#He was the least night like Night cat I've ever known

[mywritersmind]

CAT PARENTS - LN

pt.1

summary : A kitten is all it takes to get two strangers in the same bed for the night. Lando likes how she doesn’t know him, Olivia likes the cat that he’s trying to take from her.

warnings: just lando, olivia, and juna being cute!

word count : 1541

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“Oh my god!” I practically scream when I see the cat on the side of the road.

“Oh shit!” Someone grabs the cat before I can even get close. I look up to see who just stole this beautiful creature from me and am a bit taken aback.

He’s not too tall, but quite cute. He's got curly hair that’s cut into a baby mullet and a gray t-shirt that shows off his arms that are holding the kitten.

He blinks at me, making me realize I've been staring for probably too long, “That’s my cat.” I say quickly.

“Oh?” Fuck, he’s got an accent.

“You’re british?” I may have had a few drinks tonight, considering we are on the side of the road in Miami, the cat and the accent are throwing me off.

“You got that from one word?” He looks at me, confused, “Did you really bring your cat to go out and party in Miami?”

“I- No…” I glance back to see my friends who are still in line at the club, “But it’s the cat distribution system!” He laughs at me. LAUGHS.

What the fuck?

The cat snatcher sits on the curb, the cat pushing against him to get away. I sit next to him and snatch the cat right back. “She’s so cute!” I squeal as it stays still in my arms, meowing.

“Tell me more about this… cat distribution system.” I explain how people keep finding cats and it’s meant for them. He’s easy to convince, a good listener as well.

“Right then. I have to bring her home.” He sighs as if it’s a big issue.

“What? You mean I have to bring her home?” I hold the kitten closer to my chest, her light and dark brown fur brushing against me.

He frowns, “I found her first.”

I scoff, “She clearly likes me more. And I saw her first, you just got there quicker.”

He shakes his head, “Love, I still picked her up first.”

I furrow my brows, “Well, Love, You’re a random man and Juna and I don’t know you.” the kitten meows as if she agrees.

“Juna!? You can’t have already named her!”

“Ever heard of Clairo?”

“Okay- I’m Bob. What's your name?” He holds out his hand. I don’t take it.

“Bob?” I let out a laugh, “If you think I believe that, or would let you take Juna with that name, you’re on something.”

There’s something about the small smile he pulls that makes me feel weird and warm. He runs his hand through his hair, his ring catching the light, “My name is Lando.”

“Okay, Lando.” I roll my eyes, “Odd name but better than Bob. Why did you lie?”

His face scrunches up, “You honestly don’t know who I am?”

“Clearly not. If you’re that arrogant then I bet you’re not even known.” He smiles at this and stands up, offering me his hand.

I take it, standing and pulling down my black mini skirt as I do so. “She looks hungry.” My stomach growls at the exact time he says that. “So do you.”

I don’t know what to do. I’m staying with my friend this weekend and she is allergic to cats. I have no car and definitely not enough money to go buy things for a kitten. “Let’s go then.

I register that he’s speaking to me, “Excuse me?”

“If you won’t let me take her then we’ll have to go together.”

His words are what landed me in a pet store twenty minutes later.

I assured my friends that I would be okay and Lando made his friends prove he’s not some freak. His friends met mine and showed his instagram which made them agree way too quickly. He didn’t let me see it.

I gathered that he must be pretty famous or at least rich considering the McLaren we got into could not have been cheap. I saw him cringe when Juna had an accident in the front seat, yet he stayed quiet.

We’ve got Juna in a huge bed in the cart; food, treats, and toys surrounding her. “You never told me your name.” Lando pushes the cart down an abandoned isle, rightfully so since it is five minutes until closing.

We’ve been so busy that I honestly forgot I don’t actually know Lando.“Olivia.” I give in, “Liv, to my friends.”

“Alright Liv, are you from here?”

“Woah- we are not at friend status.” I shake my head, crossing my arms and shivering. I am still in platform boots, a mini skirt, and tube top. The few people working are shooting me dirty looks.

“Come on…” He frowns, leaning against the cart.

“Tell me your deal, then maybe I'll let you.”

“A fact for a nickname? I’m down.” He places the items, minus Juna, on the register. I explain my money situation but he doesn’t even think twice before he swipes his card. After we’re all back in the car he turns to me.

“I’m a driver.” He starts the car.

“Like a limo driver? Lando, you're not very good at this game.” Juna sleeps in my lap after she devoured a can of food and some water.

“A formula one driver…” He pulls out of the parking lot.

I know nothing about the sport except that it’s loved by my father and rich european people. “I don’t believe you.”

He eyes me and hands me my own phone that he’s carrying, “Lando Norris.” He says his last name.

“Quite the name you’ve got. Meant for fame, I fear.” He tries to hide his smile but he’s shit at it. I bite my lip and put my phone down, “I don’t want to look you up.”

“Why?”

“I want to learn about you, from you.” I shrug.

“Alright Liv…” He grins as he uses my nickname, “What do you do?”

I sigh and lean back in my seat, “I work in movies.”

“Really?”

I nod, “Yup. Mostly set design and some background stuff but one day I want to produce my own.” He listens intently, “So Lando… Why did you become an F1 driver?”

We go back and forth like this for thirty minutes until he pulls up to his hotel.

“Oh…” I look up at the fancy building, “You really want to bring a cat up there?”

He doesn’t say anything, just hands off his keys to the valet and grabs all the bags, leaving me with Juna. I’m amazed at everything we see, even the elevator is fancy with a big mirror that reminds me to wipe my under eyes that have mascara on them.

We walk to his room and as he opens the door for me my jaw drops, “Fuck, Norris.” I look around the huge room. It’s got a king sized bed, a bathroom with a tub and a shower, a couch, a huge TV, and the most beautiful view of the ocean.

“I won my first race here. Get a bit of special treatment.” he says like it’s the most casual thing ever.

He shuts the door and dumps everything onto the floor. We end up making a little space for Juna since we’re convinced we will lose her in this room.

Lando is in the bathroom when I text my friends about my night. They ask if he’s kissed me yet and I blush to myself, quickly explaining that it’s not that kind of night.

I’m laying on the floor, next to Juna when Lando walks back in, wearing only sweats. My eyes catch on his tanned and very fit body. “Forgot my jumper…” He says awkwardly, throwing on a blue dior hoodie as I look away and pretend to not have checked him out.

He lays on his stomach, petting the kitten's head and not meeting my eyes as he says, “If you wanna change, You could borrow some of my stuff.” I think I'm going to melt right there.

I check the time, “No… I really should go.” I sit up and he does with me.

“What?” he looks almost… sad? “You can’t leave Juna though.

“I know… But you can deal with a kitten alone.” I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave.

I don’t want to leave Juna.

I don’t want to leave Lando.

“Can I?” He raises a brow, “If you really want to go that’s fine. But… It’s late. And an Uber would be expensive. And it’s no trouble! Really you can take the bed.”

“Ok.” I say a bit too quick. His smile makes my heart skip a beat. Shit. Friends, Liv! Friends! Remember!? His adorable face and hilarious personality just comes as a bonus. “But you don’t have to sleep on the floor.” I laugh, “You can take the couch with Juna.”

He smiles and shakes his head, throwing a menu to me, “Order whatever, I can hear your stomach growling.”

-

note :

i love this story sm!! pt.2 coming soon!

[serene-destruction]

Oh! Listen I love Husk and I need him to have more love! Maybe a Fem!Reader x Husk x Angel. Angel Dust and Reader would be a qpr quite obviously, just besties who want to give love to a grumpy cat. Other than that I give you creative freedom!

The first request! Just for future reference, my stories are gender neutral unless otherwise plot relevant. Anyways, enjoy!

I Could Get Used To You

(GN) Reader x Husker x (Queer Platonic)Angel Dust

TW: drunkenness, vague mentions of past trauma.

Work count: 5.6k

Summary: Life in hell isn't an easy one, but it's a lot easier to get through it when you find people to care about.

You and Angel had known of each other for quite some time, given that he had often attended the bar you worked at in his early years in hell. Despite how aggressively flirtatious he was you didn't mind him as much as some of the other regulars. He at least had the restraint to make those comments in between sets or after the show. You spent the first few months mostly ignoring him, as you did with all the other patrons. That became harder, though, when he had decided to see you after the show.

“Heya sweetheart!” he called out to you as you left the bar. You rolled your eyes and held your coat a little tighter, hoping that hiding your body might get him to leave you the hell alone. You had a rough night filled with drunken idiots disrupting your show with their shameless attempts to touch you and you certainly didn't need his comments to top it all off.

“Say what you want then leave me the hell alone” you nearly growled out your words. It was hard to stay composed after having spent hours keeping that fake smile for the crowd.

“Woah! Got it, bad night” he held his hands up in a show of surrender.

“Just wanna talk” he explained, his smile a little less cocky than when he made his usual comments at the bar. Truthfully it had caught you a little off guard, considering how you had ascribed total arrogant confidence to him. So you let out a sigh, motioning him to walk with you. You just simply didn't feel like arguing and you were pretty confident that he was mostly talk. Something you could easily placate until you made it back home.

“Just to be clear, if you lay a single one of those hands on me I'm cutting all of them off” you warn and he flashes a bright, teasing smile.

“Kinky~” his voice was sing-songy as he spoke. You crossed your arms, glared, and hoped he got the point.

“Right, right. I won't touch ya” he agreed and you were able to grow a little more comfortable. Still, you remained on guard.

“Names Angel by the way” he sounded so sure of himself as he spoke, a set of hands held on his hips in a show of confidence. He had only just started his career back then, his fame in its early stages. It wasn't a surprise when you didn't recognize it.

“Y/n. Though I'm sure you already knew that” your words held an edge, your tense posture clear. But he simply nodded along.

“Yeah. Still a nice name though” his smile widened a little and, despite the minor disdain you had started with, you could see him already growing on you.

“Right…any particular reason you decided to talk to me tonight of all nights? I've seen you around the bar for a while now” you questioned him, rather curious about why exactly now of all times he wanted to suddenly meet you.

“I just wanted to let ya know you did good tonight. I get how much of a bummer pricks messin’ with your show can be.” the genuine compliment surprised you so much that you're silent for a moment. A moment too long apparently as he speaks again.

“If it means anything it was one’a my favorites so far” At that you turned and searched for some sort of humor in his eyes, maybe something that said he was lying. But when there wasn't anything you finally returned his smile with a weary one.

“Glad you enjoyed it” you took the compliment, though you still didn’t fully believe that he was being truthful. It was rare someone ever complimented you to start with, but you had yet to have someone do so without an ulterior motive.

“And y’know, that happens again tomorrow and I'll personally knock ‘em around for you, yeah?” his smile turned into a grin and you couldn't help the short laugh that left at his expression.

“If you feel so inclined. Though if anyone asks, I told you to leave the poor sods alone” you tried to make it clear that you definitely weren't supposed to be harming the clientele with how dramatic the last part of the sentence was. Luckily he seemed to get the point.

“Course. They've been gettin’ on my nerves anyway” you couldn't help but agree.

The two of you continue on with your conversation, getting to know a bit about each other's lives on the short walk. Despite his behavior at the bar, he was actually surprisingly personable one-on-one. He had a kind of natural charisma with a bit of faint genuine kindness. It was, frankly, one of the better conversations you had since you fell into hell. But all good things always come to an end. This time it was because you stopped your feet outside your residence.

“It was nice getting to actually meet you Angel” he stopped with you and you could have sworn you caught the faintest glimpse of his smile falling.

“It was nice meetin’ you too. You workin’ tomorrow?” His question surprises you a bit, but you answer anyway.

“When am I not working” you rolled your eyes, your exhaustion now easy to see. His look turned sympathetic.

“If that ain't the truth. See you tomorrow then?” He begins to walk away but stays turned to you for a response with his hand held in a finger gun motion. You can't help the bit of genuine smile that peeks through.

“As always” you answer before finally tucking into your apartment building.

You and Angel only got closer over the coming years. He would walk you home from your shows from time to time and you would entertain him with whatever story you had of the nights when he was too busy to show up. You too bonded over work and he even offered to be a dancer a few times just to rake in some more attention and get you enough to finally move up from that shit hole. But you always kindly refused, not looking for the increasing fame he carried with him.

Eventually you two even started hanging out in other places. Granted they were always other run-down shit holes given he didn't particularly want the paparazzi and fans that came from his job, but you two always seemed to make the most of it, keeping your friendship on the down low.

Until, one night, he stopped showing up.

You had become increasingly concerned after a month of him just up and disappearing. You were worried something had happened or maybe that his psychotic boss was pulling away even more of his already limited freedom. But then he showed up after one of your shows, face guilt-ridden when you went near frantic.

You were already yelling out question after question at him. Where has he gone? Was he okay? Did something happen? He had to calm you down before explaining that he had moved. You were so incredibly proud knowing that he was finally removing even just a part of himself from the work that had begun to be his entire life, though you were still a bit upset that he hadn't told you sooner.

But then he made you an offer you weren't expecting.

“You know, the hotel has an open doors rule and uh…well I was hopin’ you might…”

“Join you?” You finish the sentence for him. He turned to you with a look more nervous than you've ever seen from him.

“Look I know the place ain't exactly the best- the whole redemption thing’s a joke- but y'know I think you could get a job down there! Get away from all…all of this. Plus, y’know, I'd get to see you more often and-”

“Sounds like a plan” you stop his rambling with your answer and he turns to you with an almost bewildered look.

“Really? You sure?” He couldn't believe you would agree so quickly. You laughed at that.

“A chance to leave this shitty life behind and live with my best friend? Why would I say no? Especially if you like the place enough to recommend it” You lightheartedly shoved him and he almost gleamed with joy, his prior nervousness nothing but a thought now.

“Well shit. I thought I was gonna have ta try a lot harder than that. Had a whole pitch and everything!” he spoke with a laugh and you couldn't help but join in the joy.

You had to say the first few months at the hotel had been rough. For one, your boss didn't like the idea of you quitting very much. You were half the reason he made any money to begin with and he wasn't about to let you go so easily. So for a while you had been harassed and once nearly even killed before Alastor went and ‘dealt with this little problem of yours’. Though you suspected it was only because your boss had sent people to attack the hotel itself and less that he cared about you in any capacity.

You had managed to get a job at the hotel like Angel had said, though you felt more like a resident since there weren't ever enough people to warrant a show. But it had been more than once you were able to lift spirits with a performance, so you did still get paid. It was nice not having to work as much.

Though you would have to say, out of all the other strange people and events here, the bartender was the one that caught your eye the most. A right asshole he was, but there was still a charm he had. You two mostly only had some idle chit-chat, but Angel seemed to be getting pretty close to him, especially after he had one of his rougher nights that you hadn't been around for. Which meant you talked to the cat demon more. Never really one on one, but still you grew to see why your friend seemed so comfortable around him. He was easy to talk to. You mostly saw him as a friend of a friend though. Maybe even a good acquaintance if you wanted to push it.

But then there was that night…

Two in the morning and you still couldn't get a single wink of sleep. Tossing and turning and general frustration simply wouldn't allow you.

You couldn't get it out of your head. It had been so long since the memories had been allowed to invade your mind like they did tonight. Your skin crawled as if it wanted to escape you and if you could you would let it. You felt utterly trapped as it clung to you. Like the only escape from it was to dissolve into nothing.

You knew why the memories had come back swinging, all too aware that it was such a stupid thing to have opened that old wound. All Charlie had done was pull you to the new activity she was so excited to share. But her hands dragged you and made it impossible to pull away and when you made it to that room all the eyes fell on you. It was horrifyingly familiar in a way that it shouldn't have been. You had wanted to disappear right then.

Yet you didn't speak up and instead let her do as she pleased, knowing that it was such a mundane thing that you shouldn't have let upset you like it did. You felt childish at having let the event ruin your night, at letting the entire situation dig itself into old scars. But still, you just couldn't stop the dread it built within you. You couldn't stop that clawing feeling of trying to escape your own body. Of escaping the phantom feeling of drag and pull and the expecting eyes that felt almost as if they'd burn you alive.

It didn't take long before the feeling began to sting your eyes with tears. It was at that point you knew there would be no sleeping tonight. So you finally gave up trying, sitting up in your bed as you wiped away the tears that hadn't been given the chance to fall. You quickly composed yourself, as you were just so great at doing by this point, and tossed on a warm robe before leaving your room. You glance at Angel's door when you do.

You contemplate for a brief moment if you should wake him, though you quickly decide against it. He was tired enough as it was with the shit he had to deal with on the daily, he didn't need you keeping him up on top of that. So you turned down the hall, making sure to remain quiet so as not to disturb anyone.

You needed a distraction, something to get your mind off everything. To numb that horrible feeling. You find that nothing calls your name quite like the sound of a drink and so you navigate the many halls until you find yourself at the hotel bar.

