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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 4 months

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The Danger Zone (Part 18) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.9k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY.

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Military Inaccuracies; Medical Inaccuracies; Crying; Angst; Family Drama; Deployments; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You try to adapt to life without Jake beside you anymore.

Series Master List

Master List

Dear Jake,

You probably haven’t even reached the aircraft carrier yet. You might even still be on the ground in Miramar. But I couldn’t wait. I miss you. You’ve been gone for less than five hours, and I already miss you so much. I'm not saying that to try and make you feel bad, but because it's the only thing on my mind now.

Everyone offered to take me out today to try and distract me, but I declined. I think that I just want some time to myself. I honestly don't even want to get out of bed. Maybe I’ll do some cleaning. Or who knows? Maybe I’m an accomplished knitter who hasn’t discovered her talent yet. Or maybe I’ll bake again. I don’t know.

Also, all of the tee shirts you left behind are now mine. Sorry, it’s just wife rules. You shouldn’t have married me and knocked me up if you didn’t want me to steal your stuff.

I miss you. I love you. And so does our little girl. Come home safe, Lieutenant Commander. That’s an order.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I went back to work today. Everyone tried to talk to me about you and the wedding and everything, but I just wanted to be left alone. Also, my cravings are all over the place now. And half of the stuff seems to make me throw up these days. Luckily, I still have the gum and toothbrush in my desk.

How’s everything? I assumed that you made it to the carrier by now. Or maybe you’re somewhere else entirely.

You know all of those spy movies over romanticize how sexy it is to be waiting at home for your husband to return home from some top secret mission.

It’s not sexy. It’s just annoying.

Here’s a photo of me and my bump. Don’t mind the mess in the background, I’m rearranging the whole apartment. Call it nervous organizing. It'll be cleaned up. Eventually.

She’s been a shy ever since you left. I can still feel her moving around, but even she seems to have realized that you're gone. I think that she just misses you. And I can’t blame her because I miss you too.

I love you, Jake. Come home safely.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I got the package that you bought for me. I hope that you know that if you were here, I would have given you a rerun of that time that we went to that desert concert. The one where you wouldn't remove your hands from my waist for a second. I hope that your big promotion doesn’t change how much you enjoyed it when I tied your hands up back in your truck.

Our daughter’s been moving around like crazy today ever since I played your voice for her. She doesn’t seem to be willing to kick yet, but we’ll get there in time.

I let Emma take me out today. We just took a walk around her neighborhood. Baby girl finally went to bed after that. But knowing her, she’ll wake up just in time for me to go to bed.

Here’s our photo from today. Emma took it. I can’t believe I’m going to get even bigger. You owe me a deep tissue massage on my back when you get home. And I’ll hold you to it.

We love you and miss you, Jake.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I couldn’t take it anymore. I moved in with Mav today. I thought I wanted to be alone, but I was wrong. Being alone with my thoughts just makes me sad and lonely and I don’t want our daughter to bake in that. She needs to inherit your smile and dimples, so I’m making a bigger effort to be happy.

Penny took me to get my nails done today. I got a light pink for our daughter, but now everyone’s assuming that we’re having a girl. I haven’t confirmed it because we didn’t discuss it before you left but don’t be shocked when you come home to a lot of pink.

I also started seriously researching some girl names. I never realized how many people I don’t like until I started trying to name our daughter. And you better speak up if any of the ones that I suggest are ones that have bad meanings to you.

I’m still digging through a whole bunch of lists but there’s such weird ones out there, Jake. And we cannot name our child something that would get us a look from her teachers. Or a stripper name.

I love you. Baby girl is behaving herself, but she misses you.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

To My Beautiful Wife,

I finally got a chance to check my email. We’re settled on the carrier now, but we’ve been doing a lot of drills and long briefings. I'm sorry that I haven't written earlier. Know that the two of you are always on my mind.

I’m glad you got your gift. I tried to record what I could think of for our baby girl. I don’t want her to miss anything. And I don’t want her keeping you up at night. Has she kicked yet? By my count, you’re hitting seven months in a day or two.

Thanks for sending me those photos. I put up one of the two of you from that photo shoot in my plane. Really brightens up the place. But it also reminds me of what I’m missing. Sometimes I have to take it down so I can focus.

I miss you. I miss our little girl. Every day, every hour, every second.

Try to relax. I know that everyone’s probably told you that a thousand times by now, but I don’t want you feeling stressed about me. I’m fine and I'll be home as soon as I can. Please tell me that you didn’t lift anything heavy while you were moving into Mav’s house. Or maybe it's better if you don't tell me.

And you can tell everyone about her. I don’t mind. It’s not like we could keep it a secret for much longer anyways. But make sure to mention that I was right.

And you have to tell me the worst names that you've seen on these lists. I left a list of baby names I liked in my nightstand. I'd research them when I couldn't sleep at night.

I love you and I love our daughter. I’ll try to be home soon.

Your Husband,

Jake

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I had my seven month appointment today. Baby girl is healthy and still measuring a little small. But her heartbeat is strong and I can tell that she’s going to be stubborn coming out. The doctor says that it’s only a matter of time before she starts kicking.

I hope that the ocean isn’t too rough and you can see the stars. I remember when Mav and I spent a month in Hawaii when I was a teenager. We saw the most beautiful stars there. What if we picked a star name for our daughter? Not Stella, though. That was our dog's name growing up and I can't name my daughter after a dog.

I didn’t lift anything. Mav wouldn’t let me. And neither would Bradley. They’re watching me like hawks these days. And no, I didn’t mean that as a bird joke. Also, I can’t name our daughter after a bird. I’m trying to end the family streak of joke names.

Mckeighleigh was the most ridiculous looking name I’ve seen so far. And we’re not naming our daughter Precious either. Or worse, Chastity. I don’t know how those nurses keep a straight face when they hear those names.

And your recording telling her to go to bed has come in handy lately. Though I did warn her that we’ll be discussing the fact that she only seems to listen to you about that when she comes out.

I love you so much Jake. You’ll be home soon, I know it. And we’ll be waiting for you when you do.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I can't fall asleep, so I’m writing to you instead. And no, it wasn’t our baby girl who kept me up. I’ve had the worst heartburn these days. And Tums don’t do shit. They say that means that our daughter will come out with a full head of hair. I say that I'd take a bald baby in exchange for better sleep.

My baby shower is in a few days. Next weekend. Emma and Phoenix said that it was going to be relatively small, and I hope that they stick to it. I’m not really in the mood to see a lot of people anymore.

I yelled at Bradley the other day for making an omelet with three eggs because he left an egg in the carton without a 'friend' because he left an egg alone in its row since there was an odd number of eggs. Apparently, I kept crying about it for a while, but in all honesty, I don’t really remember much of that conversation. I’m pretty sure that Bradley’s keeping his distance now. You probably would have enjoyed seeing his face.

I asked for a little box at my baby shower to put name suggestions in. I’m running out of ideas. I keep worrying that we’re going to name her something stupid.

Baby girl is growing bigger, and I can’t believe that I’m still going to get fatter. I’m struggling to grab things off of the floor now. Maverick got me one of those grabby things that old people use. You would probably find it hilarious.

I love you. I miss you. I’ll write to you tomorrow.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

“Thank you,” you told Emma as she handed you a lemonade.

Emma and Penny took you out for the day to spend some time out of Mav’s house. You were growing increasingly less interested in leaving your 'nest,' as Bradley nicknamed it, and they were trying their best to get you motivated to go out and continue to live your life.

You had done some shopping for a dress to wear to your baby shower and now the three of you were getting a snack before you’d head over to the Hard Deck for the rest of the afternoon. You chatted for a moment before you sighed, slowly got to your feet, and grabbed your purse from your chair.

“Bathroom?” Emma asked you.

“Where else?” you joked, walking off.

A few minutes later, as you were washing your hands at the sink, you looked up when another woman stepped inside the bathroom. You offered her a friendly smile before her familiarity suddenly struck you. Quickly drying your hands, you reached for your bag and turned to leave. But the woman stood directly in your path.

She had stripes of gray cutting through what appeared to be deep auburn hair. She carried herself with a sense of purpose. And an expensive handbag. She reminded you of some of the women you used to see at the country club that you worked at in college. The type who turned a blind eye when their pig husbands made some demeaning comment to the women on staff and were never seen without some kind of drink in their perfectly manicured hands.

“You know who I am?” Georgia Seresin asked softly.

You stared her down, gripping the strap of you bag tightly. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, and you could practically feel the rhythm in your ears. Taking a breath and releasing it, you tilted your chin up and narrowed your eyes at her.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded quietly, looking around the small public bathroom. No one else was in there except for the two of you. “Are you stalking me?”

“I came to California when my son didn’t respond to my letter.”

“I wonder why?” you wondered sarcastically.

“What did he tell you?”

“Everything,” you stated firmly. “Which is why I would appreciate it if you stopped acting like it was just a coincidence that you ran into me here, hundreds of miles from your home, when Jake is conveniently deployed.” You paused for a moment before repeating through gritted teeth, “Why are you here?”

“To talk to you. About my son.”

“What about your son?”

“I know that your child isn’t here yet, but when they’re born, perhaps you can understand how much pain it could cause a mother to miss out on their child’s wedding or the process of them expecting their first child. From a mother to a mother—”

“—I’m going to stop you right there.”

You tried to keep your tears of anger in as you thought about Jake’s expression when he told you about his childhood. When you thought about the pain that you could hear in his tone, that you could feel radiating off of him.

“Because a woman who calls herself a mother would never do the things that you did. You stole him from a poor girl who loved him. You lied to her, promising that you would take care of him and love him. And then you turned around and fed him to the wolves." Nostrils flaring and angry tears threatening to fall, you added, "Did you ever even tell him that you loved him?"

“Of course, we did,” she admonished.

“Did you? Did you tell him that you were proud of him? That you loved him no matter what happened?” you snapped, trying to keep your voice even. “Every night my mom told me that she loved me and that she was proud of me. How many times did you tell Jake that, Georgia? How is a child supposed to just know that if you don’t tell them?” Shaking your head as you let out a shaky breath, you turned back to her. “And just so you know, there won’t be a day where Jake doesn’t tell our child that he loves them. Not one.”

Georgia adjusted her handbag on her shoulder and pursed her lips together. Clearly, she wasn’t used to being spoken to in this manner, but you didn’t give a shit about her feelings.

“Did you come here to convince me to talk Jake into speaking to you again? To buy my baby from me? A combination of the two? Does your husband know that you’re here? Is he waiting outside?”

Georgia took another moment to compose herself from your questions. She glanced down at the rings on your finger before meeting your gaze again.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Jake selected a woman as . . . outspoken as you,” Georgia stated, adjusting her handbag again. “No, my husband does not know that I’m here. And I’m not here to buy my grandchild. I’m here to try and get through to my son and I’ve realized that the best way to do that would be through you. The woman he married and is having a child of his own with.”

Your eyes flashed with annoyance at Georgia's words.

“I have no interest in having a relationship with you because Jake doesn’t have an interest in it.”

“There’s nothing I can do to persuade you to speak with him about me?” Georgia pressed, an edge of desperation in her tone.

“No, there’s not.”

“You would deny your child a set of grandparents?”

“I will protect my child from people who hurt their father.”

Forcing yourself to take a breath, you stared down Georgia for a moment. She looked far more pathetic than you knew she was comfortable with. Apparently, she thought that she would just waltz in, and you would agree with her without any pushback.

But she couldn't have been more wrong.

“You know, when Jake told me about his upbringing, I honestly felt a bit of sympathy for you, Georgia. Maybe you were convinced that being a rich housewife to a pathetic little man was a better life than being loved by a poor man. And I’m sure that your husband hasn’t been kind to you over the years.”

The rage flashed to the surface again as she turned away from you for a moment.

“But how could you look another woman in the eye and convince her to hand over an innocent baby to a man that you knew would be a horrible father? That you knew would hurt that baby?”

After a moment, you walked past Georgia, who did not move to block your path this time. You opened the door and strode out of there and you didn't dare look back. Trying to gather yourself, you looked up to see Emma and Penny a few steps away from you.

“Are you okay? We were getting worried," Emma questioned with clear concern.

“Fine. Let’s get going to the Hard Deck,” you stated, already turning towards the parking lot.

“What happened?” Penny asked, studying your expression. You didn’t reply and just kept marching towards the parking lot until Penny rested a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to slow down. “You’re shaking. What’s wrong?”

“Jake’s mom walked into the bathroom,” you explained quietly, looking over your shoulder.

“What?"

