Positions - Part 1
Yes, I skipped chapter 8 for now because it was giving me trouble. It was basically a filler chapter so it’s fine to skip and come back to later. All you really need to know is Asher went on another casual outing with some coworkers, so he’s been having some somewhat-positive interactions that aren’t just work.
I was gonna add more leadup at the beginning of the scene, but…I got a little stuck. So I’m just gonna drop you right into it. You’ll figure out what’s going on, it’s pretty straightforward if you have any familiarity with the BBU.
CW: BBU, pet whump, bullying
“Position 12.”
The command was all too familiar, even though it was coming from someone who had no right to give it. Asher’s training was so ingrained into him that he started to move into position automatically. His knees bent and he started to slightly lower himself towards the ground before he caught himself and straightened.
“Well? I’m waiting.”
Asher shot him an angry frown. “You’re not my owner.”
“Maybe not, but I’m not a pet and you are.” The man smirked.
“You don’t have the authority to give me orders like that without my master’s permission,” Asher asserted.
“Then why did you start getting into position?”
“That was out of habit, not obedience.”
“‘Not obedience?’ Sounds like someone isn’t a very good pet.” The man stepped closer and placed a threatening hand on Asher’s shoulder, then shoved him down. “Position 8.”
Asher’s knees hit the floor as the shove sent him towards the ground faster than he could react, but before he actually assumed the position, he twisted and stood back up. He glared at the other man.
“You really should do as you’re told, Asher.” He stepped closer and flicked the metal tag dangling from Asher’s collar.
Asher took a step back but resisted the ever-present automatic urge to placate. That was often the best strategy, but in this case it would just encourage this kind of behavior, which had already gone on long enough. “You really should mind your own business. I already told you, you don’t have the authority for this.”
“Come on, pet, don’t you want to be good?”
That was unfair. Asher scowled at him. “I am good. Just not for anyone like you.”
Asher tried to walk away, only to have his path blocked. He stopped, wary of being pushed towards the floor again, or possibly even risking worse violence.
“Let me go. Please.” The please just slipped out automatically, but it drew an almost vindicated smirk from the other man.
That didn’t last long, though. The drama had drawn the attention of a few other people, a couple of whom were properly within earshot by now. One of them stepped closer and grabbed onto the guy’s arm before he could make another move. “Just let him go, seriously. You’re being a jerk.”
Asher watched quietly, with a hint of nervousness. His attacker looked angry but didn’t seem to have a retort. Probably because his “justification” for what he was doing would just make him sound like the jerk he was accused of being.
“Come on, aren’t you both supposed to be working?” Another chimed in.
“Yeah. You should get back to work,” the jerk said, looking at Asher, perhaps in an attempt to take back control of the situation. Asher didn’t say anything back; he would be more than happy to do so, but he worried that agreement would make the guy feel like he’d won Asher’s obedience. Let him feel like he had the last word, but not vindicate his perceived entitlement to Asher’s submission. That was probably the safest way to deescalate this.
The man was turned and gently led away before he could get worked up over the lack of response. Asher watched them leave, giving a small, thankful smile to his rescuers when one glanced back.
Once he was alone again, Asher let out a long, shuddering breath. Trying to breathe out the tension and fear still buzzing within him. He ran a hand over his collar. He was a good pet. He was okay.
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Another TWEWY OC introductory post! This is Null, who uses they/he pronouns, with a preference for they/them. Their modern design is a work in progress, but I'm quite satisfied with the top half and the (maybe platform) boots. They're about as tall as Mother with the current boots when she's wearing her usual footwear.
Null had another name a long time ago, but after allowing an awful incident to occur that Father spoke about in this history lesson due to their neglect and arrogance as the Composer at that time, Null was striped of their name from their own memory by the higher ranking Angels. Despite how Father might make it sound, Null is still around and has fully recovered. Sometime after Father moved away from working under Null, they gave up their Composer position and focused solely on researching and recovering lost Souls, unknown to Father.
