#and then it got a wee bit easier

[mistercrowbar]

Aldiirn + haircuts

[salamispots]

a rug hook commission for @stickynotebirds! :O (who also drew the original sketch/design and I tweaked it a little bit)

[buwheal]

Graaaahh i love your spamton and the lore you gave him... idk hes very shaped and!! Waa!! Explodes/vpos

Also i was looking at the ref of your sona, its just a small question but how does the eye stitch work? I was a bit confused in how would it work there, if it makes her eye immobile or something ansjsb asking out of curiosity

YAYYY im so so so glad people like my interpretation 😭😭😭

as for your second question, i havent really thought about it all too much really... I added it because it has some personal significance to me, but most of the time i dont think ab it because it follows some cartoon logic + im lazy and i dont think about the way it works all too much, but actually, it doesnt make her eye immobile!! Its across her whole eye :-) I made a GIF to showcase it in action lol

shes just silly like that

[telesilla]

Feeling chefy about the smear of mayo I put on the black plate with my sandwich even if it was for the cat.

[lovebugism]

hey bug 🫶🏻 “cant stand that they're ignoring them” maybe r and Steve work together and he's been extra annoying lately. So r decides to ignore him. But he's only acting like a fool because he's in love 🥺

this fic ended up taking a life of it's own, so it's a wee bit different from your request, but i hope you like it anon!! — the one where you and steve are the personification of the "idiots in love" trope (friends to lovers, 1.5k)

Steve hears you before he sees you. A pair of whispers float down the windowless corridor of Family Video, sounding much more obvious in the otherwise silent store. He pauses mid-stride, with his fingers frozen on the buttons of his vest. His ears strain to listen. They find your familiar voice with little effort.

“—I can’t ‘just ask him out,’ Rob. It’s not that easy. I’m way too chicken shit.”

“Well, the worst he could say is no,” Robin attempts to assure you, voice deep and gritty and barely a whisper.

“Yeah, actually,” you huff, horrified. “That’s absolutely the worst thing he could say.”

“Except, he won’t because he’s not an idiot,” she argues.There’s a brief and stagnant pause, a fleeting moment of silent communication, until Robin exhales a heavy sigh. “Okay, he is a little bit of an idiot— but he’s an idiot that’s been in love with you for two years, so… He’s not stupid enough to turn you down.”

Distantly curious and very boyishly heartbroken, Steve decides to make himself known. He plasters a lopsided smile on his plush mouth, only slightly forced, to compensate for his bleeding heart. “What are you guys talkin’ about, huh?” he wonders, knowingly.

Your head snaps over your shoulder, eyes wide with horror. “Nothing,” you blurt, too quickly to be convincing.

Robin is not as nonchalant as you are. Totally unable to be casual, she says the first lie that comes to mind. “Eddie Munson,” she answers in a feeble attempt to cover your ass. 

Steve’s forced laughter fills the empty store. Robin cowers at the glare you give her and musters a wavering smile.

“Eddie? Eddie Munson?” Steve echoes, still chuckling. He folds his arms over the countertop across from you, biceps golden and strained against the sleeves of his polo. His smile is even prettier up close, but it hurts a little ‘cause he’s laughing at you. “You? Have a crush on Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson? There’s no way!”

You’d tell him there really was no way if he wasn’t being such an asshole about it. You thought you’d been caught for a moment — thought surely Steve would know that you were talking about him — but he’s a bigger idiot than you gave him credit for, turns out.

“It’s not that funny, Steve,” you squint.

He hums a teasing I don’t know type of sound and clicks his tongue against his teeth. “It is a little bit funny. I mean— Munson’s a total dumbass.”

You bite back a knowing smirk. “Well, I happen to like that about him,” you argue, leaning into the stupid joke. It’s easier to lie when it feels more like you’re talking about the quote-unquote dumbass in front of you.

“Well, you’d be the first,” Steve scoffs. His fake smile trembles at the edges when it gets harder to keep his guard up. “So, like, what now? Are you guys gonna be like… boyfriend-girlfriend or…?”

You meet his teasing smirk with a flat face. “You’re so annoying.”

“Have you guys kissed yet?” Steve pries, like he’s trying to break his own heart. “Or are you too scared of catchin’ his cooties?”

You roll your eyes and turn away, taking a fresh stack of tapes with you. Steve, assuming your silence is his answer, inhales a cartoonish gasp and follows behind you. “Holy shit, you have! Was it the worst? I mean, I’m assuming it was ‘cause… Eddie’s only ever had experience with the back of his hand, so… It must’ve been awful.”

His sarcasm is just investigative journalism, really. He wants to know what’s happened between you and the town freak — how far deep you’re in with Eddie and how much of a shot he’s got left with you.

“I’m not entertaining this,” you lilt and beeline for the Romantic Comedy section.

Steve follows close behind. “Why not?” he presses over your shoulder, towering over you as you slide the tapes into their designated spots. “I know Munson better than most people, you know? So maybe I can put in a good word for you or something—”

“Not necessary,” you deadpan.

He keeps on going. Digging the hole, as it were. “I could talk you up a bit. Get some top-secret info on his big fat crush on you—”

Your heart twists with every word out of his mouth. Not because he’s teasing you, but because you thought maybe, maybe, Steve might’ve liked you back. But now it feels like you just made all that up in your head. Because if he liked you like you thought he did, he wouldn’t be trying to set you up with someone else.

“—Help make it official and everything.”

“I don’t have a crush on Eddie,” you blurt before you mean to.

Steve’s rambling ceases. He feels immediate relief first, then palpable confusion right after. “…What?”

“I have a crush on you, you idiot,” you grouse, shoving the leftover tapes into his chest and storming off towards the breakroom.

Steve stands frozen in place while you leave, with a stack of VHSs held haphazardly in his arms. Wide-eyed and slightly embarrassed, he watches you disappear around the corner of the hallway. His gaze flits to Robin then, who tries to look busy on the computer, but really she’s just clicking at random spots on the screen.

“Well, I totally fucked that up, didn’t I?” he wonders dryly.

“Sorry,” the brunette grimaces. “That was kinda my fault— No one ever taught me how to be casual, so now I kinda… freak out when I have to be normal.”

Steve scoffs. That much was evident to him a long time ago.

He stalks into the break room sometime later — tail between his legs, heart in his throat. The old door squeaks open and shut again, a harsh sound in the deafening quiet. If you notice his presence, you make no effort to show it. Or look at him. Or even acknowledge his existence. 

Steve knows he doesn’t deserve either.

“Hey…” he starts softly, voice wavering.

“Don’t,” you interject, much harsher than you intended, with your back still facing him. You stand at the counter and stick clearance stickers on tapes that aren’t selling well as an excuse to busy your anxious hands. “Don’t say anything, okay? Just… let me be an idiot in peace.”

Steve chuckles under his breath. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

You flash him a glare over your shoulder.

“I’m the dumbass in this equation, alright?” the boy assures and stands at your side. He keeps a few unsure inches between the two of you, just in case he’s totally screwed everything up. “I mean, seriously. I can’t keep my mouth shut for shit.”

You scoff a faint laugh that you try to keep hidden.

An absentminded smile tugs unknowingly at his lips. Steve watches you with an unwavering stare made of melted honey as he confesses, “When Robin said you had a thing for Eddie, I just… My heart fell to my ass, you know? And then everything just started building up like vomit, and I started spitting it all out before I even realized…”

Your face screws. “Jeez…”

“Sorry,” Steve grimaces. “Gross metaphor.”

“I just don’t want things to change between us,” you admit distantly, gaze averted as you smooth a 20% off sticker over Class of Nuke ‘Em High. “I don’t want things to be weird now.”

“Things aren’t weird,” Steve reassures with a quiet chuckle.

You flash him a hopeful glance, eyes twinkling beneath your lashes. “So we can still be friends?”

“Of course,” the boy scoffs. “Who else am I gonna run to when Robin’s annoying the shit outta me?”

You try hard to bite back the smile tugging at your lips, but Steve makes it extremely difficult. “Right,” you nod, caging your beam between your teeth.

“But… you know…” Steve starts, slow and vague, as he props an elbow over the countertop. A cheeky smirk sits crooked on his mouth. “I do have it on good authority that—”

“Please don’t bring up Eddie again,” you plead jokingly.

“No. I was— I was gonna say that the guy, you know, that you wanted to ask out tonight or whatever…” the boy trails off, going suddenly shy as he averts his gaze, scruffy cheeks flaring pink. “I was just gonna say that he definitely wouldn’t say no.”

Your chest warms. “Oh…”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “He’s had a crush on you for, like, two whole years now, so… He’s not stupid enough to turn you down.”

“Is that so?” you question with a teasing lilt, turning to face him fully. You catch his eyes falling to your mouth, for no more than a flicker of a moment, and you smirk.

“How ‘bout Benny’s Burgers?” he questions, voice low and honeyed and full of yearning. The proximity’s got his head spinning. “Tomorrow night? Six o’clock?”

“Sounds good,” you hum, trying to play it as cool as he is now.

Steve nods with a similar casualness, then swipes a golden hand through his hair when a chestnut strand falls over his forehead. “Good,” is all he says in response — lest he say more and his voice break with excitement.

You wait until the door clicks shut behind him to squeal to yourself like a teenage girl.

[yandere-romanticaa]

A month has passed since a strange cult took you within its ranks. It wasn't necessarily by choice but it was something you needed to do in order to survive. Your entire village had been destroyed in a sudden onslaught of ferocious demons, massacring all of your friends and family.

You were left with nothing.

For days you had roamed the mountains and with a heavy heart had accepted the fact that you were going to die, be it from starvation, dehydration or some stray demon devouring you from head to toe.

Lord Douma had other things in store for you.

He was a strange one, the man who rescued you. He was oddly easy to amuse and absolutely everything you did was incredibly entertaining to him. One of his favorite past times were when he would simply stare at you as you talk about your life and perform everyday, mundane duties. At first you thought nothing of it - he saved your life, the least you could do was indulge him just a little bit.

Red flags started to show up soon though - the way he would move and carry himself, it simply was not natural. Whenever there was a meal, Douma would not even look at the food or even have a sip of water. You chalked it up to him having his own private meals and decided to think nothing of it.

You had managed to settle within a comfortable routine which just so happened to often cross paths with the great Lord himself. He seemed to greatly enjoy your presence and would have you with him from the moment the sun had risen until wee hours in the morning.

How was he never tired?

Suspicion slowly turned to fear as you noticed that some members of the cult were missing. No one knew what came of them or where they were last seen, as if some foul creature had spirited them away.

You brought up your concerns with Lord Douma but he just called you silly and told you not to worry about it. "Nothing bad will happen to you!" he'd say reassuringly but his words gave you shallow comfort.

