#it was so much fun doing these events this week!!

[fan-goddess]

First Week Of School

Request: By @slytherincursebreaker for me to make a written version of this artwork that I highly recommend you go look at before reading! They never cease to amaze me with their work!

Summary: Penelope it seems has been using words she doesn’t fully understand…

Authors Note: As you can see I had too much fun writing about domestic Michael. But do I care? Nope!

Taglist: @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @slytherincursebreaker @tumblin-theworldaway

Warnings: Pregnancy, hormones, smutty talk, discussions of a sexual nature (if I miss any let me know!)

Michael Gavey never thought he would ever have kids, let alone a wife, or even a girlfriend at that. Yet that all changed when in his first class of his first year at Oxford, he met you. Granted, he’d been an absolute idiotic prat, as he himself had put it. Yet somehow you kept on coming back to hang out with him with a smile on your face.

Even when Oliver Quick abandoned him in the pub at the drop of a hat just so he could get five minutes of stupid Cattons time and attention like some kind of desperate puppy, you managed to sneak away from your much more popular friends and catch up with him while he was headed back to his accommodation. And when he asked why, you’d said it was all to ask if he was okay and wanted someone to talk to.

In all honesty It was probably the first moment is sort of clocked in Michael’s head that he liked you as more than a friend.

He somehow managed to keep hanging out with you rest of the school year. Even plucking up the courage from not even he knows where to ask you for your phone number so he could talk to you during the holidays when he’d be forced to go back to his parents house.

When the next school year came around in September though, it was with great pride when he practically peacocked his way back to campus with you on his arms and his virginity long gone behind him.

And by the end of Oxford, he had a ring in his pocket just waiting to be placed on your finger, which soon was done by the end of that year.

Years went by since Oxford though, and yours and his lives changed for the better as the two of you moved in together in a nice quaint flat and eventually did manage to get married. It hadn’t been a very big event as the both of you only invited just a handful of guests, and yet it was easily the happiest days of yours and his lives.

It had been an especially emotional time when somehow both of you managed to start ugly crying at each other’s speeches.

Yet you easily managed to outcry yourself when two weeks after coming back from your honeymoon in America, or more specifically after a spontaneous trip to the airplane cubicle, you found yourself sitting on the toilet while Michael was away at work with a pregnancy test in hand, and four more sitting on the edge of the bath saying the same thing.

Pregnant.

You’d tried to surprise Michael that same day after finding out by surprising him when he came back from work, but it didn’t help as the so called ‘baby brain’ managed to somehow hit early, and somehow at the near exact time when Michael was walking through the front door about to greet you, you were frantically trying to put out the fire that had miraculously started on the now charcoal bun you’d placed in the about an hour ago in the oven.

“What on earth is going on?!” You hear Michael shout, his voice confused as he watches from the doorway you frantically try to throw the charcoal lump into the sink.

“It wasn’t my fault!” You say practically on the verge of tears as you try to blink through the sudden onslaught of tears.

“Hey hey hey none of that!” Michael says, dropping his leather satchel as he moves closer to you so he can take you in his arms and kiss the top of your head, while rubbing a comfortingly warm hand on your back. “What’s the issue love?”

“I-I-“ You begin, somehow crying even harder at Michael’s warm embrace. “I wanted to surprise you! But I ruined it!”

“We all forget things sometimes love, doesn’t make you any less smart! Now, what is it you wanted to surprise me with?”

“I…” You pause, stepping away slightly so you could grab his hand previously on your back and place it on your belly. “I’m pregnant Michael.”

You could swear you could see the exact moment his mind went numb, and you honestly don’t think you’ve seen a better state of his. Other than when he’s been fucked out of his mind of course.

“Are you serious?” He eventually says, knocking himself out of his little trance to look you dead in your eyes.

“Yeah darling,” You smile, beginning to tear up again when you see your husbands face slowly turn into his own delighted grin. “We’re having a baby!”

“We’re having a baby!” Michael repeats, his voice breaking as his own tears start falling. Scratch what you thought earlier about outcrying yourself in the bathroom earlier today, within five seconds Michaels already managed to outdo you again.

Over the next few months Michael was attentive as he could be with work and all that, and yet you honestly couldn’t have asked for anything better. Even when the baby was being born in the delivery room, Michael was standing next to you with his hand in yours, and very much ugly crying.

“Michael, you aren’t the one giving birth!” You groan, glaring up at him while you continue to groan in pain. Still, your ever sarcastic husband gave his very much expected sarcastic response while you continued to crush his hand in your own.

Though by the next day, you were holding his and yours daughter in your arms. A girl you both agreed to name Penelope.

The years went by quickly with Penelope in yours and Michaels lives, and it was with great sadness when you realised you wouldn’t get your little one to welcome you both home with a smile on her face, as Penelope’s starting date for primary school came soon approaching.

“Can’t she just start next year?” Michael asks, getting into bed with you and kissing the side of your head before grabbing the physics book on his side table.

“If she starts next year, she’ll be older than all the kids there. You don’t want people to think she got held back do you?” You smile, using your husband’s own doubts about her against him as you pretend to focus on your own book.

It takes everything in you not to burst out laughing at Michael’s little grumble he does out of the corner of your eye. You can’t see it, but you know for sure he’s got a little scrunched up glare on his face like he always does when he’s annoyed at something.

The next few days pass and Michael doesn’t bring up the idea of Penelope starting next year again. Though whether that’s fuelled by Michael’s fear of a held back daughter of something else you don’t know, as the first day of school soon approaches.

On the day however, everything starts smoothly as you make Penelope a healthy breakfast to get her through the day and make her a sufficient lunch box filled with food you’re pretty sure has the food she currently claims to like in.

Yet when you, Penelope and Michael get to the front gate of the school, that’s when the waterworks start. And it weren’t even started by Penelope nor yourself. In actuality it was Michael who began sniffling when your daughter walked into class for the first time all on her own, with her bright pink my little pony backpack strapped tight to her back paired with a bright smile on her face.

“Oh honey…” You sigh, putting your arms around him and tucking his head in the curve of your neck. It didn’t matter if his glasses were digging into your skin, or if his tears were leaving uncomfortable wet patches on your shirt. All that did matter was making sure Michael was feeling comforted and loved at that moment while other parents and children awkwardly stood around you.

“She’s not our little girl anymore…” He murmurs, his lips tickling your skin while his breath begins to slowly even out.

“She’ll always be our little girl Michael,” You say, kissing the top of his head before he moves away from you, his face a lovely shade of pink with embarrassment. “Whether she’s beginning primary school or finishing her A-levels, she will always be our little girl. Do you understand me?”

“Course I do you twit!” Michael says, rolling his eyes at not only you but at the mother he heard behind you gasp in shock at his little nickname, even when he most certainly knows he could’ve said a whole lot worse. Especially when he remembers the uni days and the whole range of vocabulary he used back then.

Still he ignores her as he grabs your hand to drag you back to the car so the two of you can go back home and get ready for work. And later that day when 3pm comes around, both you and Michael stand eagerly by the after school pick up point, with you watching with such fond eyes when you see Michael open his arms wide to give Penelope a big hug as she runs up to him, her own arms open as wide as they can go.

“Did you have a nice day sweetie?” You say, smiling as your daughter finally moves to look at you and give you your own small hug. Yet not as big of a one she gave Michael of course, as hell make sure to mention later on.

“Yeah mama!” She says, grinning loud and radiating pure joy as you and Michael lead her to the car with one of her hands in yours and the other in Michael’s. “I made lots new friends today!”

“Any boys?” Michael offhandedly asks, not really expecting an answer, but he certainly reacts like he was looking for one when your daughter actually answers with an enthusiastic yes and a handful of boy names. Totally oblivious to Michael’s genuinely horrified expression that makes you want to take out your phone and take a picture of it to make it your Home Screen picture.

“Well it’s a good thing you’ve made all these friends! Hasn’t it Michael?” You ask with a pointed stare and a harsh pinch to his leg after you’ve strapped in Penelope and got into the car together.

“Yeah yeah lots of friends I’m very proud of you sweetheart…” Michael says with gritted teeth, looking at you with his own glare telling you exactly what he thought of these new friends of your daughter. The topic of which he brought up again later that night, after eating dinner together, brushing teeth and getting into bed.

“I told you we should’ve let her wait another year…” Michael grumbles, glaring at the page of his book that he’d been on for the last ten minutes.

“And what would that simply achieve?” You ask him, turning the page of your own book. “It’s not like you’d be able to convince her cooties are real and to stay away from boys love, as the teachers would just intervene.”

“I could certainly try…” He simply says back, finally turning the page. You don’t engage with Michael anymore as you sigh while switching off your lamp and getting yourself comfortable between the sheets. Though before you shut your eyes you have to pull Michael down slightly to give him a deep loving kiss.

“Night love.” You say, shutting your eyes and acting oblivious to the flustered mess that is your husband sitting beside you. Yet when you hear his own shaky goodnight back you can’t help yourself from giggling slightly, before allowing sleep to take you.

The rest of the week though goes well, with a significantly less amount of tears from everyone while you drop Penelope off and pick her up from school. And by Friday, all three of you have managed to get yourselves in a good little routine.

“Now Michael, remember that I’ve got that meeting at work at 3 so I can’t pick up Penelope with you today!” You calmly say, focused on packing your daughter’s lunch box which according to her needs to have a cheesestring and a babybel so she can share with her friend Alex.

It’s adorable, so you allowed it almost instantly. Yet somehow it made it even better when you heard Michael two minutes after trying to interrogate your four year old daughter on whether Alex was a boy or a girl.

“Fine fine…” He groans, moving away with a roll of his eyes to kiss your forehead in a loving gesture. “And don’t worry love I’ll be fine on my own! Just as long as stupid Alex ain’t there…”

“Oh behave Michael!” You sternly say, your eyebrows furrowing in annoyance at his insistent worrying. “And besides. If you do this and behave, I’ll do that thing you like tonight with you. How about that?”

“Really?!” Michael asks, a mixture of surprise and arousal on his face. “Outfit and all?”

“Outfit and all.” You repeat, a sultry smile on your face as you kiss the corner of his mouth next to his lips and move away to grab the finished lunch box and place it in her backpack. “Penelope it’s time to go! Put your big girl shoes on please!”

“Yes mummy!” You can hear her say upstairs as she comes bolting down the stairs with an adorable smile on her face. The sound of which you assume knocks Michael from his little trance, as as soon as she comes down and starts putting her shoes on that’s when Michael comes from the direction of the kitchen with his own adorably bashful look on his face.

The rest of the day for Michael though goes great. As that morning with you he drops Penelope of at school, afterwards dropping you at your own work.

“I’ll see you later love.” He says, kissing you on the lips before you move to get out of the car.

“Oh I most certainly will baby.” You smirk back, making his stomach twist and turn in anticipation for later.

“Such a tease…” He murmurs, before starting the car and driving off to work. There weren’t many classes for the day, as by the time came for him to start driving to Penelopes school to get ready to pick her up, he’d already eaten lunch and popped into the bakery by his work to get her a little gingerbread man for an afterschool treat.

