#//which is why your darling muse may get - on a very good day - a beaming smile and effusive greetings

[ronmanmob]

Thoughts on Ron  👓

That Affect He Has (and part of how he copes with it)

The effect flat affect has on Ron's ability to express his emotions facially and vocally is quite profound. No matter where or when he's found in writing it'll be there, though time's passing - and access to better support and understanding of his condition in modern settings - lets him learn to cope with and combat (with varying degrees of success) the most visible and audible signs of the struggles he has emoting. He'd loathe sitting for speech therapy -- it's too vulnerable a thing, even in modern times, for him to stomach. But the one session he'd attend before jacking it in would yield an interesting suggestion that would stick.

"You like music, right Ron?"

"--Yeah."

"So sing along."

And he would. Invariably it'd be when he was alone - so that vulnerable bit weren't exposed, right? - but he'd work himself up from mouthing along to getting some voice along with it and while there'd be no revelation of intense vocal talent there...it'd help. For all he struggles with keeping track of his own tone and pitch, he can hear it in others when they're singing. And he can mimic. And he can learn through mimicry what the right notes sound and feel like as he picks up spits and spats of melody and purrs along low in his chest.

#👓Headcanon #tw: mental illness #cw: mental illness #//no matter what he's learned and practiced; emoting will always tax Ron #//it's almost never not a conscious thing #//but it's also something - through time and need and effort - Ron learns to minimise to the best extent he can for the comfort of others #//which is why your darling muse may get - on a very good day - a beaming smile and effusive greetings #//he means every word and gesture; it's just...think of how it feels to smile through a dentist's anaesthetic #//how much effort that takes #//minus the numbness; that's something like the effort Ron expends with the face/voice doing #//and that's fine; he wants to do it if he's doing it #//if he didn't want to he wouldn't for dust #//it's just that bit'a extra mental work

[otagamerkorin]

Trial by Fire (including very little actual fire and honestly just a whole lot of snow)

Merry (very belated) Christmas @blasphemousfungus! I was your secret santa for @kibasniper‘s Psychonauts Secret Santa! Unfortunately, due to a lotta stuff going on in my life, your present isn’t completely done yet, but here’s the first (honestly kinda massive) chapter of it! I plan on putting it up on AO3 as well, so I’ll ping you then too! For reference, this was highly inspired by mystery_notebook (or I think they might be @tvguts on here?) fic Like It Used To Be, But Better, which is amazing and you should totally check it out. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy it!

Edit: Just realized I completely forgot to give it a title. Whoops.

When they had gone into the asylum, none of the members of Thorney Towers had expected to come back out not only dear friends with a 10 year old, but also under the close monitor of an organization of secret psychic agents.  Initially is had only been to ensure that being around Loboto while in such delicate condition hadn’t left any lasting damage. Luckily from what they’d been able to work out from the fours scattered memories of the time, the dentist hadn’t involved them in any of his experiments, but better safe than sorry. The surveillance really hadn’t gotten in the way of their new lives much. A few calls a week, the occasional in-person check in to see how they were doing, not much to write home about in the grand scheme of things.

After a time though, things had begun to get...interesting.

It was actually Boyd who kicked the whole thing off, so to say. It had been a day like any other, possibly even more quiet and domestic than usual considering they’d just hit the weekend. According to the other three, he’d simply been drying dishes after dinner that night when a wayward mug has slipped off the counter behind him. The resulting crash has two effects. 1.) The former nightguard jumped about three feet off the ground with a startled shriek. And 2.) The dishtowel in his hands promptly burst into flames. Luckily he’d dropped the flaming cloth into surprise and a bit of group panic and rapid stomping has quickly put out the blaze, leaving the four gathered in the small kitchen, staring down at its burnt remains.

The lot of them, Boyd especially, were dumbfounded by the whole event and immediately phoned up their new psychic associates, if only to make sure they weren’t all going crazy again. There had to be some mundane explanation for this, right? But after a few quick tests from Sasha, it was official: Boyd was most definitely a psychic.

Signs from the others quickly followed.  Fred would frequently find papers and pens floating in orbit around him whenever he got embroiled in his nursing reinstatement exams. Edgar would sometimes find those around him caught up in a sort of bewildering mental fog, leaving them staring around in confusion. And while Gloria had always had quite the green thumb, now the plants in her garden flourished with just the touch of her hand, the woman assaulted with a hundred whispered voices of delight whenever she appeared at the gate with her watering can. Lili was especially happy about the latter, having never met a fellow connoisseur of florakinesis until that point, let alone one who was so friendly.

To say everyone, both Psychonaut and otherwise, was baffled was an understatement. None of the four had shown an signs of psychic powers earlier in life. So why now?

It was Razputin of all people who offered a hypothesis.  They were all aware that the large amount of  Psitanium around the camp and asylum had been less that helpful for the fours delicate mental state, what with the whole “making the sane less sane” thing and all. Perhaps though, the other half of the phrase may also be in play. What if being around all that Psitanium has brought whatever deeply buried psychic powers the four shared to the surface?

Honestly, it was the best they had to go on. There were hardly any cases of spontaneous psychic manifestation in those beyond adolescence and the four weren’t showing any of the usual symptom relating to those sort of circumstances.

Regardless, it didn’t change the fact that the organization now had a whole mess of new psychics in the mix who needed training.

Which is what brought Milla to the front gates of the Von Gouten Arts Academy for Girls (formally Hagatha Home) bright and early one Wednesday morning. The former actress had bought the dilapidated old academy around a year ago using some of the wealth she’s amassed during her glory years. (It was amazing how much interest a saving account left to sit could accrue.) Since then she’d been fixing the place up, hiring teachers and generally getting the place running even better than before, eventually joined in her endeavors by the other three Thorney Towers residents when they moved onto the grounds with her.

Milla found herself smiling up at the stylized “VG” woven into the metal of the newly installed gate in the stone fence that surrounded the property. Gloria really was doing an excellent job with the place. Rolling her window down, the Mental Minx leaned out and pressed the button of the call box installed in the fence wall. For a moment there was silence and then a familiar voice crackled to life on the other end.

“Good morning! Do you have an appointment?”

“Well, I would certainly hope so Darling.” Milla teased and she could practically hear the smile in Boyd’s voice when he replied.

“Dang, is it really Wednesday already? Well, head right on up Mrs. Vodello! I’ll let the rest of the gang know you’re coming.”

There was a buzz and the whirring of mechanisms as the gate opened and allowed access to the road beyond. Continuing on down the path, she soon found herself pulling into the large round driveway in front of the building. A group of students tending to one of the flower beds out front waved as she parked and stepped out of the car, Boyd likewise stepping out of the guard shack nearby and making his way over.

“Good morning to you Ms. Vodello! You the only one here today?”

“Not quite.” She replied with a chuckle, just in time for the back door of the car to fly open and Raz to stick his grinning face out around it.

“Hi Boyd!”

“Hey, good to see you too Raz! Come on inside, the rest of the gang should be on their way.” He replied with a grin, reaching down to ruffle the boy’s hair as he led them inside.

For as horrid as the place had apparently originally been ran, the former owner had at least had good architectural sense, and the large oak front doors opened into a soaring foyer, complete with a grand spiral staircase. One that Gloria was already beginning to make her way down as the doors closed behind them.

“Well good morning Ms. Vodello! And to you too Raz dear!” The former actress beamed, taking Boyd’s offered arm as she stepped down the last few stairs.

“You came at just the right time. I just finished up with morning announcements. Please, feel free to head right over to the practice room, the rest of the boys should already be on their way. Oh, and I’ve also had some snacks from the dining hall sent on ahead. I hope you both like blueberry muffins!”

“That sounds just delightful darling!” Milla replied cheerfully, smiling wider when she saw the stars in Raz’s eyes at the mention of food. Milla sidled up beside the actress as they started down into one of the academy’s wings, one of Gloria’s arms still linked with Boyd’s.

“So how have the plants been treating you darling?”

“Oh, better everyday! My garden is thriving and I think I’m really starting to get a good hold of this whole telepathy thing! Getting it across to all my little lovelies that there’s really no need to shout every time I come in hasn’t been easy, but I think it’s finally starting to stick. The roses and lilies are still a horrible bunch of gossips, but I doubt there’s much I’ll ever be able to do about that.” She replied with a laugh.

“They do come in useful to make sure none of the students are pulling anything they shouldn’t though!”

“That’s wonderful to hear! How about you Boyd? Have you been making any process in your off-time?” Milla asked, the guard rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah, a bit. It ain’t exactly been fast progress, but one step at a time you know? But hey! At least I haven’t accidentally lit up anything important again since you taught me those exercises. There’s only so many times I can almost burn down Edgar’s classroom before it starts to get ridiculous.”

Milla smiled softly, reaching over to pat the guard on the back.

“Well, learning to fully control one’s powers can be a long path. It took me years to master my own skillset. Like you said, it’s just one step at a time. I think you’ve made wonderful progress though, and I’m very proud of you darling.” She mused and the man flushed a bit at her praise and mumbled a word of thanks, tugging his hat low over his eyes bashfully as Gloria gave him a smile.

The group of four quickly found themselves at the extra dance studio in the buildings far west they’d assigned at their practice room, and upon stepping inside found Fred and Edgar already waiting for them.

“Oh, hey Ms. Milla. And you too Raz. Sorry, gimme just a sec to finish up some papers.” The tall school counselor called over distractedly, scribbling away on a clipboard from where he was sitting on a nearby bench.

“Apologies for my rather ruffled appearance as well, mi amigos.” Edgar chimed in, wiping his hands down with a long-since-stained painting cloth. Both his hands and the old shirt he wore were splattered with the stuff, having somehow even managed to get some on his face and hair.

“You caught me in the middle of a bit of early morning painting.”

“Just be sure to remember and get some rest dear. We can’t have our best art teacher burning the candle at both ends.” Gloria replied with a smile as she strode over, reaching up to stroke away a smudge of paint on his cheek. The artist gave a soft smile as he leaned into the touch.

“Oh course mi amour.”

“Good. And that goes for your too Fred. Don’t think I haven’t noticed a certain someone sneaking out of bed early the last few mornings.” She called over, and the counselor jumped a bit at being called out, flushing bashfully as he looked at her over the edge of the clipboard.

“Right, you’re right. So, what’s the plan for today Ms. Milla? Seeing as how Mr. Dark and Serious isn’t here, I assume we’re working on our levitation?” Fred asked, setting aside the clipboard as he pushed himself to his feet, the Brazilian woman giving a laugh at his joke.

“Oh come now, Sasha isn’t that bad. But you are correct! Today we’re going to be working more on your levitation!” She replied, settling back as though sitting upon an invisible chair and crossing her legs as she floated up a few feet above the ground.

“Now, last time you all managed to manifest a “Levitation Ball” as we like to call it. This time we’ll be taking the next step and practicing our ability to balance atop them. Razputin darling, if you would demonstrate?” The Mental Minx requested and the young psychic nodded, raising a hand above his head.  A large ball of swirling orange energy formed in his palm and he tossed it down, easily jumping up and balancing atop it.

“Now then, we aren’t all trained acrobats like Razputin here, so it might take a while to find your balance and get the hang of it. Consider it like balancing on a medicine ball. Remember, thinking lighter, rounder, happier thoughts can help in manifesting the ball more easily. Go ahead and give it a try! And please let me know if you need any help at all.”

Early on in these lessons the group had felt a bit silly to be using psychic instruction methods typically meant for children, but they’d gotten over it quickly enough. After all, most psychics got their powers much younger than the lot of them were, so starting at a lower level of instruction was only appropriate. It helped that the simple exercises really worked wonders too.

Though that didn’t mean it was gonna be easy. Forming the ball was one thing. Staying on was another.

A fact the group quickly discovered.

Fred gave a squeak as his light blue orb suddenly slid forward, taking the foot he’d just managed to plant atop it along with it, threatening to pull the man into a split as he hopped forward to follow it. In his defense, Edgar and Boyd didn’t seem to be doing much better. The latter had managed to get atop his off-white bubble, but was now swaying about wildly as he tried to keep balanced, arms windmilling in an attempt to steady himself. The former was having much the same troubles, quickly getting dumped back onto the floor each time he attempted to clamber up.

Gloria was the only one of the bunch who seemed to be making much progress. The woman had moved over to one of the practice room’s ballet bars and was gripping it for stability as she gingerly set one foot on her own ball. With a small grunt she hefted herself up, the orb wiggling worryingly beneath her for a moment before stilling.

“There you go! You’re doing wonderful darling!” Milla cheered her on, clapping encouragingly as the other woman smiled.

“Why thank you Milla dear. After some of the ridiculous shoes I’ve had to wear in my years on the stage, this isn’t so bad.” Gloria replied, putting her arms out to balance as her stance wavered a bit.

“Oof! Well, I’m glad one of us seems to be getting it, mi amor. This is far less easy than Señorita Vodello makes it look.” Edgar replied with a grunt, the wind getting knocked out of him as he fell to the ground once more. Milla let out a thoughtful hum, tapping her lips as she watched the struggling group. Suddenly her eyes flashed with inspiration and she snapped her fingers with a grin.

“Well, I think I may know a way to help.”

The whole group, including Raz, whom had rolled over to try and help Boyd stay upright, turned to look at her in interest.

“I’d like you all to form two, smaller levitation balls instead of one.” She directed, miming the shape of two basketball sized orbs.

“Uh, ok. But how is that gonna help?” Fred asked, already focusing on trying to reform his ball into two even as he tiled his head in confusion.

“Well, as you know, those like me, who’ve had a lot of practice, don’t require a physical representation of their levitation in order to float. Most of those who do tend to only create a singular orb to assist them, so they can don’t have to split their focus. I’ve found that others though, who have a nice grip on the psychic side of things, but are having a harder time managing the physical part, tend to prefer use two. Think of them a bit like ice or roller skates.”

“Oh, I think I see what you mean amiga!” Edgar replied in excitement, focusing till his deep red ball split into two smaller ones. Carefully, he stepped atop on, managing to balance one-footed long enough to successfully stabilize himself using the other. Cautiously, he rolled forward a few feet, face splitting into a smile as he managed to keep his balance.

“Well, well, this actually is easier.”

The others quickly followed his example, and the slight adjustment seemed to do wonders. Soon Gloria was twirling lazy loops around the room like a proper skater, Edgar trailing a bit more slowly, but no less enthusiastically, after her. Fred seemed to be doing a tad bit better than before, but was still gripping tight to a much more steady Boyd’s shoulders as the two slowly drifted in circles, Fred’s long legs doing their damnedest to keep him upright.

“Never been great at skating either, but this is a bit better I guess.” The counselor murmured, glancing up to find his partner giving him an encouraging smile.

“Hey, it just takes a little practice! I’m sure you’ll levitating like a pro in no time!” Raz encouraged, giving a whoop of delight as Gloria grabbed him and twirled him around as he glided past.

“Impressive, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut the class short for today.”

The whole group gave a jump at the sudden voice, Fred giving a yelp as the levitation bubbles below him popped and dropped him on his ass, and they all turned to see Sasha standing in the now open doorway.

“Sasha, darling! What are you doing here? Didn’t you have other business today?” Milla asked in confusion, drifting over to help Fred up, and the German sighed seriously.

“Yes, but I just got a call from the headquarters. It seems...that Agent Pandor has disappeared.”

Milla gave a gasp, pressing both hands to her mouth, and Raz cocked his head in confusion.

“Uhhh, who’s Agent Pandor?”

“Ms. Tanya Pandor. One of the Psychonauts junior agents and a specialist in subterfuge and information gathering. I’m afraid you haven’t had the opportunity to meet yet.”

“But isn’t Tanya on vacation right now?” Milla asked and Sasha nodded.

“Yes, she had gone skiing at a lodge up in Colorado. The HQ asked her to check in regularly for security reasons. According to what I was briefed with, reports dropped off a few days ago. After a few failed attempts to get ahold of her, eventually the HQ resorted to calling the lodge itself to check in on her, thinking maybe she’d fallen sick. When they checked her room however, the whole thing was empty. It’s as though she just vanished.”

“Oh my! That sounds troubling indeed!” Gloria gasped, mirroring Milla as she held a hand to her mouth dramatically, and the German nodded.

“It certainly is. While Ms. Pandor wasn’t one of our top agents, her skills are none the less important to the Psychonauts and her disappearing is far from ideal. Finding out what happened to her has been assigned as our team’s top priority.”

“Well, is there anything we could do to help?” Fred piped up and the two senior agents looked over at him in confusion.

“What do you mean darling?” Milla asked and the counselor fidgeted nervously with the hem of his shirt as he replied.

“Well, I mean we’re technically part of the Psychonauts to now, even if we’re just in training, right? So that means this agent is one of our buddies too. And it’s only right to try and help out our friends whenever we can right?”

“I agree!” Edgar exclaimed, clapping a hand down on his companion’s shoulder as he turned to face the assembled agents.

“If there’s anything we can do to help and find this missing girl, we’re more than happy to do so!”

Boyd and Gloria nodded along in agreement as Sasha’s gaze scanned over them, the German man’s head tilting in thought.

“Well, I suppose more eyes on the ground would certainly help. And since Mrs. Pandor wasn’t on a mission or anything, this could be a fairly safe environment for you all to get some field experience...”

“Well, I think it sounds like a great idea!” Raz chipped in, folding his arms and nodding wisely, earning an eye roll and a sigh from the older agent.

“...Very well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

“Excellent! Don’t you all worry, I’ll get all the arrangements handled! Just be ready to go in a few hours and remember to pack warmly!” Milla replied, clapping her hands together cheerfully, as Raz gave out a quiet cheer.

The three agents departed quickly after that, leaving the group to make arrangements. It took a bit of scrambling to get everything organized with the rest of the schools staff, but soon enough they found themselves packing.

“I sure hope that poor gal is ok. Hopefully we can find her quick.” Boyd mused, leaning hard onto his suitcase in order to try and get it to lock around the mound of sweaters and other winterwear inside.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s just fine Boyd dear. Those Psychonauts are a tough bunch after all. No doubt she’ll appreciate your concern when we do find her though.” Gloria reassured him, folding up a thick woolen dress to tuck into one of her own bags.

“I must admit, I’m a bit excited. I’ve never been to a ski lodge before.” Edgar pipped up, an excited smile on his face as Fred let out an amused laugh.

“Can’t say I have either. Well, cept for this one time back in college. And with all the drinks that weekend, I can barely remember it. I’m sure it’s not gotta be anything tooooo over the top. Those places always talk themselves up.”

*

“Holy hell, they were not talking this place up.”  Fred muttered, his and the rest of the motley crews jaws dropping open in shock as they leaned out the windows of the truck to stare at the vista unfolding before them.

The place was really less of a lodge and more of a small village, what with the amount of connected buildings that made it up. The whole residence was constructed of pale wood, stone and brass, all woven together into a beautiful work of architectural engineering at the base of the snowy mountain. As they pulled into the parking lot at the place’s edge, they passed beneath a large ornate arch reading “Goldsmuth Lodge and Resort”.

“Yeah, Tanya does not mess around when it comes to her vacations. No really surprised, that girl barely gets any time off.” Oleander agreed, nodding in appreciating at the sight as the car slowed. When Milla and Sasha had announced their new plan to the other higher-up, the man had been assigned to the case as an additional supervisor, as well as another pair of eyes. Raz had tried to convince Lili to come along as well, but apparently there was few things the girl hated more than cold weather, not too much of a surprise coming from a florapath, so his requests had fallen on deaf ears.

Once their oversized vehicle had stopped, their collective group spilled out to stretch, several backs popping after the lengthy ride. They couldn’t very well retain their cover if they came flying in on a Psychonauts jet after all, so they’d been forced to stash it at one of the organizations safe houses and drive the rest of the way instead.

“Well then, let’s unpack and get checked in. The sooner we can find Ms. Pandor, the better.” Sasha announced, adjusting his glasses as he scanned the large plaza for the proper entrance.

There was suddenly a yelp and the sound of tumbling luggage from the rear of the vehicle. Glancing around the back of the truck, they found a mound of bags and suitcases that had no doubt tumbled free when the hatch had opened. A moment later a bag fell away as a familiar blue head popped up out of the pile and swiveled to look at them, the figure immediately giving them a sheepish smile, a hand also emerging from the pile to give them an awkward wave.

“I still can’t believe you convinced HQ to let us bring Loboto along.” Raz mused in amusement, Oleander shaking his head as he walked over to help extract the rehabilitated (in progress) criminal from his luggage prison.

“Well, Cagliosto is certainly in desperate need of some outside socialization. A relaxing place like this could be perfectly helpful with his recovery, darling!” Milla replied with a chuckle as she watched Morry lever the skinnier man up and almost fall over himself in the process. The former mad scientist quickly grabbed the agent by the front of his coat in a panic to keep him upright, the two flushing as the motion inadvertently tugged them chest to chest. Sasha gave as an amused eyeroll as the German could feasibly manage, while Milla and Raz gave a quiet giggle at his side. The two former villains had been dancing around each other for months now, much to the amusement, and occasionally frustration, of everyone watching.

“Well, like Sasha said, the sooner we get inside, the sooner we can really start enjoying ourselves. Here, let me help you there dear.” Gloria smiled, the rest of the group trailing after her as she stepped up to help retrieve the fallen luggage, Loboto giving her a thankful, if sheepish smile in return. While the four had long since forgiven Caligosto for all the asylum business (after all, he had been cursed at the time with, as he himself put it, the “insanity of a manatee”), things were still pretty awkward between them. Gloria though, every friendly, had doing her best to help bridge the gap in the meantime.

It took a bit to gather up all the luggage, and even longer to find the right entrance, but eventually they managed. The walk there had been interesting at least. Everywhere they looked, there was some new, interesting winter activity the place seemed to offer, from ice skating to toboggan rental. Their own rather modge-podge group was also getting a number of curious onlookers, which was far from ideal, but there wasn’t much they could do about it really.

The lodge’s lobby was wonderfully warm compared to the wintery chill outside, and they could already feel the scattered flakes of snow melting on their coats as they strode up to the main desk.

“Hello there! Can I help you ladies and gentlemen?” The brunette behind the desk asked with a smile, Sasha plucking his glasses off to wipe away the fog they’d accrued from the heat inside as he spoke.

“Reservations for Nein, Vodello and Gouten.”

“Alright then, just a moment!”

The young woman’s finger flew along the keyboard in a blur for several moment’s before she paused, biting her lip in concern.

“Oh, well there seems to be a small problem. You ladies and gentlemen called for a reservation rather last minute and it seems your rooms aren’t quite ready yet. My deepest apologies. You are all more than welcome to wait in the lodges lounge till they’re ready, free of charge.” She replied, giving an apologetic bow of her head as she gestured towards a pair of open doors nearby.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all darling!” Milla replied, waving a hand nonchalantly.

“Apologies for the rather sudden reservations. Our little trip was a bit of a recent development.”

“Thank you for your understanding Ms. I’ll come and inform you once your rooms are ready.”

The lounge was somehow even more impressive than the grand lobby they’d just stepped out of. He place was lit in a dim but cozy manner, a long bar stretching along one wall. The rest of the space was filled with a number of comfortable tables, armchairs and couches that encircled a handful of square open-sided pillar fireplaces that dotted the room here and there. With an excited “ooo!”, Raz rushed off to look around with Loboto trailing after him, the bunch chuckling at his antics as Sasha glanced around.

“How about you all stay here for a bit? We need to ask around the staff and see if we can find anything regarding Ms. Pandor’s disappearance.” He proposed after a moment.

“Are you sure? Is there any way we can help?” Boyd asked, fidgeting nervously.

“No, it would be best if you aren’t seen with us too much while we’re actively investigating. To help avoid casting suspicion on you lot as well and all.”

“Keep your eyes and ears open while we’re gone soldiers! Always vigilant!” Oleander commanded, giving them a little salute as the trio went off. Shaking her head in amusement at their antics, Gloria gestured toward the bar.

“Care for some drinks while we wait boys?”

Despite the lodge’s rather bustling crowd, there were only a few people at the bar and they were easily able to find seats.

“Hello there folks, what can I get you?” The bartender, a man looking somewhere in his 30’s, asked.

“Hot Chocolate!”

Gloria’s yelp of surprise at the sudden shout quickly devolved into giggles as Raz and the former villain popped up beside her, clambering up onto the next stools.

“And a cider for me sir.”

As the bartender went to work assembling the groups drink orders, he glanced over at them with a smile.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you folks around before. Welcome. What’s the occasion for the visit?”

The group glanced at each other, all trying their best to hide their slight panic. They hadn’t exactly been properly prepped for people asking them about their motives yet after all.

“Oh, uh, we, uh, came to visit with a friend we heard was staying here.” Boyd stuttered nervously. Picking up on what he was trying, Gloria slipped straight into her old actress skills and gave a sigh.

“Yes, a Ms. Tanya Pandor. She’s one of our old students. Unfortunately, it seems that we may have just missed her.”

The bartender paused, tapping his chin in thought.

“Ms. Pandor you say? Actually, I do remember her. Very exuberant. And you heard right, she seems to have left already. Was the talk of the staff rumor mill for a day or two actually. Some of her coworkers called asking to speak with her on some matter, but when the staff went up to let her know about the call, she was nowhere to bee seen. Must have left damn late at night for nobody to notice her. Which is odd really...”

“Odd, how?” Loboto asked, the group jumping a moment at his voice, seemingly having forgotten he was there, before leaning towards the bartender in interest, the man glancing around before lowering his voice.

“Well, we’re really not supposed to divulge things about the other guests, so you didn’t hear this from me, but I may have been one of the last people to see her. You see, I was assigned as a ski slope guard that day, you know, to watch and make sure nobody got injured and needed medical attention. I was stationed on one of our more challenging hills, the Black Diamond one, when I saw Ms. Pandor go whipping by. I know it has her because she had a very distinctive ski jacket she always seemed to be wearing. This whole black, purple and gold affair. Plus she has been very kind and gracious to the staff. We tend to remember those sorts of things. Anyways, she gave me a wave as she went past and seemed to be having the time of her life. It seems so strange that she would leave so abruptly without saying anything. I do hope something didn’t upset her.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about it, dear.” Gloria replied with a smile, waving a hand nonchalantly.

“Tanya has always been the spirited type, zipping from place to place. Just a little lightning bolt.”

“Yes, she certainly did seem like that type. I’m sure you’re right. Ah, that’s right, your drinks!”

The group was quickly presented with their fine beverages, including a healthy topping of whipped cream and sprinkles for Raz and Loboto’s chocolatey treats. Edgar and Gloria’s cider was just as delicious, rich and warm. (Fred and Boyd’s spiked eggnog was perhaps not the most professional thing to be drinking during a spy investigation, but nobody was about to call them out on it.) For a time they sat at the bar, chatting away to the bartender about the various activities around the lodge, before Raz suddenly caught the shape of their other companions watching them from a nearby doorway. Nudging Gloria, he nodded over towards them, and the woman took the hint, turning to the bartender with a smile.

“Well, I’m afraid we must be going now dear. We can’t spend all vacation here in the lounge after all. Thank you for the lovely time.”

“My pleasure Ms. I hope to see you all again soon.” He replied with a nod and smile as they stepped away from the bar, his eyes widening in surprise and delight when he noticed the generous tip the group had left tucked under one of the empty mugs.

Following their missing members lead, the group ducked over into a more private corner of the lounge to meet them.

“Did you guys find anything?” Raz asked quietly, Sasha giving a frustrated sigh in return.

“No, unfortunately not. None of the night staff noticed her leaving that day. Which leaves us back at square one.”

“Well, luckily for you, we just might have a clue.” Fred replied with a smile, the trio looking over at him in surprise.

“Wait, really?!” Oleander exclaimed and the counselor gave him an unamused look.

“Geez buddy, give us some credit. We’re not completely useless. But yeah, apparently somebody saw Tanya out on one of the ski slopes earlier that day. Whatcha wanna bet there might be some sort of clue somewhere out there?” He replied, Oleander reaching up to stroke his mustache in thought as he considered the other man’s words.

“I’d say you’d probably be right on the money. Maybe Pandor saw something out there that made her haul ass out of here, though I’ve never known her for the scaredy cat type. And that would still leave the question of where she went.  But it’s a lead.”

“How’s about this?” Sasha pipped up, waving a hand to get all their attention.

“The three of us have worked out with the management to take a look in Ms. Pandor’s room, see if she maybe left some sort of clue behind. While we’re doing that, you six could head out onto the slopes and take a look around. A group of casual vacation goers, including a child, would likely draw a lot less attention than the three of us for the time being.”

“Well, I think it sounds like a marvelous plan!” Loboto replied exuberantly, pausing and rubbing his neck sheepishly when they all turned to look at him.

“If that’s alright with you all of course.”

He was met with a chorus of headshakes and “no, that’d be fine”s, so he grinned once more and nodded in satisfaction.

“Sounds like a plan then!”

“Just please all be careful.” Milla replied, eyes full of concern, and Raz gave her a comforting smile.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be ok! Besides, whenever are we not careful?”

The 50-yard stare of no doubt Whispering Rock related war flashbacks that she gave him in return spoke volumes.

*

“Thank god for government provided tailoring. Trying to find snow wear for proportions like mine is hellish.” Fred sighed quietly in satisfaction, adjusting his perfectly fitting ski jacket to a chorus of chuckles. The 6 of them were currently waiting in line at the equipment rental shop. Once they’d gotten their luggage up to the rooms and finally unpacked, they’d found the new sets of winter gear amongst their belongings, perfectly tailored and clearly a gift from the Psychonauts organization. How said organization knew their measurements was a mystery they neither had, nor wanted, the answer to.

“I must admit, they are rather fetching, aren’t they?” Gloria replied with a smile, giving a little twirl to let the hem of her longer coat poof out for a moment like the skirt of a dress.

Eventually the line cleared out enough for them to enter the small store displaying the various types of equipment available for rental and purchase. Splitting up to look, they all quickly selected their preferred styles. It didn’t take long for most of them to reconvene near the counter, each carrying a fairly simple pair of skis. There was no need for the super high-grade stuff, none of them were professionals after all. When Raz came running back with a snowboard, none of them were really that surprised. Skis had seemed a bit boring for the boy’s exuberant personality to begin with. What did draw their shock however was when Fred came trotting up behind the young psychic, a long light blue board slung over his shoulder.

