I said I was going to start posting this tomorrow, but I ended up stuck in a waiting room today for 2 hours with Wi-Fi and my laptop. It is what it is.
A strangers-to-lovers fic featuring Sailor!Crowley & Gentleman!Aziraphale weathering England’s last great outbreak of bubonic plague together in isolation.
Something about this wretched, wonderful place they were in made it easier to tell secrets. It was just the two of them here, like they were in a lifeboat far out to sea. Trapped and scared, going mad from the doldrums, and yet free to say anything they damn well pleased. Who could hear them? Only Aziraphale, and Crowley found that he wanted this lonely, beautiful, impossible man to know that they were alike. That, even as different as they were, they came from the same original stock.
Anthony Crowley’s luck ran out when the captain of his last ship tossed him out on the London docks without pay in the middle of a plague. Hungry and desperate, Crowley breaks into a house abandoned by a rich family fleeing the city. Instead of food or money, though, he finds the gentleman of the house still locked inside. Aziraphale Fell is suspected of carrying the plague, and now, all because Crowley picked the wrong window to break open, they must serve out this quarantine together.
Can Crowley survive the next forty days in isolation with a stranger? He’s used to living at the whims of the high seas, but the secrets Aziraphale Fell is keeping might prove to be even more dangerous… and more alluring.
“Well, aren’t you pretty~?” - the villain purred, crowding the terrified civilian into a corner, cutting off any means of escape.
Other Villain, who stood beside them, chuckled lightly in agreement as they hungrily eyed Civilian’s shaking body. “The universe must love us for sending such a gorgeous gift into our territory~.”
“Wait, wait! Please!” The civilian wedged themselves back against the dirty brick, hands out and up. “I… I came here to find you. To ask for your help!”
The villains exchanged a look and burst out laughing. The first one, taller by a fraction of an inch, snaked a hand out to pin one of the civilian’s wrists up against the alley wall. “Sure, cutie,” they said with a sneer. “What can little old us do for [Hero’s] latest squeeze toy?”
“Oh, good, you do know me,” the civilian breathed, eyes glued to the villain’s hand around their wrist. “This’ll sound slightly less - ahaha! - slightly less crazy. Yeah, um. I….”
“Spit it out, doll,” cooed the second villain, faster by a second or so as they caught the civilian’s chin, turned their face to the yellow street light. “My partner asked you a question.”
The civilian closed their eyes. “I need you to kidnap me for real,” they blurted out in a panicked rush.
The villains exchanged another look. This time they did not laugh. “Darling,” the second villain said with decidedly less purr. “Not sure you noticed but we were very much already in the process of kidnapping you.”
“Well you’re going to have to do a lot better than… than stupid flirting,” the civilian snapped, even as their breath came quick and unsteady. “I thought you two were supposed to be good. Or bad. Or whatever!”
“What is happening?” said the first villain very calmly.
“I believe we are still waiting for the looker here to get to the point,” the second villain said. “[Hero] sure doesn’t pick them for their brains.”
“Hero’s planning to have me murdered!” the civilian cried. “And he’s going to pin it on the two of you!”
There was silence in the alley. Somewhere nearby a cat yowled, a car engine roared. The villains did not exchange a look. Their eyes stayed locked on civilian.
“And why should we believe that?” said the first villain, tightening their grip.
The civilian winced. “You know what happened to [Hero’s] last partner.”
“Killed by [Supervillain],” the second villain said through their teeth. “And then [Hero] killed Supervillain on camera. And walked.”
“Well, congrats!” the civilian said with a hysterical wheeze. “Looks like you two are his next big threat.”
“Is [Hero] aware that you know this?” the first villain said sharply.
The civilian tried to pull loose. Both villains hung on. They sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat. “Yes.”
One final time, the villains shared a look. And then the second let go, leaving the first to pull civilian from their corner out to the open. “I think you’re coming with us, gorgeous.”
The civilian gave them a queasy smile. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day.”
“Take no prisoners”, their leader spoke, sending whumper off on a clearing mission. They had full intentions of following their orders to the letter, that is, until they found them; the one in the corner, lost, scared and confused.
… No one would know if they took them, right?
this is interesting because if we would switch “whumper” with “caretaker” it would have vastly different vibes
It could go both ways, really
Oh it would be very interesting to write this in a way that leaves the reader (and whumpee) wondering whether they are caretaker or whumper for quite some time.
The supervillain tugged at the ropes tying them tight to the chair. “Now, [hero], these knots are far too sturdy for an amateur. Boy scouts, or kink?” They blithely ignored the hero’s spluttering and pushed onward. “Could be either with you. The moral righteousness and the latex balance each other out.”
Last year he’d tried to carve and animate a small wooden cat to fetch her [Enne] things around the house. The project was complicated somewhat by the facts that Luca only had driftwood to work with, and animation was largely considered impossible by even the greatest Atilan of scholars; but even so, he did have a sharp knife and enthusiasm in abundance. The many models of the cat now were prettily painted by Grace and marched in an orderly line along their windowsill, guarding the family metaphorically if not literally.
I’m working on giving my narration more “personality” and I’m really happy with how this one bit turned out.
i am IN LOVE with this!
THANK YOU, Katie! :D
I’m living for the exasperated sarcasm of your narration <3
Premise: Growing up in a glitzy world means you learn the dark sides. So it’s difficult to let go of the genuine bright spots when you find them.
Note:There are numbers before each new section. Those are their respective ages so that the timeline is easier to track.
The first time he met her was when he was thirteen.