It was all going so well as he waited by the pick up area with the treat sitting in his coat pocket. That is however, before Penelope’s form teacher who he remembers meeting when originally toured around the school, came up to him and asked for a quick chat about something that happened today.

“What happened?! Did something happen to her?!” He frantically asked as soon as he walks inside the teachers empty classroom and sat in a chair opposite her desk.

“Oh no nothings happened to Penelope at all!” The teacher reassures, a comfortable smile on her face. “I do however want to discuss with you about some particular language that she used earlier today during break time on the playground.”

“Oh really?” Michael asks, curiousity on his face when he thinks about the words he and yourself try to use when around her. Though when the teacher begins to speak, pure and utter mortification is only what remains.

“From what I heard of the playground monitor on duty, Penelope was talking to one of her male classmates when she used what she herself called NFI. She explained the situation and the words involved in NFI quite graphically I must say…”

“Oh god I’m so sorry about this!” Michael groans, his head in his hands in an attempt to hide his bright red face of embarrassment.

“Oh please don’t be! I can understand that kids at this age are like sponges as they repeat whatever they hear their parents say and not know the meaning of the words at all. Myself and the teacher who’d been on duty have spoken to her about certain language and repeating what mummy and daddy have said, but I thought best to tell you as she’ll probably listen more to a parent than myself.”

“I will definitely have a discussion with her, and so will her mother too when she gets back from work.” Michael says, standing up and thanking the teacher for her time as he begins to leave the classroom. “Thank you for letting me know.”

When Michael exits the classroom Penelope is already sitting down on a chair opposite, staring at him with a smile on her face.

“Hi daddy!” She says, getting down from the chair to run up at him and give him a hug on his legs when he doesn’t reach down quick enough. “Where’s mummy?”

“Mummy’s at work sweetie, she said so this morning that she’ll see you later and is so sorry for not being here.” Michael says, now kneeling down to get to her eye level.

“It’s okay daddy! I forgive mummy!”

“Well I’m sure mummy is very grateful for that!” Michael says, pausing as he begins to help her put on her coat and continues on with what he was about to say. “Penelope your teacher told me you made a boy cry using NFI.”

“But he started it daddy! He’s a cu-“

“Loser!” Michael quickly interrupts, sternly staring at his daughter. “You can call him loser not that word... At least punch him I'll allow it since he's a loser...” He mumbles those last words, not expecting Penelope to hear him and actually listen.

Though that’s future Michaels problem when in two weeks he’s called into the headteachers office to talk about not encouraging violence…

The gingerbread man that is still in Michael’s pocket gets put in a cupboard soon as he and Penelope gets home while she’s busily distracted trying to put Bluey on the tv by herself. On a normal day he’d not allow it as a form of punishment, but even he can’t deny the enjoyment of those little Australian dogs…

There’s a reason why he sometimes calls Penelope his little muffin after all.

When you get back from work and give him a quick kiss, of course only after saying hi to Penelope who continues to sit watching tv, he can’t stop the words from spilling from his mouth.

“Penelope’s teacher talked to me after school. Apparently she’s been using NFI at break time and made a boy cry…” He says, watching about a hundred emotions go through your face. Though the one he least expects for you to settle on is amusement, as you begin laughing hard.

“She really is your daughter I suppose!” You laugh, practically crying as you wipe your eyes with the back of your hands. “Never thought she’d be showing this early!”

“Oh… bugger off!” Michael groans in mock frustration.

“Careful Mikey you know how impressionable she is!” You continue to laugh, practically red at how frustrated your husband now looks standing in front of you. Again, that little scrunched up expression evident on his face.

“There are so many words I want to call you right now…” He moans, stepping towards you with a dark look in his eyes that you can’t help but feel attracted to.

“Oh really?” You begin, smiling as you wipe the final onslaught of tears from your eyes. “Maybe you can tell me tonight? When we do that thing?”

“Oh is that still on the table?” Michael says, his mood a compete turn around as his face looks surprised and yet also thrilled. “I’d have thought-“

“Oh please baby. You really thought that since you were acting like a spoilt boy you wouldn’t be getting a reward? Well then I suppose it’s a good thing what will be happening tonight is not a reward for you then my love. But in fact a punishment. There will be no outfit anymore, no more of that thing you like for a long time. Do you understand that?”

“Yes ma’am…” Michael murmurs, his eyes dark and hooded as he bends his head down about to kiss you. That is however, before Penelope comes running round the corner with panic on her face.

“Mummy mummy mummy! Please don’t punish daddy! It was my fault!” Your daughter begs with genuine horror in her voice. “Pleeeeeeeease don’t punish him!”

“Oh no it’s okay baby!” You say, kneeling down to take her in your arms. “I’m not gonna actually punish daddy you don’t need to worry about him.”

“Do you promise?” She asks, looking at you with such an adorable pout on her face you honestly can’t think of anything cuter at that moment, even with the reasoning for it lingering in the back of your mind.

“I promise.” You say, bringing her in for a big hug while she burrows her head into your body and wraps her own smaller arms around you as tight as she can.

And as Penelope’s distracted, you make sure to wink at your still flustered husband and mouth three simple words at him that makes him somehow flush an even deeper shade of red.

Definitely a punishment.

#michael gavey x reader #Michael gavey/reader #Michael gavey #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #Michael gavey oneshot #my works #Ewan Mitchell #Ewan Mitchell character #Ewan Mitchell x reader #ewan nation #ewanverse #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell fandom #Ewan Mitchell fanfiction #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #saltburn fic

[devilfic]

girl. the honeymoon series. LIVING FOR IT. this is a really like loose request, but could you do like a charity event night? not really sure what to happen but the thought of having to reallllly sell the whole marriage thing to everyone at the event is just quite interesting. thriving rn

❝honeymoon❞

IV. sugar-coating.

parts: previously plot: an ex corners you, bringing up bad memories. bruce offers you super illegal catharsis. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, angst, eventual fluff, reader has a scummy ex, bruce is allowed to be a little bit chaotic as a treat and so are you. words: 2.8k.

"So. Wayne, huh? How's that going for you?"

You laugh behind your glass, feigning innocence with a light and fluttery "What do you mean?"

Coulson is a family friend, as much yours as he is Bruce's, and even though he's the competition, he treats you and Bruce with as much respect as you could hope for in your line of work. Bonds formed in boarding school tended not to break easily, "It's just... gotta wonder what you did to make it up to him. Last I checked, you didn't even exist to him."

You swallow your champagne, just for something better to do than flinching, "Yeah, well, he found it in his heart to hear me out. Love like that doesn't really go away."

Coulson's eyes narrow for a second. He doesn't fully believe you. In an attempt to steer toward calmer waters, he elbows you in the side, "Must've learned some impressive tricks if it got that skirt-chaser to commit." But calmer didn't mean desirable.

You really don't want to discuss what you and Bruce (don't) do in the bedroom right now, so you steer the conversation a different direction, "And how is your new girlfriend, Coulson?"

He has a lot to say about her. A violinist in the Gotham City Orchestra with two degrees and a tour coming up later this year. He tells you he'll send you and Bruce tickets, tells you that one of the tour dates is in Spain and it will line up with your anniversary next year. The mention of your anniversary makes your stomach knot up a bit; the wedding was still weeks away, and you'd only just gotten on decent speaking terms with Bruce.

If anyone here knew how thin your marriage's facade was, it would be more than an embarrassment. Your mother would waterboard you in your own blood and tears.

It helped that most people didn't have a clue. Sure, there was gossip and the occasional rumor, but it was all for "fun". It never went anywhere, and any whisper that got too big for its britches could be easily stamped out with a little effort.

But Coulson? He was a friend. He'd known you a long time. If anyone were to put weight to a rumor about you and Bruce, it would be him. Which is why you couldn't let him figure you out.

"...For a while there, I swore you and Bruce weren't on speaking terms at all." Your ears catch the last bit of Coulson's rambling, right as he settles into a silent, knowing smile. "Care to catch me up on the rekindling?"

Well, you see, there's this little thing called blackmail- "When the board appointed me as acting CEO, I felt it time to reach out and make amends. It'd been years since we'd even talked, and with him so busy with his projects, we never really saw each other either. I was surprised that he even had the time, so we met up and just talked. About everything. About the company, about his work, about... what happened. It was a little while after the flood, so it just sort of lined up at the right time."

Coulson nods, impressed and seemingly unaware you'd just pulled that out of your ass, "Damn. Near-death experiences really do wonders for the heart. And now you have a wedding coming up." He catches it before you do, the micro-expression of discomfort. You swear his smile gets bigger, "What's that? Don't tell me there's trouble in paradise already?"

"No, sorry. Not trouble. Just stress. Lots of wedding planning and company business at once. I was kind of hoping to get away from it all here, focus my efforts on alleviating others' stresses." You tip your glass in the direction of the giant banner at the entrance that reads, "Hope For Homes: Housing Gotham's Youth One Helping Hand at a Time".

Coulson doesn't take his eyes off you for a second, "Had I known you were ready to settle down, I wouldn't have let Bruce beat me to it."

“I’m sorry?”

Your friend's smile doesn't waver. You feel a chill settling in your chest, a warning that he’d taken control again. You try to casually scan the crowd for Bruce but you find him in deep discussion with some business partners and your stomach twists. He’s turned, he can’t see you. You can’t call for help.

“Ah, you know,” Coulson steps forward, a friendly distance to anyone else, “saw you and Brucie together and just got to thinking about us. You remember, don’t you?” You keep a solid expression, much to his amusement, “Or was I just a step on the ladder too?”

It’s supposed to be a joke. You ought to laugh it off. You do, stiffly, pressing your sweating glass to your inner wrist to ground yourself, “We were… 17. Weren’t we?”

“The first time, yeah.”

“How could I forget?”

“You did always like Bruce better.” Coulson comes closer. He’s close enough now that anyone would think you were just two childhood friends gossiping, reminiscing on your youth and laughing all about it. Coulson keeps up a pretty smile even as your heartbeat accelerates, “Always worried about him. Always running after him. He didn’t even give you the time of day.”

You keep smiling, “He was angry. I understood-“

“Bullshit,” and he says this so loud that a few people turn and look, but with such a joyful expression that they don’t look long, “you were obsessed with the guy! Couldn’t stand the idea of him knowing what you really are.”

Your blood curdles. You know you should correct him, but your jaw is locked tight.

"That's okay. Bruce is... fickle. One day he's in love with you, the next you're a bug on a windshield. You're no bug now, are you?"

Now he's pushing it. The hand that captures your chin is lightly scented with cardamom, what should smell pleasing and sexy and disabling. It should sweep you into familiar arms, whisk you off into a whirlwind affair that gets the whole party talking. It should spark controversy. It should make you excited to ruin your mother's plans.

Your heart pangs as you remember the look on Bruce's face. Standing in the hall, one hand on the door to the library, yours and your mother's faces illuminated in flickering candlelight. You must've looked like a monster to him the way he fled-

You grab his wrist and tug, peppering a laugh in as if this is all just one big joke, "Let go."

Coulson's eyes spark alight, "I like you the way you are. You know what you want."

"I am not a gold-digger."