“She knew where you were?” Penny asked urgently, looking around with a protective stare. Wrapping her arm around your shoulders, she encouraged you forward again. “Come on, let’s get going.”

~~~~~

Maverick’s face darkened after you finished with your explanation about what happened at the mall. Grabbing his phone, he got up from the table with a serious expression.

“I’m going to make a call,” he stated firmly. “They can’t stalk you and your child. I don’t care who the hell that they think they are in Texas. That’s not going to fly out here. That’s not going to continue.”

“Who are you calling?” you asked as Maverick walked off.

“An old contact. I’ll be right back.”

Penny told you to just let Mav make the call as the remaining four of you remained seated at the table. You twisted your engagement ring around your finger nervously, sharing a look with Emma and Bradley, who sat across from you.

“She didn’t try to hurt me—”

“—Doesn’t matter,” Bradley interjected quickly. “It’s creepy and it’s over the line and it’s going to stop. Now. Just let Mav make his call. He'll handle it.”

“I know,” you sighed, holding your head in your hands. “Jake is going to freak out when I tell him.”

“You’re going to tell him right away?”

“I can’t hide it from him. It might take me some time to find the words, but I have to tell him.”

Penny hugged you to her side and rubbed your back with her hand, giving you the maternal support that you really needed in that moment. You sighed and leaned against her, desperately wishing that Jake would be home soon.

“Everything will be alright. We’re going to figure this out.”

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I hope that everything is running smoothly where you are. And that you read this email sooner rather than later.

Penny and Emma took me to the shops yesterday and when I was trying to leave the bathroom, I ran into your mother. She came up from Texas and she told me that she wanted to talk to me about you. Said something about using me to convince you to talk to her again. I told her that I wasn’t interested in that because you weren’t interested in that. She let me leave after that.

I don’t want to stress you out or make you feel like you have to do anything when you’re so far away, but I wanted to be honest with you. Mav’s made a few calls and he seems to think that he has a solution. Don’t stress about us, just focus on your mission and coming home safely in one piece.

We love you, Jake. And we’re safe, we’re fine. And we miss you.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Folding some fresh laundry in Maverick's house a few days later, you looked up when you heard your phone buzz. An unknown number was calling you and despite your hesitation, you answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Honey.”

“Jake?” you whispered out shakily, holding a hand to your mouth. Moving to sit, you tried to calm yourself down and not just simply sob. “How are you calling me?”

“I have my ways,” Jake replied teasingly. Growing more serious, he asked, “Are you alright?”

“We’re fine, Jake.”

“I’m so sorry, Honey. She never should have been anywhere near the two of you.”

“We’re fine,” you repeated softly. “She didn’t threaten us. If anyone was threatening anyone, it was me.”

“That’s my wife,” Jake praised, causing you to smile bashfully. “But my father wasn’t there, right? It was just my mother?”

“Yeah. She said that he didn’t know that she was there, and I didn’t see him around.”

“Good. I’ll deal with them when I get home.”

“Okay.” After a moment you asked, “How much longer do you have?”

“Less than a minute. I’m sorry, Honey, I just needed to know that the two of you were okay. They thought that I was having some kind of stroke when I read your email and I managed to convince them to let me call you.”

“At least one good thing came out of the whole shitshow,” you sighed, resting a hand on your bump. “I love—”

You froze when you felt your daughter press her foot against your hand. Jake felt his heart leap into his throat when you cut yourself off and stop talking without a clear reason.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“She’s kicking,” you whispered softly.

“What?”

“Jake, she’s kicking. Our daughter is kicking!”

“She’s kicking?”

“Yes, she’s kicking,” you laughed, before your joy dimmed and tears pooled in your eyelids. Sniffling, you croaked out, “I love you so much, Jake. We love you so much.”

“I love you too. And I miss you so fucking much, Honey. And I’m so sorry that I’m not there.”

“Hangman, time’s up,” Jake heard from behind him, causing him to look over his shoulder.

“I’ve got to go, Honey,” he replied, grinding his jaw to try and stave off the tears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Bye, Jake.”

The line went dead, and you slowly placed your phone down. Holding your hand to your mouth, you finally let out your sobs. And about a thousand emotions that you'd tried keeping in ever since Jake was forced to leave you.

Your daughter was finally kicking, but her father wasn’t here to feel her. And the thought only made you sob harder.

Back on the carrier, Jake rubbed the tears that leaked from his eyes.

He missed it. He fucking missed it. He missed his daughter kicking for the first time. He wasn’t there when his mother showed up out of nowhere and accosted you in a public bathroom. He wasn’t going to be there for your baby shower.

Jake had anticipated that deploying while you were heavily pregnant was going to be difficult. But he didn’t realize that it was going to be impossible, killing him slowly from the inside out.

“Hangman?”

“I’m coming,” Jake called back, clearing his throat. “I’m coming.”

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juliasgoodusername · 1 year

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Sometimes a girl has to go a little crazy. Sometimes a girl has to make a book-accurate floorplan for 300 Fox Way. These things just happen, sometimes.

Obsessive annotations under the cut ✨ but be warned, there's a LOT

Exterior

Okay first of all, I'm no architect, and my only knowledge comes from work experience in the real estate industry + a lot of Sims. The style is sort of neo-rural French colonial. I didn't set out to adhere to that standard so much as I made an amalgamation of homes in Blue Ridge Mountains-adjacent towns in Virginia. Specifically, my headcanon Henrietta template is Orange, VA (I'll save that explanation for another post) so I took inspiration from real estate listings from there.

Alright alright I know there is supposed to be one bathroom, but I simply can't tolerate that in a house with 6+ residents. I can't. There was a possible contradiction in the descriptions of "the single shared bathroom" that I used as an excuse to add a 3/4 bath, and I threw in a powder room for free. Because technically there is still only one full bathroom! But seriously with that many women over 30 most of them probably have IBS or chronic constipation and I'm not making them all share a toilet.

Officially we only have 4 bedrooms listed in text: Blue's, Persephone's, Maura's, and Calla and Jimi's shared one. Everyone else gets rooms that don't qualify as bedrooms via Virginia residential building codes (such as the attic, obviously, which falls below the combined ceiling height and square footage requirements). That really just leaves Orla unaccounted for but I'll get to that later. Other aunts and friends seem to visit during the day and live somewhere else, because in The Raven King only Jimi and Orla were described as needing to move out of the house during the demon stuff.

I designed the entire interior floorplan before I even touched the exterior, so there's a few issues, like how I'm totally missing shutters on the windows that functionally need them most. 🫶 I didn't feel like making the windows smaller to fit them, and I could have added faux-shutters but I think those are stupid. 😘

First floor

"This house is lovely. So many walls. So, so many walls," Malory said as Blue entered the living room a little later.

- Blue Lily, Lily Blue, Chapter 30

Right off the bat, we have an insane number of doors and walls. Old colonial houses are pretty much the opposite of open concept. Functionally I believe that's because it's easier to control heat with closed off rooms, but Virginia is not particularly cold so idk. As for the number of doors, I mean....😤😤😤 I prefer archways/doorless frames in small high-traffic spaces, but every time I thought I could get away with it Maggie would specifically describe doors opening and closing (For example BL,LB Ch 41 gives the reading room double doors, and even the living room gets one in Ch 11. What kind of living room needs a door???). I'm actually missing one of the doorways described in canon, but if you know which one I'm talking about I DARE you to find a place to put that thing!! But I digress.

“Mom," she said as she jumped down the crooked stairs.

- The Raven Boys, Chapter 3

I'm liberally using "crooked" to establish the corner turn stairs. Blue steadies herself on the stair railing when she identifies Gansey for the first time (TRB Ch 15), so I wanted the stairs to have good visual access to visitors. It also sort of has a feng shui-ish effect of separating the public and private energy zones in the house. If that statement made zero sense, I think one of us doesn't know enough about feng shui 👀 and it might be me.

I'm also using that quote to establish Maura's room downstairs, if Blue generally expects to find her mother there, but mostly because everything else was upstairs and it was getting hard to fit. Granted, at one point Blue leads the boys "up the stairs to Maura's bedroom" (TDT Epilogue) but since they were just arriving at 300 Fox Way those stairs could easily be the outdoor ones. There's a handful of little things to support me here, such as Adam grabbing a scrying bowl from Maura's room to use in the reading room (BL,LB Ch 41) implying that her room was the closest place to find one. And speaking of Maura's room-

Calla was overwhelmed by how much shit Maura had in her room at 300 Fox Way, and she told Blue this.

... The mess was taking years from her life. ... Maura liked chaos.

... The psychic hotline rang in the room next door. Calla's concentration fluttered away.

- Blue Lily, Lily Blue, Prologue

Maura is my favorite hypocrite. She claims to detest clutter (TRB Ch 34) and yet her room is literally described as chaos. She probably treats her room like a college student and moves the furniture every time she gets bored/stressed. Thus, I gave her the most insane furniture configuration I could think of while still matching all the contents described.

The phone ringing next door might imply that she neighbors the phone/sewing/cat room, but that area is pretty well described and Maura's room is never mentioned there in any other instance. That leaves us with the kitchen phone (TRB Ch 27) which I put in the hallway with kitchen access as a compromise so it would technically still be in a room next to Maura's.

In the reading room, the man looked around with clinical interest. His gaze passed over the candles, the potted plants, the incense burners, the elaborate dining room chandelier, the rustic table that dominated the room, the lace curtains, and finally landed on a framed photograph of Steve Martin.

- The Raven Boys, Chapter 13

There are so many quotes about the reading room that I just don't feel like citing them, but other details include the mismatched chairs, the shelves, doors etc. It's also described specifically as Maura's "front room" (TRB Prologue) so it's one of the cornerstones that I designed the rest of the layout around. Because of the plants, it makes sense that this room would be south-facing too. (Although idk how much light they get with the wraparound porch awning in the way. Oops lol!)

The outside suddenly seemed vivid in comparison to the dim kitchen. The April-bright trees pressed against the windows of the breakfast area, ...

- The Raven Boys, Chapter 3

Blue Stormed into 300 Fox Way's kitchen and began a one-sided interrogation with Artemus, who was still hidden behind the closed storage closet door.

- The Raven King, Chapter 9

Likewise, I'm using the particularly dim kitchen to place it on the north side, where we also know there's trees in the backyard.

I'll say the kitchen layout is weirder than it strictly needed to be because in the Virginia homes I referenced I adored all the strange kitchens, especially with old timey 'servants area' vibes where laundry kitchen and pantry are all connected. Instead of a kitchen island, they get one of those rolling kitchen carts which I doubled as a bar cart for the drinks they have in the living room.

The kitchen has a doorway to the hall (TRB Ch 13) and the living room is within view when Blue's on the kitchen phone (Ch 27).

Speaking of chapter 27, that's when we get the description "The morning light through the windows turned the drinks a brilliant, translucent yellow." So I put the living room on the east side of the house, where the rising sun would cast really strong light like that.

Second Floor

When she woke up, her normally morning-bright room had the breath-held dimness of afternoon. In the next room over, Orla was talking to either her boyfriend or to one of the psychic hotline callers.

- The Raven Boys, Chapter 3

Blue headed toward the red-painted door at the end of the hall. On her way, she had to pass the frenzy of activity in the Phone/Sewing/Cat Room and the furious battle for the bathroom. The room behind the red door belonged to Persephone, ...

- The Raven Boys, Chapter 11

Blue's room and the Phone/Sewing/Cat room are our cornerstones for this floor. In several examples we know that the Phone/Sewing/Cat room faces the street and has a window (TRB Ch 15, BL,LB Ch 4). While Blue's room is "morning-bright," we also get descriptions of guests at the front door "backlit by the evening sun," (TRB Ch 15) so once again we're probably talking about south windows if it's sunlit at both times of day.

Adam sat awkwardly on the edge of Blue's bed. It felt strange to have so easily gained access to a girl's bed- room. If you knew Blue at all, the room was unsurprising - canvas silhouettes of trees stuck to the walls, leaves hanging in chains from the ceiling fan, a bird with a talk bubble reading WORMS FOR ALL painted above a shelf cluttered with buttons and about nine different pairs of scissors. Against the wall, Blue self-consciously taped up the drooping branch on one of the trees.

- The Dream Thieves, Chapter 49

We get some great descriptions of Blue's room (especially TRB Ch 43), although the above one is my favorite (#wormsforall). Every piece of furniture is accounted for exactly as described except the desk which I added because it seemed practical, and Blue is nothing if not practical™.

Persephone's room is also very well-described, all the way down to the furniture and lighting placement (BL,LB Ch 4 and TRB Ch 11) and it's surprisingly similar to Blue's room, if not a bit smaller. Her room gets strong afternoon sunlight, so I put it on the south too (BL,LB Ch 43).

