#sir do not look at me do not break the fourth wall do not interact!!!!

[yourstrqly]

✰ LET ME ANSWER, L. HAMILTON

[ preview ] the possessiveness comes to the light when your ex won't stop calling you during sex

[ tw ] smut, sir kink, description of a female body, answering the phone during sex, piv, riding, possessiveness

. minors do not interact .

lewis raises his eyebrows. four times, for the fourth time your phone screen light up on the nightstand, the name 'ex' showing, causing you to reach out, hands that claw on his strong back letting go, to decline the incoming call. it irritates him but the disturbance won't stop him from pushing inside your pussy again.

"give me the phone, darling", is all lewis says, shortly pulling out to sit himself against the headboard.

he looks ridiculously hot like this, tattoos glistening under the sweaty film on his skin, a single braid having found its way from the ponytail. there's a smirk on his face as he pumps his length and you want nothing more than for him to say what you should do now.

And then he does. "Ride me."

You hand him the phone and grab the base his cock to hold it in place, so you can easily slip the length inside.

A loud wail escapes your throat when his heavy cock scrapes up your inner walls, and you slowly start to ride him. he slides a hand under your ass, forcing you to bounce faster in his lap. your back arches, leaning against his chest and your hot breath fawns on his neck, where you bit softly into it. his throbbing dick stretches you out, leaving a burn when he reaches the depth of your wet hole.

You don't notice lewis pressing the green button, accepting the face call.

"hi baby, look I—who the fuck are you and where's my girl?", the guy on the other side asks, voice gruff and laced with anger. you try to keep quiet, but lewis has different plans, bending his knees to fuck himself roughly in your spongy walls that make lewd, squealing sounds. the trill of humiliating your ex turns you on; you thighten around your boyfriend's fat cock, feeling an orgasm incoming. nails dig into his shoulders, your vision is blurry and you moan, head thrown back with the mouth agape.

"tell him darling, who's making you feel this good?", lewis grunts, seeing your creamy pussy leaving a white ring around the base of his cock.

"you, sir", you whine, "you feel so good."

needily you rock your hips in his lap, ignoring the fire in your legs; his thick tip gazes the g-spot over and over again, causing you to choke out mewls and cries of pleasure — you nearly have forgotten your ex. "who the fuck do you think you are, huh?"

"i'm the boyfriend", lewis bits out. "You hear that?" You let out a high pitch cry, legs trembling as you cream his cock and drench his balls and tights. "that's the sound of my girl coming around my dick. every single day."

limp in his arms, you rest your head on his shoulder to make room for him to mark you up; you feel warm at his possessiveness, taken care of and loved. lewis' pillow lips nibble on your throat while he chases his high, chanting curses before he pulls out, throwing you on your back and spill on your pudgy stomach. you reach for the white liquid, skoping some on your fingertips before licking them clean, sucking gently the bitter taste of him, making lewis groan. "my dirty little girl, hm?", he whispers, the naughty smirk he still wears changing into proud one.

"for you, i'm everything, sir."

having not forgotten the face time call, you grab the phone to face your ex, who looks straight out of a comic with his harden gaze and red-from-anger cheeks. with mischief on your mind you angle the phone and press an open mouthed kiss on his lips, all tongue and teeth. it's messy like that and you love it.

breaking apart, the screen is black.

"didn't know you could act like this, lew", you grin happily. the man only laughed in response as he got up to get you a cloth to clean you and himself; he knows that you're turned on by this side of him, and maybe, just maybe, he'd do it again, even though the thought of someone else hearing your sweet moans make him jealous. wordlessly, he puts on sportify, the voices of temptation singing his girl, and he goes down on you, ever so softly whipping your pussy.

humming from inbetween your legs, lewis states: "you're made for me, darling."

"I know", you reply, slowly drifting to the lands of dreams.

rina speaks • ₊° ✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ . . [ 🪐 ] based on this requests! hope I did it justice x

[morganacorp]

“Lady Morgana.” Sir Leon smiled when he saw her walking around the castle in a warm afternoon. “Is there something you need?” he asked, wanting to seem casual but still a little wary of the woman since she had been a suspect of sorcery a few days earlier.

“Nothing at all.” She said simply, walking past him but letting her green eyes look at him while she moved.

“Have a good day, my lady.” he replied and allowed his eyes to linger, watching her walk away.

During the next three days the same interaction was repeated, always with the same smiles and words spoken with playful voices. On the fourth day Sir Leon was training with Arthur and the other knights, following the same routine he’d been stuck in for years, but he didn’t fail to notice when Morgana walked out with Gwen and casually stood by to watch for a few minutes.

The next day he stood anxiously waiting to see if he saw her, and sure enough she casually walked around the long empty corridors with a smile, filing the air with the expensive fragrance of her perfume. He watched her casually approach him, a book in her hand and a small smile playing on her lips.

“Lady Morgana.” He said, as usual. “Is there something you need?”

“Nothing at all.” She responded, although this time she did stop in front of him. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed, my lady.”

“I wish I could ride around the woods for a while.” She said wistfully. “But I think I’ll just go to the King’s library… it’s usually very quiet up there, no one around. It’s perfect for… reading.” She said and he saw a mischievous glint in her eye, a spark to accompany her flirty voice.

“Hope you find some entertainment in those books.”

“I’m sure I will.” She smirked, restarting her walk and heading upstairs to the library.

Sir Leon debated on what to do, if he should follow his instincts and stay put or following his desires and going after the King’s ward. He took his time to make a decision, but when he was finally ready to walk, he saw Morgana making her way back downstairs, looking straight ahead and taking the long corridor to avoid walking past him.

He waited for his next opportunity, and it was presented the very next day.

“Lady Morgana.”

“Sir Leon.” She replied, a little more shyness in her face.

“Did you have a good time in the library yesterday?” he asked casually, making her smile.

“Sadly, I did not. I couldn’t find a good book.”

“That’s a shame… maybe I could accompany you and help you look for options?”

“I wouldn’t want you to leave your post to help me on such a silly quest.” She said with bright eyes.

“I insist, my lady. You’re the King’s ward after all and it’s our duty to make sure you’re happy and safe.”

“I won’t refuse your kindness, then.” She said and led the way up the stairs to the empty cold corridor that took them straight to the library.

He noticed that there was no one around, probably because no one felt the need to protect old books, and that the tower was very cold. He saw how Morgana walked straight to the library, pushing the door open and then waited for him to close the door behind him, a small smirk on her lips.

“There’s no one around.” She insisted, walking to him and placing her hand on his chest. “But I’m afraid I have no interest in the books either, Sir Leon.” She whispered, looking up at him with mischief.

“Good, because neither did I.” he chuckled, his hands cupping her face while he leaned down to kiss her. He felt her soft lips moving against his, with soft sighs leaving her mouth when his hand dropped to her waist to pull her closer, making him feel a fire inside him that he hadn’t really felt before for her.

“Sir Leon…” she sighed, breaking the kiss to catch her breath. She looked up at him with hungry eyes, a smirk on her lips and a certain flush on her cheeks.

“Better than reading?” he asked and backed her against the cold stone wall.

“So much better.” She whispered, allowing him to kiss her again, feeling the slight tickling of his beard against her delicate skin. She sighed and tilted her head to the side, allowing him to kiss her neck and collarbones before she claimed his lips in a hungry kiss again.

He was so busy trying to make her gasp again that he completely missed how she pulled a dagger and swiftly stabbed his side with it.

“What-” he gasped, falling to his knees in front of her, his hands going to his side to try and stop the bleeding without success.

“This should teach you to never get in the way of the High Priestesses.” She said with a cold voice, stabbing him again, the sweet taste of revenge making her feel triumphant. “Such a brave knight of Camelot brought to his end for something as little as a kiss.” She smirked, watching how life slowly left his body.

He might’ve foiled her plans to take over the throne days earlier, but he wouldn’t stand in her way ever again.

[organic-guacamole]

showtime

episode 211 let's go

ok first of all, this is the second to last episode guys... I don't even wanna think about how much pain I'll be in after next week's episode

mr mazzara doing the recap-

this is so weird to me and I don't know why

WHY DIDN'T YALL JUST ASK BENJAMIN FOR HELP, THATS LITERALLY HIS THING

is Nini giving out the cards a callback to season 1 when Natalie Bagley said that Nini gave her a card or something on opening night of another musical?

STEPHY AS THE ENCHANTRESS OMG YES

Ricky in the crown gives me Harry styles in that photoshoot vibes

he's so pretty.

ok but why did we never see Ricky and Ashlyn interact before? it's been like 5 seconds and I already love how they bounce off each other and it's just so natural

OH THEY REALLY DON'T HAVE ANY UNDERSTUDIES-

well that explains a lot...

so Ricky fell on top of Ashlyn and all that broke for both of them was their wrist-

insert Jake Peralta *coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool no doubt no doubt no doubt*

of course howie was amazing as the beast, were we expecting anything less??

Ricky is so beautiful and I will not shut up about it....

let me enjoy this before the makeup crew slaps mud on his face.

Nini and Ricky talking to eachother? in a civil manner? wasn't she avoiding him just in the last episode? hm ok

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH THEY CANT EXPRESS THEIR FEELINGS JUST LIKE ME HAHAHAHAHA THIS IS HILARIOUS, WHATS NEXT? THEY CUT EVERYONE OFF CUZ THEY CANT HANDLE EMOTIONS? ...ha

yes Kaden and Rico, my favourite east high boys 🥰

I mean....where's EJ?

THERE HE IS

EJ AND GINA IN THE BACKGROUND... doing something idek

KOURTNEY'S MOM IS BACK YAY

Howie is a shining star, ofc ofc

the smallest fOrk

can't wait to see the fork burst into song about how she deserves more than to be used to eat salad😌

the duster and the bluster.... ok😃

hi Gina!

hi- oh wow I didn't know Robbie Rotten was in this show!!!!!

the portwell look.

that my friends, is a married couple's look✋

GOSH EJ WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU

aww Gina's so excited for this

D word?

Die?

Delicious?

Dom Toretto?

"good, clean fun all alone with someone I dig...a lot"

sir that does not sound very clean to me

SEBLOS

Seb looks so cute standing there next to pope Carlos

DID THEYEY REALLY LIGHT ANTOINE ON FIRE-

I NEED TO SEE THAT

Seb's reading Carlos better than big red read the script in episode 102, this is great development after the "fight"

Kourtney really just made the best outfit for herself and let the rest of them suffer

the way Gina immediately goes to hold on to EJ after the announcement

"tonight we're going to put the U in UTAH"

...

"hey where are you from?"

"TAH"

SEB'S SINGULAR CLAP KILLED ME-

he's officially salt lake city's resident thanos

just wity clapping because for some reason I have a feeling he doesn't know how to snap his fingers...don't ask why

Ms Jenn do you mind encouraging your leads before the show? idk just an idea

pepto bismol product placement smhsmh

those flowers are bigger that big red himself-

*bops along to the opening theme*

that whistle at the end slaps everytime

WHY IS THE AUDIENCE SO MASSIVE

I guess they're all here to see Ms Jenn go on as a fork after Nini decides to *go her own way*

wow i am so funny

so they couldn't do many group scenes cuz of covid, but this 300 person crowd is cool? nice

OO THE VIOLIN GIRL FROM EPISODE 6 IS IN THE ORCHESTRA

HOWIEEEEEE

"Mr Caswell", he said, in the loudest voice possible while backstage at a show that's about to start.

Mazzara what are you trying to pull-

I usually like Benjamin but I don't like his tone

"iS yOuR wHoLe FaMiLy HeRe?" LIKE YOU DON'T ALREADY KNOW THATS A SOFT SPOT FOR EJ

"we've had some good conversations these past few weeks"

right so what's going to happen after you graduate?

what does he think of you not going to Duke?

what did he say about you giving the sweatshirt that's been in the family for 3 generations to a girl you're not even dating?

good old Mr. M

therapist Mr. Mazzara, they all need it.

start with Ricky though.

"Michael Bowen"

dude why did you shave, now you look less like "hot lumberjack" and more "creep at the gas station"

OH-

does she not like Mike anymore?

why does it sound like jennzzara started dating and now they just sit back and talk smack about everyone in their freetime

break the fourth wall-

uhhhh im scared

why am I scared

he's scary

hehe flowers for Ricky, obviously for Ricky, ObViOuSLY

oh boy poor Michael

this man is in love, rip

why does Ms Jenn always look at people with her eyes open so wide

LILYYYY

I'm only excited because I really like the idea of lily and Ricky being friends, nothing more.

ha this guy's got jokes

a MOAT AROUND THE SCHOOL

wheeze

also he's very pretty.

"the wolves and very talented humans"

how dare he forget to mention the very talented wolves and normal humans, smh erasure

"being nice, what a concept" ted talk by Lily who still doesn't have a last name

did she just say lol out loud

same with the hug emoji last episode-

go touch some grass babes

the way he didn't say no, but said he didn't know how the east high kids would react-

not saying he does want to date her but that's an interesting thing to think about, also another thing to write an essay analysis on just to leave it in my drafts for a few months

awww lily genuinely trying to help him

sorry guys, I've been taken by the Lily charm (didn't know it existed until now but oh well)

REMEMBER WHEN I SAID I'LL NEVER SHIP PORTWELL?

just look at me now

the Lily wink I can't she's so cute-

HELP ME I'M BEING HELD HOSTAGE BY LIL-

David Attenborough?

oh nvm it's Benjamin narrating the show in a really weird British accent for some reason.

STEPHY GOT MORE LINES YAY GOOD FOR HER

also is this to show that Nini doesn't care about being the star of the show anymore? the way she's supporting everyone else even though she's a fork?

I would pay for a special of the full musical ngl

OOO THE TRANSFORMATION WAS SMOOTH

shockingly

yo where did the makeup come from

man I wish I was a theatre kid

THIS IS STEPHY'S EPISODE NOW IDC✋

my girl is starring

"needs an X-factor"

Simon Cowbell creeps in

"it's a yes from me"

and them boom, he takes Nini and mistreats her horribly and then she comes back to theatre after deciding music isn't for her👍

"I thought she just hog-tied him?"

don't ask sebby, it's better if you don't know.

imagine they spotlight the wrong person and this dude is just some random person that likes writing down stuff during shows.

Ms Jenn just let them do what they rehearsed (at some point we never saw) or else this is gonna end horribly wrong

"help"

same Carlos, same

I love how seb is just his translator rn

I thought he said "great displeasure" instead of "greatest pleasure"....help?

big red coming out from throwing up to see his girlfriend star is the cutest thing in this show.

Ash and Gina dancing is so fun

I'm imagining them practicing at night at their home, watching the movie for the 100th time and making sure their one dance together is perfect

KOURTNEY YES

HOWIE IS IN LOVE AHHHH

I LOVE HOWIE SO MUCH

SEBBY

THIS SCENE HAS SO MUCH GOING ON I CAN'T KEEP UP

THIS IS SO GOOD

HOW???

no because I'm actually crying

I'm dead serious.

we need this musical released as a special

big red is so proud and I love to see it

Natalie: "if you do not by at least 20 dollars in concessions, you do not support art"

rando in the audience: "but I pay for ad free Spotify"

Mr Mazzara clapping in the distance

Gigi, the guy you like is talking to you, complimenting you and hyping you up

YOU LUCKY LITTLE FEATHER DUSTER

aw EJ teasing her about the chocolates in a way that doesn't make her feel bad? take notes Richard

JORDAN FISHER

there is no rest of the show idc Jordan is it for me

THE WIG CAP ON RICKY OMG

they look like they're high and having "deep" conversations on the floor

THE MEAN GIRL WITH THE EYES-

@sunshine-julie-molina YOU HEAR THAT

Natalie really just be coming for them all

Howie what is happening rn

I'm scared

"did you enjoy it"

"very much"

dude wants a kiss so bad

ASHLYN OMG

NO DON'T DO IT BECAUSE OF LILY, PUT YOUR OWN TWIST ON IT

I want a Jordan autograph please

just keep swim- oh pushing...

Gina is literally a giant next to him and I live for it

am I about to cry for the 3rd time in this episode?

yes.

Ricky's leg kicks under the table makes me so happy aw

the portwell glances will kill me.

ah yes, mashed potato snow

Mr. M.... I'm not a theatre kid but even I know you can't have your phone on backstage.

Howie please just do it

CHIP'S BIG LINE I CANT

I LITERALLY HAD TO PAUSE IT AMD SCREAM INTO MY MASK FOR A SOLID 2 MINUTES (I'm not at home rn) HES SO CUTE

oh ok bye Jordan

oo tea

NOT HIM BEING STARSTRUCK BECAUSE HE'S MEETING HIS FUTURE BROTHER IN LAW-

"we're all just glad Gigi has a big brother figure in her life"

excuse me for a few thousand hours while I laugh hysterically

THE CAMERA ZOOM ON EJS FACE AND EVERYTHING-

STOP EJ LOOKS LIKE HE'S GONNA CRY BUT I CAN'T TAKE HIM SERIOUSLY WITH THE STAGE MAKE-UP

someone else said this already but I think it's hilarious that they had to bring in 2 guest characters to create some portwell angst

omg this really is Cici's episode, found family is their thing

elevator music lol

I'm gonna bet that big red took the harness for his surprise for Ashlyn without realising what it was

did Ms. Jenn just....tell her most mentally unstable student....to commit suicide....on a disney show...was that....I'm very....well....what the actual-

oh and there she goes running off instead of trying to make it right

oh wow Nini's the hero, she's gonna save the show 🤩

😐

the judge is doing a sudoku

honestly if I went to the hsm show as well, I'd come prepared for this one too

Lily why are you looking like that-

I WAS JUST STARTING TO LIKE YOU DON'T MESS THIS UP

wow ok, there goes that.

omg

what if Howie was acting weird because he knew what Lily did and wanted to tell Kourtbut Lily threatened him so he was scared to-

anyways see y'all clowns next week when we all simultaneously lose all motivation for the week without Fridays to look forward to.

[supernatural-reacts]

Season 6 episode 20

- I know exactly two things about this episode; a) that it is destiel heavy and b) that it is painful. Other than that I’m going in completely blind so this should be interesting.

- CAS POV?! CAS POV?!?! HOLY SHIT CAS POV!!?!?

- is he praying or breaking the fourth wall or...?

- “hello Dean” 🥺

- god the way Cas looks at him. All I can think is “still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester.”

- Castiel stop fricking lying

- “but Cas you’ll call right? If you get in to real trouble?” aaAaAaAaaAA

- I missed Crowley :)

- “the stench of that Impala’s all over your overcoat angel.” FUCK MAN

- “I still considered myself the Winchester’s guardian. After all they taught me how to stand up, what to stand for.” AAaaAaAAaAaaAaA

- the way Cas’s voice is so determined but also shaking when Crowley threatens Sam and Dean?? 😭 Mr. Collins I just wanna talk

- Crowley is actually one of the smartest characters on the show

- I FEEL PERSONALLY VICTIMIZED BY DEAN AND CAS LYING TO EACH OTHER

- DEAN DEFENDING CAS IM 🥺😭 he’s gonna feel so betrayed

- “the worst part was Dean trying so hard to be loyal” y’all. People. Look at his face when he’s saying that.

- demon counterpart to Bobby is not as good of an actor as Jim Beaver

- DAMN CAS 😳

- hearing another angel say Cas instead of Castiel is weird

- “freedom is a length of rope and God wants you to hang yourselves with it” what an absolutely metal line

- I love the guy who plays Raphael he’s really good

- “this is Cas guys.” I WILL CRY

- “for a brief moment I was me again.” *relating to Cas intensifies*

- “Superman going to the dark side” bitch you weren’t supposed to say that! Cas you’re smarter than this

- “if you touch a hair on their heads I will tear it all down” AAAAAAA

- OH THIS IS WHERE THE WATCHING DEAN RAKE LEAVES THING IS FROM

- “I’m an Angel, you ass.” Cas and Crowley interactions are *chef’s kiss*

- “submit or die, what are you French?” ASHGJKAJKL

- Castiel stop Castiel stop Castiel stopppp

- damnnn Crowley is good at this

- Dean so clearly and desperately not wanting to hurt Cas will haunt me

UM EXCUSE ME THIS IS ILLEGAL 🤧

- Sam makes a good point though...

- “where were you when I needed to hear it?” “I was there. Where were you?” I AM OFFICIALLY CRYING

- Cas telling Sam, Dean, and Bobby to run and Dean stopping at the door to look back at him is actually something that can be so romantic personal

- “you know the difference between you and me? I know what I am. What are you Castiel?” OKAY

- “hello Dean.” I’m in pain. I’m in a lot of pain.

- “I’m doing this for you Dean. I’m doing this because of you.” Just thinking about that post that’s like There are a lot of ways to say ‘I love you.’

