieves, Lamb from Cult of the Lamb sitting on the keg, Monika from DDLC above Lamb, Fishbowl from FSSH, Spooky from Spooky's Jumpscare Mansion, Whiteface and flower from IMSCARED above Spooky, V1 from Ultrakill, The Conductor from Final Station in front of V1's legs, Moth from Sky: Children of the Light above V1, Apollo from Ace Attorney bottom right of V1, Gnome from Everhood, Rivulet on Looks to the Moon from Rain World, Gail from Phoenotopia above Rivulet, Captain Viridian from VVVVVV above Gail, Flowey from Undertale below Looks to the Moon, Grimm from Hollow Knight, Paprika from Them's Fighting Herds above Grimm, Deltarune red heart above Strabby, King Slime in front of Grimm, The Spiral Heart from Grime next to Grimm, Carp from Lisa, Richard Mask from Hotline Miami above The Spiral Heart

#despite being horribly stressful there was also a lot of fun #shoutout to purple guy batter and richard for just appearing out of the ether #and the fssh people for successfully gaslighting everyone afterward about whether the game actually existed #and that one streamer who got so fucking mad that he couldn't successfully take over our spot #we had people saying the bench might be full at 16 characters and I think that got taken as a challenge #it went a whole DAY longer than it was supposed to and we all got burned out lmao #I coordinated this thing and was dreaming about bench negotiations the night after #conclusion reddit is a terrible place but the indie game people remain cool #sigh. tagwall time.#r/place #ultrakill #hollow knight #rain world #off #ori #dead cells #apico #night in the woods #omori #risk of rain #deep rock galactic #cult of the lamb #oneshot #spooky's jumpscare mansion #stardew valley #sky children of the light #bugsnax #hotline miami #grime game what is yalls tag #everhood

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yeetus-feetus · 3 months

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tangled au (WIP)

Inspired by this ↓ post

Created by this ↓ account

@dragonpyre (I hope this is okay, you just really inspired me is all)

So here:

Jason, second heir to the throne of Gotham, was a happy little boy with a very loud personality. A former street kid, he was adopted into royalty at the age of 3 following his mother’s death, much like his older brother Richard, by the current King of Darkness. Make no mistake by the title he holds, Bruce Wayne is a very Just king though he cloaks himself in the fine fabrics of midnight and gold emblems that glitter like the stars.

But the young prince Jason was a ball of energy with a smart mouth and a baby as he were, often got on the wrong people's nerves. There was one man in particular, the Jester of the court– who was perhaps something more than a simple Jester to the King, maybe even a friend– had joined the Royal staff after a terrible accident that disfigured him many moons before Jason himself was even born.

On this day, Jason was only five when he trod on the odd man’s toes. He can’t remember what he’s said to the man, but it was something with loud youthful ignorance behind it, maybe something about his permanent smile and moon-pale skin. It wasn’t anything nice, to say the least, but who can blame a child of such brutal, unthinking honesty without the better knowledge on how such things were hurtful.

Maybe a man with a soft heart, and the belief he could give everyone in his Kingdom a better life and a second chance, should be blamed on keeping criminals and the insane in his company. Maybe a toddler in bright mocking colours shouldn’t have been left unattended to in the palace halls after a silly disagreement regarding his mother.

The wicked Jester did not return to the King’s court after that night.

Nor did the young Prince Jason. The boy was found in a puddle of his own bastard blood in a storeroom downstairs by the cellar, in teeny tiny shackles with his small bones shattered, tear streaks still wet on his cheeks as he lay limp on the cold cement floor.

The King had wept, cradling his broken body close to him, wailed and begged for the boy to come back to him, pleading for forgiveness from a child who was no more. The King of Darkness caressed the soft face of a lifeless shell, and that was when the shadows spoke.

A deep eerie voice had filled his ears from all directions, reminding him of a tale he had believed to be only myth. The story of the moon when she wept for her own son once very long ago …

A single tear of moonlight had fallen from the heavens, and from this small drop of sorrow bloomed a magic, glowing flower. It had the ability to heal the sick and injured– and in extremely rare cases, even raise the dead if the moon wished it so.

“However, the Flower of Lazarus is protected by a Demon whom hoards it for its youth restoring power”, the low voice warned. “And you have only until the fourth day, beginning when the sun breaks over your Kingdom at dawn, to retrieve it. For when the sun sets on that day, the boy will remain in a tomb forever.”

Bruce, because he is no King down here with a dead son in his arms, remains speechless and confused. Before he could gather his thoughts and interrogate the validity of this supernatural voice, a flock of bats screeched and swarmed and then the voice was gone.

And a man was left in a cold empty room with his beaten bloody son, fear and determination filling his heavy heart. A hope that in four days time, his son will be returned to the earth and fill the Palace with his laughter once more.

⧫

The quest carried out by the King’s Guard had proved successful, and the magic of the Lazarus Flower, brewed into a glowing green liquid potion heals the dead Prince’s body on the morning of the fourth day. A new tale of rebirth bringing the kingdom together as the King launched a floating lantern into the darkness of the night sky, a symbol of prevailing hope and new life, to celebrate the return of his beloved young son.

For that one moment, everything was perfect.

And then that moment ended.

A cloaked woman had entered young Jason’s room that very night by way of the balcony, silently creeping towards the boy’s bed where he slept soundly, unknowing to the threat of her presence. The woman pulls back her hood and strokes a deadly gentle hand up over his face until she reaches his soft baby curls as she sings in hushed tones.

“Flower gleam and glow”

And glow the child’s hair did, a bright green hue filling the room. She pulled a long lock of the glowing hair taught between calloused fingers, reaching into the deep green of her garments for the jewelled hilt of a small sharp knife as she continued.

“Let your powers shine”

The blade glinted in the unnatural light as the woman’s tan hand brought the sharpened knife up…

“Make the clock re–”

But as the knife sliced through the strands of hair it turned lifeless and lost its colour, turning moon-white and powerless. The shock and confusion was clear on the woman’s face, a frown carving its way into her beautiful features as she realised what she must do in order to fulfil her father’s wishes.

Just like that, Jason was stolen. Gone.

The Kingdom searched and searched, but their attempts at recovering the small boy proved nothing but futile and the King lost all his hope. They could not find the Prince of Gotham.

For deep within the forest, in a tall hidden tower, far away from his home, the woman– Talia Al Ghul– raised the child as her own.

#tangled au #jason todd #jason peter todd #jayroy #bruce wayne #alternate universe #batman

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theteasetwrites · 1 year

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Merciless Beauty

Chapter 1: Your Eyes Slay Me Suddenly

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mentions of blood/gore and violence ❧ Word Count: 5.3k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: Duke Richard of House Grimes and his knight, Sir Daryl, arrive at King Ezekiel's court, though they do not know why they've been invited. Meanwhile, things are not well in the kingdom of Alexandria as a new threat begins to terrorize its citizens. Despite this, the princess dreams of seeing the world outside the castle walls by which she is imprisoned. She meets someone who she thinks might be able to help.

❧ A/N: Well, here it is. The first part of this weird ass thing I'm writing. I realize that this is super cringey but do I care? Well, a little, but you know what, I am having so much fun writing this and learning about medieval stuff so I am happy with it. I will link a "Before You Read..." page so that you guys can get a little more background info about what I'm trying to do here. I know this is kind of a weird AU and stuff so I have some disclaimers in that link. I've also included a link to the Merciless Beauty Glossary, which lists definitions for some of the terminology I will be using throughout the series. I recommend having that document open as you read as you can use it to quickly refer to in case you come across a word you are not familiar with.

Beyond gentle slopes of overgrown emerald pastures rose tall, imposing battlements of limestone, with tiny silhouettes of guards poking out of each crenel. From this distance, they looked hardly menacing, but the king’s guards were diligent, and their prowess in battle was not to be underestimated.

The duke raised the blue flag of Alexandria, signaling to the guards that they were no threat. In response, a guard reached over the wall to wave the same flag.

“They see us,” remarked the duke, pulling on the reins of his golden horse. “Here.” He handed back the worn piece of cerulean fabric to the knight who rode by his side. “Strange customs, but I don’t blame them.”

They moved upon their horses in a dignified trot, the knight’s ebony friesian stallion trained to mirror the movements of the steward’s palomino steed.

“They should be afraid,” said the knight. “The world is a dangerous place. Can’t believe they’ve held out this long.”

The duke flashed him a knowing look, that almost seemed to curl into an amused crack of the lips. “Sir Daryl,” he said, “I’ve always admired your optimism.”

The knight adjusted his feet in the heavy iron stirrups. He’d never quite get used to his lord’s jests. “Sorry,” he spoke simply. A man of few words, Richard always said.

“It’s all right, but you’d be advised to put on a cheerful face for the king. Joviality goes a long way with his type.”

“His type?”

“Unlike you, my friend, King Ezekiel is known for his… good humor.”

Daryl scoffed from the corner of his crooked smirk. “Thanks… What does the king want with you, anyway?”

Richard’s brows knit together in another amused expression of faux offense. “You think I’m not able to acquire a king’s favor? Careful, knight, you’re a free man now, but you could be downgraded to villein if necessary.”

Of course, the serious knight knew that such a threat was meant in good humor. Ten years of loyal servitude to the duke was more than enough reassurance.

The men continued onward, their horses plodding through moors that seemed to stretch on forever. The castle couldn’t come closer for Sir Daryl. He was dreading it, the pomp and circumstance of it all. But then, he knew that when he became a knight. It wasn’t the typical story, in fact. He wasn’t of any kind of good birth, his parents being poor and rather unsuccessful merchants in some other kingdom he’d purposefully forgotten the name of.

No, he wasn’t a nobleman’s son or a squire. He’d earned his title almost reluctantly, through his triumphs and battle prowess in the First War. That is, the war that preceded the Scourge.

A knight’s duty was to protect a lord, of course. He’d managed a position as the protector of Duke Richard’s land, just outside of Alexandria. In exchange for his protection, the knight had a place to live, and not a bad place at all. It was better than any decrepit wooden shack he’d lived in before, and, as far as nobility went, the duke was not a bad man. In fact, he was a good man, and that was hard to come by in times like these.

“But it’s odd,” Richard continued, “I don’t know what the king wants with me. I know he wants me to join his court, but I’ve heard he hasn’t invited anyone to court in ten years, since it broke out.” It, of course, was always understood as a reference to the plague that killed ordinary men with a gruesome fever, then brought them back as snarling, rotting walking dead men that feasted on the flesh of those who were unlucky enough to still be alive.

No one knew where it came from, but many thought the curse was nothing short of the wrath of God Himself. It was the only explanation in a world completely devoid of comfort. Though the idea that a supposedly benevolent god bestowing such a pestilence upon his so-called beloved children was hardly comforting. In these times, people took what they could get.

“Maybe he just wants your wonderful company,” Daryl replied, sure to speak with a sarcastic lilt to his gruff voice.

“No, no,” Richard said. “It doesn’t make sense. Ezekiel and I have only spoken a few times… You know, there’s a princess.”

Oh, yes, everyone knew of the princess, of course, though no one had seen her in years. The gatehouse of that castle hadn’t opened in ten years. No one had come in, and no one had gone out. Until now, of course.

“There’s always a princess,” Daryl huffed. “What does that have to do with anythin’?”

“Well, she’s got to be a woman now… I’m sure the king is looking to wed her to someone.”

Daryl flashed a suspicious glance at the curly-haired man, who returned the look with a steady shake of his head.

“You think he wants you to court her?”

“I don’t know, but if what they say is true, the princess is the most beautiful woman in Alexandria. Some say beyond Alexandria, too.”