As you suspected, the place was barren and silent. You have no problem getting behind the bar and making your own drink as it most certainly wasn't your first time. You note that you should probably try to keep the place tidy while you're at it, but decide that you'll do so after you enjoy the sweet relief at the bottom of a glass.

And, for a few short moments, you do. The warm, burning feeling spreads through your chest and purges the shivers right on out of you. But it doesn't last after the drink is finished and the silence truly sets in. So you pour yourself another, trying to chase any semblance of peace.

“Can't sleep?” A voice asks from behind you, nearly scaring you off of the barstool as you whip around to see who it was. You're surprised to see Husk of all people, even more surprised to see something that might resemble concern show on him. But you soon calm, giving a nod to him before turning back around.

“Nope…you too?” You ask, catching him rounding his way to the other side of the bar as you do.

“I prefer nights. A lot more peaceful, especially in this place” you acknowledge his comment with a hum before turning back to nursing your drink.

There is a silence between the two of you for a good few minutes. He cleans around for a while and you try to let your emotions leave you with every sip. It isn't long before you poor a third and you try to ignore the fact that this isn't helping.

It's when you go to pour your fourth drink that he stops what he's doing. You try to ignore him and whatever he's deciding to do with his time, but it becomes harder when he leans on the bar in front of you.

“That’s not gonna help you” He states plainly, your eyes turning to glance at him. There's a brief moment where you attempt to pull your facade back up. Where you try to tug your lips into a smile and choke out any words that would deter his potential questions. But it is exhausting and you are already beyond tired. So instead you hang your head.

“I know…was just hoping I'd be wrong” your words are quiet and mumbled, a far cry from your usually quite loud and charismatic self. It makes your insides twist to have let yourself be seen like this.

“Do you wanna talk about why you're up so late?” His question makes you swallow thickly, hands gripping tighter on the glass in your hand. Another few moments of silence pass that seem almost like an eternity under his stare. It takes a while for you to find any words in this state.

“It’s not worth your time” you manage the sentence, eyes fixated on the honey color of your chosen liquor. You hear him sigh, taking a step back as he pours his own drink.

“I'm the one who's askin’. If I waste my time that's my own damn fault” you don't like how hard it is for you to find the meaning in his tone. You can't tell if he's being dismissive or trying to comfort you. So you settled on answering with silence once more. You hear him sigh before he rounds the bar again.

“Look, tell me or don't tell me, but I at least want to hear you say something” this time you do hear an attempt to be genuine. He takes a seat beside you and you finally turn to look at him again. His eyes expect nothing, a rare sight for you. It's…comforting. You aren't sure if it was you or the alcohol talking, but you could have even been able to delude yourself into thinking that he cared. You look away again when you feel that false comfort begins to wrap you. You find your tongue beginning to slip.

“I…” you start and suddenly it's like your insides churn. You put nearly everything into stopping the pull of tears.

“It's just a bad night for me, is all. I…I’m not really used to this” you finally let the words fall and you can't bring yourself to look at him. You don't want to know how he's reacting to your words. You don't want to see just how little he actually cares.

“Used to what, exactly?” he pries further, asking for more. The flood gates were already open and there was no use in trying to shut them now.

“The way everyone is just so comfortable with each other- the way that I almost feel comfortable. It was easy with Angel; both of us in the same shit situation with no one else to lean on but each other. But nobody needs something from me here, nobody's trying to take anything- they don't want anything! And it- I just-...” your hands shake, your breath becoming unsteady. It's been so long since you felt this pathetic.

“I don't think I'm supposed to be here” you admit as your voice wavers. You try to steady your breath and calm yourself. It wasn't safe to be this vulnerable, it was stupid.

“I get it” his words stop your thoughts immediately. You're left reeling from the whiplash and expecting that he must have grown a second head that speaks only lies. But it's just him as he stares down at his now half-empty drink, no second head in sight. There's a look of contemplation on his face that you can see even as he keeps his eyes on the glass. A moment later he speaks again.

“When you've spent so long getting used to people treating you like shit it can be hard to accept when someone doesn't. Makes it feel like they're lyin’, like they're just waitin’ for the moment to hurt you the worst” his words quickly hit a deep part of you, knocking at known insecurities you had long since buried as deep as you could.

“Makes you paranoid too, always checking your back for snakes. Gets harder to believe anyone; harder to care about anyone a lot of the time. And so you stop caring, and suddenly it stops hurting as much” his continued words only dug deeper, tugging away at your walls like they were wet paper. When his eyes finally meet yours again you are surprised to see them soften. There isn't pity in them, nor a look that makes you feel as childish as you felt before talking to him. Instead, you are met with a knowing stare, one that says he understands this feeling all too well.

“But the thing is that doesn't mean you feel any better. Makes the suffering pointless if you don't try to let the good in too. You gotta make it mean something” he doesn't look away from you as he says those words and you can't bring yourself to turn away either. You don't want to. Because he's saying everything you needed to hear and you can't find any reason not to trust that he doesn't know exactly how this feels. That he isn't speaking directly from the heart. Your dread turns to a sinking sort of comfort. The kind only broken people could give when they reach out and pull each other from the dark. It's the most seen you've ever felt.

You feel the tears finally well in your eyes but you can't help but smile at him, a sad laugh escaping you.

“Of all the people I expected to give me a pep talk I gotta say, you weren't even on the list” you finally speak again and there is no hiding that he's hit something deep within you.

“Of all the fucked up people here, I didn't expect you would need anyone to talk to” He offers the same smile as he hand you a napkin. You take it without complaint and quickly calm your tears with deep breaths, wiping away the strays that fell. There's a short moment of silence, but it doesn't feel as suffocating anymore. In fact you almost feel a strange comfort in it now that it doesn't feel so empty. Still, you knew you should probably say something.

“You know, uh…” you break the silence as you once again turn to your drink, this time far less focused on ignoring him as much as you were trying to compose yourself enough to speak. At the very least you're able to steady your voice.

“Angel and I were going to head out tomorrow. I don't think he'd mind if you came…if you're free, of course” you invited him but didn't catch the way his smile widened at the request.

“I can't guarantee anything, but I’m not declining” his maybe is better than a no, so you don't particularly mind his answer. In fact you can feel your own smile soften at it.

Since then the three of you have been near inseparable. At any given part of the day at least two of you are off doing something with each other. It's nice, you think, to have people this close to you, to have a reason to care again. The three of you look out for each other and It's the closest you've ever gotten to stability in your life. At this point, you don't think you'd trade it for anything.

Which is why when you start to develop feelings for Husk, you are utterly horrified.

You know him and Angel have…something going on. You know they're not together as you know you would have been the first to know, but you've also never seen Angel smile the way he does when he's around the winged demon. You would say the same for Husk, but you've caught him sending the same soft smile to you once or twice and you honestly can't tell if it's your lovestruck daze or if those smiles are what you think they are.

Your emotions are a spiraling mess within you. You care so much for both of them. You'd live through a thousand hells if it meant you'd have them around. The absolute last thing you want is to fuck this up.

So you choose to say nothing. You bottle your feelings and throw them in the garbage. As far as you were concerned being in their afterlives at all was good enough. You wouldn't risk it.

However, it became hard during nights like these. When you all were giddy off alcohol, conversation flowing through wide smiles and every touch as gentle as it could ever be. It was the definition of home, a place where you were the most comfortable you could possibly be. Your tongue loose and your actions anything but hidden. Your care poured from you openly and only so much could be blamed on the alcohol.

“I fucking love you guys” the words fell shamelessly from you. Granted you were pretty fucked up by this point as you tried to keep up with them, but it wasn't more than you could reasonably handle without blacking out. They both turned to you, inebriated smiles sending themselves your way.

“Love you too, sweetheart” Angel returned, one of his hands patting your head, a wider smile spreading on your face as he did. You leaned against the bar, your head propped up by one of your hands as you turned to Husk. You just barely notice the way he leaned ever so slightly closer. But he says nothing and you can't help but feel like you deserve at least an acknowledgement of your words from him.

“I'd be happy to show you if you don't believe me” the words slipped and once more you didn't notice what you were saying. You do, however, catch his eyes widen, pupils dilating a bit. When he continues to say nothing you roll your eyes and pull back just slightly. You don't catch the way he almost follows you before he pulls himself back, nor the stare Angel is giving from beside you.

“One of these days I'll get you to say it back” you speak before downing yet another shot. You miss the quick glance they give to each other.

“It’s getting late. We should probably head to bed” Angel suggests as he stands.

“Really?” You whine mostly to yourself.

“You two go ahead. I have to clean up anyway” Husk gives his excuse and you groan but ultimately agree to the end of your night. You take one of Angel's hands as the both of you begin your stumble down the halls. The two of you are a giggling mess against each other, nearly falling about twenty separate times, but you do eventually make it to your room. You quickly notice that he hesitates on his goodbyes though.

“Hey uh, can we…talk?” He asks and, though you are a bit surprised it doesn't show.

“Of course!” You agree, opening your door and allowing him inside your room. You make it to your bed where you both quickly sit, unable to stand unsupported for long.

“What's up?” You ask, bleary eyes turning to him. You have to admit you're a little worried, but you hope that whatever he wants to talk about isn't too serious.

“You and Husk are gettin’ pretty close” his words don't strike you at first, so you give him a smile.

“Yeah. Same for you” you comment and watch a wave of confusion hit him.

“What?” He seems to almost not Believe the words that have left you and it takes you a moment to realize why.

“Oh come on Angel, don't tell me you haven't noticed how he looks at you! With that little smile of his- and don't you think I've missed you staring either! You two are absolutely thirsty for each other” Your voice is louder than you notice. When he quickly tries to quiet you down you fall back onto your bed with a laugh, trying to escape his hands. He continues to reach out anyway and so you pull him down with you, eventually sending the both of you into another giggle fit.

“Could say the same for you” Angel speaks through his laugh, though there is a hesitance to it. You can't hide the way the implication catches you.

“You think so?” You ask cautiously, almost worried as you turn to look at him, his body beside yours.

“Yeah…Yeah I do” he replies just as slowly, the air in the room becoming tense in the sudden silence. It was a longer silence than you would have liked, both of you turning your eyes to the ceiling in contemplation of the words you both had spoken.

After a moment Angel sits up a bit, just enough to lean his head against his hand and look down at you.

“I love him. Like a whole fuckin’ lot and…I love you too. You’re the best friend I could’a eva asked for in this shithole” he admits and you can't tear your eyes from him. He, however, can't bear to look at you.

“And I was hopin', maybe, if you'd like ta…well if you'd wanna share him with me. If he even does feel that way about us” the words leave his lips ever so carefully and you can't help the wide smile that breaks across your face, all your previous worry disappearing. You reach a gentle hand out, his eyes finally turning back to yours when it lands on his face.

“I'd love that” you let the words leave and watch as he lights up, smile soft and worry dissipating by the second. Then suddenly an idea pops into your head, a mischievous smile crawling to your lips.

“Oh no, I know that look. What are you plannin’?” He asks, amusement overtaking any attempts to look worried. You quickly sat up, pulling him along with you.

“Well Mr. Grouchy Pants likes to walk by my door whenever he needs extra cleaning rags and personally I think he should be going to bed” you explain as you stand on still shaky legs. Angel doesn't seem to catch on for a moment before suddenly realizing what you mean.

“You ain't gonna do that” Angel says oh so confidently. He must have failed to account for how much bolder you are when drunk, because you most definitely plan to. In fact you hear stumbling feet making their way right about now. So you open the door, catching the attention of a certain winged cat almost immediately.

“Still working?” you ask. He has to blink a few times to catch up with the situation and you know then that drank a bit more after you guys left.

“Yeah” he answers simply. A moment later Angel is behind you, peaking out as well. He leans two arms against you for balance and Husk gives both of you a look.

“You ain't makin’ it down the hall like that. You look like you're about ta pass out” Angel points out and Husk turns back to him, almost offended.

“I'm not that drunk, sweetheart” the nickname catches you off guard and Husk seems just as surprised at what just came out of his own mouth.

“Oh? We’re doing pet names now kitty?” you tease a little and he looks utterly floored by the nickname. It sends a grin across Angel's face.

“Yeah kitten, since when did that happen?” Angel's voice is even more teasing than yours and Husk seems completely out of his depth. Every word he tries to speak dies before it leaves his lips. Eventually, he tips his hat down and tries to leave.

“I gotta go to bed-” before he gets too far you manage to snag one of his suspender straps, gently pulling him back a bit. He follows, knowing he would probably fall if he didn't.

“You should stay with us for the night” you offer and watch as his eyes shoot wider than you've ever seen them. He goes to speak but you cut him off before he can say a word.

“Mind out of the gutter. We’re just going to sleep’” you clarify and hear Angel whine a bit. You quickly nudge him and he stops, accepting that there would be nothing else tonight. But, while Husk's face seems a little less horrified, he still hesitates.

“Please?” You ask in as sweet a tone as you can manage. You watch as he uses the last of his resolve to attempt to answer no, but when Angel leans down near you and offers the same pleading look, he simply can't.

“Fine” he mumbles out with his arms crossed. Without a word you tug him inside, the door shutting as the three of you stumble your way back. Each one of you managed to bump or knock the others at least once as you all did your best to make it into bed.

At some point you and Angel are on the bed and Husk is still hesitating to follow. He's only allowed a moment before Angel reaches out and pulls him, his body landing heavily on the two of you with the strings of curses that follow. You all struggled to find your spots, moving and squirming to get comfortable. Your blankets are tossed and tugged to cover the three of you until, finally, you all seem to all be covered. It's then that idle talk arrives, slurred attempts at conversation that distract long enough for you all to get comfortable.

It wasn't a surprise Husk ended up in the middle, the two of you shamelessly cuddling up to him on either side. He's a bit tense for a while, but when he does allow himself to calm down and relax he is a purring mess; a sound that is only intensified when you absentmindedly pet the fluff on his head. Eventually all of you become quiet, eyes heavy with a need for sleep and the most comfortable you all have ever been. It's during this, moments away from drifting off, that husk manages two words.

“Love you” he slurs out, but to who neither you are Angel are sure. So instead you take it as a sentiment meant for both of you. You lay a soft kiss against his head before snuggling closer and Angel does the same.

You could definitely get used to this.

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ SPIDER-MAN ≠ CAT-MAN.

fandom. marvel

pairings. miguel o'hara x civilain gn!reader

content warnings. sfw, sleeping/napping/cuddling with miguel, miguel purrs because he's literally half spider, not edited/proofread

word count. 0.6k

notes. so, i've read a spider-man fic some time ago, where it was mentioned that peter could purr. and then i googled and would you look at that, some spiders can actually purr. this is the end result of my research

[Male wolf spiders vibrate dead leaves to create purring noises and court females. The right kind of “purr” makes a female wolf spider go weak at the joints… Biologists have known for awhile that wolf spiders can make songs that humans can hear… However, wolf spiders don’t have ears themselves— at least in the traditional sense.] Helen Thompson, Smithsonian Magazine

The first time it happens, you’re half asleep. Snuggled close to Miguel, his arms wrapped around your body and completely engulfed by his calming presence, it doesn’t take long until your eyes slowly close. You don’t fight against it, sleeping with him, close and in your bed, helps you to calm your nerves and get a good night of sleep. 

Miguel has long fallen silent, his grumbles about his work no longer heard, now he’s just watching how you slowly but surely fall asleep, hidden beneath your covers and curled up against him. All the tension falls off his shoulders, seeing you so calm and safe in his arms, his tight muscles loosening, until he’s completely relaxed. It’s then, in this moment of peace, where his chest starts to rumble, it’s then, minutes after your eyes have fallen shut, when he starts to purr. He doesn’t stop it, only presses you closer, fully knowing what it means. 

And you? You must be dreaming, probably about a big, fluffy cat, why else would Miguel purr? It’s a really nice dream, you only press your face closer to the calming vibrations and let yourself drift off. 

You don’t see Miguel’s soft smile, you don’t feel what he feels— the happiness spreading in his body, the amount of love he holds for you about to burst. He knows, oh he knows, you’re the one, his true love, never has he ever purred in another person’s presence. And so he cradles your body against his, promising himself that he will keep you safe and love until he dies. 

The second time it happens, well, the first time you actually realize what’s happening, you’re cuddling with Miguel again. He runs warm, almost feverish, so in your eyes, Miguel is the perfect personal heater. You tease him about it, of course you do, and he flashes his fangs at you— and yet, when you finally lay your head on his chest, right above his heart, when your laughter smoothed over to giggles until you only smile, then… then Miguel cradles your head, murmurs how much he loves you and you melt against him. 

It’s so rare, these gentle moments, both of you’re too busy with your lives, so when he holds you like this— gently, as if you would break any moment, and yet so close, almost bruising, as if you would slip from his arms the moment he lets go. And it’s then, when you listen to his calming heartbeat, it’s then, when you hear and feel it. 