Vilhelm was already used to pretending to be the prefect child, standing still and silent to exalt his father in the eyes of attendees at every party, dinner, and casual event he was forcibly dragged to. He didn’t have a choice in the matter, and he only made the mistake of voicing his displeasure once. The sting still lingered across his knuckles, serving now as a constant reminder of what would happen if he stepped out of line again.
Rosa was the daughter of some prestigious scientists from a different country. Even as a child, Vilhelm could still tell that she was different from him. She didn’t seem to fear her parents, instead having no shame in discretely pulling her mother’s dress or stepping up to her father to hold his hand or ask a question. If he would do that, he’d get swatted for sure, but her parents seemed to have no qualms with her behavior.
Vriska’s inherent desire to be bigger and better than her friends manifested itself into reality once she started playing sburb, not only making sure she was taller than the black king, but also immensely curvier than them too.
To take care of her lusus better, Feferi used her immeasurable wealth to find a way to make her bigger than them, her height far surpassing that of the oceans’s depth. She can now simply scoop up sea life to feed them as if they were a hamster.
The glowing irradiated power cell Joey picked up wasn’t meant to be handled directly, as soon as she placed her fingers on it she began to grow to the size of a mountain until she let it go, not so little now!
Joey, when she had some time to sit down and think more calmly, later thought that ascending to her new size ought to have better words but at the time all she managed was ‘OH GEEZ WHAT THE HECK’-
The house was there. And then, it wasn’t. It happened too fast; the house just… vanished,her suddenly expanding body blasting right through it, the whole hive collapsing from the force of the growing girl inside it and then very suddenly outsideit.
Joey blinked. Bits of hive rained down from her like dust except a lot more mortifying, and once she learned more about Dammek, retroactively vindictive. She reached down, cradling the small creature barely big enough to fit on her fingernail. It had been so big before; now it was smaller than the tiniest kitten. She gently picked it up and put the surprised creature into her pocket.
Sidling away from the mess, the throngs of shocked trolls stunned out of fleeing away, she stood up, her shoulders brushing against low lying clouds, and she tilted her head down. There was a mess, just within arm’s reach, a bit of rubble, a big white creature digging desperately at rubble-
There!
She hurriedly leaned down, her shadow casting a good chunk of the region into shadow, and with a single delicate swipe, pushed the rubble off and picked up the tiny alien underneath it.
Xefros.
“Are you okay?” She asked, trying not to squeak or be frightened at how her voice made the trees move.
He squeaked; small, delicate, so helpless,so in need of her aid-
Joey turned her attention, instead, to the airship with a rather ominous pink mark on it.
She frowned, standing up and striding towards it.
In a very… vindictiveway.
(( This is very good 0u0 Also that kink ideas blog is really nice too! ))
((hello! this is probably gonna be the first of scattered drabbles for when the inspiration strikes, though this one also serves as an introduction to this blog! this will simply be a giantess roxy (18) blog, feel free to interact! drabble under the read more))
A content sigh so relaxed, it felt as if the origin of the sound was melting. Karkat reclined against the float that held him aloft, warmly embraced by the gentle waves lapping over him. Sometimes taking a bath at his scale was a challenge, but one he looked forward to if only for the fact it was one of the times he properly got to destress.
It was difficult to set up without any mishaps occurring, but he had gone through enough trial and errors to figure out a schedule around his once random, now planned out, shrinkshifting. Nude but at peace, Karkat crossed a shapely leg over another, body soaked and sudded as he lazed about atop a drifting float, alchemized and shrunken down to match his scale, while an equally proportionate boat idly bounced by, just in case he needed transport. The tinytroll grinned, sliding a hand over himself to ‘clean’, but really, he was focused on resting at the moment. An infamous forty minute bath was going to occur, the water turning lukewarm or not.
Surrounding him, a sea of warmth stretching as far as the eye could see, so expansive not even he could gaze upon the rim of the tub in the distance. Instead, a fog of humid haze from the steamy bathwater, as well as whole landmasses of soapy suds drifting off miles away. It was absolutely serene, no distraction or threat in sight.
Meanwhile, a door closed shut with a snap, too distant to hear. “Karkat, I’m Hive.” A familiar voice called out.
“You know, I really ought to do stuff like this more~” Jane said to nobody in particular, letting out a contented sigh as she relaxed in the hot sauna water. Her pure white and red form taking up quite a bit of the luxury bath befitting an empress of her status. “I work myself to the bone for my empire, I really need to learn to pamper myself now and then~”
Meanwhile, what was a pleasant bath for Jane was chaos for billions as the oceans of a world’s continents were suddenly replaced with an infinite boiling sea, the bathwater of their god-empress’ spa. Apparently they’d displeased her somehow, and she felt that killing two birds with one stone would be good to still keep today productive. Doling out punishments was one of her major hobbies, so this would still be a treat for her.
Droplets of water off of her raised thick leg would flood entire nations worth of land as she playfully adjusted her position, the splash alone causing cataclysmic earthquakes and tsunamis. The nations of the tiny world now adjusting to the steam of the bath and seeing the distant and blurry god-empress in the distance of the tub. Her colossally curvaceous form bare as can be, not even caring about her modesty in their presence. She’d playfully lean forward soon, and her dripping wet bust would just barley tap the northern regions of their lands, billions being smothered under the waters and crushed into rubble soon to be lost among the waters of the hot bath.
The lands that remained intact would find her lowering her bust-line beneath the waters, getting close enough her vast cute but colossal face took up all the steamy sky, and then all of a sudden her monolithically massive bust rose again, taking the continents with them. The landmasses perfectly dangled between her breasts, almost falling into her cleavage.
