#thanks for nothing you useless feline

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi I want a platonic Catnap x fem!reader here. Simply put, it's up to the hour of joy, and the like, reader is Catnap's caretaker, she takes care of him, and makes sure that everything is normal with him, the reader is antisocial, cold, and a very big workaholic who can go without sleep for a very long time, for this reason she was made Catnap's caretaker, she is only friends with Catnap, Dogday, and his caretaker (she). So, the bosses decided to hold an event where smiling critters and their caretakers would spend time together, let's say, strengthening the team, so, as we already know, reader is antisocial, just like Catnap, so they, like true introverts, avoid such things at all costs, but this is useless, since they are found by Dogday and his caretaker, they are both brought (dragged) to the event site, so our antisocial and introverted couple is there, they are all there undergoing tests, trust tests, team problem solving, and all sorts of other things nonsense (and also, reader and Catnap work well as a team), then everyone comes to what nicknames caretakers and smiling critters call each other, the turn comes to reader and Catnap, reader answers first, she is very embarrassed, because up to this point she never called Catnap by this nickname, only in her mind, finally, she reluctantly and embarrassedly says that she calls him ... "Lave" (short for lavender), she calls him that because she likes lavender and its smell is calming, and puts her to sleep, we skip the minute where reader was teased about this (more precisely, caretaker of Dogday, what a good friend), now it’s Catnap’s turn, although reader doesn’t show it, but she has a reserved interest, because she is also interested in what the nickname is Catnap came up with a name for her, to be honest, she expected Catnap not to respond, or that he didn't come up with a nickname for her, but ... no one expected what he said

***Messiah***

... And that's it, nothing more, everyone fell silent after such a bomb from Catnap, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed to ... creepy, quickly ending the event, everyone went either to work or home, reader does not ask Catnap why he gave her this is a nickname, because she knows that he will not answer, or he answers, but gives a very strange and vague answer, that reader does not understand this, reader experiences many different feelings about this, from bewilderment to flattery, because she did not know, that Catnap sees her like this, so it's nice, although still terribly strange ... The reason why Catnap calls out to reader is something you can come up with yourself

Bonus, I had to come up with an alternative, and now Catnap is calling reader little owl, and sorry that it turned out so long, thanks in advance for writing 💜

"I know you're bored, but we're almost done with these tests. And then we can go back to our peace and quiet."

"..hmm.."

"Yeah..I get it, too." Looking up at the lanky purple feline, you just huffed. Your behind was growing numb from sitting in the cheap plastic chair for hours, but you unfortunately had to stay here.

Your fellow caretakers--plus the Bigger Body Smiling Critters--were all gathered in a circle, chatting away with their assigned "buddy".

Today, the higher-ups of Playcare decided to create this little "friendship event" for all of you to participate in. It was just to evaluate how well you were connecting with the Critters via a series of "tests", with Bubba and his caretaker being the ones to lead you into each activity.

Teamwork was the primary theme......and involved a bunch of crap that felt like a waste of your time.

You've been Catnap's handler since say one, and you two always saw eye-to-eye, constantly working together and ensuring he was in the best possible condition while caring for the children. Neither of you believed you had to be evaluated to prove that.

That being said..you're 99% certain this little "event" was created specifically to torment you.

Neither of you were the most sociable, and you didn't see anything wrong with that. Although in recent months you've gotten some notations for your "recent behavior"--such as not smiling at a child who somehow got into your office during your lunch and Catnap making them cry when he tried escorting them out.

They couldn't exactly write-up toys, so anything "bad" he did ended up being put on your record.

It was stupid.

Working at Playtime Co. wasn't the same as working at Disney, so you weren't going to keep a smile glued to your face and act happy-go-lucky 24/7.

Too bad Catnap didn't have to worry about that.

The only reason you agreed to partake in the event was not only the threat of a pay cut...but mainly because you were friends with Dogday's handler, and you liked him, too, so you did it for them.

What neither you nor Catnap liked, however, was being put in between Kickin and Hoppy--who would yap to each other nonstop, tempting him more and more to use some red smoke.

Or when Crafty accidentally spilled pain on Catnap's canvas during the mini-art contest between the Critters.

Or when Picky became frightened after he said pork was his favorite food (and the first thing he's said since the event began), staring directly at her. You got marked down a point simply for "encouraging" him to use dark humor in a "lighthearted" activity.

Well..damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Whether you get Catnap to speak or not..it gets you in trouble.

"Alright, friends! Our last activity is called the "Nickname Game"." Bubba looked at the clipboard in his hands, before passing it to his handler. "This one's real simple so nobody can win or lose. All you have to do is go around and share what you'd call each other instead of your usual names! For instance, my caretaker's nickname is "Einstein"...and he calls me..."

"Smarty-Pants." The doctor beside him answered dryly.

"Smarty-Pants! See? It's real easy!" He grinned, before his eyes went to you and Catnap. "Alright you two. You're up first!"

'God why--' Your face burned a little as the others stared at you, patiently waiting.

Honest to god..you've never called Catnap anything else aside from his own name. But you didn't wanna get another point marked down for saying nothing..

"I uh..."

""I uhhh"? That doesn't sound like a good nickname!" Kickin laughed, only to be shushed by his caretaker, pouting. "Whaaaat? I'm only kiddin'-"

"Does it count if I never said the nickname out loud?"

"I...suppose it can count." Bubba spoke up, now intrigued as he leaned in closer (as did his fellow Critters). "Go on."

As embarrassed as you felt right now, you eventually found the courage to speak up.

"In my mind, I sometimes call Catnap "Lave"." You looked to the feline, seeing his ears perk up in interest, his gaze landing on yours. "The reason is probably a no-brainer but..it's short for lavender, and I've always loved that scent. It's calm and helps me sleep when I'm off work. Even when I get stressed out here with paperwork and br...restless children, Catnap helps me stay calm. So...I'll make it my mission to call him that more often."

There was a pause..

Before a small chorus of "awhs" rang from the other Critters...and you felt like shrinking back into your seat and disappearing, wishing you kept your mouth shut.

Yet at the same time..it felt nice to actually participate and share something wholesome with your coworkers.

Catnap didn't respond to your words, although you could tell he looked quite flattered by the nickname you've wanted to give him. The corners of his mouth seemed to stretch a little, and it didn't go unnoticed by Dogday.

"Awh shucks, that's a really nice nickname, [y/n]." He chuckled.

"Yeah..and I think that's the most I've ever seen 'em smile." His handler remarked--to which you coughed into your fist on instinct to hide it, your face burning.

"That is." Bubba spoke up, before sending Catnap a pointed look. "It's your turn now. Do you have a nickname for [y/n], Catnap?"

"............"

As expected, he didn't speak, bearing such a distant look to his eyes...and though he was off in another world.

While it didn't seem like it, you were actually eager to discover whether he had a nickname for you. Maybe he, too, thought of one and never verbally shared it with his fellow toys.

Yet the longer he stayed quiet, the more you could see the other Critters fidget and talk amongst themselves. Your coworkers were looking a bit annoyed, too, with Bubba's handler getting ready to give you another point off just for this.

Right as their pen hit their paper, however-

"Messiah."

The room became dead silent.

Suddenly every noise ceased to exist, from Hoppy's thumping foot or Kickin's laughter.

It became a heavy and uncomfortable silence.

You, the Critters, and the other caretakers could only stare at Catnap in bewilderment and confusion. There were no lights in his eyes, which concerned you quite a lot..as that was a sign of great stress.

"That's....an interesting one, Catnap." Bubba finally spoke after what felt like an eternity. "Care to share why?"

".........."

"Bubba..what does "messiah" mean?" Bobby raised her hand, looking completely clueless. "I-I don't think he's willing to elaborate."

"It's a...um...." The elephant sounded rather unsure of himself, which stunned his fellow toys considering he was the "know-it-all" of the group. "..sorry, that's...actually a new word to me-"

"And one you shouldn't be concerned about." His handler interrupted, which was very much unlike them. From the tone of their voice, and from the way they looked at you..they were very much irate and definitely had questions for you once this was over.

You wish you had some reasoning for why Catnap would call you that of all things, but...you simply didn't.

He shouldn't even know a word like that exists.

Before you could say anything to defend him or yourself, they decided to shift their focus back on the rest of the group, sighing heavily.

"Let's finish this activity so we can be done. Dogday, you're up."

............

"....another stupid write up."

"Hm..?"

"I'm in trouble because you nicknamed me "Messiah"." Putting the slip down on your desk, you shook your head and paced around the place, eventually looking to Catnap. He was lazily playing with a yarnball atop a tunnel. "They're accusing me of "feeding inappropriate ideals" to you and think I'm forcing my religion on you...which is completely false!"

"........."

"I don't know where you learned that word, Lave, but it wasn't from me. I know that for sure." You sat down, rubbing your hands over your face and wondering how you're gonna fight these blatant accusations.

Of course, when you began working with the Smiling Critters, there were a few rules put into place to ensure they stayed true to their innocent and childlike cartoon personalities--among them being to never mention anything regarding religion, wars, crimes, or death whatsoever.

Nothing that could make them question their own existence and morals, nor the world beyond the factory.

You kept all of those things outside of your work, so you couldn't even begin to think how Catnap could possibly know what a "messiah" was.

Did he know the implications that held?

Or did he hear it in passing and take a liking to it without knowing its actual definition?

Regardless, you were impressed he was able to come up with a nickname for you at all during the event today. So you were planning to just let it go, knowing you couldn't make him tell you why he called you that.

You two may be close, but he's still ever-reserved..so you doubt he'd even answer you even if you asked-

"The Prototype will save us..but until then, He sends you to guide me. Watch over me in my mission."

You blinked, putting your hands down and turning around in to face the large feline, who now lost interest in the ball and stared at you directly. His claws dug into the polyester fabric of the play tunnel, the lights in his eyes gone once again.

'There he goes, talking about this "prototype" thing again..' You thought.

It was noted that he would frequently mention this unknown entity during past interviews with the scientists, and you were to discourage him from doing so, although you decided to keep quiet and let him speak.

Here he was, actually talking without being prompted to do so..and they wanted you to shut him up?

No way.

"He is God..but what is God without His prophet? His messiah?" He purred, tail hanging off the tunnel as he tilted his head, outstretching a hand to you. "You are the one. The only one.."

"I'm the only one who...?" You cautiously asked, waiting for him to elaborate. "I feel like there's more to that statement."

Yet all you received was silence.

"Lave?"

".....you remind me of owls, too..night owls. So...I may call you "Little Owl" around the others.."

You blinked, his change of tune being most surprising.

"Ah..sure. I do like that nickname, too, thank you." You nodded, watching him go back to playing with the yarnball like nothing happened.

Like he didn't just say something overly religious and cryptic.

"For the record...maybe they would've felt better hearing "Little Owl" at the event today."

He responded with a humming noise, and you knew that meant "I'm done talking today". So you went back to finishing up your paperwork, knowing you'll have to send him to Home Sweet Home soon as it was getting late.

Although you didn't outwardly show it, you weren't sure whether to be concerned or flattered by him equating you to a savior and speaking about you and the Prototype in the same sentence.

No matter how or where he learned that word, it's clear that he thought of you when he first discovered the meaning of it...so he held it dear to him.

You'll let this slide and allow him to call you that in private.

Only because it made him happy.

[zazter-den]

Cat Bath

Minors Do Not Interact

(Edit)Common Scents Series: Cat Bath, Sweet Tooth.

Synopsis- Barista!Reader comes home smelling like her new coworker Izuku, TigerHybrid!Bakugou decides a bath is in order.

Warnings- Yandere, Dubcon, Feline Anatomy, Choking, Light Knifeplay Claw play, Degradation.

Tags-Aged up(obviously), Hybrid AU, Tiger!Bakugou, Dom!Bakugou, Afab!reader, Sub!Reader. Bath Play, Scentmarking, Creampie.

Word Count- 2K words.

With a low, guttural growl, Bakugou's tail began to sway and twitch behind him. The long, thick appendage moved with a powerful feline grace befitting a regal tiger hybrid.

As Bakugou's sharp gaze fell upon you, he took a step closer with a threatening aura enveloping him. His orange and black swirled ears were flat against his blonde locks. His chiseled jaw clenched tightly as his raging crimson eyes seem to pierce through your soul. There's no doubt that his presence alone could send chills down anyone's spine.

Bakugou's voice dripped with anger as he sneered "Who the fuck touched you, huh? Just let anyone lay their hands on you?" His tone filled with venomous jealousy, his possessiveness over you shining through every word.

His large hand reached out to grab your arm with an iron grip, his long black claws barely grazing your skin, for now. The intensity of his grip causes a a hitch in your breath, his dominance clear as day. "Tell me. now." Bakugou growled, his voice dangerously low. His sharp canines momentarily on display as a warning.

You swallowed hard. Oh, oh this wasn't going to be good.

His territorial jealousy seemed to consume him, and there's no doubt that he won't stop until he has an answer. The scent of pine and yuzu still lingered on your café shirt, a clear indication of the bunny hybrid coworker who had touched you.

"But... but Katsuki, Izuku didn't mean anything by it," you stammered, desperation creeping into your voice. The words coming out of your mouth sound rushed and nervous, "He grabbed my hands only to thank me for training him. It was a gesture of gratitude, nothing more."

Bakugou's grip tightened around your arm, the tip of his dark claws starting to puncture into your flesh, as he hears the name 'Izuku' leave your lips. His crimson eyes looked like smoldering embers, the mere thought of someone else touching you was enough to send a wave of fury surging through his veins. But some shitty prey hybrid holding your hand? A useless rabbit who you were already on first name basis with?

A wicked smirk curled Bakugou's lips as your punishment formed in his mind. With a sadistic glint in his eyes, he released your arm briefly, claws leaving glistening ruby dots. "If it didn't mean anythin', then I guess we'll just have to make sure ya don't reek of his stench," he said, a sinister undertone in his voice.

Not bothering to wait for a response, Bakugou snatched your hand and forcefully guided you toward the bathroom in the back of the apartment. His grip was forceful, almost bruising, as he shoved open the door and tugged you inside.

Bakugou's clothes hit the floor in a haphazard pile, revealing his intimidatingly sculpted physique. His muscular form was accentuated by the defined lines and lean muscles that traversed his body, a testament to his feral strength. His piercing ruby gaze, filled with a mix of raw desire and anger, was fixed your trembling form expectantly. Your clothes soon joined his on the cool tiled floor.

With his usual swagger, Bakugou stepped into the bathtub. His gaze fixated on you, filled with a mixture of hunger and simmering fury. The water settled over his toned body, causing droplets to glisten against his slightly tanned skin. His intimidating cock, stood fully erect and proud, its barbed girth a testament to his animalistic nature. He leaned back against the tub and spreads his legs, making his intentions clear.

With a wicked grin with far too much fang, Bakugou beckoned you towards him, his eyes daring some sort of defiance from you. His tail twitched suddenly, and you swear you almost jumped through the roof

"Get in the fuckin' tub" Bakugou growled, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone.

As you obediently drew closer to him, Bakugou's large clawed hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly. With a sudden, forceful motion, he pulled you onto his lap with a splash, causing the water to slosh around the tub and onto the bathroom floor.

Bakugou's grip tightened around your waist as he pulled you forcefully onto his lap, positioning your back against his chiseled chest. The feel of his muscular frame against your soft curves was both intimidating and exhilarating. You wondered if your heart beat was visible with the way it seemed to drum violently against your ribs.

With a punishing hold on your hips, Bakugou bullied his cock into you, thrusting in inch by thick inch. The sensation of being filled by his girthy length always brought a mix of pleasure and discomfort that never failed to elicit a gasp from your lips. The barbed ridges of his dick rippled against the walls of your dripping pussy, and you had to keep from instinctually clamp down on him. Black claws left angry indents on your skin as he started thrust sharply into you.

As the water sloshed and splashed, Bakugou's claws remained unyielding, his possessive hold a reminder of who you belong to. With every thrust, he watched with a predatory gaze as you writhe on his lap. The moans of pleasure being pulled from you echoing in the small space.