It was odd for a man of Richard’s age and status to be unmarried. His wife had died six years ago in childbirth, along with the child. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but it was a great tragedy in the duke’s life. The knight couldn’t see him remarrying at all after that, but if the king was going to offer his daughter to him, he would be a fool not to accept.

“Women with that kind of beauty are hard to come by,” continued Richard. “And royal, too. Hell, the princess is the king’s only child. That means… I could become king when he dies.”

“Gettin’ ahead of yourself,” chided Daryl. “We’re not even at the gatehouse yet.”

“Welcome, my friends!”

The king extended his arms wide, about as wide as the grin upon his countenance. He crossed the great hall, the steps of his pointed poulaines echoing off the grand high ceilings. The king’s hand clasped jovially upon the duke’s shoulder, but the gesture quickly turned into a hearty embrace.

“It’s good to see you,” said the king. “It’s been too long, Richard.”

“It has.”

The duke raised his eyes to gaze upon the magnificence of the hall. Though the exterior of the castle may have appeared quite imposing, the great hall was warm, welcoming, even. Elaborate arrangements of strong wooden arches upheld the roof, complete with intricately designed corbels to support them. Draped from the high stone walls were long blue banners bearing the royal family’s crest, no doubt made from the finest threads. Tapestries depicting mythical creatures and romantic scenes of knights going to battle or courting ladies were on full display, too. The hall was illuminated by the gilded light of what seemed to be a hundred or so candles, some upon sconces, others upon tables and in iron chain chandeliers. The pungent aroma of honey and elderflower tickled at the uninitiated noses of the two travelers, and, sure enough, in the king’s hand was a fine pewter goblet, which no doubt must’ve been brimming with a particularly pungent, sweet smelling mead.

“Come!” exclaimed the king. “Have a drink! This is cause for celebration.”

The loud bravado in the king’s voice must’ve alerted the court as finely dressed nobles began to pour in from the arches and the upstairs landing. As the duke and his knight followed the king to his banquet table, just in front of his imposing bronze throne, the court gathered in greater globs. Murmurs began to permeate the great hall, and the knight could just feel an army of eyes laid upon him and his lord. It wasn’t a feeling he reveled in.

“We’ve already had our feast,” said the king, sitting himself comfortably at the head of the long wooden table. “But I can have a servant bring you something. Only the finest dining here.”

“We’ve already eaten. Just a drink is fine for now, your majesty,” said the duke. As he sat, the loyal knight followed.

Daryl felt bear, having been made rid of his greatsword and his cloak by the guards at the entrance to the keep. There were few places outside of his home that he felt safe enough without either.

“Ah, libations!” exclaimed the emphatic king. He held his goblet high for emphasis. “This is the finest mead in Alexandria and her surrounding kingdoms. It comes from a monastery, I’ve been told. They raise bees there, isn’t that fantastic?”

The knight and the duke exchanged a glance. They had no idea what to make of the king. He was so full of merry, the likes of which they hadn’t seen in years. Perhaps it was the mead, but Richard knew the man was jovial. Still, it was a kind of shock.

The servants arrived with intricately detailed pewter pitchers full of the honey wine, filling their goblets to the brim. The excesses of wealth and royalty were foreign to the knight. Duke Richard was wealthy, yes, but not like this.

“So,” spoke the king, “I trust your journey through my kingdom was pleasant? No dead ones crossed your path?”

“Not at all,” said Richard. “Your kingdom is quite safe, it seems. Those tall walls will keep anything out.”

“Hm, yes,” agreed Ezekiel. “But you can never be too careful. No one’s left the castle in ten years, I’m sure you know. It’s better to be safe.”

That reminded the duke. He intended to ask why the king had invited him to court, but before he could speak again, the boisterous king looked to Sir Daryl with an enthusiastic curiosity.

“This is your knight?”

“Yes, this is Sir Daryl.”

The king settled back in his chair, stroking the gray corkscrew hairs upon his noble chin. “Ah, I’ve heard of your gallantry in battle, how you earned your title. My father knighted you, didn’t he?”

Daryl looked to his steward, wordlessly asking for permission to speak. Richard nodded. “Yes, your majesty,” spoke the knight. His voice was raspier than usual, having been silent for so long since arriving at the castle. After all, what could a knight possibly have to say? His only duty was to protect his lord, as a vassal. He was of lower rank than Richard, and, though he never much cared for the details of hierarchy, it was in his best interest to know his place.

“How grand! Well, gentlemen, I do hope you find this court to be a fount of merriment in these dark times.” He gestured to the surrounding great hall, and the people who watched with bated breath as they clung to the monarch’s every word. “Everyone has been so eager to meet you. This is a momentous occasion. A toast!” The king stood to his feet, raising his goblet high. Others followed suit, of course, as the two newcomers sat overwhelmed at the king’s table. “To Duke Richard and his knight, the first additions to court in a decade of strife.”

“Huzzah!”

With a long drink of his mead, the king met the duke with wide eyes, then removed the cup in a near panic, though it was a jolly panic. “I almost forgot! How could I forget? My daughter, (Y/N). Elizabeth! Fetch my daughter!”

“Yes, your majesty.” The mousy young maid with flaxen hair frantically ascended the staircase with great haste.

Richard straightened in his seat, clearing his throat. The knight could tell he was nervous, but he couldn’t understand why. A princess was hardly anything to be nervous about. It was the king the duke needed to impress, he thought.

“Minstrels!” the king exclaimed, gesturing towards the troupe of musicians across the great hall. There were three, each dressed in colorful garb and feathered caps. One held a lute, the other, a flute, and the third, a tambour. “Play something for the princess’s entrance. Something… delicate, but dignified, like her.”

“Yes, your majesty!” one of the minstrels replied.

Yes, your majesty, seemed a rather common phrase around here.

Then, from atop the stairs appeared a young woman.

You heard the musicians begin to play their little tune—a soft, simple tune that seemed to evolve with each step you took. Each step was calculated and precise, partly because that was how you were trained to walk, and partly because you were careful not to trip over your gown. Your father had instructed you to wear your best clothes the last few days, though you weren’t sure why. You’d heard of a duke coming to court, but it was hardly of any interest to you. Why should you care? Why should you welcome an outsider when you haven’t been able to leave this dusty old castle in years?

“That must be the duke,” whispered Margaret. She followed your every move, as a lady-in-waiting was supposed to.

“He’s handsome,” Michonne whispered back.

You shushed the ladies out of the corner of your mouth. They were much too excited for their own good, much more excited than you.

At the base of the staircase, your father held his hand out to you, beaming at your beauty. Tonight, you wore your favorite champagne-colored surcote, made from a heavy silk, with long, flowing sleeves that split at the elbow to reveal the pure white lace-front gown. The décolletage was modest, but deep enough to reveal just the beginning of your cleavage, formed by the tight lacing that held your chest in place. It wasn’t quite in vogue these days, but then again, nothing was in vogue these days.

As you took his hand, you realized that the duke and his knight were standing for you. Of course they were, but their new faces caught you off guard. You knew everyone in court so well, it was strange to see two strangers standing for you.

Your father lifted his hand, in turn raising your arm to show you off like a prized mare. With knitted brows and a quivering lip, you flashed him a confused expression. He’d never introduced you like this before, but then again, he never introduced you to anyone before.

“Gentlemen,” he said, turning his attention to the duke and his knight. “I present to you my daughter, (Y/N), Crown Princess of Alexandria.”

The men each bent over to bow before you, and you took in their appearance with great interest. It wasn’t often you had new faces to study.

The duke was well-dressed, wearing a damask scarlet doublet that must’ve cost a fortune, with tight-fitting wool hose to accentuate his lean legs. It would be remiss not to note how handsome he was, with a head of lush curls and a short, well-trimmed beard to frame his salmon-colored lips. If it weren’t for his title and his clothing, you could tell the man was a noble just by looking at the shape of his nose, aquiline and strong. Yes, he was handsome.

But just beyond his shoulder, your eyes were pulled like magnets to the knight. His clothes were more muted, but made from a fine material. A plain black wool tabard draped over his broad shoulders, his waist cinched with a fine leather belt, strapped to which was a lone misericorde, the dagger which you knew from your studies to be what knights used to deliver the final death blow to an enemy. The sharp tip sent a shiver down your spine as you wondered briefly if he’d ever had to use it.

Though his coloring was similar to the duke, both having hair of brown and eyes of blue, their similarities ended there. The knight had a much more tired face, world-weary. It was difficult to see clearly, given the shadows created by the long wavy locks of hair shrouding his visage, but he appeared to have a reddened scar trailing from his brow to his cheek, crossing over his left eye.

From what you could see, he looked nothing like any man you’d seen before. He was weather-worn and hardened by the world, at least, that’s how he looked. He must’ve seen such terrible things, you thought. In the fine lines of his face, you could begin to make out an image of the world outside. Here was a man who must’ve known its ins and outs like the back of his hand, must’ve been so brave to have survived this long outside the walls, fighting the Dead.

Though your face was softened by curiosity, the knight’s was stoic and cold. He seemed somehow both distant and alert, aware of his surroundings despite his reluctance to be surrounded by them. The duke’s kind face was much more welcoming, but, for a moment, you were held hostage by the knight’s narrowed, serious gaze.

“Your highness,” said the duke. “I am Duke Richard of House Grimes.” He turned to gesture towards the knight. “And this is my knight, Sir Daryl.”

A curious name for a curious face, you thought. Still, you tried to maintain your focus on the nobleman.

“It is an honor to meet you, milord,” you replied. “The court has been anticipating your arrival.” Though I haven’t. “Oh, these are my ladies-in-waiting, Lady Margaret and Lady Michonne.”

You brought the ladies forth, each of them curtseying before the duke. It gave you a moment to look upon the knight again.

“Pleasure,” the duke said to your ladies. “And… may I say, princess, you’re just as radiant as they say.”

You looked wide-eyed at the king, who smiled bigger than he had in years. The blush that blossomed upon your cheeks was not one of flattery, necessarily, but slight embarrassment. “Oh… They speak of me?”

“Yes. Common people often praise your beauty. Many would sell their land or their livestock for the chance just to get a glimpse of you. I must admit, it would be worth it.”

A whirlpool of emotions formed in your belly, mostly confusion. You’d never been complimented quite like this before. “Well… Thank you, milord. That’s very kind of you to say.” Swallowing hard, you turned to your father, who seemingly expected you to return with an equal compliment. “Father, I’m going to retire to my chambers for the evening.” You turned back to face the duke. “Goodnight, Richard. I hope your stay in court is pleasant.”

Your father’s smile faded with your announcement, but he nodded as he tried to offset his disappointment. “Of course, my dear. Goodnight.”

At length, you sat before your vanity to remove your jewels while Elizabeth prepared your bed as usual. She hummed to herself the same little tune the musicians had played earlier for your grand entrance to meet the duke. Removing your translucent veil, you got to work undoing the circles of elaborate braids and removing the genuine pearls laced throughout when a rapping came at the door of your chamber.

“My dear, it’s me,” said your father. “May I come in?”

Oh, for pity's sake.

You turned on your stool to gesture towards Elizabeth. “Let him in,” you said. “I can undress myself tonight. Goodnight, Beth.”

The young girl nodded before opening the door for the king. He thanked her as she left, while you straightened up to no doubt receive a tongue lashing for your less than friendly reception of the newcomers.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, sitting at the foot of your bed as he adjusted his gold trimmed velvet robe. “My dear… I must say I am a bit disappointed that you didn’t sit and speak with the duke tonight.”

“Well, father, I… It’s hard to be excited about these new guests when I myself haven’t been outside the castle since I was a girl. And now, all of a sudden, you’re letting in some nobleman and his knight? Why?”