With a giggle and a buck toothed smile and wink she’d pull apart her chest, letting the continents fall between the massive monochrome mammaries, and with a slap smash them together, utterly reducing the entire planet to dust. Grinding her red and white boobs together and giggling to both make sure the job was done and enjoy the process, she slunk back down into the hot waters, letting the bath cleanse the planetary debris from her chest.
Yep, she will *definitely* be doing this more often~
There has been many a time Jade has been shrinking down people while on the ship to go onto the planets, but gets distracted half way through, leaving tiny people to scuttle around the floor to try and get Jade’s attention.
(( Always love stuff with the shrunken lands, this is sooooooo good 0u0 ))
CW: Blood, stabbing, mentions of death, murder, and manipulation
“I feel stolkholm syndromed!” The villain pressed their face against the bars. “There’s only one cure. Let me out so I can take you to dinner. I totally won’t escape.”
The prison guard sighed.
He’d received training for this. A whole seminar on resisting the wiles of villains. The inland capes had put it together a little while ago because apparently these days criminals seduced opponents like children ate sweets. And it never ended well.
Only today, a new headline had been playing on the tv in the breakroom. The hero who ran off with that bank villain a few weeks ago had turned up stabbed to death and dumped in the harbor. Before them, it was that officer poisoned in plain sight at a steakhouse. Security cams showed their date–a well-known member of a super crime syndicate–getting up and walking right out during the chaos. People never learned. They all wanted what they couldn’t have, all the more attractive because it was forbidden.
Guard had ignored Villain’s flirtations for three full months now: a record for this particular criminal. Though they could thank the seminar guidelines for that. Stare straight ahead. Don’t talk back. Treat all sounds, speaking and screaming alike, as if they were the wind. Picture their crime as if it were done to you.
Guard had a little trouble with that last part since he had no idea what Villain had done, but seeing as they were on The Island–the top security prison in the city–it must have been pretty bad.
“Oh, come on,” Villain said, throwing themselves forward to dangle their arms outside the bars. “Pay attention to me. I did my hair all pretty this morning and everything.”
“I feel stolkholm syndromed!” The villain pressed their face against the bars. “There’s only one cure. Let me out so I can take you to dinner. I totally won’t escape.”
The prison guard sighed.
Villain’s flirty quips were starting to get ridiculous, and even harder to ignore.
She was sure his strategy was to annoy her to death. It just might have been working.
Though Guard’s back was turned to Villain, she heard the tip-tap of his nails drumming against the bars. “Oh my dearest guard,” he sing-songed.
Guard glanced upward in a silent plea to the heavens. For what, exactly, she couldn’t say. “Shut up, Villain.”
“Aww, you don’t mean that, doll,” Villain said, the pout evident in his voice. “Why don’t you unlock this door and I’ll make it up to you. I can be verypersuasive.”
Guard shot him a look over her shoulder at that. The shorter pieces of hair that escaped her ponytail swept into her eyes and she tucked them back with a glare. “You’re persuading me to ram my head into a brick wall. Repeatedly.” Her tone was desert-dry.
Villain flashed a glowing smile like she’d just told a particularly funny joke. “Oh, doll.” He tutted. His voice turned silken, eyes gleaming with mischief. “We can’t have you scuffing up that pretty face of yours. That would be the real crime. You’d have to lock yourself in here.”
Guard rolled her eyes and turned all the way around to face him. She loathed the way her cheeks tinged with heat at his words. Anything out of his mouth, even his particularly dorky brand of charm, was pure manipulation. Nothing from Villain could be trusted.
“What part of shut up are you unable to grasp?” She asked, lifting a brow. “I don’t get paid enough to listen to you yapping on and on every day.”
Villain eyed her with delight, and she immediately felt she’d misstepped. “If you’d like to come in here and shut me up, you’ll hear no complaints from me.”
Guard pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, exhaling slowly. “You are insufferable,” she murmured.
Villain casually rested his arms so they dangled outside the bars, looking Guard up and down. Not that there was much to see through her silver armor; a modernized version far thinner and less bulky than the clunky beasts of medieval times, but a strong, sleek suit of metal providing all of the same protection.
Villain’s sleeves were rolled up half of the way, revealing the lean muscle underneath.
His eyes were still bright. They almost glowed honeyed in the dim light, like melted caramel.
“I’ll be anything for you, baby,” Villain purred, setting Guard’s insides alight.
He was looking at her like she was something to devour whole.
“Oh my gods.” Guard turned her back to Villain again, hand twitching over the hilt of her weapon. Its steady weight was a comfort against her hip even as her face went hot.
“Now,now. Don’t be that way. Want a piece of advice?”
“No. But I have a sneaking suspicion you’ll keep speaking anyway,” Guard deadpanned.
Villain barreled on, undeterred. “In 2 minutes, I’ll be out of this cell. I’d prefer you comply quietly and offer your beautifulhelping hands, but since I know you won’t, I apologize in advance for the bruises.”
That shot a cold trill down her spine.
His tone had changed. It morphed into something more serious, more like he was admonishing a child who scraped their knee when running into the street after being warned of its dangers and disobeying anyway.
Guard’s eyes shot back to Villain. “What?”
She whipped back around as an alarm blared through the compound.
Someone had made it through the first 3 defenses and into the compound. It wouldn’t be long until the intruders were at her door, if Villain was who they were after.
Guard moved with practiced efficiency refined by years of training and dialed the distress code into the keypad on the wall, then swinging the built-in barricade down and locking it into place.
