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unexpectedstormy · 4 months

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Mini story -- Time tries to get the rest of the Chain up and ready to travel for the day but the rest of the Chain says no.

Time strode in to the stable of sleeping heroes, surprised to see that none of them were up despite the fact that the sun was already starting to rise.

"Time to get up," He announced. "We got a long day of travel ahead of us." Several heroes groaned and rolled over in response. Time made his bed, collected his bathing items and went down to the lakeside to wash up.

The plan was to start heading toward Death Mountain to deal with some of the monster camps springing up in the Gorons' mines. They hoped to make it to Foothill stable at least but ideally as far up towards Goron city as daylight would allow.

Time washed up, changed clothes, he even bothered to shave that morning. He could normally go week between shaving his face, but the stubble was starting to itch and irritate him. Once he was done, he neatly folded his nightclothes and returned to the stable.

Wild sat by the bright young fire that another traveler had lit. He was fully dressed, but still wrapped in a stable blanket and he stared blankly into the flames.

"Wild, what do you have planned for breakfast?" Time asked.

Wild looked up, startled out of whatever thoughts he'd been lost in. He then narrowed his eyes and hissed at Time, then took out his slate and teleported away right in front of him.

"Ah, hehe. Always startles me when he does that," the other traveler tending to the fire laughed. Time wasn't sure what to make of it. Where had he gone?

Warriors exited the stable, dressed, but lacking armor.

"Is everyone up?" Time asked.

"It's... a slow morning." Warriors answered. "Expect to leave a little later today."

"Not too late, I hope," Time answered frowning. "We have a lot of ground to cover." He entered the stable to find most of the Links still varying states of waking up.

Sky was sitting up with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, but his eyes were closed and he looked to be asleep. Legend was sitting on the floor next to the bed. Wind was an unmoved mound of blankets. Hyrule lay awake and blinking dreamily up into the rafters. Twilight sat cross-legged on his bed rummaging through his bag while Four was curled up next to him in a tight little ball.

"What's going on? Why aren't you up yet?" Time asked. "We need to get going." He moved to Wind's bedside and shook what was probably Wind's shoulder.

"Come on, time to wake up," he said. Wind rolled to look at him with rosy cheeks and tired red eyes.

"No. Shut up. Fuck you," he growled and retreated under the covers completely. Time was taken aback.

There was a thump and Time looked up to see Sky still wrapped in his blanket but laying on the floor and inchworming toward his pile of stuff. Legend was up on his feet but he limped every single step he took and his face pinched in pain. Hyrule stretched and yawned loudly but made no move to get up. Unexpectedly, Wild strode back into the stable, grabbed Hyrule's bare foot.

"You're coming with me!" He said and teleported them both away, Hyrule squawking in surprise and dressed in nothing more than his pajamas.

Time sighed and Warriors pulled him back toward the fire outside. "The night stablemaster said that Wind was up in the night with nightmares," Warriors said. "Made him some hot chocolate and stayed up with him for a while. He'll likely need another hour or two of sleep at least."

"I see," Time said and sighed again. "Wind's behavior I can understand, but we took yesterday as a rest day for a reason--with the expectation that today everyone would be up and ready to go as soon as light allowed."

"Time. These boys may be heroes, but they're also boys. They need more than one day of rest once in a blue moon. They aren't perfect little soldiers with infinite energy and morale. You can only push them so far before they will push back."

"I know that, but we have a job to do. The Gorons--"

"Can wait," Warriors interrupted. "They aren't, dying, the city isn't under attack, the just can't dig rocks in their usual spots. It's not that urgent."

Time sighed yet another time. So much for their grand travel plans.

"Besides, I can tell that you need a break too," Warriors said with a sly grin. "You've been impatient recently, taking everything too seriously, skipping meals, nagging, sighing at every little thing that doesn't go according to plan... you need a break just as much as the rest of us."

Time refrained from sighing but he sure felt like it. He hadn't noticed he'd been doing those things more, but he certainly recognized the pattern. They were indeed some of his tells of being overworked.

"Is that why you aren't wearing your armor this morning?" Time deflected. "You already decided that today needs to be another rest day?"

"It's possible," Warriors shrugged.

Time was a proud man and he hated to admit it, but Warriors was right. They needed another rest day. If nothing else, they could do it for Wind's sake.

"So what do you say, Old Man?" Warriors prodded him.

"I think you and I are cooking breakfast this morning," Time answered. "For whenever these sleepyheads choose to get up."

"Eyyy that's was I was hoping to hear!" Warriors smiled. "I'll go tell the troops they can go back to bed. You break out the bacon and start mixing up some flapjack batter."

"Only if you tell the stablemaster we're camping out another day," Time answered.

The End.

#inspired by I'm mad I had to get up today #lu time #lu warriors #time & warriors #lu everyone #minific #stormy writes #linked universe #pure fluff

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st0rmyskies · 2 months

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HSH Update

The anons said they would be happy with a partial chapter, so.

Have the first (finally) finished section of the climax.

#stormy writes #hsh #townhouse au #hsh: the brave

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alivocchspen · 3 months

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i gleefully tore you apart, with clever teeth and wicked tongue—your taste was sordid. sickeningly sweet.

(i'm wasting my time here.)

you wailed so loudly, and how i relished in such a pathetic keen. i wasn't brave enough to look at your falling tears, however.

(i never liked seeing people cry.)

i thought if i left you bleeding in the snow, i'd be satisfied—but of course, my greedy heart couldn't take it.

(a meal left unfinished is just unsightly.)

we ill love eating the wretched, but all we end up doing is eating ourselves when there's nothing left to suck on.

(i was hungry. i couldn't help myself.)

in ways imperceptible, i have ruined you.

(my angry blight is your naked stain.)

when you still feel the ghost of my bite in your throat, you'll close your eyes as if you're there again.

(i'm with you for as long as your scars will hold me.)

oh, how cowardly the cruel can be! i hate to think of your face; smiling kindly, holding my hand.

(my only regret was ever setting eyes on you in the first place.)

another world, another time—a paradise where we were different enough to love each other.

(it makes me laugh, it truly does!)

perhaps i am content with destroying you in my mind.

(i hope it's not forever, but forever tends to favor the foolish.)

i can only hope you destroy me in your mind, too

(those twisted like you would call that love, anyway.)

#stormy writes #original #prose #yeag.

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wild-stray-renegade · 10 months

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Demons

I fear myself.

Looking in the mirror—

A cry for help

as the dark gets nearer.

Taking control

as my consciousness fades;

feeling the cold

as I look at the mess I've made.

Demons in my mind

are fucking with me all the time.

I wish I could hit rewind

to the first time everything was fine.

#writing #Stormy writes #writers and poets #poet #poem #poetry #demons #nightmares

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storm-driver · 4 months

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bear with me, kh3 rewrite where sora is guided by eraqus' keyblade to castle oblivion early on in the game, and he stumbles his way into the chamber of waking to find ven, brings him back to everyone else to let him rest and recover for a couple disney worlds, and after a few worlds, he's ready to go save aqua, and a whole "world of darkness" world appears on the map, and ventus is your party member the whole way through the world. him and sora can have a proper conversation about their weird af situation, ventus can bear witness to The Horrors that is the worlds plunging into darkness for almost a dozen years. anti-aqua can be the final boss and ventus gets unique dialogue while fighting her.

just think about it.

