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neopronouns-in-action · 10 months

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Neopronouns in Action #070: The Overcoat of Arsène Lupin

This one is special, and very long. This is a version of the 1926 short story The Overcoat of Arsène Lupin by Maurice Leblanc, which up until a few days ago, did not exist in English despite being in the public domain.

A few days ago, I finished transcribing it into text from what may be the only scan of the original 1926 magazine in existence.

You can read the plain-text version that I transcribed here on the web archive, or here on tumblr, or on Itch.io.

You are 100% encouraged to copy and paste it, download it, print it out, translate it, turn it into an animation or movie or play, and share it wherever and withwhomever you want. The web archive and itch.io links include Epub downloads, which is the generic file for ebooks -- if you have a smart phone or tablet, you can download the epub and read it in free ebook apps.

You can also buy a physical copy from Lulu.com if you'd like to help me buy groceries. You can also publish it yourself!

This short story is in the public domain, which is why the person who uploaded the scan of the magazine could do so, and why I was able to transcribe the story from that scan.

It is also why I am able to rewrite it like this. Public domain means it belongs to everyone, and you can use it in any way you like -- including changing the characters' pronouns, or making them animals, or putting them in space, or literally anything you can imagine.

Alright, background info out of the way. Let's get to using the story!

This version of the short story is 8,940 words long. Let me know if you find a section I missed editing.

(Archived read-more link)

Neopronouns:

drae/drem/draer/dremself

tei/tev/telk/tevself

ty/tyl/tyr/tylself

ex/exi/exil/exiself

rot/rots/rotself

shay

Neohonorifics:

Mireir / Mrr.

Marix / Mrx.

Martix / Mtx.

Titles:

Amica (equivalent to count or countess)

Comra (equivalent to count or countess)

Other terms:

aimiel (a nonbinary spouse)

enban (equivalent to woman or man)

androgyne (equivalent to woman or man)

noblean (equivalent to lady or gentleman. pretending that the lowest common denominator between man and woman is the "an" rather than "man")

= = =

Neopronoun examples:

drae/drem/draer/dremself

Replace he with drae

Replace him with drem

Replace his with draer

Replace himself with dremself

EX:

"He is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as he gets a fence set up around his yard so the puppy can go outside without him having to walk it. His uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting him use, since he lost his. He's going to buy toys and train the puppy himself.”

Becomes:

"Drae is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as drae gets a fence set up around draer yard so the puppy can go outside without drem having to walk it. Draer uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting drem use, since drae lost draer. Drae's going to buy toys and train the puppy dremself.”

= = =

tei/tev/telk/tevself

Replace he with tei

Replace him with tev

Replace his with telk

Replace himself with tevself

EX:

Becomes:

"Tei is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as tei gets a fence set up around telk yard so the puppy can go outside without tev having to walk it. Telk uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting tev use, since tei lost telk. Tei's going to buy toys and train the puppy tevself.”

= = =

ty/tyl/tyr/tylself

Replace he with ty

Replace him with tyl

Replace his with tyr

Replace himself with tylself

EX:

Becomes:

"Ty is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as ty gets a fence set up around tyr yard so the puppy can go outside without tyl having to walk it. Tyr uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting tyl use, since ty lost tyr. Ty's going to buy toys and train the puppy tylself.”

= = =

ex/exi/exil/exiself

Replace he with ex

Replace him with exi

Replace his with exil

Replace himself with exiself

EX:

Becomes:

"Ex is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as ex gets a fence set up around exil yard so the puppy can go outside without exi having to walk it. Exil uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting exi use, since ex lost exil. Ex's going to buy toys and train the puppy exiself.”

= = =

rot/rots/rotself

Replace it with rot

Replace its with rots

Replace itself with rotself

EX:

"It is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as it gets a fence set up around its yard so the puppy can go outside without it having to walk it. Its uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he's letting it use, since it lost its. It's going to buy toys and train the puppy itself."

Becomes:

"Rot is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as rot gets a fence set up around rots yard so the puppy can go outside without rot having to walk it. Rots uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he's letting rot use, since rot lost rots. Rot's going to buy toys and train the puppy rotself."

= = =

Shay pronouns:

Replace all pronouns with shay.

"Shay is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as shay gets a fence set up around shay yard so the puppy can go outside without shay having to walk it. Shay uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he's letting shay use, since shay lost shay. Shay's going to buy toys and train the puppy shay."

= = =

The Overcoat of Arsène Lupin, neopronoun edition

Hands behind draer back, head sunk deep in the collar of draer coat, draer harsh countenance contracted in deep thought, Jean Rouxval nervously paced up and down the length of draer vast study. At the threshold the chief page, detailed to the service of of cabinet officers, awaited orders. The minister betrayed by draer short, quick steps, draer drawn brow, draer agitation, that drae was shaken by emotion which assail a strong man seldom, and only at crucial moment of draer life.

Stopping suddenly, drae said to the page in a determined voice:

“A married couple, no longer very young, will arrive presently. You will ask them to wait in the drawing-room. Shortly after I expect an androgyne, younger and alone. You will conduct thim to the yellow room. They are neither to speak nor to see each other. You understand? I am to be notified at once of their arrival.”

“Very well, sir,” said the page, and withdrew.

Jean Rouxval’s political ability lay mainly in draer tremendous energy, draer attention to detail and a determination to know a bit about everything, whether it concerned draer department or not.

Having enlisted almost at once in 1914 to avenge draer two children – both of whom had seemingly vanished from the field of battle – and the subsequent death of draer wife, the war had given drem an excessive sense of the value of discipline, authority, and duty. Affairs in which drae was concerned always discovered drem ready to undertake the most serious responsibilities and consequently found drem assuming the greatest amount of power. Drae won the esteem of draer colleagues, but they were also a bit wary lest the exaggeration of draer good qualities might not drag the cabinet into needless complications.

Drae looked at draer watch. Twenty minutes to give. Drae still had time to glance over the record of the frightful case which had caused drem so much anxiety. Just then, however, drae was interrupted by the telephone. Drae seized the receiver; the president of the council wished to speak to drem.

Drae waited what seemed an endless time. Finally the president hillself spoke. Answering, drae said:

“Yes, Rouxval speaking, Mx. President.” Drae listened, seemed annoyed, and then replied in a bitter voice:

“Certainly, Mx. President, I shall receive the detective you are sending. But don’t you think I could have obtained the necessary information? Well, of course, if you insist, my dear president, and if this Hercules Petitgris is, according to you, a specialist in criminal investigation, tei can attend the meeting I have arranged … Hello! … Hello! … Yes …. What? … My dear president. … This Petitgris may be… Really! Is it possible? Ah! Well, merely a supposition … That is-- Petitgris has all the perspicacity usually attributed to Arsène Lupin. … Yes, sir...Perfectly. … I shall wait for tev. Hello! … You are quite right, my dear Mx. President. … The case is very serious, especially since certain rumors have already begun to be circulated. … If I do not arrive at an immediate solution, and if the truth of the matter is at all what we fear, it will be a frightful scandal and a disaster for the country. … Hello! … Yes, yes, rest easy, my dear Mx. President, I shall do the impossible to succeed. I will succeed. … I must succeed.”

After a few more words, Rouxval hung up, muttering between clenched teeth:

“I must! I must! What a scandal!” Drae was considering the various paths which might lead drem to a successful solution, when drae gradually became aware that some one was near drem, some one who was not seeking to be noticed.

Drae turned draer head and was dumbfounded by what drae saw. All but next to drem stood a shabby, wretched-looking individual, a poor devil, one might say, holding their hat in their hand in the humble attitude of a beggar asking alms.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“By the door, sir. The chief page was busy parking people right and left, so I beat it straight in.”

“But who are you?”

The stranger bowed respectfully and introduced themselves:

“Hercules Petitgris – the specialist whom the president of the council just recommended to you, sir—”

“Oh, then you were listening?” Rouxval broke in peevishly.

“What would you have done in my place, sir?”

Tei was a sickly looking, pitiful object, sad-faced – telk hair, mustache, telk pinched nose, telk thin cheeks, the corners of telk mouth, all drooped pathetically.

Telk arms hung wearily in a long, greenish overcoat which seemed about to slip from his shoulders. Tei spoke in a disconsolate voice, not without care, but accenting certain words in a manner peculiar to the common people.

“I even heard you speak of me as a detective, Mireir Minister,” tei continued. “Wrong, all wrong! I am not even on the police force. I was dismissed from headquarters for ‘weak character, drunkenness and laziness.’ Those were the terms of discharge.”

Rouxval was unable to conceal draer amazement.

“I don’t understand. The president of the council has recommended you as an enban with a disconcerting ability to diagnose clearly and correctly.”

“Disconcerting, Mrr. Minister, is the right word. There are people who even believe I am Arsène Lupin, as the president was telling you. That is why some nobles consent to my services, in cases where no one has succeeded or could succeed, without looking too closely at my record or my character. Sure they say I am conceited and insolent to my employers. And then what? When one of my employers puts their foot in it and I see the point right off, haven’t I the right to tell them, have a little laugh on the side? On the level, Mrr. Minister, I have turned down money more than once just to be able to bust right out laughing. They are funny! You ought to see the faces on them.”

In that melancholy face, under the drooping mustache, the left side of telk mouth curled up in a little, silent sneer, uncovering a huge tooth – the tooth of a wild beast. It gave tev a look of sardonic joy for a moment. With a tooth like that the possessor would bite, and bite deeply.

The minister was not afraid of being bitten, but the stranger certainly did not appeal to drem, and if the president of the council had not so insistently recommended tev, Rouxval would have gotten rid of tev promptly.

“Sit down,” drae said gruffly. “I am about to question three people and have them face each other in my presence. In case you have any remarks to make, you will make them to me directly.”

“To you directly, Mrr. Minister, and in a whisper, as I always do when I always see my chief putting their foot in it.”

Rouxval frowned. In the first place, drae hated people who did not know their place – like many people of action, drae was very sensitive and keenly feared ridicule. Concerning draer efforts the phrase “putting their foot in it” seemed particularly outrageous and almost an intentional menace. But drae had already rung; the page entered. Without further delay Rouxval ordered the there people brought to drem.

Hercules Petitgris took off telk worn, green overcoat, folded it carefully and sat down.

The married couple were the first to enter. They were evidently aristocrats, and both in deep mourning; ty, still young, tall and very beautiful, with a lovely face, pale and austere, framed in graying hair; ex, slightly shorter, slim, elegant, exil mustache almost white.

Jean Rouxval addressed exi:

“The Comra de Bois-Vernay, I believe? You may refer to me with drae/drem/draer/draers/draeself pronouns, and call me sir if you need.”

“Yes, sir. My pronouns are ex/exi/exil/exiself, my husband’s are ty/tyl/tyr/tylself, refered to as marix. We received your summons, which I confess, startled us a bit. But may we hope it has no ominous portent? My husband is not very strong.”

Ex looked toward tyl with affectionate solicitude. Rouxval asked them to be seated and answered:

“I am sure everything will be suitably arranged and that Marix de Bois-Vernay will excuse the slight inconvenience I have caused tyl.”

The door opened. A person between twenty-five and thirty entered. They were of more modest mien, not very carefully dressed; their countenance, though frank and kindly, gave evidences of dissipation and weariness, confusing one’s estimate of their fair, broad-shouldered young person.

“My pronouns are drae/drem/draer/(draers)/draeself. You may refer to me as sir. You are Maxime Leriot?”

“Yes, I am. My pronouns are rot/rots/rotself.”

“You do not know these people?”

“No, sir,” answered the newcomer, looking straight at the two nobles.

“No, we do not know this person, either,” said the comra in answer to a question of Rouxval’s.

The minister smiled. “I regret that this interview should begin with a statement which I am forced to disbelieve. But that little error will right itself at the proper time. Without haste and without undue delay over nonessentials, let us begin at the beginning.”

Drae opened the records on the table, turned to Maxine Leriot and in a slightly hostile tone said:

“We shall begin with you. You were born in Dollincourt, Maine-et-Loire. Your mother was a hard-working peasant who starved herself to give you a suitable education. The mobilization of 1914 found you a private in the infantry. Four years later you were an adjutant, with the croix de guerre and five citations for bravery. After the war you reenlisted. Toward the end of 1920 you were in Verdun. Your papers gave you credit for ‘ability as an officer.’

“But, about the middle of November, in the same year, came a bolt from the blue. One night in a third-rate dance hall, after opening ten bottles of champagne, you lost your head in a senseless brawl. You were arrested. You were taken to the post. You were searched. On you were found one hundred thousand francs. Where did you get that amount of money? You were never able to explain.”

Maxine Leriot protested:

“I beg your pardon, sir, I said that I had received the money from a person who wished to remain anonymous.”

“A worthless explanation!” said the minister. “Nevertheless, an inquiry was instituted by the military authorities. It came to nothing. Six months later, after obtaining your discharge from the service, you were again the center of another scandal,. This time your bill fold contained forty thousand francs in war bonds. And concerning these, too – silence and mystery. And again no explanation as to your means of livelihood or any reason for the dissipated existence you were leading. No position, no resources to speak of, yet money flowed through your fingers as if they supply were endless.

“The special detectives assigned to your case at the time could discover nothing, and you continued from bad to worse. Chance only, or a misstep on your part, could undo you. And that is what happened. One day, beneath the Arc de Triomphe, a stranger approached a person who came there each day to pray, and said in a low voice, ‘I expect your wife’s letter to-morrow. Warn exi – otherwise—‘

“The person’s attitude was surly, rot tone snarling and menacing. The victim was frightened and quickly sought tyr motor. Must I specify that one of these persons was you, Maxime Leriot, and the other the Amica de Bois-Vernay, and only a moment ago you pretended not to know each other?”

Rouxval abruptly held up draer hand. “I beg of you, per,” he said to the comra, who was about to interrupt, “do not try to deny the evidence. The episode occurred near me, for I also go regularly to the sacred tomb each week to pray for my children. It was I who overheard the whispered threat; and it was for my own enlightenment, without knowing any of the facts which I have just related to you, that I undertook to discover who the aggressor was, and the identity of rots victim, in this too-apparently blackmailing scheme.”

The comra said nothing. Exil husband did not stir. In telk corner Hercules Petitgris nodded telk head and seemed to approve the conduct of the investigation. Jean Rouxval, who had been watching tev out of the corner of draer eye, felt reassured. The tooth was not to be seen; therefore all was well. Rouxval continued, forging additional links in draer chain of evidence.

“From the moment when circumstances placed the direction of this affair in my hands, it took quite a different turn, perhaps because I saw it in one light rather than another. Instead of Maxime Leriot, the androgyne of to-day, I immediately saw the soldier of yesterday. Rot past interested me more than rots present. Instantly, the moment I glanced at rots record, two things struck me forcibly – a name and a date: Maxime Leriot was in Verdun, and rot was there in the month of November, 1920 – that is, at the time when the anniversary of the armistice was to be celebrated and when most the solemn of ceremonies was about to take place.

“I went there and directed and inquiry on the spot, which proved neither very long nor difficult. Rots former battalion chief, whom I questioned, showed me an old order of that date over rots signature, which also struck me forcibly. It seemed the key to the situation. The leader of one of the eight funeral cars, brought from eight different points along the great field of battle and bearing the bodies of eight nameless heroes, one of which was to be the Unknown Soldier-- this leader was none other than Adjutant Leriot rotself.”