- “next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family.” 😣

- last picture I swear but SIR

- Cas desperately asking for a sign is going to be the thing that kills me

- sorry that was really long but I had a lot of thoughts

[ragingbookdragon]

Just Say The Word And I'll Be Yours, You Know I Never Forgot. PT. 3

Asra x M!Apprentice

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author’s Note: You know what’s a problem for me? Not ending stories in 00. Like I cannot finish a story with a WC like 1342. That shit drives me up the wall. So my dumbass decided to write until I got a nice neat, divisible by 5 WC. More work for me, more fic for you. Enjoy! -Thorne

           He watched the boy shift his weight between his feet, eyes darting around far too fast to be a simple scope of his surroundings. Both actions were tell-tale signs that of nervousness, and that anxiety multiplied when Master Dralis laid a hand on his shoulder, shoving him just enough for him to stumble in front of the group of mercenaries. A couple of them snickered, he and the others merely stared at him as he righted himself, a smudge of pink dusted across his pale cheeks.

           “Everyone,” Master Dralis started, silencing the laughter. “This is Avisarion, he’s come from Vesuvia and he’ll be training with us from now on.” He eyed the group leaders in the crowd. “Who wants to take him?”

           For a moment, no one said a word, everyone seeming to avert their gazes from the boy. He knew why. No one wanted fresh blood. That required training and hours’ worth of schooling to be competent enough to fit in with a squad, and no one had that time—especially not the leaders of the squads. So, when Master Dralis met his eyes, he offered a silent nod, watching as the older man pushed Avisarion towards him.

           “(Y/N)’s group will take you for now, boy.” He glanced at the large group. “Dismissed.”

           The mercenaries filed out of the room, some of them giving Avisarion harsh glares that made him frown.

           “Don’t mind them,” (Y/N) muttered as he stepped forward, holding out his hand to shake. “They’re just a bit standoffish.”

           The words were the first kind ones the boy had heard since he came to the castle, other than Master Dralis, and he almost burst into tears as he shook (Y/N)’s hand.

           “How old are you?” (Y/N) asked with a scrutinizing look.

           “Fifteen,” Avisarion murmured. “I just turned fifteen last week.”

           “We’re the same age then.” He looked at Master Dralis. “Permission to take him to the blacksmith for fitting, sir?”

           Master Dralis nodded. “Granted. And make sure you report to Marisa for your next assignment, (Y/N). You’ve sat on your ass long enough.”

           He grinned and with a glance to the boy, he said, “Follow me.”

           Avisarion was quick to obey, and as fast as (Y/N) was moving, he was glad he did. He noted the way the mercenaries in the hallway glared at him, and risking the noting, he stated, “The others around here don’t seem to like me.”

           “Do you have family back in Vesuvia?”

           “I—yes, yes I do,” he answered in confusion. “An aunt who runs an apothecary.”

           (Y/N) nodded. “There’s your reason.”

           “I…don’t follow?”

           He held the door for Avisarion and tipped his head, urging him inside. “Fourth-fifths of the mercenaries in this castle are orphans, taken from the streets of various cities.” Closing the door after him, he added, “When we get a recruit that has family, it tends to make them bitter when they remember they don’t have one themselves.”

           “Oh.” Avisarion murmured, standing near one of the tables that had leather armor on it. “I didn’t know.”

           (Y/N) shrugged. “You learn.” He looked around the room for the blacksmith. “Perrian, we’ve got a new recruit to fit armor with.”

           The man waved him off and he met Avisarion’s eyes. “I’m going to report to Marisa for my assignment, then I’ll come back to show you around.” He nodded at the old man coming over. “Perrian will take care of you. Answer his questions honestly and with the best skill you can.”

           (Y/N) could tell he was scared, and he remembered his own beginning at the castle. He placed a hand on Avisarion’s shoulder and though he smiled, he opted to give him the words truthfully.

           “Life isn’t going to be easy from here on out. I’ve no doubt the others will try to hark on you because your new blood.” Avisarion’s face fell, and he squeezed his shoulder. “But you’re on my squad.” He smiled. “We take care of our own, so don’t worry so much.”

           Avisarion gave him a relived look and he pulled away and headed for the door. “Welcome to the Shadowguards.”

***

           Coldness startled (Y/N) awake; he jerked his head up, eyes snapping open, gaze darting wildly around his surroundings. Tall, dark trees stood silent around him, and the ground was covered in a thick blanket of snow. He had no idea where he was, but that wasn’t the most concerning thing; it was absolutely freezing. As if he’d suddenly realized so, (Y/N) clambered to his feet, pulling his duffle bag back over his shoulder. He was glad that he’d taken his heavy coat with him though as he shoved his hands in his pockets for warmth.

           He glanced in another direction, but it was still the same sight—stillness in snow. No birds singing, no small critters hunting for grubs, not even a deer or an elk scavenging for food in the dirt. It was just (Y/N), alone in this vast expanse of snowfield.

           His breath came in puffs of white clouds and reached up, rubbing at his eyes. Whatever he’d been dreaming about still lingered in his mind, but he couldn’t make out what it was. His best guess was probably a memory and while he was happy to start the journey, he didn’t even know what the supposed Shadowguards were, or who Avisarion was. (Y/N) hadn’t heard of either name, even after coming back to life, and Asra had never mentioned them neither. Whoever they were, they were only known to him.

           A sudden grumbling echoed in his ears and he cursed, placing a hand to his stomach. For a brief moment he considered giving in to his hunger, but he ignored it. I need to find shelter first. He spun in a circle. But I don’t even know which way to go. Sighing, he shut his eyes and held out his hand, ignoring how his fingers seemed to numb when exposed to the frigid air. (Y/N) took a deep breath and relaxed, letting his magic ebb out. He wasn’t searching for anything specific, just a small enough twitch in the web so that he would know which way to head. Just his luck, when he opened his eyes a few moments later, he’d hit nothing.

           “Shit,” he grunted and took one last look around before resigning himself to his fate of wandering around a frozen wasteland until he froze like an ice-cube. His first step almost made him fall on his ass when his foot sunk into a foot and a half of snow. (Y/N) took a calming breath to avoid yelling in frustration, but he did grumble as he freed himself and kept moving.

           He wandered through the snow for almost two whole hours before he came to the edge of the tree line, but his relief was short-lived as the expanse shifted before him, and suddenly he was staring at another forest of dead trees.

           (Y/N) looked up at the darkened sky above him. “Seriously!” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “C’mon! Gimme a break!”

           A twinkling sounded behind him and he spun, hand reaching for the dirk at his side, but his heart leapt into his throat at the sight before him. A creature, almost as big as the lodestones back in Vesuvia stood just a few feet away, a sharp scythe in its grasp. Its body was elongated and skeletal, the color of the starless night sky, but the thing that sent shivers up his spine, other than the giant blade it wielded, were the glowing auburn eyes that peered at him from the ivory skull, that of a horse.

           Adrenaline soared through (Y/N) fought viciously with the urge to keep his feet below him and not collapse on weak knees. His fingers curled around the hilt of the dirk and he took a half step back, steadying himself in case the creature attacked. He had to play this carefully. He had no idea what magic it had and the scythe it carried was almost as big as it was. If he wasn’t cautious, he was either going to be blown away by some eldritch blast or bisected. Maybe if he could get behind it, he could daze it with a blast? Maybe try a faint from the front? Maybe go to—

           “You think quite a lot about battle strategy, (Y/N).” He blinked, jaw dropping in shock. The creature cocked its head. “Are you well?”

           His mouth snapped open and shut until he blurted out, “You know me?”

           The creature laughed, and (Y/N) ignored the fact that it didn’t have any vocal cords to make such a noise.

           “We’ve spoken many times, (Y/N). Past and present,” it explained, and (Y/N)’s eyes went wide.

           “You’re Death.”

           Death tipped its head down. “It has been some time since you travelled to my realm, (Y/N). The last time you did was many, many years ago.” Its glowing eyes narrowed in something he recognized as kindness, “Shall we go someplace warmer? It’s been so long since I interacted with humans. I do remember that your fleshy sacks get cold so easily.”

           (Y/N) could only nod in stunned silence as Death waved a hand, and the scenery changed around them. He was pleasantly surprised to see the features of the back room from shop come into view, but even more so that it was no longer freezing. Warmth seeped into his bones and he sunk into one of the plush cushions, dropping the duffle bag behind him.

           “Make yourself at home, (Y/N),” Death suggested. “This place is assuring to you, is it not?”

           (Y/N) sighed with content. “It is.”

He watched as the Arcana took a seat across from him, the scythe disappearing in a whisp of smoke. They placed their hands on the table, dark boney fingers clacking as they interlocked in a neat hold. Their auburn eyes stared into his, as if gazing deep into his soul, and though he felt like he should feel unnerved, he didn’t. In fact, he felt…comfortable.

           (Y/N) looked at them. “Why didn’t you come earlier?”

           Death merely stared. “I was observing. Learning. Remembering you.”

           “You know me well then?”

           Death hummed. “Very.”

[calocera]

SPOILERS FOR CATS 2019, here’s my hot takes and opinions

be warned, THIS IS LOOOONG

First off my overall opinion, i LITERALLY cannot say whether it was good or bad, like lots of critics say it just...is beyond that. It’s VERY fun and that’s all I can bring myself to say, I have LOTS of problems with it but I can’t even say that they make the movie bad. It is definitely worth watching

OPINIONS ON CHARACTERS:

Victoria: she’s good! I appreciate that they kinda left her personality blank other than her innocence since that’s pretty much how she always was, still not super thrilled with her as a main character but franchesca did the best she could

Munkustrap: I loved him! he was more of a main character than I would have expected, but they STILL cut all the charm from his lines... why do I love him then? Robbie fairchild did AMAZING background acting, whenever he was in frame he was always doing something SUPER munkustrap-y and making cute dad faces. he was dealt bad lines but he worked around it best he could. Also his legs were normal so...epic fail

Mistoffelees: 😒😒😒😒😒🤢🤢🤮 disappointed but not at all surprised...he was just a Woobie, a softboy uwu nice guy. I felt like I was seeing fanon 2013 loki in cat form. THEY MADE HIS SONG A SADBOY PITY PARTY SONG...WHY WOULD YOU MAKE THE 11 O’CLOCK NUMBER SLOW AND SAD???? Where is the smug little shit who’s vague and aloof yet confident and joyous? He was murdered by his evil homophobic shadow clone. I’m not even gunna indulge the fact that him and Victoria were a thing, I’ll go over that later. He also just constantly looked like the crying cat meme his eyes were so red and watery it was horrifying, yet somehow he wasn’t the worst character , that leads us too.....

tugger: what.the.fuck.did.you.do.to.this.boy. HE GOT THE TREATMENT I EXPECTED FOR MUNKUSTRAP! HE WAS DEMOTED TO BACKGROUND CHARACTER! not only did he not sing mr. mistoffelees, he literally did nothing other than his song, he never interacted with ANY characters besides jenny in 1 scene. I know cats has no set main characters but he’s undoubtedly one of the most important characters and he’s like...the least important named character in the movie. ALSO Jason Derulo was not sexy at all. There was NO hip thrusting NO sexy meowing NO glamrock, he was just an asshole and if I hadn’t already seen the original I would have either completely forgotten about his character or though he was the worst character. I’m so fucking angy I cannot express.

Girzzabella: ngl I expected better. Her acting was great but with the horrible effects I couldnt get invested but I’ll touch on the effects later. Her singing was good, but I expected it to carry the movie and it wasn’t at all the best song in the movie, I’d say she’s about as good as I expected she’d be but the movie itself was more enjoyable than I expected so she was less significant

Old d: she was fine, she LOOKED the part definitely, she didn’t have as large a presence as ken page but I wouldnt expect that of her. Her singing wasn’t the greatest though, her voice is fine by it’s just NOT suited to old d’s songs. I would have preferred she play a female gus bc her voice is very sweet and frail, not at all built for belting like her songs required.

Macavity: he’s just...eh. He’s basically a comic relief villain which sucks. He does practically nothing besides kidnap people, say a cheesy line, and act like a caricature of a 90s cartoon villain (and not one of the fun ones) like theres a scene where he poofs away and when he does it he goes, MACAvityyyyyyy and fades away its so unintentionally funny but it just makes him so lame as a villain. not to mention he doesnt even die at the end or get any satisfying conclusion he just gets stuck on top of a statue and his powers suddenly stop working (for some reason??)

Bombalurina: fuck that, I am simultaneously glad she only was in the macavity number bc fuck off Taylor Swift but also disappointed bc she deserved so much better.

Bustopher: 😟 never in my darkest nightmares did I think I’d see bustopher Jones deepthroat multiple crayfish but here we are. Somehow THIS was the most sexual song, I cannot begin to name the fetishes checked off by this performance bc itd hit word limit. Let me just say that I said multiple times out loud, “damn bustopher kinda a freak with it 😏😏” like I CANNOT stress how weirdly sexual it gets. And ofc its all otherwise just haha funney fat guy eat food and burp and fall down. He also breaks the fourth wall a few times which like, fuck you

Jenny: exactly what was shown in the trailer. Unfunny fat jokes and slapstick humor. Also they focused WAY too many shots on her cat pussy and I wish I was making that up. Also of note is that the cgi on the rats and cockroaches are drastically worse than the rest of the movie, like not just bad designs the effects are BAD. also they translated they whole gumbie cat fur-shedding as her wearing fake skin over her outfit which would be fine but UHH the fake fur is skin tight??? so it literally looks like shes ripping off her skin and she does it multiple times its fucking terrifying

Mungojerrie and rumpelteazer: meh, they are fine as characters, not quite as energetic as I would have liked but they didn’t massively fuck anything up? The song was horrible, they went against the beat for...some reason? Like it’s a song with a very distinct rhythm and they split up the lyrics so weirdly. I liked that they followed through with the lore of them working for macavity

Skimbleshanks: YES YESSSSSSSSSS HOLY FUCKING SHIT 💗💕💖💞💜😳😳😳😳😳😳😳💜💛🧡💚💖❤️💗 i absolutely CANNOT express how good skimbleshanks made me feel. He looks like a leather daddy with his chains and suspenders and hat and stache, I hate that I’m saying this but uh...mr skimbleshanks sir😳 we were actually screaming it was so fucking good. Watching this movie was worth it just for skimble. Unironically. I’m listening to the song as we speak. It was kinda weird that they moved the tap dancing to this song but that’s more of a detractor from Jennie’s and a plus side to skimbles since it’s good tap

Gus: good! Ian did a good job of course, no one doubted that he would.

Growltiger and griddlebone: not racist but still absolutely horrifying. One of the worst parts of the movie, I actually got squeamish looking at griddlebone a few times that’s how bad she looks

Everyone else: not that good. I couldn’t tell who was who, all their personalities were annoying, I’m on imdb as we speak trying to figure out who even was supposed to be who. Demeter is completely butchered and jemima just isn’t there, doesn’t sing her part, it all sucked man.

Tech talk:

CGI: okay so here’s the thing, the effects are good. GREAT even, the issue is how fucking horrible the designs are. The lack of cat nose, mouth, and hairy cheeks makes them all look disgusting. Also the feet. Holy fuck why do they have feet. THERES A FUCKING SCENE WHERE TUGGER GRABS VICTORIAS FOOT AND SNIFFS IT. IT LASTS LIKE 5 SECONDS. Old Deuteronomy, Gus, and Cassandra (bc she was already bald) are the only characters I’d say look anywhere close to decent, grizabella looks okay in profile but head on it’s all horrible again. its really such a shame bc the sets are gorgeous! i really hope this movie gets some form of recognition for its sets.

the editing and directing was DOGSHITTTTTTT there are SO many scenes where characters just teleport or parts where people are singing and no ones mouths are moving its really distracting

Other things:

it’s OBVIOUS that the critics calling this movie horny have never seen the original. I’d definitely say the movie is LESS HORNY than the play. It IS however waaaaaaay more uncomfortable with its hornieness, so I’d say in that regard YES, the horny stuff is much more gratuitous and off putting despite there being an overall smaller amount than the play. ie everything bustopher jones does

They changed a BUNCH of lyrics for some reason?? Like they cut verses which I understand but there are like a handful of lyrics in almost every song they just...change. like...okay? All changing lyrics is gunna do is make people who knew the songs frustrated when they can’t sing along

the dancing was incredible! shame the cg just fucking invalidates all of it bc your mind doesnt register it as real people doing real moves

OKAY THE FUCKING CATNIP SCENE so when taylor swift showers everyone in catnip they all just fucking start moaning and go FULL HORNY its TOO MUCH like misto full on does an o face like eyes rolled back mouth open  and munkustrap is like ass up panting i still havent processed it im fucking terrified to encounter it again. they cut the orgy? yet added THIS??? k

WHY did they take 2 of the most iconic characters who FREQUENTLY interact and just

a. Never even have them make eye contact

b. Make 1 a background character

c. Completely change the personality of the other one

On the topic of Victoria/misto: I am just still at a loss as to why they thought it’d be a good idea? They completely removed Plato and for what? This? Pathetic. It’s worth noting the weirdly munkustrap has WAYYY more chemistry with both Victoria AND mistoffelees then they did with each other (there’s a part where it looks like misto and munk are about to kiss for some reason?? munk ALSO gets all touchy feely with skimbleshanks???) anyways munkustrap king moments

tldr; its worth watching, the best parts were the sets, the dancing, skimbleshanks, and munkustrp fucking CARRIES the weight of the world with his face acting. the worst things were a big fat tie between bustopher, tugger,misto,jenny,growltiger and griddlebone, and the godawful design choices

[cosmic-affinities]

BKDK DM fic/Twt thread

BKDK Soulmate Mind Reading Word Count:1322

AU Summary: Everyone has a soulmate, at 16 you gain the ability to hear/read their thoughts, the only way to stop the mind reading for good is to kiss your soulmate (If the pair has previously kissed they have to kiss again after they come of age)

This is a Ficlet/DM fic/ twitter thread thing SO that just means it is not structured the same way as something I would post on AO3. The format is much more loose and is more so me detailing a plot from start to finish rather than an actual fic. I write these in a chat so the spaces are message breaks, after I hit send on a message. I hope you give it a chance! I have another one of these posted on my twitter (this one is over there too!) which you can visit here

A BIG BIG thanks to @we-stanjirou for encouraging my bkdk rants that eventually become these fics and for getting me to finally post them!

The mind-reading starts at 16 and it happens on your birthday (so there are a couple of months where Bakugou can hear Deku’s thoughts before it’s mutual)

You have to focus on it for it to work, it’s not just someone else in your head all the time (unless you are unfocused and kinda just listening)

They become roommates because they were training in Bakugou’s room and busted up two walls and, instead of giving Bakugou a new room, Aizawa moves them both to an extra room on the fourth floor slightly bigger than the rest of them because they would have to share

They were stressed about it cause they were both crushing hard while also having their soulmates voice in their head

They both tended to try and keep the voice away unless they were alone but now that they were sharing a room it was a bit more difficult, they each caught themselves listening to the voice before bed or in the shower, etc

When Bakugou focused on it a majority of the talking was vaguely about people or it was detailed work

He figured out that his soulmate went to Yueii because they were thinking about principal nezu one day

He really tried hard to not pay any attention to the voice but he couldn’t help wanting to know

Deku on the other hand was really curious about who is soulmate could be but he never got any hints about it, he guessed he was never listening at the right time

When they became roommates they found themselves thinking about their soulmate more and more often, leading to them accidentally reading their souls mates thoughts just because when they began to think a little too much about their roommate they redirect themselves to a more abstract concept

Bakugou heard a curious thought one night ‘I wonder who /he/ thinks about at night.’ before he could even process the question his mind supplied ‘Deku obviously’ and he could only hope his soulmate wasn’t listening to that (sadly he wasn’t)

The next time something big happened it was in class, Aizawa had given them some free time and the class ended up having a big conversation

Bakugou had been commenting vaguely but mostly keeping to himself

Deku had been lost in thought

At one point Bakugou sent a light push at Kirishima for something stupid he said when he heard the voice say

“I wonder if /his/ soulmate is Kirishima”

(they can tell when the voice is about them, special soulmate bond)

His immediate reaction is to scoff and he whispers a quite “tch shitty hair is not my soulmate”

Deku looks over and says “did you say something Kacchan?” and Bakugous focus on his soulmate voice drops

He quickly patches things up saying “tch no I didn’t fucking say anything” although he was a bit unconvincing

Deku let it go and Bakugou let out a breath hoping no one else caught his response

The implications of his soulmate 1-knowing who Kirishima is and 2-wondering about their ‘relationship’ right after they interacted didn’t hit him until a few minutes later

His eyes widened and he looked around him knowing that one of these shit heads had to be his soulmate and he, unusually, had a preference

He glanced at Deku and wondered if he was reading his thoughts

He decided to try something, he wanted to try and push his way into his soulmates head, whoever reacted would be his soulmate, it was better than not knowing

Bakugou turned away and focused and repeated in his head “are you listening”

Once he stopped he focused on the voice which responded with a repeating “I’m listening”

He smiled and began repeating “I’m in class A and I’m pretty sure you are too”

After he replied he took a look around, no one seemed to be acting weird

Deku was trying very hard to not make it obvious that he was freaking out a little

There was only one person in class A that he would want as his soulmate but that was unfair to both of them (Kacchan and his soulmate)

Bakugou took the chance to focus on the voice again and heard “you’re right I am”

Bakugou decided to kick it up a notch, the voice seemed panicked and he figured whoever it was, was on the verge of reacting

So he decided on “by the way shitty hair isn’t my soulmate, he and pinky can hear each other even if they don’t know it”

After a moment, one he assumed his soulmate took to focus on his thoughts, there was a crash

Behind him Deku had dropped his textbook into his desk, surprised to hear Kirishima and Mina be called by nicknames only Kacchan calls them, in his head

In order to try and keep his cool he let out a quick “sorry lost my grip!”