#kingdom hearts #stormy weather #in before i write this myself

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stormyelliotwritez · 10 days

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Hey could you write batfam x male reader who is Jason's secret brother? Like batfam as in Bruce, dick, Jason, Tim and Damian, and like after Jason's death and resurrection they finally figure out that Jason had an older brother? Jason hardly remebers him because 1. He died and his memories are a bit fuzzy and 2. He was very young when he last saw his brother. I feel like the male reader took care of Jason, but at some point to try and give Jason a better life he left for sile shady work that promised a good amount of money, that would help Jason stay afloat? And after the batfam find out they obviously try to find him, and Bruce obviously tries to adopt him (even if he's an adult) so he can be reunited with his brother

yes yes yesssss. I was just going to write headcanons but I ended up with too many ideas so have a mini fic! I don't have the best grasp on the whole resurrection part coz I haven't read under the red so that'll be a bit vague. I'm so sorry this took so long. I got crazy writers block but here it is. Tell me if you want more of them or like headcanons because I'm lowkey obsessed with Jason having an older brother.

—————————————————————————

"Hey Bruce, why isn't Jason the first Todd that comes up when you look up Todd death report?" Dick asked as he walked into the Batcave and sat down on the table behind Bruce.

Bruce turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. He had no idea what his son was talking about as he'd never looked up the reports. He knew his son had died and he hadn't wanted to know anything more. He'd failed his son, and he didn't want to be reminded of it.

"He's the only Todd I'm aware of," Bruce turned his chair around and looked at his eldest son, "Jason doesn't have any relatives."

Dick turned his laptop around and right at the top of the report, it said Y/N Todd. The cause of death just said explosion and body not found.

"Does that sound suspicious to you as well, Bruce?" Dick asked as he leaned forwards slightly.

"Go ask Tim to look more into it," Bruce turned his chair back around, "and don't tell Jason. We've only just got him to stay so there's no need to spook him."