"But you are. Even if mommy's pulling the strings, you like being pulled. Only someone with something to gain would play along."

He'd looked at you once like you'd hung the sun in the sky, and now you were the devourer of light. You had consumed it, put out its burning devotion in one fell swoop. And then nothing. As if you were nothing before and would never be anything after. You were nothing as he told you, in no uncertain terms-

"Coulson, let go."

"I wouldn't mind, you know. Brucie is too soft for you. My girlfriend, you know, love her to death, pretends she's not in it for the money. People like that? They come into our world and think that we don't see how it changes them. How they're driven by it just like the rest of us are. She thinks she has to prove to me that she's different. You don't have to. You're committed, I respect that. But it doesn't have to be Bruce."

Your hands tremble at your sides. Almost more than you've ever wanted anything in your life, you want to give him a shiner that would put you out of high society. Your dominant hand curls into a fist, delighted by the idea.

You go to bat off the hand that touches your hip, but when your skin meets theirs, you recognize it isn't Coulson's. You feel the coolness of their ring against your sweating palm and almost sag into it, "I leave you alone for one second, and vultures descend." Bruce places a cool, gentle kiss to your temple. His lips hover there as he turns ever so slightly towards your ex. Coulson releases your chin. "Coulson. How's Lydia?"

You shouldn't delight in the way Coulson tightens up as much as you do, "Bruce! Good to see you. She's fantastic. Tour starts later this year. You lovebirds should come."

"It's a shame she couldn't make it."

"Oh, you know how it is. I'm still in good company. Right?" Coulson turns to you, winks. His smile is rigid.

When others are around, Bruce would snap back into a Wayne: all propriety and good will. You take a look at his expression and it is unreadable. There's a faint smile there, but nothing else he gives away. He is studying Coulson quite intensely though. You don't think he's blinked in a minute.

His eyes flicker down in fake-bashfulness, "I should thank you for that. You know once the board starts talking numbers, they can't stop. Not even for a good cause." Coulson nods politely along, half-listening, "You did good seeking this one out instead. I'm sure you've heard more than enough about numbers after this past month."

It was a simple statement. Most of the people in this room had been spending their days stuffed into board meetings for the end of the fiscal quarter, talking about finance, watching the stock market, money and more money... but it was the bit at the end that did it.

Coulson's eye twitches just so. He hesitates on asking but just can't help himself, "How do you mean?"

Bruce's smile takes on a patronizing color, "Oh, the boys and I were just discussing... sorry, I thought... I assumed it was public knowledge by now, forgive me." He laughs, just a touch awkward enough that it looks like he didn't mean to say anything at all. Now Coulson's smile is falling.

Even you are curious.

Coulson crosses his arms, hugging himself, "It was... a minor error reallocating funds. Nothing more. It isn't public knowledge because it's been handled. Who told you about it?"

"Has it? Been handled, I mean."

You glance between the two of them. For the first time since he'd come over, Bruce looks back at you.

Coulson clears his throat, "It has. Anyone saying otherwise must not have anything better to talk about."

Bruce hums. His mouth falls from your temple to your cheek, placing another kiss there, then another behind your ear. The hand on your hip moves to close around your neck, holding you close so not a word slips out of the space between you and him, "Let's go."

You keep your eyes on Coulson's, watching the gentle flicker between annoyance and politeness. You throw in a giggle for good measure, "Sure thing."

Bruce peels back from you, acknowledging Coulson with little more than a nod, "Good seeing you, Coulson. I'd stick around longer but I think I'm gonna steal them home, if you don't mind."

"Not at all! I envy how much you two are obsessed with each other, truly." Coulson sips his champagne and in a bitter tone, shifts his focus to you, "Think on what I said, hm?"

The nerve.

Bruce is whisking you toward the front doors without giving you a moment to respond. He kisses you more, leans into you with an arm thrown around your shoulders and a giddy smile as he sets his barely-touched champagne on a waiter's tray.

It isn't until you two are outside by the curb that you break your silence, "Thank you."

Bruce doesn't fully acknowledge you with his body, even as his arm remains slung about you, helping keep the chill of the night off you. He sends off a message for your driver, "What for?"

That was right. You'd never actually gotten to talk to Bruce about Coulson, "He... he was questioning the marriage. Questioning if you were the right fit for me. Saying that maybe I'd be better off with someone who understands me," you grit the next part out, "the real me."

"And?"

You look at him. He's watching cars pass as your eyes prick with tears. "I don't think he understands me at all. He never did."

He appraises you out of the corner of his eye, "Could've told you that years ago."

"You wouldn't even give me the time of day four months ago."

You've got him there. You're shocked to find that he isn't annoyed, or defensive, or even ignoring you. He sucks his teeth and shrugs. Presses the bottom of his shoe into an old cigarette on the sidewalk, snuffing out a flame that had died a long time ago. "You were going to hit him. I saw you." You feel heat crawl up your neck as you remember. "I don't know what he said, but he would've deserved it."

"I... couldn't. You know I couldn't."

Bruce turns up his nose as if he's smelled something foul, "It would've felt good, though."

"Yes."

The two of you wait there, just wobbling in the wind, watching cars go by as music and chatter and people flutter out of the ballroom behind you. You don't know what you're waiting for, but you can indulge yourself once in a while. If Bruce wants to stand on the street with his arm around you doing nothing, then maybe you ought to take the time to do nothing.

A few minutes pass before Bruce releases you, nodding for you to follow him up the street. You do, even confused.

He stops right in front of a bright red convertible, a shiny and expensive thing, parked just far enough out of the way that the music is fainter here. "C'mere," Bruce instructs, walking around the front of the sports car, and you follow him, watching your step lest you fall prey to a puddle, "hold this."

He removes the handkerchief from his front suit pocket and lays it over your open palm, much to your bewilderment. Then, reaching into the inside of his jacket, he drops a batarang into your hand.

"Bruce-!" You instinctively close your hand around the thing to hide it, thankful that his handkerchief kept you from slicing your palm open, "what are you-"

"One tire is a spare. Two is a tow."

"Have you been drinking? Like actually?"

You're startled by the grin he gives you, "If we stand here all night, someone'll catch us."

You go to argue when you recognize something hanging from the car's rear view mirror. A pair of dingy, fuzzy dice. Dice you've seen before in older, just as expensive cars. This is Coulson's car.

You grab Bruce by the arm and turn him to you, "Are you insane?"

"It's better than punching him."

The batarang weighing in your hand feels a little lighter at that.

"Couldn’t stand the idea of him knowing what you really are.”

Who Coulson thought you were wouldn't slash the tires of a backup option. They'd be nice, wait it out, play the game for maximum benefit. Jump ship at the first sign of trouble. They wouldn't risk making enemies. They'd let their mother keep pulling their strings.

You sink the batarang into the first tire's sidewall sharp and quick. If Bruce is curious as to how you know how to slash tires, he doesn't ask. He moves beside you and blocks onlookers from seeing what you're doing. When you move onto the next, the entire left side of the car is beginning to sink toward the ground.

Bruce confiscates the batarang from you and quickly tucks it back into his suit pocket, calmly walking you back down the street to where your ride is waiting.

As he is holding the back door open for you, you turn to look up at him and find your breath catching at the still present grin on his face. You haven't seen him this happy to be alone in your presence in a while. It feels... familiar. He meets your eyes and you're reminded of a younger you. A you that could kiss Bruce with all the bubbling adrenaline in your veins. A Bruce that would let you. A Bruce that thought you hung the sun in the sky.

That grin of his softens but doesn't fully go anywhere. You drink it all in. You don't know when you'll see it again.

Bruce touches the small of your back as a taxi whips by, driving cool air up into your faces and breaking the moment. You indulge in the touch for as long as he lets you.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman fic #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites #bw; honeymoon

[drakulana]

Hi there! I have a angst/comfort writing about Law x y/n so far and I want to muster up the courage to ask you about this:

Its a bit complicated and rather long, Reader's strugling with trust issues due to her past betrayal and exploitation. Law once despite everything saved her from danger and cured her, even though she really loves him, but when she was mentally unstable, she broke down and confided that he was just taking advantage of her, taking advantage of her feelings, denying how genuine his feelings for her were.

I want to see you write his reaction and everything that happens after that! Hope you have a great day💖

Thank you so much for the request! I'm sorry it took my so long to answer, life has been so crazy! I hope you enjoy it!! @hana-san

late night envy - law x reader

ᯓ★wc: 2.1k

ᯓ★content: angst/comfort, fighting, alcohol consumption

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It was a clear night. You could see every star in the sky. Your captain had given the crew the privilege of surfacing for the night due to a breakthrough on a research project everyone had been working on together. Earlier, all of the crew had been partying and drinking amongst one another. It wasn’t every night that they got to see the night sky, and breathe in the salty air. It was a nice change of scenery apart from the steel walls that kept them so close. 

The party that ensued was one that Penguin and Shachi had referred to as a “rager” consisting of loud music and drinking games that were only ever fun if you were intoxicated. Luckily, everyone was. It had been a while since the crew had got to drink together like this. Everyone was on the top deck, all except for one person. The captain, of course. It wasn’t uncommon for the captain not to indulge in their festivities, but he always showed his face for at least the first half hour. Tonight, to the dismay of everyone on the crew, he was not. Well, everyone except for you. The party was doing its job at distracting you from the burden of the situationship you held with the absent captain, more so the fight you had with him almost half a week ago. 

The relationship between you and Law was never supposed to happen. It blossomed out of the heat of the moment. Like two magnets, you couldn’t help but to gravitate towards one another. However recent events had made you fear that your polarity towards one another had been reversed. These days, Law was scarce. He had a lot on his plate, you knew that, but sometimes you couldn’t help but to feel as if it were personal. He was planning a solo mission soon, and cut you out of the whole research aspect all together. Anytime you would come into his office, he’d dismiss you soon after. Anytime you would try to aid him with any type of research, he would tell you that he could handle it on his own, giving you another task to uphold somewhere on the other side of the ship. How could you not take something like that personal? A few nights ago, you had confronted Law ending in a screaming match between the two of you. You asked him why he was avoiding you, and he denied it. You asked if he was no longer interested in you, and he said that you were reading too much into the situation. I am a captain, and a warlord. I have things on my plate you couldn’t possibly begin to understand. You can’t come in here and disrupt my work, trying to find petty answers to your own insecurities. The words that were said that night had stung, and Law knew he had overstepped. Before an apology could even leave his mouth, you had turned on your heel walking out of the office, slamming the door behind you. Law didn’t follow you, he never did. 

It was now half past two, and your crewmates had finally decided to start turning in for the night. It wasn’t long before the stragglers had left the deck to return back to their bunks. A few crewmates asked you if you were coming inside too, and you waved them off with a dismissive I’ll be there, soon. You didn’t want to turn in just yet, you wanted to sit with the ocean and it’s stars for a little longer. If you were lucky, you’d be able to see the sunrise. It was very rare to be able to see the morning hues of soft pinks, and oranges. A cool breeze wafted over your face, and you took a deep inhale in. It was quiet out here. You couldn’t hear the incessant buzzing of the lights, or the never ending humming of the engines below you. You didn’t feel confined between cold metal walls, and you felt like you could finally breathe. You had a lot on your mind tonight, and to feel just a little less claustrophobic helped ease your tormented mind. You were hoping to find some solace in the waves sloshing against the metal of the ship, and a bottle of sake you had hidden away earlier in the night.