“Uh, mi amor, are you sure that’s what you meant to get?” Edgar asked, eyeing the board in equal parts confusion and concern, and Fred laughed in return.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about it. Never said I had been using skis when I went someplace like this back in college. Always been useless with them. Snowboards were a different story though. Used to skateboard a lot back in high school too. Now let’s go see if I’ve still got any of that old muscle memory still rattling around.”

As a group that was inexperienced, and in some of their cases completely unfamiliar, with the equipment, getting into their rented pieces ended up a tad more challenging than intended. Boyd nearly poked himself in the eye with one of his poles and Raz promptly fell backwards into a snowdrift after figuring out how hook his boots into the board, but eventually they managed to get their nonsense together enough to try and get in line for the ski-lift that would take them up to the Black Slope.

Try being the key word.

Just as they were in the process of settling themselves at the back of the line, a slightly nervous voice called out behind them.

“Hmm, now I don’t claim to be an expert on skiing, but something tells me this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”

Turning to look back, they found Loboto had not only somehow managed to put both of his skis on backwards, but was now also slowly sliding away from them down the slight decline, ski poles digging into the snow in an attempt to stop himself. Boyd, being the closest to him, darted out to try and grab the man, but missed his hand by a hair, and he began to pick up speed.

“Whoa! Look out there!”

Someone suddenly darted behind the former mad scientist, catching him by the shoulders and stopping his uncontrolled journey. As the person carefully pushed the man back up towards the group, they got a better look at them. It was a young man in his early 20’s, with pale skin and messy sandy blonde hair.

“There ya go!” He announced, settling the dentist back in front of the rest of the group and crouching. down to look at his skis.

“Ah, here’s your problem! Here, this should help.”

With deft fingers, he unhooked Loboto from the skis, flipped them around and had him step back in, hooking him securely into place.

“Uh, thank you. I’m a bit of a beginner.” The blue skinned villain thanked him, cheeks flushing the tiniest bit of dark blue in embarrassment, the younger man glancing over at the sign announcing the coming hill at his words.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly recommend this hill to someone still getting their snow legs, but I can’t fault you for wanting to jump into the challenge head first!” He replied with a merry laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be very careful. Thank you for your help, Mr...?” Gloria replied, the young man jumping to attention when he realized her pause was requesting and answer and reaching out a hand to shake.

“Oh, just call me Josh! A pleasure to meet you folks!”

He quickly exchanged handshakes with them all, Raz included, as the line to the chair lift drew shorter.

“You certainly seem to know your stuff.” Edgar complemented him, glancing over as Loboto turned his ankle this way and that to look at the ski mechanism in fascination.

“I would certainly hope so, considering all the years I’ve worked here! I know all the ins and outs like the back of my hand!”

“Well isn’t that wonderful. This seems like a splendid place to work.” Gloria replied with a smile.

“Oh it is, I couldn’t be luckier. Oh, looks like it’s you guys turn!”

Turning to look, they found the couple behind them settling into their chair on the lift, the next one incoming. As they stepped up to wait on it, Josh stepped away, giving them a wave as he turned to leave.

“Hopefully I see you guys around! If you’ve got any questions, just let me know. If want to know anything about the lodge or hills, I’m your guy!”

“We definitely will!” Fred called after him, the group raising their arms to wave back, before prepping to climb aboard the lift.

The benches ended up only being able to fit 3 people, so they ended up separated into two groups, Fred, Boyd and Edgar in the first chair, with Raz, Gloria and Caligosto grabbing the second. For the former, the ride up was honestly pretty pleasant and peaceful, the view from up so high showing them a beautiful vista.

“Wow, we really are up high huh?” Boyd, wondered out loud, glancing down over the side of the chair at the forest spread out below them.

“Si, we certainly are. Hmm, I wonder, is this the sort of view you normally have mi amor?” Edgar asked, looking at the lanky man between them with a cheeky smirk. Fred gave the painter an unamused look as on his other side Boyd let out a snorted laugh, breaking into giggles.

“Seriously? Your pulling out the tall guy jokes?”

With a grin and chuckle, the Hispanic man leaned up to give the taller man a peck on the cheek as their other partner leaned against his shoulder in a giggling fit.

“Apologies mi amor, I couldn’t resist.”

In the other chair however, things were going...less pleasantly.

Raz gazed down at the trees below as they rode along, humming some song the piano player in the lobby had been playing. Feeling something bump his leg, he glanced over, seeing Loboto’s legs jittering back and forth enough to jostle against him. Now that he thought about it, the whole man was shaking. Glancing up at the dentist’s face, he found the older man’s gaze fixed straight down at the ground. His hands were fisted in and tugging nervously at the strings of his ski hat (they’d all agreed the shower cap might be a bit too conspicuous), causing the large pop pom on top to bounce rhythmically. And judging by his harsh breathing, the guy was probably about 2 steps away from hyperventilating.

“Um, Loboto?” The young boy asked, seeming to snap the dentist out of his daze, at least partially, both he and Gloria looking over at him.

“Are you ok?”

“Now that I notice, you do seem a bit...tense, dear. Are you feeling alright?” Gloria added gently

“Oh, just fine! Happy as a clam! No reason at all to feel nervous!” He replied exuberantly, the smile on his face horribly forced, eyes darting to the drop below them every few seconds.

Raz stared at him, mind puzzling over the info. The slightly loony man was usually fairly fearless, sometimes to the point of his own peril. So what could have gotten him so stirred up?

Glancing down at the ground far below them, something suddenly clicked in the boy’s head. A memory rose to the front of his mind, one of a night at an asylum what seemed so long ago, and a certain dentist’s supposed demise at the hands of a turtle powered tank. Raz felt the pit of his stomach drop, guilt sweeping over him at the realization.

“Uh, hey, is there any way this about the time you...you know?” Raz asked gently, hand gestures miming the image of a person falling off something, and flinched when the man’s head snapped around to look at him, smile wide.

“What?! No, no, of course not!...Maybe...probably...” He replied, his vibrato visibly deflating as he tried his best not to look down.

“Oh, Loboto dear, it’s alright. There’s nothing to worry about.” Gloria fretted, catching onto the issue and reaching out to pat the blue man’s back.

“Yeah, these ski lifts are like, totally safe!” Raz exclaimed, in an attempt to help.

As though mocking them, the lift jerked for a moment, sending them swinging a bit. Loboto sucked in a sharp breath at the motion, hand instinctively tightening where it had been wrapped lightly around Raz’s forearm in a grip that would definitely be leaving bruises the next day. Gloria grimaced when she saw Raz wince, raising a hand to tap her chin in thought.

“Oh dear, well this isn’t good.”

After a moment an idea hit her, and she leaned over to catch the mad dentist’s gaze smiling gently.

“Loboto dear, have I ever told you about the first time I ever took to the stage?”

The man paused in his panicking, seeming to calm slightly as he gave her a confused look, Raz looking at her in equal confusion but seeming to roll with it.

“Um, not that I’m aware of?”

“Well, let me tell you. I’ve preformed on hundreds of stages of the years, all over the world. The theater was my lifeblood. But the first time I performed in front of people, oh, I was terrified.”

“R-Really?” The man replied, eyes widening.

“Oh, absolutely. It was the worst case of stage fright I ever felt. I was absolutely petrified. My palms were sweaty, my head was spinning. I completely froze up on stage. And that wasn’t the only time. No no, I’ve had stage fright hundreds of times in my career. I almost refused to go on stage for my own awards ceremony, I was so nervous. But let me tell you something very important I’ve learned.”

She leaned in close, taking the man’s hands gently in her own, both he and Raz leaning in in fascination.

“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid. Everyone fears something. I’m scared of messing up on stage, overwhelmingly so. Young Raz here has his own fears, as do you. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Being brave doesn’t mean the absence of fear. Anyone who says so is an idiot. No, to be brave is to look fear in the face and still continue on in spite of it.”

Leaning back, she looked out at the forest surrounding them.

“This really is a lovely view, isn’t it?”

“Yes...Yes I suppose it is.” The dentist replied quietly, gazing out at the landscape around them seemingly with new eyes. He still seemed nervous certainly, gaze fixed firmly on the horizon in an attempt not to look down, but his shaking had stopped and his breathing had steadied. From behind his back, Raz gave the actress two big thumbs up and a grin.

As they neared the peak of the hill, they could the others laughing about something in the chair ahead of them, quickly hurrying off of it to make room as they reached the landing. As soon as it was their turn, Loboto practically threw himself off the ski lift, clearly trying to reach Terra Firma as quickly as possible. Gloria and Raz followed at a more normal rate behind him, pausing for a moment when the boy looked up at her.

“Not gonna lie, that was kinda awesome.”

“Why thank you my dear.” She replied sweetly, before giving him a little grin and leaning in closer as she lowered her voice.

“I’ve had a lot of practice at that speech. You’d be amazed how many new actors and actresses get opening night jitters. Still works like a charm.”

Leaving the boy to sputter in surprise for a moment, she skied on to where the others were waiting at the hills peak.

“So, what’s the plan?” Fred asked, adjusting his feet in the snowboard as Raz caught back up with them.

“Keep together and keep our eyes out for anything suspicious I guess?” The boy replied with a shrug, earning a nod from the rest of the group.

“Sounds like a plan bud.”

After some quick adjustment of clothing, equipment and whatever else, they set off.

It became quickly apparent that none of them were even close to professional skiers, though some were faring better than others. Fred’s muscle memory did seem to be kicking in, handling his snowboard with surprisingly few complications, while Gloria’s seemingly natural graceful-ness was doing her skis well. Raz took a spill every now and them, but likewise, his acrobat training seemed to be translating pretty well to snow-sports.

The others weren’t faring quite as well. Edgar seemed to be developing a habit of falling over onto his back pretty often, his large upper body pulling him over whenever he began to lose his balance, while Boyd seemed to be having the opposite problem, having taken more than a few headers face first into the snow already. Loboto was surprisingly staying up pretty well, perhaps his long legs were to blame for his better balance, but every few second he would begin to weave wildly back and forth on the slope before correcting himself, only for the cycle to repeat again shortly thereafter. The whole lot of them were certainly getting a lot of curious looks from the more advanced skiers that would occasionally pass them, the occasional trail guard they passed seeming even more concerned.

With all the chaos, it’s a wonder any of them ever saw anything.

“Whoa, wait everybody!” Raz suddenly cried about halfway down the trail, skidding to a sudden stop. He was nearly bowled over by the others in their attempts to stop, Edgar managing to fall onto his back once more and slid a few feet past him with an exasperated sigh.

“Dios mio, this is becoming tiring. What’s the matter mi amigo?”

“Look at those trees over there.” He replied, pointing to part of the forest that lined either side of the path. Glancing to where he pointed, they spotted what he seemed to be gesturing to. A swath of low branches in a certain area were snapped and bent, as though something had run into them or pulled them out of the way.

“Yeah, that definitely looks like it could be something.” Boyd replied with the critical eye of a security guard, the whole group moving off the path and towards the woodland to examine them. Upon closer inspection, there was most definitely something amiss. While the branches closer to the path broke inwards towards the forest, others further in seemed to break outwards.

“Hey, what’s that?” Raz asked, squinting further into the woodland. Unhooking himself from the snowboard, he darted further into the trees, moving to the edge of the breakage, and crouching down, seemingly digging around near one large trees roots. After a moment he seemed to free whatever he was holding and started back in the others direction.

“Look at this guys.”

He held it up for them to see, the group leaning in for a closer look. It seemed to be a long scrap of torn fabric, patterned in thick, alternating purple and black stripes, with a flash of gold along one edge.

“What do you guys think it is?” Boyd asked in bewilderment, squinting at the piece. Beside him, Edgar gave a sudden small gasp.

“Wait, didn’t that bartender say that Señorita Pandor wore a jacket in these colors?”

The group gapped at him for a moment before turning back to the scrap with renewed interest.

“Holy hell guys, I think we just found an actual clue.” Fred sputtered in amazement, Raz’s eyes lighting up.

“Hey maybe there’s more stuff to find back there! Come on, let’s go look!” the boy crowed, moving to run back into the trees.

He didn’t get very far though, as the wind suddenly kicked up, nearly knocking him over as it ripped through the trees with a swirl of snow.

“Geeze, I though trees were good for avoiding wind. Come on!”

He tried to take a few more steps forwards, only to get knocked back by another gust, being forced to take a few steps back to the group this time. Quickly the wind began to build, howling around the lot of them and kicking up the snow into near white out conditions.

“Damn, they’ve got some crazy weather in these parts!” Boyd called over the noise, Fred replying as he threw up his arms as much as he could to block his face.

“Not the sort I’ve ever seen before!”

“Wait.”

They all quieted, turning to look over Loboto, who was currently looking around in confusion.

“Now, I may have been called crazy one or twice in the past, but does anyone else hear something odd?”

The group stilled, listening hard over the wind. All at the same time, they seemed to catch it, Fred glancing around the group in sudden nervousness.

“Does that sound like growling to anyone else?”

Indeed, the sound mixed in amongst the howling of the wind was much deeper and guttural, rumbling through the air.

Crack

They all froze at the loud sound of splintering wood, all slowly turning in unison to look deeper into the woods. A shape appeared through the blur of snow, the growling growing louder and the shape becoming clearer as it drew towards them. Eventually it stopped at the edge of the broken branches and their hearts all collectively stopped as they made out what it was.

A massive beast, easily 8 or 9 feet tall, bipedal, and clothed in long white hair, only it’s slightly darker face and palms peeking out through the thick fur. For a long, drawn-out moment, there was nothing but the howling of the wind. The only thing to interrupt it was a tiny, likely instinctual whisper from Raz.

“Holy shit.”

The beast didn’t seem to like that very much and its growl deepened. With one massive hand, it reached up and tore a branch from the tree beside it with the sound of screeching wood, before reaching back and hurling it at the group. With a collective cry of surprise and panic they all managed to throw themselves out of the way of it, the large chunk of wood landing amongst the other broken branches nearby. Its failure seemed to enrage the beast even more and it reached down, clawing and tearing a truly gargantuan chunk of snow up out of the ground. It lifted it up and above its head, clearly reeling back to launch it at them, and Raz let out another, this time very foreign sounding, curse.

“Oh, that looks like a real bad time! Boyd! I’m gonna need some help!”

With that, the boy darted out in front of the rest of the group, the security guard seeming to pick up on his plan and following along behind him. Just as the beast hurled the massive snowball, Raz threw his hands up to conjure a psychic shield, Boyd’s own hands joining just beside his to release a spray of flame outside the barrier just as it contacted.

The snow clump exploded around them. Most of it dissolved into steam under the sudden onslaught of the fire, what remained splattering against the curved wall of psychic force in a spray of water and slush, flying off on either side of the group.

“Where is it?! Can anybody see what it’s doing?!” Raz called out, trying to squint through the cloud of steam now surrounding them.

“I don’t know, I can’t see!” Boyd replied, waving his hands to put out the small flames sparking on his gloves.

As the steam was cleared by the slowly calming wind, Raz blinked in surprise at the scene before him, shield disappearing as he lowered his hands.

The beast had vanished, seemingly into thin air.

For a moment they all simply sat there, most of the group having fallen to the ground in the scramble to get out of harm’s way, the air thick with unspoken disbelief. Till finally, Fred said what they’d all been thinking.

“Was that a goddamn yeti???”

“In my professional dentist opinion...yes.” Loboto replied, staring equally slack jawed at the spot.

“What?? Where did it go?? A beast that big does not simply disappear into thin air??” Edgar sputtered, clambering back to his feet as though a higher viewpoint would somehow reveal the 9 foot tall creatures hiding place.

“I...I don’t...-“

“Oi! What are you lot doing back there!?”

The whole group let out a collection of shrieks and yelps at the sudden shout, whipping around to look behind them.

An older man armed with a hefty walking stick stood at the edge of the ski trail, staring into the woods at them with a grumpy scowl on his face.

“Wha- who are you?!” Raz asked, at a loss for words, and the old man’s expression seemed to sour even further.

“Ambrose. I’m the grounds keeper here. And I should be asking you the same thing!”

“Did...Did you see...?” Boyd asked, dazed by his seeming unconcern for the fucking yeti that had been in front of them 20 seconds before. The old man leaned to glance at the place he was gesturing to, brow creasing.

“See? I don’t see anything. All I see is a bunch of troublemakers putzing about in the woods. Get out of there! You’re supposed to stay on the trail!”

Like a bunch of scolded children, they all quickly gathered themselves and scurried back out onto the path in front of the man, who pointed an angry finger at them.

“Now don’t let me go catchin you messing about in there again, understood?”

They all obediently nodded and, seemingly satisfied, he turned away with a nod, grumbling the likes of “people these days” as he slowly hiked further up the path.

“...Ok, so we’re all in agreement that we gotta tell the rest of the gang about that right?” Fred asked, seemingly still dumbfounded, and was answered by a chorus of nods.

The rest of the trip down the hill was largely uneventful. Somehow, an encounter with a mythical creature has seemingly improved their snow-sports skills, and they managed not to have any more major spills on the rest of the way down the mountain. The sun was setting by the time they reached the bottom and, after getting their equipment situated, the six ventured back through the main lodge in search of their three companions.

They did eventually find them back in the lounge, tucked away in a corner table with their drinks.

“Ah, hello everyone!” Milla greeted them with a smile and wave as they made their way over.

“Did you have a good day out on the slopes?”

“Uh, yeah, it was, uh, pretty, pretty good.” Fred replied, sharing a look with others.

“How’s about you guys?”

Sasha gestured for them to sit, voice lowered as he spoke.

“Well, we looked over Ms. Pandor’s room and it was just as empty as we’d been told. Not a trace of her. The only things we found was the Psychonauts bug she put in the rooms phone when she got here. Which means that she likely didn’t leave willingly, if she didn’t have the chance to remove it. That or she simply forgot it when she left.”

“Yeah, and that sort of absentminded-ness doesn’t sound like her. Girl might leave her workspace a mess, but I’ve been on missions with her before, and she’s a neat freak when it comes to hotels and stuff. All the tidying she does, she probably leaves them cleaner than it was when she got there. Gotta ask her if she’s got some sort of service industry trauma from college or something...” Oleander added, trailing off into rambling at the end.

“So did you six find anything out on the slopes?”

The group glanced at each other and eventually it was Gloria who haltingly began, realizing just how insane what she was about to say was going to sound.

“Well, there may have been a bit of an incident out on the trails...”

“We got attacked by a yeti!” Raz suddenly blurted, bringing the conversation to a screeching halt. Sasha turned to look at him with a truly flummoxed expression, seemingly completely thrown for a loop at the boys’ words.

“...R...Run that by me again??”

“Well, it’s a bit of a long story.” Boyd replied with a sigh.

It took quite a while to explain the events that had befallen them all, added to by the fact that dinner arrived in the middle of it, but eventually they got the whole incident out in the open, the three senior agents staring at them in bewilderment by the end.

“Are you sure it wasn’t some sort of polar bear or something? Those things can get big as hell when they’re on their hind legs.” Oleander offered and Gloria shook her head.

“Now I know how this all sounds, Agent Oleander, but we know what we saw, and that was most definitely not a bear.”

“Plus, we found this!” Raz added, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the fabric scrap, handing it over to the trio.

“The bartender we talked to said he saw her wearing a coat like that!”

“Well, I’ll admit, this definitely looks like Tanny’s sorta style.” Oleander admitted with a shrug, handing it over to Sasha to look at.

“Regardless of what this beast you saw might be, there is most definitely more going on here than a simple wayward agent.” The german acquiesced.

“Well, how’s about we all get a good night sleep and continue the investigation tomorrow. You all must be exhausted.” Milla offered kindly and Edgar gave a groan as he stretched, back popping loudly.

“After the beating we took out there, you don’t know the half of it Ms. Milla.”

Luckily for them, their rooms at the lodge were, just like the rest of the property, amazing. They’d been separated across 4 adjacent, and connected, rooms, with the senior agents sharing one and the former asylum members another, leaving Loboto and Raz to bunk solitarily. Their mother organization had, knowing and being blessedly supportive all sorts of relationships, even been kind enough to book the four a California King, while Sasha, Milla and Oleander were more than happy to settle for a King.

“Ugh, we literally just started doing spy stuff and I already feel like an old man waiting for retirement.” Fred groaned, stretching and feeling some muscle in his back twinge.

“Hehe, implying you aren’t already an old man.” Edgar teased him with a chuckle from where he was kneeling in massage position over the lanky man’s hips, his own aching back already having been kindly tended to by Gloria before her bath.

“Hey, keep up that talk and I’ll have to revoke smooching privileges.” The counselor shot back, pointing a finger over his shoulder threateningly at the larger man, even as he melted blissfully beneath he ministrations of the artist’s talented hands. Edgar finally managed to work out the last knot at the base of the man’s spine and Fred gave a little groan of relief, going boneless on the mattress beneath him.

“You boys better not be having too much fun in there without me!” Gloria called from the bathroom and Edgar laughed, smoothing his hands lovingly up and down the thinner man’s back a few times before climbing off him.

“Alright, all done. Time to move mi amor.”

Fred gave a little grumble that sounded a lot like “Sleepy. Don’t wanna.” and the painter rolled his eyes fondly, grabbing him and, like an owner with a lazy puppy, simply dragged him out of the way, patting the spot that opened up.

“Your turn.” He called over to Boyd, who’d been looking out onto the rooms snow covered balcony that overlooked the lodge’s main square, and the guard abandoned his post with a grin.

“Oh thank goodness.” He replied, shucking his shirt off and flopping onto the bed with a sigh, sending the nearby Fred bouncing slightly. He gave another grateful sigh as he folded his arms beneath his head and Edgar set to work.

“Damn, today was a crazy day. The more I think about it the less it makes sense.” He mused, earning a snorted laugh from a slightly more awake Fred as the man reached out to run a sleepy hand through the guard’s hair.

“That’s an understatement.”

“Well, I must admit, I find it all a little bit exciting.”

The three men glanced back to find Gloria emerging from the large bathroom, dressed in a fluffy towel and currently braiding her long damp hair.

“Yes, there’s a been a bit of danger I suppose, but what adventure doesn’t have some danger?”

“Sure as hell beats grading papers at least.” Fred agreed, earning a collective laugh.

“Would you like one when I’m done, mi bella?” Edgar asked, gesturing to the massage in progress, and Gloria shook her head, stooping down to give him a kiss on the cheek regardless.

“No, but it’s sweet of you to ask.”

Soon enough they all found themselves properly prepared for bed, lights flipped off, and beneath the plush covers of the bed, tangling together in the warm heap they’d so quickly become accustomed to.

“Goodnight you guys. Love you.” Fred murmured sleepily, answered by a small chorus of similar sentiments.

Before long, the four found themselves drifting off, eager to see what new, and potentially yeti-related, adventures awaited them in the morning.

#psychonauts #psychonautssecretsanta2020 #you guys wanna split a cab #lobotoly #calimorry #sasha/milla/oleander #god knows what their actual ship name is #razputin aquato #sasha nein #milla vodello #morceau oleander #caligosto loboto #gloria von gouton #edgar teglee #boyd cooper #fred bonaparte #Plus a whole mess of OC's #secret santa #My writing

[mojofun]

Not My Type (Sirius Black x Reader)

Hello earthlings :) This is an entry for This is an entry for a writing challenge I’m taking part in, launched by the wonderful @obsessedwithrandomthings​ for getting 500 followers; congrats again :) The prompt I chose this time was <<You look so good in my shirt>>. I can just imagine our dear Sirius using lame one-liners when flirting with girls, and this is the result. P.S. I’ve been listening to Motionless in White lately, so this thing is packed with lyrics references. Besides, Sirius looks like the kind of guy who would totally dig that style of music so I thought “why not?” I hope you enjoy it!

Gif not mine, credits to @snuffles-padfoot07

<<Remus?>>

No answer

<<Remus. Remus Lupin>>

Still silence

<<Remus John Lupin>>

Still no reply

<<Moony. Moony, Moony, Moony->>

<<WHAT?!>> The taller Marauder ultimately snapped, turning to glare at his bespectacled friend; said friend acted like nothing happened, simply holding up a slip of paper

<<Do you think Lily will like it?>>

Sighing, Remus gave the poem a skim before rolling his eyes

<<Won’t you give the poor girl a moment of reprieve, James?>>

<<Cmon, help a friend in need!>>

<<Why me?>>

<<You always has a way with words>>

A snort came from the opposite side of the room

<<And yet, he still got no date>>

Remus scowled

<<Prongs, why don’t you ask Padfoot then? Merlin knows Y/N loves his idiotic pickup lines>>

Sirius acknowledged the hit, rising from his bed and walking toward his two mates with a strut. Once there, he took James’s poem and read it, nodding in approval

<<Go for it, pal>>

<<What about you, oh great master of poetry?>> Moony teased, still miffed about Sirius’s jab <<How will you annoy your muse today?>>

The shorter male chuckled, smirking mischievously

<<Don’t worry, Moony. I’m very well-prepared>>

<<That’s exactly what worries me>>

              _______

<<Y/N! Y/N!>>

Sirius greeted the H/C girl who’d just walked in the class with her friends. As soon as she saw him, she groaned

<<Oh no>>

<<Come sit by me!>>

Another H/N patted her back soothingly while she face-palmed

<<I think I already know what my boggart’s gonna look like>>

<<Oh love, come on! You don’t need to be afraid of me!>>

<<I’m not scared: now that I think about it, you look like my boggart after I’ve cast Riddiculus>> The female deadpanned.

Sirius was stumped.

Beside him, Janes cackled

<<Your girl’s got sass, Padfoot>>

The other guy could only nod, watching as his crush took a seat as far as possible from him- or tried to: thanks to his distraction, all the other spots were occupied.

That meant she was sitting in the next desk. 

Y/N hoped that she’d successfully quelled the Gryffindor’s idiotic onslaught.

Well, she did... Just for a little while though

<<Such a sharp tongue for someone so pretty, doll>>

<<I also own very sharp blades, Black>> The girl countered, glaring at him <<Do not tempt me>>

<<I knew you couldn’t resist!>> He cackled

<<Yes, my killing instincts are very strong right now>>

The quaint theatre was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Silvanus Kettleburn, who immediately gave dispositions for the class

<<Very well. Today, you will work in pairs>>

The sentence every student dreaded, especially poor Y/N.

It seemed luck was not on her side that day because, when the professor announced her partner, she was faced with a smug Sirius, grinning from ear to ear

<<You know, my therapist says I’m afraid of commitment. Wanna help me prove em wrong?>>

<<Interesting. I’ve never wanted to commit more>>

<<Really?>>

<<Yes; a murder>> The E/C-eyed student walked away from him, heading toward the fire crab the professor had assigned them

<<Ready to give up, Padfoot?>>

<<Never>>

<<I don’t know whether to commend you on your tenacity or call you foolish>> Remus commented

<<She’s made of fire, but I can handle it. And no, James; I’m not talking about the crab>>

              _______

<<No no no no. Stop right there>>

<<What?>>

<<You need to chop those before feeding the crab>>

<<Oh>>

<<Give them to me>>

Sirius nodded, handing her the food and watching her cut it, slowly and precisely

<<Where have you been all my life?>>

<<Hiding from you>> Y/N replied coolly.

The boy cackled

<<You’re smart, funny, pretty, and you’ve got an insane amount of sass. You’re everything I’m looking for in a girl>>

<<Wow, I’m so lucky>>

It would have been impossible to ignore the sarcasm lacing her words, but Sirius didn’t acknowledge it

<<Would you want to go watch a movie with me this weekend?>>

<<I’ve already seen it>>

<<How can you know?>>

<<You’re asking me out again: I’ve already lived this horror enough to last me a lifetime>>

The older Black brother laughed, shaking his head in amusement

<<Alright, let me try again>>

<<Please no>>

<<Can I take you out on Saturday?>>

<<Sorry, I’m having a headache this weekend>>

<<What?>>

<<Leftovers from the one you’re giving me now>>

But you->>

<<Bitch you’d give a fucking aspirin a headache>> She growled.

Once again, Sirius was at a loss for words. Not only had Y/N just used two swear words in a sentence, but he knew he’d already heard those words somewhere...

<<Wait a second. You listen to Motionless In White?>>

He cried out. The female snorted

<<Are you kidding me? They’re one of my favourite bands>>

<<I like them too>>

Finally, the tension between them seemed to dissipate. Finally, Sirius’s smile was not a smug grin but a real, happy smile.

Finally, Y/N smiled genuinely back at him.

How cliché would it be to say that they felt like they were the only ones in the world at the moment?

(Fire crab aside)

And yet, that exactly how they felt.

It was so exhilarating that Sirius just had to try again

<<Y/N?>>

<<Yes?>>

<<I know the only words that you have for me are give up and get out>> The girl chuckled, prompting him to continue <<but I’m here to stay, forever and always>>

She laughed more. It was not sarcastic or mirthless but a true, joyous laugh

<<You know, you’re not so bad once I get past the smug act>>

<<I feel like that’s the biggest compliment you ever paid me>>

<<You’re probably right, but don’t get ahead of yourself. My killing instinct are not raging right now: let’s keep it that way, shall we?>>

<<I’m ready to bleed to make amends>> He joked. The young woman cachinnated, shoving him playfully

<<You idiot. You’re making it hard not to like you>>

<<That was my objective>>

<<Continue on this road and you might just achieve it>>

<<I will. Besides, I know better than to tease you when you’re chopping stuff with a knife; you warned me>>

Y/N cackled one more time, shaking her head in amusement.

It was an incredibly welcome turn of events.

              _______

Later that day, the two students sat together for lunch in the Great Hall, discussing anything that came to mind. Mostly their favourite bands.

The more they found out they had similar tastes the more engaged they became.

It was quite a sight. It surely left Remus and James gobsmacked: they would have never thought Y/N would actually want to be with Sirius. Didn’t he annoy her as much as James did Lily, with his dumb pickup lines?

Apparently not.

Their surprise grew even more when their friend suddenly asked her on a date- nothing new there.

They’d enjoyed endless attempts by Padfoot to win the heart of the smart and beautiful H/N.