Jean Rouxval struck the desk with draer fists, straining every muscle in draer anger. Then in a muffled voice, deliberately emphasizing every word, drae said:

“You, Maxime Leriot, were in the gallery of the fort where this historic ceremony took place; you were one of the guard of honor. Your heroism, your fame in military annals, caused you to be among those chosen for a part in this ceremony, amid the tricolor flags of your country and the trophies of victory in the great mortuary chapel. You – you were there—”

Overcome by emotion, Rouxval was forced to interrupt draer vehement denunciation. It was necessary, moreover, to state facts more accurately and with less passion if the purport of draer secret thought was to be clearly understood. Hercules Petitgris continued to nod telk head approvingly, which only served to fan the flame of the minister’s ardor.

The former adjutant did not utter a sound. Like troops piercing an enemy line came Rouxval’s accusations. Hesitant, then stronger and stronger, and with greater force they had overwhelmed the foe before rot could recover rotself. The comra listened and looked anxiously at exil husband.

“Until this point in my investigation, I have only vague forebodings, no definite suspicions, no clews to lead me. I dared not understand. It was in this spirit, terrified, aghast, that I sought proofs of what I feared to know. These proofs were irrefutable. To begin: On All Saint’s Day, again the third of November, the fourth and the fifth, Adjutant Leriot, whose daily life I succeeded in reconstructing exactly, went, as soon as darkness had fallen, to an isolated inn.

“there rot met two nobles with whom rot remained in conference until dinner time. These two nobles came to the inn in an automobile from a near-by city where they stayed at a certain hotel, the name of which I secured. I then went to this hotel and asked to see the register. From the first to the eleventh of November, 1920, two guests had been there – the Comra and Amica de Bois-Vernay.”

A silence; the pallor of the amica deepened; Rouxval drew from the records two sheets of paper which drae unfolded.

“Here are two birth certificates. The one of Maxime Leriot, born in Dolincourt, Maine-et-Loire, in 1895. That is yours, Maxime Leriot. The other, Julian de Bois-Vernay, born in Dolincourt, Maine-et-Loire, in 1895. That is your offspring’s, Monsieur de Bois-Vernay. Therefore, we may say, the same birthplace, the same age – two facts granted. Here is a letter from the mayor of Dolincourt. The two children had had the same nurse. In youth they continued the friendship of their childhood. They enlisted at the same time. Again uncontestable facts.”

Rouxval went on reading from the documents as fast as drae turned the pages.

“Here is the death certificate of Julian de Bois-Vernay; died in 1916 at Verdun. Here is a copy of the burial permit for the cemetery of Douaumont. Here is an extract of the report of Adjutant Leriot, who ‘brought back from a trench running along the road to Fleury-à-Bras and near an old surgical service station, the remains, in good condition, of an unknown infantryman.’

“Finally, here is a relief map of the whole scene of action. The old service station is here, about five hundred meters from the cemetery where Julian de Bois-Vernay lay buried. I went from one to the other. I had that tomb opened – it is empty! What has become of the coffin of Julian de Bois-Vernay? Who removed it from the cemetery of Douaumont, if not you, Maxime Leriot? You, shay friend, and the friend of the Comra and Amica de Bois-Vernay!”

Each sentence Rouxval uttered lent force to the final charge which the accumulated evidence imposed. The enemy was surrounded by undeniable arguments. There remained nothing but submission.

Rouxval, coming closer to Leriot and looking at rot squarely, continued:

“This sinister venture is written on the pages of an open book. We know that the coffin of your foster shareling was first taken from Douaumont, where shay had been buried in an ordinary grave, to the trench where you were sent to secure the body of an unidentified combatant. We know that you took it there, and we know that it was this coffin which you brought to the fort at Verdun. In this we agree, I am sure. And the sequel – the choice, the supreme hour among the eight unknown—”

Again Rouxval could not go on. Drae mopped the sweat from draer brow and tried to regain draer composure. In a few moments drae managed to continue in the same muffled and anguished voice:

“I hardly dare paint that scene. The slighted doubt in that direction is blasphemy. And yet, is this not rather a certainty than a doubt? Ah, what a frightful imposture! How did you ever succeed in your infamous plan? Answer—answer me!”

Jean Rouxval questioned, but it seemed as if drae were afraid to hear the answer. Draer voice did not carry the authority which brings confession. A long silence ensued, fraught with uneasiness and anxiety. Marix de Bois-Vernay breathed the salts tyr aimiel gave tyl. Ty seemed very weak and on the verge of fainting. Maxime Leriot turned to the comra, mutely asking exil help. The comra looked toward exil wife, afraid to begin a dangerous struggle, asking exiself upon what ground ex would stand.

Then the comra arose and said:

“Mrr. Rouxval, because you have so shaped this interview, we there sit here facing you as if we were guilty. Before defending ourselves against an accusation, the meaning of which we do not yet clearly understand, we should like to know by what right you question us and by what right you demand our answers.”

“By the right, sir,” answered Rouxval, “of my great desire to suppress infamy, which, if it became public property, would injure my country inestimably.”

“If the affair is such as you have outlined it, Mrr. Minister, there is no reason to believe it will become known to the public.”

“You are wrong, comra. Under the influence of alcohol, Maxime Leriot has talked. What rot said was not understood, but various interpretations and rumors have been circulated—”

“False rumors, Mrr. Minister,” broke in De Bois-Vernay.

“That makes no difference. They must be stopped.”

“How?”

“Maxime Leriot must leave France. A position will be found for rot in southern Algeria. You will, I am sure, furnish rot with the necessary funds.”

“And ourselves, Mrr. Minister?”

“You will also leave – both you and the amica. Far from France, you will be safe from further blackmail.”

“Exile, then?”

“Yes, for a few years.”

The comra again turned to exil husband.

Notwithstanding tyr pallor and frailty, ty conveyed an impression of vitality and obstinate determination. Ty leaned forward and said firmly:

“Not a day, sir! Not for an hour will I leave Paris.”

“And why not, amica?”

“Because my child is there. In the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.”

Those few words, that explicit, frightful avowal, seemed to drop into a pit of silence, which echoed and re-echoed, syllable by syllable, a message of death and sorrow. In the amica de Bois-Vernay’s attitude there was more than an expression of an unconquerable will – there was a defiance and the calm acceptance of a challenge which ty did not seem to fear. Nothing could change the fact that tyr child lay under the Arc de Triomphe, and no power on earth could trouble shay last sleep in that tomb of glory.

Rouxval held draer head in draer hands, desperate. Until that moment drae had been able to keep, in the face of all evidence, some illusion of an impossible justification. The confession took the ground from under draer feet.

“It is really true!” drae murmured brokenly, “I did not really believe – I could not admit it even to myself – it is beyond all reason!”

The comra de Bois-Vernay, standing between the amica and Rouxval, begged tyl to sit down. Ty pushed exi aside, ready for the struggle, determined and defiant.

Only two adversaries now faced each other, implacable enemies, with the comra and Maxime Leriot mere accessories.

Scenes of such extreme nervous tension must necessarily be of short duration, when from the first each one throws every ounce of power into the grueling struggle. What further enhanced the tragedy of this duel was the calm, the intense quiet with which it was waged. Not a loud tone, no apparent anger, simple words, radiating emotion. Simple sentences, no oratory, revealing the depth of Rouxval’s amazement and horror.

“How dared you? How do you continue to live, knowing what you do? I, myself, would have borne any agony rather than permit such a deed for one of my children. It would seem to me I had brought them ill luck in their last sleep. Given them a tomb which was not rightfully theirs! Diverted to them the prayers, the tears, all the holy thoughts which flow over a loved one, dead! What an abomination! Can’t you see that?”

Drae glared at tyl, opposite drem, tense and white, and continued more aggressively:

“There are hundreds – no, thousands! -- of parents and partners who may believe that their child, their partner lies there. These bereaved people, as sorely smitten as you, with the same rights to seek consolation there – these people have been betrayed, pilfered, robbed – yes, robbed and vilely robbed!”

The amica shrank under these insults, this contempt. Ty had surely never paused a moment to consider tyr course of action in itself; certainly ty had never weighed its ethical values. Ty had reacted impulsively, moved by the bitter suffering of a parent seeking to regain a small part of the child so cruelly torn from tyl; for the rest – nothing mattered.

Murmuring, almost in a dream, ty answered:

“Julian did not rob any one. Shay is the Unknown Soldier. Shay is there in the place of the others; shay represents them all—”

Rouxval seized tyr arm. Tyr words exasperated drem. Drae thought of draer own lost ones, whose remains drae had almost found again that day of solemn burial and consecration. Now they had vanished once more in a fathomless abyss. Where now could one pray? Where find the dear ones, gone forever?

But the amica smiled, tyr face transformed by the happiness which fairly irradiated tyr whole being.

“It was circumstance which caused shay to be chosen among all the others,” ty said. “What I did, alone, would not have sufficed, if there had not been a greater will than mine in shay favor. Chance might have assigned the honor to some soldier who did not deserve it, either in their life or in their death. My Julian was worthy of the reward.”

“All were worthy!” protested Rouxval vehemently. “Even if during their life they had been the most obscure, the most odious of people, the soldier chosen by destiny became, in that instant, the equal of the greatest!”

Ty shook tyr head. Tyr eyes gleamed with a contemptuous pride. Before tyl rose the ghosts of a hundred proud ancestors and the heroic dead of tyr country acclaiming tyr Julian the chosen one, born for glory.

“This has happened for the best, sir,” ty said. “Believe in me and rest assured that I have stolen no tears, no prayers. Every person who kneels there and weeps, prays for their dead child. Does it really matter if it is my child, if they do not know it?”

“But I know it,” said Rouxval, “and they may find it out! And then what? Can you imagine what will happen – the anger, the hate, the wild scenes of unbridled fury? No crime in the would would arouse such indignation! Can’t I make you understand?”

Little by little drae was losing control of dremself. Drae despised this person. Tyr exile seemed more and more the only solution which could avert a calamity and at the same time appease draer own pain.

Without any attempt to spare tyl, drae said roughly.

“You must go, per. Your presence at that grave is an outrage to every other mourner. Go, and go now!”

“No, I will not,” ty said.

“You will; you must! With you out of the country, their wrongs will be partially righted; the soldier there will once more become the Unknown Soldier.”

“No, no, no! What you ask is impossible. I could not live away from shay. If I had to continue to live, it is only because shay is there, because I can see shay each day, speak to shay, and hear shay speak to me. Oh, you cannot understand how I feel when I stand there in the crowd! They come from every corner of France, bringing their offerings of flowers, of tears, of prayers. There are moments when I am so overwhelmed by a wave of happiness and pride that I almost forget Julian is dead. I see my child alive – alive and standing beneath that arch, smiling at me as I kneel before shay. And you dare ask me to give up all of that! It is madness. It would be like killing my beloved child a second time!”

Rouxval clenched draer hands, to restrain dremself from killing this ungovernable person. Drae knew now that ty was stronger than drae was. Driven to desperation, drae threatened:

“You force me to the worst. If you do not go – I swear – I swear that I will denounce you! I will unmask you to the whole world rather than permit this ghastly imposture to continue --”

Ty laughed mockingly.

“Denounce me? Is it possible? You will denounce me and inform the world about this imposture which causes even you to tremble?”

“Nothing, nothing can stop me!” drae cried. “I shall do my duty even if it kills me. Your trickery has made life intolerable. If you do not go, per, shay shall go – the body of your child shall be --”

Ty quivered, stricken by the brutal words. The frightful image of that poor body, torn from the tomb, roughly handled and cast into another grave, was more than ty could bear. Tears came to tyr eyes; with a cry of pain tyr hand went to tyr heart. The comra made a vain attempt to reach tyl as ty tottered and fell to the floor, unconcious.

The duel was nearing an end. Wounded to the depths, but triumphant, ty fell, not yielding a step in tyr struggle. The comra carried tyl, still unconcious, to the couch with the assistance of Leriot and Hercules Petitgris. Ty was stifling, grinding tyr teeth, still fighting in tyr coma.

“Oh, how could you, how could you hurt tyl so!” exclaimed De Bois-Vernay.

But Rouxval made no excuses for draer conduct. A temperament which drove drem to extremes, when drae had curbed draer desires too long, did not allow drem time for reflection or regret in a crisis. Drae saw red. The problem seemed to drem so hopeless drae would have stopped at nothing, however ridiculous, to solve it.

What difference did it make what drae did, as long as drae did something? It seemed as if draer revenge were already nearer, if drae could only proceed in some way. Action became a necessity. Should drae call the president of the council? The telephone! Drae seized the receiver and, as soon as the president answered, gasped out breathlessly:

“Yes, Rouxval, Mx. President. … I must speak to you immediately, in person… You’re not free? ...In half an hour? ...All right. In half an hour I shall be there. Thanks. Situation serious. ...Quick action… Yes...Later.”

The amica was being cared for by the three people. Ty was evidently subject to these attacks, as tyr aimiel had a small case of medicine from which ex quickly administered a dose. Ex took off exil overcoat, knelt beside tyl, and tended tyl in an agony of fear which all but suffocated exi, speaking to tyl constantly, as if ty could hear exi.

“It is your heart, darling, isn’t it? Your poor heart! But you are better, aren’t you? You are better – your cheeks have a little color – I know you are better. Are you, dearest?”

Amica de Bois-Vernay remained in the swoon several minutes, but at last tyr eyelids fluttered and ty slowly regained consciousness.

As soon as ty saw Rouxval ty gave a cry of distress.

“Take me away! Let us go. I cannot stay here!”

“But, dearest, be reasonable. You must rest a few minutes.”

“No, no, not a moment! We must go. I cannot stay.”

The comra begged Leriot’s aid, it was rot who carried the amica from the room, while the comra followed, completely upset, having been assisted into exil overcoat by Hercules Petitgris.

Rouxval had not stirred. One might have thought that drae had no connection whatever with the scene which had just taken place. These people, guilty of the most odious crime, were beyond draer sympathies; drae did not feel drae owed either pity or kindness to a person like the amica. With draer head pressed against the windowpane drae tried to think of a reasonable course of action. Why talk to the president of the council? Would it not be better to finish the affair and get in touch with headquarters, with the department of justice?

“Come now,” drae said to dremself, “no nonsense; a level head at any price!”

Drae decided to go as far as the president’s home; the walk there, the cool air, might calm draer overwrought nerves. Taking draer hat and stick from the stand, drae started on draer errand. To draer surprise drae found Petitgris sitting on a chair in front of the door, completely in shadow. Tei evidently had not left the study.

“Well, it’s you,” said Rouxval. “Still here?”

“Yes, Mrr. Minister, and I cannot advice you too strongly to keep me company.”

Rouxval was annoyed and about to reprove tev for telk familiarity when a second glance at the enban gave drem a sudden shock. Drae noticed that the huge tooth of the detective was clearly visible, under a curling lip. Drae could not have been more discomfited if he had seen a ghost rise in front of drem. The appearance of that tooth, long, white and pointed, the tooth of a wild animal, could only mean one thing – Rouxval was being jeered at, mocked.

“Confound it, I certainly have not put my foot in it!” said Rouxval to dremself, remembering Petitgris’ words.

Drae pulled dremself together. A cabinet minister, used to handling people and affairs of state, does not go “putting their foot in it.” Nor do they step into the pitfalls which trip the unwary. Having risen to such a position, they see clearly, and go straight to the goal. Yet the sight of that tooth troubled drem. Why – what did it mean at this time? To reassure dremself, drae blamed the detective.

“If one of us has put their foot in it, it is that scamp. This whole thing is perfectly clear; any college youth could see that,” argued the minister to dremself.

As clear as it was, however, drae answered Petitgris by asking surlily:

“What is it? I’m in a hurry. Speak up!”

“Speak up, Mireir Minister?” tei repeated. “I have nothing to say.”

