#and all of that is somewhat kicked under the rug

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: How you mess with the M6

~ you know, because you love them, but sometimes the cuteness aggression kicks in and you just wanna *lovingly bats at them like my cat trying to wake me up* - brainrot ~

(Prompt inspired by a conversation with my lovely friend @fox-daddy ^.^)

Julian

Today, you are going to take full advantage of his "please give me something to be responsible for so I can feel needed" nature

You leave out a bunch of different possible hints - a hot kettle on the stove, the shards of a plate you haven't fixed yet on the floor, one of his medical textbooks open to rare diseases on the table ...

And then you step out of sight of the front door, and wait for him to come home

He walks in happily, whistlehumming a random shanty under his breath while the door swings closed behind him, shucking off his coat and starting the lengthy process of removing his tall boots

You hear him falter halfway through, whistle coming to an abrupt end as he notices the signs of potential disruption

And that's your cue to bustle into sight, not panicked enough to warrant an emergency, but frantic enough to suggest that something is clearly wrong

"MC? What's wrong, are you alright? What happened?"

"Julian, I need your help."

"Of course, with what?" He's reflecting your demeanor back at you, a little wide-eyed and worried and eager to provide his support

"You're the only person I know who can do this for me."

"I'll do anything for you, MC." He's straightening up now, crossing his arms in his "reliable and serious" pose, which is somewhat ruined by the way he's precariously balanced on one booted foot while the other shoe dangles from his elbow. "What do you need?"

His eye is casting around the room as you flutter aimlessly around, getting increasingly concerned and confused. "MC, what's going on?"

"I need you ... to help me change the bedding. You know how those fitted sheets get me every time, it's so much easier with you helping me out."

It's hard to hold in your laugh as his face goes from worried to surprised to relieved to amused

"Dammit, MC, I thought you were in danger for a moment. You're a tricky one, aren't you?"

"I thought you liked danger -" is all you're able to get out before he tosses away his second boot and lunges after you in a playful chase

Asra

You love your magician. Even though they're awful at remembering to clean up after themselves (seriously - they haven't opened their closet in days because all their clothes are on the floor)

But the messes always happen so gradually that he doesn't realize how bad they've gotten until you point them out to him

It makes you wonder how they would react if all the messes happened at once ...

You wave him out the door after a late breakfast on your day off to do errands, and then you set to work

All the mushrooms and root vegetables in your food cupboard are set up to fall out as soon as the doors are opened

You turn out the handle of their favorite pan so it's visible from the stove, and then stack all of the metal pots, pans, and lids on top of it to come down as soon as it's pulled

You bribe the stove salamander with some premium coal to sneeze soot all over him as soon as he turns on the flame

You even fill the perpetually-left-empty water jug to the brim, so that when they sweep it out with their normal nonchalance it'll slosh all over the rug you conveniently leave underfoot

And then you hide in the curtained bathtub and wait

Asra, as usual, comes into the shop so quietly that the only sound of his presence is the jingle of the shop bell and the rustle of his purchases as he makes his way up the stairs and into the kitchen

"MC?" They call out, "I'm ho-"

And he's cut off by several pounds of potatoes, onions, and mushrooms falling right into his face and onto the kitchen floor

You hear a mumbled "whoops", and then a quiet huff as they bend over to put everything back up before heading over to the stove

"MC, how do you feel about glazed mushrooms for lu -" he gets cut off again mid-call, this time by the deafening crash and clang of an avalanche of pots and pans. There's another muttered grumble before you hear the salamander's affected sneeze, and then silence

You're waiting for the splash of spilling water, when the curtain is yanked aside and the contents of the overfull jug are upended over your head to the sound of their happy laughter

"Caught you," he giggles, unaware of the soot clinging to his eyebrows

Nadia

You adore your Countess, and you would never willingly make life difficult for her. You want to see her flourish

But sometimes, in the nicest way possible, you want to test her seemingly infinite patience and composure. Just a little bit. Just for fun. Just to find out what would happen

And you're a little curious about just how invested she is in what you have to say or what your ongoing thought process is

You wait until a quiet afternoon, when the only thing on her schedule is the proposals that need to be read over and approved. She's idly skimming over them at her desk while you sit nearby

You decide to start with a few sound effects. Nothing overly dramatic, of course, just a few "hm"s and "huh"s while you stare thoughtfully at the painting on the opposite wall

"Is something weighing on your mind, my darling?"

You feign surprise and glance over at where Nadia's holding her quill, smiling at you serenely while the breeze from the window rustles the paper on her desk

"Nothing much." You return her smile as she nods and turns back to her work. You stare back at the painting and continue your thinking, eventually cocking your head to one side and muttering "wait - no. maybe?"

"Has the decor offended you my love?" She's intrigued, and you can tell because she's studying your expression like it's a puzzle

"No," you say blankly, "I guess I was just thinking ..."

She sets her quill in the inkwell and gives you her full attention. "Pray tell, what were you thinking about MC?"

It feels sacrilegious to look away, but you don't want to be caught so soon. "This and that."

"Oh?" You don't have to look to know that she's raising an eyebrow playfully, but you're surprised by the sound of her chair scraping back as she stands and makes her way over to you

"I didn't know it was in your nature to play games for my attention, my darling. How about a stroll around the gardens? I could use the break."

You certainly weren't expecting an outcome this favorable, but you're not one to complain about it. You take the hand she offers you and follow her out the door

Muriel

Muriel loves the chickens. You love the chickens, too. They're friendly. Predictable. Some might even say they're a little boring

You would never hurt the chickens

But you had this silly little realization lately, about how easy it would be to train them into certain specific behaviors. All it takes is a little chicken feed and some consistent responses ...

You find this rock. It's red and purple and a little larger than your hand, and each morning for two weeks you put it in a different spot in the clearing within ten feet of the same tree while Muriel's out

The routine goes as follows:

You hold out the rock and then place it somewhere - a stump, a patch of grass, a fallen log, etc

You run, jump, and swing from a specific low-hanging branch

You toss a generous handful of chicken feed onto the nearby rock

If Muriel notices that the chickens are ever-so-slightly plumper than usual, he doesn't say anything. And so the game continues

One evening, after the chickens are asleep, you take the rock into the hut for the night. You even show it to your beloved, commenting on how pretty the colors are, and then you go to bed

The next morning is chilly, as expected, and you watch happily as Muriel lifts his thick, heavy cloak onto his shoulders exactly as you hoped he would

You follow him out into the clearing and pause near the tree

"Muriel, could you hold this for me? I want to show you something."

You hand him the rock, feeling a clearing full of chicken eyes follow the transaction, and feel a brief flash of guilt at your sinister plot

And then you run, jump, and swing on the tree branch

What follows is a veritable tornado of poultry flapping and squawking their way onto Muriel's fur-protected shoulders and arms

You're delighted at the success of your plan, but what really makes you laugh is the shocked look on your beloved's face as his new coat of chickens settles on his shoulders

He's relieved once you explain their unusual behavior, but what you don't expect are his choked-off giggles when he realizes that you've been conditioning the fowls for weeks

Portia

Portia's organizational skills are unmatched. Not in a stifling way, where everything in the cottage is too perfectly lined up, but in a competent way, where everything has its own cozy spot

Which is how your curiosity gets the better of you

She's so quick to go along with whatever mad scheme you dream up, but how senselessly, pointlessly crazy do you have to act for her to call you out?

You scatter one or two items around the kitchen while she's gardening and wait for her to come in for afternoon tea with you

"MC, you should see the tomatoes right now! Their vines are going all over the ... place ..." You hear her falter as she opens the icebox and turns around slowly, holding your notebook. "Is this yours?"

"Oh, there it is!" You chirp a little too brightly and take the chilly item from her hand. "I forgot I left it in there."

"Oh." She blinks, confused, and then goes back to her story. "Anyways, with how many tomatoes I saw growing, I'm thinking maybe we should can or sell a few for - what are you doing?"

"Hm?" You look up from where you've been idly stacking coins on the handle of the broom leaning against the wall. "Nothing. What were you saying?"

She shakes her head and hands you a cup of tea, taking a long sip of her own. "Just that we're going to have a lot of tomatoes this summer. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?" You ask, casually moving a chair into the door to the bathroom so it faces the toilet

"You're acting a little weird." She's doing her best to hide her increasing judgement as you put the salt and pepper shakers in the sink and set the dish soap on the windowsill. "Normal people don't do that."

"Don't do what?" You drain your teacup and hang it on the hook by the front door, struggling to contain your laughter

"That! Normal people don't set up chairs to watch the toilet or do dishes on the windowsill!" She's mirroring your own laughter now, pulling the cottage back to rights as she tries to make sense of you. "Is this some kind of magic thing I don't know about?"

It takes all of fifteen seconds after this for her to realize that you've been messing with her, which results in an epic pillow fight

Lucio

There's an ongoing past time between the two of you on long journeys. It usually comprises of Lucio telling you a story that gets increasingly incredible until you call him on it

You enjoy it, because it keeps the road from getting boring, and he enjoys it, because it's a chance to give you a hard time about not believing that he's capable of spitting fire or splitting stone

Until he makes a casual comment about turning the tables one day after he packed up camp so you could sleep in, and that got you thinking

How far would he believe you if you were the one telling tall tales?

You decide to start simple, doing a double take at an innocent tree over his shoulder, which he immediately notices as it takes your attention away from him

"MC?" He's turning to look behind him too, and then back to you when there's nothing to be seen. "Did you see something?"

"I thought a saw a forest spirit."

"Really?!" He's whirling back around now, preparing to walk right off the trail and into the trees. "Where??"

"It's gone now, we should keep walking."

He sighs, signature pout crossing his face. "Alright, let's go."

Five minutes later you shout and point at a nearby boulder, apparently so convincingly that he draws his sword and begins to blindly charge in the indicated direction. "What, what is it?"

"Sorry," you tell him as the dogs look on, "I thought I saw a bandit."

And so it continues, as you graduate from bandits to faeries to mermaids, until it's mid afternoon and you're being pressed for details about a herd of dragons that descended on the mountaintop just out of sight for all of two seconds before flying off

It's as you describe the avalanche that they triggered that Lucio suddenly pulls up short, staring at you first in disbelief, and then in slowly dawning delight. "MC, have you been lying?"

You quickly nod, and then watch in surprise as he guffaws and slaps his hands on everything in sight. He's so proud of you! You just told your first tall tale! He knew you had it in you, you certainly had the best example to learn from!

[lakesbian]

OH have you finished all of animorphs then? Any general wrap-up thought on the characters n their arcs if so?

oh boy okay that's a big ask because the lack of specificity means i'm inclined to be comprehensive. i'm gonna force myself to be brief

jakey: very coherent arc from "i'm not the leader why are you guys saying i'm the leader stop saying i'm the leader" to "Subhuman. Flush 'em." it's good. i also like the chain where he's like. initially invested for saving his brother > tells marco he can't make calls about his mother because he's too close to the situation and is frankly an ass about it while hypocritically insisting he can handle the yeerk controlling his brother trying to murder his father, relieved when the animorphs take the difficulty of having to make the choice away from him but still views it as an indictment of his leadership capabilities > during the evacuation of the families he almost like...overcompensates w/ under-prioritizing himself and his loved ones, irrationally prioritizes everyone else's families being moved out first despite the fact that it would have made more tactical sense to do his first > he loses his family over this and it breaks him

rachel: problem w/ rachel is that, unbeknownst to me when i started reading, multiple of the books for her just had no idea what the hell or fuck they were doing, and were wildly out of character. ignoring the books that were fake and didn't happen, her arc is good. the thing is that "we might have to do something terrible, too. get rachel" is the crux of her Issues and the ghostwriters didn't need to do any of that other shit. the fake and true rachel books would've been served better by exploring the fundamental divide btwn her and cassie as people i'm sure you know what i mean

marco: probably the most consistent/strong arc? it's good. reading the end part was like

marco: i haven't seen jake in a few months. i still worry about him of course, just...from my hot tub me: that seems not true marco: okay so he hasn't seen ME in a few months but i have been continuously accidentally-on-purpose spying on him, and also sometimes i turn into a lobster in my fountain to cope me: okay yeah that's true

i like his fundamental internal conflict of. Being a person who is very capable of seeing, as per his iconic monologue, the bright line from a to z, and also continuously kicking the part of him that's horrified & upset by how that line impacts himself/the things personal to him under a rug. and despising when people pity him or acknowledge that he's upset/hurt because it reminds him he's got all that shit under the rug and distracts him from the bright clear line. really really good character writing how he's completely okay with constantly yelling and crying about how he's the most scared and afraid boy ever because fear over physical things is pragmatic, but he can't tolerate having it acknowledged when he's upset by something he knows to be necessary, because that's Not pragmatic. it adds flavor

cassie: i think it's funny how some of the other roles on the team are "the leader" "the lieutenant" "the axe-man" (<- not to be confused with the ax-man) etc and she's The One With A Continuously Functioning Moral Compass, Nerd #2, and The Emergency Lisa*. i've been told that the cassie books are either some of the strongest in the series or absolutely nothing but the thing is that i like the absolute nothing ones because i think the shenanigans are fun. so overall she's got great books. the struggle of a character who finds the moral compromises she's forced to make while participating in a war genuinely psychologically intolerable but still keeps being sucked in further is good & a nice sort of foil 2 some of the other morphs. i do have. And this has to be said despite being somewhat tangential. i do have the firm opinion that. rachel and cassie v much come off like they should be the classic "people who were bffs as kids and start becoming distant/incompatible as teens but are ignoring it and will be insisting on hanging out/calling each other bffs for several more years until something causes a bigger schism" dynamic & it would add a lot more if the text was aware of this fact and did something about it. but that's a longer post for a later time

tobias: his stomach flipping over while he tries to deny that the hawk-boy form of himself ellimist is showing him is him is perhaps one of the most stark scenes in the entire series and i think we should all be drawing it more. it's nice they put an abused autistic kid who doesn't feel like a human person in animorphs so that various children reading could have their brains rewired. i like how he's got a very heavy internal life. he's always Pondering. the torture plotline is a bit weakly written i think, his strongest moments are when he's doing an identity crisis thing. his dynamic with rachel is really good and the end of his arc does feel fitting. i think with how aximili is always going on abt how tobias is his shorm aka soulmate it would've been good if we saw more of the convos they were having or they had a more clearly Besties bond going on. although i DO like that aximili almost never shouts, someone (jake?) explicitly notes that when ax Does yell it means you'd better fucking listen, and to my memory the only call-caps moment aximili has is yelling "TOBIAS!" when he thinks tobias is critically wounded. more of that shit please. i would've also liked more tobias books in general bc he has one of the strongest narrative voices out of the gang

aximili: I was so mad about his very last book in the series being a shit ghostwriting moment. So mad you do not even want to know. entire plot of, like, book 8 all over again, except this time he's casually considering endorsing genocide for some reason. anyway i think there's a lot of interesting things going on in his head but his arc doesn't really wrap up well & there are a few ghostwritten books where he feels poorly done w/o having a rachel-type Really Iconic book that makes up for it. he works better early and mid series. he's also just a fundamentally hilarious character concept which is great. i'm sad that people lied to me about him being autistic compared to other andalites (he's not) but i like when he has axtism moments anyway. i would like to see 100 drawings of axmini get cinnamon roll now please

[forlorn-crows]

Mountain Recording Himself dominating the shit out of Rain and Dewdrop, He Gives the tape to Aether? Aether gets it, Watches it, his phone rings and it's rain Moaning out Aether's name?

jesus fucking christ

listen...i just wanna preface...if you see the word "daddy" in this fic no you didnt

*ping*

Mountain: I’ve got a treat for you.

It’s a somewhat cryptic text for 4pm on a Tuesday. Aether hasn’t really been doing much all day besides lay around and strum out the random solo or two during practice. He had been trying to take a nap when Mountain texted him. He squints at the sentence, reluctantly rolling over to reply properly.

Aether: Oh?

Aether: Tell me more.

He puts his phone down, stares at it with lazy curiosity. It could really be anything—a picture of a rare plant he cultivated, a picture of an actual edible treat, a link to a song recommendation, maybe a picture of himself naked in the mirror…

*ping*

Mountain: 1 video attachment.

Mountain: Tell me when you’ve watched it.

Aether catches a glimpse of the preview image, blurry and nondescript.

Aether: Why do I feel like you’re about to jumpscare me?

Mountain: Watch. Now.

Aether smirks.

Aether: Okay bossy.

He clicks on the video, wholly unprepared for what he finds. Mountain’s holding his phone near his thigh, or what Aether assumes is his thigh. He can only see a sliver of leg and darkness for the first few seconds, but soon he raises the camera to pan across both Rain and Dewdrop’s faces, obscenely flushed and desperate where they’re on their knees below him.

“Oh f-fuck,” Aether mutters.

From what he can tell, Mountain’s still fully clothed, at least from the waist down. Rain and Dew are both fully naked, cocks hard between their legs. The earth ghoul hovers his boot—fuck, his boot?—over Dew’s cock, not quite touching. His mouth falls open at the suggestion of touch. Aether can physically see him struggling not to buck into the rugged sole. Mountain, no doubt, punished him already for doing just that, judging by the handprints on his face and purple marks around his nipples.

The huff of a laugh ghosts over the microphone as Mountain pulls back. The camera pans to Rain’s face, eyes lidded and glassy. Mountain combs a hand through his hair and pulls, exposing that pale column of a throat. Rain struggles to focus, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he whines beautifully.

The video ends too soon. Aether whimpers as he shifts his weight, cock already fattening up beneath him.

“Fucking seven hells,” he says under his breath, staring at the frozen frame of Rain’s long neck.

Aether: Fuck you

Aether: devious bastard

He rolls back over so he can palm at his cock through his sleep shorts. He can only imagine how deep they both are, submitting for Mountain like its their job, high on that delicious haze the earth ghoul induces so well.

He’s just about to pull his cock out of his pants when his phone rings.

“Shit, fucking hell—” It’s Mountain. Of course it is.

“Mount what the—” the words die on his lips as he hears a moan float through the speaker, followed by Mountain’s voice:

Yeah, fucking take it.

That sends another spike of interest straight to his cock. He considers hanging up, he really does. But another moan squelches the thought. It’s loud and wanton, not so muffled this time. It’s immediately recognizable as Rain, high and feminine.

Tell Aether how much you want it.

His eyes go wide and his cock kicks in response, fully at attention now. Any thoughts of a butt-dial fly out the window at the sound of his name on Mountain’s lips.

Hng, w-want it so bad. Oh Aethe—

He can tell Mountain bottoms out by the way Rain chokes off the end of his sentence.

Good boy, such a wet fucking slut, aren’t you?

“Oh Lucifer, Mountain,” Aether mumbles. He puts his phone on speaker, abandoning it to get both hands on his cock. He can vaguely hear Dew whine in the background, probably forced to watch them as punishment, hands behind his back, cock ruddy and leaking…

‘M your slut, yours—ah—yours—

There’s a sound of a hand connecting to skin, followed by Rain mewling.

Be a good pet, tell our darling Aether what he really wants to hear.

Rain whines self-consciously, panting hard. He tries to get the words out, but they’re caught in his throat, mingling with his unbidden moans. Mountain’s really pounding into him, the sound of his hips snapping against Rain’s ass is audible even through the phone. Aether lets out his own whine, thumbing over the head of his cock and squeezing the base.

There’s rustling against the speaker, and suddenly Rain’s breath is right there, huffing into the receiver.

Go on.

Rain lets out a long, drawn-out moan that goes straight to Aether’s cock.

Mmpf, need you d-daddy, please—oh fuck!

And oh, those words are deliciously sinful, a rare treat. “Fuuuck, that’s a good boy, Rainey,” he breathes.

Yes, daddy, please please, wanna cum for you.

Mountain chuckles darkly. Oh, I bet our Aether loves that, doesn’t he?

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 26 of ? | masterpost

word count: 2085 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

I let out a quiet, pained noise, frightened and hurt like some scared critter stumbling into the lion's lair. James's eyes flicked up, catching mine for the briefest fraction of a second, shock and regret dancing in his blue gaze before I pivoted and beelined it out through the kitchen door.

✦ summary: Despite choosing to remain by Dave's side, Nore finds that getting over her feelings for James is harder than she thought it would be.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, love triangle, drinking, recreational drug use, jealousy

✧ you got me wrapped around your finger, do you have to let it linger? ✧

The guys' last weekend in Los Angeles rolled around real quick, kicking off on a slightly chilly Saturday that practically begged for an afternoon tucked under the covers. We cooked up our own version of coziness; Cliff threw an invite my way to chill at Mike's place, puffing on some smokes and sipping drinks while diving into a stack of horror movies Kirk had snagged.

