#look I know I made it a habit of tagging all the OCs I drew but there’s eight of them this time

[indigos-shits-and-giggles]

GUESS WHO DID TWO WHOLE PAGES OF HATCHETFIELD OCS

Right at the centre, we got Rory and Adrienne by @rathaway, it felt only fair to draw both of them together and I got to try my hand at a side profile! Then, on the left page, we have Loggy, who's owned by @just-animaxiz, Casper from @jesterbabey, and Eddy who was made by @cutter-kirby. The right page features Graham by @chatterghosts, Gerry by @t3a-gh0st, and last but not least, @fin-the-fissssssh's OC, Harper. GOD that was a lot of OCs, I’m so proud that I was able to draw this many but my hands also kind of hurt now.

If you guys like my art, feel free to check out my commissions! Also, I have a Ko-Fi store, where I sell cool pins and stickers designed by yours truly.

[anniezsecretz]

Replacement ★ (Ch 3) OC x Simon "Ghost" Riley

HELLO! I AM BACK! :D I had to take a short break due to school, but I have chapter 3 hot and ready for y'all! I'm SO sorry I disappeared, but I should be staying. :) thank you for reading as always!

you can find this chapter of replacement on ao3 here first chapter ★ prev ★ next

★★★★★★★★★

chapter tags:// anxiety, older brother price, captain OC, OC x Simon “Ghost” Riley, light trauma mentions, emotional support pup, OOC Ghost (for a reason), spiteful Ghost, enemies to lovers (enemies), vague mentions of death, canon deviation, angst/comfort, alcohol mentions, drunk squad, bonding

★★★★★★★★★

bite-sized synopsis: trick is finally starting to feel like part of the squad after a mission success and goes out to celebrate

                                           ・┆✦ʚ★ɞ✦ ┆・ A knock on my office door, and I invited whoever was there in with a, “Get your butt in here if you wanna talk.” I was busy filling out some of the mountain of paperwork we were given after our missions every time. But hell, it seems like these documents are double what I’d have to fill out with my old squad. Well, John and I decided to just call them the 1-4-2 instead of my old squad. It fits in more than I thought it would.

But I had an unexpected visitor at my door: Gaz, with Soap and Roach at my door frame. “Hey Trick! The mission went well soooo…” he drew that out like he expected me to know. Instead, I gave him a blank stare from behind my slightly tinted goggles with a shrug.

He huffed. “We’re heading to a pub to celebrate, all of us. Even Price. We also have a spare seat ‘n were wondering if you’d wanna come with?” Gaz’s invitation was unexpected, and I felt myself practically light up. Light up into a million fireworks that go off in my office like the Fourth of July, probably burning everything around me.

I bit my bottom lip underneath my mask, a bad habit of mine to help me think. “Y’know what? Sure. I can see if y’all can handle yer alcohol like I can,” I said with a slight muse in my voice. “I’ll be there in 5, lemme do these papers real quick. Parking lot?”

Gaz gave me a thumbs up with that smile of his before dragging the boys with him away. I could hear Soap’s excitement about going to a pub and Roach’s small question about it. A laugh escaped my mouth while I moved my fountain pen on the papers I was signing, being very careful with my writing.

I haven’t done these kinds of papers in so long. Usually, I’d be working on them with my 1-4-2 officer— who was surprisingly not Xiomara but instead Jackson, Callsign Falcon.

Jackson would critique me for my messy writing and leave me laughing about it, then letting him rewrite it in nice legible cursive. He was my most trusted officer; he’s saved my life a few times too. He and I were both heartbroken by Xiomara’s… loss. The entire squad was, we all wanted to pack up and run away.

I heard he’s still on recovery leave. That’s what John had told me, at least.

Speaking of the devil, John’s knuckles wrapped on my office door frame and invited himself in, standing in front of my desk with a light smile overshadowed by his mustache. “You ready, Ver?” He asked in his usual father-like voice, but I think that’s just the oldness in him really showing at this point.

“Mm. Yeah, I think I’m ready. I got a good chunk down; I’ll get the rest done later in the evening.” I stood up and went around my desk to John. But I felt compelled to do something. I just stood in front of him awkwardly, looking right up at him with my hands awkwardly down at my sides. I lifted up my goggles on top of my hat to look at him properly.

I wrapped my arms around John and hugged him. Shit, I could barely wrap my arms around him but I managed to still, barely. He stood in shock momentarily before hugging me back and gently patting me on the back. “I’m proud o’ you, Ver. You’ve been through so much, ‘n here you are. As strong as a boulder, eh?”

The words coming from his mouth made me tear up. Fuck.

I have been told “you’ve been through so much” as a pitying phrase. As a “oh you poor thing” phrase. But never in the way John told me, he told me he was proud of me. And not even my own brothers would say that they’re proud of me. They’d say I’m just getting the short end and eventually, it’ll get better, but John is acknowledging more than just the past. He’s acknowledging my strength.

I’ve never squeezed someone harder while he pats my back. “Thanks, John. You know how to tug heartstrings.” I pulled away from the hug and crossed my arms, straightening my back again. “Now let’s go ‘n shotgun some coldies; maybe I’ll make you take a shoey from Soap’s boot.” I gently nudged him with an elbow while wiping my cheeks of my tears with my other hand.

“Yeah, let’s go ‘n get shitfaced,” he joked as he gave me a pat on my shoulder and led me out to the parking lot. Everybody was there before us and about to pile into John’s truck before I noticed that I… wouldn’t be able to fit in.

John caught on soon after me and started counting everyone, then the seats. “Okay! We need volunteers on who’s gonna go in the truck bed.”

“What?” I nearly broke my neck when turning to look at John. “What the fuck do you mean by goin’ in the truck bed? It’s bad if all of us are piss drunk ‘xcept one, but worse if we have someone in the bed o’ the truck vomiting all over themselves.” I shook my head a bit while considering what we can do.

“We can put Trick in the front, then have Roach share a seat with Gaz.” Ghost hasn’t spoken to me much since the fight he had with Price over me during training, even if we sleep in the same room together. He always sneaks in after he thinks I’m asleep.

Price nods with a grunt of agreement. “Well, everybody pile in. We don’t have all night.” I could feel the stare in the back of my head from Ghost while I got into the front passenger seat, scooting the seat up to give the boys in the back some legroom. Price got in next to me in the driver’s seat, and instantly stared at me for no discernible reason.

He blankly stared at me with his mustache slightly twitching.

“Whuh- what? Do I have something on my face?” I lightheartedly joked while brushing my mask with my glove, eventually bringing my goggles over my eyes.

Price gave me that condescending stare with both of his brows furrowed at me. “Is the first thing you do ev’ry time yer in my truck, you mess my seats?”

I rolled my eyes at him while the boys got rowdy in the back, Price pulling out of the parking lot to get to the pub. I got off first and opened the back doors of the truck for the boys, letting them practically fight amongst themselves to get out of the truck.                                            ・┆✦ʚ★ɞ✦ ┆・

Inside the pub, it was cozy, I guess. I felt like it was a bit too rowdy with some guys watching American Football. Eugh. Why’d we have to be in America of all places?

Price hands me a dirty shirley temple with a straw in it. “Thanks, mate. I’ll pay tonight, a’ight?” I told him, but he just shook his head.

“Nah, it’s on me. You proved yourself to be a good leader so far, I’m glad.” He pats me on my back as I grab my drink and feed the straw underneath my

 mask to drink. Yet when I looked up, I noticed a dirty look from the bartender. Oh shit, I need to pull out my ID.

I give my military ID to the bartender. “Sorry, forgot to give this to you.” I even have my mask on in the photo, my identifiable mark being my mask I guess. I don’t know how I was legally allowed to keep anybody from seeing my face; I guess it was some of Price’s doing, knowing how he constantly saves the country from destruction here and there.

I got my ID back pretty soon after him staring at it. “Wow Price, naughty ain’t cha? You didn’t show the bloke my ID, eh?”

Price stared at the bartender then back to me with confusion. “I thought I did; I swear I did. I think he mighta been caught off by the mask; he was the same with Ghost.”

The acid building in my throat and my mouth salivating was the worst feeling. The thought of being compared to Ghost was the worst, just because we both have masks on and hide our faces constantly. I mean, Roach does it too, but he only ever has a surgical mask on. I just have my cat-skull print bandana, how is it that different?

Now I’m overthinking. But that bartender is definitely still staring at me like I was a criminal. Eugh.                                            ・┆✦ʚ★ɞ✦ ┆・

I sat with the boys again while they talked and reminisced about missions.

“Say, cap’n. What’s a mission you went on that you like talkin’ ‘bout?” Soap’s voice hit my eardrums like a balloon popping, my attention going straight to him as I realized what was happening.

“Eh? What?” It takes me a second of thinking to get my bearings on what was happening around me. “Oh, uh… missions. Uhm.” I tap my glass with my nails while I think. “My old squad, Taskforce 142,” I look at Price with a grin, “we had a few rodeos. We were put in Limmen; we called it Operation Down Under, ‘n people said that Task Force Boomerang was in town.” I laughed while looking up at the rest of the squad. Soap was listening intently while doodling in his leather journal, Gaz leaned in while listening, while Roach was tilting his head when listening. Ghost refused to hear or look at me, as usual.

“I thunk Price would remember this operation too. Paramilitary group with military weapons, the usual. Some cringey name like Crimson Vipers, remember?” I looked at Price laughing at the name. “There were hostages bein’ held, ‘n a few were military personnel as well. But when we dropped in, Xio accidentally landed on another soldier ‘n nearly compromised us, if she wasn’t sneaky with the takedown.” I had to think back a lot to remember what happened on that mission.

“Diaz! Get your fucken head in the game, you nearly got us compromised,” I yelled at Xiomara as she yanked her parachute down, but I couldn’t help lingering my eyes on her face a few more seconds than I should’ve. I shot up and fixed my vest and nodded towards Jackson. “Approach silently; Chen is taking care of the video systems.” I hold my M-tar in both hands.

We maneuver through the unlocked emergency exits, but there were a dozen more than I would have ever thought there were. Who the hell has the time to be in a shitty wannabe military group? I direct forward, being the first to silently take their soldiers down and into the dark. Jackson assisted me by taking down a few others whilst we covered Xio to start some controlled explosions on their vault door.

I hear the vault door popping open. I always trust Xio to do a good job at getting the vaults open fast. But, I wasn’t predicting the alarm blasting the second Jackson fully opened it. “Chen? Mind getting on that?”

“I know, Captain! Alarms going down in a few seconds, prepare for a few soldiers coming to check,” I hear Chen say over our wires while reassuring me. Chen was one of my second lieutenants, helping Diaz with her platoons whenever needed whilst I oversaw them. But now, she was the one going to save our lives.

Jackson and I take out some of the stragglers that come to investigate, the alarm turning off quickly enough and Chen’s voice coming over the intercom.

False alarm, soldiers. Return to your stations. She says to all the soldiers trying to get to us.

“Diaz, Winny, infiltrate. I will watch ahead.” I stand guard at the vault with my silencer on, watching over them. There were only a few on their rounds to grab before they talk to their walkie-talkies, fairly easy.

“ANNIE!” Yelled Xio’s voice from inside of the vault.

I turned around whilst reloading my pistol and saw Xiomara and Jackson compromised, the Crimsons’ soldiers trying to wrap tape around their mouths. After that, I kind of don’t remember anything except when we had to return months later.

I had to be in the infirmary for a few days for a few bullet grazes; Xio and Jackson were prisoners of the Crimsons. And when I returned with a whole brigade, they would never have stood a chance in a million years. I brought the weapons but when Xio saw me, she said I had “hell flames” in my eyes for how they took my best soldiers from me.

I look up from my glass to the boys all looking at me. Not Ghost, of course. “And well, we took the group down ‘n got Xio ‘n Jackson back. When we were at the extraction point, Xio handed me the laptop rigged to the explosives and told me ‘your call, captain.’ And that’s kinda what kept me in the ADF and Royal Strayan Air Force for so long.” I lean back in my chair to gauge the boys’ reactions better.

Price was proud and grinning, nodding with familiarity like when I told him the story. Soap was amazed, I could practically see stars in the man’s eyes. Gaz was intrigued, his body language being much more open than before. Then Roach was just listening intently while fidgeting with his hands.

I kinda laughed at their reactions. “Any questions?” Price raised his hand. “Yes, Price?”

He stifled a laugh before asking. “Wasn’t your callsign then Viper, Annes? Instead of fucken Trick?” Then he let it rip, knowing how much that callsign haunts me to this day.

“Shit yourself, Price.”                                            ・┆✦ʚ★ɞ✦ ┆・

We were all a few drinks in when I leaned against a pool table, playing a game of 8ball with Soap. “Soooo, bonnie, what do ya think of yer new Taskforce so far? Sure, we ain't Taskforce Boomerang, but I'd think we're close.” I laughed at his joke while looking up at him.

“Thas sweet, Johnny. You guys come quite close, y’know. Some of the best I’ve seen in action, except Ghost when listening to my instructions.” I lined up my cue stick with the white ball, not paying much attention to which ones I was hitting. I was more focused on the smile on Soap’s face.

“L.t is rough, y’know. He’ll warm up; he always does.” Soap got off the pool table and patted me on my shoulder. “I don’ see why he wouldn’t be so intrigued by the great Captain Ver, y’know. You’re an amazing leader.” I watched him line up his cue with the ball as well.

I chuckled, feeling a bit of blood rush to my face. “Oh hush with yer flattery; you just wanna try ‘n make me blush, eh?”

“Oh please, if I were tryin’, you’d be as red as a cherry tomato!” He leaned against the table while I lined my shot up, of course, missing the ball I was going for completely.

I raised a brow at Soap before chuckling. “I have no doubt, sarge. I’m sure ladies think yer a catch,” I complimented. “I know plenty o’ old ladies who would love a young guy like you flirting with them like they’re 20.”

He laughed while hitting a full red in the pocket, then lightly jabbed me with the cue stick. “Would love to meet ‘em! I’m sure they’re sweet.”                                            ・┆✦ʚ★ɞ✦ ┆・

Midnight.

God, I love midnight; it’s so gorgeous seeing everything around us. But they were all kicked out of the bar for being rowdy, except me. I sobered up a while ago because I was expecting that I was going to drive once I saw Price taking shots.

I shoved the boys into the truck slowly, Price in the passenger with the boys toppling over each other in the back. Everybody was knocked out the second they were all in the car, leaving me laughing at their dumbass sleeping faces. I got in the front seat and adjusted the seat again.

“Don’ touch muh fucken… seats…” Price mumbled in his sleep as he passed back out in a matter of seconds.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Pendejo.”                                            ・┆✦ʚ★ɞ✦ ┆・

The drive back home was peaceful, all the boys sleeping until I hit a pothole right by the base, when all of them startled awake.

We all got to our rooms safe and sound though, which I’m glad happened. I wasn’t sure if Ghost would even get in the same truck as me when he was drunk, but somehow he was compliant when I shoved him in. I had to help him get back to our room though; he was heavier than I would’ve ever anticipated when he leaned onto me.

“I don’t need helpff… you fucken… bloody bastard.” I was shocked at him drinking himself into a stupor; he didn’t seem like the type.

“Don’t get your panties inna knot, I’m just makin’ sure yer fine.” I dropped him down onto his bed. “Just don’ fall off yer bed ‘n we’re fine.” I turned away from him to the bathroom, changing real quick and brushing my teeth.

When I got curled up into my bed all comfy and cozy, I heard Ghost’s slurred sleep mumbling.

“I fucken… hate you… Captain Ver.”

“I fucken hate you too, Lieutenant Riley.”

“Shithead.”

                                           ・┆✦ʚ★ɞ✦ ┆・

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! RAAA! Also, I'm going to open requests soon :) Thank you for reading this chapter! and if you'd like to help me beta-read this story send me a note! pls

[enochianghost]

@dragonwithafez tagged me in a self-rec tag game, so i guess i gotta show off my own art here now

Rules: Share five of your own fanworks (fic, art, etc.). Then, tag five more people to share the things they've made.

we might be stretching the definition of "fanworks" here just a heads up

Something you absolutely adore

i still absolutely love how this picture of my two ocs turned out. i just think it looks nice. my boys look so happy <3 (they're from Turning to Savagery which I'm about to rec later on this post lol)

Something that was challenging to create

can my entire pokemon blog count? I drew literally every single pokemon, using the pokedex as a guide. this was honestly so tiring and i hated it a lot the time, but also im so happy i did it. it really forced me to practice drawing a lot of things i otherwise never would've even tried, and it also just got me into the habit of making art all the time, so during hiatuses i end up working on my own stuff a lot more. plus i really love getting the occasional note from someone excited to see that someone finally draw fanart of their favorite niche pokemon :)

i can't believe i've really drawn over a thousand pokemon at this point. what a weird accomplishment lol

Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably)

this picture of chip the beanie baby. it makes me smile because i love my irl chip beanie baby so much <3 also i've gotten some comments on it saying how much they love chip too and it makes me so happy! my precious boy deserves all the love in the world

Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.)

uh...idk...the fact that out of all the pokemon, starmie's post was the one to get the most notes on my pokemon blog?? why do y'all like starmie so much

Something you want other people to see

please go read my warriorcats fanfic Turning to Savagery. I worked really hard on it. also i want more ppl to know who my blorbos are

okay, as always when i tag ppl, you can just ignore me if you don't wanna do this. i won't be offended i pinky promise. also you can do this anyway and say i tagged you. if you're reading this rn congrats you're officially tagged by me. show me your art, i demand it

@bougonia @henriediosa @nothing-is-relevent-but-it-is @ashestosparks @enderblogs-23

and last plug, but if you like my art and actually wanna keep up with it, i suggest following me on deviantart. or instagram i guess but i post less often on there. or just @pokemon-every-day if all you care about is my pokemon fanart. okay im done goodbye i love you

[bellasauruss]

I posted 658 times in 2021

237 posts created (36%)

421 posts reblogged (64%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.8 posts.

I added 841 tags in 2021

#my art - 135 posts

#wof - 132 posts

#art - 123 posts

#wings of fire - 109 posts

#not my art - 76 posts

#dragon - 63 posts

#character design - 62 posts

#digital art - 61 posts

#reblog - 40 posts

#oc - 40 posts

Longest Tag: 103 characters

#also guys i think i’m getting into the undertale/deltarune phase i never got to have when i was younger

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I had fun tonight drawing some LeafWing designs! I'm re-reading The Poison Jungle as a refresher before I read The Dangerous Gift, and now I'm thinkin' bout LeafWings :P

I drew Sundew, Willow, a cool side character I love named Cobra Lily, and old man Hawthorn! I'm proud of all their designs, and tried to go for a rotten leaves color scheme on Hawthorn >:)

284 notes • Posted 2021-02-24 03:41:44 GMT

#4

RAINWING DESIGNS.... meant as practice but DANG IT I LOVE ALL OF THEM

Toucan is my favorite and is DEFINITELY an oc I'm gonna keep...

362 notes • Posted 2021-04-18 23:39:39 GMT

#3

ORIGINAL CHARACTER ASKS

I always want people to ask me about my OCs but they never do SO WHY NOT MAKE A LITTLE GAME so we can answer some stuff!

Reblog this with your own OCs! I'd love to see people use this, these games are so fun- as someone who writes a lot I always wanna talk about this stuff

Send an ask with the corresponding number to get an answer for it

----

If you're sending an ask, feel free to ask about a specific OC or OCs!

Have you ever picked up a habit from developing/writing one of your own characters? And if so, who and what?

Who was the first OC you made?

What inspired you to make a certain character?

How did you find the name for a certain character?

Do you have any voice claims for your OCs?

Are there any other preexisting characters that inspired an OC?

What things in real life make you think of an OC?

Is there a certain song or playlist of songs you have that make you think of an OC/your story for them?

What is one of your character's theme songs?

Do any of your OCs contain any symbolism in themselves/their story?

Which character has been through the most design changes?

Which OC is most likely to kill somebody?

Which OC do you make art/media with the most?

Which OC/s do you relate to the most?

Which OC/s make you think of yourself the most?

Do you have a written story including your ocs? If so do you think you'll ever publish it?

Who is your favorite OC?

Who is your least favorite OC?

Who is your most recent OC?

Do any of your OCs have pets? What kind? NAME?

What is one of your character's biggest fears?

Do your friends and family know about your OCs/story? How much?

Have you ever seen something/someone that looks like one of your characters IRL? What was it like?

Are there any preexisting characters that your OC gets compared too a lot?

See the full post

702 notes • Posted 2021-07-07 06:39:44 GMT

#2

See the full post

3090 notes • Posted 2021-01-09 17:02:33 GMT

#1

Oink oink oink

No

I hope the Gravity Falls fandom gets a kick out of this one

3571 notes • Posted 2021-08-07 09:10:32 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[strawwritesfic]

Draco Malfoy x Female!Original Character: Never Bet Against a Lovegood When Love Is on the Line

Summary: “Just crazy enough to work” has always been the Weasley Twins’ motto.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (sexual innuendo; joking reference to a student/teacher relationship; OC sister of a canon character; OC adopted sister of a canon character; Luna & Sibling!OC; Fred and George Weasley & OC friendship; one-sided!Pansy/Draco; secret relationship; Gryffindor!OC)

Winner September 2019: nilla/nilla8594

Notes: Another one that I just followed the exact request to write this. All I did with “authorial authority” was cut about four superfluous scenes leading up to this one. The innuendos are part of the request. Alas, these are not something I’ve ever got the hang of, so credit for all those that appear in this work must be given to pickuplinesgalore.com’s Harry Potter section.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Never Bet Against a Lovegood When Love Is on the Line

Deep within the bowels of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry lay the most dreaded classroom known to any Gryffindor of the day: the dungeon. The cramped, dark conditions were enough to discourage Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students from lingering as well, but the professor made things especially nasty for any member of his rival house. No sane Gryffindor would stay once class was over—but then, the one still fussing over her cauldron that day had never been considered “sane.” Her adopted surname ensured that.

“Miss Lovegood.”

The quiet voice would have frightened most her age into freezing. Ally Lovegood, however, did not look up. She was waiting for her Dogbreath Potion to turn a more vibrant shade of purple. Although she was absolutely certain that she’d done everything correctly (after all, she always did), it remained resolutely lavender.

“Miss Lovegood,” Professor Snape said again, and this time his tone—though it never rose an octave—shifted enough to catch her attention.

Her brown eyes made a swift path up to his black ones.