“What do you mean, nothing to say? I don’t suppose you expect to sleep here?”

“Oh, no, Mrr. Minister.”

“Well then?”

“Well, I’m just waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“For something which is sure to happen.”

“What ‘something?’”

“Patience, a little patience, Mrr. Minister! You are certainly more interested in knowing it than I am. It won’t be long, anyway – only a few minutes—at the most about ten minutes. Yes, just about ten minutes.”

“Nothing of the sort,” cried Rouxval. “The confessions these people have made are perfectly explicit.”

“What confessions, Mrr. Minister?”

“What confessions? Why, Leriot’s, the comra’s, and the amica’s!”

“The amica’s, perhaps. But the comra confessed nothing; neither did Leriot,” said the detective.

“What are you trying to put over now?”

“I’m not trying to put anything over, Mrr. Minister; it’s a fact. You might say, the truth, the other two didn’t open their mouths. Only one person talked, and that was you, Mrr. Minister.”

Without paying any attention to Rouxval’s threatening attitude, tei continued:

“A wonderful speech, really, and I sure did appreciate it. What an orator! In the senate you would have been a riot! An ovation, publicity, and all the rest of it. Only a speech is not all that is needed. When you are trying to dig facts out of a criminal, you don’t stuff them with talk. On the contrary, you question them. You get them to gab. And then you listen. That’s the way to get to the bottom of things. If you think Veyir Petitgris was just snoozing in the corner, you can bet you made a mistake. Vr. Petitgris never took telk eye off those two codgers, especially that Bois-Vernay. And that’s why I’m telling you, Mrr. Minister, that in eight minutes some one is coming and something will happen – in seven minutes and a half.”

Rouxval was floored. Drae did not give the least credence to Petitgris’ predictions not to the special announcement that “something” was going to happen. But the enban’s tenacity held drem. And that canine tooth, which gave drem an expression at once arrogant, fierce, wicked, enigmatic--

The minister capitulated, and returned to the other end of the room, where drae gave vent to draer rage by tapping furiously on the desk with a pen handle, by nervously moving the desk appointments about, by looking at the clock and watching Petitgris out of the corner of draer eye.

The detective sat quite still, only moving once. Tei tore a sheet of paper from a pad, came to the desk, borrowed Rouxval’s own pen with an air of authority, and rapidly write a few lines. Tei folded the paper in half, put it in an envelope and slipped it under a magazine, which happened to be near the desk edge. Then tei sat down.

What did it all mean? Why did tei continue to sneer with that mysterious, abominable tooth? Three minutes. Two minutes. Rouxval, in a sudden burst of anger, jumped up and again started striding up and down the room, knocking over a chair, jostling against a table and upsetting all the bric-a-brac. This whole case was stupid. That blockhead Petitgris and telk devilish tooth had unnerved drem.

“Listen, Mrr. Minister,” mumbled the detective, holding up telk hand. “Listen!”

“Listen to what?”

“Footsteps! Listen. Some one is knocking.”

Someone was knocking. Rouxval recognized the discreet tap of the page.

“They are not alone,” asserted Petitgris.

“What do you know about it?”

“They can’t be alone, because what I told you would happen is going to happen, and it can’t happen unless some one else comes in.”

“Well, confound it, what is it that is going to happen?”

“The truth, Mrr. Minister. There are times, when the hour has struck, that nothing can prevent the truth from being known. It comes in at the window if the door is closed. But the door is so near, Mrr. Minister, you don’t want to stop me from opening it, will you, Mrr. Minister?”

Rouxval, beside dremself with rage, opened the door.

The page looked in. “Mrr. Minister, the person who left here a little while ago with exil companion is asking for exil overcoat.”

“Exil overcoat?”

“Yes, sir; the person forgot it, or rather ex got the wrong one.”

Hercules Petitgris explained:

“They are right, Mrr. Minister. I see a mistake has been made. The comra took my overcoat and left me exil. Perhaps the noblean can come in and—”

Rouxval acquiesced. The page went out, and almost immediately Martix de Bois-Vernay entered.

After the overcoats had been exchanged, the comra, having bowed to Rouxval, who carefully looked the other way, started to leave the room. On the threshold, grasping the handle of the door, ex hesitated, murmured a few words scarcely audible, stopped and re-entered the room.

“The ten minutes are up, Mrr. Minister,” whispered Petitgris. “Consequently, ‘something’ is going to happen.”

Rouxval waited. Events seemed to occur as the detective had predicted.

“What do you wish, per?” inquired the minister.

After a few minutes’ hesitation Martix de Bois-Vernay asked:

“Mireir Minister, are you really going to denounce us? The consequences would be so serious that I am taking the liberty of calling them to your attention. Think of the scandal – public clamor --”

Rouxval lost draer temper.

“Will you tell me if I can do anything else?”

“Yes you can – you should. Everything can be arranged between us two, in a perfectly legitimate way. There is no reason why we should not come to some agreement.”

“I did propose an agreement, but Marix de Bois-Vernay would not hear of it.”

“Ty would not, but I will.”

Rouxval seemed surprised. Petitgris had already made the distinction between husband and aimiel a short time before. [[HERE]]

“Explain yourself!”

The comra seemed embarrassed. Irresolute, hesitating between sentences, ex went on:

“Mrr. Minister, I love my husband beyond words – and – sometimes I am weak enough to do things – for tyl which I know are – wrong, dangerous. That is what has happened. The death of our child so completely demoralized tyl – that twice – in spite of tyr deep religious sentiment – ty tried to commit suicide. It became an obsession. In spite of my watchfulness, my every care, ty would have carried out tyr intentions. But at an opportune moment Maxime Leriot came to see me. While talking to rot about the war, my child, rots foster-shareling – the idea came to me-- to combine – the Unknown—”

Ex shrank before the decisive words. Rouxval, more and more irritated, broke in:

“We are losing time, sir, since I know the result of your machinations. And that is all that matters.”

“It is precisely because the result alone matters that I am here. Because you discovered certain preparations, you concluded too hastily, perhaps because of your apprehension, that a sacrilege had been committed. That is not so.”

Rouxval did not understand.

“It is not so? Then why didn’t you protest?”

“I could not.”

“Why?”

“My husband would have had to hear me.”

“But Marix de Bois-Vernay tylself confessed.”

“Yes, but I did not. It would have been a lie.”

“A lie! But the facts are there, per! Do you want me to reread the records, the inquiries, the proofs that the body was removed, your meeting with Leriot?”

“Again, sir, may I say that these facts show definite preparations, but not the execution of a deed?”

“That is to say?”

“That is to say that there were meetings between Maxime and ourselves, and the body was removed. But I never, never had an idea of committing an act which I, too, should consider unforgivable sacrilege. For that matter, Maxime Leriot would never have consented.”

“Your idea then—” began the minister.

“My intention was to give my husband the --”

“To give tyl?”

“To give tyl the illusion, Mrr. Minister.”

“The illusion?” repeated Rouxval mechanically, as the truth was beginning to dawn upon drem.

“Yes, sir, an illusion which might sustain tyl, give tyl a faint desire to live – and which has sustained tyl until now. Ty believes it, Mrr. Minister; ty believes it! Try to imagine what that means to tyl! Ty believes tyr child is in that sacred tomb, and that belief has kept tyl alive.”

Rouxval bowed draer head with draer hand before draer eyes. Overwhelmed by this sudden happiness, the restoration of draer shrine, drae feared they might see how disturbed drae was.

With an affectation of indifference, drae said:

“Ah, that is what happened! There was a pretense—” Drae stopped. “But how about all these proofs?”

“The proofs I took great care to accumulate, that ty might have no doubts. Ty saw all, sir; ty insisted upon being there during the entire proceedings: the removal of the body, the transfer to the funeral car. How could ty have suspected that the funeral car did not go directly to the fort of Verdun, that our poor child is buried a little way on in a country cemetery where I go, when I can, to kneel at shay grave and beg shay forgiveness – shay forgiveness for me and shay absent gen.”

Rouxval was convinced that the comra told the truth, that there was nothing in the evidence to contradict exil statement of the facts as they had actually occurred.

“And Maxime Leriot’s part in this?”

“Rot obeyed my orders.”

“How about rots actions since then?”

“Alas! The money rot received turned rots head, degraded rot. It is my one great regret. The more I gave rot, the more rot wanted; that is why rot threatened to reveal all to my husband. But rest assured, Mrr. Minister, I will answer for rot. Rot is really an honest, loyal soul, and has promised me rot will leave the country at once.”

Rouxval meditated a moment and then said:

“Are you prepared to swear to the absolute truth of your statements?”

“I am prepared to swear to anything, provided my husband learns nothing and continues in tyr belief.”

“We agree in that, per,” said the minister. “The secret shall be kept. I swear it.”

Drae took a sheet of paper and was about to ask the comra for a written statement when Hercules Petitgris leaned over and whispered to drem:

“There it is, Mireir Minister — under the magazine -- just lift it up and you’ll find it --”

“I’ll find what?”

“The statement. I drew it up a few minutes ago.”

“You knew?”

“You can just bet I knew! The comra only needs to write exil name on it.”

Rouxval, nonplused, pushed the magazine aside, snatched the paper and read:

I, the undersigned, Comra de Bois-Vernay, acknowledge that I, with the connivance of Maxime Leriot, proceeded with certain arrangements in order to impress my husband with the conviction that our child was buried under the Arc de Triomphe. But I swear on my honor that no attempt was made by me, or by the said Maxime Leriot, to fulfill these arrangements and give my poor child the honors and resting place of the Unknown Soldier.

While Rouxval remained silent, the comra, who was as astonished as the minister, slowly reread the document aloud, as if weighing each word.

“Quite right. I have nothing to add nor curtail. I should have written the same thing if I had drawn it up myself.”

Ex then affixed exil signature without further hesitation.

“Mireir Minister, I must trust you,” ex continued. “The slightest doubt on tyr part would cause the death of a gen who is guilty of nothing but too great a love for tyr child. I have your promise?”

“I have but one word to give, sir. I have given it. I shall keep it.”

Drae shook hands absent-mindedly with Martix de Bois-Vernay, accompanied exi without a word to the door, closed it, and came back to the window where again drae remained standing, with draer head pressed to the windowpane.

“So Petitgris guessed the truth!” drae mused. “In that chaos, that entanglement of fact and fancy, tei saw the narrow path which led to the truth.”

Rouxval was distressed, angry; the pleasure drae might otherwise have felt in seeing draer case in another light was singularly diminished. Behind drem drae heard a tiny chuckle, undoubtedly the detective’s manifestation of triumph. It conjured up a vision of the pointed tooth, that terrible tooth.

“Tei has the laugh on me,” thought Rouxval. “Tei has known from the beginning. Tei maliciously let me put my foot in it. Tei could have warned me and tei didn’t. What a beast!”

But draer prestige as a cabinet officer would not permit drem to remain in that humiliating position. Drae turned suddenly and taking the offensive said:

“Yes, yes, and then what? Luck was on your side! You probably discovered some clew—”

“Not a clew,” sneered Petitgris, who was not granting any favors. “What did you want clews for, anyway? Just a little bit of judgment, a grain of common sense, were all you needed.”

And with hideous good nature, tei continued:

“Come on now, Mireir Minister! That long rigmarole of yours didn’t stand up at all. It was just bunk. Contradictions, omissions, impossibilities of every kind and color. Just a rotten scenario! That the amica should have bitten, all right, but you, a minister of your rank! Honestly, do you think people juggle with corpses in real life? Have a heart!

“They make every effort to have the Unknown Soldier be an unknown soldier! Arrangements for the public, funeral cars, functionaries, generals, brigadiers, ministers; in fact, the devil and the devil’s whole crew, and are you credulous enough to believe that any little noblean with cash in their pocket can afford the luxury of making a laughingstock of the world, and of burying an everlasting concession under the Arch de Triomphe! Well, I’ve heard some good ones, but that one has ‘em all beat.”

Rouxval restrained dremself with difficulty and said:

“But the proofs—” began Rouxval.

“Those proofs – they were good enough for kids. I said to myself right away: ‘As long as the comra couldn’t possibly afford the Arc de Triomphe, what was ex cooking up with Leriot?’ Just as soon as I saw the way ex looked at the husband I got it. ‘My friend, you're a good thing. Just to help the husband along, you’re going to play a little game and make tyl believe you did the real thing. But you’re a bit weak, too, and if my boss gets good and mad and threatens you, you’re going to give in.’ There’s the whole trick, Mireir Minister! Rage and threats on your part, and little Mrx. Bois-Vernay gives in.”

“All right, well and good so far,” said Rouxval. “But you could not know ex was coming back and that ‘something,’ as you put it, was going to happen.”

“Say, listen! What about the overcoat.”

“The overcoat?”

“Great Scott! how could ex come back without it? Ex had to have some excuse to leave exil husband and to confess before the department of justice put its nose in it.”

“Well?”

“Well, when ex was leaving, I helped him on with my overcoat instead of exil. Ex was all up in the air; ex couldn’t see anything – but red. Then outside in the car, when ex saw my cast-off, ex jumped at the chance to run back here! D’ye get it? What do you think of that piece of work? I put over some better ones in my life, a couple of harder ones, but never a shrewder one. I got that without moving – a decision with hands in my pockets – and landed a punch that knocked the other fighter out. That’s some good job!”

Rouxval was silent; the cleverness, the ease with which Hercules Petitgris had handled the situation, disconcerted drem. All alone in telk corner, without interrupting the inquiry, without asking a question, and knowing nothing about the case, except what Rouxval dremself was telling, Petitgris had really conducted the examination, guided the trend of questions, thrown light on the whole case. With one little move at the right moment tei had managed to have the problem solve itself in the only way possible.

Rouxval put draer hand in draer pocket to draw out a bank note. But it went no farther. The detective sneered:

“Put it back, Mireir Minister. I’ve got mine.”

The tooth gleamed implacably. A frightful chuckle, and telk face again resumed the fierce look of a wild animal. Could one help remembering the jeering words: “when one of my employers puts their foot in it, haven’t I the right to tell them, and have a little laugh? I have turned down money more than once just to be able to bust right out laughing! Are they funny? You ought to see the faces on them!

“Don’t blame yourself too much, Mireir Minister. I’ve had worse cases. Your big mistake was to rely too much on logic, and the logic of what you see and hear isn’t worth a nickel. The real logic runs underground like some rivers, and when it does run out of sight, then you have to keep your eye on it. That was where you lost your head. Instead of going into the details of that ceremony in the fort of Verdun, you turned away! ‘I hardly dare paint the scene. The slightest doubt in that direction is blasphemy!’

“Damn it all, Mrr. Minister, that’s the time you should have gone ahead, investigated, put your whole mind to it! You would have seen there wasn’t a chance of a fraud. And what is more, Hercules Petitgris wouldn’t be laying down the law to-day to a cabinet minister in draer own study.”

Tei had risen and was putting on the worn, green overcoat. Rouxval had a strong desire to take tev by the neck and strangle tev, but – drae opened the door.

“Let us say no more about it. I shall advise the president of the service you have rendered us.”

“Oh, don’t bother!” returned the detective. “I’d rather do that myself.”

“Per!” cried Rouxval.

“Well, what, Mrr. Minister?”

Petitgris suddenly drew tevself up and seemed to change personalities under the very eyes of the minister. Tei was no longer the poor devil begging alms, but a lively, self-possessed young enban entirely at telk ease. With thumb and forefinger tei delicately removed the enormous tooth; the lines in telk face changed; the horrible grin disappeared. Tei looked cheerful and gay, but still arrogant.

Rouxval asked:

“What does this mean? Permit me to ask who are you?”