To the king, it was obvious, but to you, it was totally unclear. There was much about the world you still didn’t know, and though you were knowledgeable, on account of your royal tutoring, you were still naïve in many ways.

Your father stood as he sighed, piecing a long, gray-black dread lock behind his ear. “Well, I was hoping…” He shook his head, then crossed over to you, taking your hands in his as he looked at you with that adventurous sparkle in his eyes. “You liked Richard, didn’t you? He was charming?”

You were caught off guard by the question, but you shrugged and nodded with a half-smile. “Why, yes. He’s charming.”

“And handsome?”

“Well… Of course. He’s very handsome, any woman would think so.”

“So…”

“Father, are you… trying to ask me if I want to court the duke?”

“Yes,” he laughed in relief that you caught on without him having to explain. “Richard is a good man, one of the best nobles left. He’s wealthy, too. Though I was always hoping for a political marriage for you, as long as the man is at least a noble and a suitable husband, I think this kind of match would be good for you. In fact, we could move Richard here, that way you never have to leave the castle, and—”

“Father!” you exclaimed, shocked by how excited he was at this idea without even hearing your thoughts, of which you had many. “I’m not ready to marry!”

“But you’re twenty-six, my dear.”

Standing to your feet, you shook your head and pulled out the remaining braids in your hair. “I’m just not ready. The duke is… He’s perfect, but I’m not interested. I can’t explain it, it’s just not a match.”

“But you’ve hardly spoken to him!”

You didn’t need to speak to him to know, you just knew. It was impossible to explain. All you knew was that it wouldn’t work, and that marriage was simply not in your near future. You had other priorities, other… curiosities. Love was not one of them, except in your fairytales and love poems. You had a hard time believing love could be any better than that.

“Father, please. I’ve told you how I felt, and I’m sorry if you brought this man here just for me, but I can’t force myself to try with someone who doesn’t interest me in that way.”

He crossed the room with a soft step, his face morphing into an understanding smile. “I know, darling. I’m sorry to have upset you. I would never force you into a marriage that didn’t please you, I just… I just want you to marry a good man. Well, so long as he’s a noble, at least.”

Your father was never a traditional king, but he still insisted on some things, and one of them was that you would marry well. Well meaning high status. Some things were sacred.

“But if the duke isn’t to your liking,” he continued, “I won’t force it.”

“Thank you, father. That means a great deal to me.”

“Good.” His hand cradled the back of your head to bring you forward, allowing him to bestow a fatherly kiss upon your forehead. “Someday, you will make a great queen. A better ruler than me, I am sure.”

“Father,” you laughed. “You are a great ruler. The people love you. Everyone loves you. That’s what matters.”

“My sweet girl,” he said, now holding your cheeks to admire your pretty, delicate features. You were truly a princess through and through. “You’re the most precious jewel in my crown.” An old phrase he’d said to you since you were a little girl. The man was so sentimental, a trait you admired greatly. “I bid you goodnight.”

As he headed back towards the door, you began to think freely, with your mind returning to the knight beside Richard. Daryl, you recalled his name. You’d never heard a name like that, nor seen a face like that.

“Father?” you called out to him just before he could leave.

“Yes, my dear?”

Looking down, you toyed with the fine silk fabric of your surcote, prefering to study the rich champagne color than to face your father as you asked, “Tell me about Richard’s knight.”

The king’s brows furrowed, his head tilting to the side in a display of curiosity and confusion. “The knight? Sir… Daryl, I believe?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, still nervously rubbing the garment between your fingers. To clarify, you lifted your gaze to your father. “Well, I mean… I was just curious. You know how I have a fascination with knights and things of that sort.”

The king shook his head with a warm, deep chuckle. “Oh, daughter. Well, I don’t know much of him, other than that he is brave, loyal… He was knighted by your grandfather, you know. Just a few years before he passed.”

“And he is of noble birth, like Richard?”

“No, no,” he replied. “Not at all. His parents were lower gentry. He earned his title in battle, a rare feat for a knight, as you know.”

Indeed, most knights were born to nobility, becoming pageboys before the age of ten, then promoting to squire in their youth. After years of studying under an established knight, the squire would then undergo the dubbing ceremony. He’d learn the code of chivalry, and he’d pledge allegiance to a lord, offering military services in exchange for a fief, or land. It seemed that Sir Daryl must’ve met many of these requirements, but he certainly wasn’t a noble.

“That’s quite interesting,” you said. “I knew he seemed different. Well, goodnight, father.”

“Goodnight, my sweet.”

When the candlelight was extinguished, and the only sound left in the dead of night was that of the crickets chirping and the toads ribbeting, you were left in solitude with your thoughts. These thoughts were not new, of course. They were visions of the outside world, beyond the castle walls and the walls of the kingdom. They hung somewhere between consciousness and dream, but your thoughts were intentional, purposeful. You thought of the trees, the flowers, the little streams. You thought of the deer and the birds and the butterflies, every beautiful thing you hadn’t seen since the Scourge began. That plague had taken everything from you, your mother, your freedom, your peace of mind.

Others had it much worse, of course, and you knew that, but that didn’t ease your heartache. There were many nights you cried yourself to sleep, hoping your father couldn’t hear, for he did what he did for good reason—he was terrified of losing you, his only child.

But tonight, you didn’t cry at all. In fact, there was a strange sense of hope nestled in your heart, something you hadn’t felt in so many years. At first, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but as your head and your heart began to work together, you realized—it was the knight.

Not only was the knight a new addition to the court, but he was brave, a fighter. He would surely help you escape.

Escape was something you’d thought of before, but now, it seemed within reach. Of course, you wouldn’t leave forever, just a day. Just a day outside the walls, breathing in the fresh air, feeling the soft grass underfoot. There wasn’t anyone else. The guards all pledged such strong allegiance to the king, they would surely inform him of your plans if you asked. The others weren’t skilled in combat, couldn’t keep you safe. No, the only solution was the knight. He would help you. Surely, he would help you.

In your alone time, you often walked the corridors of the keep, as there wasn’t much else to do when you weren’t occupied by your books or your needlepoint. Today was no different, though the court was still excitable over the arrival of the duke last night.

You tried to ignore that, instead keeping yourself in your thoughts as you wandered aimlessly, until your father’s panicked voice resounded from inside his cabinet, adjacent to his bedchamber. What you made out were the words, “How could this happen?!”

Curiosity overcame you, your boredom having been relentless. You looked around the corridor for a moment, ensuring no passersby would see you. The guards were at the other end of the hall, facing away from you. If you were quiet, no one would see you pressing your ear to the ornate wooden door.

“Constable,” your father huffed, “are you quite sure?”

“Yes, your majesty,” spoke Lord Constable Aaron. “There have been reports of mysterious cloaked knights extorting citizens throughout the kingdom. They demand crops, livestock, women… They threaten murder if they don’t get their way, my liege. We had some isolated incidents in the past, but this past month, they’ve been happening more frequently.”

“And you didn’t think it of import to tell the king?” questioned Lord Chancellor Gerald. “There hasn’t been crime like this in Alexandria since we closed our gates.”

“I didn’t want to worry his majesty with incidents of petty crime,” responded the constable. “But now… Well, a boy has been killed.”

“What?!” your father exclaimed. “Who?”

“Thomas Webb, son of the innkeeper, James. He was only sixteen… I’ve been told it was…”

The constable trailed off, his voice becoming shaky as he spoke.

“Speak, Aaron,” demanded the king.

The constable cleared his throat, then lowered his voice. You pressed your ear harder against the wood of the door, so much so that you feared a splinter.

��Apologies, milord… It—it was a gruesome death, the likes of which we haven’t seen in Alexandria since the Dead breached our walls. But this wasn’t a dead man, it was a knight in black armor, their leader. We could hardly identify the boy, his head was… Well, your majesty, his head was obliterated.”

A small gasp escaped your lips, your hand quickly reaching up to catch it before it alerted the guards.

“By God,” uttered the chancellor. “What kind of knight are we dealing with?”

“A knight wouldn’t commit a crime like that,” spoke an at first unfamiliar voice, but you quickly identified it as that of the duke. “No, not any kind of true knight. A dishonored one, maybe.”

“It’s of no concern to me what this man’s status is,” said the king. “All I care about is protecting my people. Constable, I need strengthened security across the kingdom, especially in the merchant district. Something tells me these marauders are targeting the middle and lower classes. I also want tighter security at the outer curtain. No one should be entering or leaving the kingdom without my permission, and if they’re entering clandestinely, there must be a blind spot or a chink in our armor. If the living can get in, the Dead can, too. Get it sorted. There will be no more of this… obliterating in my kingdom, understand?”

“Absolutely, your majesty. We’ll double up our defenses. This won’t happen again… Oh, and… There is one more thing.”

“What is it?” asked the king. “I have very little time for idle conversation today, constable.”

“Yes, yes, of course, your majesty, but… Well, this is quite important. The knight in black armor left a message with one of our guards, just before he… chopped off his arm.”

Your lips trembled with fear. How could a man do such a thing? And this man was in your kingdom, hurting your people. It was horrifying. That poor guard, you thought. That poor boy… Oh, that poor, poor boy.

“Good lord!” huffed the king. “All right, what is it?”

The constable cleared his throat as you heard a crinkling of paper. “Your majesty,” the constable read from the letter, “let this be a first warning, an introduction of sorts. My name is Sir Negan of House Smith, my people are the Saviors. If you cooperate with me, there will be no more bloodshed, but if you go against me, I will plunder and pillage this pretty kingdom until the streets are soaked red. I ask, or demand, rather, for one thing: your daughter.”

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Giganterra (Chapter 10)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (9) | Next (11)

Content Warning: NSFW/ 18+!! Nonconsensual sex and vore (soft and safe)

Word Count: 3.5k

------ Chapter 10: A Full Belly ------

King Richard Hardon casually sauntered off to his private quarters, accompanied by his shadow, Ajax. The four women remaining in the cage—Candy, Jackie, Eren, and Addison—trembled as his giant form loomed over them. He didn’t break his gaze as he burned with hunger and lust. In particular, he kept returning to Candy. Eren was pretty enough, Jackie was plain, and Addison was too twiggy for his preferences, but Candy was perfect. He drank in the delicious sight of her big boobs, shapely body, and dainty features. He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into her and taste her.

He climbed the stairs to his personal wing of the castle. Ajax stood guard at the door while the king entered his chambers. The room was dominated by a huge and luxurious bed with a sturdy wooden canopy frame that stretched from floor to ceiling. The bed was furnished with curtains of rich purple silk that matched the sheets. King Richard set the cage on his bed and sat down alongside it while his personal servant undressed him. Once his cumbersome outer layers of formal clothes were removed, leaving him in a soft linen undershirt and braies, he dismissed his servant so he was alone with his human prey.

The humans quivered with fear as their little confined lifeboat wallowed in a sea of purple silk. Every time the giant shifted on the mattress, they could feel the influence of his immense mass bobbing their iron boat on the silky sea, the springs of the mattress creaking and popping under his weight. He sighed with contentment, as deep as a gale of wind in a storm, as he propped up his back on a plush mountain of pillows and stretched his enormous legs out like mountain ranges of hairy living flesh. The women shirked back at the sight, submerged in raw terror. Would this be their grave as the giant slaughtered them one by one, sinking them into the crushing darkness of his throat and drowning them in his stomach? He placed the cage in between his outstretched legs, right up to his crotch, with a smirk.

“Miiiiilllliiieeee, darling! I’m back!” the king sang. He pulled aside one of the curtains to access the adjacent nightstand, which had a small glass enclosure on top. There was a human-sized bed, couch, and dresser inside, but compared to the giant room the furnishings looked like they were made for a doll. The tiny woman inside presented like a doll as well, with striking blue eyes reminiscent of marbles, fine blonde hair, and a slim, modest figure in a light dress. She had noticeable bags under her eyes, bruised with fatigue. The giant reached into her terrarium and scooped the woman out with his hand.