Calla and Jimi share a room that's also upstairs (TRK Ch 16). Because they are the only two who have to share a room, I have justified that it must be the "master bedroom" (sorry for using that term) and is far bigger than the other bedrooms. I managed to fit two queen beds in there, but some scholars [me] would argue that Jimi and Calla might also share a bed because they are in love. Can you prove me wrong? No, you can't.

As for the bathroom, remember when I mentioned a possible contradiction? Famously, Maura draws the ley line symbol in the steamed up shower door (TRB Ch 1). However, much later we get Maura, Orla, Calla and Jimi all sitting in the bathtub for some kind of ritual (TRK Ch 9). No matter how I picture it, I can't put 4 full grown women in a bathtub together without someone partially sitting on/spilling over the side. But that would be impossible in a combo bath/shower enclosed by glass doors!! Thus, I gave The Bathroom a nice tub and put a small shower in the en suite of Jimi and Calla's room. I know this is a stretch but I don't really care.

Attic

Blue had never been a big fan of the attic, even before Neeve moved in. Numerous slanting roof lines provided dozens of opportunities to hit your head on a sloping ceiling. Unfinished wood floorboards and areas patched with prickly plywood were unfriendly to bare feet. Summer turned the attic into an inferno.

... In one of the narrow dormers, two full-length, footed mirrors faced each other, reflecting mirrored images back and forth at each other in perpetuum.

- The Raven Boys, Chapter 34

Trying to fit the attic access in after everything in the second floor was my biggest challenge, because stairs normally take up a lot of space and you have to be careful about head room. I'm the end, I decided it was one of those fold out attic doors that you have to reach from the ceiling of the hallway. We might get a lot of instances of the attic door being opened (😤 seriously, Maggie... 😤) but technically a trap door in the ceiling is still a door!

Dormers pretty much cemented the French colonial style for me. And you know the drill by now: a hot room probably means a lot of sun, which means I give it a south facing window!

Mud Room/Cellar/Basement

This cellar has absolutely zero mention in the text, but my justification is based in the architecture. So far we've got a funky old colonial house, built without a garage, lots of walls etc. Especially in a low-income/semi-rural area, it's not crazy to assume that 300 Fox Way was built before most residents had refrigerators (1930s-40s). Besides iceboxes, a major way to keep food fresh was root cellars. Modern renovations for old homes convert these to concrete basements, but that's why the basement is so small and connects to the kitchen.

My headcanon is that Orla originally shared a room. Pick whoever you want: Maura, Blue or Persephone, any of them would easily be such a chaotic roommate that Orla snapped and in a fit of teen girl rage moved herself down to the crummy dark basement. Over time, she made efforts to glamorize it, such as a vintage dressing screen to hide the flood drainage pump. The privacy also allows her to bring boyfriends over, even sneaking them through the mud room.

This is really just my artistic license, but I swear it makes a surprising amount of sense in context. There's cases of Orla sneaking into the kitchen (easier if she has a back entrance) and she's almost always using the phone upstairs or in the kitchen (because a basement would get bad reception) even though her calls get kinda ~intimate.

Aaaaaand I think that's everything. Sorry it doesn't look like the photo from the wiki at all, but I couldn't find a source for it and Victorian style wasn't super common in the areas I researched. Let me know if I missed anything major! I'll probably cry myself to sleep if so.

#happy hyperfixation friday everyone #January was a weird month for me ngl this was one of my more hinged projects if you can believe it #please don't let this flop tho like this definitely took longer than any drawing I've ever posted here #trc #the raven cycle #the raven cycle fanart #300 Fox Way #Blue Sargent #the raven boys #my art #trc unraveled

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pilfappreciator · 5 months

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Brandi and Bruce’s S/o looking after the bakers dozen on their own, what shenanigans occur?

Anon this is?? Literally so cute what the hell??? Also referring to them as the "bakers dozen" is so genuis sfhjjfdadfggh—

Reader & the Bakers Dozen: babysitting solo

Includes: GN! Reader, mentions of polyamory, mentions of Vacay Lovers, slightly Parental! Reader, the Bakers Dozen

CW: Bruce Jr.

🍪 POV: your partners go off to some fancy convention to promote their business, leaving you to watch after all 13 of their kids. Chaos ensues

🍪 These little shits are already a lot to handle, so when you suddenly find yourself being the only adult in the house responsible for them? Yeah, babes, you've definitely got your hands full

🍪 Luckily, you've spent enught time at the Vacay Lovers household that things are at least a little easier for you lol

🍪 They definitely behave much better for you compared to other babysitters. Partly because you're smoochin their parents (and don't wanna get in trouble), and partly because they genuinely like you :3

🍪 But they're still little shits thru and thru, don't forget that

🍪 If they happen to have school? Chances are Bruce and Brandi already took care of their lunches and stuff before they left, so it'll be up to you to pick them up (WARNING: THE KIDS WILL TRY TO CONVINCE YOU TO GO ORDER AT THE NEAREST FAST FOOD PLACE! Unless you've got money for 13 happy meals, prepare to hit em with a firm refusal). Definitely helps if you blast some music in the van! They've kinda lost interest in Velvet & Veneer after learning the two literally tortured their dad and uncles...

🍪 Play Brozone. They'll go crazy and shout-sing along with Bruce's parts lol

🍪 Later in the day you can expect a few to come up to you for homework help. They might also wanna help with dinner, but fyi there WILL be a mess. Pasta sauce on the floor, flour all over the counters, stains on your clothes— the whole shebang

🍪 Want the least amount of casualties? Just let them set the table (no worries, all the plates and stuff are made of plastic ajdjakkala)

🍪 A few of them have some dietary restrictions tho so keep that in mind!! Luckily, you can always find a list of reminders/examples up on the fridge courtesy of lovely muppet wife Brandi <33

🍪 If the kids don't have school that day, then be prepared. You're gonna have very little time to yourself ://

🍪 Like they've each got their own interests and hobbies to keep them occupied, but sometimes they'll need you to reach somewhere up high, or for you to play tiebreaker/settle an argument, or they honestly just want you to join them for a game of hide and seek which???

🍪 "Aw, you sure you guys don't mind me joining in?"

"Yeah! Just cuz you're old doesn't mean you can't have fun, too!"

"...Gee, thanks :D"

🍪 They're merciless

🍪 They've all got their own set of chores they need to do. Each and everyone will try to worm their way out of them. All of them. Everytime

🍪 Sure, they can be a little hyper sometimes, but they're like 6-8 years old so that's expected. For the most part, they're all pretty chill

🍪 It's Bruce Jr. who you've gotta watch out for

🍪 He is a shit- stirer and I WILL FOREVER STAND BY THAT

🍪 This guy won't hesitate to rally his siblings into whatever plan he's been cookin in that feral little head of his. Prepare yourself because you're MOST DEFINITELY getting pranked. It's like a requirement or something

🍪 One nice thing i have to say about Bruce Jr. is that he's actually pretty resourceful. Like this little dude is using everyday household items like he's staring in his own Home Alone movie AKSJSJAKA—

🍪 Rest assured, tho, none of his pranks are seriously harmful or anything but like... at the end of the day, expect:

1) to be covered in craft supplies

2) your clothes/skin/hair a mess

3) to have one limb stuck in a bucket

4) all of the above

🍪 Honestly I feel like Bruce and Brandi would be surprised if they came back and DIDN'T find you sporting paint-stained clothes or with glitter in your hair. Maybe a few stickers slapped on your forehead??

🍪 The trick to dealing with this little agent of chaos is to either keep him separated from his siblings long enough so he doesn't manage to rope anyone into his schemes, or strike some kinda deal with him. Considering he's got 12 siblings, all of whom you need to be watching over at the same time, chances are the second option is your safest bet

🍪 Chances are he'll ask for something semi-illegal, or at the very least something that DEFINITELY requires adult supervision

🍪 DO NOT LET THIS BOY TALK YOU INTO BUYING ANYTHING RELATED TO FIRE. Seems like an easy task, I know. Unfortunately this little shit enherited his dad's charm so watch out o_o

🍪 He'll settle for a happy meal tho. Hopefully you didn't already cave and take him and his siblings out to eat earlier, otherwise you're spending even more money ajsjakkala

🍪 If any errands need to be run during your time there, you BETTER BELIEVE they're all coming with. You'll need to be incredibly vigilant during this time cuz these kids are even more rowdy in public than they are at home. If you're smart about it, you can turn the whole thing into a game! If everyone manages to grab everything off the grocery list in a certain amount of time or if they're able to find the best quality (but relatively cheap) brand of laundry detergent, then you'll buy each of them candy or something uwu

🍪 You can count on them to be cooperative, but like... bring the family child leash just in case

🍪 Cough cough (Bruce Jr.) cough cough

🍪 MOVIES BEFORE BED! It's a bit of a family tradition in the Vacay Lovers household. Yknow, just some way for the kids to spend time together before the day ends

🍪 You're most definitely gonna be playing tiebreaker when the time comes. All 13 of them have wildly different tastes

🍪 Absolutely no scary movies tho. They'll try to argue that theyre able to handle it, but at the end of the night expect to find yourself under a pile of frightened children who've ctawled into bed with you

🍪 Their collective nightly routine is literally?? So chaotic??? Like all of them are simultaneously trying to squeeze into the same bathroom just to brush their teeth... running in and out of their respective rooms... trying to sneak some extra dessert before bed

🍪 Literally never a quite moment in this household jshskakakam

🍪 You might have to read a few bedtime stories or sing a lullaby—

"Dad does it better"

"Just go to bed, Benji"

—but once they've settled in under the covers? Out like a light. They are unconscious the moment their heads hit their pillows

🍪 You'll probably have a mess (or two... or three) to clean up afterwards, but once they're taken care of? Dishes washed? Counters clean? You're more than welcome to crash on Bruce and Brandi's bed <33

🍪 Said couple returns home the next morning...

🍪 Just to find their kids drawing on your face with marker. Cross your fingers that none of its permanent 💀💀

Hope this was good! I know I call them all little shits BUT I MEAN IT AFFECTIONATELY OKAY AJSJAKA

Ngl I feel like this could have been like... more colorful? Like I was very general about the kids and their behavior as a whole, but now I'm super tempted to make a post describing each of them and all their little quirks! Just something fun to do that'll help me write them better in the future ;3

#anon i hope you know im using Bakers Dozen as an official term from now on #big brain move #love that for you <33 #i shall continue to slander bruce jr. till the grave #trolls #trolls band together #bruce trolls #brandi trolls #Vacay Lovers #Bakers Dozen #trolls x reader #brozone x reader #spruce trolls #x reader #headcanon #ask

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macabr3-barbi3 · 2 months

Text

dream a little dream (of me)- chapter 2 [Alastor/Reader]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54459367/chapters/138625708

Chapter 1 is here! And Chapter 3 is here!

Same tags as chapter 1: Dream Sex, Dreamsharing, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Rough Sex, Dreamwalking, Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor

It’s truly amazing what a regular sleep schedule can do for someone. Within days of starting to sleep in Alastor’s room, life in Hell just felt… better.

And Alastor was tolerable, in his own way. There was no mention of the deal that you had made, and if anyone noticed you spending the evenings in his bedroom they didn’t question it. It was the same every night- you would knock, he would invite you in, and you would engage in the tiniest of small talk before he shepherded you to the bed he had set up for you in the bayou dimension. It was always made, the sheets comfortable and soft and warm as you laid your head down and fell into dreamless sleep. You were keeping to your end of the deal, unable to resist the siren call of actual rest in favor of sneaking to Alastor’s side of the room to see what he dreamt of these days.

You wondered about his end, and what he had promised if you stayed out of his dreams like you agreed- like you were doing. “Whenever you would like,” he had said, but you didn’t want to just- proposition him. That felt improper and scandalous. For the time being you were content to just accept the peaceful relaxation that the bayou realm offered you.

You quit the retail job that you held after about a week and accepted Charlie’s offer to find something to do in the hotel- you were designated to the Resident Events Coordinator, which basically meant that when Charlie got it in her head that everyone needed to go on a field trip somewhere, you were in charge of booking, paying invoices from the Hotel budget, and making sure everyone was accounted for and following the rules when you got there. In theory, anyway- you’re pretty sure Charlie came up with the job on the spot but you hadn’t actually gone anywhere yet, no field trips taken or tasks for you for a couple weeks now.

That seemed like it was going to change as Charlie squealed your name from the front office and asked you to join her. Poking your head tentatively into the room, she has a bunch of papers spread across the desk, Vaggie in the chair next to it with a hand to her temple. She shoots you a smile before her eyes return to the carpet, muttering something in Spanish under her breath.

“What’s-”

Charlie is bouncing with excitement as she sings, “I have a resident event for you to coordinate!” She gestures to the papers on the desk with wiggling fingers. “I’ve been doing some research and while it's been found that just regular stuff in a familiar setting is all well and good and helpful, doing things like trust exercises or just hanging out in an un familiar setting can also be really great! So Vaggie and I looked into some stuff and we decided ooonnnnnn….” She trails off and gestures grandly to Vaggie, who looks up from her dead stare at the floor.