Everyone but Bakugou believed him fully and continued with their conversations

Bakugou decided to push even harder and say “it’s you isn’t it, I’m right”

Deku just barely held back a squeak and then announced he was going to use the restroom

Bakugou knew this was his chance and left a few minutes later

He figured Deku might be overwhelmed so he stopped pushing thoughts and decided to actually talk to the damn nerd

He hoped he would find him fairly easily and he was right, Deku had only turned a corner and then stood against the wall

Bakugou walked up slowly and cleared his throat while he was still far away enough so he wouldn’t startle Deku

Once Deku looked up at him his eyes widened and he let out a “Kacchan!” and then Deku took a deep breath and said “Did you have to do that in the middle of class?!” and Bakugou smiled, of course, his nerd was just worried about all of the extras in the room

“I saw my chance and took it, you were the one thinking that shitty hair was my soulmate”

At the word soulmate, the reality of the situation hit them both and Deku wondered out loud “I wonder if Aizawa knew when he put us in the same room” (he did)

Bakugou shook his head slightly and said “you’re gonna have to keep saying our thoughts out loud, I don’t plan on being able to hear them after today”

Deku was confused for a second until he remembered the way to stop being able to read your soulmates thoughts and blushed darkly

“Really now? you really want me to say them all out loud?” Deku shot back with a raised eyebrow (the effect was slightly dulled but the bright blush)

Bakugou laughed quietly and took the comment as an ok (it was more like an enthusiastic yes but that’s beside the point)

He slowly closed the distance between them and landed a solid peck on Deku’s lips

Bakugou had begun to pull back, not wanting to overwhelm Deku once again but he was chased backward

They eventually made their way back to class staggering their entrances by a few minutes

Once Bakugou walked in Aizawa said “Bakugou, Midoriya come here for a moment”

They made their way to the front and Aizawa squinted his eyes at each of them

“Midoriya was everything resolved?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good maybe now you two won’t be so distracted in the middle of my lessons, go take you seats”

They both took their seats and then look at each other before bursting out with laughter

Everyone looked at them weird and questioned them, they both just said “nothing don’t worry about it”

For the rest of the class, they held hands around their desks facing the wall

No one was surprised to see their room had the beds pushed together and how much friendlier they became with each other leading up to the big reveal of their relationship

[dahlyah-grimshatter]

Wanted

“Just there. See them?”

Captain Alan Davis lowered his spyglass, before handing it over to his junior companion. The young Lieutenant Wil Demonte was next to peek through, catching sight of the small gathering just outside the ruins Durnholde Keep. No mistaking it-- Horde refugees, trekking off to Light only knew where. 

But they weren’t alone. 

The four of them sat, huddled together facing each other. A dog paced around them, as if to keep them rounded up like sheep. No ordinary dog, either. As the sun started setting behind the two Alliance soldiers, the canine’s fiery mane contrasted all the better against the cold and dim stone ruins behind him. Not far off stood the dog’s master; a hooded figure, with blazing red eyes. Too tall to be a gnome, too short to be human. A dwarf. Dark Iron, if Wil had to guess. He could see the rifle she carried slung over her shoulder, casually.

She waved.

“Aye, sir. Seems she sees us, too.” Wil reported, handing the spyglass back to his superior officer.

Alan sighed, closing up and securing the spyglass in one of his horse’s saddlebags. The flare had caught his attention, but he hoped it meant there would be some action or something. But looking now, it was apparent the exciting part was all done. He didn’t seem terribly eager to ride out at some Dark Iron Dwarf’s beck and call. Especially some vigilante. He wore the disdain on his face well enough for Wil to read.

“... What do you wanna do, sir?” he asked the Captain, tone implicit of his willingness to follow his lead.

“Let’s check it out, I guess.” Alan huffed, spurring his horse on. “Keep up.”

The two cantered off from Thoradin’s Wall towards the ruins of Durnholde. A short enough jaunt into the Hillsbrad region which, technically, fell under Stromgarde jurisdiction now. With the Fourth War over and done, and the Alliance firming up their hold in the region, it made sense for soldiers stationed in Arathi to help keep the peace up and around the entire northern region. At least, anything south of Quel’Thalas. That was a problem for another day. 

Wil was an experienced rider, learning early on in his youth how to keep himself from falling out of the saddle. His experience had only grown since. In part, that’s why he wanted to become a proper cavalier. And the war broke out just in time to make that goal a reality. He looked up to Alan Davis, who unofficially took on the role of young Wil’s mentor when they were stationed together. The five or so years of time in service Alan had over Wil had left him somewhat jaded and terse. But Wil didn’t mind. He happily rode beside Alan, grateful for the continued opportunity to learn how to be a better cavalier beneath his proverbial wing.

The two tugged the reins of their steeds, slowing and then halting them as they arrived. Alan dismounted first, grunting as his boots hit the dirt path. He eyed the Dark Iron, making little effort to hide his displeasure from her. Wil followed along, jogging a bit to catch up.

“Let me do the talking, yeah?” Alan instructed.

Wil nodded, apparently starting to comply right away. They approached, stopping just a few paces from the Dark Iron, who grinned up at the pair.

“Oi, lads. Glad y’ saw m’ flare.” she piped up, tone jovial. “Dahlyah Grimshatter. Bounty Hunter.”

The introduction came with no somatic additions; no handshake, no nod, nothing. Dahlyah simply eyed the two humans, looking fine and prim in their Alliance blue. Alan met Dahlyah’s standoffishness with his own, simply eyeing the dwarf with an almost judgmental expression. But that didn’t stop Wil from nodding to her, in a token etiquette. His mother raised him right, after all.

“Lieutenant Wil Demonte, Stromgarde’s Sixth. This is Captain Alan Davis of the same, Miss Grimshatter.” he rattled off, practiced and professionally - breaking Alan’s directive immediately.

“What’ve you got for us, Miss Freelancer?” Alan sighed, disregarding the offered name in favor of a more derogatory title, as he looked past her to the four Horde captives.

“Jus’ some folks wanderin’ ‘bout where they ought not, aye?” Dahlyah replied with a shrug.

It wasn’t anything Dahlyah wasn’t used to. Dark Iron Dwarves weren’t the most popular lot here on the surface. Gods, they weren’t even that popular under Blackrock. She’d endured her share of dirty looks and sneers from dwarves of other clans, humans, gnomes… even the elves, in all their diverse types, all unanimously seemed to turn up their noses to the Dark Iron. She shrugged it off, never letting it bother her. She had her own opinions of all the races; and her own wasn’t above her judgment, either. Thankfully, it hadn’t cost her too much business, with the Dark Irons formally joining the Alliance.

Her hunting companion ran up beside her, sniffing the two soldiers curiously. Like his mane, the dog’s eyes burned a bright red, making for a rather intimidating sight! Wil nearly took a step back as the canine approached him… but relaxed as the beast’s jaw relaxed to let out a friendly panting tongue. He sniffed Wil, curiously, before nuzzling up against his leg.

“--Oi, an’ this ‘ere’s Ridley.” Dahlyah added. “Seems ‘e likes yeh, lad.”

Wil smiled at that. He grew up with dogs, back home. None like this, though! He found himself fascinated by the animal’s fiery mane and burning red eyes. But aside from those unsettling features, a dog was a dog! He reached his hand out for Ridley to sniff at; smiling like a giddy child when the bloodhound licked it instead! His tongue was so warm, it was weird! He eyed the dog’s mane, wondering if it was safe to touch. He thought better than to try, though.

Alan wasn’t nearly as enamored by the beast. He stepped past Dahlyah, eyes affixed to the four Horde refugees. Forsaken, all of them. His lip curled, as if to snarl at the undead abominations. They read him well enough, huddling a bit closer as if in fear for their unlives. They remained quiet for the same reason. The Captain took it as a point of pride, that his presence alone seemed to terrify these vile creatures. He scanned over their faces once by one; two men, two women. One looked like she died young. 

“Please release us, sir.” one of the men spoke up, his voice hoarse. “We’re not soldiers. And we’ve no allegiances to the Banshee Queen. We just want to get to Quel’Thalas to--”

He was cut off quickly when Alan slammed his boot into his hunched back, knocking him forward into the others. 

“--I didn’t say you could speak, deader!” he shouted.

Dahlyah glanced over her shoulder at that, her grin diminishing as she pulled her rifle from her shoulder to instead hold it ready in her hands. She watched Alan and his interactions with the refugees carefully. Wil did the same, peeling his attention from Ridley long enough to watch his senior counterpart work. His expression was… attentive. It spoke well enough of his conflicted feelings. Alan straightened his tabard, as he turned back to the bounty huntress - giving one final warning glare to the once again silent dead.

“Alright, let’s wrap this up, yeah?” he cleared his throat. “How much were you promised a head, Gun-for-Hire?”

Her smirk returned, as she shook her head. Her finger slipped down the side of her rifle, resting gently at the trigger.

“... Oi, think yer mistaken, Cap’n Davis. I ain’t ‘ere t’ collect on these ‘ere deaders,” she explained, “I’m ‘ere fer you.”

Before Alan could even blink, he found himself staring down the dwarf’s rifle, his nose close enough to sniff the gunpowder. He took a step back, gasping-- reaching for his sword, then not, all in an instant. He was confident bullets flew faster than he could unsheath it, anyway. Wil was equally caught off guard, hand grasping the hilt of his blade in Alan’s stead.

“--Dunnae, lad.” Dahlyah barked at Wil, eyes and rifle still trained on Alan. “Ridley still likes yeh, aye? Best t’ keep it that way.”

Wil looked down-- sure enough, Ridley was right there in front of him, eyes piercing as he looked up at the human. His demeanor was much less friendly - nearly snarling at poor Wil now, with ears perked and mane glowing just a bit brighter. Wil couldn’t so much as scratch his nose before Ridley would set on him, close as he was. Slowly, he took his hand off his weapon, blood draining from his face.

“W-What’s the meaning of this!?” Alan demanded, scowling at the dwarf. “I’m an officer of the Alliance military, and I--”

“--Y’know damn well why I’m ‘ere, Alan Davis!” she cut him off, proving she could shout a lot louder.

Her eyes practically burned into the Captain’s, a noticeable heat brimming off the metallic bits of her armor. Even her breath was hotter, like a dragon spewing fire. Smoke billowed out from her nostrils-- or so it seemed, anyway. Her fury set quickly, a far cry from her relaxed and casual demeanor just moments prior. She turned, slipping the barrel of her rifle up her arm to keep it trained on her target, while freeing her hand to tug a folded slip of paper from beneath her pauldron.

“But ‘m guessin’ yer partner ‘ere dunnae. Seems too nice t’ git int’a th’ shite yer doin’.” she grumbled a bit, holding the paper out for Wil to relieve from her.

He did so slowly, mindful of the blazing bloodhound practically attached to his leg at this point. He stepped forward, looking for an opening to maybe help Alan out of this predicament-- but a sharp growl from Ridley urged him to reconsider. He retreated with the paper a few paces back from the dwarf, and slowly unfolded it.

“Wil, it’s a fake! It’s obviously a--”

“--Let ‘im read, hotshot.”

It made no difference; Wil was far too curious now what the paper was, even without Alan trying to talk him out of reading it before it was even unfolded. He straightened the page, and looked it over.

WANTED

For crimes during times of war, including; - Maltreatment of prisoners - Dereliction of duty - Conduct unbecoming an Officer - Treason

A bounty of one thousand five hundred gold has been placed on;

ALAN DAVIS CAPTAIN, STROMGARDE’S SIXTH CALVARY DIVISION

In the name of his Majesty, King Anduin Wrynn

The bottom was stamped with a seal familiar insignia of Stormwind Intelligence, and signed with a scribble that read well enough as ‘M. Shaw’. 

“... Alan, what does this mean?” Wil asked, still re-reading the words over and over again. “Maltreatment? Dereliction? Fucking T-Treason, Alan!? What is this!?”

Alan didn’t respond. He didn’t see the point, now. Denying it, downplaying it… Wil was smart. He’d see right through it.

“Yer buddy ‘ere likes beatin’ on prisoners. Killin’ ‘em, too. Dunnae care wot they are. Orcs, deaders, taurens.” Dahlyah elaborated, eyes still narrowly focused on her mark. “Ain’t all y’ pretty blue Alliance brass th’ hero-types, aye?”

Wil found himself speechless, simply looking at Alan, then back to the parchment. The words seemed to cut him, deeper and deeper each time he read them. He knew Alan had no love for the Horde, and had heard him say some pretty terrible things about them. But until now, he figured it was just talk.A bit of roughing them up, but not crippling them. Not killing them.

“... What’s the treason, then?” Wil finally asked, addressing Dahlyah-- as if he couldn’t handle even speaking to Alan at the moment.

“Prisoner exchange, in Arathi. Cap’n Davis ‘ere killed two elves wot were supposed t’ be handed back t’ th’ Horde. Gutted ‘em, left ‘em fer th’ raptors.” Dahlyah explained. “Thought ‘e covered up ‘is tracks well ‘nough. Cost two o’ yer own when th’ exchanged dinnae go down. But Alan ‘ere dinnae care, aye? Got ‘is vengeance. Ain’t that right, lad?”

“Is that… true?” Wil looked to Alan, eyes misting and brow furrowed.

Again, silence. But it said it all. Alan kept his gaze on Dahlyah, lip quivering on the verge of a snarl. His hand tensed, opening and closing in a steady, nervous rhythm. A tell. One not lost on the Dark Iron.

“--Easy, there, Cap’n. Ask yer buddy there if’n that poster mentions bringin’ yeh in alive anywhere.” she warned. “Poor lad’s read it ‘nough times now t’ know it by heart.”

“... Shut up. Shut UP!” Alan snapped! “You fucking sellsword! You think you know what it’s like to be a soldier? To fight an enemy, and watch them take everything you love away from you? You have no idea! All you care about, all you fight for, is gold! You’re a greedy goblin with a license and a rifle! Not a real soldier! Not a real hero!”

It was then that, all riled up, Alan made his last mistake. He was backed into a corner, antagonized by this uppity Dark Iron nuisance! He acted without thinking, making one last ditch effort to get out of this impossible situation! Wil barely got a breath out to try and stop him, before Alan Davis, Captain of Stromgarde’s Sixth Calvary Division, took hold of the hilt of his blade to draw it. Before Dahlyah Grimshatter, greedy goblin with a license and a rifle, pulled her trigger.

~*~

Back in Stormwind, two Royal Guards hefted the bagged corpse up onto a cart, before spurring on the horse to start hauling it off. Dahlyah watched just a moment longer, as the clerk - a gnome, coming up no higher than Dahlyah’s chin -  finished counting up the gold pieces. One by one, as he slipped them into a small burlap sack. The Dark Iron’s hand idly scratched Ridley’s mane, fingers running through it to send embers floating off in the air. She sighed.

“... And fifteen-hundred.” the clerk finished counting aloud, dropping the final coin into the bag with a clink. “Looks like he gave you some trouble, hm?”

“Nah, nae too much.” Dahlyah replied, taking the sack from the Gnome, with a nod. “Nae as much as ‘e gave yer lot, seems.”

She offered a forced smile, and a final nod to the clerk, before turning to depart. 

Payouts weren’t always this sad. But this one felt tainted. Cursed. Perhaps if Wil hadn’t have been there, things would’ve gone differently? No, Alan was plenty eager to fight with him present, just the same. Still, she couldn’t get him out of her mind; the way his voice wavered, that heavy betrayal hitting the poor kid hard. It made her feel like the bad guy after all, robbing poor Wil of someone he clearly trusted and looked up to. 

No, she wasn’t the bad guy, she told herself. Alan Davis had his job, and didn’t do it well enough. And she was just doing her job-- and clearly, did it better than he did his. This was just how it was, sometimes. He wasn’t wrong when he said she wasn’t a real hero. But she never said she was. Never set out to be. Work was work. Running bounties put “kibble in the bowl and bullets in the chamber” she always said. And today’s payout would make for plenty of both. 

And that was the point of it. That was the intent. No, she wasn’t a hero.

She was a hunter.

[spacemilkies]

serendipity || captain allen x reader

for @thedevianthunterrk800 who unknowingly dragged me into the pits of hell dau. now i can’t play or watch footage without focusing in on this man. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am but no press are allowed on the premise without strict permission.”

The accusation nearly stuns you at first, before you realize in fact that you never quite shed your work clothing before venturing out. Not that it did much good now that you were caught red handed, you plucked your badge from you neck and offered a placating smile to the receptionist android.

“Sorry, I’m here on personal business not journalistic ventures.” As if to prove your point, you rose the hand clutching the bag of take out. “Just a wife bringing dinner to her husband.”

The android was quiet, her gaze giving you another look over. No doubt cross referencing your heart rate to your words. Perhaps had your husband not been employed at such a high risk job, a simple face recognition scan could have cleared you. But it seemed not even matrimony came with any real civil benefits. 

The android completed its assessment.

“I see. Please-”

“Hey, what are you doing here so late?”

A visible shudder of relief ripped across your skin as you whipped around. Appearing to be finishing up for the evening, Hank was looked about what you expected him to look first thing in the morning- ready to go home.

It’s easy to offer a smile in disguise of pity. “Figured if he wasn't going to make an effort for dinner, I could at least keep him from starving.”

“Yeah, is that why he’s so cranky? Missing one too many meals?”

Hank’s years of ‘facility’ comradery with your husband managed to bleed into a promising friendship of your own. It was a specific type of working relationship that only your hardened husband could achieve. Frankly most of his more social interactions were bridged by your efforts in some way or fashion. 

“Trying to keep him fed is a full time job.”

“Dealing with him period is a fucking career,” he muttered under his breath. Gratefully, Hank waved off the android. “Wife of the fucking SWAT captain, relax would you.”

“I honestly have no idea where he is but we all know his second wife is his desk.”

The obvious joke resonated differently with you than he likely intended for it to. In truth, your husband, his desk … and yourself had a bit of a polymourous relationship, to put it lightly. Not that you would embarrass David by bringing that up now. 

Maybe over drinks on night. 

Grateful for the unexpected intervention, you took advantage of the reprieve to escape through the security gates while you could. Waving to Hank, you bid him a good night.

“The fourth floor isn’t that big. He can’t hide forever.”

The few officers who did recognize you bid you a mix of greetings and farewells from those eager to return to their own families. As you climbed levels however, the gestures became more strict in the form of salutes and slim smiles that oozed stress. 

Rolling your eyes to the roof of the elevator, you began to pray that it wasn't a premonition of what to expect when you finally discovered your husband. You reminded yourself that you were merely there to deliver a meal, not stir up anything that could be settled at home. 

Your marriage worked this long because you respected those boundaries. The same ones that had been built without your knowledge back in university. 

By the relaxed posture of his assistant it was safe to assume he wasn’t in his office. Rachel confirmed as much with a quick wave.

“Captain Allen is in a meeting, ma’am.”

“Thats fine. Is his office open? Just dropping off dinner.”

She eyed the bag as if it was a saving grace. No doubt a prayer she’d made earlier in the day to try and aleve whatever symptoms were aggravating her boss’ nerves. 

If only it was so easy.

“I can get that for you.”

The panel in front of the door switches from red and blue, granting you access. You find yet another reason to send the young woman a nice gift basket. As if all the years of putting up with your husband didn’t earn her a vacation overseas.

Frankly, she might never look back.

“Thank you, Nancy.”

His office is as bleak and bland as the last time you’d entered it. Not even the wealth of his awards managing to permeate the walls. A few of the important credentials made the cut out of sheer necessity. You’d managed to break up the rest of the wall with two scenery photos. 

And that was it.

For someone who practically made his office his home, the lack of comfortably baffled you.

Placing the bags on the corner of his desk, you made yourself comfortable in his chair. Your job title aloe made snooping both enticing and forbidden. A thin lace of trust had been bestowed upon you given your connection to one of the largest media networks in the city. While your husband’s authority gave you more liberties than most it didn’t mean it couldnt be ripped away.

So against your journalist instinct, you kept your hands to yourself while you twiddled with a simple app on your phone. Fortunately, your husband didn’t keep you waiting long before you heard Nancy sharp cry of warning.

“Oh! Wait sir, your-”

You don’t know who is more surprised when you husband enters his office unaware. His shoulders stiffen briefly before he recognizes your silhouette by his desk, Nancy’s warning long forgotten. He looked like he was ready to chew out his next victim of the day and you could only snort in amusement. 

“Really, David.”

He’s wearing your favorite hoody of his- one you know come with a plethora of replacements but not a single is ever given to you despite your insistence. You’ve taken to wearing them briefly after laundry loads, while the house is to yourself. By the time he makes it home, its nestled comfortably in his drawer as if it was never touched. 

A secret compromise.

The door slides shut behind him as he approaches the desk. Affections pleasantly not forgotten as he leans down to peck at your cheek,“Its late, you didn't have to come by.”

