#I drew that small one who's thinking while I was indeed thinking about what to draw pfft

[writingforatwistedworld]

Requests are open?? May I request Lilia and Malleus from the self aware au with a player who is an artist and draws them a lot?

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsession, death, murder, hypocrisy, fire, coma, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior

Malleus Draconia/Lilia Vanrouge-Player is an artist who draws them a lot

Doesn't matter what kind of style and form of art you practice, you have a fan

Classical? Great! Realism? Wonderful! Stick-man-style? He put the picture in a golden frame (All hail the stick-man style!)

But if Malleus were to ever find out that said stick man is supposed to be him, well he would be over the moon

It was a totally normal day, a cat was choking up a hairball and some poor student fell off of his broom in flying class and was now stuck in a tree

But that is of no importance to us

What is of importance though is Malleus strolling down the path down to Ramshackle and seeing you sit on the stairs with paper and other drawing utensils

Completely normal. Peaceful even. Maybe a bit too peaceful

You see, if you hadn't been too absorbed into rubbing colored pigments into dead wood then you would have seen the tall black wall approaching you

A shadow falls over your shoulder and you scream

Is that... him? Why is the Overseer draw-oh

Malleus is metaphorically (more or less. Meh, he is probably this close to doing it also literally) frothing from his mouth after seeing himself in more than just one paper after the small stack stabilizing the paper you drew on slipped from your hands

Forgetting his manners he rips the paper from the ground, staring with eyes wide as plates onto the thinly pressed wood (granny is somewhere shaking her head)

Why would the Overseer, watcher over worlds, almighty ruler of everything, a god, draw him?

Coughing nervously you explained that you just are interested in are and liked to draw him

Later when he is back in Diasomnia Lilia is greeted with the sight of a tail-wagging Malleus (yes Malleus has a tail and I have no idea how he hides it)

“Lilia, the Overseer likes to draw me.”-moments before calamity struck and Malleus accidentally lit the dorm aflame from sheer joy

But... perhaps you shouldn't draw anyone else

Who knows? Maybe that person disappears for a while and just to be found in a deep coma (don't do it)

Whoa whoa whoa darling, let us not jump at him from nowhere with the fact that you like to draw him

After all, he is quite old and we don't know what his poor heart can still take

Now how about you tell him about your interest in art fir- ah... From your expression I take that it is too late for that

Indeed it is

One day you were just sitting there in Ramshackle, T-posing or whatever you do when you are not drawing

Remember that scene when Lilia was introduced to us? Well “How do you do fellow kids” over here just popped out of thin air

Now, that would have been nothing special if it wasn't for the stack of paper with his face on it on the table...

Lilia is staring, you are staring and the gargoyles are facepalming

Poor man has to take a seat all whilst you watch him with cold sweat running down your back

Suddenly Lilia isn't that “always energetic” guy but looks a lot more vulnerable

In Lilias mind however he is planning how to burn that one portrait of himself in the Draconia castle and replace it with your art

Or so he thought until he looked what else you drew

For goodness sake, someone call an ambulance! I think he is about to pass out!

If the situation wasn't already awkward enough for you (and euphoric for him) Lilia suddenly kneels down, saying something about being honored and him swearing to be forever loyal to you

Oh sweet summer child, how easily you told him “Oh thanks...” If only you knew what would follow...

You see, Lilia might have had seen a few too many heads being severed from their bodies but, oh well, all those students were a teeny tiny bit too close to you for his comfort

Suddenly there is an increase in missing students who get found in... uh... “not compatible with life” conditions

See? It's dangerous outside! Let him watch over you!

Says the person responsible for everything

You had shown your appreciation through your art, now it's his turn to show his

And what if a few students need to get hurt? (Yeah, “hurt”)

[0livdocx]

Howard Hamlin: illusion of burning sins

Inspired by Better Call Saul S04E01 - Smoke:

“There’s something else that’s still burning after the fire that took Chuck’s life.”

I originally drew this piece at the start of the year, but recently I got back to it and decided to add some spice. Despite some small errors, I like how it looks now. Yum!

My creative process & thoughts for this piece:

It’s originally a self-projective piece partially about my mental struggles, but I won’t be talking about myself here.

Let’s focus on Howard Hamlin in this episode, right after Chuck’s death - Unforgivable as Howard Hamlin thought he was, he was partially a scapegoat for Jimmy McGill’s deeds. I’m putting Howard in the frame, but it is reflecting an aftermath of Jimmy’s self-denial and psychological manipulation driven by his own insecurities. Jimmy told Howard “that’s your cross to bear” while the sentence also serves as a suggestion to the audience that Howard is indeed a sacrifice to Jimmy’s self-loathing and avoidance. Jimmy McGill would be the illusionist who casted this whole “illusion of sins” upon Howard Hamlin’s already conflicted mind. Would you feel pity for this guy? Vince legit made him cry for your pity.

Everything is still about Jimmy McGill, our cunning, venomous perpetrator. Self-loathing and antisocial tendencies are a part of his true nature. Did he see Howard’s distress? Did he see Howard Hamlin’s suffering? He did. But this man closed his heart to them, just like the way he run away from himself. Jimmy McGill’s lack of sympathy is one of the very things that brought Howard into his grave. Just how pathetic Howard is? Grieving for his misplaced error in the dark, this man is oblivious to the fact that he was already entwined by the serpent: a cold blooded creature who would never change its nature - the snake here serves as a symbol of Jimmy McGill’s inherent antisocial tendencies. Howard could never foresee the future of this serpent sinking its teeth into him and pump out its deadly poison, which will finally give him the kiss of death. Even the stars that will guide him on his path cannot save him from this misery. Personally, 401 feels like the beginning of the downfall of Howard Hamlin, and the rise of Saul Goodman.

If we think about the causes of Chuck’s death, it’s not hard for anyone to see that Howard Hamlin, this poor man is overshouldering someone else’s sin - someone who’s unable to face the responsibilities to their own actions, someone who’s in constant denial, someone who’s too much hatred in their heart. (Naw Howard is legit Jesus here💀) it’s why I chose to cover Chuck’s face with the cross too, for how Jimmy mislead Howard into believing that Chuck’s death was all his fault, when Jimmy himself was the main perpetrator.

Anyway, in later seasons of the show, we can notice that Howard was crumpled up and put into somewhere he didn’t belong, he’s forced to face this superficial alienation - his marriage was falling apart too. With this vulnerability, Vince showed that this lead lawyer of HHM was stuck, he was conflicted, his glory was wearing off, he was struggling like every normal person would. He was burning not only because he’s trapped by guilt and sin, but also for the reason that he has the vitality to “burn” and release energy: He is resilient. He has the life inside of him to be burnt.

Compassion creates a sense of closure between characters and audiences. The entire tight spot in Howards life conveyed by Vince makes audiences empathize with him easily - honestly I never felt a thing for Howard Hamlin’s boring ass because I was busy siding with Jimmy McGill in my mind in the first few seasons. What’s interesting about Brba/Bcs is that Vince put us in front of a quandary: who would you side with in a fucked up world with fucked up people? When watching the first few seasons of BCS I put my empathy in Jimmy McGill, but then my empathy slowly detached from him as the show progressed.

As for Howard, I just pity this man as an audience after witnessing his fall presented by Vince in the later seasons: what Howard deserved was anything but a nameless grave with his murderer, a defamation, and a twisted, made-up story stated by his perpetrators on his funeral. Vince made it obvious to the audience. Yes. Let’s make this glorious man suffer. Let him be guilt tripped. Let his life fall apart like a roller coaster so you’ll lay your compassion and love onto him - Howard Hamlin lost everything, he didn’t even have a death with dignity thanks to the people operating the fucked up bullshit in the dark - It’s interesting to notice my “love” for this character is originally out of compassion.

Despite Howard, there are lots of characters who deserve audience’s love. There are Nacho, Mike, Gus, their motives are even noble if you try to look at it from a humane perspective, but anyhow they’re all part of this gut-wrenching predatory game - it’s basically how everything is so complicated in a world depicted in Better Call Saul and Breaking Bad, they create intricate conflicts. I do love how fictions like BrBa and BCS allow us to explore the complexity of humanity in a safe distance.

As Howard Hamlin was buried, Saul Goodman buried Jimmy McGill alongside with him too. And then there’s Lalo Salamanca lying beside Howard Hamlin like they’re doing pillow talk - they are both powerful beings taking high positions in the BCS food chain. As they disappeared, the path for Saul Goodman’s career to ascend is broad and clear. A cucaracha rising to the top, and this time he’s fully embracing the darkness.

In conclusion: Great make-believe, Vince!

[pholla-jm]

Just Maybe

IMAGINE: JUST MAYBE ~ SANJI X READER GENRE: FLUFF WARNINGS: NONE ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was no secret that Sanji was a womanizer. He was always flirting with women. But there was something about him that drew you towards him. It was the way he treated you. No man has ever treated you the way he has.

He always said such nice things to you. Always seeing if you need anything. He made sure that you were perfectly healthy by giving you the food and drinks that you needed. However, you noticed that he treated you a little bit differently than the girls on the crew. Whenever he was around you, he quickly avoided eye contact. And sometimes he was quick to leave the vicinity that you were in.

It hurt you. It really did. Especially since you did have a crush on him. You were hoping that just maybe, he liked you back. But that idea was quickly shut down.

You needed something to drown out your feelings. Something to forget the slight hurt you were feeling.

Luckily, the ship was docking on an island. The girls and you had planned to go to some bars to get some free drinks. How would you get free drinks? Easy. Flirt with the guys at the bar.

“I think these will look great on you.” Nami says to show you a long sleeve crop top and a short skirt that matched in. You, of course, always trust Nami’s fashion advice. So, with a large grin, you grabbed the clothes from her and put them on. After putting on the clothes, you did your hair in a simple style. When you were done getting ready, you went to the deck where mostly everyone was waiting. Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and Franky were on the deck waiting. Some of them were itching to get to town but were just waiting for Nami to give them their allowance.

“What do you guys think?” You asked them while giving a small twirl. There was a mixture of responses. Luffy and Zoro really didn’t care. Just shrugged. “Super!” Franky shouts. Your gaze lands over to Sanji to see what he thought of your look. Instead, you found that he was turned around- not even looking at you.

You felt your heart strings pull, and not in a good way. Your lips twitched downwards, but you quickly reminded yourself that this was the exact reason you were going out. To distract your feelings from him.

“Alright! Here you go,” Nami says handing the belli to everyone, “ready Robin and (y/n)?” You were about to say something until Sanji interrupted. “Oh Nami-san and Robin-chan! You two look amazing!” He shouts which causes your eye to twitch.

Why didn’t he say anything when you asked how you looked.

With a small huff, you grab onto both Robin’s and Nami’s arm so that you were in the middle of the two. “Let’s go.”

“Woah, what’s the rush (y/n)?” Nami asks. “I’m just really excited to get some drinks. That’s all.” Robin slightly smirks at your answer, “we have lot’s of booze on the ship (y/n)… is it something that has to do with Sanji?”

Of course, she noticed. Nami didn’t really notice. “What about that idiot?” “Well, did you notice that he didn’t say anything about (y/n)’s appearance today?” You huffed at Robins’ words, not really wanting to be reminded of the situation. Nami scoffed. “Who cares what he thinks. He’s blind! You’re about to have a whole bunch of men fawning over you!” Nami says in excitement while dragging all three of you faster to the bar.

Nami was right. Within the minute men were swarming you, complementing your looks. It didn’t take long for you to like one of the guys that was hitting on you. It was a nice conversation and he made you forget about Sanji. Just temporarily though. You and the guy – Otto – were sitting at the bar. You were laughing, having a really good time.

That was until Otto put his hand on your thigh and you felt your chair being dragged away. You swear you got whiplash from how fast it happened.

“Keep your dirty hands off of her.”

You recognized that voice. You looked up to see that it was indeed Sanji. Before you could even intervene, Otto scoffed. “Whatever man.” He got up and left.

Your eyes widen and you looked at Sanji in disbelief. “What was that for Sanji?!” You got out of the chair, so you were now standing in front of him with your arms crossed. You were almost fuming at this point. “He had his dirty hands all over you.” “Why does it matter to you? It’s not like you care!”

Sanji opened his mouth to say something, but his words got stuck in his throat. You noticed that he wasn’t going to say anything, which just made you more upset. So angry to the point that tears were starting to gloss over your eyes. “God! If you’re not going to say anything… then just leave.”

You turned around, hoping that you would find Otto again. However, you were stopped by Sanji’s hand grabbing your wrist. “Please don’t go.” “Why? Give me one good reason-“ “I love you.” Those words fell from his lips before he could even stop them. It was like a word vomit. His words only confused you more. How he always acts around you says something different from what he just said. “That… that doesn’t make- “

Once again Sanji cuts you off. He took your confused state as a rejection.

“I’ll get over you, I promise. These feelings… they’re… it’s only temporary. I’ll get over it. Just please…. Please don’t leave me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words. So many emotions were flowing through you. Confused, first of all. Second, you were frustrated. Frustrated that if Sanji even looked at you then he would’ve realized that you reciprocate his feelings.

“Did you ever think that maybe, I don’t want you to get over me? What if I don’t want these feelings to be temporary? That maybe... maybe that I love you too?”

Sanji’s visible eye widen at your words. He never thought that you would ever like him like that. “What I’m confused about is… why do act so cold towards me sometimes?” Sanji’s heart dropped. He never meant to act that way towards you. He never meant to hurt your feelings.

“I’m so sorry my love. Those were never my intentions. I just got… nervous around you.” He looks down in shame. Treating a woman this way was against his morals.