Running into James again was just about as awkward as I'd braced myself for. He gave me a somewhat normal greeting, but the turmoil in his eyes had my heart doing an uncomfortable squeeze. To top it off, he had Pat in tow, showing up at Mike's with this big grin, hand-in-hand with James, their intertwined fingers betraying a closeness I'd rather not have known existed.

I tried to brush that off, though. After all, I had made my choice, hadn't I? Coming back home later that night, I knew I'd land in the comfort of Dave's arms, and whatever leftover turmoil would get washed out like rainwater. With time, the pain and sadness in James' eyes would likely fade. And perhaps, we could go back to being just good friends, sweeping those stolen moments from that autumn under the rug like they never happened.

We kicked back in Mike's basement, popping those tapes into his brand new VHS player. Kirk and Lars posted up on the carpet, Kirk sprawled out with his head in Lars's lap, dropping the occasional comment about film quality or some backstage scoop. Cliff, Mike, and I settled onto one of the couches, passing around a joint, while James and Pat claimed the other one. As the beer stash ran dry, a pizza got ordered, and I started to chill out as the mix of booze and weed took hold.

We all glanced up at the doorbell's ring — probably the pizza delivery. James hopped up to get it, trotting up the stairs with a beer in hand. Pat eyed him for a sec, then decided to trail along. Mike sparked up another joint, which I happily took a hit from before passing it over to Cliff.

"Hey, did you guys know this movie set caught fire during filming?" Kirk tossed out as scenes from The Exorcist flickered on the screen. "They even brought in a priest to bless the joint afterward."

"Wow, spooky," Lars chimed in, sarcastically. Kirk nudged him hard. "Hey!" Lars laughed.

"Hey, Lars, toss me another beer," I casually asked, absentmindedly eyeing the bottom of my empty bottle.

"Ah, I think we're tapped out. Time for a run upstairs."

"I got it," Cliff mumbled, his words a bit slurred as he attempted to stand.

"I'll roll with you then," I chimed in, getting up and stretching with a sigh. "Might as well grab a round for everyone."

The two of us hauled ourselves up the stairs, the steps feeling way trickier to navigate than they should in my slightly buzzed state. Once we hit the kitchen, Cliff cracked open the fridge, hunting down the beer bottles.

I shot my brows up with a grin when I spotted the two pizza boxes chilling on the table, my stomach churning with post-smoking and drinking hunger. I popped open the box, snagged a slice, and chomped down, letting out a satisfied sigh as the warm cheese exploded in my mouth, eyes shutting in a little moan of delight.

My tiny moment of food ecstasy got cut short by the distant hum of laughter. I blinked, curious, realizing I hadn't laid eyes on James and Pat since they jetted upstairs for the pizzas. But if the pizzas were in the kitchen, where the hell were they?

Looking back, maybe tracking down the muffled chuckles echoing down the hallway was a lousy move. But I was riding a bit higher on intoxication than I expected, and a self-destructive curiosity just started creeping into my chest. I crept up to the living room door, halting in silence when I caught sight of James and Pat holding court in the center of the room, huddled up and chatting in hushed tones.

I don't know what hit me first, tearing my heart into a million pieces; maybe it was the way Pat's eyes lit up, her hands resting on James' chest while he gripped her waist, the phantom memory of his fingers on my hips stirring uncomfortably in my chest. Or maybe it was the way they talked and chuckled, clearly lost in their own little world. Or, what the hell, it could even have been the gentle kiss he laid on her lips, sprinkled with sweet nothings meant just for her.

I let out a quiet, pained noise, frightened and hurt like some scared critter stumbling into the lion's lair. James's eyes flicked up, catching mine for the briefest fraction of a second, shock and regret dancing in his blue gaze before I pivoted and beelined it out through the kitchen door.

I gulped down the cool evening air and shut my eyes, tears hanging on and refusing to fall. My hands shook a bit as I slapped them on the porch frame, the wood cold against my skin. I jumped when the door creaked open again, but it wasn't James; Cliff's worried eyes locked onto mine, sadness creeping in at the sorry sight I must've been.

"Cliff..." I said, my voice shaky and tearful before he stepped up, wrapping me in a solid hug.

I buried my face in his chest, letting out heavy sobs as tears flowed down my face, like a dam that had held back way too much. Cliff just held on, running his fingers through my hair as he kept me close. As awful as it all was, I felt relieved as well — like those tears were letting go of some of the crap I'd been carrying around for weeks. When I finally eased up, I pulled back with a sigh, tears still rolling down as I sniffled, trying to wipe them away with my fingertips.

“Ah, shit. Sorry, I totally soaked you," I mumbled, my voice all choked up as I noticed the tear stains on Cliff's shirt. He snorted.

“Screw that, Nore. Want a beer?” He lifted one hand, and I spotted he was carrying a plastic bag with the beers he’d grabbed from the fridge. I nodded, thankful. He plunked the bag down, grabbed one for me and one for himself, and we leaned against the porch railing. “So, spill it. What the hell happened?"

"You know what happened," I mumbled, holding back a sob. I took a swig of the cold beer, the bitter kick helping me calm down a bit. Cliff sighed.

"It's James, huh?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't get it," he said, and I looked up, raising my eyebrows when our eyes connected. "If you're into him, why not figure things out? You know he likes you too."

"Apparently, not that much," I grumbled, and he snorted.

"Nore, no offense, but if the girl I liked kept turning me down, I'd probably try to move on too. Maybe not jump into something else... but I don't know if I'd keep pushing after getting rejected as much as he has with you."

“I... “ my voice broke, and I sighed. "Cliff, I'm with Dave. I made my choice. He needs me... I won't bail on him. Not for James, not for anyone. But that doesn't mean I don't feel..." I stopped, the lump in my throat preventing me from talking. Cliff sighed before pulling me into a tight hug.

"It'll pass." He kissed my hair, and I nodded.

"I know."

"If it helps, I find her damn annoying. And I doubt those two will last more than three months." He murmured, clearly trying to make me feel better. I chuckled softly.

"Think we can still be friends after this?"

“Totally, Nore. Just gotta figure out where you both stand. But if you've made your call... Well, he'll have to get that, babe. Just give him some space, and cut yourself some slack too."

"If you weren't Bay Area's best bass player, I'd swear you missed your calling as a shrink," I teased, and he burst into laughter. I shot him a look, a soft, affectionate grin playing on my lips. It was reassuring to know that even in the middle of this mess, Cliff would always be there for me. "Thanks, Cliff."

"No worries. We got each other's backs, right?" He grinned and messed up my hair. I let out a soft laugh. "Plus, no one messes with my fave cousin."

"I'm your only cousin." I quipped, echoing his usual comeback, and he grinned.

"Exactly. Hey, you're not bailing, right? Wanna head back inside? Kirk might think we hated the flicks."

"Well, he wouldn't be totally off the mark," I swiped away the last of my tears with the back of my hand but made my way to the kitchen door with a sigh. "But let's go back."

As we stepped in, I noticed that James and Pat had vanished from the living room. No clue where James had wandered off to, and honestly, I wasn't itching to find out for the first time in forever. I paused for a beat, my eyes lingering on Mike's phone before a sudden determination took over.

"Cliff," I called, and he shot me a questioning look. "You go ahead; I'll catch up, alright? Got a call to make."

"Sure thing. You sure you don't want me to stick around?"

"Nah, all good. Seriously," I reassured him. He gave my face a once-over before nodding, taking the beers back with him to the basement.

I grabbed the phone, pressing it against my ear, hesitating for just a moment before punching in the number I knew by heart, even though it had been ages since I dialed it.

"Hello?" My mom's voice came through, causing my heart to skip a beat.

I was aware that this number, her personal office line, was the only one she personally picked up. No assistants or housekeepers screening calls. But despite that, a weird tension crawled over me at the sound of her voice. I paused for a sec before diving in:

"Hey, Mom. It's me."

“Eleanore?” she inquired, surprise coming through her voice. “What's going on? Did something happen?" 

"Nah, everything's okay," I murmured, my voice slightly shaky. "I just... I..."

“Are you okay, dear? Were you crying, by any chance?”

“No, I'm fine. I'm fine,” I sighed, closing my eyes. "Actually, I called about that school offer."

"Oh? Tell me what's on your mind," I could feel my mother's tone of voice instantly changing, shifting to the interested and sharp tone she used during her negotiations. 

"I'm taking it. But I want to focus on art, Mom. Not law or business. Just art."

"Alright. I'll have Alice look into the best art schools in the state, maybe even the whole country. We can explore international options if you're interested. You'll get a top-notch art education. But you remember your end of the deal, right?"

"Getting involved in the family business, understanding the ropes, so I can handle things when you and Dad can't. Yeah, I remember," I confirmed in a low voice, aware that this was the most challenging part of the deal.

Business never floated my boat, especially the whole legal operations deal with my family's law firm. But the payoff was too sweet to pass up. And maybe a major life change was exactly what I needed.

"Good call," my mom chimed in, and I could practically picture her smiling. "I'll talk with your father. You'll come back for Christmas, right? We can discuss it in more detail then. Feel free to bring your... Boyfriend along if you want."

The rest of the conversation was a bit of a blur. I knew I'd just made a call that would steer my life for the next few years. No clue if I'd regret it or what kind of person it'd turn me into. But I would do anything to beat the heartache gnawing at my chest. Maybe I was running away. Maybe I just wanted to ditch the sadness.

Perhaps I just wanted to wipe clean the pained look James and I exchanged moments ago. Maybe I wanted to forget that he chose not to come after me, not to offer me any comfort.

But did any of it really matter?

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[scarisd3ad]

To the end and back | Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Chapter 12 - born to die

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Summary - after the world ended you were sure you’d never find love again but a certain archer catches your eyes and changes the entire trajectory of your life.

Warnings - death of a child, regular twd warnings

'Pretty much dead already'

S2 ep6

its early morning, and carol has cooked eggs for our group. we're all sitting around eating, mostly silently. Shane was fine unfortunately. after what happened last night, he was only left with a minor limp, a bruised-up face, a broken nose and the closest thing to a restraining order I can get these days. I'm sat in a fold out lawn chair next to Daryl with a plate of eggs in my lap. I didn't sleep much last night; I might have gotten an hour at most. I keep staring off into the distance, not at anything particularly just kind of zoning in and out, but I get woken out of it each time by Daryl who pats my knee and whispers "eat yer food." 

I stare down at my plate slowly spooning tiny amounts of eggs into my mouth. I look up to see Shane who is at glaring at me. his whole face is swollen, it almost looks like his entire face is just one large bruise. I kick Daryl's foot and look up at Shane to get Daryl's attention. it's not a problem to me, Shane is just staring but having the perks of one large man who will beat up any man who even tries messing with me was amazing. Daryl glares back at Shane, almost as if it's a threat. carol walks over to Daryl and scoops a little more eggs into his plate. "thanks" he mutters with a mouthful of eggs in his mouth. I watch as Glenn gets up and walks over so he's Infront of all of us. he's got his hands stuffed into his front pockets, and he just looks on edge, or maybe just nervous? "u-uhm guys..." he stutters out as he rubs at his jaw nervously. once he's got all of our attention he says "soo.." 

he lets out a long sigh before continuing "the barns full of walkers." 

we all look up at him brows furrowed. that's why he had been on edge the previous day. that's why he had been watching the barn all day. that's why Maggie wanted me to leave so they could talk. 

-

our group all ends up at the barn with Shane looking into it through a gap in the wood. now the growls, and groans of the walkers are way more apparent. I'm surprised Glenn was the first one to realize it, not Shane or rick it was Glenn. Shane normally was really cautious about new areas, he scoped out every area before letting anyone near it, I'm surprised he hadn't caught onto the barn sooner. Shane walks back towards up "you cannot tell me you're alright with this" Shane says to rick as Shane walks past rick. "No, I'm not, but we're guests here. this isn't our land." rick replies back. "This is our lives!" shouts Shane as he throws down his hat in frustration. "Lower your voices" Glenn warns. I can hear the walkers getting closer, they can hear us. if were not careful their going to try and break down the wall. "We can't just sweep this under the rug." Andrea says. I've got my arms crossed over my chest as I look at the barn. the doors are chained shut, which looks secure but how long will that hold up. just a few to many walkers pushing up against it could break it, and it would be just our luck if we were here when that happened. "It ain't right. not remotely."

Shane is pacing "okay, we either gotta go in there, make things right or we've just gotta go. now we have been talkin' about fort benning for a long time" Shane says stopping Infront of rick. "We can't go." rick hisses. we can't go because Lori's pregnant, if we go we're risking her life by not only not having a somewhat safe place to stay, but also were just throwing away the medical care we have through Hershel. he's got all types of medicines and experience in the field; we can't just throw all that away because of walkers in a sealed-up barn. "Why rick? why?" carol quickly cuts in "because my daughters still out there." Sophia was still out there too. we can't just leave her out there. no matter how much faith the others have in her, there is still a chance she's still alive. "okay" Shane scoffs as he cups his hands around his mouth "okay I think it's time that we all start to just consider the other possibility."

"We're not leaving Sophia behind!" I say, Daryl marches forwards "I'm close to findin' this girl I just found her damn doll two days ago!" Shane laughs sarcastically like it was funny to him that we were all so concerned about the little girl. "You found her doll, Daryl. that's what you did. you found a doll!" Daryl's brows furrow angrily it's like he's really begun to care for the others in the group unlike he used to. before he only got food for us because he got to get away from everyone, now he really cares.

"You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about!" Daryl shouts, rick holds his arm out really just to keep Daryl and Shane away from each other because Shane's 2 words away from getting his shit rocked again. "Look I'm just sayin' what needs to be said! you get a good lead, it's in the first 48 hours!" 

"Stop Shane!" rick says raising his hands trying to start the more violent confrontation we knew was going to happen. Shane doesn't listen to anybody but himself though so Shane shouts "let me tell you something else man. if she was alive out there and saw you comin' all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction!" Daryl immediately starts walking towards Shane with is pointer finger pointing angrily obviously trying to fight. good thing rick was already in the middle of the two, rick holds Daryl back but he still try's coming at Shane. "I'll beat your ass if you come at me again!" shouts Shane. it takes a few of us holds each man back to stop the fight. I'm holding onto Daryl's arm tightly while Andrea is in front of him. it's easier to hold back Daryl than it is to hold back Shane. "Back off!"

I guess Lori had grabbed Shane or something which prompts Shane to say "keep your hands off of me" with his finger in her face. Shane starts to stomp off with Lori following shortly behind. "Let me talk to Hershel" rick says which makes Shane turn around "let me figure it out!" rick adds. my hand is still tightly wrapped around the area between Daryl's upper and lower arm. "What are you going to figure out?!" Shane shouts as he charges at rick. Lori steps in between the two placing her hand on Shane's chest. "If we're gonna stay, if we're gonna clear this barn, I have to talk him into it. this is his land!" shouts rick. "Hershel sees those things in there as people- sick people. his wife, h-his stepson." dale says kind of trying to explain why Hershel keeps them. they were people but not anymore, they've been dead since they turned, we learned that the CDC. maybe if one of us explains to him that scientists had proved they were dead since they turned maybe he'd understand. "You knew?" rick asks with his brows furrowed in confusion. "Yesterday I talked to Hershel." dale explains.

"And you waited the night?" Shane asks. what if those things got out overnight, waiting over night was a bad decision on his part, on Glenns too. "I thought we could survive on more night! we did." dale says defending his decision. yeah, we did but there was still the risk of something happening especially with all the noise we had made last night. "I was waiting till this morning to say something, but Glenn wanted to be the one." dale says gesturing towards Glenn. "The man is crazy rick, if Hershel thinks those things are alive or no!" Shane gets worked up again and starts stomping his way towards rick. someone really needs to get that man some type of drug to calm his ass down. everyone freezes when the door starts the rattle, and the walkers behind it start to groan and growl louder, and angrier. Shane really needs to calm his ass down; all his screaming and whining has riled them up. 

-

I'm leaned up against a tree reading a book I've read what feels like a million times. its feels like I could read it with my eyes closed if I really wanted to. I'm reading to try and get my mind off of the barn, but it doesn't help much. I want to leave now, I used to feel like it was safe here, but now I feel like I'd be safer out on the road. I flip the page and I'm about to start reading the first sentence when I spot Daryl lugging a saddle out towards the horse stables. I groan as I drop my book beside me and push myself up off of the ground. he's really doing this shit again going out by himself with a horse, while he's barely healed enough to walk, let alone ride a horse and go out by himself. he's stressing me out. he's barely able to carry the saddle I don't know why he thinks he'll be able to go out and look for Sophia. 

I follow him into the stables and watch as he's barely able to put the saddle onto its stand. he grunts as he throws the saddle on top of the stand. he's worrying me there's no need for him to go out right now because rick is going out later. "You can't" I say, he limps his way over to some of the horse equipment and says, "I'm fine."  I roll my eyes and say, "Hershel said you need to heal." he grabs something and begins to limp his way over towards one of the horses "yeah, I don't care" of course he doesn't care but I do, and I don't want him going out by himself anymore. if the same thing happens again, I wouldn't be able to live with myself because that would mean I knew the risks and still let him go. "Well, I do. ricks going out later to follow the trail." I say trying to convince him that he doesn't need to go. "Yeah well, I ain't gonna sit around and do nothing" I don't know what to say to convince him he's done more than enough already. I just don't want him to get hurt again, I don't want him to run into the same problem again and not make it out alive this time. it was a miracle he was able to do it last time, but his luck is going to run out one day. "Daryl, you're gonna go out there and get yourself hurt even worse" I say, he ignores me. I don't know what to say to him to get him out of this mindset, I don't know what to say to myself to get myself out of the same mindset that I'm not doing enough, that no matter what I do it's not enough. I've been trying to convince myself that were going to find her so is Daryl, but I think we need to understand that that might not happen. I love Sophia to death, and I hope she's out there surviving but I need to understand that there is a chance that she might not, and that scenario is way more realistic now a days. Daryl might have been able to survive in the woods when he was Sophia's age, but Sophia has so many more obstacles in her way. 

"Daryl, we don't know if we're going to find her."  Daryl slowly turns my way with his brows furrowed "we don't" I repeat. "I don't..." I whisper he starts to approach me brows furrowed "what?" he asks. "I don't want to lose you too" a tear falls down my cheek. I've lost my family, my friends I can't lose him too. I can't let him go out there and die for a little girl who is most likely dead by now. he walks away like he's disappointed in me "Daryl I've lost my brother; I've lost everyone I can't los-" he stops in front of the saddle stand and looks back at me before picking up the saddle and chunking it with a grunt. he quickly doubles over in pain though gripping at his abdomen. I quickly rush to his side "are you alright?" I ask placing my hand on his back trying to help him, but he shoos me away "just leave me be!" he stays as he stumbles away from me "stupid bitch" he grumbles which makes me stop trying to follow him. "asshole" I mutter as I wipe the stray tear that had fallen down my cheek. I go back to my tree reading because I didn't really want him to be any madder at me than he is right now. I can't tolerate Daryl while he's being stubborn. he'll never admit I'm right no matter how right I am. 

it feels like he doesn't understand that I can't lose any more people, I can't physically take it anymore. I've lost my brother, my grandparents, and my friends I can't lose him too. if I lost him that would be the thing that would push me overboard. that would be the final thing to push me over the edge and he doesn't understand that I know that he is strong, and he could push his feeling down into his ass if he really wanted to, but I can't. if I lost him, I wouldn't be able to handle life anymore. I feel like the only other person I feel like that with I Glenn. if a lost Glenn I wouldn't be able to live anymore as well. both of them don't understand that and they just keep putting themselves in danger and it stresses me out.