It had been almost four days since you had last talked to Law. Any time you would see him in the halls, or during mealtimes, you would turn the other way. You weren’t going to chase after him, either. The way he made you feel that night was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. The argument made you feel unseen, unheard. All those times that you and Law had shared behind closed doors. All the deep personal talks you had with him, all the sweetness you had saved just for him, felt meaningless. 

 A waft of cold air hit your face, bringing you back to reality. The quiet black ocean aided you in your spiral. You felt as if he didn’t want you anymore. You didn’t know what you possibly could have done to deserve this cold shoulder from him. You took another swig from the bottle of sake that had set next to you on the cold steel deck. You were about half way through the bottle now. You didn’t know what time it was, or how long you had been out here. There were no signs of morning for the next few hours. The sky and the ocean were now just one vast darkness speckled with stars. Everyone inside was probably already asleep in their bunks by now. All but one person, your captain. He never slept the way he was supposed to. You knew he wasn’t asleep, and a small part of you tugged to go see him, but you knew with Law you could never come to him first. He would have to come to you, and usually he did within a day or so, but it had been almost four days now. You took a deep breath, you could feel the alcohol setting into your system. It weighed you down to your chair, slowly creeping into your legs. 

You concentrated on the sloshing of the water against the sides of the ship, trying to pry your thoughts away from the earlier events from the week. It was to no avail, though. You couldn’t help the whirlwind of memories, and the emotions attached to them from setting fire to your brain.  Like a movie behind your intoxicated eyes, it played. All the people you had met before you had been involved with the Heart Pirates, all the places you had gone. Everyone who had ever scorned you was now at the forefront of your mind. nasty words that you had been called, the mistreatment from all of your previous peers echoed against the walls of your skull. It was the creaking of a metal door that had transported you back into the present. You didn’t look behind you to know who it was, you could pick out those footsteps from anywhere. It was Law. You didn’t move, you just stared ahead holding your now almost empty sake bottle against you. You didn’t want to have the conversation you knew was pending in this state, so you simply did not engage. 

Law’s deep voice cut through the sloshing, “It’s late,” he simply stated. You rolled your eyes at the sound of his tone. The way Law spoke always held an assured certainty that only he could make sound natural, but now his words tasted bitter in your mouth and the certainty was replaced with a cockiness that you found unbecoming of Law. You usually didn’t think like this, you were intoxicated. Another reason you wished he would just turn around and go back to his chambers, maybe even go to sleep for once. Law approached behind you, “Still ignoring me?” You scoffed at his audacity. You ignoring him? He practically begged for it the way he talked to you four nights ago. Still, you didn’t let up. You didn’t even give him a word. He walked around into your view. He was wearing a long jacket, his usual jeans, and a white tee. Your eyes studied him. He didn’t look like he had slept, but that wasn’t surprising, he never slept. His hat was unusually missing, leaving his messy black hair ruffling in the slight breeze. It was dark out here, but the moon had lit up the sky enough for you to see him. You made eye contact with him, and you could see something behind his eyes that wasn’t typically there, remorse. Usually that remorse would eat away at your soul, and make you cave, but not tonight. You tore your eyes away from the man standing in front of you, as he let out a sigh. He took a seat next to you, eyeing the bottle in your lap. “You’ve drank… a lot,” He reached over, taking the bottle from your grasp before setting it down on the other side of him. Again, the audacity. If you hadn’t been so drunk, you would’ve snatched it back, but there was no physical fight left in you at this point. 

The two of you sat in silence for a minute, before you heard Law take a huge breath, “Listen, you can’t just ignore-” he didn’t even finish the rest of his sentence before you had snapped your head towards him, cutting him off. “No, Law, you listen to me,” a surge of pain rushed to behind your eyes, only fueling your anger. A painful knot swelled up in your throat, “I understand that you are a warlord with a lot on your plate. I understand that the weight you pull is heavy, but that does not give you the right to be such a dick. If it’s space you need, then you got it, but don’t come out here badgering me about ignoring you when I can’t possibly begin to understand the things you have going on-” Law’s protest started to cut you off, but you didn’t give in, “No, don’t talk. I’m not finished. You had no place sitting there calling me insecure about your neglect whenever we hav-had some sort of relationship. I feel taken advantage of. Then you want to come out here and say that I’ve been ignoring you when I’m actually just giving you the space you so badly wanted? No,” at this point, you could feel the bile rising up in your throat, burning its way up your esophagus. It felt as if all the words that you had wanted to say were crawling up your throat pushing themselves out. You pushed yourself out of your seat, making a beeline to bend yourself over the side of the rails. Before you knew it, you were face to face with the black water emptying all of your stomach’s contents. Your legs shook underneath you, and you could feel Law behind you with his hands on your hips steadying your balance. You wanted to push him back away from you, but you hardly had the strength to hold yourself up anymore. It was frustrating feeling this weak in front of him after you had chewed him out, drunkenly. Once you were done, Law pulled you back up turning you to face him. “Let’s go inside, okay?” He asked you softly. It didn’t matter the protests you gave him, he was dragging you behind him staggering your way back into the ship. 

Once you were inside, Law led you back into his quarters. You were still mad at Law, and he knew that. He sat you down onto the bed digging out some clothes from his dresser laying them beside you, “Get changed, I’ll be right back,” He told you before shutting the door behind him. He returned when you were dressed with a bottle of water and two small white pills in his hand. “Take these, we’ll talk more in the morning,” He told you. You huffed and layed down in his bed, covering yourself with the blankets. Law looked at your figure before taking his jacket and his shoes off, “Can I lay with you?” He asked you, earning a small nod from you. Although you were mad, you couldn’t deny the comfort Law’s presence brought you. He crawled under the blankets, wrapping an arm around your drunken drowsy body, “You know I’m sorry, right?” He whispered to you, “I didn’t mean any of those things I said,” His hand trailed up and down your spine, putting pressure on certain places where he could tell knots were forming. Low hums fell from your mouth as he rubbed your back. You could feel your trepidation melting away as his fingers worked their way up to your shoulders. You finally let your eyes close, and let the heaviness of sleep take you. You would talk to Law in the morning, but for right now, the both of you were okay.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

@drakulana 2024 // i do not give permission to copy, translate, or repost, any of my content without my consent

#one piece #trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar d water law #one piece fan fic #trafalgar law x reader #one piece fan fiction #inbox ask #fic request

[genericpuff]

I AM HOOOMEEEE

and finally decompressed / settled in from the entire ordeal , at least enough to finally get my bearings together and post about it LMAO holy crap, what a wild past two weekends, i'm exhausted but it was a great time, got to meet some great artists, tattoo some great people, and share great art <3 Here are some of my favorites :>

Thank GOD I have this week off from expo's and conventions, I'm definitely ready to chill for a bit. Though I'm definitely cooking up fun community ideas for the LO series finale, so stay tuned for that LOL I do have another convention coming up two weeks from now but it's only a one day thing a couple hours away and it's purely for selling prints n stickers, so it won't be anywhere near as demanding as the 3-day tattoo events LOL

I'll be posting a recompiled version of Episode 50 Pt 2 tomorrow! Sorry to those who were massively inconvenienced by the way I chose to post it, I took a risk and it proved to be a massive failure LMAO but that's how we learn 💅 So expect that tomorrow morning! <3

In the meantime, I'll be getting back to work on Episode 51 as well as responding to as many of the asks in my inbox as I can! Thank you all so much for your patience while I worked through these past two weekends, y'all are the best for that <3

#ask me anything #anon ama #ama #anon ask me anything #lore rekindled #self post #announcement

[lacomandante]

HELLO i'm alive, I just barely survived 9 days in Girona doing costumes for Assumpta's short film reels.....and immediately after we came back I had to do some frantic sewing in time for the week of events planned for the Dos de Mayo. I met up with some new friends I had met at the Museo de Traje two weeks or so earlier, and my Spanish has improved SO MUCH during my time here. I am so happy and having SO much fun. I based this spencer off of one Assumpta wears in Rossini, Rossini!, and had two days to make it. I did my hair how Teresa's looks in a snood in Company, but made a madroñera instead- it's a little lower class than Teresa would've worn, I think, but it was appropriate. (I want to make all of the costumes Assumpta wears in her films and make a pre-war Teresa wardrobe, though I'll be remaking this red spencer!) Over the course of the week we walked through many parks, got to see the changing of the guard, we went to many palaces, and I got to participate in the Dos de Mayo parade and battle, which was insanely cool, and where the first two photos are taken! I also got to go to a wonderful ball and danced with all my friends, which I'll post photos of soon. Now that the events are over, I'm rereading Sharpe's Command bc I have my review in my drafts and want to revisit it.

#;ooc #;kiran goes to spain #(i had quite the crush on fernando who is in the bicorn hat) #(but he is gay LMFAOOOOOOOO just my goddamn luck) #(but he's a really amazing friend and my spanish has improved SO MUCH talking to him bc he doesnt speak any english) #(and he's patient and kind and very helpful and i've learned a lot) #(and a lot of my new friends have told me that A: my pronunciation is actually really good #(and B: that when I do speak I speak it like i've been speaking for years which is a HUGE shock to me and i am so so pleased) #(im going to be really sad when i go back home and loose this ability bc i have no one to practice it with) #(BUT i have so many photos and so much fun!!!!!!)

[whipitgod]

I Panicked

Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham

oneshot - wc: 2.3k

summary: post fall hannigram, fits in the same universe as ‘pushed in’ but its not necessary to read that to understand this one. Hannibal gets a bit introspective as he thinks about how his life turned out, Will just really wants Hannibal to stop stabbing him

warnings: canon typical violence though non-graphic (will gets lightly stabbed), somewhat crack-ish as per usual, and a decent helping of some tooth rotting domesticity

a/n: YOU GUYS ARE ALL SO AMAZING!!! thank you for all the love on the destiel fic! this was fun to write because I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while so it was good to finally flesh it out, i hope you all enjoy it!! if you like this remember to leave a like/reblog! maybe even follow me :D! Happy reading!!

!!!!REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

All things considered, Hannibal had never expected his life to turn out like this; he had been, for lack of better phrasing, well and truly domesticated. They had settled into a small home in rural Argentina after pulling themselves out of the raging water Will had thrown them into, the nearest town no less than 30 minutes away; which Hannibal had initially taken issue with before seeing how at peace the younger man had been in the countryside.

Will had flourished in the new environment much to Hannibal's delight, the ex-profilers joy making it hard for Hannibal to be upset about their living situation. The home is nothing like how his home in Baltimore had been, the one they reside in now was single story and unassuming. White in color and surrounded by trees with a lake a couple hundred yards back behind the house, the home reminded him more of how Will's home had been in Wolf Trap. Hannibal found it difficult to complain about the home when it was shared with the younger man, whenever he felt the need to his mind would supply him with memories of Will walking through the back door after spending all day down by the lake fishing, the dog Hannibal had got him when they had first arrived at the home following close behind him.