A small laugh left your mouth. “You don’t have to be nervous around me, you know? It’s not like I’m a stellar beauty or anything.” “Are you kidding me? You’re so beautiful. So beautiful that I was worried that I would make myself look like a fool.” You smiled at him, your hands grabbing his larger ones. It took everything for him not to swoon over right then and there. “Well, you’re not making a fool of yourself right now. In fact, I think you’re doing just fine now.”

“Can I kiss you?” His mind was blank, except for the image of your lips. So much so that the question fell out before he could stop them. “You don’t even have to ask.” You say taking one hand to grab him by the collar to pull him down.

Your lips landed on his and Sanji freezes up. You could feel his hand tighten in your grip, causing you to smile in the kiss.

When you pulled back, Sanji was in a daze. “Do you think that maybe you can be mine?”

Sanji broke out of his daze, a large smile on his face. He couldn’t believe that this was actually happening.

“That would make me the happiest man in the world.”

[genderfluid-insomniac]

sun wukong and sixed eared mihou realizing their crushes [where theyre in a "courting" type stage of their relationship] mortality? like they knew they were mortal before sure but they get a close call where their crush is Fine but it kinda puts things to perspective for them ykwim [smth like having to pull them away from a car that nearly hits them, nearly falling off a mountain ledge, just barely dodging an attack, etc]

idk im curious to see how theyd react and if theyd grow distant or clingy or try to Make them immortal

Sun Wukong + Six-Eared Macaque x fatally injured!mortal!s/o

Sun Wukong

He knows all too well about being close to someone who’s mortal and doesn’t want to go through it again but would rather become mortal with you than force you to become immortal. So when you get fatally injured during an attack against the city he freaks out and thinks that’s it, Wukong isolates himself into you or one of his friends physically goes into his hut where his brother and sisters surround him all worried and concerned for their king.

You repeatedly tell him that this was his life worked sadly, and people got injured but that doesn’t mean he’s going to lose you until he shouts out, “THATS THE THING! JUST LIKE THE OTHERS, YOU LEAVE ME AND DIE WHILE I SUFFER FROM STAYING IMMORTAL. I DON’T WANNA LOSE YOU!” He turns to face you and tears are streaming down his face, his nose is running and he’s hyperventilating, you realize all these past weeks why he’s been so protective and worried because of this. The relationship between you two was still new so at first you didn’t know how to respond and then you followed what your heart wanted to do, ignoring every awkward warning in your mind.

He needed comfort. Your lover who risked his life and gave his heart to you needed reassurance and comfort from you. You ran over to him and hugged him as tightly as you could with your injury, wiping his tears and kissing him sweetly. Some of the monkeys climbed next to you to watch you guide Sun through a breathing exercise. “In…1….2…3….4….out…2…3…4.. That’s it.”

You reassured him that you did indeed want to spend the rest of your life with him, there was no doubt in your mind. “Sun Wukong, I don’t wanna leave you one day and I love you so much. Even if it’s still early in our relationship, I would give my life in exchange for having eternity by your side.” The king is shocked and stops crying slowly, sniffling and looking right into your eyes. He could see it, you weren’t lying and it was the same devotion and strength that drew him towards you in the first place.

You helped him up and waved the crowd of monkeys to follow you to the side cavern that had holes for the sun to peek in and a waterfall flowing into a small underwater cave system and river. There long ago the Great Sage had taken the seeds from the immortal peaches and planted them in the grass there, originally it just for him but now it had grown into a place of comfort for him, holding such a strong and powerful gift. Jumping to grab a peach and having some help from one of his siblings, you took it in your hands and felt the soft fuzz.

“I want to stay with you.” You gathered his hands in yours so both of you were holding the fruit and lifted up to your mouth, taking a bite and chewing it as you relished the soft taste. Wukong smiled so lovingly at your actions and did the same, biting the opposite side of the peach and humming at the familiar but sweet taste. All the monkeys around you slowly came towards and hugged you, some let out whoops of joy, and others ran outside (if you had to guess to inform others that their royal older brother had taken a mate for life).

Six Eared Macaque

…….so…….the topic of death for him is a very difficult subject to breach in the first place and getting him to open up, reassuring him you do truly love him and aren’t going to leave or betray him took a while. Macaque is already very protective of you and there have been several close calls where you’ve been close to dying every time his anxiety spikes, the dark voices in his mind whisper how some day you’ll leave this mortal plane leaving him alone again, and death tormenting him in the worst way.

One day he goes to visit you and when you don’t answer he knocks again….and again, after two or three minutes he invites himself in and calls out your name. If not for his hearing he wouldn’t have heard you faintly whisper his name and the sound of your heart beating slowly, your body sounded wrong and badly damaged but you hadn’t been injured in a battle so what was wrong? Macaque got his answer when he stepped into your room and you brightly flushed with the covers pulled up to your chin, a trash full of used tissues by your bedside table alongside a bucket he could guess for vomiting.

“What happened? Lotus you were fine a couple of days ago-“ You held your hand out and he sat on your bed, cradling your head in his lap and giving you water before you spoke. “Meningitis.” A cough spilled from your lips and you held your head in pain, groaning and blindly reaching for pain pills. Your boyfriend used his tail to grab them and help you swallow them, rubbing comforting circles on your hand. “My brain is swelling which is causing me to be sick and my prescribed medications aren’t stopping it. It suddenly came on and if I don’t get the right help or get better then I’ll die.”

You didn’t mean to freak him out but hiding it would make it worse and you held Macaque’s hand as he tried to suppress his panic attack, trembling and murmuring pleas to anyone or anything to not take you away from him all as you could only hold his hand. Too weak to stand for longer than two minutes. With tears streaming down his face he cupped your face and took a deep breath, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while and now is certainly not the “right” time but I can’t live in a world without you. I love you too much to live the rest of my immortality without you and I would rather die a second time, so….”

“Yes.” He stopped and met your gaze, you nodded and reached a hand up to cup his cheek, letting tears roll down your cheeks. “Macaque from the moment I met you I’ve wanted to spend the rest of my life and if it means being immortal with you then I gladly accept. Do whatever you need to do.” He nodded and borrowed your laptop to search for myths of immortality elixirs or artifacts that would help you become immortal, the entire day your lover spent caring for you while also finding something for eternal life.

That’s when he found the ingredients to make an elixir of immortality, entrusting your care to MK and Sandy before heading off into the forest. After days of search, he finally found it, he almost got his arm chopped off but it was worth it for you, Macaque rushed back to you and peppered you full of kisses. Soon enough he came back into your room with a cup full of herbal tea with Blood-red cinnabar and gleaming gold; fickle mercury and fiery sulfur mixed in and sat you up to drink it, “Take it slow, lotus. You’re still sick.” You slowly drank the cup until it was empty and both of you waited with baited breath until you could take a deep breath, already sounding so much better according to his six ears.

[beneathsakurashade]

why did my favorite game turn into a dating sim? twst x gen reader (crack fic) CH: 2 me. u. church. in wedding outfits. rn

CH: 1

The two of you sit across from each other on opposite sofas.  Enjoying a pleasant late afternoon meal of tea and various cakes, it felt like a scene from a fluffy fanfic.  “Man, I remember one time I had a birthday party at a cafe or something and we got served lemonade and cookies” you smile, serving yourself another small cake.  “Lemonade and cookies? I haven’t heard about that before, processed sweets and drinks are forbidden in my household” Riddle remarks taking a small sip of tea.  “Damn, that’s crazy, is that why your fave food is strawberry tarts?” You reply.  “Yes, the tarts that Trey makes are my exception to that rule.  In fact, Trey bakes all of the desserts for our dorm.” he explains.   

    “Wait Trey makes these? Like ALL of them? Dang, bro’s a great baker, I’m banned from the kitchen in my household for some reason” you say “Banned from the kitchen? H-how did that happen?” He sighs nervously and you shrug in response “I think it was because of that one time I microwaved a mozzarella stick for like a minute and almost burned down the house.  Or that time I gave my family food poisoning the first time I cooked dinner.  Wait maybe it was that time I cooked a pizza and it fell down to the bottom of the oven from the rack and we had to buy a new oven… Dunno, tbh they're prob just being haters”.  Riddle chokes on his tea and coughs “Uh-I-I see…I suppose then I’ll have to be the one cooking in the relationship”.

“Speaking of this relationship, am I gonna take your last name for a month?  Or are you gonna take mine?” You ask “I thought about this, and while I would like to keep my name.  I don’t mind taking yours, it is only a month after all”. “Hmmm, Y/N Rosehearts or Riddle L/N…” you sigh “Quite the conundrum” “Indeed…”     The door is flung open by two students who you recognize as Ace and Deuce.  You jump in surprise and drop the cookie that you were holding.  “Housewarden Riddle! Is it true that you’re gonna get married?” Ace exclaims and Riddle stiffens “Y-yes that’s correct, but only temporarily! A month at most”.  You pout and pick up the fallen cookie “Rip soldier” you mutter and turn to the two “What have you to say for killing my cookie?” Deuce bows “Our deepest apologies!” Ace groans “No need to be all proper Deuce, its not like they’re a celebrity or something” he smiles “The names Ace Trappola, and this here -he points to Deuce- is Deuce Spade”.  You sigh “Erm actually, I have three hundred and sixty seven followers on hoyolab, so yes, I am a celebrity. Also I know, Riddle complained about how you’re among the worst students that he’s seen in all his twenty years.  Btw I’m Y/N L/N, professional failure and yapper, with rizz”.     “I feel bad for ya’ to be honest.  With all the rules here n’ stuff” Ace sighs and sits down beside Riddle on the couch, much to the other’s chagrin.  You shrug in response “I know, but that’s the price you pay for love I suppose.  I don’t mind it if I can be married to my husband here for a month”.  Riddle turns red and Ace laughs “We better get used to seeing a strawberry red housewarden Deuce!” Deuce responds confused “Okay!” You smile “You two are silly, I like it, but stop harassing my pookie”.  Riddle turns an even darker shade of red if that was possible and collars Ace.  Deuce watches on in confusion, unsure of whether to defend his friend or his Housewarden.  You liked Ace, he reminded you of a childhood friend that you had back home, though said friend always pretended not to know you at school for whatever reason.  That’s probably what drew you to his character in Twisted Wonderland.  Deuce reminded you of yourself, though not the whole middle school gangster thing, your mom would kill you if she ever found out that you used to ditch school and joined a gang.  But the whole working hard and it never being enough, nothing ever sticking in your head no matter how many times it was drilled into you, staying up till ungodly hours in the night to get a good grade to impress her. 

    The two of you, yourself and Riddle, head back to his room.  “Did we miss a few chapters?” You tease and Riddle turns to you confused.  “Pardon?” You sigh “Of course you wouldn’t get it…” he still looks confused while opening the door “Guests first” he smiles and you walk in.  “Woooah, aw man, there’s only two beds” you mutter “Is there something wrong?” Riddle inquires. “Nah, just a fanfic reference, iykyk” you shrug and sit down on the twin bed near the wall. “Fanfic?” “Yea, y’know, fanfiction?” You lie down on your back and turn your head to face him. “Fanfiction? Oh, Cater mentioned something about that…” he nods and sits down on his bed “Is your bed comfortable, Mx. Y/N?”. “Its nice, but it would be better if you were here with me” you sigh dramatically.  To which he blushes and sighs in mock annoyance “Y-you’re certainly quick to act like a married couple Mx. Y/N”.  You turn and set your chin on your palm “Call me Y/N, we’re more than a married couple less than lovers correct?” He sighs softly “I suppose that’s a rather accurate description, forgive me for acting incorrectly at all during our time together.  This is the biggest thing that I’ve done without Mother’s permission…besides that one time I got fast food with Cater”.  The teasing look vanishes from your face “Your mom doesn’t let you get fast food??” You gape.  “She considers it extremely unhealthy, saying that fast food is the beginning to a short and poor life.”    You blink and finally say “So…she’s an almond mom?” He looks down “Cater said something like that once…I researched the topic and it isn’t an incorrect description of my mother.  But she’s a good woman! She is a doctor so she knows all about what she is talking about! Mother wouldn’t lie to me…she wouldn’t…”.  You sense the saddening gloom that's starting to settle in the room.  Riddle's mom was a sore subject for him, most of the fandom, (his stans especially) absofuckinglutely hated her guts, you couldn't blame them though, she was a real daughter of a nice lady... “Welp, usually I’d say listen to your parents.  But I have an idea, how about we go to a fast food place for our first date as a couple?  You guys probably have a McDonald’s or something like it here right?”.  He brightens up at your enthusiasm “Are you sure about that? Aren’t first dates usually more classy?”.  You respond smugly “That’s what the tv shows say, but my broke ass says otherwise! Don’t worry pookie, I’ll make our first date the best that you’ve ever seen!”

AN: hiii everyone its me, also random thing but I remember the time I was reading a twst fic on wattpad and there was a comment that I found so goofy and what made it extra memorable for me was that the user of the commenter was theevilfoodeaterbanica or something like that and it made my Evillious Chronicles fangirl heart happy. Anyways hope you all are doing great! (つ≧▽≦)つ⊂(｡･ω･｡⊂)

[sareeen]

Soft melodies

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x fem!reader

Summary: Sometimes emotions can be so confusing, especially when it comes to the enemy.

A/N: Back after a long break. I hope you're not disappointed with this chapter and thank you to all of you who are still waiting for the chapters.

Masterlist (with all my fics and previous chapters)

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake. :)

A cold wind ruffled Y/N's hair as she stepped out on the balcony. She pulled on the thin robe she had quickly put on as she got out of bed to cover her naked body. She looked back and watched Eris sprawled out on the huge bed. He was naked, the blanket had been thrown on the floor sometime during the night and now his muscular body was on full display. Y/N's eyes lazily ran over the pretty bottom and toned torso and then smiled as Eris moved. For a while he fumbled around as if looking for her, but finally settled for a small pillow, which he now held tightly against him.