She backed away from the door and closer to the cell so as to have the widest view of the room.
Guard unholstered her weapon and raised her communicator to her mouth, inhaling to speak when a soft creak sounded behind her.
The cell door was open.
Before she could finish whirling around, Villain had looped the chain that connected his handcuffs, around her neck and yanked her flush against him, dragging her into the belly of the cell.
Guard scrabbled at the suffocating force, raising her weapon with her free hand, but Villain jerked them both into the wall with a pained grunt, knocking it from her hands.
The world went slightly fuzzy at the impact.
Guard’s stomach flipped as she made to grab for the weapon from the floor, but Villain wrenched the chains tighter against her throat in warning.
She made a choked attempt at gasping for air.
She was only faintly aware of Villain kicking the gun away. It skidded away against the cement floor.
Spots danced in the edges of her vision.
Villain allowed an inch of slack and she gulped in a breath of air, sputtering and coughing as it caught in her throat.
Lips pressed hot against the shell of her ear and she froze.
“You don’t have to fight me, doll.” That silken voice was back. “I so preferred it not to come to this. Unlock my shackles and I’ll be on my way.”
The power-suppressing cuffs on Villain’s wrists were fingerprint activated. They could only be removed by Hero himself, or of course, his most trusted guard.
Guard sucked in a few more ragged breaths, hands gripping at the chain pressing just a little too hard against her windpipe.
“I won’t,” she rasped. “You’ll have to kill me and scan the thumb of my cold, dead corpse.”
She tried to slam her head back, but Villain was tall enough that it wouldn’t collide with his nose anyway.
Villain gave the chain a slight tug and Guard craned onto her toes to accommodate, pressing back against Villain’s chest to alleviate the added pressure.
A twinge of panic shot through her.
“Now,doll.” Villain’s voice was a dangerous croon, his breath warming her cheek. “Don’t be so stubborn. Any other one of those guards and I’d have snapped their neck by now. We’re really all quite lucky it’s you instead, don’t you agree? None of your friends have to die, you get to walk unscathed–well, apart from the swelling, I am sorry for that, lover–and I leave this building without quaking it to the ground with your beloved team inside. What do you say?”
There was banging against the barricaded door, shouts and gunshots ringing out.
Guard’s gut twisted, wondering who was being hurt. Which of her friends would be dead when the door opened?“
When she didn’t speak, Villain rambled on. "My crew has different preferences for going about this, as you can see, but I fancy you, so I want to give you the choice.”
He sounded delighted again.
She heard the rattling of metal as Villain shifted the chains into one hand, using the other to stroke his fingertips gently down Guard’s temple, soothing. Despite herself, a shiver rushed through her at the touch.
He leaned in again, this time murmuring against her hair. His voice grew into something tender, something fond. “I’ll still take you to dinner. Whatever you’d like, doll. Sky’s the limit, at no higher than…$27 a meal.”
Guard snorted, then burned guilty for it.
Villain pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “No one has to get hurt, lover.” He spoke softly. “The choice is yours.”
Guard swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut.
She reached over her shoulder to offer up her hand, the key to Villain’s freedom etched into her calloused fingertips.
She felt Villain’s smile against her hair as he took it gently. The shackles clattered discarded to the floor.
I read this prompt and immediately felt SO INSPIRED. Writing this was FUN and I’ve missed that!! I also wrote it rly fast and wrote a lot more than I intended, so you know I was enjoying it lol. thank you @nuttynutcycle !! Let me know if you want to see more to this :)
“Darling, I knew you were lying. I’m the most powerful person in the city.“ The villain said matter-of-factly. “No one dates me without trying for a taste of it.”
“Why- why would you….” Their lover stumbled over their words before adding quietly, “Why didn’t you break up with me?
The villain gave a sad smile and glanced down. “I hoped that your love for me trumped your lust for power.”
“Lust for power? I don’t- I don’t want to be powerful. That’s your job- thing. Your thing.” He shifted nervously, foot to foot. “It looks good on you. I wouldn’t suit it.”
“A lust for my power, then. Much the same, if only not requiring my disposal.”
“Disposal?! No, I- that’s not what I-”
“Wouldn’t suit your plans?” The villain’s gaze drifted down, swept back up again. Searching. No. Dissecting. “So I am alive for a reason. Nice to know.”
Their lover spluttered. “I don’t killpeople-”
“I do.” Their gaze sharpened, their words a whetstone. “Ah. So that’s it. You wanted a killer on a leash. A pet rottweiler.”
“I hardly thought you’d let me leash you. You much prefer to be on the other end.”
“So you hoped I would leash you. A favoured lapdog.” They stepped forward, cape swirling around their ankles. “Defended, protected. Which means you must have other enemies?”
After Villain’s lover turns power-hungry and betrays them, Civilian provides the shoulder to cry on.
Hurt/comfort, mostly dialogue.
Words: 300-400
———–
“A seven-year relationship. Ended, just like that.” The villain didn’t sound particularly choked up. Only tired. Weary.
Sitting beside them, illuminated by the dim yellow glow of the street lamp, a civilian listened quietly, with an expression bordering on sympathy. “I’m… sorry that happened to you.”
The villain sighed and leaned back on the bench. “It was bound to happen. I’m the most powerful person in the city,” they said matter-of-factly. “No one approaches me without trying for a taste of it.”
The civilian was quiet again for a moment. “That’s awful. I can’t imagine how lonely it is to look at every relationship like that.”