Dick nodded and then walked out of the Batcave.

~~~~~~~~~

A few days had passed, and Dick hadn’t brought it up to Bruce again. He had gone and asked Tim though and sworn him to secrecy. He didn’t talk to Jason much, so it wasn’t that hard anyways.

Jason was sitting in the library when Dick came in and seemed to be second guessing himself.

“You don’t read,” Jason said bluntly without looking up from his copy of Pride and Prejudice.

“I totally read,” Dick stumbled through the sentence as he walked over and sat down on an armchair opposite from Jason, “What are you reading anyways?”

Jason looked up at him, confused. What the fuck is Dick on, was all he was thinking. Dick was being nice, and he was normally nice, but this was awkward. This was like the same level of awkward he’d been for the first few days that Jason had been living at Wayne Manor. He had been so confident but also such a nervous wreck.

“Pride and Prejudice. Did you get sprayed with some drug on patrol?” Jason asked as he looked his older brother up and down.

“Nope nopity nope. I just wanted to hang out with you,” Dick said as though that explained why he was more skittish than a newborn kitten.

Jason nodded and then went back to reading. “I don’t remember him that much,” he said offhandedly as Dick went to stand up.

“How did you-” Dick said as he swung around and almost tripped over his feet.

“Tim talks a lot when he’s tired and you’re holding a coffee that he so desperately wants,” Jason replied with a shrug.

Dick’s jaw dropped. “You’re not mad that I’m snooping in your business? When you were little, I touched one of your first edition books and you cried for days.”

Jason’s head turned to look at Dick in two seconds flat. “I what?”

Dick’s eyebrow raised as he stared blankly at his little brother. “You don’t remember?”

The two of them stood silently as they processed what had been said. Jason hadn’t thought he’d lost that much. Dick hadn’t realized that either. He hadn’t realized Jason had lost anything. They didn’t talk much. Talking hurts and they’re both fragile which is seeming to be a trend in this family. (Bruce pay for therapy challenge???)

They stayed in silence for a few minutes before the door opened again and Damian walked in.

“Tim snitched. Your brother worked for some gang guy in Star City until he somehow quit. He’s back in Gotham for the next two weeks staying with,” Damian looked down at his phone and raised an eyebrow, “Selina?”

“How does Tim still keep his identity secret? Wait, so like dads on-off girlfriend, Selina?” Dick asked as he looked at their youngest brother with his eyebrows raised.

“Do we know any other Selinas, big bird?” Jason asked as his head swivelled to look in Dicks direction again.

Dick shrugged and seemed to be thinking. “So, we could just call Selina and ask about your mysterious brother?” He said observantly.

Damian sighed in frustration. “Yes, lets just call up Selina and ask her if she’s hosting Jason’s supposed to be dead brother!”

“It’s a good idea,” Dick tried to protest as he looked to Jason for backup. Jason raised his hands as if to say nope don’t involve me.

“No, it’s not. It’s really surprising that you’re not father’s actual son. You’re both stupid,” Damian replied as he scrolled on his phone until he found what he was looking for. His face lit up and he showed the screen. “There’s a gala on tomorrow. Selinas bound to go just to flirt with father, and she’ll probably take Y/N.”

“Ok, that is a better idea than mine,” Dick muttered as he crossed his arms and sulked.

“All of demon brats ideas are better than yours, Dickybird,” Jason said as he sat back down and reopened his book.

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

The night of the gala couldn’t come quick enough. Bruce was sitting at the kitchen table in his suit a good hour before they had to go and at that point, he wished he’d hadn’t broken his earbuds the day before. Jason and Tim were shouting at each other in the main first floor bathroom and Damian was about to tackle Dick for making him wear a blue tie. Cass and Steph were on a video chat with Barbs because she was currently at a tech conference so couldn’t make it.

Five minutes before they had to leave, Damian ran out of some room with Dick chasing him. Jason and Tim both tried to run out of the bathroom door at the same time, so Tim slammed into the wall. Steph and Cass walked calmy into the kitchen and laughed at the boys running rampant. Duke had offered to go on patrol solely because he didn’t want to go to the gala.

They all left the mansion and clambered into multiple cars.

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

The gala was bustling, and Bruce made his entrance followed by his entourage of children. The questions started up, but all Jason could think about was whether his older brother was there. Dick was standing close to him and swatting away any stuffy aristocrats who wanted to say how much he looked like the Wayne son who had died as a child.

Tim dragged his feet across the gala to where Dick and Jason were standing. He flopped onto the chair next to Jason and slammed his head down onto the table.

“No coffee?” Dick asked as he leaned against the wall and death stared another aristocrat who wanted their weekly Wayne drama fix.

“When have any of these events ever had coffee and I’m too young to drink and also Y/N is at the bar,” Tim rambled as he sat up straight and rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

“You’re like 18, I was drinking from like 15,” Jason started before his brain caught up with the whole sentence, “The bar?”

Tim nodded and fell forwards again. Dick put his hand out at a speed that could rival Wally and caught his younger brothers head. He nodded at Jason who jumped out of his chair and started briskly walking towards the bar.

At the bar, there sat a guy who looked to be in his 30s with bright red hair. A champagne glass was seated in front of him, and he was staring off into space.

Jason walked over and sat down next to him. He didn’t say anything but instead asked the bartender for a gin and tonic and glanced next to him. Y/N looked just like the fuzzy memories he had of him.

“You new around here?” Jason asked as he waited for the bartender to finish his drink.

The guy who was most likely his older brother didn’t say anything in response. He just sighed and sipped his champagne.

“Haven’t seen you at one of these before. You, uh, came with Ms Kyle?”

The guy gave him a nod in response as he rolled up his sleeves slightly. Jason looked down and saw the burn scar from when they’d been making pasta when he was little. His jaw dropped slightly before he recovered quickly. This was absolutely his older brother so what was he supposed to do now?

“I’m Jason Wayne,” he said so as to not spook Y/N.

“Y/N Todd,” Y/N glanced at Jason, “You look like someone I used to know. Have we met before?”

Jason laughed nervously. “If you’ve come to a gala before, probably.”

“Yeah, probably,” Y/N stood up from the chair, “Well I think Selina wanted an early night so I should go. Nice meeting you.”

Jason sighed as his older brother walked away. He downed his gin and tonic before standing up and walking over to where Dick was still sitting with Tim. He sat down on a free chair and leaned his head on the table.

“So?” Dick asked cautiously as he moved his hand out from under Tim’s forehead.

“He’s my brother,” Jason said tiredly.

Dick gasped and leaned in closer. “So, what you going to do about that, little bird?”

“No idea,” Jason said as he sighed.

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

A few days later, Jason was sitting in the library again when Tim ran inside. Jason looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“He’s been spotted. Cass saw him. Dick’s waiting for you at Wayne Industries,” Tim said out of breath.

Jason placed his book down and ran out of the library. He sprinted down to the Batcave and got changed into his suit. He ran to his bike and pulled out of the cave. He drove down the highways and roads and felt the wind pushing against him. It felt just like how when he was younger, and it was just him and his older brother against the world. He flew down streets and side alleys. He pulled up in front of Wayne Industries and saw Dick sitting on a brick wall nearby. Their comms crackled to life.

“Cass has him and Selina on the roof of Wayne Industries, come on,” Dick said before he ran at the building and started scaling it.

Jason followed suite. The two of them made it to the top in record time and looked around. Cass waved from where she was standing and chatting to Selina. Jason’s older brother was leaning against the staircase door with a frown on his face as he glanced around.

Jason watched him for a moment. He had red hair just like how he did when he didn’t dye it. He was wearing a leather jacket like he did. He had a mask on which resembled the Robin one but not fully. It looked more like a masquerade mask. He was wearing boots, a pair that looked like ones Jason remembered sitting by their childhood apartments door. His older brother looked just like he remembered but also nothing like the teenager he’d idolized.

There was a scar above his eye. There was a necklace around his neck with a black rock. His hair was short and clipped, unlike when they were younger,

and it sat above his shoulders. He looked so grumpy. Jason had never seen his older brother look that annoyed. He’d always been patient and kind.

“Selina, can we go? I didn’t come all this way just to stand around and chat with your boytoys kids,” Y/N said loudly, interrupting Jason’s thoughts.

Selina turned from Cass and scoffed. “Yeah, you came so far, all the way from Star City and your sad little retail job,” she said sarcastically before turning back to Cass.

Y/N rolled his eyes and finally noticed Jason and Dick. “He has more? How many of you vigilantes are there? Does he grow you in like a lab?”

“One of us was actually,” Dick said as he took a step forward, so he stood in front of Jason, once a protective big brother, always a protective big brother.