Y/N turned away with a sigh and closed her eyes. She enjoyed the icy breeze and the lightly falling snow, which held meaningful memories for her.

December, seven years ago:

Y/N cut through the snow-covered streets of Velaris. A few strands of hair had slipped out from under her cap, now clinging sweatily to her neck as she dodged passers-by. She held at least four bags in each hand, and even managed to squeeze a heavy package under her right arm. But as tired and sweaty as she was, the smile could not be wiped from her face. Solstice was coming, her favourite holiday of the year. After all, who doesn't love decorating the house, snuggling under the covers to escape the cold and receiving presents?

The family home was not far away when something caught her eye in the window of a shop. Slowly, she moved closer, almost afraid to look at the object.

It was a tiny box, something that would probably have been completely unimportant to many people, but for her there was something about it that drew her to it. Beautifully crafted, gilded leaves ran along the sides, curving straight up to the top of the brown box, which had an oak tree carved into it.

Suddenly a hand grasped the piece and when Y/N looked up she found herself face to face with amber eyes.

I can't believe it, I must be hallucinating, she thought to herself.

"Do you like it?"

Although they were separated by a glass, she was still able to read Eris' lips. A smug expression was on his face and he turned the box in his hand as he watched her.

She literally burst into the shop after recovering from the shock.

"What are you doing here?" she questioned the moment she set a foot inside. "I could kill you for that!"

Eris raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" There was a mirth behind the man's meek tone. "Maybe you'll throw one of those bags at me? Choke me with your scarf? You know, I think I'd enjoy the strangling if you did it."

"Shut up and answer me!" Y/N clenched her fist in annoyance, which Eris watched with bursting happiness.

"So, should I shut up or respond? You know I can't do both at the same time" he continued.

She just crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him hostilely. It's a pose and a look she learned from her mother when she was little, because it would break any man in an instant.

Eris sighed.

"I was at your uncle's," he said and tossed the box, then before it fell to the ground he quickly reached out and caught it. His index finger brushed over and over the gold leaves, giving Y/N the impression that he might not be as calm as he pretended to be.

"What for?"

"Matters of concern to High Lords," he replied tersely, and fixed his gaze on one of the gold cages, in which a yellow bird was chirping.

"You're not a High Lord," she watched as his shoulder tensed at those words and he turned to her. The look in his eyes was almost scorching and promised such danger that Y/N unconsciously took a step back.

"Indeed, I am not," Eris replied, then turned his attention back to the little bird. Carefully he reached through the bars of the cage and to Y/N's dismay the animal let himself be petted. Eris's finger glided along the yellow wings with a gentleness that Y/N would never have expected from such a cruel, amoral person.

"Not yet" he added quietly moments later.

His face was reserved and he seemed out of reach, as if he were not just an arm's length away from Y/N, but light years away. In Y/N's soul, an overwhelming feeling arose that was all too similar to pity.

But why should she feel sorry for him? This man was sin and cruelty itself.

Yet as he stood before her, stroking the bird, she was unable to just walk away.

"And how long will you stay?" she hated that her voice had softened and sounded almost hopeful.

"Oh, I'll be home today," Eris replied, then looked at her mischievously. "Sure, if you want me to stay the night."

Y/N snorted and decided to leave him here instead.

"Dream on"

"We are in the Court of Dreams, aren't we? Where else can I dream but here?"

He followed her out into the street, where meanwhile the snow had begun to fall in large flakes. Since Eris had no cap, within moments thousands of tiny snowflakes adorned his hair, slowly melting away, leaving his locks wet.

"How do you know so much about Velaris?" Y/N asked grimly, glancing around. A few people were starting to take notice, which was no surprise to her, since he wasn't just anyone standing in front of her. However, she knew that it would not end well if this got back to her family, so she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest secluded street.

"I've been alive longer than you, sweetheart," Eris leaned against the brick building behind him, but he was still much taller than her and she had to look up at him. "I've been here long before you were born, but to answer your question your uncle and I had business that forced him to share information about this town."

Too many questions swirled in Y/N's mind, but she controlled herself. This was not the time to start questioning him, so she forced herself to remain calm.

"Go home, Lord Vanserra," Y/N said, adjusting the packs in her hands, which felt more and more heavy. "You have no business in our town or our shops."

There was a momentary flash of sadness in Eris's eyes, but it disappeared so quickly that Y/N thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

"I'm going home" he answered without any argument, surprising Y/N. "On one condition."

"Of course" Y/N rolled her eyes. Where did she think he was going to do what she wanted?

"I'll walk you home" Eris declared, to which Y/N immediately started to protest.

"Absolutely not!"

However, the man stood adamantly in front of her and didn't move a muscle. He was like an unruly boulder that someone would try to drag out of the way, unsuccessfully.

"To the Great Mother," Y/N growled, and raised her gaze to the sky. She wanted to stomp like a little kid who's had her favourite toy taken away from her. "You are so annoying!"

"But Lady Y/N, how do you talk?" Eris' amber eyes sparkled with glee. "A lady does not refuse a gentleman's noble offer."

"You're not a gentleman" Y/N muttered, but finally sighed in resignation. "Very well"

With that, she thrust the bags into Eris's hands and raised an eyebrow.

"If you're going to walk me home, I might as well get some use out of you" she added recklessly. She just couldn't help herself, even though she knew who he was. He brought something out of her, something that made her want to poke him and watch Eris's eyes twist or sparkle. She hated him, it was true, but there was still a part of her that wanted to play this dangerous game between the two of them.

"How cruel" Eris whispered with a fierce grin.

For a moment they just looked at each other, and it made Y/N shudder. Her mind was screaming that this was all wrong and she should run away or she would just end up burning herself, but she couldn't. She had felt it the first time they had danced together, but now she was fully aware of it.

"We have to take the long way round" her voice was hoarse when she finally managed to speak. "They can't see us together."

"Of course" Eris said in agreement and gestured. "After you."

With shaking legs, she moved and heard him follow. Every nerve in her body tuned to him as he walked beside her and she exhaled the air she held in her lungs.

Everything would be all right, she reassured herself.

It was so surreal, because not long ago when she'd seen him, she'd felt like gouging his eyes out. Now she was almost happy to be walking with him home. Something was very wrong with her. It was as if her emotions were in a tailspin, one minute she was happy to be with him, the next she wanted to kill him.

That's how the whole way home went, with her brooding and him walking quietly beside her. But when they reached the door, he carefully placed the bags in her hands and looked down at her. His amber eyes gleamed like two jewels in the fairy lights, for it was well after dark by the time they reached the house. The man's gaze slid to her lips, making Y/N catch her breath.

"Well, Lady Y/N," Eris' voice was soft and kind, as if they hadn't been bickering for an hour. "It was nice to see you again."

"Are you really trying to be a gentleman?" Y/N smiled incredulously.

"You don't like it perhaps?" Eris asked back cheerfully.

"No" Y/N clutched the gifts to herself. "That's not you and it's not very exciting."

The man lowered his head and chuckled.

"Noted, Lady Y/N" he bit his bottom lip, trying to suppress his emerging smile. "I'm going to be a real asshole again."

"You finally admit you are one."

At this, he threw his head back and burst out laughing. She smiled at him, but still felt like betraying her own family. Good heavens, how would poor Aunt Mor feel if she knew that she was laughing with this man outside?

When the thought struck her, her mood vanished and she cleared her throat.

"Thank you for walking me home, but now it's time for you to go home," she told Eris.

"Of course" Eris frowned and bowed slightly to her. "Goodbye"

Y/N watched him walk away without a word and she literally fled inside the house.

Only a few days later, while wrapping presents, she saw that the man had sneaked something into one of the bags.

Carefully, she took the tiny box in her trembling hands and smoothed the gold leaves over the sides, then opened it. A low, soft melody broke the silence of the room. But what caught her attention was the folded note at the bottom of the box and the words on it.

Happy Solstice, Y/N.

I hope the music box I made brings sweet dreams for you.

E. "asshole" V.

Y/N closed her teary eyes and listened to the music, which seemed to crawl straight to the depths of her soul.

Her heart had just gotten her into the worst trouble.

[starpirateee]

Hi!! Could you write one of the Curtwen prompts I made, yet didn’t cut it? I love your writing style!!

Honestly there was a bit of deliberation here because you put some really good ideas out there on the form, but I did say I'd write em myself, and by all means, I'll still do it! So, I decided to go for this prompt:

Would you take a modern au from me? Can I do that?

I mean, I'm going to anyway, because I have a dire need to call Curt and Owen husbands (and also for wider Starkid lore), but i just thought I'd warn you beforehand!

"Agent Carvour, have you found anything yet?"

Owen leaned back away from his research. He'd been looking at the same page now for a while, trying to make some sense of it. Redacted government files were hard to get hold of, but even harder to make ends of. His system had been trying to translate it, but not even he had the software for that.

"Quite possibly, sir. I have a few sources, at least."

"What have you got?"

With an air of something that was almost excitement and almost elation, Owen pulled up a series of documents and started the walk through them. "Well, sir, the easiest source was from a few years ago. There's a company in Michigan that's been trying to conduct various temporal experiments under their parent company— some kind of analyst company, I think. They're surprisingly ordinary. Anyway, apparently the experiments just… Stopped. They never drew a conclusion on whether or not their research was connected to what was on the other side."

This had all started when Chimera had dug up a series of centuries old reports about people claiming to have looked into the eyes of old gods. None of the people had known each other, but all of the reports showed some form of consistency, and all told of great, unknowable power.

So, they had decided to look into it, to see if there had been anyone else who'd dared to brave the process of trying to find an answer. Owen was one of those lucky enough to find himself with the resources to start a thorough investigation.

"They didn't finish?"

"No, I don't know what happened, but the reports just stopped one day."

"Is there anything else?"

"An american government report, but it's as hard as you can imagine to decipher. Most of it is redacted…"

"Anything worth noting?"

Owen nodded, carefully turning back and switching the tabs. This felt a little like he was giving a presentation that he hadn't prepared for, and he hadn't felt like this in quite some time. He took a breath, trying to slow down the rampage that was going on in his head. "They started in the early noughts. 2005, to be precide. That's the earliest I'd gotten without looking at those old reports from the pioneers. A branch of the military tried to build a gateway to the other side, to investigate what existed outside of our plane. I don't know names, only one. The name of the man who performed the experiment."

"They got this gateway open?"

"Yes, sir. And they sent someone through. I think there's a good reason why his is the only name they disclosed."

"Why?"

"Because he was declared dead, sir."

His screen still displayed the document, and the man's name sat among the black markouts, clear enough to see. Cross, W.D. Apparently, he'd ventured into the portal, and nobody heard from him or saw him after the date of the experiment. They gave up the search after a month, and after that, Colonel Cross was indeed declared dead.

"So, another dead end?"

"Maybe not. I'll do what I can to uncover this with what I've got available, but it was scanned, so…. It might take some time." Owen was normally confident in his abilities, and uncovering government documents was a difficult yet necessary part of the job. There was something almost genuinely enthralling about scraping off the parts that the world's governments wanted to keep secret. It felt like giving people a small yet surprisingly effective slice of justice every time.

"Keep looking, Carvour. We need to know if this is viable, or even worth our time…"

If Owen had any kind of normal life— if he and his husband didn't both do the dirty work for secret operation services— he would have a blast trying to decide how to describe the intricacies of what he'd been researching lately. The throws of domestic life confounded him to no end, which was why it was so funny when he and Curt tried to imitate that.

The otherwise simple question of "how was your day" turned into a battle of who could craft the most believable lie that better concealed what they'd actually done. Neither wanted to jeopardise their jobs, and Curt had always been brilliant at crafting stories, so it was never dull.

He started to think about what today's excuse would be. Something about pioneers, or the Oregon trail, or perhaps he could bring up that old, dead colonel somehow, that would be interesting to add to the pile.

--

"You know what I'm gonna ask already…"

By the time he got home, Curt was already waiting for him, and the mid-spring sun was starting to set. For anyone else, it was a day at the office, but the trails he had begun to uncover had really put all other days at the office to shame.

He laughed softly, having prepared this answer a number of hours before, and took up a position on the couch. "No, love, you first. I insist."

"Fine, okay," Curt answered with a chuckle. "It was nothing really, just your standard… But, the bear returned, and in about a month, I'm gonna get really rich and run off to central Europe, with a really pretty lady and a dollar store box of magic tricks."

"The same bear from last month?"

"Yeah. Bastard won't leave me alone."

"Sounds wild. Are you coming back after your plans to run off with this really pretty lady?"

"Plan is to cut myself off after three weeks, but at this rate, I might not make it two."

"Not good enough?"

"Owen, I'm a bit too gay for that." To sell his point, he flashed his wedding band, and Owen laughed harder. "Besides," he added, covering his own bout of laughter. "Who needs a fake wife when I've got my own right here?"

Owen shot him a faux-offended glance. "How dare you!"

"You might fool the guys at work, O, but you couldn't pretend you don't think about it…"

Or that he hadn't been experimenting in that part of himself in little segments since he was seventeen. Turns out he suited long hair better, and he wouldn't hesitate to admit that he both looked and felt rather good with the occasional flourish.

"You know me well..."

"I should hope so! Anyway, what're you keeping from me? How was your day?"

"Office, just like you. I've had a conversation with a pioneer, and tried to erase marker pen over the body of a dead soldier. Oh, and I tried to teach myself statistical analysis."

"Jeez, that was— that was a whole rollercoaster there, huh?"

"Mhm, I've been busy."

"You can say that again, god… So, a pioneer? Like those guys that travelled to Oregon?"

"Yeah. Quite interesting people, if a little paranoid." Something other than their oxen might be watching them would've been a perfect addition to the statement, but Owen felt that was a little too close to the line to pass, so he decided not to add it.