“Well, I was hungry too. Figured you wouldn't want your food to get cold. Reheating meat will sometimes make it tough.”

David took the opportunity to peek into the paper bags, a hint of a smile triggering wider one for you when he recognized one of his favorites. You watched quietly as he unpacked the food, not missing how he arranged things carefully to keeps your safely confined while setting aside his own. 

It was an easier dismissal when you were expecting it. 

The hard edge of your neglected badge bit into your skin as you adjusted yourself against the desk, “Trying to get rid of me so soon, captain. I didn’t even get to opportunity to ask my questions yet.”

Unraveling the warmth of a freshly baked roll, your husband gave you an unamused grimace before taking a bite from the buttery loaf. 

“The SWAT team is not currently accepting any questions nor has any scheduled plans to council the press for ongoing operations.”

Your smile is as dangerous as your job implies, “So you guys are working on something top secret.”

“Would be home if it wasn’t.”

That was a lie and you both knew it. David would always find something to keep him occupied in his career. It had built him up and functioned as his stability. You were mere crutches on the sidelines waiting until you were needed.

As simple as it would be to challenge the claim, you thought better of it. Instead you continued to eat up time, relaxed comfortably in his chair while your husband was distracted with his meal. It seemed that his hunger had gotten to a point where he was reluctant to entertain anything that isn't satisfying his stomach. 

“Strip was sold out, so I hope skirt is okay?” 

Your husband wasn’t huge on grilling like some of the neighbors in your area but he did appreciate a good steak. Sometimes if you were lucky, he would even surprise you with a nice dinner in the kitchen on the rare occasions he actual beat you home or the scarcer days off. 

Using his teeth, David fought the crackle of the plastic wrapped utensil set,” Smells good, baby. Thank you.”

His obvious appreciation warmed you enough to coax a bit of boldness out of you. Walking your fingertips closer to the bag, you tugged it closer. “The renovators called back. They can fit us in next weekend to resurface the shower.”

Your house wasn’t old but there had been some changes you’d promised yourself when you’d first moved it. Earlier in your marriage, you had hoped to make a couples project out of it. But as the years passed, you began to understand that if you didn't  get someone else on the job it wasn't going to get done. 

Carefully pulling your own box free, you kept your voice even as your poked through your meal. “I’m having my mom come meet them that Thursday so they can do a final walkthrough for a quote. I’ll be home for the other days.”

“You’re not worried she won't change your plans?”

Twirling your pasta around your fork, you gave his question a thoughtful pause. It had crossed your mind. Your home wasn’t the first thing she had tried to intervene in. But you had made your own wishes noted in the initial meeting. Having your mother there was just supervision at this point.

“Nah, I'll be there for all the real work. I really just need her to keep Kaius calm.”

Retired from service but certainly not an impression on his age, the eight year old shepard still took his training seriously at home. It made it difficult to let anyone into the house without one of you there to assure him it was okay. The task was still difficult for you without David’s overwhelming presence to settle the canine. 

Resting his hip against the corner of the desk, your husband became visibly more relaxed into the conversation as he balanced the bottom of his togo box on his hand. “I don’t mind if he comes to work. He should be fine in my office for a day.”

You shrugged,”It's all worked out.”

At most, you were expecting one human to supervise a few androids. As impersonal as it made the job, it certainly didnt put a damper on efficiency. You expected nothing less than the projected project. 

He surprised you by leaning in then to press a quick kiss to your lips, a sneaky swipe of tongue catching the splash of sauce previously unknown to you. When you look up, he was watching you with that analytical look.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Caught, you could only smile sheepishly as you pointed the fork in his direction. “This is nice, don’t ruin it.”

Humming thoughtfully, your husband eventually returned to his own meal. 

David finished well before fullness crept in for you, his own haste favoring time over taste. But he was getting his nutrition so you found it hard to complain. 

A few tedious comments came to mind but none of them felt strong enough to tether him to a conversation. Accepting the time you got gratefully, you began putting away the leftovers to take home. 

“I’m off tomorrow so you don’t need to tip toe. I’ll leave the light on above the stove.”

Sometimes you found it funny how much your friends raves about the life you must have being married to a SWAT captain. Overwhelmed by their own fantasies of rugged encounters and frantic passion. 

It was true on occasion. There were times  that the stress of the job encouraged his hands to be a little more rough. Or time constraints found you bent over something convenient with your panties jerked to the side. 

As thrilling as it was, the novelty wore off quicker than it did in literature. 

There wasn’t a day you weren’t thankful of how well your husband aged, you just wanted more opportunities to appreciate it. 

You rise from your seat, expecting a final kiss of gratitude before you went on your way. 

You hasn’t realized your eyes had slid closed until they were opening in confusion at the touch of his thumb against your cheek. Against your better judgement, you leaned into the brief show of affection, lips parting to accept the pad of his finger. 

You know it won’t lead to much but the small stirrings it causes is worth the brevity. You crave his closeness whether he’s away like any wife would. But loving David Allen takes the punch of out love and jackhammers a new meaning into it. 

“”Thank you.”

The sincerity of it pressures your heart and your eyes close voluntarily this time, just wishing he would meet your expectation.

There is a pause, the silence tarnished by your audible sigh. Part of it is drawn back in a sharp gasp when his nose bumps against your own, then his lips find yours. 

The kiss is slow and measured, familiar even as you dare to run your palms down his front. His stomach curls under your touch, the lean muscle jumping slightly as your fingers challenge the hem of his pants. 

Swallowing, you taunt further with another tug. Venerability paints itself a lovely shade against your skin, coating you in a rosy blush. This wasn’t your arriving plan. But years have taught you that planning ahead rarely went well with David.

Carefully, you reach up and thumb the curve of his lower lip and draw him even closer. Even breaths waft over your face. Measured well, despite the proposition offered before him. 

In a mess of tongue and teeth, you whisper his name and teeter his resolve in the same breath. 

It has been a very long time since he’s humored an excursion like this and you’re patting yourself on the back for taking the chance. 

His mouth teases the skin at the nape of your neck and you wonder how far he plans to take this. His nose brushes against your ear next, nuzzling just under the curve where he knows you like it best. 

Your shirt rides up as he rolls his body against you, his hands quick to tend to your warm skin. His thumb teases the underside of your bra and it’s difficult not to let your mind wander.

Chest rising and falling in erratic intervals, you finally put a voice behind your desires. 

“Will fuck me here?”

David breathes in sharply then and for a moment you’re worried he’ll pull back to he senses. Your heart flutters nervously, awaiting a curt dismissal. But then a knee nudges firmly between your thighs and you find yourself biting your cheek to contain your grin. 

He continues to mouth at your neck while his hands answer your question, quickly and efficiently working at your belt. The hand not holding you in place slips under the hem of your pants with practiced ease. 

It will have to be quick but part of the thrill is inherit in the act itself. You know you’re already wet before his fingers reach their destination, his thumb flicking against your clit as his fingers curl into your sticky wetness. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, kitten? That’s why you came so late at night. Hoping to bride me into a quick fuck for your troubles?”

Part of you wished that had been your intention. You would have tried a hell of a lot harder if you’d known he’d be this willing. 

Sorry, Nancy.

There was always something sinfully dangerous about being taken in his office. To think the place where the city puts most of its trust will be defiled by your marital affairs will never fail to get you in the mood. 

David catches you before you can get careless, moving the food a safe distance away from your body before pressing you firmer against the desk. He doesn’t pay much attention to your breast but the stimulation from being pressed into the desktop makes up for it. Nothing else matters however when he’s dragging down his pants and your own with hast movements and lining himself up. 

It’s a slow sink- deep as he allows you time to open up for him. 

The situation doesn’t allow for it to be drawn out much longer than that. The frivolous teasing prior had already eaten into your limited time of unsuspicion. Not to mention any concerning noises that might permeate the door.

David does the sound control for you, risking quiet grunts as he digs his grip into the curve of your hip. His pace is slow but firmly backed by his weight as he quite literally fucks the air right out of your lungs, thrust near hard enough to shake the desk. 

He lifts his hips slightly, just enough too prod for the right angle, hitting that same spot again and again as you grip desperately at his arms. You return the favor, stealing his groans as you kiss back as vehemently as his hips grind into you. It only takes one good strategic thrust to capsize you under your simmering climax.

You remember a time, fumbling in college when you had to remind him to be wary- to pull out. Even early in your marriage you’d been cautious. 

Now, it was welcomed. The fact of not trying to try bleeding into a kink to take off the edge of pending results. You’d decided mutually to accept a child if the possibility arose but you wouldn’t make an intentional effort. 

Nearing your forties now, it wasn’t a forgotten proposition but it hardly factored into your mindset. It’s no where near innocent as your ankles dig firmly into his lower back, drawing him closet and locking him in.

Your husband’s hips stuttered briefly as his fingers reassessed their grip before he resumed his pace with firmer thrusts. Each one bouncing off the round of your backside. The hand at the base of your spine keeps you anchored- not that you’d made any attempt to disagree with anything he was giving you. 

He seemed to reward you for that, a lazy thumb counting your vertebrae in its travels, eliciting a quivering pleasure.  

“Maybe this is the key, huh? You’re always so much more receptive when there is the potential for audience.” 

He knows and fuck, you miss that voice. The way it rumbles deep in his chest before tumbling out in timber. 

“Of course, I’d never let them see. But I’d be happy to show off the results, hmm?”

His hands slid to your flank before curling around to flatten against the plane of your belly. It stays there, stroking the pseudo curve implanted in his head. 

He encourages you to grind back into his quickening thrusts, the fingers at your hip dragging you back in assistance. Whining, you dip your chest and arch your back. Your actions echo your thoughts. Faster. More. Deeper. Please

“That's what you want, right? For me to fill you up, baby?”

God… you drool around the thought. Your words fumbling around gurgles as you attempt to collect yourself enough to stop moaning and properly respond. Blood rushed in your ears and floods down your body. Working yourself up from your toes, you flex them, pushing your weight to your feet and lifting. It offers you a better advantage to pushing back into each eager thrust. 

Rather than praise your efforts, your husband only returns your gesture by carding his fingers through your hair. Tightening. Shoving down. 

“Fuck, yes, Dav-“ You hiss when he knocks particularly hard against your cervix to which he mends with an apologetic kiss to the back of your head. His thrust slow marginally, just enough to regain control before he’s coaxing you again with a nip to the shell of your ear. 

“Tell me, kitten.”

You reach for something-not sure of what. Neither does he it seems, but his hand finds yours anyway to which you curl them both the fabric of your chest. 

“I want it all-please.”

He jerks you back-once...twice before suddenly you’re overwhelmed with the weight of him on top and the pressure of him inside. 

You lie there for a short time, uncomfortable, but too laced by exhaustion to do much else. The feeling of fatigue crept onto you both with out warning, using the disguise of passion to worm its way inside.

He’s not perfect. Neither yourself or this marriage. But where most had doomed you both to fail, mutual perseverance told the rest to go fuck themselves.

There wasn’t much else either of you could offer to the remaining hours of the night. With that resolve, your slow rhythmic strokes against your husband’s back came to a halt, slightly rousing him in the process.

“Mhmm, come home with me, yeah?”

He heaves a sigh but you know you have him. 

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

[dontgotothenetherworld]

Can I maybe request an reader whose bj's friend but has been for too long so they know BJ all too well saving the maitland from his advances and falls in love with them?

beetlejuice’s friend

i am incredibly tired rn so i’m not sure if i fully understand what you’re asking, but i’m vibing w/ what i think you’re asking so yea (the maitlands x beej’s friend reader). you say beej’s friend, so reader’s a demon ahaha

also, i (before writing) feel like there are some lines that’re in the script that i can work off of, so there is a good bit of fourth wall breaking. only beej and reader can talk to/ interact with audience.

1493 words

cw: gnreader.

”the people who live there? i’ve been watching them for a while, and yeah it’s very creepy.” beej monologued. or would it be soliloquyed? soliloqueyed doesn’t sound as good, so let’s go with monologued. “and now, finally, they’re about to die!” beej liked talking to the audience. it made him feel important. you rolled your eyes. “they’re gonna be my new best friends!” 

you stepped out of the wings. “and what would that make me?” while beej was more of a musical theatre kind of guy, you were much more of a sitcom kind of guy, so you imagined a camera zoom like in the office.

”i’m this asshole’s best friend, and trust me when i say this, that’s not a position you want.” you addressed the audience.

”oh? what position would you prefer?” beej lowered his voice.

you scoffed, “case and point. you’ll be getting a lot of that in this goddamn show. single men, take notes on what not to do!”

beej frowned.

”barbara, i’m home!” speaking of sitcoms, here comes the loving husband. damn, can’t relate.

beetlejuice turned from you to the audience, “adam and barbara maitland!”

”was there traffic on the bridge?” barbara asked like she actually cared. damn, can’t relate.

”bill hadley on his tractor. i was like, “pick a lane, bill.””

”isn’t this amazing? it’s the last day of their entire lives and this is what they’re talking about.” said beetlejuice.

”beej, take you on a random day and say that’s your last day ever. do you say any impressively insightful shit?” you ask.

”absolutely.” beej grins.

”not.” you finish his sentence. the scene returns to the maitlands before he can say anything else.

i’m sure you’ve seen the show, you know how it goes. maitlands are boring, maitlands sing fast because they have anxiety, maitlands conveniently die at the end of their song, beetlejuice rejoices. whatever, we don’t care about that part. i mean we do, just not right now.

”sometimes, puppet shows are sad.” you say, directed at the small child in the third row. who brings their eight year old to see beetlejuice?

”barbara are you alright?” the moment passed.

you and beetlejuice hide offstage as the maitlands figure out they’re dead. It’s rather annoying, when breathers die. they always have the same reaction. they could spice it up sometimes. 

you suppose that’s what beej is here to do. to spice up their reactions.

beetlejuice rings the doorbell. without waiting for either of them to answer, he walks right in. he introduces himself and starts singing. you walk in behind him, arms crossed.

one of the cheerleaders runs past you, knocking into your arm. 

”i’m the b to the double e j f q and jesus, i can’t spell.” beetlejuice eyed the maitlands up and down.

the maitlands seemed like nice people. they don’t deserve what was sure to come to them. you stood yourself up from the door frame, and made your way to the center of the room where the trio where.

”let’s all get naked!” beetlejuice screamed. 

”no!” the maitlands screamed back. you swung your backhanded fist into his stomach. 

”oh!” he let out a guttural noise. “worth a try.” he reasoned.

”what is happening?” barbara asked in a shaky voice, her eyes flashing between the two demons before her. one, who hadn’t spoken a single word, and the other who wouldn’t fucking shut up.

beetlejuice went back to trying to convince them that they should ‘hire’ him. while insulting them, of course, because why wait until a relationship turns unhealthy when you can just start it off that way?

”i’m like a ghost zombie jesus!” god, you needed new friends. maybe you can steal the maitlands away. if you think about it, and you do, it would really only be a win situation from that. you wouldn’t have to deal with beej, you’d get some new friends who would be kind to you. the maitlands wouldn’t even have to think about beetlejuice again, and they would get to hang out with you, and not to toot your horn but you’re pretty damn cool. at first, beetlejuice would lose, with the whole everyone abandoning him thing, but you’re pretty sure that it’s be this time that he changed himself to be a better person.

you hope.

”i think we’re a perfect fit! come on, let’s make out a bit!” you physically pushed beetlejuice away from the maitlands.

beej just gave you an annoyed look, and went back to right next to them, giving them is sales pitch.

you slunk off to the couch. you spread your body across it as if you owned it. adam spared you a curious glance. barbara, soon after.

the four of you made your way off stage, to the attic, as the deetzes and their furniture invaded the house.

”hey beej,” you needed to get beetlejuice away from the maitlands, so you could talk to them, but how? “you better spy on the new homeowners so we know what we’re working with.”

”good idea!” he said.

you grabbed his tie in your hand and pulled him close, “and don’t come back until you know what’ll scare them so hard they wished they’d never been born.” beetlejuice wasn’t very sure of himself, so you’d have a while.

”sir, yes sir!” he ran off like a cartoon character, legs going the full 360.

you turned to the maitlands, eyes flicking between them, trying to decide where to start.

”who are you?” asked adam.

”i’m y/n,” you said, “and i’m a demon, just like beetlejuice.” you grinned like the cheshire cat.

the maitlands shared a concerned glance. “are you going to help us too?” asked barbara.

”well, yes, but not the way you think i am.” you began pacing the floor. “first things first, don’t listen to a word that bastard says. the only things he wants is to be alive, and to get into your pants. the former being more important to him, no offense.”

”so he wants to use us?” asked barbara.

”yes, of course.”

”and how do we know you don’t want to use us either?” she asked.

”good question.” you paused to collect your thoughts, “i suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”

the maitlands exchanged another look. do married people do that often? it was starting to get annoying. well, annoying that they weren’t looking at you like that.

after a moment, adam said, “i don’t think we can fully trust you right now, but hopefully that’ll change.”

”quite the optimist, huh? i envy you.” you said.

how to best gain their trust? probably by being the antithesis of their experience with demons so far.

about an hour later, the trio was still brainstorming a plan. “so, why can’t we just lock him into the netherworld again?” adam asked.

”his mother.” you said. 

adam nodded, “right, right. we don’t want to put him through that.”

barbara jumped in, ”and if we leave this place, we’ll be eaten by sandworms, but if we go to the netherworld,”

”you’ll be in that waiting room for the rest of eternity, exactly.” you finished.

you sat in silence for a minute, mulling over your options. so far it was seeming that beetlejuice was going to have to go back to his parent’s house.

”what about sending him out to the sand worms?” asked barbara.

”barbara, you’re a genius!” exclaimed adam.

you imagined what would happen. “i think that’ll work.” you said. “oh! and we can put a protection spell on the house after he’s left! then , no demons will be able to get in.” you pulled out a copy of the handbook for the recently deceased, from seemingly nowhere. beej burned barbara’s copy of the book, but not adam’s.

you placed the book on the floor, and you began looking for the spell with the maitlands looking over your shoulders.

”do you know that a spell like that exists?” asked adam.

”of course i do, i just don’t remember how to do it.” you said.

”and do you know that it won’t expel you from the house too?” asked barbara.

”i guess we’ll find out.” you turned to face her.

”i hope it doesn-” barbara was cut off.

”here it is!” exclaimed adam. “and it doesn’t say anything about expelling demons, just keeping them out.” adam skimmed the instructions.

you turned back to the book, and the group sat in silence as you carefully read it all.

you sat back, “i- we can do this.” 

the maitlands high-fived. god, they were adorable.

”the real question is, do you still want the new homeowners out of this place? because if i’m being honest, beej would be better at that than me.” you said.

the maitlands shared a look.

”i-” barbara looked at adam, “i think we should talk about it.”

”oh, of course.” you replied. “do you want me to give y’all some privacy?”

”yes please.” said barbara.

@meangirlsx @meangirlmurphy @eliza-is-confused @boredomimi

[fablesrose]

Of Kings and Shadows VII

Chapter VII

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually) 

Notes: On Wattpad –> Here

Series Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I gently stretched my neck side to side hearing it creak. As much as I was glad I was back to work, this was not what I had in mind.  Here I sat at my desk, staring at my computer, studying for a job that I was probably never going to do. They pretty much just assigned me anything to keep me busy, I had already done all of my paperwork, and Clint's, along with completing my two-hour max of physical therapy each day. I still have at least two weeks of desk work before they even consider sending me anywhere near the field.

I sighed, this website wasn't getting me anywhere. People went to school for this and I still have no idea what realm this job pertains to. For all I know these words could be in Russian, and I'm supposed to know Russian.

I finally gave up on searching the internet and decided to email the guy that actually does this job.

From: y/nl/n@shield.com

To: ichabodlaime@shield.com

Hey Ike,

Do you happen to have a manual on aerospace tech or something on the controls of the Quinjet?

Thanks,

Agent l/n

I stared at the email for a couple of minutes, sure everything was spelled right. Now, Ike was a decent dude, but he was one of those guys if ya know what I mean. Little pathetic, little ignorant, little fussy, but the difference from him and all the other those guys, is he actually knows how to do his job; he does it darn well too.

He didn't answer back right away, so I continued my search on the web, not wanting to put too many favors out there before he replied.  I found what I thought was a decent website after a while, they had most of the 'fix the plane' words in layman terms, so that was nice. This may not be my area of expertise, but there was one thing I knew for sure: its gonna be a long couple of weeks.

On my, what I believe to be, sixty-fourth website, hair from the lower back all the way to my neck stood up one by one. My gut gave a little twinge as well. I slowly turned my eyes to my monitor, just at the right angle to see behind me. A scrawny looking guy was standing right in the doorway of my office. I took a deep breath when I noticed that he wasn't looking at my head, but met my eyes in the reflection of my monitor.

I spun slowly in my chair to face him since he knew I knew he was there. There was a moment of awkward silence before I decided to break it.

"Hey Ike"

He stared at me blankly for a moment, "You planning on taking my job l/n?"

I pursed my lips, blinking. "Well, I'm glad to see you are having a good day too, Ike."