Douma, for whatever reason, was also quite fond of physical touch and you were his favorite when it came to that. He was absolutely shameless and would explore your body however he saw fit. Amongst those odd trysts, you noticed that a powerful metallic smell would cling onto him and would never go away no matter how hard you washed his clothing.

No amount of praying could prepare you for the horror you'd encounter on one moonless evening.

You had woken up due to a strange noise and, against your better judgment, decided to investigate. With nothing but a single candle in your hand and a long but thin nightshirt covering your body, you ventured downwards the dark and creepy hallways. It felt as though the shadows themselves were out to get you because you'd flinch at every single sound no matter how miniscule. The closer you got to Lord Douma's chambers the stranger the noises got - giggling, slurping and crunching could be heard as a horrible stench filled the air, a smell so vile that it made you want to throw up your dinner. You'd often ask him what he liked to eat but naturally, Douma would just dodge your question or say something really silly. "It's easier if I eat alone!" he'd say as he caressed your hair. With each step you took the stench became stronger and stronger and Douma's words continued to ring inside your head like bells.

"You see, I'm a bit of a night owl! It's also not smart to come to my chambers without knocking first!~"

You should have listened to him and his thinly disguised warning.

Through the tiniest of cracks you saw Douma on the floor, covered in fresh blood. A wicked grin danced across his lips as he toyed with the severed limbs with the mauled corpse of a young woman, her eyes stricken with fear even in death.

It took you every ounce and willpower to not scream bloody murder.

With the way he was treating the corpse you'd think that Lord Douma was but a child with a precious toy. His light tone and playful gestures sent chills down your spine as you covered your mouth with your hand, a desperate attempt to conceal any potential noises that may escape you. You watched him for a few moments as you let it all sink in, not even realizing just how much your entire being trembled with fear. Just before you could make a break for it you heard Douma speak.

"I know you're there, watching me. I don't know who you are but I can smell you!"

Crap.

Dropping the candle to the floor you could do nothing but freeze as Douma continued to speak, total indifference lacing his voice.

"I would leave, if I were you. I am in a good mood tonight and shall play stupid so I won't turn around to see your face! Now, be a good little disciple and go back to bed!"

Squeaking like a helpless puppy, you ran away with your tail behind your legs, not realizing that Douma knew damn well that it was you. The demon could sense your presence across a giant mountain if need be and your sweet smell would invade his senses every time he would think about you. It was a shame that you saw him in such a state but he really did not want to kill you. He was content with playing dumb and hoped that it would be the same case for you as well.

As long as you kept your lips sealed, everything was going to be alright.

Part 2 here!

[httpseungmxn]

Big Boy

Quackity X Streamer!Female Reader

🍡 - flirty/extra flirty

Authors Note: Hello hello my Angels, I know I promised the Jin fic soon buuuuuut Q posted this photo and everyone, including myself, went wild over it! So I just had to make a fic about it! I have decided to make a new fic category just for this one, flirty/extra flirty! This fic will also play off of the other fics I made about him! I hope you guys can enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!<3

Warnings: Lanai attempts to get reader canceled:( , Reader is called “hermosa” and “amor”, wee bit of cussing fr this time

Triggers: None as far as I am aware!

You had really come to know Alex over the past few months. Him becoming one of your best friends, especially after it came out that your best friend Lenai had been spreading lies about you. She had gone to Alex first, expecting him to believe her, but that was a big mistake. As soon as he noticed the negative way she was speaking, he hopped on call with you while also helping notify your fans of the girl's lies.

Nightly calls were almost a daily thing between you two, as well as constant facetimes during yours and his visits to the gym. His hat was always left on, despite feeling just a little extra hot, he wasn’t quite ready to show you yet. You fully understood considering you used to hide your face from everyone. 

The closer you got, the more you wanted to visit him. You were bringing much more in than you expected from streaming, so a plane ticket wouldn’t be a problem. You wanted it to be a surprise to Alex though, knowing that would make it more fun. Alex had often talked about you guys meeting in real life, and how exciting it would be. It was decided, you would be booking a flight to see him. You already knew where he lived, having reached out to karl to help you with the surprise. Making him swear he wouldn’t tell alex you were going to see him. The plane ticket was much easier to get than you expected, and packing was done in a matter of hours.

The nerves set in that night after you had finished packing. It was clear to you and the fans that you had a bit of a thing for Alex, and getting to meet him was making you nervous. You always wondered if you should tell him how you felt but was always too scared to let it slip out to him. You had come so close to saying it a few days ago but it just got stuck in your throat.

You hardly slept the night, and as much as you hoped you would sleep on the plane, you didn’t. You were too nervous and excited at the same time. Feeling bad when you had to decline a facetime from alex while you were on the plane, not wanting to spoil the surprise. Though you answered him as soon as you were off the plane and in a taxi. “ hermosa, why didn’t you answer any of my calls before? I thought you were mad at me! “, “ im sorrrryyyy, I was taking a long nap, I’m in a taxi now though “,  “ a taxi? Where are you going, hermosa? “,  smiling to yourself, knowing in just a short while he will know where you are.

That came sooner than you expected though. Getting out of the taxi and making sure the camera is angled directly at your face so he can’t see where you are. “ im just visiting a friend nearby. Hold on just one sec, alex. “. knocking very gently on his door and looking to the camera, nerves setting back in when you see him leave his room. “ someones here, but I didn’t order any pizza. if I die, it was the hut, hermosa. “, unable to hold back a giggle. Looking to the door when it opens and smiling brightly at the boy in front of you. “ guess now you know which friend I’m visiting, huh? “. He didn’t respond at first, probably still trying to process it. Just as you didn’t process what he was doing until you were lifted up into a tight hug.

Smiling brightly as you hugged back. Not even letting go when you were set down. His arms were wrapped to tight around your waist, if you were a balloon you probably would’ve popped by now. You didn’t mind it though, you felt safe in his arms. Your nerves being shooed away with one little hug. “ how the fuck did you manage to surprise me so well, hermosa “ ,  “ you know I like to keep you on your toes, ‘lex “. Smiling again when he lets out a light laugh at your response. 

“ come in, come in, sorry it might be kind of a mess “, Alex spoke as he gathered your bags and carried them inside for you. Only then did you realize just how big he had gotten in the muscle category. Eyes staring at his muscles as they flexed with each movement. “ alex, when the hell did you manage to grow those? “, unable to hold your filter. 

Listening to him laugh again before he flexed his arms to show off for you. “ are you checking me out, amor? “. That was new, he had never called you that before, and it was obvious to him you knew what it meant considering the blush coming to your cheeks. “ now don’t get too ahead of yourself, cowboy, you were the one purposely checking me out on call just five minutes ago “.

“ Did you expect me not too? You look really beautiful in that dress “. That was also new. Alex was constantly teasing you, but the tone in his voice was different now. It sounded so serious and dripped with confidence in how he felt. You found it hard to hold eye contact wit him now. Not even five minutes into the meet up, and alex already had you red.

“ Lets be honest, Amor, surely you didn’t expect me to hold back just because you’d turn all red and yell at me. You being here just means I can let it all out, times ten. “. His smile had you wobbly in the legs, there was something so different about seeing it in person compared to facetime.

Only now did you realize this visit was going to be a lot more different than you expected. 

Alex was going to be the death of you.

Authors ending note; So who else got butterflies reading that? I got jittery and I’m the one writing it! I feel like I’m slowly beginning to get better at portraying him, and thats probably because I study the way a lot of people write him while also paying extra attention to how he is in streams/videos. Perhaps soon we will get a confession, and possibly a hair reveal? Who knowssss, guess you guys will have to just stick around for the next one! Also who else lost their mind over that photo he dropped last night? I’m in the whatsapp and as soon as he sent it, twitter was going absolutely chaotic[myself included]! If you guys wanna follow me on social media, my X is @/f_fuyuma! Until next time, My Angels 🫶

[ryukenzz]

Muzan Kibutsuji - SFW & NSFW Headcanons

[Note: Relationship Headcanons of Muzan Kibutsuji from Demon Slayer. Reader will be human and a regular citizen for this scenario. Will contain NSFW and slight manga spoilers (just one) so minors/anime-onlys, please do not interact.]

SFW:

Oooooo wee. Mr. Grumpy for a Living himself. Being in a relationship with Muzan can be.... interesting. It can be a lot of things. He can act "generous" and spoil you like a princess or just outright mean as hell. Either way, you'll be treated more as a pet/prized possession than an actual partner.

Muzan, or Tsukihiko, first met you while he was on a stroll with his beloved "wife and daughter." You were minding your business, and the demon just couldn't keep his eyes off you. Of course, the demon chastised himself for even looking at anyone like that, much less a mere human. But, longer he had his eyes on you, the more he wanted to know about you. So, he began planning your move into his castle and his life. This Demon King wanted his Queen. Well... to be more accurate....

He was in need of you.

From your point of view, you noticed Muzan's intense gaze on you that night. To say you weren't fazed by it would be a bold-faced lie. You tried to shake off his glare, but something within you made your eyes turn towards his. The shivers that enveloped your spine, the slight hitch in your breath and body language, none of it went unnoticed by him. Those ruby red eyes of his.... it's like they put you in a trance. One that made you want to know more about him.

The next time you saw Muzan was during a local event in your village. As you went to approach him, the alarm bells in the back of your mind began to ring. Your logic was telling you to stay away from this man at all cost. Deciding to put those thoughts behind, you approach the demon and introduce yourself. Muzan was a bit surprised that you made the first move, but all it did was make his plan of having you that much easier. Giving you a warm smile, he returned your gesture and bowed politely.

“It's a pleasure to meet you as well, (Last Name). I'm Tsukihiko. I apologize for my staring the other night.”

Such a suave liar.

From that day on, a steady friendship ensued between the two of you. Friendly trips to the market, hangouts at local events, night walks in the village. All of it made you come to like Muzan even more. To the point that those feelings became rather.... loving. Initially, you felt guilty for even developing them. The thought of being with a married father made you feel icky. But, being the oh so attentive person that he is, Muzan took note of your inner dilemma and immediately knew how to dissolve those worthless worries. All it took was a fake smile and gentle reassurance.

“(Name), I've come to sense that you're worried about Rei. Well, I can say that it is not necessary. We got a divorce as of recent, and she took our daughter with her. A factor of why is due to what I am.”

Muzan then told you about him being a demon. How he had to consume flesh to survive. This new information made you feel highly conflicted, to say the least. Before you could even process his confession, you heard a twang and found yourself surrounded by a multitude of buildings. You go to question him, but what you saw made your body freeze. Those ruby red eyes you fell for were now a harsh, blood red with slits. The caring Tsukihiko was really the ever atrocious Muzan Kibutsuji, the King of all Demons.