The important part was, apart from the knowledge that Curt was on an assignment in a month's time, both of them were none the wiser. Curt didn't need to know that he had started the deep dive into a pack of eldritch gods and was even slightly nervous about the outcome.

He didn't sleep well that night. He knew that he had right to believe that this was all one great hoax, that there was something in the water that made the pioneers mass hallucinate this supposed watcher. They all travelled on the same trail, it was entirely plausible that all of them found the same hallucinogenic and envisioned a thousand eyes watching them and their familes. It was less of a coincidence when two subsidaries of larger companies started describing details of experiments that led them to discovering other beings beyond just the watcher, of course, but he still wasn't sure whether he was privy to believing any of it.

There was something about redacted government files, though, that were meant to be believed. There was a reason they hid information from the public, and that was often because they had found something worth disclosing in the first place. That meant huge news, large press cover ups… The whole works… And that was the last thing any self-respecting government with something to hide would want. Owen imagined the size of the initial press conferences for dealings like Roswell, how many people must've shown up to that conference, under the impression that they were going to get answers, only for the press to redact the next day and claim that it was no more than a weather balloon.

He felt like he was dealing with a weather balloon of his own right now. This was something that this branch of the military clearly didn't want people knowing. The only reason they'd had to disclose any information at all was because one of their own had died looking for this information, and they had to provide the closure for whatever family he had left. Part of him wondered what they'd said, how they'd tried to cover up this man's imminent demise at the hands of another dimension. What did his family know? Was he ever given a sendoff?

When Owen tried to sleep that night, plagued with the thoughts of how much his research was worth, and what really happened on the other side, he couldn't get his head in the right place to take a suitable rest for long enough. Flashes of colour— brighter than anything he'd ever seen— danced behind his eyelids, chasing each other in sequence. Blue. Purple. Yellow. Pink. Green. White. Blue…. He didn't have much of the capacity to think, not when those colours started consuming his subconscious thought, but he spared a moment to the hope that he may get answers of his own if he stuck around long enough.

"He thinks he's brave… He thinks we don't know about him…"

Whatever dream he had been having was taken over by blurred edges and violent pangs of pain that he was sure he could feel outside of this existence. Everything faded out, leving only ruin in it's wake. Broken pieces, scrambled signals… Owen didn't even try and make sense of it, he already understood the futility of trying. There was nothing left in his mind but those colours and those voices— for he was sure there was more than one. A sickening chorus, holding perfect time with each other.

"He's foolish, if he thinks he can go further without us finding out."

"Owennnn…"

"We know what you're doing, Owen…. It's not going to last."

He'd thought about meeting his maker before. He'd thought about the possibility of death, the idea that he may not live to see another day eventually. It was hard to deliberate something so serious in his early thirties, but his line of work called for it. He knew that he had a dangerous job, and that there were few who would be able to save him if something happened.

But, he'd never considered the possibility of his own demise to this extent before. In the formless remains of his dream, where he was forced into hearing these voices talk about his death and how soon it would be to coming, he had pause for deliberation. And it wasn't good.

He had to strain to take control of his own voice, in this space that was once his own. Once so sacred, now scarce and left entirely to the whim of whatever was taking residence in his mind. This was a bad idea. All of this research was a bad idea, and he was suddenly more aware of that than he was anything else. Never before had he had such a violent urge to overturn everything he'd worked on for the sake of something this seemingly trivial.

"There's nothing you can do. It's already started. This is bigger than me…"

"We know that. You're not the only one we have heard trying to work your way into what is ours… Choose your next step carefully, Owen. I'm sure we would delight in taking you in the same direction as the others…"

Before he could really ask what that meant, he was left entirely alone. The ruin of his dream still stood strong, which was strange enough given that the voices had left him alone, but he had the strangest feeling that there was more to this landscape than just what he was being shown. He started to wander, to look around in an attempt to find the real end to all of this. His mind was a wasteland, taken over by the lack of colour and the apparently deafening absence of those voices that had only appeared a moment before. He felt empty without them, although he knew nothing more than the sequence of colours that paraded through his vision.

Blue… Purple…. Yellow…

The pattern was familiar, like he'd seen it before somewhere. And while he wasn't resting easy, he couldn't force himself to wake up, either. No matter how hard he tried, he was just left stuck, wandering the expanse until he found what he was apparently looking for.

Pink…. Green…. White… Blue…

The expanses of his mind stretched out into a road, occupied by nothing but empty space. He supposed that was mostly his own fault; he had known for years that his imagination was never one to be put on par with anything else. He couldn't so vividly picture that which others could, and he'd never really had much of a capacity to dream, either.

So, this warning was strange. Seeing such vivid, bright colours in the back of his mind, knowing that he couldn't have conjured them himself…

He started to walk the road, curious enough to want to know where it went.

"Owen?"

That voice wasn't like the ones who had left moments before. That voice had a personality, and a person to go with. It was warm, though scared. Human all the same. And Owen knew the shape of it.

"Owen?"

Owen let his instinct lead him down the road, through it's many curves and winds. Eventually, the road gave way to what could only possibly be a stage. There was a set of stairs to one side, that he let himself climb before he could think to wonder where they led, and then the familiar voice gave way to a man in the wings, staring at him with desperate, fear-lined eyes. Of course he knew the voice, and of course he had never tried to doubt himself on the matter.

He tried to advance towards Curt, but he took a hasty step back, shaking his head.

"Curt?"

"Prove you're Owen."

"I'm sorry?"

Curt hesitated, and then slowly emerged from the wings. Even though he stood on the light of the stage, it still looked like he was carefully enveloped in shadow, like the darkness was a comfort to him. Owen looked around, wondering what had made him so cautious, and whether it was still around. Had Curt seen what he'd seen? What had those things whispered to him?

"I'm not falling for it again. Tell me you're actually Owen…"

Owen frowned, not wanting to dwell too much on why Curt was so afraid to reach out to him and realise that all of this was as real as they could get it. "Curt, love, I don't know what you want me to say…" There was a certain desperation about him too. Improvisation had never been his strong suit, but he wass confident that, given the right prompt, he would be able to convince his husband that he was who he said he was, to quell any discrepancy that it may have been otherwise.

"Don't. Show me… What happened on your 25th birthday."

The pieces fit into place, and Owen nodded dutifully. He had been out in the field that day, a strikingly hot day in the middle of June. The two of them had barely ended up with three hours together by the end of it, and they'd gone out drinking to celebrate what little time was left of his birthday. He'd never been particularly big on celebrating, but Curt had insisted. They were newly married then, and getting used to the idea of sharing a life with someone else. That was one of the first nights following their wedding when Owen truly came to realise that he'd made entirely the right decision, and that there was nobody he'd rather share his life with than Curt Mega.

"My 25th… That was a home ground mission. I was in the state."

"What happened to you?"

Owen smiled, somewhere between fondness and a need to hide the melancholic air that hung about that question. He pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, and huffed a weary breath of laughter. "I was trying to make my exit, but the suit jacket caught on a fence. Here…" With his sleeve rolled to just the right length, Owen held out his arm and pointed out a pale flash just below his elbow— a jagged scratch that had never quite healed right. "That's what happened after the fabric tore. Is that enough?"

Curt had known about the scar. He'd also known about the story. He was pretty sure that nobody else knew, though, so in his head, that had always been his fallback option in the event that he was ever sure Owen needed to prove himself. Those stories lined up perfectly, and while Owen had missed out on some of the details, in the grander scheme of things, he'd gotten it exactly right. He shifted, letting a knowing smile cross his face through the fear that still gripped him.

"It's really you…"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Curt's approach was still careful, premeditated. Even though he knew the truth now, there was still something about him that screamed a lack of trust directly into his ear, and it made actually reaching out for Owen so much harder. "You… You were trying to kill me."

"What now?"

"I know what I saw…"

"I don't doubt you, but I would never… I swear it on my life."

"I know, that's why it was strange… I— What the hell's happening?" This stage was the only thing connecting the two of them to reality. There was nothing beyond it but the end of the road that Owen had travelled down, and nothing behind it but black, empty space.

Owen let his instinct take over. If the two of them were going to face the unknown, whatever and wherever this was, then they were going to do it together. They always had, and they always would. That was the way things worked, especially for the two of them, because their lives were built so heavily on the idea of distrust that any semblance of the opposite they could get, they would cling to. Normally that was exclusively each other, and so the world wasn't usually much larger than the two of them.

Their hands connected in the middle of the emptiness. Owen pulled Curt Closer to him, and the two of them stood side, performers to an unknown audience, marionettes for something larger than themselves. They exchanged a glance, and Owen registered the warm, homely spark residing in Curt's eyes.

"I think we're trapped in a nightmare, crazy as it sounds," he tried to respond, but he wasn't entirely sure where this was going to go. "I can't wake up, but I remember falling asleep last night."

"Me too. I fell asleep before you did, you were still reading."

"Right, and now there's this. Whatever this is. did you, by chance, see those colours too?"

Curt nodded. "They came before you did, before the- other you. Blue, and purple, and yellow…"

"…Pink, and green, and white..?"

"And then blue again."

Owen heaved a sigh. "Curt, there's something I have to confess. It's safe to do so now, there's little that could get in the way of what I have to admit, but this is one of those things I wouldn't be able to tell you awake, you understand?"

There was a moment's pause, in which Curt tried to work around Owen's phrasing. Both of them felt the incredibly revealing sense that they were being watched, so Curt understood that Owen had gone into the professional mindset— switching off his senses for the sake of making as much sense of something as possible. It was always how he rationalised his way through situations, and it hadn't failed him yet.

Eventually, Curt nodded again, as the words started to sink in and he started to get a sense of what was being said. "This about what you told me this evening?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid there's a little more to it than what I told you, but I suppose that was rather obvious."

A nervous breath of laughter left Curt, only partially voluntary. "I thought there'd be a bit more to it than erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier…. What the hell kinda explanation was that, anyway?"

"One I spent a good hour crafting, thank you very much. I thought it was clever."

"Better than a pretty lady and a box of tricks?"

"And a bear, yes."

"… And the bear. Right. Well, what's that mean? erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier, what're you saying there?"

"I've…" This is not going to get you done for. Those documents were already top secret before you saw them. And if it gets you out of this nightmare prison, then surely it has to be worth it. "I've been uncovering sealed military case files that might explain what's happening to us right now."

Curt's eyes went wide. "Fucking what?!"

"It's all part of the job. I can't… I can't elaborate. Know only what everyone else knows: that the only reason any part of this is disclosed at all is because someone died during one of the experiments."

"What's that got to do with what's happening here?"

"That's what they were researching."

That seemed to click to some degree. At least, Curt seemed to understand a few of the larger pieces, perhaps the more obvious ones. "The colours?" In his head, there was an experiment, someone tried to make sense of whatever that was in their shared mindscape. Someone— a soldier, presumably, had died in the middle of these experiments, and now Owen had gotten tangled in this mess through his agency, and the two of them had been dropped into the same nightmare.

Owen nodded. "The colours."

At the moment he said that, a loud rumble disrupted their moment and forced their attention out into the expanse of nothing. Laughter— multiple sources with varying shrieks and gasps that couldn't be placed to a single source— burst from behind the wings, and from in front of them, and from the endless expanse of black that surrounded them. A loud crack followed, and Curt swore as the stage splintered beneath his feet. For a split second, his grip loosensed, and the next time the ground rumbled, they were torn apart by the growing crack in the stage. He staggered back, and the two of them ended on opposite sides of the stage, the crack between them growing and delving deeper into the unknown.

"Owen!" He called, trying to regain his footing but falling back.

"Curt! Hold on!" Owen yelled through the growing laughter, scrambling back to reach out for the pulley system backstage. He needed a foothold on something, a way to sturdy himself so he could regroup and think. It was too loud, he couldn't think in this kind of heat, with this kind of mess, and Curt, and-

Another crack. The stage was starting to fall away from itself, split not quite perfectly in two. Owen's breath ran short. In the swirls of colour and mayhem and possibilities, he saw a way out. One chance to get this right, and to make sure that they both survived the fall while they were still stuck here. He gripped the rope tight, levering himself further towards the crack, and looked to Curt. "You're gonna have to jump it!" He called, desperation winning over any attempts to stay sane. "Don't worry! You know I'll never let you down!"

"Are you crazy?!" Curt managed, staring into the gap. "I can't jump that, it's too far!"

"Curt, before the whole place splits in half, you have to get over here!"

"What if I don't make it?"

"Trust me! Please!"

Curt backed off a few paces. Owen stood ready, one hand gripping the rope wrapped around his wrist, and the other reaching out as far as he could, waiting for a move to be made. After a singular preparatory breath, he sprinted for the gap, and pushed off from the splintered wood at the edge.

He reached out.

Owen reached out.

Their fingertips connected briefly in the space, and then Curt slipped away beneath his grasp.

Owen threw himself forward, feeling the rope worming itself free and burning his wrist in the process. He'd promised. He wasn't going to let Curt fall. And he was nothing if not a man of his word.

Curt's eyes squeezed shut, preparing for an endless fall through the ineviatble. Something laced around his wrist and he felt himself stop moving. Exerting all the caution he knew to exert, he looked up, and caught a familiar whiskey brown staring back at him.

"I've got you!" Owen breathed, and Curt fought to angle himself so that he could get a better chance to grab the broken stage floor. When Owen started hauling backwards, Curt managed to get a hold of the edge of the stage, and made it a joint effort to haul him to his feet. "You're alright… You're okay…"

Curt essentially fell into Owen's arms. Owen held on tight, like he could lose his partner at any second to the swirls and the crevice. He stared out into the emptiness, ignoring the very real pain that he could feel at his wrist but cherishing the very reel feeling of Curt's shirt underneath his hands. The very air seemed to shift. Owen wasn't previously aware that colours could get angry, but this green that flooded the space behind his eyes was pissed. He could feel it.