“Oh, so lovely to see you, Your Majesty!” Millie responded. Although she injected a positive inflection into her voice, there was a distinct note of pure despair that bled through. She was not happy to see him, not at all. She relished the few moments she had alone, when she wasn’t forced to be anywhere near the giant king, whether she was riding in his pocket or his belly, and she resented the interruption.

King Richard didn’t seem to notice her sorrow or care, however. He brought her up to his lips and gave her a sensual kiss that included rubbing his tongue over her exposed skin and even gently nibbling her with his teeth. She cringed, especially when his teeth gnawed on her breasts, but didn’t verbally protest. Her eyes watered with tears.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me back, sweetie?” Hardon questioned. His words were saccharine, but laced with the undercurrent of a threat. Millie whimpered softly before reciprocating with a small peck on his lower lip. His lips peeled back into a smug smile that turned her stomach.

“Oh, Millie, darling! How I adore thee!” the giant cooed, nuzzling her limp body with his nose. “Look, I brought you some new friends!” Millie’s frown deepened as the giant held her towards the cage so she could see the others. Jackie’s heart broke as she saw the poignant sadness etched into her expression. Millie gave them all a look of pained sympathy, cursed with the knowledge of what was to come.

King Richard hummed happily as he dropped Millie onto the wide expanse of his belly. She didn’t try to run: She knew there was no point, and she’d never escape him. He gripped the cage in his fingers, opened the door, and wormed his giant hand inside. The women shrieked and clambered to avoid him as their world rapidly morphed into a living nightmare, but he easily pinched Jackie between his fingers and tugged her out.

“No!” she cried. “Please don’t eat me!” The king sneered at her pleas. He obtained a vial of glowing blue fluid and dripped a single drop on her head. She shivered as the mysterious liquid was absorbed into her body. “W-what was that?” she stuttered.

Hardon didn’t bother to explain. He loved it when his prey was frightened and thrashed in his gut, unaware of the effects of the magical potion that prevented digestion. “Hm. Your looks leave something to be desired,” he remarked, squishing her face between his index finger and thumb. Despite the situation, Jackie deflated a bit with his insult. The king played with her in his hand, feeling up her body as she squirmed, and cocked an eyebrow. “Let’s see how you look without that dress.”

“What? No!” Hardon plucked at her fine dress and tore it off with ease. Jackie gasped, reflexively trying to cover up her nudity. The king grinned, stroking her up and down with his finger. She turned a ghastly pale shade as he raised the small naked woman up to his lips. “Stop!”

She tried to kick him, but instead the giant caught her legs in his mouth and slurped half her body inside. She shrieked with terror. His lips curved into a leer as he sampled her exquisite flavor, clearly enjoying himself. Jackie clawed at his face as she was slowly sucked further and further inside, up to her belly, then her chest, then her neck, so only her head was poking out. She felt his enormous tongue wrapping around her body, sliding all over her skin as she was enveloped in heat and wetness. His teeth teased her, kneading her back and chest with the alarming reminder that he could bite down at any time and end her life.

Jackie screamed, but she was cut off as her head was lapped into his mouth with the rest of her. The remaining group watched with terror as the giant’s lips and cheeks smacked and pulsed with movement, as he shuffled her around in his mouth. He paused and gave a full swallow, sighing with pleasure as her body slid down his throat. His neck throbbed as her small body passed through, to the horror of the other humans. Millie shuddered as his belly gurgled and filled out slightly underneath her. His crotch, too, bulged with arousal.

“Mmmmm, what a treat,” Hardon praised, licking his lips. His gaze settled on the cage, his pale eyes flashing with ravenous energy. “Who’s next?” He reached his hand out again, sending his victims into pandemonium as they bounced off each other like ping pong balls. He snagged Eren and dragged her out by her leg, kicking and screaming as she swung upside-down in his grasp.

“You repulsive ogre! Let go of me!” she shouted, brandishing her fist.

The giant king chuckled. “Mouthy, aren’t you? Perfect. I like my girls with some spunk.” He flipped her around and slapped her into his palm as she swore at him with venom. A drop of liquid fell on her head and absorbed into her body like a sponge, making her tingle with an odd cooling effect. Another drop splashed on her neck, but this one was an entirely different substance, warm and wet and smelly, and Eren realized with disgust that it was saliva dripping from the giant’s greedy maw.

Eren was filled with a white-hot rage as he began to tear at the stitching on the back of her dress with his fingertips. She felt helpless as she pushed against the folds of his palm with her hands, with no result. Her dress ripped at the seams and she felt his hot breath on her bare back as his face hovered over her. He ogled her figure with pleasure and gently ran the thick tip of his finger over her exposed shoulder blades and down her spine. Eren wanted to scream.

With no other option available, Eren did the only thing she could think to do and bit the crease of his hand as hard as she could. The king let out a gasp of surprise as her teeth sank into his skin; his hold on her loosened enough for her to wriggle out of his grip. She took a wild leap of faith and jumped out of his hand, falling until she landed on his broad chest and tumbled down to his belly. Despite her disorientation, she scrambled to regain her footing on the squishy surface and sprinted away blindly as fast as possible, shoving Millie out of the way in the process. Her tattered dress was disintegrating, leaving her torso fully exposed as the ripped top dropped around her waist. She tripped over the bottom half of the cumbersome garment and ended up with her face buried in fabric. Before she could get up, she felt pressure from the pads of two gigantic fingers cinch her hips and she was thrust into the air swiftly enough to make her nauseous.

“Nice try,” the king taunted, “but there’s no escaping me, you naughty little vixen.” He grasped the lacy hem of her dress and ripped the whole thing off with a flick of his wrist. His lustful eyes raked her naked form up and down as she persisted in fruitless struggle. His stomach growled and he raised her up to the wide expanse of his lips. Eren shuddered as the giant pair of pink lips parted like the curtains on a stage, revealing teeth draped in strands of saliva and moist darkness beyond. Eren cried out as the fingers forced her inside and the jaws closed around her, extinguishing the light.

Just like with Jackie, the humans could do nothing but observe helplessly as the wriggling lump that was once recognizable as a person shifted from cheek to cheek. Candy fancied, at one point, she could even see the outline of a tiny hand pressing out against the skin, desperate for an escape. The king tilted his head back, allowing the tasty woman to slide into his gullet, before contracting his throat muscles in a mighty gulp. He traced Eren’s path through his esophagus with his finger, letting out a soft moan of pleasure as she passed into his stomach. Millie cringed as his belly expanded and twitched beneath her with a raucous grumble.

“Ahhhhh...” the giant sighed, rubbing his belly with his hand. “I can feel them squirming inside, can’t you Millie?” He grinned at her expectantly, and she gave a small nod, her eyes swimming with tears. Without any more preamble, he reached into the cage and snatched up his next living snack, Addison. She didn’t make a sound, only flailing weakly in his fingers, as if too frail to properly resist. The king frowned with mild dissatisfaction as he examined her, picking at her feeble, matchstick limbs and rotating her in his hand.

Hardon huffed. “Why would that lunkhead Chester approve this?” he mumbled. He stripped her clothes off, the grooves in his face deepening with his disgust. “She’s too thin. In fact, she’s half-starved.” He gave her a probing lick, causing her to whine with fear. “She doesn’t even taste that good.” Addison shivered, covered in spit.

“Well, whatever.” The king dripped the magic anti-digestion potion on her head. “Down the hatch you go.” He dangled her over his mouth and nonchalantly dropped her inside. She squealed like a butchered pig as she disappeared into the void. Unlike with the others, the king didn’t toss her around in his mouth, instead opting to swallow her right away. Even though he considered the offering mediocre, he still smiled and massaged his belly with his hands as she joined the others in his increasingly full stomach, which gurgled noisily with the addition of fresh meat. “Not too bad, I suppose.”

A bolt of electricity jolted through Candy as his wolfish eyes turned to her with avaricious yearning. “One more.” She scrambled to get away, pressing herself against the bars as if believing she could morph into a gelatinous ooze and miraculously squeeze through. His fingers pinched around her and pulled her out. He lifted her high in the air, bringing her in close to his face to admire her. Candy, roiling in terror, started to cry.

“P-please... let me go...” she wailed pathetically, pushing against his fingertips.

The giant man ignored her as he devoured her delectable flesh with his eyes. After placing a drop of the magic potion on her head, he began to take off her clothes, unwrapping her like a special present until she was displayed to him in all her feminine glory. “Beautiful,” he murmured, tracing his finger down her side. Candy trembled as he explored her curvaceous body with his huge fingers: bouncing her breasts; sliding up and down her thighs, inside and out; sensually touching her narrow waist, slim belly, and cute little backside. His lips parted with carnal passion as he leaned forward, closer and closer, over her and all around her with his overwhelming mass. She was bathed in humid breath.

“You’re perfect,” he said reverently, almost in a whisper. “Oh lord... and I haven’t even tasted you yet...” His mouth watered with anticipation. He drew her in closer to his open lips, his tongue emerging like a primordial beast from the cavernous depths. Candy whimpered as the huge tongue slid over her frontal form, from her feet to her chin, bathing her in saliva. The king moaned with pleasure and continued to lick her like a lollipop all over, in all her sweet spots, waxing with gluttonous lust.

As he tasted and teased her, he was overcome with erotic sensory overload and his hand slid down into his shorts. Millie sat dumbly on her plush belly perch, trying to block out everything that was happening around her and praying that the giant had forgotten about her as he moaned louder and jerked himself off. He began to nibble Candy with his lips, bringing her further and further into his mouth with every stroke of his lips and tongue. Candy struggled, but she couldn’t fight him as she was finally pulled over the threshold of his teeth.

She cried out as the teeth closed around her and she was completely engulfed in the soggy inside of the giant’s mouth, surrounded by walls of bone rimmed with gums, with a fleshy tongue below and curved palate above. The tongue continued to wrestle her down, throwing her about, pressing her against the teeth, dragging her underneath into the hot meaty bowl full of drool below, weighing her down in a suffocating embrace. At the base of the maw, she could feel his blood pulsing through his veins in an excited rush. His moans of pleasure rumbled the stale air around her.

The tongue scooped her back up and to her horror she found herself sliding back, towards the foreboding gullet that provided ingress to the throat. She screamed and tried to surge forward, but the tongue reared up and forced her backwards. Her feet sank into the precipitous drop below, and the throat muscles clamped down on her and dragged her under. She only had a moment to desperately claw at the squishy tongue before she was sucked into the abyss.

Candy’s scream was choked out as the swallowing motion crushed the wind from her lungs. She sank down a terrifying distance, smashed on all sides, as the deafening boom of the giant’s heartbeat and breathing vibrated through his flesh. She struggled as panic consumed her rational mind, but the powerful esophagus clenched her so tightly that she couldn’t even push back, with her arms folded against her chest. Suddenly, her legs broke free and she wriggled them wildly as she was squeezed through a ring of muscle.

She fell through open space into a lake of hot acid. The gastric fluid churned and bubbled around her with rhythmic motions from the wrinkled stomach walls, groaning and rumbling loudly as the stomach worked to digest its contents. Something snapped inside Candy’s mind at the sight and she flipped out, thrashing wildly in a futile effort to escape. She punched and kicked the walls and floundered as she was stirred in the current. She accidentally elbowed something soft that let out a squeak of pain.

“Ouch! Watch it!” Eren hissed. Candy turned to behold Eren floating alongside her in the boiling juices. She looked scared, furious, and disheveled, but what caught Candy’s attention was that her skin was glowing softly, like a paper lantern. Candy glanced down and realized her hands and arms were glowing too, with an ethereal light that weakly illuminated the hollow cavity around them. She was even more baffled, disoriented, and shaken up than before. She didn’t understand why any of this was happening, and she was terrified of dying.