I don't know how long I sit there reading but I go chapter by chapter getting more and more engrossed with the book as time goes on. I don't really even put the book down until I hear someone cough. I look up to see Daryl "hey" I mumble as I put the book down next to me. I'm not mad at him, but I'm disappointed that he doesn't care more about himself. he takes a seat on the ground next to me, gasping a little once he's sat down. "Be careful" I whisper as he picks up the book on the ground. the dust jacket had been ripped off ages ago when the book was gifted to my mother just leaving the maroon-colored hard cover. he looks at the back and then the front before he says "whatcha readin'?" I shrug as I grab the book from his hands and placing it to my right. "Hey, I'm sorry about early alrigh?" he asks I nod "it's fine" I say leaning my back against the tree. "You were mad" I add "you're allowed to be mad" I say grabbing his hand and caressing the top of it with my thumb. he's still a little tense with physical affection like holding hands, kissing, and stuff. I look up at him and smiles "I forgive you Daryl" I whisper leaning myself into him. I'm assuming he's never really experienced this type of relationship with a person before which makes him a bit awkward about it but it's alright. the awkwardness and tenseness melts off of him soon enough though. "If you really want to go out and look for her, I'll go with you. I just don't want you going out by yourself right now." I say. I turn back towards him and cup his face in my hands. his brows furrow together in confusion before I press my lips against his. my arms fall around his neck as he places one of his hands on my cheek.

we end up going back towards Hershel's house because we've both really haven't seen any of the others in our group since early this morning and didn't want to worry them. when we make it to Hershel's front porch carl is sitting on the porch with some of Hershel's family and Glenn, and Maggie are sitting on the steps. t-dog and Andrea are also walking towards the house just like Daryl and I. I don't see Lori, rick, dale, or Shane though. I just assume dale is up on his rv, but I can't really guess what the others are doing. "Do you know what's goin on?" t-dog asks as Glenn gets up from his place next to Maggie. "Where is everyone?" Andrea asks. both of their questions aren't answered by anyone. Glenn only replies with another question "you haven't seen rick?" I haven't really seen rick since this morning "he went off with Hershel. we were supposed to leave a couple hours ago" Andrea says. I wouldn't expect rick to just go off like that without telling someone. he wasn't like Shane, Shane goes and leaves as he pleased if he went out for water, he wouldn't tell anyone, if he went out for a run he'd only tell the select few he took with him. 

"yeah, you were, what the hell" Daryl says which makes t-dog and Andrea turn their heads towards us. rick had told us he was going out earlier before we all split up after the barn incident, and rick wasn't the type of person to go back on his word without talking to us as a group. "Damn it. isn't anybody taking this seriously?" Daryl says as everyone just kind of stares at us. "We got us a damn trail." Daryl says turning around and pointing angrily. now we see Shane walking up towards the house. he's got the bag of gun over his shoulder "oh here we go" Daryl says as he begins walking towards the man. there's something off about Shane though...there's always been something off about Shane ever since I met him, but it just seems like he's done something he knows we won't like, or at least something ricks wouldn't like. 

"what's all this?" Daryl asks as Shane takes a shot gun out of the bag and holding it out for Daryl. "You with me man?" Shane asks and Daryl takes the gun with a breathy "yeah." 

"Time to grow up you already got yours" Shane says to Andrea. we all know what he's talking about. clearing out the barn. I know rick isn't going to like this, Hershel isn't going to like this either. we're going to get our asses kicked out and we have a pregnant lady who needs all the medical attention we can get. if we get kicked out were going to have to do this all on our own, and that means there's a bigger chance of not only the baby dying but Lori as well. "Yeah...but where's dale?" Andrea asks a little skeptically, "he's on his way" Shane is being very vague about where dale is, and it makes me nervous. "Thought we couldn't carry." t-dog say as Shane hands him a gun. "yeah, well we can, and we have to." the people that had been sitting up in chairs on the porch have now gotten up and look a bit stressed especially Hershel's people. 

"Hey look, it's one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. but now we know it ain't." Shane begins to walk towards Glenn "how about you, man? you gonna protect yours?" Shane asks holding out a gun. Glenn looks to Maggie and then to the gun before letting out a sigh and grabbing it. Shane is satisfied with that answer so he turns to Maggie "can you shoot?" Shane asks. Maggie's brows are furrowed together angrily as she says, "can you stop? you do this, you hand out these guns, my dad will make you leave tonight." we need this Lori needs this we can't just go around shooting up a storm because there's some walkers locked up in a barn. "What about you y/n?" he asks standing in front of me with a small handgun i shake my head he rolls his eyes before forcing it into my hand "We have to stay, Shane" carl speaks up. Lori rounds the corner "what is this" she asks confused as ever. 

"We ain't goin' anywhere, okay? now look, Hershel, he's just gotta understand." Hershel isn't going to understand this though, Hershel is an old man who thinks those things are still people because they look human. he thinks they are people because they were people, they were friends, and family, but he needs to learn they aren't. we can't risk teaching him that though maybe in 9 months when Lori has given birth but not now. "Okay? he- well, he's gonna have to" my arms are folded over my chest. I can't believe so many of our people want to risk losing the safety of Hershel's farm. I know that most of them don't know about Lori, but Glenn does, and he still willingly took the gun. I know they are scared but we had lived out in the middle of nowhere with not shelter where walkers could get to use at any time, at least there isn't many over here and the majority are in Hershel's barn locked up. I'd rather stay here than go anywhere near a big city ever again. Shane takes his small handgun and begins to walk towards carl "now we need to find Sophia. am I right?" Shane says as he kneels in front of Carl, he's using Sophia to his advantage to get what he wants from Carl. he knows Carl cares for Sophia so he's using that to get Carl on his side.

"Now I want you to take this. you take it, carl, and you keep your mother safe. you do whatever it takes." Lori begins to rush towards her son because she doesn't need her 12-year-old son to protect her. when carl doesn't take the gun Shane says "you know how. go on, take the gun and do it" Lori pushes her son away from Shane and says "rick said no guns. this is not your call. this is not your decision to make." 

"Oh shit."

we all look over to see t-dog staring at rick and Hershel leading some walkers towards the barn with the help of one of ranch hands jimmy. Shane gets up from his kneeling position on the ground and begins to run towards rick and Hershel. we all follow after because they've got two walkers that they are leading towards us. "What the hell you doin!" shouts Shane as he pushes the metal fence door open and continues running towards rick. "Shane just back off!" rick warns as he pushes the walker away from Shane. "Why do your people have guns?" Hershel asks. Shane is kind of pacing as he shouts, "are you kiddin' me!? you, see?! you see what they're holdin onto!!" Shane rounds back around towards us as Hershel shouts "I see who I'm holding onto!" which angers Shane even more. "No man, you don't!" 

rick is trying to calm Shane down but there really isn't any use because when Shane's all riled up like this there is no getting him down. "Shane, just let us do this and then we can talk" rick tries reasoning with him. "Let me do this and then we'll talk" but Shane wants to do something now and the thing he wants now is the clear the barn. "What you want to talk about, rick!?" shouts Shane. Daryl has his gun pointing right at one of the walkers, it's kind of strange seeing him with a gun and not with his crossbow. I've got the gun Shane handed to me held tightly in my left hand. I'm just as scared as everyone else but I'm just as much scared of getting kicked out of here. "These things ain't sick. they're not people! they're dead! ain't gonna feel nothing for them 'cause all they do, is they kill!" Shane shouts. Shane paces back and forth angrily "these things right here, they're the things that killed Amy! they killed Otis! they killed your brother!" Shane shouts while pointing at me when he mentions my brother. I shouldn't have told him about that. it embarrasses me a bit because it feels like he's calling me out. "they're gonna kill all of us!" I look back to see Lori and carl walking up towards us. she has Carl's hand in hers and both their brows are furrowed up in confusion and concern.

 "Shane, shut up!' rick shouts which isn't really effective because Shane continues to talk. I look back at Lori pleading for her to save me, or at least save herself and her son before something bad happens. "Hey Hershel man, let me ask you something." Shane stops and pulls his gun out "could a living breathing person, could they walk away from this?" he loads the gun before pointing it at the walker.

POW POW POW.

"NOO!" 

he shoots the walker three times in the chest, and it basically just walks it. it has no reaction but the little jolts from its body when the bullet first hit the walker. "STOP IT!" shouts rick, again Shane doesn't listen and just continues shouting "that's three rounds in the chest! could someone who's alive, could they just take that?" he sounds crazy screaming and shouting. "Why is it still coming?!" shouts Shane before raising his gun again.

POW POW POW.

"that's its heart, its lungs! why is it still coming?!"

POW POW POW.

the walker groans as it gets pushed back a bit by the bullets. "Shane! enough!" rick defending Hershel pisses Shane off even more. "Yeah, you're right, man. that is enough" he says walking past them, and shooting the walker in the head right as he passes by. the walkers head jerks back before falling to the ground. were all dead silent, were still a little shocked by the confrontation that just took place before our eyes. Shane's not done yet though, so he turns back around "enough risking our lives for a little girl who's gone!" Shane shouts as he stomps towards the barn. we all know what he's going to do, it's been his plan since he found out about the barn this morning. "Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us! enough! rick it ain't like it was before!" he marches a bit forward before continuing shouting "now if yall want to live, if you want to survive you got to fight for it! I'm talking about fighting right here, right now!" Shane begins to run back towards the barn.

 rick holds out the snare pole in his hands "take the snare pole! Hershel! Hershel take the snare pole!"  Hershel is on his knees, he seems like he doesn't really know what's going on "Hershel, listen to me, man, please!" rick pleads "take it now. Hershel!" ricks desperately crying out for Hershel to just take it. Hershel is still in this dazed like state though. "Hershel! take it!" Shane takes a pickaxe to the lock on the barn doors. "No Shane! do not do this, brother! wait!" Shane keeps going at the lock, hitting it over and over again despite our desperate pleas for him to stop. after several failed attempts to break the lock, he just takes the tip of the pickaxes and breaks the lock off. once the lock is off, he grabs the wooden slab and throws it to the side. we're still screaming for him to stop, but he doesn't. Shane bangs on the door and shouts "come on. come on we're out here!" Shane backs up and pulls his gun out. the door creaks open and out comes the walkers. I've got the gun gripped tightly in my hands ready to shoot but only if I need to. 

there's so many in there I actually can't believe it. they just keep coming out and when I think there's no more out comes a few more. the people closer to the walkers are shooting at them. all I can hear is the sounds of gunshots. I don't know what to do, should I go up and help or just stay here. it looks like Shane, Andrea, t-dog, Glenn, and Daryl's got it covered. I'll only shoot if I really need to. there's so many I'm not sure I've ever seen so many walkers in one place, well other than in the city. Shane turns back towards rick before shooting the walker rick had. Lori has carl on the ground covering his ears. I'm frozen, I can't move and I'm terrified, I can't breathe it feels like I'm holding my breath but I'm not. there's a pile of corpses in front of the barn and I don't think I've smelt something this bad. once we think there's no more, and everyone lowers their guns the door creaks open, and a smaller very recognizable walker stumbles out. everything from the shoes to the hair cut is recognizable. the blue shirt with a rainbow she wore that day is all tattered and dirty now. 

she's recognizable but unrecognizable at the same time it's her we know it, but we never expected to see her like that. She's dead. even though I had said earlier that she could be dead I didn't want that to be the case. I wanted her to beat all the odds, I wanted to find her in some random home alive, I wanted to take her back to carol and witness the long-awaited reunion of the mother and daughter. carol runs up sobbing "Sophia! Sophia!" and Daryl has to hold her back. I actually can't breathe now. all the air is caught in my throat and tears are building up in my eyes. how long had she been in there? had she gotten bitten the same day she went missing? she died alone. all I can think about is that little girl died alone without her mom to help her. Sophia stumbles through the piles of corpses towards us. rick takes one for the team and begins to walk towards Sophia. he pulls out his guns pointing it at her before shooting her right in the head. carols sobbing as Daryl has his arms wrapped around her torso holding her down.

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[babiebom]

The Wizard and I

A/N: here’s to kicking the series off with a song from an iconic musical! It’s not my favorite song from the musical, but I thought that it would fit since I wanted to write something about Rasmodius! Keep in mind that none of these fics have anything to do with each other, they aren’t even the same media(like this one is stardew and the next could be not stardew y’know) hope you enjoy!! Also if you’ve heard the song or have seen the musical you already know that this is going to be iffy

Tw: cursing, the wizard is a morally uncool person in this, reader has a big old honkin crush on him, magic is used in uncool ways. Someone is turned into something else. Potions used negatively, implied cheating, revenge, bad ending.

Pairing: Magnus Rasmodius x witch!Reader (stardew valley/gender neutral)

Genre: angst, single chapter fic/ oneshot, strangers to mentor to lovers(sorta)

Wc:5.3k

Musical Series Masterlist

When I meet the Wizard. Once I prove my worth. And then I meet the Wizard. What I've waited for since, since birth. And with all his Wizard wisdom. By my looks, he won't be blinded. Do you think the Wizard is dumb? Or like Munchkins so small-minded? No, he'll say to me I see who you truly are. A girl on whom I can rely. And that's how we'll begin. The Wizard and I.

When you first moved to Pelican Town, you were immediately curious about the old wizards tower on the edge of the woods. Everyone around you brushed it off when you asked about it, telling you to stay away or that the man inside was insane or a hermit. The only people who didn’t talk down on him were Merlin, who felt neutral about the mysterious man, Abigail who thought he was the coolest thing in the town, Linus who liked him, and Caroline who acted suspiciously and had nothing to say. Needless to say your curiosity in him grew.

It took weeks before you could finally meet him, weeks that you didn’t know could be spent getting to meet him quicker. You liked the old community center, but held off on going in until you had made yourself comfortable in your new home. If you would’ve known that he would contact you the second you had gone in there with Lewis you would’ve asked about it much sooner. Your heart thumps in your chest as you grip onto the strange letter that was put into your mailbox.

His tower is smaller than you thought, not taking up as much space as you assumed a tower would. As you climb up the steps, your heartbeat quickens. You’re actually going to meet him, you’re going to meet a real life wizard that will actually help you hone in your skills rather than having to learn alone. His garden is small, and has only a single large cauliflower in it, but you stop anyway. It’s a marvel to look at, and you needed to calm down before you made a fool of yourself. Breathing in, you take large steps towards his door, bringing a hand up to knock.

Your knuckles don’t even touch the wood of the door before it creaks open by itself, the lack of light somewhat intimidating you. Maybe he just didn’t turn the light on in the entrance of his home. You step in silently, spinning as the door closes softly behind you. “Hello?” You call out, walking in with steps so small that you might as well have stayed in the same place. A deep rumbling voice pierces your ears and makes your heart flutter.

“Hurry up, enter, we have many things to talk about.” Your heart pounds as you rush further into his home.

The living room is larger than you thought it would be, open and only having a large cauldron as the furniture. The walls held nothing of sentimental value, instead bookcases line the walls, the only real decoration being a rug under the cauldron. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m the new farmer that moved in on the old farm north of you.”

You are taken aback by his appearance. His hair and beard a vibrant purple, very similar to Abigail’s hair. His hat sat atop his head, covering it and the hair that flowed from beneath it, it looked almost like a cowboy hat, but revamped to look cooler. God, you were expecting an old man with grays everywhere and a wizard's hat so goofy that you would have to stop yourself from laughing.

His dark eyes flicker up to look at you for a second before going back to watch whatever he was brewing. He doesn’t bother to return your pleasantries, instead he moves away from the cauldron to stand in front of you, staring down without saying anything. You want to cut through the silence by saying something, but saying something might make him dislike you, he didn’t seem like the type to enjoy jokes, or small talk. “You may call me Rasmodius. I am Seeker of the arcane truths, mediary between physical and ethereal. Master of the seven elementals. I have so many more titles, but I'm sure you get the point.”

You nod quickly, immediately taken with his confidence and air of importance. You wanted that for yourself, not in an evil way. You didn’t want to boast or brag. You just wanted to feel good about yourself, you wanted a reason to feel confident and important. “I have long foreseen your arrival, Farmer. I have been waiting a long time for you to get here.”

Your breathing stutters. He has been waiting for you? For a while? You just blink at him in shock. You hadn’t even known when you were coming here that there would be someone like you…someone that exceeded natural limitations and is something more. And here he is, telling you that he already knew you were going to end up here, as if it’s your destiny or something. “Here, I’d like to show you something.”

He moves back away from you, towards the circle on the floor. The candles are already lit, and before he moves again he sends a smirk your way. “Behold!”

A flash of light burns your eyes for a split second before you see the very thing that you had seen back in the community center. It quite obviously wasn’t a rat like Lewis had tried to convince you of, but you had no idea what it actually could be. It was green and tiny, bouncing on small feet as if it were an idle video game character. It’s…cute! It makes a high pitched noise, eyes flickering between you and the wizard. “You’ve seen one before…haven’t you?” He asks.

“Yes, sir, in the community center.”

“And before that?”

“I can’t say that I have.” For a second he looks disappointed in you, and you want to change your answer and claim to have forgotten. But maybe he values honesty more than lies to seem cooler, you know you do. The thing makes another high pitched noise, snapping you out of your inner turmoil.

“They call themselves ‘Junimos’,” he chuckles for a second, eyes not leaving the tiny creature, “Mysterious spirits, these ones…for some reason, they refuse to speak with me.” His eyebrow quirks up, and the Junimo disappears after he does something with his hands.

He smiles at you, freezing your heart in place, then melting it. You felt warm inside, he made you feel warm inside. “I’m not sure why they’ve moved into the community center, but you have no reason to fear them.”

You move closer to him, to the source of warmth, and open your mouth to speak. “I…um. I found a golden scroll inside the community center, but it was written in a language I don’t understand. What should I do?”

“A golden scroll in an unknown language…most interesting…” his eyes light up and he snaps his fingers causing you to flinch. “Stay here. I’m going to see for myself. Don’t worry, I’ll return shortly.”

You frown at him, he was going to just leave you in his home? It will probably take at least an hour and a half to walk to the community center from here, and the same amount of time back. Were you supposed to just sit here? Before you could protest, the man spins himself around quickly, immediately disappearing from your view. What the fuck?

You spin around, trying to see if he’s tricked you or something, but you’re met with an empty house. You let out a breath, letting your lungs empty themselves from the anxiety that built up while you were in his presence.

As you breathe, the door behind you rattles, causing you to turn much too quickly that it causes you to get dizzy. All Rasmodius does is chuckle at your clumsiness. He moves towards the cauldron, smiling to himself. “I found the note…”

“That’s good! Were you able to read it?”

“The language is obscure, but I was able to decipher it: We, the Junimo, are happy to aid you. In return, we ask for gifts of the valley. If you are one with the forest then you will see the true nature of this scroll.”

You frown, obviously you weren’t one with the forest. You were a witch that had no idea how to use your powers, and lacked skills from the lack of a teacher. Now your ignorance was exposed because you weren’t ‘one with the forest.’ Before you could open your mouth to say something, Rasmodius spoke first.

“Hmm…’one with the forest’…what do they mean?”

He stood there silent for a minute, the only sound coming from him was the sniffling of his nose. “Ah-ha! Come here!” He beckons you over with a large grin. You immediately comply, rushing to his side to stand in front of the bubbling cauldron. The green mist coming from it smells nice, it smells like the earth and dirt. He grips your shoulders in excitement, it sends a wave of shock through your body. He was touching you? He had to have had a breakthrough or something.

“My cauldron is bubbling with ingredients from the forest. Baby fern, moss grub, caramel-top toadstool…! Can you smell it?” He pushes you closer to the mist, letting you breathe in the scent once more. He grabs a ladle and dips it into the cauldron, bringing up murky liquid and pouring it into a cup.

“Here, drink up. Let the essence of the forest permeate your body.”

You frown, not really wanting to drink first juice, but then again you didn’t want him to be disappointed in you. You’re a witch for god's sake! Drinking weird potions came with the label. He hands you the cup, and you stare down into it, breathing in deeply to try and calm yourself down. Swallowing the saliva in your mouth, you bring the cup up to your mouth and tilt it back.

The liquid is thicker than you would’ve liked, but for a second you felt fine. Your stomach rumbles, and you are overcome with the urge to vomit, you suck down gulps of air, only making the feeling worse as the taste was less than pleasant. Did you really just drink something random from his cauldron without an ounce of doubt? You hold your belly, trying to hold the vomit down, and the air around you turns green, as if the mist started filling the air while you were preoccupied. Your vision blurs and sways as you swallow down the spit that’s accumulating in your mouth. All you can see is green after a moment, and that fills you with panic.

The feeling subsided after five whole minutes, five horrible minutes, then your body vibrates in a way that confuses you. You can feel the air around you change, you can feel the earth in a way you haven’t before. Oh! You’ve gained the power of forest magic! Cool! Sucks that the potion tasted like ass.