The devilish man stood in front of you, caressing your cheek gently, despite the look of possessiveness in his eyes. It was at this moment that you knew what you were dealing with. It terrified you, but.... it also intrigued you. It only made you fall deeper in love with him. Which is exactly what he wanted. “From this day on, you are mine, and mine only. No demon or man is allowed to be in your prescence, much less look at you. Such filth shall not matter to you. Ever. Do you understand.”

As most people say, Muzan has achieved the rich status and will pretty much spoil you. Anything you want, he's already at the place, cash in hand. That kimono you were eyeing? Already in the closet. A piece of jewelry you talked about getting? He's already putting it around your neck. This man has bought you so much stuff that you feel like a spoiled princess rather than his s/o.

Affection is very rare with him. He's not exactly the romantic type, but when he's in the mood for your touches, he'll just stop you from whatever you were doing and sit you in his lap. He'd caress your thighs and deliver small kisses to your neck. He would hold you tight, almost clingy, but these moments always made your heart flutter.

NSFW:

Now, you know this man is experienced. He's lived for over a thousand years, plus he had five wives in the past (though he treated them like complete shit). Muzan has the knowledge and skills to make the human body experience the ultimate pleasure.

If it weren't for Muzan's ability to hold himself back, he would've jumped on you then and there. The site of the soft ropes decorating the canvas that was your body made him aroused. He decided to heighten the experience by blindfolding you. The demon began to circle you, using the tips of his fingers to stroke the skin of your tummy, goosebumps appearing in their trail. He then moved them to your lips, letting them invade your mouth. You happily sucked on them, a soft moan emitting from you. An amused smirk formed on Muzan's lips.

“Such greed you have. Are you so reluctant to suck on my fingers? Perhaps my cock would be a better option for you then? Hm?”

It seemed his statement went straight to your core. As he stood in front of you and adjusted the rope to spread your legs, Muzan chuckled at the sight of your pussy drooling. Kneeling down, he delivered a series of kisses to your clit while sliding his middle and ring fingers in. To say you were a whimpering mess was an understatement. A combination of not knowing when or what he'd do, plus the feeling of his slender fingers, your cunt sang a song of joy for him.

Muzan is definitely big. He's definitely a good 9 inches and would increase its size to a 10. His cock has veins on both sides, and a pretty pink tip. You didn't know how you were gonna make it with a monster like that, but no worries. Muzan will make it fit. It's why this activity is done with you and you only. Your pussy is the only thing that's capable to handling him.

Your heart jumped a bit when you felt your body being suspended a couple inches off the bed. Was this man really about to fuck you stupid like this? Taking off his clothes, Muzan stood on the bed and used the tip of his dick to tease your entrance. You whined at him to stop the tease and get on with the show. A slap to your clit and the rough pace of his thrusts made you pause your complaint, your loud mewls ringing in the air.

“Cease your complaining. I'm the only one who gives instructions here. Are you that hungry for my cock that you decide to be a brat? To be so desperate as to beg me for it? So filthy. But nonetheless, I will gladly show you just how much I can offer this pussy.”

Muzan's favorite position is definitely between missionary and doggy. Missionary allows him to see you fall apart and mark your neck with his lovebites. Doggy, on the other hand, gives him access to smack your ass to his heart's content. He also loves to push your head into the mattress and fuck you harder. But, his number one will always be you on your knees, sucking him for everything's he's got.

Ya'll have more than likely fucked while he was in his female form. You never knew that tribbing could feel so good. And boy, was Muzan a master at the art. Crossed missionary, cowgirl, you did it all. Of course, she fucked you with dildos of all sizes. Some days, Muzan would overstimulate you with a vibrator attached to your clit.

“You can't handle anymore? How disappointing. You've only had four orgasms so far. Surely you can take more, my naughty girl.”

The overall lesson here? Muzan Kibutsuji is a god at sex, and you will always be left a drooling mess.

[Here's Muzan! Ngl, I went a bit wild with NSFW jdndnrnr💀. Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs will be greatly appreciated 💕.]

[Tagging: @sailewhoremoon @frxxst]

[bailey-dreamfoot]

‼️‼️THE GRAMPA SQUAD COMIC IS DONE‼️‼️

Ok so, wee explanation + headcannons under the cut.

Ok so assuming you've stuck around for my insane ramblings, heres the gist:

This comic is very much inspired by Factual Fantasy's Comics about Marsh, Natquick, and Calico Jack. And while my personal head cannon does share in the idea of the group working together- I thought it would be hilariously fun to include Inkling, and tbh it focuses more on him than the others anyway.

In the show, inkling doesn't really get out much. There are really only a few episodes where he has a significant role, and even less when he actually participates in missions outside of *insert knowledgeable insight*.

I believe this is for 2 reasons:

He just prefers the comfortable vibe of his library. The book-worm role fits his personality well - enjoying studying or cataloging species alongside Shellington - and he likes spending time with the Vegimals.

His Mobility issues. While he can very easily traverse the watery environments in the base show- in a&b, he doesn't really show much interest in exploring the land until he's told an old friend was the one in need of help. He has the ability, its just difficult- and he knows his limitations.

Inkling has his hover chair, that allows him to move around the octopod relatively easily. However - in the Min episode - they make it a point that he cant take it with him on land, or use it over rough terrain.

My version of Inkling uses an actual wheelchair, so I thought it'd be a neat idea that after that adventure- he'd want to try joining missions more often. And to deal with said mobility issues and limitations- say they got specialized tires for his wheelchair- so he could go join up on land missions more often.

After going on a few more missions with the other Octonauts, he hears about Octoagents Calico Jack, and Professor Natquick joining up with Ranger Marsh to help out in the Everglades- you best bet he jumped at the opportunity to tag along. Think of all the species he could ad to his personal catalogue. They might even discover a few new ones! Leaving the Octopod for so long after being basically the one constant to the place was a bit scary sure - and the other Octonauts were certainly emotional ab him leaving (especially Barnacles) - but maybe a change of scenery would do him good.

Sooo He does that! Professor Inkling meets up with the others on a dock near Marsh's Ranger station and get to work! One of the coolest things they did was collecting egg samples and catching an adult specimen of a newly discovered trapdoor spider! the Pine Rockland Trapdoor. Marsh Has a nursery where he cares for tons of snakes, lizards, insects and birds to make sure they have the best chance for survival. Thats where these eggs are going- to hatch in safety and then be released back into the ecosystem. On top of that, they take samples of the adults venom for study, and inkling is sure to make a detailed report of the arachnid in his many journals brought along with him!

As you may expect, Kwazzi takes after his grandad in his fear of spiders. Jack has seen worse, but It doesnt make it any easier to be close to them. Natquick on the other hand- In all his time in the arctic hes never seen anything as freaky as a spider bigger than a quarter.

Aaand that's it! I'm hoping to do some more comics with the lads in the future, although probably not as detailed as this one. It took more than 2 weeks- please.

Also, I find it kinda goofy that the panels get more detailed as you go along. Thats what happens when the first and last panel were made almost a month apart from each other. 💚

Also also- yes I did do actual research for the animals in the last comic. It was going to be a funnel web spider they're researching, but then I looked it up and found out Funnelwebs don't live in the Everglades. :']

[flipphone01st]

PLEASE write the mafia 141 idea you posted🥺I'm in love with the idea so much already!!!

Mafia 141/Bartender reader- Part one

Johnny🧼

Mostly Johnny/reader in this fic, because ive decided to split this up into different parts that will focus on different characters Like part 2 could focus of Gaz/reader.

Warning: not proof read, bad joke, swearing, alcohol and smoking, Johnny is a lil shit, and pushy, poorly written accents, (if I forgot anything that could have a warning let me know )

this is literally my first time actually writing a full fic so it's probably mediocre, FEEDBACK AND CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS GREATLY APPRECIATED. Other then that I hope you enjoy :)

Stupid uncle, stupid debt, stupid bar. You hated this, but you suppose its your own fault. If only you had just closed the door when your uncle showed up at your door begging for help because he had gained massive debt to one of the most infamous crime bosses in the city... Johnathan Price...if only you had just said no and didn't drive your ass down to Price's club and demand to speak with him, didn't try and bargain for your uncle...maybe then you wouldn't be forced to work for the bastard...

Two hours...thats how much longer you'd have to spend standing behind this bar. You swear to god, if other drunk yells at you you'll shove a jigger down their throat, and your 'coworkers', if you could even call them that, weren't making your life easier. If anything they were hellbent on making it worse. "Yer lookin' a bit peely wally." Johnny chuckles while cleaning a margarita glass, it was just him today, said Kyle was off doing something for Price, you didn't want to ask what.

You glance up at him, eyes narrowing in confusion and slight annoyance "..huh?"

"Means you look like shite." He clarifies.

You sigh and stand up, nudging an empty box away with your foot "thanks... asshole." You grumble. He chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender, "Awe come on, I'm just funnin' with ya. You look fine, a wee bit red in the face, but that's it." He grins, you didn't hate him, he could actually be quite hilarious sometimes... sometimes...You roll your eyes. He laughs and takes out a cigarette, lighting it up. "Ya want one?" He offers.

"no...I thought price didn't like us smoking around the drinks.."

"Aye, he doesn't." He shrugs, taking a drag of his cigarette. "but what ol Pricey doesn't know won't kill em."

"mm.." your nose scrunches in disgust at the smell. you take a small step away, not wanting the smoke to settle on your clothes. He blows smoke out the side of his mouth, away from you "yer no fun ya know that?" You scoff, "pft..I can be fun.", while crossing your arms, and leaning back against the bar with your lips shaped into a slightly grumpy pout. "Oh?" He chuckles again, leaning back against the bar himself "can ya? Let's see, tell me a joke."

you think long and hard "uuuuuuuuuuuh..ok I got one. What do you call a fake noodle?" Johnny squints his eyes "...what?"

"....an impasta..."

"..."

"..." You're both silent, completely silent.... just staring at each other...

"..." Johnny sighs "that joke was dogshite."

Your shoulders slump forward in defeat "I know." He chuckles, "Well at least yer aware." before taking another drag of his cigarette. before looking at you with the most smug grin you've ever seen "but that also just proved my point...yer no fun, pipsqueak."

"Pipsqueak?" You raise an eyebrow as your eyes narrow

"Yeah, you heard me. Yer a wee'un." He teased, god you wanted to whip that stupid grin off his equally stupid face. "you're not even that much taller than me."

"I'm seven inches taller than you." He points out.

"...nuh uh.."

"Fuck ya mean, nuh uh?" His eyebrows furrowed as he tries not to laugh, on the other hand, your brows furrow in annoyance. "I mean, nuh uh."