Hannibal really had never pictured his life ever being anything like this, the concept of finding a shelter and choosing a dog for someone would have made him laugh a decade ago. He reasons that he had never had anyone to do it for before, because when they had arrived in Argentina almost three years ago Hannibal had barely batted an eye while he made quick work of locating a shelter about an hour away from the home to find a dog for Will.

Despite all this he still has his moments, he reminds himself sometimes that nobody is perfect; everyone has moments of weakness and lapses in judgment. Hannibal tries his best to maintain his composure and not let himself do anything too impulsive but sometimes the flood of emotions he gets in the face of the domesticity he and will now shared got the better of him; he had never been good at reacting rationally and it was apparent in how he tended to handle his emotions.

His most recent lapse in judgment had surprised even him, even now a week later he’s still a little unclear on why he had reacted to the emotions he shared with Will the way he did. He really had no reason to do what he did but Hannibal had never been a very reasonable man despite how much he tried to claim he was.

2 Weeks Ago

“Jesus Christ Hannibal, why did you stab me!?” Will’s hand presses against the wound made by the small paring knife Hannibal had been using to prepare dinner.

Hannibal, to his credit, feels at least slightly bad about the turn of events and responds with a flustered, “I'm not sure, I panicked,” the cannibal reaches to move Will's hand so he can inspect the wound, “my sincerest apologies Will.”

Will lets out a disbelieving sound akin to a laugh, “Panicked about what!” His tone is sharp, and he lets out a hiss as Hannibal prods at the wound, “We were just talking about our plans for tomorrow!”

Hannibal freezes momentarily at the words; why had he stabbed Will? The man honestly isn't quite sure, he supposes it might have something to do with the domesticity of the situation and the overwhelming rush of emotions he got whilst listening to Will talk about their plans like they were an old married couple.

“I believe I had meant to kiss you,” Hannibal meets Will's eyes briefly as he says this, “again, I sincerely apologize.”

Will just sighs at this, “It’s fine Hannibal, just help me stitch this up,” he shakes his head muttering a frustrated, “I can’t believe you stabbed me.”

“Of course, dear.” The older man pulls his hands away from where he had them still pressed against the wound, turning slightly to turn the stove off; Hannibal can’t believe he stabbed him either. Will begins walking towards their bathroom, hand clutched to his side and his gait a little uneven betraying the pain he was in; Hannibal really isn’t sure how he was going to make up for this one. The cannibal trails behind him, instructing him to remove his shirt once they had reached the somewhat small room.

“You’re unbelievable,” the words leave Will with a surprising amount of fondness, “Remind me to stop standing so close to you while you make dinner.”

Hannibal lets out a light chuckle at this, shaking his head slightly, “I will try and refrain from stabbing you going forward,” He inspects the wound on Will's lower stomach, sighing softly, “You don’t need stitches dear, but let me clean and bandage it.”

“Little victories,” it’s said with a teasing smile, “and I've heard that before Hannibal, it feels a bit hollow when you keep stabbing me.”

The older man huffs an affronted sound at this, lips curling down a bit, “I haven’t stabbed you in four months.”

“It’s fun that you keep track,” Will spots the guilty look gracing the cannibals features and sighs, he reaches up and places a hand on the man's cheek feeling the slight stubble there, “I know emotions aren’t easy for you, and for what it’s worth I'm proud of you.”

Hannibal scoffs quietly at this, shaking the man's hand off, “Don’t patronize me Will.”

“I'm not,” urged Will, “I really am proud of how well you’ve adapted to our life here; I know it wasn't easy for you.”

The cannibal offers him a small smile at this before patting the bandage that now adorned Will’s abdomen, “Good as new.”

Present day

Hannibal shakes his head at the memory, all things considered, Will had gotten over the man's slip up with a surprising ease; Of course nothing is ever truly easy with Will. The ex-profiler had a tendency to hold onto things to use them as leverage, bringing up Hannibal's misdeeds whenever the couple would argue. The most recent incident had been used to strong arm Hannibal into a fishing trip, the younger man lamenting how Hannibal never partook in the activities that he enjoyed; saying that the cannibal owed it to him to join him on the fishing trip after the older man had stabbed him.

Hannibal had decided not to argue, having learned that with Will he had to pick his battles carefully. The fallout of the cannibal denying him would be worse than a day sat on a boat under the hot sun; at least that's what he had thought up until he had seen the life jacket Will was insistent on having him wear. He thinks back on the argument the life jacket had caused with a huff of retroactive annoyance.

1 Week Ago

“Good lord, what is that?” Hannibal chokes out whilst looking at the neon orange life jacket that Will is holding out for him.

“You’ve never seen a life jacket?” Will's tone is sarcastic as he waves the life jacket in front of the cannibal's face; the older man staring at it like he’s trying to set it on fire with his mind.

“Of course I've seen a life jacket William, don't be ridiculous,” Hannibal waves a hand in its direction, “but why in god's name is it that color?”

“In case emergency search and rescue has to find your body in the lake.” The younger man says this like it's the most obvious thing in the world and Hannibal finds the statement a bit unsettling.

His brows furrowed as he finished processing what Will had said, “Do you plan on me ending up dead in the lake?”

“Depends,” Will shoves the life jacket to Hannibal's chest and the older man lets it fall to the floor without sparing it a glance, “are you gonna be this irritating all day?”

“Very funny dear.”

“I’m not laughing.”

Will, deciding the conversation is over, turns away from Hannibal to finish organizing his tackle box and assorted fishing gear, not sparing another glance to the man even when he starts grumbling quietly to himself; Will only picks up on some of it, not really paying attention.

“We’ll see who ends up in the lake,” there's rustling behind will and the sound of the life jacket being picked up off the floor, “could call it payback for the dress shoes I lost in the ocean.”

Will looks over his shoulder at the man and sends him an annoyed glare, effectively silencing the cannibal.

Present day

Hannibal hated that life jacket; he hated that Will hadn’t worn one as well even more. The fishing trip wasn’t all that bad, though he’d never admit that to the other man; he had complained too much to then turn around and say that he had had a good time. He had found fishing to be rather peaceful, the calm waves rocking the boat accompanied by a comfortable silence, well partial silence. Once Hannibal had stopped complaining there was a comfortable silence, and even though he would never admit it to Will, he knew that he had complained for quite a while.

Hannibal startles slightly at the sound of the back door banging open and the thud Will’s boots made as he entered their home, he hears the paws of the dog following shortly after, the dog never far behind will.

“Honey I’m home!”

Another thing Hannibal would never admit to was how much he enjoyed when Will would enter the house like that, finding a lot of pleasure in hearing Will call the place they resided ‘home’, the phrase always implying that it was their home; a space that they shared. The younger man enters the kitchen, setting the fish he had caught during his trip on the small island, before shifting his eyes to where Hannibal sat and sending the man a smile, eyes crinkling in the corners with the force of it.

“How was your trip dear?” Hannibal stands walking over to where Will is standing at the island starting the process of cleaning the fish. His hands reach out landing on the counter each side of Will’s waist as he peers over the man's shoulder at the fish in front of them, “By the looks of it, it went well.”

Will cranes his neck to look briefly at the man, eyes softening before he leans in and steals a chaste kiss; Their affection had become startlingly domestic compared to how it was when they had first arrived. They had behaved like touch starved teenagers for the first couple months, every kiss turning into something more. The two, now a few years into living with each other, expressed more casual intimacy than Hannibal had ever thought he was capable of. Quick kisses in greeting, or the gentle kisses Will would press to his cheek before he would rush out the door becoming a part of their routine; Hannibal frequently pressing kisses to the top of Will’s head when he would walk behind where the man was sitting, inhaling deeply as he does, taking in the smell of their shared shampoo.

The memories as well as the current position they’re in is horrifically domestic and Hannibal kind of wants to stab him again, though he stamps the thought down as quickly as it comes. Emotions swirl inside of him and he’s unable to pinpoint all of them though he’s able to pick out happiness fairly easily, the emotion had become commonplace after their years of living together; Hannibal had never thought it would be possible to feel as deeply as he does now.

“It was good,” Wills hands now working with a skill that had taken decades to acquire as he guts and cleans the fish in front of him, “how was your day? Do anything fun?”

Hannibal pauses for a moment considering, “It was good, though rather uneventful.”

Will let out a curious noise urging Hannibal to continue, “Oh yeah? Why's that?”

“The day somewhat slipped away from me; I haven’t even begun preparing for dinner.”

Will snorts at this, “Oh no, how will we ever survive,” his tone is teasing, and he laughs a bit as the words leave him, “we’ll starve before you manage to get dinner together.”

“I know, what a horrible twist of fate,” Hannibal presses a kiss to the side of Will’s head before continuing, “we managed to elude the FBI’s grasp for years only to succumb to hunger.”

Will’s shoulders shake with silent laughter before he sets the knife in his hand down, wiping the fish viscera off of his hands before turning in Hannibal’s arms, the man having yet to move them from the island, keeping Will caged. Will doesn’t attempt to touch the man, very familiar with his obsession with cleanliness, instead he leans his head forwards and rests it against Hannibal’s chest. The man's hands move from the counter then landing on the small of Will’s back, fingers toying with the waistband on the back of the younger man's pants.

Will heaves a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the tension releases from his body now that he’s wrapped in the other man's arms. They stay like this for a few minutes, Hannibal rocking slightly, a soothing gesture that makes Will’s shoulders slump even further.

The ex-profiler starts to laugh, the sound vibrating against Hannibal's chest prompting the cannibal to pull Will back slightly to look at his face, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm great,” more laughter leaves him, “I was just thinking about stabbing you.”

“Excuse me?!”

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal nbc #hannibal reunion #will graham #hannibal lecter #will graham fanfiction #will graham x hannibal lecter #hannigram fic #post fall hannigram #hannibal fandom #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal and will #slight ooc #hannibal the series #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #murder husbands #nbc hannibal #hannibal fic #hannibal fluff #hannibal crack #crack fic #fluff #hannibal brainrot #no plot just vibes #will graham and hannibal lecter

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @wynnyfryd! Wynnyfryd has 34 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

i don’t know, you figure it out

Plot Holes

biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!

Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!