Her answer, on the other hand, was something entirely unexpected

<<Yes, Sirius: I will go on a date with you>>

The black-haired Marauder offered her a huge smile, making her laugh

<<Thank you, darling. You won’t regret it>>

<<I certainly hope not>>

<<I’ll even make sure the place I take you to has sharp knives, so you’ll know what to do if I get too annoying, alright?>>

The girl laughed so hard that tears fell from her eyes

<<You’re an idiot>>

<<Duly noted. But doesn’t this idiot deserve a kiss?>>

Remus and James half expected Y/N’s smile to turn into a frown, and for her to smack him in the face.

Instead, against all odds, she giggled and pulled him closer, pecking his cheek

<<I finally managed to break the cycle>> Sirius beamed. Y/N snorted

<<Not entirely: you’re still an idiot>>

              _______

Idiot or not, the date went so well that they went on a second one, and a third, a fourth... And so on, until they officially became a couple.

Which meant Remus, James and Peter had to deal with their best friend and his girlfriend sucking faces and being all lovey-dovey- though they were sure those two only did it to piss them off.

Well, they’d learnt how to deal with it, as long as it was just holding hands and kissing- making out, actually.

But none of them was ready to find the two of them in bed together in their dorm room

<<What the->>

<<Ah!>> Y/N startled, waking Sirius

<<For crying out loud, guys, won’t you ever knock?>>

The poor friends just stood there, red in the faces while Padfoot rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

Once he’d had enough, he shouted

<<Well, why are you still standing there? Get out, we need to change!>>

Not even Death-Eaters after them would have made the three boys run so fast.

The female chuckled, standing up and smoothing our her boyfriend’s shirt that she was wearing like a dress.

The boy in question stared at her adoringly, pulling her closer

<<You look so good in my shirt>>

He fully expected her to blush, but she smirked and replied cheekily

<<I look even better out of it>>

The wink that came immediately after threw him for a loop

<<Y/N...>>

<<Yes, dear?>>

<<... That’s such a lame pickup line>>

<<Yeah... I stole the idea from you, along with your shirt>>

<<And my heart>> Sirius played along

<<... Just like that, the lame throne is yours again>>

<<But that makes you the queen of lame>> He pointed out.

She didn’t know what to reply to that, so she swatted him on the chest.

He gasped in horror

<<You said you’d never hurt me>>

His joke made her laugh.

When she calmed down enough, she teased

<<You’d still give a fucking aspirin a headache>>

<<Oh, are you an aspirin?>> For old times’ sake, he decided to throw in another lame pickup line <<I’d love to take you every 4-6 hours>>

<<Isn’t that too much for you?>> She teased. He chuckled and pulled her in his lap, pecking her cheek

<<You are too much for me, but I’m never letting you go>>

Despite the light atmosphere, those words held a promise of forever, and they both wanted that.

Their lips met and their hands held the other close.

Once again, as cliché as it may sound, they felt like the only two people in the world

              ___Extra____

Outside the door Remus, James and Peter stood still, looking at each other in confusion and embarrassment

<<How long do you think it will take?>>

<<Well, Wormtail, I don’t know much about Padfoot’s prowess in bed but->>

<<I’m not talking about that, James>> The shorter Marauder spluttered.

Remus sighed

<<That was probably the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. And that’s saying something, taking into account I hang out with you three>>

James cackled

<<Oh, Moony, you wouldn’t->>

<<I have a question>> Peter piped up again

<<What would that be?>>

<<Why are we still standing here?>>

<<Oh, right. We should come back later>>

<<Better yet, let’s change our house>> Remus groused <<Merlin knows I’m never going back there>>

After some silence, James spoke again

<<Hey, Moony, do you think if I used those pickup lines on Lily, she would->>

Professor McGonagall spent the whole day wondering if the incredibly loud sound she heard in the morning was actually a scream, and where it had come from

#dees500challenge #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine

[delicatelyherdreams]

Pragma(tic) 9: The Past Comes Back to Haunt Her

Pragma(tic) 8: He Gets Found Out (and a Phone Call)

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 4651

Warnings: Language; PTSD

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 8: He Gets Found Out (and a Phone Call)

The sky was blue and clear, not a single cloud in sight. The summer sun beat down on your back as you leaned over your work in the middle of the clearing. Your hands moved fast, your tongue was held in between your teeth as you concentrated, your brows knit together, and you focused. The world, the clearing, and the trees surrounding you melted away as you worked. Only your project mattered.

You spun something out of nothing, twirling your tiny, childish hands around the small, abnormally shaped ball that hovered midair. Red flowed from your palms, gravitating towards the center of your creation, and it stuck wherever it landed. It solidified as it hit the surface, adding to the shiny jewel that was forming in your hands. The gem was see-through, completely clear, but a satisfying shade of red that you loved. A small smile danced across your lips. Your mother was going to love this.

When it was finally the size of a small pebble, you stopped revolving your hands around your creation and instead brought them together in a cup beneath it. The red object fell through the air, landing in your palm.

You beamed down at it before standing, hiking up the skirt of your white chiton, and running over to the woman who was seated on a large rock at the edge of the clearing and was watching you with an amused gaze.

She was beautiful, perfect, the very definition of grace. Her rich dark hair was braided with gold and jewels (most of which you had created for her) and cascaded down her shoulder, coming to rest right above her heart. A gold chiton hung loosely from the titaness’ shoulders, covering her body while leaving her arms, shoulders, and collar bones out for the sun to kiss. 

You scampered over to her as fast as your little legs would take you, holding the red stone out in front of you. “Mama!” you cried, your young voice filling the air. “Mama, look! I made another one.” You stopped at her feet and held it up.

Rhea smiled down at you and took the jewel from you. “So lovely, my darling,” she mused, holding it up to the light and gazing through it. The sun streamed through the jewel, casting a pink glow on her tanned skin. Her smile widened. “Wow! It’s clear all the way through.”

“I think it’s prettier like that, don’t you? It makes your face change colors!”

“So it does.” She closed her fingers around the jewel and pulled her braid closer to her. Her fingers worked to tuck it into the braid with the others. “Thank you, little one. It is beautiful.”

You bit your lip to hide your smile and sat cross-legged at her feet. “You’re welcome, Mama.” 

Her eyes trailed over the stones her dark braid. Most of them were red. “You seem to like making the red ones the most. They match your eyes.” She chuckled softly and turned her gaze to you. “Do you have a name for your creations?”

You nodded, a smile brightening your face. “I think I wanna call them rubies. I dunno why, it’s just a nice name for the red ones.”

Your mother hummed. “Well, be absolutely sure that that is what you want to call them. Once you give them their name, that will always be their name. They are your creation and what you say goes.”

You frowned up at her, your gaze curious and confused. “What do you mean, Mama; ‘what I say goes?’”

She grinned slyly like she knew something you didn’t—which she probably did. “Come with me, my child, and I shall show you.” She reached down and took your tiny hand in hers.

You stood up and walked with her.

She led you through the trees, stepping over fallen logs and helping you over them too. You didn’t know where she was taking you, but you didn’t care. You just loved spending time with your mother.

She was the best mother there was, always there to love you and hug you and squeeze you tight. She loved you, and you loved her.

Rhea guided you through the trees over to a new clearing, but this one wasn’t surrounded by trees. This one was a cliff that came to a point. She took you right up to the edge.

From up there, you could see a vast majority of the land that you lived in. You could see rolling hills taking over the whole area, with small dots nestled in the valleys and near the sea. Each dot was a village that held many people. You’d often sneak down to watch them

Your mother stopped you at the edge of the cliff and sat down, beckoning you to sit on her lap. “What do you see, my dear?” 

You sat down on her thigh and leaned back into her chest. “I see people. It’s the Mortal World, right?”

“Yes. This is the land known as Sicily. And who lives there?”

“The mortals.”

“Very good. Now, you know that you are not a mortal. You’re an immortal, what the humans would call a god, or, in your case, a goddess.”

You turned your eyes up to her, sparkling with curiosity. “Are you a goddess, Mama?”

She laughed. “No. I am a titaness. I am older than the gods, but that’s not important.” She plucked one ruby from her hair and offered it to you. “Because you are a goddess, you get to control some aspects of the world. You are a goddess of wealth, and so these jewels that you create will be worth a lot. The names you give them will be used by mortals everywhere because they are yours. It is one of your powers, and more will develop as you grow older. It is a great responsibility to bear.”

You frowned. “But I’m just a kid.”

“You may have only aged seven years, my child, but you are still their god nonetheless, and they will worship you just the same.” She chuckled. “I know you will be a great goddess. You will go down in their stories as one of the greatest in history.”

You giggled. “I hope so, Mama. I wanna be a good goddess. Do you think the mortals will like me?”

“It is hard to tell, my child. But so long as you stay just, benevolent, and fair, I’m sure they will.”

You opened your mouth to ask her something else, but you were stopped by a loud crash and the earth shaking. You shrieked as you fell off your mother’s lap, sprawling on the ground.

Your mother blanched and shot to her feet, staring at something in the distance. “(y/n), hide.”

“Mama, what—?”

“Go!” She grabbed you by your wrist and threw you towards the tree.

You obeyed, running into the trees to hide beneath one. Looking back out at the clearing, you saw your mother grow larger, her height soaring until she was giant. So tall, was the titan’s true form, that she towered above everything else, even mountains. When your mother was at her full height, you hardly came up to her big toe. She rarely used this form with you (unless you wanted to say hi to the birds) because you hated feeling small and insignificant. You’d only seen this form once or twice, and only when he came around. 

You turned your head over your shoulder, almost too scared to look.

You could see him. He was always in his full size. You saw his monstrous form towering over everything, but you couldn’t make out any distinct features. He was all black. He marched towards your hiding spot and your mother, undoubtedly glaring.

“Kronos,” your mother purred, trying to mask the fear in her voice with seduction. “To what do I owe this pleasure, my darling husband?”

“You know why I’m here.” His deep voice thundered over the valley, startling birds out of their nests. “I want her.”

“Wh-Who?”

You frowned at the time, filled with confusion. You knew she knew he was talking about you, but you would later realize that she was trying to protect you.

“Our daughter,” he hissed. “She has been allowed to roam the earth too long. She should’ve been dealt with right after she was born. Instead I was soft and allowed you some time. Now I have come to collect. Give her to me.”

Your mother bit her lip and shook her head. “No! I can’t. She’s just a child.”

“A child who will destroy us.” His face was black, not a single feature was visible, but you could’ve sworn that his eyes flashed red. “Now give her to me! I know you have hidden her near. You never stray too far away from your precious child.” His head turned down, and you knew he was searching for you. His eyes pierced the very trees before you felt them settle on you. You could hear the smile in his voice as he cooed, “Found you.” 

A black hand appeared out of nowhere, plucking you from your hiding spot by the back of your chiton. 

You screamed as the ground disappeared from beneath your feet, twisting and turning in a struggle. All you could cry out was, “Father! No! Please, no!”

“Kronos! Let her go! She’s just a child!” your mother wailed, suddenly at his side and clinging onto her husband’s arm as she tried to wrench you from his grip. You could see the fear for your life in her eyes.

He sneered down at her, his eyes turning red with agitation. “She won’t be a child for long. I must contain her while I can.” Then, with a swift motion, he yanked his arm out of Rhea’s grasp, causing her to fall to the ground, and opened his mouth, bringing you closer and closer to his lips.

With a sickening drop of your stomach, you knew—in your young, tiny heart—you knew what he was about to do. You screamed as you panicked. “Father, please! I don’t wanna go in there! I’ll be good! I’ll be a good girl! Just please don’t.”

His mouth didn’t move, but you could hear his voice clear as day in your head. “I’m sorry, little one. But I have no choice. I cannot kill you, so I must contain you.”

You continued to approach his mouth and you were starting to grow frantic. “Father! Please! Don’t!” Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you struggled and writhed, but your efforts were fruitless. He didn’t stop. “Father!” you tried again, begging him to spare you. “I’ll be good! I’ll be a good god! Just, please! Father! Dad! Daddy, please!”

But he only brought you closer to his mouth until you were hovering right over the opening. And, before you knew it, you were falling. He had dropped you and the wind was soaring past your ears. The fleshy pink of his gullet encompassed your vision, covering more and more of what you could see until there was no light left. As you plunged into the darkness, you could hear only two things: the sounds of your mother’s wailing, and your own screams of pure terror as you fell down, down, down—into the pit of your father’s stomach.

———

“NO!”

You sat bolt upright in your bed, the sheets clinging to your body with a cold sweat. Your chest rose and fell rapidly with shallow panting and your panicked eyes darted all around you. It was black, just as black as your prison.

“Light!” you summoned, holding out your hand. A scarlet fire erupted over your palm, casting a dim glow over the room. You waved your hand all over, shining light on the furniture that made up your bedroom. It took you a good moment to realize that you were at your own home rather than in your father’s stomach, and when the realization finally settled on you, you were only slightly less panicked than you had been. 

Releasing the ball of red fire to drift around the room, you threw the covers off of your body and began to pace the hardwood floors. Your sports bra and sleep shorts were damp with your own sweat, and the night air hitting your skin made you shiver, but you didn’t care. Your mind was elsewhere.

He’s not here. He can’t hurt you anymore. He’s in Tartarus. He’s locked up. You’re safe.

But you didn’t believe the thoughts one bit.

You still felt like you were falling. You could still feel the wind rushing past you. You could still hear the screams—your screams.

Your chest grew tight, like a hand was crushing your heart. You winced at the pain, trying to push it deep down.

You shoved your fingers through your hair, taking a fistful and tugging. The dull pain usually helped you focus in on reality, but this time it seemed to do nothing. You were still trembling, and you had no hope of calming down on your own. 

You needed something alive. Cerberus was out of the question because he was on his shift guarding the borders. Peggy was also out because she was there too. You needed someone else; someone to talk you down, someone to tell you what your mind was already saying.

Brock, of course, was the first person you immediately thought of, but upon further deliberation, he probably wasn’t the best choice. He didn’t like it when you were too emotional. He was always awkward and stiff around you when you tried to talk to him about your past or about your nightmares. He hated it. 

You pulled harder at your hair, the squeezing in your chest only tightening and crushing your heart. 

You needed someone who could listen and make you feel better. You needed someone who could be trusted with the more sensitive side of you. You needed—

You stopped dead in your tracks. Your head turned slowly towards your phone, which was sitting dark on your nightstand. You had his number, he’d said that you could call him anytime you needed. Well, if there was ever a time you needed him, it was now.

Your feet were moving before you knew it, and you were unlocking your phone and pulling up Bucky’s contact just as quick. You pressed “call” and held the phone up to your ear.

As you heard the dial tone, you had to wonder: was Bucky even still up? Were you disturbing his sleep or was he still awake? Would he be bothered—

“Hello?”

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts and your jaw went slack. Holy shit, he’d actually answered. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck; what the fuck do you say? “Hey, Buck. It’s (y/n). You know, the scary Queen of the Underworld? Yeah, listen. I just had a nightmare and I’m acting like a toddler and need you to calm me down.” That was laughable and pathetic. This whole situation was pathetic. You should’ve just hung up and called it a night, but your heart wouldn’t let you.

“Hello?” he called again, his voice teeming with worry.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and whispered, “B-Bucky?”

You could hear shuffling on the other end of the line. “(y/n)? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He was definitely concerned now, and—although you felt bad for making him worry—it was comforting to know he cared.

You shoved your hand through your hair again and squeezed your eyes shut as you sat down on your bed. You could still see the faint red of the fire floating around behind your eyelids, but it was little comfort. Your voice trembled as you stuttered, “I-I…” You mentally cursed yourself. You couldn’t even form a damn sentence in your frazzled state.

“It’s alright, Doll. I’m here now,” Bucky soothed, trying to coax you into speaking. “Use your words. What’s wrong? What do you need?”

“I… I need you.” Admitting your need was crushing and you could feel your muscles stiffening as the severity of the fear inflicted by the nightmare finally dawned on you. It felt like your whole body was atrophying like you were turning to stone. Within moments, you would be frozen in place as the panic truly set in.

“I’m on my way.” The line went dead as he hung up, plunging you back into the silence of your mind. 

You couldn’t tell if it was better or worse to be in the quiet room, but the only real comfort you had was that Bucky was coming.

And, sure enough, you heard rumbling overhead—the telltale sign that signaled the ceiling of the chasm opening up above you. A loud thud resonated outside your house; something heavy had just fallen into the Asphodel Meadows. You were so frozen on your bed that you couldn’t even make yourself stand up to go to the window to see if it was him. You could hear footsteps running across the fields, growing closer until they were right outside your door. From there, the front door opened and you could hear footsteps bounding into the entryway before coming to a stop. It only then dawned on you that Bucky had never been in your home and that he probably wouldn’t know where your room was. You wanted to yell for him, scream his name, something, but your voice was locked in a cage at the base of your throat. You wanted to stomp on the ground, jump up and down, to do anything, but you were stone. You could not move.

The footsteps began to move again downstairs and you heard him shuffling around.

Find the staircase, Bucky.

You prayed to any higher being there was that he would find you, you needed him so badly. 

Please, Buck. It’s right by the door. I know it’s dark, but you can find it. Right up the stairs. My room is the whole floor. Please. Please hurry.

As if listening to your silent directions, the footsteps neared the staircase and began to mount them. You could tell he was on his way up because you heard the creak of the fifth step up. No matter where you stepped, it always creaked. The thudding grew louder as he grew closer until he finally reached the door. That too creaked open as he moved it ever so slightly, and he called out in a quiet, careful voice, “(y/n)?”

You would’ve sobbed with relief if you could but the lump in your throat was still preventing you from speaking.

He began to enter the room, rounding the wall that separated your sleeping area from the rest of your chambers. When he saw you, he called your name again. Receiving no answer, he began to approach you as one would an easily startled animal.

Which, if you were honest, you probably were at that moment.

He continued to walk towards you until he was right at your side. “(y/n)?” he said again, his voice gentle, comforting, loving. He sat down next to you and the mattress dipped with his weight. “(y/n), I’m here. It’s me. Bucky. I’m here. It’s okay; you’re safe now.” He hesitantly reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder.

You flinched at the unexpected contact and your head snapped to the side to look at him, your eyes undoubtedly wild with the fear from the nightmare.

He didn’t jump at your sudden moment but the worry in his eyes only increased. 

You scanned his face, taking in every detail. It helped to ground you. His blue eyes seemed purple from the rouge light floating in the room and his skin had turned ghostly. His features were contorted with worry, confusion, and care. He cared about you, wanting to make sure you were okay. He’d dropped whatever he was doing just so he could rush to your side and make sure you were safe. It was the most that anyone had done for you in a long time.

You didn’t realize tears were streaming down your face until Bucky’s large hand cupped your cheek and his thumb wiped the liquid off your skin.

“It’s okay,” he murmured as his thumb traced small circles over your cheek. “It’s alright, I’m here now.”

At that, you broke.

Tears began rolling down your cheeks in an abundance, the torrent never ceasing. You sobbed, and you sobbed, and you sobbed. Silent screams escaped your mouth as you cried into Bucky’s shirt. Your tears soaked his shirt, but you didn’t care. The crying was relieving; you couldn’t remember the last time you just let it all out like this.

Bucky simply held you. His arms had wrapped around you at some point, and he pulled you close into a hug. You were sitting in his lap, his arms were holding you close, and his chin was resting on the top of your head. He was rocking you from side to side as a mother would her child, doing his best to comfort you.

You were surprised at how well it was working. Normally, it would take you hours to calm down, but, with Bucky—with whom you’d only spent a handful of blissful evenings—it was mere minutes. 

Soon you were just sitting there, sniffling in his arms.

He pet your hair and continued to rock you, mumbling, “Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You nodded your head, pulling away from him just enough to peer up at his face. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

His eyes narrowed at you and his head cocked to the side. “What for?”

“For bothering you.” You dragged the back of your hand across your nose. “And for crying all over you. You shouldn’t have seen me like that.”

“Like what?”

You couldn’t believe he was making you spell it out. “Like a mess. I’m a queen. I’m supposed to be calm and collected and I was sobbing like a baby.” You shook your head with a bitter laugh. “I’m pathetic.”

“No, you’re human.” Bucky brought his hand up under your chin and lifted your head so you were looking at him. “It’s normal to cry and feel sad. It’s normal to be scared. No one is immune to it, not even the badass Queen of the Underworld. Everyone is scared of something.” He tilted his head to the side, his lips quirking up into a gentle smile. “Don’t ever be afraid to be afraid around me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” He shifted so you were closer to him on his lap. 

Your head once more fit right under his chin. With your ear pressed to his chest, you could hear the faint beating of his heart and you couldn’t help but dwell on how nice this was. 

You never got this with Brock. Tender touches didn’t seem to be a part of his vocabulary. But, with Bucky, this felt natural and good. You felt safe in his arms and that was nice.

Bucky allowed you to sit in the silence a bit longer before finally asking, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You hesitated. “Mmm, kind of do, kind of don’t.”

“Which ‘kind of’ is winning?”

Your lips formed a tight line. “Kind of do,” you answered truthfully because you did want to talk about it. Your family had begged you to talk about it for years, insisting that it could help you cope. “It’s therapeutic,” your youngest sister had said. “Mortals do it all the time. Talking about your trauma helps reduce it.”

“I’m not traumatized,” you’d insisted.

But you both knew that was a lie; the nightmares were living proof that your childhood had impacted you in a big and not-so-good way.

Bucky glanced down at you, his own lips forming their own line. “I can listen if you want to talk it out. I’m good at that.”

You breathed a chuckle. “I bet you are.” Letting out a heavy sigh, you peeled yourself out of Bucky’s arms and moved so you were sitting cross-legged on your bed. “You might as well get comfortable; it’s a long-ass story.”

He hardly moved. “I’m ready.”

You bit your lip and nodded. “Alright.” Pausing to take a deep breath, you began with, “My childhood was fucked.”

He snorted.

“Hey, don’t laugh!” You crossed your arms and hunched over in a pout. “I’m trying to share something deeply personal here.”

“I know! I know! I’m sorry. Just, you were so blunt. I was expecting some sort of build up, but you just came out with that and I… I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I couldn’t help it.”

You tried your damnedest to fight the smile that was rising on your own lips, but you failed miserably and found yourself smiling with him. “Get yourself together, Buck. I’m serious here. My childhood definitely falls in one of the bottom three childhoods of all time. The… The myths got it mostly right, but they were always hazy on the details. They said that my father, Kronos, ate me right after I was born; they were wrong.” You lifted your eyes to the ball of red light that was still dancing around your room. “I was seven. Old enough to have some experience, old enough to know that I had parents and that I loved them, but not old enough to understand why my father didn’t love me back. My mother never let me around him; she said he was a bad man. I didn’t understand. How could someone I love be bad? My seven-year-old brain was just barely comprehending the fact that I was going to live forever, I had no ability to process just how bad my father was. 

“I knew that he was my father in the way that I knew my mother was my mother. I knew that he was someone important to me, and that I loved him and wanted to please him and make him proud. So, every day, I did my best to be a good kid, to be something he could be proud of. I thought that could make him love me.” You hung your head in shame. “But, no matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough. I didn’t understand why he ate me. I didn’t understand why he hated me so much as to try and kill me. I didn’t know what I did to deserve living in isolation for over a decade in his stomach. There is nothing quite like being totally on your own, Bucky; to not know what you did wrong but to be punished anyway. It does things to your mind and I…”

“You still dream about it, don’t you?” he asked softly. “That’s why you were so scared.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I relived the whole thing again. I’m a grown woman, with more than two thousand years of experience, and I still get spooked by nightmares.”

“Everyone is scared by something,” he murmured. “Your thing is what happened to you in your past.” 

“Yeah…” You took a deep breath and pulled your knees up to your chest. 

Bucky looked at you, his eyes scanning over your face. Suddenly he stood and rounded the bed to your side. “Come on; let’s go.”

You blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Come on!” He offered you his hand. “We’re going out. It’s the best remedy for a nightmare. You get to go around and do things and forget all about the bad dreams.” His smile was warm and filled with promise.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a secret but,” grinning down at you, he held his hand out further, “do you trust me?”

You stared at his outstretched hand, a small flame igniting inside your chest at the prospect of adventure, and you took it. “I do.”

Next 10: She Sees the World in a New Light

#bucky barnes #pragma(tic) #hades and persephone #hades & persephone #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you

[for-a-muse-of-fire]

youthfully felt

the wench and the witcher

“youthfully felt”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!POC Reader, plus some platonic love between Jaskier and our reader.

Summary: The reader and Jaskier finally meet; Geralt momentarily regrets his life choices.

Warnings: None, surprisingly, save for Geralt’s foul mouth.

A/N: This turned into fluffy bullshit, and I kind of like it. I promise, one of these days I’ll give y’all something deep and angsty, or whatever, but it is not this day! Title and lyrics swiped from Hozier’s “Jackie and Wilson”.

@coconutxraikage​; @onyour-right​; @kingniazx​; @c-s-stars​; @pantrashtic​; @ly-canthrope​; @gczanetti1​; @alwaysnatz​; @kianya-loves​

She blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild Laughing away through my feeble disguise No other version of me I would rather be tonight And, Lord, she found me just in time 'Cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done I need to be youthfully felt 'cause, God, I never felt young

“Mistress! My dear mistress!”

  It actually takes you a moment to realize that the bard is referring to you. That certainly wasn’t a title anyone else had seen fit to bestow upon you – you weren’t sure whether to be insulted or amused. You raise a brow in his direction and hand off the tankard of mead you were pouring. “I never married,” you tell him, wiping your hands on your apron before you lean against the bar. “But I’ll take ‘mistress’ over ‘oy, wench’. How can I help you, sir bard?”

  The bard gives you a once-over that is just shy of inappropriate, but the smile that flashes across his sweet face is almost enough for you to overlook it.

  “Never married?” he gasps. “Impossible! Lady, with that lovely face, you should be courted by ever noble from here to Nilfgaard. Skin like polished bronze, those silken curls, and those dark, fathomless heartbreaking eyes – “

  You laugh at that – cackle almost. “Gods, but you do lay it on thick, don’t you?”

  “What can I say? I find beautiful women inspire me to wax poetical.”

  He takes your hand decorously, and you allow it if only because there is no hint of a leer on his face. His clear blue eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins at you. With a low laugh, you shake your head. “Speak your peace, dear bard,” you tell him over the noise of the tavern. “You are very sweet, but I’m a little busy at the moment.”

  “Mistress! You cut me to the quick – “

  He actually kisses your hand and with the way you’re fighting a guffaw, you might break a rib.

  “Very well, I’ll be brief,” he continues. “I find myself a little short on coin tonight, but with your permission, I thought I might entertain your patrons?”

  He lays a few more light kisses on the back of your hand, the incorrigible little shit. “You can try,” you say with a smirk. “But we aren’t much for high-brow ballads around here.”

  “My darling mistress,” he croons. “I am a bard of many talents.”

  You’re not sure what breaks you, but you snort and can’t keep the stopper on your laughter any longer. It’s made worse as the grinning bard starts to drop overdone kisses in circles over the back of your hand; when he starts to make his way playfully up your wrist, you give a giggling yelp, “Leave off, you shameless bastard!”

  He does no such thing and you are about to start crying with laughter when you hear a bark of, “Jaskier!”

  Jaskier drops your hand as if it’s burned him, which only makes you worse. The poor man whirls to face the scowling witcher as you try to collect yourself, tears of mirth spilling over even as Geralt looms menacingly. “A lady tells you to leave off,” he growls. “And you fucking well listen.”

  Stormy gold eyes meet yours over the bard’s head, but you see his scowl go soft as he takes in your utterly ridiculous smile. One last giggle squeaks its way free as you wipe at your face.

  “My hero,” you wheeze. “Valiant rescue from the overzealous flirt.”

  Geralt glowers at you, unamused. Jaskier looks at you, then Geralt, then back to you before you see something like amazement flash over his face. “Oh my gods,” he gushes. “You! It’s you – you’re the reason this crabapple’s been nearly tolerable these past few months! Dear, sweet lady, I owe you a life debt. What may I call you, you glorious creature?”

  With a snicker, you introduce yourself. A muscle in Geralt’s jaw twitches. Jaskier leans over the bar with a conspiratorial stage whisper, “What’s your secret?!”

  You bark out a laugh. “That is none of your business, bard, but it’s good to finally meet you.”

  Jaskier grins toothily, and if Geralt rolls his eyes any harder, you’re fairly certain they’ll get stuck. With a shake of your head and smile, you produce three clean mugs and a pitcher of ale before informing your barman that you’ll be stepping away for a time. If it gets unruly, you’ll always be able to step up and lend a hand. You duck under the bar to join the witcher and the troubadour, pouring a draft for each of them and one for yourself.

  “I’ll strike a deal with you, Jaskier,” you offer. “Ply your trade tonight. Don’t insult anyone or incite a riot – you keep everything you make, and there may even be a meal in it for you. On the house.”

  The blue-eyed bard’s face splits into a winning smile as he snatches up his ale and darts in to smack a noisy kiss to your cheek that starts you laughing all over again. You aim a swat at his shoulder – one that he dodges easily – as Geralt grumbles into his ale. 

“My lady,” Jaskier beams. “I swear upon my lute to provide nothing but the most delightful entertainment for the duration of the evening.”

  You take a sip of your ale, batting your eyelashes at the grumpy witcher when you reply, “Any annoyance of Geralt’s is a friend of mine.”

Geralt meets your gazes with a deadpan stare; you nearly snort ale up your nose. Gods, he’s going to throttle you one of these days.

Jaskier grins, bows with a flourish, and zips through the crowd. It takes almost no time for him to begin a rousing chorus that has most of the tavern singing along, and the rest of them clapping and laughing as they watch. You snicker to yourself; the witcher at your side gives a long-suffering groan and gulps down a very large mouthful of ale.

  “Oh, pipe down. I think he’s sweet,” you muse.

  Geralt chokes. “He’s a menace.”

  “Mmmhm, I can see that,” you tease dryly. “Must be why you keep letting him tag along with you.”