Johnny chuckles, and places his hand on top of your head. He then leans down, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours "dena it alllll ya want..." His eyes were locked with yours, the faint smell of cigarette smoke almost making you recoil in disgust. he leans even closer, you try and lean back but you're stopped by the bar. "...yer still a pipsqueak!" then ruffles your hair aggressively.

You slap his hand away, glaring at him while fixing your hair. "Jerk! Don't do that again." you grumble, and to make matters even worse, you feel your cheeks heat up a bit. "Awe, someone's all hot and flustered now." He smirks, giving you a small jab with his elbow "c'mon now, I was just joking around, relax."

You groan softly and roll your eyes, pushing him away and walking to the other side of the bar, trying to find anything that you could use to ignore him. Johnny grins, quickly putting out his cigarette and following after you "see! that's exactly what I'm talking about. Such a grump...don't tell me yer so boring that ya don't even like a bit of harmless flirting?"

"go away, Johnny." You don't look up from the drink you were pouring for a costumer "Aww, c'mon. I'm just tryna lift yer spirits." He wraps his arm around your shoulder "you like me don't ya?" He grins, not expecting a positive answer.

Your eyes widen and you move out from under his arm "no." Was your immediate response, your voice stern. Johnny grins wider and moves to stand right in front of you, leaning right up and practically invading your personal space. "Don't lie to me now. I bet ya daydream about me, don't ya? About all of us? Me and the lads, hm?"

Your face goes red "what?" He grins, almost deviously "you think I haven't noticed the way ya seem to float off into lala land while staring at me or Kyle work? When Simon's gotta rough up some jackass? Or even when price is literally just in the room with ya? Don't try to dena it, pipsqueak...just can't keep us all out of yer fantasies eh?" His hands slide their way onto your hips, he didn't seem to care about the bar patrons laughing and ooing, some even getting annoyed that the two bartenders were flirting with each other instead of enabling their alcohol addiction.

Your brain felt like it was short circuiting, it had become uncomfortably warm. If you were a truther..you'd admit that despite hating these four men...they were kinda hot. But you're a god damn liar and you'll be one till the day you die! "i-i!..no..no way!.. you're crazy! There's no way in hell id ever like any of you like...that.."

"Mm...sure... I'm definitely crazy." He leans even closer, his voice a whisper as he presses his body into you, the two of you basically chest to chest "...crazy about you." He leans down to try and steal a kiss, you're eyes widen comically large but thankfully before you could even react the gruff voice of Simon makes Johnny freeze just before his lips could graze yours "That's enough, you two 'er supposed to be workin, not swapping spit." He glares at Johnny, you didn't notice it but there was a slight hint of jealousy in his dark eyes... you didn't notice, but Johnny sure as hell did.

Johnny quickly backs up from you, and then looks at Simon with a smug grin on his face "Jeez... Yer no fun either, Si. We were just messin' around." Simon stares him down, not breaking eye contact with Johnny for a good two minutes, until finally letting out a deep sigh "just keep it outside of work..." then glances at you, "Price said you're free to go for today.."

You nod "uh..thank you." You awkwardly stutter, still trying to process what just happened and understand how it made you feel... were you embarrassed? Very. Were you necessarily uncomfortable?... strangely enough...no, you weren't uncomfortable. Simon nods then walks off into his little office behind the bar, Johnny watches him go, then his gaze wanders back over to you "Sooo, ya gonna head off then?"

"yeah.." you answer, somewhat shyly. Johnny nods, a quick look of disappointment on his face before he masks it with a smile "alright, then...have a good night, pipsqueak." He shrugs playfully, and begins walking off to serve a poor bastard that had been trying to order a drink for the past five minutes. ".. you too, Johnny.." you mutter while walking out from behind the bar to towards the break room to get your stuff and finally leave....what a weird ass day...

END OF PART ONE. Please let me know what you thought

[wistfulcynic]

the inn is a metaphor

They are terrible at running an inn. 

In the beginning. 

They don’t know the first goddamn thing about the hospitality industry. Or carpentry, plumbing, invoicing, logistics. Anything, really. They know nothing. 

They learn. 

There’s a lot of trial, even more error. But by the first time the Revenge returns for a visit they have something. A roof that doesn’t leak. Un-rotted floorboards. Nooks and crannies free from feral beasts of any kind. Zero spiders. Twin armchairs in front of the fire and a bed just big enough for the two of them. It’s a start. 

The Revenge comes bearing gifts. Wee John has knitted them some afghans and Frenchie sewed an enormous quilt, which takes pride of place on the bed. They’ve towed in another ship as well, a wreck whose timber they all pitch in to rebuild into an extension and some outbuildings. Roach helps them plant a kitchen garden and a medicinal one. 

Jackie gives them business advice and contacts for her old suppliers. Lucius has a guestbook for them, with marginalia he drew himself. Some of it at least is appropriate for guests to see. The rest…

“Are you planning to have guests who’ll faint at the sight of a cock?” Lucius inquires innocently. “Because I’ll be honest with you, that seems unlikely.” 

The idea of guests of any kind is still a long way off, but they’re getting there. They can envision it now, and not just as a wild fantasy they spin each other at night as they lie entwined with sweat cooling on their skin. They have actual plans, concrete ones, and a decent understanding of how to realise them. 

They get to work. 

Jackie’s contacts prove invaluable. Soon they have a liquor supplier, deals with local butchers, bakers, candlestick-makers, and even a reliable fisherman to give them first dibs on his haul. 

(It’s not Pop-Pop.) 

A few survivors of Zheng’s old crew hire on as housekeeping and kitchen staff. The soup is phenomenal. Ed learns how to make it and how to cook a fish without burning it. They have fresh-smelling towels, expertly folded. They have guest rooms, and soon they have guests. 

It’s an adjustment, having new people in their space. Some of the guests are gawkers, eager for a piece of Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate. They reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, namely those particular assholes. But other guests are much more pleasant. Locals looking for a bit of a mini-break, people from nearby islands wanting a getaway, even the occasional European who doesn’t know who they are. 

The guests are mostly happy with their stay. There’s excellent soup and decent fish, fresh linens and great views. The walls could be a bit thicker, perhaps, for everyone’s comfort, but the hosts are always most apologetic in the morning and offer copious marmalade in exchange for good reviews. 

The Revenge returns frequently, each time with some new trinkets and finery for their former co-captains. In exchange, they host bonfires on the beach with music and dancing and wine, until they all fall asleep together in a pile, so like the old days on the ship that Stede watches them in the soft light of the embers with tears in his eyes. 

“All right, love?” Ed asks him. He slips an arm around Stede’s waist. Stede tugs him in until Ed’s head is nestled against his shoulder. He strokes Ed’s hair. Ed sighs and snuggles closer. 

“I’m all right,” Stede says. “A bit nostalgic is all.” 

“You miss it.” 

“I miss the crew. I wish they could visit more often. I suppose I miss the sea, though of course it’s right there in front of us. But I’m happy, Ed. I have no regrets.” 

“Really?” The whisper of doubt in Ed’s voice has Stede pulling back to look down at his dear face. 

“Yes really! Do you doubt it?” 

“Kind of.” Ed shrugs. “It’s easier for me, I think. I was ready to be done with it, Stede. Desperate to do anything else but be Blackbeard. But you—you had just got started. You could be out there now with the crew, pirating away. You could be famous. You could—” 

“Ed Teach, you listen to me.” Stede’s got his Captain Voice on now and the sound of it has Ed’s stomach turning cartwheels, his dick leaping to attention. “I don’t care about any of that. I only wanted to be a pirate for the freedom. To escape my old life. But I have a life now that I would never want to escape. Do you know why?” 

Ed shakes his head. 

“Because I chose it. I chose you. I love you and I would be happy anywhere you were.” He cups Ed’s cheek in his palm and kisses his forehead, his nose, his lips. Ed moans and presses closer but Stede pulls back, just far enough to whisper, “You make Stede happy.” 

They spend that night alone in the inn, no guests, far enough from the beach that when they serve breakfast to the crew the next morning not a single smirk or smart remark is sent their way. 

They wave goodbye to their friends that evening and stand together on their porch to watch the ship sail off into the sunset. Stede turns to Ed with a smile. “New guests checking in tomorrow,” he says. “We should probably fix the creak in the door hinge of Room 1.” 

“I’ll do it,” says Ed, “if you polish the candlesticks. Fuckin’ polish makes my nose itch.” 

“Deal,” says Stede. He turns to head inside. “What’ll we have for dinner?” 

“Got a nice turbot we could roast.” 

“Ooh, fab.” 

The inn’s front door closes behind them. 

It’s still a bit rickety, their inn. It’s old, it creaks, it springs leaks from time to time. It’s hard work, keeping it going. But they are devoted to the task. Whatever it takes, they will see their inn thrive. 

It’s what makes them happy. 

[kallisto-k]

Harringrove Relay Race

This is my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race! Please enjoy a little fluff and comfort below the cut and look forward to the incredible work from the next relay contributor @kuroubojin!!

To be Desperate for Sleep

“You need your sleep, pretty boy,” Billy murmured into Steve’s hair, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “Just go to bed already.”

Steve groaned a muffled ‘no’ into Billy’s chest as he forced an eye open to watch the movie. It was some documentary that Billy was obsessed with, and as exhausted as Steve was after work, he still couldn’t make himself get off the couch and go to bed. Without Billy, the bed was cold and too big and Steve couldn’t help feeling like his back was exposed, ready to be attacked. When Steve had Billy snoring lightly beside him, at least he had someone ready to fight with him, someone to make fighting worth it. Not that Steve told Billy that. It was easier to just pretend that he wanted to stay up than admit that he barely slept when Billy had night shifts or went out late with friends. He would find any excuse he could to stay up until Billy had crawled in between the sheets at the wee hours of the morning. 

“Come on, you haven’t been sleeping much. I’m going to turn in right after this is done; you don’t have to stay up.”

Steve shook his head against Billy’s collarbone. “‘M fine, I’ll wait.”

Billy sighed and Steve thought that was the end of it. He’d go to bed when the documentary was over and Billy was ready and then maybe he’d actually sleep through the night without the memories of Starcourt haunting him. The last thing Steve expected to accompany Billy’s words was for him to be bundled up in Billy’s arms and practically launched into the air as Billy stood. He scrambled to wrap his arms around Billy’s neck even though he knew Billy wouldn’t let him fall and it drew out a little chuckle from Billy. “Don’t worry, I gotcha pretty boy.”

“Asshole.” 

“You know it.” He could feel Billy’s chuckle through his cheek and curled closer to Billy as he was carried into the bedroom. When Billy went to set Steve on the bed he pulled him down with him, tangling him in his legs and arms. “Hey!”