“Long story? Yeah, I’m getting used to that,” Y/N shook his head before he glanced at Jason, “What you staring at me like that for?”

Jason tilted his head slightly before taking off his helmet which caused Dick to groan.

“Secret identities, little bird,” Dick said annoyed as he slapped his forehead.

“Oh, shut up,” Jason stepped around Dick, “It’s me, Jason.”

Y/N took a step back and slammed against the wall. “You’re dead.”

Cass turned from where she was talking to Selina and rolled her eyes before resuming their conversation.

“Surprise?” Jason said with jazz hands. “I think we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Y/N nodded and took off his mask. “Yeah, I think we do.”

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

Two weeks later…

Y/N, Bruce and Jason were sitting around the manor’s dining table. Bruce was leaned forwards and staring Y/N down. Jason was leaned back and smiling. He hadn’t stopped since he got Y/N back. Y/N looked like he was about to run out of the room.

“Jason, tell your creepy dad he can’t adopt me. I’m a grown ass man who isn’t going anywhere anyways,” He said as he scooted his chair slightly further away from Bruce.

“Hey, he’s still trying to figure out if he can adopt me and I’m legally dead,” Jason said as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“So am I!” His brother replied exasperatedly.

“I already adopted you, Jason,” Bruce leaned back in his chair, “Found a technicality.”

Jason turned quickly to face his dad. “Ok, you cannot just drop that in conversation, old man.”

Bruce stood up from his chair. “I’m not even 50 yet. You’ve gotta stop calling me that.”

Jason smiled and shook his head. “I’ll call you what I want, Bruce.”

Bruce smiled to himself and walked out of the room. The older Todd leaned closer to Jason and smiled.

“Your family is weird, Jase,” he said with a chuckle.

“Our family actually, big brother,” Jason said with a wide grin as he stood up from his chair. “Wanna go for a ride?”

His big brother jumped out of his chair and smiled. “I bet my bike goes faster than yours.”

The two of them ran towards the manors front door with the widest grins.

Up on the staircase, Bruce stood as he watched them with a smile. Alfred walked up behind him with a smile and tapped him on the shoulder.

“You must stop adopting all these children, Master Bruce,” he said quietly.

“He makes Jason happy, doesn’t he?” Bruce asked.

Alfred pondered for a moment before replying.

“Yes, he does, Master Bruce. That doesn’t mean Master Jason doesn’t still need his father though,” Alfred said, his voice full of care and love for the two of them.

Bruce nodded as he heard the motorbikes start outside. He then smiled and walked off to attend to his work.

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

#x m!reader #jason todd #short fic #jason todd and his big brother #x male reader #x reader #there's no romance here just platonic fluff #fic #batfam #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batfamily #stormy writes things

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stormy-blossom · 2 months

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People seemed to like the Snow White AU so I bring some doodles with more ideas!

The 7 Dwarfs arents actually dwarfs, just using the name now so you know who they are in the AU lol. They go by their names but all have nicknames based on the Disney version. They're just a bunch of weirdos that live and work together.

Drayton is the exact same just in a fantasy setting and that's exactly how it should be.

Carmine is the Queen's huntswoman, sent to kill Kieran but he's her little brother so obviously she's not gonna do it.

The Evil Queen is Briar (Love her but I needed a antagonistic female and she seemed perfect for the part... I have more plans for her don't worry 😉)

#kieran pokemon #★stormy's ocs★#pokemon scarlet and violet #the indigo disk #I'm having a lot of fun with this lol #Getting extremely tempted to write a fic now...#dipplinshipping #<- Gonna tag it cause technically Juliana could be in Elodie's role if you want her to be.#I just like drawing her lol #pokemon kieran #pokemon drayton #pokemon lacey #pokemon crispin #pokemon amarys #pokemon arven #pokemon nemona #pokemon penny #pokemon carmine #Apologies to the rest of these character's tags... You're getting involved too.

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rae-arachne · 29 days

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i don't want a sex dungeon i want a whole castle with entire wings dedicated to different kinks and activities. a ballroom where people can dress in their finest and dance to classical music before the exhibitionists are brought out and put on display for the guest's amusement. floors and floors of basements with harder and harder kinks so you can literally descend into your darkest desires. libraries and classrooms and thronerooms and chapels for you to fully immerse yourself in roleplay. rope rooms with hooks built into the ceiling and walls for any number of suspension activities. rooms lined with pillows and bedding for orgies and different room for cuddling. And of course, a lovely mess hall where people can get snacks.

is that too much to ask?

#rae rambles #rae's writings #another reason why vampires are sexy #of course it has to be thundering and stormy all the time for ambiance #it really sucks that the Kink Castle is already a thing and is problematic (i think) at least

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pagodazz · 3 months

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Ethan you should do Patrick anderson headcanons

THANK YOU MOON I LOVE YOU.

Here we go.

PATRICK ANDERSEN HCS.

he's sososososo special to me and he's so . real and relatable I love him.

DIVERSITY WIN!!! the entity connected to your brother is GAY!!!

Just had to get that one out of the way, and now I can continue.

To me Patrick is someone who is so so UNBELIEVABLY convinced he's a being made for only hate and evil, when in reality he's capable of something more.

I find him to be one of the most interesting slenderverse characters, I mean, he genuinely goes from being feral to remembering every life he's lived and he's just so defeated. he's so alone. He's not human but he's not an absolute monster y'know? and I think being so attached to Michael definitely taught him love.

Patrick is a being full of so much sorrow, he keeps a smile on his face while he knows he'll never get that happy ending he dreams of.

He's SO human for something that is NOT human at all. and HABIT was right for saying that.

-----------------

THIS MAN HAS DISCO FEVER. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH.

he THRIVED in the 70s, that's when he was his best. And I firmly believe that's when he realized that humanity could actually be worth something.

Patrick is FULL of funk. I don't know if that makes any sense to anyone, but it does to me. He's genuinely the type of guy to have a victim tied up and he's just dancing to disco music right in front them with the weapon of his choosing and they have no choice but to sit and watch this wannabe theater kid go crazy.

He's so obnoxious but I think it's absolutely amazing. I bet he absolutely KILLED IT in the clubs back in the day.

-----------------

Despite popular belief, Patrick genuinely loves Shaun. Shaun is Patricks everything next to Michael. I think that if he wasn't so afraid of rushing Shaun's death, they would've been alot closer.

They're not siblings in every iteration, but I like to think most of the time they are. I like to think that there was a time that Patrick got to actually love Shaun, but he realized that no matter what he does, he's just going to lose them anyways, so what even is the point?

Although, I genuinely don't think he expected HABIT to cut Shaun up, that REALLY fucking killed Patrick.

Vinnie and HABIT really fucked with the timeline and i mean, that's what Patrick wanted. That's WHY he warned Vinnie back in the 80s.

So I think he blames himself entirely for the loss of both stormy and Shaun. And I mean he's not exactly wrong which is the worst part for him. it quite literally is his fault this keeps happening.

Hes a sick selfish parasite who does nothing but spread diseases to those he cares about.

------------------

Patrick can play many instruments I know that for sure, and I think he can sing.

He's always had just the heart of a performer in him. Like if he had his choice, or his freedom, he would take the first opportunity to climb onto a stage and show off his talents as if to say; "LOOK AT ME!!! IM WORTH SOMETHING!! I HAVE SOMETHING TO GIVE!!"

Because I think no matter what Patrick is always going to remain hungry for attention, and to be loved by many. He wants his chance in the spotlight, he wants his time to shine, and he's gonna do anything he can to get that moment. he KNOWS there's no escaping and no stopping what goes on, but he might as well make himself WORTH something.

--------------

I believe that Patrick has known a previous iteration of the emh guys, (this IS canon, but I think they were friends, and VERY close) But I think that Patrick and Vinnie were the closest.

there's just something about the way he talks to Vinnie in the Princeton tapes, it's as if he's known him his whole life. like he knows exactly what makes Vinnie tick and how he acts and how he'd answer him.

And sure you could say that it was the collective giving that kind of information out, but I would have to DISAGREE!!!!!!!!

Patrick feels solidarity with Vinnies situation and I really like the way they contrast each other.

Vinnie is just a guy who's more like a monster and Patrick is a monster who is more like a guy.

I like them. alot.

------------

I HAVE SO MANY MORE SO PLEASE DONT BE AFRAID TO ASK ME FOR HCS. I LOVE GETTING THEM AND ANSWERING THEM

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alilbatflies · 4 months

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Hi there, just found your "just cake" fic and I am interested in how it continues.

What i'm saying is, please continue this fic, villainxhenchman is now one of my favorite writeblr tags.