“Who I am is of no importance whatever,” tei answered. “Let us say that I am Arsène Lupin. The memory of your recent mistake will perhaps be less bitter if you connect it with the name of Arsène Lupin, rather than with that of Hercules Petitgris.”

Rouxval showed tev the door. The detective passed gracefully in front of the minister to the anteroom. In that doorway, tei said:

“Good-bye, Mireir Minister-- and a word of advice: Don’t go out of your little world again. A case of shoemaker, stick to your last. Straighten out government squabbles, help them make the laws, but – when it comes to police work leave that to the specialist.”

Tei started to go. Would he never stop talking? Tei came back and said:

“After all, you may be right – perhaps I put my foot in it. Come to think of it, what proofs have we that the comra did stop on the way, that ex did not go through with exil plot? It is quite possible, and ex did make excellent plans! Well, it’s all over my head. Good-by, Mrr. Minister.”

This time tei had nothing more to add. Tei left the anteroom.

Rouxval returned slowly to draer desk and sat down heavily. Drae was singularly troubled by the detective's last words. They were a last bite of that frightful tooth – a drop of distilled venom! Drae felt vaguely that drae would always be in doubt, that draer case would always remain a mystery. Drae knew it was absurd, but all the same – the proofs – the removal of the body – the transfer to the funeral car --

“Damn it all!” Drae cried, infuriated. “What an infernal bird tei is! If ever I lay my hands on tev again!”

But Rouxval knew that Petitgris was none other than Arsène Lupin, and Arsène Lupin was not one to be caught a second time.

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pyrettawychwiggin · 1 month

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Songstress of Skyrim (Author's Introduction)

Disclaimer: The following story is centered around my own character, Mhari Freysri, who is the only character in this piece that I own. All other characters and elements of the world within the Elder Scrolls series is the intellectual property of Bethesda. This story contains, not just massive spoilers, but is in and of itself one very long spoiler, as it is based off of my playthrough of Skyrim. You have been advised. I hope you enjoy my cringy fanfiction.

My dear reader,

Drem Yol Lok.

1. First off, thank you for taking the time to have a peek at this forward. Admittedly, I didn't think this would be necessary when I first started writing about my character, but seeing as how this story is going to be very long, I would be remiss if I were not to include a proper disclaimer to any potential readers. I guess you could say this would be a good description of how best to consume this story depending on what you're looking to get out of it. Mind you, I will try to keep things as spoiler-free as I am able.

This entire story is based off of my own playthrough of Skyrim; a playthrough that I wanted to do as completely and fully as I could, side-quests and all. This likely will mean there is quite a lot of filler; some may find that this adds to the overall character-building, but others may find this a more dry read than they were looking for. As a result, I have separated chapters into two categories; Chapters & Sub-Chapters.

Chapters are particularly imperative to Mhari's story. This will cover the entirety of the main quest, the war, and the main factions and guilds. Any other chapters that involve events of particular importance will also fall under this category.

Sub-Chapters are best suited for getting to know Mhari better as a character, seeing how she would go about various tasks and interactions. Sometimes these chapters may be much shorter than a full-chapter, but they will likely not hold as much importance to the overall story.

Both chapters and sub-chapters, however, are still posted in chronological order in which they are meant to be read.

2. Secondly, Mhari changes in various ways throughout the story, and at each major turning point in her story, a new updated character sheet will be provided. This offers a brief synopsis of Mhari's adventure thus far for any readers who are joining the journey at later chapters so that they won't be missing anything major should they choose to skip the storylines that do not interest them.

3. Thirdly, some chapters will come with song-titles to various music (sometimes during certain parts of the story) much like was noted at the very beginning of this post. These songs are meant to further create atmosphere; most of which are instrumental or ambient. I know this does not appeal to everyone, so you will not be missing anything should you choose to bypass this option. If this does interest you, you can likely find these songs on Youtube, Spotify, etc. (I will likely not be posting links as I do not want to have to continuously update them should videos be taken down, privated, etc).

*Furthermore, should you be a musical artist, and you find you are seeing your work in a chapter that you would rather not, please feel free to message me. I will not hesitate to remove it upon your request.

4. Please be advised that some storylines carry more weight for me than others, and there may be certain storylines that you are particularly interested in, but are uninterested in reading the possibly dozens of previous chapters. In the next post, I will offer an index of events so that you may better decide which chapter you want to start on. For example, if you don't care about Solitude and The Bard's College, but you are looking forward to The Companions or the Civil War, you can see in the index which chapter to see or start on.

5. Lasty, some chapters may include 18+/NSFW scenes - these will be written in fade-to-black style. For those of you who are over 18 who would like to read the juicy parts in all their uncensored glory, they will be available for members on our Ko-Fi/Patreon.

If this doesn't bother you, and you intend to start from chapter one, I commend you; and once again, I thank you for taking the time to read my cringy fanfiction.

Note that I have written about a dozen chapters already, sporadically, but will only be posting my chapters in order. I appreciate your patience for any gaps between writing. Each chapter will be available at least a week earlier to members on our Ko-Fi/Patreon.

Without further ado, I would now like to invite you to join Mhari on her adventure through Skyrim, and whatever that may hold; the good, the bad, and the dovah.

Voth Werid,

Pyretta Wychwiggin

#Pyretta #wychwiggin #py #psh #purple strudel house #fanfiction #fan fiction #writing #skyrim #elder scrolls #songstress #mhari #freysri #farkas #companions #breton #Spotify

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bigmansbigbigblog · 2 years

Note

Hey Tommy, what's Dream having you help with? Is he like training you to be an admin so if he ever needs you to take over you can?

Also if you see punz, you should say hi to him!!

:O ITS LIKEyour watching me. areyou watching me? Sometimes I feel like everyonem is wayyching and judginh me. Liketheres hundredsOf thousands of eyeson me and they go Tommyyou deserve this. but Dream tells me that is notresl. so you’re note watching me.

PUNZ IS HERE he works withDream too (but I am the Favourite 😎😎😎😎😎). i don’t thjnk he likes me very much though,,, he startes st me weird and doesjt talk. Maybe he is jealous that I am a BIGGER MAN that him. But I will try and sayhi!

ishould probablu tell you lot what happened sookay. I am in CASA DEY TOMMMYINNIT right now 😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎 see dreamhad this prison built buy secretly it was a BASE because hes smart wnd poggers. so no one can break in because it’s secure and shit. ande i am in the most top secret of rrooms becausei am IMORTSNT.. i have a bed and it’s really soft way niccer than logsted and there is books ahd a sink and laba prootectiinf me. Dream says if I’m good he can make it nicer but he kneww hew onhappyI was and he tookme in before it wasfully finished. hes so nice! Icsnr leave but it’s fine I couldn’t leave logstedeither. I don’t think I’m mesnt to be free,

anyway I aksed dreamall these poggers questions. i aksed if icoild have one of his weirdmask things and he said no because they’re partof his body apparently? BIT WEIRD. but ue'll make me one out of porcay lin. i asked his favourite animal and he said the tommy bug and laughed hahaha! and then iasked what it really was and he said cats. andthen I aksed if i was special and he said YES!!!! i am veyr special and important and eveh if noone in lmanberg relised he does and he is gonna get out my potential!

i also told him about you guys and he was a bit owrried you might bully me but I comvimced him you’re all pogchampions. so he said it’s good to updateyou but ishould tell him if anyone is mean and I should give himm my password in case I forget so I did! :D and that’s when he told me whay he needed me for! he said Tommy i am working on important science stuff and I ne3 your help. or something like that. And I said ifhe wasts science he should go to Tubzo because he’s the smart one but he said I’m special and he needs me specifically so I am excited! Ihave a weekto settle in and then it’s time toSAVE THE SERVER THROUHH SCIENCE SHIT :D

anyway I’m gonna try and get a bit more sleep. I can hearlots of Screaminf from the walls. I don’t know if it’s real ormade up like the Logs. Ihope drem is okay :( but it makes it hard to sleep. BUT dream got me a copy of the BEST GAME EVER ANIMAL CORSSINg so I have something to do if I can’t sleep I gues. I miss my oldisland but I guess it’s time to strat Anough.

#Dream smp #c!tommy #rp blog #tw hallucinations #tw imprisonment #tw abuse #tw manipulation #tw human experimentation #tw implied torture

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ccbitterduo · 2 years

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so many things happened in 3 fandoms/community i’m currently in:

OKAY SO BE FUCKING READY:

(@/dailbread from Instagram)

WERE GETTING GOOD BITCH

A NEW ANOTHER CD DRAMA COMINGG OUT OCTOBER 14th

“TENDREMOS CD DRAMA NUEVOOOOO AAAAAAAAAA!!!! En 2 semanas” which translates to: “WE HAVE A NEW CD DRAMA AAAAAAAA!!!! In 2 weeks”

the sk8 stage is gonna be starting in January 11 to 15 2023!!!!!!

“También tendremos la parte 2 del SK8 THE STAGE, por fin AAAAAAAA” “En enero” “cerca de mi cumpleaños” to “also we have the part 2 of SK8 THE STAGE, for the final AAA” “In January” “close to my birthday”

went to Twitter to see if there’s any news abt bnha s5 and TODAYS THE DREM FACE RVEAL ????!/!:)&/

ffs I missed out. ITS TODAY TOO FOR SEASON SIXXXX WOOOOO

WERE DEFINITELY GONNA SEE SUM HYPE AND ANGST AT GHE SAME TIME BY THIS FUCKING SEASON

oops I forgt

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 the stage #sk8 cd drama #dreamwastaken #dream face reveal #?!:)3&@3 sorta shittly confused #bnha s6 #WOOO LETS GOOOOO

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julien5-malfunction · 8 months

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01022024 Holy shit I had 2 dreams tonight.

(It's weird bc ususally I don't remember them)

The first one was the classic 'you need to pee' but I became lucid at the and went to this one dude (who was kinda like Suus from Gravity falls, super helpful and kind) and told him (after shitting myself in the dream) 'Like, dude this is a dream, I need to wake up.' The guy was like, he believed me and knew what he had to do, asked some another gal to come outside with us and then tells the gal 'why don't you find a nice big stone on the ground, would you?'. I start walking away from them and, I think that I was head shotted with said stone, but I did indeed wake up.

The other dream after involved someone I know from real life, I'll call her 'A'.

In this drem I'm in the mental ward but it has some sort of crafting classroom (one of the wards I've been in had something like that). I think I was following a prisoner of some kind who was being escorted there and kept kinda loosely as he managed to rip open a random door on the side of the industrial hallway. The door was to a cleaning closet and now he was commenting that it smelled like cigarettes in there. In the class room were some other peoples projects on a rack, I examined a black top hat and commented that it was actually made by a pro or something. There was this other dude (who lived in the unit at the same time with me, should I just call them mr. V or the 'Beef' bc he pissed me off and we didn't have beef but he was more beefy than me, but also annoying about it. ) mr. Beef was doing something with orange and green yarn there and Miss A was there knitting a black and red /black and pink striped sweater. Don't know where escorted crazy guy went, looking for cigarette buds in the closet, I imagine. The teacher was just like that one old lady who knits everything else but socks an sweaters bc she ain't basic and can probably demonstrate karate if you misbehave. She , goes Well hello there, yeah, just look around and see what you can come up with out of the materials here and I'll help you out if you need anything. I think I started running around the class room or something, I'm not sure... I think I grabbed Beef dudes yarn and run away from him, I had something same coloured was flying next to me as I ran. (that would be something I'd do in real life btw. I'd give it back when they caught me ofc) At some point I talked to Miss A and asked why how'd she end up in the ward and she muttered something that she said something that made the doctor concerned and thought she was insane.

The next thing I remember, I was walking back to the hospital and the ward. But we were out side, on the sidewalk of the road leading back to the hospital, there were tall snow piles next to the roads and I would climb and walk on them as miss A walked neatly on the sidewalk. We chatted something. For some reason I could fly too, but didn't know how exactly yet and when I jumped off the snow piles I would either stay in the air or flop on my face and the ground. At one point miss A says 'I figured you might like me' and stops me on the side walk. I go 'Yeah, so what if I might?' I guessed some one at the crafting class snitched on me. She grabs me thight and says 'Why don't we show it to them, then?', pulls me in for a kiss, but I tilt my head and dodge. 'no no no, I'm nervous' I tell her and I think I heard her say 'you're fainting' as I remember falling to the ground, body went completely numb but I could still see.

I woke up. I dead ass, just had a dream about a girl trying to give me a kiss and I BLACKED OUT. IN THE DREAM. I'm ashamed to admit that it probably took 10 minutes to write down the last few sentences of that bc my body keeps having pretty strong, uncanny reactions to that memory now. ...fuck.

That kinda stirrs something around inside me. I could. use it as an excuse to

do the same thing i did yesterday and

text her.

'Hey! I saw u in my dreams last night, you were knitting a striped sweater in the class room, uwu.'

LEAVE THE REST OUT OF IT.

' How's 2024 been so far? ' idk.

' BTW IG ILY ' no, I... I can't do that... Fuck.

#dream journal #dreams

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strawbnetwork · 2 years

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goodnight omg

#ongomgomg ohmygodphmigod #theres not perfrect wY to type how i am. thinking it #if i tried saying it outloud it also wouldnt sound right #ive msde my peace woth it #also i miss dreM #seeet dreM #sweet dreams #.gn

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werewolf-artfriend · 7 years

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without the internet id have no place to publicly announce my distaste for lemons

#art #illustration #artists on tumblr #lemon #dragon #ocs #bella #I MISSED DRAWING MY BABY SO MUCH #digital art #original #remember when i said i needed a new icon? follow ur drems #also this is a lemon hate blog now #artwork

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stellocchia · 4 years

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Alright, now that I got some sleep, time for an overly long analysis on Tommy’s second prison visit!

I’m only talking about character in the rp from here on out, not the cc’s unless explicitly stating otherwise

First of all, a clarification is in order: was it Dream’s plan from the very start to get put in prison to end up in this situation? No. Does this mean he couldn’t have caused this to turn things in his favour? Also no.

Dream has proven before that he’s a rather flexible character (kinda has to be with a nemesis like Tommy), he’s been put multiple times in unexpected situations and managed to come out of top. We don’t know if he expected L’Manburg to be reborn after the 16th, and yet he managed to have the whole cabinet wrapped around his fingers. He didn’t expect Tommy to threaten him with Spirit, and yet he spun it around on him. We also know he didn’t expect Tommy to leave Logsteshire (he was talking about it with Punz, it’s the reason he went to check on him shortly after because he realized he may have stepped too far and broken Tommy out of his manipulation there) which offered him the opportunity to frame him for the community house disaster later on.

He is nothing if not resorceful.

Another thing we have to discuss when talking about the visit is the themes of their relationship:

- Dream’s possessiveness/obsession

- The whole Dream finding Tommy “fun”

- Their “game”

More under the cut

- For the first point, when I say “possessivness” I mean that Dream literally regards himself almost as Tommy’s owner. Don’t believe me? Let’s talk about how he treats Tommy’s canon life then!

Remember all the way back during exile? To keep Tommy in line Dream consistently threatened to take his last life, implying that he would have been fine with Tommy dying, yet, as soon as Tommy showed signs of wanting to take his own life, Dream bust out the line “it’s not your time to die yet”, 2 times in fact. Why? Well, Dream wants control in all things, not only that, but he clearly thinks he’s in the right in wanting it. Of course the life of his favourite toy is no exception. Also let’s not forget about the terrifying scene on top of the obsidian grid where, when Tommy said that their story would be over soon, Dream immediately took control again assuring him it would never be over.

There is also Tommy explicitly stating that Dream was “borderline his owner”, in case we needed an additional affirmation, in the stream where Mexican Dream made an appearance in exile.