Rasmodius starts shuffling you out of his tower, and you want to cry. Sure this is what you came for, but you still wanted to speak with him more. It almost felt like he was using you to communicate with the Junimos.

“When you finish gifting the Junimos, come tell me. Until then, don’t bother me.”

It took weeks, months, almost an entire year for you to gather everything to restore the community center. It took so much energy that you wanted to give up before you could complete anything. Sure farming was easy enough, but how are you supposed to make a living when the Junimos want everything that is the best quality? All you could do was remind yourself that you had to prove your worth in order to get Rasmodius to like you, to prove that you are worthy of teaching, worthy of someone enjoying your presence.

So you farm, dig, fish, barter, all for things to gift to the Junimos so they would in turn help the community. Every completed bundle you would hope you would find something, maybe a letter, in your mailbox from Rasmodius. No letter ever came. Yet you persist. You continue gifting, and the Junimos continue restoring things around the community center and the town. Eventually you bring the community tiger, you get Pam her old job back, you make the town a better place to live in, a warmer place to live in. Hell, you did so good that Joja Corporation left the town fully, not seeing any bright future when the small town was now tight knit to shop anywhere other than from someone within the community. Still, no letter came.

You befriend the Junimos during that time, laughing every time one or more of them come out to follow you around the community center. Their voices too quiet for you to catch more than a couple words, it didn’t scare you though, they were too friendly to try to hurt you. They were sweet, cute, almost like very smart pets that could understand exactly what you say. You could never keep one though, it seemed wrong. They seemed to like you enough, sometimes even helping out at the farm without you having to ask. Life was good without him, but there was still that nagging feeling that you needed to be around him. Maybe it was a crush, maybe it was the want to be better, it didn’t really matter, he didn’t wish to see you anyways.

Until he did…

You got a letter in the mail on a random weekday, asking for you to bring him some void essence that he could have. Your heart pounded with excitement that he had finally reached out. You spent all day down in the mines, cutting down monsters with your sword so energetically that you had to leave only after a couple of hours having run yourself ragged. Still, he wanted to see you, and maybe he would be happy when you brought him more than he needed.

The very next day you hurry to his tower, void essence in a cute little bag, just for him. Like with everyone else’s houses, you just walk in spotting him next to the cauldron, just like he was the last time you had seen him. “I have the void essence you wanted…”

His eyes meet yours and for a second you feel small under his gaze until he smiles at you, moving with his hands outstretched for the bag. You hand it over quickly, watching as he takes a bit of the essence out of the bag and plops it right into the cauldron. A purplish black smoke fills the air, causing the both of you to start coughing violently.

“Well,” he coughs, waving a hand around, “guess I should be glad that you brought me a bagful.”

His laughter makes you feel better, he didn’t hate you at all! Maybe he just needed to focus on his magic. “I finished restoring the community center with the help of the Junimos…” you start. You didn’t want to fade into an uncomfortable silence before he kicked you out again. You at least wanted to ask him if he could train you.

“I've seen. You’ve done good work bringing the community together. Did you ever find out anything about the Junimos?”

“No, not really. They’re just sweet little creatures that enjoy nature.”

“I see…” his eyes get a glaze over them as he falls back into his mind, and you watch in confusion. Were you supposed to be finding something out? God, you fucked up everything, huh?

“They have to have a little power though, right? They fixed the minecarts and the bus. I didn’t really have to rebuild anything in the community center; they did it all themselves overnight.”

He nods at your words, and the both of you once again fall into silence. “So um, I was wondering…if um…” Rasmodius doesn’t look up as you stutter over your words, and while it somewhat helps that he isn’t staring at you as you’re trying to ask, it sort of hurts that he isn’t really paying attention after you’ve (somewhat) gathered up the courage to ask him literally anything. “If you could, um, be my mentor? Teach me how to use magic? I mean, I’m already a witch, so it’s not like you’re starting from scratch, I just need help concentrating on using my powers, and potions, and…stuff.”

“Huh?” He finally looks up, only for a second, right into your eyes, “oh, sure. Be here next week at 9 pm.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him. Surprise crawls it’s way up your spine, he agreed way more easily than you thought he would. “Oh! Okay! See you next week!” You grin and walk out of his tower, your steps threaten to turn into hops as giddiness runs its course through your body.

Things are starting to look up.

A cloud of green smoke puffs up from the cauldron and into your lungs, you cough loudly as you fan your hand in the air, trying to get the rest of the smoke away from you. “And what did you do wrong?” Rasmodius asks, an unhappy look adorning his features. You frown sheepishly, embarrassment filling your body.

“I think I didn’t mix fast enough?” You question. It was hard to know what you were doing wrong when all you could focus on was not fucking up, and not disappointing him. With your luck you managed to do both.

“No!” His frown deepened, his dark eyes fixed into a glare. “You mixed too quickly, and too many times! The recipe says to mix 26 times counterclockwise at a moderate pace, then mix 38 times clockwise at a slow pace! You did all 64 one way and too quickly!”

“I’m sorry-“

“You need to pay more attention. It’s as if you’re not taking this seriously!”

Your heart drops into your ass at his words. Of course you were taking this seriously, this was all you ever wanted. You stutter out sounds, trying to deny his claims but all you can do is clammer up. He groans and tells you to repeat the potion.

Your heart beats erratically in your chest, in trying to concentrate harder all you do is make it worse, now being unable to read the words on the page. You fight the urge to tear up and fail, the tears running down your cheeks like a landslide. You try to keep your calm while remaking the potion, but again it puffs up in suffocating smoke as your tears add a component that wasn’t meant to be in it. You whimper quietly in mortification. What were you going to do now?

Rasmodius lets out another groan from somewhere beside you, the annoyance clear in his voice. “Go home. Practice making the spell right and return here next week. It’s clear that you’re not going to get anything done right now.”

You nod and gather your things and the ingredients you need to practice making the potion, maybe you just needed to calm down. As you speed walk out of his tower, your goodbyes fall on deaf ears, he doesn’t reply even as the door swings shut behind you. Taking in a shaky breath, you let the tears fall freely, releasing the burning sensation that had taken over your entire face from how hard you were trying to keep your composure.

‘He’s just trying to look out for me,’ you think to yourself, your steps heavy as you walk home. ‘He just wants me to do my best…’. It seems as if everything that goes up, must come down.

You squeal in excitement as your potion turns out the correct color, on your first try. You grin happily, it had been months since you first started being mentored by Rasmodius, and while some of it was harsh and difficult, you see now exactly why he had been tough on you. It was more rewarding than you thought it would be finally completing your first potion on your own. The wizard grabs you and pulls you into a hug, a bright smile on his face. Your stomach bursts into butterflies as he holds you. “Amazing!”

For the past few months he’s been tutoring you, correcting you, making you the best witch that you can be. And just a little it’s paid off. Soon enough, you’ll be great, soon enough you’d be able to save people. This potion is just a test, to see if you could make something. It’s supposed to turn a person into a dove. Something that Rasmodius says he can already do without anything helping him. “Now, we just need a practice dummy.”

“A practice dummy?” You ask, looking at him in curiosity. He never said anything about using it on someone, but then again you think, how else would you be able to tell if you’ve made the potion correctly or not?

“Yes!” He looks absolutely giddy over the thought of you testing this on something.

“What are we testing it on?”

His eyes are alight with mischief, and yet he doesn’t answer you. Something seems off, but you can’t bring yourself to seem upset or care about it, he just looks so happy.

“Pierre?” You exclaim in horror, staring at Rasmodius. He nodded vigorously, seemingly excited about using the dove potion on Pierre. You didn’t understand why, and he refused to elaborate as he tried to convince you to get him to drink the potion.

“He is on his way here now! You have to get him to drink the potion.”

“And turn him into a dove? I don’t think I can do that, sir.”

“You will, or you can stop showing up here.”

Your heart drops and beats inside of your stomach. He was making you choose between turning a man into a dove for however long, and your work with him? By first look it seems like an obvious choice: do NOT turn the innocent man into a dove that’s RUDE. But your heart wanted you to choose Rasmodius, to not give up on learning how to be the best witch that you can be, even if it takes doing morally questionable things. So that’s what you do, accept what he wants you to do.

When Pierre knocks on the door he looks pissed, and he barges in without saying anything to you. “Where is he?”

You’re confused, even though you know he probably means Rasmodius. “He-he’s here somewhere. I mean it is his house and all. Why are you here?”

Pierre finally looks at you in confusion, as if he’s seeing that you’re in the same room as him for the first time. “He called me here to talk about my wife! As if he knows her at all. Y’know I knew something was up when she took all those walks nearby. I shouldn’t have trusted that man.”

“Do…do you want any tea? While you wait?”

Pierre frowns then nods after a second, as if you’ve made a wrong choice by not meeting him at the door with tea. So you nod, and go and heat some up in a kettle, adding the potion and mixing it. It’s only a bit, the cup tiny, only enough for a shot. But it should be enough for him to turn. You return to the living room, handing Pierre the cup. He downs it immediately, smacking his lips loudly in disgust. His face twists up unhappily and he glares at you.

“Did it taste okay?”

“No it didn’t taste okay! It tasted horrible! Why offer to make tea if you don’t know how to?”

You blink in surprise at his words, maybe he was just upset at Rasmodius’ supposed affair with Caroline. Maybe somewhere in his brain he knows that he’s going to be turned into a dove.

Rasmodius reveals himself after a second, a smirk on his face. For some reason something feels wrong about this scenario, but he’d never actually hurt anyone…would he? “You know…I’ve been waiting on this for a very long time, Pierre.”

You frown and back away from the man. What the fuck is happening? “You stay away from my wife!”

Rasmodius shrugs his shoulders, still smirking at him as if he’s looking forward to the man being turned into a dove. Is this all he used you for? “Well you won’t be able to do anything about it now. Not anymore.”

Pierre grunts in pain, gripping his stomach and doubling over. “What did you do to me?” He screams out as he drops to his knees. You rush over to him only to be shoved away with all of his remaining energy.

“You never said it was going to cause him pain!” You shout at Rasmodius and he shrugs again. “How long will this last? I mean he won’t be a dove forever will he?”

“He will, but it’s okay. No one will know what we did. The idiot didn’t tell anyone he was coming here. So as long as no one has seen him, no one will know.”

Pierre screams out again, the pure agony in his voice causes you to flinch and cover your ears. “But still! He’s in pain! And he can’t be a dove forever! What about his family?”

“They’ll be okay without him.”

You blink at him, where did this attitude come from? Like actually what is wrong with him? Pierre lets out one final shriek, body writhing on the ground. White feathers grow out of his skin, and you can hear his bones cracking loudly as his arms force themselves into itself. His mouth and nose stretch out and combine, and his head shrinks.

It looks absolutely painful and by the end he is a tiny little bird, ruffling its wings. Rasmodius picks it up and throws the dove Pierre into a cage rather roughly. You gasp as his tiny little body crashes into the bars, a sort of yelp coming from his beak. Guilt wraps itself around each and every body part of yours, around each and every internal organ you have. You almost want to vomit from the feeling. Rasmodius just laughs, locking the cage not even looking at you.

You’ve definitely done something wrong.

Going into town has been something you’ve avoided for weeks now, unable to handle seeing Caroline and Abigail cry at all. They have no idea what has happened to Pierre, and it’s not as if you can tell them since you’re responsible, so you avoid them at all costs. Now the only person you interact with is Rasmodius, and sometimes it feels as if you were stuck with him. He kept a close eye on you now, watching your every move. He told you as much. If he goes down, so do you.

Your body sags as you enter the tower, it’s become normal for you to be unable to sleep, yet the man you thought you idolized and maybe even loved seemed more like a stranger. Maybe he had always been one.

You hear a small squeal as you enter the tower, causing you to rush in, heart and head thumping. A tiny blue Junimo lies underneath the boot of Rasmodius. You don’t know what he was doing, but it seemed as if he was going to do something unthinkable.

You rush in, pushing Rasmodius down and off of the Junimo. It seemed smaller than the others, and the second his boot was off of it, it disappeared. “What are you doing?”

He glared at you so hard you felt as if your insides were on fire. Is this really the man you had a crush on? “Getting them to give me what I want. More power.”

“But that looked like a baby! And you can do enough, what do you need more power for?”

“To protect people! To protect everyone! No one else would need to die if I could just figure out how to get a little more power. If I could get the secrets of the universe! I know the Junimos have it.”

“So you’re going to torture them until they give in?”

He gets up from his position on the floor, and his eyes flash with something that causes a shiver to go down your spine. “Farmer! You don’t think that I’m actually going to harm them right?” He moves towards you slowly.

“You hurt Pierre, turned him into a dove, his family is hurt too…”

“Oh but you did that, you made the potion and gave it to him. I just supplied the space. Besides, you know I just want what’s good for the world right? You trust me.”

“I don’t know…” he’s touching you now, a hand on your shoulder and one wrapped around your waist. You can feel his breath on your face from how close he is.

“I mean, you wanted to be with me right? Well you can, I’m giving you a chance. Just…ignore my methods and help me save everyone. Be my assistant and everything will be fine.” He presses a quick kiss to your lips and your heart flips uncomfortably. It wasn’t how you thought it would be…the feeling was more painful than you imagined your heart would be in.

“I don’t think so…”

“Imagine the power…how much people will worship us for saving all of humanity. No more wars, no more killing…all because of us.”

You want to fall for it so badly, but the tone of his voice keeps you from falling into a delusion. He never loved you at all, and now he’s using your crush on him to try to manipulate you. If he had been a little less insane sounding, you probably would’ve fallen for it, for him. But now all you can feel are ants crawling in the places that he’s touching you in.

“No”. You scramble backwards, away from him and the sheer insanity he was exuding, there’s obviously something wrong with him. It was like there was a shadow, around his body, shrouding everything in black. Turning to run, he stops you, tackling you to the ground. The wind is knocked out of your lungs as he sits on top of you. Your stomach twists in fear. What was he going to do?

Your mouth is forced open and he pours something on your face. It burns so badly that you feel as if your skin is melting. You scream out, your vision flickering as you struggle to stay awake, he holds you still beneath him. The last thing you hear is his laughter as you’re forcibly put to sleep.

The light fills your eyes as they’re cut on all too suddenly. ‘He’s back!’ Rasmodius enters the basement of his tower, staring at you with affection in his eyes. You can’t help but feel absolute happiness as he looks at you. You push your hands through the bars of your cage, rattling your chain in order to reach out to him.

He shoves food into your hands, sitting in his chair as he watches you devour your first and last meal of the day. You’re a good pet, he’s trained you to be. He laughs and you look up at him to smile, mouth full. While you don’t remember how you got here, you know you only have one job, to do whatever he wants.

Man, isn’t life great?

And I'll stand there with the Wizard. Feeling things I've never felt. And though I'd never show it I'd be so happy, I could melt. And so it will be for the rest of my life. And I'll want nothing else 'til I die. Held in such high esteem. When people see me, they will scream. For half of Oz's favorite team. The Wizard and I

[tev-the-random]

So I may have come up with a whole Villain Jimmy AU...

Listen. I have way too many feelings about the events of Jimmy's Empires S2 Episode 31 and the immediate following stream. I also have way, way too many feelings about whatever the hell is happening in Sausage's and Shubble's lore and whatever is to come in Lizzie's, so I decided to only indulge one brainrot at a time and came up with... an interesting concept? I dunno, I'm easily entertained—

(There's a TLDR at the end if you don't want to read my insane and incessant ramblings o3o)

Ok so, after Walmart WRA kills Jimmy on the bridge for the kicks and giggles, Jimmy really starts questioning just what respect is and who his friends actually are. The conclusion? Dude has absolutely zero friends. Sure, he has this truce going on with Joel, and Katherine has been somewhat trustworthy so far. But actual friends? Nada. Closest thing he had were Scar and Tango, but they're gone now and he didn't even get a proper goodbye. His town is empty. He's alone.

Jimmy may be quick to anger, but this might be the first time he actually allows himself to be sad about it. There's something much more painful than rage crawling inside of him; be it guilt, self-hatred, loneliness, betrayal, there's just so much he's been burying under all the fighting that he can barely breathe through it all now. But once it's over, Jimmy's left with a strange feeling of clarity. This cold bitterness and complicated self-awareness that would turn into something far more sinister in the future.

The next day is really what decides his next course of action, though. He's touring the Old Sheriff around the server, kind of holding onto the last hope that someone might want him to stay after all. But then Fwhip comes along and decides that no, he doesn't get to have this, so they start bickering like the old divorced couple they are, like nothing's changed. Somehow, Fwhip manages to charm his way into the Old Sheriff's good books despite everything that Jimmy has said about his ex-deputy.

Martyn (that's what I'm calling him, he doesn't get his own name now) laughs at his jokes, makes little comments that... sound so familiar to Jimmy. This is how it all started: little comments — and this is how it's going to end. Maybe the Old Sheriff has good intentions. Maybe he does have the intention to stick with Jimmy and be a friend/mentor to him. But Jimmy, still raw from his most recent disillusionment, can't bear the thought of befriending someone only to have the rug pulled from under him again.

So Jimmy leaves Tumble Town in the dead of night.

Now, his first objective is to bring himself back to normal. He had to admit, no matter how hard he tried, it was hard to gather any respect from others when he was trapped in the body of a literal toy. He had already asked Joel to reverse this nonsense, but the god only offhandedly mentioned that this was Jimmy's true form and that it was how he was meant to look — which Jimmy took as "I have no idea how to, my name is Joel and I'm irresponsible with my powers and incompetent and also really short". So his next destination is the Witch Academy.

He had heard about the them from Shelby. She was a nice witch — or, well, nice enough. She was clearly going through some stuff at the moment, which is why he thought it would be better not to ask her for help to begin with — and was clearly able to change people's bodies, whether intentionally or not. So surely the people who taught her magic would be able to help him, right?

Little did Jimmy know that most witches do not, in fact, give a damn about helping other people. After travelling far and wide, he explained his curse to them, and all they did was close the door on his face.

Well, he's not having it! If the witches won't help him, he'll find someone else who will! This is when Jimmy starts travelling around in search of someone, anyone who could undo his curse so he may start his life anew. Through all the ensuing shenanigans, he gathers some... interesting allies.

It's not that he wants to ally himself with undead pirates; he may not be a sheriff anymore, but that doesn't mean he's about to become a criminal! But alas, when the boat he's travelling with is captured, it's not like he can do much else.

Jimmy is spared due to his... interesting predicament. Well, surely this tiny tiny man could be useful! Besides, didn't he use to live close to Pirate Joe? So in exchange for some information on Skeletron's rival and helping them get some treasure for a little while, Jimmy is dropped off at the next port with directions to a shady wizard who might be able to solve his problem.

When he gets to said wizard, they are already expecting him. You see, this is the same wizard who gave Scott his magic eye, and although I'm sure we'll get some actual canon explanation to it eventually, this is an AU in which the wizard may have some... ulterior motives. And they may or may not have been spying on a certain god who lives very close to Chromia. But that's a story for another time!

Jimmy wakes up the next day his normal-sized, human self again! It's almost overwhelming, how much he loves his own body right now. His chest quite literally aches... and that's when he notices a heart-shaped scar on it.

The wizard is still around. They explain to him that, to deal with the curse, they had to remove his heart. Literally. They stored it in this lamp, which emits a blinding red glow — an indicative of how strong it is, how much it feels. The farther away he is from it, the more detached he will be from his feelings. Although that would mean he should probably carry it close at all times, he should not forget that it is still his actual heart; you better keep it safe, kid.

Now that the deed is done, the only thing that the wizard asks for is a front row view when Stratos falls. Jimmy carries a lot of grief, clearly, and if they know anything about him — which they shouldn't, but they strangely do, — he is going to get back at the people who made him miserable for so long. It just so happens that the wizard also has a beef with Joel, so really, they both win in the end!

After some not-so-subtle persuasion and reminders of all the horrible things Jimmy had to endure in the past, the wizard manages to convince our ex-sheriff into going back to the empires to truly bring an end to this story of pain. He's never going to be able to start anew unless he gets rid of all traces of his weak past self, right? His enemies deserve to reap the hate they've sown fashioned in cold blood, right?

And so Jimmy concocts a plan, gathers resources and new (purely professional and with no emotional attachment, never again) allies, and returns to Tumble Town a new man with a new name. In the day, he's a charming and friendly traveller sneaking his way into the emperors' hearts. At night, he's a dangerous bandit carrying a lamp of dwindling red light, playing a game of metaphorical chess with the authorities to bring the pieces of his plan closer together.