“Lonely? Ha,” The villain barked out a laugh, loud enough to momentarily drown out the ache in their chest. “It’s a small price to pay to be at the top. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t understand. If it were me, I don’t think I could ever sacrifice my relationships for power…” The civilian mused, half to themself. “It’d be too painful.”
The words, spoken at a subdued tone, sounded abnormally piercing to the villain. They sneered, “What do you know about pain? You’re just a kid.”
“I’m a grown adult.”
“You’re a kid because I say you’re a kid.”
The civilian wanted to retort, but nothing came to mind. Instead, they returned to the main topic. “I’m not a therapist or anything, but… I don’t think it’s healthy to enter relationships expecting to get betrayed.”
“Is that so?” The villain drily asked.
Losing the fight with words, the civilian said nothing for a few beats.
“… Do you think I’m after your power, too?”
“You? You’re just a piddling brat. Too near-sighted to see that high.”
“Then, at the very least, you know I wouldn’t betray you. So, you can be yourself around me.”
It doesn’t work that way, the villain thought, but they didn’t voice it. Didn’t think they could make it sound compelling enough around the lump in their throat.
The silence stretched between them and wrapped around them like a blanket. The lamplight felt less like a spotlight and more like a force-field at that moment, isolating the two people from the rest of the sleeping city.
“Oh yeah?” The hero cocked a hip boldly, jutted her chin. “Come and see how that works for you, babe.”
The villain cackled but no, she did not take the bait. She was properly prepared, all gloved and covered up against those bare arms and legs and now that midriff too, shimmering with magic and pain, but she was no fool to let pride drag her into a trap. To let the hero bait her into a physical fight instead a psychological one. And god, it was almost embarrassing how vulnerable the hero was to a little flirting.
“I particularly love the short shorts. Planning to electrocute me between those gorgeous thighs?”
“Enough chatter,” the hero snapped, even as her face darkened to a gorgeous shade of copper. She raised her fists and set into a ready position that was no joke. “Surrender, or we can do this the hard way.”
“Ooh, I’d love to do you the hard way,” the villain fired back, hand on her holster. “Why don’t you be a good girl and turn that light show off?”
“I wish,” the hero muttered, flicking sparks off her shoulder.
The villain stopped dead. “What?”
“I said, you wish,” the hero cried, something new in her eyes. Horror. Panic.
“Wait,” the villain said, flipping rapidly back through everything she knew about the hero, every encounter they’d had. “You… can turn that power off, right? You’re not permanently stuck in electrocution mode?”
The hero let out a howl of rage and flung herself at the villain. The villain drew her blaster but hero was already on her, simply batted it away. A few swift strikes and the villain found herself bleeding from a painfully throbbing nose, pinned flat on her back.
Somehow none of that seemed to matter as the hero straddled her, eyes scrunched and breath heaving in her chest far beyond the simple exertion required. The cuffs were in her hand and she did not move to put them on her prisoner as the villain’s gloved hand pressed across the bare skin of the hero’s muscled abs.
“Oh, you poor thing,” whispered the villain. The wiring in the gloves sizzled furiously but held. “Has no one been touching you the way you deserve to be touched?”
The hero shuddered so hard she almost fell off.
“It’s okay, let me have you,” the villain said, daring to pull her other hand free to place it on the other side of the hero’s waist. The buzzing intensified exponentially but it was nothing the villain couldn’t handle.
A sharp yank and a sudden twist, and they rolled. Suddenly it was villain rolled atop hero, who arched beneath them as they dug their grip in tight on that shimmering skin.
“The costume’s fine. Honestly.” the villain whispered, running their hands up the sides of hero’s body, barely breathing as sparks flamed away. “But if you don’t like it, tell them to stuff this costume where it came from. Nobody gets to make you suffer.”
“Except you?” the hero moaned, high and breathy, and the villain thought between that sound and the frantic vibration of her suit she might just combust on the spot.
“Oh darling,” the villain gasped, letting their hand roam up the hero’s arm towards those cuffs. “Suffering is the last thing I’m going to make you feel.”
“Wait!” The villain froze as the hero’s eyes snapped open, blinking away the haze. “Wait, [Villain]. You… you’re right. I can’t turn it off.” And then the hero’s face split into her winning grin. “But I can turn it up.”
The sparks screamed as they multiplied across the hero’s glimmering skin. The villain screamed too as the protective wiring in her suit failed, as her body seized in hero’s current, as everything flashed to static…
And she woke up tucked neatly into a hotel bed a note on the nightstand: Called the Agency. I’m getting my old costume back. Thanks.
“Good girl,” murmured the villain dizzily and heaved herself up to make her escape before the cavalry could arrive. And if she smiled as she limped home, well. That was no one’s business but hers. And maybe hero’s.
The hero jolted. Hair forgotten, their scissors dropped from their hands to the sink. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”
The villain ignored the question. “Such perfect hair is hard to come by.” Their eyes made the hero’s stomach turn.
“You-you want my hair?” The hero asked, shocked and confused.
The villain shook their head, eyeing the hero through the reflection of the mirror. “No, not the hair specifically,” they said, walking forward towards the hero and putting their hands on the crime-fighter’s shoulders as they both looked at the other in the mirror. “I just wanted to remind you how pretty it looks on you,” the criminal whispered into their enemy’s ear.
Hero shivered at the praise. It felt nice to be loved like this, appearance accepted by someone who made fun of it all the time, but at the same time they hated it. They hated so much of it. The internal conflict of how much something as simple as their hair being complimented mattered to them brought then to tears right then and there.
“Tell me love, why would you cut it?” The villain asked quietly, turning the hero to face them so they could wipe away the tears that started streaming down their face.