  The witcher mutters something impolite into his ale as he finishes it off. He sets one huge arm around your shoulders and tugs, over-balancing you against his side and making you yip in surprise. You dig the knuckle of your forefinger into his armpit in retaliation; he jumps with a grunt and you cackle. When you jab him again, he growls and squeezes you tight against his chest to keep you basically immobile.

  “Stop that,” he warns you. It would be more threatening if he wasn’t grinning fondly down at you. “You are pain in the ass, you know that?”

  “Hmm, aye,” you purr, then pop up on tiptoe to bite at the witcher’s earlobe. “But I’m your pain in the ass, dear witcher.”

  Geralt glares, and swiftly pinches your backside hard enough to make you squeal with laughter.

#geralt x reader #geralt x woc reader #geralt x you #geralt x poc!reader #platonic jaskier x reader #the witcher netflix #the wench and the witcher #tutu scribbles #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert

[kathyprior4200]

Kathy Prior Comforts Alastor

Another ordinary day at the Hazbin Hotel. Having died in the 2020’s due to covid, I appeared as a watered down human, not quite a demon unless influenced by Alastor’s dark magic. Originally I was going to be transformed into an angel reminiscent of my supposed spirit animal. But Heaven’s elitism rubbed me the wrong way, thus I refused to submit to God. I was banished down to Hell, living in a cardboard box. I was soon fleeing from the exterminators not too long afterwards. If they had gotten me, I’d either be killed or sent back to Heaven to be brainwashed as a white Exorcist. Then Alastor of all people decided to take me in and I arrived at the Hazbin Hotel. There I was good friends with Alastor, Charlie and Niffty, half convinced that they were the voice actors playing some kind of trick on me.

 Aside from my demon form that is activated by Alastor’s magic, my afterlife form wasn’t very impressive. I looked like I did when I was alive, except my skin was ghostly pale, my long hair was gray and my eyes had black sclera, purple irises and white pupils. Although I didn’t fit in with the other demons, I could see in the dark and my instincts were heightened.

 It’s not a lot of fun when Alastor possesses me or when he decides to swallow me whole. Apparently, there’s something powerful about me that allows him to heal, feel full and even get some rest. Often times, he sits me in front of a radio and has me listen to several of his favorite jazz songs. The little speakers start to glow and static buzzes in my head. His soothing voice washes over me and I find myself in a daze. My eyes glow red with moving black radio dials and my remaining thoughts are shoved to the back of my mind. Alastor soon has control of my body and mind. He calls the process “getting tuned in.”

 I then transform into an alligator/red doe hybrid demon named Cerva. In this form, I’m a vicious killer and cannibal who accompanies Alastor, Husk and Niffty on various missions. Using my sharp claws, teeth and some dark magic, I take down pedos, rapists, criminals or anyone that stands in the Radio Demon’s way. My scaly skin helps protect me from most attacks, though I can still be killed by angelic weapons like everyone else. When he releases control of me and I morph back, it feels like a great weight is lifted off my chest. I cannot remember what I did before.

 Like Husk and Niffty, I’m stuck under Alastor’s contract for a while. He persuaded me to work for him at the hotel and that “It’s a dangerous world outside.” Naturally I agreed.

 Today was fairly busy. Charlie had a meet and greet event to welcome the newcomers Crymini, Mimzy and Baxter. When I wasn’t greeting any guests, I helped Niffty clean the rooms, make the beds and sweep up the floors. Sometimes I would help Alastor and Niffty make tasty jambalaya (with spicy sauce) and other dishes to serve to all the clients. I wasn’t very good at poker but it was still fun to play and watch as Husk skillfully won almost every game. Often, the characters would mostly talk amongst themselves, me fading into the background, being an OC. I was fine with that…it was almost like watching the show I dearly loved on Earth…except now I was a part of it in a way.

 After I finished cleaning beer bottles at the Jackpot portion near the lobby, I heard Alastor and Husk talking not too far away by a pool table.

 The cat demon let out his usual grumpy sigh. “Man, what a ruckus. I just served dozens of drinks to these annoying tourists who didn’t even stay. What’s the meaning of that?”

 “Why Husker!” Alastor said with a laugh, “Ever since our three new demons arrived and signed up for Charlie’s program, more folks are becoming curious about it. Providing them with drinks and entertainment is surely the way to go!”

 “Without any breaks?” Husk scowled. “And why’d you make me stretch my wings and do a stupid dance onstage when I got wasted earlier?”

 “It was so funny, I had to!” he chuckled. “Even when you’re getting drunk, you can still do your new job well.”

 “I’m here to serve drinks and get my money and booze. That’s it. I’m not some fucking clown you can roll into every little scheme of yours.”

 “Hmm…maybe you are.”

 “I don’t think so. Remember I’m only here because you bribed me with booze. But even that will only go so far.”

 “Come now, my friend, why not liven up a little!” Alastor spoke in a loud voice, making Husk’s ears flinch back. “I provided you with some resources to make your life down here more…livable…or rather less dead.”

 Audience laughter came from his microphone.

 Husk rolled his eyes and muttered. “Your dad jokes make you a fucking joke.” Alastor snickered. Husk seethed, “Ugh great, now it’s rubbing off on me!”

 Alastor pulled Husk in close with his arm, much to the cat’s disgust. “Just have some fun and follow my orders and things will go smoothly. You are my good friend after all.”

 Husk’s white furry face turned red as he hissed and shoved Alastor away. “I’m not your fucking friend! You’re nothing but a red psycho freak I happen to unfortunately work under. If I had my way, I’d be a rich free man who could gamble and do whatever I want! Better yet, I’d be far away from all you morons.”

 Husk picked up a few cards and shuffled them in his hands. “I had a full house and was about to win the pot. And then you pulled me out of nowhere and placed me in this dump for your own amusement.” He pointed a claw into Alastor’s chest a few times, making him flinch a bit. “When ae you gonna get it past your egotistical head that I. Want. To. Be. Left. Alone?!”

 An uncomfortable silence followed. Niffty briefly looked over while she was busy dusting a bookshelf with a white feather duster.

 “Looks like our pussy cat’s in his usual bad mood,” Alastor mused in his radio voice. He tilted up the corners of Husk’s mouth into a smile, which quickly fell when he let go.  “You know I love to see that smile…”

 “Shut up!” Husk pounded his furry fists onto the pool table, making the colored balls rattle. “Just shut the fuck up! I’m sick of you touching me all the time and getting into my face. I’d say you’re lost in this ridiculous musical world of yours…you think you can do anything you want but you don’t seem to be aware of who’s right in front of you!”

 The large yellow smile remained on Alastor’s face, though his red eyes looked concerned and confused.  

 “You’re delusional, thinking Hell revolves around you like some sort of audience.” Husk’s eyes had faint red veins popping out. “You may be powerful, but guess what? You can’t have your way all the time. I learned that lesson the hard way. I may be in your partnership for a while…” He hiccupped, “…but here’s what I really think of you…”

 Husk’s breath smelled of booze as the cat spilled out his previously hidden angry thoughts.

 “You’re an insufferable…”

 Every word was a jab to Alastor’s chest…

 “Egotistical…”

 He felt the shoves of surrounding boys in a long ago life…

 “Filthy…”

The taunts of “dirty boy” and the n word…being forced into a tub of water, scrubbed all over roughly and feeling like he was drowning…

 “Immature…”

 Authority figures looking at him in disapproval as he auditioned for various radio stations…

 “Maniacal…”

 Alastor slashing down his hunting knife onto a helpless victim in a snowy wood…

 “Heartless…”

 Alastor dancing and flirting with pretty women but turning away when they tore desperately at his clothes…

 “Couillon…”

 Running away as police dogs bit and tore at his legs…

 “Retard!”

 Pounding on a door in a cold empty asylum room, cold stares from the towering wardens and nurses. Words like “loon”, “wacko,” being mouthed at him as the gray walls closed in…

 A sharp record scratch pierced the air.

 A black and red gloved hand clutched at Husk’s throat. A tight grip lifted the cat several inches off the ground. He struggled to pry off Alastor’s hand, but his hold was firm. Husk struggled and gasped as he frantically tried to gulp for air. The room darkened and soon filled with radio static and floating red Voodoo symbols. Alastor’s large orbs turned pitch black, with small red dials twitching menacingly. He slowly brought Husk close to his face until they were almost nose to nose.

 He spoke in a low demonic radio voice, his mouth not moving.

 “Remember who you’re dealing with. I gave you your privileges, and I can easily take them away.”

 Just when Husk was about to pass out, he casually tossed him aside. He landed with an “oof” onto the floor. The static and symbols vanished as Alastor’s eyes returned to their normal shade of red. Husk groaned and stood up on shaky legs. He took several deep breaths and glared.

 “Guess cats don’t always land on their feet,” Alastor mused as more microphone laughter followed.

 “Get ready for another big day tomorrow!” Alastor called cheerfully to Husk as if nothing had happened. Husk flipped him a middle claw in response as he slouched away. Alastor walked on.

 “Oh Husk,” Niffty called out. “Don’t forget that you need another bath tomorrow. I‘ll be happy to clean you all up!”

 “Suck it, shrimpy bitch!” he yelled.

 “Language, kitty!”

 Niffty hopped down from the bookshelf and scurried toward Alastor. He looked down at her.

 “Well hello little darling!” he greeted to the cyclops maid.

 “Hello Alastor,” she beamed. “I was just finishing up my rounds for the day when I heard you and Husk talking. It sounded like arguing…”

 “Oh it was nothing, my dear! Just Husk in his grumpy cat mood as usual. I was trying to cheer him up.”

 “Okay,” she said. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow, so much stuff to do! Is there anything else I can do to help out, sir?”

 Alastor waved his hand, “Nothing at all. You did a splendid job today.”

 “Are you sure?” she asked, her large golden eye darting back and forth. “You know, you look pretty dirty, no offence. Perhaps you could use a nice clean…” She looked over at his staff, then stared at the area around his legs a little bit too long. “Your staff I can so easily reach…”

 She extended her hand with a hungry expression.

 “Ha! No.”

 Alastor instinctively stepped back, his frozen smile still on his face. He walked briskly past her without another word.

 “See you in the morning!” she trilled with a happy wave before scurrying off.

 The room was quiet and empty.

 What in the world just happened?

 A nagging feeling spread through me as I walked in the same direction as Alastor. It was a strange urge to go and talk with him. His tall frame strolled down the hall and up a flight of stairs. I silently followed, careful to stay a distance away and out of sight. As I almost entered my room, Room 42, the feeling compelled me to wander towards Alastor’s room instead.

 His room was across from Charlie’s and Vaggie’s, not too far away from Angel’s. The black door was etched with red Voodoo symbols and had a golden deer knocker. Strangely enough, he left it slightly open. I inched closer and peered through the opening into a dim room.

 “Come in, dear.”

 The door opened wider on its own, revealing Alastor sitting in a dark red throne-like chair on a small balcony. He was facing the sunset sky, but must have sensed my presence. He had taken off his red pinstriped suit and had it neatly folded on a chair, near where his staff was. He appeared to be wearing a dark red old fashioned nightgown with slippers made of deer fur.

 In the room, there was a king-size bed with red satin sheets on it, an elegant bedside table and dresser to match. A small chandelier made of bones hung from the ceiling in the center, illuminating blood red carpets decorated with small golden eyes and antlers in rows. There was a large vanity mirror framed by round theater lights and an array of softly lit candles here and there. And of course, there were old fashioned radios all over the room in various sizes. A four-eyed deer head stared back at me from a plaque on the fancy red wallpaper. More disturbing were the various skin-stitched Voodoo dolls and skulls hanging from the ceiling.

 A cool soothing evening breeze met my face as I stepped outside into the inferno air. I sank down into another chair next to Alastor. The sky was painted a brilliant red and orange, the magenta pentagram glowing and moving above like a revolving clock.

 “I didn’t mean to disturb you sir…” I began. A small radio sat beside Alastor, emitting radio noises and various sound clips. Strangely they sounded almost the same every time I heard them. In fact, his habit of using his microphone for sound effects…it was almost like a comfort mechanism for him.

 “Well usually at a time like this I do prefer to be alone, but since you were nearby…”

 “I just…wanted to make sure you were alright.”

 “I’m perfectly splendid, sweetheart, no need to worry.”

 For a millisecond, his eyes told a different story. Not only did I have better senses, I could read expressions and sense intentions better as well.

 “I believe there is more than that. I heard you guys arguing. Frankly, Husk was being a bit of a jerk.”

 Alastor waved his hand. “That’s what he does.”

 “But it was different this time, wasn’t it?”

 Alastor just shrugged.

 “Charlie and I were talking today and we both can agree: you can’t hide your feelings forever.”

 “Whatever are you talking about?”

 “I can sense that you are lonely, deep down. You want to find a place to belong but your sadistic nature makes others afraid of you. You’re afraid to trust other people.”

 He turned to me with a deadly glare but I remained where I was. “If you’re planning on killing me, there’s no point as I’m already dead. Hear me out for a second.”

 He paused and leaned back to listen.

 “I’m not saying you should reveal your sad secrets to everyone. I’m just saying you should embrace the fact that we all have vulnerabilities and bad days. It’s perfectly okay to cry once in a while. Perhaps your search for entertainment is more than just that. It’s a search for your mother, your friends, a search for your true place on the stage of life.”

 “I’m never fully dressed without a smile,” he seethed with his plastic smile. “End of story. Since when has an audience member gave the star of the show directions?” he inquired, eyebrow raised. “You don’t know anything about me.”

 “Well perhaps you need a better script,” I added, arms folded. I stared at his long yellowed nails, his gloves off for a rare moment. “And serious bodily care.”

 A brief silence. Had I been anyone else, I’d be a pile of ash.

 I continued. “Husk did have a point, though. He wanted to be left alone but you still decided to invade his space. You told Charlie that you want to see people fail, despite her not wanting to hear it. Plus, I’d expect an evil killer like you to take joy in the fact that people run away from you in fear. But you don’t like it. Because you seek something more.”

 “I don’t need to hear your delusional words.”

 “I’m more observant than you think. You created me to be submissive, but also tough and smart. It’s my duty to serve you and the hotel right now. And you bet your bottom dollar that me and your friends will try and do what’s best for everyone.”

 More silence as we watched the sunset in deep thought. After several minutes, I turned to him and couldn’t believe what I saw. I spotted a stray tear fall from Alastor’s eye…and his smile slowly faded.

 I covered my mouth with my hands as I let out a soft surprised gasp.

 His look alone told me that I’d be demon meat if I told anyone else. Fortunately, I never break my promise.

 I thought of all his behaviors I noticed and it suddenly clicked. There was the feeling again, a sense of a peculiar deep connection between me and him. And I figured out what it was.

 “Alastor…do you know what autism is?”

 He gave me a perplexed look. “Stop making things up.”

 “It’s a real thing…but I imagine no one talked about it in your time. Autism is one of many developmental disorders that impairs socialization. Your behaviors appear to be very similar.”

 Alastor growled, teeth bared in warning. “I can assure you that I’m perfectly talkative enough. You call me dumb and I can easily…”

 “I know because I have it too.”

 Alastor’s eye twitched. “What?”

 “Do any of these traits sound familiar to you? Being a nerdy child lost in your own world? Being preoccupied and very skilled in your many talents as you grew up? Never quite fitting in with your peers no matter how hard you try?”

 Nothing was heard but the sounds of radio glitches. Orange light glinted off his monocle under his right eye.

 “Those with autism are often very knowledgeable, setting their minds to something and never letting go of it. But they have a hard time seeing things from another person’s perspective. It’s not that they are antisocial and heartless. Rather, they feel things deeply…but they don’t know how to communicate properly with others around them. Some of them aren’t interested in romance, either.”

 Alastor rolled his eyes. “I have shows to plan for my demonic audience. I don’t have time for feelings and…”

 I continued on. “You’re content with living in your own world of radios, music and murder…because for you, it was the only way to survive and make yourself known in your previous life. Communicating through the radio, playing music, dancing and singing on stage… that is when you feel truly alive. Because your listeners hang onto your every word, not caring who you are on the outside.”

 His pupils grew slightly. “You’re making assumptions. You’re forgetting about murder…”

 “Bringing joy to others outweighs bringing suffering...at least that’s how it should be. There’s nothing wrong with doing what you love…except when it causes harm to others.”

 “Demons kill and eat other all the time. Surely you must know that sometimes death and torture are necessary.”

 “You do have a good point. But…I’m talking about your previous life, and why you were sent down here…”

 “I killed those racist bastards for good reasons. When you discover there’s an afterlife full of magic, you go out of you way to make deals for power. It’s what I’ve been doing for years. It’s impossible to be sinless, for sinners lost their chance to ascend the moment they died on Earth!”

 “But it doesn’t have to be that way. Say we take the necessary steps to prove Heaven wrong…”

 “Heheheh, there you go, sounding delusional like Charlie.”

 “Just be glad I’m not as distrustful or hateful of men as Vaggie.”

 “Angel Dust is probably worse…”

 I chuckled out loud at that. “Personal space isn’t in his vocabulary.”

 I took a breath. “Look Alastor, I’m not saying it will be all be rainbows like Charlie claims. I’m just saying it’s not impossible to redeem sinners. Back to the main topic: we both have autism. Your special interests are radios, entertainment, murder and dark magic.”

 Alastor made a face and shook his head. “That term you mentioned didn’t exist when I was alive,” he said. “Anyone who was considered strange or deviant were ignored at best. At worst, they were arrested, killed or thrown into asylums. If it weren’t for my beloved mother…I would’ve wasted away a long time ago. And despite enjoying the company of beautiful ladies, I’ve never had much interest in intimacy. My broadcasting career was my life.”

 This time I listened quietly. He continued. “I’m only telling you all this because you technically don’t exist in the Hazbin timeline. And because…I can trust you enough, like Charlie and Rosie and Mimzy…”

 He sighed again. “Like a skilled actor, I learned not just how to present myself on the air. Thanks to my mama, I learned how to socialize and mimic others around me. It was a way for me to be confident in the face of daily disdain. Smiling became my way of life…my survival skill. If I were to cry and appear weak, who knows what might’ve happened to me. Eventually I became famous for my broadcasting and my music all throughout Louisiana, but it still wasn’t quite enough. I then found another coping mechanism…”

 The aura around him grew red…

 “One that made me feel like I found my place in the world. How good it felt when I could hear their screams…see the life leave their eyes. How from the moment their bodies turned cold, I knew they could never take advantage of me and my family again…”

 His black antlers arched slightly past his face. He lowered his head as static faded in and out. Here was the infamous and ferocious Radio Demon pouring out his secrets to me. I almost didn’t know what to say.

 He covered his eyes with his hands, long fingers in claw shapes almost tearing at his pale gray skin. His voice broke in a record scratch…and this time he spoke without the radio effect, barely audible: “I miss her so much.” His fluffy ear tufts briefly drooped as he conjured the loving smiling brown face of his French Creole mother in his head.

 We sat in silence for a while. “I hope you can see her again,” I said. “But…you need to have faith. Not in Charlie’s program per se…but in yourself. I know change is hard…I’m not saying go play with dogs and use new technology. I mean, don’t be afraid to explore your feelings, figure out what you truly want in your second life.”  

 Alastor’s remaining tears sizzled off his face and his tufts lifted back up. “That’s easy. I want to entertain others and have everyone do what I want…endlessly feast on flesh and never be bored…”

 “We both know it doesn’t work like that. What you want is nothing compared with what you need. You need love. Friends. The joys of music and a purpose. Instead of killing individuals…you need to kill off your own barriers.”

 “Easier said than done. What if I don’t want to change?”

 “You’ll either spiral downward into madness, or you’ll slowly change for the better while still retaining your good qualities. If you want to see your mother in Heaven, you’re gonna have to put in some effort. I may sound like Charlie when I say this but…I know you can do it.”

 Alastor gradually relaxed, his antlers retreating back to their usual stumps. He soon stood up, anxious to have some space. “Thank you for this lovely chat. Now I’m off to read my scripts and go to bed for a little.”

 I stood up and followed. “How long do you usually sleep?”

 “Thirty minutes,” he shrugged. “I rest by the wall with my eyes open.”

 I gasped out loud and bared my teeth. “Not on my watch, mister. Get into bed, now!”

 “Deer don’t need sleep.”

 I put my hands on my hips. “Everyone needs sleep, especially you! I promise nothing is going to happen. Your shadow will guard your room and suck the soul out of any intruder. Plus you have several friends and kingpins who are loyal to you. You want to truly be the star, Alastor? Start by taking care of yourself. You are the most important person in your life.”

 Alastor smirked. “Like I don’t already know that.”

 “Good. Now rest.”

 I turned to leave before I freeze. Gathering my courage, I turned to Alastor who sat on the bed. “Alastor…may I give you a hug?”

 He stared at me, taken aback. No one had ever asked him for a hug before. He almost flinched when I slowly walked toward him.

 After a moment, his face softened. “Just this once.” He leaned into my arms and chest. I got over my brief surprise by returning the embrace, my eyes closed, tears falling. I opened them and saw to my utter delight, his fluffy red and black deer tail wagging a bit! We soon parted and he wiped the tears from my face with his fingertips.

 “Now darling, don’t forget to smile! You’re never fully dressed without one.”

 I laughed through my tears. His charm worked every time. “Hey, don’t forget to ask people if they want to be touched before you do so. That’s lesson one.”

 “You’re my servant, not my teacher,” he spoke up.

 I spread out my arms. “This is Hell, Alastor, we can be anything. The world is a stage after all!”

 Alastor chuckled, but I sensed that he wasn’t content with taking my advice any time soon. But I had tried nonetheless.

 We bid our goodnights, me feeling slightly better. Just before I closed Alastor’s door and headed for my room, his whisper of a voice floated by my ears:

 “Thank you Ms. Prior. Stay tuned.”  

#alastor #autism #hazbinhotel

[ofgoodmenarchive]

The second in a series of drabbles exploring my Blood Mage!Dorian.

Spring Thaw

Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself.

No- he was definitely getting ahead of himself.

At the very least, Dorian shouldn't have discarded the Venatori's equipment so impulsively. It was possible- even likely- the Herald would be immune to his charms. If no attraction existed between them to start with, then he'd forsaken his current, sole employment for nothing.

Introducing himself was also a complex matter. His subject of fixation was more often than not swarmed by Chantry puppets- Inquisition puppets, whatever.

Either way, they'd be wary of something like him.

  Which would be perfectly sensible, if we're being honest...

For days he stalked them through the Hinterlands, camping out of sight- preferably at high vantage points. On this occasion he'd discovered a homely cave dug into a cliff, with an ideal view of the Inquisition camp. They'd organised around a half-crumbled tower, wrangling full command of the King's Road at this end.

It took time to accomplish- Dorian had spectated most of the work. The Templar-Mage conflict was their main concern- by now almost completely eliminated. Still there was plenty of trouble to be had, Dorian knew.

  Are they even aware of the Venatori yet?

Indeed for now they mostly focused on the resident lyrium-smugglers. To be fair, they were a nuisance- and had not enough sense to leave the Inquisition unmolested.

In his shadowing he concluded a few things, at least.

For one, the Herald was a mage with an affinity for ice. Admittedly Dorian felt stupid for not realising on their first encounter. That sword of light channelled the man's will, swaying him towards close combat. Odd for a mage- so Dorian didn't berate himself much for failing to notice.

Secondly, the man was Spirit-bound. To what sort of spirit and for what purpose, Dorian couldn't guess. He'd only concluded this due to a chance look at his weapon- a summoning circle was inscribed into the hilt. An insanely reckless thing to attempt- unless your will and the spirit's could work in perfect unison.

  We have something in common, at least!

Though Dorian was positive none regarded him as an Abomination.

Lastly, the Herald was unaccustomed to such close work with humans. Dorian rarely overheard conversation but frequently witnessed him seeming lost, needing elaboration on what appeared self-evident.

Overall he was somewhat peculiar, even for an elf.

  “You know...” Dorian mused while building a small fire for the night. “I'm already feeling chipper. It's probably a trick of the mind, since there's potential for a meal...but wouldn't it be funny if my desire was feeding into itself?”

An unamused grumble responded and he frowned at his shadow- slumped morosely against the cave entrance, like a wrung out towel.

  “Yes, yes, I know that's not how it works.” Dorian rebuffed, scowling. “I'm just saying I don't mind all this creeping around! Or I don't mind it yet...give it a while, I suppose...”

  The Herald of Andraste...

  …probably also does not speak to himself.

  “Well I'm not speaking to myself, am I?!” He countered, huffing. “I'm speaking to you!- And you're being especially bratty today!”

Desire slouched down the cliff-wall until it was almost flat.

Dorian spluttered with laughter.

  “You're like a cat, you know!? An ominous, perverted cat.”

The creature bubbled sadly, giving no answer.

Rolling his eyes, Dorian would have returned to working on the fire- except Desire's head emerged from it's puddle, leering down the slope.

  “Hrm...?” He followed it's gaze, squinting. “Something happening down there...?”

A tall figure wandering from camp, accompanied by a much shorter one- the Herald and his dwarf ally.

  “Where are they wandering off to on their own...?” He frowned at his shadow. “Should they really be doing that?”

Desire shrugged, shoulders casting ripples along it's spooled form.

  “For some reason...” Dorian swiped his staff from nearby. “I don't like it. Let's make sure nothing bothers them, yes?”

Maker forbid the elf get himself killed- it would be a waste of his whole week!

The pair strode upon the King's Road, moonlight leading their path and their path leading Dorian- always close behind but not too close. Eventually they paused at a road-marker, muttered between themselves and appeared to wait.

  Are they missing one of their people, or something..?

Regardless of the situation, whatever was meant to occur, didn't. Exchanging anxious stares, the duo walked further along, ignorant to Dorian's presence as he slunk from shadow to shadow.

Within minutes all heard the same thuggish shouting- accented in Ferelden, somewhere amidst an outcrop of limestone. Sprinting forward, the Herald and his companion hunched behind cover, in frantic discussion.

Wanting a full perspective, Dorian climbed ledges as stealthily as possible. Once he had an ideal view, he sat and assessed.

Lyrium-smugglers again, of course. Carta, perhaps? No one Dorian had ties with, whoever they were. More than a dozen- with enough heavies in their ranks to pose serious threat to a miniscule party.

A party of two, for example, would likely be obliterated.

Dorian could see why there was discourse between the Herald and his friend. An Inquisition scout knelt among the group, bleeding and mid-interrogation.

  So they did lose someone...

Now the Herald wished to attempt rescue and his companion reasonably disagreed. Even out of earshot, Dorian could tell who was winning- through pure stubbornness alone.

Glancing behind, he spotted that looming, bratty shadow of his.

  “I hope you're ready to actually work for your meal.”

Not a second passed after his speech before all erupted into chaos. The Herald careened through the group, carried along paves of ice. Flailing and visibly irritated, the dwarf scrambled onto a high-point, where he could launch arrows from some elaborate crossbow.

Skidding from his perch, Dorian leapt into the fray.

Blood had already touched ground- that didn't bode well for anything near him. The grinning skull of his staff raised high, he willed every drop of lost life into himself. It swirled around him in crimson ribbons- he hadn't even channelled a form before people screamed.

  “MALEFICAR!”

Earning a wild, blood-crazed laugh from him as he barrelled forth, slicing enemies with their own pain- weaponised. Anyone struck deep enough and lacking proper resistance became crazed, attacking all in their proximity.

It had been a while since he'd stretched his abilities for combat- quite invigorating, really! Not to mention all the blood- a fair snack, though not his usual preference. Licking some from his fingers, Dorian launched into another attack and found himself brushing passed blizzard.

Swivelling to face it, he bore his teeth in a personable manner.

Winter-touched eyes regarded him quizzically, then vanished into battle.

Moments later and it was done- together with the scout, their enemy was reduced to a pile of corpses.

Inhaling, Dorian glimpsed the dwarf and recruit in breathless conversation. Elsewhere stood the Herald- sheathing his weapon, sighing with relief.

  Talk-talk-talk-talk-talk-talk-talk.

  Maker, stop it! Yes, I see.

This was the closest opportunity he was chance to get.

Awkwardly, uncharacteristically- Dorian hesitated.

  TALK-TALK-TALK-T

  I SAID STOP THAT! I'M GOING!

Mustering composure, he sauntered that direction, beaming.

  “Greetings, friend!”

The Herald blinked from wiping stained hands, eyes widening a second later.

  “...Who are you?” He mumbled, automatically hunching to Dorian's level- as he'd witnessed many times.

  “Me?”  He laughed airily- had to restrain more when the elf flinched. “My name is Dorian Pavus...and you would be the Herald of Andraste, no?”

Much hesitation from this so-called Herald- the poor man's eyes darted as if seeking attendance, white complexion reddening. Effortless traits for human eyes to see- and then there were aspects only Dorian would see. A quickened pulse, hitched breath, heightened temperature...

  Well, that answers that question...

  But...I really didn't intend to give the poor fool a heart-attack.

He hadn't even exercised his will in any fashion- just introduced himself! The Herald's clan must have been terribly isolationist, if that's all it took to fluster him.

  “That...is what they say...” He managed after a long pause, brow furrowing. “...Have you been following me, Dorian Pavus?”

  Oh, I like that.

  So formal.

  “Only for your own protection, my darling Herald!” He chuckled warmly, gestured to their fallen opponents. “As you can so clearly see.”

Another drawn out silence, pale features struggling to stay that way and failing- pink had spread to his neck.

  “You are from Tevinter.” He observed clumsily.

Dorian's head tilted.

  “Nothing gets passed you, does it?”

The Herald didn't seem to know how to respond, grasping air dumbly and again searching around for aid. Deciding to provide such aid, Dorian inquired;

  “Since I gave you my name- may I have yours?”

Though fidgeting, he offered;

  “Lavellan.”

  “That would be a last name, no?”

  “I do not tend to give my first.”

  “You don't 'tend to'...” He smiled, shamelessly familiar. “So you might make an exception?”

Something about this caught the elf off guard- absolutely flushed. He merely stared as though Dorian proposed he strip to his undergarments.

  “Uhh...hey, there.” The dwarf ambled to them before Lavellan could recover.

  “Ah, hello!” Determined to make a good impression, Dorian stuck out his hand. “Dorian Pavus! Pleased to make your acquaintance!”