Also, I have to mention that during the first Prison visit Dream, when talking about what he missed, grouped Tommy together with “his stuff”... can’t get much clearer then that

- Dream’s describing Tommy as “Fun” has been a reoccurring creepy theme between them. But is it soley done out of manipulation or does Dream actually feel that way in his twisted world view? I’d say a bit of both to be honest.

Clearly there is a level of gaslighting with it were he used to say it at the very start of Tommy’s exile to get him in the frame of mind of considering Dream his friend and trying to convince him that they always had fun together (trying to get him to switch his anger from being directed at Dream to being directed at his old friends), but that’s not all.

Dream, in cutting all his known attachments, is left with only Tommy as an attachment, Jack is right on that one, which is the rason why his obsession seems so extreme. That said, it’s pretty obvious that he does sort of find his relationship with Tommy “fun”. It’s the reson why literally everyone else is a replaceable pawn, but Tommy isn’t. Don’t get me wrong here: he doesn’t see him as a human and, despite him “caring” in his twisted way, there is NOTHING healthy about their relationship. But it is still important to point out that Tommy is extremely important to Dream.

- Their game is something we’re all well aware of. They are regarded by so many people as the hero and the villain of the server, even though neither of them accepts their assigned role. That said they both view the other in the role assigned to them. Dream doesn’t see himself as a villain, but he does see Tommy as a hero and vice-versa. And, just like that, the stage for their “game” is set.

Only problem? Only one of them is playing the game. We know this from the season 2 finale: the reason Dream kept coming down and trusting Tommy was because he thought Tommy was as attached to their “game” as he was, but he was wrong. Tommy HAS other attachments, plenty of them, he’s not dependent on Dream and that’s also probably why Dream is so obsessed with him in the first place: everyone else is predictable, easy to use. They aren’t surprising, they aren’t “fun” (remember that? Remember Dream goning “Tubbo isn’t fun” when Tommy said he had as much value as himself? Because I sure do) they are boring pawns.

You’d think he may think differently of someone like Techno but, despite him acknowledging his strenght, he has no reason to think he won’t be able to use him every time at the smallest promise of violence as it worked every time before. George and Sapnap? When’s the last time Dream showed them he cared in any way? He used them time and time again and then left them behind when the relationships required work on his side to mantain. He didn’t even speak to Sapnap during his visit! He regards Quackity as barely an annoyance (remember what history left on him in the Lost City of Mizu? Just a Fool). Punz and Sam were both people he paid, only means to an end. They ALL played his game and followed his rules, which is what made them predictable. It's what makes them so replaceable.

Now that the themes are established, let’s move on to the analysis of the visit itself!

First of all: big foreshadowing from Sam with the missing books (which Tommy admitted to not remembering the content of) and from Tommy saying how much he trusted and appreciated Sam. It doesn’t have much to do with the analysis, but we all pointed it out.

That said, what was Tommy’s objective with this visit? Closure. Tommy wanted to make their game finally stop for good, he wanted to reclaim the control over his life that he hasn’t had for a while now. Not over his literal last life nor over hid day to day life. Both used to be controlled by Dream.

Dream “loosing” his clock is the first information we learn. But, remember during Bad’s visit when Bad convinced Sam to give Dream one last chance to get his clock back if he behaved? And then again with Sapnap? Dream wanted the clock to go, that’s why he kept burning it despite the warnings. Why? Could it be that he was planning to get someone to stay with him in there? Isolation affects you much harder when you’re not aware of the passage of time after all...

“That’s the Tommy I know!” from the start of the visit Dream is trying to re-establish their “bond” and get Tommy in the mindset of them being “friends” again. I mean, it’s not a coincidence that he’s never been this talkative or friendly in any of the visits from other people.

Other point in favour of Dream having planned this long stay is the sheer number of potatoes he had stored. Also, may I add that he immediately started giving them to Tommy? He started before the tnt and explosions, before he should have known Tommy was gonna stay. He never did this before during any of the visits we’ve seen. Establishing his role as provider again like back in exile I see...

Dream also started immediately demanding for Tommy to visit him more, but Tommy does turn it down just as quickly by explaining that that would be the last visit (if Dream wasn’t planning to act this time, he changed his mind in this moment. He’s very adaptable remember? And his main accomplice was online...). Of course, Dream isn’t happy about it.

We already established that Tommy is the only one he finds “fun” (as far as we know), having him stopping visitations entirely wouldn’t be good for Dream. There is also the fact that Tommy is deciding to move on on his own. It’s Tommy’s choice under Tommy’s complete control and Dream has already shown he’s not too kin on that being a thing.

“Anything you want to say to me now, you have to say to me now, because I’m not visiting you again” “Why?” I’m highlighting this piece of dialogue because I think it’s pretty indicative of Dream still being convinced that they’re both still playing the game. Sure, Tommy outplayed him for now, but the game is not over, is it? Tommy can’t just decide to drop him can he? They both have so much “fun” after all...

Of course though, to Tommy the “why” should be obvious. Because of Dream he’s struggling with severe ptsd. He’s afraid of plains biomes, of lava, of heights to a certain degree, of black stone (both because of the Attachments vault and the Final Control Room on this one), of tnt, of small holes (big enough to drop your items in as he said), of giving up his stuff and of Dream acting Friendly. Dream hurt him a great deal to the point were he’s not managing to settle down even now, he’s still afraid. How can Dream not see how he hurt him? How can he not understand? In Tommy's mind it just doesn't make sense.

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES (had to add this because it was just funny... why are there always bloopers with this 2?)

Potatoes again. Again the tnt had not started to go off yet. And Tommy eats them again immediately, of course. I can’t stress this enough, but this is done again to re-establish the dependency tommy had on Drem during exile. While he didn’t entirely depend on dream for food (he barely ate and he had Mushroom Henry), he used to be entirely dependent on him for protection, getting to the point where he would hardly defend himself from the mobs when they attacked him even when Dream wasn't around. Of course Dream can’t provide “safety” while he’s in prison, so he has to find something else.

“You had all this shit coming” “I did but... you know... maybe one day” “No! Have you seen this prison? It’s kind of the most secure thing ever” They are talking about two different things here. Dream is implying that, maybe, they’ll let him out in the future while Tommy, having already decided to move on and not worry about Dream anymore, is implying that the only way Dream is getting out is if he manages to escape, which he won’t. Quite different from the first visit were Tommy showed quite a bit of hesitance when asked if he would ever let Dream out.

“Unless you have extreme therapy” Tommy recognizing the importance of therapy I see! No, but, more importantly, this goes to show that Tommy is moving on from his exclusively vengful mindset he had at the start (which was more then understandable, btw). At the start of this visit he said he didn’t think that Dream deserved to die anymore and now he’s recognizing that he needs help, Tommy however also knows he’s not the one who should be helping him, he can’t. Still, he’s empathizing with him, because he can’t help doing so. Despite everything, Tommy always tends to see others as their own individuals, even when the same is often not true in reverse.

“I mean exile wasn’t that bad... right? I mean, we hung out” again, tying it back to the themes in their relationship, this fits so well. Of course exile wasn’t that bad, right? After all: why would Tommy have needed anyone else when he had his Best Pal Dream? And here’s the thing: we can’t know how much of what Dream says is just manipulation and how much of it he believes, but Dream has shown enough signs of being dependent on Tommy as his only attachment that we can assume there is, at the very least, some level of truth in this. I mean, if you remember back when he blew up Logstedshire, he didn’t even wanna believe that Tommy was suicidal. Tommy told him directly, but was dismissed. Why? Not because Dream wasn’t extremely opposed to him taking his own life, he’d already shown that not to be the case. Perhaps because he actually didn’t think it was that bad? Maybe he didn't want to admit he pushed him too far? Did he actually view himself and Tommy to be Dream’s own twisted version of “friends”? It’s a possibility and it’s what this visit seems to imply.

“When I’m around you I feel like my brain is conditioned to be your friend, but also when I have a knife I wanna just plunge it into your heart... you don’t make me a good person!” This seems to be a rather recurrent theme with Tommy and the mentor figures in his life. Wilbur trying to convince him (albeit not managing to) to just blow it all up and give in to his aggressive nature. Techno wanting to “bring him to the side of evil” and making him more violent in the process. Now we have confirmation that Dream himself makes him lash out more (though we could see this already when he was in exile in how he lashed out at Jack Manifold without the latter having done anything to deserve it). There is also the confusion to point out. While Tommy is trying to move on he’s clearly in no way “healed”, he’s still very much suffering from the consequences of Dream’s abuse and manipulation. He still doesn’t know exactly how to feel about him because, despite everything, he feels compelled not to hate him entirely.

“You’re a bad guy” “Well I did bad things, but everyone thinks they’re right from their perspective” “That’s not true” I haven’t seen almost anyone talk about this exchange, but it’s such an important one! As we said, Tommy views Dream as a villain, Dream doesn’t (he admits to having done bad things, but not to being bad because of them). Dream also sees Tommy as a hero, but Tommy doesn’t (Tommy doesn’t even view himself as “the good guy” in his own story, which ties in to his big self worth problems). It’s an interesting dynamic to be sure.

“Well I think I’m right. I did bad things, but I did them for good reasons” “What good reasons?” “I wanted to bring the server together you know? Make it a big happy family” This is the second time Dream brings up unity as his ultimate goal (the first being with Punz). Of course we know that the “unity” he wants it’s under his complete control. It’s not an objective that we can see as positive, but he does, or, at least, if he’s telling the truth about it, he may actually believe in it. Now, while this is the second time he brought up “unity” directly he did also strongly imply in the season 2 finale that that was his intention when explaining he was doing everything to get the server to “how it used to be”, back in the idealized past with no conflicts that never existed. Dream is deluded in the literal sense of the word, I would say it’s pretty probable there is at least some truth in his declared objective (truth in the form of him actually believing the bs he spews).

At this point Tommy is done. He’s drawing an end to the visit and Dream started getting more frantic. He started insisting on how he’s “changing” and insisting for Tommy to go visit him again. Ngl, I think this was probably to buy time for his accomplice (who is very possibly enderwalk!Ranboo) to get there. Because, if he let Tommy go, their game would truly be over, and Dream can’t stand that.

And cue the explosions!

So: Dream managed to buy enough time and, by the prison's protocols, Tommy is now stuck with him up to 7 days. He can’t leave which means Dream gets another chance to force him into continuing their game.

Quite a few people pointed it out, but, from this point onwards, Dream gets much more assertive and controlling in his demeanor. He drops the whole “insecure” act that he had going on in his enunciation and general behaviour and goes back to being like the old Dream (you would almost think that all that talk about “having changed” was just absolute bs, though he keeps insisting on it throughout)

Tommy’s behaviour also changes. He gets much more paniked (no doubt a combination of way too many of his triggers being present at once) and pliant. He starts calling out for Sam and asking to be let out but, of course, that doesn’t happen as Sam has to take care of the security breach first and foremost.

Dream starts immediately harping on Tommy being stuck there (probably to increase his panic, as he's easier to influence when he's distressed), first pointing out how “Sam can’t hear him” and then that the tnt must indicate a “security problem” (which he then explains he knows the consequences of because he wrote the book). By now he’s dropped his meek act entirely and he’s showing to be much more smug and self assured (a big contrast with Tommy having a very obvious panic attack). As we already said: he got what he wanted, he basically won already. All he needs to do now is get Tommy back to how he used to be in exile (”when they had fun” in Dream’s words...).

At this point there is only one question left to be answered: Why did he do all of this? How does this benefits dream?

Clearly this didn’t help him to get out. The security may actually increase because of it. Right? Well...

“I mean... if you want a way to get out, let’s get out together! We can work it out, we can-” “Fuck off” “Then there is no way out” I’m going out on a limb here and saying that, perhaps, Dream may know a way to get out provided 2 people cooperate on it. Tommy wouldn’t help him yet, but, who knows what he may do after spending way too much time locked in a small room, with a lava fall on the side and Dream to top off the list of his worst nightmares...

“Are you trying to get out?” “I’m not trying to get out, I’m not trying to get out!” a bit of a contradiction here, considering he proposed getting out together like 2 minutes before (coupled with his insistence on “one day...”)... however “I’m not trying to get out (yet)” may be a way to interpret his words more truthfully. If he just needed an accomplice to get out, he would have probably used Ranboo, but there is something else he wants as well...

(btw, potatoes AGAIN multiple times, especially every time Tommy is particularly distressed, and Dream also brings up Tommy being on his last canon life again in the context of this being “just like exile”... man do be trying hard with those parallels...)

You see, he already told us that he still sees his objective as good. He still wants control. He still wants his game to go on. And there is one person he elected to be the key to everything...

“I’m telling you you’re stuck in here for a little while with me, were we can bond, we can talk, just like old times, right? You know... just like exile” “Tommy this is the best thing that’s happened to me since I got in this prison, because now we can be company, we can stay together!” “Fine, fine, you’re done with me in a couple days, when you get out of here” “Tommy it’s not that bad! We can- we have lot’s of time to bond” Ngl... something tells me his other objective is very obvious... and we talked about it to death by now. But, in case it wasn't clear to someone, he wants to get back what (or who in his case) he considers to be his most cherished possession (again, do NOT interpret this as a "good" thing. It isn't. Dream literally treats Tommy as his toy, it isn't healthy and I've seen way too many people in chat trying to imply otherwise and calling it "cute". It's not cute, it's abuse)

“Tommy you’re stuck in here with me wether you like it or not, ok?! Wether you like it or not you’re in here with me for a WHILE, we’re gonna talk, we’re gonna have lot’s of fun” I just wanted to point out again how much Dream’s demeanor changed from the start now that he’s back in control. He’s not asking Tommy to talk to him, he’s not giving him a choice in it. Tommy already said how he doesn’t wanna talk and “get to know him better”, but that doesn’t matter. He has no power anymore. He doesn’t have the power to leave NOR the power to ignore Dream, as much as he wants to. Also, after this, Dream seriously ramps up the whole “We’re gonna have so much fun!” shtick...

And you want to know the saddest part of the ending? Tommy is already cracking (honestly, not surprising. He’s been through WAY too much by now...)

He started asking Dream for confirmation of whether all of this was “serious” (just like he needed to ask if things were real back in exile... or generally Dream’s opinion on everything). He also asked for more potatoes in a dejected tone (I know it may not seem that serious, but, as I said, it is just another way to create the dependency that Dream wants), showing a beginning of acceptance for Dream’s role as provider once again. Together with the very obvious “I can’t do this” and the black screen right after it creates a very worrying picture.

In conclusion: Dream is already dependant on Tommy, but the opposite not being true was a big part of his downfall. So, before he can get out, he has to work on getting Tommy back to exile!Tommy only this time he’ll be even more careful not to do some dumb mistake probably...

As anxious as I am to see how this will develop I do also think it’s one of the most interesting outcomes they could have had!

Also can we please take a moment to appreciate how WELL cc!Dream anc cc!Tommy manage to handle this incredibly serious scenes? Like, they bounce off of each other perfectly and, as someone who’s done theater themselves, I cannot commend them for managing to do so well in IMPROV enough!

They are honestly so great! Let’s get some serious love and appreciation for them to close on a positive note!

Also @mysweatymakerstudentworld

#tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #tw suicide #tw abuse #tw manipulation #exile arc #dream smp #Dream smp spoilers #long post #my post #analysis #relationship analysis #this is the sequel to rapunzel where she's stuck on the tower with mother goethel #I can't imagine it ending well...