So was he. Pissed, and way more desperate than a man ought to be.

"Alright," he muttered once, and Curt drew back ever so slightly. He noticed Owen was staring off into the greater expanse, and hoped for all it was worth that he couldn't see something out there.

"Alright!" His voice got louder, and he tried to mask his utter despair in an authorative tone. "I get it. You hear me? I get it!"

Everything fell eerily silent. The only sound that remained was the pounding of Owen's heart in his ears. He took a breath, strangely certain of himself. Glanced at Curt. Spared his attention on the void again.

"That soldier… Wilbur Cross? That was your fault, wasn't it? There's a good reason nobody can get very far into digs like these, and it's because you strive to kill them before they do. Nobody ought to know what's on the other side, and that's why nobody does…"

"Owen, what're you doing?" Curt whispered, but to no response and little avail. Owen was lost in whatever he was about to say.

"… But, I've heard talk of bargains being made here, so how about it?"

"Your desperation speaks for itself."

Owen had to pretend that that— the voice from the middle of nowhere or what it had said to him— didn't bother him in the slightest. He steeled himself, not sure where to direct his attention but knowing he'd probably have it right no matter what he chose. "What do you say, am I allowed to make a deal?"

The air shifted. Owen didn't receive a direct answer, but he knew that he'd been allowed to continue. "If I don't continue— if I go back, and tell my people that it's an impossibility, that it can't be done— would you let him go?" Another quick glance at Curt, as if the green something needed clarification, or as if he knew what he was signing himself up for.

Curt was frozen in place, his eyes wide. He'd heard every word as it echoed in the void, and he hated what it was implying. His gaze was fixed on Owen, fear blazing through his face. "No, Owen—" his voice came out weak. As far as literal interpretations go, that was not a good one. He didn't understand what was happening, but it terrified him to know that Owen was being so calm about this, while he could be selling his life away with nothing more than a few choice words.

Owen frowned, and muttered an apology he was sure only Curt would catch. The green grew angrier, setting a violent fire behind his eyes and forcing him onto his knees as the pain flooded his body.

"You better not be fucking with me."

"No! I— I wouldn't! I'm serious! I'll call it off, I swear on my life, just… He has nothing to do with any of this. It's not his fault."

The thing considered, holding Owen firmly in place while he deliberated. Curt couldn't move— he didn't dare, lest something happen to Owen that put him in more danger than he was already in. All he could do was force himself into keeping his breath steady, and not thinking about what a single wrong move could do to either of them. His eyes landed on the friction burn winding neatly around Owen's wrist, and he decided to focus on that for a while; the only other colour in a void of blackness and green.

"Very well."

That was the last thing Owen heard. Some part of his mind just shut down, and he collapsed to the floor of the stage. He didn't hear the way Curt screamed his name, or the return of the chorus of laughter. His eyes closed, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up with a start, underneath the sheets of his own bed, gasping for breath. He sturdied himself out, and once he was sure that he was real, and definitely in a familiar space, he looked over to Curt, and found him still asleep.

"Curt?" His voice was soft, but his mind was a knife point of tension. If that had gone wrong, then why was he the one to live through it ant not Curt? He tried again, biting his lip. "Curt..?"

Curt groaned. His eyes opened slowly. The relief that Owen felt hit him like a tidal wave.

For some reason, Curt was entirely surprised to see that Owen had made it through to the other side. He managed a weary smile, and tried to get his vision into focus. That was one of those decisions that he immediately came to regret. As soon as he brought himself a little more into the real worls, he noticed that the brown in Owen's eyes was stained with something else, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Dripping down his irises was a flash of toxic, unsettlingly bright green.

[thewitchofbooks]

A few things about Cyril Rose, Chevalier Michel and Lucian

I was always curious about Chevalier's behavior towards Cyril, especially after Lucian was introduced as the covert and the royal guard later on for Chevalier. The question in my mind was, if Chevalier really trust Cyril to become the lead knight of the foreign affairs faction, then would he ever call him by his name? The post is based on Chevalier's election promise party event

Spoilers and facts about Cyril (and a few about Lucian) under the cut!

After obtaining Chevalier's Early Clear Bonus from this party event (promise from 2nd anniversary/election):

The story was in his POV and fully voiced (meaning that his thoughts and dialog were voiced, except for a few lines of narration).

But from this story, we are able to see a few sides of Chevalier that we never saw before, nor did we hear him talk about. Including Cyril Rose.

The story starts with him training with the knights, before "killing them" as he said after knocking them out. And it ends with Cyril being the only one standing. From the Mc's POV, Cyril could keep up really well, but Chevalier kicked his sword. In Chevalier's POV, Cyril actually got distracted, else the battle would have continued.

This whole training thing was never something that Chevalier would have done, but he feels the need to show off in front of Emma.

Back to the topic, while training and inwardly praising all the knights, who were able to keep up so much longer against him, Chevalier thought of Cyril.

And while thinking of him as Clavis' knight, he also acknowledges his name!! The same way Lucian's name is acknowledged, meaning that it's written right on top of his job in the castle:

Translation:

Chevalier's thoughts: 'Usually, I leave the management of the knight's to Clavis and the red head (Cyril),'

So he does, indeed, acknowledge him with his name. Conclusion: Chevalier loves to "make fun" of others with these nicknames (more like he points out what describes them XD). Lucian is also called the long black haired royal guard (Since Chevalier is the king, Lucian is the royal guard).

A few things for Cyril:

In the party event story (previous discussion), it shows how much more familiar the knights are with Chevalier and how much more they are scared of Cyril (as their master in training). Chevalier told them to run 100 laps around the castle, making the knights complain about it (with no fear towards him). Translation of the moment:

Knights:"Hyahhhhhh.....100 laps!?"

Chevalier:"Even if I'm showing the losers mercy?"

Cyril:"Thank you for your mercy! Everyone, keep your mouth shut!"

When Cyril told them to shut their mouth, they all stopped complaining and run out to train

Before that, Chevalier admitted to Cyril that out of all of the knights, he would be the only one standing at the battlefield. And not only that, but he told him to make sure to withdraw if something goes wrong and return to the castle before he dies. He also said that he should help and save as many of those around him, leaving Cyril at a loss but he was quick to agree with Chevalier.

Thank you for reading this far! This event was truly enjoyable and definitely worth to get the ECB. A small flashback of Chevalier and Clavis is also in there, but in Chevalier's thoughts.

Chevalier was drawing Benitoite in huge detail and Emma was watching in amazement, before she complimented him. Chevalier thought that he never payed attention to drawing before, but he once tried it, because Clavis made him draw to find a weakness, but Chevalier knew how, so Clavis threw a tantrum when he saw the finished project.

And of course, after he finished drawing Benitoite, he drew Jade and gave attention to the huge greenhouse, because it looked like it came out of a fairy-tale, so he knew Emma would love this the most.

Although he finished with the drawings, gave them to Emma after she asked to keep them, knowing that all he was doing was useless and had nothing to do with their lessons, he still asked her to draw something for him.

(Keep in mind that Sariel doesn't give Emma lessons as much anymore, it's mostly Chevalier when he is off of work).

Emma drew roses, books (Chevalier's thoughts were that this was a rose garden with her favourite things), and in the end, she added added tiger! And Chevalier took the quill pen from her hands to draw a little rabbit too. He started praising Emma a lot and her expressions changed a lot, so he laughed very hard at her (his thoughts were that he never laughed this hard in his whole life).

[helenvader]

I just have to quote this in its entirety. 🤣 Trust Fred Colon to make Havelock feel slightly unsettled, and more than slightly ironic.

At precisely eleven o’clock there was a smart rap on Lord Vetinari’s door. The Patrician gave the woodwork a puzzled frown. At last he said: ‘Come.’

Fred Colon entered with difficulty. Vetinari watched him for a few moments until pity overcame even him.

‘Acting captain, it is not necessary to remain to attention at all times,’ he said kindly. ‘You are allowed to unbend enough for the satisfactory manipulation of a doorknob.’

‘Yes, sah!’

Lord Vetinari raised a hand to his ear protectively. ‘You may be seated.’

‘Yes, sah!’

‘You may be quieter, too.’

‘Yes, sah!’

Lord Vetinari retreated to the protection of his desk. ‘May I commend you on the gleam of your armour, acting captain—’

‘Spit and polish, sah! No substitute for it, sah!’ Sweat was streaming down Colon’s face.

‘Oh, good. Clearly you have been purchasing extra supplies of spit. Now then, let me see …’

Lord Vetinari drew a sheet of paper from one of the small stacks in front of him. ‘Now then, acti—’

‘Sah!’

‘To be sure. I have here another complaint of over-enthusiastic clamping. I’m sure you know to what I refer.’

‘It was causing serious traffic congestion, sah!’

‘Quite so. It is well known for it. But it is, in fact, the opera house.’

‘Sah!’

‘The owner feels that big yellow clamps at each corner detract from what I might call the tone of the building. And, of course, they do prevent him from driving it away.’

‘Sah!���

‘Indeed. I think that this is a case where discretion might be advisable, acting captain!’

‘Got to make an example to the others, sah!’

‘Ah. Yes.’ The Patrician held another piece of paper delicately between thumb and forefinger, as though it was some rare and strange creature. ‘The others being … let me see if I can recall, some things do stick in the mind so … ah, yes … three other buildings, six fountains, three statues and the gibbet in Nonesuch Street. Oh, and my own palace.’

‘I fully understand you’re parked on business, sah!’

Lord Vetinari paused. He found it difficult to talk to Frederick Colon. He dealt on a daily basis with people who treated conversation as a complex game, and with Colon he had to keep on adjusting his mind in case he overshot. ‘Pursuing the business of your recent career with, I have to admit, some considerable and growing fascination, I am moved to ask you why the Watch now appears to have a staff of twenty.’

‘Sah?’

‘You had around sixty a little while ago, I’m sure.’

Colon mopped his face. ‘Cutting out the dead wood, sah! Making the Watch leaner an’ fitter, sah!’

‘I see. The number of internal disciplinary charges you have laid against your men’ – and here the Patrician picked up a much thicker document – ‘seems somewhat excessive. I see no fewer than one hundred and seventy-three offences of eyeballing, earlobing and nostrilling, for example.’

‘Sah!’

‘Nostrilling, acting captain?’

‘Sah!’

‘Oh. And I see, ah yes, one charge of “making his arm fall off in an insubordinate way” laid against Constable Shoe. Commander Vimes has always given me glowing reports about this officer.’

‘’e’s a nasty piece of work, sah! You can’t trust the dead ones!’

‘Nor, it would seem, most of the live ones.’

‘Sah!’ Colon leaned forward, his face twisted in a ghastly grimace of conspiratoriality. ‘Between you and me, sir, Commander Vimes was a good deal too soft on them. He let them get away with too much. No sugar is safe, sah!’

Vetinari’s eyes narrowed, but the telescopes on Planet Colon were far too unsophisticated to detect his mood.

‘I certainly recall him mentioning a couple of officers whose time-keeping, demeanour, and all-round uselessness were a dreadful example to the rest of the men,’ said the Patrician.

‘There’s my point,’ said Colon triumphantly. ‘One bad apple ruins the whole barrel!’

‘I think there’s only a basket now,’ said the Patrician. ‘A punnet, possibly.’

‘Don’t you worry about a thing, your lordship! I’ll turn things around. I’ll soon get them smartened up!’

‘I am sure you have it in you to surprise me even further,’ said Vetinari, leaning back. ‘I shall definitely keep my eye on you as the man to watch. And now, acting captain, do you have anything else to report?’

‘All nice and quiet, sah!’

‘I would that it was,’ said Vetinari. ‘I was just wondering if there was anything going on involving any person in this city called’ – he looked down at another sheet of paper – ‘Sonky?’

Captain Colon almost swallowed his tongue. ‘Minor matter, sah!’ he managed.

‘So, Sonky is alive?’

‘Er … found dead, sah!’

‘Murdered?’

‘Sah!’

‘Dear me. Many people would not consider that a minor matter, acting captain. Sonky, for one.’

‘Well, sah, not everyone agrees with what he does, sah.’

‘Are we by any chance talking about Wallace Sonky? The manufacturer of rubber goods?’

‘Sah!’

‘Boots and gloves seem non-controversial to me, acting captain.’

‘It’s, er, the other stuff, sah!’ Colon coughed nervously. ‘He makes them rubber wallies, sah.’

‘Ah. The preventatives.’

‘Lot of people don’t agree with that sort of thing, sah.’

‘So I understand.’

Colon drew himself up to attention again. ‘Not natural, in my view, sah. Not in favour of unnatural things.’

Vetinari looked perplexed. ‘You mean, you eat your meat raw and sleep in a tree?’

‘Sah?’

‘Oh, nothing, nothing. Someone in Uberwald seems to be taking an interest in him lately. And now he’s dead. I would not dream of telling the Watch their job, of course.’ He watched Colon carefully to see if this had sunk in. ‘I said that it is entirely up to you to choose what to investigate in this bustling city,’ he prompted.

Colon was lost in unfamiliar country without a map. ‘Thank you, sah!’ he barked.

Vetinari sighed. ‘And now, acting captain, I’m sure there’s much that needs your attention.’

‘Sah! I’ve got plans to—’

‘I meant, do not let me detain you.’

‘Oh, that’s all right, sir, I’ve got plenty of time—’

‘Goodbye, Acting Captain Colon.’

Out in the anteroom Fred Colon stood very still for a while, until his heartbeat wound down from a whine to at least a purr.

It had, on the whole, gone quite well. Very well. Amazingly well, really. His lordship had practically taken him into his confidence. He’d called him ‘a man to watch’.