“Mm, comfy.” Steve murmured in Billy’s ear before sticking his tongue out to lick his earlobe. It got a huff out of Billy and a shiver and Steve tightened his tired grip. 

“Ewww,” Billy rolled his eyes but didn’t try to pull away again. Instead he rolled the pair of them onto their sides. “Did you really have to lick me?”

Steve shrugged slightly, turning his cheek into the pillow and reaching up to brush his thumb over the thin scar in Billy’s brow. “You usually like it when I lick you. Or are you too tired today, Hargrove?” 

Billy managed to hold the unimpressed look on his face for about two seconds before he cracked, giving Steve a borderline salacious grin as he shook his head. “I’m not the one that’s tired, pretty boy.” 

This time it was Billy who drew Steve closer. He tucked his chin over Steve’s shoulder so there was space between them and hummed quietly. “I’m right here, Steve. You can sleep.”

“You knew?” Steve let his hand slide down to Billy’s shoulder, resting there and feeling how real he was. He’d thought he’d been stealthy, careful, so Billy wouldn’t think he was clingy or dependent upon him. He’d spent hours coming up with a million excuses for when Billy would find him half-asleep on the couch waiting up for him. 

He snorted, burying his hand in Steve’s hair and holding him in place. “Took me a while to figure it out, but yeah, I knew. Now rest; I won’t let the demodogs bite.” 

“Screw you,” Steve chuckled. It didn’t keep him from wiggling in the bed a bit to get comfy and sighing when Billy pulled up the comforter. 

Billy pressed a light kiss to Steve’s cheek, his scruff a pleasant and well-loved scratchiness. “Maybe tomorrow, once we’ve gotten some sleep.”

[yuri-is-online]

Seven Plus One Happy Haunts (An 800 Followers Thank You)

"NRC is having a culture festival?" You blurt out, immediately drawing the attention of everyone in your class. Normally this interruption would be met with a swift smack, but the thought doesn't even flicker across Crewel's mind much to the envy of your classmates. Instead, something similar to a stress headache seems to work it's way across his face as he takes a brief pause to breathe.

"I take it the Headmage has neglected to inform you of this?" He says it like a question, but really it sounds more like he is begging you to prove him wrong. "He was supposed to ask your permission."

"Permission for what?!" You try not to sound too panicked but that's difficult when Crewel's normal sternness re-emerges to silence Ace and Deuce's whispers.

"Sit!" He cracks his crop and returns to the black board. "And Yuu, once classes are done for the day, meet me back here. It will be much easier for me to explain things to you and Grim than sending you on a wild crow chase." Oh you don't like the sound of that at all. ~~~~ By the time classes are over, you are drooping under the weight of an entire school's worth of whispers and surprised you remember your way back to your Homeroom.

"Where's Grim?" Crewel asks, though he doesn't sound terribly worried. So it's bad news bad news.

"He decided to ditch me for Ace and Deuce and I didn't have the energy to chase him down, sorry." Your book bag drops with just as dramatic a thunk as you do.

"Let me make you a coffee, you are going to need some." Crewel sighs. "As you might be aware, culture festivals tend to involve things like booths and side show games."

"Typically they're run by the classes or clubs, right?" You aren't really liking where this is going.

"In anime and at normal schools yes. And if this had been any other year that would be the case for us too but someone-" the same tension headache from this morning reappears, "got the bright idea to suggest that we form groups by putting the entire student body into an ai generator of some sort to encourage team work or something like that."

"Oh." No wonder Crewel can't seem to tell the difference between the containers where he keeps the instant coffee packets and the wet wipes. "Are you ok? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Very sweet of you to offer pup." He lets you take over the coffee and smiles gratefully when he sees you move to make him a tea. "But back to how this effects you, one of those groups got the bright idea to run a Haunted House, and the Headmage suggested they use Ramshackle for 'authenticity's sake' and generously offered them your assistance as well."

"Compared to some of the other things he's done I guess it could be worse?" Not that you are thrilled, your tone makes that clear. "I mean it's a haunted house, it could be fun. What is it you want me to help out with anyway?"

"That's what they've been arguing over." Crewel looks and sounds very, very tired as you finally notice the growing chatter of voices just outside the classroom door that is finally making an entrance alongside a very familiar face.

"I'm telling you, it makes the most sense for Yuu to help me!"

notes: Thank you all so much for 800 followers! Normally I'd run an event but I got a wee bit burnt out with the last one, so please accept this humble Haunted Mansion themed offering~ And feel free to guess who is who, I originally intended this to be a Halloween themed thing so I picked most of the cast members from boys people thought were getting neglected from the SSR pool (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Emphasis on most

Haunt 1- Host With the Most: Vil

Haunt 2- Manipulating the Buyers: Rollo

Haunt 3- Life Lines

Haunt 4- Tie the Knot Tango

Haunt 5- Nevermore

Haunt 6- Life Hereafter

Haunt 7- Rest in Peace

Bonus Haunt- ???

Taglist: @nothingfuninthislife

[dullgecko]

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

Gooooood fucking damnit i wasnt planning on writing more but im like a dog doing backflips for bacon bits. Cant help myself. Comments are my kryptonite.

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

His friends didn't end up going back to school that day, Sklonda leaving the door to Riz's room cracked so they could watch him as they sat quietly in the living room. Gorgug, Adaine and Fig left at one point to go to the store, returning over an hour later with some snacks, a new lightbulb for the ceiling light which Gorgug replaced without comment, and an entire new locking mechanism for the door (once Gorgug gave up trying to fix the current one) including spare keys for all of them. All of which was paid for with a large handful of silver coins from Fabians wallet, though the fighter had refused to go with them as he stayed watching vigil with Kristen over their sick friend in case he got worse.

Kristen had tried using greater restoration on the sleeping goblin and it seemed to help, his breathing getting a little easier though his temperature still remained rather high as he continued to try and sleep off the virus. She seemed somewhat satisfied with being able to at least do that much, eventually leaving with Adaine and Fig when Jawbone came to pick them up once it got dark. Adaine sneaking into Riz's room to place Boggy in his arms before leaving. The rogue sleeping lightly enough that he was able to mutter a quiet thanks to his wizard friend as he curled around the familiar and pressed his burning forehead against the cold presense.

Fabian and Gorgug had stayed longer still, Riz himself being the one to tell them to go home when he dragged himself out of bed to go use the bathroom and noticed them still hanging out in his apartment. He was still swaying a little on his feet as he walked, face pale and skin hot to the touch as he ineffectivly shoved them both towards the door. Even if he wasn't sick he'd never be strong enough to push them but they got the hint. Relenting only after watching him take another dose of the powdered medicine before he shuffled back to his room to sleep some more.

The half-elf was still frowning and worried when he finally got home, the Hangman seeming to pick up on his pensive nature and not making any comment as Fabian dismounted. Simply nudging against his hand before turning to go put itself away in the garage. He tried to school his features into a more neautral mask as he entered his house but his discomfort must have been fairly obvious. Cathilda stopping in her tracks as she scurried past him carrying an armfull of perfectly folded towels.

"What's wrong dearie you look upset?" She had to turn sideways to look at him, the pile of towels in her arms easily reaching over her head and swaying slightly when she stopped walking.

"Oh it's nothing~" Fabian waved a hand, trying to look flippant before reaching out to still the dangerously teetering pile before it fell over. "The Ball is quite ill at the moment and I was mearly thinking about something. He's got quite a fever but I'm sure he'll be fine by tomorrow."

The halfling pursed her lips, drawing them into a thin line as she looked up at Fabian from behind the pile. "Oh dear. Isn't often that you'll see a goblin actually sick. They're quite hearty folk y'know, up until they aren't. I've seen more than a few go down that way."

"Pardon?" Fabian blinked, reaching down to take the top three-quarters of the stack off Cathilda when she started walking again. Mostly so he had an excuse to follow her and get more information on that rather concerning little tidbit she'd just dropped.

"Oh yes, poor dears are built tough. They have to be to live up in those dreadful mountains. Headaches and exhaustion are run of the mill but if they get proper ill they're not able to keep much of anything down. They get so weak from lack of food that their wee hearts just give out trying to fight off the sickness." She sighed, directing Fabian where to deposit the clean towels as she lead him from guest bathroom to guest bathroom as they talked.

"And how long does that usually take?" The half-elf hoped his voice was managing to stay even, maybe with more of a curious tone, but it was starting to rise a little bit with restrained panic.

"Ohhh I saw one lad, Grilbak I think his name was, went down in one night. Spiked a nasty fever and was gone before he woke up again. Though he hadn't eaten for a few days at that point, you know what goblins are like, and we had no medicine on board for him when he first took ill." She pat Fabians leg, finally clocking that he was probably not doing well with talk like this. "BUT I'm sure your wee rogue will be fine. Perhaps we can send him over some weak soup, they're usually okay keeping that down."

Fabian swallowed around a lump in his throat, mouth feeling a little dry as he nodded and put down the last of the towels where he was directed. "That sounds like an excellent idea. He certainly didn't eat anything while we were there so he must be ravenous by now."

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

Fabian felt a little bit stupid, standing outside The Balls house at 11pm, holding a bag with several tupperware containers inside and texting his crystal. Riz didn't answer, but given he'd probably muted his crystal after the last flurry of group texts Fabian wasnt surprised. He didn't want to just barge in... for the second time in one day... so he instead texted the number he'd procured earlier from Sklonda (in case of The-Ball-Isnt-Answering emergencies).

She was apparently out of the house and attending her night classes, Riz having gotten up at some point and assuring her he'd be fine by himself for a couple hours and that her classes were important. Sklonda giving Fabian permission to go check on their rogue since she'd be out for a few more hours yet.

At least this time he didn't have to kick in the door to get in, simply unlocking it with the spare key Gorgug had gotten cut for each of them when he replaced the lock and slipping inside.

He was surprised that it wasn't completely dark inside when he entered, the living room lit by the old television set against one wall. There wasnt any sound though, it seemed that whoever was watching had muted it before lying down on the couch.

The half-elf tried to sneakily hide one of the larger containers of soup in the fridge, blinking in surprise when he noticed that there were several other still-slightly-warm mismatched containers already inside. He shoved them around on the shelf to make room, depositing all but the thermos he'd brought with him onto the shelf and shutting the door.

"Fabian? Didn' you go home?" A slightly croaky and sleepy voice drifted over from the couch, Fabian only able to see where Riz was from the light reflecting off his eyes like a cat in torchlight. "Ah yes... but Cathilda thought I should bring you some soup. She was quite worried so I obliged." Fabian held up the thermos, heading over to the couch and sitting down on the end oposite of where Riz was curled up. The goblin still clutching Boggy in his lap as he sighed and dropped his head back against the arm of the couch.