“We need to get out of here!” she screeched, pummeling the squishy innards more. She bumped into Addison, who was huddled up like a lost child and sobbing uncontrollably. Jackie, too, was somewhere inside the stomach, her haunted howls of despair echoing in the fleshy chamber as she fought her gastric confinement.

Candy lost it. She wailed and cried and bemoaned what a fool she had been, to think she even had a chance to be with the giant knight who was supposedly fated to be her lover. She should’ve never listened to that fortune teller, the deceitful old hag. She never expected something so horrible to happen to her, and now she was going to die because of her own stupidity. She wasn’t ready. She couldn’t accept her failure. Her sanity slipped away as she continued to lash out, embroiled in a flood of negative emotions: regret, pain, sadness, anger, defeat, and above all, terror.

On the outside, King Richard belched with satisfaction and patted his engorged belly, which was quite full after being stuffed with four tasty maidens. He enveloped Millie, who was shaking, gently in his palm and pressed her firmly into the fat of his belly. “Can you hear them in there?” he asked her with a devious chuckle.

Millie replied with a small nod. His stomach twitched and groaned with all the struggling going on inside. She could hear, muted by the thick walls of meat, tortured screams and loud squelches as the multitude of tiny prey panicked inside, not yet understanding that they were at least safe from digestion. She pushed against the giant’s belly with her palms, trying to pull away, but the giant king simply pressed her harder into his body, his belly jiggling as he laughed cruelly. Tears ran down her cheeks. She knew their pain all too well, having been ingested by the evil giant too many times to count.

“There’s room for one more,” Hardon teased, tapping his belly with the fingers of his opposite hand. Millie trembled with dread as the color sapped out of her face.

“No... anything but that...” she whimpered.

“Well then. You know what I want you to do.” The pressure on her let up as the giant loosened his hand. Millie let out a shaky sigh and wiped her eyes with her forearm. She crawled on rubbery limbs down the curve of his belly, towards his groin. She could clearly see how sexually stimulated he was from devouring the tiny women, with his enormous erection rising above her head, dwarfing her. With another heavy sigh, and a sick twisting in her guts, Millie slid under the waistband of his braies to access the tall pillar within.

King Richard reclined on his bed with sublime pleasure, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. He moaned with satisfaction and shifted his legs while his hard cock was stroked up and down by tiny hands and limbs as Millie performed for him. He also thoroughly enjoyed the ceaseless squirming in his gut. Fresh prey was the best, with how lively and terrified they were. A smile graced his lips as he thought about his favorite new addition to his collection, the big-breasted blonde lady. She was both delicious and beautiful. As much as he adored Millie, he thought to himself that this new girl might be his favorite now. He would tame her, break her, and make her his own. She would be his forever.

Chapter 11

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cassandrva · 6 days

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let's talk about the fish/water/christ symbolism in the game of kings. with spoilers

fish (as ιχθυς) is an acronym for christ, and it's the first food jesus eats after being resurrected, right? it symbolizes rebirth, life, and christ himself. i personally think fish are slippery and cold-blooded too, but that's neither here nor there.

now look at how the game of kings starts: "lymond is back". we immediately know this book is about returning, it's about rebirth. in fact, the first thing we see is the man himself submerged in a body of water and coming out on the other side, after a baptism of sorts, as the character he will play for most of the book: lymond the outlaw, lymond the traitor.

the first words out of his mouth are "i am a narwhal": he identifies himself as a fish right away, and not just any fish but the unicorn fish; the unicorn of course being scotland's national animal. in perspective, he tells us everything we need to know about him: his status as a christ figure, his destiny to be reborn, his complicated relationship with his country.

the next time he's in a body of water, it's the second chapter and he's dying from a head injury in a bog. he's washed clean, this time, too: from his own identity. he's free to inhabit another character from the lymond constellation. it's also pretty funny that he's found by sym while he's going fishing ("you’ve hooked a twenty-pounder this time, my lad"), and he's nursed back to health by someone named Christian. not subtle.

lymond seems to be pretty into this whole fish and rebirth thing, does he not? he wouldn't lie to us. he wouldn't pretend to embrace life while actively seeking death, right? anyway, no relation at all, when the baby queen mary tries feeding him a fish he pretends to eat it and secretly throws it away. the fish is described as struggling and barely alive, which again i am sure is a coincidence.

then some stuff happens, and the next time lymond is offered fish he doesn't have it in him to keep pretending. he doesn't want the damn fish. newsflash, asshole (richard): he really, really wants to die. this is my favorite scene for many reasons, and one of them is the perfect juxtaposition of its literal and symbolic meanings: richard says he wants to see lymond hanged, but what he does is to drag him away from the tomb-like dovecote and towards running water, makes him eat the damn fish again and again until the miracle is complete. he's holding on to his brother with both hands and teeth before he even realizes he's doing it.

when it comes to an end the fish is off the hook, christ is off the cross and for once he's not sacrificed for the sins of others, and we close on him in his mother's arms in a beautiful literary pietà.

there's so much stuff i purposefully didn't mention and probably didn't notice, this is just a tiny example of the gorgeous figurative and thematic cohesion in this novel. i love it. thank you dorothy dunnett.

#lymond chronicles #the game of kings #the amount of symbolism in 4.3 knight adversary makes it almost look like a tarot card #something between the star and the knight/king of cups #i have a lot to say about tarot too #probably for a later post #i seems like you can't run out of things to say about the game of kings it's sooo well done #dorothy “three meanings at least per line” dunnett #if you think i'm annoying just know i've been talking like this on discord with the book club for the last two months and a half #thank you book club #anyway this is a rambling mess but you get it. you get it #ughhh lymond my brain will never be the same #lymond #the lymond chronicles

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hooked-on-elvis · 3 months

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A filming day during the '68 Comeback Special production (June, 1968) 🎥⚡

— Recollections by ANN MOSES, editor of TIGER BEAT and NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS MAGAZINES, as published in her Facebook on January 8, 2024, Elvis' 89th birthday.

Happy Birthday in Heaven to ELVIS PRESLEY , born January 8, 1935. He would have been 89 today. I feel the best way to honor Elvis is to share some of my in-person memories from his incredible Comeback Special from 1968 — Ann Moses

THE CONTINUING STORY OF ELVIS AND ANN MOSES (EDITOR OF TIGER BEAT) FROM NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS:

ELVIS TAKES OFF TINY TIM AND RICHARD HARRIS

Last week I told you how I was chosen to sit on the steps of the stage when Elvis was performing before the tele-film camera in Burbank. They were recording the hour-long Spectacular to be seen in American on December 3. I promised to tell you about my further encounters with Elvis this week, so here goes: As Elvis left the stage, his face dripping with perspiration, his straight hair hanging over his eyes after such an energetic half-hour workout, everyone expected the end had – too soon – arrived. Wrong! After a few moments the executive producer appeared to inform us that this had been a dress rehearsal and Elvis would be back as soon as his leather suit dried out, and go through it all again.

Great News

It was great news because to have a small taste of greatness would have been cruel. The first set whet our appetites and the gathering was openly happy that the appetite might now be satisfied (if that’s possible)! During the half-hour break, Priscilla Presley, Elvis’ wife, descended from the seats where she was watching him and glided backstage to see her husband. She did not return. Meantime, the executive producer stayed on stage to entertain the audience by answering questions about El. I asked how much he had contributed to the creation of the TV Special. The producer said El had done about 75 per cent of the creating. He also said El was easy to work with and his professionalism had cut the time allowed for filming. To fill time and keep us occupied, as if we weren’t content to merely sit and wait for him to return, the producer called the Blossoms on stage to do a song. This Negro (remember this was 1968 and the correct way to describe the black girls) girl trio, who performed on the old “Shindig” show and have aided the Righteous Brothers on their tours, backed up Elvis vocally in the special. “We’d like to sing a gospel song for you,” one of the girls said. “You know, Elvis really loves gospel songs. Every time we’ve had a break in the past two weeks he drags us off to some corner to sing gospel tunes, isn’t that a groove?” she went on.

The Blossoms (American female group): Photo 1 from 1966 (left), clockwise from top: Fanita James, Jean King, and Darlene Love. The group's formation changed over the years but those are the female vocalists of the Blossoms that worked with Elvis.

On the '68 Comeback Special, the full group appear onscreen during the Gospel number (second picture from 1968 — from left to right, Jean King, Elvis, Fanita James and Darlene Love). Darlene Love also sings the female vocals for 'Let Yourself Go' song, used for the bordello scene.

The Blossoms also have uncredited roles on the film 'Change of Habit' (1969) on which they act as Elvis' character's neighbors performing as his backing vocals for the song "Rubberneckin'", right at the beginning of the movie, although the female backing vocals for the actual song was recorded by other female artists during the American Sound Studio sessions in January, 1969. I'm not sure if for the movie version they recorded the song again, with the Blossom's backing vocals, but probably no — if that's so, the girls participation on the "Rubberneckin'" scene is specifically with their acting, dubbing the original recorded song. The movie was filmed between March and April, 1969. Still for the "Change of Habit" movie, the Blossoms sing the female backing vocals for "Let Us Pray", song used during the closing scene in the church. The Blossoms recorded a few more songs with Elvis.

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Continuing Ann Moses' article:

Then they sang a gospel tune and it was a groove too. I would have loved to hear Elvis join with them, but anyway. . . A few more minutes, in which the executive producer introduced all of Elvis’ buddies and then HE was back. This time he was much more at ease in front of the audience. He began to joke with those of us close by, sitting on the platform. “I hope you don’t mind if we do a few of those numbers again,” he smiled, “I really goofed up some of them the last time.” The band was ready and it began again. But this time seemed even more exciting because it was likely we knew him better. That may seem hard to comprehend since we’d only been there a couple of hours, but that’s the way he makes you feel!

Some new twists

Some of the songs had been recorded previously and when he’d get to them in the medley he just cut up the original lyric. Like when “Love Me Tender” came around again he sang “. . .you have made my life a wreck and I hate you so. . .” then he’d laugh and go on to the next tune. Once through the whole medley and everything stopped for a prop change. A special set had to be set up for the finale. Instead of leaving this time, Elvis bent down to me (are you ready for that – me!) and said “What would you like to hear?” I blurted out, “Your Time Hasn’t Come yet, Baby.” * He gave me an inquisitive look and I said: “The new single.” “Right,” he said and started singing the song.

youtube

Movie soundtrack: "Speedway" (1968)

"Your Time Isn't Come Yet Baby" was released a few weeks before the movie, as a single, on May 21, 1968, with "Let Yourself Go" on the opposite side (the second song, is part of the '68 Comeback Special setlist, used during the bordello scene where Elvis acts opposite to Susan Henning). "Speedway" movie was released only a few weeks before the filming for Elvis' NBC TV Special had begin, on June 12, 1968 (although the film was completed in the early summer of 1967), while the videotaping for the "'68 Comeback Special" was filmed from June 27-30, 1968.

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Continuing Ann Moses' article:

The microphone was turned off. He called to have someone turn it on. Another girl said, “Sing ‘U.S. Male,’” and he said in a deep voice “I’m a U.S. Male. . ." but still the mic was off. Others ere calling out songs now and while he waited for someone to turn on the mic he bent down to sign some autographs. He got back up and strummed the electric guitar and tried again, but still no sound. So he left. It’s really awful to complain in light of what we were all experiencing, but to think we would have had private little 15-minute concert except for that rotten dead-mic, well. . . it would have been great. The set was ready. It was a black box some 25 feet long and as high and wide as a room. At one end there were flashing colored lights darting in all directions. At the open end was our platform and the microphone. Elvis returned, casually, but things were not quite ready. The mic was on now. Someone asked “How’s your daughter?” Elvis answered, “Oh, about this long,” he held his hands out about a foot apart as he smiled broadly.