He frowned, "I mean it l/n"

"No! No, since I'm in time out they assigned me to learn about your job. It won't be enough to kick you out, trust me. They're just keeping me busy." He seemed to relax a little bit. "Who knows? Maybe I could help you out on a mission or somethin'"

He gave me a dorky smile that only a few could love. I was not one of those few.

He sighed, "Yeah I'd like to see that sometime. " He looked down at the floor thinking for a second, "Uh, yeah I have a book I think you could learn something from..."

I raised my eyebrows at him, asking him where it was since it wasn't in his hands.

"Unfortunately it's back at home. You want to meet tomorrow so you could take a look at it over the weekend?"

It was only then I remembered that it was Friday. "Uh, yeah, sure. Ten o'clock would be the best time for me... Do you have a preference for a place?"

"The Starbucks on 17th Street work?"

I gave a tight smile, "Sounds like a plan"

I walked into the shop five minutes early, my parents always did teach me to arrive early. I scanned my gaze over the occupants, looking for Ike. I tried not to breathe in too deeply, the smell of coffee never really was my favorite, and it mingling with the other more pleasant smells was leaving my head spinning. I finally thought I spotted him when I saw the man in my sights was sitting with another.

The same sensation from yesterday came over me even more powerfully, causing me to find where the eyes were coming from. The staring was coming from the man sitting with who I thought was Ike. We locked gazes for a moment when the other man turned around, only for me to find that it was Ike. He waved me over to their table.

"I didn't know you were going to bring someone along, almost made me think it wasn't you" I tried to sound light-hearted despite the chilling feeling before. Usually feeling eyes on me wasn't that unsettling, I've dealt with it my whole life, paid attention to it my whole life, but in my whole life, it's never told me something like that; and, I don't know what to do with it.

Ike looked at me pleasantly, "Wasn't planning on it, just ran into each other."

I shot a tight-lipped smile to the stranger who stuck out his hand, "Hi, I'm Henry Arnold"

"Y/n L/n"

Ike threw a thumb back at the counter, "Coffee?"

I shook my head politely

"Caffeine not your poison?"

"I didn't pick my poison," I paused, "Mountain Dew picked me"

Henry chuckled. I tried to pick out any traits to describe him, but the only thing that came to mind was average, ordinary. Beige blond hair, structured face... He seemed nice enough though.

"So, you two work together at the patent office?"

I side-eyed Ike who gave a subtle nod, "Yeah, different departments in the office you know"

"Oh yeah? You must see some crazy stuff pass through though, huh?"

"Uh, not really on my side, I worked in the automotive section, so nothing too crazy, just different parts to go into cars for the most part. I don't know about Ike here..." I jabbed my thumb in his direction, kinda just wanting to get out of there.

"Pretty much the same over in the aerospace department"

Henry seemed to have a revelation, "oh, am I intruding on a date or something? I am so sorry!"

I quickly shut down that thought, "no no no, I just asked to borrow an air mechanics manual, their thinking about switching me over, so they sent me his way."

"Oh, okay..." He seemed relieved he didn't mess anything up. "So why'd you get into that department?"

I looked at him, trying to think. "Uh, well, my family was hurt in a car accident at one point, so I thought I'd help and watch vehicles get safer so they wouldn't hurt them again"

"Oh cool"

I hated that I knew how to be polite, "what do you do?"

Henry scratched the back of his neck, "I'd like to say, inventor... But it only happens in my spare time it seems. My paycheck comes from administrating medical trials"

"Interesting, how'd you get into that?"

"Well the inventing stuff was inherited from my dad who recently passed"

"I'm sorry to hear that"

"He was never around much, but my mom, she kept telling me to change the world. 'Be King' she would say... This is how I do that"

"That's cool. What's your current trail"

"In simple terms, it's a type of steroid..."

I raised my eyebrow, "helpin' bodybuilders?"

"No, this one is legal," he smiled lightly. "This one helps with metabolism and the immune system. Unfortunately, I can't be a patient since I'm handing it out, but based on the results so far? I'll be first in line when it hits the shelves"

I raised some finger guns, "if it's that good, you might have to sign me up for that"

He chuckled and stood from his seat, "I might take you up on that, but for now I have to leave. Laime, Y/n." He nodded at both of us before departing.

"Nice guy."

Ike slouched in his seat, "you could say that. Smart, almost overbearing at times. Sorry, just ran into him here."

I forced out an "it's fine." I looked at him expectingly, "the manual?"

He sighed and turned around to face the backpack on his seat. "I do have one favor though."

"And what's that?"

He placed the book on the table, "could you maybe introduce me to the Avengers?"

I bit my lip, "I would love to, but that's not really in my power, maybe Clint, he's sociable, but he's the best bet and not even close to a guarantee..."

His mouth stretched without becoming a frown or smile, "Yeah, thought as much. It was worth a shot though. Forget I asked" he slid the manual the rest of the way to me. "Get it back to me as soon as you are able okay?"

I stood, book in hand, ready to get out of there, "you got it."

I was in the middle of a chapter while walking down the hall. The first few chapters went something like, 'hey so the only reason you're reading this is either you are going to school for this or for some reason you are looking at a broken aircraft that's most likely smoking and you need to fix it quickly. So we're gonna tell you how to do that first.'

To be brief, Ike picked a good manual for me to read.

I saw I'm my peripheral vision the doorway ahead of me and thought I calculated how far I needed to be over.

I was wrong.

My shoulder hit the door frame right on, causing me to stagger. I then got my other shoulder into someone else passing by. I let out a quiet, "ow."

My eyes lifted to see I had bumped into Loki. I quickly apologized, "excuse me, Your Highness." I continued walking, hoping I didn't anger him. Aside from our first meeting, he seemed like a mild-mannered person: irritable, but polite on most accounts. That being said, seeing his angry power once was enough for me and I wasn't planning on seeing where his line normally is.

That's how our interactions have gone for the past few weeks, usually exchanging as few words as possible, always polite, me making sure I slapped a "sir" or "Your Highness" on the end. When in doubt, respect is the safest bet, and titles are always important.

I headed towards the kitchen, still scanning the book in my hand. You think I'd learn my lesson, but I didn't and smacked my shoulder with that door frame as well.

I inhaled and exhaled equally deeply to calm myself, resisting the urge to just shriek and kick the wall for being in my way.

"Hey y/n, whatcha doing here?"

I turned to see Clint silently chuckling telling me he had seen my mishap. I sighed but decided not to comment on it, "My superiors don't know what to do with me since all of my paperwork is done, so I have two missions coming here. One: check up on you guys to see if you are in any trouble. Two: they told me to learn how to be an aerospace engineer and just overall know how the planes work." I waved a finger at him, "You, my friend, can help with both. So," I sat down at the island, leaning towards him on the other side, "what can you tell me about controlling the jets?"

After Clint gave me his rundown of how it works I felt more confident in my little bit of knowledge. I didn't have much to be concerned about since I knew we would have to be in some extreme circumstances for me to have to do anything.

"Thanks, Clint," I stood from my stool. "You guys doin' okay out here? No trouble?"

He smiled kindly, "same old, same old... Just Thor eating everything and the kitchen sink!" Clint's gaze was pointedly put over my head.

"I'm afraid the sink wouldn't taste that great my good man."

I turned to see Thor had entered the kitchen, water bottle in hand.

"It's good to see you, sir"

He looked at me pointedly

"... Thor"

He smiled and laughed jovially, "The same to you, my friend!"

I jumped when two hands slammed down on my shoulders. They then started to rub the muscles in my neck.

"Y/n, you should be going home and resting"

I turned my head to acknowledge Natasha, "yeah yeah, I was just about to say my adieus."

I looked at the three of them, "so I can give a report saying you all are behaving?"

"I'm making sure of it"

I nodded my head and said goodbye, making sure I didn't hit the door frame on the way out. Turning the corner I almost ran into Loki again but managed to stop in time.

"Excuse me, sir," I moved to curve around him when he grabbed my elbow, spinning me on my heel to face him.

My arm was brushing the wall, his face the closest it's been to mine since we met. His eyes had a look of determination, to do what, I wasn't sure I wanted to know. I swallowed, eyes wide, not daring to breathe, even though I wanted to.

He only spoke a single word, "why." He didn't sound angry, but it was stern enough that I knew he wanted an answer, and he knew he was going to get it.

My hand clenched the book in my hand, "why what, Your Highness?" I was going to lay it on thick, just as much as my voice was becoming.

His hand became a little tighter on my arm, his eyes growing slightly, "That, why do you keep respecting me? Why do you address me with my proper title?"

I blinked. That was not what I was expecting him to ask. I took a moment to get my thoughts together, "Well..." I chose not to look him in the eye, a little scared of what I would find. I instead chose a spot on the wall, close to his shoulder. "For one: you hold those titles. You outrank me in both lineage, birth and adopted, as well as being an Avenger. I guess that makes you my superior..." I took a deep breath before continuing, "um, for two: you haven't given me permission not to."

His hand seemed to loosen a bit.

Why was I really doing this? Why did I give him that much power? For my conclusion to my thoughts, I looked Loki in the eye, "and third, you're a dangerous man." I had to clear my throat of the itch that appeared.

Loki's face softened and his eyes grew big. One might call it shock painting his face.

"I'd like to think I'm not a fool."

There was a moment of just us looking at each other, neither of us moving. He eventually loosened his hand enough that I could easily release myself.

I took a step back out of his hold, nodded my head at him and said goodbye, "I've got to go, Your Highness."

And with that, I turned to leave letting out a shaky breath.

Tags: @nightrose64

[aces-to-apples]

May The Fourth Be With You (And Also With You)

I don’t have anything ready to post for May the Fourth this year, boo!, but instead I’ll steal Dharma’s idea of posting a snippet of all my applicable WIPs, yay!

“Sugar and Spice” aka The Nika Fic aka genderbent AU crosses over with canon-verse a la Universe Collisions by Sroloc_Elbisivni

The Jedi took a couple more shuddering breaths. “Anyone else need a top-up?” she asked, voice steady but gaze fixed on the dank rock wall.

Rex exchanged looks with Kix, who straightened and surveyed his patients, clearly weighing who among them could use the help. The men themselves—Onyx, left hand useless from taking a swing at a clanker when his power-pack ran out; Honeycutt, nursing a couple cracked, possibly broken, ribs; Fives, unable to stand on his right leg—shared a non-verbal conversation of their own.

“Onyx can't shoot and Fives can't walk.” Honeycutt gave up the names with vicious pragmatism, ignoring both men as they silently threatened to space him once they were back on the Vigilance.

The Jedi looked between them with a small smile—at Fives who was stubbornly trying to get to his feet in protest, at Onyx who gripped his deece in his non-dominant hand like he was contemplating bludgeoning Honeycutt with it, and at Honeycutt himself with his arms crossed over his chest, one hand subtly nursing the injured ribs. “What about you, tough guy? Need a hand?”

“I can walk and I can fight,” Honeycutt said defiantly. He jerked a thumb at the other two. “That's more than these idiots can claim, and you're the one who asked.”

“True enough,” was her easy reply, but her eyes held a challenge. “How well can you breathe, though?”

He bared his teeth at her. “Well enough to argue with you… sir.”

Rex was prepared to step between them, to apologize for Honeycutt’s disrespectful attitude, but held back another beat. As half of him suspected she would, the Jedi threw her head back and cackled.

“Oh, I like you,” she announced with a grin, the color swiftly returning to her cheeks and her eyes sparkling. “You got a name, tough guy?”

“… Honeycutt,” he replied, looking from her to Rex and back. Rex couldn't do more than shrug, because he didn't know either. “Corporal Honeycutt.”

“Pleased to meet you, Honeycutt. I'm Nika.” She held out a hand to him, palm up, and watched his eye it distrustfully, shell-pink lips curved to one side. After a second, he took it and she hauled him to his feet. “Now, let’s see what we can do about those ribs, shall we?”

(Working title:) “Friends, Foes, and Telling the Difference” aka part three of “A Non-Comprehensive Guide To Force-Sensitivity”

The boy watched their interaction with the same lackadaisical interest the young Zabrak had demonstrated during their journey. “What does the Force feel like to you?” he finally said, blinking owlishly as Dooku refused to choke on his Tarine tea and delicately cleared his throat. “When Ben talks about it, it’s all very mystical-sounding. Cool winds and noiseless whispers, like a friendly ghost or a helpful spirit. Feelings and stuff. But when Maul talks about the Force, it’s more like instincts and heightened senses. It’s more physical than, I dunno, spiritual. So I wanted to know what it’s like for you.”

“That,” Dooku replied, placing his teacup on the table just so, “is a very personal question, young Skywalker.”

Anakin tilted his head innocently and said, “Oh, is it?” but his even his shields—well-made and well-maintained both from within and without—do poorly to contain the bright, bubbling amusement he was polite enough to hold back. Clearly, he knew very well what he was doing, and Dooku had to admire the tenacity of a such a young boy teasing a Jedi Master whilst genuinely seeking information.

He hummed pointedly and stared the unrepentant boy down, but considered the question in earnest. Knowledge for the sake of knowledge was a worthy pursuit. “Your brothers,” Dooku said the word carefully, weighing its meaning as he met the boy’s eyes, “were both correct. The Force can manifest in various ways, and it’s likely different for every being who experiences it. For many, whether they purposefully follow the ways of the Force or not, it acts in a more passive manner: a feeling of wrongness when danger is near, a keen sense of distrust when one is being deceived, or even just a quiet knowledge of where to go or what to say at a certain moment.”

Young Skywalker nodded thoughtfully, his eyes far away. “That’s very interesting, sir,” he said after a moment. “I think Ben will like you, if you ever meet. You both talk the same way, like you’ll get a prize at the end of the day for how many questions you can avoid answering. That, or he’ll hate your guts. It’s hard to say with Ben.”

Queen Amidala smothered a giggle.

“Well,” Dooku drawled, picking his tea back up, “Maul seems determined to dislike myself and my companion, so I think not.”

The boy shrugged and gulped down the rest of his milk with a grin. “Maybe, maybe not,” he cheerfully declared. “Those two disagree so much, I think it’s on purpose. Mom says they were like two tomcats until I was born, always arguing and hissing at each other, so Ben might decide he likes you just to be contrary.”

“An interesting way to raise a child,” Dooku noted, dry as the desert air outside. “If they disagree so often, you must have quite a bit of conflicting information on a great many topics.”

“Dab’ika Vaar’kara” aka the Camp Half-Blood AU an anon accidentally requested when they combined “summer camp” and “magical accidents” during a trope mash-up ask meme

“Now, as new arrivals, you're given a certain amount of leeway when it comes to the rules, regulations, and realities of living in the Godsworld.” Rex fixed the little ones—nearly fourteen and just barely scraping in under the wire in regards to the required claiming age—with a hard stare. “After orientation, you will be expected to either figure out what you don't know yourself or keep your trap shut. Understood, cadets?”

It was a blatant lie, of course; Cody could already see Kix’s bunk littered with sheets of flimsi covered in drawings, diagrams, and written explanations. Still, it was the spirit of the thing, yeah? A’sev had scared them witless when they’d first arrived at camp, and now that he was off doing Paladin shit, it fell to them to keep the tradition alive. It was a beautiful cycle, really, and watching the tiny shinies straighten up and shout “sir, yes, sir” like Rex was a fucking drill sergeant was hilarious.

“First off,” Rex continued, beginning to pace rather impressively in front of the duo. Cody had a hard time not joining the boys in their next snickerfit. “Congratulations on surviving your first monster encounter—besting an abaia while it’s got a home-field advantage is no easy feat. You did yourselves, and all your brothers, proud.”

The rookies straightened up that much more under the praise and Cody felt his need to smirk warring with the impulse to coo. “Whose idea was it to get it to charge into the rocks?” he asked curiously. They'd taken bets, watching from the shore.

“Mine, sir,” the one with the crew-cut said, taking a small step forward. A ripple spread through the cabin as they all noticed he'd subtly placed himself between his twin and Rex. That kind of body-language, combined with the late claiming, didn't bode well.

“Well done,” Rex acknowledged with a nod. “It was reckless, but well-executed. Just the kind of thinking we need in Mandalore Cabin. You got a name, shiny?”

“Ferdinand, sir,” the kid said without any hint of irony. They all winced in sympathy, because yeesh. “This is Emrys.”

Seeing that Rex didn't quite know how to phrase it, Cody asked, “You boys got nicknames?”

Their reaction was… worrying.

“Sir, no, sir,” Ferdinand—poor fucking kid—immediately denied, panic well-hidden to anyone not used to reading every variation of the face the Mand’alor’s poor decisions had stuck them all with. “We’re proud to carry these names and would never—”

“Anyone here calls me Emrys, I’ll break their fucking nose,” the long-haired twin cut in, stepping forward so that they stood shoulder to shoulder. “Got it?”

“Blood On The Ice” aka the Skyrim AU that I’ve world-built wayyyy more than I’ve actually written

The first glimpse of Coruscant—snow-dusted, crumbled stone reeking of despair—holds true as Ahsoka enters the city proper. Barrels of supplies do little to mask its deepening poverty when the cobblestones themselves shift beneath her feet.

A little Human girl, clad only in a threadbare red dress, entreats her to buy a wildflower and Ahsoka’s heart breaks at the girl’s gratitude when she agrees. She’d heard of Skyrim’s civil war back home, but had thought the children would be spared from adult pettiness. In Valenwood, the Green cares for younglings nearly as much as their parents; in the home and hold of the Storm-Hand, it seems, children shiver and starve. Not yet an hour in his hold, Ahsoka finds herself unimpressed with the rebellious Human king.

Unsure which path to take from her ingress, she chooses randomly and goes right.

Lined with homes and shops in various states of disrepair, Ahsoka regrets her choice until she spots an older gentleman lingering in a doorway. Her shoulders slump with relief to see one of her Twi’lek cousins, even bundled in the furs and leathers needed in the harsh Skyrim climate, rather than colorful Morrowind silks.

“Greetings, nerra,” she says warmly, stepping closer and holding out a hand.

The man appears nonplussed for a moment but replies with an affable, “Welcome, numa,” and clasps her forearm. “Are you new to Coruscant, gida?” he asks, nodding at her bow and daggers. “Most elves know better than to appear before the Stormhands so armed.”

untitled time-travel fic currently referred to in-house as “first battle of geonosis time-travel fic” aka this fic

And on it goes, a litany of ghosts and brothers lost to the stars. He matches numbers to names as they speak through the darkness: Fives and Echo, Jesse, Hardcase, and Kix, Onyx and Honeycutt, Razzy, Ringo, Tup—even Dogma, quietest and most hesitant of all. The barest bones of Torrent Company; eleven dead men walking, and Rex makes a full squad.

Numbers are and ever will be your greatest strength, your keenest advantage, he recalls the woman saying at one point, somewhere between his failed intruder alert and the imperious wave of her hand that sent him to his knees, heaving.

“Where the frip’s my bucket,” a voice gripes—Ringo, by the sound of it. The only reply he receives beyond repetitions of the same question, “Prob’ly right where you left it,” comes from Razzy, no question. It's both a relief and a punch to the gut to hear Ringo gripe, “Umbara, then, with the rest of me.”

“Oh, hey, mine too,” Hardcase pipes up, saying it like a joke, like it was funny. “Anyone else kick it on that sith-hole?”

“Yeah, Krell,” Five answers into the uncomfortable silence. It sounds like he’s smiling; the smile doesn’t sound very nice.

“Ori’haat?” Hardcase says, intrigued and vaguely impressed. “You do the honors?”

And finally, “chasing a dream” aka the summary and first couple sentences of the Treasure Planet AU that I absolutely forgot I was going to write at some point

Her name isn’t Hawkins. The cyborg isn’t silver. And the closest thing she has to a father isn’t a caninoid species. They’ve got the makings of greatness in them all the same.

-

Ahsoka is six years old when she meets her very best friend in the whole wide galaxy. He's a Guardian—only a little one, though, like she's only a little Jedi—and he's got the same warm brown skin and golden-brown eyes that his brothers do, but he's also got a bunch of bright yellow hair.

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 15

Table of Contents Go to first. Go to previous. Go to next.

Added 2018.09.16.

Injury tw, dead bodies tw. I don’t know how to concisely quantify what’s so upsetting about this chapter. Dramatic irony? Ow.

'Choly opted to confront the Super Duper Mart from the dock doors. He hacked the terminal outside and opened one of the two broad-panel rolling shutter doors, then adjusted his sack hood as he stepped foot inside. With his hand already on his .38, he glanced around to assess nothing on the dock held anything of value. Angel got the first shot when their entry roused three feral ghouls who had lain down lifeless in the loading bay, in and under the back of a Pick-R-Up parked inside it. 'Choly dry-swallowed and wasted five bullets taking down the remaining two ghouls. Shaking, he approached a fourth body, chewed up and crumpled between a crate and a stack of palettes. She looked to have belonged to a militia group, and a crank-powered laser musket lay near her feet. Cautious, he patted down her pockets to find only a holotape, but he didn't stop to listen to it just yet. Sweating, he could tell she had sheltered here, only to be ambushed by the ghouls that he and Angel had just cut down.