-@the-agency-archives

Hi! I'm glad you liked part 1. Now get ready for...

...

Just Cake #2

The commonly known thing about old-fashioned traps was that when they failed to trap you, you got to tease the creator of it relentlessly. A net, seriously? People have tried before, sweetheart. Better luck next time.

The inconvenient thing about old-fashioned traps was that when done properly, they did their job damn well. It was exceptionally embarrassing to get caught in one. You should have seen that coming. Alas, you didn’t. Fool.

The henchman had tried pushing the villain out of the way once they noticed the trap. So now they were both caught. The villain hovered over them in the really quite cramped space of the net. Wasn’t that wonderful?

The villain gave the net a testing jerk. It didn’t do them any good.

“Who the fuck even uses nets these days?” the villain hissed.

“It does seem we’re quite literally trapped, boss.”

“No, we’re fuckin– not–” the villain tugged on the net violently– “UNSTUCK YOURSELF!”

“That’s not how traps work, boss.”

It was a definitely never to be mentioned ever again kind of situation, really.

The villain settled into a relative silence. They clawed at the net with one of their blades while growling and cursing occasionally. They tended to be silent most of the time, but the henchman knew very well just how varied their cursing vocabulary was.

They were sure the villain had far exceeded their word limit for the day. Their voice was furious. Cutting.

But not cutting enough to slice through the ropes.

Henchman smiled at their internal commentary; glad they didn’t blurt it out like they so often managed.

There was nothing better to do, and so they watched the villain struggle. They hung really quite skillfully above the henchman, somehow not falling down on top of them. Not that the henchman would especially mind. It was quite cold out there.

They briefly wondered who would even set up a trap that far out in the woods. The obvious answer was someone who lived around. Secret hideouts and all that jazz.

The thing which bothered them the most however was that whoever set the trap up was skilled. Skilled enough to have them both trapped. The villain especially was not easily trapped. Once that whoever came around, they would still be stuck and practically at their mercy. The henchman doubted there would be mercy to be found.

The net moved under the villain’s persistent attempts.

Cold air breezed past. The henchman came to the conclusion that someone showing up was better than freezing to death.

The villain’s yell startled them out of their thoughts.

“SCREW THAT!”

“Screw me,” please.

The villain obviously stopped themself from cursing again, turning to look at the henchman. “Hm?” they said, which henchman translated as ‘you’ve said something?’

“Nothing.” Here we go again. Saying stuff.

The villain measured the few nicks they managed to inconvenience the rope with. They huffed an exhale. “That’s not going to work, is it?”

“I’d presume we won’t be able to get out of a net specifically made to capture and hold magical things, boss.”

The villain huffed another exhale. They hid their knife. Then they looked down at the henchman, slumping slightly.

“Do you suppose I could sort of hm… flop down on you? Really uncomfortable up here.”

“Conserve your energy.”

The villain slumped on top of them.

The net was quite uncomfortable under their back even before, but with the added weight, it reached a whole new stage of discomfort. There was nothing the henchman could do about that. Except for maybe miraculously breaking them both out of the trap and acting like it never happened. A minion could dream.

“You’re warm,” the villain said.

“Huh.” The henchman didn’t really manage to figure out a better reaction. They felt too warm entirely, just about bellow the boiling point. It definitely had nothing to do with their proximity. Nope. Not at all.

They both stayed perfectly still.

The henchman considered shuffling, but they had a feeling it would be even more uncomfortable than before.

“Do you regret anything?”

The villain seemed to mumble that mostly to themself, but given the whole situation, the henchman caught it anyway.

“Don’t think about dying yet, boss. We’ll have plenty of chances to make it out.”

The villain hummed, unconvinced.

The henchman hardly convinced themself, so it was no surprise. They decided to answer the villain’s question at least. Death loomed over them with the deft finality of a trap shutting down with chilling-to-the-bones precision. Just like it did.

Nothing to lose but the vague concept of dignity, huh?

“I regret ruining your birthday cake.”

The villain was perfectly still for a moment. Then they lifted themself to look the henchman in the eyes. “My what?”

“Well… you see, the thing that splattered on your doorstep… on your birthday day?”

The villain blinked.

The henchman looked away. It was such an awkward thing, wasn’t it? Of all the things they could have chosen… then again. You make someone cake and then you drop it like a clumsy tool. The sole act of baking the villain cake was borderline ridiculous and entirely unprofessional, too.

“You know when my birthday is?”

“You mentioned you were born on Vampire Day once, in relation to the Candle Parade, so that’s a day after the autumn equinox, so… That’s that.”

The villain hummed quietly, thinking. They rested back down.

The henchman held perfectly still, as if that could somehow remove all of their embarrassment. They measured their breathing, for all it was worth. They had a feeling the villain could sense how uncomfortable they were anyway, but hopefully played it on the whole stuck-in-a-net situation.

“Nobody’s ever given me birthday cake before.”

“Oh, really?” The henchman tried to see the villain’s face. It was a whole new of an uncomfortable movement, so they stopped.

“You’re the first.”

“But I’ve…” Ruined it. Splattered it. Fucked up spectacularly. “…dropped it.”

“Worse things happen,” the villain said. “I appreciate the effort.”

“I didn’t even wish you… anything.” It had been a busy day. The henchman forgot about the villain’s birthday, except for all of the inconvenient times when they really couldn’t say their thing. Like in the middle of a fight, when they were in the bathroom, or when the villain finally fell asleep and the henchman didn’t want to wake them up.

Might as well fix that now. “Happy belated birthday.”

“Hm. Thank you.”

It made the henchman very comfortably warm. Convenient for the villain, they supposed, since they were being used as a personal heater at the moment.

“What’s your regret?”

“Hm?” The villain sounded almost startled.

“Your regret.” Henchman tried to adjust their head to get at least a little bit more comfortable. It only got worse. They rested back to the way they were. “You know my regret. I want to know yours.”

It took the villain a long time to make a sound again. The henchman thought perhaps they crossed the professional line too far, stepped just beyond the acceptable. They prepared their sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that but the villain spoke first.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

They are very fidgety all of a sudden. But at least they sounded like the henchman’s head might stay on their neck.

“So.” The villain cleared their throat. They searched for words and seemed to come out short.

“You don’t have to tell me if you’d prefer not to.”

“No, I’m…” The villain inhaled deeply. In a wave of composure, they spoke at once: “Actually, it partly involves you—I mean, it entirely involves you—and the thing is that you, sincerely–”

The villain’s attention shifted.

The henchman felt the silence settle over them. The last words were like stones falling into the lake, vanishing to leave but circles running on the surface.

In the silence, the henchman finally registered the someone moving closer.

The villain shifted in an attempt of a defence position despite the power-suppressing net and the inconveniently squished henchman underneath them. They bared their teeth in a snarl.

“Look who we’ve caught,” an entirely too sweet voice said. “Well, aren’t you two adorable?”

#snippet #writeblr #writing #creative writing #heroes and villains #villains #villain x villain #villain x henchman #i copied the text to tumblr and did the whole formatting thing and then i found the internet connection had just vanished since its stormy #luckily it saved in a blip of internet before our internet shut down entirely #but yeah that was a Stressful moment #anyways. hope you enjoy the second part

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nerevar-quote-and-star · 2 months

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Yet another wild crackship between my LDB and some Skyrim dumbo, but this time it's General Tullius, and it actually gets madder from there

Look, a lot of this surprised me too. It sure surprised @elder-dragon-reposes and yet it makes sense and that's the strange beauty of it

He could be forgiven for not seeing her at Helgen. Between Ulfric's capture and the following dragon attack, Tullius had his hands full with escaped prisoners and a town in ruins. Not to mention Elenwen's attempts to take over his execution. One half-elf caught in the crossfire was below his attention at the time. When she came into Castle Dour, a cold wind in her wake as she spoke about fire and death, he had no choice but to pay attention to her. Especially when she brought up things like "peace" and "ceasefire." This Last Dragonborn was out of her mind.

Yet somehow, she led him into an agreement to meet with the Stormcloaks at High Hrothgar.

Tullius isn't quite sure he likes that. She's as double-edged as any Thalmor diplomat with her words. As noble as her intentions appear on the surface, he's not sure he can trust her.

At High Hrothgar, the Last Dragonborn, Leara, leads both sides into an agreement where no one gets what they want, but no one is worse off, and she plans to trap a dragon in a castle.

She . . . plans to trap a dragon in a castle.