-

TL;DR Jimmy leaves the empires bitter with his friends, searches for a way to turn back into a regular human and finds a wizard who does so in exchange for being able to watch the world burn. To reverse the curse, he had to lose his heart, which he now carries in a red lantern closely tied to his feelings. He goes back home for revenge.

Calling this one the Red Light Bandit AU òwó

[dustedmagazine]

The Spatulas — Beehive Mind (Post Present Medium)

Earlier this year, I wrote that The Spatulas’ March Chant EP presented “an adept rock band that plays messy while sounding polished.” Still true of Beehive Mind, the group’s earthy, thumping debut full-length. This time around they’ve refined their identity, constraining the dizzy edge that developed on songs like “Psychic Signal” in favor of the bushy stride they found on “Slinger Style.” The resulting music is richer, with the band more inclined to settle into lively, jingling grooves. Like its predecessor, to listen to Beehive Mind is still to hear four people make joyfully askew, introspective rock & roll in a room together, but with maybe a few more rugs laid out and a window opened on the evergreens.

Beehive Mind isn’t a showy record, but nor is it a shy one. “Somewhat Alike,” a winding mid-tempo romp, is representative. The band builds an organic cacophony out of eddying guitar and an articulate, just-right rhythm section; the swirl never overwhelms, but persists, reinforcing the song’s momentum. While March Chant often thrived in dissonance, with its psychedelia shaded no wave, Beehive Mind blooms naturalistic, humming and buzzing like a walk in the woods. That’s a credit to the band’s unfussy instrumental cohesion and, in particular, to the texture created by Lila Jarzombek’s intuitive lead guitar. You hear it on “Somewhat Alike,” when she grinds off a storm of sparks that clouds and complicates vocalist and rhythm guitarist Miranda Soileau-Pratt’s intrepid chord progression, or when a spiral of acute notes poke melodic pinholes in “The Long Way”’s homey atmosphere.

In Beehive Mind’s folky, punky weave of noise and tuneful DIY sensibility, you can also hear the influence of the Dunedin sound. Soileau-Pratt has cited The Bats, in particular, as being formative, which is apparent in the baroque jangle of “The Long Way” or the bright, relentless “Maya.” 1960s garage rockers like The Kingsmen, or The Sonics on “Have Love, Will Travel,” come to mind in the album’s edgier moments. “Shedded Life,” for instance, shows this other side of The Spatulas. It kicks off with Jon Grothman’s stern, rubbery bass before the rest of the band joins in. There’s more menace in the music here. Kyle Raquipiso drums with a greater tension while the guitars march, sheer and resolute under an urgent Soileau-Pratt — as I was on March Chant, I’m reminded of Patti Smith at her most righteous and belligerent. Soileau-Pratt is a flexible and emotive annunciator and, Smith aside, can evoke singers as disparate as Nico or Joanna Newsom – her wide vowels on the very Nico “Somewhat Alike” line “are you forever drowning?” or her crinkled croon on the closer, “Frontotemporal,” respectively.

Perhaps the most moving and telling song is the title track. A glistening guitar sets us off on the same wistful path as Bill Direen’s “Do You” before gathering forward on an eloquent bassline. The feeling is similar to the simple, sparkling melancholy of Beat Happening’s “Indian Summer,” but lusher. As “Beehive Mind” ebbs and flows, a drone streams off of the entire band, highlighting each player but holding them together as a collective. That unfussy cohesion again. Because “Frontotemporal” is just voice and a single guitar, “Beehive Mind” is the last time we hear The Spatulas swaying and dipping, seeking as one. Plenty of groups play well together, but The Spatulas play affectionately together. It’s communal music. We should all be so lucky to have friends like these. If you happen to, consider starting a band.

Alex Johnson

[batrachised]

Your turn to gush about Star Wars! What do you love? Who are your favorite characters? Do you have a favorite era?

Favorite character? Where do I even BEGIN?

It's funny because I completely recognize that Star Wars came up with interesting worlds and uniquely creative concepts and that Disney somewhat continues that effort - Jedi Knights are rad, the Force is fascinating (if nebulous), the idea of a rebellion fighting an Empire compelling - but to me what's interesting is that (1) Luke Skywalker is Vader's son and (2) Luke saves Vader. Star Wars could have been about long haul truckers for all I cared about the other aspects of the story. I like them; they make it all the stronger; but to me, those two points are Star Wars magic sauce and what distinguishes it from other sci-fi action shows.

As far as fav characters, to self-plagiarize a little, it's my man himself, Uncle D (as that one long-lost legends character would say). I love Darth Vader to a point that is probably concerning. Haven't we all been tempted to snap an incompetent coworker's neck? (okay, okay, maybe that's going a little far). He's the most powerful person ever except when it comes to emotional boundaries or boundaries in general. He's capable of leveling planets but he's not capable of having a normal conversation with someone. The comedic potential is endless. The tragedy is depthless. You can make him ridiculous. You can make him terrifying. You can make him twisted. You can make him too honest. All of these characterizations are true to who he is yet somehow don't contradict. I think almost every star wars fanfic i've ever written (and I've written over 357k words of sw fanfic) has him in it in some way shape or form. He's one of the most iconic figures in cinematic history for a reason.

My favorite eras are shrinking more and more as retconning keeps pulling the rug out from under the fandom's feet, but I'll go with the OT and TCW. i also am increasingly wistful for the time of Legends - sure, half those stories were weird as hell, but it was in a knobbily charming way versus the slick blandness that characterizes a lot of media today. Also, I loved the legends grandkids so much, especially Ben Skywalker. He and Anakin Solo are two characters that I really wish had more of a fandom presence.

I think as i get older, what interests me about star wars are the people behind the scenes. I love thinking about what it must be like to be the maintenance man for Vader's med-droids, or Palpatine's tax accountant, or an intern for the Empire. It must be ridiculous to have to live in a universe run by murderous space wizards that switch out the government as often as changing a pair of socks. Imagine having to change all the forms from saying "Galactic Republic" to "Empire" (what, I'm really fun at parties). They're ideas I love kicking around my brain a lot!

[short-and-ugly]

ooh u wanna tell me about your little guys so bad oohhh (doesn’t know anything about them)

SSSNIFFF...,,,. hrrugh. eeuaohghg. pjinky........ pinky hhhhgnr. theyre in LOF.... whe

im a sucker for romance and a bigger sucker for TRAGEDY and its HITTING me now its fucking HITTING me

gummy (pronounced goo-me. very important) is an irken that has never stepped foot on irk. he doesnt know anything about his own species other than things that hes heard from secondary sources. ruthless savages and lazy pigs that want nothing than to kill and conquer every single planet in the galaxy. and these sources arent wrong! irkens really are Just Like that

gummy wasnt raised by the empire. he never meets any irkens until later on in his life. hes so far away from any irken territory that it was basically impossible for him to meet any, up until recently/in the future.

he was found eating some gourds and other plants in the backyard of a random retired alien. retired alien who completely accidentally raised him into a mini-grump, even teaching him to speak and read, imparting knowledge on the tiny little irken pest, for a total of five months-ish before his landlord came in and found out he was providing an irken with refuge, and caused gummys sorta-parental-figure to kick gummy out and ultimately end up dying because of him.

all because that alien showed some mercy to an irken. pity? i dunno what goes on in grumps mind hes a complete enigma to me. all i know is that hes an ass and him dying wasnt any grand act of self-sacrifice, only an inevitability.

but gummy still sees it as sacrifice, years later.

he hates irkens.

he holds on to that view when he meets bink! his second guardian-of-sorts. kinda. shes a teenager still at this point but gummy is also like the irken equivalent of ten so it works out.

he was living rugged for a bit. without grumps, he had no steady roof to live under. stealing bits and bobs and food to carry him along, until he stole from the wrong person and ended up a captive to binks crew. space pirates.... i love space.

but wait! theres more!

gummy had a map. one he kept from grumps! he lies and says that its a treasure map, and that the place marked on it holds riches beyond any of the pirates wildest imaginations!

he doesnt know if it actually does, or not. hes never been, and grumps had gummy leave before telling him anything about it.

bink reveals herself as the ship's captain and chooses to take gummy's word as truth. hes still a captive, and if this results in a wild goose chase, she and her crew get to punish him as they please.

when the marked location ends up having nothing for them, the crew get angry. this irken lied to them! they should throw him out in deep space and watch his body implode!

bink. comes from a species that had their planet conquered by the irken empire, under miyuki's ruling. she hates irkens. dedicates herself to ruining the lives of as many irkens as she can. she holds that dedication one step below keeping herself and her crew alive. she believes that no irken is capable of good. no irken deserves to live, if she has any say in it.

she has every reason to follow through with her threats, to take her crews advice and let him die painfully.

she doesnt kill him.

she lets him live. forces him to become a crew member. not a respected one! hes like the towel boy of space pirates. worse than an irken drone -- and those have literally nothing.

eventually, he gains... somewhat of a place, with her and the rest of the crew. they start recognizing him as a person. it helps that hes grown up quite a decent bit.

bink even starts to enjoy having him around. his position was meant to be something to be hated, a power she could hold over him -- but he wormed his way into her heart. a terrible thing.

something happens. something big.

bink gets hurt, half of the crew wiped out.

and its gummys fault. proving what bink, and what everyone else thinks about irkens, to be true.

they have no good in them. not a single bit.

gummy is forced into a bad position. there is no place for him in this universe, and he isnt taking his chances with the irken empire -- most hated enemy by literally everyone that's ever heard of them -- so he takes his chances in other places.

space clowns. are an entirely separate ordeal that i wont explain fully here but basically its like a cult where you lose all your sense of self. if youre a space clown you are no longer an individual. youre expected to do everything for the cause. mayhem and mischief and suffering and mania everywhere.

gummy didnt really understand the whole loss-of-self part of space clownism... his personality is a bit too strong for it to be completely erased like that. but his time as a clown still has some of his most miserable moments!

he hates irkens more than ever, but more than that, he just really hates himself.

he wasnt raised irken, but he still ended up becoming one.

the only one that breaks him out of it is another irken, years later.

they taught him to be better. taught him how to show the kindness that hed forgotten, taught him how to fall in love -- and even they still end up dead.

it was a completely avoidable death. they didnt tell him how to save them. they didnt want saving.

they hated irkens too.

i already have every major point of gummys story fleshed out..., the only conclusive sorta ending i have in mind is him reconciling with and hugging bink. thats it. shes an old coot now. her species doesnt last as long as his does. shes going to die too, eventually. everyone just fucking leaves him man and i made it that way. this is awful. i love it. i should create more people for him to befriend and lose. its a beautiful horrible cycle.

[backtothefanfiction]

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Eight: There's No Remedy for Memory

Summary: No matter how much we try, we can't live in the past or ignore who we've become.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, typical genre violence, mentions of blood, guns, torture, brief mention of bombing/explosion, angst, tension, complicated marriage, implied death

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: After last chapters fun, our couple are crashing right back down to reality. Things are about to get very dramatic and tense over the next couple of chapters. No matter how much our lovers wish everything to be okay, you can't just live in a bubble of bliss and sweep everything under the rug. We are also gonna get a little look at their first meeting. Title comes curtesy of yet another Lana Del Rey lyric, this time from the song Dark Paradise. As always if you enjoy, reblog and give me feedback, it keeps me going.

EIGHT

The fluorescent lights were bright as she made her way down the long corridor. Although the doors that lined the corridor were shut, she didn’t feel like they were locked or closed off to her. As she continued to walk down the hall she realised it felt familiar. She didn’t know how, all she knew was that she was supposed to go through the door at the end.

Her fingers reached absentmindedly for the handle with one hand, the other hand seemed to be rooting around for something in her pocket. There was the faint sound of music, but she couldn’t work out where it was coming from.

Suddenly she was in one of her Dad’s old warehouses. She was walking into the office, her feet kicking up onto a faded wooden coffee table as she took a seat on a sofa. 

She turned her head to see her Mom sitting working away at a desk. She was surrounded by mountains of paperwork and looked somewhat stressed, but whenever she looked at her she always had a smile on her face.

“I’ll be right back,” she suddenly said as she rose from her seat and began to make her way to the office door. “Just wait in here, okay?” She said, “I’m just gonna go talk to your Dad. Do you wanna go and get something to eat soon?” She asked as she hesitated at the door.

“Yeah.” Angel said as she looked up from the textbook on her lap. “Can we get Tai?” She asked.

“You know what?” Her mother responded. “I think Tai sounds great. I’ll ask your Dad, okay?”

“Okay.” Angel beamed as she looked back down at the textbook.

She couldn’t make out the writing on the page and she suddenly had this sense of foreboding, like she knew something bad was about to happen. She tried to get the version of herself to look around or stand up or do something, but she didn’t have any control.

‘Come on.’ She thought to herself in her head as she willed the younger version of herself to move. ‘Move. MOVE!’ She said louder in her head, but it was no use.

There was a sudden explosion that knocked her sideways. The frosted glass window to her right shattered and she fell off the sofa, her head hitting the coffee table as she went down. 

She was groggy and groaned as she tried to move, her body was suddenly so heavy. She was acutely aware of the adrenaline beginning to flood through her as her ears rang and took a moment to adjust. 

“Uhhhgg. Mom?” She whined as she rolled herself over. “MOM!” She cried out, but there was no one there.

Her lungs protested as she began to breathe in smoke and she could feel the heat from the now raging fire spreading through the adjacent room as she tried to stand.

Her legs felt like jelly, fingers fumbling for purchase on the closest item of furniture to pull herself up. She coughed loudly before she cried out again, her eyes trying to clear and see through the smoke but her head was throbbing, her ears still faintly ringing, everything sounded muffled. “Mom?! Dad?!” She screamed.

Suddenly a figure came barrelling through the half broken door. She saw a flash of red and blue.

“Hey it’s okay, I got you, I got you.” A boy's voice said.

‘A boy? That couldn’t be right. I thought it was Man, Spider-Man.’

“Hey can you walk?” He asked. She was so confused and dizzy. “Hey, hey! Look at me! Look at me, okay? I’m gonna get you out of here.”

Peter’s neck began to prickle, his body growing tight, adrenaline coursing through him as he slowly became alert, his body dragging him from his slumber, just before-

“Agghhggg.” She cried out as she sat bolt upright in bed. One of her hands clutched to her chest while the other grasped frantically over the bed covers.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He said softly as he sat up, his arm wrapping around her, immediately trying to comfort and ground her. “Hey it’s okay, baby I’m here, I’ve got you.”

She let out a large sigh as she finally began to process the reality around her, her body finding safety in his presence as she folded her body into his embrace. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” He continued to coo as he brushed his hand over the back of her head and rocked her slowly against his body.

Her chest continued to heave, her breaths were shallow and short. “Breathe, baby, just breathe.” He said slowly, elongating the words, coaching her as he continued to do all he could to soothe her. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He kept saying as tears began to roll down her cheeks, her sleep-addled brain slowly processing the dream and the memory.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He continued to whisper to her in the dark.

“Peter?” She finally said, her voice a broken question as if to check it was really him.

“Yeah, it’s me, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you baby, I promise.” He said as he kissed the top of her head.

They stayed there tangled up in the sheets and each other's arms for a moment as her breathing settled.

“I’m sorry.” She finally croaked into the dark.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He repeated as she slowly began to separate herself from him. “You still have the same dream?” He asked, but he already knew the answer.

He felt her head bob in the dark, a silent nod of confirmation. “It’s been a while though.” She sniffed as her hand raised to wipe away the tears from her cheeks. Her skin felt tight and dry as the salty tears began to dry.

He reached out for her, tucking her into his side as he lay back down into the pillows. His fingers traced across her bare skin as he held her close and she settled against his shoulder. His thumb traced the edges of the surgical patch covering her stitches as he listened to her heartbeat begin to slow, her breathing growing deeper and deeper until he knew she had fallen back asleep. 

Peter shifted his free hand behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, sleep eluding him now he was awake. It wasn’t uncommon for her nightmares to trigger his senses, but it had been so long he’d forgotten what it felt like.

He grew restless, his fingers reaching for his phone only to realise it was still downstairs. He checked to make sure she was still fast asleep before he gently eased his arm out from under her. He rubbed the lingering sleep from his eyes as he got up, padding across the soft carpet to the bathroom to relieve himself before grabbing himself a pair of black linen pyjama pants from the wardrobe. 

He paused for a moment in the doorway as he watched her sleep, his ears listening and counting her heartbeats as his eyes followed the steady rise and fall of her chest.

He reluctantly pulled himself away, making his way downstairs to the kitchen. He rubbed at his eyes again as he searched for his phone, finding it on the kitchen counter next to her shoes. When he opened it up and finally took the phone off aeroplane mode there was a flurry of dings and messages.

Angel woke a couple of hours later to find herself alone in bed. Her fingers brushed across the soft cotton sheets to find them cold, his body long gone. She groaned slightly as her fingers clawed at her pillow, willing sleep to return but it wouldn’t, the sun creeping through the cracks around the blinds. She sighed as she rolled herself over before sitting up, her hands scratching through her hair as she yawned. Her body felt so tired yet so sated, the memory of the night before playing back in her mind.

She reluctantly pulled herself from the soft covers as she went to explore the bathroom. The shelves and draws were stocked with all her old favourites. She’d missed a lot of them, many of them unavailable to her in Italy and then forgotten about once she moved back in with her Dad. She pulled a pomegranate and orange scented shampoo and conditioner set off of one of the shelves, placing it on a ledge built into the wall of the black subway tiled shower. She then grabbed a rose and eucalyptus shower gel, placing it next to the other items in the shower, before switching it on. She turned to the large mirror and double vanity as the water warmed. Her eyes fell to the patch on her shoulder, her fingers picking at the corners to peel it off. 

She hadn’t looked at it since Peter had stitched it up. Darker clumps of blood had scabbed under the stitches and there were patchy bruises surrounding the tender skin. She was careful with it as she got into the water, trying not to get it too wet so the stitches would continue to hold and the skin wouldn’t become pliant and split.

She relished in the fruity and floral smells of the products. Although she had enjoyed her showers and even long soaks in the bath at her Dad’s since she had been back, none of them felt as luxurious as this. She stood in the flow of the rainfall shower head, her head tipped back allowing the water to flow down her body as she allowed herself to close her eyes, to relish in the steam, the dim lights of the shower and that feeling of comfort and home.

When she got out the shower she wrapped herself in a brand new towel, the fluffy white texture soft and warm against her skin. She began to search through the cupboards in the bathroom for a first aid kit, finally finding one tucked way in the back under the sink. Her damp fingers fumbled with a new patch to cover her stitches, her hands cautiously dabbing at the wound until it was dry enough she could get the patch to stick. It was a little bit wonky from where she had struggled to get the angle of it by herself, but she could feel the whole wound was covered so she didn’t mind. She roughly towel dried her hair before she went out into the dressing room. She carefully slipped her arms into a plain black vest top before slipping her legs into a fresh pair of cotton pyjama bottoms covered in red, blue and yellow stripes. 

When she went downstairs to the kitchen she didn’t expect anyone to be home, her old routine kicking in as she hunted in the cupboards for her old favourite, English letter box red, Le Creuset mug, placing it under the coffee machine as she reached for one of the pods in a jar beside it, her fingers hitting the button making the machine roar to life.

“Good Morning!” His voice greeted her from the living room area. He couldn’t help the smile that toyed with the corners of his lips as she did a little jump before she turned, her fingers clutching gently to her chest.

“Oh! Morning.” She sighed a smile forming on her face as she looked at him, dressed in a pair of slacks and a black button up shirt, the first three buttons of which were left open, his sleeves rolled up messily revealing his forearms. “I didn’t expect you to still be here. What time is it?”

“Nine.” He replied as the coffee machine stopped and she turned to pick up her cup. She took a sip as she shuffled across the floor towards him, leaning against the arm of the sofa as she took him in. “I’m waiting on a delivery.” He said as he looked down at his phone in his fingers, reading over a message before tapping out a quick reply.

“What kind of delivery?” She queried but her answers were delayed by the sound of the elevator reaching their floor, two male voices echoing around the small foyer outside before they let themselves in.

Eddie and Harry barrelled into the living space. “Took us all night but we’ve finally got him.” Harry said confidently as he swaggered into the room, moving around the sofa opposite them and flopping back onto the cushions. 

“Yo, Pete, you got anything to eat? I’m starving.” Eddie exclaimed as he made his way towards the fridge.