He went on, “Class was over ten minutes ago. I suggest that you turn in your work now, unless you want no credit for it whatsoever.”

Ally drew in a sharp breath. Ten minutes already? That meant she was late! Not just late; she had probably missed her opportunity entirely. She had never, not once, turned in a less than perfect potion, though. That was the only reason Professor Snape had not taken points from her for loitering. Heart beating wildly inside her ribs, she glanced down at her potion once more—just in time to see it darken to the exact shade of purple she’d been waiting for.

Hurriedly, she scooped some into a waiting container, ran up to Professor Snape’s desk to hand it in, and raced back to her station to clean things up. Ally had all her supplies packed in a trice. Then she was sprinting out of the room with nothing but a, “See you later, Professor,” thrown over her shoulder in farewell.

The corridors were already empty by the time she climbed up to the more habitable portion of the castle. Of course it was. Lunch wouldn’t last forever, and there were afternoon classes to follow. Already her absence at her own table would be noticed. Ally heaved a sigh as she smoothed her dark, wavy hair back into her headband. So she wouldn’t be seeing him that day, nor probably for the rest of the week. Such meetings were terribly difficult to set up in the first place. Knowing that she had been the one to skip this one made her feel worse than her near-miss in potions already had.

Not even the multitude of Christmas decorations lining the halls could distract her. The teachers had put on a greater display than in her previous years in honor of the Triwizard Tournament, but what did that matter to Ally during her moment of crisis? The tinsel could not tell her how to apologize for missing her meeting or set up a new one, nor could any of the festively-dressed suits of armor she walked by. Passing notes along with Smokey was out, obviously. His friends would notice the same owl delivering messages so often. Perhaps, she mused, she could use an owl from the Post Office. No one would recognize one of those…but the next Hogsmeade weekend wouldn’t be for quite some time. The winter holidays lay between now and then. Ally wasn’t sure she could wait that long.

As she reflected upon her thoughts, she felt something long and hard wrap around her waist. She opened her mouth; a single note of protest escaped it. Did the nearest suit of armor do anything to help? Not at all. The long thing tugged her backward through what turned out to be a trick wall hiding a secluded alcove.

“You’re late,” drawled a familiar voice.

The long thing turned out to be an arm that belonged to someone she knew very well: Draco Malfoy, Ally’s secret boyfriend of some time. As soon as he released her, she pressed a smiling kiss to his mouth.

“Sorry,” she said after. “I got caught up in class. My Dogbreath Potion needed more time to brew, and I had to make sure it was perfect before I gave it to Professor Snape, or else—”

“He would have given you an O anyway. He likes you. Maybe your potion turned out fine, but now we only have a few minutes to ourselves before we need to get to the Great Hall.”

His mood confused her. Ally blinked up at him. Draco was right, of course—about their lack of time, not about her grades. She got high scores in Potions because she was good at it, not because of favoritism from the instructor. He knew that. Spending their time arguing about her talents or his behavior wasn’t what she wanted to do, though, so she did not contradict him.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

That time, Draco didn’t answer. He instead pulled her in closer for a much more serious kiss. Only once he was finished did he go on to say:

“You should be. That’s the last time I’ll get to do that until next term.”

Suddenly, that seemed like an even longer time than before. He—like most of the fourth years and anyone older—was staying at Hogwarts over the break to enjoy the Yule Ball. It was not as though Draco and Ally would have seen each other otherwise; neither of them could get away from their families long enough for a clandestine meeting in Knockturn Alley. But now she would be leaving with the knowledge that her popular boyfriend would be attending a romantic dance without her anywhere close by, or any cozy memories to remind him of her.

“What if,” she began slowly. “What if we just tell everyone that we’re seeing each other? Then you can do that as often as you like. You could even invite me to the ball. We could do lots of kissing there.”

He ran his pale fingers through his blond hair. “Ally, we’ve been over this.”

“Not for a while.”

“My answer is the same.”

“That I’m too young to be dating with you? A Slytherin shouldn’t be seen holding hands with a Gryffindor? Or is it the usual? Your parents wouldn’t approve.”

Was it so wrong that she sounded bitter? She was adopted. Her color scheme that differed so drastically from her father and sister made pretending otherwise impossible. No one knew what sort of magical blood, if any, ran through Ally’s veins, and even if she had been biologically a Lovegood, well, they were the Lovegoods. Draco’s family would never have accepted her anyway.

“That’s all rubbish and you know it,” he snapped. “Besides, you can’t put this all on me. Those Weasley friends of yours wouldn’t approve of you dating me either.”

“They wouldn’t care.”

“Sure they wouldn’t. Those ugly tempers of theirs—”

“Well, maybe, they’d like you a little more if you didn’t insult them every time you lost a game of Quidditch!”

The two of them eyed each other, both flushed, both angry. Ally felt tears prickling against the backs of her eyes. All she wanted was to be able to hold her boyfriend’s hand between classes, to kiss him where others could see, to let Pansy Parkinson know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was already taken. Was that so wrong? Apparently so, because Draco stepped around her and made for the fake wall without further discussion.

“I’m going to lunch now,” he said. “Make sure you wait a little while before you head there.”

“Fine,” she said.

Draco left. He didn’t even kiss her on his way out. Mad as Ally was, she didn’t storm after him; that he wanted the gap meant he planned to see her again despite their spat. She breathed slowly in and out as she counted down several minutes inside her head. That ought to have to given him enough time to get to the Great Hall ahead of her. After not only being late to their tête-à-tête but putting a premature end to it with a well-worn argument she was never going to win, she didn’t want to make things worse by arousing suspicion that they’d been together.

She herself finally made it to the Great Hall well after he had settled. The ceiling showed steely grey clouds rumbling against each other, and below them Draco was surrounded by his Slytherin friends. A flash of movement from the Ravenclaw table caught her eye: her sister, Luna, waving at her from where she was eating among a little flock of Beauxbatons students. Ally waved in return, then took a seat between her two best friends.

“And where have you been all this time?” George wanted to know, as she grabbed the nearest bowl and blindly ladled its contents onto her plate.

“I stayed late in Potions,” she answered shortly.

“I was not aware that you’d recently obtained a death wish,” said Fred.

“My potion wasn’t finished.

“And it took you nearly thirty minutes to get it done?”

“Tell us the truth, Ally.” George nudged her in the ribs with his elbow. “Was Snape putting the moves on you? Did you finally get yourself a date to the ball?”

“Very funny. Hilarious. Maybe you two ought to open a joke shop, so you can make more people laugh by suggesting their teacher wants to snog them.”

They both knew her well enough to read her tone. Though it was unusual for students their age to be close with those of hers, the three of them had been inseparable since her first year, when she’d discovered one of their pranks during its process and, rather than put a stop to it, passed it along to the next girl in her dorm. It had not made Ally many friends among her peers, but had impressed the twins enough to bring her on as a co-conspirator. Those days, her potion skills were highly helpful to them—or her ability to obtain ingredients most students didn’t have access to was. But that didn’t mean she didn’t remind them of her age from time to time. Judging by their shared look, she was doing so now.

“What’s the matter with you?” asked Fred.

“If Snape really is molesting you, you can tell us,” George added.

Ally took a deep breath. It wasn’t their fault she and Draco were fighting. She couldn’t tell them about it either. When she spoke again, she tried to do so in a more friendly manner: “No, Professor Snape is not molesting me, and no, I haven’t been asked to the ball.”

They groaned in unison.

“Come on, Ally. It’s only three weeks off now,” said George.

“Why are you so surprised? I’m not old enough to go anyway.”

“So?” said Fred.

“So,” Ally shoved a forkful of food in her mouth and swallowed as quickly as she could, “I was never going to get to go. If you guys want me there that badly, why don’t you ask me yourselves?”

Both of their faces twisted into identical masks of mock horror.

“Us? Ask you?”

“That’d be like one of us taking Ginny.”

“What would people say?”

“What would people think?”

“Besides,” said George, “we already have dates.”

She laughed around her goblet of pumpkin juice. “Sure you do.” When Fred and George only stared at her, she slowly lowered her drink. “You do? Neither of you had dates yesterday.”

Grinning, Fred ruffled the top of her head. “These are the sorts of important developments you miss when you’re off serving detention with McGonagall for daydreaming in class.”

“You’re lying,” she said as she swatted his hand away.

“No, I’m not. I’m going with Angelina. You can ask her if you don’t believe me.”

The girl in question was only a few seats away, chatting animatedly with several other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ally could have easily asked her, which was why she didn’t. Fred would not have suggested her doing so if he didn’t know that Angelina would back him up. She turned to George.

“Who’re you going with, then?”

“Never you mind. The important thing is that I am going. I don’t know what we were thinking, expecting her to join us,” he told Fred over her head. “Ally is far too shy to get herself a date anywhere, let alone to a school dance.”

For the life of her, Ally couldn’t explain why she did what she did next—just that it was only lunchtime and she had had enough of people she liked being snide to her. Professor Snape could dislike that she stayed late. Draco could dislike that she wanted to go public with their relationship. Fred and George could even dislike that she wouldn’t be there to wreak havoc with them at the Yule Ball. But they could not say she couldn’t find someone to take her if she wanted to. She had someone who would take her, if the odds weren’t so stacked against them.

“For your information, I could get a date with anyone,” she said waspishly.

The looks on their faces should have been enough of a warning, along with their delighted, “Anyone?” Alas, they were not.

She charged on: “Anyone at all. Maybe you find the idea of dancing with me disgusting, but I assure you that plenty of other people wouldn’t.”

“You really think you could waltz up to someone, spout off some cheesy pick up line, and get them to ask you out right then and there?” Fred asked skeptically.

“It worked for you, didn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” George said, his tone full of doubt. “I bet you one of our prototype fake wands you don’t even know any pick up lines.”

“And I bet you all of my Zonko’s products that I do, and that I could use one on anybody you picked to score a date with them.”

“Deal,” they said.

“Fine. Who do you want me to ask?”

The boys looked at each other, then at Ally, then said without hesitation, “Draco Malfoy.”

Hiding her surprise was impossible; her eyes widened and her mouth fell right open. She had thought they would make her ask Harry Potter, or maybe their brother Ron if they wanted to have a bit of a go at him as well—or even a Durmstrang boy if their aim was to embarrass her! But the one person in the entire school that was off limits? How did they always have such a knack for putting her in the worst positions possible?

“Ready to cough up your toys?” George held out a palm, grinning all the while.

Ally rapidly shook her head in an attempt to recover. “No. I just didn’t expect you to pick him. Don’t you loathe him?”

“Of course we loathe him,” said Fred.

“And he loathes us,” George said. “Which, by the law of association, means he loathes you as well.”

“Thus, whatever pick up line you choose isn’t going to work.”

“Tell you what, Ally. If Malfoy’s too scary, I’ll give you an out. Your other option is trying out a cheesy pick up line on Snape.”

She looked over at the Slytherin table. Draco was telling a story and those around him—Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and Zabini—were all laughing along. How could she approach him without shattering their careful but necessary illusion? He would have to turn her down, and she’d lose the bet anyway. Putting herself through the misery didn’t seem worth it.

“Snape’s so desperate he’d probably accept a date from the Giant Squid,” Fred was saying beside her.

“Hey, don’t bring the squid down to his level,” said George.

Abruptly, she got to her feet, which garnered the attention of not only her two friends, but several other nearby Gryffindors as well—Angelina included. Ally could feel their eyes on her back. They did not matter, though. None of the onlookers did. Breaking her gaze away from Draco’s face would put an end to her sudden flare of courage. No way was she going to let Fred and George win this bet without a fight, not after the day she’d had.

She crossed the Great Hall in silence. By the time she stood in front of her chosen group of Slytherins, some of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws (and Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students) were watching her progress, too. So was Parkinson, unfortunately. The pug-faced girl was the first to greet Ally upon her arrival:

“What do you want, Lovegood? Did the freak Gryffindors kick you out for being too freaky? You won’t find any sympathy here.”

No glance was spared her, nor was an answer. Draco, who was sitting right next to Parkinson, said nothing. A guarded look crept into his grey eyes. Ally knew that she was pushing things already. What she was about to do was incredibly reckless, but maybe if he’d just tried to listen to her earlier, she wouldn’t have been full enough of righteous indignation to try something this reckless out. She took an enormous gulp of air in preparation, then said:

“Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

The effect this line had on the rest of the Slytherins was instantaneous. They erupted into sniggers and boos and insults thrown her way. None of what the rest of them had to say meant a thing to Ally. She remained staring right at Draco. He’d gone rather pink at her question, but otherwise hadn’t reacted at all.

“Excuse me?” he asked coldly.

Ally tried again: “If you were a dementor, I’d become a criminal just to get your kiss.”

“Is this what you and your little pals consider a joke? Go back to your table before I stop being amused.”

“I know we’re not in Professor Flitwick’s class, but you’re still charming.”

“I thought I told you to go away.”

“Did you survive the Avada Kedavra curse? Because you’re drop-dead gorgeous.”

While Draco had gone an impressive shade of Chinese Fireball, Parkinson had gone white with fury. Ally suspected that only the watching professors were preventing her from being cursed into slime.

“Didn’t you hear Draco, Lovegood?” Parkinson demanded. “He told you to go away.”

Ally had heard him. She wasn’t deaf or stupid, just done sneaking around. The quaffle was in Draco’s pitch. He could send her away. If he did, though, he would be sending her away forever. If she was good enough for him to kiss in secret rooms, she was good for him to take to a dance. Was he going to listen to her now? Or another girl that got to be around him in front of other people and thought that meant she owned him?

Her and Draco’s eyes were locked. Ally leaned toward him so that their faces were level even though she was standing. This was it: his last chance.

“Are you using the Confundus charm,” she said, “or are you just naturally mind-blowing?”

“Draco! Do something!” Parkinson whined.

Draco did. He stood up, so fast that Ally had to jump backwards to avoid being banged into. A malicious light danced in Parkinson’s eyes. For the second time that day, Ally’s heartbeat quickened. It sped up all the more when he reached out to pull her closer. Then he said, loudly enough for the whole hall to hear:

“You must be a snitch, because I’ve been Seeking you my whole life.”

Ally’s surprised gasp was swallowed up in a kiss. All around them, people reacted at a much greater scale than the Slytherins had earlier. Students hooted, hollered, and wolf-whistled all around them. When Draco pulled away from her, she saw that only his group of friends remained too stunned to speak. Parkinson in particular looked so frozen from shock that she might have been mistaken for being petrified.

“Well, that’s one way of exposing our relationship to everyone,” Draco said ruefully. His eyes narrowed on Ally’s face. “You owe me for this.”

“Oh yeah? What do I owe you?” she asked with a smirk.

“A date to the Yule Ball. If you want to go public so badly…”

“Okay!”

Perhaps she acquiesced a little too quickly, but her head was spinning far too hard for her to think about what her eagerness might tell their onlookers. Draco Malfoy had just kissed her in front of the entire school! Her boyfriend had just declared to everyone, student and staff member alike, that she was his! She was going to the Yule Ball, not as a pity date with one of her friends, but with a guy she actually wanted to be with. Even if said boy did look a little put out at the moment, they were public at last. He sat back down with the tiniest of winks.

Parkinson had tears in her eyes. “Draco—but—what do you mean that she owes you a date to the dance?”

Draco merely buttered a slice of bread with a distinct air of apathy. “I meant that I’m taking Ally to the Yule Ball. She’s my girlfriend. But if you still need a date, Pansy, Goyle doesn’t have anyone to go with yet.”

A wicked smile worked its way across Ally’s face as she spun around and practically skipped back to the Gryffindor table. Normally she abhorred being looked at by so many people, but all the watching eyes that afternoon made her feel as though she were walking on air. And to think that she’d been about to write the entire day off as a loss!

“I expect that wand to be in my possession by the end of the day, boys,” she said loftily, taking her seat.

“And I expect my five galleons by then, too, Fred,” George put in.

“Five galleons?” Ally echoed. “Why does Fred owe you five galleons?”

“Because we had a little bet going as well. I thought you were too good for a slimy little git like Malfoy, but apparently I was wrong.” Fred begrudgingly passed five gold coins to his twin.

Too happy to scold either of them for insulting Draco like that, Ally simply moved to the next matter at hand: “How did you know I was seeing him?”

George rolled his eyes. “Please. We might have given Harry our map last year, but you’re still looking at the two people who know this castle better than anyone. You really think you can have a snogging session once a week without one of us stumbling on it?” He batted his eyelashes, putting on a falsetto voice when he went on, “Oh, Draco! Draco! I love you, Draco!”

Ally whacked him over the head, which only caused him to grin.

“But, listen, Ally, you’re not planning on spending the whole ball with him, are you? George and I have plans that would really work better with the three of us, and we can’t manage that if you’re staring dreamily into Malfoy’s eyes all night.”

Luckily, Ally was spared having to answer. She had crammed the last of her meal into her mouth and was thus quite incapable of speaking. If she didn’t leave right away, she would be late for Herbology. One last wave preceded her standing and heading for the exit. That didn’t stop Fred and George from calling after her, though.

She left without another word, knowing that this was really only a start. Openly dating Draco wouldn’t be easy—but she was willing to make it work. Maybe if she spent a little time with all three of them, they would start to get along. Then Ally Lovegood would never have to hide a part of herself from people she loved again. On second thought, that sort of thinking was exactly what made people question her sanity to begin with.

[spilledkauffie]

The Pearl Princess

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.4k T/W: mentions of past deaths A/N: “reader” background, I don’t really know how to write an OC, but I think this is me trying?? (Please don’t come after me!)

Tag List: @spideysimpossiblegirl ❤︎ @liltangerineart ❤︎

Chapter 1 · Chapter 2 · Chapter 3 · Chapter 4  · Chapter 5 · Chapter 6 · Chapter 7 · Chapter 8

Entering a familiar cantina the Mandalorian knew his way around, but he wasn’t here for a glass of spotchka. He needed weapons, ammunition, not more trouble that was likely to brew if he stuck around too long in a place like this. Managing to make his way across the room, he was about to leave in search of the weapons merchant, but a conversation caught his attention. With one foot on the step out, he paused, turning himself to the direction of the speaker he overheard. A Momaw Nadon and a local at a table were talking a little louder than they should have been.

“You’re imagining things! I doubt it could be, no one’s seen the pearl princess since-”

“Since what?” Din’s muffled voice came from behind the two, startling them.

He could see them eyeing him over, as practically everyone did. Obvious that they decided they were no match for him, as everyone should, they looked between each other and swallowed anxiously.

“Well, there’s just no way she survived,” the local said, nervous that it was the wrong answer.

“Survived?” Din asked curiously, looking between the two of them, “can you tell me more?”

They glanced around to make sure they weren’t drawing in any other unwanted attention, nodded and then invited him to sit with them and he accepted, sitting on the outermost edge, just as a habit.

“The Pearl Princess, is what they call her, for her pearlesque headpiece,” the local man started, “it’s said to be out of the rarest and most beautiful orbs,” Din nodded slightly, waiting for him to continue, “she’s the last royal of her family, if she’s still alive that is,” he scoffed looking to the Momaw Nadon, before he noted Din’s head tilt, “let me start over: years ago, there was a royal family, their people loved them, hell, the galaxy loved them. Until an invasion happened, the planet was overthrown. . . and attacked aggressively.”

Din adjusted in his seat, trying to repress any memories of his own experiences.

“The Court Council was executed, the locals were held hostage to their own planet and the royal family was disgraced, any and all royal attire and belongings were burned. Then, as punishment for. . . well, seems for just being born, they were led from the throne room to the archives, not only were they forced into chains, but they were forced to sift through their galactic records. . .”

“And?” Din asked, noticing the sudden silence.

The local man leaned closer, “they were forced to remove any trace of their line from every single record in the galaxy.”

“Erasing their family from history and future,” the Mandalorian nodded, “except by word of tongue,” he added with a deep sigh; he was fairly familiar with tactics that could erase a person from records. . .

“And what of the princess?” Din asked.

“Well,” the local suddenly became more relaxed, taking a drink before continuing, “after the archives were erased there was no more need for the royals. That’s why there’s no way she would have made it off the planet alive.”

The Momaw Nadon made a seemingly upset noise, accompanied by arm gestures that drew in Din’s attention, he stared at the creature who was clearly communicating to his friend.

“Alright,” the local threw his hands up, looking over to Din with an eye roll, “there’s a legend.”

“Legend?”

“Yes, a legend, that the princess, only child mind you, was smuggled out of the archives and placed in a cellar, dark as midnight. She was told that her ‘Rescuer’ would come along to save her, protect her, and to take her away from her destined execution,” the local lifted his hands, looking over to his friend as if silently saying ‘happy?,’ before looking back to the Mandalorian, “they say she was around seven then. . .and he never came for her. She was alone down there for years, and then disappeared, and well- we all know what that really means.”

Din nodded, fist tightening and releasing, ‘years?’ He thought to himself. It had been only a matter of minutes for him; this information was suddenly priceless. It seemed of late he’d been in the habit of collecting innocent, but wanted things.

A new voice chimed in from behind Din, clearly tipsy and clearly another local, who was already getting a little too handsy on the Beskar, “last I heard a ruuumour, some Rodians were trying to transport a pretty little princess to that execution prison wayyyy out there. Word is some high society bounty hunt- hunters have a rare puck that’s for her head, attached or—”

The drunk local motioned his finger against his neck while making a grotesque noise, before falling out of his seat. Shaking their heads, the Momaw Nadon and the more sober local were somber, “poor child, she couldn’t help being born to royals, and to damn respectable ones too. If she is alive, she’s nothing but innocent.”

“If she’s alive, she’s nothing but alone,” the drunk added, climbing back into his chair.

Din ignored any response he had wanted to make to the last comment. After thanking them for their time, Din made his way through the vendors. Not in a mood to negotiate anymore, he paid what they asked; having plenty leftover from the payment he’d gotten from the Rodians. Although now he handled the money a bit more carefully.

When Din returned to the ship bay, he saw Peli and the Child asleep. ‘How am I supposed to keep two refugees off the grid?’ And then he questioned whether or not he made three. . . he briefly chuckled hoarsely, you certainly would make a funny little group.

Not bothering to wake the two, the bay door opened to the Crest and he walked up the ramp. Immediately he looked to where he had last left you. There were a few new things he wanted to say to you, but all that was left was the pair of cuffs he had placed you in, one end still clasped to the pipe, the other not even open, just hanging there. Setting aside all the newly purchased cargo, he made a swift scan of the entire ship searching for you. It was amazing how quickly he had begun to feel a higher responsibility for you, after hearing your history.