I found this moment on Youtube Shorts (Elvis talks about baby Lisa Marie and also sings one verse of a song we'll talk about soon, recorded by Tiny Tim):

As we know, Lisa Marie Presley was born in February 1, 1968. By the time the '68 Special was being filmed, little Yisa was close to reach 5-months-old. An infant, the King's little Princess. ♥

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Continuing Ann Moses' article:

“How long have I got?” he questions the director, “I’m getting embarrassed.” There was no answer, so he began singing “Tiptoe through the tulips” in Tiny Tim style. It was hilarious and even he couldn’t help breaking into laughter.

youtube

“Tiptoe Through the Tulips” by Tiny Tim. Also known as "Tiptoe Thru’ the Tulips with Me", is a popular song published in 1929. Singer, Tiny Tim, release his version in April, 1968. It was a new tune when Elvis was singing it out of fun during the '68 Comeback Special filming, as Ann Moses remembered happening.

You can hear Elvis singing one verse of this song on the Youtube Shorts I shared previously when Ann Moses mentions Lisa Marie). What a funny guy, our Elvis. ♥

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Continuing Ann Moses' article:

“Well, how about. . .’someone left the cake out in the rain’. . .” He was now mimicking, in an extra-deep voice, Richard Harris’ hit record “MacArthur Park.” Again, he laughed.

You can listen to Richard Harris' song on Youtube, here.

Everything was ready now. He took that special stance and GLARED at the camera. The music started. . .”If you’re lookin’ for trouble. . .you’ve come to the right place.” Rough and tough, he was singing “Trouble,” twitching lip and all. But then he called, “wait, wait. . .” and the tape stopped. He looked at us and said: “Did you see that?” He was laughing again. “I got my lip caught on the microphone!”

youtube

This above isn't the take Ann is referring to (I didn't found it [:(], but one of the takes he sings "Trouble" during one of the '68 Comeback Special's stand up concerts). You got the picture.

Continuing Ann Moses' article:

He goofed the famous lip twitch. Of course, it had to be right. It all started again and this time it was perfect. In the middle of “Trouble” the tape broke into “Guitar Man” with Elvis singing “well, I’ve come a long way from the car wash. . .” and he sings about heading back down the road with a guitar slung over his back. He picks up his guitar, slings it over his back and walks off down the black corridor into the flashing lights symbolizing the future. The audience was hysterical and that’s good because the reaction is all on tape too. It was so spontaneous and so beautiful. What I gather the special is all about is sort of a life story of Elvis through his music, ending of course, with him walking into the unknown future, that for him can only get better. All I can say is I didn’t sleep for two nights and I’m still having dreams. I guess that’s what can happen when you’re touched by magic! — Recollections by ANN MOSES, editor of TIGER BEAT and NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS MAGAZINES, as published in her Facebook page on January 8, 2024.

Pictures 1-2: Elvis '68 Comeback Special. Picture 3: Ann Moses on "Elvis: That's The Way It Is" (1970, theatrical version).

ON ANN MOSES: Ann is one of the girls appearing on "Elvis: That's The Way It Is" (1970) documentary on the fan interviews portion of the film. In one of her interviews years later, Ann says that she was a fan of Elvis previous to the '68 Comeback Special but her love for him hibernated for a while during Elvis' Hollywood years (60s) due to all the new music for the youth that was happening at the time, but then ever since 1968 and Elvis' comeback to performing live in 1969, Ann was again a die hard fan, instantly — and that she is until today. Every now and then she talks about Elvis Presley on her Facebook page, sharing articles she wrote on him to the magazines she was an editor for back in the days, also about her experiences watching Elvis performing live, the time she visited him on a movie set in 1969, and so on. Ann Moses published a memoir book where she talks about her experiences as a young woman living among big stars in the 60s and 70s - obviously she mentions Elvis there. Her memoir book is entitled "Meow! My Groovy Life with Tiger Beat's Teen Idols", published in 2017.

Picture 1-2: Elvis and Ann Moses during and after his press conference at the International Hotel (August 1, 1969 - the press conference was held right after Elvis' opening night at the hotel's showroom). Pictures 3 and 5: Elvis performing at the International hotel on August 2, 1969, both photos by Ann Moses. Picture 4: Ann Moses.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis the king #68 comeback special #elvis fans #elvis fandom #elvis history #60s elvis #1968 tv shows #60s tv #Youtube #tiger beat magazine #new musical express magazine #vintage magazines

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

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Hiiiiiiiii hdisjxksjdj I have 2 ideas for the fic writing request! Feel free to choose whichever one you'd like to do or both! 💝💝💝 love youuu

1: Steve's parents meet his new friends and are shocked at how happy he is. + they see that Steve and his friends all wear a similar-style friendship bracelet made by the kids.

2: platonic stobin with the song lyric (brother by Kodaline: I took out the chorus bc it doesn't match here):

When we were young we were the ones

The kings and queens oh yeah, we ruled the world

We smoked cigarettes, man, no regrets

Wish I could relive every single word

We've taken different paths

And travelled different roads

I know we'll always end up on the same one when we're old

And when you're in the trenches

And you're under fire I will cover you

If I was dying on my knees

You would be the one to rescue me

And if you were drowned at sea

I'd give you my lungs so you could breathe

we'll go deeper than the ink

Beneath the skin of our tattoos

Though we don't share the same blood

You're my brother and I love you that's the truth

We're living different lives

Heaven only knows

If we'll make it back with all our fingers and our toes

Five years, twenty years, come back

It will always be the same

ANOTHA ONE (BUT ACTUALLY TWO)! This first one for some reason got me fucked up. I wrote so much, then 75% of the way through, I hated it and deleted it and started over. The second one was a lot easier, but I did get a little carried away (could have gotten MORE carried away if I didn't have a tiny bit of self control left). ANYWAYS YAY FOR FINISHING ONE OF MY CLASSES WITH A 94 AND BEING ABLE TO POST THESE! LOTS OF LOVE BABEYYYY - Mickala ❤️

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PROMPT 1

“Where is it?”

Steve was panicking.

Okay, panicking might be dramatic.

It was just a bracelet.

But it wasn’t just a bracelet, actually.

El made them for everyone. They all matched, but she’d added everyone’s initials to theirs so it was still special for each of them.

When she gave Steve his, he hid in the bathroom and cried.

Despite being the King for years, he’d never had any friends like the kids and Robin.

Eddie either, but he’d already passed the line of “friends” into “love of his life”, so he didn’t count.

So when he looked down while he was cooking and realized it wasn’t wrapped around his wrist the way it had been for months, he started to worry.

When he couldn’t find it in the kitchen or the path from the kitchen to the car or the car itself or his bedroom or his bathroom, he started to feel a weight settle in his chest.

He wouldn’t give up yet though. He’d gone outside to check the chemicals in the pool this morning, maybe it had fallen off there.

Just when he was about to go look, he heard a car door slam. Then another one. Then keys at the front door.

Of all the times for his parents to decide they live here, they choose now? When he’d abandoned the casserole he was making on the counter and turned most of the place upside down in the last hour looking for his bracelet?

He took a deep breath, ready to try to brush aside the panic to make sure they didn’t find his behavior unacceptable or suspicious.

“Oh good. You’re home.”

Anne Harrington’s voice used to make Steve relax. She wasn’t ever a great mother, but she was at least here until he hit middle school. Her presence, her voice usually made his dad remain calm.

But when she started going away with his dad, her voice became a dreaded sound.

Instead of it easing the tension he held in his back and jaw, it caused the tension to arrive faster.

Richard Harrington was the root cause of all of that tension, though.

“What’s going on in here?”

Steve tried to make himself appear smaller, that’s what his dad liked from him, and that’s what kept him safe.

“You caught me as I was making dinner. I haven’t been able to clean up yet.”

“Is that a casserole?”

Anne was walking up to the counter, peering down at the casserole dish as she spoke.

“Yes. I’m having friends over later.”

He was at least. Before his parents made a surprise visit.

Just as he checked the clock to see if he had time to call everyone to cancel, he heard more car doors.

Fuck, how late was it?

6:30. Shit.

Of course the one time Eddie gets everyone here on time is the one time his parents decide to show up.

El had joined this campaign at the insistence of Eddie and Will, so he knew she’d notice his bracelet was missing.

He couldn’t let her close enough to see.

No hug hello. No sitting in the room while they played. No hugging goodbye.

He could do that.

El barged in the house first, excitement palpable before she even made it into the kitchen.

“Who the hell is this?”

The voices of the others could be heard walking through the door as El froze with wide eyes.

“Mom, Dad, this is El. She’s Chief Hopper’s daughter? I babysat her.”

They looked at him like he’d grown three heads.

“Steve! Tell Dustin that I’m supposed to be the fun parent!”

Steve’s face paled. Eddie.

Every possible reaction his parents could have ran through Steve’s mind as he actually did start to panic.

Suddenly, everyone from Hellfire was standing in his kitchen. With his parents.

And an uncooked casserole.

He reached for the bracelet on his wrist, then remembered he lost it, and then he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He couldn’t cry in front of his parents.

He walked out of the room, ignoring the confused stares and murmurs from everyone, including his mother.

He walked up the stairs, to his bedroom, then fell on his bed.

No tears fell, but they were there, waiting. For what, he didn’t know.

He could hear footsteps outside of his room. A pause. A gentle knock.

“Steve?”

His mother.

She opened the door slowly, probably just as nervous as he suddenly was.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he managed to choke out.

His mom sat on the edge of the bed, leaving enough space between them that he couldn’t feel any warmth from her, which is how it’s always been.

“We probably should have called.”

It wasn’t an apology, just a statement. More for her than him since she was feeling just as awkward about this as he was.

“Those kids are the ones you babysat?”

“Yeah.”

“They’ve gotten quite big, haven’t they?”

Steve had no idea what she was doing, but he could answer her questions.

“Yeah. Don’t really need me anymore.”

“They’re here, though.”

“I’ll send them home,” Steve started to get up, but his mom’s hand on his shoulder kept him from standing.

“Don’t. We just dropped by to grab a few things. We have a flight in a few hours.”

Ah. So they weren’t staying. If he hadn’t been home when they got here, he probably never would have even known they were here.

For some reason, that hurt. Even after all these years, all these times being left alone.

“They must really love you.”

Her voice sounded different, shaky. Like she was actually trying to show an emotion other than passiveness or disappointment.

She was holding something, he could see her rubbing her fingers along whatever it was.

And then he caught the bright pink.

His bracelet.

“Where did you find that?”

“It was on the ground by the front door. Your father didn’t see it, but I picked it up. Thought it may have belonged to a girl you brought home. Then I saw what all those kids were wearing and saw your initials on it.” She handed him the bracelet and he felt relief wash over him. “You’re lucky to have them.”

He looked at her. Her lips wobbling, her eyes watery, like she was actually happy for him, or maybe a little sad about something else.

Regret. That’s what that look was.

“I wish I had known that you had so many people who love you. I wish I had been here to see you find happiness. You didn’t have any for so long.”

She’d seen it then. She’d seen the way he had to fight loneliness despite being surrounded by people at school. She’d seen the way his face dropped every time they told him they were going on another business trip, how he started to hate that they even bothered to come home at all. She’d seen the way he filled his home with idiot teenagers who barely respected him or the house, who just wanted a place to drink away from their parent’s prying eyes.

She’d seen it and let him feel that hurt anyway.

She still didn’t say she was sorry.