[schmooplesboop]

Pairing: Alex X Male Farmer/Player

Rating and warnings: Teen, mentions of past and present alcohol addiction

---

At first Alex thought the thunderstorm had awoken him, or maybe the TV. He’d fallen asleep in bed while watching a movie marathon.

He’d spilled his veggie chips. He was grumbling and brushing the crumbs off his mattress when he heard a loud knocking. It wasn’t the storm or the movie playing on the TV that had woken him up. Someone was at the front door, in the middle of the night.

Alex grabbed his bat from the closet and went out into the hall. The door to his grandparents’ room was still shut, but that didn’t surprise him. Both of them were hard of hearing, his grandad more than his nan. Nothing short of an explosion could wake them.

He flicked on the porch light and glanced out the peephole. Colton was standing there, drenched in the pouring rain. His skin had a greyish cast beneath the glare of the porch light and his eyes were wide and faraway. Something was very wrong. Alex tossed the bat onto the nearby couch and quickly opened the door.

“Sorry—” Colton said immediately, though his voice sounded faint. “You were the closest—”

“Colt! What happened, dude? Are you okay?”

He just stood there vaguely, looking dazed, so Alex gently put one hand on his shoulder and drew him into the house. Colton’s sneakers squelched as he toed them off, leaving them on the mat by the door.

It felt so wrong, seeing Colton, who was usually so cheerful and full of life, somber and glassy-eyed. Alex kept a hand lightly on the farmer’s shoulder, leading him down the hall to his room.

Colton’s clothes were soaked through and the shoulder beneath Alex’s hand was cold as ice. Colton shivered constantly and his teeth chattered, but he didn’t seem to notice either.

“Here,” Alex grabbed a clean pair of sweats and an old Jumino Kart hoodie. “You can dry off and change in there…” He motioned to his small en suite bathroom.

The farmer nodded, but it took a full minute before his feet carried him through the door into the washroom. Sick with worry, Alex waited, teeth biting into his lower lip.

“Alex,” still that vague, faint voice. So unlike Colton. “I’m stuck…”

He cracked the bathroom door and peered in. Colton was indeed tangled in his soaked T-shirt. A towel had also somehow gotten twisted up in everything as well.

Alex grabbed a dry towel and slung it over his shoulder, helping Colton out of his tangled shirt and the extra towel, hanging them both over the shower door. Even after being freed, Colton just stood there looking lost, like he wasn’t really sure where he was. What happened?

“Here…” Alex gently patted Colton’s skin dry.

He nearly jumped from his skin when Colton’s arms abruptly wrapped around him, pulling him into an icy cold embrace. Alex’s face burned bright red, suddenly all too aware that he was only wearing his boxer briefs and a tatty crop top. And that Colton was shirtless. And hugging him.

“Sorry…!” Colton lurched like someone had pinched him and moved away. “Just needed… to feel someone. Sorry, Alex.”

“It’s alright, dude.” Alex replied, even more worried than before. “I’ll… just… wait for you in my room.”

He fled the bathroom, darting around his bedroom until he found a clean pair of joggers and pulled them on. Something was clearly going on with Colton. Really not the time to be thinking about how undressed they were.

Clad in his dry, warm borrowed clothes, Colton was shivering much less than before when he emerged from the washroom and his cheeks even had a little color to them, but his expression was still hollow.

“Colton…” Alex led him to the bed and sat down with him. “What’s going on?”

“I was— Finn and I were out for a hike…”

Alex jolted; Finn, the farmer’s dog, wasn’t with him. “Did something happen to Finn?”

Colton blinked slowly then looked at Alex like he just noticed he was there, “No. I left Finn with… when I—after—” The farmer seemed to lose his train of thought and Alex felt guilty for interrupting.

“Sorry,” he said, hesitating before setting one hand on Colton’s knee. “You and Finn were on a hike…”

Colton nodded, his hand covered Alex’s and squeezed. His fingers were brutally cold. “Finn and I were on an after-supper hike, wanted to get a little exercise in before the storm got worse… and Finn… Finn found Shane…”

Oh, fuck. Shane’s alcohol addiction wasn’t exactly a secret, especially with it spilling out into the public more and more lately. Alex himself had helped Shane, too drunk to walk, home just last week.

A million questions arose, but he didn’t interrupt again. He waited, rubbing the warmth back into Colton’s hand.

“There were so many beer cans… I couldn’t believe he was still alive… his lips were blue…”

Alex released Colton’s hand so he could wrap an arm around his shoulders instead. The other man leaned into him, still shivering slightly. Alex knew how terrifying it must’ve been for Colton to find Shane like that. He’d had a taste of it when he was a kid, before his dad took off for good. He’d also dealt with his own issues with alcohol in high school. It had never developed into a full-blown Problem, but he’d skated close enough to scare the shit out of himself and Haley. He’d never drank another drop since.

“I was afraid to leave him and of course there’s no cell reception out there… I had to carry him back to Marnie’s.” Colton’s voice was slowly gaining its strength back, his thoughts and gaze becoming clearer the more the words flowed. “Leah came to look after Jas and Finn. I drove Marnie and Shane to Harvey’s clinic…”

Alex waited on pins and needles. Was Shane…? Thunder crackled ominously overhead.

Colton blew out a breath, “Doc says Shane will be fine… physically, but it was a near thing. He’s going to talk to him about the emotional and mental matters when he wakes up. Marnie’s with him, told me to go home and sleep, but I… I couldn’t. I couldn’t go home. You were… you were the closest…” He suddenly sat up straight, pulling away from Alex. “Shit, it’s so late. I didn’t realize! I’m sorry—”

Alex shook his head, gently drawing Colton back toward him. “It’s fine, Colt. I just wish you’d called me; I would’ve walked over with my umbrella.”

“Sorry,” Colton said again. “…Thanks.” The color suddenly drained from his face once more, “I feel dizzy…”

“Lie down. I’ll get you some water.”

He helped Colton lie in his bed and tugged the blanket over his legs. He trod down the hall passed his grandparents’ bedroom (the door was still firmly shut) and got a glass of water from the kitchen.

“…Will you lie down with me?” Colton asked when he returned.

“Y-yeah, of course.” Alex replied, setting the water within Colton’s reach on his bedside table.

Colton folded the blanket back.

It was a tight squeeze. Both he and Colton were tall and his bed wasn’t really meant for two, but with their legs tangled together and Colton’s head tucked under his chin they just fit.

The farmer’s hands, finally warm, slid up his back. “…Thank-you, Alex.”

At another time, in another moment, that simple motion would’ve had him shivering. Alex hugged Colton close, just wanting the other man to know he’d always be there when he needed him.

“Don’t mention it.”

[stinkysam]

Deke Shaw - But if you had told me, I would've told you.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "Imagine if you will a scenario where a character finds out the reader is an artist (or has knowledge of it) and mentions it in passing or brags about it to everyone else. Then, per everyone's curiosity the reader is forced to pull the sketchbook out from his bag and is like "okay but I'll only show you the pages *I* like" before someone immediately wrestles it out from his grasp (and trust me I played tug-o-war for a good five seconds). Nothing too embarrassing was in it thank goodness but mayhaps there's a fluffy twist where it turns out the reader has numerous doodles or candid sketches of the person he likes in there? Cue a confession sequence lolol" - @intrepid-captain

Reader : male (he/you)

You were sitting in your corner peacefully, Deke, May and Daisy sitting at the table near you while you drew silly doodles for warm-ups in your sketchbook. You were so focused you didn't hear May and Daisy talk to you.

"[Name] !" Finally, May's voice caught your attention.

You looked up, slightly startled, wide eyes looking at them.

"Daisy was talking to you."

"Oh no, it's fine." Daisy said.

"She wanted to see you drawings."

Daisy smiled politely. In all honesty, she was indeed curious but she also knew not every artist liked to share their art. Deke perked up, gaining interest in the discussion.

You quickly debated with yourself, not daring to say no, you accepted. This simple doodle wasn't much anyway so there was nothing to fear. So you turned your sketchbook to them so they could see. It was two people fighting, one about to high-kick the other in the head.

What you didn't expect was for May to grab it. She stared when you didn't let go before ripping it away from your hands. Clearly not understanding the silent message.

She showed it to Daisy who tried not to smile. She got the message.

Then May turned the page and you stood up.

"No. No. No. No !" Your voice grows louder with each 'no' as you try to approach them as fast as possible to grab your sketchbook back but May pulls it away once again.

"Look, there's us." Daisy says, pointing proudly at the portraits. "So cool, right ?" She says, leaning to the side to let Deke see.

You stand there, sweating bullets, hoping they won't turn the pages anymore.

"Oh, that's me !" Deke says, surprised to be in here as well. He grabs the book from May's hands and turns pages.

Oh no.

"Oh wow that's me again !" He laughs, excited, slightly walking away from Daisy and May.

"Don't-" You try to intervene but they ignore you, too engrossed in your art.

"Always my best angles !" He turns more pages. "There's- there's a lot of me, actually." He says, this time more serious. What the fuck ? They're all so prettily drawn. He smiles, slightly nervous.

May hums, not that interested anymore, staring at you instead as if to say "Him ? Really ?".

"Really ? Let me see." Daisy's hands are already on the sketchbook, turning it toward herself.

"No !" You yell again, finally grabbing the book from their hands. "That's enough !" Your face is hot in embarrassment, you can feel your cheeks burning. "Those are not the pages I wanted you to see."

"Why did you draw Deke so much ?" As Daisy asks that, Deke places his hands on his hips.

"Why wouldn't he ?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't he." May repeats with a small smirk.

"No reasons at all." You say to May and Daisy before turning to Deke. "Don't think too much about it."

"Oh." Daisy says, almost disappointed by your answer. Boring.

Wait. Ohohoh… She smiles knowingly, having connected the dots.

"There were far more portraits of Deke than us…" she 'thought' aloud. "Like, daily drawings of him. This is an obsession at this point…"

Oh my god.

"No. Not at all."

"Really ?" Deke smiles, stepping closer as if to take another look at what's inside your closed sketchbook. Daily drawings of him ? "I mean, that's understandable-" He starts.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You cut him off, taking a step back. You won't let him take another peek at your drawings. "He was just around when I wanted to draw. That's all. This is just a coincidence."

"There's lots and lots of them though." Daisy said, squinting her eyes.

"Not that much."

"Almost like if he made you want to draw." May added.

You grimaced, trying to hide your nervous smile. Why were they all siding against you now, what did you do to them ?

"I don't know what you're talking about." You laugh awkwardly.

"Really ? I make you want to draw ?" His arms are now crossed, still leaning closer.

"No." You deadpanned as you started to walk away wanting to get out of this situation.

Daisy and May chuckled, watching you leave as Deke quickly followed you.

"Can I look at them again ?" He asks, excited. It's the first time someone drew him like this. He looks so cool. So good. Is that how you see him ?

"No ?" You say, avoiding eye contact. Focusing on walking away. Where, you didn't know, but away.

"Then why are you drawing me this much ? Daisy said-"

"Oh my god, don't listen to what she says !" You stop in your tracks.

"Come on, can I look at them again ?"

"No."

"Why not !?"

"Because this is embarrassing !"

"What is ?"

Oh my god. How could he be so smart and so fucking dumb at the same time ?

"You really haven't guessed ? Why there's daily drawings of you ? In my sketchbook ?" You say, tapping your foot on the floor, looking at him. Daring him to fucking think.

"I mean. I know that I'm… awesome, good looking, smart." He jokingly began to list before- "Oh my god you like me !"

"Maybe…" You said quietly.

"You could've just said it." He laughs, a bit too pleased.

"Sorry, you didn't really let me know if your crush on Daisy was over."

"I would've told you if you had told me you had one on me !"

"Well, I wouldn't have told you because- This is endless !"

He grinned, clearly overjoyed.

"You really like me ?" He asks, and you grimace. Sometimes he really made you want to lie. But you decided against it.

"Yes." You said, feeling your heart beat in your ears.

He grinned.

"Good thing I-"

"Wait, you're not into Daisy anymore ?"

"Uh… no."

"Since when ?" You ask, confused.

"Since you kind of, uh stole my heart." He chuckled awkwardly, trying to sound confident, a light blush spearing to his cheeks.

You stared at him and he shifted, feeling now uncomfortable.

"You like me, right ?" He asks, biting his lower lip, feeling unsure of what he heard you say earlier. You said you liked him, he didn't make that up, right ?

"Of course, you do ?"

He nodded quickly.

"But can you stop looking at me like you're so suspicious of something ? Please ?"

"Sorry, I just… I didn't expect you to get over your feelings for her, so…"

"Well, she thought the lemons were lame so I had to."

"What ?" You frowned. Lemons ?

"No, it's just- nothing." He looked down, before looking at you then away. He nervously scratched his ear before taking your free hand.

"I really like you, [Name]. I'm not joking. You're-" He smiles. "Kind, talented, funny, handsome, you're really nice to be around, you're patient, you… you listen to me, you're-"

"Okay ! I get it !" You throw your head back with a nervous smile. "I can't take compliments, that's enough !"

"But it's true !"

"Ahh ! Stop it !" You felt your face heat up again in embarrassment.

"I like you, [Name]."

You closed your eyes, calming yourself and mainly your heart that was beating a bit too uncontrollably.

"I like you too." You said, squeezing his hand in return, smiling.