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20moonchild21 · 4 years

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Gif by @wangjislan-archive

ꨄ•๛Incidents

ッ

๛匕нє σиє ωнєяє ѕнє кєєρѕ нєя ѕє¢яєтѕ ∙ꨄ

Bts x girl!member

"山elcome back everybody." The blond haired woman smiled into the camera. "It is the best time of the week and that is not only because it is Friday night, no. Tonight we have very special guests – "

While she didn't even get to finish her phrase, the crowed already began to go wild. Loud clapping and cheer howl through the studio.

"I know. I know!" The woman laughed and as she tried to calm the people on the chairs down with her hands. Even though she failed, the camera man behind the camera gestured for her to continue. "Number one Billboard song, Grammy nominated and freshly arrived from Koran: Here is BTS!"

The last part, she had to almost scream into the camera. If this was even possible , the cheers and clapping went even louder than before.

The camera moved softly from the smiling woman over to the stage where a big door in the wall just opened. Out of the bright light, which was now projected towards the large opening, 8 figures were stepping out. Each of them smiling and waving.

A few minutes later, the crowed finally had calmed down, even though sometimes you could here someone scream sentences like "I love you, Jin oppa!" or "Marry me Jungkook!". All of them made the eight young people smirk to themselves.

Ellen was now sitting in an armchair, the moderation cards she was holding earlier were now laying on the box to her right side. On the left side, there was once again a man sitting who's only job was it to translate Ellen's words into korean, and the boys' words into english.

"Hello." She smiled over to the boys and the on girl sitting on the sofa opposite to her. A bunch of 'hellos' and 'his' followed. "Would you at first introduce yourselves for those viewers who don't know you so well."

"Hi, nice to meet you." The silver haired boy said. "My name is RM and I am the leader of this group."

Immediately, the crowd cheered again. You even could see some girls begin to cry at his words.

"Hello! My name is –" The small girl was interrupted by someone shouting.

"You're the most beautiful girl in the world, Grace! Marry me!" Followed by louder shouts and clappings. Grace smiled widely and waved harder to the people.

" – Grace. My name is Grace and thank you!" She said and formed two hearts with her fingers, while the rest of the boys just either shook their heads or commenting the boy of the crowd.

Jimin even laid his hand on her shoulder.

"She. Mine." He said in his cute broken English and almost everyone in the studio laughed.

"Hi guys – " A brown haired boys with the glasses waved both of his hands at the cheering people. By now, they were so loud that you could only see the boy forming a V with his fingers, while his mouth was still moving, but no words could be heard.

"Hiiii!" the next boy smiled widely while his mouth formed a perfect heart. "Your my hope, I'm your hope, I'm J-Hope!"

"Hi." The next boy didn't even bother to make a long introduction. He just waved and showed his cute boxy smile, which was already enough for the crowed to go wild.

"Hallo! Hi!" The second youngest of the group waved his hands. Like V, no one could understand what he was saying because of the loud cheers.

"I love you, Jin!" A female voice rang through the studio before the next brown haired boy could say a word.

"Hello! My name is Jin and I am a World-Wide-Handsome." He just said while he held two of his fingers under his chin. The screams increased and the rest of the group was either rolling their eyes or laughing.

"Nice to me you, guys. I –" The last boy said, but he was interrupted by even more screams. "I am Jimin!" He shouted and waved happily.

"Alright, it's so nice to finally have you back here, in America, guys....and girl. It's like... your third interview with me here, isn't it?" she asked and the group nodded proudly. " How have you been since the last time we have meet each other?" Ellen asked.

The interpreter was about to translate Ellen's next words when Jin bend his body from behiind Grace to whispered something in her ear. She looked confused for a moment, but immediately began to smile. Even though she has been living in Korea for a while now, she still couldn't speak it fluently, it was enough to understand his matter of concern.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" She answered him with an evil smirk. The boy looked almost scared from her to Ellen and the back to the younger girl. He then just grinned and shook his head, gesturing for her to translate his question. She just rolled her eyes and smiled.

"He just asked...He just wants you open the box there –" She laughed and pointed her finger over to the big box. " - to show that no one is in there again. You traumatized him...."

"Don't worry." Ellen said before she laughed hard. "I promise you that no one is in there this time."

She smiled at Jin and held her thump up. The boy hesitated for a second, before he also held his thumps up.

"Back to my question. Where was I?" The short haired woman looked at her cards. "Ahh, right. You went to the Billboard Awards again. That's where you made your debut, right? How was it like to go back there and this time have these success?"

Grace had squeezed the boy's knee next to her to encourage him to answer the question.

"It was...ehmm." He paused his phrase, obviously looking for the right words. He slightly turned his head to look at the girl next to him. She smiled and nodded her head. "It was....incredible. We've always drem...dreamed of performing there again. It was dream come true."

The crowed awwwed at his cute English accent and his speaking mistakes. Ellen nodded and turned her attention to another boy.

"SUGA. You just had a surgery at the shoulder. How was it for you to not being able to join your bandmates?" She asked.

Suga, as lazy as he is, answered in Korean. As he spoke, Grace tried to understand him without the interpretate. Even though she didn't get every word, the most important ones reached her brain:

Horrible...missing performing...missing friends...important to recover...join soon again...

"Alright." Ellen said again before she began to smile widely. "For my next question: I literally got bombarded to ask you that. You all still live together, right?"

"Yeah that's right." RM answered quickly. "The boys and me have been living together for about 7 years, I think?"

He looked around the boys before he said something in korean. All of his male members nodded in agreement.

"And little miss here...." He continued and laid his arm around her slim shoulders which made the crowd go 'awwwww' again. "She has been joing us since 4 years now."

"This is a long time." Ellen stated. "I am almost sure that living for this long with the other gender, there have been some...how should I say....incidents, haven't there?"

The man beside her began to translate her words, but since Grace and Namjoon spoke English, they got what she meant by that. Grace juts smiles while RM hesitated for a moment.

"You mean, like, accidentally stepping in the bathroom while someone was changing or showering?" He asked carefully which was confirmed by an evil nod from Ellen while the crowd just made 'uuhhhhh' or 'ohhhh' noises.

By now, all the other boys got Ellen's question, too. Jungkook was the first one to actually answer her question.

"No." He said shyly. "We...ehm...always are careful and...ehm...knock on door."

To support his point, he pretended to knock at an imaginary door. The other members around him just nodded and looked back at Ellen, but one did not. This person wasn't unnoticed by the short haired woman.

"Grace, you are smiling." She winked her eyebrows and all the boys turned towards their only female member in surprise. "What did happen. Tell us! Did you see one of the boys naked?"

"What!?" Jimin and Suga gasped from behind, while the other seemed to be shocked, too.

The girl's face meanwhile was covered in a small shade of red. Their exclamation was followed by more shocked comments of the other members.

Grace opened her mouth to say something, just to close it again shaking her head. The people in the studio went wild again.

"Your eyes have been blassed." One girl shouted.

"I would kill to see what you have seen!" Another female screamed.

"I am so jealous!" A third one shouted.

"Nooooo!" Grace said in a whining but also laughing voice. She dropped the hands that were covering her face while the boys talked insistently at her. "It wasn't like that! I swear!"

She opened her mouth again but no words came out. She just smiled and leaned her head to the side.

"Does HE know about it?" Ellen was still laughing like crazy and Grace had the feeling that everyone in the world was waiting for the answer they all want to hear so badly. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly before she answered.

"I..I don't know. I guess so...?" She stammered. "But in my defense I –"

"Who was it?" RM asked and stared into her eyes.

"Yeah Grace, who was it?" J-Hope had sat up straightly on the sofa and was now staring at the girl, too.

"I swore to never say a word about this incident. Ever." The blonde haired girl grinned mischievously. A sudden wave of braveness rushed trough her body. She was now looking directly into the camera. "But who knows what that incident lead to..." She said slowly and winked obviously joking with her eyebrows.

"We have to have a serious talk at home, little miss..." Jin said sternly from behind as he squeezed her shoulder slightly

Let's say: The crowd cheered louder than ever before.

๛

Later that night, all 8 of them sat around the round table in Namjoon's hotel room eating their dinner. But the boys still didn't want to let the topic from earlier go.

"Come on, Grace. Was it me?." Jungkook mocked her again while he slurped his noodles. He then put his plate down, just to grab her shoulders and turn her towards him. His face suddenly turned very serious. "I know, Grace, it must be shocking for you. To see my big, fat, heavy d..."

"Oh my god." The girl quickly slapped his hands away from her shoulder as soon as she realized what her best friend was about to say next.

She shot up from the chair she was sitting on. She walked around the table while all of the boys had a smirk on their faces.

"Jin oppaaaa." The girl whined and hugged her eldest member from behind. "Kookie is talking dirty to me. Make him stop."

"Yeah Kookie." Suga said and put his plate down. "If she would have seen your dick, she would be into women now.."

Everyone, beside Jungkook, was laughing hard by now.

"Shut up." The second youngest muttered and snatched a piece of cucumber at his hyung.

Grace watched the scene in front of her.

Of couse she would never say on whom she walked in.

This secret would always last in her head, in only her head....

And in the boy's head who was looking at her side secretly...

The boy who, unnoticed by the others, hasn't said a thing to that topic at all....

-------------------------/////-----------------------

Hello!

So this is the first part of my story. I am so excited for all your comments, recommendations and so on!

Having any requests? Don't hesitate to write me!

Stay safe and healthy

~ M.

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Text

PSL (OT4)

Prompt for the 14th was: Pumpkin. The OT4, for new folks, is Barclay, Stern, Indrid, and Duck (every is dating except Duck and Barclay, who are metamors). This prompt could also be called “the silly things we sometimes do for love”

Stern absentmindedly taps the steering wheel as the last cars trickle from the visitor center parking lot. The last song before he dropped back into the NRQZ was “Bad Moon Rising” and so that’s what he taps in time to. The lights in the building can't go out soon enough.

He’d only been in D.C week, had skyped the others every night, but the sensation of missing them was so strong. It’s the trade-off, he supposes, for knowing there were three people waiting for him instead of the none he’d grown accustomed to.

Even with the LAN, the signal on the Kepler end was too weak to show video most of the time, so he lay on the hotel bed, basking in their voices. Barcaly’s voice makes him feel safe the way a well-built house and a warm drink on a stormy night make him feel safe. Indrid’s is like something from drem, familiar and alien all at once.

The car door swings open, letting in a burst of fall air.

“Hey, darlin.”

Duck’s voice makes him feel sixteen again. He never had a highschool sweetheart, but that drawl feels like it’s coming in through the open window in the summer air, promising something wonderful if he climbs outside.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

And then there’s him, sounding like a dork. But Duck just smiles.

“You have an okay drive?”

“It’s been worse, and at least this time I drove past the city limit sign knowing where Bigfoot is.”

“In your room pinin after you?”

“I hope not.” Stern lies, blushes a little at the image.

Duck moves to put his water bottle in the center cupholder, picks up the starbucks cup sitting there, and makes a face when he finds it mostly full.

“You feein okay? Don’t think I ever seen you leave coffee long enough to get cold.” Duck sniffs, nods in understanding, “uhuh, I see, not a fan of the old pumpkin spice?”

“No. I buy one every year, and every year it’s the same thing.”

“So...why keep buyin it?”

“Because it’s so popular and yet I don’t like it. It’s so frustrating, I feel like I’m missing something! And now I basically have this weird ritual where I buy one just to see if this is the year I finally taste what everyone else does.” He tosses a sideways glare at the cup, “I have to be missing something.”

Duck giggles as they turn down the street to his apartment, “Missed you a hell of a lot, city mouse.”

“Do you think Indrid will mind if I don’t come up? I’m ready to collapse, and his sleep schedule is so weird anyway-”

“Think you don’t gotta worry about it.’

Sitting on the foot of the outdoor staircase is tall figured bundled in sweaters. Once they’re parked, Duck leans over and turns Sterns face towards him, kissing him while running his hand along his leg.

The passenger car door clicks open and Indrid’s hand appears. Duck takes it, winking once before leaving the car. There’s the sound of another kiss, and then Indrid bends down , bracing awkwardly on the seat, purring as he looks at Stern.

“Hello, pet. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Stern leans in without being told to, Indrid chuckling lightly before kissing him.

“And yes,” Indrid says as he pulls back, “that surprise you’re thinking of will work nicely.”

With that, he’s out of the car in a rustle of fabric.

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

His plan to surprise Barclay by waiting in the Sylphs room until he gets off shift does indeed go well. He gets fucked into the bedspread and cums with Barclays head between his legs, and that's not even the best part.

Barclay is so happy when he sees him, clings to him afterwards, trails after him like a faithful dog as he puts his things away. They started sharing the room after the almost end of the world, partly because it’s further from everyone elses and thus they run less risk of being heard (Sterns love of letting Barclay know how well he’s taking care of him in bed stops just shy of letting everyone else know). It also acted as a sign that Stern meant to stay, somehow reassuring Barclay of that fact more than the agent’s own permanent assignment over the gate did.

He’s never told Barclay the truth, which is that if it had come down to staying in Kepler or leaving the FBI, he’d have turned in his badge in an instant. Barclay alone is reason enough for that, and when you added Duck and Indrid into the mix, how could he be anywhere else?

Then again, maybe Barclay has guessed as much after Stern willingly dragged his boss into a closet to help them save the world.

It scares him, knowing he might have put so much of his ambition aside to stay here. But it thrills him too.

Right now, it seems deeply worthwhile; he’s laying on the couch, legs in Duck's lap, doing a crossword while the other man reads. The Sylphs are on the floor, Indrid using his claws to scratch and groom Barclays fur. They’re talking quietly to each other in what Stern now recognizes as High Sylph, Barclay letting our rumbling purrs as they do.

Then he opens his eyes, looks at Stern, “No way. Babe, you don’t like pumpkin spice?”

Stern looks at Duck, confused. The ranger shrugs, “I told ‘Drid about it.”

“Just the lattes. I like pumpkin in other things.”

“I am the one who hates pumpkin in all forms.” Indrid says, handing Barclay his bracelet.

“Hold up, not even pumpkin pie?” Duck sets his book down.

Indrid shakes his head.

“But it’s a classic!”

“It is a trap. Pie is supposed to be sweet, not vegetal. And do not get me started on the wretched gourds themselves.”

“Do they make you sick?” Stern is already making a mental note to steer the Sylph clear of the bins of them by the Kroger.

“No. They resemble a fruit on Sylvain that is commonly grown near where I grew up. That fruit tastes sweet, like a melon. Not like horrid pulp.”

“Hmm, I wonder if seeds from one got through the gate and created the other.”

“Had to be the pumpkins goin to Sylvain, pumpkins have been growin in the americas for a long time.” Duck adds, then sighs, “can't believe I’m datin a fella who hates pumpkin pie. My mom made the best version in the world. Wonder if I can make it…”

“My sweet, I doubt even you are capable of as impressive a feat as making pumpkin pie not repulsive. But if you want to try, I will not stop you. Just go easy on the ginger, I am not fond of that either.”

“Indrid please, you’re breaking my culinary heart.” Barclay pouts.

Indrid licks his cheek, “You will survive, sunburst. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check some futures. Joseph, you have a phone call.”

Stern stands, already moving down the hall by the time the phone rings. Dating the mothman has some benefits.

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

Barclay watches them go, rubbing his beard, then looks over at Duck with an unusually mischievous glint in his eye.

“Up for a friendly bet?”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Bet I can make Joseph a Pumpkin Spice Latte he likes before you can make Indrid a pumpkin pie he'll eat.”

“What are we bettin?”

Barclay smirks, “assuming those two are up for it? Winner gets to be on the bed, loser gets tied up and has to watch.”

“You’re on.”