"Gods there is so much soup. We'll be eating soup for a week." Riz closed his eyes, tail flicking backwards and forwards at the tip where he had it draped over the edge of the seat. "Jawbone came back and dropped off a bunch from the girls. 'm not sure how safe Kristens is but she says her corn-soup is usually pretty... non-murdery."

"Ah, well, if you don't wish to battle another corn monster we have stocked your provisions with some chicken noodle as well." Fabian leaned forwards to put the thermos down on the low coffee table but stopped when Riz held his hand out towards him and made a 'gimme' gesture. The fighter instead handing off the thermos to the goblin who took it with one hand, the other putting Boggy down on the ground so he could sit up and open the lid.

Fabian tried his level best to look like he was interested in what was going on on the television, eye flicking over to watch as Riz made a valiant effort to drink some of the soup before giving up and screwing the lid back on when the thermos was half-empty. He certainly wasn't consuming it with his usualy gusto but it made the half-elf feel a little better knowing he had something in his stomach now.

"Thanks that was... nice." Riz rubbed a hand over his face, leaving the thermos on the couch where he'd been sitting as he skootched over to where Fabian was instead. The rogue fully clambering over his leg to curl up on his lap with his head pillowed against the arm-rest of the couch.

Fabian had frozen when Riz started climbing over him, a protest at the action dying the back of his throat when his smaller teammate tucked himself into a tight circle and closed his eyes. The fighters arm hovering in the air above him for a long moment before he brought it back down to rest against his side where he could feel his chest rising and falling with every breath.

The goblin was still very warm to the touch, nowhere near as bad as he'd been when he tried to shove them out the door earlier but it was still concerning. The cuddling was also rather out of character, sure Riz would climb all over them whenever he was awake but when sleeping he tended not to want anything to do with anyone. Even during sleepovers he would post himself up nearby but not quite touching any of his teammates as he dozed. Fabian decided to chalk it up to Riz probably being still a little delerious and weird from the fever and didn't try to shove him away.

There was only one small problem he found himself confronting now though. He had been planing on leaving once he dropped off the soup but he couldnt very well wake Riz if he had fallen back asleep. The fighter ended up trapped there until morning when Riz's fever finally broke and the goblin had slunk away from him in mortified embarasment. Fabian complaining bitterly of the cramp in his neck from sleeping in a seated position for days afterwards.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Quicksilver Princess Ch. 5

Series summary: A fantasy AU in which Dean is part of a long line of warriors who protect the kingdom. What happens when his rescue of the little princess with the quicksilver eyes gets him a possible future bride?

Series Warnings: Nothing major. Show typical violence. Fantasy violence. Smut. Angst. Fluff. Each chapter will have its own specific warnings. So, watch for those.

Chapter Warnings: None.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x OFC (Melissande)

Word Count: 5,730

A/N: This is the ridiculously long postponed Chapter 5. (Ch. 4 was posted more than 2 years ago! 🙈🙈) This fic won my poll to see what orphaned series I'd finish next. And I'm so thrilled that I'm finally able to finish it. I swear Chapter 6 will be up in the next week or so at the latest. It's all outlined and ready to go, just gotta write it out. But it will DEFINITELY not be another two years. *crosses heart*

Hope you enjoy this chapter! ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Dean came awake with a start, sitting up quickly and then immediately groaning and pressing his hand to his head as it throbbed. He squeezed his eyes closed for a minute, feeling slightly nauseous and trying to make sense of the jumble of images in his mind. 

Mellie's face floated into focus and his eyes popped open.

“Mellie?” He called out, sitting up quickly and looking around as his head throbbed again. A few feet away, Rowena held out her hands towards him.

“Try not to move too quickly. I had to use strong magic to fell you and that can sometimes leave a person feeling a wee bit peaky.”

Suddenly everything came rushing back to Dean and he jumped up, charging towards the tiny witch. He stopped just short of wrapping his hands around her neck, but his fingers itched from the restraint.

“You let her go!” He roared at her. “To save your own skin you gave her up just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

Rowena shook her head. “You've really a very low opinion of me, haven't you? This is the second time you've accused me of selling out our wee princess.”

Dean clenched his teeth. “Because I know who you are and how you operate. You'd do anything to save yourself.”

Rowena shrugged. “I won't apologize for prioritizing my safety. But it just so happens that this time, the princess's safety and mine go hand in hand. I need her to stop the Queen because nothing that duplicitous, mangy monarch has planned could possibly do me, or any of us for that matter, any good.”

Dean swallowed hard. “So you sent Mellie out to be slaughtered, and you think THAT is a solution? If anything, you've just made the queen's attempt at power that much easier.”

Rowena shook her head. “No, because you are going to save her, remember?”

Dean growled in frustration, turning abruptly to begin pacing around thel grand entranceway. “You're as bad as Mellie! Just how am I supposed to get into the castle, past hundreds of guardsmen, through the queen's own personal guards and into her suites to stop her from…”

He lifted his arms and spun back to face the witch. “From what exactly? We have no idea what she's doing, what she's planning! So, how can I even try to go in prepared?”

Rowena nodded. “It’s a quandary to be sure, but you’re a resourceful young lad, I have faith you’ll figure it out.”

Dean just glared at her. Rowena raised a delicate shoulder. “Look, all I can tell you is that the Queen may pretend she’s a part of the Great Church as the monarchs are meant to be, but she’s a witch, through and through, except that she's a coward and hides it. But her father was a devout follower of the old gods, and he taught her to be the same.”

Dean frowned. “How do you know that?”

Rowena looked away coyly. “I maybe, perhaps, let him court me for a few years after his wife died.”

Dean’s eyes got wide. “So you know the Queen? Personally?”

Rowena scoffed. “I wouldn’t claim that much. When I was with Roland, little Layo’ita was hardly ever around. Her days were mostly spent learning how to marry King Yasa and be his First Queen. 

Yasa’s maiden aunt lived at Roland’s keep to teach Layo’ita how to be royal - the protocols and expectations, as well as the history of the Coll family’s reign of Sanso’ye for three hundred years. She had a lot to learn, so we didn’t see her often. She’d essentially been the Coll’s property from the day the betrothal papers were signed when she was just two weeks old.”

Rowena sighed. “I could almost feel sorry for her back then. She was just this plain little slip of a girl, and it must have been a very heavy burden for her to carry.”

Dean grit his teeth. “Yes, well now she’s a murderer, so I’m afraid I don’t share your sympathy.”

Rowena arched an eyebrow. “I said I could ALMOST feel sorry for her. But even back then, she had a kind of mean streak in her. And Roland encouraged it. When she was ten years old she was practicing a complicated courtier’s dance and slipped and fell flat on her arse. Her handmaid, the woman who had been assigned to her at birth, who’d doted on her constantly for ten years, chuckled slightly at the slip up and Layo’ita had her taken away and severely whipped. When he found out about it, Roland told her she’d done right, that she was a product of the old gods and they wouldn’t allow for mockery.”

Rowena’s lip curled. “I didn’t stay with him long after that.” She sighed. “I know for a fact that he encouraged her to pursue magic and the old ways. But she hides it very well. I don’t think many people in the kingdom even have a clue about her witchery. Hypocrite.” She huffed. 

Dean closed his eyes. “Alright, how does any of this help me? It just means that on top of the couple hundred guardsmen and personal guards between me and the Queen, apparently I also have her powerful magical abilities to contend with.”

“Yes, which is an important fact to know going in, don’t you think?” Rowena asked with pique. “You’re welcome, Winchester.”

Dean sighed. “Yes, thank you, Witch.” He rubbed a hand over his face. His stomach felt sick as he thought of Mellie holed up with a crazed, dark-hearted woman bent on power.

“I don’t know where to start.” He said, a little desperately. “Obviously I need help, but I’m telling you, the other Warriors won’t listen to me. Or the vast majority of them won’t.”

Rowena shook her head. “I think you’re underestimating your own persuasiveness as well as the Warriors’ sense of what’s right. The members of your clan have powerful instincts that skirt the edges of being magical themselves.”

“We are not magical.” Dean said with a frown. “We're just very good at our duties, and we take our oaths seriously.”

Rowena rolled her eyes. “As you say, dear. The point being that those good instincts will help them hear the truth of your mission.”

Dean shook his head and sighed deeply. “I suppose it's my only hope, isn't it?”

“Likely is.” She held up a finger. “Just wait one moment, I have something that might help you.”

She walked out of the room, but was back almost instantly with two small leather bundles that she handed to Dean. He looked at them and raised a brow.

Rowena covered them in his hand. “These reveal spell work. You've got a powerful witch on your hands, one who has been able to hide her magic for a very long time. But this bag will glow purple in the presence of magic and if you burn one, it will reveal to you what magic has been used, so you can't be fooled by trickery.”

Dean nodded. “That will be helpful, thank you.”

Rowena smiled at him, and he recognized it as genuine. “You can thank me when that wee princess is safe and that lying, cowardly Witch Queen is dead.”

Dean nodded. “Done.”

***

Melissande was trying not to panic.

The ride from Rowena’s to the castle had taken half a day. Her surrender had been simple enough; she’d merely told the Guardsmen that she was ready to be taken to the First Queen, and one of them had swept her up in front of him on his horse and shackled her wrists before galloping away. They’d traveled for hours and had arrived at the castle just as the sun was at its zenith in the sky.

The solar eclipse will happen in less than a day, Melissande thought with a little thrill of fear. But then she shook her head. No, I believe in you, my Winchester Warrior, I know you’ll get here on time.

When they got to the castle, the guard she’d been riding with lifted her down and then took her to a cell in the dungeons of the castle. It was bleak, but it was clean and there was one high window that let in some light and air.

As dungeons went, she supposed it could be worse.

She’d been to the King's Castle less than a dozen times throughout her life, and only a handful of times in the last dozen years. All her life she'd lived with her mother in the Blue wing of the Northern Castle. When she was younger, her father’s other wives and children had lived there too. The Second Queen had lived in the Yellow Wing with her son, and the Third Queen had lived in the Green Wing with her two daughters.

Melissande was many years younger than her other siblings and as such, they’d never been close. 

The First Queen had given birth to one son and one daughter. But the baby girl had died very shortly after birth, and she’d never met her eldest brother, heir to the throne, Prince Lien. By the time she was born, he was living far away, governing some of Sanso’ye’s territories in The Lands Beyond.

Her second brother, Prince Ar'tak, was a captain in the King’s Forces and fighting in some endless war across the sea. She only had vague, unreliable memories of him, since he left when she was barely four years old. 

Her two elder sisters, Par’ita, and Sol’min had been married off to lesser Princes in Misola, when Melissande was eight. They had been seventeen and eighteen respectively and with a decade separating their ages, they'd had very little interest in spending time with their eight year old half sister.