“I-…I just h-ate it…” the hero sobbed as they began to lean into the touch of the hands cradling their face. “I ha-te h-ow much i-t does-n’t l-ook the w-ay I wa-nt it t-o,” they cried, the need for breath and fear of opening up to their opponent breaking up their words.
The villain shushed them softly. “Hey, it’s okay… do you know the way you want it to look?” The criminal questioned, doing their best to remain comforting to the crying hero.
Hero nodded and reluctantly pushed villain away a bit to pull out their phone. After a bit they handed it to villain who scrolled through the reference photos.
“Hero…these are…” they trailed off, mostly in shock about the conclusion about their opponent their brain just made.
“Sh-shut up… I don’t like talking about it…c-can you please just cut it for me so I don’t mess up?” Hero said, averting their gaze. They were now over their emotional moment from a minute or two prior, and scared as to the reaction from Villain since they had now found out one of Hero’s greatest secrets.
“Sure darling. I just never quite expected something like this from you, though I probably should’ve seen the signs a lot sooner. Pass me the scissors, will you?” Villain responded, proping up the phone on the counter as Hero fished out the scissors.
Handing them over, they did their best to stand still infront of the villain as they began cutting their hair to just the right shape.
Once it was done, they were allowed to look in the mirror at their new hairstyle, and felt a type of joy they’d never experienced before.
As Villain gave them a small kiss on the forehead and began to leave they said one final thing.
“You know, if you even need help with anything related to this, I’ve got a whole organization who can do that stuff for you, and is willing to support you. If you need someone to turn to, you know our location, just don’t show up in the suit. I’ll see you around Mx. Hero, have a happy transition.”
[In the final days of the Second Era, Almalexia spoke to the people of Mournhold, to ease their worried minds after the signing of the Treaty of the Armistice.]
My Children, I have heard your murmurs. Concerns over the Treaty that Lord Vivec has signed with Septim, the Emperor of Men.
The news of Khalaan has also reached you and troubled you. You shall not deny it, for I know.
Even among my own priests there are voices of doubt and discord. Little scamps, whispering. Whispering that Lord Vivec may have made an error in his judgment. That the Tribunal have done wrong.
So be it then! I will play with you, my Children. I will entertain your whispers. You ask of us: why have you made peace with Cyrodiil? And in return I ask of you: who are you to question us?
I will remind you what you were, when the Prophet Veloth first led you to Morrowind, since you seem to have forgotten: superstitious savages, little better than the Guar and Shalk whose skins and shells you wore. The Daedra you turned to for aid tricked you easily. Your neighbors, the Men of Skyrim, took your land and killed you by the thousands and the Dwemer that you took for friends schemed behind your backs. Constantly, you were at war with each other and your life was misery.
This is how you were when we, the Tribunal, found you. But look at you now!
You live in Great Houses, Thrice-Sealed, where your hearths are warm and your walls are adorned with brilliant tapestries and trophies of your victories. This unforgiving land you have tamed: its fire no longer burns your skin and your caravans no longer lose their way in the ash storms. We have given you good Laws and good Traditions, and made you Councilors, Craftsmen and Learned Priests, you, who once were but witless Netchimen, Poachers and Hermit Doomsayers. Your Orphaned Sons I have raised and trained myself and now they serve as my Hands. You are clad in fine robes and jewelry and drink from goblets made of Glass and Godsblood, and the Beastfolk that used to terrify you are now slaves in your fields and in your mines.
I blessed you with the Long-Legged Velk, the sacred nectar of which you drink so eagerly, and I have protected you like a Mother.
Look what has become of the enemies who would do you harm while the Tribunal have watched over you! Go walk the shores of River Pryai and witness the bones of the Remanite Legions that Lord Vivec himself put there. And whose statue is that, in the Dorom Plaza, battling Mehrunes Dagon? Together with Lord Sotha Sil, I broke him and drove him back into the lowest pits of Oblivion. And what of Kamal, the Frost Demons of Akavir? I struck down upon them with all the Fury of the Stars and Lord Vivec washed away their taint with a tidal wave that reached the night sky. Perhaps one of you, my Children, could have done the same?
Or perhaps your deeds are greater still?
Where were you, tell me, when the Almsivi unified all of Resdayn and fought the treacherous House Dagoth? Who among you can say that they were there, at Red Mountain, when the vile race of Dwemer was eradicated from the face of the earth? Step forward! Let me hear how you held the Hortator in your arms as he succumbed to his wounds. Were you there with us when we laid the foundations of Morrowind? When the Inner Sea was created? Surely, you must have been, if you would dare to question us!
Witness, now, this damning silence!
Not one of you has stepped forward. Not one of you has staked a higher claim. It is because you all realize the truth: we are beyond mortal rivalry both in deed and in wisdom. Never have the Almsivi failed you. Claiming otherwise would be a Lie. And even as this new Third Era dawns, the Almsivi will unfailingly continue to protect and guide you. You all know this, deep down, in your hearts.
I have listened to your whispers and murmurs, such as they are. To a god, the voice of a mortal is like the buzzing of an insect. Easy to ignore. Or to swat aside and silence. But you are not insects, are you?
You are my Children, and I am your Mother. I am War and Mercy.
Out of love, I have chosen to hear you.
You will not disappoint us again.
[After this, Almalexia dismissed her Priests and retired to Her chambers accompanied by the Archcanon of Mournhold. She instructed him to have transcribed copies of Her Words distributed and read out loud in every town and hamlet in Morrowind. The Goddess Herself would not leave Mournhold again for many months, until She, together with Lords Vivec and Sotha Sil, made a Pilgrimage to the Red Mountain.]