“Camping. Yay.” Her enthusiasm is noted, but when Charlie pouts at her she smiles and pulls some jazz hands. “Sorry- camping! Yay!”

You offer your own smile even as your heart drops. “Okay, cool! What do I need to do?”

Camping would mean everyone sleeping in the same area- you had gotten so accustomed to a regular night’s sleep that you weren’t sure if you could stay up an entire night to avoid falling into anyone’s dreams. Alastor probably wouldn’t come with the group- he didn’t seem like camping was his style- so you wouldn’t be able to rely on that. You hoped that going back to the energy drinks for a night or so wouldn’t irreparably damage your new internal clock.

Charlie launches into a spiel about what was needed of you- reserving the campground, making sure that there were plenty of smores ingredients handy, snacks and things to grill and bottled water all in ready supply. You would need to get the list of rules, a map of the area, tents, and did you know how to start a fire?

“Babe, you’re the Princess of Hell. I’m pretty sure you can start a fire just fine.” Vaggie looked at her girlfriend with an air of amused frustration.

“Well yeah but I want it to be authentic! No magic on the camping trip- not even from me.”

You look up from the notepad Vaggie had handed you before Charlie got too far into it, catching up on everything she had listed off. “No magic- got it! Do you have a particular place in mind?”

And the demon was off again, listing off nearby wooded areas that offered camping and everything the group might need. Looking at the list of items you had accumulated, you figured that this job would be actual work and not just something Charlie gave you for a title- you wondered if Vaggie had to talk her into letting someone else handle the intricacies of outings so she didn’t burn herself out.

You spent the rest of the week finalizing everything, only being met with a small groan when Charlie informed the group of what would be happening on Friday evening. Niffty seemed excited- “lots of wild bugs,” she said with a crazed look in her eye, and you made a mental note to call the campground again to ask if ‘murder of bugs’ was something that was allowed- and Angel and Husk just seemed to resign themselves to their fate. Alastor had raised an eyebrow and said he would see if his ‘schedule could allow him to attend,’ so he was most likely out.

You had only managed to acquire three tents- one for Charlie and Vaggie, one for Husk and Angel, and one for you and Niffty. You had no intention of sleeping in it- you would wait until the smaller demon fell asleep, which she always did swiftly and deeply, and then spend the night sipping caffeine and manning the fire to keep everyone warm while they slept. When you came home on Saturday you would return to Alastor’s room and catch up on the rest you would be losing.

You arranged for the delivery of everything to the campground ahead of you all, and were pleased to see all of your materials where they should be when you arrived. It felt good to be able to do something for the group, and to help Charlie like this and take some stress off her plate. You started sorting through it all, handing out sleeping bags and designating Husk to management of the food items when you hit the first snag.

“Uhhhh…” The box containing the tents had two that were regular sized- big enough for two people while still remaining in the confines of the campsite as you set them up. The last appeared to be a child’s tent- large enough for Niffty on her own but certainly not for the two of you. That threw a wrench in your plans, as you were sure that no one would go for the idea of you sleeping outside on your own.

“Oh no!” Charlie looked over your shoulder and saw the predicament. “That won’t work for the two of you- wait, you can share with Vaggie and I! There’s enough room in there for three, right?”

Fuck.

“Maybe,” you agree hesitantly, but it wouldn’t be as easy to sneak out of the tent with two of them, one being a former Exorcist Angel with a penchant for nightmares that woke her up. And just laying there pretending to sleep would probably result in you actually falling asleep- and also, it was a little weird to share a tent with a couple, right?

Vaggie frowns as she finishes setting up hers and Charlie’s tent. “I don’t know, hun- there’s not much room in here, I’m not sure if three people will fit.”

Charlie goes to inspect the tent. “Well, we would be pretty close but I think it would be okay!”

You start to wave your hands in denial. “That’s okay guys, really- I still have a sleeping bag, I can stay by the fire-”

The resounding chorus of “NO!” from the group is touching, it really is, but not helpful to your current struggle. Husk is adamantly insisting that if anyone sleeps outside it should be him, Angel is complaining about the possibility of not getting to share a tent with Husk, Niffty is- chasing bugs on the outskirts of the site, completely unconcerned with the issue at hand.

There’s a crackle of static and Alastor emerges from a shadow, casting a glance over the group. “Hello everyone! Are we having trouble already on our little camping trip?”

“Alastor.” Your heart thumps in your chest- maybe he could conjure another tent for you, do some of his magic to put a pocket dimension inside of it like the bayou in his room. “I thought you couldn’t make it.”

“It seems that I was able to free some time up to join you,” he says, then looks at the tents that have been set up. “What seems to be the problem?”

You can’t fight the surge of irritation. “I messed up the order somehow. We got two normal sized tents but the last one is only big enough for Niffty which is who I was supposed to share with- I should have sprung for another one in case you did show up, now that I’m thinking about it.” You bring a palm to your forehead. “God, that was stupid-”

“Nonsense! Why, you can share with me, my dear.” With a wave of his hand the tents are moving, repositioning to make room for a red tent that appears in the middle of the others. It’s larger than the other two, causing Angel to let out a whistle, and the relief that rushes through you is immediate.

Husk doesn’t seem to agree, and Charlie and Vaggie are both looking at you with trepidation. “Now hold on,” Husk starts. “I’ll share with you, Al. There’s no reason the little lady should be stuck in there with you.”

“Why Husker, I’m offended! Do you think I would behave improperly? I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I promise.” He gestures to the tent. “It is more than large enough for the both of us- arguably a better position for her to be in than sharing with one of you, smushed in like sardines.”

Vaggie cuts in. “Why don’t you take mine and Charlie’s tent and we can share the big one with her-”

“Vaggie,” you interrupt her. “It’s fine! I’m okay sharing with Alastor. He’s right- it is a bigger space, there will be plenty of room for us both, and I don’t want to intrude on you and Charlie.” You flash her a smile. “Everything will be okay- it’s just for one night.”

The woman groans but gives in. “If you’re sure you’re okay with it, fine. But!” She adds, pointing at Alastor. “Charlie’s rules. No more magic.” Alastor hums in agreement and the rest of the plans for the evening go without a hitch.

There’s a nice nature walk through a nearby trail, a brief stint of swimming- unplanned and unauthorized, since you specifically told Niffty it wasn’t allowed beforehand- and an easy dinner made by Husk over the fire that Niffty started. Smores are concocted and consumed before you all tell scary stories together, putting an end to it before Alastor could have his turn- no one wanted to open that can of worms, as it were.

Everyone started to turn in, including Alastor, until only you and Husk were left out by the fire. He overturned a bottle of water on the flames to douse them, a flickering ember all that remained as he sat on a log next to you. “You’re really okay sharing with him, kid?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m a fully grown adult, Husk,” you remind him, and he doesn’t even look sheepish. “But yes, I’ll be fine. Besides, I think Angel would throw a tantrum if he was denied being able to sleep so close to you.” You throw him a wink, and with this, at least, he blushes.

“Yeah yeah,” he mutters, “whatever. Just… you let me know if you wanna switch. Any time. I’ll wake up if you come to our tent.”

“I appreciate it,” you say with a smile, knowing it won’t be necessary. If Alastor had put another pocket dimension in the tent you would sleep soundly, no need to switch with anyone or stay awake. “Have a good night, Husk.” You go your separate ways, waiting for him to duck into his and Angel’s tent before entering the one you would be sharing with Alastor.

There’s no bayou waiting for you- just a large bed in the very center of the space, Alastor tucked under the covers with a book in his hands. “Ah, there you are, dear!”

You enter the tent and close it behind you. “I was just cleaning up a little with Husk. Um- I don’t want to sound, you know, picky but-”

“Hmm, were you expecting the bayou from my room?” He sighs like its a great inconvenience. “Yes, I had planned to bring it to being in the tent or at least getting a second bed but alas- Charlie did insist on no magic!”

God damn this demon and his selective rule following. “Right. Well, at least you know why I’m not sleeping. I won’t have to pretend- do you have another book I could read?”

“Not sleeping? Darling, there’s room here.” He pats the bed next to him, grin wide and amused. “I insist- I promise I’ll behave.” His smile did not give you much hope to that.

“If you’re the closest person to me, then- what about our. Um. The deal?” You can’t stop yourself from entering his dreams if he’s close to you, let alone in the same bed.

He tilts his head. “You have my permission. It is one night only, as you told Vaggie. Sleeping anywhere else would drop you into the dreams of another, and even if I had been able to conjure another bed you would still be closest to myself. You may as well be comfortable.” He pulls down the corner of sheets opposite him, and you have to admit that it looks inviting.

You approach and climb under the covers, careful to keep a reasonable amount of space between yourself and Alastor as he waves a hand and the lights go dim. “I thought you said no magic,” you mutter, only a little bitterly. He chuckles but doesn’t respond, and soon the sound is replaced with light, even breathing as the Radio Demon slips into sleep.

You fight it as long as you can, but you end up joining him, the world going black before you re-materialize in a familiar place.

Alastor’s room. He’s sitting in an armchair near the fire, reading the same book he had been. He looks up at the inquisitive noise you make. “I figured you needn’t feel so guilty about intruding if there was nothing intimate to see,” he says, flipping a page.

“I appreciate that, thank you.” You take the seat opposite him, watching the fire dance before you both. Its quiet, comfortably so, the only sounds the faint breathing of you both and Alastor’s page flipping.

You watch him for a while, since there’s nothing else to do. You lightly trail his body with your eyes as he relaxes into the chair, traveling up the lines of his legs to his chest, the subtle musculature of his arms and flexing of tendons when he turns a page, his fingers dexterous and strong. You think about the last time you had been in his dream- how those fingers had been inside the dream version of you but you never got to experience it yourself, not really. You’d come into it right at the end to be speared on Alastor’s length, wet and ready despite not being part of the preparation yourself. You wanted-

“Something on your mind?” Your eyes snap up from his hands to find Alastor watching you, shit eating smile on his face as he watched you basically ogling him.

“N-no!” You scoot the chair back from him, your face twisting in confusion as it's pulled right back into position and then even further, a shadow racing out of your peripherals after it drops your chair right in front of Alastor’s, knee to knee. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“You know,” he says conversationally, “you’ve not yet taken advantage of your own benefits of the deal, dear. You’ve been quite compliant in staying out of my dreams- I think that warrants a reward, don’t you?”

He’s leaned into your space, inches from your face, eyes darting down to your mouth. “A- a reward?”

“Indeed.” He closes his book and it vanishes with a twist of his wrist, freeing up the hand to brush under your chin. “You’re free to choose something else if you don’t wish to ‘cash in’ on my end of the deal. Though… you do remember what it was, don’t you?” He trails a clawed finger down your neck, brushing your hair off your shoulders and continuing down your arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Not hard enough to scratch but not so light you couldn’t feel it at all.

“I remember. You said… whenever I wanted.” Your face is red, your brain muddled as you take in the scent of him so close to you- you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“The exact wording, sweetheart, was that I would allow you to cum on my cock whenever you’d like.” His hands dart out to circle your waist and drag you into his chair, grinding up against you as the seat transformed into something more like a chaise, reclined and wider. “Is that what you would like now?”

“Fuck, I- wait, fuck,” you manage to stammer at the feeling of his erection under you, and you find yourself rolling your hips along with him, chasing that feeling. You lose yourself in it, your mouth open while you gasp through the pleasure, and no sooner have you had the brief thought of wishing you didn’t have to remove your body to take your pants off than the article of clothing has disappeared. “What-”

“Magic in dreams doesn’t count, I rather think,” Alastor says, and he shifts you to one side in his lap to get a hand underneath you and slide a long finger into your slick warmth. “It seems that you can do it as well to an extent.”

“Well that’s pretty cool,” you mumble, and when you throw your head back with a moan he latches his teeth onto your neck, a light pinch that he sucks and then soothes with his tongue.

“Indeed; one learns something new every day!” He traces his mouth down your shoulder, over your collarbones and back up to suck at your skin again, his fingers working steadily inside you as he adds another in, to the second knuckle. “For example- I have learned that you taste and feel even better than that figment of dreams that I created.”

You let your head fall forward, press your forehead to Alastor’s. “High praise,” you say, and he laughs at you. “I knew you would- oh fuck- ” He changes his angle, crooking his fingers upwards into the sweet spot inside your body, the pressure unrelenting and causing what little control you had right now to spill out of your grasp like the whimpers that poured from your mouth.