“Dank farrik,” he uttered to himself, chest heaving; turning on his heel he rushed down the bay door, “Peli!”

“Ah! Yeah, what?!” She startled from her chair, the Child waking with her, making some annoyed noise. Peli stretched a little, spinning in her chair to see the Mandalorian jogging towards the doorway of her little shack, “oh, it’s you, what are you yellin’ for?!”

“Where is she?” The Mandalorian asked as calmly as he possibly could in the current state of things.

“Who?” Peli shook her head.

“I- I don’t know her name-”

“Well,” Peli snorted, bouncing the child, “that’s not very helpful.”

“She was on the ship,” he snapped, “I told you not to let anything off the ship without supervision.”

“I thought you were just talkin’ about the little one!” She met his tone, before calming down, “Jeez…”

Din took a deep breath, as he turned away from her and the Child, taking a moment to think of something, anything. You were clever, more clever than he had taken you for, that was for sure. But now you truly were alone, and on this planet where bounty hunters ran rampant; he had no idea what they’d do if they found you. . .

“Keep the kid safe,” he suddenly straightened up, heading to the bay of the Crest.

“Where you running off to now?” Peli followed him, placing a hand on her hip, as she steadied the Child on the other.

“To find her,” he answered, “but I need help-”

“Oh, he finally admits it,” she gave a wide eyed look to the Child sassily, as Din tilted his head at her unnecessary comment.

“Just-”

“I know, I know, he’ll be fine with me,” she shook her head, for once looking sincerely at him.

Din nodded, silently thanking her as he reached a finger towards the Child who just cooed and bobbled his fuzzy head.

“I won’t be more than a few days, at most,” the Mandalorian tossed a satchel over his shoulder, before heading out into the desert.

[that-random-chaos-entity]

How does your OC display love? What are some habits your OC has picked up?

Forgive me as this is a LONG post, but I felt it would be better to show, rather than tell, this one:

Words could not describe how awkward Perturabo felt being back in the Emperor's palace. It would have been bad enough if it were just his deadbeat father, a half-rotten corpse sitting in an overglorified golden life-support casket, ignoring him as per usual. But it wasn't just his father; so many of his brothers had come for this... ...this Sanguinala... ...in many ways it almost felt like the Heresy had never happened.

Vulcan, Corvus, Fulgrim, ROGAL FUCKING DORN, Magnus.... ...hell, even SANGUINIUS had come back from the dead. Raised by the same mysterious chaos entity that had turned Perturabo's world and soul inside out. Made him live his own life over and over again, through the eyes of the people around him, until he got the point. The people he impacted. The people he used, abused, and destroyed without a second thought. The people he...

...Perturabo shook his head, the physical action somehow dislodging the poisonous psychic tumor from his soul. Even though that parasite was long gone and the Eye of Terror no longer loomed over him, it had been feeding on his twisted spirit for so long that its blasted and withered hide still bled for it. Casting his self-destructive thoughts into the warp. This was a good thing (or so the Lanky Llama said). Though sometimes, when he started to brood and sulk, things would get... ...gummed up. He could shake any errant clots loose himself, but nobody helped the darkness bleed out of him like Nehetari.

And holy shit did he wish she were here right now. When she and her robotic people were around... ...the Lord of Iron actually felt like... ...himself. Or the version of himself that he wanted to be, anyway.

But no, "No xenos allowed at a family gathering," the Emperor had said. Not that it even would have mattered if they were; it was one of those weird weeks where the lanky llama disappeared on him and holed up in her room by herself. Something about a "Necrontyr biological cycle," that would, "likely make her act inappropriately," or "embarrass herself and him," but she would say no more on the matter.

Of course it would happen over the day when he needed--erm could have used her presence the most.

"Aren't you going to open your gifts, brother?"

Perturabo snapped out of his brooding to see Magnus looming beside him. It took him a second to process what he said, but when he did he scowled.

"Gifts Magnus? Really? Do think anyone here would ever give me a gift?"

"Excuse me! What am I, grox manure!?" there was no real irritation in Magnus's voice. He gestured to table in front of Perturabo, where three gifts sat that he could have SWORN were not there before. "And if you must know, you're the only brother here I saw fit to even GET a gift for."

"Aside from Sanguinius."

"Well... ...yeah..." the Crimson King shuffled his wings awkwardly. Both primarchs stole a glance at the MOUNTAIN of gifts that their brother had received. "...b-but he doesn't count."

Perturabo sighed. He didn't feel like feeling jealous of Sanguinius right now. Instead he grabbed the first package; it was obviously Magnus's gift. Whatever was in it was so warp-touched that it levitated a solid three feet off the table and changed size randomly. It turned out to be a small inter-dimensional rift that contained a book of arcane engineering, one that Perturabo had surprisingly not seen before. He thanked his brother; something that drew a surprised look from Magnus and a complimentary hug that Turbo awkwardly returned. The second gift was from Sanguinius, as it turned out, and when he opened the box he saw his own face, reflected in a simple yet elegant mirror. After a moment of wondering if this gift was actually meant for Fulgrim (clone fulgrim), he saw the inscription on the box lid which read, "to my big brother: it brings me joy to see happiness in your eyes now. I hope with this you can see it too."

Perturabo swore under his breath and slammed the box shut, furiously hoping that Magnus hadn't heard him sniffle just a tiny little bit. It was a moving gift to be sure, but after everything that had happened... ...somehow it just made the Lord of Iron feel like garbage. Well... ...more so than usual.

Thankfully, quick-thinking Magnus directed his brother's attention to the third gift. In fact, if he didn't know better, Perturabo would have sworn Magnus seemed even MORE excited for him to open this gift than his own.

"What is... ...is this from...?"

"MHMMM!" Magnus's enthusiasm was all-consuming, his grin audible in his tone. "She asked me come and pick it up from outside her door earlier this morning."

Perturabo's melancholy dissipated into a wave of curiosity. What sat before him was a perfect cube of blackstone, though if he knew anything about Nehetari, he knew that wasn't all there was to it.

Sure enough, when he picked it up, glyphs flashed along its side.

"Is... ...that..."

"Necrontyr," Perturabo murmured in deep concentration. "...and not just any form of Necrontyr; this is Ksakhemet Script."

"What?"

"Think of it as our high gothic. Except it's as if we had a high, HIGH gothic. Only the three Necrontyr kings and their families even knew how to speak this script, let alone how to read and write it. It is ancient, according to Nehetari... ...it's from a time even before the Necrontyr first started their galactic expansion."

Those statements alone were like a different language to Magnus, but his lust for ancient knowledge ignited like a blazing inferno. He would absolutely have to grill both Perturabo AND his xenos companion for more information once she was.... ...*ahem* no longer indesposed.

Perturabo turned the cube over and over in his hands, reading the ornate lettering as best he could. He'd only just started learning how to read Ksakhemet; he couldn't speak it properly because he lacked the extensive Necrontyr vocal range, but the lettering started to make sense the more he plied his fantastic mind.

"It is... ...a puzzle cube. I believe."

"D'AAWWW... How sweet...!"

Perturabo punched his brother in the shoulder, but it phased through his immaterial form.

"Shut your mouth!" He could already feel the heat creeping up his neck and he HATED it. Although he had to admit he was a little touched, if amused, that Nehetari had put together such a... ...thought-out gift.

And well-thought-out it was indeed! It became clear to the Lord of Iron that this wasn't just some slide and lock, physics based puzzle toy for mortal children. It was a custom-made testing tool designed to challenge his understanding of spacial compression, sub-atomic energy transfer, and even Necrontyr cultural theory. Each segment was challenging, unique, and soon he found himself absorbed. Magnus tagged along for the ride of course, and his respect for Nehetari grew each time he heard his brother growl in frustration, or give a small "...Ha! So that's it..."

"She has... ...quite the impressive mind. Especially for a xenos."

Perturabo grunted his affirmation. "...you don't know the half of it. She makes the Hrud look like a bunch of children." With a click the puzzle changed shape in his hands again, "...I would even say she has a mind similar to ours."

"...you don't say..."

"Hmph, she's DEFINITELY smarter than Dorn. I know that for sure."

Magnus chuckled. Of course she was.

The Lord of Iron didn't realize it immediately, but the puzzle cube was meant to serve another function, not just being an intriguing mental exercise. The more he fidgeted with it, the more time passed. Not by some technomantic power or magical means; he was just so absorbed in Nehetari's gift that he didn't notice his brothers packing up their gifts and starting to drift around and away from the throne room. Magnus, realizing he wouldn't be much help with this exercise, had taken notice of the custodes' Captain General (the one they call "kitten") and had begun to chat with him. Sanguinius was now at the Emperor's side, trying to pacify an impatient and belligerent Angron who just wanted to go celebrate Khornnuka with Lotara and Kharn. Corvus had dissapeared to... ...somewhere, and Vulkan was... ....had he somehow jackknifed himself into the psychic fireplace that the Emperor created!? Russ was laughing at him and drinking himself stupid (not that he had many IQ points to lose in the first place), but thankfully nobody was paying any attention to Turbo. Huh, who'd have thought; Perturabo was actually HAPPY that he was being ignored right now.

With a satisfying ding the cube shifted again, and to his surprise, glyphs flashed indicating that this was, in fact, the final challenge.

"Let's have it then. I'm ready..." the Lord of Iron grinned. He flicked the raised pad below the text and the final task scrolled across blackstone. Surprisingly, this time it was in High Gothic.

"...who is... ...my... ...favorite... ...human?"

He stared at the screen, dumbfounded. "Really? After all that, the last puzzle, is 'who's my favorite human?' Really?"

But wait... ...was the answer actually as easy as it appeared? Perturabo wanted to put his own name, but what if he was wrong? What if he wasn't her favorite human? He was hardly even "human" in the first place. Maybe she meant a true, normal human? But if this was supposed to be a present for him, why would she blatantly make him answer that her favorite human WASN'T him. What if...

"Hey nerd, the answer's obviously you."

Perturabo jumped to see Leman Russ passing him.

"What the-! Whe-how did you... ...you can't read!" Perturabo stammered. There was no way Leman just waltzed over here...

The Wolf Lord grinned, "Hey, ye nerds aren't the only ones who know how teh learn things. If I taught meself teh read Fenrisian runes, I can teach meself teh read some wolfin' High Gothic!"

"..."

"...that and I may or may not have used some of meh own psychic powers to read yer mind. You know, teh fill in teh blanks."

Considerably less impressed, Perturabo grumbled as he keyed the letters of his name into the cube. With another ding and a flash of green light, previously invisible cracks along the cube's surface began to glow and the cube began to shift one last time. When it finished, a tiny black tray was left in its place, revealing... ...a letter? And a pict?

"What's all this now?" Leman reached towards the tray.

Perturabo snatched it away, "Fuck off Russ! This is MY gift!"

"Oooh, is this from yer GIRLFRIEND!?"

"SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!!"

"Hey fuck you Leman!" Oh boy, here comes Magnus, "Like you could ever understand the subtlety and genius that went into that puzzle box! Let him enjoy his gift in peace!"

"LeT HiM eNjOy HiS gIfT iN pEaCe!" Leman crooned. "Shut her trap and go back teh yer boyfriend, yeh big red canary."

Magnus puffed up in outrage and looked about ready to turn Leman inside out. When Perturabo noticed Sanguinius inbound, no doubt to dissolve the impending battle, he took his chance to dip out. And by "dip out" I mean grab the tray and its contents, and duck under the table. It would hide him for all of a second, but that would be as long as it would take him to read the letter.

Or it would have, if Leman hadn't, SOMEHOW, been able to reach the tray before him. He snatched up the letter, practically from between Perturabo's fingers, and with utter horror the Lord of Iron watched as his brother brandished the page, cleared his throat, and began to read:

"Perturabo..."

"FUCK YOU LEMAN THAT'S NOT YOURS!!" Magnus howled. Perturabo roared in fury. Both brothers made a mad lunge at the Wolf Lord but he dodged, shit-eating grin on his face as he continued reading.

"...Perturabo,

I'm sorry, but I...."

"....failed you?"

At the mention of the word "failed", Perturabo's onslaught faltered, as did Magnus's. Leman's grin died on his lips as he read the next line, his eyes widening for a moment before they squeezed shut. He then passed the letter back to Perturabo, mumbled a barely audible apology, turned, and without a word walked off.

"That's not what I... ...uh... ...expected?" Magnus muttered. "He looked like a kicked pup. What did that letter..."

Perturabo clutched the paper looking the most feral Magnus had ever seen him.

"...you know what, never mind. That letter's meant for you anyway." He added quickly. "I'll be in the library if you need me, brother."

And just like that, Perturabo was alone. Well, mostly; the Emperor was still there, but he was oddly quiet. Sanguinius was watching him too, but from a discreet distance.

The Lord of Iron backed up into the corner of the room, still riled up but looking a little less crazy. Once he was satisfied that NOBODY ELSE would attempt to confiscate his stuff, he finally began to read what Nehetari wrote for him.

"Perturabo,

I am sorry, but I failed you. You said you wanted your brothers' appreciation for a Sanguinala gift, but of all the ones I interviewed asking for an appreciative memory they have of you, the only ones who gave me a response were your brothers Magnus and Sanguinius. So instead I instigated a situation to make one (please reference the included image). If your brother's expressions are to be believed, then I believe they all enjoyed attacking your snow bunker. I certainly enjoyed helping you defend it.

May you have a somber and pleasant celebration,

The Mehlrose,

Nehetari of the Szarekhan Dynasty.

Heir to the Silent Throne."

...Perturabo couldn't believe it.

He's asked for that as a JOKE. He hadn't actually been serious. When she's approached him, asking what he wanted as a "Sanguinala gift," he'd been in the middle of a complicated programming script and had said that just to get the point across that he didn't want to be bothered.

Slowly, and with a shaking hand, he lifted the pict from the tray and turned it over.

And she was right. This shot must have been taken by one of her tunneling scarabs. Or maybe one of her guard as they were circling the perimeter, hurling snow and distracting Russ. But however it was taken, somehow it was able to get a perfect shot of every primarch, including himself and Nehetari, hurling fucking snow or getting completely dunked on, but every single one of them had varying degrees of stupid fucking grin on their faces. Even Corvus was smiling!

It struck him: had that been her plan all along?

Minutes passed, and finally the Emperor himself spoke up. "My son, you're shaking like a Dark Elder nightclub on a Tuesday."

Perturabo didn't hear him. It took everything he had just to hold the pict in his trembling hands.

Why? Why. Why would she bother. How did she... ...why, why, why WHY? HOW!? When did she even have the TIME to plan this out!? There was no way. And not for him. Why? Why for him? And ALL OF THEM. How could she have known they would ALL come?

"Brother, are you ok?"

Perturabo snapped out of the loop to see the Angel standing beside him with a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't realized just how loudly his two hearts had been thundering, how BADLY his whole body had been shaking, until he felt that steadying touch. Instinctively he tried to regain control over his mind and body, and stowed the pict away in his belt.

Sanguinius asked no questions; he simply nodded.

"I'm going to find her..." Perturabo's voice sounded like sandpaper. He could feel the tears rolling down his neck, but he ignored them. "...I don't care if she FUCKING KILLS me; I am going to find her. She has no right.... ...she had no right to... ...to..."

"...go ahead brother." Sanguinius's smile was warm with understanding.

Salvaging what little dignity he felt he had left, Perturabo straightened up, turned on his heel, and walked shakily out of the throne room. He disappeared into the darkness, leaving his father and his brothers to stare after him in wonder.

(Sorry this is such a long post, but I started writing it and just went to town. I wanted to SHOW, rather than just tell, the kinds of things Nehetari does for the individuals that are important to her)

@gracia-regina @ask-a-scheming-sorcerer @luwupercal

[everyday-is-brighter-with-you]

CRYING IN THE (WINTER)CLUB

Before starting the ID I want to say there are some OC characters in this, and I’ve described their general appearance in this google doc for ref!

[ ID: Wide front view colored art drawn traditionally and colored digitally. Every character is in fullbody except Dr Habit whos drawn till above legs. In the scene many people are gathered out in the winter snow at a backyard. Snow falls everywhere. Overall pic is light blue toned. There is slight pale vignette around it.

Dr.Habit is looking away and wiping a tear, smiling. In the artists interpretation he has yellow fur, pink hair, stitches on hands, deep red nails.He wears long brown fur coat, big white knitted scarf, black fingerless gloves, black fur ushanka with orange fruits and green leaves design. Wears hair in a long plait. A dark grey maine coon leans into him.

Putunia is laying down, hands on cheeks making a ''ooo'' face in anticipation and glee. In the artists interpretation she has long dark brown curly hair. She wears a purple petunia shaped dress, blue pants, short brim straw hat with fake purple flowers,  thick yellow socks. Wears hair in big pigtails tied with pink bobble ties. She is looking at Lil Habby( the puppet) holding a fire gun to a melting chocolate bar, melting into a cup for making a drink. He wears the usual with a pink flower in hair. He has long thin simple shadow arms and legs here.

Marigold is sitting idle on the grass, looks curiously at snow on his petal hair, maybe even irritated. Near him on a pink cushy sofa with green highlights and little yellow flower designs sits Rose playing his flute eyes closed and legs kicking casually. In this picture his hair is longer. His hair tie rests on a sofa arm.

Behind him the Carlas are making a Snow Carla. Fortune Teller Carla is smiling and keeping a camellia on the snow figure. A red sleeveless dress and red gloves are drawn on her, wears hair in double buns with sparkling grey flower bands encircling buns, green eyeshadow. Another Carla laughs heartily, adding more snow.  A green buttoned dress with yellow ''fluff''  and striped brown cap with same fluff is drawn on her. The third Carla's face is away from viewer, she too is adding snow. A blue dress like Elsa's icy dress and a purple flower crown is drawn on her, though the cape is actually worn. The Snow Carla has one swirly eye dug in, a button eye with leaf lashes and branch eyebrow, carrot nose, red wax lips stuck on. From the camellia tree behind the red-clothed one, a pair of green cat eyes with thick brown brows stare.

Farther away on the other side Kamal is walking in, holding a half eaten pitha in hand while approaching. He holds a bag with a box saying ''To Kamal, with love''. In the artists interpretation his face is acne scarred. He wears a blue-black sweater, purple scarf, blue pants, brown winter shoes with white fluff at the top, one gold earring, frog shape chew necklace, hair is in a bun.

At the center Trevor is reaching up  with a stool and fiddling with a giant vibrating hot chocolate machine. He wears his usual coat with added blue jeans, red scarf with yellow and black stripes, leopard print heels, green goggles, mask for mouth, silver ear piercings. Hair is in a mullet and nails are sharp and black. The machine has a funnel streaming black smoke, and many bright devices on it. In the center of it is a radioactive symbol. On one side to its bottom is a part reading ''DEVIL MODE'' in allcaps with fire graphics, a big red button in a glass case is above it with a note that reads ''Never(underlined) touch'', stuck with a smiley face pin. There is a mounted fish figurine on one handle. The hot chocolate is fizzling over the brim.

Behind him a long table laiden with food is seen. There are swirl designs on the wood's sides. There are red and green apples, borscht, three colored drinks, yorsh, glintvein , 3 tier chocolate cake, shchi, cut open peaches, cut round bread, bowl with sweet bread cakes, three small buns, full breasted chicken in aluminium foil. Lily is looking over the table edge, grinning with the aim of stealing the cake.

There are plants around, a winter garden. In some places a green color overtakes the snow with grass growing. All over the yellow fence, to the left side, are huge clumps of winter jasmine.

To the horizon trees in blue-green shades with snow coverings are seen, closer and then farther and farther away. In that distance the silhouettes of Jimothan smiling and waving to Trencil, while dragging Parsley through the snow behind him are seen. Trencil stands and smiles, a little of his towering purple castle with red highlights, many turrets, visible.

end ID]

DESC UNDER CUT 

yisssss MFERS I made a winter piece before winter was FUCKING OVER sobsob

heres my yearly tribute to the season of nosebleeds cracked lips and flies aND SNOW!!!!!!!!(NOT WHERE I LIVE ;W;)

Also my birthdays really soon. Like next week soon

Ermmm ahffjd to talk a little about what I drew...hmmhfhg...well idk if the perspective( god i tried) makes this look different so ill just throw it out there thats Habits not looking at my sonaJDJVNJ hes looking away and crying due to found family feelings. Carlas doing some gay shit. Pabit+Putunia about to start a small localized natural disaster. I mean how else do u make hot choco without setting chocolate on fire tbh. Hotted chocolate. aNd YeS mY fAmIlY SeLf iNsErTs ArE ThErE tOo >:3. The machine will explode tommorow but its OK. They can make bath bombs from the carnage. Hrhggh I had a different idea but then my sis changed my HC so Im just gonna say Habit built it but with Trevors help hence the flashiness nd DEVIL MODE. Now that ive watched hlvrai i cant stop dropping references this series is so quotable .   Sawww those guys in the back? Honestly Trencils probably a winter person with the low light, fog and blocked sun.

---

EDIT: WELL MY BIRTHDAY GOT OVER AND JANUARY ALMOST TOO DAMN..GETTING OVER MY HEAPING ANXIETY AND POSTING

I dont Expect a lot of notes or anything but I suppose its alright, one of the important things to me is just archiving my art somewhere.

I know the IDs long but I’d recommend reading through if u also wanna like know the specifics of what I drew, OVER 15 PLANTS I THINK   I’d be flattered,

If you reblog with tags i’ll be happy though!!

[ID: The same drawing but with no editing- no vignette, snow overlay, blue overtone or color correction. end ID]

EDIT: Shortened the rlly long ID, but if someone wants to know the plants i drew under ‘winter garden’;  The flowers and plants visible at front are virginia rose, red chokeberry, snowdrops, a single frost covered rose, piers japonica in pots. To the middle inkberry, more snowdrops, colored hellebores patch,  glory of snow, black hellebores patch, pansies, cyclamens, yellow aconite, some more snowdrops. A little farther are two winterberry plants, a camellia tree, witch hazel, english primroses, staghorn sumac. 

[star-wars-scribbles-ff]

Where I Belong | Chapter 3

Story Summary: The only family she’d ever known gave her a name; back when she belonged to something. But when that family is lost, she leaves it all behind. When destiny drops her in the last place she ever wanted to be, she has to earn back the trust and respect of the Republic that left her to die. Caught between the Jedi and the Grand Army of the Republic, she’ll discover where she belongs.