Oh wow after nearly 1 yr of writing, I finally made a masterlist. Worry not dear readers, now you don t have to suffer while navigating my blog w how much I rb lol.
There is some angst ones, there are some funny ones, I hope they suit your pallet! If you have an idea of something and wanna see it written, or just want a p2 to any of these, then send it to my ask box!
Hero & Villain Snippets
Poison - Hero and Villain meet up for a negotiation gone wrong
Gone - CW for Major Character death || Hero and Lover’s relationship slowly drifting away
French Villain - Villain is multilingual, unlike Hero who is confused
New Presentation - Villain is just trynna find a new aesthetic to fit themself <3
Pluie <3 - Drabble where Villain and Hero are now a mouse’s parents
Path of villainy - CW for manipulation || Hero whumper & Vilain whumpee
Closed Door - CW for injuries || Hero rejects helping Villain, though Sidekick doesn’t hesitate to assist the injured villain.
Hindenburg Lover - CW for implied major character death || Villain & Hero say their final goodbyes
Realizations - Hero contemplates their relationship and feelings for Villain
Lasts Moments - CW for major character death, unspecified terminal illness || Hero confesses to Villain about retirement. Both try to make the most of it.
Deal - Hero is interrogating their nemesis who’s a bit loopy after being given a truth serum of sorts.
Summary: After getting better from your original sickness, there was still something that you had yet to be gifted with…but Natasha was sick of waiting.
Word Count: 4.5k+
Warnings: R’s title of ‘daddy’, Natasha’s title of 'little dove’, subspace mention
Authors Note: Guys, am so so sorry that it has taken me so long to update, av just not been having a time. but all a can say is av missed writing, and av more than missed my Little Dove! am so happy you’s like this au so much so a hope you enjoy!
Summary: R becomes sick after a deal gone wrong, and Natasha is there to try and figure out what will make you give in to let her look after you. But first, she needs to know a little bit more about your past.
Word Count: 3.9k+
Warnings: Mentions of Mob dealings, Dom/Sub Dynamics, R’s title of ‘Daddy’, Nat’s title of ‘Little Dove’, Mentions of a gun/shooting, Mentions of sickness/illness, Mentions of medication, Bad Parenting. Insinuations of sex.
Stede steals books. Stede steals a book which is rather… unexpected. He enjoys it far more than he realised he would, until he finds his reading rudely interrupted by his co-captain.
3.4k words, rated M to E. Contains: looting, erotica novels, reading, a total disregard for the canon timeline and mutual masturbation with heaps of metaphor.
~
It doesn’t take Stede long to sniff out the books on the British merchant vessel they’ve boarded. They’re in the captain’s quarters, and there’s only a dozen or so, but he’s there in a snap, taking the ones he doesn’t recognise and shoving them into his bag before anyone realises what he’s doing.
It’s a small booty—four books, all in all—and once the excitement is over and he’s back in his own quarters he empties the bag onto his bed to examine his prize. Three novels and a history book. Stede’s interest in history is passing at best, but he’s always willing to try new things, and the gilt letters on the spine had appealed to him.
It’s about the Greeks, apparently.
He grabs the history book and begins to flick through it when a slim, less professionally bound little pamphlet slides out from between the pages and falls onto the blanket. Five books, then. Interesting.
He picks up the pamphlet, much smaller than the huge books he’d taken from the merchant vessel: less than 80 pages long, he’d guess. It’s an entirely unremarkable thing, with a plain cover embossed with the title The Education of a Gentleman. Beneath the title, the author is listed simply as ’a Lord’.
He opens it to a random page.
—spread his legs on the velvet coverlet, and ensuring he was suitably ready I took my hardened prick and—
Stede snaps the book shut and tosses it away, as if the paper had scorched his fingers.
Riften Guard:“Hold there. Before I let you into Riften, you need to pay the visitor’s tax.”
Dragonborn: “What’s the tax for?”
Riften Guard:“For the privilege of entering the city. What does it matter?”
“Whaddyou want, then?” It took a moment for [Lydia] to recognize his growl as speech. How can a guard be so lax? Then, to her mounting horror, she noted the sergeant’s patch on his shoulder. He has authority?
The other guard gave a hacking cough, and Lydia’s eyes flicked over and down to him. Then, they flicked down some more, until she beheld him in all his repulsive splendor.
He was most likely human, if only because even Riften probably didn’t let goblins join the town watch. She quickly looked away, though. Learning anything more would require studying him, and she wasn’t in the mood to punish herself that way.
With some relief, she wrenched herself away from the oddly compelling horror of the smaller guard, and faced the obese Dark Elf. “I need to get into the city. Is this gate usable?”
He nodded, leaning on his spear. “Aye. Gate works.” He smiled at her. “It’s ten gold to use.”
“Ten septims!” She saw red, and had to restrain herself. “Is this—is this a bribe?”
In Whiterun, we’d have them flogged for even suggesting such a thing!
The scrawny guard coughed, and when he started talking she realized it had been to get her attention. “Aye, for upkeep, innit?”
“Upkeep?”
The Dark Elf nodded in what he was clearly intending to be a sage manner. “Aye. Wear and tear, and the like.”
The little one jumped in then. “Every day, the gate goes up and down, up and down. ‘Snot good for the chains and, y'know, the like. So we needs you to contribute towards this public service.”
Lydia knew a scam when she saw one. “Any why, pray tell, is the gate down at all?”