The Dwarf relented to a light shake, inspecting him doubtfully.

  “Varric Tethras- pleased to make yours..” He knit his brow, glanced between the two men. “...I guess.”

All the while Lavellan was statuesque, face crimson and attention flying everywhere.

  “...You okay, Lord Heraldness?”

  “I...am fine- I am fine.” He practically squeaked. “I think...Cassandra will wish us back at camp...right now...im...immediately.”

Incapable of restraining himself, Dorian roared with mirth and hoped it didn't sound unkind.

  “We'll talk soon, my dear Herald.” He bid farewell with more obvious warmth. Lavellan swiftly fled- half-marching, half-scurrying, Varric at his heels.

-–

Dirt and blood raced beneath his feet. Evallan Lavellan fought to correct the hue of his face.

  “...Are you okay?” Varric- barely audible above the sound of his heartbeat.

  “I am fine!”  He snapped, shrill. “I just...was not prepared for...for that.”

Varric's expression scrunched inwards, perplexed.

  “Prepared for what?”

Speech died on Evallan's tongue, frowning helplessly at his companion. He barely had the words in his own language, how could he explain with the vocabulary they both shared?

All the human mages he'd encountered- they were so reserved, tame.

He couldn't imagine any human to carry themselves so shamelessly- draped in blood and bone, cackling and grinning through danger. Formidable yet exercising flawless control- so at ease in his nature.

And Mythal have mercy- Those eyes- deadly flares of red and gold.

  Absolutely wild.

  He must be mad.

  “...Oh, Maker's breath, Herald...” Evallan became aware he'd been glaring into space. “Don't worry- I won't tell anyone you took one look at the weirdo-'Vint-blood-mage and turned into a tomato.”

He flushed every shade of red imaginable, snapping-

  “I said I was not prepared!”

  “I wasn't prepared either!” Varric chortled. “And I do not look like you do right now!”

Groaning, Evallan sped his pace, wishing for nothing more than to hide in his tent and scream until humiliation subsided.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #inquisition #dai #dorian pavus #blood mage dorian #blood mage #maleficar #pavellan #lavellan #m!lavellan #inquisitor lavellan #dorian pavus x inquisitor lavellan #dorian pavus x inquisitor #trying not to spam tags when all the content I make is dragon age rip #my writing #my aus

[angst-fairygodmother]

How about: “I wasn’t lying when I told you I loved you.” + “Who cares what they think?” for Valdo x reader? :3

A/N: A slight tweak of the exact wording of the prompt, but I think you’ll forgive me :) Word Count: 1772 Content Warning: a PG-13 level of swearing (exactly one), self-pity/self-depreciation

“Valdo Marx!” the high, somewhat nasally voice rang out over the banquet hall as some countess you couldn’t name approached. “It’s been so long since you’ve graced us with your presence. There were even rumors that you had died!” Her big, bright blue eyes batted coquettishly at him.

“Well,” he said with a smirk and a chuckle. “How dramatic. As you can see, I am quite alive and well. I simply took some time away from court to chase a particularly…ornery muse and create new material.”

You shot him a playful glare and caught his smirk at the descriptor.

“Will we hear some of it tonight?” she clasped his hand in both of hers and drew it to her chest entreatingly. “It would be oh so grand for you to perform.”

You rolled your eyes from beside him, familiar and bored of this courtly song and dance.

“I’m sure something can be arranged, my lady,” he acquiesced. “Although, I am here as a guest tonight, so I may have to talk it over with my dear Y/N.”

“Oh!” the lady gasped, as if only just noticing you standing there. “Y/N? I’m unfamiliar with the name. Where is your family from?” the cock of her head reminded you of the little spaniels many nobles had recently decided it was fashionable to carry around.

“Nowhere,” you said tersely before smiling coldly. “I got here on my own merit. You’d be surprised the doors that open when you save a queen’s life.”

Valdo beamed proudly by your shoulder as the lady stammered and floundered for how to respond. It was true that you had been invited to court for as long as you wished to stay, and promised any number of lavish rewards after your quick thinking had halted an assassination attempt in the market earlier that day. And most of the court had been smart enough to catch the gossip quickly and pay you due respect.

“Yes, it was a quite the sight to witness,” he purred. “Had I more time before tonight, I would surely have crafted my greatest ballad yet about their daring rescue. And done without ever so much as a hair out of place. Such a clever thing, my Y/N. Nearly as clever as beautiful. I am so lucky to love them, and hardly deserving of it.”

You preened under his praise and the lady murmured some excuse to duck away, flushed with embarrassment.

“There was no need to tease her like that,” you scolded playfully as soon as she was out of earshot.

“Who was teasing, love? I meant every word of it. And she was the one who didn’t know who you were.”

“None of them actually know. Or care. I am a merely the newest, shiny little toy. Like the lapdogs. By next week, I’ll be back in the kennels, muzzled and forgotten in favor of something else when the novelty wears off.”

‘It’ll wear off for him to,’ a treacherous voice whispered in the back of your mind. ‘How long do you really think you can carry on this charade before Valdo Marx finds something prettier and more agreeable?’

“Muzzled? Now there’s a thought…” his eyebrows wagged salaciously and you slapped his chest just hard enough to make him gasp out a breath.

“Don’t you start, Valdo Marx,” you threatened, a finger pointed into his face.

“Oh, pearl of my heart, but it is so much fun to tease you.”

“I want to get through tonight with a modicum of dignity. And I’m frankly surprised that you don’t.”

“Dignity is all in the presentation, darling.”

“Speaking of,” you sighed and dropped your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That very large and imposing looking man in armor is staring at us pointedly. I think it’s time to go meet the royals.”

~

Your face burned with humiliation. The queen had been kind enough as you stumbled through appropriate courtly greetings, the motions and words feeling stiff and unfamiliar, disjointed, like a puppet with tangled strings. And the king had, perhaps even more blessedly, been aloof. But the crown prince – a skinny, pimply, young monster not yet through puberty – had brayed like a donkey and called the attention of a half-dozen courtiers to your every error, and they all tittered behind handkerchiefs and fans and gloved fingers. You had stared down at your own, exposed in all their calloused, bitten-nailed glory. For some reason, that small difference had been enough to spur tears in your eyes and, mumbling an apology and a thanks for their graciousness, you had fled.

Valdo found you, leaning with a white knuckled grip, on one of the balconies far from the throne room.

“If you’re planning to vault yourself over the edge and escape into the lawns as your pose suggests,” he called softly as he approached. “I would point out that not only are we on the second story, but there are rose bushes right below us and I would hate to see the most wonderful face on the continent so torn up.”

His arm slid around your waist, pulling you close so that he could press a kiss to your temple just in time to hear you mutter “idiot, absolute idiot.”

“The prince? Absolutely,” he answered, trying to pretend you were doing anything other than disparaging yourself. “But he’s young, there’s still a chance he’ll grow out of it before he takes the throne. Or someone will beat it out of him.”

“No,” you scoffed. “Me. I was a fool to think I could even remotely fit in here, even with your tutelage this afternoon.”

“In your defense, I wasn’t the best instructor, but I was…distracted.” He pressed another kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “Horribly distracted.”

“I’m serious Valdo,” you tried to pull away from him, but he kept his hold firm. “I’m a joke. They’re all in there laughing at this idiotic country bumpkin playing at courtier. I wanted to belong, for you, so that you weren’t so embarrassed to bring me to functions and could go back to performing in palaces and grand estates where you belong but I just can’t. I was stupid to think I could.”

“Stop.” He moved his hands to rest firmly on your shoulders. “Y/N, listen to me.”

He ducked his head to force you to look in his eyes, and though you tried not to, you gravitated naturally to meet his emerald gaze, a natural sense of calm flooding over you at the tenderness you found there. “Are you listening, dearest?”

You nodded meekly.

“Good. Because what I’m about to say is very profound and important. Ready?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile at his dramatics.

“Fuck ‘em.” He whispered, leaning close so that the words, and his facial hair, brushed against your ear.

“What?” you laughed incredulously at hearing him swear, especially in such a serious and impassioned tone.

“Is that not how you would put it?”

“I see. I’ve been a terrible influence on you, and ruined your genteel demeanor.” You tried to keep the joke light, but couldn’t help the darkness that crept over your face at the thought of it being just another thing you couldn’t do right for him.

“I’m serious, Y/N. Who cares what they think?”

You paused, biting your lip and looking down at the sliver of ground between you. “Well I mean…I thought…you did? You’re Valdo Marx. You should be here, courting rich patrons and lovers and charming the all sorts of people. Not burdened by me.”

He sighed, leaning one hip against the railing and crooking a finger under your chin to pull your face back up toward his.

“I would be lying if I said I never considered my reputation. But there are things much more valuable to me than it, and I can’t be bothered anymore with anyone who thinks less than the absolute highest of you.”

You felt the tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes and reached up anxiously to brush them away before they could fall.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you, Y/N. I truly do. With all my heart. And I will give all of this up a thousand times over to live in a hovel if that’s what it takes to have you in my life.”

“A hovel? Really?”

“Yes. I mean I would much prefer not a hovel. A modest townhouse at the least. In a city, a capital or near one of the universities, I’ll still need to ply my craft somewhere. And I’d be terribly frightened that you’d get bored or sick of me and use your innumerable talents to make my body disappear if we were out in the middle of nowhere. But if isolation is what you truly wanted, I would find a way to make it work.” His eyes shone in the distant candlelight as he carried on.

“Take it easy, Valdo,” you laughed. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say all that talk sounded very,” you gestured vaguely as you sought the right word. “Future-y. Like you’re expecting us to settle down soon.”

“Well…” he carded a nervous hand through his curls and your fingers itched  beyond reason to replace it with your own.

“What? Why would we do that? I thought we both loved this wandering life…Do you know something I don’t?”

“It’s…well…a bit more hopeful than that…” you had never seen him so worked up, and his nervous energy was beginning to bleed into your own.

“Out with it.” You ordered, hoping some firmness would get him to pull himself together.

He sighed. “I hadn’t planned to do this tonight, or so shortly after you had been insulted and upset, which it is only by virtue of him being a future king and therefore an important ally to cultivate that I did not challenge him to a duel for that you know…”

You raised an eyebrow. “Right, and him being only about twelve-years-old had nothing to do with it?”

He shrugged, as if to suggest that he would in fact have challenged a child to a fight in your name.

“Y/N. Sun and stars in my sky. Deity made flesh and stooped low to love me. Grandest muse, all I could ever ask for and more. I have no right. I am a cad and a wastrel and do not deserve you. But I bare my heart before you, and ask you to take it, let it be yours forever, let me be yours,” he slowly sank down in front of you. “As your husband?”

#Valdo Marx #Valdo Marx x Reader #reader insert #The Witcher fic #requested #The Witcher #does Valdo Marx babble when nervous? he does now #am I a soft mushy romantic/lovestruck disaster? quite possibly #that could have been far more angsty #(story of my life these days honestly) #if nothing else I think I'm funny

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 62

Title & Song: This Feeling

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 6000+

Summary:  Genevieve takes Alfie to meet her infamous uncle, Altar. With heavy subjects on their mind and Altar's wisdom, both find themselves more certain of their feelings for each other than ever before.

Warnings/Tags: Language. FLUFF. Meeting Gen’s true father. Deep thoughts on why they feel the way they do. Altar coming in with some HOT tea. Final build up to the big i love you’s.Yiddish and Hebrew.

**Chapter song is This Feeling by Alabama Shakes.**

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

In the early afternoon, you and Alfie make your way up to your apartment. The windows were now just cracked, the fireplaces roaring and the smell of bread being baked coming from the tall, light-colored open space. You tell Alfie to get some tea, giving him a kiss to his cheek before patting his bum and sending him into the kitchen before you trotted up the stairs with the purpose to call your uncle.

You perch by the window, the sun warming you as you laid back into a plush chair in a beam of light like a cat.

"Lafitte." you hear a familiar old voice, one of your uncle's closest business mates.

"Bonjour Reuben, it's Genevieve, is Altar available?"

"He's in his last meeting of the day, dear, is it urgent?"

"Oh, no I just needed to ask him a question."

"May I be of assistance?"

"I was curious if he had a free evening? I'm in Paris with a friend and would like to see him."

"Oh, he'll be thrilled. There's nothing in the diary, so no business."

"He has cut back hasn't he?"

"He's trying." he chuckles.

"Will he be long I'd like to speak with him?"

"The men are leaving..." you hear a mumble voices.

"I'll have him on in just a moment."

You hear a scuffle and watch the skyline as your feet tap to nothing in particular as your legs hang off the arm of the chair.

"Is it true? Am I really going to see my lovely princess again so soon?" you hear in his warm, loud voice and you smile.

"If you have the evening free yes."

"For you, yes. You're much preferred to the company I was going to keep." he muses.

"Don't let me keep you from anything, I'll be in Paris for a few more days."

"No, no, come, please child. It was only a forced social call, you're doing me a favor by getting me out of it."

"Happy to help. I have someone I want to bring with me, if that's okay."

"Oh goodness."

"Don't."

"Oh, Lilly..." you hear the teasing in his voice.

"Uncle..." you draw out in a 'please don't' tone.

"I know who you're here with!" he says in a playful way. "Last you were crying over him if I recall. First sad tears then happy. I'm assuming the tears have stopped or at the least remained happy."

"No tears as of late, and if they are they are from happiness yes." you smile. "We're here together, we've been together in an official capacity for a little while now."

"I know. You think I don't keep tabs on you?" he laughs. "You and a fellow Jewish gangster? Of course, I'm going to keep my ear to the ground on that. What could be more interesting?"

"Your own business?" you snark.

"HA!" you can picture his head thrown back in laughter. "I do hope he treasures that wit and humor of yours."

"He does. Which is one reason I'd like you to meet him. I know he'd love to meet you. In a personal and not business capacity this time. Plenty of time to talk business later, but tonight I'd just like my uncle to meet my potential future husband." it rolls off the tongue far more easily than you'd imagined it would.

"Oh my." he pauses. "You are serious, little one?"

"Very much so. We've had time alone here on holiday and it's only led to deeper conversations about our future as a team."

"A team? He must be as clever as I've heard he is to know he should think himself an equal to a woman like you." he says with a content tone.

"If he did not you know I wouldn't have given him the time of day." you laugh.

"You are brilliant as always, Lilly. Would you like to come to my place? I can have dinner for us all. Would be no trouble at all."

"That sounds lovely, which place would you like to meet?"

"I've been staying at my country estate. Perhaps the scenery might be a source of romantic ambiance for you two." he chuckles.

"Perhaps."  you sigh. "I'll have Benji bring us over near dusk. Don't embarrass me too much, please. I rather like this one."

"I'd never." he scoffs.

"You can be as stern as you'd like but play nice. Don't put him in a bad mood and ruin my evening." you laugh.

"Only a few stories from your childhood then."

"Don't make me regret this." you giggle. ----------

You see Alfie's hand clutching and regripping on the top of his cane so you know he's in thought and nervous.

"It'll be fine darling," you say, leaning in with a smile and taking his fidgeting arm into your grasp. "He'll love you I'm sure of it."

"Sorry, love. It innit really that I'm worried about," he says with a low brow. "Me brain is tellin' me I'm meetin' a powerful man for business, yeah? But I'm tryin' to tell it I'm not, then I think it's 'bout the equivalent of meetin' your father or somethin' of that nature, and I feel unprepared and me leg starts twitchin'."

"Perhaps all the walking today has your back acting up?" you offer with a chastizing smile he can't see as you rest your cheek on his arm. Even if he wouldn't admit he was nervous, you would've totally understood if he was. It wasn't only him meeting someone he respected, and those people were few and far between, it was him meeting your family. In your faith, these sorts of things weren't taken lightly and with the discussions of marriage earlier in the day you know he had to have it on his mind. Altar was a parent to you in your heart. He'd taken you in when no one else would and helped build and mend the damage George had caused. So Alfie was essentially meeting your family, and you felt far less nervous than you expected.

Parents typically were more involved in unions, as was tradition, but what you two had was far from textbook within the Jewish faith. Still, the involvement of others in your relationship, and one of such significance for you couldn't go overlooked by him. He had visions of discussing terms and conditions, lawyers and Rabbi's huddled over a ketubah and his intimidating, stand-in father-in-law supervising it all. Your sweet words of distraction calmed his worry and his overactive imagination. You cooed and told him how you thought Altar would like him as you took his fidgeting hand into yours and stroked his blemished skin to soothe him. He could take anything another man could throw at him, he figures. And he could take even more than that if it was for you.

You feel the fluttering in your stomach, a happy nervousness you hadn't felt since you were a child as you stood in the foyer of Altar's country estate. Outside the city on a lovely green piece of land, a place you'd been so many times you couldn't count, sat a stone home covered in vines and surrounded by flowers and shrubbery. Alfie could see it's influence on you in the lavender in the garden and the fabulously ornate mezuzah by the door.

Alfie is caught off guard by the informal and affectionate greeting you receive from two elderly house workers. Coos and kisses, squeezing you with closed eyes and smiles on their faces as they call you by your Hebrew name given to you by your mother. This is the first Alfie has heard of this name and is touched by your mother's will to have you named in such a way despite your father's clear refusal of expressing your heritage.

"Chanah?" he whispers as you walk together down the cozy halls of dark wood floors and stucco walls.

"Yes?" you ask, turning your face his way, the happiness from the reunion of childhood caretakers still on your face.

"Which name is this now?" he asks with wandering eyes about the space.

"My middle name my mother gave me. They called me that here as a child when I was alone without my siblings, they never missed an opportunity to remind me of where I came from once they found out I'd learned of my mother's secret."

"These people are lovely," he says with a warm and even tone. "So is the name Chanah, my love." you give him a soft smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek when you were left alone as they checked to make sure Altar was ready to receive you. His sweet little Chanah, he thought, feeling his heart stutter at the thought you having a Hebrew name to call you by. You were shaping up to be the perfect woman, the perfect wife for a man like him. His beloved as strong as her namesake, he muses. He's still looking at the beaming but reserved joy exuding from your face as heavy footsteps meet the other side of large white double doors. He feels you squeeze his hand and his gaze is torn from you from the loud and loving voice of your uncle.

He could tell by the way he held himself that in his youth he must've been a true force to be reckoned with. Alfie figures he must've been near sixty years of age, the grey scattered about his hair starting to overtake the darkness of his youth. Much like Alfie, his presence filled a room and burst it at the seems with charisma and demanding energy. He wore a black kippah, covering greying hair that was otherwise as dark as yours. You had the same dark eyes, deeper set and intense under full brows with skin the same lovely tan, olive tone. He really could have passed for your father. His features were markedly more masculine of course, a strong nose over smiling lips, a thick beard covering a clear squared and strong jaw. He wore clothes very similar to Alfie's although he was in a much more casual form of dress with a simple white shirt and trousers as opposed to Alfie's layers of vests and jacket.

"My perfect bubbeleh (little doll)! Shyane Maidel (pretty maiden, a term of endearment usually used by older family members)! My darling niece, how are you?" he says with a strain to his voice as he holds you tight and groans as he lifts your feet off the floor. Alfie can't help but smile, seeing that contrary to the dim portrait you'd painted of life with your biological father, that you had known love from this man and your mother's family clearly and he found himself wanting to thank Altar for giving you the love you deserved.

"Oh Uncle, you mensch (man, one who represents the finest qualities of humanity), you flatter me." she says, kissing his cheek and holding his face with both hands. "I am splendid." you say, patting his cheek.

"And would you like to introduce me to your zeeskeit (sweetie/honey)?" he grins, eyebrows wiggling as he grins and nods his head in Alfie's direction. He was relieved to hear he seemed to be treating him as a friend and not a fellow criminal.

"This is, of course, my darling, Alfie  Solomons of Camden Town." you coo, walking back over and taking his arm as the older man take steps towards him with a large, outstretched hand and Alfie faces him with a mirrored stick straight posture and raised chin. "Alfie this is my incorrigible Uncle, Altar Lafitte." you grin and chuckle.

"Shalom, Mr. Alfie Solomons." Altar says with a warm and friendly lilt that makes you breath out a sigh of relief.

"Aleichem Shalom, Mr. Lafitte. Please, call me Alfie."

"And call me Altar." he says with a grin. "I would say my little Lilly here introduced me to you, but it would be daft of us to pretend we didn't know who the other was, wouldn't it?" he chuckles.

"I'm inclined to agree." he nods and glances over to you.  "If it would be alright to speak in an informal sense? I don't mean to show offense to the family of my beloved here."

"Of course, I insist.  Damned with formalities, tonight. We aren't businessmen here now are we? We're just two men who happen to love this brilliant woman." he says, leaning forward towards you as you smile sheepishly. "I do have to admit, I was rather surprised to hear she was with someone."

"I was as surprised as anyone else." Alfie jokes with that charming grin you loved to see when he was being social.

Altar laughs and nods your way. "She will keep you guessing and on your toes, won't she?" he chuckles.

"That she does."

"I am elated to hear she has chosen to be with someone in our line of work. And the more I learned about you, the more impressed I was with her decision making. Not that I ever doubted it." he says with a comforting glance. "But you, Alfie, you are a real tzutzik (ambitious person) and mighty clever if the stories I have heard are indeed true."

"I will gladly agree if given the chance." he grins.

"HA!" Altar says, reaching over and patting Alfie's arm. "I see why you like this one," he says in a sneaky tone, leaning your way but his words were clearly not meant to be a secret. "Come! Let's eat and talk and rejoice in this joyous occasion!" he begins, turning to move down the corridor. "It's not every day our precocious Lily brings someone home to us." he begins. "In fact, she has never brought anyone home to us." he chuckles. "So we must break out the good celebratory wine tonight!" he declares loudly to no one in particular.

You squeeze Alfie's arms and wrinkle your nose at him to let him know everything was going swimmingly. He gives you a cock of his head and a shrug and a hopeful glance that things would continue down such a path. ---------------

The damage to your ego from Altar's stories is nominal. He sticks to tales from your childhood and you're grateful. Tellings of your free and naive escapades amuse Alfie more than he could've imagined, the tales giving way to the birth of your nickname, Lily. It was given after Lillith of course, and only in a heartfelt way as your uncle sang the praises of your wildness as a child. Always rough and mischievous, fighting with the boys and never turning down a dare when you stayed with him. He speaks of the almost altar ego of yourself when you were with your father's family, your prim and proper, clean and soft-spoken nature he'd forced you into. It upset Altar to see you forced into a role you didn't naturally come into and he made it a point to never stifle your chaotic energy. Thus, under his guidance after being exiled from your family's home, you embraced your true nature and became a thief, and Lily Lafitte was born.

Alfie spoke of his own gangster birth lightly. He glanced over how the war and its violence changed him, finding his knack for it in the trenches. His formal education served him well, being promoted up to Captain as more and more men fell, leaving a scrubby boy from London with a smart mouth and quick wit fit for such a position despite his lack of upper class raising as was usual for someone in the position. His knowledge of the common man and his struggles made it easy to form a sense of solidarity among the Jews in Camden and with his men in the field, finding the lack of young men in the area after the war a space that needed filling and he took control over his slice of London piece by piece with the cooperation of fellow schoolmates from before the war and the common thread of heritage and religion that bound together his people and community. Altar nodded and listened, fully invested in learning more about his possible future nephew in law. He sees he was smart, successful and had a brutal hand as was needed in their sort of life. He believes him to be suited for you, as he wanted someone to be able to look after you after he was gone. And this Alfie Solomons seemed a man fit to take on the task, he had the money and the power and those two things when used well could take the both of you far together. He could see the glances, the small, polite but meaningful touches and how he said your name when he told stories of your jobs together. Altar could very clearly see you loved each other, despite your attempts at hiding it for the sake of manners. Your nonverbal and ease of communication was clear to him, finishing each other's thoughts and interjecting on stories without so much as an overstepping of the pace of conversation.

"As much as I have enjoyed your company tonight, the night is dragging on and I don't want to keep you two too terribly long...would you be so kind as to give me some time alone with my Lily? I have some things to speak to her about that require discretion." Altar says with a kind nod.

"Oh, no, of course." Alfie says pushing back his chair.

"Have Rada show you the library, darling, you'll adore it." you say with a soft smile his way.

He leans in to kiss your cheek. "Come find me when you need me, eh?" he says with a gentle caress of your upper back. "Altar, may I speak with you again before we depart?"

"Yes! Certainly." he says with a warm smile.

"I will see you shortly then." he says with a slight bow as he leaves the room.

You move to the seat closest to your Uncle and scoot it even closer.

"Oh, my little one..." he says with a broad grin, shaking his head. "Are you sure you have not come to tell me you've secretly married? Or perhaps you are with child?" he suggests with a deep chuckle.

"Neither," you respond back with a bashful smile. "What did you think of him, Uncle?" you ask in a whispered voice, eyelashes batting in anticipation.

"Well he certainly is very in love with you isn't he?" he says in a teasing tone. "I won't pry too much into your personal affairs, but would you grant an old man his wishes of knowing when you knew?"

"Knew what precisely?"

"Don't be silly, my sweet, when he told you he loved you." he chuckles

The flush comes across your face. "Oh." your lashes flutter. "Well we haven't'... exactly don't that." you say with a low brow.

"You are joking." he insists. "There is no way you haven't, surely. A blind man could see with the way you look at each other."

"I'm not joking." you shake your head and purse your lips. "I know I should. I've just been intimidated to do so  to be perfectly honest."

"Things that you fear are usually things worth doing and conquering. It's what makes the struggle worth it."

"I believe him to be withheld due to my previous lack of enthusiasm about such things. I do not still hold those beliefs but I think he's only trying to be gentle."

"I won't fault him for handling you with care. But you two do not act like people who haven't shared confessions of love, dearest. You act like two very, very old friends who know each other most intimately."

"We have been through more than most that have been married for longer than we've been alive." you chuckle. "We've only been together some short months, but we've been close for a year now."

"That is not what I meant," he says simply. "I believe you to be old souls. I suspect this isn't your first go-round together."

"This really the time to be taking a piss, Uncle?" you say with a scolding glance.

"I'm serious." he says with high brows.

How was Altar, the man who would tease you when he'd find your nose buried in your bubbies old books, full of recipes with no explanation as to how to they worked, but they always did? He would be sure to reign in only your tendency to be very whimsical, telling you, you were acting like your grandfather, who was known to live in the clouds and not among the rest of men, making poor heartfelt decisions that ultimately lead to his demise. How was he suggesting such a blush-inducing idea as to you having such a connection to Alfie?

He leans in closer, elbow resting on the table as he speaks quietly. "You are in love with the man aren't you?"

You take a deep breath and nod. "Yes."

"Terribly so?"

"Disorientingly so." you chuckle and sigh.

"But you say your fear of expressing such things is in the past? And yet you do not tell him? Despite speaking of marriage?"

"He has taken the fear from me when it comes to such things. It was as if I had no choice," you speak softly and he sees your eyes far away in thought and it warms his heart. "He not only says the sweetest words, but he also follows them with actions that reflect the same."

"And did you leave him with any choice in falling for you?" he grins.

You think about how you'd gotten to this point. How despite his best efforts he couldn't bring himself to live without you. He'd told you he needed you. And a man like Alfie Solomons didn't need anything. He was a singular force that was self-sufficient. But there you were, bringing the titan to his knees and unintentionally so. But perhaps the same could be said for you of him. You loved him and you acted on it so naturally, you didn't even think twice about it. You did it without thinking despite what you'd told yourself for years of being bad at loving people in a romantic way. Your paths crossed by fate, and with extraordinary circumstances, you'd found yourselves forced together. By simply being around each other you had fallen in love. There was no trying to it, it happened and you certainly hadn't meant for it to. Perhaps Altar was right. You try to open your heart to the whimsical notion. Your lives couldn't be whole without the other now, left with no choice but an empty life and broken hearts if you fought against the natural magnetizing you had to each other.

"He told me I did not." you lower your head and look away, a slow realization coming across your face.

"Then what other conclusion is there my sweet child?"

You gulp and look back to him, a veil of tears over your eyes. "I am so dangerously in love with him, Uncle." you rasp out so you don't start crying.

"And you have been given a gift. So few know this." he touches your chest. "So few feel something like this, ever," he whispers back, wiping away a tear that escapes. "And he loves you. I can read men, my dearest and that man is yours as much as he is his own."

You nod and take his hand and kiss it, placing it in your lap. "I'll tell him." You nod and sniffle. "I'll tell him tonight," you say with more conviction. "I don't need to fear something that feels so right. I see that now. I thought for so long it didn't exist I..." you shake your head. "I'd given up."

"And that was when he came into your life, yes?"

You nod and smile.

"And isn't that how it is foretold?"

You nod more enthusiastically and he leans in and kisses your forehead.

"That's my girl," he says patting your cheek. "You tell him tonight." he taps the bulb of your nose. "You tell him and revel in his reciprocation and wake up two souls in love. A rare, rare blessing. One I would venture to guess is a personal gift from God to you both. I've never seen you look so happy, bubbelah."

"I've never been so happy." you wipe your tears and he leans back in his chair. "Hopefully I am capable of learning my lesson and it won't be another year before we get married." you laugh and Altar lets out a comforting rumble of a noise.

"With the I love you's said I doubt you'll be able to wait that long." he pats your knee. "Once you find that someone it is hard to want to wait to have them all to yourself."

"And you do like him? You approve?"

"You have my complete support. I dare say he reminds me of a younger me. Perhaps more violent, but the world today calls for such things for people like us. He doesn't keep his life secret from you as I can see, and with you being just as ruthless I see no reason you couldn't make this work. With your sharp minds and fierce fists, you would make some fearsome children." he chuckles.

"Oh my, they would be hellions." you laugh.

"And you would deserve every bit of the pain and joy that is raising a child for what I put up with, with you." he teases.

"I hate to say that I entirely agree." ---------------------------

Alfie is alone in the library, looking through old religious texts, thoroughly impressed with the collection Altar kept in the room of ceiling-high bookshelves. He places the book back and walks over the large window in the light colored room. The sun has set and left lovely deep tones across the sky. He thinks about you and what it is you two are talking about in the other room. His natural curiosity wants to try to eavesdrop but he won't be disrespectful in the house of a Lafitte. Although he had checked all the drawers in the room and found them to be locked. Old habits die hard.