I haven't decided if being striped of their name was a normal punishment or if it was something specific for Null, and if their name was not only removed from Null's memory but from everyone else's as well. If it's only Null, then revealing their old name would result in severe punishment. I also haven't decided whether Null chose the name "Null" to remind them of their errors, or if they were forbidden from picking a name. Losing their name affected them greatly and they're working hard to earn the blessing of a new name.
At the moment I don't have any plans for Null to be involved with the main events of the Healthy Dose of Chaos AU. They might show up after the potential chaos has occurred and visit a potentially injured Father due to those events. Despite Null and Father being on rough terms, Null still cares greatly for Father, and after hearing about Father's potential injuries from the AU's events, that is finally enough to spur Null to get over their avoidance and visit Father.
I've answered some questions about Null here for an October OC Q&A, but outside of that, they are still a work in progress.
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OC art dump
this is Droso, a transfem anteater? thing? and the parasite she ended up accidentally hosting, Scallop. so now they just have to coexist. Droso's chill with it, it's mostly is just funny to her. Scallop is kinda perpetually annoyed at everything. theyre both dumbasses.
most of these are doodles in class
^a silly attempt to give her design eyes
and then an. unfinished page 1 of comic idea i have for like. a dream sequence type thing.
"Nah. Don't think so."
for more of these guys look here on this tag
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Shelter From the Storm
One last fic for oc kiss week, this time with Lucian and Vren, because i have Thoughts about them in series 2 (i know i need to finish series 1 first, let me live my life)
Read on AO3 here!
A deep rumble of thunder echoed off the mountainside. The following flash split the downpour in a blinding streak—Lucian blinked rapidly, trying to reclaim his vision from the white spots that danced across it. Slick rock shifted beneath his feet, and cold fingers wrapped around his wrist, yanking him back before he could fall.
“Watch your step!” Vren bellowed over the animal roar of the wind. He jerked his head to the left; Lucian followed his gaze, and a lance of fear jolted through him at the sheer drop not an inch from his boot. He shuffled closer to the mountainside, his thanks swallowed by the storm.
Lost in the Wilds with an assassin, looking for magic that might not exist. What a way to die.
He stumbled after Vren, the two of them forcing their way through the rain until at last they found an overhang. Nothing so fancy as a cave, just a shallow hollow a few feet deep. Enough to take them out of the rain and the worst of the wind.
Lucian stood there shivering, tail wrapped tight around his calf. His hair was plastered to his neck, water dripping from his horns—he couldn’t help the reflexive flicker of fingers along the braid encircling his head. Soaked, but intact. Small miracles.
“Here.”
Vren had his cloak held out. Lucian stepped under the sodden fabric, for though it held no infernii enchantments, the wool of Valloroth kept you warm even like this. He wished he hadn’t lost his. He pressed close to Vren, allowing him to draw the rest of his cloak around them, and drew his cupped hands up between them. A small flame burst to life in the cage of his fingers.
Thunder rolled above them. Lucian could feel Vren’s breath against his cheek, the solidity of his chest beneath his damp shirt. The arms holding the cloak around him were firm and strong, and even though the hands now resting on his back had once held a knife aimed at his throat, their presence brought as much comfort to his heart as they did heat to his face.
He turned his head and met a deep amber gaze as inscrutable as ever.
“Are we going to talk about this?” he asked.
“What’s to talk about?”
Lucian extinguished his flame and put his hand to Vren’s cheek. “Maybe the fact that I’d like to kiss you again?”
“Princeling, don’t—” Vren started, but Lucian silenced his protest with his mouth. He still didn’t count himself much good with this sort of thing, but he liked very much the way Vren’s lips softened under his, the faint scratch of stubble against his skin, the warm breath and the feeling that followed it down his throat and into his chest.
Vren drew back with a sharp inhale. “We have more important matters to focus on. We need to find—”
“—all we need to do right now is wait for this storm to pass,” Lucian said. “So we can either talk about this, or you can kiss me so I stop asking.”
Vren looked at him for a long moment, rain dripping down his face. Lightning split the sky once more, and then his mouth was on Lucian’s again.
Hardly surprising. The Wraith hated talking.
Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist @at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting @serenanymph @sam-glade (ask to be +/-)
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