"I can't believe you allowed a fucking useless rabbit to touch you," Bakugou snarled in your ear, his voice filled with venom.

Bakugou growled against your neck, his hot breath tracing a path of need and possessiveness. He rubbed his scent onto your sensitive skin, his rugged scruff grazing against your jawline. With each thrust, Bakugou's movements gradually erased the lingering haze of Izuku's pine and yuzu scent from your body. His own dominant scent, a mix of warm cinnamon, earthy browned caramel, and the smoldering scent of embers, overwhelmed your senses. Seeping into your skin, claiming you as his own.

You were caught between the pleasure of Bakugou's relentless assault and your instinct to defend Izuku's friendliness. Still you tried to find your voice, no matter how shaky. "K-Katsuki," you begun to protest weakly, voice tinged with a mix of pleasure and desperation. "Izuku didn't mean any-"

In a black and orange flash, Bakugou's tail wrapped around your throat, his favorite way of shutting you up. The soft fur against your sensitive skin was a sharp contrast to the powerful grip it wielded, protests efficiently choked to a whimper.

As the pressure increased, lightly cutting off airflow, you gasped and whimpered. The minor decrease of oxygen intensified the sensations coursing through your body, making you moan in a mixture of pleasure and desperation. Each sound that escapes your lips only fed the fire burning within Bakugou, driving him to push you further, to exert his control over you completely.

"P-please" You managed to gasp out, your voice barely a whisper. The word hung in the air, almost begging for mercy, a plea to ease the intensity of his possessive onslaught. But deep down, you knew that it was a foolish request. Bakugou's selfish desires and his animalistic nature drive him, and mercy is seldom a part of that equation.

No. Forgiveness is not something Bakugou is known for. Instead, he tightened his grip on your hips, his claws freely dug into your skin, pricking the sensitive surface. His soft blonde hair, normally messy and tousled, now seemed to stand completely on end, giving him a truly feral appearance. With every wild thrust, his tail's grip on your throat tightened and slacked with the rhythm he found.

Bakugou spread his legs wider, seeking leverage as he relentlessly thrust upwards, setting a brutal pace that left you shuddering in pleasure. The sound of combined moans and the splashing of water filled the bathroom, creating an atmosphere of utter debauchery. Each forceful movement made you acutely aware of the prickly barbs that line Bakugou's endowed length, igniting intense sensations deep within your cunt. Under the violently swirling water, your toes curled against the slippery porcelain.

"Ya feel that, dumbass? That's me claiming you, marking you as mine." Bakugou's voice rasps in your ear, a mix of lust and dominance dripping from every word. “This is what you get, you pathetic little slut. You belong to me, and only me. Remember that." With his tail still wrapped firmly around your throat, His words punctuated by his forceful thrusts, each one drove deep with unforgiving vigor.

His hand snaked up your shaking thigh. His sharp obsidian claws grazed the delicate skin, leaving a trail of barely-there scratches in their wake, before reaching the apex he sought. He always knew how to handle you with terrifying precision. the pads of his fingers expertly circled your throbbing clit. The rough texture of his fingertips added a layer of friction that sent you keening.

Bakugou's touch is unapologetically rough, His fingers pinched and rubbed your clit mercilessly, combining pain and pleasure in a wicked synergy. Every grind, every pinch, brought you closer to the edge of ecstasy. With each press of his fingers, he thrusts into you with merciless ferocity.

Your body was a trembling mess in response to Bakugou's touch, the stimulation was sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. You could feel yourself beginning to succumb to the intensity of his ministrations, your walls tightening around his prickly cock. His thick length continued to impale your clenching hole, each thrust sending waves of pleasure cascading through your body.

Your orgasm hit you like a force of nature. Your eyes widened, pupils dilated with a mix of pleasure, fear, and surrender. Your grip tightened on either side of the tub, your knuckles turning white with the overwhelming sensation. The combination of Bakugou's forceful barbed thrusts, the constriction of his tail around your throat, and the merciless stimulation of your clit sent you over the edge. Your moans escaped in muffled gasps and whimpers, partially silenced by the grip of Bakugou's tail. Waves of ecstasy rippled through you, cunt walls clamped down desperately around Bakugou's cock.

Feeling your walls convulsing around him, Bakugou responded with a bestial roar that echoed off the tiled walls. With one final, forceful thrust, he buried himself deep within your quivering pussy. His body tensed, claws lacerating thin red lines on your hips. He released his cum deep inside you with the final snap of his hips, a torrent that seemed to fill you to the brim. It felt like every inch of your being was flooded with the overwhelming heat and intensity of Bakugou's climax. It was hard to catch your breathe as your cunt milked the last of the feral feline's load.

The spicy notes of cinnamon, the rich sweetness of browned caramel, and the smoky hint of embers engulfed you, overpowering any last hints of citrus and pine needles. In this moment, there was only Bakugou, claiming your body and erasing any lingering trace of competition.

Bakugou slowly loosened his tail from around your sore throat, letting it slip away like a snake releasing its prey. The furry appendage, a mesmerizing blend of orange, black, and white, flicked with an air of smug satisfaction.

As the pressure around your throat eased, your exhausted body slumped against Bakugou's sculpted chest, breath still labored. Bakugou wrapped his strong arms possessively around your spent and shaking form. He pulled you closer to him, ensuring your bodies remain connected, bond unbroken in the cooling bath water. His tail swished to-and-fro with a mixture of contentment and territoriality.

With your body now marked by his scratches and filled with his seed, you'll carry his undeniable scent, making it clear to any hybrid foolish enough to come near that you belong to him and him alone.

"You're mine. No prey filth should dare lay a finger on you." Bakugou seethed into your ear, breathless voice a dangerous low rumble as you drift off from exhaustion. “The next time this 'Deku' touches what's mine, I'm putting him in the fuckin' ground.”

An original broke artist haiku:

Buy Me a Whiskey

Because You Want Me Tipsy

So I'll Write More Smut

[eldritch-spouse]

I definitely wasn't binging through Krulu's tag like a horny depraved soul with no life (which i am) when i found this:

Pinnie I need to know how Krulu responds/reacts to Admin's existential crisis and crippling anxiety telling them that they're useless to him now that he has no need to hide and he can just dispose of them if he wants to.

[Fem reader.]

TW: Slight angst; Religious mindsets.

It's wonderful seeing your lord in such high spirits.

You never made note of it before, mostly to avoid being insulting, but it bothered you that Krulu felt unsafe all the time, resigned himself to the darkness of his sacred floor, didn't look beyond the walls of The Clergy's Eye or set foot onto his own garden.

It was disheartening.

He's a god! He's your god! He should face the world with nothing but pride and elegance, his might is to be witnessed and revered by all- Hiding is unbecoming of his perfect nature.

You suppose you have to thank Miara for all of this. For the safety and confidence Krulu now exudes, for the push she gave him to finally finally impregnate you- For your beautiful baby boys who have now grown up to take Earth's main annexes by storm! Life is good.

Life is wonderful.

But it's so, so scary...

Ever since your higher stopped using you as a vessel -There's no need for such anymore, after all- A depressing distance has been cast between you two. Something stifling.

You're so very happy for him, for Adelo and Adrul who can now communicate with their second father openly, see him in the flesh so much more often than they once did, for the two of you even -Because you do like witnessing Krulu's glory- But... Things just aren't the same.

You no longer feel Krulu in the back of your mind, caressing your thoughts and murmuring to you. His presence on your body is so diminished you feel naked. Unsafe. Out of sorts. You feel useless as his servant. This isn't right. It's something you're ashamed to admit, but you wish he'd return to your form.

What's wrong with you? To be wishing misery upon your lord...

You're his chosen, you're the mother of the rulers of Eden and Perdition, you're loved dearly by your lord and your angel- So... So why is it that you feel small? Like an ant? Without Krulu... You're just a human. Just a girl.

Tears prick at your eyes.

It's stupid, it's so stupid. You should be happy. This is a day of celebration! Your sons have come to The Clergy to partake in celebration with their parents and the core team after their impressive feats. And instead of spending quality time with the people closest to you...

You're sobbing on a faraway bench.

Pathetic.

You don't even hear the footfalls approaching steadily.

" Chosen. "

To say you sprung up like a startled feline is to put it flatteringly lightly. Your lord stares at you from a great height, gaze ever hardened, though you've been his servant long enough to spot the creases of worry in the corners of his eyes.

" M- My lord, excuse me- I'll be joining the festivities in no time. " You stammer, wiping the tear trails on your face and hoping your makeup isn't smudged to absolute shit. But it probably is.

Krulu makes a chuff, then takes a seat beside your figure, not looking directly at you. One set of arms rests on their hips, another steeples its fingers, the remaining one adjusts some of his jewelry.

" Speak. What troubles you? "

To the point. You've come to love that about him.

" Nothing serious, my worship. " You sigh. " You know how fragile the human mind is, I'm just being silly. "

The siadar's tail rattles across the floor.

" Our minds may no longer be interwoven, but make no mistake, I know when you dare lie to me. " He warns, eyes narrowed. " Your pain is still my pain, however. And to hurt me is not wise. "

You curl further into yourself on the bench, sniffling. " My deepest apologies- "

" I will not ask twice. What ails you? "

Slowly, you crane your neck back, meeting only the charred side of Krulu's face. With perhaps the most shaky and futile of inhales, your lips let loose.

" I'm scared. "

The siadar straightens slightly.

" My lord, I would never doubt your words- But I doubt myself. We aren't as close as we once were, and that's amazing! That's good! But... I feel so hollow without you in my body. What duty do I have now? I know it's stupid of me -I know I'm foolish- But ever since you've ceased to use me as a vessel, I've been so... Miserable. "

The shame coating your cheeks burns brighter than a thousand dawns, so you opt to bore holes into the stone of the garden's pathway.

There's a deep rumble from beside you, and soon, your small frame is lifted, deposited in the crevice where your lord's long legs cross, facing forward to the garden's expanse just as he does.

" You are going through withdrawal. "

Krulu begins, giving all your thoughts pause.

" Have been, for quite some time. "

Four hands touch your body, two loop around your neck in a familiar hold that has you sighing in comfort. The other pair rubs your sides up and down.

" I never did think it had reached this state, but then, you have a most insufferable habit of hiding your distress from me. "

" I... I don't want to disappoint. "

The implication is loud, even without being verbalized. A pause passes.

" Pray tell, what bred the idea into your mind that the mother of my heirs is expendable? " He challenges, met with silence for a few moments.

" Was it something I imparted onto you? "

And, when you think about it deeper, there was never a moment where Krulu made you feel as if you were nothing but a body. Or that you would someday outlive your use. Your sentiments are strange and you can't place their source aptly.

" Never! I don't recall a single thing you've said or done to me that could cause this- I think I'm just... Having some type of episode? " What a wonderful thing to say, you snort inwardly to yourself. Yes, you're going mental.

" Episode, hm? " Krulu chuckles above you. " Close enough. You got there on your own, songbird. "

" I- Lord Master, I beg your pardon? " Did he actually confirm you're going insane?

The siadar shudders at the title bestowed upon him, a squeeze of powerful claws reminding you not to rile him up now. It slipped.

" Just as when I took hold of your form your organism experienced many changes, you are now going through several more as well. " He explains simply. " My departure is intense, I would be alerted if you did not react to it. "

You blink, staring into his blazing orange hues. " ... But it has been years, lordship. "

Krulu's grin turns slightly mocking. " Indeed it has. "

You can only blink vapidly again, prompting him to laugh loudly and pet you almost condescendingly.

" How many years did you live as my vessel, lesser? "

Oh. Oh.

No fucking wonder you've been feeling this way for so long. Oh boy, this is going to take a long while... Who knew a hormonal imbalance could last this long, and be this devastating. Maybe to a doctor, it would be extremely common knowledge, but you often forget said information, because it hardly ever holds relevance these days.

You feel even dumber now. Dumb as a door. May the ground grow a hole and consume you immediately.

The berating inner-monologue about to kickstart in your mind is halted entirely by the sensation of Krulu's thin lips against the top of your head as the massive entity curls to shield you from the world at large.

" You are hereby ordered to seek me as soon as these flares of inadequacy show themselves, understood? " Even if his words hold supreme authority, you feel the insurmountable care behind them.

" My chosen is my adored and my adored is the light of this decrepit world. You hold more value than the universe could ever hope to achieve to me, yet you do not even realize it. " He whispers.

And you cry.

You sob like a fucking baby.

You wail into your lord's arms, full of relief, of love, passion and reverence and complete fanaticism- Enough euphoria to blind you for seconds of total bliss. It's almost like an orgasm, in a peculiar way.

He holds you throughout the entire catharsis, silent, stable like a stone wall. Only when your quiet sniffling has petered out does he speak again.

" Come to us, Adrul did say he has many tales of his time in Wrath. His mother should listen. "

You stand with Krulu's help, a smile as bright as the sun on your face.

Everything is okay.

You'll get through this.

For him.

Always for him.

Everything for him.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

I humbly beg of you, o great dastardly feline bless your loyal servant with some whump 🙇

The crack was horrible.

Simple but loud. Unreal. A body producing a sound like that was anything but healthy. It was unmistakably bone breaking but the hero was smart enough to know the complexity of their body. Muscles and tendons. Skin ripping open, blood pouring — it was all of it, not just calcified connective tissue cracking.

And then, the hero truly felt the pain. Felt how their ankle didn’t want to be a part of their body anymore. They cursed quietly when they were still able to, but they knew it was only a question of time. They knew it would only get worse, would be consistent and never-ending for as long as they were here on the ground.

“Beg.”

Fuck that.

With just as much determination as pain and an awful groan, they turned around on their stomach and pushed themselves up. Their arms shook, blood and sweat mixing on their forehead but somehow, they found enough strength to end up kneeling.

The hero’s nose was bleeding. Their ankle was broken, lying on the ground palsied. Useless.

Nearly unbearable.

They spat on the ground, blood together with saliva.

And then, they grinned.

“Think I can’t take a hit?” they asked. “My nemesis breaks my bones on a daily basis.”

“They also share a bed with you on a daily basis,” the other said.

“You’re really upset about that, huh.”

The superhero looked furious, determined. The hero didn’t know if they were capable of murder. They certainly looked like it but the superhero had also never done it before. They wouldn’t know how to get rid of the body, wouldn’t know how to come up with an alibi, wouldn’t know how to wriggle out of this.

Assault? That was easy. Blaming some villain, saying they were on patrol. A hero getting assaulted wasn’t something new. A hero being murdered was.

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?”

“Jealous?” the hero asked, still grinning. The superhero grabbed their jaw, letting their fingers dig into their skin until it burnt, yanking them towards them.

“You don’t get to decide these things. You don’t get to walk around and do whatever the fuck you want.” They squeezed harder, making the hero fear their head was gonna explode. Great. Fucking great. “You do as I say, fucking got that?”

They let go of the hero, nearly throwing them back onto the ground.

“You should be on your knees, apologising. Thanking me for saving your pathetic life. For making something out of you. You’re nothing without me,” the superhero spat.

But the hero could only smirk, laugh as the lightheadedness caught up with them. This was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Who cared if they slept with their enemy? There was no law forbidding it.

“Think you’re a control freak,” they said. “Breaking your friend’s bones—”

Something in the superhero’s eyes went up in flames.

“We’re not friends. You’re mine, fucking got that?” Their tone had changed, had turned more aggressive within milliseconds. The hero’s smile died and their face contorted. Partly from the pain, partly from confusion.

Thank god, the hero saw shadows moving behind them. Either they were going insane or they were extremely lucky.

“Fucking creep,” the hero mumbled and once again, the superhero’s expression changed, as if they were ready to discuss this on a more mature level. As if they were collecting themselves.

“Listen, I’ve protected you all this time. I’ve watched over you like a lover. Because I care. I care about you.” Insane. The superhero was completely insane. “Please, ever since we met, I wanted to protect you. And I have. I have protected you and I always will. Don’t you get it? You’re mine.”