Angel watched as Eddie began to pull out a large bottle of orange juice, twisting the cap off and raising it to his mouth. 

“You know there’s glasses in the cupboard.” Angel said loudly in his direction making him freeze as she took a sip of her coffee, her eyebrows raising at him encouraging him to make the right choice.

“Heh, you got told.” Harry said as he watched Eddie shuffle towards the cupboards above the counters, opening them up and looking for the glasses. As he pulled one down he shot Harry a look as if to say ‘don’t push your luck’.

“So where is he then?” Peter asked to the room, waiting for either one of them to respond.

“We left him downstairs with Cat.” Harry replied as he began to fiddle with his sunglasses.

“You what?” Peter asked.

“Cat’s a big girl Pete, she can handle herself.” Harry replied nonchalantly.

“Felicia’s not who I’m worried about.” Peter said as he began to stand, he had that scary calm look to his eyes again as he began to collect some things; his phone, a lighter, his gun, placing the smaller items in his pockets, the gun getting slotted into his waistband at his back. He then made his way over to his wife, one of his hands resting on her thigh as he leaned into her, placing a kiss against her cheek before he said, “I don’t know if you want to quickly change your trousers but can you quickly go and grab yourself some shoes, I need you to come downstairs with me for a minute.”

She changed into a pair of black wide legged trousers before slipping into a pair of Louis Vuittons and heading back down to meet them. She took the rest of her coffee with her as she followed them to the elevator.

“I see the elevator works now.” She commented as they all filed inside and Eddie hit a button for the basement. 

“Yeah, I had a guy come out and do it this morning whilst you were still in bed.” Peter replied but he didn’t pull his eyes from his phone. They continued to ride the rest of the way down in silence, the only noise, the small bell of the elevator to say it had arrived.

They followed a dark corridor to the end where it veered left, the space opening up slightly, a desk with computer screens showing a range of surveillance camera footage sat to the right side of the square floor space. There were three adjacent doors that surrounded them, one built into each wall except the back wall, the direction they just came. Harry stepped forward leading them to the door set  into the right side of the wall directly in front of them. He opened the door and each one of them filed in. Harry went through the door first, propping it open as Peter entered, followed by Eddie, then Angel, hesitantly bringing up the rear as she tried to work out what was going on.

The room was like a concrete box. There were a couple of steel topped tables that lined either side of the room along with a large red multi drawered tool box, almost like what you’d get in a car garage. In the middle of the room sat a chair and on that chair was a man, face slightly bloodied, hands bound, mouth gagged. Silent tears streaked from the corners of his eyes mixing with the blood; and a mixture of blood and snot dribbled from his nose to his chin.

Felicia stood at a slight distance before him in her token skin tight faux leather leggings and a leather jacket, as she paced back and forth around him.

“Jackson Brice!” Peter’s voice echoed around the room as he got the attention of the man in the chair. His head lifted slowly to look up at Peter. “Oh Jackie, Jackie, Jackie.” Peter teased him as he crouched before the man to make it easier for Jackson to look at him.

Angel hesitated closer to the doorway as she watched her husband work, still unsure of why she was there.

“You fucked up Jack.” Peter said as he slapped the man’s thighs before standing. “Baby, come here.” Peter said, holding his hand out to her, encouraging her to step across the room to him. When she stood at his side he turned her to take a better look at the man in front of her.

“Now this Jack, this is my wife.” Peter said with a smile like the devil. “Isn’t she a beauty?” Peter paused as he waited for the man to lift his head up again to look at Angel. 

Angel could see the small flicker of recognition in his eyes as he hardened his resolve, realising who she was, why he was there, what would inevitably happen.

“Princess, can I ask you a question?” Peter said, turning to her, almost whispering in her ear. She could feel his thumb reaching for the healed burn mark on the back of her arm she had shown him yesterday. “Is this the man who did this to you?” His voice asked softly as his thumb brushed tenderly over the silvery scar. 

Angel looked at the man in front of her. She knew Peter was asking a rhetorical question. They both knew Jackson was the guy to place his burning gun to the back of her arm whilst her Father and Adrian negotiated terms, while she played piggy in the middle. In her hesitancy to respond she could feel that scary calm energy radiating off her husband's body. Once upon a time she would have found it protective, even sexy, the way he would go to the ends of the earth to defend her honour, but she was a big girl now and she could fight her own battles. In her head she could see exactly how this played out. She would confirm it to be him, then Peter would dismiss her so he could do whatever it was he wanted to do to the man to get him to talk until ultimately killing him and having someone, probably Miguel as he was the darkest and most ruthless of them all, to dump him in the Hudson. Peter would act like God dishing out punishments and justice even though it wasn’t him who was even wronged. It was her.

“Yes.” She confirmed as she turned her head towards her husband. She watched as his eyes softened for her as he looked at her. She leaned further into him, her coffee still in one hand whilst her other hand snaked around Peter’s hip. She gave him a look that said ‘you’re so charming and sexy when you’re protective of me’ a small smile playing at the corner of her lip as his arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer into his side so he could kiss her. She pulled her lips away from him with a tight lipped smile as her fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun, wedged into the back of his waistband. She quickly removed it, taking off the safety as she turned and fired a single shot. There was a shout of pain that echoed off the walls as the bullet landed in Jackson’s thigh, just above his knee. She smirked, satisfied with herself as Peter’s face looked horrified. He didn’t like not being in control. She merely walked away from him, her lower back resting against one of the tables as she crossed her legs in front of her and waited, taking a small sip of her coffee as everyone just stared at her. She simply just raised her eyebrows at her husband with a slight nod, encouraging him to start his interrogation.

Felicia couldn’t help but let out a small giggle from her corner of the room. She had never seen Peter so flustered before. ‘Maybe she was gonna like his wife after all’ she thought.

They were all interrupted from their thoughts by another body entering the room. Like clockwork, Miguel made his way silently into the small concrete box of a room. Miguel and Angel had always been amicable but there was something about Miguel that was hard to penetrate. The others had all done their time to get to the heart of him but he had always kept a wall up with Angel. She thought it was because he thought her both too soft but also she was born from the loins of the enemy and Miguel always lived by the notion that blood was thicker than water, always expecting her to run back to Daddy the moment things went sideways. But Angel knew something Miguel didn’t, he lived by a motto that was mistranslated and he had her all wrong.

She watched Miguel closely as he observed the scene in front of him. Jackson sat on a chair grunting and groaning in pain, blood staining his skin and his clothes, Harry stood staring at the body in the chair in shock, Felicia smiling at Angel like the Cheshire cat and Angel and Peter in a death stare with each other. His eyes searched the room for the final piece of the puzzle, Eddie. Eddie stood in a dark corner smiling to himself as he looked from Angel to Jackson in the chair, a look of satisfaction that said he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

He watched as Angel’s gaze broke away from Peter’s to land on him before going back to the staring match she seemed to be having with her husband. That’s when he noticed the gun in her other hand leaning back against the table behind her. “Sorry, tall, dark and broody, looks like I got to him first.” Her voice was playful but sent a chill throughout the room as she continued to poke the bear that was her husband.

Everyone watched as she finished off her coffee, placing the empty mug to one side before lifting herself up to sit on the metal table top. She crossed her legs, her hand with the gun in it hanging loosely over her knee. She motioned with the other hand to her husband once again, encouraging him to start his interrogation. His eyes however didn’t leave hers. His pupil blew wide, consuming the previously warm honeyed brown of his irises. She had never seen him look at her like that before but she wasn’t intimidated, not in the way he expected her to be anyway.

“Come on Pete, we’re wasting time.” Eddie spoke up, attempting to get things back on track and diffuse the tension. 

Peter’s gaze snapped towards Eddie, but Eddie simply moved his gaze back and forth between Peter and Jackson trying to bring Peter back into the room and reminding him of the job and the task at hand. When Jackson started to snicker, enjoying watching the drama and infighting unfold, Harry was quick to get in and punch him in the face to shut him up. Although impulsive, the punch seemed just the thing to break the tension and re-establish the balance of things.

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself, opening them to take a glance back over his shoulder at his unpredictable wife, trying to get a read on her for his own sense of self control before he felt comfortable doing anything else. She continued to sit nonchalantly, her legs crossed, one arm leaning back on the table, the other (her bad arm that would have been unable to take the weight) resting the gun over her knee, the safety now firmly on.

He breathed deeply again as he finally turned his attention back to the man bound to a chair in the room. “Jack, Jack, Jack.” he sighed as he bent down before him, his hand leaning on the man’s knees making him cry out in pain as Peter applied light pressure to the gunshot wound. “Now, I think we can all agree, my wife,” he snarled the words, his anger with her bubbling under the surface again, “has made things- even- regarding the little indiscretion that happened a few weeks back.” Peter’s face pulled into a grimace as he let Jackson know that he still thought it was a light punishment given all things and he should be grateful he hadn’t had to suffer worse for leaving a mark on his wife. Peter left a small pause as he waited for Jackson to give any sign he was following and understanding him. When Jackson met his eyes and gave the minutest nod of his head, Peter continued. “But we still have to deal with the issue of our house being attacked, a scene that once again saw my wife getting injured- do you see where I’m going with this?” Peter said standing. He began to circle Jackson like a shark, eyeing up its prey. “Now, we don’t want you. You aren’t the reason our home was violated or my wife hurt… but if you want to walk out of here, or should I say hobble out of here,” he shot a quick look to his wife before once again giving Jackson his attention, “then I think it’s in your best interest to start singing like a canary in a coalmine.” Peter took a step back to allow him to think about the offer. He chanced a quick look back to his wife again before adding, “You should probably make your mind up quick though, it seems you sent my wife back to me a bit unpredictable and who knows what she’s gonna do next.”

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

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[moonlight-tmd]

more prowlbee cybertbeast au please 🙏, it's alright if you don't want to, I'm just asking :]

it's okay! i try to answer every ask i get so you'll get your answer sooner or later. :3

Bee is somewhat unaware of his crush on Prowl, and now that he can show himself without worry of being kicked out or killed he surely will sometimes get in his Beast alt or half-alt and put his feathers on display. He only really does this when he's alone with Prowl. He'll show off his biolights in the dark and even make those little floating lights.

Starborn Cyberbeasts are fond of their feathers- it's their pride and most cherished thing. Rarely does a Starborn let a stranger touch their feathers. Bee only lets 3 people touch his feathers; Bulkhead, Sari and Prowl. With anyone else he flinches away. Bulkhead only gently touches them and only when Bee says he can, he doesn't wanna overstep boundaries and those things look very fragile so he doesn't wanna break them. Sari loves to brush them but it's mostly Prowl that helps Bee with grooming them when it calls for help. Prowl is gentle and very careful, he loves to study the patterns and everything while he helps Bee. Of course he did have a minor sparkattack when he thought he pulled out a small bunch from his plume but don't worry, he didn't. Sometimes Bee needs to shed from the old and damaged feathers so they fall out and a day later there's new ones in place. Oddly enough, Bee allows Prowl to keep his feathers, usually he would throw them away but he makes an exeption for Prowl. The feathers lose their glow after being dropped, but they are just as pretty- they are this silver color that darkens depending on what angle you look at them. Prowl has a special box to keep all of the feathers Bee gives him safe.

Speaking of Prowl- he is the animal nerd and knows many facts about various animals. However there isn't much to learn about Cyberbeast, the only ever knowledge about them was from legends and really old archives. He sees many similarities between Cyberbeasts and earth animals, but he throws it under a rug cuz he "doesn't want to assume things" even tho Bee is literally trying to court him by animal kingdom laws.

I call it that Prowl would definitelly ask Bee what kinds of sounds he can make- his favorite is the chirping-purr sound when Bee's happy.

Bee is pulled to Prowl's room at least once a week to "gather information about Cyberbeasts cuz it might come in handy". In reality, he knows Prowl is mostly doing it for the sole purpose of staring at him in awe. Bee will get into his beast alts and sometimes half-alts and Prowl would study him and ask questions. He'd never admit but having Prowl's servos touching his plating in order to study him feels good.

Sometimes the study sessions would turn into play- Bee has found out Prowl was ticklish in some places so of course he's gonna torture him. One time Optimus wanted to send Prowl on patrol and he walked in on Bee in beast alt doing little bites while Prowl was pinned face down under him and giggling like crazy. He decided to go on patrol himself.

When they get together, Bee will surely put intentional displays for Prowl, at that point he would realize Prowl is into his bestial side and would playfully tease him about it when they want to have fun. Bee would also give him kisses- as in, he'll lick his faceplate. Be it short licks (normal kisses) or just a really long one to annoy him (big kiss).

Cyberbeasts have a way to mark what is theirs, they have a special moisture at the base of their plume and tail feathers that leaves a scent of the specific cyberbeast on anything they touch it with. I imagine Bee just nuzzling into Prowl when they're cuddling or playing to mark his claim on his mate.

Prowl- he loves to pet Bee, especially in his half-alt or beast alt- he has found his sweet spot behind his horns. Bee will go completely soft and wag his tail, he'd have the tip of his long glossa sticking out while he does the chirping-purr sounds, he might even stomp his leg. When he's just cybertronian he'll do similar, tip of his glossa out and chirping-purr. Prowl might or might not have done the baby voice with him when Bee in his beast alt was revelling in the affection and pets he provided.

Bee loves to be pet in general, when he's in his beast alt he'll ask about anyone to give him pets. It's often Sari that will openly give him pets and scritches, optionally a belly rub but when she's not around he'll go bug others- They'll give him a pat or two but nothing more, in those cases he'll go and find Prowl instead.

[thatwasntverycashmoneyofme]

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄

❥𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍 : 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 (𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍)

{ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 (𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾/𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇), 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗃𝗈𝖻, 𝖽𝗈𝗆!𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗑𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖼𝗎𝗆 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗏𝗈𝗒𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗆. }

"Fuuck obiitoo fuck~!" Your hands found the top of his head tugging against his silky black locks, not hard enough to tear from the scalp

His deep voice rupturing your eardrums. "Thought I told you not to touch me brat? And what did you call me?" You looked to see a scowl painting his glazed face

You whimpered apologies. "'M sorry daddy 'm so sorry didn't mean it." He hummed in disbelief and went back in between your legs, sucking on your clit like a pacifier.

Struggling to hold onto something your fingers grasped for anything, not wanting to ruin your husband's desk, you settled on your nipples pinching and twisting them

Rutting your pussy against Obito's face, your slick getting all over him, jerking as you approached one of the many orgasms that day

Your legs clamped his head, your hips stuttering as you begged him to stop. "Daddy please please please~" He ignored your thrashing and flailing

He clenched his arms around your thighs holding you in place continuing to eat you out like you're his last meal. "Ahh fuucck~"

You tried scooting back to get away, lifting your legs to kick him off, he took that as an opportunity to keep your legs lifted, placing his hands under the back of your knees

Crying out as you felt an uncomfortable pressure, you hit his arms pleading for him to stop, which of course he didn't, quickly leading you to another impending climax

"Shit daddy wait." Feeling a stream of clear liquid enter his mouth Obito pulled back, his tongue flopped out to catch more of the sweet liquid. he furiously circles your clit til the stream ceased

He slapped your pussy forcing your legs to close. "Open them now." He demanded as you whined, tears withdrawing from your eyes, spreading your legs as they quivered vaguely

When they were fully spread he slapped your clit twice holding one of your thighs. "Get on your knees brat." You got down from his desk

Legs buckled completing your order, knees meeting floor somehow avoiding the liquid you squirted. You chuckled a little looking up at Obito who held a smirk a soft snicker passing his lips

"You know how I like it right?" Obito looked sinful his appearance rugged; button down shirt wrinkled with the buttons undone, dress pants and briefs down to his ankles

The contrast of his eyes glowed inside of the dimly lit office. you bit your lip looking at the five course meal of a man that slouched in the chair, looking even finer with your arousal decorating his lower face

"I asked you a question didn't I?" You bat your lashes gazing at Obito's indignant features. "Yes daddy and of course I know how you like it." He hummed displeased. "Then get to it." You nodded

Arranging your position to get comfortable, you make eye contact grabbing Obito's dick. your thumb spreads the cum around his tip kissing it, he smirked down at you

You run your tongue along the skin of his shaft trailing back to the tip wrapping your mouth on it, circling your tongue, the somewhat salty tang tolerable

Deep throating him you gagged hearing him lowly groan, drool dripping to his balls that your hand slipped up to massage

You hallowed your cheeks bobbing up and down on his dick, watching as his eyes fluttered close, he thrusted up making you gag purposely

You lifted off him maintaining eye contact, his eyes harshly opened as you smiled before you spat on his dick your hand smearing the substance sloppily

Obscenely loud noises escaped from your motion. Obito threw his head back letting out an insanely loud raspy moan, almost choking when you put your mouth back on him throwing neck

"Damn brat you really know how to suck a dick don't you? Your lips look so pretty wrapped around it, can you even breathe?" You let out a loud pop removing himself from your lips

"Just for you daddy, yes I can breathe." You cheese up at him going back to task lightly squeezing his dick, stroking as you bobbed feeling it throb making the heat between your legs more prominent

"Shit sweetheart let me fuck your throat. Let daddy give you all his cum, 's just for you." You attempt to nod your head. now placing your hands on his thighs, he stood hunched over you

Hands firmly grabbed your face beginning steady at first grunting softly, he picked up the pace as you choked on his dick, the throbbing in his shaft intensifying

"Damn it brat take all this cum fuck take it all ahhh~" he growled booming voice filling your ears as he stilled, overfilling your mouth. your nose pressed to his pelvis

Trying hard not to pass out from lack of air, you held onto his hips gathering air into your nose, you gulped what you could of the thick white liquid

He plopped onto the chair once again sighing contently. He collected the cum that found itself in the corners of your mouth and on your chin with his thumb.

Sticking out your tongue he put his thumb on it, observing how your lips wrapped around him before popping off, a Cheshire grin plastered your face as you swallowed

You leaned forward staring at his semi hard dick before licking it clean pulling away to watch it jump, provoked by your action

He tsked fixing himself watching as your eyes glazed over having literal stars in them "You did good brat so I'll reward you when I get home later today."

Standing up on slightly wobbly but stable enough legs, you fixed your sundress pulling it over your breast straightening out the bottom, you bent to peck him on the lips

He grabbed you by the throat kissing you hard. his tongue dominated yours, you pulled away biting his lip staring at his eyes that rolled to the back of his head

"I gotta go now or you'll never get any work done." You pouted, compelling Obito to pull you close and smack your ass. "Always smart aren't you?"

You chuckled with a nod. "Your lunch break was over more than an hour ago you know?" Teasing him as he unwrapped from around you

You slowly walk away heading to the door. "I'm the boss sweetheart, I'll do what I please." You hum touching the knob. "Duh I know that daddy, bye now."

"See you at home brat— and thanks for lunch." He smirked as you felt your face heat up. "No problem." You left closing the door behind you.

You met the redden face of the new temp secretary that you offered your husband to hire, Suigetsu, who now buried his face into the computer before you greeted him

"Hello Suigetsu how are you doing today?" You gave him a soft smile. "Uhh yes I'm f-fine Mrs. Uchiha and same to you? I hope the day is t-treating you well?" He stuttered out

"The day is treating me exceptionally well, truly. Have a great rest of your day." He ogled your thick ass as you walked off, hips swaying from side to side with a sigh thinking to himself.

'Shit the boss got himself a trophy. Now how am I supposed to hand him this paperwork with a boner?'

𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖣𝖮𝖭𝖳 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. ©𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅

[poisonouswritings]

Can I make a somewhat obscure request? About some headcanon of what the main 4 are like with an mc who suffered sexual abuse in his work area (for example, a nurse) and because of this them does not want to be sexually intimate with his love interest?

I hope its not so shady and have a nice day/afternoon/night

I spent a little while debating if this was something I could bring myself to answer. I said in my rules that I would write about SA as part of a character's background, and I guess I should have been more specific in saying I didn't want to write it as the focus of a post. That's why I specifically said I would be fine with a 'mention' of it. But I've had some thoughts about it so hopefully I can do this one ask and then not touch the subject again for at least a while.

GN!Reader, I won't be going into any sort of detail but I'll still tag this with an SA trigger warning, this will be brief and vague for my own sake, I'm going to add the NSFW banner here just in case.

Felix Escellun

Felix is very understanding, though I think he's a little surprised. You never think it's gonna happen to someone you know, y'know?