The rumbling chest, noise vibrating against your ear, the sound escaping his parted lips. Purrs. Your eyes widen, your heart skips a beat and you try to hide your giddiness. Anything to not make him stop, stop him from purring. It sends goosebumps down your arms, a slight shudder going through your body— 

Of course he notices how you try to hide it, your new gained knowledge. He just grumbles, the purring coming to an uncomfortable stop and you hold your breath. But then it slowly picks up again, Miguel’s arms around you hugging you closer, while you listen to the soft noises he makes. 

Who knew he had Wolf Spider DNA in him…

taglist. @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @auraxins , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @lupicalbestwolf , @bladiekisser , @verxsyon

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

ARKHAM MAID 2023

[leclerc-s]

track 001. …ready for it?

blurb masterlist // next

❝ wondered how many girls he had loved and left haunted ❞

daniel ricciardo was a private person, you could ask anyone on the paddock if the australian was single and they would all answer, “not a clue.” he wasn’t the type to brag about his recent flings or how many girls he slept with. but to be fair, that wasn’t a statistic some drivers wanted out there.

when they first met daphne wondered why someone like him would have such a private life. what skeletons could he possibly be hiding? it left her with a few questions, like how many girls had he been with? how many hearts had he broken? how many of them had he left haunted, wondering with the possibility of what if? was daniel ricciardo going to be the worst heartbreak imaginable in her life?

❝ younger than my exes but he act like such a man, so, i see nothin’ better, i keep him forever ❞

she knew all about heartbreak and being left haunted by previous lovers. even now, years after her relationship with a specific someone, she felt the repercussions of it. she had tried dating someone 5 years younger than her and that also ended in heartbreak. note to self and to the people, maybe don't date someone who was previously on a talent show/boyband and known for being flirty.

daniel was older than her by a few months and if everyone knew, they'd immediately jump to conclusions about them and him. it was a vicious cycle daphne and her former lovers faced. the media always thought they knew her or her former lovers. but daphne knew there was nothing better than loving daniel ricciardo.

daphne jones had been in love before, but it had never been like this. it had never been so mind consuming, this love consumed her completely. he might've been younger than her recent ex-boyfriend, but there was nothing better than him, she wanted forever with him.

❝ in the middle of the night, in my dreams, i know i'm gonna be with you, so i take my time ❞

nights were always difficult for her, mae argued she was probably an insomniac. daphne wouldn't argue, but she simply couldn't sleep because she had too many thoughts running through her head. although, maybe that was the textbook definition of an insomniac. daphne couldn't help it, it wasn't her fault that her thoughts consumed her completely at night. in the middle of night, usually when daniel wasn't and she only had her cats to keep her company was when it got the worst.

but in her dreams, when she was able to sleep, she dreamt of daniel. it made her feel like a teenager in love again. she didn't want to rush this relationship, she wanted to take her time, get to know who daniel ricciardo truly was. if she rushed things, they would be doomed to never work out, they would be a flame that burnt too quickly, something neither of them wanted. they would take things slow, with her schedule and his demanding race schedule, they'd find the time for each other. perhaps, that's why they became best friends before ever falling in love with each other, or at least that's what the case was for daphne.

❝ every love i've known in comparison is a failure, i forget their names now ❞

daphne wasn't going to say she good at love, she had failed many times, or so the media says. she wasn't perfect, she had made mistakes, some bigger than others. but she knew one thing, every other love felt like a failure compared to daniel ricciardo. loving him made her forget the name of every person she had dated before him. she wasn’t quieter sure if that was a good thing or not, only time would tell.

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strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! first blurb complete! yay! i'm not quite sure about the formatting for this just yet but i think i'm just going to pick lyrics out and write about the ones that i picked out. like i said, i don't know just yet.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[preet-01]

I've had this idea for a few days. Batman Max/Catwoman Daniel

When Max decided to don the cowl and cape, he’d done it to protect the city he’d grown up in. For the most part at least.

Gotham ran rampant with crime — mob bosses, crime lords, and costumed villains alike ran around causing havoc. The GCPD and district attorneys did the best they could, but corruption was more common than one would think. So Max had become the protector that the city needed.

By day, he was the elusive, playboy billionaire with more money than anyone ever needed. If Max Verstappen wasn’t off doing some rich person extreme sport, then he was believed to be in his empty manor with a new flavor of the week. And by night, much to the chagrin of Alfred, he was vengeance personified. A demon bringing fear into the eyes of Gotham’s rogues gallery.

But for all he caught the Joker, Scarecrow, Harley, Ivy, Penguin, Riddler, and all the various other rogues that weren’t actually deadly but more like nuisances that would ruin a perfectly gloomy day with their antics (particularly Condiment King or fucking Calendar Man), one rogue always seemed to evade him.

Catwoman.

He’d heard conflicting rumors about the cat burglar, but one thing remained consistent — the Cat was drawn to shiny things. And despite all the doom and gloom that Gotham was known for, there were countless shiny things for the Cat to steal.

He gets his chance to catch the Cat when there's a new museum exhibit opening. He doesn't go to the museum, no Catwoman is smarter than that. Well, Max hopes that Catwoman is smarter than that because otherwise, Max has been unable to catch an idiot.

Instead, Max heads over to the mayor's mansion. The mayor's wife had recently been in the news for buying a new diamond necklace. it was ostentatious in Max's opinion, but with the new diamond necklace resting on the mayor's wife's neck, then the rest of her jewels would be back at the mansion.

_____

Max is crouched in the shadows as a man dressed in a black skintight suit and cat-shaped cowl sneakily enters the mayor's mansion.

He doesn't make a move until Catwoman (or is it Catman? He'd only heard Catwoman from other Gothamites and talk about how Catwoman's childbearing hips. He would have to ask about that) leaves the mansion.

With his grappling hook, Max swings over to the roof that Catwoman is using for his escape.

"That isn't yours," Max growls, thankful for the voice modulator he uses these days.

"Haven't you heard, darling, finders keepers," Catwoman drawls. His lips quirk up in a smirk. "I was wondering when the Dark Knight would honor me with his presence," he continues on, raking his eyes down Max's body.

"Honor?" Max questions, no rogue was honored by his presence. Terrified? Yes. Manic? Almost always. But never honored.

"Oh, definitely an honor, Batsy," Catwoman retorts. "And as much as I want to explore this, I've got brand new pearl necklaces to try on."

"You know I can't let you leave with those," Max states. He's got a batarang in hand.

"A shame, darling," he sighs and jumps off the building, "until next time!" He yells. To Max's surprise, Catwoman lands on all fours like an actual cat would.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

22. "Show me how much you need me" and a kink huh..... Maybe...begging? or choking? Idk have some fun!

(I'm still in the process of writing my comments for network btw it was just to good and I've fallen in love with it, so thankyou for writing it and sorry the comment is taking so long!)

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: E

Contents: Catboy!Dabi, mating cycle/heat, begging, implied marathon sex, sex toys, multiple orgasms, petplay, feminization

Dabi's life is a joke. Some sick, cruel god thought it would be funny to make a creature that wasn't made to survive and then Dabi spent every second fighting against that asshole's will to make it anyway. And it always sucked. Want a great quirk, kid? Too bad, burn on a mountain. Oh, you survived that? Replaced and homeless. Huh, you're still alive, and you've managed to get a good thing going with a little found family of criminals? Oops, you're a cat now. 

Because yeah, in the middle of the skirmish in Deika, Dabi had gotten blasted by a wayward quirk during his fight with Geten. And he's a cat now. Or more accurately, he's a heteromorph now. He was lucky he didn't get a big lungful of the gas because it would have turned him entirely into a cat if he had. What's less lucky is that the retractable claws, slitted pupils, fangs, tail, and extra ears are permanent now. Should have worn off after a couple of hours, but according to Ujiko, due to the skin grafts and treatments he received in his coma, you know, when he'd been considering turning him into a nomu, his body was more susceptible to changes like this. Which was the doc's nice way of saying he'd fucked around with Dabi's DNA and made his cells ready to receive some new code, but he'd escaped the hospital before that happened and this quirk had gone and filled in the blanks. And without extensive gene therapy that would take months, if not years and may prove fatal, Dabi was stuck like this. He's a cat now. Fuck his life. 

That's not to say being a cat is all bad. He definitely hadn't wanted to be a cat. But the inhanced senses are nice, and holy fuck does fish taste better now, plus getting pet is awesome-- even if Tomura is the only one he lets do it because it makes him purr like an idiot. Of the curveballs he's been thrown in life, this one has been one of the least horrendous, so he sucks it up and moves on with his life. And everything is pretty normal for the most part. They get things resituated with the PLF, he adjusts, and things are actually better for the League than they have been, possibly ever.

Until he starts waking up at night with the others pounding on his door telling him to shut up. Actually, they had been nice about it the first couple of times, asking if he was hurt or having nightmares or something, but he hadn't known what the fuck they were talking about. Absolutely thought they were gaslighting him as some kind of prank before Toga showed a recording of his door, and the awful loud feline yowls that had been coming out from the room, cutting out only after she pounded on it to wake him up. He has no idea why he's been, apparently, screaming in his sleep. He hasn't even had all that many nightmares lately, certainly not often enough to account for a solid week of screaming. 

He also starts to have the urge to rub his cheeks against things. His phone, his pack of cigs, the pillows in his and Duster's bedroom, the rest of the League. Keeps getting distracted and nuzzling against them, which they're being better sports about than the yowling thing. Even if he does hiss at them when they try to pet him while he's doing it. Usually snaps out of it at that point and excuses himself to be mortified elsewhere. He also keeps finding himself outside. Just walking. Keeps catching himself trying to scent the air like he's looking for something, and it doesn't do him any good. He can't find what he's looking for and he ends up back in the villa incredibly cranky and angry that he's going back to an empty bed. And then the cycle starts again. It's so bad and strange, that when Duster is finally finished with his latest round of treatments, Dabi goes to the doctor's lab to pick him up, just so he can see him as soon as possible. 

He gets there and finds Ujiko in the tank room with their new batch of High Ends, his lover out of sight. "Ah, he's sleeping off the sedation from his last treatment. Once he wakes you two are free to go." Dabi is about to go find somewhere to sulk until then, but reluctantly asks instead, 

"Been feeling weird lately, Doc, you got a minute?" Not thrilled that the mad scientist who was preparing to make him a monster is his only source of medical attention, but he's Dabi's only source of medical attention so he's going to suck it the fuck up. 

"Of course!" Hates how excited the mad doctor sounds about that and takes Dabi to one of the actual rooms and makes him sit on the table like he is a real doctor and Dabi is in for a normal check-up. The doctor draws blood, goes through the usual steps, and Dabi tells him about the weird cat behaviors that he's been dealing with lately while one of his weird advanced machines processes his blood. He doesn't like the way that his brows creep higher and higher as he speaks, but Ujiko just tells him, "Let's see what your bloodwork says." 

When that's ready, he reviews it and makes those humming 'ah fascinating' sounds the whole time which only serves to make dabi more irritated, his ears pinning back and tail flicking as his claws bite into his pants. 

"It seems as though you may be experiencing a... heat of sorts soon." 

Of every fucking thing that the doctor could have said to him, that is not one that Dabi would have guessed in a million years. "A what?" His brain reboots quickly, "That's not possible, aren't heats for girl cats?" 

Ujiko hums in agreement. "They are. Traditionally male cats don't have a mating cycle as such-- but they can react to a female cat's hormones even from quite a distance. There are other feline heteromorphs, it's possible that you're reacting to those pheromones, someone may be bringing more in through the villa, or, perhaps," and his tone changes to a little more careful in a way that sets every one of Dabi's nerves on edge. "There is some behavior or stimulus that you have been in contact with frequently that has had a... placebo effect, making the newly accepted cat DNA a bit confused about which behaviors it should be exhibiting in regards to sexual presentation." 

Dabi is about to make him fucking elaborate on that when the door opens and Duster comes in. Always is a bit paler after spending a week with the doctor, but he's dressed and got his prosthetics on, so he's probably ready to go. Blinks when he sees him. "Firefly, what are you doing here?" 

That's it, my pretty pussy, purr for me. 

Such a good girl, kitten. Taking my cock so well. 

Needy little thing, arching your back so cute. Pushing out your pretty tits. Just begging to be fucked full, aren't you, princess? 

"I'm going to murder you." He says in loo of anything else. And Ujiko just clears his throat and moves along with Duster's pre-discharge check-in. 

///

They get back home and go through work with Dabi hissing and snarling at Shigaraki any time he speaks to him. Duster, for his part, once Dabi had told him what the doctor said to him, had just looked vaguely amused about the whole situation. And the worst part is, the doctor was definitely right about the pseudo-heat. Because as soon as Shig is back, even though Dabi wants to be very, very justifiably angry with him, he's immediately so horny that it's distracting. When he's not actively snarling at his lover while they're in catch-up meetings, he's biting the insides of his cheeks bloody to keep from purring at him, or yowling, or trying to rub up against him to put his scent on him. And he's barely keeping himself from getting noticeably hard the longer the meetings go on. He's going to lose his mind if they aren't finished with this soon. 

It's a big surprise when, instead of him breaking and just forgetting the other lieutenants are very much in the room in favor of climbing right into Tomura's lap, that it's Toga who suddenly gives a loud, agonized groan and whines, with her hand covering her nose, "Can we please be done now?" And he realizes abruptly that her sense of smell is as strong as his. He hisses at Duster for making this situation even more mortifying. Shig looks between the two of them with clear amusement and concedes, dismissing everyone with a wave of his hand. Then he stands and gestures for Dabi to follow. If he weren't fucking gagging for it, Dabi would have told him to fuck off. Instead he immediately follows after him, an embarrassing feline whine slipping out of his throat in plain earshot of all of his co-workers. Spinner and Twice start to howl with laughter, but he's gonna have to kill them after he gets Tomura to rearrange his guts. 

As soon as the door to their room is shut, Dabi is pressing up against his lover. Loud, needy yowls leaving him as he rubs his cheeks against Tomura’s, against his neck, over his shoulders. And he's already hard just from the press of their bodies and the smell of his lover in his nose. Can't stop himself from grinding his cock against him too so he can feel how badly he needs it. 

"Oh, kitten," mewls so loudly when his hand goes to his hair, scratching nails just right around the base of one of his secondary ears. "After how rude you were before--" 

"Tomura," he whines. 

Catches his ear and gives a mean little tug. Just enough to hurt, and that almost makes Dabi's legs drop out from under him, his arousal spikes so sharply. Barely been alone for a minute and Dabi is so desperate that he'd happily cum in his pants, fucking his lover's thigh just to get some relief. "You really are just a needy whore, a bitch in heat, aren't you, princess?" 

"Yes, sir," he agrees immediately. His whole body feels hot. Not the way his quirk normally makes him, but in a tingly way that is making an ache expand out across his skin. Centered at his-- he gives a mortified little mew. Oh god, he's empty and that hurts. He needs Sir's cock inside of him. Needs his cum inside. 

Tomura's smiling at him, that lazy, mean smile that already turns him on nearly past the point of coherency when he's not in some animalistic state of mind. "Show me how much you need me, kitten." And Sir steps out of his space, watching him expectantly. 

Show? His mind feels hazy. He can do that though, he can show his mate how badly he needs him. His hands are shaking as he starts to shrug out of his clothes, made even harder because he can't put away his claws, but he manages to start shedding layer after layer until he's naked as he moves as fast as he can over to their bed. He's frantic as he grabs their lube and yowls loudly when he sees Tomura taking his sweet time to come over to the bed, chuckling as he undoes his tie. Fine. Dabi scrambles onto the mattress, trying his best to make his claws go away, but when he can't he gives up. Gets on his knees, spreading his legs wide, his tail pressing up along his back, and his shoulders and face against the sheets. His cock is throbbing and dripping a steady stream of pre, so much that he's already making a puddle on the bed. He whimpers loudly and uncaps the lube. Can't open himself up with his claws out, but he still spreads it over his hole. The first touch of fingers there makes him moan desperately and nearly forgets himself in the need to be fuller. Only is stopped from tearing himself open because Tomura's hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him gently away. 

"Oh, kitten, that badly?" 

It's all so overwhelming. He's never felt like this before. Is a slave to the needs of his messed up body again. Dabi can't help it. He lets out a weak sob, nodding his head as bloody tears slip down his cheeks. Tomura makes a soft worried sound, but then there's the rustling of fabric and the mattress dips. He presses along the length of Dabi's body, peppering kisses to the back of his neck. "Okay, princess, you're being such a good kitty, I'm going to help."