The Dark Elf puffed out his chest indignantly. “Why, leaving the gate open would be to invite all sorts of miscreants into our city! Perish the thought! Have you ever heard such a thing, Nobby?”
The little one—Nobby—shook his head. “Perish the thought indeed, Sarge! We’d be overrun with bandits and riffraff! This ‘ere gate is key to the defense of our fair—” he devolved into a fit of coughing that may or may not have been divine retribution for calling Riften fair“—home!”
She looked them both up and down, wincing when her eye fell on Nobby’s face. “Could I have your names, so I can report such… dedication…to your superiors?”
The Dark Elf laughed. “Won’t be anyone to care, I can tell you that. Unappreciated, the two of us!” He scratched his nose. “But, if you’re wondering, I’m the honor of being Sergeant Fedril Kolyn. And this here is the right honorable Corporal Mordistair Nobbs, what we call Nobby for short.”
Mordistair Nobbs is it? It was unwieldy and completely unfitting, and might almost have been Breton. However, she had a hard time seeing any Breton she’d met sharing much with this… nodded absently as she thought, almost forgetting their attempt to shake her down. “And, ah, Nobby, if you don’t mind me asking…”
“Human!” He grinned hugely, and produced a greasy sheet of paper from under his breastplate. “Got a paper right here from one of those fellows at the College, saying I am,” he read aloud from the paper, marking each word with his finger, “in the absence of ev'dence to the contrary, almost certainly 'uman!” His grin showed off his teeth, of which most were yellow and several were gold. “'Not many folks can say they got a wizard’s affa-davit on that!”
So, this is the quality of the Riften guard. She’d never been one for prejudice based on appearances, but only an organization desperate for warm bodies would take Nobby. And as for Sergeant Kolyn…
She waved at the gate. “It’s been a pleasure. Now, let me through.”
Kolyn stood up as straight as he could. “Like I said—”
She glared at him. “You’re trying to bribe me. Either you open this gate now, or I report you for corruption.”
The two shared a long look, and then dissolved into peals of laughter.
Lydia waited until they’d regained some control of themselves. It would have been the easiest thing to go and find another gate, but now she was well and truly annoyed. I’m going to go through this gate, and I’ll not give them so much as a halved drake to do it!
Sergeant Kolyn finally stopped laughing long enough to point at the gate. “You must be new around here, miss. Nobody’s going to care if we’re collecting some extra repair fees. Plus, we’re guarding the gate. Right hazardous duty, it is!”
Corporal Nobbs nodded vehemently, and his ill-fitting helmet almost fell off his head. “What the big man said.”
Sergeant Kolyn gave Corporal Nobbs a little nudge with the butt of his spear. “You’d best show me the respect of my rank, Nobby.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Sarge, but I shows you a lot more respect than most what 'ave your rank. If'n you was one of those officers like I had in the Stormcloaks, then we’d 'ave a real problem.”
Apparently they’d forgotten that Lydia existed, but she couldn’t let that last bit slide. “Youwere a Stormcloak?”
Nobby grinned. “For all of a day, I was! Offered a signing bonus and it weren’t half bad money, but then they wanted I should go to war. So, I slipped out of my tent with some of the captain’s silverware and came back.” He winked at her. “Lucky I wrote the wrong name on the papers, and nobody never seems to draw my face right for the wanted poster.” He shrugged. “Don’t think war’s quite to my liking, any'ow.
“Right you are, Nobby.” Kolyn was nodding again. “War’s a fool’s game, and no mistake.”
Lydia had had enough. “Very enlightening. Now open the damn gate.”
Sergeant Kolyn blinked. “There’s no call to be rude, miss.”
She sighed and hefted her shield from her back. “Open the gate, or I will.”
She could see the calculations happening in their heads. Their eyes went up and down the length of her body, and she obligingly loosened her sword and settled into an easy stance.
Sergeant Kolyn nodded, as though something had been agreed upon. “I think, for rare cases of clear civic virtue such as yourself, the ordinary upkeep fee can be waived.” He slammed a fist on the gate. “Open up, you lot! Got a visitor!”
A muffled voice came back through. “Whatever you bilked her for, I get half!”
Corporal Nobbs put his mouth so close to the door that he was practically kissing the wood. “Listen to me, you skeever-sucking stout! We’ve an important guest out 'ere! Open this door, or the captain’ll 'ear about it!”
There was bit of muffled cursing while the gate creaked open, and Kolyn nodded to her again. “May I be the first to welcome you to Riften, my lady. Enjoy your stay, and don’t drink the canal water.”
Nobby leaned in too, and Lydia resisted the urge to lean away. “Also, I’d recommend 'gainst the antagonization of any others what are wearing the jarl’s colors. Me and Fedril 'ere are fair-minded types, but some of the other fellows would throw you in the canal for nothing at all.” He bowed, and stuck out a hand, palm up.
As if he’d get a coin!
She glared at them both. “You have to be the worst guards I’ve ever seen.”
Corporal Nobbs snorted. “That'nd a drake’ll get me a cup o’ piss-ale at the Shackle, so'n I’ll lose no sleep.”
Ignoring the urge to grab them both and smack them around until they were less, well, them, she grabbed the reins of her horse and passed beneath the gate.
Welcome to Riften, I guess.
—
Excerpt from chapter 20 of Dragon from Ash by Mortigaunt on Archive of our Own, featuring a very minor crossover from Terry Pratchett’s Discworldnovels.
(Sorry, Tumblr decided to treat me like a spammer when I tried to include a direct link, but please go read the fic! It’s one of my favorites!)