So, she didn’t really know any of her half-siblings very well, but she’d been close with her father. Or she thought she had.

But since he’d stopped coming to visit the Northern castle when she was six, she'd only seen him from afar during those official events that her mother had insisted they travel south to attend, “because it was the proper thing to do”. Her sisters’ weddings had been two of those occasions. 

Every time they'd gone to the castle, no matter how brief their visit, Melissande had always secretly hoped her father would notice her and come running, excited to see her once again, as he used to be.

She still remembered how it used to feel when he would come to visit. They usually knew he'd be coming, but sometimes he surprised them, and he'd stride through the door of their sitting room, and his deep, calm, voice would fill the stone room with warmth.

Melissande would jump up and run to him, despite her mother's loving admonishment that proper ladies didn't run and leap into people's arms. Her father had no such compunction, however, and would whisk her off the ground in a sweeping arc that made her squeal in delight.

Her mother may not have leapt into his arms, but she walked into them quickly, and happily. Her father would hold her in one arm and wrap the other around her mother's waist and pull her close. Hera would rest her head on his wide chest, and it was always the happiest Melissande ever saw her.

When he stopped coming to visit them, Melissande missed him terribly, but she didn't think her mother ever really got over his loss. She stayed the same loving, caring mother she'd always been, but underneath she always seemed just a little sad. It hurt Melissande's heart to know her mother died with that sadness still inside her; she’d never be relieved of it.

Maybe, if the priests or sorcerers were right, her mother was resting peacefully with her lost family and ancestors in another realm, and maybe Melissande would be able to see her there again, one day.

But not anytime soon. She thought. Because Dean is coming to save me.

As Melissande sank onto the dingy, slightly dusty floor, an idea came to her. Maybe Dean would reach out to the king and explain what was happening. She refused to believe her father knew everything that was going on, and was simply refusing to help her, or worse, was in on the Queen's plans.

Why hadn’t she thought to tell Dean to seek him out. Had she actually feared his involvement, deep down, or had he just been out of her life for so long, that reaching out to him for help simply hadn’t occurred to her.

Before she could ponder the troubling idea for long, however, Layo’ita came sweeping grandly into the dungeon to smile wickedly at Melissande in her cage.

The silver-eyed princess jumped to her feet quickly as the queen approached the bars of the cell. The First Queen was draped in seemingly endless silks, many layers of long trains trailing behind her in the dust. Her skin was pulled so tightly over her bones that her face resembled a grinning skull as she laughed at Melissande.

“Oh, my wee little bastard fey, how beautiful you've become. You favor your whorish mother, though of course, your eyes come from your father's side of the family.”

Melissande felt her muscles stiffen at the insult to her mother, but ignored it, since she knew Layo’ita was just trying to rile her. 

“You won't get away with this, witch. My father will stop you.”

The Queen's ghoulish mouth spread wide and a laugh that was almost a cackle poured out. 

“You think…” More laughter. “You believe your father will stop me?”

She stepped close to the bars and spoke softly. “Trust me when I say, he's most assuredly on my side.”

Melissande’s heart balked at that idea. But she hadn't seen her father for nearly thirteen years. Did she even really know him? Until she'd been sitting in this cell, it hadn't even occurred to her to go to him for help.

Layo'ita was still chuckling as she tilted her head as though contemplating Melissande. Then she nodded like she was answering her own question. 

“Why not?” She said aloud and snapped her fingers.

As fast as blinking, Melissande was suddenly in a different cell - a much darker one. There was no window here and the air was fetid and dank. It smelled like mold and old rotting things. As her eyes adjusted slowly, she could make out the stone walls, and the chains that were attached to them at various points.

All she could hear was a rhythmic drip, drip, drip of water off to her right, and the scuttling and scurrying of what had to be mice or rats of some kind.

Grateful that she wasn't attached to the chains that hung there, Melissande began walking around the long narrow cell. As she got a sense of her surroundings, she realized the room was split in two parts; a crumbling wall that was half collapsed, separated them.

She walked carefully towards the wall and then pulled up short when a voice called out from the other side.

“Who's there? Go away! Leave me alone!”

She jumped at the sudden noise, and her heart was beating out of her chest. But despite the stranger's words, she moved forward. There was something familiar in that voice, though it sounded parched and slightly raw.

She walked tentatively around to the other side of the half wall and her heart stopped all together as she saw the man huddled in the corner.

“Father?”

***

The taproom in King's Town was busy, but not stuffed full when Dean walked in. Good, he'd be able to be heard. The barman, Sterin, waved to Dean. He knew him well.

He began pouring his usual mug of ale, but Dean waved him off. 

“Apologies, Sterin, I have no time for drinking tonight. I'm only here to address your patrons.” He waved at the table of a dozen or so Warriors.

Both Sterin and the Warriors grumbled, most of the Winchesters turned away from him and concentrated intently on the ale in their cups.

But he was eternally grateful that two of his friends were there. Robert and Jody were a married couple who'd trained together and then fought together very impressively for more than twenty years. They'd always maintained a stalwart support of John and Sam, though most of their fellow Winchester Warriors said they were fools.

Their friendship had kept Dean sane in the early days after the loss of his father and brother.

They were stationed at the Southernmost Winchester Keep, located on The Shield, so they rarely came this far North. He wanted to believe it was Providence that had brought them so far just when he needed them the most.

They both stood up, and Jody came forward to hug him.

“Dean! We were going to head out to see you on our way back down south. But this is better! Now we can dine together.”

“And drink.” Robert added, shaking Dean's hand and slapping him on the back.

“It's so good to see you both, but I'm afraid I have no time to eat or drink.”

Robert's face became serious and Jody's was worried.

“What's wrong, son?” Robert asked.

Dean nodded at them, but called out to the other Warriors at the long table as well. 

“I need help from all of you.” A couple Winchesters looked his way, but most of them just ignored him.

“The kingdom needs you.”

That got a few more heads to turn in his direction.

One of the men he didn't know very well, he thought he was called Ketch, scowled at him. “And why should we believe anything you say, traitor.”

Robert bristled and took a step towards the snide man, but Dean grabbed his forearm. “No, it's fine.” He said in an easy tone.

“I just need you to listen.” Before he could be interrupted, he spoke quickly. “Fourth Queen Hera is dead, and her daughter, the Princess Melissande has been taken prisoner by the Guardsmen.”

He knew he'd hit the right nerve by mentioning the Guardsmen, as all the Warriors grumbled and a few actually spit as though they were warding off evil. The Warriors were not keen on the Guardsmen, feeling correctly that they'd been usurped by them.

Robert shook his head. “How can Queen Hera be dead? When did this happen? And what possible reason did those tin cans give for taking the little princess?” He asked, using the insulting nickname given to the Guardsmen because of their metal armor.

“The Queen was killed, and they took Mellie because the First Queen claims that she was the one who murdered her mother.”

There was general scoffing and disbelief among the group, including some of the other patrons. 

“Mellie?” Jody asked quietly, raising a knowing brow, while the others talked amongst themselves and shared their doubts.

Dean looked down at Jody and he knew she could read him like an open book, so he was grateful to look away and return to the questions being thrown at him. 

More slowly than he really had patience for, he eventually explained the whole story to everyone's satisfaction. He left out the part where he and Mellie got married. If they all lived through this he wanted her to have the ability to annul their marriage quietly and without harming her reputation. So, he simply told them that he'd tried to protect her without providing particulars.

He also left out the fact that he believed the First Queen was a powerful witch, only saying that they were unsure what the First Queen wanted with Mellie. That little detail might be too much for the credibility of the story. Also, they’d demand to know why he believed it and he didn’t want to sell Rowena out and bring her trouble. He just needed The Warriors to help him get in the door; he'd deal with the witch himself.

As the Warriors’ questions fell silent, Ketch raised one last important one.

“And where exactly is the King in all of this? I know over the last dozen years, he's taken a much more subdued role; most people agree that the attempt on his life by men he trusted completely, has made him overly cautious. But surely, in such a situation, with his wife murdered and his own child implicated, surely he'd show himself to deal with it.”

Dean nodded. “Exactly my thoughts, and yet we've heard nothing from him. He hasn't come to any of us or the Guardsmen to try and find the murderer. And in fact, no one even knows Queen Hera is dead.”

He took a deep breath. “I believe the King has been incapacitated in some way. I believe he is unable to act or to give voice to his needs.”

“Uh, Dean,” Jody raised her finger in the air. “Just one problem with that theory, Robert and I spoke with him earlier this afternoon and he wasn't incapacitated at all.”

Dean was taken aback. “Why and how did you meet with the King?”

Robert answered. “We've been after the Council for months now to sit down with us about the state of things in The Shield. There are marauders there, coming in from the sea, and killing and pillaging the villagers up and down the coast. But the council has refused every time, saying it was on us as Warriors to deal with it.”

Jody cut him off, clearly frustrated. “How we're supposed to ‘deal with it’ is beyond me. We have four Warriors to cover the entire Shield, and almost no resources. We've written endless letters that have gone unanswered, or were answered in a very unsatisfactory way. So today we finally just showed up and refused to leave until we met with the Council.”

“We met with them alright,“ Robert continued the story, “and the King was there too. We weren't expecting that. But he said he came because he was very annoyed with us. He told us that he was aware of the problem, but he was sick to death of hearing about how we were failing him once again. He was angry and certainly didn't seem incapable of voicing his concerns.”

Dean frowned, a frown that turned into a scowl as Ketch stared at him. “So, what exactly are we to believe, hmm? That the king is well and fine, but will not come to us for help because we are now despised thanks to your family? Or should we take you at your word, and believe this very intricate lie you've concocted?”

“I have spoken no lie here.” Dean said firmly, his voice dark and deep. “The Princess is being held by the First Queen, there is a plot to end her life, and it's up to us to save her. I don't know what the King's role is in all of this, but I feel in my gut that something has gone very wrong for him. I just don't understand what.”

He breathed in deeply and put every ounce of conviction into his words. 

“I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Mellie will die if we don't save her. So, I am asking you all, begging you, in fact, to believe me when I say the kingdom is in trouble. Believe me when I say, my father and brother were innocent. And believe me when I tell you that our answers, and our chance to once again fulfill our oaths to protect Sanso’ye and its people, are waiting beyond the Guardsmen at the gate. Our answers lay inside the castle, they lay in saving the princess that I've already saved once.”

He clenched his jaw, his resolve hardening. “And with or without you all, I will save her again.” He let his chest deflate. “But, I could sure use your swords, Winchesters.”

Robert and Jody flanked him. Jody patted his arm. “You have ours, gladly.”

Slowly a few of the others stood, and then more, and then finally all but Ketch, stood with swords at the ready. 