 And then there are fingers against his hole. Dabi purrs as they sink inside of him, trying to sniffle and choke away the tears. But he needs it so badly. Normally the stretch of his mate's fingers is needed before he can have anything else, but he needs to be full. His fingers aren't enough right now. Dabi rocks back against them, mewling and making a whole litany of feline sounds in his desperate need to be given what he really wants. Gasps, and whimpers, and sobs louder when Tomura shushes and pets him, kisses along his back, wraps his hand around his cock and starts to stroke him slowly and deliberately. But it's not enough, and Dabi accidentally sinks his claws into the back of his hand when he reaches to get his touch away from there. He needs more in his cunt, not that. Just needs to be fucked full. Get his mate's cum so deep inside of him, oh, just the thought has him meowing pitifully. 

"My pretty kitten," definitely worried now. "Are you hurting, baby?" 

Dabi manages to nod with another sob and Tomura coos and shushes him, fingers pulling out of his needy body much sooner than he normally would think necessary to take his big cock and the rough fucking Dabi needs so, so badly right now. "I'm going to help you feel better," he promises. "Going to give you exactly what you need, princess." 

And he finally, finally does. Tomura fucks him hard, Dabi purring and rocking back into every movement, pleasure so sharp it hurts, he can feel it pulsing everywhere in a symphony that sends his human mind so far away he can't do anything but let his instincts drive. His claws sink into the sheets, past them, into the mattress, and the sounds coming out of him are all animal. They don't mean anything to his mate, but to him, they're a constant spill of his desperate need. They echo around his skull, begging to be mated, to be fucked so full, to have his mate's cum pumped deep inside of him over, and over, and over again until he knows for certain that he's been fully bred. Dabi doesn't cum until he feels Tomura's release splashing wetly against his walls, and then he immediately collapses onto the bed, into the wet spot, fingers going to his now empty hole, wanting to keep as much of his cum inside as possible-- and only then realizes that that wasn't enough. That it didn't feel right as he pulled himself so quickly off of his mate's softening cock. It should have hurt. Something human tries to float up to tell him that, no it should not have, but his feline brain is positive it should have. That if it didn't then that means it wasn't right. He needs it again. 

He manages to get it another three times before his exhausted body gives out, but he's still not satisfied. It still felt wrong. And by the time Tomura has cleaned him up, even licking at his cheek to try and get him to purr, and put him into their clean bed, he's mewling weakly and crying again softly. 

Whatever amusement Duster had over the situation is long gone now as he pets him and holds him close, rubbing their cheeks together. "Dabi, can you tell me what's wrong? I can't help if you don't use your words, kitten." 

He sniffles, pressing in closer. "Wrong, n-not full enough. Hurt, Tomura--" stops with another loud yowl.

"What hurts, sweetheart?"

He shakes his head. "Need it, should hurt." And that makes Tomura tense against him, holding him a little tighter. But he keeps stroking his hair, soothing him, until Dabi falls into a fitful sleep. 

///

He wakes up screaming for it again, looking immediately for his mate, but he doesn't have to. Tomura is climbing back into bed with him, and pressing gently between Dabi's shoulder blades. He immediately drops back onto the mattress, pushing his ass up the way he'd presented before. Oh! There's already something inside of him. It's not very big, but it's there, and his mate eases it out of him, letting Dabi feel that he's wet already too. He purrs like a chainsaw when he realizes that means he can have his mate's cock immediately. Tomura starts to press inside and Dabi sucks in a sharp breath. 

And then he moans so loudly he nearly loses his voice. Tomura's cock is perfect. It's so big, always big, but it has a different texture now something that's just the right amount of sharp so that as he fucks into his pliant, desperate body, it hurts the way he'd needed it too. He purrs so loudly, losing himself to how right it feels now to be bred by his mate. 

Manages to cum much more easily than he did before, and when he's all filled up with his mate's cum, his hole aches as he pulls out and that sensation quells his intense need. He's able to roll over and sees that Tomura is wearing a neon green cock sleeve, littered with modest spikes along the whole length of it. 

"Whuh?" He manages very intelligently. His mate leans down and gives him a kiss. 

"Read up on cat behaviors, thought this might help. Was that better, kitten?" 

Wraps his arms around his neck so that he can arch and rub their bodies together from head to toe, tangling their scents all together as he purrs and nods. 

Tomura kisses his cheek, and then rubs them together, making Dabi's purrs go even louder as his tail coils around one of his legs, as if he could get him any closer without having him back inside of him again. "When this passes we can stop playing with feminization, firefly. Make sure it doesn't happen again. I'm sorry." 

Dabi shakes his head. "Don't want to stop. Like being your pretty kitten," just the thought has his cock starting to swell again and his hole tightening unhappily on how empty he currently is. "But if I get pregnant I'm killing us both. No hesitation, Shigaraki." 

Duster chuckles, "I checked in with the doctor again, not a possibility unless you grow a lot of new organs, baby. You haven't felt any intense abdominal or pelvic pain?" 

"Uh-uh," 

"Then you're fine. Just going to keep being needy for a... little while." 

And the change in his tone pulls Dabi a little out of the contented floaty place he was at. "'A little while'? How long is that, Duster?" Tomura winces slightly. "Tomura Shigaraki," He demands a little more harshly. 

"...Could be a whole week, kitten." 

"You are very lucky that I need your dick in me again, or I would kill you." 

"I'm sorry, firefly--" "Dick, right now, Duster!"

Thanks for submitting! Consider leaving a comment, they help to keep the typing box going!

[aromaticpetals]

I was gonna send this without being an anon but then i thought about it and realized there is absolutely no way im letting anybody see my depravity when i dont even have a side account lmao

How are you doing on this fine day? I hope you are well. I saw the request thing and decided to submit a little something.

If you do afab!reader×male character, may I reuqest a size difference+wedding night/breeding kink hc with itto, ayato and thoma (seperately)? I tried to write it myself before but it ended horribly 💅

- 💫 anon

AHHHHHH TYSM FOR BEING MY 1ST REQUEST 💫 ANON!!!!

To answer your question, I'm doing okay! My cat has been a bit chaotic tho..

I'll be honest, I've never considered doing reader x male char. cause Idk what I'm doing half the time if it has nothing to do with women😭 But I can at least try! (I did get the headers done so I might as well at this point and Idek if it can be considered a hc..) Btw, I was laughing my ass off while making this cause it don't rlly make sense

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎! Size diff and breeding 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀.. 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 too! IT'S JS 𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒😭 (Possibly not suitable for those under the legal age!)

𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙊 was proud to have caught such a beaut' like you, let alone marry ya! Of course, Shinobu gave you an entire book on how to care for Itto, she called it the "Boss's baby rules" since, well.. He did act like a man-child from time to time... But let's put that fact aside! The whole gang was happy that their boss got married to someone like you! (Without you by Itto's side, he probably would have gotten into 𝘸𝘢𝘺 more trouble with Kujou Sara..)

It was the night of y'all getting married and you couldn't lie, you were as happy as the Archons would let you be, although Itto had been acting a little.. Off? Fortunately, your now husband had managed to snap you out of your thoughts by bringing you his signature dish and announcing it with his loud vocals. "𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙖 𝙜𝙤, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙚! 𝘼𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞 𝙉𝙪𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙤 𝙐𝙣𝙤 𝙄𝙩𝙩𝙤'𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙝, 𝙒𝙖𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜!" he proudly stated, handing you the plate before taking a seat next to you on your shared futon. You immediately pushed all second thoughts away as the savory scent of the dish filled your nostrils, trying to decide whether you should've scarfed it down or not. As he watched you eat, you could've sworn you saw a certain glint in his eyes! Unfortunately for you, you should've known that on the night of getting married to him, he'd want to do some rather.. Energy draining activities!

Just a few moments later: you laid there on the futon, stripped of both your dignity and clothing, he stared down at your small form with a.. lustful glint in his eyes. Before you knew it, you were seated in his naked lap, feeling his hardened member press against your rear as he whispered sweet words into your ear, his large hands almost touching when he wrapped them around your waist! You couldn't help the feeling that darted downwards to the area between your legs as he continued with his sweet words and light touches, making it seem as though he was afraid you'd break if he were to tighten his grip.. You could feel yourself getting wetter bit by bit, his words making you feel as though you were going to turn into a flustered and worked-up mess! Just as you were about to shift to get comfy, he quietly growled in your ear, saying "Don't move, babe, let me do all the work..". Of course, you hadn't expected him to lift you up and hover you over his member after he had said that, making you realize that it had spikes on it.. (You had completely forgotten that you were dating an Oni, not some douchebag that paid you to sleep with him-) Now, of course, in public he was the coolest dude you had ever dated! But behind closed doors, he was actually such a pure sweetheart.. As you got stuck in your thoughts, you were unaware that he forced you onto the tip of his member, the stretch tossing your thoughts into the gutter once more as you let out a small squeak, shifting in his lap to try and adjust. Your welcoming walls and small size didn't help, encouraging him to push you down until you took in half of his girth, all while staring at you with a predatorial look in his eyes. Said look reminded you of something, he was capable of feeling like he had to breed his lovers- Of course, you didn't mind having a child or two with him despite the fact that they would've been influenced by his pranks. You heard him growl again, this time a bit louder as he pushed you down until your walls reached their stretching limit, the soft spikes on his member giving friction with each little move you made! It made you think of how you somehow took the entire thing on several occasions without bursting into tears at the painful stretch.. He immediately flipped you onto your back and started slowly moving his hips back and fourth once he felt that you had adjusted enough for him to move, the spikes on his member dragging along your walls with each agonizingly slow thrust. "Itto, go faster.." you managed to speak out with a quiet tone. "Just a moment, babe, gotta make sure you're well prepared for the night of a lifetime I'm about to give ya.." he replied, quietly grunting as your walls clamped down on his member over and over again, causing him to speed up a bit. As he dug his freshly manicured nails into your waist (YES I GAVE HIM BLACK MANICURED NAILS SHHH) while thrusting into you at a steady pace, you whined and moved yours hips to meet his halfway, tired of him not getting rough like he would on any other occasion. As if he read your mind, he went a whole lot faster, making your brain spin and soft moans spill out of your mouth with each thrust. You couldn't help that it felt so good you kept clamping down on him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge as his grunts and growls got louder and louder, prompting you to stare at him with wide eyes and a lip wedged between your teeth. (You had no clue he could get that loud and not be ashamed of it, y'all were lucky that y'all didn't live near other people otherwise they would've had to suffer through the noise-) When you noticed the twitching within you and the small "gonna cum.."s that slipped from his lips, he moved your limbs so he could have you in a mating press before he came in you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides. After, he slowly pulled out, flopping onto the futon next to you and immediately falling asleep. You were happy, but Archons did you not know that this would happen every night from that point on. (I HAVE TO FINISH THE REST OF IT IN A DIFF POST, IM SO SRRY 💫 ANON 😭)

[calmasyoghurt]

The joker out pride project.

Nace is finally okay with being gay. Also on ao3.

(I've written all the chapters that will be needed for the days I'll be on holiday so you probably won't even notice I'm gone)

June 21st, prompt 30. Acceptance.

If Nace got the opportunity to talk to a 15 year old version of himself, then he knows exactly what he would say. First, he would show his younger self a photo of a man with long black hair, beautiful brown eyes, and a certain love for cats, leather jackets and vintage guitars. Then, Nace would tell young Nace that the man in the photo is the kindest person he'll ever meet. That the man struggles with insomnia and time regulation, but will arrive at a friend's apartment no more than 30 minutes after finding out that that friend needs support. 

Finally, Nace would tell his younger self that he will fall in love with this man. He'll fall so hard for this man that his entire worldview will change. 

Because he has. Nace has fallen in love with Jan, and that's okay. It has taken Nace so much time to accept it, but he thinks he's finally fine with life being this way. How could life not be okay when he's in a bed, laying next to someone that he likes as much as he likes Jan.

This might actually be the first time that happens, waking up and feeling nothing but joy about what happened the night before. No regret, no worries about feelings being too weak, just pure joy. No, wait, there is one more feeling. It might be knowledge, or maybe acceptance is a better word for it. Nace has known, deep down, who he is since he was 19. But it's now that he can finally come to peace with it. He's gay. Nace likes men. Or, well, right now he only really likes Jan, but since he falls under the category of ‘men’, then Nace technically likes men. 

It's a rather nice feeling, accepting himself. It’s a feeling he hasn’t allowed himself to feel in almost ten years. Suddenly, Nace feels the urge to tell someone, anyone. The best option is right in front of him, but unfortunately that option is currently very asleep. Nace calmly removes a strand of hair from Jan's face. After he's tucked it behind Jan's ear, he slowly starts combing through his hair. Jan lets out a small groan and Nace can't stop himself from leaving a soft kiss on his nose. 

“Too early”, Jan complains. Nace takes a quick look at the clock on Jan's bedside table. 

“It's ten thirty", Nace says. 

“Exactly. Early”. Jan is yet to open his eyes, but when Nace starts leaving kisses all over his face, one eyelid cracks open slightly. 

“Is that some kind of trick to get me to wake up?” Jan asks. 

“Is it working?”

“Maybe”

Once Nace has left at least fifteen soft kisses on Jan’s face, he has opened both his eyes, and Nace thinks it's time. 

“I have to tell you something”, he says, and Jan gets a look of confusion on his face before Nace can continue. 

“I'm gay”

“Uhm, yeah? Wasn't that obvious?” 

“Maybe, but I've not really been sure, or been able to accept it I guess, until now”. At this, Jan starts laughing.  

“You had your dick balls deep up my ass last night, and on Thursday night, and last weekend, and you were still not sure if you were gay?” and Nace can feel himself blush a little. Instead of coming up with something to defend himself with, he simply buries his face in Jan's neck. 

“It's okay, Nacko. Not everyone is as bright as I am and finds out when they’re 11”. At that, Nace shows his face again. 

“Oh, yes, you are very smart, Jan. Anything else you want to teach me?” 

“Hmm. Maybe I can make you understand that morning sex is great? Or that it's especially great with me?” 

Nace snorts out a laugh before leaning in to kiss Jan, properly this time, on the lips. Soon enough he'll find out if Jan's statements are true. 

[primewritessmut]

7, 11, 17, 18, 19 distracting you despite it being against my best interests

The way this post was for everyone but you. 💀

7. Favorite Character To Write?

This is probably going to sound weird and very niche, but my favorite character to write is Gwen from every star for you. I was re-reading it today (bc it's bot infested and I had to go comment deleting) and I love an unapologetic, mean, awful woman that fucks. For this same reason, I also really enjoy writing Harley Quinn (even though I don't do it very often) and most of my original work has some flavor of unlikeable woman in it.

11. Have Any Sneak Peeks Of A Current WIP?

You are insatiable. And I even told you that story about my awful cat terrorizing the neighborhood in the middle of the night! But, since I wrote 1500 words on my cat!Loki wip yesterday... I'll give you some of that.

Very little of what Loki had learned about the TVA before deciding to come here had prepared him for seeing his own face on a screen. Parts of his own life, fast-forwarded and rewound like just another movie committed to celluloid film. The idea that all the choices he’s ever made are simply steps on a predetermined path. Or that there’s been someone walking those steps with him the entire time. At least a little.

He arches his back and yawns, stretching his legs out as far as he can until one paw lands lightly on Mobius’s back.

“Sorry,” he mumbles in his sleep, scooting further away from Loki’s sprawl across the surprisingly luxurious mattress.

Loki rolls over and stretches again, pressing both front paws harder against Mobius’s spine. The analyst scoots away a second time, giving Loki all the room a feral little cat might need, and falling off the edge of the bed with a heavy thud in the process.

“Ow. Shit.” Mobius rustles around on the floor for a minute, then exhales loudly. “I guess I can just sleep down here?”

Loki slinks up to the head of the bed and burrows into the soft down of both pillows, flopping onto his back and flicking his tail side to side since it’s the closest he can get to laughing.

17. Your Favorite Writing Conditions?

I assume we're talking ideal writing conditions? Not just the wet rag I manage to wring out every day?

My favorite place I've ever written was in a cabin on a cliff overlooking the ocean (spirit box vibes) in a place with shitty wifi and phone service. I've gotten to do this TWICE and it's incredible. I stayed there for three days making sure I always had drinks in multiples of three and bounced around between writing, napping, hiking, and doing other hobbies.

So those are my ideal conditions, I guess. A few days to decompress from life, then a few more days alone in a cabin where the paint has been worn thin by wind and sun and salt water, and I can just write whenever I want and I don't have to give a shit about anyone but me.

My headphones are probably there, too.

18. Favorite Writing Style To Read?

Ugh. I'm a simple lad and I like simple fair. I like books that are irreverent and show an author's sense of humor even if it doesn't seem like the genre for it. I also think my tastes run toward... bubblegum is the best word I can think of for it. I don't want to have to bring a machete into a book with me just to be able to understand a third of the plot.