Fandom: Star Wars | Galaxy Far Far Away

Rating: T+

Story Genre/Warnings: action/adventure/found family | war violence, death, torture, discrimination, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, found family, lots of clone boys, eventual Order 66 and rise of the Empire

Words: 5,078

Disclaimer: Majority of properties within this fanfic are owned by Lucasfilm/Disney. My OCs, as well as a few other things within this fanfic are of my own creation. Republic Cog header/chapter divider made by me 😊

CHAPTER NOTE: Here is the next chapter! No new arts this week but I do have a few people who wanted to be tagged so here we go 😬: @thisistheendtimes​ @tallyquark​ @divergent-llamas-03​ If you’d like a tag on future chapters just let me know (or if you’d like to be removed). 

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter | Arwen Corcer Mercenary Visuals

Coruscant. Edge of the newly established Military District. 0500 hours.

From her position, Arwen could see most of the base covered in a haze that had been slowly dissipating as time passed. She sat on the top level of an apartment complex which was under construction. The work crew had leave for the next few days and she found it relatively easy to climb the structure without issue or worry of being punished for trespassing. 

The air was relatively crisp, for the upper levels of Coruscant at least; which wasn’t saying much. The further down you went the more toxic and polluted the air got. The sky was a range of blue and greys, the horizon lightening in color as the minutes went by. It was early; much of the planet hadn’t risen yet, however that meant very little with a population of over a trillion. 

Due to her being so close to the Military bases, traffic in the skies was few and far between, since the bases had begun development, traffic lanes had been rerouted around those locations for security reasons. 

She’d been staring at the base for almost thirty minutes now. It was pretty quiet. She’d see troopers on the wall walking about as well as troopers within the base now and again, however movement was infrequent and slow. Military life started early, especially during wartime; whatever battalions were stationed at this base might be on a leave of sorts. These guys were probably on a much deserved break… great. The thought almost made her stomach flip as she pressed two fingers to her temples and squeezed for a time.

She was torn. She felt the guilt eating away at her, gnawing at her like an open wound. It shouldn’t be a problem. This was the life- what she signed up for; they would’ve killed her if she hadn’t taken the job, and something told her there was a daunting and formidable force backing the client.

… She needed the money; it made her sick acknowledging it. It wasn’t for personal gain- just self preservation. She needed to get off Coruscant and as far from the Republic, the Jedi… the Army... as she could. 

This job would hurt people; people who didn’t deserve to be hurt. There was no getting around it. The primary personnel within that base would be troopers, and while she hadn’t developed a personal connection to these specific individuals, her past with them overall just… muddled the waters. What would her team think-.... 

She shook her head quickly and suddenly; pushing that thought out of her mind as far as it would go before breathing in deeply. Resting her head back against the wall of a ventilation unit she had been leaning against, she let her eyes close.

Time to think about the mechanics. She had to do something. If she did nothing there would be no payout. Her knowledge regarding the GAR was probably outdated at this point, but she had a rough enough idea of the best locations to hit. Probably the courtyard where the large scale vehicles were kept. There seemed to be at least nine AT-Tes, twelve LAAT/is, and nine AT-RTs. It was easy to see from a watch point, and if she timed it right, she could do considerable damage without critically hurting anyone. She’d need to watch the base for at least forty-eight hours to log shift rotations and other movements; she’d have to find a good building nearby where she could watch the interior of the base during that time if this complex didn’t work out. 

“What are you doing.” The thoughts dissipated like smoke quickly from her mind as she opened her eyes, shaking her head at her own words. 

A soft whine caught her attention and she looked to the side, seeing Bek eyeing her. He had found her some time in the night. She was never sure how he did it, but he’d find her one way or another. She always made sure that wherever she was held up for the night, it was a spot he could get to just in case. The anooba’s brow moved subtly before his lower jaw dropped and his tongue rolled out as he began to pant. The action made Arwen give a small smile, although it faded as quickly as it appeared, and her gaze shifted towards the sky. She reached a hand out and rustled the creature’s fur, bringing her hand under to scratch the anooba’s chin before letting her hand fall away. 

… She can’t do this. She can’t. What would her team think of her if she resorted to this; it was inexcusable. 

The tension in her posture was causing a subtle ache to begin creeping up her neck and to the crown of her head as she forced her eyes shut, her brow knit. Gently forcing a breath out through her lips she blew the air from her lungs until she was forced to suck in another steady breath.

“What are you doing,” She uttered, sitting up suddenly to adjust her posture before pulling a bent leg up, hugging it closer to her chest. Beads of cold sweet dappled at her palms as she hastily rubbed them along her leg cradled close to her chest. 

Sniffling in a breath, Arwen took a moment to ease her somewhat irregular breathing before glancing towards the anooba still staring at her. A small issue she had recently developed when overthinking was holding her breath or irregularly breathing, which was a terrible habit, especially on a job. 

“What’d you think, bud?” Arwen questioned quietly, eyeing the messy-haired animal before raising her left hand to swipe some of the mohawk-like fur that stopped at the top of his head. “Should be able to find somewhere to sell this ordnance. If not- the underground market should take it without question.” She used her nails to scratch lightly over the creature's scalp, quick to notice how one of his rear legs began twitching in a scratching-like motion, and she smiled. 

She could get quick money for the explosives. Not nearly enough for a one way trip to Saleucami, but she might be able to work off the rest as part of a flight crew on the way to the outer rim.

Arwen found herself nodding lightly. This could work. It wouldn’t be easy, but then again that job wouldn’t have been either. 

With her right hand, she grasped at the satchel sitting on her right before steadily getting to her feet. Her gaze circled back around to where Bek sat patiently. 

“You ready?” She couldn’t bring herself to lighten her voice very much, but all the same, the anooba perked up at her words and got to his feet. Throwing the satchel over her shoulder, along with her other satchel holding the parts to her rifle, Arwen began her descent from the roost. 

Bek went ahead of her towards where a construction step-ladder resided. She followed, maneuvering her way through some of the materials which had been abandoned for the day.

She came to a stop in front of the ladder that led down to the lower levels of the building, her brow twitched slightly as she blinked her eyes before her gaze fell to the ground.

You don’t need to look. Why do I need to look? 

Something gripped her chest and poked and pulled at her back; a nagging feeling. It happened sometimes at random. She needed to learn how to ignore it. 

Turning around, Arwen reluctantly eyed the military base, shrouded in what little darkness was left as the sun would fully rise within the hour. The thick layer of fog and cloud still remained a ways above her, however it was starting to dissipate as the clock turned. 

Her eyes dotted around the structure, jaw hardly set and gaze almost grudging. Sometimes it felt like that little nagging-... force inside her was just trying to make her life difficult and guilt ridden. 

The slightest movement on the far side of the structure drew her attention and her head shifted to the side as she spotted someone walking towards the closest wall on the far left side. Attention grabbed, Arwen watched quietly as the person stopped at the foot of the wall and looked around for a beat. 

They didn’t belong. Something’s wrong. 

Her hand already busy scrambling inside her bag, Arwen snatched her detached rifle scope and quickly knelt down on the ledge of the building, raising the attachment. A small bark of impatience from Bek did little to tear her attention away as Arwen watched the being through the scope.

Female. Possibly human. What almost caught her attention almost immediately was the identical satchel hung over the individuals back. They had sent someone else in.

“No no no,” Arwen grumbled. This wasn’t happening. Continuing to watch through her scope, the individual took one last look around before suddenly shooting a rappelling line up towards the top of the wall. Securing it, the person began to scale the face. 

Why hadn’t cameras picked them up? 

Turning her attention to the towers not far away from the wall the individual was scaling, Arwen adjusted her scope, adjusting the lens before focusing on one of the cameras. Small sparks coming from the device wasn’t a good sign. They were good. They were also about to blow this base sky high with everyone in it. 

That familiar feeling was already starting to course through her veins; the adrenaline was starting to spread through her body. 

Cursing under her breath, Arwen finally throws the scope back into her bag. “Rangir- (to hell with it) I’ll be back, Bek!” Arwen called before running down past the anooba, sprinting towards the lift. 

It felt like an eternity before Arwen finally found herself at the foot of the wall, about to scale the same spot the other mercenary had. She did a quick once over of the surrounding area, making sure it was clear before she shot her rappelling line up to the top of the wall. Her training had covered various methods of barrier traversal; this was something she was prepared for. In fact her training covered various raids of simulated republic bases as well. That just now came back to her. Not that it would help her now. It had been a long time.

She still had the satchel full of explosives on her; probably not the best thing. 

Getting to the top of the wall, Arwen looked up and down both ways, seeing a Trooper farther down as he walked away. Maybe a shift change. This other merc would have had to make her move at the proper time so Arwen might be able to operate in the window she’d created. 

Looking around the base below, Arwen quickly saw the other woman sneaking her way around the AT-Tes. Arwen cursed under her breath before waiting quietly for a moment. 

“What are you doing,” She mumbled. Looking around again, Arwen considered her options while she had the briefest time to do so, and began assembling her rifle. 

Maybe she could just take them out before they did any damage. It would alert the entire base to her presence too, but she couldn’t stand by while this happened, and she could get away…. Probably. 

Doing another check, Arwen scanned either side of the wall. No one. She'd have to be quick if it was a shift change. Whoever this woman was, they had to study the shifts and when they changed. She might have another minute. 

Finishing the rifle, Arwen quickly set it to her shoulder and found the woman again before looking through the scope. 

Identify. Breathe in. Breathe ou-

"Hey!" Her head snapped up, seeing a trooper had rounded the corner and saw her.

Arwen cursed before quickly resetting the rifle to her shoulder. The woman had noticed and quickly hid behind an AT-Te for cover as Arwen fired several shots.

"Blast-" Arwen cursed again before looking to see the trooper running towards her, blaster raised. Looking back to the woman who still had the explosives, Arwen clenched her jaw before throwing the rifle down into the base.

“What are you doing-” Arwen grits her teeth before blowing air out quickly, jumping down after the rifle. It was a long way down, longer than she’d like, and she didn’t have her armor to soften that blow. She landed with a somewhat abrupt grunt of pain as she rolled a few times to soften the blow to her legs as best she could. Scrambling to her feet she snatched the rifle from the ground and went after the mercenary. 

"Intruders! We have a perimeter breach!" She heard the trooper's words fading away but she knew the problem wasn't going to. Things were about to blow up, figuratively but possibly literally if she didn't stop this woman. 

Weaving through the large walkers, Arwen ran around the legs of one, only to stumble into a series of blaster fire. Scurrying backwards, she pulled her pistol and shot a look around the walker leg, seeing the woman standing near another walker, holding a small blaster pistol as well, firing off shots.

Arwen hid behind the walker leg for a brief time to get her breathing under control, the throbbing in her leg now screaming, pushing other more prevalent thoughts aside. 

“Haar’chak- k'atini (Damn it- suck it up/its only pain),” She seethed before knocking her head back into the walker leg. Tightening her grip on the blaster, Arwen swung around quickly, firing off several shots, blaster pistol grasped in both hands as she forced the assailant back to cover.

Glancing to the side, Arwen saw troopers organizing near the weapons depot. They were about to have some problems.

"We could just handle this together you know," A voice called. Arwen looked back seeing the woman peeking around a walker leg. "Split the coin and go our separate ways. I could use a hand- someone needs to distract the canon fodder."

"So you can set the explosives then jump ship when I'm gunned down? No thank you." Arwen responded, still holding her pistol up and ready. 

"Worth a shot," She chuckled before turning, shooting off her blaster again before tossing something small and round. Arwen's eyes widened as she quickly held up her arms to protect herself as the presumed grenade went off, spewing out thick smoke. 

Arwen coughed, waving the substance away from her face before walking through, the pistol held up in one hand as she held her sleeved arm to her mouth. Coming to the other side, Arwen noticed the merc was gone and a siren began blaring. 

"Great." Arwen muttered before looking towards the largest structure, seeing her run inside. 

She walked for a time before shaking her head. No turning back now. Huffing Arwen removed her finger from the trigger guard, keeping it outside as she picked up a run. "What are you doing- What are you doing- What the hell are you doing?" She cursed herself over and over. 

Running after the woman, Arwen held up her blaster ready in one hand, finger still outside the trigger guard as she took off into the base doors. Seeing the merc disappear just around the corner down the right corridor, Arwen takes off after her. 

Rounding the corner, she saw the merc take a left further down the hall. Something told Arwen this woman had no idea where she was going as they continued down halls. She'd made a giant circle. 

Slowing to a stop down one hall, Arwen caught her breath before looking up and down the corridors. There weren't any troopers which was concerning. They'd been spotted outside the base, and the thick layer of fumes from the smoke grenade had allowed them to sneak inside undetected, but that wouldn't last. 

Looking down one hall that branched adjacent to the one she was standing in, Arwen began jogging down it. If the merc kept running in a similar pattern, she should be able to cut the woman off.

Turning a corner, Arwen came to a hard stop at seeing a trooper with yellow orange accented armor walking away from her, talking on comms. He didn’t have a helmet.

"What do you mean the perimeter was breached?”

The responses the trooper was getting were too muffled for her to hear.

“Yeah I hear the siren- Where were they reported?"

Arwen went to back up when the woman ran around the corner on the other side of the hall.

"No, I haven't-... hey!"

Arwen made eye contact with the woman past the trooper, who appeared to be an officer of some kind.

"Rex I've got eyes on an intruder, south end of t-"

Arwen ran down the hall as the woman raised her blaster and began firing in the general vicinity of where they were. She practically tackled the Officer, who wasn't armed with a blaster, firing off her own pistol until the woman ran away. The string of curses the Officer let out made Arwen scramble off of him before stumbling to her feet.

"I- sorry- Sorry, sir!" She yelled back to him before taking off after the woman. 

Running around the corner, Arwen continued and ended up pushing past a bunch of troopers who were heading the same direction before continuing on. It was all going by too fast. She needed to slow down and consider her own position. 

She finally saw the open blast doors around fifty feet away, and picked up the pace. She saw the woman running for a secluded wall, and continued out of the door. She isn't at all prepared as she collides with something. Her head smacks into something hard, the air pushed from her lungs as she tumbled to the ground along with whatever hit her.

She was on her stomach, slowly pushing herself up, a hand coming to her head. She felt warmth, but also something cool covering her left brow, and woozily lifted a hand to her face, feeling her glove become wet.

Suddenly a hard pressure was put into her back, and she grunted before proceeding to struggle.

"Don't move-" That voice. A trooper. 

An iron grip suddenly snapped the wrist of the hand she had to her head and they were both craned behind her back.

"Rex what-"

"Got her, it's under control." The one who had tackled her, called Rex, who currently had his knee dug into her back just below her chest plate responded.

Arwen craned to see the Officer she'd tackled had jogged up and came to a stop, his eyes on her. "It's not her."

"What do you mean its not her?" The Rex trooper's tone quickly turned tense.

"All due respect-" Arwen grunted, trying to get up only to have the trooper above her dig his knee further into her back as she hissed. "She's getting away," Arwen growled, just able to see the woman disappear over the wall. 

Arwen wasn't prepared for the pressure on her back to suddenly disappear before she was hauled to her feet, hands now cuffed behind her back. 

"Sir, someone just scaled the wall," Another trooper had joined the scene and several others were also coming over.

"Cody?" The trooper, Rex, who still had a hard grip on her, one hand on her shoulder, between her neck and shoulder plate, looked to the Officer she'd tackled inside.

Arwen met his eyes, her brow knit and one twitching from the throbbing that was now becoming prominent. She'd really hit her face hard when that Rex fellow ran into her. 

The officer, called Cody, noticeable scarring over his left eye, dressed in white infantry armor painted with yellow-orange accents, seemed to consider her for a moment before looking towards a small squad of troopers that had shown up. 

"Get another squad and check the outer perimeter. I want to know where they got in."

"South wall, near the west Tower." Arwen muttered, catching the attention of a few of them. "She-"

"Shut it," The Rex trooper snapped, giving her a small jolt before pulling her backwards, directing her away. "I'll put this one in containment."

The Officer, Cody, walked up to them and Arwen leaned back a fraction, only to remember she had another trooper behind her when Cody went to remove her rifle, unclipping the strap, sliding it away from her before nodding for the white and blue armored trooper. He was somewhat rough as he turned her around and began walking her inside. 

Wait- where did the satchel full of explosives go… She didn’t have it with her.

As she was being led back into the base, none of it was registering. There was no replay button. What had she done. 

As Anakin walked down the halls of the Republic base, his thoughts dwelled on his wife. Since they’d gotten back from Tibrin, he’d been given a short leave, along with the battalions that had been present for the wretched Campaign. He’d been looking forward to breakfast with Padmé before he got a transmission from Marshal Commander Cody of the 212th Attack Battalion. It was Obi-Wan’s battalion, but Cody had informed him that his former master was unreachable. Whatever that meant. He might be in a meditative session with Master Yoda.

Anakin had reluctantly taken himself from bed, and from the arms of his love, and dragged himself out to the base on the account of intruders that had scaled the outer perimeter wall. He had requested Cody hold off on giving him details; he needed the time to collect his composure and thoughts. 

Arriving at the detention area of the base, Skywalker was met by Commander Cody and Captain Rex of the 501st Legion. He’d temporarily led the 501st on Tibrin. He didn’t have a battle group of his own yet, but whenever the 501st was free, he’d usually lead them on Campaigns and assignments as the legion was part of the 7th Sky Corps, also under the command of his old master. 

“Alright, I’m here.” Anakin breathed, crossing his arms as he came to a stop near the two Clone Officers who were standing over a computer against the wall down the hall of the interrogation block. “Tell me what happened.”

“Sir,” Captain Rex was the first to turn and acknowledge him. His blond hair was trimmed finely and as neat as always. The scar on his chin that he got at Arantara was now light in color and relatively faded. 

Anakin took a step forward as the Captain gestured to the computer screen. His eyes find the recorded footage of two suspects running down the halls of the base. 

“We believe it is now a foiled attempt to bomb this base in some capacity.”

“Separatist?” Anakin inquired.

"Hard to tell, sir. One of the accomplices got away; the other we have in custody." Commander Cody responded and gestured with his thumb over his shoulder towards the interrogation block. 

"Has she said anything?"

"No, sir." Rex jumped back in, looking down the hall where he knew the cell was. "We thought it best to wait for you, sir."

Anakin nodded and glanced down the hall as well before returning his gaze to the footage. He watched as one assailant ran around the corner of a corridor, followed by another at the other end, Cody in the middle. Both appeared to be female. He watched as the one began firing before the other jumped on Cody, then proceeded to get up and say something to the Commander before the chase continued. 

"Which one do we have in custody?" Anakin asks.

"This one," Cody responded, pointing to the screen at the one that had tackled him. 

Anakin nodded before sighing quietly.

"Alright, I'll talk to her." The Jedi nodded to himself before glancing between the two officers. "Anything else I should know?"

"We found this," Rex spoke up, gesturing to a table on the other side of the room with an open satchel full of explosives. "This belongs to that one," Rex gestured down the hall. "The one that got away had one similar in size and shape, so we assume they both came in here with the same intentions."

Anakin processed this before departing to talk with the criminal. He headed to the cell, and the troopers guarding the door stood at attention before the shield disengaged and he entered. She didn't look at him as he walked in, hands clasped behind his back. 

He watched her for a moment, evaluating her posture, and her overall aura. She was difficult to read. The outer shell of her emotional state was disconnected, somewhat cold but also anxious; feelings of guilt surrounded her, although his intuition told him that was something she was struggling to repress. 

He notices the blood covering the side of her head; there was a large wound over her brow, dried as well as fresh blood painted the side of her face. Her eyes had yet to meet his.

"So," He began, continuing to look her over for a time before letting his eyes settle on her face. "You had enough explosive on you to blow this base into the upper atmosphere… Do you have anything to say?"

She didn't say anything, but her gaze shifted to the side, posture also shifting, cuffed hands in her lap. After some time passed he spoke again.

"You don't look like a Separatist... look more mercenary material," He considered. "You getting a big payout?" 

She clenched her jaw but remained quiet, looking to the side, her brow knit gently. Despite the tightness to her brow, she didn’t seem bothered by the obvious injury to her head. She was good at controlling her external presentation.

Anakin finally took a couple steps closer, resting his hands on the edge of the table that was between them. 

"Did you get sold out by our other uninvited guest?"

She remained quiet and Anakin's brow knit after some time passed. He could feel the presence of the clone officers on the other side of the shield, but didn't bother looking. 

“Were you at all concerned with the damage you might do to this installation? Or the lives you might have taken?” The question was an odd one, especially for this individual. They looked mercenary material, and those types didn’t care who they hurt as long as the price was high enough. It was an odd question, but something told him to ask it. 

He knew she was about to look at him before she proceeded to, and his own head tilted slightly to the side as she lifted her head to meet his gaze for the first time. Almost immediately flickers of recognition sparked his expression and his brow knit tightly as he eyed her.

"...Who are you?" He finally asked. The question was vague, and the merc seemed to understand that as she didn’t back down from his gaze. The seconds passed and she gave no indication that she’d respond before she noticeably began to react under his gaze. Her own brow twitched, expression snapping away before returning as he continued to eye her with an almost surprised and confused expression.

She looked familiar. His head wasn’t telling him criminal; he knew her from somewhere else. He had to get his nunas in a row. 

The Jedi eventually excused himself and exited the cell. The energy shield quickly closed behind him as he walked back down the hall and out of earshot. 

“Sir?” Anakin turned and saw Rex standing a few feet away, expression indicating his uncertainty.

"Has the criminal database picked anything up?" Skywalker finally asked, crossing his arms. 

"No sir," Rex responded. "In fact we haven't gotten a hit anywhere. On any civilian system at least."

Anakin considered this for a moment before breathing out quietly. There was something he could try. But if he was wrong...

"Keep searching," Anakin nodded to Rex, causing the trooper to do the same in return before Anakin headed back to the cell.

Cody walked past him towards where Rex was and Anakin entered the cell, nodding for the troopers guarding the door to leave as well. He entered and the shield closed behind him. 

She looked up, watching as he stepped inside and crossed his arms across his chest. 

Silence followed his entry, and after a few moments of processing his next words, Anakin cleared his throat.

“If my suspicions are correct… I think I remember you. We’ve met.” He stated. “Well- We’ve spoken briefly.” He nodded to the side as he corrected his words before taking a beat to consider her reaction.