He adjusts, leaning back fully into the chaise. He releases the grip he has on your waist to snap his fingers, and with a clink his belt has removed itself from his pants and curled up neatly on the floor. A second set of fingers slides between your bodies to undo his fly, the thumb of the hand inside you brushing against your clit as he works to remove himself.

You’re panting, the air hot between your mouths as he uses your arousal to slick himself, pushing at your entrance. “Don’t you ever take these clothes off?” You ask irritably, wondering if you could use your newfound ability to vanish at least his shirt as you grip it in your fingers desperately.

“Not here I won’t- we must leave something to be discovered in real life, don’t you think?” His shirt still stubbornly buttoned across his chest, he extracts his fingers from your body and grips your hips to pull you down onto his cock. The whine you let out would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so goddamn good to have him fill you, nowhere to go to escape the pressure and the pleasure of it.

You plant your hands on his shoulders as he slides in to the hilt, and when you look at him his eyes are dark, cheeks flushed despite the smirk on his face. “That’s… that’s no fair,” you say, and you can feel the way you clench down around his length. “You’ve already seen a-all of me.”

He lets his hands run up your sides and under your shirt, claws leaving gooseflesh in their wake as he brings them up to brush against your nipples, drags them across your skin to gently rake down your back in the most delicious way. “That hardly counted,” he murmurs, bucking his hips up and watching the way that he slides in and out of the grip of your cunt. “This is merely a fantasy, dearest. I won’t be truly satisfied until I can say that I have claimed all of you- dream and reality, body and soul. Just to see your naked flesh is nothing to me.”

He digs the claws of one hand into your thigh, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to drag you down closer to his face, the ache of it only sending you towards orgasm faster as he grinds up into you. “I want you flayed open with the ache of needing me,” he groans, and uses his grip on your neck to force you to meet his eyes. “Here and in the real world. I want to fucking own you in every possible dimension, every possible way- tell me I can, darling. Tell me I do-”

Like last time, Alastor demanded verbal confirmation of your submission to him. “Fuck, yes,” you cry out, cutting him off, and as he pulls you in to lick into his mouth you find the strength in your legs finally, rising and sinking back down on his cock as he thrusts into you from below. It’s impossible to feel this good- you can’t possibly survive this, you think, as your cunt grips down tighter every time he glances off that spot inside of you. “Please, Alastor,” you whimper into his mouth. “Please, let me cum- I’m yours, I’m yours-”

He bites down hard on your lip, the skin breaking and blood pooling in the space where your mouths have joined as you hit your peak the same time Alastor does. He releases your lip with a drawn out groan while he fills you, grinding your hips down into his with a force that can only be describe as desperate . It doesn’t end; as you tip over the razor’s edge and drench his lap in your release you moan with the feeling of tightening on him, the sound devolving into a whimper as you clutch weakly at Alastor’s shirt when the wave finally crashes and leaves you limp in his arms.

“Hm.” When you bring you head up to meet his gaze he has a wicked smile on his face, pulling out of you with an embarrassing sound coming form between your bodies. One of his ears flicks to the side before righting itself. “Sounds like you might have some explaining to do to our friends, chérie.”

“What do you-” You don’t get a chance to finish your thought before he pushes you with a finger to your forehead, and instead of hitting the other end of the chaise you slam hard into the bed, covers fluttering around you as you fight them off with the force that you’ve landed with.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Husk is standing at the entrance to the tent with his arms crossed, Angel Dust peering over his shoulder with interest.

You clench your eyes shut, remembering that Alastor had only conjured the one bed- this was going to be awkward. “Fuck, I-”

“Yes, my dear, you’ve even given me quite the startle.” Alastor’s voice comes from across the tent- in a different bed than the one you had both fallen asleep in. A glance down reveals that you are in your own sleeping quarters, tucked under a soft comforter on your own side of the large space.

You glare at him and he keeps his eyes wide, feigning innocence.

Charlie pops her head into the tent as well. “We heard noises,” she said. “It sounded like you were in pain. Is everything okay?”

You were going to fucking kill Alastor.

“It was… just a dream,” you tell them, and Alastor’s smile splits his face in your peripheral vision. “A nightmare. I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

Vaggie places a hand on Charlie’s shoulder from outside the tent. “We’ve got to get started with breakfast if we’re gonna leave on time, babe,” she says, then stands on her tiptoes to look at you over Charlie’s shoulder. “If you find yourself having nightmares come let me know- I have some stuff that could help.” She vanishes, off to try to start the campfire back up the way Niffty had done accidentally the night before.

Husk is glancing between you and Alastor, and one of his eyebrows raises. “You know what? Not my damn business. Come on, Angel.” He leads the spider away as well, and Charlie gives you a wave with her worried look before the tent is zipped back up and you’re alone with Alastor again.

“You-”

“What an interesting development,” he says, suddenly in the bed with you again- perched on the side of it, having shifted through the shadows in only a moment. He reaches a finger out and brushes it along the side of your neck. You hiss at the feeling, a sharp pain following the feeling, but he’s up and out of the bed before you can say anything else. He waves a hand, and a mirror appears in the space between your beds. “Have a look, dear, then come join the rest of us! What would we do without our event coordinator to lead us back to the hotel?” He doesn’t even use the door, just sinks into the floor and is gone.

You swing your legs out of the bed, only a little irritated to find that once again your legs are shaky. You make your way over to the mirror, and you see what Alastor had seen, probably what Husk had seen as well.

A split lip, and a still weakly bleeding bite mark in the shape of Alastor’s smile.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor the radio demon #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #x reader #what is wrong with me lol #my stuff <3

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 2 months

Text

it's very bad no good cupcake baking time for the hotel crew (save them) (charlie did you think this throu-) (NO)

Charlie: “I have! The most brilliant plan for a group bonding activity!”

Angel Dust: “Oooh~ Bondin’ or bond-”

Vaggie: “You live here for free.”

Angel Dust: “Buy my silence, Vaggity Fair, cause’ it sure ain’t free.”

Vaggie: (groans) (slips him a twenty) “Go on babe, what’s the mission statement?”

Charlie: “We should all bake CUPCAKES together!!”

Hotel Crew: "......"

Husk: “…Why.”

Charlie: “Beeeecaaaause it’d be so SWEET!”

Vaggie: “And you also live here for free.”

Husk: “Not of my own free will I don’t.”

Charlie: “Aw c’mon Husk, please? Baking is probably KINDA like drink mixing, right?”

Husk: “It’s not.”

Vaggie: (SIGHS) (slips him a twenty)

Husk: “I’ve got cooking sherry around here somewhere, I think.”

Alastor: “How thrilling! Extreme heat sources, flammable liquids, and so many little bottles and vials that couldn’t possibly get mix up with anything in the pest control cabinet!”

Niffty: “Hee hee hee…. Rat poison~”

Vaggie: “Twenty bucks and you LOCK that cabinet, okay?”

Niffty: “Thirty and a new knife set!”

Vaggie: (has given up) “Fine.”

Niffty: “OKAY!”

Charlie: “We need to go shopping anyway. We’ll need flour and sugar and uhhhh flavory things of some kind probably and um, those little paper thingies- the cup cake… skirts?”

Alastor: “Glad to see how prepared our intrepid leader is for this marvelous expedition!”

Charlie: “Cup cake… dollies…?”

Vaggie: “I’ll handle it. You remember how to pre-heat the oven?”

Charlie: “NOT with actual fire!”

Alastor: “Aww.”

Angel Dust: (handing back the twenty) “I want a new pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. Mine broke~”

Vaggie: “I don’t want to know.”

Husk: (handing his twenty back too) “Beer.”

Vaggie: “Beer? You run the hotel BAR.”

Husk: “What, you think I nip stuff under the table at work?”

Alastor: “Oh there isn’t much thought needed when it comes to you, I’m afraid.”

Husk: “You think I LIKE that I do that? That’s the stupid hotel’s shit, can’t relax sneaking shots that aren’t mine, racking up a tab like that. This beer is gonna be only for me.”

Charlie: “Husk…”

Vaggie: “Great whatever, guilt free beer for the alcoholic.”

Alastor: “How touching. And I require-”

Vaggie: “What YOU need is a-”

Charlie: “Happy place!”

Vaggie: “-which I’m not picking up for you. I’ll get more cleaning supplies too while I’m at it.”

Charlie: “More? Vaggie, have some faith! We’re all adults here! It’s not gonna be THAT messy. We just need to measure things, maybe chop some stuff up first-”

Niffty: “KNIVES.”

Charlie: “-put all in a- blender-? A blender would work for mixing, right? Then pour the batter in the things and into the oven! Which I WILL remember to preheat this time. Without fire.”

Vaggie: “Good point.”

Charlie: “See!”

Vaggie: “We should stock up on first aid stuff too.”

Charlie: (pouting) “We’ll talk about it on the way.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, thanks for wanting to help carry groceries, but I really think we need to divide and conquer here.”

Charlie: “Huh?”

Vaggie: “Husk is already halfway to the wine cellar.”

Charlie: “He wh- Husk wait! You can’t help make friendship cupcakes if you’re blackout drunk!”

Angel Dust: “Toots that’s the whole idea.”

Vaggie: “Fifty bucks if he’s still conscious when I get back. I’ll need him in the kitchen later if we’re gonna get through this alive.”

Angel Dust: “Spend it on getting’ him a really NICE beer and you’ve gotta deal.”

Vaggie: (eye twitch) “Why is all my money turning into drugs and sex toys?”

Niffty: “And KNIVES!”

Vaggie: “The one silver lining…”

Alastor: “You know, if you won’t extend simple shopping list courtesies to me, then I suppose I shall have to go shopping myself as well.”

Vaggie: “Keep your shopping on the other side of town from me or I’m coming home with a flat screen tv.”

Alastor: (annoyed channel switch sound) “….Noted!”

– LATER –

Hotel Crew: “………….”

Oven: (DING)

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “….cupcakes are done.”

Charlie: “Oh yay. Whoo. Hoo.”

Hotel Crew: “…….”

Vaggie: “If no one takes them out they’re gonna burn.”

Angel Dust: “Let ‘em.”

Husk: “Little fuckers deserve to fry.”

Charlie: (exhausted) “No one deserves to burn for all eternity.”

Niffty: “Yeah! I wanna RIP THEM APART and STAB THE CRUMBS.”

Alastor: “Well that’s two votes for burning and two for rescuing, to a certain extent. I myself would like to try out these DARLING cupcake toppers that I found while out doing my shopping completely alone.”

Vaggie: “Oh my girlfriend’s dad shut up. You won’t die just because no one was listening to you for ten minutes.”

Alastor: “In any case, that makes three for rescue and two for burn, with you as the undecided vote, Vaggie. Choose wisely~!”

Vaggie: (sighing) “Someone hand me the oven mitts.”

Husk: “They’re in the fucking blender.”

Angel Dust: “What’s left of ‘em.”

Vaggie: “Fine. Someone move the pile of dirty dishes off Charlie so SHE can be our oven mitts.”

Charlie: “It’s so peaceful under here…”

Vaggie: “The friendship cupcakes are dying, babe.”

Charlie: “UggghHHHHHH ‘kay. Coming.”

Angel Dust “That’s what she sa-”

Vaggie: “KNIVES.”

Angel Dust “-cough cough cough! I didn’t say nothin’, I got a piece of walnut shell stuck in my throat!”

Alastor: “Usual night for you then, hmm?”

Husk: “Who the fuck put in walnuts?”

Vaggie: “Who cares. If they shelled them then it’s at least better than the coconut thing.”

Charlie: “Did we add anything that wasn’t nut related?”

Vaggie: “Uhhh.”

Angel Dust “Nope!”

Husk: “Is that the only thing you were keeping track of.”

Angel Dust “Hey I know my strengths and I’m stickn’ to ‘em!”

Charlie: “Speaking of strength and sticking… um…”

Hotel Crew: “……….”

Charlie: “They’re bubbling.”

Vaggie: “Yeah.”

Charlie: “Or, breathing?”

Vaggie: “Yeah…”

Charlie: “Is that normal? It feels kinda… not normal.”

Vaggie: “It’s. Impressive.”

Niftty: “They’re ALIVE!” (knife) “For now.”

Charlie: “Well I guess we shouldn’t REALLY judge them until we’ve actually seen what they taste like-”

Angel Dust “Not it!”

Husk: “Fuck no.”

Alastor: “I’m terribly afraid that I am on a diet.”

Vaggie: “You eat rotting deer carcasses.”

Alastor: “And THEY aren’t still moving when I chow in, ha ha!”

Charlie: “Okay well, I guess I’ll just…”

Vaggie: “Wait. You’re probably immune to half the stuff that’d kill us.”

Charlie: “Right, so I should-”

Vaggie: “You’re not a good example of what happens when a non-demon princess person eats these, sweetie. If wanna test for uh, quality control, it shouldn’t be with you.”

Hotel Crew: “…..”

Vaggie: “….hand me a cupcake.”

Husk: (edges out of the splash zone)

Charlie: “You don’t have to do this.”

Angel Dust: “But you totally should! After I get my phone out though, hold on a sec-”

Vaggie: “I’m standing right in front of Radio Head over here so don’t even THINK about recording this.”

Alastor: “Aww my dear little angel-”

Charlie: “Alastor.” (calm smile) (horns out) “Her name is Vaggie.”

Alastor: “-Vaggie, yes, I would almost be willing to make an exception to my own morals for you.” (grins at angel dust) “Almost.”

Angel Dust: (lowering his phone) “I was jus’ takin’ a selfie. You know. Since I’m covered in sticky white shit anyway.”

Husk: “This fucking sucks.” (shakes his paws)

Vaggie: “No. THIS does.”

Vaggie: (bites cupcake)

Hotel Crew: “……………..”

Vaggie: “….hm.”

Hotel Crew: (STEPS BACK)

Vaggie: “It’s… well it’s kinda…”

Charlie: (cringing) “Break up worthy??”

Niffty: “PAINFUL?”

Vaggie: “It’s.. Fruity..?”

Hotel Crew: (stares at still moving cupcakes)

Angel Dust: “No. Fuckin’. Way.”

Husk: “Since the fuck WHEN did they have fruit in them?”

Angel Dust: “They didn’t! I swear I checked!”

Charlie: “Are they, um, edible?”

Vaggie: “Well I wouldn’t sign them up for a baking competition but I’m not dying either, so.”

Charlie: (excited) “So we did it? We all made actual cupcakes together?”