When you tell him, he's quiet. He wants to give you the space to get everything off your chest, and he doesn't wanna risk rushing you. He asks a few questions here and there - did you ever report it? Did you go to therapy? Do you want to? - but mostly he lets you talk.

I think he's afraid to touch you for a while. Even if you tell him it's okay, he's just a little anxious about accidentally hurting you or scaring you or anything.

If you struggle with panic-attacks or anxiety episodes or PTSD nightmares or anything like that, he offers to make some soothing potions or maybe a charm or something. Maybe even an enchanted dream catcher or something? He'll talk to you about different options and preferences and that sort of thing. If you're embarrassed about it then he takes your hands (after asking if you're okay with it) and assures you there's absolutely no shame in needing help. He spent five years living alone with his grief over Rime's death, so he knows how much that sucks and how important it is to be vulnerable. I think you taught him that.

I don't think he ever really had sex when Rime was dead? I can't remember if it was mentioned in canon but I dunno, I just think he was too consumed by his own grief to be interested in that. So when you say you aren't comfortable having sex, he's genuinely fine with that. He just needs you to outline your boundaries when it comes to other types of touching (hugging, hand holding, etc etc).

Stella cuddles with you more often, but presumably that's just a coincidence?

Anisa Anka

Anisa, as a Sunstone lieutenant, has probably had one or two incidents where her subordinates reported something along those lines. So when you tell her about what happened, she kinda defaults to that official procedure - comforts you softly, gently asks questions but doesn't press for info, assures you it wasn't your fault, so on and so on.

I think it's very much in her nature to want to confront the problem and punish the abuser. That's why those subordinates felt comfortable with telling her - because they were damn sure she wouldn't just sweep it under the rug. Shifts would immediately be changed to ensure no contact, evidence would be gathered, and she would do her absolute best to get the abuser imprisoned. If that wasn't possible then at the very least they would be kicked from the Order and threatened advised to stay far, far away from the victim.

But how can she possibly confront the person who hurt you when they're in another dimension? I think that's really hard for her to deal with.

She was already careful about potentially making you uncomfortable and/or accidentally abusing her position as your guide of this world, so now she's extra cautious about it. Very encouraging about whatever boundaries you need to set. She's fine with not having sex - toys exist after all - and I think she values emotional closeness over sexual intimacy anyways.

Very protective over you. Never lets you out of her sight when you guys are in public.

Sage Lesath

Alright let me get this out of the way; you can call it projecting or you can call it a natural morbidity, but I HC that Sage has dealt with this in the past.

Remember in the intro where Sage said he 'doesnt roll out of bed for anything less than ten silver' and one of the bar guys said he'd heard Sage would 'warm any bed for half of that'? I think there's truth to that. Especially when he had to take care of Tulsi and desperately needed the money.

I also think that you combine him getting sloppy - if not blackout - drunk with a reputation for being a slut with his favored drinking spots being full of criminals...

All I'm saying is that when you tell Sage about whatever happened to you, he's painfully understanding.

I think he's struggled with feelings of being weak. He's a strong man, a mercenary at that, and being victimized just,, fucks with him. So if you have feelings like that too, he does his best to reassure you.

You're uncomfortable with sex, that's genuinely fine. Just tell him what your limits are. Is flirting okay? Kissing? Cuddling? Do you want a safeword? He'll do everything he can to accommodate you. You just need to communicate your needs.

Probably doesn't bring you around the tavern anymore, or at least he lets you decide when you're okay going. He'll do everything he can to shield you from people being assholes, but it's a bar. Creeps are kinda inevitable.

I don't know what it would mean for your relationship. Sage is a very sexual guy, y'know? He would never ever pressure you into anything, but he might broach the topic of an open relationship. His first priority is you, though, so if it comes down to him relying on his hands and some toys all the time, then he's fine with that.

Rime Varela

This is another one of those times where I really wish we had a Rime route so I could make a better guess about how he'd react to a situation like this.

Something I've noticed in my replaying of Felix's route - aka the closest we got to a Redeemed route - Rime seems to struggle with empathy. And while we can certainly say that it's because there wasn't really a situation that warranted him showing it or because he was still so hurt over everything that happened that he emotionally shut himself off or whatever, I think it would be interesting if he just,, lost the ability to express empathy when he was stuck in the Void. Maybe it's something that gradually comes back over time?

That isn't to say that he doesn't care about what you're saying. Far from it. He just... doesn't really know how to comfort you. Not with something like this.

He's the least reactive about what happened, and maybe that's a good thing. Obviously he assures you it wasn't your fault and doesn't think any lesser of you for what you went through, but he doesn't have the same sort of heaviness that the other three get.

He really doesn't mind not having sex. Five years in real life was like,, I dunno, a thousand years in the Void or whatever. He wouldn't mind having sex, but he also really doesn't if it doesn't happen.

Though it's not obvious, Rime is keeping a close eye on you from then on. If he notices you're getting anxious or having nightmares or anything like that, then he offers to let you talk about it. And if you don't want to then he'll change the topics, usually ranting about something he's been researching or complaining about something stupid the other Starsworn did or whatever.

[weavercobra]

Dawn of Freeland

This story was written when I first got ready to GM in the Shattered Age setting. Basically, this story is meant to set the tone for the area, give a glimpse of the current status quo and give some cursory information to what notable people are in the area.

So it would not be incorrect to more describe it as a series of short scenes rather than one whole complete story, but I hope people will still find it an enjoyable read.

The first golden rays of the sun peaked over the western horizon, painting the green grass with an orange hue. Its light reached the town of Journey's End, signalling a changing of the guard. Those who had been active under the starlight crept home to their beds, while those who had been sleeping slowly opened their eyes and greeted the new day.

The brief quiet of the morning was cut off by the roar of an engine, as a motorcycle drove into town, a trail of dust kicked up in its wake. It drove halfway through the settlement before coming to a stop outside a semi-large house, the sound of the vehicle abruptly ending with the turn of a key. The driver, a small, lizard-like creature with red scales covered by leather clothes, was one Vrogusz Bouldercrusher. And from the scowl plastered on his face, just about anyone could tell he was in a foul mood. And if not the scowl, the way he stomped up towards the house would also be quite the clue.

The building had looked quite stately at some point, but over time, numerous walls, windows and patches of roofs had been somewhat haphazardly fixed, as if to quickly repair it after some great damage. Two of the beams holding up the porch roof had been replaced with a solid branch and a less solid-looking broom, something the kobold noted as he made his way up to the door. He hammered it with his fist, wanting to make sure the occupants heard him the first time.

It didn't take long for a response, as a human woman opened up. She had straight, light-brown hair and was dressed in rugged leather and wearing a pair of mittens. “Vrogusz,” she commented, as she recognised the guest. “How's it going?” “Terribly,” he replied, as he stepped in. “Where's your mother?” “In the workshop. Been at it all night,” she replied, closing the door after him. “You know how she gets. Why?” “I need to talk to her about those blasted troynts.”

“It's getting worse I take it.” “They think they can just show up and just declare part of Freeland theirs,” the kobold snorted. “That they can just take it. I was fucking chased off by their warriors. They're lucky I was alone. If I had a posse with me, I swear...” The rest of his grumbling drowned in a furious hissing noise.

“Mom would still prefer if we could talk to them,” the human noted, as she headed into the kitchen.

“Yes, well, they're not talkative, Kenya,” Vrogusz insisted.

“Maybe not. Bread?” “Huh?” “I baked some bread for me and Mom. But there's enough if you'd like a piece.”

The kobold paused, tapping his foot as he contemplated the offer. Then his stomach loudly growled. “Damn, I haven't actually eaten in a while,” he admitted. “Eh, sure. Hit me up.”

“Coming right up.” She handed him a piece. “Here you go, freshly baked bread.”

“Thanks,” he said and popped it in his mouth. A decision he regretted moments later when he tried to bite into it. He spat the piece back into his hands, licking his teeth with his forked tongue just in case one was missing. “That's some tough-ass bread.” “A bit too crunchy?” Kenya asked, as she put the mittens back on a slightly lopsided shelf.

“The only thing going crunch was my chompers,” he replied, inspecting the unscratched surface of the bread. “Might make for good ammunition though.”

She sighed. “Sorry 'bout that. Still trying to get a hang of it. Would you like something else? We still have some sausages from yesterday's dinner, if you don't mind them cold?” “Not at all. At least I can eat those.”

“Well, let me...” An explosion rocked the house, sending several of said sausages bouncing across the kitchen.

“THE FUCK?!” Vrogusz exclaimed, having fallen on his rear from the shock.

Kenya, who was leaning against a doorframe, didn't comment, instead rushing off, the kobold quickly following her.

Reaching the other end of the house, she threw open a door, blinking as the sunlight blinded her. Where there had been a wall, there was now a hole, broken planks and rubble spread all around.

“MOM!” Kenya called.

A nearby pile of debris coughed and shifted. “Right here, sweetie,” came a hoarse voice, as an older woman sat up. She was wearing a big duster, covered in splinters and dirt, and had hair much like her daughter, though with more grey streaks.

“Mom, what happened?” Kenya asked, as she helped the older woman up.

“Think I knocked over the jug of nitro.” “See, this is why my workshop is nowhere near yours,” Kenya noted with a roll of her eyes. “You gotta be more careful.” She sighed and eyed the hole. “Well, at least the room's well ventilated now.” “Yes, yes, we'll get someone to fix it,” the older woman said, as she fished a cigarette out of her coat. “Now where's my... Ah, here.” She lit the smoke and inhaled. “Ah, much better. Anyway, I see we have guests. What can I do for you, Vrogusz?” “Well, if you're quite done blowing your house up, I was out west here tonight, doing a bit of hunting,” the kobold explained. “Only for, what, six, maybe eight of those damn troynts to sudden call me an intruder and chase after me.”

“Them again,” the older woman commented.

“Yes, Emma, them again,” Vrogusz said in a tone clearly indicating the subject had been brought up before.

“They still haven't made any demands.” “I beg to fucking differ. They're quite demanding.” The kobold stepped forward. “Look, they're claiming more and more territory. It's a fucking invasion, I tell ya. We have to do something.”

Emma paused, pulsating contemplatively on the smoke. “Look, there's room enough in Freeland for everybody. I get they're kinda testy, but they're not all bad. Geng talked with one of their shamans and...” “They attacked me,” Vrogusz cut off.

“Which is not okay,” Emma agreed. “I'll send them a message. And I will keep what happened in mind. But I don't think we're quite at the point where we need to round up an angry mob.” The kobold snorted. “Fine. Then I'll find someone to help me if you won't.” He turned around and stomped out the door.

The two humans waited.

“Anyway, since you've blown a hole in the wall, might as well go this way,” Vrogusz said as he returned and exited via the damaged wall.

The two humans waited a bit longer.

“He's pissed,” Kenya commented.

“Eh, I get him. But I'm not quite ready to start a war over this,” Emma noted, taking the cigarette from her mouth for a moment. “Might send a message down south, see what Catherine thinks.” “But Vrogusz is not wrong, Mom. They have been aggressive and they've certainly not been talkative. If they think they can get away with pushing us around, they might just stake a larger claim.” “All true. But, counterpoint,” she said, holding up a finger. “Starting a pointless conflict might just be a waste of people.”

“Very true. If it's pointless.” “Yeah, see, that's the tricky thing. Here's how I view it.” She leaned up against one of the room's remaining support pillars. “The troynts just showed up here one day. Gotta be a reason. Even something as simple as they just saw we had some nice land. If we can find out why, maybe we don't have to fight. Everybody wins.” She paused. “But if I am to tell our fellow townies that it's us or them, then I want to make damn certain I ain't spouting bullshit. And for that, I need to know more.”

...

A blue skull grinned on the tattered flag that hung over the bombed out shell of the military base, crumbling cement and rusted iron making up its poor excuse for walls. It could be quite the noisy place, but at the moment, most members of the Sapphire Skull Crew peaked out from various covers with bated breath.

Trampling back and forth across the yard, occasionally stopping to chew a new set of teeth marks into his shield was their leader, Mad Man Weller. A short but broad boulder of a man, his skin was a patchwork of scar tissue. His bloodshot eyes looked ready to pop out of his skull, his yellowed teeth scoured against each other, froth occasionally dripping into his patchy, messy black beard and his every feature was like a bomb one second from going off. He'd occasionally stop to wildly swing at something nearby with his axe or scream curse words at the sky, before continuing his grumbling.

It was clear to his followers that he was rather agitated.

Finally, one brave soul dared poke her head out of the old dumpster she was currently residing in. “B-boss?” “WHAT!” came the loud reply, as he swung around to stare at her with such force that most of the other gang members expected her to burst into flames.

“Eep!” she squeaked, diving back into the dumpster. “Uhm, I, eh, you just se-seem kinda angry, Boss.”

“YOU KNOW WHAT!? I AM PISSED!” He kicked a rusty can, sending it careening through the air, forcing a couple other gang members to duck as it sailed by. “BUT I DON'T KNOW WHY! AND THAT PISSES ME OFF EVEN MORE!”

“Are we... Are we out of anything?” one gang member asked.

“No, stocks good,” another replied

“Did we forget his birthday?” “Nah, that was last month.”

“We didn't lose any fights recently.” At the last comment, Weller paused and turned towards the speaker. “You there,” he said, pointing.

“Ehm... Me-me, Boss?” the scrawny man replied.

“Yes. Finley, right?” “Y-yes, Boss.” “What did you just say?” “I, ehm...” He adjusted his collar nervously. “I just... I just wondered if we'd lost a fight recently or something.” Weller just stared. Then he turned towards the rest. “Men,” he began. “When did we last have a good fight?” There was a lot of hemming and hawing.

“I don't remember,” the woman in the dumpster finally said.

“EXACTLY!” their leader yelled, causing everyone to jump. “WE HAVEN'T HAD A GOOD FIGHT IN DAYS! WEEKS MAYBE! THAT'S WHY I'M PISSED!” He hoisted his axe. “LET'S GO FIGHT!”

Everyone cheered and hollered for the suggestion, as instantly the oppressive mood lifted.

Until Finley asked: “Ehm... Who do we fight?”

There was a brief, somewhat contemplative pause.

“BRING OUT THE WHEEL!” Weller yelled.

“THE WHEEL!” a lot of the gangsters echoed, as a massive, wooden wheel was rolled out of their garage, numerous names spraypainted on it. The woman from the dumpster grabbed the edge and pulled down, making it spin.

Weller reared his axe back before throwing it, its edge slamming into the wood with a thunk.

...

If one was to observe the thick, gnarled forest of Llafny Goedwig, one would be forgiven for thinking it an ancient place, with trees that must have watched many generations of Freelanders come and go. And yet, in truth, a year had not even passed since the spot was as flat and bare as many other in Freeland. But all had changed with the coming of the troynts.

Deep inside the forest, cultivated by their shamans, they had set up camp, humongous tents of beast hide raised in the few clearings that existed in the thicket.

And it was to this clearing Aderyn Reese made her way. Like other troynts, she was a muscular, boar-like being the size of a car, her front limbs a rough inbetween of hooves and hands. Sharp bristles poked out from her brown fur, each one poisonous, and her personal comb and scissor hung from the belt wrapped around her midsection. She shoved a tent flap aside with one of her great tusks and walked in, noting that a number of her fellows were gathered around the table therein.

And behind the table, towering over everyone else, were her mother, Angharad Reese, chieftain of the Choroinsnathaide. She snorted in acknowledgement of the presence of her daughter, before with a deep voice asking: “What do you have to report?” “The defenders informed me a Freelander approached late last night, but was summarily chased off without issue,” Aderyn replied. “Scouts also returned.” She leaned on the table and observed the papers. Maps, crudely drawn, of the surrounding area. “They've checked out the nearby town. No walls or natural barriers. Just open plains and hills.”

“Then they shall not be much of a problem,” Angharad declared. “We must send scouts southward next. I want to know where the centres of power are in Freeland. Everyone, get to it.” The other troynts grunted in agreement and wandered out of the tent, but Aderyn stayed.

“Something on you mind?” Angharad inquired, as she studied the map.

“How much?” “How much what?” “How much land will this take? When will we have enough?”

At this, the huge troynt sighed, seemingly shrinking a bit. “I don't know,” she admitted. “I've sent a runner back home. Maybe we won't need as much as I fear. But we need more than we have.” She gestured with her snout. “These lands... They are more fertile than any´our ancestors ever ruled. We can grow strong trees here that will feed our squeakers for many years. We can draw water from the earth such that we will never go thirsty. Here, we can grow a strong army. A powerful army.” She slammed her hand into the table. “And then,” she snorted, fury sparking in her eyes. “Then we will take back what is ours.”

...

Gently, the beaker was tipped, pouring the red liquid into the boiling blue. Then ever so gently, the mixture was stirred, sweet-smelling fumes filling the air. And slowly, the mixture took on a royal purple.

Lucky Pamela smiled. Another successful mixture, gently crafted by her hand. All the more impressive considering her hand was the size of a cutting board. Pamela had, once upon a time, been merely human, until she had volunteered for an elite training program. Injected with alchemical ingredients and subjected to experimental surgery, she had earned the nickname Lucky for being the first to survive the procedure. Her limbs had stretched painfully, her torso had expanded as her organs grew nauseatingly large, arcane crystals had torn through her skin to protect her from danger. All so she could serve her country.

But her country didn't exist anymore. She couldn't even remember the last time she had met someone who had heard of it.

She frowned at the memories, before stopping the bottle, sealing its content. That was the past. She had a future to make.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she demanded.

A minotaur, an imposing bipedal bull, made their way in, their skin covered in sandy fur. “Just got back from Tread City,” he started, leaning against the wall. “Our dealer says they're running low. Shit's popular.”

“I am not surprised.” She shelved the flask. “And our take?” “Loads of supplies, including a crate of the highest quality White Kiss,” he said. “The really good stuff.”

“Is that so?” She scratched her chin with a crystalline nail. “Let me see it.”

Outside the log house she had her workshop in awaited a wagon, a massive woolly creature with a spiralling horn attached to it. Several crates was stacked on the wagon, most currently being unloaded by the crew.

“Here we go,” the minotaur said, grabbing a box and opening it, revealing it to be densely packed with white flowers. “As I said.” Pamela leaned in, her nostrils widening as she took in the smell. “They are pure,” she agreed. “Good. Good. Who was ever so kind as to 'donate' that to our cause?” “Tirzel. They've been deep in the cups with our products,” the minotaur stated. “And Stonewatcher is gonna get us those Brett and Masons he promised. Just getting them all fixed up first.” “Good.” She paused for a moment, mentally going over names in her head. “What about Armani?” “What about her?” “You said her number was coming up. What did she give?” “Ugh, excuses, as usual.” He snorted. “She's getting flaky on us.” Pamela harrumphed. “Well then. Next time you drop by Tread City, tell her that the Blossom Posse will be sending her flowers soon.” She leaned in, eyes narrowing. “Some nice daisies for her to push up if she doesn't pay her tab.”

The minotaur grinned. “You got it, Lucky.”

...

Fields of red grass gently billowed in the wind, almost giving the impression of waves on a crimson ocean. This field of red came to an abrupt halt at a great wall, it's surface made from many sheets of metal welded, screwed and nailed to each other and to a patchwork framework of steel beams and wooden poles. On top of these fortifications, spaced out with some regularity, were a series of guns, their automated parts gently whirring in the lukewarm morning air. Each one was slightly different, having been handcrafted rather than spat out by a factory, not that this reduced their menacing appearance.

A signal went through the air and one of the guns beeped in response. It first lowered, then raised its gun. Then it spun around to the right, before it began repeatedly clicking.

“Busted servo. Figures,” a voice from below it grumbled. With a series of thumps, the commentator scaled the wall, his long arms and legs lending him excellent mobility. The blue crystals jutting from his skin glinted in the morning lights, as he carefully began disassembling part of the machinery. Pulling some gears from the turret's innards, he noted their teeth had snapped. “Stress fracture,” he commented, holding one up to his eye. “Metal fatigue, obviously.” He sighed, as he pocketed the item.

“Hey, Bruno,” a female voice called from below.

The mutant leaned back slightly, so he could more easily look downwards. “What is it now, Catherine?”

“Well, good morning to you too,” the woman replied with a hint of sarcasm. Her dirty-blond hair was tied up in a ponytail, her brown eyes intently watching the person above her. A leather vest covered her upper body, a pair of denim pants her legs. “So, gun's busted I take it?” “Gear snapped under stress. Some of this junk they bring in folds faster than an ogre at a spelling bee.” He leaned back in to inspect the machine. “So what are you bothering me for?”