And there's also a soft spot in my heart for author's that take you by the hand and walk you through the book, showing you the sights as you read and when you get to the end and you're looking at the sunset, they shove you off a cliff. Love a good "fuck you, bye", truly.

19. Last Thing You Read?

The actual last thing I read was the third chapter of spirit box as you know. Which I love every time I get to read it. 🚨 FIC REC ALERT EVERYONE 🚨

The last book I read was I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman which is sort of stuck in my brain like a splinter. It's one of those books where you read it and you're like, "Huh. I guess that's over." and then six days later you're in the shower and it hits you again and you feel like you're going to cry or throw up. It's really bleak and really human, and I think I'll be thinking about it a lot.

I have a couple books that are in the "just started" phase that I think I might DNF so I'm not mentioning them. But I'll probably tell you later so you don't waste your time.

x

[justrandomfanfictionskh]

A Blue Bird and a Black Cat pt3

(Selina decides that Marinette would be better as the Cat than Adrien. Five years, later Dick is very confused about this Lady Noire)

ao3 previous beginning

"She's a criminal we should arrest her," was the only thing Damian could say on the subject. 

"Damian," Bruce warned. "The situation is a little more complex than that." 

"Besides," Stephanie chimed from the couch, "We're all criminals in one way or another. And she's a mini-Selina! Wouldn't be kind of hypocritical to arrest her considering the reason for tonight's party?" 

"Selina has proven herself worthy of our trust and redemption," Damian declared, "We know nothing of this 'Lady Noire' or her motivations. Did any of you knew of her before tonight?"

Selina sighed and surveyed the sitting room where her new family was gathering before the party. Damian was standing in front of the fireplace with his hands clasped behind his back. Glowering at everyone and everything, he looked like his father when something particularly frustrating had occurred, like the Joker escaping Arkham. Bruce was as stiff as steel pipe covered in ice, as he purposefully straightened his bow tie. He had been like that ever since last night. Duke was slumped in an arm chair rubbing his forehead as if he were fighting a migraine. While Dick leaned against the doorframe in an attempt to be casual, but one look at his face and anyone would think he was attempting a Batman impression. Jason was taking a swing from a flask, and, at a nudge from Tim, splashed some of the contents in his brother's coffee. Barbara would have shot them in a disapproving look, but she had been glued to one device or another all day typing furiously while scowling from time to time. The only people who seemed even moderately relaxed were Stephanie and Cass, who were both sitting on the couch. Well, Cass was sitting calm and serene, while Steph was lounging clearly enjoying the chaos Marinette had brought upon their slightly over paranoid family.

None of them had noticed Selina yet, so she was content to think fondly, If Mari was trying to create chaos, then she succeeded. When she stepped further into the room, everyone turned to look at her. So far she had refused to answer any questions about her first darling kitten, partly for her own amusement, and partly for Marinette's privacy. But now she felt the need to clear at least a little bit of the air, since Mari was guaranteed to be in attendance tonight. So she walked up to Damian with her fondest smile which she reserved solely for her kits and said as she smoothed Damian's hair and straightened his tie, "I have known Lady Noire for over fiver years. She was my very first kitten, and I love her just as much as I love you. She is the kindest, most generous soul I have ever met, and I trust her with everything. Is that not enough?" 

Damian scowled with a "Tt" and averted his eyes. Selina's smile deepened at how it was becoming increasingly difficult for Damian to argue with her. But she turned her attention to Barbara when she said, "I've been doing some research, but the only result I've found is from the Paris Incident, but not as a thief."

"What do you mean?" Dick asked sharply. 

"Well," Barbara said, "Apparently, there were a few times, and please note that this happened very rarely, when neither Ladybug not Chat Noir could come to the fight, and they sent in substitutes. Mr. Bug was Ladybug's sub, and Lady Noire was Chat Noir's." 

This got everyone's attention and they all looked at Selina questioningly. Her smiled turned mischievous when she noticed that in Barbara's analysis she had not realized that Lady Noire and Ladybug were the same person. Marinette would appreciate that so all Selina said was, "It's true." 

Six mouths dropped to the floor, but all nine pairs of eyes stared at her in shock. "Ah," she thought "If only Marinette could see the fruits of her labor."  But she stayed silent as she waited for the first one to speak. It turned out to be Dick was the most eager for information (she was not surprise). 

"How?" was all he said incredulously.

"When I went back to Paris to give Ladybug the Hawkbitch file, I noticed that Chat Noir was not...gentlemanly enough for my taste, and Ladybug agreed. I convinced her to give the Cat miraculous to Lady Noire permanently. Then after a long talk with Lady Noire's alter ego I decided that instead of the Jade Cat Statue that I originally wanted, I preferred her. We left Paris the moment Hawkbitch was arrested, and neither of us have regretted it since!"

Stunned silence was followed by a low chuckle from Jason as he took another swig from his flask. Tim just shook his head as he took a long dink from his coffee, but it was Damian who said, "Are you telling us that the one of the most powerful magical artifacts in the known universe is in the hands of a common thief?!" 

Selina smiled at the boy, "My kitten is hardly a common thief, Damian. I taught her everything I know, and she was quite the natural too. Besides she only steals what's technically hers. But I'm afraid I can't explain more than that. You'll have to ask her yourself."

"So she's really coming tonight?!" Stephanie said probably a little to excitedly, and out of the corner of her eye Selina saw Jason pass Duke his flask.

"Oh, most definitely!" Selina exclaimed. 

Some low grumbling began at the same time as some murmured excitement, but it was silenced when Bruce stepped forward and said, "Ladybug is a highly respected hero and leader by every member of the Justice League. In fact after the resolution of the Paris Incident, it was agreed the Ladybug should have an open invitation to join the Justice League whenever she chose. And she trusts this Lady Noire?"

Selina's smile deepened in satisfaction. There was so much in that statement that she and Marinette would have to laugh about later, but at that moment she said, "She hasn't taken the ring back yet."

Bruce nodded and smiled as genuinely as he was able when in a situation that he was extremely uncomfortable with, "Then I look forward to meeting her tonight."

And just like that the argument ended, as Selina thanked her fiancé with a kiss, and Alfred entered to tell them that the first of the guests were arriving. Selina couldn't stop smiling. Tonight her family was going to be made complete. 

Dick sighed as he took a long pull on his champagne glass. He had naively hoped that since this was Bruce and Selina's engagement party, they would think to liven it up a bit. But nope, it was the same dull and annoying affair as always, with the only mildly interesting thing being the arrival of the Kents, and some other disguised heroes. But since this was a public party for PR reasons, everyone had their civilian personas firmly in place, and those people who Dick could talk with easily had already been captured by the rest of the family, or were on missions. This meant that Dick was in for a long, long night, unless he could find where Barbara and Gordon went. Maybe then he wouldn't be so bored.

"Not your scene I take it," a voice said at his elbow, and dick jumped to see who could have possibly snuck up on him. He turned and standing at his elbow was a beautiful young woman. Everything about her had a classic elegance, from her slim black ball gown, to her glistening white pearls. He black hair that shone blue in the light was done up like Audrey Hepburn, and only accentuated her gentle features. But her eyes were what caught Dick's attention. They were anything but simple, or gentle. Her eyes were a deep, bright bluebell, that seemed almost too full. Too full of mischief and playfulness, but also something else that Dick couldn't put his finger on. Something that made her smile bright by contrast, instead of similarity. It struck Dick in a way he couldn't describe, except to think, "Well this night just got more interesting." 

"No, not at all," Dick said with a smile when he remembered to speak, "What about you?"

The woman shrugged, "Depends I guess."

"On?"

"On whether or not I'm working."

"And what is it that you do?" Dick said as he swiped a glass for his new companion. 

She took with a smile and said, "Fashion. I'm a designer. Somehow when I'm working these parties become far more enjoyable. Probably because I actually have a reason to be there but oh well, c'est la vie!" 

"Are you working now?" 

"No, actually I'm here for personal reasons."

"Oh?" Dick said with a smirking smile, "May I ask?"

"You may but I think you already know the answer...Blue Bird," the woman's smile deepened satisfactorily as Dick's face dropped into a mask of shock and horror. She laughed into her glass as he sputtered and finally said, 

"How---?"

"Did you not recognize me?" She interrupted him, "Magic, it's designed to protect my identity. The only way you'd be able to recognize outside of the mask is if I told you the truth, or if you caught me transforming. It's a very handy piece of magic."

"But---"

"Oh please! I've known Selina's identity for years. And when she introduced her fiancé as Batman, it was ridiculously easy to figure the rest of you out. Maybe you need some magic masks!" 

"You---"

"Shouldn't be here? But where else would I be? The whole reason I came to Gotham was for Selina's wedding. She's my darling mentor after all, I'm not going to miss it! The vambrace was just a bonus."

"That---"

"Still belongs to me! really you need to let that go, cause there is no argument on Earth that could convince me to give it back to the museum." She sipped her champagne again with a knowing smile and Dick glared in annoyance. 

"Stop finishing my sentences," he hissed.

"Then stop being so predictable," She playfully chided. "My name's Marinette by the way. Since you didn't ask. Honestly Blue Bird, and here I thought you were the nice one." 

Dick groaned running a hand over his eyes. Well, he thought, At least I'm not bored anymore, I'm just...annoyed! When he opened his eyes he studied her more critically, trying to see past her gown and cheeky smile. He still remembered the flash of something dangerous up on the roof, and the careless way she had teased him during their fight. Right now she was definitely that reckless burglar that had caught him off guard. But now that the magic and the mask was gone, the other thing was far less hidden. It was right beneath the surface, something dangerous and powerful that was testing him, with the teasing smile, and the laughing eyes. Dick didn't know what it was but it made him shiver, and want to take a step back, or maybe a step forward? He hadn't decided yet.

"Selina is in the main room. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to see you."

"Aww," she said with mock disappointment, "Trying to get rid of me already! But you hardly know me!"

"Then why do I get the feeling, that I'm going to need to start stocking my cabinets with aspirin?"

"And here I was thinking your brothers had already driven you crazy."

"Clearly not as crazy as you."

"Rude, but forgivable if you admit one thing?"

"And what is that?"

"That you like my dress."

Dick found himself fighting a smile as he involuntarily looked down at her dress again. He did like it. It was beautiful on her except...This is exactly what happened with Bruce, he thought. Literally exactly what happened! One night he's fighting Catwoman on a random roof. The next their flirting at a gala. I can not be him! Oh God! They're never going to let me hear the end of this if we keep it up. So schooled his features into as much calm composure as he could manage, before saying, "Why don't I take you to Selina?"

For some reason, that made Marinette smile brighter, and Dick came to a horrifying revelation. If he played her game, she was amused. If he didn't play her game, she was amused. She just liked seeing him react to whatever crazy thing she did or said. She really was just like Selina. It was fascinating. And very annoying. No matter what I do, she's going to be entertained! Shit! I can't win here! he thought.

Marinette opened her mouth to continue the game, but she was silenced by someone behind her shouting, "Marinette!"

The change that overcame the woman was so sudden and drastic, it made Dick flinch. One moment she was bright, confident, playful, the next...Her face had paled to the color of paper. Her eyes widened in sudden panic, as their light switched from testing mischievousness to startled horror. Her mouth lost it's bright smile instantly, but she fought to return it to a strained mockery of what it had been before. She turned and saw the woman who had called her name.

"Alya!" she said. Her voice was strangled with the attempt to appear cheerful.

"Girl!" the new woman, Alya, exclaimed as she rushed to hug her. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in years! What is going on what have you been up to?"

"Oh!" Marinette said waving her glass with jerky movements as she tried to appear casual, "This and that. What are you doing here?"

"Can you believe it! I graduate from University, and Lila hooks me up with a job at the Daily Planet. THE Daily Planet! Can you believe it?! I'm apprenticing under the Lois Lane! Eeee! I feel like I'm in a dream. Lila really came through!"

"Lila?" Marinette said, and somehow her voice had become even more strained. "Really? Is she here?"

"No clue! Last I saw her was at Lex Corp. Did you know she's an old family friend of M. Lex!" Alya threw up her hands in amazement, and Dick decided that whoever this Lila was, he didn't like her. "But enough about me," Alya continued clearly oblivious to Marinette's growing distress. "What about you? Girl, you totally ghosted us! We haven't seen or heard from you in ages! What is up?!"

Marinette cleared her throat, and sipped her drink desperately before speaking. "Umm...ahem...Alya do you remember our last year at lycée?"

"Girl, you know I don't!" Alya exclaimed with exacerbation. "I don't know what kind of magical, bullshit, PTSD, trauma Hawkmoth did to us, but I swear all of lycée and parts of collège are just...I don't know...like a blur. Our whole class is like that! Probably for the best right, I mean, God can you imagine remembering all of that bullshit!" 

"Hmm," was the only answer Marinette can give as Dick watched in silent shock, and concern. He considered stepping in taking the attention away from Selina's ward, when a voice echoed through the halls that had to be much more welcoming to her than anything else.

"Kitten!" Selina exclaimed as she rushed forward and she embraced Marinette. 

"Selina!" Marinette cried in obvious release.

"You're here!" Selina cried, "Oh! I'm so glad you made it! You've met Dick I see!"

"Yes we were just---"

"Oh. My. God! Marinette!" Alya interrupted, "You never told me you know Selina Kyle! Girl! You've been holding out on us!" Dick cringed so hard he thought it was audible. He had no idea what the relationship was between these two women, but Dick was hating it more and more with every second of Marinette being uncomfortable. 

"Yes," Selina said slowly, her gaze becoming deadly cold as she surveyed Alya, "Marinette is my protégé...and you are?"

"Alya! We're old school friends, I'm sure she's mentioned me before!"

"Hmm," Selina said, her expression the most thinly veiled form of disgust and murder, Dick had ever seen from the woman. "Well, you'll have to excuse us. Good bye." 

"Ok," Alya said completely oblivious. "See ya around Marinette, we really got to catch up!"

Marinette was silent, as Selina quickly rushed her away. Dick tried to disappear with them, but he lost them when they entered the next room. Dick emptied his glass, as he scanned the crowd in concern. He quickly decided that it was probably best that he not follow. Whatever had just happened, was clearly none of his business. But it had shaken Marinette so badly. The confident, crazy, aggravating, deadly rogue, had been shaken to the core by the sudden appearance of her "old school friend." And that disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

@laurcad123 @craftgremlin @toodaloo-kangaroo @blackroserelina @maanae @kitsun369 @idkamt @aksartisticlife @its-maemain

He tried to push the thoughts away, but the longer the two women were absent from the party. And the more often he caught glimpses of Alya in the crowd, the more the questions and concern plagued him. In the end, he didn't see Selina again until after the obligatory rogue attack. It was Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. None of the family moved to do anything, since they were clearly just there to scare the rich assholes and wish Selina their congratulations. It was the friendliest hostage situation, Dick had ever been a part of. Naturally, their appearance, ended the party. Dick immediately went to his room, opened his computer. When Alfred called for breakfast he was still staring, trying to wrap his head around what the world called, The Paris Incident. But the people of Paris had a different name for it...The Reign of Hawkmoth. 

Next

[mslanna]

A Mortifying Ordeal

Raphael manages to get to earth after the Nether Brain exploded and killed Tav. Or so it seems. Because Tav is looking alive and eager at this very strange event where many people dress up as people he knows and even himself. Tav doesn't remember anything though. Something Raphael plans to amend. But is it really Tav without memories or just a lookalike that played the game too often? Time to find out. Started from This Prompt the idea evolved into something longer. Mix between fangirl's dream of being pursued by a romantically determined Raphael and the angst of not being who he want/loves/needs.

A Mortifying Ordeal Chapter 2 now up on AO3

Chapter 1 (formerly I've Known You Only Now)

Lemme tell you that while there's lotsa things you get used to on conventions because we're all off our rockers, especially the cosplayers and I must know because I just stripped out of my Tav cosplay. Anyway, I thought I lucked out when an extremely accurately looking Raphael cosplayer started to follow me around and actually kinda wooed my in the same fashion that sopping wet beast of a devil would in-game.

It's not something you expect but it is definitely appreciated. I didn't put on the easy-access outfit by accident, you know. There's a lot you can be prepared for at cons and damned if I wasn't going to make the most of it. Dude looks like a complete buffet.

What one is not prepared for ever, though, is the dude just, like snapping into devil from. Like, are you serious? But there he stands, wings and all, and me sitting on the bed which puts my head in a very unfortunate place.

Because the fuck? Fuck is going on? And also is fuck still on the table? Which is the least of my problems right now, but still very much on my mind. My jaw is on the floor so it's not as if we couldn't just take it from here. I shake my head because as much as I wanna see them devil cock ridges something is not right here.

"Raphael?" I quack, as if I haven't called him that the whole time. It hits different now, what with the smell of cherries trying to drown out the sulphur. I gag a little. In reality sulphur is not very sexy.