Her brow knit and it seemed he’d caught her attention, and in a good way. She seemed concerned. Good. That was a good sign. 

“This was around six months ago,” Anakin began, leaning against the wall to the right of the interrogation room, her left. “The Garos system… Someone sent a distress signal to the battle group I was stationed with near Sundari; the distress signal came from Garo IV. Mission details consisted of a clone team with highly sensitive intel that needed an extraction, from what they told me.” He watched her quietly for a few seconds. Her expression seemed to widen as he spoke and she had slowly leaned back into her chair, brow knit with alarm.

"I was the Jedi you spoke to. We sent gunships to extract you but..." He trailed off, his thoughts dwelling on that day. It had stuck with him for weeks before he was finally able move on. 

She stared at him, the silence was deafening and he felt like he was making headway by the look that had overtaken her expression.

"That was you.... wasn't it." He finally stated, the questioning tone from his voice was gone. There was no doubt in his mind. This was her. It was a female voice and he briefly saw the file of who he was speaking with that day when she had identified herself.

She clenched her jaw before looking down to her lap.

A mixed array of emotions were swirling in the small space of the interrogation room, and Anakin felt a sudden need to explain what had happened that day. 

"We thought you were dead." It caught him somewhat off guard when she spoke up. 

"Do I look dead, sir?" 

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter | Arwen Corcer Mercenary Visuals

Chapter Note: How many times did Arwen ask herself what she was doing? 😂 Not sure but I apologize if it annoyed you. Hope it was enjoyed! Comments/reblogs and/or feedback are appreciated 🥰 

[maggyoutthere]

Storytime with Maggy!

WARNING: Tws in the tags

Just getting this off my chest because this has been boiling up inside my head for a while. This will be a long one so don't bother to read it if u don't want to; this is legit just so I can get it off my chest.

-

Ok so

Some people that follow me here on tumblr know me from the BATIM Amino. I used to be very active there, even being one of the biggest content creators (I'm not saying that lightly I was literally on the Top 15 when it came to that weird reputation points system) . I recently left Amino as a whole because of something that happened there.

So the story goes like this: I was 13 when I started posting on Amino. Bendy and the Ink Machine Chapter 2 had just come out and I was drawing fanart of it. After a while I started talking more with other artists there, making ocs, just having fun. It went well for a few months until I met this person. For the sake of anonymity, I'll call them HWI (it was an acronym to their persona's name or something).

So I'd been checking out this HWI person for a while now. I really liked their art style and this specific character they had. They had this classy killer 1800s style and I'm an absolute sucker tor those. One day, I got the courage to message them with a small piece of fanart. They replied and liked it, and then the conversation went on.

We commented on each other's art, rp sometimes, we became really close. They later on introduced me to their other friends and we made a small group chat on Amino. We rpd a LOT to pass the time and just play with our characters. I remember staying up late just to talk to them about how my day went. I wasn't very social at the time and I had the bad habit of grabbing onto the first friend I could make like my life depended on it.

So 2018 came around. I was diagnosed with autism, at the time still called Asperger's Syndrome. All I knew was that I finally had a face to put on the problem of "being weird"; it wasn't a problem at all. It was different sure but I wasn't broken or less that anyone else. I didn't told anyone online about my diagnoses because well I was coming to terms with it myself first. This will come in hand later so stick with me.

With time I started realizing I had a favorite character of them that I just liked way way more than the others; that same oc I spoke about earlier. I had no fucking idea why I liked them so much it just??? it happened, and I believe HWI realized that.

We had these two ocs. One of them was mine and the other was their oc, and we kinda shipped them so we just made them a couple for the heck of it. I had lots of fun doing rps and fanart of those two but I never understood why. After a while, HWI started acting a bit weird. They did a total 180 on said character, randomly making them rude and unlikable. Now I know that it was just an rp and I shouldn't have taken it seriously, but it was bumming me out a little: the only place I had to vent out stuff and to take a break was now making me feel bad.

I was stupid by making those small moments the pillar of my self confidence. I was in a rough spot at the time and latched onto that group chat like it was the only good thing I had in life. I now know I shouldn't have done that.

I didn't had the guts to step up and tell HWI to at least don't be so rude so I kinda just took it. A few months went by and I finally had the courage to stand up against them. I had realized at the time that I was having a hyperfixation on said character and I told HWI to just not be that rude. They said they didn't meant it and told me they would stop. Except they didn't.

Then followed 3 years of having HWI dangle that character over my head like some treat for a dog. They'd threaten to stop using said character or to delete their stuff if I didn't behave in the way they wanted. If I had an opinion about something and they didn't liked it, they threatened me with that stuff. I now look back at it and realise "That was just some stupid random character why was I so scared and in panic?" But I was young, didn't had good role models and didn't knew better.

I moved to an arts school when I started 10th grade. There I met a lot of people who were like me; everyone had their very distinctive quirks and troubles they were coming to terms with, people were discovering themselves. Everyone was so different from each other, but everyone respected everyone and the whole school lived in harmony. I felt like I finally fitted in, I started making lots of friends and my life changed for the better.

In 11th grade, I finally told my friends about what had been happening for 3 years now. They knew about my previous problems at home and about my autism so they told me that they thought I'd been groomed by HWI. I didn't believed them at the time; HWI had been so nice to me and helped me through a lot in my life. Then I finally took a step back, and it hit me.

I never liked HWI. They were indeed very rude and manipulative, but they had something I loved so much that I'd become submissive to the point of believing that was normal, that it was the way to treat friends. They were 20 when I was 13. I thought it was ok at the time, until they started asking for fanart and favors in exchange for rp time, and pushing sexual rps onto me a lot. They would tell me that they were the only one who could understand me, that the rest of the world was just filled with evil corrupt people and I fucking believed in everything they said. They would bring down the mood of the whole chat with their negativity to the point other people started complaining about it. I remember having a breakdown mid-lunch break when it finally hit me. I'd been groomed.

But, thank goodness, this has a good ending. As I realized that I had to get out of this situation, I quickly came up with a plan. I had tried multiple times to go without said hyperfixation but I would always end up having panic attacks and just not feel well. So the plan was to try and get said character to my side and run off as quickly as I could. I knew they didn't liked the character at all and were just using it to control me so I knew I could do some kind of art trade with them and get the character. After a while of asking if I could have the character since they weren't using it anymore, they said they would give him to me in exchange of some fanart, demanding it to be very very good or either they would refuse to give the oc. I rushed to ibispaint, drew something I was dead sure they would like and sent it. And then it was done.

I stayed in the chat for some extra weeks as if trying to prove myself wrong; that HWI was a good person and this was all a big misunderstanding. But it wasn't. They continued being toxic and manipulative, but they didn't had anything to use against me now. I left the chat and a few months later the Amino as a whole.

So to anyone who finds themselves in a situation similar to this one, here's a piece if advice: get out of that shit as fast as you can. I know there are people who have it WAY worse than me, but I don't wish for anyone to go through something even remotely similar to what happened to me.

If you find yourself in a toxic relationship, get out of there as fast as you can. No matter how many lies they tell you, that no one else would love you or understand you, that only they can handle what you are; it's all bullshit. There are somany people out there who would protect you and fight for you with their life. Heck you find yourself with a toxic friend but are scared to leave them because they're your only friend? Hit me up! I'll gladly be your friend!

People deserve so much more than feeling like they're emotionally dependant on someone else. Self-love and self-worth were two of the best things that I learned to have since I left that toxic relationship, and everyone deserves to feel good and to be proud of themselves FOR themselves.

-

Wow this was... long XD so yeah. HWI is also on tumblr but don't go searching for them. I told them off and that's it. As the meme goes, the evil has been defeated XD I will be posting stuff with those two ocs since I'm kinda removing them from the BATIM fandom and making them kinda just their own thing. I still love them to pieces and want to draw them so so much!

So wow you've made it all the way down here? Have a snack you must be so tired 🍩🍪🍰🧁🥧🍫🍬🍭🧃

[deathonyourtongue]

Winter Passing | Chapter 3

Summary: Injured and left for dead in the middle of a nowhere state, he traverses peaks and valleys for days without seeing any sign of civilization. Just as death’s icy fingers begin to coil around him, he finds a cabin in a clearing. Terrified from years of being told fairy tales and ghost stories, he nevertheless knocks on the door. When he wakes, he finds not a demon, but an angel, long removed from the insanity of the modern world. Pairing: Slightly AU!Henry Cavill x OC Word Count: 2k  Warnings: None for this chapter _______________________________________________ Message me if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list! @fumbling-fanfics @skiesfallithurts @pinkpenguin7@madmedusa178 @crushed-pink-petals @fangoria @bluestarego@caffeinated-writer @my–own–personal–paradise @tastingmellow​ @honeychicana​ @lua-latina​ @angelicapriscilla​ @swiftyhowlz​ @schreiberpablo​ @pinkwatchblueshoes​ @kirasmomsstuff​ @prettypascal​ @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom​ @nardahsb​ @playbucky​ @veryfastspeedz @queen-of-the-kastle​ @freyahelps​ @cajunpeach​ @godlikeentity​ @captainsamwlsn​ @nakusaych9@katerka88 @katerka88 @kirasmomsstuff @melaninmimii@alienor-romanova @downtowndk​ @redhairedmoiraandtheliferuiners​ @safiras​ @agniavateira​ @henryfanfics101​ @fatefuldestinies @iloveyouyen​

Henry got in the hot water with a wince, every joint starting to ache as the fear and anxiety wore away and he came to terms with the fact that it would be at least a few days before he could get out of Olivia’s cottage. 

“How long have you lived out here?” He asked Olivia once he’d finished tucking the washcloth around himself as best he could, Henry almost positive she’d still get an eyeful given how small the strip of fabric was. 

Turning, Olivia kept her eyes on his face even as she sat on a stool next to the tub. Usually reserved for a candle and a glass of wine, it sat her at the perfect height to care for any hidden wounds that might not have been apparent before. 

“Out here? I think I’m going on ten years. I don’t really keep track, to be honest. Time’s slow out here, and that’s how I prefer it,” she smiled, using the light from the window to do a second check of his head, Olivia relieved when she found no cuts or goose eggs of any sort. 

With her courage worked up, she took a slow glance down his body, trying her best to focus on finding injuries and not on simply gawking at the man who, when nude, had the body of an ancient deity. Olivia swallowed thickly as she took in the broad expanse of his chest, forested with thick, dark hair, a trail of it leading to an equally hirsute set of abs. Purposely skipping her gaze over the washcloth, she focused on his legs, clicking her tongue as she saw the bruise already inky black on his knee cap. 

“That’s gonna swell. I’ll get you some ice once you’re warmed up enough,” she mentioned pointing at Henry’s knee, Olivia’s gaze lingering a moment on his toes, not wanting to miss the first signs of frostbite; treating it later would be far harder than nipping it in the bud before it had a chance to truly set in.  

Satisfied that there was no blood in the water and that his two worst injuries seemed poised to resolve themselves with time, Olivia was just about to turn her attention back to Henry’s head--and the dirt she could now see caked into his hair--when a tap on the window made her look up and smile. 

“What in the…” Henry’s mouth hung open in confusion as he looked between Olivia and the raven that perched on the windowsill, looking in expectantly. 

“That’s Dyster. He’s wanting breakfast. I’ll be right back. No closing your eyes,” Olivia grinned before looking at Henry sternly, still worried that he’d slip off into sleep and make his head injury all the worse. 

Flitting to the kitchen, she pulled the ice box open again and pulled three strips of beef from a container with a fork, throwing a piece to Gunnar before moving back to the window. 

“Dunk down, I don’t want you catching the draft. I’ll be quick, I promise,” she informed Henry as she moved to the window where Dyster’s pecking at the glass was getting more incessant. 

“Good morning, Mr.,” Olivia greeted the bird warmly, setting the meat on the windowsill before stroking over his blue-black feathers and earning herself a grateful squawk. 

“Yes, I know,” she answered, nodding. Another squawk had her frowning slightly, Olivia’s eyes focused on the bird as though she were having an actual conversation.

“No, not like that. Mind your business.” Tapping Dyster lightly on the beak, she smoothed over his feathers again before slowly shutting the window.

“One more sec,” Olivia held up a finger before moving back to the kitchen to wash her hands. For his part, Henry could only sit, stupefied at what he’d just seen. Had she really spoken to the bird as though she understood it? Should he be frightened of her mental state? Would he have to endure her pretending to understand all the animals of the forest for a week or more? He didn’t have time to ponder longer, as Olivia came back in with a breathless smile, a hewn cup in her hand. 

“Tip your head back,” she encouraged, filling the cup with water from the bath. Henry did as asked, wary of how badly it would sting his cuts. Olivia’s hand protected the bandages however, her light tough almost as soothing as the warm water that poured through his curls. Something in the water soothed him, body and mind, and any pain that he’d begun to feel was distilled until it was only an afterthought, especially when Olivia’s hand carded through his hair. 

“Mmm,” the sound escaped him before he could stop it. Low in his chest, it telegraphed just how much better he was feeling, and it made Olivia smile, proud of the knowledge that had been passed on to her and had allowed her to mend him as well as she had thus far. Shampooing his hair and being careful to not aggravate any bruises hidden by his dark curls, Olivia rinsed him a second time, then sat back.

“Here, suds up, and I’ll go grab a fresh bucket for your rinse,” she smiled, handing Henry a homemade bar of soap and a second washcloth, confident that he could do it without causing himself further injury. 

After taking the last bucket of water off the fire, she quickly headed upstairs, realizing he’d have nothing to wear once he got out. Searching through her closet, Olivia let out a noise of triumph as she found a pair of gray sweatpants and a navy blue t-shirt, a swap she’d all but forgotten she’d made years ago. While she wasn’t a packrat by any means, Olivia did make it a habit of keeping things she thought useful, and while she rarely had visitors, she’d kept the clothing in the event that someone bigger and taller than her needed a fresh set after falling in the lake or something similar.

Forgetting her own instructions to Henry, Olivia came back into the room to find him utterly nude and preoccupied with washing the remnants of blood off his arm. Nearly dropping the bucket, she turned quickly, a squeak of surprise making her presence known. Eyes squeezed shut, she once more hid her laugh as she heard the splashing of water and the scramble of Henry covering himself once more. 

“Sorry, love. Didn’t think you’d be back so quickly,” he apologized, “I’m decent.” Clearing his throat, he kept one hand over the washcloth, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. 

“It’s alright, I did ask you to wash,” Olivia mumbled, waiting a moment before turning back around. Setting the clothes on the stool, she set the bucket down and squatted next to the tub, reaching underneath the porcelain to pull the drain plug she’d fitted herself when she got it. Connected to a pipe that led out to a drum by her garden, Olivia used the water in the spring and summer to water her crops after filtering it with iodine. When the tub was nearly empty, she stood back up and lifted the bucket, holding it right at Henry’s collarbones.

“Tip your head back one more time,” she instructed softly, waiting until he was positioned and still to slowly begin pouring the warm water on him. Goosebumps followed the stream as every bit of him was simultaneously warmed and cooled by the water and air, respectively. Olivia bit her lip as she let her eyes wander over his body once more, not only ensuring all the soap was removed, but giving herself one last chance to appreciate his finely sculpted frame. Physically, there was no doubt he’d make any woman swoon, and thus far, his personality wasn’t fairing poorly either. Olivia didn’t let herself linger on her thoughts, knowing full well his stay with her was temporary and that soon enough the snow would melt and he would be gone for good. She ignored the twinge the thought put through her heart, shifting her focus back on his care and well-being. 

“Okay, so they may be a bit small because you’re a tall man, but these should fit for now,” she explained, patting the clothing once the bucket was empty and he was ready to towel off. Henry cocked his head to one side, smiling skeptically. 

“Is there a husband I should know about? One who might barge in and get the wrong idea?” He asked, the chuckle in his tone making it clear he was only pulling her leg. Henry immediately felt like scum for asking when his question didn’t elicit the laugh he thought it would, but instead drew a sad smile from Olivia. 

“No. No husband around these parts. Just me and Gunnar. You’re safe,” she finally answered, meeting his eyes only for a moment before moving the bucket out of the way. 

“Think you can stand on your own?” She asked, quickly swiping a finger along the bottom of the tub to check how slippery it could be, given all her soaps were handmade and tended to have oils in them for conditioning. She stayed close as Henry tested his arms on the rims of the tub and only backed away a few steps as he carefully stood to his full height, moving as slowly as possible so the washcloth didn’t fall on his way to being upright. Satisfied that he was sturdy enough, Olivia stepped in close once again, tugging his arm over her shoulder and wrapping her own around his back to make the transition onto her bath mat as smooth as possible. 

Once Henry was safe on solid ground, she grabbed the bucket, took a deep breath and turned her back once more, allowing him time to change. Henry made quick work of the shirt before sitting on the stool and dragging the pants up each leg, giving himself a moment’s rest before standing again and pulling them up to his hips. They were indeed a little small, but given he wasn’t going anywhere, it didn’t matter. 

“All set,” he told her softly, smiling gratefully at Olivia, one arm already up for her to throw over her shoulder once she turned around. 

“Thank you again. For everything you’ve done so far. You’re...” Henry trailed off, unable to think of a comparison that didn’t involve organized religion, finding it a little foolish to rattle off such a platitude to a woman who clearly worshiped the old gods. 

Olivia nodded, but stayed quiet, focused on getting Henry to bed so he could rest. Her mind was racing a million different ways, and the quicker she got him down, the quicker she could take a moment to clear her own head. Though she didn’t want him sleeping, upon entering the room, Olivia quickly realized it would be nearly impossible to keep him awake. Entertainment without electricity was difficult in the best of circumstances, let alone with a mild head injury. She really could only offer him books or puzzles, and for a city boy, Olivia knew those would only hold his attention for so long; she’d have no choice but to put Gunnar on watch. 

Making sure Henry was settled and tucked in, Olivia lit a fire in the smaller hearth inside the room and then perused the bookcase nearby for a few things to keep her guest occupied. 

“I know the choices for entertainment are slim around here, but I’ll have Gunnar stay with you and come get me if he senses anything’s wrong with you. Rest now,” she spoke softly, checking the bandages on his head one final time before setting the books next to him and calling for Gunnar. The dog came at a leisurely pace and, without being told, hopped up on the bed, settling in the small space between Henry and the wall, another huff aimed at his owner. 

“Be good. Keep an eye on him.” Olivia told him with a narrow-eyed smile. Lifting his head, Gunnar mocked her outright, his mouth moving in a way that made it nearly impossible to think he didn’t speak whenever humans weren’t around.

“Do you want beef for dinner, or do you just want kibble?” Olivia asked, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at her pup expectantly. With a sound that was clear displeasure at the ultimatum, Gunnar looked up at Henry, looked back at Olivia and flopped his head down on Henry’s thigh in surrender. Olivia rolled her eyes and shook her head, never failing to find her dog amusing. 

“Rest. Shout if you need anything. I’ll be around.” Nodding at Henry, Olivia turned on her heel and headed out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: Violence, Death

A/N:  

Also, there is a little nod for you Narcos fans, as well.

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5] [PART 6]  [PART 7]  [PART 8]  [PART 9]

Part 10 

From the Sierras to the Blue Ridge

After going through all the stacks in the library and turning up nothing, Jack went back into the hallway.  He saw Ginger and Merlin in the tech room and stepped in.

“Anything?”  He asked. He was starting to get antsy being away from Shirley for so long, but he wanted to catch the bastard before he got to her.

“Give me a minute, we’re still scanning the halls.”  Ginger murmured as her face was practically against her screen, looking for something that would tell her where the bastard was.  “I didn’t see him leave the library after the call came over the radio, so he had to leave before.”

She suddenly stopped and Merlin looked at her with heavy concern. They both turned to Jack and yelled in unison, “Whiskey, the boardroom!”

His blood ran cold when he realized that Agent Port was already with Shirley.  He bit back a curse and ran out of the room, heading around the corner for the one place that needed to be safe for her in that moment.  Ginger and Merlin began radioing the rest of the agents before hightailing it out of the room themselves.  Jack stopped in front of the doorway, which was still open, and he could see the scene unfolding before him.

---***---

The laughter caught Agent Port off guard and Shirley drew herself up to her full height.  Her face no longer held fear and for the first time since this whole scheme began, Port believed it may not be a straight a job as he had thought.  But his rage began to build inside of him. He was robbed five years ago; he wasn’t going to be robbed again.  This bitch was his and he wanted her body cold in his hands.  He raised the hand with the knife still in it, but before he could plunge it downward, something snapped around his arm, pulling him back.

“Well now, I think that’s mighty rude of you there, Agent Port.  I don’t know what they call manners over in California, but here, we don’t slink around or start stabbing people.”  Jack’s voice came from behind him and with a twist of his hand, the whip around Port’s wrist yanked his arm back.  The sharp jolt of pain caused him to drop the knife and stumble onto his knees.  Jack continued to talk as he pulled the man towards him.

“I don’t appreciate you coming in here and starting something like this. But you did and now I’m gonna finish it.”  Jack’s tone turned harsh as he bent down towards the man kneeling before him. “Welcome to HQ, you prick.”

Port might be a serial killer, but he was also a Statesman and his training was just as good as Jack’s.  His untethered arm came up and cuffed Jack against his ear, forcing the agent to take a step back as his head snapped to the side and his hat flew off.  Port took the chance to jump to his feet and grabbed the end of the whip where it wrapped around his wrist.  But before he could yank it off, Jack stepped back and pulled it with him, forcing Port to fall again.  

A steel toed cowboy boot came out of nowhere and slammed against the side of Port’s head.  Blood splattered on to the hardwood floor and Port audibly groaned.  Both men heard Shirley gasp, but neither paid attention to her. They were too engrossed in their fight.

Port spit out the pooling blood in his mouth and was able to dodge Jack’s second kick.  He rolled back and jumped up, still tethered to the man.  He once again grabbed the whip and this time got a chance to yank on it.

“I don’t know what you fucking hillbillies out here call manners, but that’s not how we welcome a man in fucking California.”  Port’s anger made his voice rougher.  Jack smirked at the comment and at the same time as Port, he pulled on his end of the whip.  The two men were engaged in a tug of war and neither were willing to concede.  They scuffled around the room, occasionally hurling insults at each other, sometimes making physical contact.

Shirley still stood in her place by the wall, waiting for a moment to jump in and opposite of her, the door was crowded with agents.  Champ stood dead center and refused to let anyone inside.  Not only was it putting Shirley into danger, he knew Whiskey had to have this moment of revenge.  He couldn’t save his wife twenty years ago, but he sure as hell was going to save Shirley.