“Burn in hell,” the hero answered. And that was it.

They heard a shot and watched how their former mentor fell to the ground. It was such a relief, such heaven on earth. The hero exhaled for what seemed like the first time in hours. Exhausted and battered, they let their head sink, trying to calm their racing heart.

You’re mine. What a fucking creep.

The villain slipped out of the shadows and tilted their head, curious.

“Crazy fan of yours?” they said, looking at the perfect shot right through the back of the superhero’s head.

“Please,” the hero said. Begged. “Hold me.”

And the villain did.

[art-crumbs-main]

Hello. This is a oneshot fic about the cursed cat Alastor on my dash I wrote in 2 hours. No beta, we die like demons.

A.K.A, where Alastor went for 7 years. Whether I finish this is up on the wall, but I haven't written in a while and have been dying to. Here's a drabble to get it out of my head. Hope you enjoy.

CW: murder basement, implied cannibalism, Alastor being a prick, three dickhead cats

It is a happy day in Hell, and you are a horrible cat.

Your name is Alastor, and due to some unfortunate circumstances of a deal you made to save your own hide, you have found it transformed. If a bit inconvenient, your new body isn't terrible-- it doesn't quite strike fear the way it used to, but it's quite covert and just as deadly. Being something so unassuming most certainly has its perks, and you're not going to complain about all of the new information you've gained about your new surroundings. Not to mention, anything, frankly, other than a dog is fine by you, and (you're sure) by Rosie, for that matter.

Yes, your old friend, Rosie. Naturally, you're on her way to her now. You'd managed to find her in your afterlife pre-predicament, and while you know she won't recognize you at first, you're counting on the fact that she has a certain fondness for the softer things in life. Cannibal Town has been a godsend, truly the only place in Hell you immediately felt like you belonged, and finding someone you knew and quite cherished in life there didn't hurt to mould a rather high opinion of the place.

You find her at once after walking through town, of course, and who wouldn't? That distinct voice could turn heads from across the room. Or, better yet, across the square as she announces she would be off shift for tea. Tail up in the air and head cocked, you pad into town hall and find her back in a rather cozy study, munching on a bit of demon flesh with her cup. It smells fresh, and the blood coating her lips is immediately enticing, but it is far more important to get her attention first and foremost.

Swallowing your pride, you make your way across the room to her, and rub against her leg, a horrible chattering sound escaping your feline throat. You despise so much bodily contact most of the time, but Rosie has always felt rather safe to you. As such, it's not as abhorrent as you expect, and it's quite effect. You hear her gasp and you know you'd gone about this correctly.

“Oh?? Who's this, findin' his way into my private area?” She picks you up and places you on her lap. You feel small. You don't like it. She strokes you, and the fur on your tail stands on end. If she takes notice, she doesn't show it. “I'm on break, y'know, little guy! Oh, but I can't say no to a face like that... I'll take an appointment. Just for you.” Unable to thank her, rather sardonically, you make a crackling noise that resembles absolutely nothing even close to human speech. She laughs --a bright sound that made your ears flick fondly-- and scratches behind your ears. Most embarrassingly, you find yourself leaning into it. It does really feel quite nice... You lay down on her lap, suppressing the infernal motor wishing to spark to life in your chest. You must preserve whatever small dignities you have left.

Your eyes open (you're rather startled to find that they had ever closed) when Rosie offers you something from her plate, the darling. You have a passing thought about such things being unsanitary, but you don't object. You swipe it from her and take it with your rather useless mittens, licking and gnawing at it with hooked tongue and sharp teeth. She coos at you some more, which is rather embarrassing, but you can't say you didn't expect, and you let it fade into the background as you start figuring out how to divise a plan to make Rosie aware of who you really are and what you've become. You're not entirely sure why, but you have a distinct feeling she can help you. More than anyone else.

You wouldn't dare summon one of your soul contracts, after all. Sure, you could always threaten them into silence, but it's about the principle of the thing. Husk, for instance, would probably laugh in your face, and you can't have your reputation tarnished as such. Niffty... you have no idea what she'd do. Rather unpredictable, that one, though you quite appreciate her unhinged company. Anyone else is either dead by now, or too far beneath you for you to possibly offer you anything useful. You're startled from your deep train of thought by Rosie nudging you into a standing position. “Well, alright, this engagement has been lovely, but I'm gonna need my legs to work, I'm afraid!"

You nodand jump off of her, and she regards you with a funny sort of expression. Too busy to dwell, you suppose, she shrugs it off for the time being and returns to her post. You can only hope that she'll put together that something isn't quite right. Finding yourself alone, you decide to explore.

You'd been in Rosie's dwelling enough times, but never like this. Everything is so big compared to you, and the weight of it all pins your ears flat to your skull. In annoyance, mind, not intimidation. You're not as mobile, nor do you have the same perspective on life that you used to, and that's going to make investigating difficult.

What you're hoping to find, plain and simple, is something that could help you signal to Rosie that you're not some mindless beast. You note her radio with a certain pride. You're sure even before you found her, knowing her tastes, she probably listened to your show... Oh, your show. You can't possibly run it in a form like this. You can't talk! All you can do with your given vocal chords is screech into a microphone and hope someone finds it appealing. You sigh. Passions will have to be grieved at a later date. There are other things you would do better to focus your energy on.

You search the kitchen and the larder. Fresh meat is hanging from meat hooks in a chilled section of the place. You sniff at it, and its sharp smell confirms your suspicions. Rosie must have made a deal recently. You walk out of there, manipulating the doorknobs as such, and pad back into her parlor. There's a table and cozy chairs, and bookshelves-- those could be an option. After all, if you saw a cat reading a book, you would certainly think to question it. You'll reserve it as an option. It could be good if you finish exploring and need something to pass the time.

You skip over her chamber. It's not your place to go snooping in a lady's quarters uninvited. Besides, you're sure you won't necessarily find anything of use in it. You also skip over the restroom. Anything that could help you in there, isn't necessarily something you want anything to do with.

The basement is locked, but that poses little obstacle to you. You still have some of your powers, after all. You only have to look at it for it to click and open for you, the door swinging on its hinges. You suppose you could always show Rosie your magic, but you're not sure that would be enough on its own to tell her not just what, but who you are. You trust in her intelligence, but even you think you might not be able to figure it out just by the cat possessing telekinesis. Sure enough, it is Hell. There are stranger things afoot (or a-paw, you suppose) than a cat with psychic abilities.

You descend the stairs and your ears immediately prick at the moans of the wretched. You hear someone start to beg for their life, and another person exhale a gurgly breath. Your tail waves contentedly. The sounds of the broken and destitute never fail to bring up your day. Upon seeing that you are apparently small and cuddly, the begging stops short, and the poor soul it was coming from slumps back into despair. Rosie has to keep her surplus fresh, you suppose. What better way than alive? You pad up to her more lively prisoner and jump up on his lap, fixing him with a gaze devoid of sympathy.

In a desperate bid to self-soothe, he reaches up to pet you.

You bite him.

He swears, rather uncouth, you think, and attempts to swat you away from him. You evade expertly and swat back, swiping him across the face. He clutches his newly-bleeding wound and cries out. You land and turn up your chin, turning tail while you're at it, and pad back towards the stairs. You're not sure what he expected, behaving so rudely. Touching you without your permission. The nerve. The audacity. The pure entitlement! You stop at the base of the stair to lick the blood from your paw. Rather unbecoming of you to be covered in the essence of such simple-minded, inconsiderate filth.

At the top of the incline, three pairs of eyes shine down at you from their shadows. They whisper amongst themselves, before the leader of them trills down at you. To your surprise, you understand her perfectly. Mrrrow? “Just who are you?" You stop grooming and cock your head.

Prrrip! Purr-- purreow. “Who am I! You've some nerve-- I admire that.” You start up the stairs. Rrrreow. Mr-mrreow! “I've just as much right to be here as any of you, and you should know already that this bid for intimidation you've got going on isn't about to work.” The others bristle. A low growl comes from the ringleader's throat.

Rrrrrrrrrrrr... “Do watch yourself, stranger. When I asked you who you are, I meant it earnestly. Your smell is strange to me.” She hisses. “I suggest you mind your manners and answer my question to save us all quite a bit of trouble. Are you new? A stray?” You narrow your eyes.

Prrr! “Trouble! Oh, dear, well, surely no one would want that," you shoot back playfully, “And just what kind of "trouble" might I be inviting?” One of her posse finally gathers the nerve to speak for herself.

Rrrrrrrroooooowwwwww... “For you? The trouble of being torn to shreds. For us? The trouble of picking your sinew from our teeth.” You trill, amused.

Chrrrreow! “Hahaha! My, how assured of yourselves you must be. It's adorable, ladies, really. This has been fun, but let me on by, if you would. I need to keep looking for ways to communicate with your master.” They look at each other, seem to come to an agreement, and part for you. You walk past them, tail waving, entirely expecting what happens next.

The three of them, in their combined power, pounce upon you and begin trying to do as they threatened. You let them tear you up a bit --it'll make your case when you go running to Rosie far more convincing-- before you strike back, summoning your lovely pet to knock them away with its numerous shadowy limbs. They skid across the floor one by one and scatter, fur on end. A bunch of fraidy cats after all, you suppose. You hear Rosie enter the room, drawn by the commotion, you suppose.

“Mr. Radio Demon!” she scolds. You look up at her. Wait, what? She sighs. “Oh, what, you thought I wouldn't recognize the feeling of your power? Give me some credit, Al.” She interrupts your relief as she picks you up by the scruff, resting her hand on her hip. You attempt to struggle, but this is apparently your weak point-- your body is useless like this. Embarrassing as it is, it's somewhat comforting. It sort of reminds you of when you mother would grab you by your ear to scold you as a child. “Now, just what are you doin', terrorizing my cats.” Your tail waves with annoyance. They attacked YOU. Not your fault you defended yourself. After a pause, you realize she expects you to answer her. You stare at her, rather deadpan. You open your mouth and meaninglessly chatter at her.

This seems to trigger her realization.

Only just now apparently deciding to be of help, your shadow comes around and taps Rosie on the shoulder. It communicates via gestures that you're not in this form of your own will, and can't speak, and she arches her eyebrow. Then, she bursts into laughter, setting you on the floor. “Oh! Oh, Lord, what kinda mess did you get yourself into this time?" She wipes at her eye. “I'll tell you what, let me finish my work day, and then I'll call around and see what we can do to get you back to your regular imposing self, hmm?”

You blink at her in acknowledgement, irritation (however fond) plain in your gaze, and she just laughs again. “Oh, pray I don't change my mind! You're adorable! Y'know how much I like a fluffy thing with whiskers.” She kneels down and pets you, smoothing out your fur and scratching behind your ears again. They pin flat, but you don't shy away from her.

You have a feeling it's going to be a long time waiting.

[wh3nturtlesfly]

For the prompt event- 13 and N please!

It appears great minds think alike, thank you for the request from both of you!

13, N: Mind Control, “Thought you could run from me, didn’t you?”

“Thought you could run from me, didn’t you?” The voice came from behind them. Hero thrashed in the trap locking their ankles to the floor. The metal cuffs bit back and it was an effort not to topple over. Laughing filled the corridor and along with it, a dark shadow.

“So noble, it must be humiliating to appear so weak, so… helpless.” Finally Villain emerged, crossing the tiles with a feline grace. They circled the area and allowed their hand to trail over the counters. Beakers clinked beneath their touch, filled to the brim with deadly concoctions.

Hero’s hands tightened around the vial in their hands. They had been lucky not to drop it when the trap was triggered. Something so dangerous had to be discarded properly, destroyed for certain.

Villain’s interest peaked. “You’ve found one of my little toys too, how adorable.” They stepped closer and Hero flinched back. Such movements left them stumbling, though Villain snaked a hand around their waist before they could tip back. “Careful, I wouldn’t want your fragile bones to snap. I’ve heard the manacles can be quite unforgiving.” Their gaze fell onto the trap, lips splitting into a grin.

“Let me go,” Hero hissed. Though their arms were still free, they couldn’t risk dropping the solution. Without their legs, their movement was already hindered greatly. It seemed their hands truly were tied, and the Villain knew it all too well.

They chuckled, “You know I can’t do that, not when you have something of mine.” Villain reached towards the Hero who tried to pull away. It was useless. Villain’s hand slid around their wrist easily, constricting until the vial loosened in their hands. They caught it before it could clatter to the floor.

The solution was a deep violet in color. Bubbles swirled around the surface, glittering almost like stars, though what was inside held nothing of beauty. “I assume you know what this can do,” Villain waved the vial in front of Hero’s vision. They let their nails bite into Hero’s skin when they tried to grasp for the object.

“Other than hurting innocent people?” Hero’s eyes narrowed. They winced as Villain’s finger slid up from their wrist, moving to rest under their chin. Deep green eyes locked with their own, piercing as they were forced into Villain’s gaze.

“Hurt, or persuade?” Villain smiled, “Mind control seems to be nothing harmful, especially when it goes down so easily.” The vial swished as they twirled it between their fingers.

“You’re a monster,” they grit between their teeth.

“A monster?” The Villain almost looked offended, “No, nonono…if anything my dear, I am a genius. And you are quite wrong in the purpose of my creation, I would never use it to destroy the innocent,” They yanked Hero forward, “because no one on this wretched excuse of a planet is innocent.”

A pause in breath as Villain took a step back. They marveled in the shadows of their lair, this very room being their favorite place. It was a special delight, seeing the Hero helpless beneath their gaze, and they didn’t intend to spoil it.

Cold in their palm, Villain found their fingers tracing the lip of the vial. The cork top was rough against the pad of their thumb. It's only defense, power unleashed with the simple flick of a lid. “Tell you what,” they let the words roll smooth off their tongue, “I won’t use this on any of your precious people.”

A glimmer of hope shone in the Hero’s eye. This was all too easy. Villain let Hero sit in their pride for a moment, the thought that they had broken through, only to crush it beneath their palm. “You’ll make a much better subject after all.”

Hero blanched, “What?”

“Data can only do so much my dear, and you said it yourself,” They drank in the sight of the solution. Swirling purple, absolutely magnificent, “It would truly be a crime to hurt someone blameless. I must first test it on someone, and to have the big strong Hero beneath my hand- well that’s almost too much of a treat.”

Villain stepped forward and laughed as the Hero fought against their restraints. Bolted to the ground, they couldn’t so much as move an inch.

“No,” the word fell from Hero’s lips as nothing more but a hushed plea. Their eyes darted frantically between the vial and Villain’s gaze. Both were entrancing, endless seas of color that threatened to drown anyone who came too close.

They thrust their hands at the Villain when they came into range. It was a weak attempt, nothing more than flailing limbs and curses. With one hand Villain caught their chin, dragging Hero forward and with the other they held the concoction.

“Won’t it be so lovely to have you? Listening to my every word, I long to own that pretty smile of yours.” They ignored the scrape of Hero’s nails against their skin, even as it drew blood. My, they were so desperate.

“Let go of me!” They screamed, “Don’t!”

Villain raised an impatient brow, “Hold still now darling,” fingers playing around the edge of the glass, Villain popped off the cork. Hero’s response was absolutely beautiful.

“No- no, get that away from me!” They pulled at Villain’s hair, punching and scratching. Villain’s grip never so much as loosened. They held a power greater than anything the Hero could throw at them, and hearing their cries only strengthened it.

“Wait- please!” A scream tore from the Hero’s mouth, echoing off the walls in a chorus of absolute terror. Villain only laughed, grabbing Hero’s face and tipping the vial over their lips.

The liquid flowed from its glass prison, swirling through the air with a glow of brilliant violet. It burned upon the Hero’s tongue, a lick of fire as it was forced down their throat. Their hands flew to their neck and they grasped at the skin as if they could drain it from their veins. Villain only laughed.