Dean stared at the last man sitting down and Ketch stared back, studying him. Finally, he drained his cup and stood. 

“It's about time someone showed those Guardsmen how it's done. I certainly won't miss out on that.”

Dean sighed and let a small smile lift the corner of his mouth. 

“Alright, what's the strategy?”

***

Melissande felt her world tilt as she looked down at the man she barely recognized as her father. Surely he hadn't deteriorated so much since she'd last seen him a year ago, at the Thistle Day celebration. It was the annual anniversary of the day the Coll family supposedly sprung from the earth in a field of Thistles to be caretakers of Sanso’ye. When she'd seen him from afar, he'd been fit, hale and hearty, as he'd given the royal benediction to the week long celebrations.

Now though, chained to the wall, he was gaunt almost to the point of starvation and even in the dim light that emanated from a small lamp sitting beside him, his skin looked gray and papery.

Beside the lamp sat an empty bucket and a few piles of bones, including what was obviously the skeleton of a rat. Melissande felt her stomach lurch and she was worried she might be sick.

As she took a few steps closer to the man on the ground, he picked up some of the bones and threw them at her. 

“Get away from me you shrew! I told you this won't work anymore. I know your disgusting tricks now.”

He was obviously furious, but his voice was reedy and thin as he railed at her. In spite of her confusion and fear, her heart broke for the pain she could hear in his words, and in the way he curled in on himself.

She took a step closer and he buried his head in his drawn up, skinny knees. “Can't you just leave me here to die.”

Tears fell as she knelt on the filthy floor beside him. “Papa?” She whispered and she saw him flinch like he'd been slapped. 

She reached out and tentatively touched his cheek. He raised his head and stared at her with tears falling. “Layo, please stop. I don't understand your hatred. Just stop.”

Melissande shook her head. “Papa, I don't know what you're saying. It's me. I'm not…I mean, how could I be the First Queen?”

She stayed close to him, and could see the change coming over his face as an obviously very wary hope cropped up. 

“Come…come closer, child.”

She got even closer to him and he inhaled deeply, sniffing at her. More confused than ever, Melissande looked at him and shook her head.

“What are you doing?”

Her father's mask of pain and fear slipped a little further into hope. “You…smell like sunshine.” He croaked, and more tears fell. “Her Duplicates always smell of rotting eggs.” 

His chains rattled as he lifted his manacled hand to reach out and touch her cheek. He gasped in a watery breath. 

“You're warm!” He said shakily. “Oh, beautiful girl, say you're really my sweet Melissande or just end me here, please, I beg you. I can't take having it ripped away from me again.”

“It's me, Papa. I promise. But what don't you want ripped away from you?”

“Hope.” He said, his voice creaky. “Every time she sends down a Duplicate, they work even harder to convince me that you, or Hera are here to save me. They seem to know things, and I want to believe them so badly. But no matter how real she makes them, she can't get rid of their cold skin or disgusting smell.”

Fear crept back into his gaze. “Please don't just be a better version.”

Melissande threw her arms around his neck like she had when she was little. 

“No, Papa. I'm real, I'm here. Believe me.”

“Alright.” He said gruffly. “I will believe you, because I want to so badly.”

Melissande pulled back, wiping away tears and shaking her head. “But I'm so confused. Why are you down here? How long have you been down here?”

Yasa looked at her and gave a watery sigh. “How old are you now, little one?”

Melissande blinked. “Nineteen, heading towards twenty years old. Why?”

“Well, I've completely lost track of time down here. I always tried to guess based on how old the Duplicates of you looked, and I knew it had been years, but I was never sure. If you're nineteen, though, then that means I've been down here for twelve years.”

Melissande gasped. “Twelve years! How is that possible? I just saw you a year ago on Thistle Day.”

Yasa shook his head. “No, that wasn't me. it was Thistle Day twelve years ago that she did this to me.”

“Twelve years.” Melissande whispered. “My god, that was when…” She stared at her father and raised a questioning brow, Dean's face swimming in her mind's eye.

“Papa, twelve years ago, The Winchester Warrior Chieftain, John, was hanged for an attempted assassination, on you. His son was incarcerated in the mines for aiding him. But, were you even there then?”

Yasa closed his eyes. “Yes, I was there. In fact, John and Sam were only in the castle that night because I'd called them to me.”

He ran a knobby, skinny hand down his face. “I suspected Layo was plotting something, but I didn't know what, and I didn't know who I could trust in the castle. So, I went to Sam and John on my own, hidden within a long traveling cloak so no one would know it was me. I asked them to come to the castle after midnight when it was quiet, and help me work out the truth, and to meet me in the library in the West Wing.”

He sighed and let his head drop back against the damp, weeping stone wall. 

“I knew Layo dabbled in a bit of magic here and there, but I had no idea she was so practiced and powerful.”

Yasa closed his eyes tightly. “When I went into the library to wait for them, she was already there, holding a knife to your throat. And when John and Sam arrived she was holding a knife to mine.”

Melissande was shaking her head as her father opened his eyes. “No, what do you mean? The Queen never kidnapped me or threatened me with a kni-”

Melissande's eyes widened. “A Duplicate.”

Yasa nodded. “Yes, and another when Sam and Dean saw me there being threatened. She needed to keep the real me alive to connect with her Duplicate, so she couldn't risk an actual knife to my throat. But Sam and John couldn't have known that.

How confused they must have been when, hours later, it seemed as if I just stood there while they were charged with trying to kill me. They must have believed I was in on their downfall, and they couldn't possibly know who to trust either. But I was locked up down here by then. Layo'ita came to my cell later, to tell me all about it and taunt me by reminding me that not only would no one ever be coming to save me, no one would even know I was gone.”

Melissande's eyes filled with tears as she thought about how hopeless that would feel.

Yasa reached out a manacled hand to wipe away the wetness from her cheek. “But that was my own fault, little one. I'd abandoned you and your mother, my other children and wives. You know, I never loved any of my wives the way I loved your mother. I married Layo’ita because it was my duty, I married Frishnia and Gayla because it was good politics. But I married your mother simply because I loved her so much. 

I respected my second and third wives as the mothers to my children and good women, and tried to make sure they were happy. And Layo'ita never seemed to care when I went to visit them and my other children. And I think it was because she knew that there was mutual respect between the three of us, but no deep love.”

He shook his head. “But as soon as I married Hera it was different. She was moody and jealous immediately. I tried to honor her as my first wife, tried to respect her and her position. But it was never enough. Until one day she demanded I stop visiting the Northern Castle altogether. It led to a tremendous fight and she wept bitterly, telling me I was being cruel and heartless and showing her no regard, to treat her so.”

He sighed deeply. “I felt horribly guilty. So, I said I'd stay away from all of you. I abandoned my children, abandoned my love, and for what? To appease the heart of a traitorous, vile witch. And a year later, I was down here.”

Yasa looked deeply into Melissande’s eyes. “Oh, my little silver-eyed princess, I'm so very grateful I've had the chance to unburden my heart to you, tell you my regrets for leaving you behind. Please forgive me. And please make sure your brother and sisters know I never should have left them either.”

Melissande took her father's hand. “I understand, Papa, and I do forgive you, of course. But I won't have to tell my siblings anything. You can tell them yourself. We're going to be rescued!”

She clasped her father's hand tightly between her own. “I swear to you, you're getting out of this disgusting place and we're going to feed you warm soups and wrap you in warm wool blankets and before you know it this place will be nothing but a memory.”

Sudden, high-pitched laughter broke through the air, making Melissande jump and gasp. The Queen's shrill, disembodied voice followed it. 

“Well, that’s partially true. You won't spend one more night in this place, my dear husband, I promise you that.”

Then just as before, without warning, there was the sound of a snap and suddenly both Melissande and Yasa were out of the dungeon and thrust into a brighter, but still windowless, round room.

Chains raised themselves from the wall and wrapped around Yasa’s wrists, pinning him against the stones.

Melissande felt herself being pushed along the floor as though a strong wind was at her back. She stumbled against a stone table and from out of nowhere, the First Queen appeared at her side, snapping her fingers again. Melissande found herself quickly strapped to the table, chains wrapping around her waist, and shackling her wrists and ankles to the table.

Queen Layo’ita smiled her dark, ghoulish smile. “One more sunrise for you both in just a few hours. And then, when the light is wholly eclipsed by the dark, I will be free to rise.”

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[hareofhrair]

Screenshotting because tumblr keeps shitting the bed when I try to post this, or reblog anything from OP, which I'm sure is for normal reasons. :)

I was just recently reading Pratchett's "The Wee Free Men" and it had a bit I think applies here.

"Every family in the village bought a copy of the Almanack every year, and a sort of education came from that. It was big and thick and printed somewhere far off, and it had lots of details about things like phases of the moon and the right time to plant beans. It also contained a few prophecies about the coming year, and mentioned faraway places with names like Klatch and Hersheba. Tiffany had seen a picture of Klatch in the Almanack. It showed a camel standing in a desert. She’d only found out what both those things were because her mother had told her. And that was Klatch, a camel in a desert. She’d wondered if there wasn’t a bit more to it, but it seemed that ‘Klatch = camel, desert’ was all anyone knew."

It's obvious, when thought through without the lens of racism, that the modern world exists everywhere, and that a continent where people have been living since 6000BC has probably developed beyond camels in the desert. But most people have no incentive to think it through, it's got no impact on their daily life, and so they just accept what they're shown. Which, because we live in a deeply racist society, is sepia filters and camels in the desert.

That's why it matters that American perspectives dominate media, and that so very little foreign media is allowed to get a foothold here. Unless they are curious and self motivated, all Americans will see of the rest of the world is a camel in a desert. They have to go out of their way to see otherwise, and Americans hate going out of their way.

I've griped before about the pervasive attitude towards foreign film in the US being that it is exclusively either boring art films or low budget garbage, but the way it exacerbates the cocoon of exclusively racist American perspectives we live in by discouraging people from even considering foreign films is insidious.

So US followers, this is your invitation to go watch a foreign film today! In fact, let me make it easier!

Here's a list of 10 important Palestinian films. Any of these is a great place to start. But they can be heavy, and maybe you're not a fan of dramas and want something a little lighter. Here's all the films from Southwest Asia and North Africa on Netflix, including plenty of action movies and comedies. Still not doing it for you? Here's a list of famous SWANA horror and fantasy films. Only into sci fi? Got that too! You want animation? Please god I love animation so much and America is the fucking worst about it. Pick any country in the world and it's probably making better animation than America.

If you can't find where to watch them, DM me any time and I will find them for you! I promise you will not be bothering me! I have a lot of free time and I fucking love movies!

So break the American media bubble and see what life is like in the rest of the world! What have you got to lose?

And if you're not from the US, why not throw down some movie recommendations!