He looks down and man those eyes do you in. Black hole indeed. Pull you straight in and spaghetti your every thought.

"Yes, very observant." The word roll from his lips like velvet gravel.

Not gonna lie it is observant. I met no fewer than five Raphaels today and I don't think any of them would've pulled this stunt. Could've. I shut my mouth and try to stop staring at him. Guy saw my phone gallery. Guy knows I think about sucking him off six times from Tuesday. The fact that he's still standing here is a miracle.

And I don't know what to do. There is no script for this. I can hardly squeak 'sex?' up at him, or can I? I wish he'd stop looking at me as if I hold the answers to his universe. I know nothing. I am more out of my depth than a lugworm in the Mariana Trench.

"Cat got your tongue?" He takes my chin with one hand and damn, he is several degrees hotter than human. In any respect, mind you. I nod into his hand which is kinda nice. He has big hands. He is – well big. Tall. Huge. I swallow. Anyway.

"I don't know what to say," I get out. "Or do."

"What did you intend to do before I changed?"

I bite my lip for honesty. It always hurts in the end so I might just start out in pain. Won't last as long then. I smile, or do my best approximation. Nothing but the truth. Let it end in flames early.

"Dinner," I shrug. "Drinks. Sex."

He doesn't leave. Doesn't laugh. Good signs so far. But he leans back and looks down his impeccable nose at me with a slight scrunch. "Communicating more clearly than ever, I see."

It's one thing peeps like me are supposedly good at. Clear cut information instead of dancing around the subject. Damn, I wanna dance around him all night long. If my stomach wasn't a-rumbling, I'd just have skipped the first two step in the evening's plans.

I rise carefully and manage not to bury my snout right into his crotch and forgo dinner after all. "So, you're still game?"

"I am still here, am I not?"

Not quite an answer but I'll take it. "No offence because your devil form is quite lovely, erm gorgeous, well, anyway, I like it a lot, but you cannot leave the room like that. I don't think."

"Whatever happened in here," he taps a finger against my temple and boy do I swallow because claws, "since you left Faerûn. Your eloquence has certainly suffered."

Should I tell him that it's mostly his vicinity causing this problem? Maybe later. There's such a thing as too much truth. He likes them spicy but nowhere in the game does it say he likes them stupid. Which may just break my back in this. Ah well. Where was I? Apart from staring at him.

"Maybe it'll get better," I suggest. "I'm not reacting well to new things." Unexpected things. Devils turning up on my doorstep and turning out to be actually a devil. And not running from my horny person. I hold out my hand.

He transforms back into his human form in a short burst of hellfire. It licks over my outstretched hand without burning which is a decidedly strange sensation.

"Better?"

"Less suspicious in this world." I'm glad I don't have to decide. Both forms have their appeal, all three have but I'm not sure when a wise moment is to disclose I am also an unapologetic monster fucker.

"Then let us proceed." His smile is scorching. So much charisma, the sheer weight of persuasion. I am weak. Doesn't help he takes my hand because that is also so hot and his skin is so soft and my mind is already in full swing putting those deft digits absolutely everywhere.

"One last thing." My fingers curl around his tightly, just in case he's gonna run now. I don't want him to, but well. "What do you even want with me?" I want to know. "What is your plan?"

"My – agenda is, of course, to rekindle your memories."

Oh. No. Frilly fuck with fangs. He thinks I'm Tav!Tav, like, the real thing. Oh dear. Oh no. Wow. Like, never. I was so very far from the real thing, like so far. I couldn't handle a weapon, not even walk for a day and saving a whole city? Unlikely. Impossible.

"I am – doubtful?" He completely ignores my worries and takes my elbow.

"Understandably so." He guides me towards the door. "Give it time. Give me time."

Hells, I'm done for. He can get all the time I have left. The timbre in his vowels is enough to get me on my knees. Question is if he has the patience to actually spend time with me. How long until the lack of serious Tav memories turns out to be my natural state? Not sure I wanna be around for that realisation.

But – that is for another time. Dinner is waiting and the view is going to be utterly amazing. I sigh and lean against his shoulder. Raphael lets out a small huff but it's appreciation, I'm sure of that. Dude didn't hunt me down all day to play hard to get now. I hope.

[kingedmundsroyalmurder]

Retro-Janeing: chapters 12 and 13

Enter Irene, my least favorite character of this whole story. I do actually think I dislike Irene even more than grandmother, and for the same reason Jane does: with Grandmother, you know where you stand. She doesn't like you and she'll make that obvious. Irene pretends to not be as poisonous as she actually is, and it's never quite established if it's deliberate artifice or if she genuinely doesn't see herself as poisonous and manipulative.

From the start, we get evocative and unpleasant verbs for Irene. She pounces on Jane. Her laughter is a gurgle. Later on she'll purr over Andrew, a verb which somehow gives me the creeps when applied to a human woman and not a cat. This is LMM in her element, using every aspect of her craft to bring us an image of a dreadful person.

Also I think if someone had tried to call me "lovey" at 11 I would have hated them instantly.

Anyway, Irene is subtly but firmly trying to make Jane feel unwanted right from the get go. This girl is 11 and you don't know her. There is literally no good reason to tell her "I told your dad not to send for you." Again, I can't quite tell if Irene is treating Jane like a grownup and expecting her to have the emotional maturity to handle this kind of thing or if she's trying to make Jane feel bad on purpose. (Also, what does she want to happen here? Does she want Jane to feel like she's a burden and ask to go home early?)

Side observation: what the hell was the Stuarts' home life like as children? "I've always been more like a mother to him" is a weird thing to say about your brother when your shared mom was alive and well at least into both of your adulthoods. Was their mother like this as well? Did she and Irene get along? This whole thing is just weird to me. Irene also has a different last name -- is she widowed? Or do she and Andrew actually have different fathers and that’s why there's such an age gap?

"One really couldn't expect a lovely little doll like her to be a cook...or a manager either for that matter and I told your father that often enough." I'm going to immediately retract something I said last chapter. Yes, Robin had her ideas about love influenced by her mother, but Robin thinks that Andrew's ideas of love are influenced by Irene. Robin thinks Irene has fully poisoned Andrew against her and that any connection between her and Jane will reflect badly on Jane. I hate Irene so much.

"I hope you'll have a good sleep, lovey. You don't know what it means to me to have you sleeping under my roof...Andrew's little girl...my only niece. And I was always so fond of your mother...but...well, I don't quite think she ever really liked me. I always felt she didn't, but I never let it make any difference between us. She didn't like to see me and your father talking much together...I always realized that. She was so much younger than your father...a mere child...it was natural for him to turn to me for advice as he'd always been used to do. He always talked things over with me first. She was a little jealous, I think...she could hardly help that, being Mrs Robert Kennedy's daughter. Never let yourself be jealous, Janie. It wrecks more lives than anything else. Here's a puff, lovey, if you're chilly in the night. A wet night in P. E. Island is apt to be cool. Good night, lovey." Again, this is not something you say to an 11 year old girl you don't know. Irene has known Jane for, what, an hour at absolute most? And look, we aren't told outright, but Jane clearly looks unwell, yeah? She's exhausted, miserable, and hasn't eaten in weeks. LMM is very big on characters' emotional states impacting their appearance, so we can infer that right now Jane probably looks awful. This is really not the time to be dumping painful family history on her, much less this kind of thing. I take back every mean thing I've ever thought about Andrew -- he is stunningly well adjusted for having Irene as a parental figure and behavioral model.

In the morning Jane continues to refuse food, and realistically at this point she should be feeling dizzy and nauseous from lack of food. Even a "Jane felt ill at the very thought of eating now," would convey the actual physical consequences of going without food for so long. And, although she of course expresses it in the worst way possible, I for once agree with Irene that Jane does need to actually eat something. Of course, Irene does it by scolding and condescending and entirely failing to read Jane's mood. I think there's actually a subtle theme going through all of Irene's appearances that she thinks she's good at reading people and seeing what they feel but actually she's dreadful at it.

But at last Andrew arrives and we are given a reprieve from Irene. And finally Jane gets a compliment that's not immediately followed by a backhanded insinuation!

He also is the first person to grant Jane any actual agency. He may have ignored it when writing the initial letter, but when actually speaking to her he takes the time to ask her what she would like to be called and how she is feeling.

(Sidenote that I just thought of: is "Jane Victoria" what they called her when she was young? I'd assumed Robin did it as a favor to her mother, but Irene also called her that and I don't feel like Irene would acknowledge grandmother at all unless she had to. Unless Irene is playing 5-D chess to try and tie Jane to her grandmother as strongly as possible? Again, I can't actually figure out what Irene wants here.)

Also I am starting to build an image of what LMM's ideal romantic lead is at this point in her life and "drives an old, unreliable car" is definitely a criterion. Is our Maud secretly into grease stains and the smell of petrol? Get this woman a guy in coveralls with a rag hanging out his back pocket stat.

[laddersofsweetmisery]

The following is an essay I wrote on my relationship with my father. At the time of writing this, he was homeless and living in his truck. At the time of posting this, he has found a home, found someone to share his life with, and has recovered from his prior addictions. To see him happy warms me like nothing else. My father was never bad, only very very sad. I've loved him dearly through it all. Of all my traumas, having daddy issues isn't one of them. I've never known anyone kinder. His kindness is why it hurt so deeply when other men hurt and used me as I came into womanhood. I never expected it. I thought all men would be just as kind as my father. But I was duped and carved out. I suppose even being raised by good parents can scar you. Maybe none of us are really safe.

In honor of Father's Day, here's my little essay:

I have always shared various similarities with my father. We both enjoy documentaries about aliens, conspiracy theories, and historical events. He turns on a show about ghost stories and we will sit there together for hours watching one episode after the next, while he chokes down another Diet Mountain Dew and I giggle through another cheap bag of chips from K&M Market, a small corner store in Obetz, Ohio.

He even enjoys cartoons that are meant for younger children, as do I. The simple story lines keep us engaged, stimulated, and we cannot help but laugh at the antics of a simple-minded character. There was one time, not long ago, when he called me very late the night before an early exam just to tell me about the plot of a new cartoon he started watching, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir. I, of course, did not mind as it makes my fluttering literary soul smile with the pride of a successful teacher when my father wants to share a plotline. This is because my father cannot read very well, and visual plotlines are as close as we can come together.

My father is not what I would call a scholar. Returning to plotlines, he was once retelling a Scooby Doo episode, saying excitedly, “The mystery plottens!” I stifled a response, after some questionable thought, “You mean, the plot thickens?” It was humorous, it makes me giggle just thinking about it, however, his response to me was peculiar. It was the kind of response I think more parents should put into practice. He did not scold me for correcting him as most insecure parents with substantial power do, rather he praised me with, “You are so smart. My baby is so smart. That is why you are in college. I tell everybody I see how proud I am of you.” Often, I see parents so riddled with pride that they chastise their children for these situations and corrections, when in reality they should be proud of their child for recognizing mistakes, asking questions, and learning. My father was always different. He did not care if I grew up to be smarter than him, or if I pointed out his mistakes. He held no shame, no embarrassment, and instead, encouraged me to constantly do better. Evidently, my father may not be the brightest, but he may very well be the kindest man I have ever known, or at least the most supportive. He supports my writing not by reading it, but by trusting that it is every bit as perfect and good as what he sees when he looks at me. In regards to similarities, I like to think I will be like him in that aspect if and when I have children of my own. We have a good relationship, I take care of him, teach him, love him, and we have our childish fun.

My father and I play video games together, as well. He yells at the graphics dancing in front of him, threatening to report the other players, as if they can hear him through the screen, and I trail along beside him trying to make up for his mishaps of missed ammunition and unchecked articles meant to help us understand the story. If I must admit, neither of us have very good aim. Every shot we take from the animated machine gun is chaotic and never calculated. We fire into the air hoping that the bullet will remarkably land on the other player, in hopes that they won’t have the opportunity to kill us first. We are both just shooting blind, hoping to survive.

My father has always played video games, as well as entertaining the various activities of cartoons and junk food that many children enjoy. Growing up, I would always beg for a turn, even at the young age of seven and eight, at the latest horror game in front of him. I liked the story lines they portrayed. They were always something unique – whether it involved a cult, alien invasion, or some other paranormal entity that sought only to create havoc for the character. I liked that there was a scarier reality out there, different from my own. It was comforting. Horror video games never disguised themselves as anything different, they were unapologetic in their scare tactics. The foggy haze hovering over the player’s world signaled that the environment was neither safe nor pleasant. You always knew you were somewhere scary and uncomfortable and that every door you opened could potentially lead to your ill demise.

Life is not the same as a video game. You can walk into a brightly lit room and unexpectedly greet a monster, whatever form they may appear in. You can be in a place that is seemingly safe and pleasant, while suffering greatly. Ordinary people can also be deceivingly monstrous. Horror games simply do not deceive you the same as reality. Rather in a game, there is always a lingering feeling of doubt when encountering an individual who later appears to be the villain, an initial layer of distrust. In reality, I can fully trust the people around me, while they plot ways to gobble me up. It is almost a complete shock when they turn on you. You want to trust the individuals in your life, you want to believe you are safe. Every sign points to this being a safe area and instead, you reach the same demise, but this time there was no foggy haze to warn you, no red flags. My father is also like that. There were not any red flags when he changed. One day we were playing Donkey Kong, the next I was pouring water over his head to keep him from overdosing.

My father and I love to escape reality. While he used to find solace in video games, he eventually found that same euphoric melody in charred spoons and used needles. It was not what I expected from him. While I knew he partied in his younger days, his persona was so childish and naïve. I never once thought he’d turn to something so vile. Then again, who am I to judge? I discovered vodka and acid around the same time my console stopped working - whether that be a coincidence is up to the reader’s decision.

I remember when my father told me that he could never imagine me getting married. Rather, he sees me graduating University then moving into his basement - a basement he no longer has because he is now homeless and living in his two-door, Clifford-red truck. A truck with no cable, no console, no distractions. Truthfully, he would be homeless with or without the drugs, his homelessness is merely circumstantial - a product of being dealt a bad hand. The drugs just make it harder to overcome. Where he used to laugh over plotlines, he now cries over the phone, lamenting about where it all went wrong. Was it the death of his mother, the burning down of his house, the abuse from others? Was it that while I could teach him, I could not protect him? As I said before he is not what I would call a scholar. He’s an impressionable individual looking for someone, anyone to guide him. Even if that anyone is a junkie off Parsons Avenue in Columbus, Ohio.

Our recent fallen graces and my yearning for the way things were leaves me questioning. Why did we love those video games? What did it give to us? What did it protect us from? NPC’s gave us company, someone to talk to, another voice to coat the aged white walls of an empty room. The immersive atmosphere left us in another world, another reality where responsibility faded away, a place where we could not notice the things crumbling around us. The stimulating visual on the screen in front of us held our focus long enough to shake the boredom, shake the passing of time.

They say I have my father’s eyes. They also say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so sad recently. His sorrow was too strong to last for just one lifetime, it needed to seep into mine as well. Despite what some believe, I think sometimes it’s too late. Even in a video game, you eventually run out of health, out of lives. My father has very little left, but I am a little younger, a little smarter, a little less gone. I have a chance.

So maybe the vodka will make the time pass a little faster. Maybe the weed will take away the negativity in my reality. Maybe the sleeping pills will give me better dreams where there is always someone in the room with me. Maybe my psychiatrist will finally get the medication right. Maybe I will finally take my prescription regularly. Maybe I will actually go to therapy. Maybe it’s not too late to save myself, even if I cannot save my father.

Or maybe, I will just buy another console.

[1dont-really-know]

Feat: Malva Draconia and other one-off characters that I'll probably never use again

Tags: @kitwasnothere @kdjmybeloved

This is self indulgent as heck and probably not my best writing but it's Malva's birthday and I can do what I want

Word count : 6509 (longest I've ever written voluntarily in english)

⊹｡₊°⟡.⸙͎۪۫ ༄

There are paws on your face. Paws with sharp claws that are currently kneading your face. Paws that you were pretty sure you locked out of your bedroom last night. You groan, gently grabbing the bundle of fur that was using your cheeks as a scratching post and lifting them away from you. The bundle of fur meowed in reply, and as you opened your eyes, you’re met with a pair of amber ones, staring directly into your soul. “Lysander.” Another meow. The tabby had the audacity to sound annoyed. You set him down on the bed, sighing deeply as you rub the sleep away from your eyes. Lysander continues to paw at you, meowing loudly with that adorable but incredibly high-pitched meow of his. A quick glance at the window confirms that the sun is low on the sky, silently sinking down as dusk takes hold of the horizon. Lysander, apparently very annoyed at your lack of activity, unsheathed his claws before bapping you on the arm. You wince, moving your arm away from the violent beast, “alright, alright, I’m getting up.”