But he thought about if he even wanted that now. If he could even believe it or accept it coming from her.

Probably not.

He took the bracelet from her and wrapped it around his wrist, tightening the string until it was snug.

“I didn’t have anyone for so long because you didn’t seem to think I needed anyone. I don’t know who I would be without them. They’ve done more for me than you or dad ever have, and that’s why I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” Steve sighed. It was exhausting that he even had to say this. “You’re right, though. I am lucky to be loved by them. This bracelet is just one of the physical reminders of that. Thanks for finding it.”

A single tear fell from her eyes, but Steve wasn’t going to let himself feel bad. She could have done this years ago when he needed it most.

Now he had those kids downstairs. He had Eddie. He had Robin. Joyce and Hopper. Claudia. Even the Wheelers.

Suddenly, Eddie was standing in his door, a panicked look on his face.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt.” He wasn’t. “You may need to come downstairs. Erica’s kind of doing that thing she does with your dad.”

Steve’s eyes widened while his mom just looked confused.

Then he heard it.

He jumped up and ran down the stairs, Eddie close on his heels.

“...and another thing! This house isn’t even decorated nicely! You have all this money, right? Why don’t you spend it on things that actually look good? Or a couch that’s actually comfy. How am I supposed to sleep on a piece of plywood with itchy fabric on it? Have you ever tried to sleep on that couch? Probably not since you can’t be bothered to come home.”

Steve put his hand on Erica’s shoulder while he glanced over at his father’s red face. He obviously wasn’t going to do anything to a child, but he didn’t want to take any risks, not with the kids he loved so much.

“Alright, everyone in the dining room! Get your game setup while I put the casserole in the oven.”

Erica glared up at him, but relented when everyone started moving towards the dining room.

Eddie watched as she left too, but he remained next to Steve.

Steve turned to face his father, who was certainly going to have a lot to say to him, but would probably wait until he was alone.

“The neighbor told me you had kids coming and going from here all the time, but I thought they were losing it. Especially when they said that the Munson van was parked in the driveway most nights. I guess they aren’t losing it, after all.”

His tone was outwardly calm, but Steve was well-versed in the silent rage boiling underneath.

He was also well-versed in how his father refused to make their family look bad, even if it was just a bunch of kids.

“They needed a place to play their game. I have plenty of room. It keeps them out of trouble and happy. I get to have people in the house. It’s a win win.”

Steve wasn’t usually this bold with his father, but he knew he was fine with Eddie next to him and his family in the next room.

His dad grunted and looked down at the bracelet wrapped around Steve’s wrist, and the matching one wrapped around Eddie’s.

Steve could feel his brain trying to figure everything out. He didn’t say anything to help.

“I’m sure your mother mentioned we’re just grabbing some things and leaving,” Richard finally said.

“She did.”

“Make sure the house is clean before we get back.”

“Which will be…?”

“Within the next few weeks.”

“Sure.”

They weren’t gonna be back in a few weeks. They probably wouldn’t be back for months, if ever.

Steve noticed that they barely had any of their personal belongings left in the house. He noticed that they had been slowly moving out of the house since his senior year of high school. He noticed that they rarely got mail delivered anymore, and that they didn’t send the gardener or pool cleaner by unless they were coming home.

He knew they had another house in upstate New York, one he’d never even been to and only found out about because his dad’s secretary mentioned it the last time he’d called looking for them.

He figured if they were coming back in a few weeks, it would probably be to tell him they were selling this house and he had to leave.

Which was fine.

He looked down at his bracelet as his dad left the kitchen, tugging on the end of it to make it even tighter.

He had people who would help him if he got kicked out. He had family.

-------------------------------------------------------

PROMPT 2

In 1987, Robin Buckley leaves for college.

They knew it was coming, her gap year truly could only be a year, after all.

Steve tried to put on a brave face.

He was proud of her, of course. She got into Purdue on one of the hardest academic scholarships to get. They’d let her, even encouraged her, to take the gap year, postponing her scholarship for her new start date.

She was leaving tomorrow and Steve didn’t know how to say goodbye.

Eddie was helping with some of the last minute packing she had to do, but he was trying to stay out of their way, give them time and space to enjoy what time they had left.

Suddenly, Steve knew what he needed to do.

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve got supplies for tattoos right?”

“Tattoos, plural? Going from none to multiple in one go may not be a great idea, sweetheart.”

Robin was watching their interaction with curious eyes, but wasn’t saying anything.

“No, just one for me. But maybe one for Robin too?” He pointed the question at her, giving her a small smile.

“What? A tattoo? Now?”

“If you want. Just something small for us to have before you go.”

Maybe it was a stupid idea.

It’s not like she was leaving the damn country. He’d probably see her once a month at least.

But he was scared that she’d get to college and find a lot of smart friends who could keep up with her and find fewer reasons to visit here, and then Steve wouldn’t be able to convince her to stick around and he’d be alone.

A tattoo would at least ensure she was thinking of him, too.

“What would we get?”

“What about an ice cream cone?”

“Or a scoop?”

Eddie laughed. “You really want me to tattoo ice cream scoops on your bodies? Forever? You know these are permanent.”

Steve and Robin giggled together and nodded.

So it was settled.

They finished what they had to, waving a quick goodbye to Robin’s parents and letting them know she’d be back late. They reminded her they were heading out early in the morning and she ignored them. When they got to Eddie’s trailer, the nerves sunk in for both of them. Not enough to avoid getting the tattoos, but enough to make them hold hands while Eddie prepped the tattoo gun and ink for Steve.

“Alright, where do you want it big boy?”

He pointed to his ankle and looked at Robin, who nodded back at him in agreement.

So Eddie began.

Steve flinched at the first few lines in his skin, but got used to it quickly.

Robin held his hand and watched, talking to him about random things that she thought of that they could do when he visited her on campus.

Eddie finished quickly, smiling up at them both.

When he cleaned up and set up the new needle and ink for Robin, Steve held her hand and talked about all the things he was excited for her to do when she left. He even joked that she’d probably find a girlfriend in her Women’s Studies course.

“I mean that class is just gonna be a bunch of queer women, you better make a move.”

“You don’t know that!” she exclaimed while rolling her eyes.

When Robin’s tattoo was done, they smiled at each other. Robin kissed Eddie’s cheek in thanks and Steve kissed his lips, whispering a quiet thanks against them.

Even if Robin moved on, they’d always have this.

—-------

In 1991, shortly after Robin managed to graduate from school, Steve and Eddie had a massive fight.

They’d never had one before, not like this.

Not one that led to Eddie walking out and staying with Wayne.

Steve’s first call was to Wayne, making sure Eddie was safe.

His second call was to Robin, begging her to come stay with him for a few days so he wouldn’t have to be alone.

He hadn’t been alone in his house since the fall of 1986 and it was suddenly bigger and quieter than ever.

She quickly drove to him, knowing he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t struggling.

When she arrived, Steve sobbed into her shoulder for hours, not even saying anything, not really able to. She let him, didn’t offer any words of comfort, just running her hands through his hair and making sure he kept breathing in and out.

Eventually, she asked.

“I thought you guys were doing great. What happened?”

Steve shrugged, but he knew. He knew that for a few weeks now Eddie had been working a lot more, that Steve had been working a lot more, both of them trying to save money to buy a house that wasn’t a constant reminder of everything bad in their lives. He knew that neither of them were giving each other the attention they deserved. He knew the tiny little snippy comments they both were giving each other kept adding up into a form of resentment he didn’t think either of them could’ve been capable of. He knew when he missed their date because he forgot to call when he found out about the overtime he was scheduled for, it would lead to a pissed off Eddie.

“We’re just under a lot of stress right now.”

“Worse than the literal end of the world?”

“No. Just. Real life is kind of harder sometimes. Is that crazy to think?”

“I guess not. But you guys love each other more than anything. This is just a bump, right?”

“I dunno. He’s staying with Wayne for a bit.”

“How long is a bit?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t say. Wayne said he’s barely seen him.”

“Maybe he just needs to cool off. Bet he’ll be back tomorrow.”

But he wasn’t. He wasn’t back that week at all. Robin had to go back to campus to pack before they locked her out permanently, so he was left to work and come home to an empty house.

It sucked, point blank.

But Wayne called him every night before he left for work, and Steve knew that at least Eddie was safe, still going to work, still eating.

The day Robin was supposed to be back, Eddie showed up. He let himself in, which was a good sign. He sat down next to Steve on the couch, another good sign. He sighed, not a great sign, but maybe not a bad one.

He looked at Steve with tears in his eyes.

“I wanna come home.”

Steve let out a sob and folded into Eddie’s chest, Eddie wrapping his arms around him and kissing the top of his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Sh. I’m sorry too, Stevie.”

When Robin arrived, she saw them asleep on the couch, thankfully fully dressed, and smiled to herself. She made her way up to the guest room that was basically hers and went to sleep, content with knowing that she’d gotten Steve through.

—--------

In 1997, Robin lands her dream job offer. Things move quickly. She’s supposed to fly to Italy in three days, but she’s stuck on how to tell Steve.

Steve and Eddie moved to Boston when she did, insisting that they wanted to live a city life. Now that the kids were all gone, they had no reason to stay in Hawkins.

They sold the Harrington mansion, then their own home, and found a nice two bedroom apartment on the outskirts of the city. Steve worked in a bakery, so his hours were a bit all over the place depending on the season. Eddie worked as a sound mixer at a record label, which wasn’t his dream job, but close enough that he was happy.

Robin had been working as a tutor for years, enjoying the one on one with teenagers who needed the extra help in their high school foreign language classes. It didn’t pay much, but it was enough.

But she applied to be a teacher, part of a study abroad project for prospective Boston University students that reached 24 different countries. She didn’t really expect to get it, her experience and education level not quite where most of the other applicants were.

But she’d impressed the interviewers with her knowledge of multiple languages, not just fluency in one. They expressed immediate interest and asked her which country she’d prefer.

She told them she preferred Italy, but hadn’t expected to get her first choice.

She did.

And now she had to tell Steve she was leaving the country for at least a year.

She called Eddie first to warn him. He was excited for her, of course, but nervous about how Steve would react.

They frequently joked that she was the side chick in their relationship because Steve would cancel plans just to hang out with Robin. Even as grown adults with grown adult responsibilities, Eddie had to remind them to get some sleep during sleepovers like they were teenagers.

He thought it was adorable.

He told her to come over for dinner, she could talk to him then and he would be there as backup.

So she did.

And it went okay at first. Steve was so excited for her, he kept talking about how she could send real Italian chocolate like he got on a vacation with his parents when he was young.

But then it seemed to slowly sink in what this meant.

No more random meetups in the city for coffee or drinks, no more dinners here at their apartment, calls would have to be scheduled in advance because of the time difference. No hugs or cuddling for a year.

“Maybe we could try to come visit in a few months?” He looked at Eddie hopefully.

“Maybe, sweetheart,” Eddie responded with a small smile.

He knew their finances weren’t bad, but a trip to Italy certainly wasn’t something they were prepared for. Plus, taking that much time off of work would be difficult. They didn’t have another sound mixer right now, which meant if he missed more than a day or two, they’d pretty much have to close up shop.

“I mean, I’m sure with what they’re paying me, I could probably come visit during the Christmas break,” Robin added, though she didn’t sound so sure.

Eddie squeezed Steve’s knee, sensing the tears he was trying to hold back.

“We’ve got time to figure it out.”

Nothing got planned for a while though, because Robin was busier than expected.

She worked six days a week, and on the seventh day, she was usually still grading papers or setting up meetings with the other teachers in the program.

Steve felt like he was fighting constantly for her attention, which wasn’t fair to think because she was just doing her job.