[starflungwaddledee]

a comment left by @chickenpeep77 on my post about my "realistic penguin" dedede redesigns which i thought was so interesting and compelling i wanted to give a longer reply to! hope that's okay!!

this grew much longer than i even originally expected, so under the read more it goes. i'll also break it up into some kind of sections to make it easier

topics: the joy of the unfamiliar, bird features and the Snood, is dedede officially A Penguin?, and why i like to think he is. (also i have a small meltdown about galacta knight's fkn awful canon wings.)

hard sci-fi spec bio & the joy of the unfamiliar

i'm actually super into speculative biology, and have a lot of gripes with the way aliens in soooooo many fictions or fanons or whichever are always assumed to have a firm set of recognisably familiar traits. must they be made of meat; must they have skeletons; must they pick the most difficult and dangerous method of reproduction possible in the cosmos; just because it's familiar to us? must they be stand ins for humans and animals only? i think that the real fun of speculative hard sci-fi in particular is found in doing a jaunty little dance around the unfamiliar, around all the absolutely infinite and wonderful impossible possibilities out there. so all that to say that i absolutely agree with you about this in general.

the bird "beak skin" topic

i looovvve the idea of using the skin from a bird's mask to form an entirely functional and movable feature like a beak. that would presumably make it a caruncle (and it would share space with one of the best named thing in birds, the "snood"), some of which- like the snood- are indeed movable! many birds also already have caruncles that stretch over the beak, but to have the structure made entirely from it and stretched over teeth instead is very interesting and creative! it perhaps makes it more like skin and lips over a jaw, which is a fun and bizzare visual for a birdlike. i actually think that this kind of specbio could be a fun take for captain vul, who i also just did an earth-bird redesign for. vul has no species identified; for all we know he's a bird-like alien that just happens to look much like an anthromorphic eagle. i also headcanon magolor as a bird-like alien; though he shares few visual similarities with any earth birds.

is dedede a penguin officially or just in our hearts?

(please note that i'm informed on this only from english knowledge and various wikis. if anyone has other info here i'd gladly hear otherwise!) for king dedede in particular, while he's never been officially confirmed to be a penguin there's no shortage of canon references to penguins for him across franchises and he is mistaken for a penguin by snake in smash bros brawl. now i dunno what kind of penguins mr solid snake might have seen in his adventurous life, but while i could look at dedede and think "bird-like alien" i'm not sure i would think "damn that's a penguin for sure." so i personally think that dedede is not necessarily meant to be an unfamiliar alien, or even an alien that looks a bit like a generic bird or an alien that looks like a penguin. i think he is meant to be a penguin, or at least something that was a penguin at some point. and perhaps if there were not an abundance of actual genuine honest to god unidentified and delightfully weird aliens on Popstar and in Kirby games already, i would also be more interested in seeing dedede as a more bizzare bird-like creature than a penguin. you'll note in my designs i also drew him with some dense teeth (not found in earth penguins) and- this wasn't visible- my design also has dexterous talons extended from the wrists of his flippers. if he is a penguin, he doesn't seem to be a very water bound or piscivorous one. so maybe he's a bit distanced from penguins as we know them. several steps of evolution away. but i think because i can satisfy my specbio with the others (please know i have a whole host of unnecessarily complicated and fun waddle dee biology headcanons if anyone is ever interested... and don't get me started on celestials, hahah hahaha!-) for me the most interesting speculative question for king Dedede is not "what could he be if not a penguin like we know them" but actually "how the hell did a penguin get there??". and i think forgotten land gave us some extremely cool stuff to chew on wrt that! kind of like you mentioned with your wormhole theory!

why i personally like to bring Earth Birds into my kirby work

ALL of that said... i'm just doing designs for fun! i like birds, and i like earth birds in particular. they're sadly my only exposure thus far (alien birds though, if you're out there... 👋 ) so when i get the opportunity to utilise both my interest and my knowledge on birds and the way they function here in my fanwork, i take that chance! i had the skill to draw an earth-penguin-accurate dedede so i did, for fun! i also use my knowledge of wing structures for both birds and bats (and butterflies even) to tweak how i draw the various knight's wings to be "more realistic", as if that's a metric in space. but galacta's canon styled wings are.......................... i mean i have some capital t Thoughts about that One Long Feather. and i think most people understand this to be stylisation, but maybe it is just that he's an alien! maybe they're not even feathers, maybe it's just silly putty that looks like feathers! the world is your oyster tbh.

and the wrap up.

lastly, i can see you're into specbio too and that's super exciting, and i absolutely hope none of this sounds like... negative or remotely critical at all? i completely agree with you and love what you're doing with your stuff!! i'm just excited to engage with this topic you brought up and it made me thoughtful about the way i conceptualise dedede as less alien rather than more, when my preference is indeed usually more!

these are just my personal thoughts/preferences/headcanons and i guess like... why i think HCing dedede as a relatively normal penguin is actually perhaps the most interesting (and funniest) take for me and my own enjoyment! 😂 but everybody- including yourself- should always do what is the most fun and enjoyable for you; especially in a space like creativity and fandom!

anyway.. uhm.. hwahaha wow okay. well, anyone, if you read this far, thank you! sorry for accidentally opening this can of worms i'm sure it'll happen again

[spectacled-renegade-writes]

An Early Start - Chapter 3 - Danny Phantom

Ao3: Here | Chapter 1: Here

Description: The accident that turns Danny half-ghost happens when he is four years old and leaves him trapped in the Ghost Zone. Clockwork finds him and takes him in to raise. But what happens when Clockwork sends Danny back to the human-world ten years later when a permanent portal appears?

Chapter 3:

Upon their return, Danny asked many questions, and Clockwork answered each and every one of them as promised.

The first thing Danny asked was if he would ever get to see his sister again. “You will.” Clockwork answered. “Right now, you are trapped. But I assure you a day will come where you will be reunited.”

“How long?” Danny whispered.

“The future is still unclear,” Clockwork replied. “Many factors are as of yet undecided.”

“How am I dead and not dead? Jazzy said that when you’re dead, you can’t be alive again.”

Clockwork hummed. “An excellent question indeed. This is true most of the time. But you, little one, are unique. Nearly one of a kind.”

“What does that mean?”

Clockwork simplified it further. “There is only one other person in the entire world who is like you. He is also both dead and not dead.”

Danny’s glowing green eyes widened. “Who is he?” He asked.

“You will meet him,” Clockwork answered. “In due time.” He smiled at the way Danny slumped his shoulders, and continued. “The other ghosts of this realm will one day call you a halfa. Half human,” he held out one hand. “Half ghost.” He held out the other.

Danny’s large eyes flickered down to his own glowing hands. “I’m a ghost, too?” He asked, astonished.

“Indeed you are,” Clockwork said. “It happened moments before you arrived here.”

Even young Danny knew the implication of that. He drew his arms around himself and tried not to shiver again. He realized he could still feel his skin tingle. “The hurt.” He whispered.

“Yes,” Clockwork frowned. “The hurt. The machine your mother and father turned on was not ready, as they thought. It held too much power for such a small device and it had nowhere to go but out, right where you sat.”

“I saw my mommy trying to grab me.” Danny said, his eyes trained directly on his feet. “She didn’t look happy… is she mad at me?”

Clockwork kneeled down, in the odd way ghosts seemed to kneel, and placed a hand on Danny’s shoulder. The hand was cold like everything else here, like his own tears, but he didn’t feel a chill. “Your mother is not mad at you. Your mother feels longing for you.”

Danny glanced away, taking this in. But as he thought about it, he realized something. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

Clockwork seemed unperturbed by the abrupt change of subject. “No, I expect you’re not. In your ghost form you will not feel hunger, nor the need to breathe.”

It wasn’t until Clockwork said it that Danny realized he was not breathing. Instinctively, he pulled in a breath but felt nothing. It was an odd sensation. Something else struck him. “Ghost form?”

Clockwork smiled. “Yes,” he replied. “Ghost form. You are two halves, Danny. You have a ghost form as well as a human form, and your human form is the way you have always looked before you arrived here.”

Danny unwrapped his arms and looked down at his glowing hands again. “How do I make myself look like that again?”

“It’s simpler than you think,” said Clockwork. “Close your eyes, Danny. Focus on that cold spot in your chest.” Danny did as he was told. “Do you feel it?” Danny tried his best to get his young mind to focus and… yes. He did feel it, right in the center of his chest, cold like Clockwork described. He nodded. “Good. Now, try and remember how it feels to have a heartbeat. Think of that thumping in your chest. You only feel that when you’re alive.”

I only feel that when I’m alive. Danny thought. He thought of playing in the backyard with Jazzy, chasing each other around while playing tag. The way his heart beat and he felt out of breath. Behind his eyelids Danny saw a large flash of white and all of the sudden, he felt warm.

Danny opened his eyes and looked down at his hands. They no longer glowed. He reached up and pulled down a piece of hair. Black as night. He smiled. “I’m alive again,” he breathed.

-

Clockwork smiled too, a sense of pride and something else settling over his expression. He always knew the boy would be under his care, one way or another, but destiny cannot stop emotion and Clockwork could not help but care for the child he was destined to help. Danny was no longer crying, he finally seemed relaxed. “Let us take a walk,” he said. “I have much to teach you.”

-

Clockwork taught Danny many things in his first year, and helped in many other ways, too.

Humans felt grief in a way ghosts never could and Danny was not only human, he was a small child who lost his entire world.

“Have you ever lost someone?” Danny asked one day. He sat at the top of the clock tower, eyes puffy from crying.

“I have not.” Clockwork replied.

Danny wiped his cheeks and looked up at him. “Even when you were not dead?” He asked, big blue eyes wide and curious. Always curious.

Clockwork sat down next to him. “I was never not dead.”

“But I thought –“

“This is something I have never explained to you, knowledge you do not know. A fault which lies with me.”

Danny tilted his head. “Then how?”

“Many ghosts,” Clockwork explained. “Form after death. But not all ghosts. You see, just like you I am special. I was born a ghost, created from ectoplasm from the very beginning. I have always been and will always be. There are few like me. Though,” he continued with a wink. “Still not as rare as you.”

Danny smiled at that then asked, “Do ghosts who used to be human miss everyone they lost?”

Clockwork remained silent, chose his words carefully before answering. “They do… in their own way. However, they do not feel pain and grief the way you do, as a human.”

Danny looked back down at the floor and mulled that over. Clockwork watched the boy change into his ghost half and wait, searching for something. Conflict appeared on Danny's face momentarily before he held up a hand and stared at it. “What if I didn’t have my human half anymore? Then would I feel better?”

Clockwork thought of that future. It is now much less unlikely but… this timeline had been exceedingly unlikely too. “You cannot ignore pain, little one, and if you remove your humanity, you will be left with only rage. Pain without grief leads to violence, and violence leads to corruption. In the end, grief is much easier to come back from than corruption.” It was a lot to put on someone so young, this Clockwork knew. However, it is the thing the Danny in this timeline needs to hear.

“I think…” Danny said. “I think I understand. I don’t wanna be bad. I want to see Jazzy again.”

Clockwork wrapped an arm around Danny’s shoulder and pulled him in. “You will, little one.”

-

Clockwork helped with other things, too. In the beginning it involved helping Danny control his new powers, helping him shift from human to ghost and learn how to focus his energy. In some aspects, Danny excelled, in others, it took a long time to grasp.

The first thing Danny learned how to do was fly. It was instrumental in maneuvering the Ghost Zone. So, it was the first thing Clockwork taught. His lesson only lasted a day, though. Danny was zipping around in no time.

Other things did not come so easily. For the first few months Danny had a lot of trouble remaining tangible, in both forms. He was so scared of breaking something he refused to hold anything fragile, despite Clockwork’s constant and gentle reminders that he can turn back time and fix anything Danny may break. Eventually though, intangibility too was something Danny perfected. In fact, it was the last thing Danny perfected.

Clockwork knew there were more powers to come in the future but for now, the boy was doing well.

-

There wasn’t much to do in the Ghost Zone, all things considered, so gossip was a hot topic amongst its residents and it didn’t take long for news to reach the furthest parts of the Ghost Zone that one of its newest residents was a ghost that was half human. The first on the scene, of course, was Skulker, seeking that which no one else has, something one of a kind.

Danny found himself flying through bits and bobs, past doors and islands, enjoying the freedom of flight. Clockwork told him not to stray too far. He did however promise that one day he would give Danny the grand tour of the Ghost Zone, teaching him its layout. As Danny flew past another island, he couldn’t help but grow excited at the thought of that day. Too busy in his thoughts and too young to think about danger, he did not notice Skulker stalking him until it was too late. A net shot out from nowhere and captured him in its grasp. Danny yelped and went tumbling down.

As he hit the ground, he frantically tried to untangle himself from the net without success. Skulker landed next to him, triumphant in his catch. “Struggle all you want, ghost child, but you cannot escape my grasp. A halfa is a trophy no one else possesses and I will have the honor of displaying you in my domain!”

“You will do no such thing.”

Danny stopped struggling in the net and Skulker froze. Time came to a standstill and the next thing Danny knew, he was free from the net and Clockwork stood by his side, heavy yet gentle hand resting on his shoulder.

“C-Clockwork,” Skulker stammered. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“To what indeed, Skulker,” Clockwork hummed. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to hunt my ward. You see, this boy in under my protection.”

Danny watched Skulker’s gaze flick from Clockwork to Danny, then quickly back. “I see…” He rubbed the back if his neck. “My mistake. I was… unaware of how… important he is. I’ll just be taking my leave, then.”

It was a fearful encounter but Danny was left confused by the end of it. He looked up at Clockwork. “I don’t know what just happened.”

Clockwork grinned. “Skulker is a ghost who used to be human. In his life he was an avid hunter. In his death he is even more so. He craves rare and unique items and you, little one, are such.”

“Why was he scared?” Danny asked.

“Most ghosts in the Ghost Zone fear me,” Clockwork explained. “I am a very powerful ghost, you see. Though I do not wish to use my abilities for evil, I will unleash my power on those who cross me.” He squeezed Danny’s shoulder. “From now on you will be safe.”