Vaggie: (smiling) “We did it. Mission cupcake completed.”

Charlie: “HAHA YUS!” (fist pump) “FRIENDSHIP POWERRRRRRR!!!!”

Alastor: “Now now now, no cupcake is fully complete without a lovely floral topper!”

Angel Dust: “Ain’t THAT the truth~”

Alastor: “Which I bought. Alone. Without any second opinion to rely on.”

Vaggie: (rolls eye)

Charlie: “And they’re so cute! Thank you Alastor- you picked wonderfully. Everyone, get decorating!”

Niffty: (drooping) “No stabbing?”

Vaggie: “You can poke ‘em each with a knife to check that they’re done.”

Niffty: “HEHEHEH.”

Vaggie: “Poke them with the knife ONCE Niffty- hey- NO- don’t leave it inside-”

Angel Dust: “That’s what-”

Husk: “Will be on your gravestone if she fucking hears you.”

Charlie: “Awww~ Now they’re adorable AND delicious!”

Husk: “Don’t.”

Angel Dust: “I didn’t say nothin’!”

Vaggie: “I actually kinda wish you’d go back to sex jokes instead of whatever you’re doing to that cupcake”

Angel Dust: “There’s more than one kind of oral performance in the world~”

Vaggie: “Say that and then look at what Niffty’s doing to her cupcake.”

Husk: “Unholy fucking shit!!”

Niffty: (GLEEFUL CACKLING)

Charlie: “Okay well, we clearly each have our own… unique ways of enjoying these cupcakes. Some more uh, graphic and concerning than others-”

Angel Dust: “Why the fuck are the insides RED like that?! Who put in red dye???”

Charlie: “-but the point is we all came together to make these sweets! Which. Taste like strawberries?”

Vaggie: “I didn’t buy strawberries.”

Charlie: “A-at least it and the redness go with the rose themed toppers!”

Angel Dust: “Yeah, I mean, is it weird that out of this whole maybe-living cupcake thing, the professional spun sugar parts are the ones with the funkiest taste to ‘em?”

Vaggie: “….”

Vaggie: “Alastor. Where the fuck did you buy the rose themed cupcake toppers.”

Alastor: “Hmm? Does my private, SOLITARY shopping FINALLY interest you?”

Vaggie: “Where you literally on the other side of Pentagram City from me.”

Alastor: “I do believe that is what you requested, and I, being a proper gentleman even to someone who might be considered a less than proper lady, was only too happy to oblige!”

Charlie: “Vaggie are you okay? You’re looking kinda pale.”

Vaggie: “I’m.”

Vaggie: “Alastor did you get these rose themed toppers-"

Vaggie: "-in Cannibal Town?”

Angel Dust: “WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Alastor: “I did.”

Angel Dust: “FUCK!!!”

Husk: (hairball noise)

Charlie: “Oh no.”

Alastor: “Dear Rosie gave me quite the discount. Wasn’t that sweet of her?”

Charlie: “Oh. Nooooooooo-”

Alastor: “I think it utterly darling of her~”

Niffty: “Alastor, hey hey!”

Alastor: “Yes, murder of my eye?”

Niffty: “I stabbed my cupcake topper heheheh WHO did I just stab????”

Charlie: “NOOOOOO-”

Alastor: “I believe it was an unsatisfactory husband by the name of Bill.”

Niffty: (grinning) “A BAD boy?”

Alastor: “Not bad enough to escape Rosie’s Emporium intact but yes, in a manner of speaking.”

Niffty: “Oooh.”

Niffty: (snatches up another cupcake and hugs it) “For my collection.”

Charlie: “GAAAHM NOT HEARING THIS! I DIDN’T HEAR IT!”

Angel Dust: “GREAT CAN YA MAKE IT SO’S I DIDN’T EAT ANY OF IT EITHER!??!”

Alastor: “Not to your tastes, Angel Dust? And here I though you enjoyed have strange men in your mouth.”

Charlie: “DO WE KNOW HIS ADDRESS SO I CAN SEND AN APOLOGY LETTER???”

Alastor: “I suppose his business card might still be in the hand Rose tore off him-”

Charlie: “AAAAAGH!”

Vaggie: “Hostia. You really can’t not be the center of attention for five minutes can you.”

Alastor: “I can, truly I can and very happily! It seems however that YOU cannot withstand the consequences of your own, short-sighted actions.”

Charlie: “Um guys-”

Vaggie: “Oh yeah? You’re not the only monster here, dumbass.”

Charlie: “We’re getting a little off topic-”

Alastor: "But as I am the only one not mired in glorious self-pity, certainly I am the most impressive specimen here.”

Charlie: “Okay this is going a bit-”

Vaggie: “Impressive HA! Fuck your empty grin and your stupid suits. You’re not even the one with the highest body count.”

Angel Dust: “Are we talkin’ sex stuff orrr-?”

Vaggie: (takes topper off her cupcake and pops it in her mouth)

Hotel Crew: “………”

Vaggie: “What?”

Charlie: “Vaggie, um. Person.” (points) “Person food.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, you know how murder crazy exorcist are. You really never thought we didn’t lick a little blood off our weapons now and then, to feel extra badass about slaughtering people sometimes?”

Charlie: (dazed) “I’m thinking about it now.” (covers cheeks)

Niffty: “BLOOD!”

Angel Dust: “Oh ew. Oh you're getting off on that- Oh that’s just-”

Charlie: “Part of her past, a thing EVERYONE has.”

Angel Dust: “BLEH.”

Husk: “Also step one to seeing her shitfaced.”

Charlie: “Ha haaa…” (claps hands) “Okay everyone- that’s a wrap on today’s bonding activities! I uh, I think we can save the clean up until we’ve all recovered from the actual cupcakes a bit, right Vaggie?”

Vaggie: (shrug) “Whatever.”

Husk: “About damn time.” (sighs) (walks out) “I’ll get the fucking vodka.”

Niffty: "HEE HEE." (carrying cupcake over her head) "TO THE COLLECTION!"

Angel Dust: “Hold up baby! I wanna get shitfaced too after this!”

Charlie: “Well I think it’s all very interesting! Angel stuff is interesting, isn’t it Alastor?”

Alastor: “Yes. Quite.”

Vaggie: “Uh-huh.” (slumps and drops cupcake) “Bill tastes boring as hell, by the way, maybe let Rosie know before she sells anymore of these.”

Charlie: “Oh? Maybe THAT’S why she gave such a steep discount?”

Alastor: “Perhaps.”

Charlie: “Awww cheer up Alastor. You can bring her some of our cupcakes as a thank you, now that we uh, we’ve um, had our fill of them already.”

Alastor: “Hmph.”

Vaggie: “Think I’ll head up now.”

Alastor: “While grabbing a drink along way, hmm?”

Vaggie: “Yeah. Why not.”

Charlie: “Vaggie-” (catches her hand) (squeezes) “-grab one for me, too? I’ll be right behind you.”

Vaggie: “…wine from the cellar then, huh?”

Charlie: “I’m having whatever you’re having.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, you hate the shit I drink.” (small smile) “I’ll get us something from the cellar. Meet you up there.”

Charlie: “In a heartbeat.”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “Alastor.”

Alastor: “Oh don’t scold me for her baggage, dear, I don’t make her carry it.”

Charlie: “I’m not scolding. I just- I get that you have this whole-” (air quotes) “-annoying big brother who hates being ignored thing going on with Vaggie, and while it IS kinda sweet-”

Alastor: (microphone feedback) “Excuse me?”

Charlie: “Could you turn it down a tiny bit when it comes the exorcist stuff?”

Alastor: “I do not-”

Charlie: “I know I know you don’t mean to make her all droopy like this, it’s boring for you, totally a killjoy-”

Alastor: “There is NOTHING enjoyable about that woman!”

Charlie: “-So maaaaaaybe back off a little when things get too serious?”

Alastor: “NO!”

Charlie: “Think about it okay?” (pats his shoulder) “Anyway, thanks for sticking around for the friendship cupcakes, see you at the next hotel bonding session, Dadastor!”

Alastor: “At the next-”

Alastor: “………”

Alastor: (hissing) “DADastor!?”

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #alastor the radio demon #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #niffty hazbin hotel #incorrect quotes #WHATEVER WHATEVER #it just happened whatever setting it free #do not know enough about baking to show it going wrong #/have/ made breathing cupcakes before

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spaceshipellie · 10 months

Text

everything’s about you to me

ellie williams x reader

prologue (masterlist for other parts) *✧･ﾟ: wc: 1.7k

summary: in the midst of the apocalypse, you and ellie find each other after you’ve both lost everything. what started out as a mere safety in numbers pairing, turns into something imperishable. however, after some time you get separated, leaving you both to believe the other is dead. four years later you find a commune in wyoming.

warnings: set in tlou universe. reader is 16 in the prologue but is 19+ for the rest of the story, weapons, gunshots, death, violence, no mention of ellie yet but all in due course cuties, is this going to be a slow burn? maybe… 18+ mdni

author’s note: this fic was originally inspired by the song everything by muna. i’m so excited for this, if you want to be added to the tag list lmk! i have no idea how many parts this will be but i expect it’ll be quite long. thanks for reading loves <3

♪ ‘cause the world could be burning, and all i’d be thinking, is “how are you doing, baby?”

˚ · • . ° .

You didn’t know it yet, but your time in the Pittsburgh QZ was wearing thin. You had lived there your entire life, sixteen years to be exact. For people who lived pre-outbreak, a military-controlled quarantine zone probably didn’t seem like much of a home, but it was all you knew. Your dad was a smuggler and whilst for the past few years had managed to keep you and your mom out of it, his current job was proving to be riskier than originally anticipated.

“You said it would be quick,” you heard his seething whisper whilst you backed yourself against the other side of the wall, listening in.

“It was supposed to be! look, man, I’m sorry,” another man’s voice said.

“Just–fuck, just make sure we get the stuff we need before we hand anything over, alright?”

“We’ll try.”

“No,” you could hear shoving, “you will, understand?”

“Yes,” you could tell the man was nervous despite trying to hide it.

“If this goes wrong, they’ll come after us, and my family. I know this is a fucked up situation and I should never have got involved with that fucking Aaron guy in the first place but here we are and I am not letting my wife and daughter die because of me, got it?”

Die? Your blood ran cold wondering what on earth your dad had gotten involved with this time. You heard the man mumble out a “yes” before the door shut and your dad sighed and banged his fist against the table. Not wanting to get caught, you creeped back to your room.

Once inside, you settled into the beat-up armchair that you had pushed against the window and stared out at the night sky. Stars twinkled and the moon shone a bright white. For a moment, you could pretend you were somewhere else. Somewhere where everything looked this beautiful. It was a stark contrast to the withered frame of dust and peeling paint.

You could hear muffled voices coming from your parent’s room. They sounded like they were arguing and said something about talking to this Aaron guy on the radio. They did that a lot these days. argue. You knew they still loved each other but after silently analysing their relationship over the years, you could see that something of a ‘spark’ had gone. Then again, what did you know, it’s not like you had ever been in love. The closest you had ever gotten to a connection with anyone had been with Amy. When her hair would get caught in her mouth as you both stood on a roof laughing at how the wind parachuted your coats, you wanted to reach out and untangle it for her. Sometimes she would give you this look where her eyes would soften and her dimples would make themselves known as she smiled. It would make your heart skip a beat and you would forget what you were supposed to be doing. You guessed that’s just how best friend’s felt about each other. Completely lost in a trance, you didn’t notice the sound of thundering footsteps down the hall until a rough hand grabbed your arm.

“What?”

“We’re leaving,” your dad’s voice was indignant and stern.

“Leaving? where?”

Your mom burst through the door, her face soaked in fear.

“Charlie, please,” she pleaded, grabbing his arm.

“I’m sorry but we have to go.”

“Go where?” you demanded. You could feel the goosebumps raise on your arms. He couldn’t be talking about escaping, could he?

“We’re leaving the QZ. Come on, grab your stuff.” You just froze.

“Come on!” he yelled before running a hand over his face. He collected his anger just enough to look you in the eye and speak clearly.

“I don’t have time to explain, but some guys have fucked me over and it is safer for us to escape and leave.”

“But we’ll be killed!”

“We will be if we stay here. Now please, grab your stuff.”

His last three words came out with a bite and you thought better of arguing further. You looked across the room to your mum and she made a poor attempt at giving you a comforting look. Tears stung against your waterline and you quickly wiped them away with your sleeve before grabbing your things together. Not everything of course. Not the Thelma and Louise poster you found once or the sketch Amy had drawn of the two of you before she died. But the essentials. Torches, jackets, guns, knives.

Your dad looked out the window, making a mental note of military whereabouts, before encouraging you and your mum out the door. You didn’t want to leave. You had never been outside the QZ and had only heard horror stories. Thoughts of where you would go once you got out, if you got out, clouded your mind. It scared you to think of what kind of trouble your dad had gotten himself into that needed such drastic action. You knew he did bad things but you knew he wasn’t the only one and there wasn’t much you could do about it. When he first started smuggling you had been afraid all the time, but over the years you became numb to it. That’s just what he did. But now all of those fears were resurfacing and you weren’t ready to face the high chance that you could die tonight.

The three of you were pressed against the outside wall, your dad in front holding his finger to his lips indicating you needed to be quiet. Your parent’s both held guns whilst you clutched your switchblade. It was dark but blinding lights from patrolling tanks occasionally illuminated the dank alleyways.

“We need to get over there, we move on my signal,” you could barely hear your dad’s whisper as he pointed at a metal fence on the other side of the road. You tried your best to be silent but couldn’t help the way your breath shook as you nodded.

After peering around the corner once more, he lifted his hand up, signalling for you to follow him. You had to be agile in order to make it across safely, which luckily was a strength of yours. You may not have ever been outside of the QZ but you had snuck around with Amy enough times to know how to go unnoticed. This was nothing like that though. Sneaking around and being teenagers didn’t feel like a death sentence.

You bumped into your mom’s back as you all suddenly stopped behind a parked truck. It started to rain and you were thankful that the splatters of water might cover up any sounds of laboured breaths and footsteps from you. A bright light casted over the truck as you strained to keep your head below the window. You were moving again and the fence was in sight. The closer you got the more you could make out a chained padlock on a gate. A menacing sign saying “UNAUTHORISED EXITS FROM A QUARANTINE ZONE ARE PUNISHABLE BY DEATH” was hung up next to your heads. Your palms began to sweat as your dad pulled a key from his pocket. You didn’t even want to know what he must have done to get that. He started to unlock and unwind the chains from the gate. You were so close. Maybe this insane plan would actually work.