What started as a trail of blazing liquid quickly morphed into something searing. Hero could feel it in their skin, piercing their veins and poisoning their mind. They knew how the concoction worked. It started in their bloodstream, shutting down their nerves and filling their mind with a new command. Bones aching, everything would be restructured, everything wiped. The liquid was not only for control, it was strengthening, sending a power surging through the Hero that they alone would never have the freedom to harness.

They cried out, doubling over. It burned, god, everything hurt. Hero was sent to the floor, thrashing along the tiles like a wounded animal. The cuffs bit into their skin, but they didn’t notice. Couldn’t, when each of their thoughts was being stripped away.

First, it was foggy, like grasping at straws. Hero hung onto their memories, nails pricking their skin from clenching their fists so tight. Everything fleeting. They forgot their own name. Forgot their power. It was fading much too fast.

“No!” They writhed on the ground, hands curling round their hair. Tears pricked Hero’s eyes, it was gone so fast, like watching the last of their thoughts slip under the drain. In the metal cabinet Hero caught their reflection. It was almost unrecognizable. They saw their own eyes shift from caramel to darkened violet as they could do nothing but watch. It consumed them, sparkling with the chemicals that left their head pounding.

Hero’s joints grew stiff, no longer under their control. Vision blurred and heart slowed to its own rhythm. Their mind was wiped like a slate, nothing left of them. Only violet. Burning, searing, violet. The substance was their livelihood, coursing through Hero’s veins as they finally fell still.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The voice was an echo. It bounced off the walls of Hero’s mind and they couldn’t help but gaze up towards it. Warm hands braced their arms, helping them to stand. They faced deep green eyes. Something lured them to follow such a gaze.

A finger trailed along their jaw, and the touch was familiar, welcomed. “This suits you,” The one before them said with a smile. Their hands came up to smooth the wrinkles in their uniform. “No more writhing in the dust like an animal. You’re perfect this way, all mine- isn’t that right my dear Hero?”

Hero. Was that what they were? A silent command shot through their nerves, compelling them to take the figure’s hand. Villain’s hand, a small voice told them. They felt Villain’s hand upon their cheek, and again those eyes-

“Say it for me love, just so I can hear it myself.”

The words fell from Hero with a mechanical grace. As if programmed, they didn’t even have to think. Fate brought the sentence to their tongue, twirling around until it felt just right. “I…I’m yours.”

“That’s right.” Villain hummed. They pressed a chaste kiss to Hero’s forehead, “I can’t wait to see what we can do together.”

Somewhere deep inside, Hero was screaming.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

Before we continue...

THOUGHT COMPLETE: ACTUAL ART DEGREE

BONUSES:

-1 Hand/Eye Coordination: Hands shake from anger from how shit it all is Conceptualization passives heal +1 Morale and give +10 XP

SOLUTION:

Trite, contrived, mediocre, milquetoast, amateurish, infantile, cliche-and-gonorrhea-ridden paean to conformism, eye-fucked me, affront to humanity, war crime, should *literally* be tried for war crimes, resolutely shit, lacking in imagination, uninformed reimagining of, limp-wristed, premature, ill-informed attempt at, talentless fuckfest, recidivistic shitpeddler, pedantic, listless, savagely boring, just one repulsive laugh after another.

"I got this special strike brew the Union uses." (Give it.)

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Interesting." He grabs the thermal cup and shakes it. "Ah, this is what they use to keep the working man going."

Item lost: Goracy's brew

ROSEMARY - "Hey, Spiral-Boy, you gonna share that?" one of the other bums interjects.

DON'T CALL ABIGAIL - "Don't call Abigail!"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Shut up, guys, I'm telling a story here." He turns to you. "Something happened to you. Something happened to me, too -- my actual name is George, but around here... you already know..."

"I was a once a reasonably high-net-worth individual. A founder slash junior partner at a high-concept creative services agency. When my story begins, I had just landed a major contract with an insurance firm…"

"Go on."

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "I used the profits from my agency to finance what I called a 'cultural incubator' -- abstract value generation, value per person, high-concept stuff..."

"I developed the paradigm, worked within the paradigm. But the burden of leadership weighed heavily on me, so I went jogging every so often to keep myself sane."

"Wait -- how many people did you have working for you?"

"Did the jogging help?"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Twenty-two full-time employees. An all-star team. A potentially historical set of individuals. Worrying about them often kept me up well into the morning hours."

"Did the jogging help?"

"I could probably use a good run myself."

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "It helped, truly. With my trusty Sansarique Lickra(TM) tracksuit I felt like I could conquer the world..."

"But now dreams are worn thin, much like my tracksuit," he says thoughtfully, brushing dust off his shit-stained pants.

"What happened?"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "One day I left on my evening run. As you may know, it's impossible to clear your head when you're distracted by the sound of keys jangling in your pockets." He shakes the bottle and makes a ringing sound.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] - His eyes are clouded, his dilated blood vessels encircling his irises like stinging brambles.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - His eyes are your eyes.

Thanks to Actual Art Degree, we gain 10 XP and heal 1 Morale.

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "So I removed the keyring and put the keys for the front gate and the apartment into different pockets, to stop the jangling, you see. At least that was the plan..."

"I was halfway done with my usual lap when it started to rain. The reality situation became very wet, very quickly."

"How *wet* are we talking, exactly?"

"Go on."

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "It was a day not unlike this one here..." You both glance skyward.

"I made my way back home and discovered that I didn't have the key to the front gate -- I'd mixed it up with the key to the letter box. Which was useless."

"Naturally, the situation required me to climb over the gate, which I did. There was no climbing down, because I slipped and landed on my ass."

"Ouch!"

"I would've landed on my feet. I've got feline reflexes."

(Say nothing.)

SAVOIR FAIRE [Challenging: Failure] - No, you don't.

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Whatever. The point is, reality was looking rather grim, just then -- me lying on my ass in a mud pit in the middle of a heavy shower. But when life knocked me down, I always got up..."

"So I made my way across the yard. Standing in front of my apartment door, fumbling with my pockets, I realized that I'd also forgotten my apartment key!"

"You've got to be shitting me!"

"Okay, so what happened next?"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "I wish I were, Tequila. I wish I were." He turns his head towards the skies. "Instead of my apartment key, I'd taken the key to the office."

"Okay, so what happened next?"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "I rang my neighbours' buzzers. It was late, and most of them didn't even answer. Those who did assumed I was trying to sell them something and hung up before I could even explain the situation..."

"People are naturally wary of ad men, you see. One moment someone chats you up, five minutes later you've bought a box of edible lingerie and a strap-on. I don't begrudge them, especially since I was known to be one of the best…" He pauses meaningfully.

EMPATHY [Easy: Successs] - Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Just then I experienced a moment of clarity: I still had the key to my office! I could wait out the storm there..."

"But when I reached my office I remembered that I'd asked one of my producers to change the locks that day -- and since I hired only the best, he'd already done it, and I couldn't get in…"

"Anyway, long story short, life spiralled out of control. I haven't gotten into my apartment for years, and my girlfriend left me because she didn't want to date a homeless man. The company, well, you see where I'm going with this…"

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Legendary: Success] - He pinches his thigh as if to check whether this reality is *the reality*.

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "So, now you've heard my tragic tale. What do you think? Like nothing you've ever heard, huh?" He takes a long swig of his drink.

"Wait, is that it? I feel like there are some steps missing."

"I've only been a hobo cop for a few days now, but it doesn't seem so bad."

"Look on the bright side -- you've got one hell of a story."

"You do realize all of this is your own fault?"

"I literally can't believe it."

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Tequila, I've thought about this series of events for a long time. If there was anything else to it, I would have thought of it by now."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Why didn't you go to the authorities?"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Well, at one point they came to me, but you know, I didn't have any ID on me -- so they tossed me in jail for two days..."

"I can't say it increased my faith in the RCM. No offence, gentlemen." He shakes his head.

3. "Look on the bright side -- you've got one hell of a story."

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Yeah. Maybe I've exaggerated certain parts over the years. When you tell a story too often, it begins to take on a life of its own..."

"But what matters is that it's true to my subjective experience. Anyway, that was all the story one bottle gets you." He looks at it. "Almost empty this one…"

+5 XP

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Truly, he has the soul of an artist.

Nice, another 10 XP and healed Morale.

"What do you guys do around here?"

"Why do you keep losing all your stuff?"

"I want to hear the story of your name again."

"Have you got any more stories?"

"Be seein' you." [Leave.]

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Good fucking question, Tequila! If I knew the answer, you think I'd be hanging out on a beach in this formerly premium but now extremely dirty two-piece Lickra(TM) tracksuit?"

"I used to own my reality situation. My business buddies and I had our own creative services agency. I had a nice apartment, an even nicer piece of ass, but somehow it all got away from me..."

"Now I can't hang onto anything. Just last week I stole this nice new jacket, but then I lost it, too. The only things I haven't lost are these two drunks."

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - You of all people should empathize with this. Perhaps this lost jacket is something you could help with...

"What was the name of your agency?"

"What's up with the tracksuit?"

"What about the other drunks?"

"What's this about a lost jacket?"

"Let me ask you something else." (Conclude.)

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "My agency, man..." He takes a long, melancholic sip. "The Boom Boom Room. Our concept was combining high art with the lowest forms of marketing -- the colour red, breasts, and oil painting..."

"I convinced my partners to reinvest some of our profits in an even-more high-concept 'cultural incubator' called 'Thin Air'. The artists were happy, the clients were happy."

"I was financing a group of poets in East Revachol who were developing a new, universal poetic language… but then it all went to shit…" He looks toward the bay.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Sounds intriguing. What say you, art cop?

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - If it sounds like it makes no sense, that's because it doesn't.

[the-himawari]

A3! Troupe Event Translation - Journey to the Colours (5/11)

*Please read disclaimer on blog

---

Kumon: Kazu-san?

Kazunari: Ah, Kumopi. Over here, over here!

Kumon: Huh? Oh, are these pancakes?

Kazunari: Nope, they’re pao cakes! Omimi made them from how they’re described in the script~. What’s more, I got some Chinese tea from Aririn yesterday. I brewed some up. Let’s have a tea party!

Kumon: …Sure.

Kazunari: Pao cakes are made with wheat flour and have cream sandwiched inside of them. They’re kinda like Chinese steamed buns, dont’cha think? I know you’re not a big fan of sweet stuff. But they say that sugar is good when you're tired, and we kept the sweetness low for you. We even left out the cream.

Kumon: It’s yummy…

Kazunari: I know, right~! Omimi was curious about your thoughts, so let him know later! Kumopi. You looked kinda down. All of us were worried.

Kumon: …Sorry about rehearsal today.

Kazunari: Nah. Don’t worry about it. You know, you can talk to me if something happened.

Kumon: … …Kazu-san, have you ever had any regrets?

Kazunari: Eh?

Kumon: …Never mind. You know what, it’s nothing! Sorry for saying something weird! (There’s no way I can tell him that all I can think about is the baseball team lately, so I might have some lingering attachments to it.) (Everyone’s worried about me. I have to do better to pull myself together as the lead—!) Thanks for the food! I feel better now! I’ll thank Omi-san and Homare-san later.

*runs off*

Kazunari: Kumopi…

-pause-

Kazunari: … (I couldn’t ask about anything in the end… I’m so useless.) (“Regrets”, huh…)

Cat: Meow…

Kazunari: ?

*something topples*

Kazunari: (There was a cry just now… And there’s a weird sound coming from my room…)

-pause-

Kazunari: Mukkun?

Cat: Meow.

Kazunari: !? Ah… are you Sumi’s friend…?

Cat: Meow.

Misumi: Kazu, have you seen a kitty~… ah! Here it is!

Kazunari: So you are Sumi’s little feline friend~.

Misumi: We were playing in my room, but then it ran away under my nose. Sorry your room’s a mess now. I’ll clean it up!

Kazunari: Don’t worry about it. It’s fine! You wanna play, right, kitty? You can take it outside.

Cat: Meow~.

Misumi: Okay… thanks, Kazu!

*leaves*

Kazunari: (I see~. This cat was the source of the sound earlier.) (Anyways, it looks like a hurricane went through here~. The cat even got into the closet.) …Hm? (This is… the paintbrush I used when I was taking my exams at my private art school…) (It’s worn out and I thought I threw it away already. But I see I brought it over.) …

*door opens*

Muku: !?

Yuki: What the heck?

Muku: What happened to the room, Kazu-san?

Kazunari: Ah~, y’know~. I’m in the middle of a major clean up!

Yuki: Hmm?

Muku: Ah, were you able to talk with Kyu-chan?

Kazunari: I did, but…

-pause-

Muku: Regrets…?

Kazunari: He didn't go into any details, but maybe that's why Kumopi was so out of it during rehearsal.

Yuki: Kumon’s regrets…

Kazunari: This is just my guess… but it might be about baseball.

Yuki: …Come to think of it, Kumon bumped into a friend from his little league days when we were doing a street act the other day. He told Kumon it was a shame he quit baseball. Maybe something was plaguing Kumon’s mind.

Muku: That might be it… Kyu-chan loved baseball with all his heart, after all. I parted from track and field which I loved too, so I think I can empathize with how he feels. I’ll try talking with Kyu-chan.

Kazunari: Thanks, Mukkun. I’m Kumopi’s co-lead, but I couldn’t support him at all. Pathetic, huh~?

Yuki: Not really. Everyone has their own way of being there for others. It’s true that you saved me during our Sardines play, but there's no need to get too worked up about it just because you're the co-lead.

Muku: He’s right. Just watch over Kyu-chan in your own way, Kazu-san.

Kazunari: —. Bring it in for thank you hug, you two!

*pulls both of them close*

Muku: Wah, it hurts.

Yuki: It’s painfully hot.

Kazunari: Hey!?

---

previous | next

[separatist-apologist]

All He Thinks About Is Me

I don't regret it one bit

Summary: Feyre has been sent to clean the lentils from a High Fae's fireplace. She's been warned she'll be skinned alive should she fail.

Rhysand has a different sort of punishment in mind

Note: written for & with the help of the @the-lonelybarricade (as always). Thanks for giggling with me about this earlier, and for contributing those most unhinged piece of dialogue in the whole fic

Read on AO3

TW: dubious consent- don't read if you don't like that/ don't like feysand.

Each moment under the mountain was worse than the last. Between the beating, the frigid cell, and the sounds from the other prisoners, Feyre couldn’t imagine any task that would be worse than what she’d already endured. She was exhausted and hungry and maybe more than a little afraid. In her mind, Feyre replayed the sight of Tamlin beside Amarantha. 

Helpless.

Silent.

And so she endured, because he was, too. It made her feel like they were in this horrible torment together, even if he refused to look at her. She wished he would, even once. Just so she could see his eyes, so she would know that he was just as miserable and scared as she was.

He didn’t, and Feyre forced herself to understand. They did what they had to in order to survive. She would free him and he’d look at her again with that same joy she’d seen when they’d been in Spring together. He’d touch her face, he’d tell her how much he loved her. 

They would survive this, if only because they had to.

Only, Ferye didn’t know how. The Lady of Autumn Court had helped her with the filthy floors, but today no one was coming to help pick lentils out of the filthy, ashy hearth. Feyre filled her bucket, and then the other, and yet every time she ran her fingers through the ash, more appeared. 

A clock was ticking in her head, spelling certain doom. Who was going to walk through the arched, heavy door at the far end of the bedroom? Whose large, dark blanketed bed all but taunted her with the promise of what would happen when some High Fae lord found a helpless human in his room? She still remembered the promise of those picts from Calanmai and the lewdness in their words.

Feyre, for all her softening towards faeries, had never forgotten the whispered stories of what the males did to human females, should they get their talons in one. Feyre couldn’t look when she heard the lock click, when she heard heavy boots on the marble floor, instead reaching for a poker. She lunged across the room, back to the wall.

And of course it was him. He was more swirling darkness than physical male, though his presence had the same effect either way. Her heart pounded violently, waiting for him to take his true shape—whatever it was.