“Goddamn, will you just fucking die already?”  Jack grunted as he pulled Port into a choke hold.  He tightened his grip and pulled the agent backwards to throw him off center.  The man reached up and grabbed Jack’s arm and tried to pull it off.  When that didn’t work, Port lurched forward to throw Jack off him.  It worked for the most part, but Jack’s fall took Port with him.

As the two men landed together in a heap, something slid out towards Shirley. She looked down and saw it was Port’s gun.  Keeping an eye on them, she reached down and grabbed it.  It felt heavy in her hands, almost foreign.  She hadn’t held a gun since Tequila trained her before California, but she refused to drop it.  Instead, she shoved the gun into the back of her skirt’s waistband before turning back to the men, who were standing up. Now she waited.

Jack was dazed from his hard landing and with the whip now gone, he was going to have to fist fight Port.  He got into stance but wavered a bit.  Port immediately knew what happened and lunged at Jack’s middle.  The ‘oof’ that came from his mouth was soft, but everyone could hear it.  The agents at the door began to get antsy, wanting to step in, but Champ held his ground. His keen eye saw everything, and he wasn’t about to get in the way.

Jack sprawled out on the floor and before he could recover, Port was immediately on him, hands around his neck.  Jack continued to struggle against him, but Port was back to his full strength and slowly, it was becoming more difficult to breath.  Suddenly, Port yanked Jack up by the throat and slammed him back down.  He did it two more times and seemly the fight left Jack.

Out of the blue, a plant pot hit the back of Port’s head, pain radiating in his skull.  He saw the pot roll away, spilling its contents on the floor.  He immediately let go of Jack’s neck and grabbed his head with both hands.

“What the fuck?” he screamed as he turned around.  Shirley stood there looking at him.

“Get off of him.”  Her voice was low.  He laughed.

“Aww, the kitten has come to protect her man.”

“I said, get off him, you fucking prick.”  Her voice was louder now, but still firm and steady.  He obliged and stood, turning towards her.  Fine, he’d come back to Whiskey and he hoped to sweeten the pain by dangling his dead girlfriend in front of the downed agent. Port didn’t seem to realize there was a throng of agents outside the door waiting to tear him apart.

Shirley lifted her right foot and slid it behind her, angling her body away from him.  Her back straighten out as she reached behind her.  From the door Tequila watched her and realized what was going to happen. He silently prayed she could do it.

“Where do you think you could possibly go, Sirah?”  Port misread her stance and assumed she was going to run.  She counted on that and when she whipped the pistol out from behind her and held it up, he was genuinely surprised.  Habit forced him to reach for his gun before realizing it must have come out of the holster during the fight and she grabbed it. No matter.

“What are you going to do with that?  You can’t shoot for shit.  Everyone knows it, it’s in your file even.”  He threw a sardonic look at her.  “I’d be careful with that, you’re liable to shoot your boyfriend.  And then where would you be?  Alone in the world?  Who the hell would want to date a girl who killed her lover?”

She lowered her head a bit and he thought he had gotten through to her when the gun went off.  He stopped, stunned at the sound and suddenly he felt very numb.  He looked down and the blood blooming on the front of his shirt shocked him.  She hit him square in the stomach.  When he looked back up, she lowered the gun and walked over to him.  Before he could react, she hooked her foot behind his leg, and he collapsed to his knees in front of her.  She walked behind him and shoved him to the ground, bringing his arm behind him.

Sitting on his back, the pool of blood grew bigger underneath him, growing rapidly as she let her weight bear down on him.  She held onto his arm and leaned down so he could hear her.

“Welcome to HQ, game over.”

[diagnosed-by-doyle]

Shadow

Character: Galileo Galilei (OC), part 5

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1199

~~~~~

Anytime I had time to spare, I was at Galileo’s side. I always offered to help him. Since I saw him playing chess one day with Isaac one day, I started asking him to play with me. He was usually happy to take me up on my offer.

It was during one of these chess matches that he called me out on my new habit. He sat in the cushioned chair opposite me with his legs crossed and rested his jaw on his fist. “I’ve been curious about something for a while now.” I looked up from the board, my train of thought broken. He wasn’t usually the one to start up a conversation with me. He took my silence and attention as his cue to continue. “Why is it that you’ve been following me around like a lost puppy?”

“I haven’t--” I wanted to deny it, but I knew I couldn’t. How long had it been since he caught on? “Would you rather I didn’t?”

“I don’t dislike your company. I just find your behavior to be most curious. Women don’t usually stay near me purely for the joy of casual conversation. Yet you’ve exhibited none of the same behaviors as those women.”

I sat up and thought about what he said. Was he saying that women only stayed near him for… Well, I wasn’t exactly sure of what, but I did have an idea. It wasn’t a pleasant one. “If I’m interpreting that right, and I’m pretty sure I am. You’re saying that they want to be around you for more, er, intimate reasons?”

~~~~~

“That’s partially correct. Unlike Arthur, I’m not in the habit of sleeping with women I meet at the pub. They rather enjoy my teasing, though.”

I wasn’t exactly sure why, but his explanation gave me some relief. It’s not like it was my business what he did in his free time. “You really shouldn’t get their hopes up. You’ll give them the wrong idea.”

“I’m aware. That’s why I go with Arthur or Theo. Arthur scoops them up for himself, and Theo drives them away.” He chuckled, likely remembering the times when those events occurred. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

I shifted uncomfortably. It was true that Arthur wanted me to do this, but I didn’t want to tell him that. I did, however, have my own reasons for doing it. “Do you remember the day that I woke you up?” He nodded. “You got upset about something that afternoon. I won’t ask you what it was about since it seems to be a sensitive subject, but I do know that you were in pain. At first I thought that it would be best to give you some space, but someone told me that I should instead stay near you. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that they were right. I know how it feels to be alone with your thoughts, especially the bad ones. I hoped I could give you some relief from that loneliness, though I’m not sure if I accomplished it.”

He stared at me with the faintest hint of red tinting his cheeks. He suddenly pushed himself to his feet. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

“What about the game?”

He smirked. “If we continue, then I would win in five turns. You’re easier to read than you think. Do yourself a favor and never play poker.” Galileo walked off, not waiting to see if I would follow. I rose and quickly followed after him.

The dark-haired man in front of me stopped in front of a familiar door. It was his room. He’d never invited me inside before, but I did come in to change his sheets and tend to his laundry. 

He walked in without hesitation then glanced around. “Where are you? Ah! Were you trying to camouflage yourself? Your stripes make you stand out, you know.” On his bed was a small, furry creature I’d never seen before. It’s dark stripes had indeed made it stand out from the grey blanket. Galileo picked the animal up and held it to his chest affectionately for a moment before turning to me.

“This is Callisto. Isn’t she lovely?” His eyes showed his complete adoration for the grey tabby kitten. 

It was so cute that he’d named her after one of the moons he discovered! “She’s really pretty. May I pet her?”

“Go ahead. She’s very gentle.” He stepped forward and held her out a bit, encouraging me.

I reached my hand out and combed my fingers through the fur on her back. “Wow, she’s so soft! How old is she?”

“I’m not sure, but she can’t be older than a few months. I found her in a side alley a couple weeks before you got here.”

“Meow!” The kitten climbed up Galileo’s coat and perched herself on his shoulder.

“Your favorite spot, huh? Forgive me for not letting you up immediately, your highness.” He chuckled and rubbed Callisto’s neck. She returned his affections by nuzzling the spot just below his ear. I’d never seen such a smile on his face. “I know, I love you too.”

Galileo returned his attention to me. “Callisto is the reason that I’m never really alone. She’s a very soothing companion.”

So she was an emotional support animal for him? I hadn’t realized that the concept existed during this time period. Then again, I wasn’t exactly an expert on the subject. It was possible that people had been putting the idea into practice for centuries. “I’m happy to hear that. How come I’ve never seen her before?”

He glanced up at the kitten. “She was probably playing with Lumière. They get into all sorts of mischief together.”

“Who’s Lumière? Is that another another resident’s pet?”

“Mm. Leonardo’s cat. It’s not surprising that you haven’t seen it. I’m sure it gets lost in Leonardo’s room. It amazes me that he hasn’t gotten lost in there.”

I giggled at his comment. Having been in Leonardo’s room before, I could confirm that it wasn’t the easiest to navigate through. “Galileo?”

“Yes?”

“I know that you’re close with Arthur and that you have Callisto to keep you company, but I want you to know something. You can count on me too. If you ever need someone to listen to you or someone to talk to or even just someone to be near, then I will be there for you.”

His eyes were wide with surprise. “You…” The astronomer cleared his throat and regain his composure. “If you’re sure you won’t regret it, then I will make the same offer to you.” His eyes shone with uncertainty, but I could tell that he was being sincere.

I smiled. “That’s very sweet of you, Galileo. Thank you.”

The faint blush from earlier returned to his cheeks. “It’s nothing you need to thank me for.”