“Drop your weapons.”

You all froze and slowly turned, initially to squint as a torch shone directly in your eyes. After a few blinks, your vision cleared to see a guard holding up a gun. You felt like you were choking and if anything the grip on your knife tightened instinctively.

“I said drop your weapons.”

You threw your switchblade to the ground. Your parent’s followed suit with their guns. The guard took a step closer.

“Let me exp–,” your dad attempted to reason but was cut off.

“On your knees and put your hands on your head.”

You glanced at your mom and she hesitantly nodded. You sunk to your knees, the cold, wet gravel soaking through your jeans to your skin. Your hands trembled as you placed them on your head. The guard, still aiming his gun at you, checked you all with the infection scanner before stepping back to his original spot.

“Sir, I’ve got three clean but armed people here by gate three. How would you like me to proceed?” he spoke into his handheld transceiver.

“Uh-huh… yes… yes sir.”

Before you could even think, two deafening gunshots went off in quick succession. Your head snapped round and you saw your dad pointing a gun at the guard, as well as a mass of blood soaking his shirt. You noticed the guard stumble and in a blind rush of adrenaline you snatched your switchblade from the floor. Your mom’s hand grabbed you, pulling you back from where the guard was aiming his gun again.

Another bullet fired. Your mom screamed. You grabbed her arm to support her and looked up at your dad for help.

“Go!” he yelled, firing again. You could hear more guards charging towards you.

“Dad,” your voice came out weak and strangled.

“I said go!” you had never heard his voice be this frightening. Fear carried your legs as you pushed your mom through the open gate. You shoved yourself through it as well, not knowing what lay ahead in the darkness before you. You could only focus on getting away from the constant gunshots. You didn’t stop moving but your movements had slowed as you looked back.

“Dad, please!” you yelled, tears making your cheeks hot.

He was being pushed against the fence by three, maybe four faceless guards. You could hear the struggle in his distant grunts as he fought against them. They were beating and shooting until his body went limp on the ground, next to the guard he shot.

“No,” your voice was a mere whisper to yourself. Shock and disbelief ringing in your ears.

“We have to go,” your mom pulled you away, she was crying too, “before they catch up to us.”

You both frantically ran whilst the adrenaline was still controlling you. Your mom groaned with each step. You didn’t even know where she had been hit but at least she was alive. You had got out and there didn’t seem to be anyone chasing you, but your dad was dead. Escaping seemed so futile now. It had been his idea. his plan. His doing that meant you needed to leave in the first place and yet it had ended like this. And now, to no avail, you had no protection. Nothing except what you carried on your back. You were out in the big wide world. A big, wide, terrifying world.

*✧･ﾟ: taglist: @bellasfavelesbo @ximtiredx @abbyily @heartzjules @gold-dustwomxn @sawaagyapong @aouiaa @pinkigirl @nil-eena @ucannotcompare @cherriesxinthespring @blvebanisters

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windvexer · 3 months

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What counts as a spell? Is intent all you need or do you have to do something before to get it all juicy and stuff.

Hi Anon! What a fun question, because there is no answer except this CAN OF WORMS you just opened.

There is no consensus anywhere as to what constitutes a "spell."

There is even LESS consensus as to what makes a spell go.

Intent is a good starting place. It is probably where you should start for all acts of practical magic.

But I find that in it's common form, the idea of intent + willpower = magic has been diluted past the point of utility for most people.

Like if we're talking about "intent is everything" I'm reminded most closely of Chaos Magic. But Chaos Magic is not a school of "just set your intent and you've worked magic!". It's a very rigorously developed system.

In Hine's Condensed Chaos, he lists the third Core Principal of Chaos magic as technical excellence, and I quote:

One of the early misconceptions about Chaos Magic was that it gave practitioners carte blanche to do whatever they liked, and so become sloppy (or worse, soggy) in their attitudes to self-assessment, analysis, etc. Not so. The Chaos approach has always advocated rigorous self-assessment and analysis, emphasized practice at what techniques you're experimenting with until you get the results you desire. Learning to 'do' magic requires that you develop a set of skills and abilities and if you're going to get involved in all this weird stuff, why not do it to the best of your ability?

Later in the book, Hine likens "magical powers" to the concept of achievements, and goes on to say:

Something which is an achievement is the result of practice, discipline, and patience.

Shortly after:

Chaos Magic is not about discarding all rules and restraints, but the process of discovering the most effective guidelines and disciplines which enable you to effect change in the world.

(In above quotes, all emphasis my own)

But these ideas get taken - and I'll give a big nod to the LOA which is just the worst kind of brainrot for encouraging the "intent is all that matters" mindset - and the ideas get diluted so much that people are literally out here saying, "so all those people who spend years studying magic in order to get results are buffoons? All I have to do is imagine what I want and it will be delivered to me? All humans since the start of history just have to decide they want something and it will happen in a miraculous manner?"

(Not you, Anon. I'm just in a mood)

In my mind, yes - something beyond intent must occur in order to make spells go.

But what?

Anon, have you ever heard that dumb belief floating around that all herbs in a spell can be replaced by rosemary, and all stones in a spell can be replaced by clear quartz, and these two things are "universal substitutes"?

I am 95% sure that this nonsense was based on two very popular dictionaries Cunningham wrote in the 80s, the Encyclopedia of Crystal, Gem & Metal Magic, and Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs.

In the very long entry for Clear Quartz:

Quartz crystal is used as a power amplifier during magic. It is worn or placed on the altar for this purpose.

And from Rosemary:

Rosemary is generally used as a substitute for frankincense.

And I believe that someone somewhere got the idea that since clear quartz amplifies all other powers, it therefore somehow magically Ditto-copies all other powers, and like a shapeshifter somehow becomes something it is not nor ever was.

And, you know. What's the difference between subbing out frankincense and blackthorn between friends?

These beliefs have become so popular that sometimes when unscrupulous blogs rip off entire Cunningham encyclopedia entries and paste them into tumblr posts (without credit), THEY INCLUDE THE EXTRA MADE-UP BIT ABOUT ROSEMARY BEING A UNIVERSAL SUBSTITUTE.

Anon, your question is "is it just intent or do we need other stuff to make it go," but sadly,

IMO common beliefs about the stuff that makes spells go have also been diluted past the point of utility for most people.

Because if I sat here and said, "hey Anon, it's not just intent, you also have to use correspondences ^-^/" then the very first thing you are likely to run into is absolute nonsense about correspondences. IMO, effective utilization of correspondences is a skillset based in research, theory, and technique.

Or if I said, "you also have to raise energy! 👍", this may be mistaken to mean, "set intent but also visualize white light inside of a candle," because the concept of raising energy and visualizing has been (IMO) diluted past the point of utility for most people. I believe that effective utilization of energy work is a song composed of many notes and chords, several of which you must practice before you can utilize it.

And to complicate all of this, which non-diluted things in which combinations you need to make the spell go depends on what paradigm you operate off of, because while there are approximately one billion ways to do magic that works, my currently very dim worldview is that most people who are talking about magic are doing magic that doesn't work,

and in my opinion the actual basis and reasoning, like the rationality behind the magical systems is really important. Because you need that shit to understand what it is within that system that makes the spell go.

And you need to understand what makes the spell go to make the system fit into your life without breaking it, and in order to troubleshoot problems without making things crumble further.

Because when people don't understand the basis and reasoning you end up with "rosemary is a universal substitute" and "imagining white light makes the spell go."

There are a few circumstances where you can totally strip technique from theory and be successful, but there are also a hell of a lot of people out here feeling shit about their practice because their spells never seem to work.

So.

I really just recommend choosing what school of magic you would like to learn about and participate in, and reading an introductory book on it.

This is because it is the job of introductory books to explain the principles and theories behind a system of magic, and most importantly, what makes the magic go, and a step-by-step primer on what you, the practitioner, are supposed to do to make that kind of magic go.

Despite above rambles I'm really not a Chaote, so I can't recommend a strong primer. As far as I'm aware, Liber Null & Psychonaut by Peter J. Carroll is a core text.

For Traditional Witchcraft, try The Crooked Path by Kelden.

For something more Wiccan, I can't recall having anything bad to say about Psychic Witch by Mat Auryn.

If either of these things are too Witchcrafty for you, try Six Ways by Aidan Wachter, which is still witchcraft, but it hits different.

For a general primer on helping your spells go, try Elements of Spellcrafting by Jason Miller.

#answered

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luveline · 1 year

Note

can I request more bodyguard James? he’s just the cutest and I’m happy to read anything about it!!

thank you for your request! you and James go shopping and get mistaken for a couple ♥︎ fem!reader 1k

James looks like your boyfriend, sometimes. There are moments that he deems low risk in your life where he won't wear his radio or his utility belt, opting instead for plain black civilian clothing. In those moments, you aren't proud of yourself for doing so, but you like to pretend he is your boyfriend.

He's looking through broccoli's for you. You hadn't asked him to. His hands sift through huge trees until he's found the most vibrant, holding it up for your inspection.

"Perfect," you praise, opening your small paper bag so he can drop it inside with the rest of your hand-picked veggies.

The only thing left on your list is extra virgin olive oil, but you don't want to go home yet. You like the way people look at you and James when you're together, awed and a little jealous. They might wonder how you nabbed a man like him, and of course you haven't nabbed him at all. That's your secret to keep.

You meander down the vegetable aisle, your eyes skipping over snap peas and cabbages, bags of wonky carrots and parsnips. James grabs a bag of rooster potatoes before you can stretch over the crates for them.

"Gotta wake up earlier in the morning to beat me, angel," he says.

"I don't think I could."

James wakes up at 3AM every morning, if he's to be believed. It makes sense. He wakes up, does bits around the flat, works out, has breakfast, and is waiting smiley and bright-eyed when you emerge from your room at 6:30. You're never as put together as he is, usually in your nightgown or one of those matching pyjama sets that make him look you up and down (though you both pretend he doesn't).

No matter how bleary your vision is, it's impossible to miss the way he smiles at you every single day, like you're the sun coming up over the horizon. His pretty brown eyes squint, his thick crop of eyelashes threading together at their corners, and he says some warm variation of, "Morning, princess. Is it me or did you get prettier while I was gone?"

"We could try it out. Of course, if you wake up at three, I'll have to start waking up at midnight," he says now.

"I don't know how you do it," you say. Your voice is softened by genuine admiration.

"I get to see you. Makes it easy."

He's flirting, but with James you can never make out where the line is. Does he want you to flirt back? Does he want you to want him? You'd say without hesitation that James is your best friend in the whole world. He'd say without hesitation that his best friend is actually a duo, Sirius and Remus. That makes it hard.

But it's okay. You don't need anything more than this: his hand on your shoulder guiding you across the aisle to the fresh fruit punnets, the smell of his cologne a familiar treat.

You pick up a couple of things you like, mostly stuff you know you can convince James to share. He likes oranges best, so you grab a bag of huge ones and drop them in your basket with the veggies. It's getting heavy. You can practically see James' holding in an offer to carry it for you.

You're somewhere in the spreads and grains aisle when an older lady approaches you, or rather James, tapping him on the elbow gently.

"Hey, hun, you couldn't help me reach something?"

"I'd be happy to!" he says cheerily.

"Thanks so much. I've never been very tall, and every year I seem to shrink. It's just over here."

James legally isn't supposed to stray from your side, so he threads his hand under your upper arm and pulls you with him.

The elderly woman points to a box bragging organic, dehydrated strips of applesauce. "It's those right there if it's no trouble for you, hun."

"No, of course not."

James grabs her box with little to no effort expended. He doesn't even need to go on toes.

"God, he's so tall," the elderly lady says to you.

"He's super tall," you echo, your sunny talking-to-strangers voice in play.

"And very handsome. You're a lovely couple."

You fall into silence with your lips parted, not sure what to say. It isn't worth correcting and potentially embarrassing her for a harmless assumption, especially when you like that she thinks it, but you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of James by looking to eager.