She's got some of the FUNNIEST writing in this fandom, and it's very snappy too like. She's an editing demon for sure, she can take a concept that I'd think would take paragraphs to explain and find the right words to make it hit just as hard with like, two sentences. I also really really love how descriptive her metaphors are, really visceral sometimes, and she's really good at writing realistic life events but still making them fun to read about even when it's about like, devastating shit. The sex she writes is also intense as hell! -- @griefabyss69

Below the cut, @wynnyfryd answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I am but a humble bisexual — I see two beautiful brown-eyed men makin’ beautiful brown eyes at each other, I go a little insane for two years. It is what it is.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

late-night moments of quiet hopeful hesitant intimacy over a shared joint or cigarette. Thin wisp of smoke between them, stars dancing in their eyes. Yeah. YEAHHHHHHH 

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

This isn’t really a trope so much as a dynamic, but I love a good dipshit 4 dingus dialogue-heavy scene. Don’t get me wrong, I think Eddie and Steve can both be very smart and knowledgeable in their areas of interest/expertise, but these are two young dudes with no access to the internet. I love letting them be confidently incorrect dumbasses. Just ‘yes and’-ing each other’s stupidity while an exasperated third character begs for mercy.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Well, this question is impossible and furthermore rude. This question came into my home and didn’t take its muddy boots off. This question never mailed me a thank you letter for my lovely wedding gift. That blender was expensive; the absolute nerve. No but seriously, I think The Lathe by palmviolet is going to stay with me forever.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’m a big fan of doing canon divergence from different jumping off points — the beauty of having characters live in the same small town their whole lives is that you get so many great opportunities for these “what if our paths crossed sooner” moments.  I have some very loose notes for a S3 fic where Eddie is the movie theater employee who finds Steve and Robin in the bathroom after they escape the Russians, and I also have an old WIP set between S1 and S2 where lifeguard Steve rescues Eddie and then spends the summer teaching him how to swim. Would love to revisit those after I finish the trailer park AU (which I will be referring to as TPAU because my fingers are tired and because ‘toilet paper au’ makes me laugh.)

What is your writing process like?

Uhhhhh. 😂 I mean, for TPAU, basically just insert the scene from Dune 2 of Paul’s first sandworm ride: I’m shaking I’m sweating there is sand in my nostrils and I am surely about to die— oh wait, maybe I’ve actually got this? Am I actually doing it? Oh shit, look at me go!   For one-shots I like to use a more structured outline and bracket method. I start by dividing my doc into numbered scenes, with each scene getting a notes section and a prose section, like this:

This format gives me a lot of freedom to switch up the order of scenes and to move between scenes so I avoid writer’s block. I can also jump ahead to scenes I really want to write without making a mess of my outline. Once I have something written in the prose section of each scene, I go back and work on replacing each bracket with prose until there are no brackets left. Lastly, I create a new blank doc and copy the prose over in order so I can read the full fic and work on edits from there.  

Do you have any writing quirks?

I have been known to abuse a semicolon. And an em dash. And a conjunction at the start of a sentence. Yes, I do have ADHD.   I’m also a lyricist, so I feel like my prose tends to stray into poetry territory pretty often.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

When I’m finished! Which is probably why I tend to stick to one-shots; I get impatient and want to post stuff the second it’s ready.

Which fic are you most proud of?

‘i don’t know, you figure it out’ for SURE. I’ve never written a fic this long or stuck to a writing project this consistently in my life. Like ever. The last time I even came close was my first NaNoWriMo when I was 16, which was, uh… years ago, plural, and I’ll leave it at that. 😂

How did you get the idea for i don’t know, you figure it out?

“There’s a dead rat on his doorstep.” That’s it. That first sentence/scene popped into my head while I was bored at work, and then I started thinking, “hey, you know what? I don’t know that anyone’s ever done a fic where Max and Steve trade places for S4; that might be fun.”  And then NaNoWriMo was coming up, so I thought it would be cool to try live posting a fully improvised fic every day for a month to see how many words I could write. And then this tragic wet cat version of Steve Harrington grabbed me by the throat and took over my whole life.

When writing Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!, what was something you didn’t expect?

How SAPPY these two got!! My god, boys, I’m trying to write smut over here, stop having a beautiful existential crisis! (I blame Briston Maroney for that though lol, I think I listened to ‘Body’ like 1400 times that month.)

What inspired Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!?

@inklessletter posted this totally gorgeous art of Steve and Eddie recording themselves kissing, and I promptly lost my mind.  

What was your favorite part to write from biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!?

This exchange: Steve: “What? I’m just asking!” Robin: “You’re being embarrassing!” Steve: “No, you’re just embarrassed. There’s a difference.” Like it’s just so them lmao

How do/did you feel writing i don’t know, you figure it out?

You know when you set out on a long hike in the summer and three hours later your calves are screaming and you’re covered in sweat and your sunburn’s starting to itch and this one horse fly won’t fuck off and your cell phone doesn’t even get service out here so literally WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF, and then you climb that last hill and look out on the most beautiful landscape you’ve ever seen in your silly little life? Basically that.

What was the most difficult part of writing Plot Holes?

Ooh, that one was fun! The only real difficulty was trying to keep it to a microfic because the concept could definitely be fleshed out to a full story — @griefabyss69 and I were joking around about “what if someone did ‘plot hole’ for the @steddiemicrofic prompt fill?” and then that fic just fell out of my head in about 15 minutes. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

For sure! I’m currently super proud of the graveyard scene in the most recent update of TPAU — I don’t write true horror often, but I love horror so it was really fun to give it a try! Favorite line from any fic is probably this reference to ‘You’re Divine’ in my fic Monsoon Season because I love uncomfortably-aroused prude Eddie, and his internal monologue cracks me up every time I think about it: Freddie Monsoon’s debut novel is called The Fourth Chime, and it is, as far as Eddie can tell, the first installment in a series of unapologetically filthy fuck fests about a man whose lover gets flung into an alternate dimension during an apocalyptic event and miraculously returns as some sort of… sexy bat-boy with a fucking horse dong and a bite kink. Critics are calling it “the most romantic novel of the last decade.” It’s me; I’m Critics.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

My main project right now is finishing TPAU if it kills me, but beyond that, I have a few one-shots for @subeddieweek in the works, including a collab with @griefabyss69 that I’m so so SO excited to share. It’s hot, it’s funny, I can’t wait for y’all to read it. 

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

First of all, as @wormdebut would say: I think you’re pretty. Thank you so much for all your hard work! I love this blog, and I love answering questions <3 Secondly: - Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. - Toss cubed sweet potatoes and parsnips, sliced sweet onion, and fresh garlic in a mix of olive oil, salt, pepper, and rosemary, and then spread in a single layer on a foil-lined baking sheet.  - Bake for ~40-45 minutes. (Potatoes and parsnips should be soft without being mushy when you poke them with a fork.) - Prep your sauce: I made a dijon drizzle situation by mixing olive oil mayo, a dash of dijon mustard, lemon juice, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a splash of water, but you could also add a little dab of hot sauce, bbq sauce, or different mustards. Basically just grab like four condiments out of your fridge and play around with the flavors you like until you make a mix that’s thin enough to pour. - Drizzle roasted veggies with sauce. - Enjoy a very tasty side dish (or do what I did and eat the whole sheet as a meal like some sort of parsnip goblin because you were too lazy to make the main dish after chopping all those veggies) okay thank you love you byeeeee

Thank you to our author, @wynnyfryd, and our nominator, @griefabyss69! See more of Wynnyfryd's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 writer #steddie writers #writer's wednesday

[pancake-breakfast]

Time for my second recommendation for Trigun Fanfiction Appreciation Week (@trigunfanfic)!

And for that, I shall recommend from the daylight by @beesinspades.

Words: 39,748

Status: In progress

Rating: Teen

Relevant Tags/Warnings*: Vashwood, Vash the Stampede, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Lina, Sheryl, Eriks Vash (sort of), Definitely Some Form of Creechur Vash, AU that Blends both TriMax and TriStamp (plus its own flavor), Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Eating Disorders, Wing Grooming, Major Character Injury

Summary: Months after the events of July, Wolfwood hears about a monster lurking in an old ship out in the desert. The townsfolk want him to kill it, but a young girl says it's her friend. Wolfwood knows that there are monsters and there are monsters, so he'll check it out decide for himself.

I'm honestly not sure how I stumbled across this particular fic (maybe ace Trigun week?), but it caught me up pretty quick. It starts with a mystery we're pretty sure we know the answer to and grows into a story of doing one's best to care for the strong when they are at their weakest. Despite some of the dark themes hinted at above, this story is gentle and loving. It's a got a bit of a "found family" dynamic, and as much as it's about caring for others, it also seems to be about learning to be cared for.

It also brings in something we haven't yet seen much in canon: interactions between Lina and Wolfwood, and it's great watching them bond in their own way as the story builds. They're two of my favorites, so getting a bit more of them is definitely welcome.

I look forward to the next chapter, whether that's next week or next month or a year from now.

*We all know some AO3 tags are added for fun/shits and giggles, so I’m just listing some of the basic ones that might be of use to people when deciding whether or not this is for them.

#vashwood #vash the stampede #vash trigun #trigun vash #vash tristamp #creechur vash #creature vash #eriks vash #eriks trigun #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun wolfwood #wolfwood trigun #wolfwood tristamp #trigun #trigun stampede #trigun maximum #trigun fanfiction #trigunfanficappreciation #trigun fic #other people's writing #beesinspades

[dndads-winter-gift-exchange]

Assignments Update!

Hey Doodlers! Exciting news- we're nearly finished with assignments!

After a lot of hard work on our end and patience from you, we're finally nearing the end of assignments. Which is so exciting!! We'll 100% be finished by the end of the day today, and will be sending them out tomorrow, January 5th, since it's getting pretty late for us and we want to be alert to make sure sending goes smoothly.

Thank you all for your kindness in dealing with the delays, we deeply appreciate it. We'll post when assignments start sending, and then post again when they're all sent out. We hope you're all as stoked as we are- go Doodlers!

#updates #info #important #i know we keep saying it over and over but we really and truly are excited for this to start. we know it's taking a bit longer #but hope that it turns out to be worth it to you all!! #(sammy here) my exhibit is bleeding a little more into things than i thought it would and it's 100% on me for not making more wiggle room #but at the same time there's not much that could have been done anyway. so yeah! #the current biggest problem is people maybe getting anxious over having less time and this event becoming stressful for them. which #is the last thing we want because this event is ALWAYS meant to be just. fun. #so we'll probably be making a poll soon asking if people would like us to push back our gifting week dates and by how much #so yeah! just to keep you all in the loop. i know not everyone reads tags but i figure a small heads up is probably nice #since i don't have the time to make a big post rn. basically things are coming and i swear we're doing all we can for this event #even if there have been delays. we're still very passionate. thank you and bye bye

[ehlnofay]

Pax should have said no.

Damn it all, they should have said no. Should have said go to hell and fucked off back – stop contacting me, sort out your own shit – but they didn’t, fuck knows why, and now they’re stuck here.

(They know why. They know exactly why; absolutely anything would be better than fucking off back to Cyrodiil. What’s for them there?)

But there’s nothing worth staying for here either, and now she’s crammed in between strangers on a long table, everyone dressed in fabrics she’s never seen with dyes so saturated they seem almost gory, eating stuff that isn’t food and talking loud enough to make her want to hurl a glass into the wall. It’s bizarre. The woman next to her, ruddy-faced and bald, wears a headpiece that shines like the sun the Isles doesn’t have; the other side is taken up by a stranger in a bone-white porcelain mask who has not moved but to swill the wine around in their glass. There’s scarcely room for Pax’s chair. It all feels like such a baffling pantomime of aristocracy (she's known the real thing well enough – feasts and toasts and luxurious gifts she had no use for, and if she doesn’t stop thinking about it she actually will throw a glass), bright colours and rich settings and a god taking offerings at the head of the table.