Tullius knows he was sent to Skyrim to tame the rebellion, but no one ever prepared him for how maddening the people of Skyrim were. No one is as maddening as the Nords' hero. Tullius cannot understand her. He's not sure he wants to, all things considered.

The Legate is amused by his consternation. He knows this even without her saying anything. But Tullius is worried. This Leara has the power to sway Skyrim in whatever way she chooses, and if she joins the Stormcloaks, then he has a feeling that the Empire might lose more than Skyrim before all is over.

He keeps an ear out for the Dragonborn's movements. His spy network throughout Skyrim is extensive: If she breathes in Windhelm's direction, if she says anything about the Civil War, then he'll need to be ready. This woman has slain dragons. He doesn't want to see what she'll do to a legion of mortal men. Tullius needs to be ready.

Tullius is not ready when Leara walks into Castle Dour again, armorless and prim as she waltzs into his war room. Legate Rikke greets her, but Tullius pretends to give half an ear. He looks like he's going through reports, but he's trying to keep an eye on the anomaly in the room.

Legate Rikke and the Dragonborn talk quietly together. And then the Dragonborn leaves and Tullius finally puts down his paperwork. Legate Rikke is frowning.

"What did she want?"

The Legate's attention snaps to him.

"She wanted to know about our support from Cyrodiil, sir." "Support?" "She mentioned your inability to negotiate a peace settlement, General."

Tullius recalled that. He'd told the Dragonborn he couldn't do more than accept Ulfric's surrender. But why did the Dragonborn want to know about the Imperials' ability to negotiate with the rebels? Didn't she already get her peace treaty and trap her dragon?

Tullius cannot wrap his head around her. Everything his spies have reported paints her as kindness. Even the coldest Nords seem to thaw around her. But Tullius can't base his understanding of such a power player like the Dragonborn on reports and a handful of interactions. He'd have to speak with her himself.

The Winking Skeever is busy when he steps in. A few heads turn, but otherwise, no one pays Tullius any particular attention. The Dragonborn isn't difficult to find, either: She's at a corner table with her nose buried in a dusty book.

Tullius makes his way over to her.

The Dragonborn is surprised to see him but still invites Tullius to sit at her table.

"I assume this is about my discussion with your legate earlier."

She's perceptive. But Tullius already knew that.

"Do you always discuss politics in a bar?"

At his question, the Dragonborn offers a little half-smile, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Do you?"

No. Honestly, Tullius couldn't recall the last tie he even visited a bar or tavern other than while traveling. Perhaps he was working too late, but between the Civil War, Elenwen, the dragons, and (maybe) the Dragonborn, he couldn't afford to slack off. Why else would Tullius chase the Dragonborn down to the local inn?

"Have you read much about Skyrim?"

Her question surprises him.

"War commentaries mostly. Military history."

The nod of her precise head is measured as if she expected that response. Marking her page, she closes her book and shows him the cover. It's some thick tome he's never heard of, but the knotwork dragon design around the edges breathes of old Nordic craftsmanship.

"As Dragonborn . . . [she pauses for a long moment] . . . As Dragonborn, I am highly invested in the preservation of the Empire and Skyrim."

She chews her lip.

Tullius almost asks if she's about to join the Legion. He can't deny that he'd hoped that would be her ultimate decision, but sitting here across from the Dragonborn as she was now, deliberating over words and tapping her book's cover, Tullius knew she wasn't about to swear fealty to the Emperor.

When she continues, she speaks slowly.

"General Tullius, would you be willing to help me? I need to reach out to people in the Imperial City about a peace summit, and I don't know where to begin."

A peace summit?

"I take it Ulfric didn't put you up to this?"

Her frown is surprising.

"No, he didn't. I asked him."

The Dragonborn asked Ulfric if she could talk to the Empire about a peace summit?

Before he could ask what in Oblivion that was supposed to mean, the server brought a tea service to the table. Just as quickly, he was gone.

"Would you care for a cup, General? I'm afraid all they have is lavender honey." "I . . . would like that--" "Leara."

She supplied. Her lips quirked.

So Tullius found himself ensconced at a table in The Winking Skeever and discussing different politicians and diplomats back in the Imperial City with the Dragonborn – Leara. He's halfway through his second cup when she admits that she's trying to find a peaceful resolution to the Civil War that could please everyone. He calls her a hopeful idiot, but she smiles.

"You can't please everyone." "Well, I don't think I can please the Dominion, but I can tie them in legal knots."

Leara wiggles her fingers at him, her rings glittering in the candlelight, and Tullius finds himself speechless.

If the Dragonborn – Leara – can tie the Thalmor up with a loophole, how imminent would their retaliation be? Tullius is at once intrigued and put off.

She was mad.

"Here, you'll want to write . . ."

But by the Divines, he was going to help her anyway, wasn't he? If Leara could talk Ulfric off his warpath, then maybe there was something to her hair-brained scheme.

Tullius sees Leara a few days later. She's been to the Blue Palace and the Bards College, she tells him when he meets her again at the 'Skeever. She's combing through maps and treaties, drafting letters, and making lists. Her mind is running at speeds Tullius can't comprehend, and yet she keeps looking to him for advice.

As Leara stirs a lump of sugar into her snowberry spice tea and peruses another list, Tullius wonders if she did this with Ulfric when she went to ask him to consider peace.

Her penmanship is as poised as the rest of her. He cannot see her against the harsh stony backdrop of Windhelm, amidst the snow and vitriol. She's too civilized for Skyrim. She's almost too civilized for Cyrodiil, but Tullius won't think of that.

He doesn't have a chance to give it much thought anyway when she's asking him about neutrality and the terms of the Concordat.

It's late when Tullius leaves her the second time. As he leaves, she's carrying a stack of papers upstairs. She has a hopeful lift in her step.

Tullius almost smiles.

Almost.

The next morning, Legate Rikke drops a new report on his desk. It's from Captain Aldis.

"What's this, Legate?" "There was a break-in, sir." "And we're concerned with this, because?"

Legate Rikke's jaw tightens, her eyes are wide. Whatever it is has unsettled her.

"It was at The Winking Skeever."

She sighs. Heavy. It's a familiar frustration.

"General, I believe that the Thalmor were exercising their Concordat-given rights."

A pit settles in Tullius's stomach.

"They took the Dragonborn, sir." "On what grounds?" "It doesn't say. sir. It doesn't even mention the Thalmor at all. But you know–"

Tullius doesn't hear the rest of the sentence because he realizes his mistake. He should never have discussed the possibility of an armistice with Leara in a public room. Who overheard her? Who saw Leara's notes and lists and books? Who ratted her out to the Thalmor?

Tullius's fist clenches, his knuckles pale. The one person with a Divine's chance in Oblivion to bring a favorable resolution to the Civil War and the Thalmor took her like every Talos worshipper the Empire was supposed to turn a blind eye too.

He paces around his office. Legate Rikke has left him alone, and now all Tullius can do is think and walk. Turn. Think and walk. Turn. The cycle repeats throughout his office. He only suspects that the Thalmor took Leara. Without concrete proof, he can't accuse them or he'll risk something far more uncomfortable than paperwork. But if he does nothing, then every hope for peace in Skyrim vanishes in the Dragonborn's wake.

Tullius stopped in the middle of his office, standing at a crossroads. Was it possible to ascertain that the Thalmoor abducted Leara and to request her freedom without bringing Elenwen down on his head? Probably not. But . . .

Tullius recalled the wide eyes, the fear swimming in the teary blue when Leara was faced with Elenwen at High Hrothgar. At the time, Tullius didn't think much of the Dragonborn's aversion to her. Most people hated the Thalmor Ambassador on a good day. But the terror that flickered in Leara's face before she grew cold and distant and manipulated the entire table to her own ends came back to him.

No, Tullius knew Elenwen personally had the Dragonborn. There was a history there he couldn't see, but it peeked at the edges of his vision in brilliant horror.

Elenwen had Leara, and she wouldn't let the half-elf go lightly.

If Leara could cheat an entire room of warring politicians and soldiers while ensuring a truce, then Tullius could sure as Hell try to manipulate Elenwen.

Sitting at his desk, the General ruled out any official Legion channels. Those would be tied back to him and ruin any chance Leara had of negotiating her armistice. Something under the table, then.

Mercenaries were messy. Robbing Elenwen would take a different hand. He grimaces and drafts a letter.

General . . .

The messenger hawk returns the next evening. Tullius doesn't want to think about why the hawk returned so quickly. He just hoped his charade would hold.

(Writing Galmar Stone-Fist of all people to encourage a Stormcloak raid on Northwatch Keep was something Tullius knew he could never live down if it got back to any of his superiors in Cyrodiil. He couldn't trust that General Stone-Fist would take an anonymous tip at face value, but as Leara soliloquised late that last night,)

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

It's four long days of giving only half his attention to his job before an Imperial scout reports that the Stormcloaks attacked the Thalmor fortress of Northwatch. When the Legion got there, nothing was left but smoldering ruins.