The lock to the door snapped back into place loudly, shattering the silence. Rhysand appeared mere moments later sprawled out over the bed, his violet eyes burning with amusement. 

“As wonderful as it is to see you, Feyre, darling,” he all but purred, his head propped up on his fist, “do I want to know why you’re digging through my fireplace?”

She hated him. Feyre wanted to spit on the floor, to make her displeasure known. His eyes slid up and down her form, lips curling into a cruel smile when he saw the poker in her hand. They both knew it was useless. If he wanted, he could rip her to ribbons before Ferye had time to scream.

“They said I had to clean out lentils from the ash, or you’d rip off my skin.” His smile was feline. “Did they now?”

Feyre glanced down at her hand, hidden in her tattered clothes. The faintest glimmer of those inky whorls appeared beneath the fabric she’d pulled over her fingers. If Tamlin saw…

Rhysand chuckled. Feyre meant to ask him if this was his doing. If he’d called in his bargain to start now, so he might have his fun early.

Rhysand leaned upwards, resting his forearms on powerful thighs. “Tell me, darling,” he half whispered. Long fingers curled through nothing, wrenching the poker out of her grip without ever having touched her. “What is it that Tamlin does that would make you risk all this?”

She blinked. His words were so openly suggestive that Feyre was afraid to even look at him.

It didn’t matter. Those shadowy hands gripped her by the tops of her arms and pulled her forward, until she was standing at the end of his bed, unable to look at anything but him.

“Tell me,” he murmured, violet eyes searching her own. 

“You’re disgusting,” she spat. “I’m here because I love him—”

Rhysand rolled his eyes, scoffing loudly. “Yes, of course. Love. How could I have forgotten?”

She couldn’t pull away, though it wasn’t from a lack of trying. He was still studying her, that clawed talon scraping against her mind. 

“Don’t–”

“Tell me,” he ordered, that touch in her head a warning. 

Feyre pressed her lips together. She wouldn’t betray Tamlin just to save her own skin.

Rhysand barked out a laugh. “So noble, while your lover sits silently and watches you suffer. I wonder if he would offer the same courtesy, should the choice present itself.” And then he dug, the pain of it dragging tears to her eyes. Ferye tried to blink them away, but several slid down her ashy cheeks. Rhysand pulled out that night with Tamlin when they’d said goodbye before rooting in further, looking for anything else he might humiliate her with. He found Isaac Hale and those stolen moments, when the only thing keeping Ferye from falling into misery was the taste of his mouth and the touch of his hands.

It was so at odds with her night with Tamlin. Isaac had been clumsy in his intentions, though decent enough. Never warm. Never loving.

She hadn’t realized Rhysand could hear her thoughts until he snorted a laugh. “Is that loving?” he asked, his voice rich with some dark emotion she was too afraid to name. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to know the difference,” she snapped, trying so hard to pull from his invisible grasp. 

His eyes glittered as he rose upwards, towering over her on his knees. Ferye couldn’t move as his hand reached out, snapping just in front of her lips. “That’s better, I think,” he practically whispered, eyes raking up and down her form. Cool air touched her skin and with no small amount of horror, Feyre realized she was naked. Clean, somehow, and utterly naked. 

He reached for her tattooed arm, examining it with obvious pleasure. 

“What did you do with my clothes?”

Rhysand chuckled. “I don’t think you’ll be needing those ugly things,” he replied. “I much prefer you like this.”

He was sitting up, thighs parted until she was standing between them. He reached for her face, tilting it back and forth like she was merely some curiosity to him. Feyre tracked his every movement, certain her heart must be visibly beating beneath her skin. Rhysand’s curiosity turned dark quickly, those violet eyes dragging over her breasts and between her legs.

“What would you have done had it been me—”

“I would have left you here to rot,” she spat. Rhysand laughed a second time.

“I’ll bet you would have crawled,” he whispered, coming closer still. She could feel the fabric of his black jacket against her rapidly stiffening nipples, could feel the way the muscles of his legs shifted in his pants. 

“What are you doing?”

His eyes flicked towards the fireplace. “You didn’t clear out the lentils. I’m allowed my wicked way if you fail, am I not?”

“Rhysa—”

He pressed his finger to her lips. “None of that. Let’s not sully what promises to be an exquisite night with needless pleading.”

“I hate you,” she whispered, legs trembling. He leveled a bored stare before taking that silencing finger and plunging it between her legs. Feyre yelped, unable to do anything but take this new, terrible torture. She tightened around him without meaning to, trying so hard to push him out.

He dragged the wet touch back up the center of her body, pushing past her lips and onto her tongue. 

“Do you want to try that again, darling?” he taunted. “I don’t think you hate me at all.”

It was just her body’s reaction to being touched, she swore. Nothing more. Feyre didn’t want this. Not when that same finger, wet from both her cunt and her tongue, slid over one of her pebbled nipples. He drew teasing circles over the bud until Feyre closed her eyes so she could pretend he was anyone else.

“Open your eyes,” Rhysand barked, his voice rough and angry. Her eyelids fluttered open of their own accord, her entire body apparently primed to do his bidding. Rhysand leaned closer, sharp teeth grazing against her neck. “When you come, you’ll think only of me.”

“I’m not going to come,” Feyre replied. Defiance came naturally. He couldn’t have everything.

He smiled, reaching for her neck to arch it back.

“You’ll come on my fingers,” he whispered, licking the length of her skin. “And on my tongue.” Teeth tugged at her earlobe, even as his free hand continued to toy with her breath. “And then, and only then, will I let you beg to come on my cock.”

“I’m not going to beg you for anything,” she hissed. 

“Care to make another wager? Say…one more week every month? Or two weeks, on the bet you don’t come at all?”

Feyre hesitated, swallowing hard. Their eyes met, his mouth inches from her own. He held her still, fingers still teasing. Either way, he was going to do what he liked with her. And Feyre…Feyre knew better than to make another foolish bargain with him. One week was going to ruin Tamlin. What would he say when he learned how she’d lost that second week…or the third? Could he even forgive her for it?

Could she forgive herself?

Her silence was answer enough. Rhysand smiled, pressing his mouth against her own. It wasn’t a kiss, not as he spoke, “You know you’d lose. But I’d have fun watching you try.”

“I’m not coming,” she swore. 

“I can smell your arousal. Did Tamlin tell you about that? Or did he keep that little secret for himself? You reek of desire, Feyre…and I don’t think it’s for the poor High Lord of Spring.”

“You can’t have everything,” Feyre replied, daring to look him in those bottomless eyes. 

“I can have you,” he snarled, yanking her against his body. The kiss was almost violent in its intensity, a claiming—a branding. As if he could physically push Tamlin out by sheer will alone. No one had ever kissed her like he was. She could taste his desperation tinged with blood when sharp teeth sank against her bottom lip. Feyre gasped and Rhysands surged forward, tongue invading her mouth just as his fingers were doing between her legs. 

He plunged back into her slick body with two fingers instead of one. It wasn’t gentle or particularly nice—but it was good. And Feyre, who’d felt nothing but utter misery since she’d arrived, felt wobbly and needy when that first bolt of pleasure speared through her gut. His hands were everywhere, warm and stroking, tugging and teasing. Too late, she realized whatever strange, shadowy magic he commanded—the very same that coiled tight around her, preventing her from making her escape, was also stroking and kissing against her clit. 

Feyre thanked the Gods above that she hadn’t made that deal with him. Not when heat was racing through her veins and her legs were shaking so hard she would have collapsed to the ground had he not been forcing her to stand. Not when Feyre wasn’t even sure she wanted to escape him.

The magic pulled her forward, though Rhysand never stopped his bruising, forceful kiss. Feyre dug her heels against the marble, trying to keep from being draped over one of his powerful, still clad thighs. 

“That’s better,” he groaned as he nipped biting, bruising kisses over her collarbone. “I need to feel the heat of your pretty pussy on my body.”

Feyre couldn’t respond—wouldn’t respond. Not when he was still thrusting those fingers into her, curling with each pass so he hit the sensitive flesh just inside. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Rhysand didn’t seem to care either way. He licked and sucked until her skin was so marked, there was no denying what had happened to her. She wanted release so badly, even as she pretended desperately not to. 

“Stop—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he snarled, lips back on hers. She whimpered without meaning to when he yanked his fingers out of her so he could use both hands to hold her face and forced her to look at him. “I fuck you better with just two fingers than any male has ever done with his cock. Don’t I?”

She didn’t dare respond. Tamlin was—

“DON’T I?” His dark voice washed over her, shuttering the light coming from the sconces on the wall. Bathed in darkness, all Feyre could see was the violet glow of his eyes. 

“I’m not going to beg you.” That was all Feyre could manage. 

He pushed back into her, rougher than before. Determined he’d prove her wrong. 

“You want this more than I do,” he whispered, sucking a kiss against the pulsepoint of her throat. The teasing, licking shadows had returned, rubbing over her without mercy. Feyre was tempted to beg him to stop, though she knew he wouldn’t. Rhysand was going to take what he wanted.

And Feyre wanted him to finish this. Sick and terrible as it was, Feyre was so achingly, frustratingly close that when he stopped again, her hips jerked against his thigh. He chuckled.

“Messy, darling. Do you need something?”

She could feel her pussy gaping, trying so hard to grip around something—anything that would offer release. 

“No.”

“Pretty little liar,” he crooned. “I do hope you’ll be sweeter when I have you on my face.”

“I’m not—” she choked on her protests when he entered her again, thrusting without mercy until she was dangling on the edge.

Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop—

“Stop—” she gasped just as she came with a jerking, arching scream. She couldn’t move the way she wanted, though it hardly mattered. Rhysand held the back of her neck so she didn’t fall to the floor, still plunging those fingers in and out of her until she was practically sobbing with pleasure. She hated him for what he’d done, and hated even more that he’d been right—his hands felt better than any cock she’d ever ridden.

He heard her think it.

“That's my girl,” he snarled, dragging her forward. Laying her among the pillows of his bed, Ferye felt his sticky fingers wrench apart her thighs. Warm bands of that shadowy night spread them further, drawing her legs upwards until she was obscenely bared. Even in the unyielding dark around them, Feyre suspected he could see her perfectly with his fae sight. She slapped at his face only once before more ribboning shadows curled over her wrists and dragged them far over her head.

“I like it when you’re rough,” he growled, his breath hot against her still convulsing cunt. “You owe me, Feyre.”

“For what?” Her voice was high pitched and desperate—they both heard it.

“For my generosity. This is supposed to be a punishment, and yet your release is smeared all over my pants.”

Who talked like that? Tamlin had been silent, had let his body do the talking, but Rhysand—

“Don’t you dare compare us,” he whispered through the dark, lips kissing up the side of her leg. Feyre squirmed, for all the good it did. She wasn’t even sure if she was trying to get away from him or push his face against her. She felt almost high with lust, ridden hard with whatever magic—

Magic. 

“You’re in my head,” she breathed. That was the only explanation for how desperately she wanted him. “You’re making me—”

“If I was making you, you’d be on your knees gladly choking on my cock,” he purred, his voice as rich as the darkness swirling around them. “Don’t mistake your own lust for what I could do to you with merely half a thought.”

He gave her no chance for a rebuttal. His lips replaced the once kissing shadows, sucking over her already swollen clit. Ferye bowed off the bed only to be pushed back by his strong, broad hand. Rhysand chuckled, licking over her slowly, just as his fingers had once done. Feyre didn’t want another slow, steady build. She wanted him to devour him.

“All you have to do is ask, Feyre darling,” he whispered, still reading her every thought. “If you want to come, just ask.”

She remained resolutely quiet, for all the good it did her. Rhysand pulled back until just the tip of his tongue was toying with her, ghosting over her needy flesh. It was all a game to him, one he meant to drag out. 

Foolishly, she thought she could calm herself down when he changed the way he went after her. His little teasing licks had the opposite effect, each new touch burning through her until she was rolling her hips, trying desperately to get him to eat her.

“You know how to end this,” he whispered, speaking the words against her aching flesh. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want–” Betrayal! Tamlin’s face flashed before her eyes, steady and resolute on that throne. He’d never forgive her for this and what would it all have been for? 

“Yes?”

“I want to come,” she whispered, shame sliding through her. Rhysand chuckled. 

“Say please.”

Feyre closed her eyes, only to have a ribbon of darkness wrap itself around her throat. “Please—”

“Please, High Lord, Rhysand.”

Feyre blinked away the remainder of her shame. “Please, High Lord Rhysand.”

His mouth was back on her in a moment, his teasing replaced with his own desperation. Feyre swore she heard him groan as his fingers dug into her thighs, hauling her so hard against him her lower body wasn’t even on the bed anymore. He was buried in her pussy, devouring her just like she’d wanted. 

Feyre swallowed hard, squinting to see the outline of him. His tongue slid against her over and over until Feyre screamed, shattering the silence around them. Anyone nearby would have heard—and known exactly what was happening behind the door. She didn’t care, shame replaced with near frenzied desire. Tamlin, alone on that throne, couldn’t even—wouldn’t even look at her. Didn’t even ask Lucien to help her, was resolutely silent to ensure his survival. Ferye had tried to endure it, just as she’d endured everything, but just once, she wanted someone to care about her. Openly. Unabashedly. 

Desperately. 

Rhysand rode her through it, determined to taste every last inch of her. Only when Feyre began angling her hips away, desperate for relief, did Rhysand drop her carefully. 

One of the lights at the far end of the room flickered on, bathing the two of them in a dim, warm glow. She was still bound, still at his mercy. And Rhysand was disrobing, just as he’d promised. There was no part of her that didn’t want to see him. She was too far gone, too boneless and tired to pretend she wasn’t fascinated by what came next.

“That’s it,” he praised, a softness sliding over his features when he realized she intended to watch him undress. “You’re the High Lord’s best girl, aren’t you?”

Feyre nodded her head, inhaling sharply when his jacket fell away. Rhysand was miles and miles of beautiful brown skin, his broad shoulders and arms inked in the same whorling tattoos that graced her own hand. 

“What do they mean?” she whispered as he reached for the clasps on his pants.

“Another night,” he replied, his voice rich with promise. “I’ll tell you everything another night.”

She couldn’t argue with him, not when he pushed his dark pants over well-defined hips. His cock jutted between powerful legs, the tip glistening with his own desire. She blinked, half furious that Rhysand—beautiful as he was—possessed the biggest, thickest cock she’d ever seen. She wanted to lick him, but couldn’t—he still had her bound. 

He laughed when he heard the thought. “Is that so?”

She didn’t bother with a verbal response, not when he was back in her mind, picking through her night with Tamlin and the memory of his own cock. It was so absurd, so utterly possessive and—

“Jealous,” she breathed. That was the emotion she hadn’t been able to place. It was too ridiculous to imagine a beautiful High Lord like Rhysand jealous over her.

“Drowning in it, darling,” he hissed, dropping his muscular form over her own. “Ever since I saw you.”

“But I’m—”

“Everything,” he groaned, pushing the head of his cock into her aching pussy. “You are everything.”

She didn’t get to ask him what he meant by that. Not when he snapped his hips, thrusting into her so hard it robbed them both of the very air they were breathing. Feyre tugged at the bonds on her wrists and Rhysand released, either because he wanted to see what would happen or he’d merely lost control of his own magic. She didn’t care.

Hands that might have slapped now reached for his powerful shoulders, pulling him closer. And her traitorous mouth devoured him like he’d once done her. Rhysand groaned, opening for her sweetly. Each new drag of him seemed to fix something angry and broken in her chest, until Feyre forgot where she was or what she was doing.

“Rhysand,” she breathed, nails raking over his flexing back.

“Rhys,” he gasped. “Please, Feyre—oh Gods, you’re so tight–”

“Rhys,” she agreed, kissing again and again, until she was nothing and no one but his creature. It wasn’t lost on her that he was the one begging. A soft whine escaped him, his pace increasing until there was nothing but their combined breathing and the wet slap of their skin.

“Rhys, please,” she begged, just as he’d sworn she would. Far from gloating, Rhysand whimpered, teeth scraping over her neck. She was so achingly close.