Danny thought about those words for the rest of the day.

~~~~~~~

Ao3 Notes:

Well, there's chapter 3! Though there is something I'd like to address for anyone who I may have inadvertently baited in regards to certain plot lines.

I see some people in the comments discussing things such as CPS and Court Proceedings in regards to Danny's disappearance and Jazz, things like that. This story will not go into those particular subjects as I am not very interested in writing about them. HOWEVER, I'd still love to hear your thoughts on such subjects regardless, I love seeing the things you have to say! Though I sincerely apologize if I may have accidentally written it in a way that seems like the turn the story will take.

But, there will definitely be some Effect from the Cause aka Danny's disappearance (though no spoilers so I won't say any more than that) ;)

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a lovely day/night!

[ghostofskywalker]

A Valuable Partnership

Yelena Belova & Fem!Reader

Fictober Day 29 of 31

Words: 959

Summary: While out on a job, you meet someone that fascinates you.

Note: the relationship in this fic is platonic, as i don't write anything romantic for yelena (due to her comic canon asexuality). like a couple of my other fics this month, it's really just a single scene, but i don't really think i'm going to continue it.

Yelena Belova Masterlist

The sound of footsteps echoing down the alley tipped you off to the fact that you were not alone, and your hand immediately moved down to your hip to rest over the small pistol you had strapped there. Your employer, Ben Altman, had told you explicitly that you were the only mercenary he was going to hire for this job, so it was more than likely that whoever this was did not have your best interests at heart (as if anyone ever would).

Two more steps further into the darkness revealed your unwitting companion to you, and immediately you drew your weapon.

She drew hers, and although you were both wearing all black and she had her hair pulled out of her face, you realized that you knew who this woman was.

While you didn’t know her name, you knew she spoke with a russian accent and had spent much more time than you had in this fucked up industry. You had met her over fancy champagne, where you were both wearing expensive outfits and pretending to laugh at terrible jokes, while desperately hoping that you might catch the eye of an employer. Obviously, the illegal nature of your work and the violence that characterized your skillset made it a little more difficult to find work than your average citizen.

You could have sworn that you knew Altman had employed her every once in a while, which immediately put you on high alert. “What are you doing?” you whispered sharply, not wanting be caught unaware. And since you had already completed the job, you certainly didn’t want to let her know what was currently residing in one of the inner pockets of your tactical attire.

“What are you doing?” the accent in her voice only confirmed to you that you did indeed know this woman, and it only made you more desperate to know why she was there.

You scoffed, not lowering your weapon. “I asked you first.”

She stared back in silence, but eventually realized that you weren’t going to budge. “I was hired to steal a very expensive diamond necklace in a building down this alley. Now I’ve answered your question, I want you to answer mine.”

“I was also hired to steal a diamond necklace,” you said, taking a step back from her. If you were correct in your assumptions, this woman was now your enemy. “And if we are going after the same prize, rest assured that I will claim it.”

“Please!” she scoffed, almost laughing. “There’s a reason that I was hired to do this, and it’s because I always get what I want.”

Alright then, two could play at this game. “I don’t think so, and I highly doubt your employer has more connections than mine. It’d be a useless endeavor to go against me.”

“Oh really? Who’s your employer then?”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “Who’s yours?”

“I asked you first,” she said, throwing your words back in your face.

“And I’m not telling you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then I guess we’ll really see who wins then.”

You were about to offer a verbal barb in return, but something in you stopped when you noticed the earrings that she was wearing. They were understated but well-made, the kind that no one would ever notice in the dead of night and would never get in the way during an assignment. You only noticed them because you had an identical pair sitting on your dresser at home.

You fought the urge to widen your eyes in shock. That meant that not only was this woman actively trying to steal the same item you were, but that she was hired to do so by the same man who hired you, despite the fact that he had told you otherwise. Altman had a habit of handing out expensive gifts to those he employed, but he did so with little individuality, which sometimes made it easy to spot other operatives on his payroll. You couldn’t stop yourself from reacting, muttering a hushed “that bastard” under your breath and hoping she didn’t hear anything.

But of course, you weren’t that lucky. “What?”

“Ben Altman hired you, didn’t he?” you asked, and you watched as her face shifted slightly. “He hired me too, so if you had been told that you were the only one on this assignment you’ve been lied to.”

She stopped, and for a moment you weren’t sure if she was going to try and fight you. “That bastard,” she eventually said, echoing your sentiments.

“He played us both,” you said softly.

“And he will certainly pay for his deception,” she said. You were lost for words as you looked at her, not sure what to say in response. Thankfully, she continued to speak. “I know you have the necklace, and I don’t care what happens to it as long as it doesn’t go to him.”

You just nodded. Clearly this was much more personal for her than it was for you, because you would honestly have been more surprised if Altman had been telling the truth when he said he had only hired one person for the job.

The woman pulled a piece of paper out of her suit and handed it over to you. “I have no quarrel with you,” she said. “And I think we could be pretty good allies. If you’re interested, reach out to me.”

Before you could find the words to tell her that yes, you were certainly interested (especially since it seemed that you would soon be losing your primary employer to the cold hands of death), she had disappeared into the night.

Well, at least you would get to keep the necklace for yourself now. 

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[authoralexharvey]

INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @euphoniouspandemonium

Who You Are:

Syd || He/they/she

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Historical fiction, mystery, paranormal, poetry, and tragedy. Young adult, new adult, and adult.

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

Historical fiction (mostly set in Europe during the 20th and 19th century because that's what I find most appealing to write, I do like reading stories in other periods and continents though). It appeals to me because I like the idea of exploring the way people in history were shaped by their time periods, in particular in regards to queerness (with fewer labels to work with, the main perception of queerness is the way the characters see and experience it, which in pretty much all cases is very different from the way queer identities are perceived now: in historical fiction, unlike uhhhhh mainstream queer media, it is not about labels and definitions and Gay People Who've Never Done A Bad Thing In Their Lives, but about unbridled rawness and godawful people doing godawful things because of the way they perceive their identity and calling themselves slurs while they're at it.). This turned into being about gay people very fast. Anyway, I also like researching cool pretty clothes. And writing in an old timey style.

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

Science fiction. I think it is a very interesting genre but the descriptions are what turns me off. It is usually set in space or a futuristic setting, obviously, which are settings that I cannot begin to imagine descriptions for, and also can't think of any concepts for.

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

My target audience is… well I'm gonna get cheesy and say "queer people who think about everything poetically and yearn for the romantic" OR "queer people who like cityscapes and are obsessed with Will Wood". A lot of people who like my work are in neither category, so yes, people outside of them can find value in my work as well.

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

Queerness as explored in a setting separated from the expectations set for queer identities in the present day; love that is violent; love that is very very tender (violence and tenderness are not mutually exclusive); friends to lovers; partners in crime (literal). What appeals that I can do a lot with them – I literally do not run out of ideas for these themes and tropes (I have a document for concepts, which contains over 60 concepts, most of which are about at least one of these)

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

I will say casts of characters that are very morally pure, though I definitely don't always hate that or think it's bad. I simply prefer writing and reading about morally gray or downright horrible people, I think.

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

I am always jumping around between projects, but right now I am mainly working on Cotton Mendings, a WIP of mine that I have had for about a year; and a short story that I haven't named.

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

To stay sane!! To explore myself through the exploration of others, to create a memorial for the joys of the world that will be lost before the joys of the world are lost (the sun! I could write about the sun forever. It does not know I exist. Can you believe that? What a joy indeed). To explore the dark parts of existence and find the tenderness and the love in them. What keeps me writing is that only through creation can I do this. Only through creation can I express my adoration for this putrid enthusiastic existence.

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

Since I was a small child! I was drawn to it because I fell in love with books and wanted to create some. It's quite usual for writers, I suppose.

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

In short: everywhere. Emotions, music, films, books, poetry, sights, coins on side walks, the movements of a friend's hands, beams of sunlight, the trinkets in my room, the sky, the thoughts in my brain, shadows. For my main project – the aforementioned Cotton Mendings – the idea came from the song Angie by The Rolling Stones, and developed in a matter of days. It was glorious, listening to the song and finding a relationship between two characters, and following it under a starry sky, and ending up with new character relationships almost unrelated to the first one.

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

A few paragraphs I wrote very suddenly a couple of weeks ago about a character relationship I wanted to explore. It conveys the emotions really well, I think, and it is filled with phrases and sentences I am obsessed with.

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

I haven't! I would like to, someday.

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you?

Making fancy covers appeals the most… However talking to editors and agents and what not does not appeal to me.

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

What appeals to me most is the actual writing! I want to see the thing in my head come alive! Breathing raw thing with its breathing raw words! It is not as vivid in my head as it is when I actually give words to it. Least appealing is writing scenes that are actually important to progress the plot instead of scenes where the characters just cuddle and talk :(

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

It usually has very clear steps: first I make a rough summary of the ideas I have for the story and/or make sketches of the characters, then I write a scene or two to get a hang of the voice, and what happens after that is in God's hands (sometimes those two steps are as far as it goes. Sometimes I become obsessed with the story and write a lot of it. Sometimes I even finish it.)

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

Two years. I mostly wanted to be around like-minded people, I guess.

Shout out some of your favorite writeblrs. How did you find them and what made you want to follow them?

@writing-is-a-martial-art is my dearest friend, he was mutuals with some of my mutuals and I checked out his stories and we ended up following each other and becoming close friends. There are also @ink-fireplace-coffee, @alexwritesfiction, @fiercely-raging-writer, and @worldsandparagraphs, who are all my friends and have vastly different styles from me, and whom I would lay down my life for. Don't remember what I followed any of them for or how I found them. I am obsessed with the works of @olimpias (who is also my friend) and @phantomnations, and found them both through their writeblr introductions, followed them for their incredible work. They're very cool.

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

The unconditional appreciation for the act of creation

How do you contribute to the writeblr community? Do you think you could be doing more?

I contribute with reblogging people's work and, once in a blue moon, posting my own, but I am mostly outside the community currently, and would like to stay like that, at least for a while.

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

I have never thought about it. Excerpts of people's work, mostly.

[teddie-laundrybear]

Evening Frost (Fan character story wip) ---------------------------------------------

“Such untamed power in such a small creature..? And his coat..?” “His mind is weak, but he has his brother's blood… Even though his appearance.. Questions that…” “How unruly… What should we do with him then? We can’t have something so viciously untrained running around,.” The comments were directed at a young tabaxi cub, who looked to only just be entering his teen years. He had a coat that was white and black. He had finished his teachings for the day and was simply waiting for his Seniors to be finished speaking so he could return home. “What a strange child..” Evening wasn’t paying attention to his two seniors speaking. He was crouched down in the snow, his paws were pushed into the soft ice under him, searching for something. His sharp, cornflower eyes stayed focused on that spot… His paws pulled up, clasped together. He opened them, holding a small acorn. “He’s harmless in this state, for now at least, he’s too young.” “Have you spoken to his mother? The Frost family has quite a name, every child has had as much success as the last… if this child truly is as powerful as his blood suggests, she won’t have any problems with him. But.. I suspect he’s a runt. Youngest child, weakest mind, frailest form.” “She says he’s a kind child, though odd, polite like Morning but rather absent minded, and that his eyesight isn't very impressive…” “Did you speak to the Master? He trained the other Frost children. What of this one?” “He says he doesn’t wish to be near him, something about a white pelt being… cursed or.. Unlucky..” “Cursed..? I suppose another legend.."

"Indeed.. He said there were stories.. old stories of our people. He said that at one time, all Mountain dwellers had coats of black. However, one day, Sol took favor in us, and granted the wise of mind a heart of sun, a burning fuel in our core, and it turned our fur into streaks of sunlight…. But some, those who were not wise, didn't receive the gift and became jealous, the cold they felt froze their hearts, giving their fur streaks of ice instead.. and in their better freezing state, they unleashed a cold hell. It lasted three days, before they fled, outnumbered, into the wilderness, becoming nothing more than wild mindless monsters…."

"You always Indulge his stories.."

"He makes it hard not too.."

"I suppose so.. You know, I heard a similar story when I was young.. do you really think a child with that little in his mind could even be a threat?" Evenings tail was swaying side to side as he drew little pictures in the snow with his claw. Small runes he had seen scattered on the architecture around his home. He drew flowers, he hardly ever saw them, but every now and then one would show itself through the thick snow that covered his people's mountains, and they were beautiful… He doodled a little picture of his big brother and hummed, placing the acorn he found on the drawing's head, he smiled to himself.

“I’m really not sure, we aren't big on folktales… but this would be more of tradition… Whatever it is, he can’t stay here. He’s disrupting the order, distracting the citizens, and the Master.”

“So how would you suggest going about it then? The child loves his home and his mother, it will be hard to pry him away.”

“We can do it in secret, when the sun sets. He may be resistant, but no one will be awake to bring attention to it.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

Evening glanced up from where he was crouched down, and looked over at the two adults. Not a word of their conversation had managed to break past the barrier of empty thought in the cubs mind, but now that the background noise was gone, he found himself looking around confused, worried for a moment that he had been left alone, but no, both his seniors were right there still there, watching him intently… The cub stood up and brushed the specks of snow off his robes and hurried over to them.

“Is it time to leave?” The young boy asked while looking up at them both in admiration, he admired anyone older than him… The two older Tabaxi looked down at him and said nothing for a moment, before the oldest spoke, the one who had asked all the questions beforehand..

“Yes. You need to get home before sunset, And the two of us need to speak with your mother.”

“Did.. Did I do something wrong..?” The boy asked nervously, fidgeting with the hem of his robe

“... Of course not. We just need to update her on your teachings…”

Evenings ear flicked as he picked up a hint of dishonesty behind the older one's words, but brushed it off and looked down at the snow, his tail swayed anxiously.. “Okay..” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ If you guys want any more let me know!!! I love writing!! (I'll probably do more anyways lol)