He didn't like the comparison, how the two of them had managed to dispatch all three ferals, when no fewer than three must have overwhelmed her. A robotic ally had made all the difference. The corpse hadn't remained there more than a few weeks at most, further evidence of multiple factions of life in this new world, yet she looked like she'd dressed from a history book. He took a solicitous wonder from the encounter, what vestiges of pre-apocalyptic society had survived all this time. Was this woman one of the Brotherhood Jared had mentioned? No matter what, he didn't like this as his first encounter inside the walls of the grocer's.

Shaking, he approached his Handy-Bot, and it acknowledged the hand to its spherical chassis and lowered its thrusters enough for its owner to mount the strap-stirrups and balance across its top using the fabric harness's strap handles.

"Are we good to continue onward, Sir?"

"Best we can hope for."

They ascended the concrete stairs into a maintenance area. Four more ghouls rose from their stasis and rushed them. The mangled, wiry wretches lunged, clawed, and hiss-frothed in a fury.

"Hold stlil, would you!" Angel savored slicing them down in succession with its tendril-limb's circular saw attachment. "By God, if I had hands, I'd strangle the life from you!"

"I... I think we're good for now, Angel..."

Something in his bowels churned at the knowledge that all these ghouls had once been people, and that by attacking him, they gave him no choice but to destroy them. Something deeper still within him knotted up, that Angel might genuinely now enjoy serving carnage, and he dearly hoped he could determine why and how it could bypass its violence protocols to act out in such a way. It didn't have any Mister Gutsy algorithms, did it? Perhaps he'd tuned something in its calibrations he ought not have.

'Choly nudged Angel to proceed forward a ways, to inspect the still-lit instrument panels of the backup generators. He didn't dismount, but bent to one side to reach at it. With a deployment button, he ejected the modestly sized canister and collected it in the hopes of purposing it toward Jared's project. The dull whir of the engine which the self-contained nuclear battery had powered slowed to a stop. The few lights in the back area flickered off, rendering darkness besides the sunlight which filtered in through the broken walls and roof. 'Choly's spine electrified as he turned on his Pip-Boy's screen light and tucked the nuclear battery into Angel's storage compartment.

Mouth full of cotton, he looked over the generator panel to reaffirm his memory, that this military checkpoint generator would not take back the fusion core. If not deployed with proper protocols, one could not replace a fusion core once removed, new or otherwise. They had to frustrate tampering or occupation of any kind, after all. And of course, he'd never actually interacted with them personally before, only known of them, so he didn't think of the consequences until after he'd already misstepped.

"Something tells me taking the FC was a mistake. It was the last one powering the place."

"We'll manage. Moving onward, shall we, Sir?"

"--Of. Of course."

To their right lay a wall of maintenance cabinetry, with a hallway to its right and a broken wall to its left. They navigated down the hall, lined with bracket shelving. Angel shot its laser behind itself and dispatched a ghoul that had gained on them from the room with the broken wall. 'Choly nearly jumped out of his skin and, shivering, clutched the harness straps even tighter. They came up into the kitchen area of the à la carte window, and two more ghouls lashed out at them, only to meet Angel's circular saw. 'Choly's face scrunched in displeasure at the dry, sour smell of all the long-abandoned cooking equipment. They found nothing still in package in the kitchen that hadn't burst from spoiling.

"We... we've encountered... ten ghouls now?" He tried to count on his fingers. "And those were just part of the staff, I'm sure. There had to have been at least that many customers, several times over. It was Saturday morning when everything went bottoms-up. Pretty much every middle class family did their shopping on the weekend, first thing. This... I didn't think this through well enough." The chemist stared down the employee-only doors before them and steeled a tremor by chewing up a Mentat.

"Balderdash, Sir. We can handle this without a hitch! Neither of us has a single scratch yet. And we've got our wits about us. These curs haven't! Ha ha!"

"I... I'm not so sure, but... maybe you're right. Maybe we do have an edge. Make a run for the front door, will you? We ought to have come in the front from the start, but clearly I miscalculated what we were getting into..."

"A ha! Just as I thought. You've got a plan after all."

"When we get to the atrium, you're going to let me off and give me cover fire while I gain access to the front office. You and I, the two of us can handle a dozen ferals on our own. But, I think we should do our best to even the odds a bit." 'Choly stuttered a sigh. "Provided the help is still operational. I did just yank the FC. Its charging station might not even deploy now. But at least if I find that I can't get it running, we'll be near an exit, and we can break away and regroup--"

"Cheerio!" it exclaimed, leaping upon the first sign of anything resembling optimism.

Laser and saw blazing, Angel burst through the double-action swing doors which separated the employees only zone from the store front, and didn't slow to clear a path. 'Choly counted the ghouls that stirred as they sped headlong through the chilled section, and also did his best to take mental stock of what looked worth revisiting once they could contend with the store's patrons who hadn't left in two hundred years. An unfamiliar pale blue emated from one of the crates in an open top merchandiser freezer island, and he swore to double back to investigate that if nothing else.

Angel managed to sever the leg of one persistent feral ghoul, but it clung onto 'Choly from behind. He screamed and elbowed it in its wasted, misshapen face. Angel's subsequent swerve to round about-face bucked off its owner and the freeloader both across the peeling linoleum floor of the atrium. The ghoul went for 'Choly's throat, and he fought through his searing left leg and managed to slap the wretch across the face. He steadied two shots somewhere between its collarbones. When it stopped moving, 'Choly tried his best to catch his breath. He stood and flinched, and approached the domed glass charging station against the wall beside the mess of shopping carts. Larger establishments, especially franchises, almost always had a Protectron at their employ, and there it stood idle as expected, a stocky bipedal robot with a glass plate with visible mechanisms where one might have reasonably found a face. He smiled in fleeting reassurance, powering through what was likely either a twisted joint or even perhaps a broken bone.

"All right. There's a good chance this isn't going to work, but you're going to have to help me out here. Keep them off me."

"Right!"

'Choly cut to the left side of the atrium, pistol at the ready as he skimmed the area with his breath in his throat, and with his back to the customer service window, he shuffled around the corner. He tucked away the weapon in favor of bobby pin and screwdriver. The door's wooden panes had partially broken away at the top, but he knew in a time crunch better than to try to reach the inside knob to let himself in. Picking the lock, he entered the office easily. He slammed shut the shoddy door and pulled down the rolling shutter over the window, and locked everything he could. Only then did he slump into the desk chair in exasperation.

Once he had a moment to breathe, he overheard a muffled mixture of British taunting, laser fire, power tool sounds, and guttural grunt-roaring. Angel wasted no time at all clearing out as many ghouls as it could. It really couldn't distinguish that these shambling, irascible, mutated husks had ever been human, could have ever been customers, neighbors, or perhaps even colleagues of his. Had the radiation done this to them? Or had something far worse transpired here in Northeast Massachusetts? Briefly, he theorized the possibility that the warheads that had decimated the population had been salted with some unthinkable biohazardous agent. It certainly would explain the severe mutations of anything that survived the nuclear exchange. Try as he might to contain his spiraling anxiety, the chemist's imagination could only handle so much speculation as far as how many ghouls populated the building at this point without catastrophizing, let alone broad attempts to examine any theoretical underpinnings of the apocalypse. So, he did his best to shelter himself into the room mentally as well, and he got to work on the customer service terminal.

With the use of his decryption holotape, he easily gained access to the Protectron activation sequence. He racked his hazy recollection for basic code instructions, on bated breath for some time, before he instructed the Protectron to power on in security mode, and to treat the Mister Handy on site as an ally. He waited motionless with eyes wide, hoping to hear some sign that the second robot had joined in, and importuned the construct's battery to still have a charge. The characteristic halted 'Pro-Tect And Serve' line sounded off and he wheezed out a sigh of relief. From there he bided his time hacking the safe in the corner. The cash, he welcomed, which he shoved into his whitish dress shirt, but more pressing were the several boxes of .38 bullets, and another .38 pistol. The new gun had pitiful specifications compared to the one he'd taken from Gretchen's safe, but he pocketed it as well regardless.

Once he could no longer hear continued assault from either of his trusty robotic allies, he put the Protectron's mode back to standard patrol using the terminal. When Angel did not object to this, he peeked out from the bottom of the rolling window shutter to survey who and what remained standing. The ghouls had not felled either robot, and from the looks of them, the robots had won with hardly a hitch. He pumped a fist and let the shutter crash back down, and he reloaded his pistol before stepping foot outside the office.

"The coast is clear, Sir!" Angel announced, returning to its owner's side.

The Protectron marched about the front end, and it chirped, flat and uneven: "Thank you for shopping at Su-Per-Du-Per-Mart."

"That worked a little too well," 'Choly remarked, tucking his gun in his back pocket again and rounding the registers to empty them and take all the periodicals. He also emptied the cigarette machine by the customer service window of all its menthols. They left the security robot to its own devices. He glanced up pathetically to his Handy, and finally requested his cane.

The chemist hobbled back to the cold section to scrutinize the row of open top merchandiser freezer islands. He instructed Angel to snatch all the Salisbury steaks. They also gathered up a variety of Nuka Colas, and the suspicious glow from before had come from a brand new flavor he'd never before tasted let alone heard of: Nuka Cola Quantum. He wondered what flavor it must be, and what might make it continue to glow as it did, even two hundred years after Nuka Valley bottled its last batches. Surely, it would exhibit just as much headiness as a perfectly aged Nuka Cherry.

They cleaned out the aisles of Sugar Bombs, Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, and Yum Yum Deviled Eggs, and 'Choly also ensured they hit the spirits. He put his hands on a single box of Abraxo that had not been crushed in the ceiling collapse that had many years prior demolished the center of the supermarket. The elements could pour in through the decayed wound in the roof, and many papers which had come to scatter the checkerboarded linoleum now formed a thick, soured papier mache along the majority of the flooring. Beneath the concrete and metal rubble lay where the toiletries and cleaning supplies, in theory, ought have been located, and he frowned furiously and mumbled as he rearranged Angel's storage compartment a bit. Hopefully, this hadn't been Jared's idea of a soap cache.

They raided the cabinets of the cafe in the front corner of a few sets of flatware and some melamine plates and bowls, cheap but still a vast upgrade from the mismatched dishes left behind in the pharmacy break room. 'Choly also emptied the cafe's first aid kit, pocketing the Stimpak and storing the rest. He glanced wryly to the skeletons and mixture of ghoul carnage that littered the eating area. The demise of the two skeletons at a booth had definitely interrupted their final date, with one's arm slung across the shoulder of the other. His eyes met the jukebox at the far end of the eating area, and he wondered what song had played at 9:47am that morning. After entertaining the thought a while, he decided he didn't like it, and moved on to the true potential prize: the pharmacy.

He hadn't expected to find all that much in terms of chems, considering it was a grocer's pharmacy, impacted more stringently by the war rations than the full stand-alone pharmacy which supplied the military and police. But, he still hoped to locate a good cache of first aid, and possibly even some more barberine syrup. The queue leading up to the pickup-checkout window at the pharmacy had all crumpled in a bony mess in the floor, some having toppled the chained stanchions atop themselves as they fell perimortem. He looted the handbaskets of whomever had them, procuring a fistful of damage-halting Med-X's, and a bottle of pink bismuth. His eyes flickered over to the pharmacy cage to survey what kind of odds he'd have locating anything on its shelves, and he saw another dead militia member sprawled out on the island in the middle of it. His heart turned to lead, remembering the woman from before.

On his way along the wall to the employee door in the back corner, he cleared out the shelves of any decongestants, painkillers, cotton, antiseptics, smelling salts, and bandages, and steeled himself to pick the lock. A breath clawed at him when he opened it, and he immediately fell backward caught off guard by two ghoulified pharmacy technicians crawling out from under the counters to attack. Angel dispatched them while 'Choly coddled his injured leg, and he collapsed into a loose fetal position in emotional exhaustion.

"The pharmacy is safe now, Sir," the Handy-Bot reported, cautious concern in its tone as it returned to his side. "It seems you're down for the count for the moment, though. If you tell me what to pick out, I'll retrieve it for you while you rest."

"--Mentats," he jolted out, trailing into cursing in Russian under his breath. "Stimpaks. Any first aid. Daddy-O, if I'm that lucky. Buffout. Barberine. All of the pharmaceutical stock you can carry."

"Little would please me more," it soothed, complying.

"...We really did it, didn't we?" he uttered quietly, looking around at the unsettling establishment.

While Angel did the final recon, 'Choly hiked up his pant leg and took off his boot to inspect the damage his spill had yielded. A few ginger, seethed palpations suggested to him the swelling came from a sprain rather than a broken bone, but he still administered the Stimpak syringe to the injury to help speed up the healing process and stiffened it out as straight as he could in the mean time. He ejected the decryption holotape from his Pip-Boy, then fished out the holotape from the militiawoman and popped it in to look it over. Her name was Emma, best he could tell, and the holotape had an audio file on it, which she'd used the dock terminal to record.

"What the hell is Josh doing? He's been gone for over an hour. We need to get out of here. The guys are thinking we're already at Concord. If Josh would hurry his ass up, maybe we can get there in time." She took a panicked breath. "Shit, gunfire. Not good. Josh--!"

When the playback clicked off, it was clear to 'Choly that Emma had abruptly ejected the holotape and hurried to grab her gun to go help her partner. But, she'd never gotten that far, it seemed. 'Choly consciously slacked his clenched teeth. He wondered if Josh was the man yards away from him, sprawled across the island, or if even more militiamen had fallen here. They didn't appear to have had a clue what they were getting into here. The place unnerved him too much to justify investigating the situation any further.

Angel was right: they had the upper hand here because they came in with half a mind what to expect. Sobered tremendously to any romanticized bias to the ghouls, he could feel the very real carnage in every inch of this place, just from where he sat. Had he just gotten lucky a few weeks ago when he encountered Hawthorne and the others? This wasn't like the horror movies. Not at all. He looked up to Angel as it came up again, and couldn't hide sniveling.

"Come now, Sir. Let's be off to the pharmacy with you, so you can rest up and be in peak shape for when you start work later this week!"

"Don't remind me," he groaned, taking off his hood.

He tried to put his boot back on, but his ankle was still too swollen, so he hoisted himself up atop his Handy and tossed it and his hood into the storage compartment. He sloppily wiped his face with his sleeve. "I... I already made an abominable first impression. I'm sure these people I'm going to be working with already have it in their heads to hate me."

"A poor first impression can only be rectified with a fantastical second impression," it encouraged on their way to the front door. "You'll simply have to wow them beyond doubt as to your skill and knowledge. They'll come around to seeing just how indispensible you are. Besides! Think of everything we amassed today! You can shower them with all manner of delights. And you're eating decadently tonight--I insist. You deserve it."

'Choly sank into the straps, favoring the healing leg and bearing down on his right with his to compensate. He hid a small, fatigued smile with his face against the cool pale blue spherical chrome chassis of his saving grace.

"You know just exactly what to say to take my mind off of it all."

Go to Next »»»

[stunudo]

New Around Here

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Hotch x Female Reader         Setting: Late Season 12

A/N: Happy Smuturday! This is following my dreams of what Hotch and Jack are up to now. Also unprotected sex, wrap it up folks! Also the ending sucks formatting wise. Hooray for mobile and not getting still.xoxo Stu

The bearded man had been coming into the diner nearly every weekday for lunch for the last two weeks. The only reason you noticed him at all was he tended to nod at you in your usual booth in the corner, that and he was rather attractive. You guessed he knew you were the boss by the way you knew the regular’s by name and kept busy on your laptop scheduling the deliveries and checking the accounts.

Today was about that time to make a formal introduction, since he had become your latest regular after all. You waited until he was served his Tuna Melt before beginning your usual circle through the dining area. Elsie was the Tues-Thurs-Sat server and you were glad you had her diligence on your staff. She smiled warmly as you started in the far corner, “Y/N? Will you drop off Table 5′s check for me?”

“Sure thing, Elsie. Good job today, that late breakfast crowd was brutal.”

She shrugged, “Eh, no biggie, they were generous too.”

The Gerritsens were in the back booth, like every Thursday. An old couple that had matching windbreakers on despite the bright afternoon outside. They had been married for 58 years and made sure everyone knew it. Then there was Old Tom, perched at the counter grumbling at the day time talk show hosts, his extra bacon BLT half finished as he slurped his fourth coffee refill.

These faces were like home, imperfect yet welcoming. You felt so lucky to have them come back week after week.

Aaron was getting used to the pace of his day, which naturally meant much less structure than when he led the BAU. He had started teaching at the local community college along the California- Nevada border. His alias was that of a newly divorced dad from Minnesota, the Marshals had arranged him to become James Spivey. Jack had been given the name Jordan, a slightly easier transition than his father. He was adjusting to the new school and making friends quickly.

Considering Peter Lewis was still on the run, the Hotchners were given a larger security detail than most Witness Protection participants. Aaron felt his shadow at all times, but so far the civilians hadn’t caught on. Jack’s Marshals were posing as security guards at school and they regrouped in shifts at the small family’s residence. Lecturing gave him some thing to do and let him use his experience without exposing his past. The diner just off the small campus gave Aaron a respite from socializing with the other faculty.

He ate his deliciously fried sandwich before starting his side salad, because no one was here to scold him. The lovely owner was making her way to touch base with her regulars, which was earlier than her usual routine. Aaron had noticed her over the course of his time in town and how she seemed to brighten the mood of everyone she interacted with. He had learned she had inherited the diner from an uncle and left a career in Nursing somewhere in the South. Profiling was not an easily forgotten ability; he had figured she was single and a workaholic.

“Need anything else today Professor?” The red headed waitress asked, refilling his water glass.

Aaron wiped his mouth with a napkin and shook his head. “Not today, thanks Elsie.” She was studying Elementary Education at the school, he had seen her on campus on her off days.

“Take your time,” She smiled gently and left the bill upside down in front of his unused coffee mug.

“How was everything today?” You asked, trying to sound casual. He had already left cash on the table to cover his lunch. He wasn’t playing on his phone like so many people who ate alone did these days. He had brought a newspaper along, but hadn’t touched it since getting his meal. His dark eyes were relaxed, yet you were on guard, feeling them float over your body.

“Wonderful as always.” He smiled, the lines along his eyes crinkling.

“So, being new around here, how’d you find our little hole in the wall?” You asked, picking up his cleared plate, a force of habit.

He smirked now, “I, uh, teach over at the school. This is my first semester there, you have a perfect location.”

“Yeah, tell that to my night crew, the drunks showing up demanding coffee and pie at two a.m. are real, charmers.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m Y/N, the owner, by the way. You are?”

He didn’t miss a beat, “James, but please call me Jim.”

“Nice to meet you, finally, Jim.”

“You too, Y/N.” He stood, gathering his things. “I have a class at 2, see you tomorrow?”

“You got it.” You brushed his firm arm with your finger tips and left him with a gentle wave.

Aaron spent the next two weeks casually flirting with Y/N each day during his break between lectures. She was fascinating, but not too pressing on the personal details. He wanted to ask her out on a real date, somewhere she didn’t know the menu or the farm where the eggs were laid, even. But how to do that without exposing his always present body guards?

“So, I’m just going to do it then?” She approached him first, before he even settled into the booth. This time was different, she sat across from the former FBI agent with her hands in a teepee. “If you can get a sitter, how about we hang out tomorrow night?”

“Well, Ja-Jordan is old enough to take care of himself for a few hours.” Aaron admitted.

“Is that a yes, Jimmy?” She rose her eyebrows.

He smirked, “That’s a yes, Y/N. Can I pick you up?”

“7 o’clock sharp?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

If the first date went well, then the following three were phenomenal. You hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time. But you felt guilty taking Jim away from his son so often, especially since the boy’s mother was out of the picture.

“So, another good bye kiss on my doorstep?” You asked begrudgingly. “You know I have a very nice place, you could even sit down and have a drink with me. In my living room.”

“You don’t say?” Jimmy laughed like a bark. His dark whiskers scratching along your jaw. His voice deep and sensual. “How do I know this isn’t a trap, Y/N?”

“Because you can leave any time you want to Professor Spivey.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” He nibbled your ear, his strong hands pulling you closer to his tall body.

“Don’t you have to be home before bedtime?” Your voice hitched as his hand slid down your ass, his long fingers hovering just below the curve.

“Nope, Jordan’s at a sleepover, my evening is all clear.”

“Wrong. Your dance card is filled, sir.”

“Lead the way.”

Aaron hadn’t had time to think about romance in over a year. The prison break and the subsequent trail of dominoes led them right back to Peter Lewis. But now, he was safe. Jack was at a friend’s house that was covered by four different US Marshals and his two personal body guards had secured the perimeter of Y/N’s house before they had arrived. He was as relaxed as he had been since going into witness protection.

“This is the foyer,” Y/N murmured, walking backwards into the unlit house. Her hands were sliding off his coat as she kicked off her shoes.

“It’s a nice foyer,” He chuckled, not looking around at all. She grinned, reaching in for a deep kiss. Her wine from dinner lingered on her lips, her tongue tantalizing. He maneuvered out of his own shoes without falling over.