Lysander meows again, sounding smug.

You make your way to your kitchen, Lysander at your heels with his tail held high. The key to the top cabinet is stuffed in a jar, so you quickly retrieve it before unlocking the cabinet and getting the ingredients for yours and your kitten’s meals. You’re running out of basil. It’s too early to buy more but by the time your store closes the market will be mostly closed as well. Ah, well. Looks like you’ll just have to make do without it for a few days. You’ll be able to restock on other cooking ingredients then as well.

Lysander chomps down on the meat you prepared for him while you munch on your own food, still very much trying to get your bearings after being so rudely awakened. It's not much, you know, but it's enough to get you through the day.

With your bellies filled, it’s time to get downstairs and take stock. It’s been a while since you opened this bookstore of yours. Perhaps forty-ish to fifty years. At first, it was signed under your parents’ names, but they had transferred the ownership to you ever since you became of age. It was your idea, after all, and your parents had only wanted to give you a leg up on your childhood dream. Most might think your job was monotonous, but you’ve always found the structure and sorting part of it soothing. You walk around your store, taking note of the books on the shelves and comparing them to the notes you had of what’s supposed to be there. There are some books that weren’t where they were supposed to be. Some clients must have mistakenly put them there. You return them to their rightful places. This has been your day-to-day for these last forty years. Have breakfast, feed your pet (Lysander being your latest, but you’ve also had a few dogs and other cats before), make sure everything is alright with your shop, and man the desk until sunrise.

Today is no different. Just as always, once the sun dips down below the horizon and you have all of the books in the store accounted for, it’s time to open up.

The first customer is a teacher that you know works at a nearby school, Yarron, who was looking for a simple children’s storybook to keep the children entertained while also teaching them how to read. “I’d prefer if the pages had an anti-tear spell on them. You know how kids can be,” he said, with a fond yet exasperated smile. You recall that he had visited your store a few times before, similarly looking for children’s books.

“Of course,” you laugh. The children of the village, though few, have a known mischievous streak that all the adults have at least once been a victim of. Just because they have not learned many spells does not mean that they don’t use the ones they do know to their fullest extent. The paint staining your front door is proof of that enough. “The children’s books are on the third shelf on the right. Go ahead and take a look, and I’ll get that spell there on whichever one you choose.”

Yarron nods with a smile and leaves to browse the shelves, Nell comes in. She’s the town’s resident herbalist, the closest thing your town has had to a healer since the last one retired. She’s looking for a recipe book, and you point her to the correct shelf.

The night goes normally from there.

It’s nearing midnight when the bell once again chimes as another person enters the store. You chirp out your usual greeting, still preoccupied by a customer currently checking out, when you notice that you have yet to see this stranger even once since you started your shop. With how small and out of the way the town is, you assume that they’re a traveler passing through.

The stranger is a tall one, with a slender, feminine build and piercing green eyes. They’re wearing what seems to be a blue uniform– a healer’s uniform, you soon realize, with a hood around their shoulders and hiding their face from sight. They turn to you once they notice you’re there, and you can see the slightest ripple of magic on their features. A glamour? Why would they need to use one if they’re a healer?

Apparently your staring was a tad too obvious, because the stranger clears their throat and meets your gaze questioningly– warily, almost. You hadn’t even realized that your other customer had finished their transaction and left the money on your counter, leaving you alone with the green-eyed stranger. 

“I didn't mean to stare,” your ears feel hot from embarrassment, but you suppressed the urge to curl up into a ball and manage to keep a steady voice, “but I don’t think I have seen you around here before. May I know who you are?”

You fully expected the stranger to stay silent, or otherwise just go look at your wares without giving you much thought, but instead, they nod and start speaking, their voice a gentle lull in the quietness of the room, “I believe you would have already heard of my mentor, Areca,” they start, “I’m a healer– or, well, an apprentice healer, you see. I’ve been traveling for my studies and I’m looking for a book on the flora around this area, if you have any.”

You feel your shoulders relax ever so slightly. There had indeed been talk of a healer visiting lately. It wasn’t uncommon (or at least you heard that it wasn’t uncommon, according to your town’s late resident healer. The last healer that passed through here had both arrived and left when you were still a child) for healers to take their apprentices out to the farther-out towns and villages of Briar Kingdom to get them some on-hand experience. This must be the apprentice in question.

But just to be sure,

“Yes, of course!” You give them your best grin, walking out from behind the counter and gesturing for them to follow you. They do so, keeping a safe distance away while still being in your line of sight. “Our herbology books are right over here. For the flora in our little corner of the kingdom, I recommend this one.” You point to a leatherbound book about as thick as your fist. It has a very lengthy and detailed way of describing the plants, but they seem to be the type of person that would enjoy that.

They give you a nod, perhaps in thanks, then take your place in front of the shelves and got to browsing.

Being this close to them, you see the signature single line bands on either side of their uniform, near their wrists, clearly, along with the slight warmth of healing magic coming from said bands. The healers’ odd idea of identification, as you’ve been told by the healer that stopped by your town about 50 years ago.

With your worries soothed, you turned and walked back to your counter, settling on finding something to pass the time while your customer decides on what to buy.

⊹｡₊°⟡.⸙͎۪۫ ༄

It’s been a few weeks since that day. The green-eyed stranger, Miss Malva, you’re soon told, quickly becomes a regular of yours. It turns out that she’s not much older than you, and had started to train to become a healer around the time you first opened your shop. She’s nice. A bit stubborn, but ultimately very invested and passionate in her work. That’s good, you think, even though you still find her regular use of glamours weird. It’s always good for a healer to be passionate. Even now as she’s having a very serious discussion with Nell about the effects of ginger and whether or not it could actually strengthen immune systems. Right at your counter. You’ve finished their respective transactions at least 30 minutes ago.

What’s worse is that the sun’s rising.

It’s grocery day.

Inwardly, you sigh. Miss Malva’s insight on the various herbs had been interesting to listen to, yet just as you thought that thought, the resident beloved herbalist of your town that never shuts up had to come to ruin that.

“There are countless sources that claim so, dear healer, but I have yet to see its effects for myself.”

Miss Malva chews on her bottom lip, deep in thought. You have the strangest feeling that if she had a tail, it would be swaying in concentration. Still, with her experience with actually using them on a day to day basis, you’re sure that she’d know the answer. “Ginger is a very widely-used herb. I doubt that so many sources from so many locations could state something to be true when it's not, but…”

Really?

“Exactly, what I am saying. Ginger doesn't grow around these parts. We need proof. If you could just do a few experiments, since, you know, you're only an apprentice.” Nell nods sagely, as if she had just said something wise. You side-eye her. She pretends not to notice. Or maybe she really didn’t notice. Who’s to say at this point.

With a sigh, Miss Malva nods. “I’ll look into it. It’s going to take a while, though, since I’ll have to ask Areca for permission and…”

Does she even have enough time in the day to do that? Doesn’t healer training make her busy enough as is? Miss Malva seems more concerned about having to ask her mentor than she is about her schedule.

You clap your hands together and smile. Both Miss Malva and Nell jump, apparently having forgotten you were there too. “Glad that’s settled with. Here are your books.” You say, nudging their paid-for books towards them. You’ll be honest and say that you hadn’t meant for it to sound so snappy, but you were tired, damnit. You just want to go to bed and cuddle with Lysander.

Speaking of, that cat is currently lounging on one of the top shelves, licking his paw and glancing at you with the corner of his eye with a look that practically said, ‘you’re taking too long’. You suspect he’s sulking since Miss Malva stopped petting him once Nell arrived.

Nell quickly grabs her book and excuses herself. Meanwhile, Miss Malva lingers just for a moment longer, her smile sheepish as she picks up her own book and takes a quick glance at the rising sun through the window. “Sorry,” she said, tucking her book in her satchel, “I got a bit carried away. I’ll see you soon, then?”

You huff out a laugh. “If the rate you keep reading through the books you buy is any indication, yes, I’ll see you very soon.”

She laughs and nods, satisfied, and walks out the door, leaving you alone in your store-

“Meow.”

No, not alone. Lysander is still there, of course, lazily stretching atop the shelf and watching you.

“What is it now?” You can’t keep your weariness out of your voice anymore, your shoulders slumping slightly as you make your way over to the shelf Lysander is on. He meows again. “Can’t get down?” Another meow. You sigh, “how did you even get up there in the first place…”

After summoning a stepladder, you quickly climb on and open your arms. Lysander, the smart little kitty he is, immediately jumps into them, digging his claws into your shoulder as your footing slips due to his added weight. Thankfully, you manage to catch yourself, swiftly stepping back onto the flat floor with your darling cat in your arms. “There we go-” he’s not letting go. You frown, trying once again to put him down on the ground. Nope. He’s still clinging to you.

Welp.

You end up carrying him around the store as you close up.

Thankfully, as you finish closing, Lysander jumps out of your grasp, landing gracefully on his feet and padding away. You breathe a sigh of relief. At least this way you won’t have to carry him while you go out. With all the windows closed, you step into the early dawn light and lock your door behind you.

The walk around the town is pleasant, all things considered. Sure, the sun is annoyingly bright as always, but you enjoy the song that the birds and crickets sing to welcome the morning. You see some townspeople that are still awake here and there, either just finishing up their own jobs or having come home from an errand. You smile and nod at them, and they do the same. You can only hope that in your rush, you didn’t accidentally pass by the various shopkeepers whose wares you were planning to buy today.

The butcher’s shop is still open when you get there. You buy a few good cuts of meat for yourself and Lysander.

The local gardener, Nell’s son, sells you the spices and vegetables you need for the week, though he’s unfortunately all out of thyme. He also tells you about the person who had bought the last of the thyme and how apparently they started asking him about how to grow them.

You also need to buy some eggs and bread and…

By the time you finish, all the shops in the town have closed except the local tavern. It’s not noon yet, but still early enough to be considered morning. Deciding that you probably wouldn’t be able to muster enough energy (read: too lazy) to cook dinner, your steps carry you to the entrance of the establishment, your grocery still in your arms.

As soon as you enter, however, someone calls your name. Following the voice, you find Miss Malva on a table by herself, a few books (were those the books she bought just today? Even the sappy romance novel that she- no, wait, she pulled it under the table. Huh) opened all around the table and a glass of… something, next to her. It’s definitely not alcohol, if the smell is anything to go by. She gives you a smile and waves you over, and despite your hesitance, you find yourself walking towards her and taking a seat across from her.

In an attempt to break the ice, you chirp; “I didn’t think I'd ever see you somewhere that’s not my bookstore or Miss Areca’s clinic, Miss Malva.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever really seen you outside of your store, either,” she quips, curiosity hidden under a thin layer of amusement. It makes you smile a little in return. “And just ‘Malva’ is fine. I’m not much of a fan of formalities.”

“I’m the only one who really runs the store. My parents used to help when I was younger, but they decided that it’s my responsibility now that I’m an adult and since the bookstore was my idea.” You say as you set your groceries down beside your chair. Briefly, the thought of how in the world she would have enough time to research ginger when she even has to study while she’s in a tavern crosses your mind again.

“Really?” Mis- Malva tilts her head to the side slightly, “What is it like, running a bookstore?”

Not really knowing how to answer her in a way that makes it sound interesting for anyone but yourself, you shrug, “you know, just keep the store clean, restock the shelves every once in a while, interact with the customers and handle the counter, give recommendations if customers ask for it, stuff like that. The organizing part is the most fun.” Along with getting to talk to people about the books, of course.

Malva hums her understanding, taking another sip of her drink. Her whole body is turned towards you, and you can tell that she’d been listening pretty intently the entire time. It’s nice, you think, to have someone so genuinely interested in hearing what you have to say.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?”

The question had escaped your mouth before you could stop it. You blame it on the exhaustion, but you can’t lie to yourself and deny that you’re at least a little bit curious about the healer’s apprentice. “Your whole thing as a healer. What’s it like?”

It takes a moment for Malva to reply, but when she does, you find yourself listening just as earnestly as she had when you spoke, “it’s a lot of memorizing for one,” she glances down at her cup, then back up at you again with an easy smile, “it’s important to remember it all since every single plant has its own use, and it could end disastrously if you use the wrong plant on the wrong ailment.” She seems to cringe slightly at that, but nevertheless continued, “There’s also various potions, and they all have their own recipes as well. But at this point in my training, I’m learning how to make use of the raw herbs.”

“You must know a lot of plants, then?” You ask, leaning your chin on your hand, your interest piqued, “do you have a favorite? I’d imagine you’ve studied loads of interesting plants.”

By the way her eyes light up at your question, you think you’ve said the right thing.

“As in, plant in general or a specific plant?”

“Specific. What do you like about the plant?”

“Okay, so there’s this flower called the gardenia. It’s pale in color, usually white, and it’s mainly used as houseplants but it can be made into calming potions-”

⊹｡₊°⟡.⸙͎۪۫ ༄

The seasons pass, just like they always did. Autumn made way to winter, which then made way to spring, which then faded into summer. And like them, you went about your days just like you always have. Season after season, year after year.

It was the end of the week, so your store is closed early for the day. You take the remaining time until sunrise to take a walk around the edges of the town, enjoying the cool summer night breeze against your skin. You didn’t have a destination in mind, just the curiosity to explore a bit more of the forest that surrounded your hometown.

You find her there, crouched over a shrub, a notepad in one hand and a pencil in the other. Your weekly tavern meet-up isn’t for another overmorrow, so it suffices to say that her appearance is unexpected. Malva seems to be far too occupied with whatever plant it is that she’s studying to notice you. You ponder briefly on whether or not you should approach her. She should be nearing the end of her apprenticeship soon, so whatever it is she’s working on has a high possibility of having ties to that, but your curiosity won over in the end.

“Malva?”

She perks up as soon as she hears you say her name. “Oh, it’s just you,” she sighs, visibly relieved, “I thought Areca had come to drag me back home again.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, but a part of you cling to that one word. Home. Has Malva grown to see this place as home, just as you do? Does this mean she’s going to stay here after she graduates and becomes a full healer? The thought sent a strange emotion into your heart. Still, you crouch down next to her, glancing over to see the shrub she was looking at. It was a cluster of small purple flowers. You were unfamiliar with its name, but you remember her telling you about a plant like it, once. Was it hyacinths? Cosmos?

Thankfully, Malva takes pity on you. “These are evergreen lupines,” she said, brushing her knuckles over the delicate petals, “they’re used to get rid of parasites, but they’re toxic to cattle. Bovines, specifically.”

“Am I interrupting your studies?”

“Not really. I was just finishing up,” it takes her a moment to put her notepad and pencil back into her bag, but then she turns to you, eyeing you curiously and giving you her full attention, just like she always does, “did you need something?”

You shake your head. “No. I was just taking a walk and happened to see you.”

Malva huffs a laugh, “what, am I that eye-catching that you saw me even when I’m wearing all black in the darkest time of the night?” 

You pause, taking an extra second to look at her. It turns out that, yes, she was wearing all black. You don’t know how or why you didn’t notice that earlier. Nevertheless, you shoot her a playful smile in return, “something like that, yes.”

It felt oddly natural, saying that. You offer her your hand, “would you like to walk with me?”

She takes your hand with a smile that feels incredibly, indescribably warm, “I’d love to.”

⊹｡₊°⟡.⸙͎۪۫ ༄

Alright. Bluebells, white camellias, white chrysanthemums, moonflowers, and mallows. According to the book about flower symbolism you read, these were the best thing you could put together that would look visually appealing when paired with the gardenias Malva’s so fond of, plus the mallows since you thought it would be cute to include her namesake in the bouquet.

You take a nice, deep breath, calming yourself. As autumn comes to an end, the winds have gotten colder, hence the need for the warming spell that enveloped you as you sat on your front porch. Your courtship with Malva has gone well so far, but with the end of her apprenticeship so quickly approaching, you didn’t have much time left to confess to her. Even so, you’ll be damned if you don’t do your absolute best to make it count. The planning for the bouquet is done, and now you just need to buy the flowers. Then you need a good spot to confess. Your house, maybe? No, that would be weird. The middle of town? But she’s too private of a person to enjoy that.

Lysander purrs as he lays in your lap, undisturbed by your mumbling nor by how aggressively you’re petting him and basking in the warmth of the spell. Perhaps his age is catching up to him. You’ve had him for, what, more than a decade, now? You have noticed that he’s slowly been less and less energetic over the course of the last few years.

Shaking your head, you remind yourself of the matter at hand. Lysander still has a few years left in him. You need this confession to be perfect. It has to be perfect. Maybe you could learn a flashy spell to impress her? Something? Anything?

Your orange fluffball wiggles out of your grasp. “Wha- Lysander!”

Too late.

He slinks off before you could stop him. You curse under your breath, getting up to chase after him.