“I wanted your opinion.” He clicked his tongue. “There's a rarity. 'Bout what?” “Them Glimmerspore people. Some of the outriders had been out last night, saw some of their crew moving about,” Catherine explained. “Taking measurements, photographing things. Kinda shady stuff. And I know they've approached people from time to time, inquiring about who owns what.” “And where does my opinion come in?” he asked, as he began his descent.

“Do you think they're gonna be a problem?” she inquired. “You've dealt with way more goblins in your time.” “That I have.” He sighed. “Goblins. They look damn harmless, waltzing around, squeaking about this and that. The next thing you know, they taking to the battlefield with some giant-sized doom engine spewing beams of fire left and right. Or claim the skies with some gravity-defying warmachine that rains down death.” He turned towards the woman. “They'll be a problem if they want to be a problem. So what we need to ask ourselves is, what do the runts want?”

“So far, they seem to have settled into the western mountains,” Catherine noted. “Seems they're mining the area. And they ain't too keen on trespassers.”

“Well, let's hope they'll settle for hollowing out the mountain. But knowing goblins and from what you tell me...” He chuckled mirthlessly. “They'll want more. A whole lot more.”

“Then I'll tell the outriders they best keep an eye out and report anything right back to me,” the woman noted. “I'm not letting them take us by surprise if I can avoid it.”

...

Bleary reptilian eyes opened, then immediately shut with a hiss. Kobolds already didn't like daylight at the best of times, so being greeted by the morning sun while nursing a hangover was just the worst. She rolled over, her blue scales glinting in the morning light, trying to make sense of her surroundings. From around her, she registered a number of noises. Snoring from others deep asleep. Grunts from the sparring ring. Moans from whomever still had it in them to get frisky.

She, however, just wanted to crawl into one of the tents and sleep away from the merciless glare of the sun. She grabbed her bottle and tipped it, figuring a nice swig wouldn't hurt.

And then she slowly realized the alcohol wasn't coming.

She forced her eyes open.

One single drop of alcohol hung tantalizing from the bottle's opening, before being seized by gravity, splashing against her tongue.

“Well, shit,” she cursed, before dismissively hurling it away. Forcing herself up, she staggered over to the crew's bottle crate, looking for a stiff drink. Reaching in, she found an empty bottle. Then another. Then yet another. And then her claws furtively scratched against the wooden planks at the bottom.

Her eyes widened as she looked inside, confirming her fears. The crate was empty. Desperately she looked in the next crate and the next. One was empty, the other filled with vomit. She looked up. “Fuck.”

Seconds later, the ramshackle campsite was slightly stirred, as the kobold charged across it on all fours calling out: “THUNDERCLAW! THUNDERCLAW!” She dashed over to the largest tent in the entire camp, throwing open the flaps.

Inside, was a pile of sleeping people in various states of undress, the most notable being a truly enormous, long-legged, long-necked avian, with a bony crest and a large beak, currently using a naked and heavily snoring human as a pillow. Their body, easily allowing them to look giraffes in the eye, was covered in a mixture of feathers, red, yellow, basil and honey. One of their eyes opened, turning to gaze at the intruder with annoyance. “What is it now?” “We have a problem,” she responded, waving her arms in the direction of the crates.

“Is the camp on fire?” “Ehm, no.” Thunderclaw turned his head so he looked the other way. “Then come back in an hour or five.” “But we're out of drinks,” she continued.

The kobold fell on her tail with a squeak as the ratite's head shot out of the tent. “What do you mean we're out of fucking drinks?” “It's all gone,” she said. “We've got nothing left.” The avian stepped out of the tent, rising to his full, imposing height. He stalked over to the crates and looked into them with dismay, as all around other members of the crew started noticing the ruckus. Thunderclaw hissed in annoyance as he squashed one of the boxes under his table-sized foot. “Blast it. We are out.” They tapped one of the boards with a talon. “Oh well,” they said with a gesture of their wing. “Guess tonight's party will be without drinks.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Really?” came a disappointed question.

“Of course not, you fucking oaf,” Thunderclaw snorted. “Party without drinks? Seriously.” He turned towards the open plains that surrounded their simple camp. “Looks like the Wild Ones are going shopping today. All of you, start fanning out. There's gotta be some wimp around here with some half-decent booze on them. And while you're at it, get everything else we'll need. Drugs, food, whatever. We're going to party and I don't mean the limp-dick kinda partying with teacups and nice talks about the weather. I mean a real party. One so loud even the gods won't be able to sleep on it.” He looked around, before stomping the ground with a loud thump. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get your asses in gear already.”

The various Wild Ones excitedly ran for their vehicles, or in the case of the members who were already fleet of foot, just ran for it. The whooping, cheering horde spread out from camp in all directions.

Thunderclaw craned their neck, resulting in a few popping sounds. “Well, ain't gonna let them have all the fun,” he remarked, before dashing out, every footstep accompanied by a loud thump.

...

A large claw tapped against the paper and then slowly slid down across it. Green eyes peered through a pair of glasses, unhindered by the darkness of the room. A pen was spun between digits, before being put to the notepad. The goblin began rapidly adding numbers up and doing calculations.

She smirked, revealing her sharp teeth. “So productivity is up twelve percent. Promising.”

There was a hefty knock on the door to the office. She finished her current equation, then looked up: “Come in.”

The door opened, allowing light to fall on the small woman, illuminating her bronze skin and the yellow-dotted fungal cap on her head.

Standing in the doorway was a massive bipedal woman. Her skin was covered in rough scales, with the ones on her pudgy belly being a creamy white and the rest a sandy brown. Her head was notably pointed forward, with a pair of black eyes and a maw full of sharp teeth. A thick tail with fins on them dragged after her, poking out from under the loincloth she was wearing. “Supervisor Grilx. Our prospectors have returned.” “Ah, great. Let them in then.” The ogre noted and stepped aside, letting a motley crew of people enter.

“So, what do you all have to report?” the supervisor asked.

A slightly hunched-over, hyena-like biped, a gnoll, stepped forward. “Lots of food in the area. Rabbits, birds, fresh fish. Even large sheep.” “Noted,” the goblin replied, writing on her notepad.

“There's also lumber. Though that mostly seems concentrated towards the mountainous areas,” a human reported. “There's also some small springs up there.” “Lumber, stone, freshwater,” she muttered as she wrote down. “How large are those streams?” “Not too large,” came the response. She tapped the end of her pen against her chin. “I'll have someone from engineering check out if we can maybe get something hydroelectric going. Anything else?” “The locals have dug a number of wells across the land,” another goblin informed her. “I think there's a lot of water underground. Would explain why the land keeps so fertile despite the heat.”

“We should probably take some samples, check the water table once our new equipment arrives,” Grilx muttered. “That reminds me, Glamerek, has the message been sent back to high command?” The ogre nodded. “A few hours ago, yes.” “Excellent. I cannot imagine my request would be denied.” She wrote a note. “Now then, Rocco, yours is the report I am most curious about. You went to... Red Rim Station, was it? Did you learn anything?” “I did,” the grey-haired human replied. “The locals appear to be skilled scavengers. The place was surrounded by a big scrap-iron wall with, I shit you not, functional turrets. Local economy is barter based. No coinage whatsoever. I also didn't see a lot of precious metals.” “Curious. Prospector reports noted both gold and silver in the region,” the supervisor remarked. “Local veins are probably untapped then.”

“Anyway, I started asking around, see who owns the land and so on,” the human continued. “And it's the darnedest thing, they insist that no one owns land in Freeland.”

The gnoll glanced. “But they live in a city. With houses. Someone must own them.” “That's what I thought, but apparently people just claim an empty house if they want one,” the human replied with a shrug. “Local peace-keepers are all volunteers and half the people of the city seem to be somewhere else most of the time.” “Interesting,” Grilx mumbled, them smirked. She jumped off her chair and hurried over to a nearby computer. With a few button presses, an incomplete map of Freeland popped up. “Now, first rule of acquisition is what?” she asked, turning to the group.

“First come, first serve,” Glamerek stated.

“Exactly. Now, who would that apply to here?” “The, uhm, Freelanders?” the gray-haired human asked uncertainly.

“Normally, yes. But they have elected to claim nothing. Which means there'd be no-one to contest our claim, if we were to make one.” She smiled predatorily, her emerald eyes almost glinting. “So, people, who's ready for a land-grab, hmm?”

...

Slowly, more and more of the mountainside was illuminated by the sun's amber rays. As it reached the cavern entrances that dotted the side, there was a stirring. A large shape lumbered out, their body obscured by a massive, woolly pelt, hiding all but the most rudimentary signs of their identity. They stepped forward to the cliff's edge, taking in the fresh scent of a new day. And Terry the Fang, chieftain of the Cougartooth Clan, smiled. Turning around, they grabbed a spear leaning against the cave wall just inside the opening, then leapt over the edge. They skated down the cliff-side, pebbles and dirt bouncing around them, their massive pelt billowing heavily, as they slid down to a lower level.

There, sitting around a campfire, were several other people dressed in rags and pelts, who bowed as Terry descended, greeting him with a respectful: “Chieftain.”

“Morning, lads,” they greeted them. “Who've been successful during their hunt?” “Blake caught us some spring pheasants. Three,” one of them said, pointing to a young man barely done being a teenager, who smiled with pride at the attention.

“And Kayla managed to down a prowler,” another said, gesturing to a woman armed with a bow. She proudly grasped the necklace of feline teeth around her neck.

“And the rest?” the chieftain asked.

“No hunt worth talking about,” one of the others said, shaking their head.

“What a shame. But today is a new day and a new hunt.” Terry sat down by the campfire. They ripped a leg off one of the roasting pheasants and bit into it, barely acknowledging its warmth. “So, anything new to hunt today?”

“There's more and more of those strange mushroom heads,” one of the others began. “They bring with them strange machines. Good fight, but probably not good eating.”

“There's also more boars. They've been lead here by these bigger boars,” another reported. “They've summoned a forest. Good place for a hunt.”

“Excellent. Then you know what you must do. Eat, rest and then bring back new totems for our tribe. These newcomers will lend their strength to ours the same as everyone else. Now then...” Terry grasped their own necklace of teeth, a large empty spot in the middle. “Any new sightings of Daggerclaw?” “Found the remains of a tachash lamb. Shredded to bloody giblets,” came the response. “Definitely the work of Daggerclaw. But that was three days ago. She might have moved on.”

Terry smiled. “Do not be so sure. She likes to linger after a proper meal. What about the others?” “No sign of Red Scars. Old Longhorn has moved south, probably gonna start gathering a herd soon.” “I hear the Usowa Roha might try and hunt him this year,” one of the others said. “Chieftain, what if they succeed?” “They won't. Old Longhorn has managed to fend them off every year.” They chuckled. “Too stubborn to die, too strong to yield. That's what makes him worthy prey.” They got up and hoisted their spear. “I shall journey out to hunt for Daggerclaw. Expect my return in a week, successful or not.” “Blessing of the hunt be with you, great chieftain,” they replied.

Terry laughed and then leapt down the mountainside, letting the pull of gravity add to their stride as they stormed into the lowlands. Today was the start of another great hunt. To become the greatest hunter of all the land, to be blessed by the strongest, fiercest spirits, they'd have to hunt the greatest beasts to claim the lands as their home. Only by claiming their remains would they be immortalized as the greatest hunter and secure their tribe's place as the greatest clan of hunters. Daggerclaw, Red Scar and Old Longhorn. And then one other. A worthy foe, a powerful beast, a champion of the land. Adding her talons to their amulet, binding her powerful, independent spirit to their soul, would grant them strength beyond measure.

Under their hood, they smiled blissfully, their fingers tracing a set of jagged scars on their chest. “I'll get you yet, Foulbeak. You will be mine.”

...

The hooded figure took in a deep breath. Only the faintest hint of the morning light penetrated the dirty windows, so covered in grime and dust that they had long lost their transparency. The room was illuminated by a select few candles, place equidistantly along the rim of the ritual circle. The robed person looked over the many occult glyphs that made up the circle in front of them, then looked to the tome again, cross-referencing the design with the one on the ancient, mouldering page. Satisfied that they had made as accurate a replication as they could determine, they lifted the tome up and turned to the circle. Their eyes went over the incantation a dozen times, before they dared to open their mouth, finally chanting the demonic verse hidden in the book.

The flames of the candles took on an ominous red glow. The room seemed to darken, what little sunlight that managed to enter now completely eclipsed. The symbols began crackling with energy.

The hooded figure repeated the chant, louder, more intensely. He could feel it, the very air in the room buckling as the fabric of the universe was twisted. Droplets of sweat began forming on his skin, as he repeated the chant again and again, beckoning forth a figure from the abyss.

The crimson flames on the candles blazed into pillars of flame, illuminating the room with a diabolic light. Arcs of black lightning danced between them, centering on the middle of the circle. A smoking orb of dizzying colours began growing, twitching and roiling as it expanded.

He was practically yelling the chant, his heart pounding like crazy, his voice threatening to give in. But he kept at it, repeating the words again and again.

He'd finally get a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. He was honestly not too picky anymore.

The orb crackled and then detonated, sending the robed figure stumbling back. As one, the red flames intensified and then died out.

For a moment everything went dark. For a moment, as he held his breath, he worried he'd made a mistake.

But then he saw the new arrival, the massive figure now occupying the circle. The robed figure looked to the page with the chant, where there was a illustration of a muscular, winged, scantily-clad female leaning suggestively against a halberd. Then he looked back to the figure.

There were quite the number of differences.

The figure was large, their broad body easily out-sizing the circle on the floor. Their massive, multi-faceted red eyes scanned the room, their face featuring a notable, needle-like proboscis, under which there was a mouth full of teeth that easily looked capable of chewing a car to pieces. Massive, glassy wings flickered lightly on their back and protruding from their rear was a great, bulging abdomen. They stood on a series of six legs, the end of which were occupied by hands with four clawed fingers each.

And yet the most eye-catching thing for the robed figure, was the equally large hoodie the newcomer wore. It was just about the only thing he didn't expect from a demon.

The hulking fiend finally noticed the summoner. “Are you the one who have conjured me?” “Ehm... Are you a lilin?” he managed to ask.

“Heck no,” came the response, accompanied by a smirk. “I'm an adze.” He looked around at the ritual circle. “A lilin you say? No, I think I see what happened. You've switched the glyph of the dawn and the glyph of the black road around. And this is the glyph of swarm, not the glyph of union. It lacks the line through it, see. And here... The glyph of the silver monkey. I see you substituted the glyph of the groaning one. Was that even intentional? And your glyph of the spider's candelabra is missing a set of legs.”

“Oh,” the robed figure replied, slightly disappointed. “So-sorry about that. I'll send you back.” “Hey now, my man, let's not be hasty,” the demon said, refocusing their attention on the human. “What's your name?”

“Y-Yousef. Yousef Perkins.” “Well, then allow me to congratulate you and shake your hand,” the demon said, stepping out of the ring with a front-leg extended. “And no, I'm not bound by the circle. Your glyph of the headless emperor is upside down.” He gently grasped the surprised human's hand and shook it, careful as to not hurt him. “I'm Kito, archdemon of the Crimson Needle.”

“Wait, archdemon?” Yousef repeated, eyes wide. “Ho-how?” “Beats me. Anyway, can we step outside? Seems a bit cramped down here and I'd like to stretch my legs.”

“Oh, sorry, this way,” the summoner said, as he lead the insectile demon up a flight of concrete stairs to a rusted, iron trapdoor. With some effort and a lot of metallic whining, he pushed it open, allowing the two to step outside. Around them were overgrown boulders and decaying buildings, rusted hulks of war-machines littering the open spaces.

“An old military base,” Kito surmised.

“Ye-yeah. I figured I could, uhm, summon in peace,” Yousef remarked.

“And you were trying to summon a lilin? Something tells me that you wanted privacy for more than just the summoning.”

Yousef nervously twiddled his thumbs and looked to the side, feeling his cheeks heat.

“Ah, seems I was right. Well, maybe I can arrange something for you.” Kito took a step forward, taking a deep breath. “Smells good. Lots of life in the area. But not so much as a hint of other demons. Now that's exciting.” He looked around. “Will need to fix this up of course. Place has more holes than the last guy grandmother threw to the bloodfeasters. We'll need more people.” “Ehm...” Yousef began. “What... What are you talking about?” “Huh? Oh, I'm moving in,” Kito replied. “This place seems way to fun to leave behind. What country is this?” “Freeland.” “Freeland? Oh, I think I... Right, grandmother talked about the place. Highly recommended it even. Of course, that was, what, sixty years ago, so basically an eternity for you humans. Looking forward to see if the place is still as fun as she recalled.” He smiled. “I tell ya, you're something else, kid. You screw up your summoning circle and still call in an archdemon. You must have quite some talent in you. I'll train you. Teach you the arts of summoning. And then you can finally have a lilin to snuggle up to.” He leaned over, a slightly hungry look on his face, as he cupped Yousef's chin. “Or maybe... You wanna snuggle up with someone else?” “I, ah, ah, uhm...” the young conjurer replied, his legs starting to shake and an entire colony of butterflies exploding in his stomach.

The mosquito demon leaned further in and exhaled, his warm breath washing over the human's skin, causing goosebumps to form. “I'm not hearing a no.”

“I, uhm, m-maybe,” Yousef managed to squeak.

“Cool. Looking forward to it,” Kito said, as he let the summoner go. “But first, I need to bring in some staff. And then, I'm gonna go recruiting.” He smiled and took another deep breath, allowing the scent of living blood to fill him. “Oh, we're gonna have so much fun.”

[regallibellbright]

Welp, it’s been a few weeks, brain says it’s time to talk about Birdie Wing again! Today, I want us all to take a moment to think about the ending sequence. Which I have listened to quite a lot, it’s a lovely song, if a bit of an odd choice for a show as unabashedly camp as Birdie Wing. (For those who aren’t aware, it’d be Tsukuyomi and Yurrycanon’s Nightjar. Heads up, I’d be willing to class the first verse as “kind of suicidal ideation”, though the full song is at least somewhat less heavily depressed.) The ending, for reference!

I don’t have it in me to describe the entire video, but its opening visual shows mannequins in a golf store window, dressed in very marketable golf apparel, with wigs making them resemble our protagonists, Eve and Aoi. In the shots later where we see Eve and Aoi, they’re dressed in these same outfits. The tension of the verse builds until exploding into a burst of feathers at the chorus, cutting to images of birds flying through the sky playing over the silhouettes of Eve and Aoi, lying in opposite directions so that their heads are next to each other, nearly touching. The ending closes on a shot of Eve’s golf ball on the green, showing the pink wing mark on her balls, morphing into a bird flying in front of the full moon, shining above a sea.

The chorus has different lyrics both times it appears in the full song. Given the bird imagery, you’d expect they’d be using the version of the chorus that gives the song its title, talking directly about a bird flying freely in the sky.

It actually uses the second rendition of the chorus, the one that goes “If I’d never met you, I’d have lived in a cage deceiving the world.” (Translation courtesy of the official music video’s English captions.)

This can apply to Eve as well as Aoi, of course - she was adrift in the world and just getting by supporting her adoptive family before she encountered Aoi, who showed her what playing golf could really be like. But between the mannequin imagery and the lyrics, I tend to read this one as more about Aoi and the expectations of her mother and grandparents for her to be a perfect golf princess so that she can be a vehicle for marketing their products. Meeting Eve, who defies every convention of the game of golf, respects no authority whatsoever save “whether or not you can kick her ass at golf,” is generally brash, aggressive, and unmarketable, and also is the first person to match Aoi in golf skills and histrionics opens her eyes to a whole new world of what golf can be. That world includes getting a bogey because you hit your ball directly into a tree branch, sure, but it ALSO includes the very next day managing to hit your ball into the same exact spot where that tree branch was so that you can bypass the entire trap of the hole and go straight for the win. Eve is ridiculous and we love that for her. And seeing this inspires Aoi to go off-script and behave in ways that aren’t designed to be perfectly palatable and marketable, breaking free of her cage.

What I’m saying is, if the show DOES pull the rug out from under us and reveal they’re sisters, it’s obviously going to weaken the story because then Athena just has TWO golf prodigies to try and market as they resist these attempts (newcomer Eve being even less agreeable than Aoi), but also the ending sequence is contextually gay as hell and if it gets walked back they are cowards.