Soft shadows brushed over her clit with just enough pressure to push her off that final, dangling ledge. She screamed, not caring who heard her. 

“That’s it,” Rhysand whispered, holding her by the throat with his powerfully large hand. “Let Tamlin hear how well you take your High Lord’s cock.”

She came again, as if pulled by strings only he controlled. 

“Who is your High Lord, Feyre? Who do you obey?” A vicious thrust punctuated each new word. 

“You, just you—

“Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court,” he said, his voice edged with that familiar whine. He was going to come. She wanted to see it, wanted to feel him spiral into the same desperation.

“Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court,” she repeated.

He grunted, hips pumping erratic. The fullness of his cock that threatened to split her apart pushed one final time, filling her with come. Feyre arched, squeezing as tightly as she could, if only to prolong his pleasure. The whole room seemed to quake, that light guttering so a blanket of night fell over the pair of them.

He collapsed on top of her, panting and boneless. Kissing her neck, her jaw, her mouth.

“Feyre,” he breathed. “My Feyre.”

“Your Feyre,” she agreed softly, certain there was some sort of magic afoot, even if she didn’t understand it.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he whispered, letting her rake her fingers through his thick hair. “I’m going to take you home.”

Home. She could picture it, soft and warm and lovely—a city of starlight, tucked safely beyond the mountains. He was showing her, she realized. Showing her this place, showing her something other than the horror of their current circumstances. 

“And you?” she asked him gently. “Who gets you out?”

His lips pressed to her cheek. “You will, Feyre. You’re my salvation.”

She thought he might be hers, too.

[offantasiesandreams]

Hello I have read some of your writing and it were great . Well I have a request for you if you're ok with writing it

we know that batter's appearance change depending on the player pov sooooo what if the player has the same thing where their appearance change as well depending on what others think of them .

Imagine before they turned off the switch player said that they want to try and see what happens if they choose Judge , the player already told them that they can rewind time so he agreed to play along but when that happens he was surprised to see players appearance change. After loading the last save file he was nervous and which the player was curious about

Ooh, this is also a really interesting concept! I left what he saw, for the most part, up to the reader's interpretation! Even though I like to think he saw a fallen angel/demon, but everyone views those differently, so!

Reader Shifting

“Are you ready, Batter?” Having taken one last deep breath, you turned to your companion. Stoic as always, he simply nodded. Leaving behind the room of the creator of this broken down world, you entered the final hallway, as monochrome as the rest of this world by now. Save for one last enemy, everything was pure as the ashes of a dead fire.

And there he was, the Judge, running up to Batter and you, a usually vain attempt at stopping the inevitable. But for once, hope shall be on his side. “Stop right there, you impostor. I must say that I had placed the blindest of confidences, the solidest of hopes and the most sincere belief in you. We can well say that I have erred to the bones. But the real betrayer is rather the one who lies beyond the eye of the cat.” Moving his head to face you, there was but rage and disgust in the feline’s eyes. Nothing you had not seen before, but the guilt of knowing what you had done was only amplified by this sight.

Once again, you were given the choice between staying loyal to Batter or betraying him for the sake of saving the nothing remaining here. Pretending to be deep in thought, you stepped behind Judge. While this choice tore you apart the first time, now it was much easier, knowing what lied ahead and how, for once, you could go back to how things used to be.

“That choice was, even though pathetically useless, I think, the right one. And now, Batter, taste our revanchist thirst for justice of no avail.”

Having loaded up your save file, you were greeted with Batter taking a seat on the floating cube. Although something did seem rather strange about this encounter, for when you had approached him, no matter how close you were in his vicinity, he did not stir, lost in thought. Whereas he would know about your whereabouts as well as you would know about his, was it refusal that made him reject the idea of looking at you?

“Hey! You good?” Upon hearing your voice, he flinched away from you, visibly tensing up, before forcing his muscles to relax once more. Finally, he acknowledged your presence, getting up and standing tall before you, his bat being dragged along the ground instead of being put over his shoulder. While to an outsider it may have seemed he was making eye contact with you, to you he was simply staring right through you.

“Yes, I am quite alright. I thank you for your concerns.” He gripped his weapon with quite a lot of force before softening it, fluctuating between both states depending on how well he was aware of it. Subtle as those changes were, they weren’t enough to fool you.

You sighed, another question on your mind. “Was it really that bad?”

“But of course not, my Player, for it was still you who I saw, even if the light of truth had changed your appearance quite harshly.” During a small pause he gathered his thoughts, carefully choosing his next words. “While your beauty and grace are infinite in your divinity, the sight of yourself ruling over the heavenly spirits no more was rather unexpected.” Regardless of what he saw, it seemed to have shaken him up quite a lot.

Slow, as though you were approaching an injured animal, you took a step towards him, giving him a reassuring smile. “I see, that must have been quite the awful sight. But it’s okay now, you won’t have to see it again. And one day, the impact of that memory will subside. So, for now, let’s just focus on getting you to calm down.”

Trying to mimic your facial expression, he gave you a soft smile in return, clearly grateful you weren’t going to push him further. “I am eternally grateful to you, my Puppeteer.”

[bilbobagginshome]

A Deadbeat’s Journal 15

A Jotaro Kujo x blackfemreader fic

March 15 20XX,

Despite doing absolutely nothing for the past three months, the day at the hotel felt well deserved, especially since I don’t remember the last time I had my back properly massaged . I could feel the literal stress in my body evaporate as the masseuse kneaded and pressed me like chapati dough. By the time I was done, even Grandpa Joseph, who had his own massage , noticed that I had become less rigid. So I spent the entire day sipping mocktails , enjoying the large sized pool and eating an abundance of culinary delights. Maybe I’ll enjoy working at a hotel, after all I’m a big advocate of soft life.

By dinnertime, I had to borrow one of mama Holly’s light green,satin strap dresses because the pretentiousness of the evening banquet did not allow my cotton vest and thrifted jean shorts to make an appearance. Though I did look good and Jotaro’s sidelong glance confirmed it . I did feel bad for Samosa so before we headed home, I bought her some prawns to snack on before sleeping . Jotaro insists that she is not that affected by me not being at home as much but he doesn’t know how much we spend time together .I literally get separation anxiety when I’m away from her for more than 6 hours.

Jotaro seemed exhausted . I asked him about it and he didn’t want to talk about it . I mean I care for him but he almost skipped his prescription drugs, his eye bags are becoming more prominent and there isn't enough eye size to carry those bags . His complexion , despite being a bit tanned, seems greyer too. I don’t want to push him but I feel like he’s trying to quickly get over the workload. Like no offence but I thought marine biologists just looked at dolphins and went , “Yes that is indeed a dolphin.” He has hefty encyclopaedias , some could even be half my weight considering how gigantic they are and is consistently hunching over them when writing his paper. He once mentioned that because of how unresearched the Indian coast is from the turn of the century , he has to update said encyclopaedias .Some of the books become entirely useless because of the  alarming climatic conditions that are affecting the global south. He almost gave me an existential crisis by informing me that by 200 years due to the dramatically rising sea levels, Mombasa may not even exist. I may be cremated thanks to this timely information.

An overworked and undervalued job that is Jotaro Kujo’s profession .He practically dragged his body to bed . He should have lived a trust fund baby lifestyle but the workaholic eats and breathes his job so that is out of the question.

In other related news, my feline firstborn was entirely happy to see us , she ignored Jotaro (a first for both of us) and went straight to lapping at my legs in an attempt for me to hoist her up. She’s gotten bigger , almost too big considering she’s only 8 weeks old and has quite a tummy despite her stubby legs. She graciously feasts on the prawns and heads to my room for our skin care routine which consists of me actually doing my skin care and brushing out her fur when I’m done . Her kittish nature is very much alive , playing with my braid stands whenever they aren’t in a bonnet and encouraging me to jump whenever she pounces at me . What a cutie!

I plan to take mom Holly and gramps to boat rides in the South Coast, partly because I want to jet ski but also they mentioned wanting to do paragliding and swimming with dolphins.

March 16 20XX,

I’m shaking as I write this? Considering how great of a day I had, I should not have come home to this . First of all, I’ll focus on the positives .The day was splendid, we didn’t spend a lengthy amount of time trying to take the ferry. It was actually surprisingly enjoyable swimming with the despicable dolphins who’s pretty privilege won me over . We also jet skied, mom Holly loved  it , even taking over from the instructor and rode it herself. The day turned for the worst from the moment I arrived home.

To give you some context, I was rushing out and I mistakenly forgot to switch off the stove . Luckily the gas was already out so nothing bad happened but I got home and found an infuriated Jotaro. I can even vividly remember the conversation ;

“Hi jojo.”

No answer, I walked in and saw him glaring at me as he sat on the kitchen counter . Samosa must have sensed something was about to go down as she leisurely walked to my room.Look I wasn’t even mad, he had a tough day and the dopamine from riding a jet ski for the first time was still giving me a euphoric rush . I drank the water from the dispenser and told him good night .He however demanded for me to sit down . I blankly stared and sat across from him.

“Why did you leave the stove open?”he questions with a very unamused tone. I look onto the stove and realise I must have left it on after making Pilau for his dinner. I shrugged and said 

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise . I’ll be careful next time.”Which I may add , was a proper response . I didn't justify my recklessness and assured him in a simple sentence that I wouldn’t repeat the mistake . Thinking he had acknowledged my mistake , I stood up .

“We aren’t done here.” He harshly responded . I haven’t heard him raise his voice at anyone since his teen days and he decides to shout at me. I’m now fuming.

“What could have happened to Samosa had the stove still been lit ? Aren’t you too loose with your mistakes?” My mind just went ‘Be for real’.

“I recognise my mistake Jotaro and I thank God nothing serious happened as a consequence. “

“Maybe it's because you can’t think of anyone but yourself but I had months of research papers here and had yet to have them in digital format . They could have been gone!” He boomed. I flinched . He noticed and moved closer . What could I have done?

“I said I’m sorry! What do you want me to do ? Reverse time ? I can’t do that .You’re scaring me and I feel uncomfortable around you .” I say and run to my room.

I’ve always been scared of people shouting . Less because of the act itself and more because of what it may lead to . I vividly remember the post election violence. I was in a secure estate so I didn’t face the brunt of the impact . But at seven I remember the shouting , the screaming that filled the streets. My mom barricading the gates to ensure the rioting masses didn’t attempt to kill us based on our tribal ties. At seven I contemplated whether it was better to burn within your home or be displaced and become a domestic refugee. Both options carried a low survival rate. The ending to that tragic event was grim . The politicians , unaffected , decided on a compromise alongside a new constitution . 600,000 people were displaced,3,000 injured and killed. It was a far hopeful outcome than the Rwandan Genocide , but like a small scar, forever left its mark .

Jotaro doesn’t know the trauma that time had on me. But God don’t I hate how intimidating he looked . What the momentary flashes of the past panged me with . He hasn’t tried to talk to me , nor did he follow me . I’ll sleep it off . Maybe I’ll talk about it with Ms Khadija.

Third Person Narration.

Jotaro didn’t understand why y/n spooked out when he shouted. Granted he assumed he wasn’t as loud but he didn’t know the impact it had on her . He thought he’d wake up and apologise . The previous day had been rough on him.He had messed up on writing one of the records and this messed up the entire file so he was stuck fixing the mistakes of a past sleepy Jotaro. When he comes home, he finds the stove left on and his seemingly short fuse bursts. He wanted a shouting match and y/n was the perfect person he could shout at especially since she wouldn’t take that  sitting down . He didn’t expect wide glassy eyes and an ever shrinking figure . He only wanted to check on why she reacted like that , but she skirted away, dashed to her room and locked the door.

He came back from the gym , guilt in full motion. He shouldn’t have tried to instigate a fight . She wasn’t home, must have left when she noticed he left . She didn’t even make him oatmeal and eggs (which she always kindly did despite his adamant refusal). Yep she’s scared of him and he’s realising the consequences of lashing out full force without thinking through. She had apologised, willingly as a matter of fact, and he didn’t take the cue that she was uninterested in arguing with him . It was his fault.

He is lost throughout the entire workday, his colleagues snapping him back.He reasons that his mom and gramps are unaware and are off dragging y/n to show them around. He decides after work he’ll apologise . He’ll willingly grovel at her feet.One day passes , he attempts to stay up but the exhaustion kills him and he sleeps, She smartly avoids him . Coming home at times she knows he’ll be asleep and waking up bright and early before he wakes up.

By the third day he decides to go to the hotel , believing that she stays there for a longer duration to avoid him .He finds her beside the pool, smiling widely at whatever anecdote Gramps is dramatically exaggerating about and he’s envious. The pool lights illuminate her wide smile and the one who gets to see this carefree view swinging on the hammock is a blubbering old man.She looks up and a frown hardens her features.He’s ready to bow down, profusely apologising for his sins .Joseph looks back and notices Jotaro’s approaching figure . If he knows anything about their argument , his expression reflects nothing of acknowledgement. He sadly says;

“Picking her up today? It's sad , I was about to get to the good part.”

“Talking about your plane crashes is not a casual post dinner conversation . “ Jotaro admonishes.

“Sheesh , well I’m heading to bed . You better be free tomorrow, we are going golfing and I want some of my associates to meet the family.” He says and winks at y/n who nods in affirmation .

“I’ll be there ,” And with that Joseph abruptly leaves.

They sit in silence.The sound of the fanned leaves cover up the excruciatingly awkward prolonging quietness. Y/n makes no move to talk and Jotaro is unnoticeably jittery.He finally says;

“I’m sorry.”

“It's fine.”

“Please , forgive me. I don’t know why you were afraid , but I didn’t mean to scare you at the moment.”

“Jotaro, It's late, let’s go home okay ? I’m tired and you must be too.”She rises up and walks to the reception area , Jotaro, after a long glance, follows her.

Her icy demeanour retains its rigidness even when they go over to take Joseph and Holly during the next day. She encourages Joseph to take the front seat and talks largely to Holly throughout the ride , She looks angelic in her blue sweater vest and tennis skirt but Jotaro refutes on complimenting cause , that wasn’t the time.

Once the arrive , one of the associates , a bald headed man with a pot belly underneath an all white outfit welcomes them, gesturing them to the court .He drags a glance at y/n and when she mentions her name replies;

“What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl! My son , the useless bastard, is having problems getting a wife, maybe I should pair him up with you.”

She refutes and Jotaro adds;

“Actually we are in a serious relationship .It would be disastrous if they met right?” He warningly smiles and the man drops the conversation immediately .Holly and Joseph however , smile knowingly at Jotaro who ignores their telepathic teasing.Noticing the stares y/n gets as they walk to the field, he places his arm on her lower back which she begrudgingly allows.

Y/n is contemplating . Her usual course of action is to force Jotaro to grovel in forgiveness but her conscience is now against that . Ignoring him is difficult, considering their living arrangements but she doesn’t want to forgive him yet.She decides on guilting him a bit, perhaps talking about her trauma will put him in place .They trail behind Joseph’s and Holly’s golf cart in silence and quickly get out once they reach the first field. She is average at playing , which is good considering she’s a beginner, Jotaro however is struggling throughout the holes, needing adjustment from Holly who seems to be a professional in the sport , easily beating everyone else playing .

“How are you so good mom?”

“I’ve been playing since I was accompanying papa to his meetings.”She gleefully responds. Y/n is in awe .

“Then why didn’t you go pro.”

“I did . I quit after a year. The sport isn't fun when it's your job.”

“Why does it always seem like you’ve lived a thousand lives?” Y/n rhetorically remarks which earns a laugh from Holly.

By the eighteenth hole the results confirm that Jotaro is dead last alongside Joseph. Holly is at top and Mutua(Jotaro’s associate) is the runner up followed by y/n.

“It seems the women in your family are very capable in comparison to the men.”Mutua Jokes.

“I can't refuse that, Y/n here can probably run a country with ease.” Jotaro chuckles in agreement while slowly shaking the shoulder of a timid y/n.