“I want to show my appreciation. Don’t be stubborn,” I teased. From what he’d told me and what I’d experienced, I found it doubtful that he’d ever made such an offer before. I was glad that he seemed to be ready to put some trust in me.

~~~~~

Please let me know if you want to be (un)tagged. My OC list is different from my usual content list.

Tags: @ikemencrossedmyth @in-words-of-what-maybe @micah-drew @sadshaxkscoolmom @wolf-of-oshu

[imtherain]

Baby Steps [Part Two]

HEYO

So, as alluded to in the last one, I have some plot (read that fluff) for my Billy fic. Sorry in advance OC main character has a name. I actually have to consciously change things to write in the “you” 2nd tense and I was too lazy for that with this because originally I wasn’t even going to post it. 

Tagging @negansdirtygirl22 because. And @dazedimagines also because!

I’m hoping to make this a multi part, rambling story, to deal with all my many, sordid, Billy Hargrove feels.

Anywho

Warnings: Teenagers sleeping in the same bed? Scandalous! Billy being sweet again (sorry not sorry). Billy injured. Taking care of said injured Billy. This is turning into a tag list I think. Actual pancakes! Good morning vibes. Cooking. Hints at future smut? I mean, Billy is involved, that boy is always ready for another round.

Here we go!

Baby Steps [Part Two]

[Part one] 

[Master List]

I woke to the sound of my window sliding open but didn’t bother getting up to push Billy’s sorry ass back outside. My clock said it was almost midnight. When I heard him remove his boots and drop them on the floor, loudly I might add, I sat up and turned on my bedside lamp, cursing under my breath at the sight of him.

“Jesus Billy, did you leave here just to go get in a fight?” I made to get out of bed, but he stopped me with a wave of his hand.  

“Don’t get up,” He said softly. I watched him with concern creasing my brow as he stepped out of his pants. He wasn’t acting like his usual cocky self.

Billy came over to the empty side of my bed and climbed under the covers as if it were any other night and he didn’t have a serious black eye.

“I’m sorry I got angry before,” he said. I watched him settle in against my pillows and sighed at him. I had a bad habit of never being able to stay mad at him.

“Tell me what happened to your face and I’ll forgive you,” I told him.

“What do you think? I got home, pissed off, old man was also pissed off.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. I reached out to touch his cheek and he leaned into the gentle touch. “I know you told me not to come back tonight, but I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’ll be tomorrow in like ten minutes anyway,” I told him softly. I laid myself down next to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, giving him the comfort he would never dare ask for in words. He buried his face in my collarbones and snaked his arms around me, holding me to him as if he were afraid I was going to disappear.

We laid like that for a long time before I spoke again.

“Can I get you some ice for that eye? Maybe some pain killers? Please?” I asked, brushing my hand over his hair. I knew he loved it when I played with his hair.

“I just want you to stay here,” He mumbled against my throat. I felt him kiss me.

“I would only be gone for a second,” I assured him. “And it’ll help your face,” Billy looked up at me and his eyes were dazzling and damp in the low light. My heart clenched at the look of despair in them, he was hurting, and it wasn’t his face that ailed him. “Oh, baby boy,” I murmured, touching his face again. I leaned forward to kiss his forehead and he leaned into it as if he never wanted it to stop. I cradled his face to me for a long moment.

“If you want to get me pain killers, I would take them,” Billy said after the silence drew us into tomorrow.

“Ok,” I smiled softly at him. “Ice too?” He nodded, looking a bit admonished.

I had my hands in the freezer getting out the ice tray when Aunt Clara joined me.

“I thought I heard someone scaling my gutters again,” She was wearing a silk kimono she got on a trip to Japan two years before I’d moved in with her. She told me all the time how she’d love to take me there with her, but until I turned 18, she wasn’t allowed to take me out of the states without my dad’s permission and neither of us had talked to him in years.

“What? I couldn’t be down here, just wanting ice water at midnight?” I asked. Aunt Clara gave me that look that said, ‘cut the crap’. “Yes, he showed up with a black eye this time, so I came to get some ice.” I wrapped the ice cubes I’d fished out of the freezer in one of the old kitchen towels.

“Did he say what happened?” Aunt Clara went to the sink and filled a glass with water. It wasn’t uncommon for her to wander around in the middle of the night. She wasn’t very good at sleeping, or so she always told me when I asked.

“His dad is an asshole,” I told her. “We’ve got that much in common.”

“Birds of a feather,” Aunt Clara mused. “That explains why you like him so much,”

“It’s not just that, he’s also really nice to me.” I told her. I filled my own glass with water and grabbed the pain killers from the cabinet. When Aunt Clara raised her eyebrow at me, I shrugged. “It was a pretty serious black eye,”

“Tell him he’s welcome here anytime, and if he stays for breakfast, since it’s the weekend, I’ll tell him so myself. Hell, I’d let him camp out in the basement if it meant getting him away from abuse.” Aunt Clara said. “I can’t stand how so many people think its ok to beat their kids, or anyone else for that matter,”

“I don’t know that he’d stay, he’s got a little sister you know,” I reminded her. “But I’ll give him the option.” I headed back towards the stairs and my room.

“He could bring her too, I’d love to have more kids,” Aunt Clara said. “Everyone’s welcome here,”

“I’m pretty sure you’re an angel, Aunt Clara,” I smiled at her. She placed her hand on my cheek lovingly.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m still trying to make up for all the sins my damn brother makes,” She smiled though. I nodded.

“Either way, I love you,” I headed back for my room and my patient, who was likely getting grumpy I’d been gone so long.

Luckily, Billy was mostly asleep when I got back.

“Took you long enough,” He mumbled. I set the water on my nightstand and rolled my eyes at him.

“It’s not too late for me to kick you out, sourpuss,” I told him.

“No, please don’t,” His voice was panicked. I sat on the bed and motioned for him to sit up, opening the pill bottle and shaking a few into my hand.

“Take these,” I set them carefully in his hand and passed him the water. After he took them, I handed him the towel with the ice, and he held it to his face with a groan. “Wanna talk about it?”

Billy snarled as an answer. I shook my head again and took the water back, taking a drink myself.

“Then we’re going to sleep, and you’re not sneaking out tomorrow morning, you’re having breakfast with us, and hanging out all day, ok?” I told him. Billy watched me with his good eye for a moment, looking like he was debating arguing with me, but thinking better of it.

“Ok,” Billy agreed. “Does that mean I can keep you in bed all day?” He asked, a hint of that trademarked grin of his on his face.

“We can sleep in, sure,” I told him, knowing full well he meant less than innocent things.

“Any idea on more…baby steps?” He asked.

“We’ll see.” I laughed lightly. “But for right now, sleep, ok?” I crawled under the blanket and leaned over to kiss his arm before turning the light off. “I’m tired.” He adjusted himself so he was laying next to me, hand still holding the ice to his face.

“Hey, babe?” His voice was soft in the darkness.

“Hmm?” I mumbled back.

“I do love you, I want you to know that.” He said. I rolled over so I could wrap my arms around him, loving the warmth of his arms around me. As always, he smelled like his last cigarette and that cologne he sprayed every time he left his house.

“I know you do.” I assured him. “And I love you too, Billy. Now sleep or I’m gonna be grumpier than you when you’re hungover tomorrow.” He chuckled a bit, but silence fell between us, and soon we were fast asleep, wrapped in each other’s limbs.

I woke up before Billy did for once, and after looking at the clock, I wondered how that happened. It was nearly nine am. I watched him sleep for a while, as I didn’t often get that treat. His face was slack and his black eye was darker now than it had been last night, be he was still painfully beautiful. I brushed some hair out of his face, which woke him.

“Hey baby boy,” I purred. I only called him baby boy when we were alone.

“Morning beautiful,” He groaned. “I think those pills wore off,”

“We can get you some more.” I assured him. I made to get up but he stopped me.

“Five more minutes,” Billy grumbled, rubbing his nose against my ear. I giggled as I tried to pry his arms from me.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” I complained.

“Five more minutes,” He repeated. I wiggled, still trying to get out, but he just swung a leg over mine so that he had me effectively pinned. “Stop fighting my love,”

“I’m not fighting your love, I’m fighting you,” I laughed now. “But fine, five more minutes.” He just nuzzled into my neck again and I squirmed as his breath and his mustache tickled me.

Unfortunately, five minutes was enough to make us both fall asleep again and it was something like 30 minutes later when my eyes opened.

I managed to sneak out of bed before Billy stirred this time.

I came back to see my bed empty and unmade. Before I could say anything to the empty room, I was jumped by a smiling boy who popped out from behind my door. I screamed as his arms came around me and twirled me.

“Jesus, Billy, you scared me half to death,”

“Sorry, babe,” He kissed my cheek before releasing me. “Couldn’t resist making you scream first thing in the morning,”

“Everything alright up there?” Aunt Clara’s voice drifted from down the stairs.

“Yes, Aunt Clara! Just got spooked by the monster under my bed,” I called back.

“Tell him I’ll feed him breakfast if he comes down,” Aunt Clara played along. I giggled.

“Want food? Aunt Clara has been dying to feed you for weeks now.” I asked as Billy went to pick up his pants. I watched him as he pulled them up over his slim hips. I wondered how those hips would feel against mine. He ran a hand through the mess of his hair.

“Yeah, I could eat.” Billy agreed. “Come here once,” He had that look on his face that meant he was up to no good. I crossed the room to him, and he put his arms over my shoulders so he could play with my hair and cage me in.

I gave him a patient, questioning look, as his eyes drifted slowly over my face, linger for a long time at my lips.

“How do you look so pretty with that kind of bedhead?” He mused softly. I grinned at him.

“I could ask you the same thing, baby boy,” I reached up to his head and tried to straighten the tangles out with very little luck.

“Why do you always call me that?” Billy asked, something gentle in his eyes that wasn’t in his voice. I wondered if he liked it or not, but he’d never told me to stop.

“Because you’re my baby, and a boy.” I shrugged. “Same reason you never use my name unless you’re really drunk,”

“Well, Lydia,” He emphasized my name just to be a brat. “We shouldn’t keep Miss Clara waiting longer than we need to, and I’m starving,” He leaned down and nipped my ear. “Even if I’d rather be eating you,”

“Oh stop,” I pushed him away. “Let’s go.” I grinned to myself as he took my hand and let me lead him down to the kitchen, where Aunt Clara was sitting, reading the morning paper, as she always did.

She grinned broadly when she saw us.

“Well, well, the boy who’s going to break my gutters,” Aunt Clara said setting down her paper.

“I have no idea what you mean, Miss Clara,” Billy gave her a deceptively innocent smile. “But if someone’s been messing with your gutters, I’ll keep an eye out for them,” Aunt Clara just laughed.

“What would you kids like for breakfast? Or rather, brunch, since it’s closer to lunch now.”

“Whatever you’d be so kind to make us would be wonderful, Miss Clara,” Billy said, taking a seat at the table. I took the seat next to him and folded my legs up under my nightgown like I always did.

“I want pancakes, since you’ll only make those on Saturdays,” I said. “But I’ll help make them if you want,” Not to be outdone, Billy stood.

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” Billy smiled at Aunt Clara. She patted the side of his face and began taking things out of the cupboards, handing them to Billy.

“I see why my Little Lydia likes you,” Aunt Clara winked at me over Billy’s shoulder. “Gotta love a boy who follows orders, right?”

“Aunt Clara!” I said, embarrassed.

“What?” She feigned innocence while Billy chuckled slightly.

“How about, since you were kind enough to get everything out for me, I cook for you two lovely ladies?” Billy offered.

“Oooh, I do like the sound of that, don’t you Lydia?” Aunt Clara asked, giving me another wink I’m fairly certain Billy saw.

“I suppose I wouldn’t complain,” I agreed. “I just need some orange juice so I can enjoy the show.” I grinned when Billy rolled his eyes at me, but he was smirking when he turned back to the ingredients.

Aunt Clara brought me my glass of orange juice and I thanked her as Billy went about reading boxes.

“So, I have a confession to make,” Billy said suddenly.

“What’s that?” Aunt Clara asked. She had just picked up her paper again.

“I don’t actually know how to make pancakes, and there isn’t a recipe on this box.” He gave us a grin that was somehow sheepish and still devilishly handsome.

“Here,” Aunt Clara stood before I could interject. “Let me show you,”

I spent the next twenty minutes watching Billy and Aunt Clara make pancakes. Billy was a surprisingly good student, listening as Aunt Clara told him the proportions of flour and sugar and baking soda to use, how a dash of salt was only this much, and how to check to see if the pan was warm enough yet by dropping water on it. Billy’s face lit up like a little kid when the water drops danced around into oblivion when the pan was finally hot enough.

“This part I’ve got,” Billy said, shooing Aunt Clara back to the table. Billy measured out batter onto the hot skillet and suddenly the room was filled with the smell of fresh pancakes. My mouth watered as I watched him carefully poking the pancake with a spatula, waiting for the perfect amount of bubbles in it so that he could flip it. Soon enough there was a plate of fresh pancakes sitting on the table and a proud looking Billy standing there with his hands on his hips.

“World renown Chef Billy,” I mused. “Pancake Extraordinaire,” Billy grinned at me, clearly proud of himself, and took one of the pancakes from the stack, shoving it, ungracefully into his mouth.

“I’ve got syrup and jam and things, if you want.” Aunt Clara chuckled as Billy tore the pancake from his teeth.

“I like them plain actually,” He assured her.

“I want jam, unless we have chocolate chips,” I said.

“Chocolate chips?” Billy asked, swinging a chair around so that he was sitting in it backwards. He was watching me with those crystalline blue eyes of his as he munched his pancake. I held eye contact for too long, wondering how it’d feel if he sank those teeth into me. I blushed as I remembered the night before, sitting on the hood of his car.

“Yes, sir. Sometimes we even put them in the batter before we cook them, then the chips are all melted and super yummy.” I told him. I stood to help Aunt Clara get some plates and poured Billy a mug of Aunt Clara’s coffee. I set it before him, and he grinned at me like an idiot. I leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“Thanks for the coffee, babe,” He said, taking a drink.

“Thanks for cooking,” I replied, sitting down and fixing myself a plate with three pancakes, layered with strawberry jam and topped with syrup. Billy watched with fascination as I built the monstrosity on my plate.

“Are you really going to eat that?” Billy asked, looking amused and slightly offended.

“Oh, she will. And that’s pretty tame for her,” Aunt Clara said. She added a modest amount of jam to one of her own pancakes and then stacked another on top, before cutting it into nice sized pieces to eat. Mine was a Picasso of jam and syrup and I hacked it apart before stuffing my face.

“If I had my way, I’d have the chocolate chips, whipped cream, sprinkles and ice cream on it too.” I told him, around a big bite of sweet and syrupy pancake. “One day, when I’m married and have my own kitchen, I’m going to be sure to have all those things all the time. Some nights I’ll even make this for dinner,” I told them. They both laughed at me.

“Hope your future husband has a sweet tooth then,” Aunt Clara said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Billy said. I felt my ears blush at him implying he thought about our future together. I wondered what it would really be like, if he’d stay this sweet forever, or if he’d sour one day.

I really hoped he’d stay sweet.

After we finished eating, I gathered up the plates as Aunt Clara put away all the things we’d used. Billy took a turn reading the paper as he drank his second cup of coffee.

“I’m headed out to do my rounds,” Aunt Clara said as I was elbow deep in the sink. She kissed the side of my head before turning to go.

“Hey, where’s my kiss goodbye?” Billy complained.

“Come here then, tough guy,” Aunt Clara said. She grabbed his face and kissed his forehead, making a comically loud mwah sound as she did it. I turned in time to see Billy’s surprise turn to joy at the attention. “You kids have fun, I’ll be back by seven,”

“Bye Aunt Clara,” I called. As soon as the door clicked shut, Billy was on his feet and behind me, hands on my hips while I kept cleaning the dishes that remained in the sink.

“I like your Aunt,” Billy said against my neck. He kissed the soft spot behind my ear as he held me to him.

“Just because she’s cute?” I asked.

“That certainly doesn’t hurt,” Billy replied.

“She said you’re welcome to move in, and you could bring Max too,” I told him. “She’d love to mother you just about to death,”

“She’s a good lady,” Billy mused.

“Yes, she is,” I agreed, my love for the only family member I was still connected to was clear in my voice.

“Are you done with those dishes yet?” Billy asked.

“Nope, but if you help, I’ll be done quicker, and we can move on to whatever sinful thing you’re thinking about,”

“Who said it was sinful?” Billy asked, nuzzling my ear once before taking my lobe in his teeth. I shivered at the sensation.

“Everything about you is a sin, baby boy, and with you doing that, how could I think anything else?” I giggled as he scoffed at me and my accusations.

“I don’t know what you mean,” His hands on my hips pulled me back, closer to him and his jeans. “I was just going to suggest you get dressed for the day and we can go do something fun,”

“What? I thought you liked my old lady nightgown,” I teased him. Billy growled against my shoulder.

“I don’t mind it, but I’d love to see it on the floor,” He suggested.

“Rinse those dishes and we can see about that,” I told him. I turned my head to catch his sinful lips in a quick kiss. His eyes fluttered close as his hands drifted up to take my face. I braced myself on the sink as he deepened it, loving how he still tasted like coffee and wondering if I tasted like strawberry jam.

“What do you think about another baby step today?” Billy asked, stepping up next to me finally. He began to rinse the dishes I’d already cleaned.

“What sort of baby step?” I asked, curious and aroused all in one.

“Well,” He mused. “You’ve got to get ready for the day, I was thinking maybe we could share a quick shower?”

“Share a shower?” I wondered. “You would find pleasure in that?” I’d never heard of such a thing.

“Oh, trust me,” Billy said, stacking the dishes he’s rinsed and dried on the counter. “I’ll show you how pleasurable it can be.”

“Oh,” I felt my cheeks blush at the obvious meaning there. “Sex?”

“If you want, but I was more thinking some heavy petting,” He said. “And we can go from there,”

“Hmm,” I wondered about how that would actually go. After last night, I was willing to let him have the benefit of the doubt. “We could do that,”

Billy smiled at me, a million watts of sunshine and those glassy eyes shielded just a little by eyelashes I knew plenty of girls would kill for. Then I remembered he was mine and my heart swelled.

“Hey Billy?” I asked.

“What’s up?” He asked, focused more on his drying than on me.

“I love you,” I said. I saw him grin in profile and melted again.

“Love you too, baby,”

“And Billy?” I added as I realized the soapy water was empty now.

“Yes?” He sounded mildly put out by me suddenly.

“All done,” I told him with a sultry tone.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Billy set the last of the dishes on the drying rack and took my hand, leading me up the stairs.

[Part One]

[Part Three]

[Master List]

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (3)

A/N: MEET THE ROMANS !!!!  i actually drew All the romans, but you only meet the first one in this chapter! gonna upload his pic in a Hot Sec but, anyway, i love him and i love you! <3 this entire story turned real big

WARNINGS: Sympathetic Deceit, arguing, yelling, panic (no panic attacks but Virgil is incredibly on edge, as is everyone), heights/possibly falling two floors off a tall ladder — if i missed anything, please please let me know!!  also, OCs? ?  gonna talk more about that in the Tags but let me know!

Words: 2916

Pairings: why do i keep adding this? idk. nothing yet! I guess you can read patton being Platonically Flirtatious™ to Logan but?  DLAMP endgame, but i guess you can call this a slow burn because i forgot how much i write on the regular

Part 1 (chivalry is dead) — Part 2 (i’m wishing) — Part 3 (the bells of notre dame) — Part 4 (honor to us all)

AO3 link!

@starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat

enjoy!!

The room had changed, yes, but it hadn’t gone back to being Roman’s bedroom.

In fact, the room appeared more like a long walk-in closet. Deceit closed the door a little and looked at the front again — yep, the sign was still there, this was still Roman’s room. He let the door swing all the way open in a silent invitation to the other Sides to peek in. Logan was the first to join him in the doorway, standing right besides Deceit, only a few inches away from the threshold.

From the doorway, they couldn’t see the end of the narrow hall. Both walls were packed with clothes pressed against each other, like some sort of unreasonably long walk-in closet. There was a second shelf of clothes above that, just as packed. In the hallway’s center were some benches, of varying aesthetics. The one closest to the door was plush, with seating on both sides and red cushions, but the one next to it and farther in looked like a football stadium bleacher. Strewn about, too, were many, many shoes. Not all in pairs.

Deceit leaned his head into the room and, with one hand on his hat, looked up. The ceiling continued forever as well, with even more shelves of clothing stretching up as far as the eye could see.

“This is certainly a change,” Logan commented, a slight tremor in his voice, “Though it’s a far cry from the black abyss you’d claimed to see.”

“What’s it look like?” Virgil shuffled behind them both, the tensions of earlier now replaced with a stifling dread.

Deceit glanced back at him, just to check. Old habits die hard. He was holding Patton’s arm tight, breathing nearly nonexistent, off-hand twitching every so often. Virgil’s hair was matted down, too, as he and Patton examined the room. The concern was leaking into Patton, as his hand seemed just as tight on Virgil’s. He pushed up his glasses without taking his eyes off of the room, and Deceit could see some tears sparkling behind the lenses. Virgil’s mounting panic plus Patton’s deep concern was creating an intoxicating brew of ‘we should get on with this.’

Deceit turned to Logan and nodded to the room. They’d have to go in to find Roman.

There was nothing else to be done. Logan lifted a foot.

“Don’t go in there,” Virgil said, nearly shouted.

“Well, we must, if we’re—”

“Hang on, hang on, first,” Patton leaned forward, nudging his face between Logan and Deceit while keeping his feet firmly planted behind them as Virgil tugged him closer. He cupped his other hand around his mouth. “ROMAN? HELLO?”

Silence was his answer. Not even an echo. Patton’s nose scrunched up. He pulled back, wrapping an arm subconsciously around Virgil. “That usually works,” his words laced together quietly.

Logan shot him a quick confused glance. Internally, he was considering the possibilities at a breakneck pace. Roman’s room was the most volatile, susceptible to constant change depending on how the creative side felt and what his most recent project was. It made sense that the room wouldn’t look exactly how it did the last time they’d seen it, especially given how long it’d been since the door had last been opened.

Something was still unusual, however. Even though its theming was impermanent, there were certain constants: a bed, a wardrobe or closet, a desk, often a window or two, Roman’s fairy lights, some posters. Even when period themed, Roman kept a laptop on his desk and a speaker besides his bed. Now there wasn’t even a bed. There were just rows and rows of clothes, some unwearable for daily use. Logan could definitely see a hoop skirt over there on the left. And….was that a full military uniform? Why would Roman need outfits such as those?

“A costume room!” Patton exclaimed, causing everyone else to jump.

Virgil calmed himself down first. “Can’t you give a guy a warning before your lightbulb moments, Pat?” he stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets, glowering at Patton.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Patton rubbed the back of his neck and smiled thinly back, “I just thought, this whole set up….it looks a lot like a big ole’ dressing room, doesn’t it? With the costumes and the benches?”

The other three glanced back around the room. “I suppose you’re right,” Logan said, drawing out his words.

Before another silence overtook, though, he cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “I don’t think we’ll learn any more about Roman’s sudden room change without going in,” his voice was stiff, trying to hide whatever nervousness he felt.

“I don’t know. I don’t like this,” Virgil grumbled, eyes locked on the darkness at the end of the hallway.

It was dimly lit but not difficult to see in. They could definitely search around in here, but there wasn’t a boundary between the Imagination and Roman’s room. For all they knew, they could be walking straight through the Imagination, which would be chaotic. They couldn’t control it like Roman could. Sure, Virgil’d made a fair nightmare or dark daydream, but it always got out of hand or was overseen by Roman himself, usually inspirational fodder for some bigger project he was cooking.

Actually, now that he thought about it, Virgil didn’t think he’d ever been in the Imagination without Roman. He hadn’t heard of any of the others entering Roman’s “kingdom” without him and, honestly, he wasn’t keen on finding out what’d happen if they didn’t have a guide.

Oof.

“Are you going to stop glaring at the hallway any time soon?” Deceit’s voice pulled Virgil from his thoughts and another spiral.

Before he could retort, Logan stepped back from the room to face him. “I hate to admit it, but he’s right. We should enter and find Roman ourselves,” he crossed his arms as he explained. “This room doesn’t bear resemblance to any sort of bedroom and, if Patton’s assumption that this is a costume room is correct, then we must ask why Roman’s chosen to, er. Switch things up. There are different interpretations we could derive but it’s better to hear it from him, as well as pull him out of his room for a meal and check-in.”

“And if he gets mad that we barged in on his personal space and doesn’t want to see us again?” Virgil asked, crossing his arms to mirror Logan’s stance.

“Then we acknowledge that Deceit lied, and we ask why he hasn’t left his room in a week. I find the second part of your statement highly improbable as well. Considering our concern and confusion over Roman’s absence, I think we are well-warranted in entering without permission.”

“Wow, check out Logan, finally coming to his senses about the constructive nature of personal space,” Deceit followed Logan away from the doorway, a sneer on his lips.

Logan and Virgil now both glared at Deceit. “Me agreeing that I’m confused by Roman’s sudden departure doesn’t mean I agree with your explanation that he fell into a hole — a hole that is no longer there, mind you.”

“And we can probably find Roman without you stinking up the place,” Virgil waved his hands at Deceit, gesturing for him back up, “How about you drag yourself back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and—”

“Guys! I found my old cardigan in here!”

All three of them looked up, noticing that Patton was a fair way into the room, and all of them tensed. As much as Deceit and Logan were talking a big game about entering the room, it seemed they were just as nervous as Virgil was.

Patton didn’t react to their concern, perusing the costumes lining the left side of the wall. In his defense, Patton already knew they were gonna have to search for Roman in here. He didn’t distrust Deceit more than he was worried about Roman isolating himself, and the collection of costumes was a lot more interesting to him than debating the morality — he snorted to himself — of the situation. Besides, Virgil’d get the hint that the morals of going in were fine if Patton and Deceit were agreeing.

Now, the cardigan was the same as his. Patton would have thought Roman’d just taken it if he hadn’t felt assured that his cardigan was in his closet, in his room. Plus, THIS cardigan didn’t have a dollar in the pocket! Or, wait, he’d given that dollar back to Roman, since he owed him. Okay, well, he was still pretty certain that HIS cardigan was back in HIS room!

“You shouldn’t be touching Roman’s clothes, Patton,” Logan had entered the room.

Patton didn’t look up, though he could tell by Logan’s voice that he was standing just behind him. “Awh, but there’re so many outfits! Who knew Roman had so many!”

Something blue caught his eye. Patton reached for a hanger just a few spaces down from the cardigan and pulled out Logan’s old outfit, with the black polo shirt and periwinkle tie. “Hey, look! It’s you!” He grinned at Logan, laughing at Logan’s cute little surprised expression, “Talk about a blast from the past!”

Logan took the hanger, lifting it up to inspect. It was just the shirt and tie, but….well. He felt a twinge of nostalgia. “I do prefer my current tie,” he said.

“An’ I think you look great in anything,” Patton nudged him with his elbow, “Just thought you’d wanna see! Looks like Roman’s stocked up on all our old outfits.”

“C’mon, guys, we shouldn’t be in here,” Patton and Logan turned and saw Virgil slowly follow Deceit past the threshold, steps slow and careful, as if the ground were going to fall into the pit Deceit’d described.

Once Virgil was two steps in, though, the door slammed shut behind him. He whipped around, screaming in surprise and launching himself backwards into Deceit, who then shouted and fell forward onto the red couch.

Patton screamed, too, and flung himself into Logan, who actually caught him. His arms wrapped around Patton’s shoulders as he hoisted him up.

They all watched as the door sank beneath the deep red carpet, standing still as statues as it slid down and left a blank white-wallpapered wall.

Trapped.

Logan let go of Patton slowly, arms dropping to his sides. He could feel a headache coming on. Patton unraveled himself from Logan, too, stepping more towards Deceit and Virgil as the shock wore off. Deceit nearly flung Virgil off of himself, probably would have succeeded if Virgil hadn’t jumped off of him first.

The shock of what had happened was definitely wearing down on Virgil, hands shaking at his sides. Patton placed a hand on his shoulder — an offer — and Virgil took it, hugging Patton tight, burying his face into his chest. Patton wrapped his arms around Virgil too, just as tight. “Sorry,” Patton looked up, mouthing to Deceit.

Deceit seemed nonplussed, though, as he stared down the hallway. Logan’s body was turned towards them, seemingly halfway through approaching, though he too faced down the hall.

“Do you hear….” Logan’s voice, a hushed whisper, “Singing.”

Patton frowned, but carded his hand through Virgil’s hair and listened harder.

“You can lie to yourself and your minions,” that voice was unmistakable, verse echoing faintly from down the impossibly long hall.

Virgil gripped the back of Patton’s shirt and perked his head up as the voice grew slightly louder.

“Roman,” Deceit’s shoulders relaxed, “That must be Roman.”

In a non-spoken group decision, the four began to slowly walk down the hall. Deceit led the way past the hanging costumes, each closet packed with outfits, and didn’t stop. Virgil was at the back, still holding onto Patton’s shirt, checking behind them every so often.

Things were even more disorganized as they continued down the hall. Costumes were on the ground, as though fallen from their hangers. Patton’d stopped to fix the first few, but as they saw more and more dishevelment, he gave up. The shoes were strewn about still, some on benches now, some with full costumes sitting on the bench besides them.

“You can claim that you haven’t a qualm!”

There were some outfits that they recognized. Thomas’ Dr. Emile Picani costume was sitting on a bench, laid out neatly, as though they’d be shooting Cartoon Therapy the next day. His trenchcoat from playing JD was crumpled in a lump with a single thick boot next to it, from the same outfit. Deceit pointed out a balled up copy of Virgil’s current hoodie, sat in the middle of their walkway.

“He must be in a block. Making all these costumes must’a been a real good creative exercise,” Patton tried to keep his voice light and airy.

Virgil shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a block. It reeks of manic panic in here,” he scowled around, “We gotta figure out what’s wrong with him.”

“But you never can run from,” Roman’s singing continued, growing louder, closer.

“Of course. Before he disappeared, would you consider that Roman was acting odd? I thought his demeanor was fairly typical for a creative block, hence it wasn’t incredibly worrying,” Logan hummed in thought, then added, “He had been a little more subdued. But, that too could be attributed to the lull in productive creative content plus the incoming tax season.”

“I mean, locking himself in his room was pretty in character,” Virgil said, “But….”