It dawns on him, the magnitude of the situation he finds himself in. In the house of Altar Lafitte for starters is not something he ever thought he'd say. He wasn't in his office in the city where he conducted business, he was in his country home, unattended in his library. What a strange place to be, he muses. And even stranger beyond that was his reason for being there. Unknowingly to him, he had somehow managed to meet, befriend, seduce and fall for the niece of a crime kingpin. Altar was a big name in the French Mafia, any Jew in the crime world knew the name, he ran the biggest city in France. He realizes with your level of skill and clear knowledgeable training that he should've assumed you had some sort of background such as this. But the blood of a Lafitte in your veins, a name feared and respected through Europe...he hadn't expected that.

He thumbs his nose, eyes unfocused and posture slack as he gets lost in his thoughts. He's mulling over how confusingly perfect you are for him. Neither of you was without your faults, and he didn't have the illusion that you were indeed without any flaws, same as him. But the way your paths aligned, the roads that led you both to the point where they intersected seemed to be rather fateful. He looks up at the moon, his lips in a tight line, wondering if anyone could hear his musing of cosmic interference in his life. He wasn't entirely unimportant, but he was just a man, after all. Why would he be given a blessing like you? A fucking sodomite and murderer given the chance to know love like this. You were the only wholesome and pure thing in his life, and every time he thought about it he felt fearful of losing you. A beautiful flower had no business rooting and blooming in the bog that was his life. His chest aches at the thought of losing you, it throbs with how much love it holds for you. He felt so full it traveled up to his brain and made me feel rather thick at times. As if you'd grown like a fungus and overtaken his common sense. What else would explain his musings of you being his b'sheret?

He lets out a heavy sigh. His sweet Chanah. His crime heiress, self-made woman, gangster queen. He was hopeless, wasn't he? And how could he not be for a woman that felt tailor-made for him. You cracked him open and left him raw in a way he hadn't felt since the war. Before it was the only thing that had scared him, but now a man, certain in himself and his life, he felt fear again and you were the source. Before you he was a singular person, he had only to worry about himself ultimately, but now he was given a whole other human to take into consideration. Someone just as complex as he. He found himself more worried about losing you than losing himself now, and that honestly put a bit of fear into him as it was the first time in his life he'd felt such a strong urge, a pull to rely on another person in such a way. You made him feel like a child, like he wasn't in control of himself or what he did, following your skirt because he loved you and for no other reason. And if there were, no other reasons mattered. He plans to tell you these things, and soon. He notices the stars clear and bright, twinkling with enthusiasm for the full moon in the sky. Perhaps tonight, he thinks, his bottom lip pushed up in consideration under his mustache. He was certain he loved you, and such feelings deserved to be acted upon and shared when they involved someone else. You certainly deserved the honesty from him. If you spoke of weddings and babies with boldness, there was no need to fear saying the words that should've come first the whole time. It was time to finally brush away that last bit of you that held on in fear of love. He wanted to prove to you and himself that there was no reason for you to be afraid if you were both in this together.

He hears the door crack open, your wide blinking eyes meeting his as your head peeps into the room. "He's finished interrogating me." you giggle. "You wanted to speak with him, darling?" you ask with such a warm smile he practically floats to it to simply be in its presence.

"I did." he says with a nod, pulling you into the room by the wrist. "Are you ready to leave? Or would you like to stay?" he asks quietly, hand brushing your hair out of your face.

"I'd love to go back to the apartment and spend the night with my handsome man." you coo with a playful smile.

"Just so happens I would love nothing more than to accommodate that wish." he chuckles, leaning in to give you a brief kiss. "Is he in the dining room still?"

"No, his study, it's two doors past the dining room. He's in there waiting."

"Let's not keep the legend waiting then, eh?" he smiles.

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

"No, thank you love, I wanted to conclude the visit with an invitation for business in the future, you go ready that young pup to take us back, eh?"

"I'll tell him, I'll wait in the parlour." you say sweetly, holding his hand until the distance growing between the two of you separates you as he walks down the hall.

"'Ello." Alfie says, entering the room and clearing his throat.

"Bonjour." Altar says happily. "You did say you wanted to speak again, yes? Or is my mind farther gone than I know?" he chuckles.

"Absolutely not, steel trap that, mate." he grins.

"And what can I help you with Alfie?" he says, hands coming together in front of him in the large chair by the fire.

Alfie sits next to him on a matching chair, angled towards each other and Altar hears him swallow and holds back a smile.

"I was wondering if you had a  moment to talk about Genevieve?" he forces the words out.

"Always. Anything for my Lily. Is something the matter?"

"Oh no, no." he shakes his head. "For once, the opposite." he gives a closed mouth smile.

"Lovely then." Altar sits back and waits, giving the man a minute. He wasn't into betting but at that moment he would have on what words would come out of his niece's love's mouth next.

"I wanted to speak with you about...making Genevieve my wife." ----------------------------- You stroll happily to the phone room, having told Benji to ready the car already. You call up your apartment and are met with a cheerful voice.

"Bonjour!"

"Bonjour, Yoni. It's Genevieve of course, Alfie and I are to be leaving Altar's country estate soon and I had a few requests. Should have time to accommodate them before we get there."

"Yes, madam, how may I help?"

"I'd like you to make a few...romantic adjustments to the apartment please."

"Romantic?" she giggles.

"I figure why let the boys do all the romancing, I want to make a statement tonight." you say with your back straight and a hopeful smile on your face.  

---------

You anxiously await Alfie by the front door, your hands clasped and picking at your nails as you stare up into the night sky and fantasize about what you might do or say. Everything felt rather jumbled in your head but, you hoped your heart would help you make sense of it when the time came. You're in the middle of pondering playing him something, as you hadn't before and thought perhaps showing him a bit of yourself he hadn't seen yet might be a good gesture of romance. Then he appears from the hallway, your Uncle surprisingly behind him, a hand on his back.

"Did we play well boys?" you ask with a bright smile.

"Certainly did." Altar answers with a smile that looks similar to yours. "Good man you've chosen here, my sweet bubbeleh."

"I like to think so." you chuckle as he walks towards you and takes your hand and raises it to his lips.

"If it weren't for your influence on her, I wouldn't have such a Aishet Chayil (woman of valor) to call my own."

"Alfie." you say blushing, and wrinkling your nose.

"It is only the truth, my oytser (love of my life)." he coos at you and you feel the heat flush your chest as you let out a small giggle of surprise at the affection in front of your uncle.

You bat your eyes in surprise and look away as his lips press against your knuckles. "Who do I thank for this doting man you've sent back to me, Uncle?" you chuckle.

"Only yourself, Lily." he says as watches the look on your eyes as Alfie leans in to gently kiss your cheek. Altar can not only see the love on your face for this man, but he can feel it as he hears sighs and giggles he's never heard before from you in all your years of life. He felt confident in his discussion with Solomons that the feelings of adoration between the two of you were mutual. He was looking forward to having a firm grip on London after the two of you were married. It would, of course, be his little Lily that brings his personal life such joy now, and bringing together both opening and closing to a chapter in his business life with a new alliance in London with his future nephew-in-law.

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[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Nocturne (30/30) - Ao3 Link

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairings: Mostly Gen

Summary: In which Cor Leonis loses his temper, accidentally acquires a kid, and tries to single-handedly dismantle the Lucian immigration system – and that’s before he and his lawyers find out about this Prophecy business. If the Astrals think Cor’s going to let his kid’s best friend die without a fight, they’ve gotten the wrong cheetah ‘taur.

(a young adult novel set in @kickingshoes’ ‘taur AU)

—————————————————————————————— ——————————————————————————————

“You know, maybe I ought to be the one in charge,” Aulea says, reclining on the bed to stretch out her hindlegs and forelegs, smirking at Regis as she does. “If we’re putting a regency in place anyhow…”

“My love,” Regis says, lifting her hand and kissing it. “You’re already in charge.”

She laughs. “Maybe I want formal control,” she says mischievously. “You can be my Prince Consort, how do you like that?”

“Does that mean you can take afternoon court and I can – oh, wait, you attend afternoon court with me as it is,” Regis sighs dramatically as Aulea snorts. “For shame. And here I’d been imagining a life of leisure.”

“Fat chance,” she giggles. “But look on the bright side: I could shake all the hands and sign all the formal documents, while you could be in charge of hosting all the parties.”

“I’ve seen your parties,” Regis says dryly. “I’ll take the shaking and the signing.”

Aulea hums in agreement. “It’ll only be worse now that we’re making peace with Niflheim, you know. There’ll be food requests. Weird new customs to adjust to. Seating charts.”

“You’re not making this whole Prince Consort business sound very appealing, you know,” Regis tells her. “What must a ‘taur do to get a nice, stress-free position in this government?”

“Not be in government,” Aulea laughs. “For a start.”

“Think we can get Clarus to do it?”

“Regis!” Aulea smacks him lightly with a pillow.

“We are discussing a regency!” he laughs. “We could put anyone there – after all, I’ve abdicated! I’m an ex-king!”

“You know, I think you’ve already found what may be the one government position in which you don’t have to do anything. And yet here you are, giving it up.”

“I’ve clearly gone mad,” Regis says.

“Clearly,” Aulea agrees. “Which means, of course, that it’s only right for me to take the throne.”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he says, catching her around the waist and pulling her closer. “I’m going to coup you and seize power from under your fingertips in order to put myself in as regent.”

“You monster!” she mock-gasps. “Stealing the power away from your only son!”

“Mmm,” he says, nuzzling her cheek. “You know, ever since the Ring was destroyed in that final confrontation with Ardyn, I’ve been feeling positively peppy – we could always see about fixing that ‘only’ business –”

“Why, Regis, you old tomcat–”

“I think that’ll do it,” Clarus says, putting his pen down and looking at the newest version of the peace treaty that he’s marked up with satisfaction. “We’re getting close to something that may even be sustainable.”

Cyrella snorts, flicking her tail in his direction. “Really, Clarus? Optimism?”

He shrugs. “It’s a new age. I don’t see why not.” He grins. “Besides, if they disagree, our armies are in a far more equitable posture at the moment, and with Tenebrae demanding actual independence in exchange for refereeing this agreement, even if they do pull a draft, we’ll have early notice of it.”

“There is that,” she says, smiling. “But a preliminary question: do you think they’ll sign it?”

“That may take a bit more doing,” he concedes.

“Well, if they don’t, I’ll hit them with the Sword of the Tall until they agree,” Cyrella says, sounding very pleased with the idea.

“Not very diplomatic of you,” Clarus says. “Also, shouldn’t you give that back at some point?”

“I don’t see why.”

“Cyrella.”

“Don’t you ‘Cyrella’ me,” she says, pointing at him. “I just helped save the world. The least I deserve for my active participation is a sword as long as I am tall that is absolutely badass.”

“You’re absolutely badass enough on your own, you know.”

“Thank you. Still not giving it back.”

Thinking to himself that it would be wiser to withdraw from this field of battle, at least for now, Clarus decides a change in subject is called for. “You know, when this is done and Regis is re-installed as monarch – or, at least, as regent until Noctis is appropriately of age –”

“Which, if we leave the choice up to Noctis, won’t happen until he’s at least forty,” Cyrella opines.

“…you’re not wrong. But as I was saying, when this is done, Reggie is going to be reigning over a peacetime kingdom for the first time in his life.”

“So?”

“So, my dear, that means he doesn’t exactly have much immediate use for his War Minister, does he?” Clarus asks, arching his eyebrows at her. “Or, for that matter, his Shield.”

“Clarus Amicitia,” she says. “Are you suggesting that we might take a vacation?”

“I am indeed,” he says.

“And what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he says, smirking. “You did seem like you liked the way I described Galahd…”

Her tail flicks again, this time with interest. “I did,” she says. “Gladio sounded like he liked it, too.”

Clarus arches his eyebrows at her. “Are we lacking for babysitters now? I was thinking we’d leave him here.”

“With who? Regis and Aulea are going to be thinking the same thing, you know; you so much as as hint at a vacation and they’ll sign up right alongside.”

“Yes, they will,” Clarus says patiently. “But you know who isn’t?”

“…Cor.”

“Cor,” he agrees.

“He’s going to kill you,” she predicts.

“Well,” Clarus says. “Luckily for me, my wife’s just come in to ownership of this sword – long as she is tall, I’ve heard it said – ‘absolutely badass,’ even –”

Cyrella laughs.

“I cannot believe you!” Libertus bellows. He’s gotten pretty good at it. “You were supposed to be at training! You were supposed to be leading training!”

“I’m sorry!” Nyx yelps. “I didn’t – I was just –”

“In the storage shed?!”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing!”

“With Aranea Highwind?!”

“Hey, I’m a member of the Crownsguard Aerial Corps,” Aranea says, flicking her tail smugly. “You have no authority over me.”

“And yet, oddly enough, you’re on the Kingsglaive training field right now,” Libertus says. “Besides, weren’t you going out on a date with his sister the other day?”

“…maybe.”

Libertus crosses his arms. “Stop screwing my lieutenants. Or else.”

Aranea crosses her arms. “Or else what?”

“Or he’ll hand you over to me,” Cor says mildly from behind her, causing both her and Nyx to jump into the air. “Or would you say I also don’t have authority over you, Crownsguard?”

“Um,” Aranea says.

“I have more pamphlets,” Cor adds cheerfully.

She turns pale.

“You seem to have gotten the idea behind the whole asexuality thing,” Cor muses. “But maybe a few on healthy sexual practices –”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Aranea says hastily. “Libertus, I accept whatever punishment you choose to bestow.”

“I thought I ‘had no authority’ over you?”

“I’m willing to put that aside!”

“Oh, one thing,” Cor says. “Before you impose punishment, Captain –”

Libertus winces.

Cor smirks.

“– I think you should consider expanding that punishment to three.” He reaches down with one forepaw and stamps on the ground.

There’s a yowl and Hemera leaps into the air, clutching her tail.

“You too?” Libertus howls.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” she signs quickly. “I came to argue with Nyx!”

“Over?”

“Well, see, I thought it was my turn, and he thought –”

“You’re all on punishment duty! Now!”

Luna’s having a pretty good day so far.

School’s let out early, she’s going to meet her girlfriend for a nice lunch, and – she’s never going to get over this – they’re not at war.

She has a delightful spring in her step as a result, kicking up her heels cheerfully as she trots along, turning the corner to go around the Kingsglaive training grounds – she likes taking that route, even if it is a bit longer, because it provides such delightful eye candy.

(Yes, she’s dating Cindy, but Cindy of all people understands the importance of some good eye candy.)

“Hey! Luna!”

Luna blinks and looks around when a new Kingsglaive trainee appears in front of her in a burst of warping.

Dark hair, dark eyes –

“Crowe? What’re you doing here?”

“They opened a junior wing for the Kingsglaive, since it’s still building up,” Crowe says, beaming at her. “We come here for the last few years of school and part-time with the Kingsglaive, getting us ready to join on the officer track. They’re hoping to expand.”

“That’s – great,” Luna croaks.

She hasn’t seen her in years.

Crowe’s grown.

She’s lean and dark and her eyes are flashing and her cheeks are flushed and her maned fox hindquarters are lean and sharp and –

Oh dear.

She’s very attractive.

Luna, you have a girlfriend, Luna reminds herself desperately. And Crowe is dating – uh –

“How’s your girlfriend?” Luna blurts out. “Back in Galahd?”

“No idea. We grew apart and ended up breaking up,” Crowe says cheerfully, totally unphased. “It happens. How about you? You seeing anyone?”

“Uh – yes – there’s this girl –”

“Heya, bambi girl!” a familiar voice trills out. “You ready for lunch?”

“Cindy!” Luna exclaims, relieved. Show, not tell; that will surely make this conversation easier.

Right?

Cindy hops over. “You were running late,” she says with a grin. “Oh – and who’s this?”

“Crowe Altius,” Crowe says, sticking out her hand, her eyes going a bit round in appreciation, which is pretty much everyone’s usual response to Cindy. “Nice to meet you.”

“Cindy Aurum,” Cindy purrs. She’s got a surprisingly good purr for a jackrabbit. “And darling, trust me, the pleasure’s all mine.”

Luna’s in trouble.

Good trouble, bad trouble, she’s not sure yet – but definitely trouble.

“You’re – you’re serious?” Ravus says, staring at his mother over the dining room table.

“That the ruler of Tenebrae has always been the Oracle is more tradition than any legal requirement,” Sylvia says, smiling at her son.

“Trust me, I’ve checked,” Scientia interjects. “At length. With some difficulty, because your libraries are still being reconstructed.”

“It’s unseemly to brag about doing your job,” Sylvia jibs back, rolling her eyes.

Scientia sniffs. “I didn’t have to take the job.”

“Why are you even here?” Sylvia complains. “I know we agreed to have joint family dinners, but Luna’s off on date night and the younger children are all sleeping over somewhere –”

“I always could go, you know,” Scientia says. “I’ll just be taking the food I brought with me.”

“You can stay,” Ravus says quickly.

“Ravus!”

“Sorry, Mom. But the food is really good.” He shrugs when she glares at him. “It is!”

“Well, yes, it is,” Sylvia concedes. “But we’re getting away from the point.”

“That you still owe me one?” Scientia coughs into her hand.

“One day you two will have to explain that,” Ravus says. “But first – you actually want – you want me to inherit the throne of Tenebrae?”

“You’re my eldest son,” Sylvia says. “And you love the blue hills of Tenebrae as much as I do. Luna – well, Luna’s young. She may yet grow into the role, but I don’t think so. Right now, she wants to explore, to travel – she wants to be a healer, not a queen, and she’d never have the patience for all of hard work of ruling a country. You do.”

“And you don’t – what I did –”

“You need to learn to forgive yourself,” Scientia says crisply. “Accept your failures, understand them, decide not to do them again, and move on.”

“Are you the one with experience ruling a country here or am I?” Sylvia asks acidly.

“Were you going to give him any other advice?”

“That isn’t the point –”

“What would I have to do?” Ravus interrupts, looking at his mother with wide eyes. “Going forward?”

“Not much different than what you do now,” Sylvia says. “You stand by my side, you watch and you learn – Tenebrae’s going to be independent now, and that’ll be a learning experience for both of us. You’ll have a lot more classes in a hundred different subjects – but you’ll have me to guide you through it. Is that something you want?”

“Yes,” Ravus says, smiling so hard it looks like it hurts. “Yes. I do.”

“All right, you’ve got the set up down, right?” Noctis says into his headset microphone, looking around him to confirm that everyone else on his side is set up, too.

Prompto gives him a thumbs-up and Gladio grins.

Ignis just stares at his screen, but that’s okay; he always does that right before they go in. Prompto likes to joke that he’s calibrating.

Noctis doesn’t really care, since whatever it is, it seems to work. Ignis is deadly.

“Yeah, we’re good, assuming your pathetic connections can keep up with ours,” the voice says over the headset, snotty and arrogant as always.

Ugh, Noctis can’t believe they’re friends with this jerk.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, Loqi,” Gladio replies. “We’re gonna kick you and your friends’ hindquarters even with you Niffs tearing down all our towers to get yourself a leg up.”

“Yeah, right,” Loqi snorts. “You just want an excuse to explain how bad you’re going to lose.”

“You wish.”

“Enough chatter on the lines,” Ignis says, his voice dark and somehow incredibly intimidating. “Let’s get started.”

“What Iggy said,” Noctis adds, to help fill the cowed silence in the wake of Ignis’ declaration. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

“I’m just happy that they finally expanded this MMORPG to be cross-border,” Prompto says happily. His tail is wagging like mad, but then, he’s always been remarkably unaffected by Ignis’ unparalleled skill at trash talk. “It was getting boring just fighting Lucian teams all the time.”

“No kidding,” one of Loqi’s friends – Noctis doesn’t know her name, just her user handle – says. “The league in Niflheim has been dull as dust ever since Gralea basically dropped off the usenet for a while there.”

“Consider less censorship,” Gladio recommends.

“Says the people who weren’t allowed on the network at all for how long?”

“We were on a different network, moron.”

“I still think we should be allowed to bring in an electronic avatar version of the Kaiser Behemoth,” one of the other Niff kids says.

“You’re not allowed to,” Prompto says. “You just be glad we let you keep the Kaiser Behemoth. The real one, I mean.”

“The Kaiser Behemoth’s pretty awesome,” the Niff – presumably from Gralea – concedes.

Noctis decides to ignore them all and click on the loading screen. Everyone quiets down as soon as they see it, mentally planning their first moves once their avatars all get dropped into the same landscape – chosen at random, as is only fair.

The best part of this, he thinks happily, is that he can even tell his parents that he was ‘fostering a further relationship with peers in Niflheim’ or whatever they’re calling it nowadays.

The screen finishes loading.

“Glory to the empire!” Loqi shouts gleefully, his character leaping forward.

“Long live Lucis!” Gladio shoots back, his own character jumping up to intercept.

"Long live Eos!" Noctis laughs.

And the game begins.

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

A/N: And that's all she wrote, folks! (Literally.) I hope you enjoyed the story!

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #gladiolus amicitia #loqi tummelt #my fic #lunafreya nox fleuret #apollonia scientia #cor leonis #nyx ulric #ravus nox fleuret #sylva nox fleuret #cindy aurum #crowe altius #hemera ulric #libertus ostium #clarus amicitia #cyrella amicitia #regis lucis caelum #aulea lucis caelum #nocturne

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @sfjessii!

This little ficlet is for my darling Jess! You requested Fluff with love, warmth and care. I do hope this fits the bill and that you like it 8-) May your Christmas be filled with love, warmth and care as well! *huggles* <333

Read on AO3

*****

First of many Christmases    

Snow continuously crunched together underneath his boots as he quickly made his way towards Magnus’ loft - or as Alec had been calling it for a while now;  home.

The unforgivingly cold walls of the Institute had stopped being home some time in the past year or so, his room there nothing more than a place to crash on the days where he’d deemed it too late in the night to disturb Magnus and potentially wake him up from his sleep.

Thinking of the loft never failed to flood his insides with a rush of warmth; the loft was where Magnus was. Even though they hadn’t even been together for a full year yet, Alec knew he’d never wanted to be without Magnus, not again. Pretty early on in their relationship he’d known that Magnus was  it  for him, the one to spend the rest of his life with. Magnus was his first everything, and Alec had every intention of making Magnus his last everything, his only everything.

Tonight would be another first. It was Christmas Eve and he was on his way to spend it with his boyfriend. Before Magnus, Alec never really had reason to celebrate any of the Mundane holidays, Shadowhunters not being big on celebrations in general. But now that he was with Magnus, now that he was experiencing so many new things, reached so many new highs and milestones in their relationship, he gladly wanted to indulge his boyfriend’s penchant of partaking in Mundane traditions and festivities.

Halloween had been a night he’d rather forget, but Thanksgiving had been wonderful, getting to spend an evening with his and Magnus’ family and friends collectively gathered at the loft for a fantastic meal. Alec hoped Christmas would be just as good, even though it would just be him and Magnus this time.

His first of hopefully many Christmases together with Magnus. Alec felt elated just thinking about it. Their plans for the evening were simple; sharing a meal together and exchanging gifts.

His gift for Magnus was burning a hole inside the pocket of his jacket. He’d been wandering aimlessly for hours looking for the perfect gift to give someone that was centuries old, when something finally had caught his eye in a shop window. It was a simple bow and arrow pendant on a long chain that was long enough to be hidden underneath a shirt, or in Magnus’ case, openly displayed mid sternum. On a whim he’d asked the shop assistant if something could be engraved on it and she’d gladly acquiesced to his request. He fervently hoped Magnus wouldn’t think it to be…. too pretentious.

He was shaken from his musings when he realised he’d reached his destination, quickly making his way up to the top floor and entered the loft.

Unwinding his scarf with one hand, he closed the door with the other and called out to his boyfriend. “Magnus? Sorry I’m late, but I wanted to finish everything up and even get ahead on things so that I don’t have to go in tomorrow.” He quickly rid himself of his jacket and toed off his wet boots, before turning around and heading towards the threshold to the living room in search of Magnus.

“Stay right there.”

He froze in his tracks as he watched Magnus hurry over towards him. “Magnus, what-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Magnus moved into his space and soundly kissed him on the lips.

Alec promptly forgot what he’d wanted to ask in he first place, eagerly returning the kiss as he circled his arms around Magnus’ waist.

Pulling away, Magnus mischievously winked and smiled at him as he raised a finger to point at something above their heads. “Mistletoe.”

Glancing upwards, Alec saw a couple of green sprigs that were tied together with a red ribbon, hanging from the beam of the threshold. He frowned before looking back at the Warlock he was still holding closely inside the circle of his arms. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a Mundane thing. Two people caught standing underneath some Mistletoe have to share a kiss.” Magnus’ eyes twinkled, looking up at him as he placed his hands on Alec’s chest. “I’ve always wanted to partake in that tradition myself, but never had an opportunity to do so. Until now.”

Alec’s heart fluttered as he realised the  until you was heavily implied in Magnus’ admission. Not sure how to reply to that, Alec leaned forward to capture Magnus’ lips with his own for another sweet kiss.

“I like this Mundane tradition.” He squinted at Magnus. “How many of these Mistletoe things have you got hanging around?”

Magnus tittered in reply, before heading towards the living room. “Alexander honestly, what do you take me for?”

Shaking his head, Alec only chuckled in reply and pretended he didn’t see his boyfriend not-so-subtly fire off tiny gusts of magic at various parts and corners of the loft.

Walking further inside, Alec’s eyes were immediately drawn to the big Christmas tree in the corner, standing next to a crackling fireplace that definitely hadn’t been there when he had left in the morning. Candles were scattered all across, giving the space a warm glow and intimate setting. Two big, red and white Christmas stockings were hanging over the fireplace; one with his name on it, the other with Magnus’. Alec felt his throat clench slightly at the domesticity of it.

“Do you like it? I felt it would set the mood accordingly.” Glancing at Magnus, Alec saw him fidget with his ear cuff, a clear tell that indicated that Magnus was feeling nervous.

Grabbing both of Magnus’ hands with his own, he gently smiled and nodded his head. “Magnus, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

Only then did he notice his boyfriend wearing something rather uncharacteristic and, dare he say,  ugly compared to Magnus’ usually bold and eye-catching wardrobe choices. Magnus was wearing a dark blue sweater adorned with little protruding pieces of snow surrounding a penguin with sunglasses on a pair of skis.

It was the most ridiculous piece of clothing Alec had ever seen, yet Magnus still looked irresistible to him. Magnus picked up on his scrutiny of his outfit, striking a silly pose. “Ah yes, I dressed for the occasion, do you like it?”

“Define like.” Reaching out, Alec squeezed one of the white blobs. “It certainly is… interesting.”

“Can’t have you feeling left out.” At the snap of Magnus’ fingers, Alec felt a surge of magic envelop his upper body.

He looked down in horror as the blazer and shirt he’d carefully chosen to wear for the night, were magically replaced by a dark green sweater equally ugly as the one his boyfriend was sporting; only Alec’s had a reindeer on ice skates on it, its big red nose was the only piece jutting out from the material, but it was shimmering with glitter.

“Magnus, no.”

“Indulge me, please?” Magnus bat his eyelashes up at him imploringly.

Alec rolled his eyes in defeat, he was powerless to resist his boyfriend’s charms. “Fine.”

Magnus beamed and took his hand in his, leading him towards the dinner table beautifully decked out with a blood red table cloth and even more candles. “Come, let’s eat.”

Alec watched avidly as Magnus conjured up different kinds of meats, sauces and vegetables, the easy way with which his boyfriend controlled his magic never failed to fill him with awe and wonder.

Momentarily confused, he inclined his head at his boyfriend.“Wait, why is everything raw? And what sort of device is that?”

“It’s a gourmet set, you can use it to cook things while sitting at the dinner table. I thought it would be a fun thing to try. What better way than to improve one’s cooking skills, hmm?” Magnus winked at him, before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Alec flushed. “It was that one time! You’re never going to let me live it down, are you?” He shook his head at Magnus in mock defeat as they both sat down at the table.

*****

After a pleasant and - Alec was loathe to admit - educational, but fun meal, they took their glasses and the remainder of the wine with them to sit on the rug in front of the fireplace to exchange their gifts.

Once they’d settled comfortably, Alec took a deep breath and squared his shoulders as a surge of jitters ran through his body. Handing Magnus the rectangular box containing the necklace, he bit his lip trying to contain his nerves as he watch the other man lift the lid to unveil what was resting inside.

“I hope you like it. I didn’t know what- but then I saw this- Izzy liked it too.” He inwardly cursed himself for being unable to express himself properly. He thought he’d been over his awkward stumbling around Magnus by now, but it seemed to resurface whenever he attempted to romance the other man. “The uh, engraving was put in at my request.”

Alec observed closely for Magnus’ reaction. His boyfriend was visibly moved as he reached out to touch the necklace with one hand, his fingers brushing over the  Always  engraved into the arrow, seemingly in reverence. “Alexander, it’s beautiful.”

Alec released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, feeling both relieved and pleased that his gift was so well received by Magnus, a silly smile forming on his face, heart pounding madly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I adore it, no one has ever given me something so exquisite.” Alec was floored by the love that shone from Magnus’ eyes. “Help me put it on?”

They both knew very well that Magnus could just have done it himself, but Alec all but happily indulged him, leaving no excuse unheeded to be close to Magnus.

After a minor struggle with the clasp, Alec managed to connect the ends together, gently lowering it on Magnus’ neck and placing a kiss on the skin just above where the chain now rested. Magnus’ soft gasp in response to his sweet kiss sent the blood straight to his groin but Alec ignored it. There would be plenty of time later for that.

As soon as he moved to sit next to Magnus again, Magnus leaned over and placed a loving kiss on his lips. “Would you care to open your present now?”

Smiling, Alec nodded. “I would.”

Magnus held up his hands, quickly magicking a box that he handed to Alec. “Merry Christmas, Angel.”

Opening the box, Alec peered inside to find a set of leather bound journals, some were more worn-looking than the others. “Are these?” He enquired, eyes still on the contents of the box. Magnus interjected before he fully could comprehend what they were.