"She's the lovely one," James says, offering the applesauce with a huge beaming smile.

She presses her hand to her collar, basket proffered until James places the applesauce carefully on top of a punnet of plums and a TV magazine.

"Thank you," she says. "Getting old's no fun when you're short. And my husband was even shorter than I am! You hold on to this one, love, you never know when you'll need something from a tall shelf."

You and James laugh in a mirrored delight at her easy-going joking, his hand falling against the top of your shoulder, fingers spread and clasping. You swear, heat radiates like the sun from his touch alone.

"I'm holding on about as tightly as I can," James says, "she couldn't get rid of me if she wanted to."

You look at him, startled, and meet his earnest gaze. "I don't want to. I don't think I'll ever want to."

James smiles.

The elderly woman nods like this is something she'd suspected.

"Good. You're a perfect pair," she says.

James rubs the space between your shoulders affectionately while he finally steals the heavy shopping basket from over your arm. You're too flustered from his touch to kick up a fuss.

"I've been thinking the same thing," he says.

#bodyguard!james #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter x fem!reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders fanfic #the marauders #marauders era #marauders #james potter fluff #bodyguard!james potter

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copperbadge · 5 months

Note

What do you mean by digital cleaning?

It's something I've been working on more this year because I had a bit more travel than usual so couldn't do actual home cleaning, but I always take a couple of days in the Month Of Cleaning where I'm focused on my digital life. It's good to make your physical home a comfortable place for yourself, but it's also good to recognize that we have "digital" homes that need attention. And often this is at least less physically demanding, so it's good to keep it in your back pocket for days when you're mentally okay but physically too tired or sore to do more of that kind of work.

In the shortest possible terms, digital cleaning is just making sure that your phone, computer, socials, and other digital "presences" are organized in a way that you find helpful, and that you take a moment to either answer those messages you've been putting off or give yourself amnesty on doing so.

This tends to make a lot of people extremely anxious in a way ordinary physical space cleaning doesn't, so I'm going to put the rest of it behind a cut...

So when I say digital cleaning, I refer to stuff like going through my likes on Tumblr and clearing them out, going through my drafts and turning them into queued posts, answering my asks. I spend time in my email inboxes, either responding to messages or removing them. I am not an "inbox zero" kind of guy, but I like to keep the read-but-not-answered messages to a minimum, and towards the end of the year that usually means a clear-out and amnesty. I clean my Google Drive -- delete old files I uploaded for others, move documents I'm no longer using into an archive, move documents I want to work on into a central work folder. I go through my catch-all folder on my hard drive and organize it; I sort through the year's photos and organize those, partly to archive them and partly because I make a scrapbook from them each year. I don't usually have a ton of tabs open but often have more than I'd like, so I go through them all and either read, bookmark, or get rid of them.

I look in my phone's file tree to make sure I delete files I don't need (mostly menu downloads, Restaurants Stop Making Your Menus PDFs Challenge 2K24) and I sometimes go through each app on my phone, make sure I still use it, and make sure it's set how I want it. If this sounds like a nightmare, bear in mind that I very rarely put apps on my phone to start with -- I think my mother has more apps open at any given time than I have apps on my phone ever.

Everywhere I clean, I look for files named things like "notes" or "deal with" or "random" and move them all into one place so that whatever is in them, I can sort through it and make sure it goes somewhere permanent. Logins go in the login/password spreadsheet I keep, addresses go into my contacts, story notes go into a "fiction scraps" file, random thoughts either get moved into a journal file or put into drafts to become Tumblr posts, etc.

If this sounds like I might have some kind of compulsion disorder, I get that; when I explain my digital hygiene systems a lot of people look at me like I'm spouting a mad but harmless conspiracy theory. But it's something I used to have to do periodically even before I created National Clean Your Home Month, because otherwise I could never find anything, and everything was just...harder. As I once told a boss who admired my organizational skills, "It was this or endless chaos."

Putting addresses into my contacts list means I always know that the addresses I have for my friends are up to date. Putting logins into a spreadsheet means that five minutes spent now will not result in five weeks of procrastination later because I can't find the login and can't do anything else until I do that. Going through my email and archiving old conversations means not only can I find them easily when needed, I don't have to look at them the rest of the time. Sometimes I even go through my various wish lists and remove old/purchased items, or clear out all my "save for later" carts.

There's no doubt this is stressful, but like every part of NaClYoHo, it's broken down into smaller tasks; I don't have to look at my computer and organize everything on it all in one day. I can answer a few asks, then sort photos (something I find very soothing up until the moment I Don't), then read and delete some emails, then I'm done for the day. I can spread "answer or file all your work emails" out over a couple of days. I can maybe empty out my Likes but just turn the ones I actually want to reblog into drafts for now and deal with them later in the "drafts" phase of cleaning. And if I don't manage to empty out my inboxes, at least they're emptier than they were.

I'm struggling this morning with having put a bunch of physical cleaning on the to-do list but not feeling physically up for it, so I did what I felt capable of doing (measuring cabinets for new shelf liners mainly) and later today I might sit down and start building this year's photobook. Or not -- I have to code Radio Free Monday, sort out a prescription and possibly go pick it up, plus a very full day of work and a couple of afternoon appointments I can't shirk, so today may simply be a "get through the day" kind of day. That's okay too; some days the spirit is willing but the schedule is full.

#naclyoho #national clean your home month #digital cleaning

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moonlit-imagines · 3 months

Text

Robin and the Stray (Part 1)

Dick Grayson x reader

warnings:

a/n: you already know this is based off of an oc and you already know im gonna write it like its just your average y/n. i dont even know if yall hate this or not but TOO BAD (im kidding please start paying attention to this blog again i long for the days i mattered)

prompt:

part 2

Gotham City, all the way back when you were kids. Didn’t feel like it, though. Not when you two were up all night off on adventures—more like missions—and occasionally crossing paths. Batman and Robin weren’t too fond of you and Catwoman giving them headaches from time to time with your heists and all that fun stuff. But sooner or later they cracked and started letting you two off the hook.

The flirting was just playful at first, a literal get-out-of-jail free card, if you will. But somewhere down the line, you started to mean it. You liked your time spent with Robin, and every once in a while you’d even let him catch you.

Nights that you and Selina split up, the Bat and the Bird had to do the same. That’d when you got him alone. And after a while, you’d just end up on a random rooftop teasing him in some silly, flustering way. A cute comment here and there to let him know you were still interested. Jumping across rooftops and crawling up fire escapes to keep him on his toes while you talked. Although you were still strangers out of these costumes, you still managed to drop a little personal detail every once in a while to bond. Part of you worried if he was only letting you escape to trick you into some false sense of security, lately you’ve been returning stolen goods to him just to see him again.

And night after night there were new encounters, only in these you weren’t really doing anything wrong. Just pouncing around and watching the city, almost like you were on patrol. You could tell him you were just watching over Gotham while he was elsewhere.

It was funny how awkward he was at first when you met. But it’d been some months since the Cats got out of the bag, and Selina was starting to warm up to Batman, too. It was kind of cute. Robin seemed so much more confident talking to you nowadays, he flirted back and laughed with you and pretended you got away when Batman asked where you went (oh, and Catwoman also got away!).

There was one particular night that you’ll never forget. This one night where you’d just snuck out to be in the city, secretly hoping Robin was out, too. All suited up in your catlike garb roaming the streets and rooftops of Gotham, and hours went by without a sighting of your special guy. You sat at the ledge of a rooftop overlooking Downtown Gotham—a bit too close to GCPD, but maybe that was where you needed to be.

It wasn’t long before Robin saw a figure concerningly close to the edge of a high building, and he could just barely make out those cat ears on your head. He awkwardly split off from Batman, who warned him not to do anything stupid. They had just put away a D-list villian and, let’s face it, they’re the most annoying ones to deal with and Batman now had to wash ketchup and mustard out of the crevices of his armor.

Robin met you up top, cheeks warming when he saw your immediate smile when you turned around, he gave you the same one. “Do you want to get a pizza?” He asked you with a shrug and a tilt of his head. You furrowed your brows just barely. “I guess not?”

“I mean—sure. But you want to go now? Like, dressed like this?” You sort of giggled, leaning into the idea just a little.

“Why not?” Robin asked you, eyes gleaming with just a bit of boy wonder. “Gotham’s seen weirder.”

“How’s that gonna affect your ‘image,’ huh? A good boy like you hanging out with the likes of a cat burglar, what would dear old Jim Gordon have to say?” You kept teasing him, but it seemed he was set on the idea. “You don’t even care, do you, Birdy?”

“I don’t, actually.” He said, extending his gloved hand to you. You accepted his help off the ledge and got to your feet.

“Got a place in mind?” You asked him as he walked off without an answer. “Okay, Batman.” You crossed your arms and walked behind him, only half-amused with his manners. But he was still cute the way he acted like Batman in those bright colors and tight pants. At least they’d been tweaked over the past few months, you couldn’t tell if he’d hit some kind of growth spurt or he just really liked tight clothes.

“See that sign over there?” Robin pointed down the street, a bright neon sign displayed the word “PIZZA” in red lettering, encased in a yellow circle you assumed was also pizza. “Twenty-four hours. You’ll be glad to know they do their best work in these hours.”

“You mean ‘vigilante hours?’” You joked, nudging him with your elbow.

“Something like that.” He nudged back. Suddenly, he leaped off the edge of the building—which actually wasn’t that tall if you were used to this sort of thing—and used a grapple gun to break the landing.

“Wow. We’re doing this, huh.” You equipped a whip and secured it to the neighboring building, descending yourself in a much more anticlimactic way—but still impressive if you weren’t used to this sort of thing. “Show off.”

“Had to do it one of these days, you’re always one-upping me.” He said walking forward, just a casual stroll down the streets of Gotham in costume, ignoring any pedestrians or nearby residents that may be up this late. Part of you hoped that you’d run into trouble just to see how it’d feel to fight side by side, show him you’re more than just mischief, you’re a bit kickass, too.

After a few minutes of chatting, the pair of you made it to the pizza shop. Robin opened the door for you where the bell above the door chimed when you entered. The employees watched as two masked freaked walked inside and casually asked what they could get for you. You shrugged when Robin looked at you for your preference, letting him pick for you. Then he pulled out a couple twenty dollar bills from his pocket and told them “keep the change.”

“Got any more of those for me?” You batted your eyes and tilted your head.

“You want to get paid for this date?” He chuckled, wondering if he should make his next joke, but he knew you had a sense of humor. “Wouldn’t that make you a hooker?” You broke into laughter that he joined in on and tapped him on the arm.

“Hey, whatever you wanna call me. As long as I get a couple bucks, what’s the harm?” You joked back and Robin thought to himself how nice your genuine laughter was, not just those careful little chuckles and giggles were. Your true smile was goofy and brilliant to him. Lost in the moment, your order was called up and the two of you left the shop with a hot box of pizza.

“Hold this real quick?” Robin handed the box off to you, then grabbed your waist and grappled to a nearby rooftop as you squealed from surprise.

“What ever happened to a gentlemanly warning? I could have dropped the pizza!” You told him as he took it back.

“Looks good to me.” He peeked in and brought it to another ledge. “I take it you like the view?”

“What do you mean?” You walked closer and took a seat.

“I always see you sitting or standing on the edge of these buildings. You just brooding?” He raised a brow.

“That’s more of a Batman thing.” You took a piece of pizza and took a bite.

“Then tell me why you’re always hanging out on tall buildings.”

“I like looking around, is that a crime?” You asked with a mouthful of cheese and bread.

“No, but breaking and entering is. And stealing, of course.” He took a slice and sat beside you. Below your dangling feet was just another street of Gotham City, a street he protected and you would just watch. Nothing special about it, especially since there were no museums or penthouses here.

You sat with your hands at your sides, leaning forward a bit to get a better view of the ground. It was then that you felt a gentle touch, Robin’s hand on yours. You glanced at him from the side and he saw as your lip curled slightly. If you didn’t know any better, you might have seen him blush. It was strange in a way, feeling so drawn to someone without a name. “Robin” had a nice ring to it, though.

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