“Was leaving him in his room in character for you all?” Deceit looked back just long enough to catch the glare Virgil shot him, “It’s a fair question, after all this.”

“....How do we know you’re not just leading us into a trap here?” Virgil hissed, without the bite he’d had earlier.

“For the last time, I’m not tricking you. Even you can feel how scared Roman is, you said it yourself,” Deceit stopped, letting Logan walk past him as he argued with Virgil.

“Yeah, but—”

“Nor hide what you’ve done from the eyes~!”

Logan held up a hand, stopping all of them. “I can see the end of the hall,” he said.

“And there’s Roman!” Patton let go of Virgil, letting the anxious side finally unravel himself from Patton’s chest while he moved besides Logan.

Instead of a bench, there was a large table in the center of the hallway, papers strewn over it in piles and disorganized stacks. On the opposite walkway side from the other four sides was a ladder and, up two levels of closet, was Roman. He had a stack of costumes in his arms, hanging them up one by one, voice echoing downwards.

“The very eyes of Notre Dame!” he leaned backwards on the ladder, spurring Virgil to swear loudly, jump towards it, and hold it steadier.

Roman didn’t notice them, though, continuing to sing and hang clothes. Patton, Logan, and Deceit all shared a look while Virgil just looked up at Roman and held the ladder. At least they’d get some answers now.

Logan cleared his throat first. “Roman!”

No response. Roman just continued to sing. “And for one time in his life of power and control,” he waved one of the costumes — a black cloak with blue trims — and spun on the top of the ladder.

“Stop spinning,” Virgil barked, holding the ladder with white knuckles.

The others crowded around the bottom, Patton now holding the other two legs. “Let’s try a little kindness — Roman, kiddo, can you come down here?” his voice was soft, inviting and loving, gazing up the ladder.

“Frollo felt a twinge of fear!”

“Well,” Patton looked back down at the other Sides, “I’m shattered.”

Deceit rolled his eyes as Logan sighed, “He’s ignoring us.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

“For his immortal sou~l!”

“Roman—Roman, stop,” Deceit shook the ladder, trying to not throw Roman’s balance off, “What’s happening?”

“Yeah,” Virgil shouted, shooting Deceit a deadly glare quickly, “Get down here and stop singing! You’ve got a lotta explaining to do!”

Roman didn’t turn around, but he stopped dancing, singing, and shifting the ladder. “You’re all interrupting the audition,” he snapped as he hung the last costume and began to descend.

As he came closer, the other four could see the differences in his outfit. Gone was the white uniform and red sash, replaced with a white shirt and a tight red vest. Though they could only see his back, the others could see a scroll decal across his shoulders, similar to the one on Roman’s crest. This was certainly a change.

“Roman,” Virgil started, voice quiet, leading to more, but Roman cut him off.

“Stop calling me that. Haven’t won the callback yet,” and he laughed to himself, landing and pivoting at the bottom of the ladder.

The vest buttoned double-breasted in the front, and a bright red tie was tucked into the vest, which had golden lapels. The others watched him push his own pair of black-rimmed Warby Parker glasses up his nose, hair pinned back from its normal waves with one glittering gold pin. A golden pen was tucked behind the ear his hair was, too. On the bottom, he wore black pants and a black dress shoes with whitened Oxfords.

He took notice of their confused looks and bowed with a flourish and a large, proud smile. “As you can all see, I’m definitely not the Prince, and am not Roman YET. For the time being, you may call me the Playwright.”

[blankdblank]

Oops

Wk 6 – Oops

Tale Teller Prompt - Their fingers lace together, a perfect fit.

Warning – Deliriously tired oc/actor first meeting

Richard Armitage x my oc

... Also working to fill a request from @deepestfirefun from a while ago... :D

All – @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress

…

A double layover and two lengthy press stops on this final leg of his Hannibal tour left poor Richard nearly swaying on his feet when left stationary too long. Two days of pitiful naps after damn near a month of a lonely touch starved string of nights distracting himself from his empty hotel rooms keeping him from the peaceful sleep his schedule demanded finally he was home in England and he couldn’t feel less at home. Having to stop in London he had to put up in a hotel at the odd hour of return knowing his brother shouldn’t be stirred before his no doubt early shift at work from his house sitting to keep the house from floating away at being left empty. Tomorrow he would collect the keys and tolerate just one more night in this lavish hotel for the awards show he was due to present at.

It had been a reasonably anonymous entrance to his homeland yet upon layering into his jaw dropping expensive suit tailored to hug him perfectly and help him shine on the carpet he noticed a few eyes wandering his way. A maid first, in passing who respectfully remained silent, then a bellboy aiding another celeb way too late to make the carpet cut off time if they weren’t already dressed, which by their flannels and rollers in their hair through shouting match on their phone it was unlikely. But the final one really struck at him, because he could just tell his patience was thin and clearly this woman hurrying into the elevator with him was going to say something after her third glance at the tall man avoiding her gaze hopefully used as a clue to remain silent.

“Can I ask you a question?” He looks at you and at the filling of his lungs to force a kind grin into the place of his scowl you added. “Does it look like my shirt is on backwards?” Turning in one swift motion giving him a good look at your cashmere tan sweater over your tight black jeans and tall heeled boots. The clearly stage level makeup in a subtle smoky shade, that made your bright purple eyes pop even more. Under your black curls pulled into a long tall sleekly curled ponytail making him wonder at what was in your garment bag draped over your left arm, and why you had it if your chosen outfit was what you were decided on. “I took the tag off to stop the constant itching and I can’t seem to figure out which way it goes, it looks the same to me.”

Your eyes met his and his brows are raised with lips pursed in confusion for a moment before he answers in an awkward blurted stammer, “Yes, Yes it looks right.”

You nod and look him over seeing his suit and clearly exhausted expression he was losing the battle of masking. “Well, I should probably let you get back to your thoughts. Don’t mind me just mentally scrambling hoping I don’t make an ass of myself now that I’m two blasted hours behind thanks to that damn tropical-,” you look at him seeing a grin easing across his face feeling his irritations and exhaustion melting away as he realized how he knew you.

A low named actress he had seen years prior on an obscure stage production he absolutely treasured even without a raving following from the world he ached for you to have from your masterful job. “I should really stop talking, though it’s damn near impossible since I haven’t slept in three days-.” In your rambling he felt his body ease in your company after having spent so long alone and in his own aching need for contact with anyone outside of work he felt his hand inching for his pocket to pull out his phone to get your number.

Yet before he could grab it you sharply turned and walked for the still closed doors saying, “I should let you focus and leave you to your, focus..” Your next turn had you halt inches from the doors covering your face with your hand crossing your other arm around your middle, “Perhaps I should wait for the doors to open first.”

Lowly he chuckled to himself inching closer to your side as you reached the lobby and right when the doors opened you stepped forward, right into the chest of the actor and his wife right in front of it beside Martin Freeman and his wife. None other than Benedict Cumberbatch on his way up to grab something he forgot and his wife, whose clutch fell from her hand along with your garment bag.

Instantly you dropped into a deep crouch saying through Martins growing smirk as you gathered up the clutch and Benedict’s pocket journal and pen, “I am so sorry! I am just four heads and a tail today.” Popping up to pass the items back to the couple who smirked at your frenzied nerve wracked self in your stroll around them with Richard hurrying after you.

Inches from the pillar you clearly hadn’t noticed his hands gripped your hips in a gentle turn halting you mid step, in a glance back up at him his chest pushed against your back and his arm draped around to your side saying lowly, “Perhaps we should get you out of the lobby safely first, Darling.” Stealing a glance back at his confused friends wondering who you were to the formerly moping actor he flashed them a grin and continued on in a silent confirmation he would explain later as they filed onto the elevator.

Looking forward again you saw the pillar he guided you around before he stepped to your side dropping his arm to trail his fingers along your palm to fold between yours. His only thought in the moment of the locked hold was to melt at the perfect fit he hoped to signify your being fated to be together. Beaming to himself lost to the spinning daydreams of his own imaginings of your possible beginning if he could just manage these next moments properly. Breathing unsteadily you trotted at his side to keep up with his long stride in the apparently glue coated floor at the staggered steps you took on your weakening legs.

In their final view of you the actors you had left behind both grinned whispering about their friend hoping this was a good sign seeing their fingers loop together, a perfect fit they hoped, someone just as nervous and awkward and giddy to be around the usually moody actor to bring out his smile.

On the way through the self opening double doors of this lavish hotel he glanced down at you seeing your anxious wide grin flash back onto your face through the flashes of cameras waiting for celebs to be leaving for the awards show, “Where are you off to?”

“Um, BAFTA, same as you.”

He nodded and led you to the car waiting on the right with his driver he recognized at his opening the back door, “Good, you can ride with me.”

Again you nodded and walked to the car. There he paused and in your glance up at him you said, “Oh,” lowering to climb inside the car first as he chuckled then lowered to climb in after you. Out of habit he glanced at the door when it closed, noticing the cameraman snapping away at the both of you while the driver trotted around the car to get in himself. “Thank you.”

He chuckled again, “Well I couldn’t let you miss the awards or walk into a wall for that matter.” He looked you over, “Is that garment bag for you?”

You turned your head to him after reading your instructed time of arrival and directions to the performers area, “Yes, for after.”

He chuckled again, “After what?”

“Oh, it’s all sort of last minute but you know that Sunset Boulevard film revamp?”

He drew in a breath, “Yes! Oh I remember now, you’ve been on the press lately about it.”

You let out a wry chuckle, “Yes. Everyone is stumped why me. So, studio thought BAFTA would be a good sneak preview for it. But no spoilers. Just hope I don’t fall of the stage.”

“Pity I’m not up in the front row.” Making you shake your head in his playful chuckle as his smirk broke at your eyes rolling.

.

It didn’t take long at all, and in the line of cars waiting to be unloaded while you tried to mentally recite your designated path Richard closed out his texts, silencing his handler who was waiting on the carpet for him. Then he swapped over to his contacts making you a contact card before passing you his phone your eyes dropped to dumbly at the strange phone now in your palm, “Wondering if I could get your number? Make sure you have it in case you find another wall I can come find you.”

Biting back your giggle you nodded and typed it in, “Sure. Sounds like a plan.” You mumbled to yourself trying to be cool about this amazing man wishing to speak with you again even over a text.

As you passed it back you saw his handler reaching to open the door. “Thank you for the ride.” Right as it opened Richard turned in pocketing his phone to ask you something only to fall silent realizing his lean closer had you barely a breath away, his darkening gaze dropped to your lips then was cut off in your lips planting on his. A wall of flashes erupted capturing the moment ending with your frozen moment and mumble of, “Please forget I did that.”

Lowly he chuckled through a beaming grin and he inched out to the door, purring, “One condition, take a picture with me and I’ll consider it.”

You nod and climb out accepting his hand for help to stand. A few steps off to the side under his arm both with beaming grins you held the pose for a few moments through the flash of lights. In your turn to leave him however you passed in front of him and after his low hum of, “I’ll let you know my answer by lights up.” In your try to peck him on the cheek your foot wobbled in your toe top stance and again your lisp found his, only this time he leaned in settling his hand on your hip and the other on your cheek all but making you collapse in realizing the result of your fumble.

In the parting of your lips his fingers trailed along your cheek tenderly and he moved his lips by your ear. Purring lowly he said, “No chance forgetting that one Darling.” At your sharp inhale he chuckled as you nodded and turned to hurry down the carpet hearing him call out, “Break a Leg!”

Mumbling louder than you intended he chuckled hearing you say, “Hope I do…” leaving him beaming mid chuckle for the cameras while he moved on down the carpet to his interviews.

..

Exiting the maze of people you found your way through the seemingly endless building straight to the door with your name written on the outside of it. Exhaling sharply you eased the door open and slipped inside hearing your Grandmother and her longtime fiancé with her chatting only to fall silent in your arrival. Flashing them a grin you closed the door and hung up your bag on the back of the door eyeing her jeans and sweater and shorter heels matching yours, due to your shorter status next to her to even out your height for the cameras. Her makeup and hair slicked back just like yours for your place as Norma after she has been coerced by her film studio to undergo a trial surgery to bring her back to her prime, though the only hitch being her reflection never changes in her eyes leaving her very much still the elderly woman she returned as in her mind.

The place of your grandmother, a famed black and white actress and opera singer, whom you were cosmically the twin of for the film backers who signed you both right away knowing with her place in the film a great margin of people would be flocking to see her on the screen again in this yet another iconic role. The only hitch being the world not knowing you had studied at her same schools and have taken the lead in just as many successful shows only without your name being as recognizable to younger audiences. All leading to the assumption you were to be her physical stand in, making your performance tonight of ‘As If We Never Said Goodbye’ now changed into a duet for the both of you in reflecting motions across the stage through the studio and set into makeup and onto your first mark to show off your equally skilled performances as Norma.

“Sorry I’m late gran, I accidentally kissed someone, twice.”

A soft giggle left her as you settled into the couch beside her at her summoning pat before her welcoming hug, “We’ve still an hour yet. Relax,” in your lean back you giggled at her smirk in saying, “Now, tell me all about him.”

.

Down to the last moment you felt your legs going weak, following your assigned aid you couldn’t tell anyone’s faces apart just hoping that you wouldn’t fail. You had been the lead in countless productions but now you would be working with your Gran, a flawless performer who you would be sharing a role with adding even more pressure to match her flawlessly with her same sense of calm ease.

Out into the dark stage you waited through your cue at the fleeing of your mic tech as Ewan McGreggor introduced your number. Perfectly in sync your eyes opened and your chins rose with the same expression on your face through the wall of ‘mirrors’ separating your matching sets. You could tell first impressions were ‘cheesy’ and ‘predictable’ and yet in the first note your Gran sang you could hear the exhales that were not followed by any inhale for several moments after in her usual awe inflicting ways. She fell silent and you began the stroll through the sets that began to shift around you changing the locations and starting your spiraling paths around one another on the seemingly unmanned mirrors parting you making people gawk up at you open mouthed and breathless as your number continued.

From a stunning moment of a magically appearing matching set of floor length gowns with elbow gloves and tall buns that would drop down again at the mirror spirals when you would be in your sweater and jeans again. The final verse was in the center of the stage now empty past a single ‘mirror’ between you and you could hear a pin drop in the deadly silent audience at your matching tear filled gaze and single freeing tear streaking down your cheeks shining in the spotlight. “We taught the world,” your arms both raising towards the mirror where your curled fingers locked blindly in your steady continuance, “New ways to dream.”

The final note died and the lights cut off casting you in darkness, reaching up you covered your mic with your hand for a shaky exhale  feeling your Gran’s arm shift in her blind glance your way in the roar of cheers and claps while the house stood applauding your performance. Where you would normally bow you were instructed to head off the stage and yet the lights started to go up again as your joined hands lowered, and John Rhys Davies, the next presenter hurried over to your both making you both giggle and grin moving over to him locking your hands again in his motioning you to the end of the stage for a quick bow to help silence the crowd again.

Peering out your eyes instantly found Richard through the others grinning at you madly making you blush and shaky your head through another giggle as your Gran’s free hand was cradled by John’s in his shared words with her. Not a few moments later you were on your way back to the back stage area where you helped to unhook your mics freeing you to return to your room to change for your Gran’s aid to take possession of your clothes he would take to your hotel rooms.

Carefully with her aid you secured the strip of buttons up your back in a black strip drawing the eye across the nude back coated with black spiraling vines over a sleek figure hugging sleeveless dress with a gentle flare at the bottom that fully covered your chest up to your neck. Leaving your hair up you turned to help her secure the broach straight on the sparkling navy shrug over an equally as sparkling dress fitting to the event leaving her in your eyes still the more dazzling of you two. Straight in to the bare trio of seats nearly opposite Richard you were able to steal a few subtle glances his way holding tight to your clutch in your settling back into the plushy seat peering up once those around you had settled back from their hushed compliments on your performance.

.

A single offhand jest about Dollarhyde finding a new golden angel was nearly passed up by you until the speaker glanced your way making it click and bringing a blush back to your cheeks when others turned to look your way chuckling through your hushed giggles. In a glance towards Richard you found him already looking your way with a deepening grin that turned in his look to the stage again while your gaze dropped to your clutch to bring out your vibrating phone you had been ignoring. That made you smirk to yourself at the compliment from Richard on your number. The second message was a simple one reading, “That dress is stunning on you.”

Replying, “Thank you. Nearly lost it on the plane. Would have been a pity, to have been forced to stay in my jeans and comfy sweater.”

Across the room you caught his chuckle and glance at you before he replied, “That it would. I do hope you aren’t cold.”

“If I do get cold you will be the first to know.”

“Good.”

.

Another joke about you and Richard was mentioned and your fingers rose to cover your face as you giggled to yourself, lifting your head again at the arrival of your Gran’s aid you rose to follow him back to the backstage area where you took your place in line.

A sudden body at your side pursed your lips for a moment with none other than Martin Freeman grinning at you widely making you say in a glance around the crowded room, “Um, I think you have your partners mixed up. I was supposed to be with, was it, Ryan, something?”

In looking at him again he replied, “No, I managed to trade for you.”

“Why?” At the sudden interest from one of your favorite actors you’d never dreamed of speaking to now wishing to be your partner in presenting you were left floored after having been in a texting conversation with another from your list of dream men to meet.

A chuckle left him at your wide eyed gaze at him before you blinked some life back into yourself relaxing in his humor, the arrival of a young woman with a clipboard and headset passed Martin the award and you the envelope and led you out to the stage where you waited for the musical cue then strolled out to the podium through the cheers.

In a glance at Martin you asked softly, “Did you want to start?” having the teleprompter adjusting to your lines.

Martin shook his head, “No, it’s alright.” You drew in a breath then wet your lips and glanced at him again as he began to speak again, “Though I am curious How changing your outfit is supposed to make us forget you were seen kissing Richard outside, whom you sat on the opposite end of the auditorium to avoid suspicion.”

A sudden giggle left you in your soft blush, “I don’t pick the seating,” you waved the envelope, “We have an award to present.”

He waved his hand, “They can wait. They need to trim down speeches anyways. So,” your brow inched up at his smirk at you in planting his arm on the podium, “where are you two lovebirds going to be running off to tonight for your necking.”

Your hand planted on the podium, “I have never necked anyone in my life.”

Martin looked out in the crowd finding Richard smoothing his hand over his mouth to disguise his nervous chuckling at being the focus of the evening by his friends, “Richard-,” his finger pointed at you and you turned forward rolling your eyes, “Tonight-,”

With a grin you started to read the first line on the prompter then glanced at him with a challenging gaze he returned before reading his until you opened the envelope calling Benedict up to the stage.

In his eager trot you caught Martin’s smirk as well as Benedict’s making you mumble, “Good lord,” and turn to head backstage only making him trot over to you easing his arm around your upper back, “Oh now, I promise, no ribbing. No jokes, come now, please.”

You turned to join him to stand by Martin, who claimed your hand to cradle it with gentle pats nearly reducing you to giggles again. A short list of people were thanked before Benedict glanced back at you saying your name, “And thank you, sincerely from the bottom of my heart, thank you, for taking one of the kindest, gentlest and most unreasonable of men,” a giggle left you and you looked to your right nipping at your lip, “to find an evening of endless beaming smiles.” Benedict watched you turn to head back to the backstage area, flashing a wink to Richard then joined Martin in hurrying after you.

Benedict, “So, how did you meet?” He asked when he caught up with you making you giggle again.

“In an elevator.”

They both looked at you and Martin asked, “Which elevator?”

You giggled again, “The one where I ran into you.”

Martin, “When?”

“When did I hit you? Have you gone nearly a week without sleep too?”

Martin, “No, when did you meet there?”

“Today.”

They both froze parroting back, “Today?!”

Hurrying after you in a shake of your head you were led to a small empty room off to the side where you filled the pair into the full day leaving them baffled as to how you two utterly perfect exhausted strangers managed to meet at all let alone just when you needed one another so badly.

.

Barely an hour later and your Gran headed back to her hotel room with her fiancé after her job presenting while you tried to last it out. Yet a yawn was coming on and in a shift to fake adjusting your hem you managed to hide it and sit up before your eyes slammed shut and you would slump forward to the floor passing out. Quickly you pulled out your phone saying, “I’m going to head back, enjoy your night.”

Just a moment later his response popped up and you read, “I’m presenting in a moment, I can go back with you after if you could hold out a few minutes longer.”

With a grin Richard took his place and read his chosen lines stealing glances at you ensuring you were still conscious until he was able to slip backstage where he found you waiting in the hall on the way out. Extending his arm he eased around your upper back he hummed by your ear, “Let’s get you to bed, hmm?”

It all seemed to blur together and yet alone in your bed wrapped in your sweater and flannels under the covers you stirred barely making the time to meet the check out time with bags in hand to file into your waiting cab to take you to your flat where you wanted to collapse onto your bed only to look at your phone reading Richard’s message of, “Just checking in to see if you’re conscious and still free of hitting any walls.”

A grin eased across your lips as you sat on the bed, “I am conscious, though I did knock my knee on my end table.”

“Well I hope it won’t be troubling you too much for our dinner tonight.” Wide eyed you stared at the message then you scrolled up finding the earlier agreement from you to have him pick you up for dinner at six. In remembering to breathe again you rushed to your closet and you looked at every dress you owned while Richard said he was off in another interview unable to answer your crippling inquiries deadlocking you into going to dinner in your jeans and blouse you had put on to run to the market for some deodorant and toothpaste you had lost in your unpacking somehow.

.

Quarter to six you walked into the hall from your bedroom, having done your makeup and still locked in deciding last minute, just grabbing one of the ten you had set out, your doorbell lured you timidly to the door as if there were a wolf on the other side of it snarling instead of your early date. Opening the door you spotted Richard with a clutch of flowers saying, “Your neighbor let me in.”

“Thank you,” in accepting the flowers you turned letting him in feeling his eyes looking you over as you went to fill your vase of pens you emptied into a drawer for your flowers then carried back into the living room. “Got out early?”

He nodded, “Yes.” Wetting his lips as his hands slipped into his back pockets looking you over again trying to keep from claiming another breath stealing kiss you had given him at his walking you safely to your door the night before in your hotel. More than enough of a goodnight to keep him up for hours later frustrated to be alone for an entirely different reason than usual, stuck on you in your painted on dress and timid jokes to use him as your self heating blanket on the chilly night.

Nodding eagerly you wet your lips and moved closer to him, “So, I have a question.”

“Sure.” Wetting his lips again in locking his eyes on yours.

“I’ve been sort of stuck all day, and now you said dinner, but that could be a great deal of things, so I was wondering is it a dressy dress or just a dress sort of evening?”

In a weak chuckle his smile spread and nodded his head towards the hall clearly leading to your bedroom, “Grab some shoes, you look lovely for tonight.”

“But-,”

Inching closer to you your words broke off at his hands slipping free with one cupping your cheek, “All you need is shoes and your keys. Leave your phone here if you can manage without it.”

At the easing of his nose against yours goose bumps spread across your body, and your lips parted in the tiny warm breath of his falling on them in a low purred, “Please?”

At his pulling back his hand lowered to your side gently turning you in his move to sit on the arm of your couch you sighed and strolled to your room, “Didn’t take you for a tease.”

Smirking at your accusation he stood and walked after you, somehow silently purring just a foot behind you, “Tease?” Turned around his lips met yours while his arms slunk around your middle pulling you flush against his chest, humming lowly against your lips at your arms easing around his shoulders. For a few passionate minutes the world blurred around you, remembering himself and the set plans his lips left yours to press to your cheek by your ear, “Shoes please Darling.” Slowly his arms loosened even through your quick stolen peck on his lips.

Turning on your heels you went down the hall in his hands smoothing over his face while he straightened up again and fixed the collar to his dress shirt that your arm had flipped upwards. The gentle tap of your heels brought you back to him and his spreading smile as your hand eased into his for the walk to the door.

..

Chatting through the drive switched to a trading of the worst puns and jokes you had ever heard until you pulled up to a packed lot with a group of familiar faces. Richard hummed by you, “If you don’t quite remember it was Martin who invited you along in place of the date he was going to find for me.”

In a giggle you replied, “How sweet.”

He chuckled lowly stating in his claiming your hand to raise to his lips purring after he had parked, “Our official first date is next week when you’re back from France and I have wrapped in the States. I promise, it will be worth the wait.”

“I do not doubt that.” Grinning at him his lips met your knuckles again then he released your hand to let you both get out and walk around to the hood where his hand would intertwine with yours again to walk over to the group all eagerly greeting you.

A short walk in and you stood with the group while Martin gave his codename, joining a larger group you heard Martin say, “These places are supposed to be amazing.”

Looking up at Richard you asked in a whisper, “These places?”

His eyes met yours and your answer came, eating in the dark. A rapid giggle from you was muffled at your hand covering your mouth stirring an awkward grin onto Richard’s face to hold back a laugh at your soft blush. Martin glanced at you saying, “Thought it might help you both through any awkward first date jitters.”

Through the pitch black room you mumbled to yourself, “Not helping my nerves. Quite the opposite.” Richard chuckles deeply gently squeezing his hand on your hip a bit firmer that released only when you were helped into your seats.

Around the table you hear another mumble from one of the wives, “I’m going to drop something, I just know it.”

You giggle out, “Just think there’ll be magazines packed with night vision pictures of us calling us all slobs by morning.” Stirring laughs from the table silencing at the arrival of the waiters with your drinks.

Barely a few minutes in Benedict asked, “Where were the drinks again?” His wife answered the clock face position you had been given before you could hear his hand patting around when he set his drink down again. “I’ve lost my fork.”

A soft giggle left you as you assumed you had finished this course of fruit coated with various toppings and you set down your fork in your self designated spot and lowered your hands to your lap. A sudden huff sounded and Martin said, “I’ve dropped something on my lap.”

Holding back your giggle at this giggling mess of a dinner meant to calm you into dating one another and joining their group, smirking to yourself at your thought inching your left hand to your right towards the warmth coming off of Richard’s body closest to you in this rounded table. At the settling of your hand on his leg you could just about hear his body go rigid and his head turn to you as if he could see just what you were intending with your hand being planted on his upper thigh. Answering a question offered to you your hand remained in place with fingers trailing unknown shapes into his thigh deepening his grin before he lowered his free left hand to wrap around the back of your hand. Silently enjoying the gesture as this sensory depriving room made the distance between you and lack of being able to see one another a bit more tolerable for the time being.

.

Finally the dinner came to a close and when your eyes had adjusted again and you all made your ways to your cars listening as martin went on about his stains through his wife trying to console him. “These are my best trousers!”

Giggling to yourself inside the car you glanced over at him as he took his seat again, “Richard, please promise never to take me to another of those again.”

Chuckling lowly he nodded claiming your hand to kiss your knuckles again. “I would never and I doubt they would ever suggest it again.”

Following behind the others a bowling alley appeared and you all went inside to claim your lanes in the reserved alley. For two hours it was all yours and laughter and stolen bouts of snuggling with trails of lips along cheeks and necks in hopes of distracting one another.

.

Alone again draped across Richard’s chest your forehead nuzzled against his chin while he held your thin planner up over your back comparing your press schedules for the next month until he would have to head out of the country to film another show for a couple months taking him from you again. “Okay, past our second date we’ll have three weeks until our joint trip to Italy,” he turned the page again curious to see what you were doing in his working out of the country only to pause seeing your note of a flight to Berlin with out any note of returning for three months. “You’re flying out to Berlin?”

You nodded saying, “Out there Gran and I got asked to try the show on stage for three months. Why?”

“I’m filming out there. Just glad that we’ll have more time together than I assumed.” In lifting your head his turned to steal a loving kiss, “You’ll see,” folding his arms around your back saying after he set your planners aside smirking at your lowering onto his chest again, “It’s a surprise, for now, time for cuddles Darling.” Pressing his lips to your forehead in his chuckling nuzzling hold.