“They’re journals. My private journals.” Magnus visibly seemed to brace himself for something. “Everything in my life that’s been of significant importance is in there.”

“Magnus….” Alec didn’t know what to say. What could he say? He felt honoured that Magnus was willingly sharing his most important memories with him. He shook his head. “This is too much. You don’t have to do this.”

Magnus cupped his face, looking at him imploringly. “I am certain. Alexander, I want you to know me,  all  of me. The good, and the bad.”

Setting the journals carefully aside, Alec pulled Magnus in for a crushing hug. “It means a lot that you want to share your past with me. Thank you.” Tucking his face into Magnus’ neck, he breathed Magnus’ sandalwood scent in deeply, flooding his already overcome senses. He felt immensely humbled by the trust given to him by Magnus.

Pulling back from the hug, Magnus sheepishly smiled. “I know we agreed to only one gift, but I wanted to give you something else as well.” Alec opened his mouth in protest, but Magnus silenced him with a look before he could say anything. “Hold out your hand.”

Alec inaudibly complied, wondering what else Magnus would want to give him. He only had to wait for a second as a key appeared on the palm of his hand.

“It’s nothing but symbolic, of course, my wards already automatically grant you entry, and they always will,” Magnus trailed off, as he placed his hand over Alec’s, closing Alec’s fingers over the key. “But I think it’s high time for the next step. Move in with me, Alexander.”

“Yes.” Alec all but readily breathed in reply, his heart soaring in his chest. “There’s nothing I want more.” He visibly swallowed, trying to find his words, raising his hand to Magnus’ cheek. “Coming home to you after a long and gruelling day, this is where I’ll always want to be, with you. Magnus, I love you. You’re my home.” Alec surged forward, connecting Magnus’ lips to his own.

The kiss they shared was filled with all the love and passion they felt for one another.  Eventually Magnus broke the kiss beaming, his eyes shining with emotion. “I love you, Alexander. Now how about a toast to celebrate?”

All in all, Alec happily mused, his first Christmas with Magnus was everything he’d hoped it to be.

#sfjessii #malecsanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

[hookedonapirate]

Tangled Up In Blue

Home Sweet Home (Chapter 26/?)

Summary: Fear for her unborn child, a bruised and broken Emma Swan is determined to escape an abusive marriage. After she drives a long way from home to a small town in Maine, she doesn’t think her life could get more complicated… that is until she ends up falling for her OBGYN, a blue-eyed British man who’s shielded his heart from love long ago. But he may be just what she needs to begin her healing process and start a new life for her child. If only nothing gets in the way.

Notes: This is my attempt at a fluffy chapter and I have to thank @Rouhn for her suggestions when my muse was not cooperating. It has not been beta'd so I apologize for the errors. My plan is to have all of the mysteries of this story solved over the course of the next two updates. Then there will be one or two chapters after that and an epilogue. Things will get bumpy in order to get to the ending I have planned, but if you've read my other stories, you know that I always give Captain Swan a happy ending, and in this case, Ian included! I hope you enjoy reading :)

*TRIGGER WARNING* Mentions and depictions of physical and verbal abuse/domestic violence

Rated: M

Catch Up: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

Deleted Scenes: 1 2

Also available on: AO3 FF.N

The first thing Emma did when she woke up the next morning was panic. She felt the familiar squeeze within the pit of her stomach when she opened her eyes, realizing Killian was no longer beside her and Ian was no longer in her arms. She sat up as quickly as she could, in her fairly weak and tired state, and looked over, seeing the cradle beside the bed. She got out, sighing in relief when she saw her baby inside, squirming and reaching out to her, his big blue eyes blinking and looking up at her.

Emma smiled and scooped up her son, gently swaying him in her arms. “Hey, there, Ian. Mommy missed you,” she whispered softly as she took his tiny hand in hers. She hated when he wasn't with her; the idea made her physically ache, especially after what had transpired at the hospital. She never wanted him out of her sight ever again.

With her anxiety gone, she was able to enjoy the smell of coffee drifting into the room. Emma carried her son downstairs to the main floor, passing by all of the vases, boxes, baskets and many bouquets of fresh, sweetly smelling flowers all in bright colors placed on every available surface that were sent to the Nolan household. There were only a few people who knew that she and Ian were staying with Killian.

Emma went into the kitchen to find her boyfriend pouring a cup of coffee.

Hearing her and the baby entering the room, he turned around, flashing her a smile that was brighter than the sun. “Morning, love.”

He grabbed the mug and stepped up to her, kissing her softly on the lips, curling his free hand around her hip. Emma sighed in content, enjoying the blissful moment. He tasted like minty toothpaste and he smelled fresh and clean from the shower. She wondered how long he’d been up for.

Emma broke the kiss, a bit breathless as Killian handed her the mug and offered to take Ian from her. She easily gave in and transferred her baby over to Killian before taking a soothing sip of hot coffee. He peered down at the little guy, taking his little hand in his own as he grinned at Ian, making him laugh.

“Would you like some breakfast, love?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” she admitted with a weak smile.

“Alright, why don’t you sit and relax and I’ll make it. If you want to feed the wee one first, take all the time you need,” he assured her sweetly. “ After you eat, I have a surprise for you.”

Emma arched a brow in curiosity. “A surprise?”

“Aye. It’s something for Ian that I’ve been working for a while.”

Emma was very intrigued, and after she fed Ian his breakfast and ate a delicious plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast and had a cup of coffee in her system, Killian led her upstairs to one of the guest rooms. Covering her eyes with one hand, the other one opened the door when they got there, and she warily stepped inside, Killian following directly behind her.

“Okay, you can open your eyes, sweetness,” Killian murmured in her ear, removing his hands from her vision. She was holding Ian in her arms as her eyelids fluttered open, taking in the sight around her, an audible gasp escaping her mouth.

The walls were striped with light and dark blue paint, featuring a mural of monkeys swinging from some tree branches. The dark wooden floor held a large blue rug and dark brown oak furniture, including a rocking chair, dresser, changing table and of course Ian’s crib furnished with a mattress, a fitted sheet and a mobile of assorted jungle animals hanging above it.

“How did you even do all of this?” she asked in utter shock. She had no idea he had even been working on this room. She usually didn't go wandering around to the guest rooms.

“With my brother and his wife’s help, while you were working. Cordelia is the artist in the family, and she's the was one who did the mural. Liam and I put together the furniture. Believe me, love, it was no trouble at all.”

A wide smile was blooming over her pale features. She couldn’t believe he went through all of this trouble for her and her son - actually she definitely could believe it. Killian was the most amazing man she’d ever met, and even though she didn’t approve of charity, she loved Killian’s big heart. Besides, this wasn’t charity. He and Emma and Ian were a family now. They were a team, and she felt so grateful to have him in her life - to have him a part of it.

She turned around to face Killian as he flashed her a small smile.

“What do you think? Do you like it?” he asked, a glint of hope in his eyes as he studied her warily, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” she replied, her eyes drifting down to see the big smile on her son's face as he sucked on his fingers. Emma laughed, dropping a gentle kiss to the top of his delicate head. “I think Ian likes it too.”

Killian expelled a sigh of relief as he stepped closer and placed his hands on her waist, a wide grin crawling across his lips as she lifted her eyes to his. “I’m glad, love. I wanted you and Ian to feel at home here. Neither of you are guests in my house,” he whispered, pressing his forehead gently against hers, ”I wanted little Ian to have his own room.”

“Thank you,” she breathed out, raising her hand to cup his cheek. Ian was stirring between them, his tiny, drool-covered hand clutching onto his mommy's shirt. “It's absolutely perfect.”

Killian lovingly caressed her cheek, his thumb brushing over her chin. “As are you, my darling… and the wee one,” he added with a shattered smile, peering down at him.