“I’m not giving you the full tour, you can see it in the morning.” She was pulling him by his collar now, miraculously walking backwards and kissing him without any missteps. Too quickly her lips disappeared and Hotch had to open his eyes to see where she went. She had backed into the carpeted steps, landing soundly on her backside.

Her pouting expression was priceless as he tried to stifle his amusement. He slid beside her on the soft gray stairs. The only light coming from above the sink the kitchen around the corner, casting Y/N in stark relief. Her natural smile returned when she watched Aaron try to lay comfortably on the stairs.

“There are worse places to make out.” They both laughed, knowing their teen-aged selves had found plenty, however far apart they grew up it was a given. He gave up sitting beside her and perched himself between her legs, supporting himself by his forearms along the stair her neck rested upon. She seemed so small beneath him, her larger than life personality delicately packed away inside. He couldn’t wait to unwrap this unexpected treasure.

His gruff face began trailing along her neck, his sure hands un-tucked her blouse, his hands raked up her bare torso. She squirmed beneath him, deftly she hitched her skirt up, to spread her thighs, beckoning him closer. He dropped down a step, pinning her down his waist in line with her unfurled knees. She shrugged out of her top, his rough lips leaving hot trails to her chest. He bit at her nipple through the fabric of her thin bra. She purred into a giggle, her nails dragging his shirt from his belt now.

You were letting it get ridiculous, stripping in the stairway while you had a perfectly good bedroom just yards away. His body has covered in scars, you didn’t see them at first, with your head thrown back. But your wandering hands had traced over enough of them to sneak a glance. His dark eyes looked ashamed, you stroked his chiseled face.

“It’s a long story, Y/N.” He seemed wary. You drew his face to yours, bringing him back to the task at hand.

“Let’s skip that tonight.” You reached down in between your bodies, stroking him over his pants. His voice huskier than usual as he whispered in your ear.

“I hope you don’t mind rug burn.” You thought he meant from his beard and you shook your head that you didn’t mind. Instead this dark and handsome man danced his fingers into your panties, stretching the fabric to the side. He had freed himself from his pants while you were distracted by his mouth. Suddenly your eyes popped opened understanding his comment. And then Jim slowly entered your center, soaked with your want. He delved inside of you as far as he could and kissed you fiercely as your hips rose from the stairs to meet his momentum. Your shoulders were going to kill you in the morning, but right now the heat from the friction added to the building tension throughout your bodies.

He was in great shape, his legs supporting him and half of you as his hands kneaded your hidden breasts. You whimpered as he changed rhythm, your nails raking down his back now. He grunted as he sighed, pulling back from his pinnacle. His muscular hand reached between your folds, rubbing your clit in a motion that was both too fast and not forceful enough. Your whined, driving into, increasing the sensation for you both.

Suddenly a phone was ringing from back in the foyer. Jimmy froze, panting. His forehead pressed into your collar bone. He removed himself from you, his thumb rubbing your cheek tenderly. As he straightened up you rolled on to your side, your body sore from the odd positioning. He quickly found his phone and began redressing. His voice soft, you realized he was talking to his son.

“It’s okay buddy. I will be right there.”

“So much for the sleepovers?”

“I am really sorry, Y/N. Nightmares.” You waved it off.

Thus ended your evening, but not the possibility of more to come. You showed Jim out, it was weird you could have sworn an SUV pulled out of your neighbor’s driveway right after him.

Part 2: Come Around Again

[writingsofawanderingwonderer]

Fixing “Genius Jerk” Characters

This is a follow up to this previous article I wrote.

Okay, so I've been seeing several articles, academic thesis essays, Twitter threads, and thought-pieces on the idea that TV geniuses in stories these days are smart, and use this as an excuse to act like a jerk. Works like BBC Sherlock, House MD, and Rick and Morty were mentioned.

What's disappointed me quite a bit is that I haven't really come across a piece that suggests solutions to this growing cliche. There's been (really good and thoughtful) explorations on why it started and why it's problematic, but nothing along the lines of, "Dear writers, this is how you avoid this writing pitfall."

So since a lot of great writers have covered the other aspects, I'll try to delve into this particular area.

First, some ground rules on my perspective on which genius-type characters fit into this trope, and where. Think of it like a spectrum or greys, rather than black-and-white:

- I can't judge House MD properly. I tried watching the series, but I couldn't get into in. It's super-weird to see Hugh Laurie play an American when I'm soooo used to seeing him in Jeeves & Wooster and A Bit of Fry & Laurie.

- I still stand by my idea that Sherlock is more of a grump than a jerk. He's anti-social, and I think the world needs such people. Grumps are honest. Brutally-honest. No one likes to be the first one to yell, "The Emperor has no clothes!" * but the grumps of the world do it for us.

*(Or in this case, "The police are useless!")

To me, Sherlock's case is not so much like "being stuck in line at the cashier w/ someone using a check," so much as "watching a healthy person throw their health away (and burn their money away) by smoking. Also, they're smoking next to a 'no smoking' sign, a baby carriage, a puppy, a person using a medical breathing apparatus, and seriously, why is no one else but the grump pointing out thatthere'ssomethingwrongwiththis?"

Is it a feeling of superiority? Yes, but it's a feeling placed on a character that should know better. Not a character who is "just not a genius."

Maybe it's also because I find Sherlock's comments funny, so I give it a pass (I'm pretty sure everyone in the audience laughed when he shouted at the police, "Where is her case?! Did she eat it?"). I like to think there's more to it than that, however.

As an example of what I mean, look at his interactions in an early scene in the first episode:

- Calls Sergant Donovan out on her unprofessional behaviour.

- Also, she calls Sherlock names first. In front of Watson. After being told that Lestrade (her boss) that Sherlock was called in to help her.

- Sherlock gets frustrated that the police are acting incompetent. It is, after all, their job to solve mysteries. Sherlock volunteers and is not paid by them.

When your police are these guys, there's a problem.

I don't think Sherlock ever crosses the line into being a jerk rather than an honest grump, but that might just be me.

- Rick crosses the line. He's a jerk just to be a jerk. He believes that being nice is what "less-smart people do to hedge their bets." If anything, Rick's attitude hinders him because (if you think about this logically) if you're nice to a person, they'll likely want to help you back. If you're rude to the person, they'll try to actively brick-wall you (like, you know when someone rudely asks you for directions, so instead of giving directions to them at your normal speed, you try to explain the directions in the slowest, most complicated way possible in the hopes that they'll be late for whatever they're trying to get to, and then they hopefully learn their lesson and ask for directions more politely next time? It's like that).

I'm getting a wee bit off-track. Moving on...

- Henry (from The Book of Henry) also crosses the line. Folded Ideas did a great postmortem video that touches upon why Henry comes off as unlikable in the film, even though the film tries to establish that he's popular at his school.

Okay, now that that's outta the way, I can give some suggestions on how to avoid this trope.

Actually, I'll have to quickly give some reasons why this trope exists, and why it feels recent.

A long time ago--we're talkin', fairytale-era of storytelling here--physical strength was seen as a more obvious strength. So to teach children/the audience that strengths of intelligence, the hero of a story would be a trickster who used their intelligence to get out of a dangerous situation and/or solve the main conflict.

However, with the Internet and modern-conveniences, it's now actually reversed: Being smart is seen as more important than having muscle. Even action films tend to have the hero save the day through some sort of "trick," using a plan, improvising a plan, or exercising intellectual strategy.

So, how would a writer remedy this? Well, having social skills is also very important, so instead of making the hero "smart by physically weak," make them "smart but socially-awkward."

However, this became a problem when people started to see social awkwardness as endearing and likeable. Even to other characters. Adorkable, you might say. I think the breaking-point for audiences across the globe was Bella Swan’s clumsiness being framed as her main flaw. Being awkward became a strength rather than a weakness.

So, what were writers' solution to this new problem? What was the next step in the evolution of the archetypal genius?

Make them smart, but also a jerk.

Ah. Here we are now.

"I am not good at people skills, but I'm smart and that should be rewarded."

Oh dear.

Now, some writers have gotten around this by implying that the hero will become less selfish and more selfless as the story progresses. It's their character arc. Rick and Morty and BBC Dirk Gently are examples of this, but it raises a possible problem: What will their weakness be if they lose this flaw? Will they turn into a flawless--and therefore, less deep--character?

But until I see these character arcs fully come into fruition (and since BBC Dirk Gently was cancelled, that seems unlikely), we won't know if they'll feel flawless and boring.

With genius jerks, there's also this sense of theme. Something like, "Everyone else is a sheep. I dance to the beat of a different drum, so I'm better than them." Which is something that, as I grow older, I find less and less... charming. (It's also a mindset that I'll hopefully explore more deeply in my upcoming detective games.)

I get why it's a popular idea. And I get why I loved it so much when I was a lot younger...

When you're in school, you feel different from other students because you all have different tastes and are forced to stay in close proximity to one another for several years. You feel like the only outsider because you feel like everyone else is hanging out with everyone else. "Everyone else is a sheep."

But as you get older, you realise that just about everyone else was feeling the exact same thing at the exact same time. It now becomes, "There's no such thing as a 'normal, average' human. We all have a story."

There are still jerks and idiots out there, but you'll find that just because you didn't see a stranger as eccentric or outstanding, that doesn't make them a sheep.

Oh, by the way, the above is also linked to a cliche I'm getting rather sick of where a writer/character automatically thinks that if they wear a kooky/colourful outfit, that automatically makes them an eccentric character. I'm sorry, but just trying to copy the Fourth Doctor's outfit does not make your character have a personality like him too. It's the equivalent of designers who think that just sticking some gears on something will automatically make it Steampunk. As Sir Terry Pratchett put it, "It takes more than heavy mascara and a pale complexion to cross the divide."

The Fourth Doctor. Not just a colourful scarf.

Okay, okay, I'll try to stay on-topic...

Ahem.

Another problem is that the detective/scientist/genius/etc can only be as smart as their writer. That's why you end up with episodes of 2016 MacGyver solving problems in really dumb illogical ways: The writers probably don't have a bachelor's degree in physics and chemistry.

You know, that thing MacGyver is supposed to have?

I really need to write a review for 2016 MacGyver, it was so disappointing compared to 1985 MacGyver.

Oh, right. Back to genius jerks.

So let's sum up the problems of writing genius jerks:

- It can make the character insufferably unlikable.

- It creates the theme, "I am not good at people skills, but I'm smart and that should be rewarded," into the story.

- It creates the theme, "Everyone else is a sheep."

- It's becoming overdone.

These are the reasons why it's hard to avoid the genius jerk trope:

- If they're a genius, them need to have a flaw to counter-balance that.

- Being socially-awkward (rather than a jerk) is no longer seen as a true character flaw.

- Fully-removing the "jerk" aspect from the character (through a character arc) makes them flawless (boring).

And now, for the writers out there, here are some ways to solve this problem:

- Go back to making the genius hero's flaw being not physically-strong:

-- The problem with this is that their foil character (read as: their partner) is usually the physically-strong one. So having the genius become physically-strong can wreck their relationship dynamic. They are meant to complete each other.

- Make the genius' flaw being a coward:

-- Wheatley's portrayal in "Blue Sky" (Portal 2) is a brilliant example of this. He's not the brightest bulb, but he can hack terminals very well and knows the workings of the lab facility better than Portal 2's protagonist, Chell. He's so cowardly, he tries to leave Chell to die near the beginning of the plot. But by the end, he becomes willing to give up everything for her. 

-- Johnny Powell (The Darkness II) is also a good example. He's an expert in darkness relics (magical objects you collect throughout the game so that he can identify them), but he's very meek (one of the early missions requires you to rescue him). However, near the end of the game, he actually gets to save you instead.

- Make the genius book-smart, but not street-smart:

-- Maybe they've studied in an academy in a safe, secluded part of the story's world, away from the main conflict of the plot. Maybe they're young and inexperienced, but have self-taught themselves some very useful knowledge. Either way, the genius is lacking in experience, so even though they're smart, they're not quiet cut-out for the dangerous situations they'll need to face.

- They're smart and nice, but evil-aligned:

-- You know how I've said that grumpy doesn't equal being a jerk? Well, being nice and polite doesn't equal being good.

-- Raven from my favourite noir film, This Gun For Hire is an example of this. He's a rare example of a noir protagonist who doesn't start out as a detective. He's a gun-for-hire assassin. He's introduced by shooting a man to steal documents for someone (who turns out to be a baddie). However, we also see Raven stop to help a little girl retrieve her toy ball before he leaves (which is very nice of him, considering that the police are coming and he has to get out of the building fast). He eventually not only brings justice by solving the mystery, but he also decided to switch to the good side.

Anything I’m missing? Let me know!

[shooting-stars-library]

The True Bride

Part 5 of Let Me Tell You a Story series

Yoongi  Taehyung  Hoseok  Namjoon  Seokjin  Jungkook  OT7

Masterlist

PLEASE COMMENT/REBLOG, IT LETS ME KNOW IF Y'ALL LIKE MY WRITING/WANT MORE AND HELPS MORE PEOPLE SEE IT

Based on the episode from Jim Henson's "The Storyteller"

The True Bride is an adaptation by Jim Henson's "The Storyteller" series of the story by the Bothers Grimm, "The True Bride."

Thoughts are more powerful than you might think, and true love really doesn't conquer all.

I really like making the narrator almost a part of the story, so if the fourth wall breaks a bit here and there, that’s just me/my narrator interacting with the story.

Moodboard (also available on my Instagram). Cross-posted on AO3.

I am so in love with this one. I think it might be a bit shorter than the rest, but I still love it.

Pairing: Jimin/Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 5,969

Warnings: Mild description of physical abuse

Let me tell you a story. A story about true love, spells, and trolls. Trolls come at the bottom of the list of people you'd want as friends. They are revolting, trolls. They can't even stand each other. The troll in this story had a daughter, and she left home straight off. In her place, the troll found an orphan, a young girl, to wait on him hand and foot. But this girl had more in store than to do for a troll. Oh, no. She had a destiny.

Now, (Y/N) had no father and mother, and the troll was the other. So she obeyed him, cruel though he was. But one thing the troll could not abide was obedience. Of course, if she didn't obey him, trouble would come to her. I should have said, trolls are always contradicting themselves. And the troll liked to contradict himself with a heavy stick. It made a horrid sound as it flew through the air and onto the poor girl's back. Blue, he contradicted on her back, black and blue.

One morning, he trotted in with a bundle of sacks and dumped them on the floor where (Y/N) was sleeping.

"I'm off without," he announced, his head in the wrong direction. The troll never could grasp the idea of proper grammar.

"Inside these sacks are being twenty pounds of feathers. Clean them and pack them before I come back," he instructed. (Y/N) rubbed her eyes and stared bleakly at the mound of sacks.

“Yes, sir.” The troll turned and walked out the door. Just as she untied the first of them, the troll's huge head swung round the door.

"And remember, I'm being allergic to feathers. A single one upsets my nose a-quivering and a-quaking, a-shimmying and a-shaking. And I don't like it! Be thank you to me, and full of grate.” And thus confused, he shot off again.

That’s impossible! You must be thinking. She can’t possibly do it all by herself. It’s not fair. Well, you would be right my dears, it isn’t. Let’s wait and see what happens, yes?

Alone with the sacks of feathers, (Y/N) threw up her hands in despair. How could she, before the day ended, finish such a job, how could she? Soon he'd be back, the terrible troll, soon his stick would contradict. She began to work. She plucked and cleaned and packed and packed, but still the feathers filled the room, still the feathers fought the sacks. After an hour, the room was full of the feathers floating, feathers everywhere. Brave though she was, and not a little stubborn, poor (Y/N)'s heart sank. Is there no one in the whole wide world, she thought, to take pity on me? The clock chimed and shook her from her misery. Sniffing up a tear, she went back to the swirling feathers.

Then she imagined that someone had called her name. And the voice she heard was rich and warm and hugged her, and spoke her name in a way that made the world seem different, for she had no father nor mother, and when people said "(Y/N)" it was always barked, hissed, yelled, or shouted. This (Y/N) was a nice sound, and she looked round to see where it had come from. Standing in front of her was a lion. A great white lion with a mane like snow. She gasped and fell back, terrified. The lion pad-padded toward her until his head seemed to fill the room. But when he spoke again, his voice was so soothing that all (Y/N)'s fears ebbed away.

"Don't be frightened," he told her. "I've come to help you."

"Where have you come from?" she asked.

“From your thoughts. ‘Is there no one in the whole wide world to take pity on me,’ you thought. Well, there is. And here I am. Now, you’re tired. Sleep.”

“I cannot. The troll is my father and mother, since I have no other. I must obey him.”

“Trust me. Sleep.”

(Y/N) meant to speak of the Troll's threat, the terrible stick, but before she knew it, she had lain down on the flagstones, her eyelids so heavy, her dreams racing up to meet her; before she knew it, her eyes were closed and she was in a deep slumber.

An hour later, the clock chimed and she woke, startled, full of anxiety. The first thing she saw was the contradiction stick, cold on the wall. She must work, she must get busy. But when she looked, when she noticed, when she took in the room...what a sight, what a wonder! For there before her were the sacks, neatly bound, the work done, not a single feather forgotten.

"Oh thank you, lion!" she cried. "Thank you!"

But the lion was gone, and in his place was the sound of scurrying she knew so well. The troll was returning....

"I've recurred," he announced as his head appeared, then his body, then his legs. He licked his horrid lips and skipped over to the wall to collect his stick, relishing the swoosh and thwack. Only then did he see the stacks.

"You've done it!" he gasped, his mouth dropping. "You've done it!"

(Y/N) nodded, hardly believing it herself.

"I'm gast and flabbered," muttered the Troll. "I'm founded dumb! Was that a smile?”

“No.”

“No, sir. I don’t like smiles. Get to bed without your supper.”

He poked suspiciously at the sacks, untying one. As he did so, his nose began to quiver, his nostrils dancing. A tiny feather escaped from the sack. He sneezed, and a cloud of feathers flew up in his face.

The next morning, the troll woke (Y/N) before the birds began or the light had appeared.

"Arise and wakey!" he growled, shaking her. "I'm having another job for you."

And while (Y/N) struggled to open her eyes, he set about locking a chain to her ankle, meantime licking the two teeth that protruded from his lower lip. He dragged the sleepy girl from the house, yanking the chain so that she could barely keep her balance, but must hop and jump behind him, the clasp biting into her flesh.

"Come on, come on! Haven't got all daylight," and he pulled her to a pond at the back of his garden.

"Observe this pond," said the troll, observing it. "Deep, you'd say and you'd be right. Depth aplenty."

He pulled out a ladle from his pocket and thrust it into her hand.

"Drain it," he ordered, his little legs rocking under the weight of his head. "Drain it with this ladle."

(Y/N) looked at the ladle, then at the deep pond.

"If I be recurring and find a single drop of water, if I so much as gets my footsie wet"-the Troll stabbed one of his three fingers at her menacingly-"then heaven help me!"

With that, he tied (Y/N)'s chain to a tree and skipped off with a cruel giggle.

Alone, (Y/N) bent to the pond and dipped in the ladle. As she retrieved it, the water poured through a hundred tiny holes...for the troll have given her a strainer for the task. Impossible! Impossible! She tried and tried and cried and cried until her tears raised the level of the pond more quickly than the hole-ridden ladle could reduce it. She slumped back on the bank in despair, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. When she opened them, she was face to face with the great white lion.

"Oh, lion!" she cried. "My ladle is full of holes, my tears increase the water."

"You're tired, my little," whispered the lion. "Lie down and sleep a while."

(Y/N) shook her head.

"I dare not," she told him, "for my lord the troll will beat me with his terrible stick."

The lion shushed her. “Lie down.”

And then she felt so drowsy, so heavy, so pillow and blanket, that she lay back in the grass and in a moment was asleep. And in her dream the lion pad-padded to the pond and drank and drank and drank his fill until he had drunk it dry.

When she woke, (Y/N) saw a hole where once there had been water and she could not believe it.

"Oh, lion!" she cried, but again he had disappeared. And in due course the troll returned....

“Well? I’m recurred. Is the pond dry?”

“Yes!” replied (Y/N) excitedly.

“Yes? Yes, it is! How abstractly furiating!" he howled, staring at the pool. He was so bothered and bewildered that his toes ventured too near to the edge and carried him screaming into the mud. You may laugh, but the troll’s fall cost the poor girl dear. That night, she could not sleep for the colors on her back from the contradiction stick. All night she sobbed from its blacks and blues. And while she wept the wicked troll raged. He raged and raged until by morning he had devised a new task. An impossible task, worse than before. Back he dragged her to where the pond had been, muttering darkly, yanking on the chain.

"Good," he said sourly. "Very good, very brilliant. You've dried the pond wetless. Oh yes, rather ingenious, don't know how."

(Y/N) said nothing, but held her breath in fear of what was to come. The troll scowled at the mud.

"All dry, you think all finished," he said, baring his teeth. "You’d be wrong. Now you can build me a palatial. With numersome rooms and fully decored. All the bits, all the pieces, by nightfall. Or else." And off he scurried leaving (Y/N) chained to the tree with a palace to build by nightfall. She could hear his snigger and cackle for a mile down the lane.