“Anyway let’s have lunch then we can discuss business.” Mutua instructs.As they head to the carts, Y/n slowly says to Jotaro with a small chuckle

“If you weren’t so impactful with your hits, you would have landed some hits rather than consistently scraping the ground.” .Jotaro loudly laughs at this much to the shock of everyone 

“I hope you can teach me someday.” He responds while revving the engine.

They spend the afternoon casually eating lunch and much to Joseph’s annoyance , Jotaro excuses both him and y/n out the country club early.

“Why are we leaving early? and who’s going to take mom and gramps home?” Y/n questions. Jotaro offers a small assurance that he ordered an uber and drives off to ..

“Tudor! Are we having mishkakis for dinner?” She excitedly questions as she hopes off the car.

“Yep,” Jotaro says. She isn't usually in this area of Mombasa so she rarely gets to enjoy the savoury food as often . Y/n took it as takeaway largely because it's much easier than stuffing herself with foodstuffs .

They walked around the area in silence, despite the cars the streets were not as packed as it was approaching seven. Jotaro suddenly breaks the silence by saying;

“The day we argued , I was stressed and when I saw the stove top on and went berserk. I apologise for scaring you and for putting you in such a position.”He looks down in shame.

“You remember when we came to Japan during April? And we weren't able to come during the usual Christmas time?”Y/n askes and Jotaro nods in confusion.

“We didn’t come because Kenya was at the brink of civil war and everyone was barricading themselves at home, fearing the worst.”She adds and Jotaro shoots up in utter bewilderment . 

“I wasn’t exactly harmed but the screams and shouting I heard on the streets were practically nightmare fuel for weeks. That’s why I reacted that way. Thank you for apologising but the next time we argue , please try to lower your tone.”She finishes with a slight smile gracing her lips.

Jotaro’s heart is heavy. After composing himself, he bows down much to the surprise of y/n and the people surrounding them . He then solemnly says;

“I’m so sorry . I’ll do everything I can to repent.”

Y/n forces him to get up , largely because she’s embarrassed but also because she had planned on forgiving him anyway. They walk back to the car and Jotaro remains silent for the rest of the ride back.

“You know you can speak to me right?I’m not going to start quivering whenever you speak.”Y/n says once they alight from the car.

“I was thinking, maybe we should go out, at the mall. We can even check out Miniso's”Jotaro says whilst  needlessly stratching the back of his neck

“We should. Not for me though, you need a lot more clothes that are fashionable, I’ll just buy stationery.” She excitedly responds , not without casting a withering glance at Jotaro’s outfit.

He smiles in response.

                                      prev  masterlist next

It seems my poorly written fanfic has earned some views ,Thank you so much for the support.

But seeing as my first uni semester is ending I need to pay more attention to the books. Updates will be on Tuesdays and Thursdays (Cross your fingers for Saturdays) . I apologise and now understand authors who don't post as regularly.

[theangrypomeranian]

and on today's episode of "why the fuck am I awake so early" we have:

my cat is an idiot

[the-littlest-goblin]

*shows up to @essek-week 6 days late with all the prompts shoved into one fic*

based on this post by @slayerscake​

___________________________________________________________

Essek, for all his magical skill, had very little experience being a fighter. But you pick things up when you travel with a group that gets in as many scrapes per day as the Mighty Nein—you don’t necessarily learn how to fight well, but you certainly learn how to fight alongside the Mighty Nein.

While Jester is a cleric, try to go unconscious near Caduceus. 

“It’s not that she refuses to heal,” Fjord explained gently as he inspected the gash across Essek’s sternum for signs of poison. They were all a bit paranoid now since discovering that their previous monster encounter had, unbeknownst to them, injected a slow-acting venom into every bite. “She just prefers to take the enemy out first. It’s a strategy thing, you know. Save the healing for after the fight, once the danger’s gone.”

Essek turned his gaze over to Jester. In their post-battle huddle, while Caduceus hummed a healing prayer for the group and Fjord dressed Essek’s wound, she was several yards away helping Veth saw off one of the beast’s talons as a trophy.

 Fjord continued, “Of course, if you’re like, actually dying in front of her, she’ll heal you. I mean…” he trailed off. Sure, Essek hadn’t exactly been dead-dead when he’d collapsed next to Jester during the fight, but he wasn’t far from it. The last, ironic thought he’d registered before consciousness slipped away was how fortunate it was to fall in battle right next to a cleric. As his eyes fell shut, it was with anticipation that he would be up again in a second to rejoin the fray. 

When he had finally awoken, it was Caduceus’ face smiling over him, not Jester’s, and the ferocious monster had long since been turned into a carcass.

“Mm-hmm.”

Fjord sighed and sat back on his heels. “Just, maybe next time, if you have to go down, try to go down closer to Caduceus.”

“Noted,” Essek grumbled, watching with nauseated fascination as his skin knit itself back together in time with the melody of Caduceus’ spell.

When in doubt, polymorph.

“I am a bit surprised you don’t already have this in your repertoire. I have found it to be incredibly useful.”

Essek shrugged, shoving off the automatic sting of embarrassment that came with admitting ignorance. He didn’t need to feel that way around Caleb.

“Well, I have rarely found myself in a position to fly over rough terrain or transform a terrifying monster into a sloth. Until now, that is.” 

Caleb laughed lightly. “Such is the adventuring life, I suppose.” He smiled, taking a break from flipping through his spellbook to look up at Essek. Even this brief moment of eye-contact felt so charged with energy that Essek had to avert his gaze, the sense-memory of guilt welling up in his throat threatening to choke him. The intensity of Caleb’s undivided attention was still difficult for him to bear. His fingers twitched to rub at the burning spot on his forehead. Instead, he gripped his pen tighter. 

“Here.” Caleb flipped his book around to show Essek the page dedicated to the Polymorph spell, covered in transmutation runes. Essek recognized a few of the symbols in passing. “This should be easy for you to copy down. Then we can practice a bit. I think you’ll find casting it on yourself makes for a rather enjoyable pastime.”

Buff the lesbians. 

Essek’s eyes darted between Caleb and Caduceus, unsure how to interpret this piece of advice. “Um, can you be more specific?” 

Caduceus blinked at him, seeming confused. “Specific how? You mean like, which spells you should use on them?”

“No, I meant specific as in to whom you were referring. I just…” Essek glanced awkwardly around the table. Most of the group was distracted, digging into the enormous feast provided by Caleb’s clowder of feline servants. They were all worn out from a long day of hard travel and enjoying the warm reprieve of the tower.

Essek cleared his throat, trying to discreetly lower his voice without making it obvious that he was being secretive. “I have not exactly been given a briefing on all of your individual sexual preferences.”

“Oh, I can fix that!” Jester cut in. Apparently Essek’s attempts to be clandestine had failed, as they always seemed to with this group. “Caleb is—”

“That is alright, thank you,” Essek swiftly cut her off. His cheeks were already burning red-hot. “Can you please just tell me who ‘the lesbians’ are in this circumstance?”

He could feel Beau’s glare boring through him all the way from the other end of the table as she stared incredulously over her magical flask of whiskey. “You should really be able to figure that out yourself, man.”

Squishy wizards stay away from fights.

“Stay. Here.” Yasha’s growl was twice as terrifying as the insectoid beast screaming over their heads, and Essek was pretty sure the force from her shoving him behind the rocks was going to leave just as big a bruise as getting smacked by the creature’s tail, if not bigger. “Hide.”

“I was trying to help,” Essek muttered, a mixture of shame and indignation pushing him to defend himself to her.

“I know. You can help by staying alive.” A hint of softness entered Yasha’s gruff voice, although its effect was mitigated when she hefted up her massive sword. Essek instinctually slunk away from the arc of the blade. “Fighters get close, wizards hang back. That’s how we do things in this family.” She smiled at him, and another layer of the ice around Essek’s heart melted. “That’s how we keep you and Caleb from snapping like twigs. Save the close-range spells for when things are really desperate.”

Essek nodded his affirmation. Yasha turned and began running back into the melee, letting out an almighty roar. Just before she went out of range, Essek reached out his hands, whispering the incantation and twisting his fingers around the fabric of time that surrounded her large frame. Yasha paused for a moment as the effects of the Haste spell hit her, then turned to flash Essek another smile and a thumbs up.

That’s how we do things in this family.

You have to look sexy when using spells.

“I really do not understand the purpose of this.”

“We’re just trying to help you out!” Veth grinned at him mischievously. Somehow, the ghost of a goblin’s snarl showed through her straight halfling teeth. “Every good adventurer knows aesthetics are crucial to effective spellcasting.”

“That’s not—”

“Plus, we’re not fighting in the cold anymore,” Jester added. “We don’t want you to get overheated in the middle of battle.”

“That… really isn’t an issue.” But he knew resistance was useless when it came to these two. Resigned to his fate, Essek dutifully lifted the mantle over his head and began undoing the fastenings of his cloak. 

Outer layer discarded, he lifted his arms up half heartedly to show his self-appointed image consultants the results. “Is this satisfactory?”

“Hmmmm,” Jester tilted her head to the side, considering him. “Can you try rolling up your sleeves?”

“I’m not taking off my shirt!”

“No one asked you to!” Veth hopped off her chair to circle around Essek, studying him with an intensity she usually reserved for things she was about to shoot. “Now, show us your stance.”

“My what?”

“You know, your sexy fighting stance.” Veth stopped in place, whipping out her crossbow and striking a dramatic pose. 

“Um…” Essek attempted to mimic her, one hand on the meteorite pendant that served as his arcane focus, the other reaching out as if he were about to cast a spell. “Like this?”

Jester tapped a finger to her lips thoughtfully. “You know, now that I’m thinking about it, that tank top did look really good on you, Essek.”

Essek put his head in his hands.

If you get charmed there is going to be a very high chance of Beau punching you to snap you out of it. 

A constellation's worth of stars swam in Essek’s vision, pain bursting through his head like a reverberating drum; he could feel the nasty bruise blooming at his temple where Beauregard had struck him. Blinking away the stars, he turned just in time to see Beau’s fist heading towards him once again, this time making expert contact with his jaw. The force of this second blow sent him hurtling toward the ground, knocking the wind out of him. 

Amid the pain, a sense of clarity slowly came over him, cutting through the pleasant, misty haze that had overtaken his faculties. It gave him just enough presence of mind to scream an indignant, accusatory, “Ow!” at Beau.

She flashed him a cocky grin, seemingly amused by his tone. “Look man, this is what happens. Get charmed, get hit. Now square up.” 

Essek held up one hand in an attempt to stave her off, gasping for breath. The buzz in his brain was receding; somehow, Beau had punched the spell’s effect right out of him. “No really, I’m fine now, it worked—”

But she was already going in for another punch. Helpless to stop her, Essek braced himself for the hit, thinking that if nothing else, he had to admire her thoroughness. 

[ihopesocomic]

I'm late but THANK YOU for pointing out the problems with "make Briarlight a 'real' warrior" Warrior Cats AUs. People often bring up house cats with hind limb paralysis as proof that she would be able to get around fine, but that only really works on smooth tile floor or clean soft carpet, not a wild forest where there's so many things that could injure her. Now, Warriors is not intended to be fully realistic, but that brings up the next point, the arbitrary standard of "usefulness" is ableist in the first place. Briarlight can still be a valued member of her clan and make contributions within her own abilities without hunting or fighting, so I don't get why people fixate on that.

(Also side note, in addition to the hot springs, I also think the difference between her and Diamond re: ability to battle would be due to species behavior. When domestic cats fight they rely heavily on kicking/clawing with their hind legs and pinning down their opponents, whereas lion fights from the videos I've seen are more lunging and clawing at each other's faces/necks with their front legs. And for hunting, lions usually hunt in groups, whereas even cats that live in colonies only hunt solo. It's kind of like how canines and felines can function perfectly fine with 3 legs but horses and cows cannot: different species simply have different needs.)

No problem, anon! I get that people have good intentions but yeah, erasing a disability and/or minimising it is not the solution for bad representation. Even if she became the medicine cat instead of Jayfeather, I think that would've suited her immensely. Especially considering Cinderpelt would've been the ideal role model for her to take comfort in and realise that she still has purpose and talent.

I get that people view the medicine cat role with cynicism because of Jayfeather and Cinderpelt but considering she pretty much became Jayfeather's assistant, idk why the Erins didn't go all the way and have her become a medicine cat instead of making Jayfeather feel he couldn't be a warrior despite having legit superpowers and making him go through that entire arc of feeling useless and demoted.

Briarlight displayed a natural interest in the role and what it required. It appeared to make her happy. She liked helping people. These are all the qualities that should've had her be chosen as medicine cat. It shouldn't have been forced on somebody as antisocial and bitter as Jayfeather because 'lol he's blind'. Which is why it comes across as super ableist. Jayfeather had absolutely zero qualities that make a medicine cat (i.e. the temperament, the interest, list goes on) but he was forced to become one and he had to put up or shut up. Which is wrong.

The entire role of the medicine cat also needed a complete overhaul tbh. The fact that cats are chosen and have no choice to become one obviously makes people look at it with a negative perception and the ongoing theme of disabled cats who feel 'useless' being picked for it only makes it worse. Cinderpelt should've come to the realisation on her own that she wanted to be a medicine cat because she was a kind, thoughtful character, regardless of whether she's disabled or not. Jayfeather should've never been one at all, because it's not what he wanted for himself. Simple. There's nothing wrong with a disabled character taking on a healer role but when they're forced into it because the writing is clearly stating 'well, they're not going to be much use at anything else': that's just shitty.

As for everything you said in the last paragraph: yes, exactly! - RJ

[vostokovasmelina]

— 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟑𝐂. (𝐬.𝐰.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢  |  𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢  |  𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

characters: fem!reader; sam wilson; archibald the tabby cat; sarah wilson (mentioned)

word count: 2.1k+

warning: none (no tfatws spoilers yet)

series summary: after the blip, sam wilson gets home to an unpleasant surprise - his key doesn’t fit the lock anymore and his apartment is now inhabited by a stranger and a grumpy feline. however, the unusual encounter is only just the beginning of their post-blip lives and the reader soon learns that what life takes away, it can give back in the most particular ways.

a/n: if this flops, i’m quitting.

Sam was tired. Truly, utterly tired. It felt like he hadn’t felt anything but fatigue for the last few days, the kind that seeps deep into your bones and cozies up in your marrow, the kind that never seems to leave. Like, ever again.

He knew he was probably supposed to call Sarah and tell her he was on his way. They had only talked once since he came back, right before Tony’s funeral, and even that was a rather brief telephone call. His sister had told him there was something he needed to know but Sam had said they would talk once he got to hers. First, he needed some rest. A short nap would do, really. And a cup of strong black coffee. Or maybe two.

He parked his car where he always had; the space furthest to the left, right under his favorite maple tree that looked so pretty in the autumn and kept the inside of Sam’s car relatively cool in the summer. He watched for a while as the light spring breeze played with the fresh green mane of this majestic old lady, and felt a soft wave of calm rush through every tiny particle of him. He was home. The battle was over and he was on his way to his family. He wouldn’t take that nap. He’d just get his stuff out of his car and put Cap’s shield somewhere safe - he would deal with that later.

But he would have that coffee. He did deserve a treat after all.

Sam had no trouble getting inside the building, thanks to a delivery guy leaving right when he was about to enter. He took a deep breath, just a short second before making his way up the stairs to the third floor. He had been told at least a million times that what felt like five seconds to him, had actually been five years for those left behind. And still, the dirty old apartment complex had not changed at all, not even a tiny bit. Everything had stayed the same; the chipped grey paint on the dense walls, the rusty banister, the dusty steps... It felt like a time capsule. It felt safe, it felt like home.

Except it wasn’t anymore.