At least, Pax thinks, no-one tries to talk to him; they’re too busy fawning over their lord. Which is probably to be expected; but it all feels so strange, so unsettling, the way they all lean in towards it like flowers turning to face the sun, like seaweed dragged at by the inescapable pull of the tides. They grow towards it through the cracks in the air, matter moving toward the inevitable centre, as if they can imagine nothing more than this.

(Even more unsettling is the way it responds in kind, listening attentively to anyone who speaks to it, leaning in as though to kiss them, as though to swallow them whole. All hell, why did Pax agree to this? Why did they come?)

(They should have told it to fuck off. Should have said no way, I don’t want to help you, don’t want to get involved in anything you’d need my help for. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m done.)

(Pax is done. Pax is sick to death of all this shit; doesn’t want to deal with this, the vaguely described problems of a god that picks people apart like it’s unravelling a thick yarn shawl. Doesn’t want to deal with anything like this. He’s had his fill of gods.)

(Why is he still fucking here? Why did he agree to this? This is no better than eating in that weird fucking inn in town. This is no better than –)

(That’s a lie. It’s a bit better than Cyrodiil. Just as much a shithole, but it pulls the rug out from under him often enough that he doesn’t have time to think too much.)

“Not hungry?” says a prowling voice, coiling catlike into the plaits in their hair, and Pax jumps enough to jostle the masked bastard sitting ramrod straight next to him.

He looks up.

At the empty placemat across from him sits a figure veiled in gossamer, glittering in the glow of the lit-up lichen on the distant throne; the fabric of its endless shawls pulls apart at the ends, peeling away from itself, shedding patches like iridescent insect wings every time it shifts. If Pax squints, they can see through it to the grand marbled wall behind.

She glances back at the chair at the head of the table, where something lounges, eyes dripping gold, intricately carved cane laid across its knees; its too-many fingers are laced with the hand of a man whose gown blooms floral. Flatly, she says, “What the fuck?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Sheogorath asks, pouting; she can hear it laughing down the other end of the table. “It’s a proper feast. We pulled out all the stops.”

Pax shifts their eyes away to peer down at their plate. “You have served me worms,” she says. She flicks the dish with a fingernail. “In jelly. With flowers.”

“Larva, actually,” Sheogorath replies. It’s still at the other end of the table. It doesn’t seem eager to explain this. When it smiles, the gossamer falls away; its whole face splits in half.

It’s all so fucking stupid. Pax takes a deep breath – in through the nose, ignore all the odd spiced smells, and out – and does not yell at it, or try to hit it, because she’s gotten herself into a situation where that’s not really an option, because she’s a fucking idiot. Why didn’t she just say no?

(She knows why.)

The Mad God’s teeth flash bright as the ornate silver cutlery. Its chair scrapes back from the table. “It melts in your mouth,” it tells her, eyes glittering, “but I won’t make you try it. Walk with me?”

The figure still sits at the head of the table, snatching something from someone’s plate, always, always laughing. Its limbs sprawl like tentacles, like the silken threads of a tapestry, to encompass the whole room. The dinner guests stare as though bewitched, bedevilled, beguiled. Not one of them is looking at Pax. If he were to drop dead with his face in the food his corpse would not be discovered until sunrise.

Pax sniffs and shoves his chair back from the table. He lets Sheogorath (the second Sheogorath – but it must be, what else could it be?) lead him through a narrow door into some winding hallway, the walls lined and rimed with ornate coloured-glass windows. (It’s so much quieter. Still as garishly bright, but Pax is getting the sense that that is inescapable, here; the clothes they wear, as crumpled and covered in travelling-grime as ever and startlingly out of place against the odd jagged finery of the dinner party, seem unimaginably dull in comparison. Everything seems unimaginably dull in comparison.) Outside the windows, they can catch glimpses of the city – its winding, lamp-lit streets, the jumbled mess of its architecture, the sky arcing above it like a child’s attempt at watercolours. Pax wants to smash it, tear it down.

There’s no sun here, but still it’s night. The sky has shifted to purple and black.

“Isn’t it nice?” says their companion; when they look back, it’s nothing more than a shifting impression in the stained-glass window, a series of hairline cracks. It still manages, somehow, to smile at them.

It’s not. The sky is a shadow and the flamboyance of the palace is scraping at their spine. “Sure,” Pax says flatly. When she flexes her fingers, the bruising staining the base knuckle of her thumb aches.

Sheogorath looks at her – an ancient man leaning on a stick, a flickering painting, a bloody corpse, a little girl in velvet-red skirts, a breath. In its mercurial shifting she catches the flowery blossom of the man at the table’s collar, an unpleasant glimpse of her own braided hair, the smell of sulphur. It tips its head. She can’t focus on it anywhere but for the eyes.

“You don’t like my dinner parties,” it announces, as though it’s a revelation, a tragedy; its body crumbles like sea cliffs slowly eroded by the ways. It’s annoying – bloody obnoxious, and incomprehensible, and kind of weird that it noticed, that it would even care. (She’s never liked dinner parties. Nobody ever commented on it before.)

I’ve had well enough of them, Pax could say, or no, I don’t like you, but it’s the fucking Mad God, Daedric Prince of – Pax doesn’t even know what, he’s never known much about this shit, only that it’s well worth avoiding. Prince of the mad and the missing and the foolish, of breaking and breaking and putting yourself back together backwards. She should have said no, but she didn’t, and who knows what would happen if she went back on that now?

It's slinking closer. All that stay static enough to make out are eyes and teeth.

“Pax, yes?” it says, soft-voiced – a hand lands on his arm, small and dry and shivering, the skin as thing as a mouldering leaf. “You have no obligations here. If you want to be on your own, be on your own. We’ve plenty of space for it.”

Pax’s eyes narrow. He does not jerk away from it.

In the light of the coloured sky, the coloured windows, its face is phantasmagorical. “If you don’t want to be here,” it continues – still so skin-pricklingly gentle – “then your hand will not be forced. I’ll speed your way home if you wish.”

They can’t help but twitch at that. It’s setting their teeth on edge. (It’s lying – has to be. After its ages of coaxing them in, meting out information, not telling them where they were until they were on its doorstep, it would not give them the chance to leave.) Rough, still covered in road-grime, Pax asks, “Why should I believe you?”

(None of them have ever given them the chance to leave.)

Sheogorath, a figure of hollow skin and bone, inclines its head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Pax,” it says. Its eyes are wide and bulging, whites on full display like a frightened horse; it grins again. “Others might. But we’re not a monolith. We’re not even especially similar.”

Pax bites down on the flat edge of their tongue. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

The light coming in through the windows flickers. The Mad God turns to meet it.

“I’m the youngest,” it says, its voice glittering like mist on the air. “Did you know that? I don’t remember the world without you in it.” Its form spasms, volatile, wings and limbs and eyes like a snail’s on stalks sprouting and choking and subsiding back into its mass. “I’m closer to you than any. I understand, almost.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Pax repeats. She’s gritting her teeth, tonguing at her gums where two are missing. Are two devil-gods not enough to deal with for a lifetime? Is there really going to be more of this now, too?

Rolling through the air like smoke, the voice says, “It will.”

Pax presses purple-green knuckles to her mouth. Her teeth dig into the soft meat of her lip.

Sheogorath turns to face her, hair moving as though blown by the wind, as though tugged by the tides. It sighs. “You don’t believe me,” it says. Its tongue pokes through its teeth. “That’s perfectly fine. Clever, even. But if you want to leave, all you need to do is tell me so.” It pauses, then; the train of its strange, gnarled crown shifts over its shoulders when it moves its head. “Or just leave. The door is still open.”

“You’d be fine with me just leaving,” Pax rasps around his knuckle, “after weeks of not leaving me alone?”

(Of begging him to come, poorly-hidden agitation giving way to blatant franticness, half-swallowing the fear that choked its face in every mirror it spoke to him through. Of begging him still, after he got here, after he met it – begging in a roundabout manner, casual as anything, its every motion reeking of fear. Its abject terror when he turned to leave. You’ve come this far. Why not hear an old man out? Pax told it that it wasn’t an old man, that he didn’t give a shit either way, and it slid through a child, a monster, a sulphur-burned body coughing blood, his own shuddering form in armour he hasn’t seen in months, and it said please.)

(Regained its composure, its gentleman’s face, immediately afterward. But it – the Mad God, unknowable, inconsolable – said please. Pax still doesn’t know what to do with that.)

The Mad God, now, shrugs. Taps at the hairline cracks in the stained glass windows. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” it says, one pair of hands braiding something intricate into its beard. The hand on the glass slips down. “I told you. I do need a champion.”

“And I told you,” Pax bites, something aching and ugly surging in their gut, “not to call me that again.”

A smile, bloody-mouthed and beaming. “But we will abide,” says Sheogorath, and digs its fingers into the cracks of the stone. One brick slides loose, mortar dug up under its nails. It offers it up.

Pax licks their teeth and takes it.

The brick shivers, momentarily – crumbles, in their hand, like sand slithering through their fingers, and left in their palm is a hardy slip of bone. Spiked and sprawling, carved with intricate patterns; it arranges itself around an oval of empty space, the perfect size for four sharp-knuckled fingers.

“You can always leave,” the Mad God tells them, and for a moment it does look so very young and strangely, staggeringly hopeful. “But give it a chance. I think you could love the Isles, if you choose to.”

#for context - in my version of events sheogorath's recruitment of the HoK is a lot more active #it needs someone who can fulfill the metaphysical niche of the hero. it needs someone experienced enough that they might not even die tryin #and it needs someone desperate enough to take the deal #pax is fifteen years old has alienated everything that maybe could have been a support system and is grieving very badly. #perfect mantling material!! #so sheogorath pursued them very specifically and was very judicious about what they revealed when. which is why pax already has some kind o #relationship with it here - they've interacted before - in that for weeks pax's reflection has been constantly begging them to 'visit' #writing the interactions of these guys is a lot of fun because there is always so much sheogorath is keeping from pax. it is #extremely strategic in how it presents itself #and pax falls for it hook line and sinker. though we can't really blame them #it's hard to outsmart something that's in your head #and at this point pax is pretty much made up of their worst impulses #which sheogorath cannot and does not help with #see: this piece #“I would NEVER make you do something you don't want to do <3 if you'd like to go back to your miserable self-destructive hellscape that's #YOUR CHOICE. but wouldn't it be more fun to be regular destructive here... i made you brass knuckles... 🥺“ #im obsessed with them #the elder scrolls #tesblr #tes #my writing #fay writes #oc tag #pax #oblivion #shivering isles #the shivering isles

[good-beanswrites]

Yor Week Day 5: Family ☕🍵

A quick drabble of Yor and a teen Anya! I just wanted a sweet little snapshot of their daily life post-canon/post-reveals

“Your birthday’s coming up.” Yor stirred her coffee. “Are you busy? Your father and I were thinking of taking you to the aquarium, he said there’s a special event going on the same day.”

“I’m not sure,” Anya leaned her chin in her hands. The pair sat at an outdoor table at the local cafe. “Becky wanted to go out. She and a few friends wanted to spend the day together.”