Hours later, she'd moved a single rock a few inches. The strain of it. The pain of it. But still she struggled, refusing to give up. Light was failing into the red and gray streaks of evening when the lion appeared. He watched the poor girl lift and drop, lift and drop her pile of stones. Eventually she noticed him.

“Dear lion, but now even you cannot help me. I’m to build a palace by nightfall, full of rooms and riches.”

"You're tired, my little," came his sonorous tones. "Why not rest for a while?"

(Y/N) sighed. "I cannot, I dare not.”

"Hush," murmured the Lion, his gentle mane shaking. "Sleep, rest."

And sleep she did, for his eyes lulled her, his presence soothed her, his voice rocked her gently into dreams. She thought she was dreaming. The troll had returned and was roaring at her.

"How?" he was roaring. "How? How? How?"

‘I must wake up,’ she thought. ‘I must wake up.’ And she willed her eyes open to escape from the fearful rage. There he was, her lord and master, crouching over her, the bile spilling from him, his face a furious red, his teeth grinding.

"How? How? How?" he was bellowing, shaking until her head ached. (Y/N) began to apologize, tried to explain that she'd fallen asleep, could not have managed his impossible task, when suddenly she saw it: a palace behind them, a beautiful spires tearing the dark heavens, a perfect palace where before a pond had been.

"How beautiful!" she cried. "How lovely!"

The troll's nostrils twitched.

"So," he began, the three thick fingers of each hand squeezing her arms, "it wasn't you who's done this?"

(Y/N) cowered. "No, sir."

Triumph stretched the troll's queer mouth into what passed for a smile.

"Well, that's a contradiction," he smirked. "And when there is a contradiction we should fetch our friend. Is that not the case?"

(Y/N) was wretched.

"I don't know," she whispered. "Probably."

The troll skipped and lurched, all excited. "Very probably. Certain, in fact."

The troll dragged (Y/N) by the chain toward the palace. The huge walls, the stained glass, the soaring spires loomed over them.

"This is more like it for an important troll," he announced, and danced across the drawbridge. Inside they found delights of all descriptions. Walls hung with tapestries, chandeliers of crystal, goblets of gold, and rooms of many colors. In a great hall, a fire blazed, and the long table groaned with plate upon plate of a fabulous feast. The troll's eyes rolled in his head, his lips drooled, his feet jigged.

"Good! Lovely!" he cackled, skipping around the food, dipping in, nibble-nibble, slurp-slurp.

"And what about the wine?" he asked, hitching (Y/N)'s chain to a ring in the wall and settling down to gorge himself. The glasses and jugs seemed empty.

"I must have wine and sweet sherry," complained the troll, happy to have something to be unhappy about.

"Is there being celery for wine?" His eyes darted about and came upon a door.

"Go and be seeing," he ordered his servant. "Try that door."

(Y/N) went toward the door, but the chain pulled her up short a few feet from her destination. “I can’t reach.”

The troll, a whole chicken bulging out of his cheeks, the grease dribbling from the corners of his mouth, scurried over.

"If you want something doing," he sputtered, bits of chicken trailing behind him, "be doing it yourself."

He reached the door, opened it, and peered into the dark.

"Let me fetch you a light," offered (Y/N), hurrying to the table where the candles flickered. The troll puffed up with conceit.

"A troll can see perfectly clarified!" he told her, and walked into the shadows. (Y/N) heard a terrible cry, which dropped away from her, echoing into the bowels of the palace, as the troll fell and fell and landed with a dreadful thump.

(Y/N), horrified, ran to the door, but again the chain held her back. Straining at the chain, looking frantically about her, she saw the lion appear from nowhere.

"Oh, lion, quick, quick!" she cried. "The troll is in terrible trouble."

The lion pad-padded toward her.

"I know," he said, and with a single flick of his paw shattered the chains that held her. (Y/N) ran to the table, fetched a candle, and took it to the door. Holding the flame to the dark, she looked down and down.

"Poor troll," she whispered sadly. "No father, nor mother and he was my other."

The Lion's head rubbed against her. "Not poor, my little, but wicked and cruel. I made the palace. I also made the door.”

And, saying this, he blew against the door, which vanished, the wall closing up, leaving in its place a small portrait of the Troll.

And so (Y/N) found herself mistress of the marvelous palace. Upstairs dresses, downstairs food, servants everywhere. What a transformation! One minute at the mercy of a wicked troll, a princess the next. At the end of a long corridor, she found a room lined in velvet, where beautiful gowns lay waiting for her. In the next chamber a hot bath drawn, rich with aromatic scents, and a sandalwood box with pearls for her throat, diamonds for her ears, gold for her fingers. (Y/N) lay soaking away her past for hours and hours, and then dressed herself, pinning up her hair. When, later, she walked back down the corridor, passing a long gilt mirror, she blushed and curtsied, feeling sure she had met a princess, until she realized the beauty before her was her own reflection. So she curtsied again, smiled, laughed, danced. For the first time in her life, she felt wonderful.

And thus it was that a new life began for (Y/N). The days blessed her, and the nights caressed her, the weeks sailed peacefully into months, and her beauty blossomed. And yet, beneath the silks and satins and sun and servants, something ached, something yearned, something pined in (Y/N)'s sweet heart. What (Y/N) wanted was a prince, or someone very like a prince, to share her blessed life with. And when word spread of a lovely thing alone in a grand palace - well, they flocked to her, the suitors, in droves: Prince La-Di-Dah of here, Prince La-Di-Dah of there. But they were a little too much La, or a little too much Di...or occasionally plain Dah! And a whole year went by until the loneliness welled up in her and (Y/N) began each morning sighing at her window. She would have given everything - palace, jewels, peace, everything - for the rush of blood, the pounding heart, the song and the shudder that love beings.

Then, one day, as she listened to the larks, as she daydreamed upon the terrace, she saw a youth bending to the roses, tending to the soil. It was Jimin, the gardener. He was a handsome boy, with a shock of rare pink hair, pretty brown eyes, and beautiful golden skin. The sun touched his face and he whistled as he worked. All that morning (Y/N) watched him, and the next day, and the next, until she was ready before he came, heart pounding, the blood rushing to her cheeks. One morning, he looked up and smiled. Little fish swam up and down her back. And suddenly she wanted flowers in her room, flowers at her table, flowers for her hair, which he brought to her, smiling the while. And gradually the smiles turned to words, the words turned to whispers, and the whispers turned to kisses. It’s love. And why not? She was a servant turned princess. Why not a gardener turned prince? (Y/N)'s heart did a little dance was all she knew. Each time she saw him, a little dance. And that was that. They talked and talked and talked. Marriage? Yes please. Children? Yes please. Happy ever after? Yes!

"You are my true bride," Jimin told her, taking her in his arms.

"Am I?" sighed (Y/N), kissing his cheek tenderly. "Then let no one else ever kiss your cheek."

And her sweetheart touched the place where her lips had been and smiled.

"Never," he vowed. "Never ever." For he loved her true and he loved her dear, and the future was surely roses and violets and daisies and definite. But I’m sorry. Hurt lurks, pain prowls, sorrow simmers. Why? You ask? What happens? Does the troll come back? Oh, no! No. Well, yes, in a manner of speaking. Yes, he does.

Their wedding day beckoned. One morning, (Y/N)'s beloved set off into the village.

Appointments, he had, with the tailor and the barber and the shoemaker. Spruced up, he would be, to marry his true bride.

“Won’t you come?” Jimin asks before he sets out.

“No. There is my dress to sew, and you mustn’t see it. But I’ll count the minutes until you are home.”

She left him at the door, kissing his cheek, watching him go-his cheery wave, the sun following his steps. And she did. She counted the minutes. She sat in her room, embroidering the silks and satins of her dress, and counted the minutes. Counted them into the hours when the lamps must be lit, counted them looking out from her balcony into the dark night, counted them straining to catch her beloved returning, counted them in the creeping dawn as fear curdled her stomach, counted the minutes as they turned into days, as she sat at the table in her wedding dress, as the dust settled around her, as her heart broke, as the tears began to come....

"I am his true bride!" (Y/N) cried to herself. "I am his true bride!"

But only the walls heard her, cold to her touch. She stopped counting the minutes, and once again the tears became her constant companion. And she never wound the clocks or sewed her dress or sang. Until, one day, she brushed the dust from her hair and summoned her resolve. She wrapped a cloak around her and stepped out into the world to find her sweetheart. She trudged to all points, through all weathers, but no luck, no sign, no clue. And so it was she found herself standing in the snow. And she knew she could go no further.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N)?" She imagined in her sorrow she heard her name.

And again, "(Y/N)?"

But looking about her, the snow swirling, she could see nothing, no one. And then, as if the snow itself were fashioning his shape, the lion appeared, white in the white, his huge mane shaking, pad-padded toward her. (Y/N) had no words, simply hugged and hugged him, the tears falling. He set her back up on his back and leapt off, bounding through the snow, huge strides, impossible speeds, over cliff and cavern, crevasse and chasm, cave and canyon, helter-skelter to a strange land. A desert. And there, by a town, the lion set her down. He must leave her, the lion told her; she must finish the journey alone. (Y/N) kissed his proud head and made ready to continue her search. Before he disappeared, the lion dropped three small walnuts onto the sand.

"Take them," he said in a rich roar. "Inside there are gifts. Use them wisely."

As (Y/N) knelt to retrieve them, he disappeared, his body pouring into the sand.

"Thank you, dearest lion," whispered (Y/N) to the sand. "I won't call for you again. And I will find my beloved."

It was an hour later, as she approached a crossroads, that she saw people for the first time. Riders were approaching and (Y/N) thought she would stop them to inquire after Jimin, for why else had the lion brought her to this strange place, unless to find him there? The riders neared, the sand billowing out under the horses. The first horse cantered up to the crossroads, and (Y/N) stepped out to greet the rider. Looking down at her, his face blank, his eyes clouded over, was her beloved....

"Jimin!" cried (Y/N). "My darling!"

The rider slowed his horse, tipped his hat, smiled politely, and rode on.

"Wait!" she implored him. "Please wait!"

But the horse continued without missing a stride. Before (Y/N) could think what to do, the second rider was upon her. She turned. Her heart, in turmoil, missed one beat, then another. Her face was white. Her stomach churned. Fear seized her by the throat. For looking down at from the saddle, with eyes rolling, was her lord the troll! But it couldn’t be! He’s dead, I hear you saying.

And then she noticed a pigtail, a diamond earring, a hint of silk at the neck, and the truth hit her. It’s not the troll. It must be, it can’t be, but it must be his daughter! It is the troll’s daughter. Twice as ugly, twice as foul, and there she was, riding off with (Y/N)'s beloved. (Y/N)’s dumbfounded. How? And what’s happened to Jimin? He'd forgotten her! She'd walked the wide world to find him and he'd forgotten her! (Y/N) sank back to the ground and wanted the sand to swallow her as it had swallowed the lion. She lay there, weeping, while the sun beat down on her. Then, slowly, slowly, her resolve strengthened.

"I am the a true bride and he my beloved!" she cried to the heavens. And without more ado she set off, determined.

On her way to the town, she met many folk, learned many things. One man told her that the trollop, queen of the sand, mistress of the deserts, had traveled to the land of the troll, her father. Another spoke how on the way she had met a handsome prince and brought him back with her under the cast of a spell. Another told her they were betrothed. Each snippet tortured poor (Y/N), each clue tormented her. Her beloved betrothed to another! Then, at the gates to the town, castle to the left, dungeons to the right, she met a woman.

"The trollop's so greedy," whispered the woman, casting uneasy glances about her for fear of being heard. "Sees gold she wants it, silver she snatches it, diamonds, pearls, she'll be giving anything for jewels, covered she is in things precious, to hide what's underneath: a cruel heart, repugnant. She collects handsome men like ornaments. 'My Ornamen,' she calls them."

So instructed, (Y/N) took a room for the night. A plan is what she needed, a plan to get back her man, and slowly, as she fell asleep, dizzy, spinning with the day's events, an idea came to her in a dream.

Next morning, she walked to the castle and stood under the trollop's window. From her pocket, (Y/N) took one of the lion's gifts, cracking its shell against the wall. Sweet music - a lullaby harp - twinkled from it, and from one half of the walnut peeked a tiny piece of silk. (Y/N) tugged on the silk, and inch by inch more material appeared, a continuous stream, unwinding and coiling on the ground around her. However she pulled, she could not reach the end of it, and after a while she was surrounded by silk, swathed in it brilliant finery.

It wasn't long before the music threaded into the room where the trollop sat. She scurried over to her terrace and looked down to see (Y/N) with her fabulous treasure.

"That's being rather prettiness. I need it."

Next minute, she was outside gathering up the silk, wrapping it around her shoulders, hugging it to her, wanting it. (Y/N) said nothing, but continued to draw the material from the walnut.

"Is it being for peddle?" demanded the trollop. "Is there a cost involved? I'm expecting it's a gift for your queen, how kind and thank you."

(Y/N) smiled.

"It's magic," she told the trollop. "And therefore cannot be sold, only exchanged."

“Exchanged? For what? Be more clarified.”

“A night with your betrothed.”

"With my new Ornamen?" exclaimed the trollop, "Rageous!"

“Then you must keep what is yours and me what is mine,” (Y/N) replied, gathering up the silk.

The trollop was not listening. “Silk. Yum.”

(Y/N) gathered up the last of the silk. “Good day, your Highness.”

This finally got the trollop’s attention. She reached for the silk again. “No, back!”

The trollop thought a moment, fumbling with the silk, wrapping it around herself. 

“A night with my ornamen? And he’s very sweetheart. How generous I am being. Yes, alright. Yes!”

The bargain is struck. The true bride to spend a night with her beloved.

"Alone," she told herself, heart racing. "Once alone, he'll know me."

All atremble she entered his chamber, bathed in moonlight. Inside, asleep on his couch, was her darling. She rushed to him. At last!

"Jimin!" she whispered gently, kneeling by him, "My love..."

He did not stir.

"Dearest," she sighed, taking his hand in hers. Nothing. Jimin slept and would not wake.

"Please wake," she begged him. "It's me. (Y/N)."

But no matter how she tried, no matter how she pleaded, his eyes stayed closed to her. No, the fact was he couldn't wake. A glass stood empty by his bed. In it, drunk nightly, was a sleeping herb, powerful, and would last till morning. And when morning came, the bargain kept, (Y/N) could do nothing but leave, her loved one none the wiser for her vain vigil. What could she do, our (Y/N), what could she do but try again?

Later the same day, the trollop was sunning herself on the terrace, silk billowing, when she heard the sweet thread of (Y/N)'s music. In an instant, she was at the balcony squinting down to see (Y/N) holding up one half of a walnut from which gold poured, impossibly, gold piece after gold piece, a small hill of gold already growing beneath her hand, and, accompanying the lullaby harp, she heard that marvelous tune which gold makes...chink, chink, chink, a fortune pouring onto the ground. The trollop could not believe it.

"Hey!" she yelled. "I can't believe it!"

And once again a night with the beloved was swapped for (Y/N)'s magic. Quick, quick, the trollop wanted the bargain struck, for there across the way, in the narrow slits that were the windows of the dungeons, gold was reflected in greedy eyes, gold blinked back from the jail's back holes.

But that night the same story. (Y/N) hurried into her darling's chamber only for him to stay sleeping.

"Darling," whispered his True Bride, over and over, and "Jimin."

To no avail. Morning arrived and Jimin slept on, the cup of herbs beside him, two of (Y/N)'s gifts wasted. What could she do but try a final time?

As for the prince himself, his days were vague, his nights dreamless. Stop him and ask him his thoughts, what would they be?

"Oh," he'd murmer vaguely, or "Well..."

The trollop had rubbed away his past with her wicked spell. He hadn't heard his true bride whispering the night through, weeping in the morning.

But the prisoners in the dungeon had listened, their eyes blinking in the black, their ears sharp. Yes, they'd heard the clink of gold, but also the true bride's lament. So the next day when Jimin was walking the ramparts, they called out to him.

"How do you sleep at night," they cried, "with the beauty weeping at your side?"

Jimin looked out at the sheer granite walls of the dungeons, the narrow slits crowded with faces.

"'Beloved,' she calls you," they told him. "And she says she is your True Bride."

Jimin scratched his head, his past denied him, his memory a cloud.

"When do you hear these things?" he asked them.

"All night. All night," they chorused.

"Oh," murmured the Prince. "Well..."

And he walked on bewildered.

But even as he walked, the queen of all the sand, mistress of all the deserts, was hovering on her terrace, ears twitching in readiness, eyes swiveling. Yes! There it was, the harp's sweet lullaby. And another sound...like a chandelier shivering in the wind. She rushed down the stairs, not bothering to look over the balcony, hurtled down, silk cascading, gold chinking, charged to the spot under her window where (Y/N) stood with the third gift, a rain of diamonds and rubies, sapphires and emeralds pouring to the ground in a torrent. The trollop was close to fainting with greed.

"Oh! oh! oh!" she sighed, her little legs buckling beneath her, the jewels glittering in her gaze. "So meeable, so agreeable! I need them!"

Her tiny anxious eyes darted about her. From the narrow slits of the dungeons she saw the jewels reflected.

"Quick! Quick!" she urged (Y/N). "Gather up all my little babies. Eyes being everywhere...hurry!"

So the bargain was struck for the third time. Something for nothing, smirked the trollop to herself, hanging diamonds from her ears, pinning them to her silks. And that night (Y/N) arrived for her vigil, the final gift gave, her beloved sleeping deeply.

"Will you never wake?" she lamented, despairing at the sleeping prince. She took his hand and wept as the precious minutes ticked away, her tears marking the seconds.

"Don't cry."

(Y/N) dropped his hand in shock. Her darling had awakened!

"Don't cry," he murmured again, forcing himself from sleep.

"Dearest," wept (Y/N). "My dearest."

But Jimin did not recognize her.

"Oh," he murmured vaguely. "Well..."

(Y/N) leaned over his cheek but he shrank away.

"Not there," he said, unease clouding his eyes. "I promised, you see, not there."

"Me!" (Y/N) told him. "Me! You promised me!"

And with that she kissed him and the trollop's spell over him fell away, and his head cleared, such a tender kiss, such love, such sweetness of cheek.

"My true bride," he whispered. "My true bride!"

At that very moment in the vaults of the castle, where the trollop sat counting the piles of gold, a strange thing happened. Very odd. The silks, an armada of them draping the trollop, faded and shriveled, dropping from her in tatters. The jewels, pinned everywhere, disintegrated into the sand, sand pouring from her ears, her neck, her wrists, her fingers. And the coins, barrels of gold, crumbled to dust before her.

"No! My goldies! My silknesses! My die-dies! Come back!"

And she began to jump and skip and hop and stumble and buckle and foam and bellow like a bull. In she burst to the beloved's chamber, her rage booming down the corridor. But too late - the couple had fled.

Oh, yes, too late! They've gone, they're away, the lovers, running, running, running home together. The trollop, overcome with anger sent dogs, men, cannon, sent her whole army in their wake.

"After them! Get them back! Hurry!" And the trollop herself pursued them, hissing, spitting poison, cursing, cantering across the desert. Charged by bile, fueled by thunder, she closed on the fleeing couple, until she must surely catch them. (Y/N) and Jimin heard her galloping legs approaching, the baying of dogs, the gnashing of teeth nearer and nearer. The trollop roared, planning their punishment, ripping them limb from limb in her mind. She was on them, her hot breath on their backs, shrieking in triumph when, suddenly, rising from the sand itself, the great white lion appeared, growling, forcing her to a halt. On his back the couple clambered, hopeless. Yes, off he sped, bounding through the snow, impossible speeds, over the cliff and cavern, crevasse and chasm, cave and canyon, helter-skelter to the palace. Home! They made it. Yes, they made it. Thanking the lion, inside, locking the doors, catching their breath, thrilled, delighted, their adventure over. And they lit a fire and exchanged stories, how one was enchanted, the other despairing. And in between, hugs; and all the while, kisses; while the lion tossed back his proud mane and padded away, leaving the lovers, but not before a final task, unseen. The lovers, for their part, barely noticed he had gone, they were so full of their past, their present, and their future. They were home, they were safe, they were sound, the care falling away from them. So it was that they quite forgot about the trollop, who had not forgotten them. Even as they blew out their candles and prepared to sleep, she was well past cliff, well past cavern, long past crevasse, and hurdling the chasm… and getting nearer. By the time (Y/N) and Jimin were deep in dream, she had arrived, stealthy as a bat, at the doors to the palace, determined to exact a dreadful vengeance.

She scurried inside, sniffing them out, her nostrils twitching and heaving. There! her nose told her. There! behind the door. And, inching toward it, sure enough, she heard their voices, heard their laughter, her evil smile spreading over the bulging teeth, her hands moist with excitement. With a roar and a leap she charged at the door, leaping in… and fell.

And no sooner had she landed with a terrible thud than the hole closed up and the door disappeared. Upstairs the lovers slept on peacefully. And from that day lived peacefully. Babies came to bless them and the sun forever shone, and on their wall they hung a painting of the lion, whom they both called the Thought Lion. And they told their children he could come alive in an instant if he wanted to, or if they ever needed him. But the children found that hard to believe.

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