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

Barclay carefully measures spices into simple syrup, Joseph watching him with his usual curiosity from a stool by one of the prep stations.

“You know you don’t have to go to all this trouble right? I’m happy to keep doing my nonsensical fall ritual.”

“Know you love you patterns babe, but I love a challenge. Once managed to recreate Dani’s favorite dessert from back home out of apples, peanut butter, and marshmallow fluff with a red licorice reduction.”

He glances over his shoulder to see his boyfriend making a horrified face.

“She still asks for it for her birthday. Or she did, I assume she can get the real deal now,”

Returning to his whisking sends bursts of cardamom and ginger into the ir. He inhales, content, just as the music coming from Sterns phone quiets.

“You’re also looking for a distraction.”

Damn FBI training.

“What makes you say that, agent?”

“Your posture, tone, and the fact you keep changing the subject.” There’s a sharp sound of leather soles on tiles as Stern hops of the stool. Then he’s in Barlcay’s periphery, leaning back against the counter, sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it. But if it’s something to do with me, please tell me.”

“No” he turns off the burner, sets the syrup side to cool, “not even little, babe. I, uh, my first memory of fall on earth was getting exiled.”

“Oh, oh Barclay I had no idea.” Stern pivots, rests a hand on his hip.

“No one but Mama really does. It just means that all the stuff people like about fall; the leaves changing,getting to bundle up, building the first fire of the year, even the food...I still get this miserable feeling. Even though I’ve had lots of good stuff happen in the fall since then I find myself knowing what I was missing all those years. That was one of my favorite times of year on Sylvain that feeling. Having projects makes it easier to ignore.” When he turns his head his gaze is on the ground, “sorry, don’t mean to make things heavy when we’re just doing a goofy bet.”

Stern tugs him away from the stove, rests a hnd on each bearded cheek, “Thank you for telling me, Barclay. I’m sorry, I can't imagine how that felt, and if you ever want to talk about it...well, actually, Indrid might be the better person, but I’ll do my best. And,” he guides Barclay’s face up so he’s looking into brown eyes, stroking his cheek to coax out a smile, “I’m happy to be a distraction whenever you need me to.”

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

“Oh of course, how could I have missed that?” Indrid whacks his head into his notebook as Stern mentions his conversation with Brcly, “He told me once when in the year he was exiled, but I never put together what that corresponded to. I wish there was something I could do.”

“Me too. For now I’m taking him at his word that the bet is enough of a distraction.”

“Wise. Speaking of which; any luck, my love?”

“Nope!” Duck’s voice comes down from Janes attic. His sister is mostly sure their mom’s pumpkin pie recipe is somewhere in the boes up there, so Duck used his spare key to get into the house.

“How’s the ltte?” Indrid dips his head to indicate the travel mug in Stern’s hnd.

“I still don’t see what the fuss is. Barclay even used my favorite blend as the base.”

Indrid looks down t his own mug, “do you want some of my white chocolate- oh dear”

“Ahfuck! Uh, ‘Drid, Joe? Can, uh, can one of you move the ladder back? Because I just kicked it.” Duck’s legs are dangling from the attic door, the stepladder on it’s side on the floor. Before Stern can grab it, two chitinous, slightly velvety arms paper.

“Just let go.”

Duck obeys, dropping into the mothman’s waiting arms.

“Thanks, sugar.”

“You are welcome. Since you are about to say you did not find it, how bout lunch.”

“Sounds good. You comin, Joe.”

“Of course.”

‘...’Drid, you gonna put me down?’

“.......I haven't decided yet.”

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

“Okay, this one has condensed milk, less ginger, and a hint of caramel.”

“Mmm. Hmmm, no I mean, it’s not bad but it’s still not trendsetting.”

“Dang.”

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

“Jesus, why’d they keep all this stuff? These are report cards from first grade!”

“What is there to grade at that age?”

“Behavior, mostly. Huh, here are some cookbooks, maybe mom put that recipe in here.”

“While you search, I shall amuse myself with this box of photographs--you never told me you played trombone. Or had frosted tips.”

“That was one time in college, and gimme that box, you fuzzy menace.”

“Only if you come and get it, little human.”

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

“This one is salted caramel, pumpkin, spices, and vanilla infused heavy cream.”

“Nope, still not revelatory.”

“Grrrrr.”

“Was that directed at me or the latte?”

“The latte, but if you feel like being a little late for your meeting with agent Steele I can growl over you some right now.”

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

“...Thanks, Aunt Alice. Uhhuh, yep, talk with you soon.”

“No help from the extended family, I take it?”

“Nope. Just questions about when I’m gonna get married.”

“Oh dear.”

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

Stern sips from his Flathead Lake travel mug, the one where a monster becomes visible when warm liquid is poured in.

“Oh my lord, Barclay, this is incredible! You’ve done it, I want to drink this everyday.” He sips as fast as his tongue will allow as his boyfriend rumbles out a laugh.

“Well, yes and no. I did make that, but it’s not pumpkin spice. It’s dirty chai with fall-spiced caramel syrup.”

“It’s amazing. I love you so much.”

Barclay laughs louder, reaches across the center console to squeeze his hand, “Love you too, babe. More I thought about it, more I figured you're a man of very, uh, particular tastes sometimes, and if you don’t like pumpkin lattes, you don’t like them. I’d rather spend my time making something I know you’ll love, rather than trying to make your tastes match everyone else's. I mean, I kinda benefit from your having weird taste. Um, so to speak.” He pulls up to the apartment, and as soon as the car stops Stern pulls him into a kiss.

“Thank you, Barclay. I, um, no one’s ever gone to all that effort just to try and help me understand why people like something.”

“Any time, agent.”

Stern pulls his phone out, “I have something for you too.”

Barclay reads the image of an email he saved, “You’re taking time off?”

“Yes. I, um, I was thinking we could go to Sylvain during it. I can't give you back all the things you missed being gone. But I thought maybe I could give you the chance to start making up for lost time. I love fall on earth; I want to learn how to love it on Sylvain too, with you as my guide. I want to do what I can so it isn’t a bittersweet time of year anymore.”

The larger man looks like he might cry, but Stern doesn’t get long to examine it, since he’s crushed in a hug.

“Thank you, babe, thank you so fucking much. I, I’ve been kinda nervous to try and go back for things but I felt silly for being scared and I didn’t know how to ask and just...thank you.” He sniffles, pulls back with a watery smile, “Now c’mon, let’s go up. From the smell of it, Duck made pie.”

The apartment smells like the platonic ideal of fall, and Duck, streak of flour on his cheek, is putting the finishing whip cream touch on a pumpkin pie.”

“Where did you finally find the recipe?”

“In a book buried at the back of my closet, full of moms advice for when I got my own place. Haven't looked at it in close to two decades, and Winnie shredded the top cover, but the recipe was there alright.”

“Gotta admit, I’m impressed. That looks real fucking professional Duck.”

“Thanks man.” The ranger grins, cuts a slice and places it in front of Indrid (happily bundled in one of Barclay’s orange and grey flannels). The Sylph takes a forkful, scrutinizing it for a moment. Takes a bite, and chirps as he chews.

“Good?”

Wordlessly, Indrid stands, removes his glasses, and picks up the pie dish.

“If anyone needs me, the pie and I will be in the bedroom.”

“HAH!” Duck whoops triumphantly.

“Hey, hold on, I gotta try this to see what the secret is” Barclay takes off down the hall after him.

“No, mine, AH! Unhand me, I am the court seer.”

Duck flops against Stern as he doubles over, laughing.

“Fine, I gotta try it sir.” Barclays voice dips lower, and Stern sees him shift into his Sylph form.

“Don’t try to sweet talk me, this pie is mineOHgoodness, put me down.”

“Wanna know the secret?” The ranger says between giggles.

“Please.”

“I tripled the amount of sugar it called for.”

“Good thinking, ranger Newton.” Stern kisses him, “care to help me arbitrate a cryptid fight?”

Duck grins at him, love in every line of his face as laughter rings down the hallway, “lead the way, darlin.”

#promptober #OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends #indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #sternclay #agent stern/barclay/indrid cold/Duck newton #agent stern/barclay #agent stern/duck newton #Indrid cold/Barclay #trans stern #trans duck newton

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liaswritesrobots · 5 years

Text

Day 9 of FOFebruary-Platonic F/O

---

Paarthunax sat atop The Throat of the World, meditating on his Thu'um, when the young Dragonborn trudged up the path looking rather forlorn. They had a thick coat on that had fur around the hood and a backpack bulging from their back with a part of a blanket sticking out of the top. Paarthurnax only noted this because they normally visit in their armor. He sensed something was wrong.

"Drem Yol Lok. Greetings, Dovahkiin. You have come to visit earlier than expected."

Lias looks up at him, "Hey Paarthurnax." They immediately turn their head back down, staring at the snow, their tone and stature was grim, different from their usual bright and eager self when they visit him.

"Something troubles you. Tiiraaz. I can see sadness in you." The dragon spoke as softly as he could.

"Yeah." They reply in almost a whisper. One might miss the answer if they weren't listening.

"Is it something you want to discuss?" Paarthunax asks them.

"No, not right now."

"I understand. When you wish to speak, I will listen."

"Thank you Paarthurnax." A faint, sorrowful smile passes their lips, "May I stay here for a bit?" They ask, finally looking up into the dragon's eyes.

"Of course, dii fahdon. You are always welcome here."

The young Dragonborn walks to the broken word wall that Paarthurnax normally perches on. They take off their backpack and take out a big blanket and wrap it around themself. Their back slides down the wall, they sit curled up, hugging their knees to their chest. Paarthunax approaches them. He curls up in front of them to shield them from the harsh wind on the mountain.

He watches a single tear roll down their cheek, he lays his head gently against their side and closes his eyes.

"This will pass, dii fahdon. Just as a storm passes. And a storm can be frightening, it can leave destruction in its wake, but it can also cause growth. You will be okay, dii fahdon. You will grow. You may even become the storm yourself. But you will be okay, I know this much."

More tears flow from the Dragonborn's green eyes, "Thank you, Paarthurnax," They say as they press their forehead against his snout, "I know I'll be okay eventually, I have friends- family, like you."

#FOFebruary #Paarthurnax #Skyrim #my writing #self insert #me @ Paarthurnax basically: you are my dad you're my dad! boogie woogie woogie #long post

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ladywinterwitch · 5 years

Text

Run Away (Two - I’ll be here)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger! Reader

Summary: You and Steve complete each other. Your love is that strong and devoted kind of love that pushes people to things like marriage, making a family. You couldn't imagine that a baby would be something you really wished, until the possibility wasn't your choice anymore.

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (f recieving), 18+ (underage shouldn’t be here), angst, sadness, feels, mentions of abandon and orphanages, self doubt, talk of mental health, Steve is a softie, Nat is..well, Nat.

Word Count: 4412 (a little longer than the previous)

A/n: Part two of Run Away. This time we get a bit of background to the reader’s history and why her friendship with Nat is so important. Also, there’s mild talk of mental health. You can find the previous part here, and the series masterlist here.

(gif not mine)

With the days passing you felt better, emotionally and physically. Talking to Bucky had really been helpful, actually more than you thought possible. He was always by your side, trying to cheer you up and you appreciated that.

You had heard from Steve a couple times on facetime and he looked fine, so you were calm, at least on that side. You put on a brave face, wanting desperatly to tell him how much you missed him, but you contained yourself, not wanting him to feel bad or get worried.

Then Bruce called you for the second visit, so you went straight to the lab first thing in the morning. Alone. Bucky said that wanted to be at your side, considering that Steve wasn't there, but you preferred to do this alone. It was way too intimate. You weren’t sure you would’ve been completely comfortable doing this even with Steve.

You joined Bruce and he prepared everything before making you lay on the medic couch. The visit was over even before you realized that it began. You got dressed and waited for Bruce to tell you to go, but he didn't. He was sitting at the computer, examinating intently the screen.

-Y/n, please, sit. I have a few things to say.- he asked politely. You did, with a grip on your stomach. He projected the screen as an hologram in front of you.

-So. This,- he pointed at the first photo of an ecography, -Is an example of an healthy uterus, and this one,- another photo appeared next to the other, with a little difference, you could tell, -Is a uterus with a genetical malformation.- he paused, gazed at you for a split second, then another photo made an appearence. It was awfully similiar to the second one. Your stomach dropped.

-Y/n, this is yours. It..it is compleatly accurate, considering we have both ecographies and have been analyzed both by me and my expert friend. It's not an illness or a tumor, just a little malformation, that is not dangerous, but unfortunately does not allow you to have children.- he waited a few seconds. Tears were streaming down your face, but you were silent. You didin't dare to look up.

-I'm sorry. So, so sorry Y/n.- he whispered. You nodded and rose from the chair. Your legs felt like jelly, but you found the strenght to walk to the door.

-Thank you Bruce.- he went to you and circled his arms around your shoulders. You reciprocated the embrace for a few seconds, then pulled away. You needed to go, to run.

-Of course. Y/n, please don't be hard on yourself. There's nothing wrong with you. It's a thing that can happen, it's very unfortunate, but you are okay. You're healthy and that's the important thing, okay?- he said softly. You nodded again and gave him the shadow of a smile, not being able to do more.

So you walked out and went to the elevator. You pressed the button for the terrace. If you wanted to be sure to be left alone you should've gone to your room, but you needed some air.

You arrived and closed your eyes, breathing deeply. Suddenly you put your hands on your face, bursting into tears. You felt awful, and quite guitly too.

Why am I reacting like this? It's not that it had been my greatest drem ever. There are so many people who are doing worse and I'm complaining, even though I'm healthy? That's selfish. I have to be greatful for what I have. Kids? Just something less to worry about. There are so many women that have no kids and have a happy life. Your mind was filled with thoughts. You tought of Natasha, a strong, kind and amazing person. You could be like that, you tought.

But at the same time you couldn't stop thinking that you didn't even had a choice. Steve was a simple man, a family man, under all that Captain America facade. What now that you know that you will never be able to give him one? Being a failure was the main thought in your mind now, more than all the other things. You felt like your world was crumbling and you probably didn't even had the right to feel like that. Too lost in tought, you didn't hear the elevator opening behind you.

-Y/n, doll?- you froze on the spot, turning around. Your husband was a few feet away, still in his suit, shield attached to his back, hair a little messy and a five o'clock beard adorned his jaw and cheekbones. His expression soft. You couldn't help but run to him, latching your arms around his neck, crying. Again.

-Hey, shh, doll. I'm here, it's okay. Please don't cry.- he spoke with such sweetness in his voice that you just wanted to cry more, and never let him go.

He finally convinced you to go inside, so he could change and you two could talk calmly. You stopped crying, but said practically nothing. You just stayed with your cheek on his chest and your arms around his middle.

You went to your shared room and you sat on the bed, watching as he took off the shield, then piece by piece the suit. When he was left with just his pants and a white tank top he turned to you and gave you a small smile. You smiled at him too, walking to him. You wanted to kiss him, but when you hugged his torso he jerked a little and you stopped, frowning. You looked down and pulled up his tank top, revealing some little cuts and a bruise on his left side.

-Oh, Steve...-you murmured, taking him to the bathroom. You made him sit on the toilet and grabbed some cotton, hydrogen peroxide and a got the hem of a towel wet with hot water.

You instructed him to take off his top and his suit pants, leving him in just a pair of black boxers. You kneeled in front of him and pured some hydrogened water on the cotton, then placed a hand on his side to soothe him while you patted the fluffy material on his bruises.

He didn't even flinch. And you realized that he was being very quiet. He was never quiet, so you understood that he probably felt that something was off with you.

-What's wrong?- he asked softly. You shrugged.