"They had a dragon, sir."

Tullius didn't want to know how they had a dragon, but he was optimistic that it meant Leara made it out of there alive.

With the Stormcloaks, but alive.

He sleeps through the night for the first time in over a week. When Tullius wakes up, he wonders how he could turn to the rebels to save the Dragonborn. Effective, yes, but it went against everything he was supposed to represent.

But she's alive.

She would be dead or worse off if he hadn't done it.

Tullius uses that thought to bolster himself through the coming weeks.

Then, a letter addressed to Tullius comes by way of Whiterun of all places. He recognizes the slender script curling his name across the paper. It's a short letter asking him to retrieve her belongings from her room at the 'Skeever. Two things stand out to him: The first is the thank you. Tullius cannot tell what Leara means by it because he knows that Stone-Fist didn't know who sent the tip about Northwatch. And yet there's a tearstain on the parchment, small and alone as if any others were quickly dashed away after the first one fell. The second is that all her books, papers, the things she worked on for her peace talk were all hidden in a panel behind the bookshelf in her boardroom.

Tullius didn't even think of Leara losing all her work. He was more concerned about getting her out. He was more worried about her than anything else.

Tullius buries his face in his hands.

This was a familiar feeling. It'd been years since the last time he felt like this.

Although, Tullius gave himself a wry smile, he doubted he'd have betrayed the Empire for the Countess of Anvil's cousin.

Tullius goes early the next morning to retrieve Leara's things, hidden or otherwise. A member of his spy network is tasked with getting the parcels to a Lydia in Whiterun. Then Tullius watches as every connection he has to the Dragonborn disappears out the doors of Castle Dour.

It's back to the everyday humdrum of war, then.

Until, some months later, a familiar half-elf comes into Solitude. Now, she's accompanied by a dark-haired Nord woman in heavy armor. Her stormy expression and hawkish eyes remind Tullius of Rikke at times. Leara introduces her as Lydia, her housecarl. Then Leara is handing him a folio of papers.

"I've been corresponding with some of the Elder Council. I'm planning a summit in Whiterun."

He takes the folio from her.

"What's this?" "My draft for a permanent peace treaty. I thought that since you helped me, you'd like to peruse it. Of course, I need to get it to Jarl Elisif when you're finished."

That Leara is offering to let him be a part of her peace treaty isn't lost on Tullius. He sets the folio on the table but leaves his hand on top, protecting it.

"I can come back for it tomorrow." "I'll get it back to you tonight."

Legate Rikke coughs, obviously. Tullius adds,

". . . we can discuss it over dinner, if you like?"

Leara's smile is full.

"I would like that."

They don't end up talking much about the draft. But Tullius gives Leara some of his favorite brandy after their dinner of roast lamb and stewed vegetables. Her giggle is light and airy, and her hand is cool like spring water when he takes it across the table.

Perhaps he drank more than he should have, but liquid courage was a reassuring friend.

At the end of the night, Leara, tipsy and yet all grace, presses a petal soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. She pulls away.

His hands slide up her arms, callused fingers catching on the soft linen of her sleeves. And he pulls her back and kisses her, full and properly on the mouth.

Leara tastes of tea and winter and something floral and frosted. There's more than magic in her mouth – there's music and mercy. If Tullius wasn't drunk before, he finds himself intoxicated on Leara.

She strokes his face, smiling, always smiling, and then backs away. Her eyes are bright and liquid and as deep as Lake Rumare. In the low glow of golden orange firelight, she is beautiful.

He loves her.

He doesn't say it, and soon she's gone, slipping through doors into the night. An angel passing from the room.

The next day, he finds that she left him her address. It had been a long time since Tullius even tried to write a love letter. They were never his strong suit, but Leara had a way of inspiring madness in him. He wrote her.

And Leara wrote him back.

Again and again and again.

Tullius doesn't expect for his presence to be needed when the summit is called in Whiterun. The Empire has its own group of delegates to negotiate the terms of Skyrim's division. But still, Elisif the Fair says that General Tullius has been asked to attend. The young queen seems as if she can't quite believe it, but she was often wide-eyed and overwhelmed as it was.

(Maybe Julia was right. He should listen to Elisif more. But pretty soon, it was likely Tullius would never see the Queen of Solitude again.)

Leara is there in Whiterun, laying out the terms of the Armistice with the light and delicacy he'd come to expect from her. How many others here knew she was anxious that things would crumble apart, that things would come to blows, and that the war would escalate for all her efforts to temper the fire?

Ulfric's face is a dark stormcloud, but somehow the Jarl of Windhelm appears to hold his tongue around the Dragonborn. He watches her, defers to her, and in return, Leara smiles at him.

Tullius is simply in an advisory position for the Imperial delegates to mine information on the state of the Civil War and the Imperial Legion. He never speaks to Ulfric, and seldom to Leara during the weeklong summit. But he sees the Jarl speak to her between sessions. Leara is quiet and nods. Her eyes are faraway and thoughtful.

Tullius remembers that when she first brought the idea of the summit to him, Leara mentioned that she convinced Ulfric to agree to it. For the first time, Tullius wonders how Leara went about winning Ulfric Stormcloak to her side.

His chest burns.

When the Armistice is signed and Skyrim divided in two–

"Divided, you can finally be united."

Leara said.

–there is a feast. Leara is in demand all night. Tullius watches from the sidelines, some Cyrodilic brandy in hand as he watches one person after another flit around her, bees buzzing around a blooming rose. After a while, Tullius gets up and retires to the quiet of the Dragonsreach porch.

He isn't out there long when the doors open again. From the dark stairwell where he sat, he saw Leara flit by, orbited by Ulfric.

Tullius's hand tightened on his glass.

"You must be relieved that's over." "I'm glad we could reach a resolution."

She deflected Ulfric's concern with a wave of her hand.

But Tullius knew the truth: She was terrified of the summit. She was terrified she'd fail.

"What will you do now?"

Leara's question broke through Tullius's thoughts.

Ulfric shifted.

"There's much to do. Skyrim hasn't been in a state like this since the Second Era. I'll need to work quickly to bring stability to the east before we can truly reap any of tonight's rewards." "You have a busy schedule, Jarl Ulfric! [her laugh is musical] Even when my work ends, you still have so much to do!" "Leara . . ."

There's a hesitation in Ulfric's voice that Tullius never would have imagined from the man who Shouted High King Torygg apart. Leara's responding,

"Yes, Ulfric?"

is careful.

"I was hoping that you would come to Windhelm with me. To help me." "Help you? As an advisor? Certainly, but–" "Not as an advisor. Not . . . as you're thinking. Leara, surely you must know what I feel for you." "Oh."

If Tullius didn't fear being caught, he'd have stormed from the porch. Or over to Ulfric and pushed him off. Or something. His blood was rushing in his ears.

Certainly, he and Leara hadn't truly defined what it was between them. This week was the first time he'd seen her since kissing her that night in Solitude, and in this week, they'd hardly been alone together long enough to discuss anything beyond the summit and the usual pleasantries.

But her letters were candid and funny and full of ideas. Her mind spilled across the page in curling and shifting lines.

Tullius knew then that while he had Leara's mind, there was every possibility that Ulfric had her heart. She was as divided as Skyrim was.

"Ulfric–" "While Skyrim was at war, I knew I couldn't give you the attention you deserved. But now that we can have some peace, I wish to ask you for your hand. Leara, you ignite a fire in my chest that burns my heart when you are near. Please do me the honor of agreeing to marry me."

There's silence. Long, drawn-out silence. Somewhere on the plains, a wolf howls. Its cry echoes the pain in Tullius's chest.

"Ulfric . . ."

Leara's voice is choked, emotional but she is forcing it down.

"Ulfric, you're very dear to me, but I can't marry you."

It was only Ulfric's loud,

"You can't? Why?"

That covered the sound of Tullius's brandy glass slipping to shatter on the stone stairs.

Leara hesitated.

"I can't give you my heart because it belongs to someone else. I can't take it back." "Who?"

Leara quieted.

"Please, Leara, if you won't marry me, then allow me the courtesy of knowing who I lost you to!" "I–"

Leara choked.

Tullius's heart sped up as his hands shook. He was as anxious as Ulfric to hear her answer.

"You won't like it." "Who is it? Galmar? I know he was the one to pull you from that Thalmor pit."

Divines. That would just be the cherry on top of this entire fiasco, wouldn't it?

"No, not . . . It's . . . General Tullius."

The silence that followed was more deafening than any that proceeded it. Even from the darkened stairwell, Tullius could since the thunder around Ulfric, rumbling silent and yet violent.

"You won't marry me because you're in love with Tullius?" "If that's how you want to put it, yes, that's it." "Leara – I, he . . ."

For once, all of Ulfric's fine speeches seemed to fail him.

"Please don't be upset."

Leara's voice is as soothing as the first spring rain, as far apart from Ulfric's hurricane as possible.

There was a rustle of skirts.