Despite being old, Lysander was quick, running along the town paths with abandon. There were points where you had to follow his footprints after he successfully shook you off to find him again. Thankfully, you finally saw what it is that caught his attention. A tiny gray mouse was running away from him, its squeaks terrified as it tried to get away from the menacing predator that was your cat.

You weave through the streets, making one turn then another, dodging people and objects, almost slipping on the icy roads when they make a sharp turn into an alley, having to slow down to keep yourself from doing so. A victorious, “Mrrp!” comes from Lysander, with him having stopped running and his tail held high. He caught the mouse. You didn’t need to see it to know; the metallic smell of blood has already filled your nostrils. You sigh.

Lysander brings the fresh prey to you, dropping it at your feet and looking up at you expectantly. You take the opportunity to scoop him up into your arms and hold him tight enough so that he wouldn't be able to escape. Now you just need to go home.

You use the footprints you left in the snow to guide you back until you’re back at paths that you’re more familiar with. It’s still pretty dark out, so there are people out who’s going about their night. Lysander wiggles in your arms, meowing loudly and demanding to be let down, catching the attention of some people. You give them an apologetic smile. But. He. Just. Keeps. Meowing. You quietly hiss, trying to get him to shut up. Eventually, he does.

But that’s when you hear your name be said.

Then again.

“I’m going to, I swear! I’m just trying to find a good way to do it!”

Was that Malva? You turn your head towards the source of the sound, only to find that you’re right in front of Miss Areca’s clinic. The patch of ginger from Malva’s experiments was still there in the front yard.

“You better!” you heard another voice say; Miss Areca’s voice. She said your name again, “-deserves to know, alright? I know you don’t want people to only approach you because of your status, but-”

Lysander mews. You glance at him, then at the building, then back at him again. “Just be quiet, okay?”

Another mew.

You sneak towards the sound, careful to pass under the windows and keep your footsteps light as you make your way towards where the sound is clearest; an open… window. You hear Malva’s voice again.

“I don’t want to scare-” your name sounds melodious in her voice, but you could also sense her hesitation. You frown.

“You’re not gonna scare-” your name, in Miss Areca’s voice, “-I’m sure of it.”

“But-!”

Miss Areca hushes her. A beat of silence passes, then another, then another…

The uncertainty is suffocating.

You lift your head up to peek inside, and immediately, your eyes lock with Malva’s forest green ones. Something in her face ripples and-

Her glamour’s gone. Her pupils are slitted like a reptile’s. There are a pair of large obsidian horns on her head. And the magic that surrounds her; that’s no longer disguised and contained by her glamours…

One word makes itself at home in the forefront of your mind.

Draconia.

Huh. So that’s what she’s been hiding.

You give her an uncertain, wobbly smile. It’s odd, you think. You thought you’ve mentally prepared yourself for whatever it is that her glamour hides, but now.

Now…

You hear your name being said again. Malva’s walking towards the window- towards you. Strangely enough, it looks like there’s multiple of her. There's-

Lysander shrieks in surprise, and your vision goes black.

⊹｡₊°⟡.⸙͎۪۫ ༄

When you come to, you find yourself in a cot that's not yours, in a room that smells strongly of disinfectant. Miss Areca’s there, holding Lysander in her arms, and behind her is Malva.

She still has those horns. It wasn't a dream.

It wasn't a dream? Really? All this time, Malva was hiding her horns? Her eyes? Was she really a Draconia or were you just losing it at this point-

Miss Areca pats Malva’s shoulder with her free hand, whispering something to her, which she then nods to, before the healer leaves her apprentice alone with you.

Malva, for her part, seems just as lost as you feel, wringing her hands together and her tail (you didn't notice that before. She had a tail. A very dark purple tail with a lighter purple underside. Huh) twitching in what you can only assume is anxiety.

You feel like you have more of a right to feel anxious than she does, in this particular situation, but still.

She sighs, taking a seat next to your cot. Despite her nervousness, she still looks you straight in the eyes, just as she always does. A part of you is relieved. At least this is still the same.

“So, as you can very obviously see,” Malva starts gesturing to her horns, “I might've… misguided you, on what kind of fae I am.”

“That's an understatement.”

Malva winces slightly at your words. You hadn't meant to say it in that tone, but it's too late to change it now. Still, she continues, “yes, well. I should tell you now, then. The truth.” She straightens her posture, her hands placed neatly in her lap. She looks every but as regal as a royal should be. “I am Malva Draconia, daughter of Maleficia Draconia and second Princess of the Land of Briar. It's a- pleasure to meet you.”

You didn't miss the way her voice falters ever so slightly in her last sentence.

But, well. You've read about scenes like this before, haven't you?

“But you're still Malva, right?”

Malva seems genuinely surprised at your question, but nods, albeit hesitantly. “Of course I am,” she says, confused, “I’ve always been myself.”

You nod. “Then the version of you that I’ve known is you? The real you?”

She seems to be catching on at this point, because her answer becomes more certain. More… her. “Yes. It's always been me. Besides the horns and tail, I haven't hidden anything else from you, and I don't plan to.”

She looks set on something. Like she's going to do whatever possible to achieve it. You remember seeing that look on her face back when she regularly studied in the tavern, with you there to keep her company.

“Then I still love you.”

“I see. Well, if you ever change your mind-”

Malva freezes, and so do you. Something changed in her eyes, the previous determination replaced with hope and the slightest hint of surprise. You feel like burying yourself in a hole.

“You love me?”

There's little you could do but nod, hiding your face in your hands to hide from the embarrassment. You said it. You said it to her in the clinic. You said it to her without your bouquet, without any real preparation, without-

Malva laughs. A sweet, soft, fond sound, like a bell that chimes in the wind. “And here I thought- nevermind.” You hear her shifting closer to you, and then a hand gently cups your chin, tilting your head up in a silent request to meet her gaze, and who are you to deny her?

You'll never forget the words that came out of her mouth at that moment, nor the warm smile she gives you. If anyone asks in the future, you’d tell them that the things she said would put poets to shame, when in reality, all she said was:

“I love you too,”

Your name has never sounded sweeter.

⊹｡₊°⟡.⸙͎۪۫ ༄

At the end of the day, Malva’s still a healer.

The end of her apprenticeship came and went, and with it, Malva’s time at your town. There was a small celebration, a small goodbye party, and then… then she's gone. Gone to pursue her passions and dreams.

You find yourself being happy for her. How can you not? It's all she's ever worked for. Even if it meant not being able to spend much time with her. Besides, she still visits whenever she has the time.

Still though, you find yourself missing her quite a lot, and a lot of the time on top of that. She's started sending letters almost every day when you told her as such.

The last letter she sent is still open on your desk, received a little more than a week ago. You don't know how many times you've read it by now. The quick scrawl of her handwriting, the little swoops of her L's and the scratchy way she dots her I’s. It brings you comfort, especially in this uncertain time, what with the threat of war looming over your heads.

She's a princess, you insist to yourself, she has to be involved with these types of things, even if she's a healer now as well.

It only heightens your anxiety.

You shake your head, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. She's strong. She can handle herself. She was a Draconia for crying out loud.

Yet still…

You grab a pen and paper, and you start translating your thoughts into words.

Surprisingly enough, the reply to your letter arrives the very next day. It's… odd, you think, considering that usually only happens when Malva is on her way either to or from the town, but there's no denying that it's her handwriting on the envelope.

To my beloved, it read.

If it was anything dangerous, you're sure she would've contacted you a different way, you tell yourself. You retreat back into your home and close the door.

It took a bit of effort to open the envelope, what with the charms and protective spells Malva puts on them, but you manage, just like you always do, without ripping or tearing the letter itself. Safely in the comfort of your home, sitting on a chair next to your desk, you start to read.

To my beloved,

You didn't know why she always felt the need to include that twice, but you weren't complaining.

It has been a while since I've had the time to meet you last, hasn't it? I'm sorry. I wish I could've spared the time, but so many things are happening all at once. My duties as a princess and as a healer pull me in different directions, but I assure you that I’ll be alright, and I’ll meet you soon enough.

Soon enough… and how soon is that, you wonder. A month? Two? You didn't know. You didn't know if Malva knew either.

Until then, would you indulge me in something, love?

A request?

Take a walk near the forest for me. Pass by the evergreen lupines, to the spot you and I used to frequent. The place we used to watch the stars together.

Oh, and don't finish reading this letter before you do. Read it while you walk there, if you wish, but remember to always stay alert of your surroundings.

Just who did she think she was talking to? You huff, putting on a jacket before going outside. The autumn leaves crunch under your feet as you walk. You keep reading.

It has been a pleasure knowing you all this time, you know. I still remember the first day we met. You had eyed me like I was some sort of suspicious criminal-

You smile, reminiscing. You didn't think she was a criminal, back then, but the way she was acting was suspicious.

Still, I kept coming to your store again and again. I will admit to you now that it was not always a book I was looking for, but simply some time to talk with you. Your insight has always been incredibly valuable to me, and I truly cherish it, whether you realize it or not.

You pass by the evergreen lupines, still vibrant and purple, but no longer the flowers you first saw with Malva. A different patch entirely, at this point. That was to be expected. It had been years, after all.

I had always suspected that I'd get attached to someone of the town, but never could I have thought that it would be you-

Rude.

and never could I have suspected that I would have grown to love you so deeply, either. But I do.

You pause. All around you, small floating green flames burst to life. You don't feel afraid– more confused, than anything. The magic is familiar. It's Malva’s. You follow the wisps and keep reading.

I adore you, do you know that? It might seem silly or cliche to say it, and maybe I got more than a bit influenced by the novels I've read (with no small amount of them coming from you), but I genuinely feel so. You're incredibly precious to me, and I can't imagine a life without you in it.

There are thousands upon thousands of things I could liken you to. A spring bloom, a dewdrop at the beginning of dawn, the stars… but none of it could ever truly be compared to you.

She's waiting for you, you realize. Malva was waiting for you at the spot, a bouquet in her hand, wearing a floor length dress. She smiles when she sees you. You've known her long enough to see the signs of her nervousness, from the tension on her shoulders to the way her tail twitches back and forth. Still, she holds herself gracefully, taking your free hand into hers and placing a kiss on the back of it. You hear her giggle to herself softly at the gesture, and you smile in return.

“Hello, love.”

“What's all this?”

She smiles at you, in that sweet and soft way she does when she knows you’ll like a surprise she has given you. As if the flowers carefully and meticulously all around you is not enough of a surprise already.

“You haven't read it to the end, have you?” Malva laughs, her eyes filled with a fond amusement.

You narrow your eyes at her in return, “you explicitly told me not to read it till the end until I'm here in the letter.”

Malva gestures towards the said letter loosely, her eyes never leaving your face, “well, you're here now. Go ahead.”

You want so desperately to wipe that amused look off of her face, yet still, you continue to read. Though you don't really need to, since Malva puts it upon herself to say what was on the letter anyway.

“My star, my earth, my heart. These years of being with you; of having my heart in your hands and with yours in mine, have been the best I’ve ever known. I know the future might be uncertain, what with everything going on, but know that my choice will forever be the same. So I ask you now:”

She drops to one knee, pulling out a small velvet box and opening it to reveal a ring inside.

“Will you do me the honors of marrying me?”

[purrincess-chat]

blue guitar boy + 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 13, 18, 19, 25

have fuuunnnn answering

Rae, you glutton for punishment, you XD

Fair warning for those who maybe don't know the history here, this answer will be salty~

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

His relationship with Marinette was short lived and stripped of any meaningful content

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character

That he got off essentially with no punishment for LYING TO MARINETTE'S FACE and keeping secret that HE KNEW HER FUCKING IDENTITY and she doesn't even get mad at him for lying about it, and the narrative doesn't punish him for it either in any meaningful way. I mean, I was happy he had to leave for a while, but then him learning Mirakungfu is just ehhhh I'd have preferred he just never found out and left anyway to go travel with Jagged. I also hate that Jagged is canonically his dad/a deadbeat dad. I liked Jagged significantly more before that was canon, but after that being canon it kind of ruined his character for me ngl...

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Not really a song-song per se, but I think of jacksepticeye's Night in the Woods playthrough when he's like "why is there always some douchebag with a guitar who's like 'I sing about my feelings cause I play guitar'" and that is always the first thing that comes to mind when I think about him. Also, since seeing the Barbie movie I think of that one scene with all the Kens playing guitar at the Barbies, and I love that movie so much for pointing out how cringy it is.

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

They make him more attractive when they draw him than he actually is in canon

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Literally everything else XD People who have been here a long time know about birthdaygate. I hate that they pretend he is better than Adrien, I hate that they act like the love square is toxic and their ship should have been endgame, I hate that they take key traits from Adrien and give them to the blue boy in order to make him more interesting but then shit on Adrien and act like he's the worst character in the show and somehow a creep/abuser toward Marinette/LB while propping up the blue boy on a pedestal as if he's god's gift to the fandom, I hate that they excused away him lying to Marinette about knowing her identity and even praised him for it when literally a season prior to that they shit on Adrien for finding out in CB and not telling her when she just literally had no idea and never asked, but when blue boy gets asked point blank if he knows, he lied and somehow that was perfectly fine and acceptable and they were glad he finally did something selfish/for himself for once. Literally, every time I read a take by blue ship truthers, I feel like my braincells die.

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

I don't have much of a reason for this, but I feel like he would sign off most of his messages with a peace sign ✌️

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

That one episode with Juleka wanting to model was kinda cute when he was encouraging her

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

Marinette~

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Listen, for those that are like why so negative about the blue boy, Cat? What did he ever do to you? I want it to be known, that my first impression of him was very neutral. I didn't love or hate him. He was just okay. I thought he was a little bland, but I was open to seeing where he would go. The fandom 100% ruined him for me entirely. Canon helped later in S4 as I've already talked about, but it was mostly the fandom. Birthday spamming bitches. But when he first debuted, I just thought he was kinda meh, which was a crime apparently. But since then I've been more open with my disdain, so idgaf about it anymore. He's still mid imo.

Send me a character and some numbers

[littlehen]

life stuff update. writing this in the middle of the night and I’m buzzing, so if I do this braindump then I might be able to sleep :)

we are definitely adopting both the mum-cat and the kitten!!

the fosterer is provisionally calling the kitten 'Sienna', which is a beautiful name but a bit posh for a cat, I’m not sure I could live with it for ~15 years, so we've decided to call her Susie (I said we could call them Siena and Florence, I wasn’t serious but that would be so cute) After arguing with Dad for weeks about what to call the mum-cat, I was happy to go with his first suggestion for the kitten. It’s a sweet name and it suits her, let’s go

Dad suddenly announced that he doesn't mind the name Phoebe for the mum-cat, but he just doesn't ‘have any associations with it. Isn't it a rather sloaney name?' I said, most people probably associate it with Phoebe from Friends, although that's not why I like it, I just think it's pretty. He said, 'oh I've never seen that.' Possibly the only human on planet Earth who missed out on Friends. So I thought amazing, we decided on something. Then later in the day he said he wants to call her Mimi (Susie = Marriage of Figaro, Mimi = La bohème). I despair

(I wonder if he'd go for Midge? as in Midge Maisel and Susie. Probably not. He reckons Mimi would be easy for a 1yo cat to learn because she could almost say it herself)

but we need to decide by Tuesday next week, as they're all getting microchipped and mum-cat is being spayed. After she has recovered, she's free to come and live with us. I am not ready at all! where are they going to sleep and eat and what’s the litter tray situation? I've known this new cat was coming for so long and now the time is almost here! but I can never do anything before the eve of a deadline. The kitten changes everything of course. We’ll figure it out

I am applying for a new job, the application is very involved and taking a long time. I’ve already had one meeting with the boss and I think I'm in with quite a good chance. I'm not 100% sure I even want it, but I am dead certain I want to quit my current job

On the digital form I have to include all my work and education history since age 16, it calculates gaps and you have to account for them all (‘August 2003: this was the summer break between school and university’). It’s hard trying to remember the dates of everything I’ve ever done. Years ago, I read the advice that after you have a degree, you should take your school qualifications off your CV because it’s irrelevant and gauche – once you’re a professional in the workforce nobody cares that you got A* at GCSE Drama 20 years ago. So I haven’t had a list of them written down anywhere since 2007. ugh, I’ll include info from my A-levels up to my MA and they can just assume I got decent GCSEs. Even if I don’t get this job, at least it will have been quite useful for the future to have done this detailed exercise in autobiography

I'm also excited about new Ghosts and new OFMD, but I don’t have time to be on tumblr for all of it. I need to focus on this application because there’s a submission deadline, and the OFMD trailer is out soon (!!!), but I can’t be like ‘oops I missed out on a career opportunity because a tv show aired a trailer and I was busy reblogging gifs’ so I need to not get totally distracted by the dopamine tsunami that’s coming

Sleep?