-Nothing's wrong.- you responded, but you obviusly didn't fool him.

-Baby, you're a perfect spy, but you really can't lie to the people you actually care about. And it just happens that I'm one of them.- he placed two fingers under your chin to make you look at him. He moved his palm to your cheek and you closed your eyes, nuzzling into his hand.

-I'm fine.- you murmured, then you stood straight to put the used cotton in the trash can, then grabbed the wet towel and started to tap gently on the bruises, then to his chest, neck, shoulders.

-I..I really missed you, Steve. If I have to be honest, you are away on mission a little too often lately for my liking. I know that it's Fury that assignes you but...- you paused a few seconds. He looked at your face, don't minding at all your movements, but you kept your focus on them anyway, not really wanting to look at his eyes. You knew that he could read you like a book.

-I'm sorry if it feels like that I'm too much away. I didn't realize it.- he stopped you movements, pulling you on his lap. You threw the towel in the sink and circled your arms aroun his neck, your nails scratching the hair at the nape of his neck lightly.

-I'll talk to him and ask for a pause, maybe a month or two. Okay?- he palced his forhead against yours. Your eyes locked and you kissed him, slowly and softly.

-You're the most important thing to me, you know that right? If there's something you need to talk about, I'll be here. Always.- you couldn't help but smile fondly at his words. For a moment you felt at peace, like all the stress of the previous days was brushed away suddendly.

-I love you- you murmured agaist his lips, proceeding to kiss his cheek, jaw, cheekbones, neck -I know, and that's mutual, okay?- you said in between kisses.

He hummed, stroking softly your shirt covered sides with his hands, slipping them underneath the fabric.

-Mmh..you went to the gym? You're a little sticky.- you looked at him in shock, then saving yourself with a joke. That damned gel.

-Yeah, I did actually. And don't worry, I'll take a shower. But if you really mind that much touching your girl..- you were going to stand up, but he precedes you and pulls you flush against him, kissing you roughly.

You lose yourself in the kiss and start unconsciusly to grind yourself against him. He groans gripping your hips. You moan when you feel him getting hard.

-Fuck, I need you baby.- you nodded and let him take you in his arms. His hands placed under your ass, supporting you.

He didn't stop kissing you when you reached the bed. He laid you down and started to undress you. First your shirt, then your pants, bra and panties. He started to kiss you all over, from your chest, to your boob, giving particular attention to each nipple, biting softly and sucking, while massaging the other with his strong hands. You were a moaning mess, with your hands caressing his scalp.

-Steve..baby..- you mewled and he smirked before diving right at your core. No warning or teasing, he needed you as he knew you needed him.

-Oh. Fuck, yes..r-right there- your back arched and the grip on his hair tightened a little making him growl.

-Yeah? You're gonna come baby? Show me how much you missed me.- he said against your pussy. Your breath got stuck in your throat when he put one finger in, moving it in a come either motion.

-Y-yeah, fuck. Baby...I'm gonna come- and with a particularly good movement of his tongue on your clit you let go, letting out a loud moan. He lapped up all that you gave him, riding out your orgasm, then you pulled him to you, tasting yourself on his tongue.

-Always so sweet, just for me..- he sucked his finger making you moan at the sight. Then you decided to take the situation in your hands, so you pushed him off of you and then on the bed again. You straddled his lap and smirked while you grinded yourself on his dick. He threw his head back, groaning, while he helped your movements with his hands.

-Shit. Honey, darlin’, I n-need to be inside you.- you weren't really in the mood for waiting yoursef, so you rose a bit, lining him with your entrance, then sliding on his thick shaft. You both gasped at the feeling, then after a few seconds of adjustment you started to ride him, moving your hips sensually. He was looking at you with hungry eyes until he moved, placing a hand behind your head, dragging you down to kiss him. He then started to snap his hips faster, skin slapping against skin, your mouth parted, breathless.

-Steve- you warned, placing your hand on his cheek.

-Yeah. Come for me. C'mon, love, let go. So beautiful baby- and you did, his words giving you that little push you needed. He thrusted a few times more, then spilled his seed inside you, a loud growl of your name left his mouth. You rested like that for a while. Chest to chest, your nose nuzzling his neck, his hands caressing your back and he still inside you.

You were feeling quite dizzy, but also satisfied, and at home. He was your home, and you were his. He missed you like hell, and when he saw you so sad his heart actually broke. He couldn't stand to look at you hurt. He loved you more than anything in this world, and right now he wouln't wish to be anywhere else. Your naked body pressed against him, him inside you, wet, soft, and warm.

He didn't realize how much the missions would affect on your realtionship, but he decided to ask Fury for a bit of a break. He needed that, and you needed him.

-Welcome home, husband.- she teased, planting a kiss on his jaw. He grinned, kissing her head.

Obviously Tony had organized a party that evening, and obviously Captain America and his wife couldn't miss it. So now you were retuching your make up while Steve was buttoned his white shirt.

-Leave the first two open.- you said, looking at him from the mirror. He rose an eyebrow and did as you said. He walked towards you, hugging you from behind, placing his chin on your bare shoulder.

-You look stunning.- you smiled at him, putting away the nude lipstick. When you looked again he was caressing your sides, but when he reached your belly, you felt a wave of coldness and gently pulled away. Caressing his cheek before gowing towards the door.

You knew that it was just a normal gesture of affection, but it made your heart hurt in that moment. You checked that your long off-the-shoulder navy blue dress was all in place then smirked at him.

-Shall we go?-

You two stepped out of the elevator, seeing that the party had already begun. You had your arm under Steve’s, and as soon as you stepped in the room a bunch of men came to congratulate him on the mission. He responded polietely but rather awkwardly. Your hand now on his back to calm him a little. He was Captain America, but he really didn't enjoy the attention that much.

-Kind gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I need my husband for a moment.- you flashed them a circumstance smile, bringing Steve away from them and towards the bar.

-Thank you honey.- he say lowly with a half smile. You gave him a peck on the cheek.

-Hey lovebirds! You make my diabetes worse every day, y'a know?- Tony teased while kissing your cheek and patting a few times Steve's back.

-Oh, c'mon. I could say the same for you and Pepper. Where is she tonight?- you asked.

-Had some business to take care of.- he shrugged.

-Well, in any case, I missed you.- Natasha stepped up and you hug tightly. You smiled.

-You, too Nat.- you also saluted Thor and Wanda, and everyone was engaged in conversation, before you heard a whisper in your ear.

-Can we talk for one second?- Bucky was at your side. You looked at him and nodded.

-I'm going out a second. Need air.- you say to your man, he looks at you with a little worry before you kiss him and give him a ressuring smile. You step away from the crowd towards the balcony, your red wine in hand. Bucky following suit. You went outside, the galss door closing.

-Why didn't you tell me about the visit today?- he asked. He wasn't angry, but you could feel that he was at least a little pissed.

-Bucky, I appreciate your interest. I really do. You're my best friend...But it's a thing that I had to do alone, you know?- you explain to him. He nods, frowning.

-Did Bruce tell you the results?- you shook your head yes. He stepped a bit closer.

-So?- you waited a little, then took a deep breath.

-I...I have a genetic malformation to the uteros. It doesn't cause problems to my heath in general, but...I will never be able to have a baby.- you shrugged a little, sniffing. You didn't want to cry again.

-Oh, Y/n...Sweetheart I'm so sorry. I-I....c'mere.- he said lowly opening his arms. You hugged him, breathing deeply, while he stroked your shoulders gently.

-I'm sorry....so sorry..- he kept whispering and for a moment you thought that he was gonna cry.

-Hey Y/n...uh- Natasha appeared from the glass door.

-Are you okay?- she asked to no one in particualr. You separated slowly from Bucky and you actually saw his eyes a little glassy.

-Yes, all fine. You needed me?- you say, recomposing quickly. Bucky on the other hand remained silent.

-Well, actually Cap did. But yeah.- she responded. -Are you sure it's all okay?- you smiled at her walking towards the glass door.

-Yeah, don't worry Nat. Catch up later.- you went on to search Steve, while they stayed behind.

Natasha smiled at you, but as soon as you were out of reach she looked at Bucky with a serious face.

-Okay, now spill the truth.-

When you finally found Steve, he was with the rest of the team, well most of them, sitting at the couches. He offered his hand when he saw you and you took it smiling.

-You needed me?-

-Always.- he responded, but then he grinned and hold up a plate with a piece of cake. You recognized your favourite: a strawberry cheesecake. You smirked biting your lip.

-You tryin' to get me round, baby?- you teased, taking the tiny tea spoon from the plate. He looked at you with love, a little serious. But his small smile told you that he was calm.

-Maybe I am.- he answered, leaving you a little shocked. You closed your mouth and gave him a quick smile before turning your attention to the cake, and then to a conversation that Wanda and Sam were having.

You couldn't really feel at ease for the rest of the evening, after what Steve had said. You weren't expecting that, and it was impossibile that he knew something. It just seemed so casual, but at the same time it didn't. At the end of the night you said your goodbyes and went to your shared room.

You went to the bathroom to take off your make up, then back to the bedroom to undress yourself. When you were left just with your panties, considering that the dress didn't need a bra, you felt a pair of lips on your shoulder, then a hand moving your hair out of the way. Steve reached your neck and his hand went straight to your breast. You sighed and giggled a little, more to ease the tension more than for actual fun.

You moved away slightly -Again?- you teased. He hummed, starting to kiss your neck again.

-Blame the super soldier stamina. Or the fact that I missed my wife so much. Or that my wife herself is a goddess. Either is fine.- you smiled a little, blushing. You were married to him, had seen him naked lots of times, as he did you, but in these sweet moments it was just like the first time all over again. But tonight you didn't feel like doing it, so you turned to face him, covering your chest with your silk babydoll.

-I'm sorry, love. I'm just a little tired. And you should rest too.- you gazed at his bruised side. He locked eyes for a moment then kissed you softly.

-Okay. Yeah, you're probably right.- he nodded to himself, -I'm gonna go brush my teeth, be right back.- he answered sweetly.

-I'll be waiting.- you smiled. He closed the door behind him and you huffed. You finished to dress yourself and slipped under the sheets, turning off the light.

You needed a good sleep, and your head hurt a little from all the noise of the party and the crying. When he came to bed you were already sleeping.

A few days had passed since Steve's return, and you were starting to feel better emotionally, especially since he had already talked to Fury and he granted him a month off duty. He still had to train the agents, like you and the others have to, but at least he was off missions.

But while things with Steve were going good, Natasha gave you a few looks that you didn't understand. Bucky was still the same, protective and caring as ever. You saw him all over Nat, too. They had been together since all the mess for the Sokovia accords ended.

You were throwing a few punches to the box sack, and felt someone behind you. Nat was leaning against the door frame.

-Hey widow.- you smiled, reprising your activities.

-When were you gonna tell me about the sterility?- you stopped in your tracks and turned around quickly, checking if someone was around. The gym was empty, all the agents in training were now at the open, probably running. You stepped closer to her with a furious gaze.

-First of all, keep that fucking voice down. Second of all, how do you know?- you hissed. She huffed a breath.

-Bucky told me. And before you get mad at him, I basically extorted it from him.-

-No doubt about that.- you crossed your arms, perfectly knowing that it's something she would do.

-Yeah, right. Anyway, I'm a little offended that you didn't tell me.- she spoke with a little hurt in her eyes.

-I didn't have the obligations to tell anyone.- you responded.

-Yeah, except your husband. Also, you told Bucky, why?- she retored, wanting to make you talk.

-Because he's one of my best friends, and I felt kinda like shit. You happy? I needed someone and he was there. You were all away.- you blurted out. Her lips curled up in her signature smirk for a split moment, but sadness was in her eyes.

-I'm sorry. I don't want to upset you more than you already are. But I want you to know that you can talk to me. And unlike Bucky, or even Steve, or Bruce, that are all sweet guys, I would actually understand.- the sad smile returned to her lips. You actually felt a little bad for reacting so harshly with her.

-I know, Nat.- you said just above a whisper.

The two of you decided to go for a walk in the city. You stopped at Starbucks to grab an iced coffe, then went to central park.

-It makes me angry, you know.- you say. She looks at you, expectantly.

-For all my life I always made my choices. I cared for myself when no one would. Didn't have a parent to look up to in the orphanage, but you know that.- you gazed at her.

-I've never been sure of what I wanted in my future, but I always tought that at least I could've choose it. But it turns out I don't. And I don't even know which fucker in my family I should thank for this little thing.- you chuckled bitterly.

-I think it's unfair because everyone should be allowed to make their own calls, in everything. But then there are other times in which I think 'Why am I even complaining? There are people that are in worse situations' and I feel bad because it doesen't feel right to be feeling angry, or sad. And Steve? I know him, ‘Tasha. He was born in an era in which all a woman had to do was bear children, look pretty and cook. I don't mean to say that he's like that, at all. But the family thing is just what society put into his head, and he's so gentle, caring and good. He is made for that. Captain America, a family man with a dog, a wife, a white picket fence and children. It's a little cliché, but it's the simple life that I actually know that he would like. We spoke about it in the early states of our relationship, just for conversation. But I understood that a calm, family life it's what he truly wishes. It just destroys me to think that...I love him more than my life, and I will never be able to give what he desires the most.- at that point your voice cracks, and you reach to cover your face in between sobs.

Natasha quickly embraces you and lets you let it out for a few minutes, until your cry stops, even if little hiccups still leave your lips.

-Okay. First of all, I'm actually tired of hearing again and againg the 'I shouldn't feel bad because someone is worse'. It's not that simple. Everyone has their lives as well as their problems. Just because you're not in point of death, it doesn't mean that you don’t have to care for your problems. I mean, let's do an example, it's silly, but still. A woman is perfectly capable of having kids, but she has pneumonia. You are healthy but you can't have kids. Does an illness makes you better or worse than someone? No. Her problem is pneumonia and yours is this. And you say, 'but at least I have my health', yes, maybe, but you're not mentally okay. And that's as important as the body health. Especially because most of the times it affects it. When you cry you get a headache, so you're not good. Get what I'm saying?- she asks and you nod slightly.

-So, don't think about it. Everyone has their issues. Moving on. Steve. That man basically kisses every inch of ground you walk on. He loves you more than anything else. He married you. Do you really think that he would care about it? I mean, yes, it may be a hurtful news, like it was for you. But what I mean is, do you think that he would care when he has you right here, healthy and at his side? He didn't sign a fucking contract saying 'This woman must be able to give me kids'. It's a wish? Perfect, if it's yours too, and I think it is, you will face the situation together and find a solution. There are many children without a family that need love, and we both know it well.- you remain silent for a few seconds, thinking.

-Listen, just talk to him. Be honest about it, and then your will figure out what you want to do. Please. You would feel better and he deserves the truth, because he cares about you and loves you, not because it's his right to know if his 'merch' is damaged.- she shakes her head to prove her point. You nod then you look up at her with an half smile.

-What about you and Bucky?- she seemed a little taken back by the question, but then gives you a lovingly lopsided smile.

-Nah. We both have been through too much. We love each other, and love kids too, but we agree that we would work better as uncles.- she smiles. You chuckle.

-Thank you Nat. Really. I couldn't ask for a better friend.- she has a soft expression, but she brushes it off. She smirks and gives you a little bump with her shoulder.

-Aw, c'mon now. Don't make me soft. I'm still the black widow.- she raises an eyebrow and you laugh.

I’m quite proud of this chapter, tbh. I really love writing Nat in a vulnerable way, just like she is. So, will the reader tell Steve? How will he react?

Let me know what you thought ;)

Taglist : @polarcrystall @a--1--1--3

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