As soon as he got up to his floor, he knew something was off. He didn’t realise at first but he did approach the door to his apartment more carefully, with a slight shadow of a frown on his face. Sam slowed down his last few steps and looked the door up and down, down and up again, checking every corner for something out of the ordinary, something that was not meant to be there. When he found nothing, he chuckled to himself. So stupid. He had become paranoid. It was only natural given his job but honestly, it had been high time he had calmed down. So he slid his hand into his jacket pocket to grab his keys, and with a small smile lingering in the corners of his lips, he tried to unlock his door.

And that was precisely when his smile fell.

The key just wouldn’t go into the lock. Sam tried to insert every single one of them, even went as far as attempting to force his car key through the tiny hole, which obviously didn’t work. His anxiety was slowly building up in his stomach again and just as he looked down at his key charm, he realised what had made him so suspicious the first time - his doormat was gone. His black scraper had been replaced by a dark green carpet doormat that looked like it was in desperate need for a wash. Or maybe a one-way trip to the dumpsters.

Eyebrows furrowed, Sam looked up at the rusty number 3c on the door and, once sure it was indeed his apartment, he thought he’d try his luck with the doorknob as well. His fingers were already wrapped around the cold metal when the door swung open with such force that Sam froze for a few seconds.

“I’m warning you; I’m armed!”

Sam immediately threw his hands into the air and even took a step back from your doorstep. He was frozen for a few seconds and only relaxed when he saw what you were actually holding in your hands - a tabby cat in one, and a bottle of deodorant in the other. He let out a silent sigh of relief at the sight and slowly brought his arms back to his sides, but he made sure to stay put and not to approach you just yet.

“It’s alright! I mean no harm.”

*  *  *

Several minutes later your heart was still racing, threatening to punch a whole through your chest and making a getaway down the corridor. However, you slowly relaxed your muscles as your breathing started to calm down, too, still staring the stranger dead in the eyes and making sure to hold Archie as steadily as your shaking hand could. Once you had decided you trusted the words of the man standing before you, you dropped your other hand holding the almost empty - and therefore useless - bottle. However, you did keep your distance and wrapped your now free fingers tightly around the doorknob on the inside, ready to smash it into his face the moment it would be necessary.

“Can I help you?” You asked, cradling your uninterested cat closer to your chest and burying your fingers deep in his soft fur. You raised a wary eyebrow at the stranger standing in your doorway who himself seemed just as suspicious as you were. As if he had any right to.

“Yeah...” 

You watched him look you up and down, your little grey feline jumping to your defence and staring the man dead in the eyes as if daring him to spend one more second eyeing you. And it worked. With a tiny frown he looked you in the eyes again and continued. Good job, Archie.

“Who are you?”

You thought he was joking. So you laughed and then saw the man’s face and then felt bad. He was absolutely not joking. He was genuinely confused and obviously had no idea who you were. And it was not like you were a celebrity around here but you had built quite a decent following of fellow plant-lovers over on Instagram, so you were actually mildly offended.

But it was alright; you decided to let it slide and give this stranger a chance. Who knows, maybe he had been following your updates on your snake plant stories. He did look like a snake plant kind of guy.

And maybe you could also clear up the confusion around why he had been trying to break into your home just a minute ago.

So you told him your name and when he still looked as confused as ever, you looked at him expectantly, shifting Archie’s weight from one arm to the other.

“And... who are you?” You finally decided to help him out and even offered him a tiny smile, which evaporated the second you heard his answer leave his lips.

“Sam Wilson. I-”

“Sam Wilson?” You cut him off and stared at him for a few seconds, trying to process the information. The longer you looked, the more obvious the similarities got and you cursed at yourself silently for not having realised it before. Sarah had warned you about it the moment the news broke out but she had also promised to deal with it and let you know once she had enlightened her brother. You had been expecting a phone call or maybe a text, definitely not the brother himself right on your doorstep.

“Yeah. Why?”

You had already opened your mouth to answer but were interrupted by Archie who had obviously had enough of being cradled like a baby and since the drama seemed to have ended, he was no longer interested. You let him land on the floor gently and nudged him in the direction of your tiny living room before turning back towards Sam and opening the door several inches wider.

“You know, I really think you should come in.”

“No, I have to call my sister and-”

“You haven’t called Sarah yet?!” You exclaimed, stopping in your tracks and shaking your head ever so slightly. “She’s gonna be so pissed, man.”

You watched him furrow his eyebrows and do that thing again where he looked you up and down, down and up again as if you could be an alien in disguise trying to lure him into some intergalactic trap. As if you hadn’t just tried to protect yourself with an empty deodorant bottle and a kitten. Sam Wilson clearly was a poor judge of character.

“Yeah, I know your sister, get over it. Would you please come inside?”

You put on your most friendly smile just for him and stepped aside, gesturing Sam inside the apartment you both knew so well. He gave you one last wary look before stepping over the threshold, and you rolled your eyes at him behind his back before closing the door behind the two of you.

*  *  *

“Tea? Or maybe coffee?” Sam heard from behind him and did a double take before turning towards you, already making your way to the tiny kitchen area  divided from the living room only by a worn wooden table. Sam watched you take out two identical white mugs from one of the cabinets and felt his stomach jump up into his throat and fall back into its place again; that was exactly where he kept his mugs, too. Well, used to keep them.

“Oh, ugh, coffee. Please. Black. One sugar.”

He saw you nod and get to work. Sam did wait for a while for you to start the conversation and finally explain to him what was going on. When that didn’t actually happen, he turned his head to look around, trying to shake off the weird feeling he had seeing you feel so at home in what used to be his home just a few days ago. Or five years ago. Question of perspective.

The first thing Sam noticed once he had actually taken the time to look around was green. What, at first glance, had slipped his attention was now screaming at him from every corner of the apartment. The living room was filled to the brim with houseplants. There were handsome little pots of plants on the windowsills, on the bookshelves, even on the kitchen counter. What hadn’t fit higher, got place on the floor.

You had turned the apartment into a botanical garden.

“Hey, plant lady? Is this even legal? It feels illegal.” He gestured all around the room and you followed his movement with your eyes, a tiny grin creeping its way onto your face but disappearing the very next second. Sam tried his best to play along and act like he hadn’t even noticed.

“Oh would you look at that, you can actually form full sentences,” you teased, giving him a side-eyed look before handing him your mug filled with hot black coffee, which Sam took gladly, ignoring the drop of sarcasm in your voice.

“Those are actually fine,” you continued after the first sip of your tea and pointing at the cat yawning on the dirty old couch in the middle of the living room. “Archie is the only problem here. But hush, he’s a secret.”

“How can you keep a cat here in secret?”

“I bribed the superintendent,” you whispered, leaning a little closer to Sam and flashing him a perfect albeit forced smile.

“Old Charlie? No way!” Sam scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“O-ho, yes way! Everyone has a weakness and I’ve found our old Charlie’s.”

“Which is...?”

“... a secret I’ve vowed to take to the grave with me,” you replied and gave emphasis to your words with a tiny nod of your head, leaving Sam slightly disappointed but smirking nonetheless.

In the short silence that followed, he took another sip of his hot coffee, enjoying every millisecond of the burning, bittersweet sensation before finally addressing the elephant in the room. Because even though his suspicions had somewhat settled, Sam was still completely confused about how on Earth you could possibly know his sister and talk about her so casually. And you must have been thinking of the same thing because as he looked at you above his now half empty mug and your gazes met, you closed your eyes and let out a sigh, gesturing towards the small kitchen table.

“Let’s talk, I guess.”

*  *  *

mini-series taglist - let me know if you’d like to be added

@softieyn

@mahvericks

@amirahiddleston

@fireghost-x

@samuelthomaswillson

mcu taglist - join here

@babymango-writes

@softieyn

@spencereidisabicon

@whutisthus

@bravelittlesunflower

@katethecrazy

@swanimagines​

@amirahiddleston​

@remusflirts​

@musicallisto​

[amiechuchu]

do you do requests? :D can i request for a fluffy doctor!reader and loki? i love your mmaatib series btw!

anon!! you're making me BLUSH!!! thank you so much for your support! and sorry if this came out a bit late i was feeling a bit under the weather the past few days. i also apologize for any errors btw! as you can see, i am a very very tired student who just wants her fix of loki too :'). anyways, i hope you enjoy!

Summary: because of y/n’s incessant pestering, loki turns y/n into a cat hoping that it would give him a moment’s peace.

Warnings: none

Catastrophe.

Loki had become accustomed to the smell of disinfectants that linger in the medical wing as his visits became more and more frequent. Although he hated to admit it, he loved the company you were able to provide. Maybe a bit more than the shared solace your safe haven have provided for the both of you. Usually, the low hum of the air-conditioning filled the room’s silence along with the small conversations you and Loki had shared. 

However, today was not one of those usual days. Today, you decided to reverse the roles, where you would be the one getting under Loki’s skin and Loki would be... Loki. Today, you decided that it would be fun to be the most annoying person in the whole Nine Realms. How? By disrupting the peace that graced this room, of course. You started off by imitating the Avengers to which he easily ignored. Then, you began imitating him, speaking of glorious purpose and whatnot, asking him to conjure his prized golden horns for you to use. Though the image that crossed his mind of you wearing his horns was temptingly adorable, his growing annoyance was far greater. Its evidence pointed at his deepening unamused pouty face.

The last straw for Loki was when you thought of imitating a variety of earth’s animals. You chirped, mooed, croaked, barked, and meowed. At that point, despite how much Loki loved hearing your voice, having a moment’s silence sounded so much sweeter to him. So, the God decided to turn you into the last animal you imitated... a cat. With a flick of his wrist, green swirls engulfed your form, and, in just mere seconds, you were transformed into a furry feline. A very cute one nonetheless.

You stood on your hind legs to admire your paws, mesmerized. Loki, on the other hand, looked pleased to see that your awe has taken over your sudden bouts of wanting to annoy him. He could finally read his book in peace, whilst stealing glances at your feline form every now and then to make sure that you don’t get into trouble. 

You took a few steps forward and a few steps back to see how comfortable it was to walk on four legs. It seemed very unnatural to you at first, but you managed. After a few minutes of walking, running, jumping, and exploring the area with your new form, you were confident that you had mastered the basics of feline movement. Without a care in the world, you began to sing Loki a song... in cat... very badly. In which, the lyrics you uttered were literally just meow, meow, meow, and meow on repeat.

“Loki,” you said in attempts to get the God’s attention. To your surprise, a meow still came out. The evident shock in your furry face shown as your irises were  enlarged and your mouth slightly open.

“Cats meow, pet,” Loki snapped at you, eyes still focused on the novel he was reading. “You know, for a mortal who treats people for a living and studies human physiology all their life, you don’t seem very smart. And no, before you even ask, I will not turn you back. ” 

Ignoring his remark, you jumped up to the table where he was situated. This time you kept tapping on his hands. “Hey, listen,” you meowed wanting the God’s undivided attention. “Wait, how can you even understand me?”

Before Loki could answer, the doors to the medical wing were swung open, revealing your boss, the one and only Tony Stark. Great. Immediately, Loki’s face soured upon seeing the man. His face all scrunched up and pouty again. You, on the other hand, pretended to be a good little kitty and lie down on the table, acting all cute and innocent. Tony wouldn’t notice, right? No, he would. But, he wouldn’t care, right? Hopefully.

“Reindeer games, have you seen the, uh, doctor in charge here. They are about this tall, and probably the only person who hangs out here majority of the time?” Tony asked, as he made gestures with his hands trying to picture out your height. He took a few glances at you - the cat - on the table as your tail gracefully wagged to-and-fro. Although a bit confused, he decided not to mind it, thinking that someone - maybe even Loki - adopted the cat and let them in the tower. Not that he really cared at the moment. Currently, the only thing nagging his brain was finding his precious doctor to finish their research agenda. This was the first time you were late and that worried Tony more than he’d like to admit. He wanted to find you before an overprotective uncle Bruce could notice, and, honestly, racing against that time period was too pressuring, even for him.

“I haven’t seen them,” Loki replied, making shooing motions with his hands. A signal that he wanted to be left alone already. The God went back to reading his novel until Tony left to scour the entire building for you, muttering something along the lines of calling Doctor Strange if he couldn't find you at all. He knew that Bruce wouldn’t take it lightly knowing his niece was missing under his watch, so calling out the all-knowing sorcerer became his trump card in case dear old Brucie decided to kick his ass for losing you.

With Tony out of the way, Loki turned his gaze on you.

Actually, on nothing now.

Of course, you had to disappear for real this time.

An exasperated sigh came out of his mouth as he realized you ran away from him. It wasn’t long until the same sense of worry Tony had came over the God. Realizing his current situation, an anxious laugh managed to come out of his mouth. Look at him, Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief, a literal deity, worried about the doctor who he turned into a cat.

At this point, panicked thoughts began to rival his own logical ones.

What if someone else had picked you up? You were in a form of a feline inside a facility that clearly doesn’t deal with any animals. It wouldn't be a surprise if someone took you. Undoing the magic with this situation in mind wouldn't bring as much trouble, right?

Loki thought of undoing the magic, but another thought popped into his head before making the decision. What if you were hidden in some cramped space just waiting for him to find you? He feared that undoing it while you were in hiding might be detrimental to your own safety. As much as you annoyed him, Loki wouldn’t want to see his favorite little physician hurt in any way. 

Upon weighing all the pros and cons of the situation they were in, Loki decided to look for you the old fashioned way: by himself. Magic would be useless in this situation. Knowing you, any form of telepathic communication Loki made would just be ignored. Though he loved playing all types of games with you, this one only stressed him out. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and thought of the different places he would hide if he were you. 

The God observed his surroundings as he decided to look for you inside the medical wing first. With you in feline form, you wouldn't have the strength to push open the doors, so he deduced that you wouldn't have gotten too far. Maybe you were under the beds, hidden in the shadows. Or even at the top of the shelves, away from plain sight. He began pacing through the whitewashed rooms, looking for more clues to narrow down the possible hiding places. Upon reaching halfway through the wing, Loki noted how the afternoon sun shone brightly, through the wide glass windows especially there at the far end of the room. Coincidentally, at the same area, he also spotted a seemingly occupied hospital bed with its curtains pulled all the way. The God took a few more steps as his brain continued to wire all the information together. Finally, it dawned on him. 

That was perfect place for a catnap.

Loki crept towards the bed's entrance, careful not to make any sounds to alarm you. Anxiously, he peered through the curtains, mentally cursing himself for the crinkling sound it made. Gods, how he prayed to find you there waiting for him. Taking a deep breath, he made his way inside the secluded area to find... you basking under the sun in feline form, all curled up and asleep. Thank the Norns.

Your rhythmic purring quietly resonated throughout the area. A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth, relieved to have found you. Although he was jealous of the fact that the entire time you were just fast asleep, while he had to go through such an ordeal. And so, Loki climbed on top of the bed in the most quiet way possible. Although he was slightly unsure of his actions, he did it anyway. No one else was there, no one else would know. So, there he lay beside you, comfortable with a novel in hand.

It was not long until all the adrenaline in his system died down, and Loki too needed a nap of his own. He stifled a yawn, not wanting to disturb your peaceful slumber. As time passed, the God slowly drifted to sleep, and the magic that held your form was undone. Now, there you lay beside him, adorned by the golden afternoon sun. 

Still in deep sleep, you shifted your position, attracted to the warmth the God had brought with him. Realizing the change in position, Loki, as if by reflex, took his arm and put it around the small of your waist in attempts to keep you from falling off the edge, to keep you close. His head nudged yours lightly, and there he stared, captivated, at your sleeping form. There he realized how much he really cared for you despite how much of a handful you can be sometimes. It just felt right for him to have you pressed into his chest, to have his arm around you, to have you right there by his side. 

It just felt right for him to have you. 

“Sleep well, my mischievous little doctor,” the God said as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before finally dozing off.

As the two of you blissfully slept, basking under the afternoon sun, somewhere around the tower there was a very angry Tony Stark, looking for the missing doctor. That didn't matter at all to Loki. The only thing that mattered to him then and there was you by his side, safe and sound.

It was enough for him that today didn't end in a catastrophe.

Taglist: @gaycatlord-stuff