Eddie knew he was getting into a depressive episode about a month in.

He called Robin while Steve was asleep, coming up with a plan to get him out of it before it got bad.

“I’ve got enough money for the flight, but we need somewhere to stay. I think I can swing five days off for both of us if I tell his boss what’s going on. But I can’t do it for at least a month.”

“Okay, just stay with me. I have a pull out couch. My neighbor brings me so much food all the time, I’m sure she’ll wanna feed you both too. I still have to work, but you can explore while I do. Have you guys even taken a real vacation before?”

“Does visiting Dustin count?”

“No.”

“Then, no.”

The plan was in place. Steve remained sad, but Robin tried to call as often as she could.

But almost exactly one month later, Steve came home to Eddie packing luggage. His heart stopped for a moment.

“What are you doing?”

Eddie smiled at him, walking over to wrap his arms around him.

“Packing for our trip.”

“What trip?”

“To Italy.”

Steve’s heart started racing.

“What?”

“Gotta get you to see your girl, don’t I? She’s got a couch with our name on it.”

Steve cried for the next hour, leaving wet kisses on Eddie’s cheeks and lips as he helped pack.

When they arrived in Italy, Robin was at the airport holding the chocolates Steve so desperately wanted, but he didn’t care about in that moment.

He was back with his platonic soulmate.

—------

Being engaged wasn’t that important to Steve or Eddie. They couldn’t legally get married anyway, so what was the point of the whole song and dance of asking and wearing a ring?

They’d belonged to each other for so long, it wasn’t necessary.

But in 2003, Eddie changed his mind.

It happened because Robin said something about how marriage equality was looking more likely, like maybe she could actually marry her girlfriend who followed her back from Italy.

And Eddie couldn’t have Robin get engaged before him.

So he found a ring, just a simple gold band with a single diamond. He got it engraved to say “scar on my heart” which was the title of the first song Eddie wrote about Steve for Steve.

He made plans. He called the kids and made them swear not to say anything.

He called Robin and asked if she could be there.

But he should have known Robin couldn’t keep a secret.

“I’m just so excited!”

“For what? It’s just ice cream at the park,” Steve said curiously.

“It’s not just ice cream! It’s a big moment!”

And then she realized what she said. Eddie glared at her.

“What’s the big moment?”

Eddie sighed. He could just say Robin was being dramatic, but Steve wouldn’t buy it, not with the way she looked guilty of murder now.

“I have something to ask you.”

Maybe Steve would leave it.

“What is it? Why does Robin need to be there? Just ask me now.”

Guess not.

“Since I can never have plans that work, fine.” Eddie pulled the box out of his pocket, sending one more glare at Robin, who already had tears in her eyes. He started to drop to one knee but felt hands on his arms.

“Wait! Are you proposing to me?”

“Uh. Trying to, yes.”

Steve started laughing. Not really the reaction he was hoping for.

Then, he pulled a box from his pocket.

Robin clapped and cheered from the side while Eddie just stared in disbelief.

“What?”

“I called Robin to come this weekend so I could propose!”

“But. I called her to come!”

“You both are dinguses! Eddie called me an hour before Steve did if it matters, but you both are ridiculous.”

They looked at each other and laughed as Robin’s words sank in.

“I guess I know your answer then,” Eddie said.

“Ask me anyway.”

“Yeah, I came all this way to see proposals, give me a show!” Robin exclaimed loudly.

“You just need ideas for your girlfriend.”

“Shut up.”

Eddie turned to Steve, got down on one knee, and smiled up at him.

“We’re living in a time where we might be able to actually get married and there is nothing I want more than to be able to call you my husband. I’ve loved you for nearly 20 years, and I know I’ll love you more in the next 20, and the 20 after that. What do you say, big boy? Wanna marry me?”

Steve was crying and Eddie could hear Robin sniffling to the side.

“Yeah, I do.”

Eddie placed the ring on Steve’s finger and kissed him so hard, Robin groaned.

“Okay, my turn.”

Eddie stood up with a smirk as Steve got down on one knee.

“Eds, I’ve never been that great with words, but you’ve loved me anyway. Even when I may not have deserved it, even when it may have been hard, even before I was ready to love you back. I’m not going anywhere no matter what the law says, but I want you to wear this so you know I’m all in. Will you be all in too?”

Robin was crying harder now, but Eddie didn’t care.

He nodded and let Steve place the ring on his finger.

Then they both pulled Robin into a hug, all of them crying into each other’s shoulders.

It made sense that she was here for this. She was Steve’s other half, Eddie was just an addition, and he was fine with that.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #platonic stobin #steve's parents suck #hellfire club #el hopper #dustin henderson #erica sinclair #lucas sinclair #will byers #future fic #time skips #requests

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faeriekit · 1 year

Text

hey gang I gave in and wrote something for the Holy Ageswap, Batkid! AU after all :) :) :) :) Whoops 🦇

Alfred turns the page in the Gotham Gazette.

It looks like there’s to be a stage show at the local theater next week. A performance of King Lear—normally, he would consider attending, if only to judge from a seat in the audience, but his usual operations have largely changed in the last few months.

For one, his free time has severely decreased.

“Alfred,” a tiny voice pipes up from somewhere around his knee. Alfred sets the newspaper on the plastic picnic table.

Bruce Wayne, second grader and aspiring crime fighter, has both hands fisting Alfred’s more comfortable dress pants. The boy isn’t stellar with eye contact— based on Alfred’s research, that may never happen—but he is a remarkably clingy child, when he can bear human touch.

“Bruce.” Alfred’s greeting is just as calm. Just because the other children in the kiddie gym may be raging doesn’t mean that Bruce doesn’t prefer quieter tones. “How was your lesson today?”

Bruce bounces on the balls of his feet, his little white socks raising and lowering. “I did a front flip today,” the boy reports, pleased. “Dick said I did a good job. I have a sticker now.”

A reward. Alfred does smile; he isn’t sure that Bruce fully appreciates the item itself, but the positive reinforcement Richard provides his students is certainly appreciated just as much. “May I see it?”

Bruce pulls his sleeveless shirt forward until Alfred can see it. With his reading glasses, he can somewhat make out a little blue figure with some sort of shield.

“Ah, Captain America,” Alfred realizes. His wire frames return to his breast pocket. “No Gray Ghost, of course, but highly respectable.”

Bruce hums, and kneads the fabric trapped in his hands. Alfred knows perfectly well who Bruce’s favorite crime-fighter is; after a few movie marathons, trips to thrift shops and secondhand sales to find more tapes and merchandise, and re-readings of the novelizations, all at his new charge’s request, the preference has become clear. There is no one who reigns in Bruce Wayne’s favor above the Gray Ghost. “Dick let me pick last, so I had more time to make a decision.”

“That is very kind of your teacher. Are you ready to say goodbye for the evening?”

Bruce nods. In the same way that he is uncomfortable with eye contact, he is often uncomfortable with prolonged skin-on-skin contact, so Alfred doesn’t offer to hold his hand. Bruce keeps himself tucked away at Alfred’s side, perfectly content, with three slim fingers keeping him latched onto the edge of Alfred’s wool jacket.

They are usually one of the last to leave the gymnasium, if not the last. Bruce usually wants to report about all he’s done for his lesson, and then takes a moment to dress himself in daywear once more, all at his own pace, before they leave. It’s optional to speak to the coach on their way out, but Alfred prefers to; although he is retired, and has no intention of either returning to his field of work or introducing Bruce to it, he still appreciates supervising and evaluating Bruce’s training for its level of quality.

Richard is a fun sort of lad. Loose—in the way that young men have been, he wears his hair long and enjoys colorful fabrics. In the gym, he wears his dark hair up in a ponytail and throws cotton tees on over his shorts.

“Hey, Bruce!” Richard recognizes, and waves. Bruce silently waves back. “Ah, and you’re his guardian. Alfred, right?”

No assumed family connection. Alfred accepts the handshake. “Rightly so.”

Richard grins, white teeth and patience. “Excellent! Well, I’m happy to report that Bruce is coming along well in his class. He’s very dutiful with his exercises, and works very hard on mastering the newer tricks we learn in lessons. I’m sure he’ll be able to place up into one of the higher level classes by next year.”

Bruce, of course, is touched, and kneads the fabric of Alfred’s jacket that much harder. The little nuances of childhood’s strong emotions. Alfred will never understand them.

Richard leans down, ever so slightly. It’s not low enough to be condescending, but manages to make himself at least more equal with the height of the child. “Do you remember what we worked on today?”

“Yes!” Bruce declares, happy to have an answer he knows. “First we sat down on the mat and then you told us about how the gym is going to be closed next week because they’re replacing the climbing net and then we did our warm ups and we did butterfly legs and we stretched out our arms and then we stood up so tall—“

“Bruce has an excellent memory,” Alfred explains to a clearly flummoxed gymnastics teacher. Bruce’s recitation of events does not end. “When we get home tonight, he is going to repeat the entire lesson on his mattress. I am certain he is going to ask for gymnastic mats for Hanukkah.”

Richard laughs and laughs until he runs out of air. He surfaces with tears in his eyes. Bruce accepts a very careful high-five, swiftly changes in the single-stall family bathroom, and is escorted to the car by his older guardian. Bruce buckles himself in and hugs his gym clothes.

They drive back to Wayne manor.

“I think Dick has secrets,” Bruce announces, apropos of nothing. His feet kick against the seat.

Alfred hums. His eyes stay on the road. “Oh?”

Bruce nods. Alfred catches the last edge of the gesture in the rearview mirror. “He has a lot of big scars under his shirt, and always knows if you’re beside him. Sometimes he practices before class, and he’s really good at climbing stuff. He has big knives in his locker.”

Alfred mulls over the stated observations. Well, the observations are valid at the very least. However:

“I believe we have discussed respecting others’ personal boundaries, Bruce.” This has been a frequent point of contention.

Bruce’s huff is audible. He is no doubt crossing his arms in the back seat. “Alfred.”

“Bruce.” Alfred is firm on this point. “Your aspirations of detective work are to be admired; however, you are still eight, and could be removed from your class or otherwise fined if you are caught. Breaking into one’s personal possessions remains illegal.”

Bruce goes silent. The sound of kicking feet stops. They sit, quietly in the car, as Alfred drives them home through dingy back streets of urban Gotham.

He really only turns to face his charge once they hit a red light. “I did notice, however,” Alfred continues, half as sly and satisfied besides. “That Richard has very prominent swordsman’s calluses.”

The boy, of course, lights up. Beyond his love of Gray Ghost and learning new detective skills, Bruce loves, beyond all reason, new clues. “I saw," Bruce breathes, fists balled up as he veritably shakes in his seat. “When we high-fived! What do you think??”

Alfred rights his position for appropriate levels of concentration whilst driving. “Well,” Alfred admits. “There is no point in making any assumptions now, of course. We only have half the information.”

“Aw.”

“We can, however, perform a very thorough background check.” Perhaps it isn’t ethical to bribe young children with borderline legal methods of informational gathering, but it does keep him occupied between his school hours and his extracurriculars. Alfred will take what he can get. “Would you like to learn how to gain access to several forms of paperwork when assessing someone’s trustworthiness?”

Bruce kicks the seat again, thrilled, squeezing his little gym bag taut in his arms. He buries his face in it, overwhelmed, and only surfaces for a second to shout: “Yes!”

“Good.” Now there will be something to do after dinner. “Now, don’t forget to wash your hands before dinner. We’re having pot roast.”

“Thank you, Alfred!”

“You’re very welcome, Bruce.”

#neurodivergent kid vibes all the way arouuuuund #faer winds #this one is not batfam but it is batfam adjacent #holy age swap batman!#holy age swap batkid!#batman au #dc #Batkid!AU

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