"You are a very important person to me, for more than you can possibly know, but I can't give you the love you want. It's not mine to give you." "But Tullius–" "Has been so vital to me during these last several months. We would not have this peace if not for him. I needed him." "I need you." "I know, but I've given you all I can. I can't give you any more."

Tullius peeks around the corner far enough to see Leara on her tiptoes. She whispers something in Ulfric's ear, then presses a fleeting kiss to his cheek. Tullius ducks back just in time to be hidden as Ulfric turns and leaves the porch. The doors shut behind him with a whisper of finality.

"You can come out now, General."

Tullius's knees are stiff as he gets up from the steps. Leara is waiting for him in the middle of the porch, her red hair a dark contrast against the white gold of her skin and the pale ivory of her gown. She's aetheric in the moon and aurora lights.

"I hope you finished your brandy before the glass fell."

His neck grows warm with embarrassment.

"Is that how you knew I was there?"

Leara's coy smile was her only answer. Yes, then. Well.

"Ulfric Stormcloak proposed to you." "Yes, he did." "And you turned him down." "Yes, I did. " "Why . . ."

Her hand was on the side of his face. She was perhaps a hairsbreadth taller than him, maybe an inch, but her hand felt so small against his face that Tullius couldn't help but reach up and clasp it with his own for fear that it slip away.

"I thought you were eavesdropping." "Well, I wouldn't say that–" "And, therefore, would know why I turned Ulfric down."

Tullius tries to swallow, but his throat is tight. Leara's hand is cool against his skin, and he takes comfort in that.

"You love me." "Yes, I do."

Her smile is radiant.

Tullius's hand slips from Leara's, but then his arms are around her waist, pulling her into him. She is slim and cool and everything a flower in winter might be. He buries his nose in her neck, amidst the frost and flowers.

"I love you."

She doesn't reply. She only tightens her arms around his torso. They stand there in the quiet of the night, away from the celebrations but togehter under the stars.

Later, when Tullius returns to Solitude for the last time, he packs his things for the return to the Imperial City. He takes his bags to the docks.

And there Leara is waiting for him, Lydia her housecarl in tow. She smiles at him, full and vivid.

"You're late. My trunks are already on board. Right, Lydia?"

Lydia rolls her eyes.

"All eleven of them, my Thane."

Tullius chuckles, quiet.

Leara's hand finds his, and he helps her up the gangplank of the Imperial Naval ship. It would be a long voyage, but Leara had never sailed before, so that would be their mode of transportation back to the Imperial City.

"What will we do when we get there?"

Leara's question is teasing and free of the burden of being Dragonborn and peacemaker. There were still the Thalmor to worry about, but after the ruin of Northwatch and the signing of the armistice, Tullius hoped they'd think thrice before going after Leara again.

"I'll buy you expensive teas and you'll drain my accounts on tea and books."

Her giggle rang out amidst the sounds of the ship preparing to leave the harbor.

"Oh yes, that must be why I've gone and married you."

Tullius pulled his wife to his side and slipped his arm around her waist.

"Must be."

It couldn't possibly be that she was the most maddening thing in the world and she drove him mad by proximity.

Madly in love.

What nonsense.

fin

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unexpectedstormy · 10 months

Note

Prompt ask: Cuddles

Bonus points if it includes Wild, Hyrule, Legend, and/or Ravio or Wolfie 💜

Oops. Here's 1051 words of everyone's favorite chaos duo (and Epona too!) somehow managing mischief even when trapped in an icy sinkhole.

******

"Well this is fun," Wild said, hands on his hips and looked up at the tall and ice-covered walls of the circular pit they were in.

"I wouldn't call being portaled into an inescapable icy sinkhole as fun," Hyrule said.

"At least we got the horse," Wild glanced Epona who made an annoyed horse noise and shook her mane.

"And we got everyone's stuff too," Hyrule said eyeing Epona's saddlebags. "We should look through them and see if there's anything we can use to get out of here like a hookshot or something."

"Good idea, ehehehe, and we have a rare opportunity to see what cool stuff they've got hidden away," Wild said.

Three raided sweets stashes, two explosions, and one weirdly angry bottled bee later and the two boys found nothing that could help them escape their icy prison; annoyingly, the rest of their companions had kept their mobility items on their person for the portal jump.

“I hope everyone else is okay out there,” Hyrule said making a little next out of blankets and clothes from everyone’s bags. “The sky is clear tonight which means it is going to be very cold.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Wild said piling blankets on Epona’s back. “Probably. Hopefully…. They better be.”

“How thick do you think this ice is?” Hyrule tapped a bare patch of dark blue ice that filled the entire bottom of the sinkhole. “It looks thick enough to tolerate a fire, don’t you think?”

“If it can hold the weight of a fully-laden horse I’m sure it’s thick enough for a bonfire, let alone a regular campfire.”

“Oh? Bonfire time? I’ll start setting it up!”

“Don’t get too crazy,” Wild cautioned. “I’d rather not go swimming if we can help it. Also, you don’t happen to have any grass or hay for Epona in your pack do you?”

“Uh, sorry, no. I only have breadsticks, salted ham, and all of Warriors’ candy.”

“Hmm. Alright. Sorry girl, looks like you’re having only apples and carrots for dinner.”

Epona made a horse noise that was the equivalent of “I really don’t mind. Give me all the apples and carrots you got.”

******

Two hours later, Hyrule and Wild were cozied up together in the blanket and clothing nest well fed and sitting in front of the roaring bonfire with Epona standing close behind on her own bed of blankets laid down for her (sorry Legend, they’re your blankets).

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?” Wild asked. Hyrule sighed.

“Probably a while. The others have no way to know that we’re down here. It’s not like we walked here and left tracks or a trail for Wolfie to follow.”

“I have enough apples for Epona to last two or three days at the most, then we’ll have to start sharing our food with her,” Wild said. “I love you Epona, but I’d rather not give you all the wheat and rice I have, which isn’t very much to start with.”

“I wonder if she likes salted ham,” Hyrule pondered. “Or candy.”

“She probably does,” Wild shrugged. “They say horses are omnivores. Isn’t that right, girl?”

Epona made a horse noise that meant “I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.”

“Despite the literal icy prison we’re in, this isn’t so bad,” Hyrule mused. “We’ve got a bigger fire than Time normally lets us make, all the blankets we could ever want, and nobody to fight with over the food. We can eat as much bread and meat skewers and other people’s sweets as we want.”

“You know what? You’re right,” Wild agreed. “Let’s enjoy being in ice jail while we’re here.”

“I hope they don’t find us anytime soon,” Hyrule said. “We’ve only just begun to scratch the surface of exploring what’s in everyone’s packs.”

“Hehe, then let’s get back to it… in the morning,” Wild yawned. “I’m tired and it’s cold.”

“Sure thing,” Hyrule said and nestled even further down into the blankets like a kitten.

******

“Well you guys look cozy,” a voice woke both Wild and Hyrule in the early morning.

“Twilight!” Wild exclaimed disentangling himself from the blanket pile he’d burrowed into. “What are you doing here?!”

“Looking for you two. And Epona. And all our stuff. Which it looks like you took the liberty of exploring.”

“You realize this is an ice-filled sinkhole and we can’t get out of here right?” Hyrule said. “You just trapped yourself down here with us.”

“How do you think I got down here?” Twilight rattled the climbing harness and the rope that connected him to the upper rim of the sinkhole. Sky and Legend waved down at them. Hyrule waved back and Wild gave them a thumbs up.

“Oh yay, we’re saved,” Hyrule said apathetically.

“Why don’t you sound excited?” Twilight asked. “We’re going to fish you out of this hole.”

“Is everyone else alright?” Wild asked.

“Yeah, everyone’s fine. We all managed to find the same hunting cabin and stayed the night there.”

“How did you even find us?” Hyrule asked.

“We saw your smoke signal,” Twilight motioned to the smoldering remains of their bonfire. “You went a little crazy, didn’t ya?” Hyrule giggled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wild said.

“It’s a perfectly ordinary regular-sized campfire,” Hyrule said.

“Neigh,” Epona disagreed.

“Are you two going to get up or just sit there wrapped in blankets like a pair of hibernating bears?”

“Alright, alright, we’re going,” Wild reluctantly stood up and Hyrule groaned and wrapped the blankets around his shoulders even tighter.

“Four’s making berry porridge at the cabin, so if you want some before Wind eats it all, you two had better hurry up,” Twilight said.

“The question is how do we get Epona out of the pit?” Hyrule asked.

“That’s the easy part,” Wild said. “I have horse armor that can teleport the horse. All I—or you or Time—have to do is to whistle the horse-call song and poof! There she is beside you.”

“What? Seriously? That’s so cool!” Hyrule exclaimed.

“Let’s do that then,” Twilight said. “You two get up and pack up and we’ll rappel you up.”

“This has been one short lived vacation,” Hyrule said. “But it was a good one.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Wild agreed.

The End.

#an unexpected ask #ask game #I don't pretend to know anything about horses or horse noises #I remember nothing from my elementary school horse phase #linked universe #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu epona #lu twilight #crack #fluff #stormy writes

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