The aforementioned friend’s sense of fashion had started to rub off on her. Happy to lose her high school uniform on breaks like this, she was dressed in current trends and styles. She’d grown her hair long to style in her own way, refusing help from her friends. Yor never said anything, but she recognized the way the thick braids tucked just at her neck, with curling pink locks framing her face.

Anya’s features scrunched up, lost in thought for a moment. “So...” 

She was slowly ridding herself of the habit, but Yor couldn’t help her thoughts from carrying her away in nervousness. Of course the girl’s friends would want to take her out. She thought the aquarium was a good idea – Yuri had loved going too, as a kid. But that was just it, Anya wasn’t a baby anymore. She had to stop thinking she knew how to care for a family just because she’d cared for her brother for a little while. Having a daughter was different.

“That sounds fun,” she forced a smile. Knowing it wasn't the most convincing of looks, she flooded her mind with the thought. She did believe it. It did sound fun. Things with friends were always great. Yor was so happy Anya had such wonderful friends in her life. Anya deserved to have fun with them.  “Yes, you should do that!”

Sure enough, she saw Anya’s bright eyes studying her. Though her mind was spilling with positivity, the conflicted look on the girl’s face didn’t lessen.

“The thing is… we’ve been doing a lot as a family recently, and, well…”

Yor’s hands clutched around her mug. Hairline cracks appeared on the side. She willed herself to calm down, but her heart was breaking as much as the cup. It was no wonder her daughter would rather spend the day with others! She’d been too overbearing, too enthusiastic to do lame things. She’d been keeping Anya from being the free teenager she wanted to be. 

She’d heard accounts of children growing up too fast, but it was even more painful than she’d expected. It seemed like only yesterday she was threatening parents of students who were insulting Anya’s tiny stature, and now she was grown and running off to make her own birthday plans.

“So it was you that scared Mrs. Greene our first year!”

“What?!” This time, the mug did shatter. Coffee and porcelain shards spread across the cafe table.

“I knew it!” She let out a giggle. “You had papa fooled, though.” Anya handed her a napkin, and helped to mop up the mess. “And mamaaaa…” She tugged on one of her pink curls, looking away.

Yor was surprised; that little gesture was a habit of her own. “What’s wrong?”

“I was going to say… I really want to hang out with you two.”

Her eyebrows raised.

“I just thought it would be silly to cancel on Becky, you know? Since we’ve already done so much together lately. But… the aquarium sounds fun. I really want to spend my birthday with you.”

Yor nodded, trying not to let her face betray her giddiness at the sentiment. “That sounds wonderful!”

The two continued making plans. Yor wanted her to be able to see her friends as well, and there was certainly room for everyone at the aquarium. Anya wanted to make sure the 'special event' wasn't an invention of her workaholic father. The three were used to working cases together, but it was her birthday, after all.

Suddenly, Anya’s eyes narrowed. Her lips twisted into something mischievous. “So… what are you guys getting for my present?” 

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” she said as her daughter stared intently.

Her look of triumph immediately turned to horror. She swatted her hands at Yor. “Noooo! Stop that! I don’t need to hear about you and papa making out!”

“Maybe you shouldn't have been snooping.” Yor grinned shamelessly. “Come on, I get to keep one thing from you all year.”

“That’s still gross.” She made a theatrically disgusted face, which only made Yor’s smile soften. “Hey! It's not adorable when I do that.”

“You’re always adorable.” 

Anya huffed. 

“And also,” Yor grimaced.

“Mm?”

“That whole thing about Charles’ parents stays between us, alright? Your father can never know.”

The girl let out a laugh. “Aw, mama. I'm you're daughter – you know I can keep a secret.”

#yorweek #yor forger #spy x family #anya forger #sxf #thats all i got for the week but thank you sm for putting the event on! :D #i was just saying the other day how yor as a character means a lot to me but for some reason i dont do art for her as much as id want #it was a ton of fun doing some little projects for her :') #i like the idea of anya using her powers regularly but responsibly around her parents #and yor and loid finding productive ways to guard against it if needed #and i know it probably wouldnt happen because the parents are too protective over anya to knowingly put her in danger #but im so obsessed with the whole family working jobs together as the coolest wackiest team #with goofy family issues in the middle of life or death moments like the Incredibles or something #i will also never be over the gag or yor being oblivious to how ridiculously strong she is lmao #it didnt fit the story but if anya heard yor discounting all the work she did caring for yuri shed totally stand up for her #'mama you did an Amazing job being a literal mom at age 16!!! yuri is just fucked up for unrelated reasons.' 'huh??' #fanfic

[vampiricsheep]

so since I may be free this summer after all, would anyone be interested in an RP event that's a potluck? I've been wanting to do it for ages but there's never any interest compared to other themes

for a discord rp, I would make a separate server explicitly for this purpose so you don't have to be in any guilds or anything! I would also delete the server (or at least channel, if people would like an event-planning server long-term) after a week - enough time for people to read over their stuff but not preserved forever and ever.

#actually remembering to make this a week-long poll this time! #if you've never heard the term before: a potluck is an event where everyone brings a food they've made to share in a communal feast! #there is no skill floor for this - if you (your character in this case) only knows a simple cornbread recipe they follow by the book that's #-just as welcome as an elaborate roast #and I know people have brought things they bought instead of cooked (like a bakery pie) #the point isn't to show off your cooking skills as much as it is to come together as a community and share :) #its historical origins were a little more complex in function than that but I'm going with what I was raised with #but yeah. it's a theme I've wanted to do a while because it's so community #I AM upset that I won't be busy this summer (rejected from every internship I applied to and can't apply to ones that require a- #-drivers license which is uhh MOST OF THEM! #but my psych was saying it's probably good for me to have some rest and recovery time after this hell semeste #(it wasn't hell but two of my classes have really been fucking with my head) #I DID get to try out darting guns last week in my wildlife sampling/id classes though and I hit the target dead center both times! #and that was fun. but the writing assignments from those other classes are incomprehensible in rubric #OH RIGHT MY TAGS #gw2 open RP night #gw2 rp

[goldendoodlerlockerlove]

Roudise Week Day 7: Holidays

Y’all, I can’t believe we made it to the last day of Roudise Week already 😭

It was such a joy getting to experience it. Everyone in this fandom is so flipping talented, it’s unreal!! Special thank you to @devilh0rnsinc and @ltwharfy for making this week possible!!❣️

#roudiseweek2023 #of course i had to add a frosty the snowman reference for this last piece #yes yes it looks very similar to my school/rudyville piece but i still tried to make it look distinct #i had so much fun participating in this week and i can’t believe i actually participated in every single day with an art piece!! #that’s never happened before and while it was exhausting it was also very rewarding so i’m hoping to do this again for future events

[pochapal]

the one million agonies of emailing have been conquered only for the immediate emergence of the one billion agonies of a microsoft teams seminar

#:) #which will then become the one trillion agonies of editing my thesis chapter for review #following that will be the one quadrillion agonies of my formal review and [redacted] important event occurring at the same time #so much is happening all the time forever................. #in real terms the scary workload is only for this week. after that it's mostly me going places and doing stuff #so after this week i am hoping to work on fun stuff again. february is just a bottleneck

[wereh0gz]

I wish all sontails shippers go to hell no matter what

#ramblings #i'm annoyed at stupid shipping things again SORRYYYYY #but seriously idk how you can look at those two and think 'ah yes a totally ok romantic couple' #they're brothers..... and tails is like 8....... stop being weird........ #idc if this shows up in the tag or whatever tbh. they need to become normal #to think someone made a whole week event for this ship.... insane #kinda wish i could host a sonic and tails SIBLING week or something like that. out of spite #and just bc their sibling dynamic is fun. there's never enough wholesome bro content #but i don't think it'd get much traction. i don't have that big of a following #i also suck at actually participating in art challenges like that. and at coming up with themes for stuff. so yeah lmao #tho maybe someone else could do it idk

[lululeighsworld]

FE OC Week - Endings!

happy end of fe oc week!! I don't think I've ever gone into detail about Summoner Leigh's ending so that's what I'll share today :D

Leigh: Life in Hoshido

(picrew here)

Once peace has been established across the realms of Zenith, Leigh's purpose comes to an end in the Order of Heroes, as does the aid of the heroes they've summoned over the years. After sending their heroes home to continue the fates they had put a pause on (albeit, some a bit teary-eyed) and saying their goodbyes, Leigh makes their way to Hoshido, seeking out a friend who stayed behind at Castle Shirasagi while others ventured forth to support Corrin. There, they stay to help out where they can, lending their expertise during strategy meetings and also studying apothecary under Yukimura's tutelage. For fun, they learn how to play taiko while living in Hoshido, as well as research the history of the kingdoms' languages so they can proceed with their work once the war is over. If Hoshido, Nohr, and Valla are going to maintain the peace between them, then fostering new avenues of understanding is going to play a major role. For many years after the war, they wait patiently, hoping the letter they had written in Askr and entrusted to another friend would arrive in the hands of its recipient when the time is right.

I really need FEH to add Yukimura so I can start to really develop the rapport between him and Leigh :') they join him in Hoshido after the events of rev-route chapter 16 and stay there for the duration of the war as well as after. Leigh really enjoys Hoshido and learns much about themself during their time living there. Their letter was entrusted to Flora, and its intended recipient is Gunter. Leigh knows of his fate from reading about it in Askr's library; as much as they want to be at his side, they know he must choose for himself what kind of life he wants to live now. So they wait, and keep themself busy, hoping that one day they'll be reunited.

Leigh: Language Advocate

(picrew here)

Now settled on the border between Nohr and Hoshido, Leigh lives peacefully with Gunter in the comfortable home they've created for themselves. While the retired knight spends most of his days enjoying the privacy the forest provides him, Leigh often ventures between all three kingdoms for work, providing the sovereigns with their linguistic expertise in whatever ways are necessary. Together with a few other committed individuals, Leigh establishes a group of dedicated interpreters, educators, and historians (to name a few) who all share the same goal of maintaining the communication channels between Hoshido, Nohr, and Valla so that they do not breakdown again like when the war began. Eventually, Leigh will come to have a smaller role in these affairs, choosing to take a step back and focusing on other aspects of their life.

in the best end possible Leigh and Gunter do end up together!! he finds them in Hoshido and they return together to the quiet little residence he's established for himself. Leigh still has much work to do though! they want to do their part in maintaining the peace for this world they've chosen to be their home. travelling frequently also allows them to sample all the different teas across the kingdoms; a sample of their favourites always accompanies them so that they and Gunter can enjoy it together :')

thank you so much for hosting this week!! it's been so much fun and I hope it makes a return in the future!

[day 1 introductions] [day 2 relationships] [day 3 backstory?] [day 4 tragedy] [day 5 joy]

#fe oc week #summoner leigh #summoner oc #UWEEEEEH SAD THAT THE WEEK IS OVER BUT TRULY IT'S BEEN SO MUCH FUN!!!!!! #would love to participate again with other ocs or for other oc events #thank you to those who planned this event!!! you are great!!!!! #and if you're reading these in the future and want to know more about summoner leigh: please know my inbox is always open!! #summoner leigh/gunter #i was gonna do ending for hel oc/fallen leigh too but uuuuuhhhh it's late *saves those for next time*