Emma beamed, her eyes becoming wet with tears. With Killian, she always felt so safe - so loved.

~~~

The next few days, the three of them grew accustomed to a routine. Killian took turns with Emma, getting up in the middle of the night to tend to Ian. Throughout the day, she took every opportunity she could get to just cuddle with her son in the bed or on the couch and spend some quality bonding time with him. Overall, he was a very happy baby, although it seemed like all he did was eat and poop and sleep and laugh, which Killian assured her was normal. She was so glad she had him around to raise a newborn with, because she really had no clue as to what the hell she was doing. Killian was very encouraging and did his best not to interfere too much, only when she asked him for help. He would always make sure to tell her she was doing a fine job, but Emma wasn't always certain if she actually believed him or not.

One morning, Ian was being extra fussy while she tried to give him a sponge bath, and of course, it is was the day they were going to the airport to surprise Liam and Cordelia after the flight delays from the snow storm. They knew that Killian would be picking them up, but they weren't aware that Emma and Ian would be there. At first, she was hesitant to take her baby to the airport, afraid of him catching an infection, but Killian had soothed her with his kisses and told her that Ian would be fine; they wouldn't be there for very long, they would just pick up Liam and Cordelia and then be on there way. She was still very paranoid about taking him places, always worried that he might get sick, but Killian reminded her often that life doesn't stop when you have a baby.

Emma really didn't know what she would do without him. She had her friends, of course, but David and Mary Margaret had yet to experience having babies of their own, and James kept his distance; he was still upset that everyone had accused him of contacting Neal. At this point, Emma was glad Neal was out of her hair for the time being at least. She knew that the Sheriff wouldn't be able to keep him in jail much longer, and she would have to provide more proof of his abusive nature, and go to a court hearing to obtain a permanent restraining order.

She tried not to think about that, though. She knew that she and her baby were safe in Killian's home. He even had surveillance cameras installed around the outside of the house, and the inside, just in case Neal or his goons somehow got past the ironclad alarm system installed in the home. Killian assured her after what happened at the hospital that he wasn't willing to take any chances with her and her son.

Emma had finally finished, managing to clean her fragile little boy who wouldn't stop twisting and squirming while she bathed him with a washcloth in his plastic tub, careful to keep the stump of his umbilical cord dry. It was ten in the morning, but the day had  already felt really long. The curtains had been undrawn, the bed made, and as it was Killian’s turn on rotation for a break, Emma had waited to take a shower, changing into a pair of yoga pants and a comfortable shirt, ready for any surprises her son would throw at her while trying to get him ready for what the day awaited.

She grabbed a fresh, clean towel from beside the tub and wrapped it around him before picking him up. When she did, she noticed something fall into the tub, and her heart just about jumped out of her chest, her eyes widening in horror. She yelped, clasping a hand over mouth when she studied it. At first she was panicking, shocked really, when she realized the stump of his umbilical cord had just fallen off.

“Everything alright in here, love?” Killian asked as he flew through the bathroom door, his face awash with concern.

Emma nodded. “Yeah, his umbilical cord just fell off. I knew it would, it’s just… it’s still shocking,” she managed as she Killian wrapped his arms around her shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek and sighing in relief. “And it’s really gross,” she added, looking over it again.

Killian chuckled in amusement, and Emma had to steady her breathing again before taking Ian to his room to get a diaper and some clothes on him, but that was also a difficult task. Her tiny son was spread out in front of her on a changing mat, his little, bare, pink body all wrinkled and bunched up as he wiggled around furiously, wailing at the top of his lungs with bright red cheeks and eyes screwed shut.

“Sshh, sshh. I know baby, I’m sorry. I’ll be done really quick if you could just hold still for just a moment while mommy puts this fresh, clean diaper on you,” Emma attempted to soothe him in a soft voice, her hands flapping around Ian’s swinging legs as she tried to reach for the wipes and diaper sack and other changing items on the table.

“Here, love, why don't I change his diaper and let you get ready? You've already had a rough morning as it is.” Killian’s voice was soft and soothing as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, dropping a gentle kiss to her hair.

Emma sighed in frustration at first, but his loving words and gestures were slowly calming her. “Are you sure? It's my turn to take care of him.”

“I know, love, but you need to gather your strength. The day’s far from over.”

Emma nodded in agreement. She was already exhausted. “Okay. I must warn you, though, he's been awfully fussy today.”

Killian let out a soft chuckle. “That's okay. I can handle the little lad.”

Emma smiled weakly. She knew that he could. She loved when Killian got his bonding time with Ian. It made her heart melt watching the two of them together. She stepped aside and let Killian take over as she admired them.

Of course, Ian didn’t stay still and before Killian could tuck the new diaper underneath his little bottom, he was unable to wait for it and got Killian in the stomach with a golden stream. Emma laughed as he looked down, finding his shirt soaking wet. She was somehow glad that she wasn't the only one struggling with Ian.

“That’s great. Thank you, little prince,” Killian said with an amused smile before removing his shirt. Emma handed him a wet cloth and took the soiled clothing from him, carrying it to the hamper.

When she came back a moment later, Ian’s cries started to dampen, a big smile forming on his cute little face, his body more relaxed as he starting playfully kicking his tiny feet instead.

“Feeling better?” Killian teased him, his grin never fading.

Emma laughed again and went to his dresser to retrieve one of his tiny outfits for the day. “Now, I'm glad you took over.”

“Aye, happy to take the bullet. Although, I think he was holding it in just for me, isn't that right little lad?” Killian asked him, the playfulness evident in his voice as Emma approached his side again, handing him Ian's clothes. Her son seemed much more happy and carefree as he looked up them with his big blue eyes.

Emma enjoyed a few moments, just staring down at Ian, watching as Killian carefully cleaned the delicate baby up with so much care and love for the little guy, it made her want to cry. Killian had him in a fresh diaper and in his little outfit in no time before picking him up in his arms

She smiled and kissed her boyfriend on the lips. They both took turns taking showers and tending to Ian before getting him settled into his Maxi Cosi and strapped into the car.

The drive to the airport took about forty-five minutes on the slush-covered roads, and they arrived just in time to see Cordelia and Liam emerging from the terminal. Their eyes lit up, joyous smiles on their faces when they spotted the three of them.

Emma was carrying Ian in his baby carrier when Liam and Cordelia approached, engaging Emma and Killian in a round of hugs before they were introduced to little Ian, who was gazing up at them with a great big smile.

“He is the most adorable baby I’ve ever seen,” Cordelia complimented as she admired him.

“That’s because he gets his looks from his mother,” Killian bragged proudly. Emma could tell he was happy to have his brother back as well as his sister-in-law.

The five of them were crammed in the car, although there was plenty of room, with Ian’s car seat in the middle and Cordelia and Liam on either side, entertaining him. He grew a little fussy on the way back, but eventually fell asleep before they got home.

When they arrived at Killian’s house, Emma made them all some hot tea as Cordelia and Liam took turns holding Ian and chatted about their trip. This in turn, initiated stories told by Liam and Killian about their parents and what it was like growing up with them. Emma hoped that one day, she would get to meet them. She was hoping to possibly become part of the Jones family some day. For now, she had to get through the obstacles she was facing at the moment, and maybe the high spirits of David and Mary Margaret had rubbed off on her, but Emma was optimistic about the future and was bound and determined to get to one that she wanted for her son.

The next day, Emma took Ian to the diner to visit her co-workers whom she’d promised would get to meet him after he was born. Of course, they went crazy over the baby, oohing and awing over him. Mary Margaret decided to take a break and she removed her apron before walking with Emma to the dining area and securing a booth. The brunette was holding Ian, making kissy faces at him as Emma got up to use the restroom. The diner was fairly busy, being that it was around lunchtime, and as she made her way down the corridor, she bumped into someone. She looked up, seeing Robin, who'd just left the Men’s room.

“Afternoon, Emma,” he greeted with a smile.

As she gave him a sheepish grin, Emma didn’t think she’d ever spoken to him other than to take his order, but to her surprise, he actually stopped to talk to her.

“Congratulations on your son, by the way. I saw you come in with him,” Robin admitted shyly.

Emma eyed him warily. “Thanks. I’m learning very quickly that boys are a handful.”

“That, they are. I know Roland certainly is. Marian and I have a hard time getting him to sleep most nights.” Robin looked at her nervously as he scrambled for words. “Say... have you talked to Regina lately?”

Emma sighed, not wanting to talk about Regina with this man. Now it all made sense why he would want to stop in the hallway on the way to the restroom and talk to her. “Look, Robin-”

“I’m aware that you know about the two of us. She told me, and I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy taking care of the little lad, but Regina hasn’t spoken to me in weeks, so-”

“So, what? You want me to tell you how she’s doing before you go back to your wife and child?” Emma cut him off, irritation in her tone.

Robin looked at her, ashamed and embarrassed.

“If you really must know how she is... she’s a mess. Her father just had a heart attack and the man she loves is married to another woman.”

His face fell in concern. “Henry had a heart attack?” he shook his head in disbelief. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, he did. Regina said he'll be fine, but she’s still a mess.”

“Is he still at the hospital?”

“Yeah, I’m sure they both are.”

Robin glanced behind Emma, most likely looking at his wife who was sitting at one of the booths with their son in her arms. He appeared to be conflicted and clearly wanted to see Regina.

Emma sighed again. “Look, Robin, I know it’s none of my business, but you are the one who approached me asking about Regina, so I feel obliged to say this… if you don't love your wife anymore, just do her a favor and set her free.”

His eyes shot back to hers, his eyebrows contracting in shock. “But what about our son? I can’t just leave him.”

“You don't have to leave him. You can still spend time with him. Sure, not as much, but don’t you think Marian would want to know if she’s wasting her time with a man who no longer loves her?”

“Well, I suppose.”

“She deserves to know the truth. If you stay, you’ll just be miserable, and she’ll be miserable, and so will Roland knowing that his parents are together but not really together, nor are they happy. Everyone is better off knowing the truth don't you think?”

Robin appeared to be taken aback, trying to process what Emma was telling him.

“I know that it’s hard to leave, believe me. I left my abusive husband, even though a part of me still loved him, but I knew it was for the best. I did it to protect my son. And now, I’m so glad that I did. And sure, there are obstacles to face, but I know that leaving was the best thing.”

He nodded, a weak smile curving his lips. “Sorry you had to go through that, lass. And you’re right, Marian deserves much better than this, and I thought that I could be the man that she needed, I thought that with Roland, we could make it work, but I was only kidding myself. Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

“Don't thank me. Just do the right thing.” With that, Emma walked past him and went to the restroom.

When she came back, she took a seat across from Mary Margaret, who was still holding her son and talking to him in baby gibberish before looking up at Emma, curiosity etched in her features. “What was that about?”

“Oh nothing. Robin was just congratulating me on the baby.”

The brunette narrowed her eyes, studying her dubiously. “You both seemed awfully serious for casual chit chat.”

Emma sighed in defeat. “You're right, I just can't say. Regina would kill me if I told anyone.”

Mary Margaret squinted her eyes in obvious suspicion. “You were talking about the affair between them, weren’t you?”

Emma glanced at her friend in shock. “You know about that?”

“Of course I do,’ she said casually. “I notice everything that goes on in this diner.”

Emma smirked. “Well, not everything.”

Mary Margaret tilted her head, flashing her a mischievous smile. “I'm assuming you're referring to the steamy make out session that you and Killian engaged in on my counter that night when you closed for Ashley a few months ago.”

Emma's jaw dropped in shock. “You knew about that all along?”

Her friend beamed proudly, nodding her head. “Yep. Do you forget that I have cameras around here?”

“But you didn't say anything? So you knew who I was seeing that whole time?”

Mary Margaret nodded. “Sure did. I didn't even tell David, and I tell him everything! See, I can keep a secret.”

“Well thank you, for not telling anyone,” Emma laughed.

“No problem. I knew you weren't ready to tell me, and I didn't want to do anything to screw up your happiness, because you deserve it,” she spoke adamantly.

Emma smiled at her warmly as she took the brunette’s hand in her own. “You wouldn't have screwed up my happiness, but I appreciate that. It means alot.”

They were then abruptly interrupted when one of the new waitresses approached Mary Margaret with some sort of emergency in the kitchen. She got up and transferred Ian to his mother's arms and went to assist.

Emma started to get ready to leave when Belle walked into the diner, searching around before spotting her and coming to her booth.

“Belle… hi, how are you? How is Collette?” Emma asked her, although Belle didn't seem like her cheerful self.

“Collette's fine. She's with her grandpa. How about your little guy?”

“He's a handful, but he's doing great, considering everything. Why don't you have a seat?”

Belle appeared to be worried as she sat across from Emma and started to pull something out of her bag. “I stopped by the Nolan place, but David said you were here. I'm sorry to bother you, but I had to show you these...”

“Belle, you're not both-" Emma stopped herself from finishing her sentence, or rather, the photos on the table did, when Emma saw what they were of.

“I found these in Robbie's things while I was searching for something. They were locked in his desk drawer at home, and I was able to find the key taped underneath his chair and to unlock it.”

Emma stared at the photos as she picked one up in her free hand, studying it intently.

“I knew he was hiding something from me. Do you think Neal’s using him to spy on you?”

“Yeah, I definitely do. Even before seeing these.”

The black and white photos were taken a couple of months ago, when Emma was still pregnant. And she was walking with James. There were was also one with her and Killian when they were outside of the clinic and another with them at the beach. Emma really shouldn't be surprised. She knew all along that Gold was in cahoots with Neal.

“Oh, and I also found this,” Belle said quietly as she pulled out another photo from her purse.

This one was a very old photo of two young boys who looked like brothers. “Do think this is Neal and Robert?”

“I know for a fact that's Robbie, but not sure about Neal. I was thinking maybe you could verify that.”

“It sure looks like him, but he never had any pictures of himself as a child.” Emma looked up at Belle, wanting to ask her something, but not wishing to upset her. “Belle, can  ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Do you think your husband had anything to do with kidnapping my son from the hospital?” she asked warily.

“Honestly, I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t put it past him. He was gone that night, and I know that he’s hiding something from me.”

“I have another rather uncomfortable question for you... has he ever… hurt you?”

Belle shook her head, but Emma could see the pain in her eyes and the sorrow she wore on her face. “No, he hasn’t, but he’s abused me in other ways. Verbally and mentally. He’s always lying to me and leaving unexpectedly without saying a word. Sometimes I don’t even know why I’m with him anymore.”

“I know the feeling. Do you know if he has a piece of property on thirty-fourth avenue?”

“He used to live there, but then he sold it when he bought the house we’re currently at.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s where my baby was found? And apparently James saw Gold pulling in there one night.”

“I thought he sold it, but like I said, he tends to lie and keep things from me, so it’s possible.”

“Well, thanks for showing these to me. At least now I know that he’s been helping Neal.”

“No problem, Emma. I just thought you should see them. I have to go now, but I wish you luck.”

“Thanks.”

“Bye Ian,:” she said sweetly as she stood up, gathering the photos and waving to them both before leaving.

Emma was left stewing in her thoughts. She was so close to the truth, but at the same time, too far away. However, she knew how to rectify that. She had her own conclusions, but she needed proof. She needed proof that Neal was an abusive husband who was unfit to be a father and she needed proof that the he and Gold were the ones who kidnapped Killian and her baby. And she had an idea of how exactly she was going to retrieve these things. She knew exactly how to get to the truth and how to expose both of them. The others were not going to like her methods, especially Killian, but Emma was never going to be able to get past this unless she took extreme measures.

Yep. She knew exactly what she was going to do.

The next evening, Emma woke from a much needed nap. Killian had insisted that she get some rest while he looked after Ian. She sat up and got out of bed, transporting a hamper of tiny, dirty clothes to and from the laundry room.

With the buzz and whir of the washer and dryer working away, Emma made her way downstairs. The house was dim, the curtains were drawn and it was eerily quiet. She swallowed thickly, searching around for Killian and her baby when she noticed the soft light seeping through the crack underneath the door of the living room.

Emma quietly entered and huffed out a sigh of relief when her eyes fell upon the couch, the light from the lamp that was sitting on the end table, affording the most precious view. She smiled warmly, almost uncontrollably, as she watched her newborn baby sleeping soundly, undeterred by the snores of her boyfriend who was also asleep, both of them draped in the lamplight.

Killian was laying across the sofa on his back, his eyes closed and his arms folded around her son. Ian was tucked into Killian’s bare chest, his tiny hands splayed across his skin.

Emma had to tear her eyes away when she left to retrieve her phone in order to capture the priceless moment, being careful not to use the flash from the camera. Her phone battery was almost dead already because of the many photographs she’d already taken of her son that day.  

After she took the photo, she pulled off the knitted blanket from the edge of the couch, spreading it out over her two boys. She leaned over them and kissed Killian’s forehead and then Ian’s, admiring them both with a frail smile. Killian looked so peaceful and as handsome as ever with his tousled hair and her son nestled into his chest. Ian’s two little eyes remained tightly closed, pink lids fluttering gently in some dream-like state, and his tiny button nose scrunched up in sleep, thin lips pursed together so adorably.

Turning off the lamp, Emma left the room with silent and careful steps, shutting the door with a soft click. She found a legal pad in Killian’s office and scribbled something down, leaving the note for him on the kitchen counter to let him know that she’d be back soon.

Retrieving her jacket from the closet, she slipped it on before escaping to the garage and getting in her car. With shaky hands on the steering wheel and a ball of nerves coiled in her stomach, she drove to the Sheriff's station to talk to a certain person whom she didn’t at all care to see. None of her loved ones would approve of this, nor of her plan, but she knew she needed to follow through with it. She knew that if she were going to keep her son safe, she needed to take some drastic measures to put a rest to the situation she found herself in. And what she had in mind would certainly put an end to this once and for all. Or at least, she very much hoped it would.

@rouhn @followbatb @weplaydumbb @strawberrycupcakeprincess @shady-swan-jones @kmomof4 @ultraluckycatnd @phoenixsxul @eala-captian @teamhook @i-love-books2014 @andiirivera @piratesbooty63fan @missclois86 @fallensites @harrietmjones @winterbaby89 @wordsmith-storyweaver @andiirivera @slimacwrites @jennjenn615 @its-about-bloody-time-cs @liloproductions @followbatb @klar425 @hey-it-is-jess @ascolinwishes

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #cs fanfics #captain swan parents #mystery #tangled up in blue #my fic

[victorluvsalice]

Secundus Sunday: Another Christmas Sneak Preview!

Hey, if I’m showing off a bit of “Fixing You” for Christmas this year, I may as well have equal time for my two biggest AUs and show off some “Secundus 2: Weird Weird West” as well! I’m not doing a full chapter for this one, though, simply because “Secundus 2″ is still in the initial writing stage (unlike “Fixing You,” which is midway through the first round of edits). I’m not even all the way through Chapter 3 yet! There’s a lot more that can change in this story right now, and it’s DEFINITELY going to take longer to put up in full than “Fixing You.”

So, yeah, no AO3 or FF.net links this time. Instead, you get a direct look right here at roughly the first three pages (according to LibreOffice Writer) of Chapter One. For context, it’s been about two years since the events of “Secundus,” it’s currently August 4th, and Victor’s busy in his conservatory lab when:

"Victor! Mail's here!"

"Just a moment!" Victor called back. He squinted through the combination of magnifying lenses in place before his eyes. A little extra nutrient glue here. . .and on the forewing. . .and – in!

He grinned as he sealed the new hindwing into place, then pulled up his goggles. "There we go," he said, releasing the butterfly from its temporary prison. "Wasn't so bad, was it? I'm sorry it's not an exact match for what you had before, but it was the closest I had."

The butterfly fluttered its wings, then took off, sailing easily to a nearby flower. Victor chuckled. "No gratitude," he teased it, standing. "I suppose that's what I get for working with creatures with such primitive brains." He watched as it balanced itself on a petal, and unrolled its proboscis for a drink. "At least it makes it easy to show you all."

"Victor?"

"Coming!" Victor headed for the door of the conservatory, ducking under some heavy leaves and picking his way around the vines creeping across the tiles. "Need to trim those. . . ." He pulled back the net, then slipped through the door as fast as possible, dropping it back into place once he was past. "Sorry, darling," he said, shutting the door behind him before kissing Alice's cheek. "I was in surgery."

"Ah – wouldn't want to interrupt that," Alice agreed, booping his nose. "Sorry to keep calling you, but you've got a letter from Doc and Marty." She held up the envelope with a frown. "Or, well, I think it's a letter. It feels awfully stiff for just paper."

"Maybe they've included a photograph?" Victor mused, accepting the possibly-letter. "Like when I asked what his shop looked like?"

Alice shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

"Mmm." Victor worked a finger under the flap. "You know, I don't mind you opening these," he added as he tore open the top. "They're your friends too."

"I know," Alice said, smiling. "But I like seeing your face light up when you get news from them. Besides, you're the one who was actually living with them for a while. I think that allows you first look at their mail."

Victor chuckled. "Fair enough." He felt around inside the envelope, then frowned. "No, it seems to be a – card?" He pulled it out. "What, did Marty find a funny–"

He stopped, reading the front. His eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh!"

Alice tilted her head. "What is it?"

Victor turned to her with a beaming smile. "He's finally doing it! Marty's getting married!"

"Really?" Alice came to his side for a better look. Victor handed her the card. "'Mr. and Mrs. George McFly and Mr. Robert Parker are pleased to invite you to the wedding of Master Martin McFly and Miss Jennifer Parker – September 7th, 1882, 8:00 A.M., at the Hill Valley First Congregational Church, Hill Valley, California. R.S.V.P. requested.'" She glanced at Victor with a playful smile. "I think he stole the design of this from Aunt Susan."

"Well, she did put together a very nice wedding for us," Victor replied, grinning. "And it's not like I mind." He fished around in the envelope again. "Ah, there's a note too. . . . 'Dear Victor and Alice – Hope you guys are doing well! As you can see, the big news of the month is Jennifer and I are making it official! Which means, hopefully, I finally get to see you guys in person again! Doc and I have really been missing you, and I'm looking forward to introducing you to Jennifer and the rest of the McFly clan. Unfortunately, despite practically begging him on bended knee, the Mayor's still refusing to let Doc fly the train out to get anybody. That guy can hold a grudge. . .Doc was able to track down a fast-travel airship that'll get you to San Francisco, though, and then it's just a day trip down to Hill Valley on the local earthbound rail. He's written down everything you'll need to know on the other side. Soonest one should get you here by September 1st. Let me know if you can make it! It wouldn't be the same without you. Sincerely, Marty.'"

Alice shook her head as Victor flipped over the paper to look at Doc's notes. "You know, they've been back in Hill Valley almost two years now. You'd think the mayor would finally realize they have no intentions of blowing up the place."

"Yes, well, we're long past the second anniversary of my arrival in Secundus, and you don't see my parents trying to make amends, do you?" Victor pointed out, looking up.

Alice's face went dark. "Point. Your mother's probably still convinced you're under mind control, somehow."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she was telling people I'd died," Victor muttered. "Better a deceased son than a Touched one."

Alice wrapped an arm around him. "That's their decision. They made their choice two years ago. Don't spare them another thought."

"I'll try not to." Victor ran his finger over the schedule Doc had laid out. "He's been exceedingly thorough, as usual," he said with a smile. "Times down to the exact minute – he's even estimated how long it should take us to get from the house to the docking station!"

"Would you expect any less from someone who's spent the better part of their life working on a time machine?" Alice replied, chuckling. "But it is handy to know, I suppose." She clapped her hands. "If everything's already in order, I'll go ahead and call them to book the trip. Better earlier than later, right?"

Victor eagerly started to nod – then stopped, frowning. "Ah. . .well. . . ."

Alice arched an eyebrow. "You can't possibly not want to go."

"No, no, I want to," Victor assured her, waving a hand. "I want to almost more than anything in the world! It's just. . . ." His eyes strayed downward, to the swelling bump of her stomach. "You're up for it?"

Alice gave him a Look – the Look, in fact. The Look he'd been getting right from when she'd announced she was with child, and he'd tried to – in her words – imprison her in an armchair. (He hadn't meant to pile so many cushions around her!) "Victor, I'm not a china doll," she said coolly. "I was working right up until last week. I'd still be working if Richard hadn't insisted I take some time off and promised to pay me for it."

"I know, I know," Victor said, rubbing his face. "It's just – it's a long trip. Right across both the Atlantic and the United States."

"And it's on an airship, which is generally noted as one of the nicer ways to fly," Alice responded. "Even a fast-travel one shouldn't be particularly bumpy. And I'll be sitting down for most of it. Given how often you tell me I should be sitting, you should be thrilled about that."

Victor blushed and pulled at his tie. "I don't – w-what if something happens, though?"

"I don't see what could. The doctor says I'm in excellent health, and the baby isn't coming until early November anyway." She grabbed his hands and held them tight. "I know you're a worrier, and I know it's a long trip, but – I'm fine. Really. And I want to go." She jerked slightly, then smiled and pressed one of his hands against her belly. "I think they want to go too."

Right on cue, the baby kicked against his palm. Victor's heart melted at the feel of the little life squirming and growing inside his wife. "Well. . .if all three of us want to go. . .I guess you should book it," he murmured, pulling her close. "I'm sorry, I just–"

"I understand," Alice cut in, voice gentle. "I really do. Why do you think I've been letting Mell Kelly hunt all the monsters in the city since we got the news? But really, I'm not that fragile. I'd hate not to see Marty's wedding. And I'd hate even more keeping you from it." She looked up at him. "I still remember the way your face crumpled when they got the letter saying they could come home."

Victor shook his head. "I – I know I should have been happy for them – and I was, a bit. . .just. . . ." He sighed. "If only it hadn't been so near Christmas. We were all so happy together, and. . . ."

Alice rubbed his hand. "I didn't like seeing them leave either. But you couldn't expect Marty to stay away from his girlfriend forever."

"Of course not," Victor agreed. He looked down at the invitation. "Funny to think he's twenty now. The same age we were when we got married."

"It wasn't that long ago," Alice laughed, poking his shoulder. "You sound like an old man reminiscing about the good old days."

"I can't help it!" Victor laughed along. "A lot has changed since then! When I first arrived in Secundus, I was camping out on Doc's couch!"

"I never got how you managed to live in his sitting room for so long," Alice remarked. "Of course, when we first met, I didn't think you were going to stay. You cut quite the terrified figure in your goggles and tattered coat."

"I was still rather overwhelmed," Victor admitted, smiling. "And it didn't help that I'd just bumped into the prettiest young lady I'd ever met."

Alice went pink. "Flatterer."

"Don't pretend you don't like it."

"Only from you." She looked down at his hand, still resting on her belly. "A lot has changed since that day," she said quietly. "If you'd told me two years ago that I'd be standing inside my own house, trading jokes with my Touched husband and preparing for my first child. . .well, I would have recommended you talk to Dr. Wilson from Rutledge about your overactive imagination."

"If you'd told me that I was going to end up living in the Mad Science Capital Of The World, married to a renowned monster killer, creating all sorts of new butterflies and preparing for fatherhood, I would have thought for sure you'd mistaken me for someone else," Victor agreed. "After all, I had my life all planned out for me before my accidental kidnapping. An arranged marriage to a woman of the nobility. . .following in my father's footsteps with the cannery. . .and never, ever leaving Burtonsville except to check on fish supplies or be dragged to this or that party by Mother."

"Sounds lovely," Alice deadpanned. A little more seriously, she added, "Do you think you could have been happy with that life?"

"I don't know, " Victor admitted. "The arranged marriage probably wouldn't have turned out too badly, since it was with Victoria. . .but. . .I think I would have gotten by, but I would have always felt like there was something missing. Something – better." He winced. "That is – if I didn't go Creative anyway one day from the stress and – I d-don't think it would have turned out well in Burtonsville."

"Probably not," Alice agreed. She snuggled up to him. "I think you ended up exactly where you needed to be, exactly when you needed to be there."

Victor kissed her forehead. "I do too."

Ding-dong! "Arf! Arf! Arf!"

A tan and white blur rocketed past their legs, bee-lining for the front door. "Ooops – looks like we have visitors," Alice commented.

"Hopefully of the sort that like hyperactive corgis," Victor replied, hurrying after the dog. "Lightning! Here boy!"

Lightning turned back to look at him, then hopped up and down in front of the door, barking. "Yes, yes, we know," Victor said, scooping him up. "We can hear the doorbell too, you know. Even without ears as large as yours."

Lightning barked one last time, then busied himself licking Victor's chin, stubby little legs beating the air. "One of these days, I am going to find your off button," Victor declared, laughing. "Silly little dog. . . ." Tucking Lightning firmly under one arm, he opened the door. "Sorry about that – oh, hello Victoria! And Christopher, and Emily."

"Hello," Victoria said, chuckling as Lightning yapped a hello and tried to run on air. "It's all right – you had to stop him running out again, didn't you?"

"He just gets excited when he hears people," Victor replied, looking down at the practically vibrating corgi. "He is doing a lot better at obeying 'sit' and 'stay.'"

"He's like a little perpetual motion machine," Christopher observed. "Your name for him turned out to be very apt, didn't it?"

"He's a cutie," Emily said, leaning down to scratch Lightning under the chin. "Yes you are! Yes you are!"

"Try dealing with him when he decides it's time to run laps in the middle of the night and see if you feel the same way," Alice retorted, waddling up. "I guess it's good practice for dealing with the upcoming bundle of joy, though. . .hello everyone. What brings you all by?"

#secundus sunday #secundus 2 weird weird west #christmas #sneak preview #just to prove to you all that progress is being made :p #hopefully this does a good job of setting the scene with Victor's post-first-fic life #I almost stopped at 'I do too' but #what the hell I like Lightning and wanted to show him off #hyperactive little nut XD #hope you enjoy! #queued

[jaskiersbard]

Peter Pan (Walter/Daniels + children)

I just really wanted an excuse to write Peter Pan into a story, and this seemed like a fun (if slightly cheesey/silly) way to do so. It’s the most random thing ever but I felt like something kind of cute and fluffy :3

So in this fic/short drabble, I’m assuming that a school was built on Origae-6, and therefore it’s possible that children put on shows at the school for their parents. Honestly, any excuse to write parents!Walter-x-Daniels is a good excuse (with a fun appearance by Uncle Tennessee!)

I’ve taken the opening scene from ‘Hook’ (1991) in that it begins with a children’s school play of ‘Peter Pan’. The child playing Peter is a girl, which is a tradition in productions of ‘Peter Pan’ on-stage/in pantomime.

Jacob is 7, Maggie is 5.

The entire room was silent as soft music played through the hall, quietly echoing; all eyes were drawn to the stage at the front, lit up by two blue lights and showing a night time scene in a children’s bedroom. Two beds occupied the stage, in which two children feigned sleep while a third – a girl with hair tucked underneath her hat to imitate the short hairstyle of a boy – sat pretending to cry.

Slowly the music faded away, the last notes hanging in the air when the child in the bed to the left – a little girl with long blonde hair tied back with a ribbon and wearing an old Edwardian-style nightgown – sat up; she looked down at the crying child on the floor and tilted her head. “Boy, why are you crying?”

The crying ‘boy’ hurriedly rubbed his eyes, standing up. “What is your name?”

“Wendy Angela Moira Darling,” The girl answered, clambering from her bed and doing a small curtsey. “What is yours?”

“Peter Pan.”

The girl tilted her head. “Is that all? It’s very brief.”

In the audience, Tennessee was grinning to himself. “Look at her,” He muttered so hardly anyone could hear him. “She ain’t needed prompting once – and she said all that name without a single stutter.”

“She practiced for weeks,” Walter informed him seriously, never taking his eyes from the stage even as a tired Jacob leaned on his side. “She wanted to be sure that she could give an adequate performance.”

On their son’s other side, Daniels waved a hand at the two of them, though she looked just as proud and amused. “She’s still on-stage – shut up or you’ll miss her.”

Walter was immediately silent once more, entirely focused on their daughter; Tennessee shook his head but returned to concentrating, still mumbling about how wonderful his goddaughter was. Both men were wrapped around her daughter’s little finger, Daniels mused, and she couldn’t help but smirk at the thought; they’d both do anything for the little girl, quite literally – even sitting through school productions of ‘Peter Pan’, it seemed.

Maggie, still perfectly-in-character as Wendy, studied the ‘boy’ in front of her. “Where do you live?”

“Second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning,” ‘Peter’ replied.

“What a funny address!”

He frowned. “No it isn’t.”

“What do they put on letters then?”

“Don’t get letters.”

Maggie looked confused. “But surely your mother gets letters.”

“Haven’t got one.”

“Haven’t got a…?” She looked perfectly aghast, almost as if she really were. “No wonder you were crying, Peter, if you haven’t got a mother!”

The boy huffed, crossing his arms and frowning. “I wasn’t crying because I don’t have a mother, I was crying because I couldn’t get my shadow to stick…and I wasn’t crying.”

“Oh. I shall sew it on for you, my little man,” The little girl decided sweetly, and she pulled a small box from under the bed. “It may hurt a little.”

As she knelt by her scene partner’s feet, Tennessee looked to Daniels knowingly. “Let me guess… Walter helped her with her lines?”

Daniels smiled, bemused as she nodded. “Of course he did. She was adamant about being perfect – and he can’t say no to her.”

In fact, Walter had done nothing but help their daughter learn her lines over the past month; it had been rather amusing when she’d come home one afternoon to find Walter reciting Peter Pan’s lines with a perfectly serious expression. Clearly, he was not programmed with the speciality of performing in fantasy plays, Daniels thought to herself dryly.

Back on the stage, Maggie was still kneeling at her scene partner’s feet as she pretended to sew; when she finished, ‘Peter’ whooped and gave a crow, putting his hands on his hips. “Wendy, look! The cleverness of me!”

As several audience members chuckled, Maggie pouted and pretended to look hurt. “Of course, I did nothing then!”

“…You did a little.”

“A little!” Without warning, she clambered up and threw herself on the bed – it was quite similar to how she behaved at home when she was annoyed, Walter noted to himself, well-behaved though she was. “Well, if I’m of no use then…”

‘Peter’ looked somewhat apologetic. “I’m sorry, Wendy, I didn’t mean it.” He paused, taking a step closer. “Wendy?... One girl is worth more than twenty boys.”

Jacob quietly scoffed to himself, much to Daniels’ amusement – it was clear he didn’t quite agree with such a sentiment. It was his third time having to sit through the school production, and though he hadn’t complained – he knew how much it meant to his sister, after all, and he did love her – it was obvious that he was getting bored and tired of the whole thing.

“You really think so?” Maggie asked, sitting up hopefully, and she beamed when he nodded. “I think it’s perfectly swee-” A rather loud cough from the audience interrupted her, and she huffed before raising her voice to an almost-shout. “I think it’s perfectly sweet of you! I shall give you a kiss, if you like!”

‘Peter’ held out his hand expectantly, as if waiting for her to hand him something. A few people chuckled.

“Don’t you know what a kiss is?”

“I shall, once you give one to me.” Maggie lifted her finger, a shiny thimble glinting in the light; she removed it before handing it to the child playing Peter; the child examined it before giving a nod. “Now, I shall give you a kiss!”

The blonde girl was suddenly on her feet, puckering her lips; a collective ‘aww’ raised from the audience at the sight of her – Tennessee being the loudest – followed by a few more chuckles when she was instead handed a small acorn. “Oh… Well, thank you! I shall wear it around my neck. How old are you, Peter?”

“I don’t know. I ran away the day I was born.”

“Ran away? Why?”

“Because I heard father and mother talking of what I was to be when I became a man. I want always to be a little boy and to have fun; so I ran away and lived a long time among the fairies.”

Maggie’s eyes were wide with wonder. “You know fairies, Peter!”

Tennessee nudged Walter, the wide grin on his face unmistakable now even in the dark. “Tomorrow night we’re filming this – I got a camera last week we can use.”

Before the synthetic could respond, Daniels was laughing quietly underneath her breath. “That’s not necessary, Tee – Walter’s already filmed it twice.”

*

Was this random? Yes. It was random but I felt like writing something linked to Peter Pan after I met him and Wendy in Disneyland last Monday :3 Also, Maggie is the name of Peter Pan’s daughter in “Hook!”, and at the beginning of the film she plays Wendy in her school’s play. I just thought it would be a cute idea.

#alien #alien: covenant #walter #daniels #walter x daniels #daniels x walter #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #daniels branson #Maggie is wendy in a school play and proud uncle Tennessee is proud #fluff

[impalaanddemons]

Gravity - Part 3

Summary: Reader’s a young security officer (Lieutanent Junior Grade) who happened to be on an away mission and fall hard for a certain Chief Engineer. Both of them aren’t the most outgoing regarding their feelings and tend to just watch each other from a distance, which is going to change.

Wordcount: 1190

A/N: Ah, yes. I don’t know what to say here. This was fun. Still working on that accent. We’re back in the present.

This fiction is set in AOS

Warnings: Second hand embarrassment. Or first hand embarrassment depending on how you read this kind of fics.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

„I remember that incident“, mused Leonard McCoy and furrowed his brows. „Why were you attacked in the first place?“ Scotty and Jim took a swig of Scotch. „Turns out, they had crash landed their vessel on a nest of those beasts. Forgot to mention it of course. Can ya imagine that?“, the Scotsman exclaimed. „She handled that situation like a real champ, Captain.“ he continued and poured himself some more Scotch. „It’s Jim, when I’m off duty, Scotty, we talked about it - and she’s in for a promotion before next shore leave anyway, you don’t have to praise her - I read all the reports.“ the Captain grinned and emptied his glass in one go only to help himself to some more. For a moment the three of them sat there, drinking, caught up in their own thoughts. „So,“ Jim then began, „you really like that girl?“ Scotty groaned, as the discussion turned to Jims new favorite topic. Again. „It’s irrelevant if I like her or not, Captain. I cannae expect a young woman like that to fall for an old mechanic like me.“, he finished his scotch, and stared down at the bottom of his glass. Then he reached for the bottle to fill up again. „She was stuck in medbay for days because of that. Because of me.“ - „Took me a good couple of hours to patch the kid up, too“, added the doctor and threw a glance at Jim, who just shook his head, laughing, before picking the conservation up again: „Maybe I should get Spock in on discussing this“ - at this, Scotty just muttered: „Ya are mad, that is what ya are.“ - „I suppose he would think the whole situation highly illogical.“ - „There’s nothing ‚illogical‘ aboot the whole thing, Captain. I’m not gonnae embarrass ma self. And that’s the last of it.“ With that, he finished another glass.

The one thing most Ensigns in Security were surprised by when they were assigned to the Enterprise, was how much of night shift was actually escorting more or less drunk people to their rooms. Once one put enough thought into it, this was of no surprise at all: Shore Leaves were far and wide in-between 5 year missions and people had to vent, some way or another. People fell in love, people broke up, people drank alcohol to „forget that idiot, he didn’t deserve you anyway.“. So escorting drunk people had always been part of your night-shift duty. And so far it had been a quiet shift and you enjoyed being alone with the humming of machinery and your own thoughts. Most desire to drink and party that the crew may have had, seemed to have been quelled by the outlook of a shore leave soon. The silent befor a a storm. Ensign Bancroft had escorted a nurse to her room who seemed quite intoxicated (”Do you need escort to your room, ma’m?”) and as far you gathered from communication this shift, someone had gotten into a fistfight in the bowling hall. That’s how things were. Emotions sometimes flared in confined spaces and security usually took the brunt. You took a jefferies tube prone to containing an engineer or two and which you made sure to peek into very carefully before entering, after you’d once stumbled over a very .. busy couple there. No snogging engineers this time. No engineer you’d like to get to know closer either. You sighed, took a vertical jefferies tube on your route and reappeared on a gangway.

Someone was leaning at the wall, an empty glass in hand. Just what you needed - some diversion. „Sir“, you said and approached the figure. The person moved it’s head in your direction. „Hello, Sir? Are you alright?“ as you got closer, you felt your heart skip a beat. „Just ol’ Scotty, lass.“, said the voice, more husky then you were used to. It tickled in your neck. „I’m sorry, Sir.. Scotty. I didn’t want to bother you.“. You had now reached him and in the half-light, he gave you a small smile. His eyes focused on you, he pushed himself from the wall, closer to you. You could smell alcohol. „Are ya well after that incident? I never really asked after ya got out of medbay.“ his voice was now barely a whisper. Dark. A shiver ran down your spine. You held your breath for a moment. „I am fine. Security, you know, we are hardy“, you managed a small nervous laugh and then continued:„Do you need escort to your bed?“ A second passed. Then another one. Realization dawned onto you upon your freudian slip like a bucket of ice being emptied over your head. He was close. Close enough for you to see his eyes search yours for something. Lips parted, he stared at you. „Room.“, you added. „Shall I.. escort you …“ Oh please  „.. escort you to your room?“ Another moment passed and you felt heat flush your cheeks, your face was as red as your uniform now. „It is security procedure, to escort other crew members, if they …“, whom were you fooling? The scotsman stared at you. Only a few seconds had passed and you were babbling like an idiot. He was probably considering how to tell you off for your behavior in front of a Lieutenant Commander. „I am.. so sorry.. I am .. sorry ... I .. I am on duty, Sir. I’ll have to continue my patrol.“ you stammered and ran away.

„YOU WHAT?“ Cassandra couldn’t stop laughing while you buried your glowing red face in a pillow. „Please tell me that one again, you said what?“ she exclaimed and actually fell over laughing, stretching out on her bed while you tried to figure out a way to beam you into earth’s core, or something similar. „I just.. slipped…“, you mumbled and felt the heat on your face intensify even more. „Slipped?“ your mate tried to catch her breath, tears rolling down her face. „I did tell you to throw your bait out, Y/N“, her laughter ebbed down to a constant giggle, „I did not tell you to throw the bucket with it. And the rod. And then drown yourself“ - „Oh, shut up“, you exclaimed and dared to look up for a moment. There was no possibility whatsoever that you would leave your or Cassandras room ever again. „I will request transfer…“ you stared blankly at her „or throw myself out of an airlock.“ - „You will do none of that, darling. You hear me?“ she straightened up from the bed and looked at you. Her lips twitched treacherously. „You are probably not the first person to spill her beans like that. Only the first one on this ship.“ - „Yes. That helps TREMENDOUSLY.“ you scoffed and went back to hide your face in a pillow. Cassandra moved over to you, sympathetically touching your shoulder. „Oh, come on now. Here’s what you’ll do…“ she pulled you into a hug and grinned: „Operation always .. and I say always .. goes on party together on the first night out.“ - „And then I throw myself out of the next airlock?“ - „No. No throwing out of airlocks. Here me out. You’ll go out with the rest of us. Go dancing. Get drunk. Not too drunk, mind you. As soon as you’re relaxed enough, you just go over to him and invite him for a drink.“ You groaned and hoped to spontaneously vanish from the Enterprise.

READ ON

Thank you for reading so far! Tag list! Please tell me, when you want to be tagged! I appreciate feedback a lot, as it tells me what you like and what don’t :)

@youre-on-a-starship @kaitymccoy123 @inaugural13 @webhoard @kirk-enterprise

#scotty x reader #montgomery scott #fanfiction #star trek fanfiction

[whitefanggurl]

"Cheater Cheater" - JohnWatsonxReaderxSherlock

WARNING: You are cheated on by John and ultimately end up with Sherlock in the end. Other than that, nothing bad. Just a little fluff later :)

Also, they may be a bit OOC, I'm so sorry! :( I'm kinda new to the fandom and I'm not that good with writing, but here goes!

You kicked open the door to 221b Baker Street and hauled in the bags of groceries.

'"Let's go to the store!" he said. "Sherlock doesn't have a case today!" he said. What a load of crud. There's always a case.'

"(Y/N)?" You glanced around the corner while struggling to keep yourself from falling and see Sherlock laying on the couch appearing to be disturbed from the solitude from his Mind Palace.

"Hey Sher- Wait a second.... I thought you and John were out on a case?" Quickly tossing the groceries on the kitchen floor, you walked over to Sherlock and sat down across from him in a chair.

He looked at you with a bored expression, "No, he's out with Mary."

You stared at him for a moment, "...Do you mean Harry?"

"No, Mary."

Licking your lips that suddenly were very dry, your hands started to shake as you leaned forward to try and keep the disturbing thoughts at bay, "Who's Mary? And I want a straightforward answer, Holmes."

Sherlock's gaze wandered over your face for a brief moment, formulating how you would take this, "The woman he's been seeing behind your back."

Your throat suddenly tightened and tears gathered in your eyes. You bit the inside of your cheek and took in a deep breath.

"I apologize that he did so. You seemed very happy with him, even though he upset you at times." Sherlock leaned back in his chair and held his hands once again in a prayer position while closing his eyes for a moment then opened them, got up, grabbed his coat and scarf, and headed out the door. "(Y/N), Mrs. Hudson has your favorite icecream down in her freezer, I will be back momentarily. Don't feel obligated to wait up though." And he was gone.

You closed your eyes as the tears started to flow freely down your cheeks and a few sobs escaped from your lips. 'He's right, I should go see Mrs. Hudson about this.' You took your jacket in one hand and keys in the other and headed down to the sweet woman's flat where you would stay for the next few hours.

Sherlock blew an agitated breath from his nose as he watched John flirt with Mary from outside the restaurant window.

It was obvious you were hurt, but Sherlock had no idea how to handle such things, so he did what seemed cliché and bought some chocolates and a small teddy bear for you like he had seen on the telly once in a sappy movie you had him and John watch along with you.

He also knew that it probably wouldn't be the best time to unleash the fact that he had certain... feelings, towards you that you more than likely wouldn't return.

You poured out everything to Mrs. Hudson, who listened intently. After you had let out every pent up hurt to her, she offered you some tissues and ice cream.

"(Y/N)," she said with a small smile, "Don't let this get the better of you. When I look at you, I see a beautiful, strong, and stubborn young lady who would, without a second thought, lay down her life for the ones she loves. And even though you may not see it, someone else close to you admires you and loves you with every bit of his being."

You looked up at her through red eyes, genuinely curious, "Who?"

She grinned, "You'll find out over time dearie. Now, do you want another cuppa?"

Sherlock, with the bag in hand, made his way to 221c to set it in your living room.

He picked the lock and opened the door to see you sitting down in front of the telly watching (your fav show other than Sherlock) with the tub of ice cream from Mrs. Hudson.

"You've only been home for 10 minutes," he mused, setting the bag down at your side. "And you've already showered, cleaned the kitchen, and almost finished that ice cream. You're taking this better than expected."

You snorted and looked up at Sherlock with tear-filled eyes, forcing a smile on your lips, "Just trying to distract myself I guess," You stopped and paused the episode, "And Mrs. Hudson cheered me up. As much as it does hurt that I wasn't good enough for John, I now realize, it isn't my fault, and I shouldn't feel sad that I wasn't enough because it only matters that I'm enough for ME, that I like who I am and don't pick myself apart piece by piece because of something someone else thinks."

Sherlock's lips curled up into a small smile, "(Y/N), you never cease to intrigue me with the words that come from your mouth. Now," he sat down in a chair and looked at you seriously, "Do you wish to confront John? Or simply break off the relationship? Or something else possibly?"

Your fingers tapped your cheek softly as you thought, ideas whirring through your brain. One caught your attention and a devilish smile crossed your face, "I've got the perfect thing, but first, I have to see what you got me."

After explaining the plan to Sherlock, who actually thought it would be quite humorous, you began the preparations.

Grabbing the basket, you started making food. "Sherlock, did you grab the candles and matches?"

"They're right here," he pointed at the small grocery bag.

"Hat?"

"Yes, (Y/N)."

"Makeup? Costume?"

"Yes to both, now stop fidgeting, you'll cut your fingers off with the knife."

You glanced down at the cutting board and saw the knife dangerously close to your hand, "Thank you."

When all the preparations were finished, you called John.

"Hey darling!" The words felt like lead rolling off your tongue, but you still kept the sweet voice.

"H-Hello (Y/N). Is s-something wrong?"

"What? Of course not! I just wanted to tell you to meet me at the park at 6. I have a surprise for you!"

'Man will he be surprised...'

"Oh, alright. I'll be there."

"Great! Love you sweetie!" You hung up before he could say anything else and looked at Sherlock, "Now, to do your makeup."

(So guys, this idea isn't mine! I saw this on Pinterest, but I can't remember the original Tumblr person who posted it. If you know who it was, please tell me so I can give them credit!!! P.S.- I also added a few things to it, so yeah.... Alright, enjoy my sweet marshmallow bunnies!)

After getting Sherlock's camouflage all finished, (which took AN HOUR mind you because he kept getting bored and there were times where you had to just ignore his shooting the handgun at the wall), you waited at the park and glanced towards the trees. A flashlight signalled and you knew that Sherlock was watching in case things got too stressful. You nodded and bit your lip, 'Thank You God for that wonderful man...'

John arrived in a taxi, fidgeting and nervous. 'Good, you better be nervous young man.'

You plastered a smile on your face and ran over to hug him, 'He practically REEKS of perfume.'

"Darling, how was the case?"

"Hm? Oh, it was good. Yeah i-it was good."

'Liar.' "Good! Now come on, I've already set up the picnic. I think it's time I told you something very important."

John gulped, but nodded and followed you to the edge of the woods surrounding the park.

You skipped along while holding his hand until you reached the secluded spot in the forest where the evening sunlight failed to reach through the dense leaves.

The picnic was all set up, with John's favorites of course, and candles resting on top of elegant candle sticks giving the space light.

Both of you sat down and you glanced towards the small bush about 10 feet away that hid Sherlock.

After talking about your days and eating a bit, you cleared your throat and looked up at John. "So, John..."

He nearly choked on his food, "Y-Yes, dear?"

"I want to tell you why I brought you here," You smiled, "Erm, as now, my past relationships weren't very... pleasant. Many ending in me being cheated on and all that."

His face paled.

You pretended to not notice and continued, "Well, this is actually, I guess you could say, a crime scene. Because whenever they would cheat on me, they would end up... missing," Smiling a small smile, you glanced around, "This is where they are, six feet under each." You leaned forward towards the terrified John Watson, "And I heard that someone's been naughty, Mr. Watson." You laughed and blew out the candles, covering the space in complete and utter darkness.

John screamed and started to run, but this is where Sherlock came in. He tripped John and pinned him down while you let yourself just chuckle evilliy.

"So John," You turned on the flashlight and pointed the beam at his face, "What's she like, this, Mary I hear about?"

Well, after a few more moments of torture, you finally gave out and started to laugh hysterically, waving to Sherlock to let John go.

John's eyes widened when he saw Sherlock, "You helped her? But you said you-"

"I know what I said. But it had gone on far long enough, John. You hurt (Y/N) deeply, that much I can tell. Did you really think that for a moment I didn't care about you both the same? That I would sacrifice her over yourself? No, you are both equals in my mind, and I intend to let that be known. If she had cheated on you, my actions would have been the same." He glared at John, "But, this doesn't mean that I will forgive you in the time being for your hurting her. Now, return to Mary, Mr. Watson. I think she deserves to know of this endeavour of yours."

John stood there for a moment, stunned from the words that came from his friend's mouth, then huffed and left.

You turned to Sherlock with tears in your eyes and forced a smile, "Well, they better stay together seeing that he thought she was worth cheating."

Sherlock's chest tightened at the sight of you crying and gathered you in his arms, "I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I shouldn't have kept this from you."

You hugged him tightly, letting your tears roll freely down your cheeks, "None of this is your fault, Sherl. Now, it seems we have more time to spend together. How about we go grab some ice cream?"

He scrunched his nose, "But you'll get sick if you have any more. You ate a whole carton earlier."

You winked at him, "I find your lack of faith disturbing, Holmes."

TWO YEARS LATER.....

You kissed Sherlock's cheek, "Love, it's time that you go to bed. You've been at this all day and you're exhausting yourself."

He slumped further in his chair, "But I have to finish this case!! It's imperative that it is solved as soon as possible!!!"

Massaging his shoulders, you pointed out, "Sherl, you won't figure it out if your energy is all used up and your mind is tired. Now, go to sleep."

Sherlock looked up at you with a small smile, "Mrs. Holmes, I love you dearly." He sat you down in his lap and hugged you close to him, kissing your temple, then your lips.

You melted at his touch and murmured against his lips, "I have a deep regard for you as well, Mr. Holmes."

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Hey guys!! So, quick note, did anyone pick up on the two movie references I put in here? If so, I love you!

This is my first oneshot, please tell me how you liked it!!

Remember, you can always request more!!

Love you my marshmallow bunnies!!!!

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #john watson #sherlock holmes #john watson x reader #oneshot #xreader #martin freeman #benedict cumberbatch