or at least her feet

most people in the barrio hear about baby sonny from usnavi before they actually meet him

Explaining Vikings And Other Barbaric Badasses

Now I’m a huge fan of the show Vikings, and my heritage comes from all over the world including that particular line. But my mother repeatedly expressed her pride on 3 of her ancestors, Native American’s, Germans, and the fuck mothering Vikings. It got me thinking… How the hell would we politely inform an alien that our past ancestors not only excelled at torture and bloodshed, but some cultures like Vikings took it to an unbelievable level. I imagine it would go something like so: 

“Human-Erica, I have a question regarding something we had discussed in our,” Grek’laz cleared his throat and moved one of his elongated arms to cover his mouth, a human like movement he had adopted while attempted to gather his thoughts upon speaking to one of the six humans aboard their ship. “Our um,” he tried to find the right words to discuss what he had learned, “Our Human Cultural Class. It was a brief history detailing the predatory and hearty nature of humans.” 

Erica brushed her hair behind her ear, raising a brow curiously. Grek’laz among many other species had often come to her and the other humans with questions regarding their Death World up bringing, it was rather fun seeing them learn something new about their species. “Grek you can ask anything, I told you all before. What’d you learn today?” 

Grek’laz pointed to above Erica’s bed with two of his tendril like fingers. The tall alien creature easily dwarfed the human before him, but the stories they had heard made him instinctively hunch forward, a method his species used to appear non-hostile. It didn’t help the humans had told him the smaller of their species could be the more violently inclined, a claim he hadn’t yet learned was a joke or serious.  Where he pointed at, there lay a blade behind some ancient and primitive symbol. The blade had strange yet simply carvings, and was rusted by the thousands of years it had been handled by the family. “That weapon, the… You claimed it was a sword, if my words are correct. We learned those symbols belonged to a tribe of warrior humans from you pre-technological era. Called ‘Vi-kin-gs’,” he slowly pulled the words out as he expressed it with the upmost respect. 

Erica kept her brow raised and nodded slowly, “Yes, and?” she encouraged him to continue. 

“We heard that these… Vikings… Were some of the most concerning warriors of their time? But that they… Revealed in battle? Craved it even?” He asked with hope that it was not true. He knew humans were seen as a military force not to be trifled with, but the ones he had known were peaceful, to think there use to be a clan that craved nothing more than battle was, to him, terrifying. 

Erica merely nodded, “Yep, my ancestors were Norse, or viking as they were called as well. They were some crazy bastards, the old beliefs they held said that to enter the highest of the heavens with honor meant you had to die bravely in battle. Only true warriors did. This lead them to be pretty creative, to say the least, in areas of hurting.” 

Grek’laz gulped, rubbing the back of its neck nervously, “I… I do not understand?” He questioned. He was morbidly curious. Though part of him did not wish to know. 

“The Blood Eagle, was something one of my ancestors went through if you want to believe the old tale.” 

“B-Blood Eagle?” He gulped again, “That sounds terrifying alone, dare I ask what it was?” 

“Do you dare?” She smirked, showing off the dense and wicked teeth all humans possessed. He nodded, much to his own dismay. “It was a fascinating process, though admittedly brutal beyond all standards. One of my ancestors had made a grave offense and attempted to steal the land of a Jarl, a ruler of such, and this Jarl was brothers to the King of all the land. My ancestor was punished with the Blood Eagle. It was said if you could take the pain without wincing, you would enter the heavens called Valhalla. But if you winced or cried out, you be damned.” She cleared her throat, hoping to spare Grek some of the details. The Elorians were more pacifist than most species. “They started by cutting your back open with a knife,” she could already see him flinch and look more and more nervous. “They then break open the back of the ribs, sometimes hammering them open. Then finally they pull the lungs out and rest them on your shoulders to look like the folded wings of an eagle.” 

Grek’laz looked as though he was about to vomit, just imaging the process made him sick. “Your ancestor … I weep for the torture, he must’ve been in such pain.” 

“Who knows? Stories say he never even made a sound, other then to scream to the Gods they believed in that he was coming very soon.” She chuckled softly. This was funny to her? Grek was truly terrified.

“Your world truly faced a monster, no offense, Human-Erica.” Grek gulped again in a panic. 

“Oh those were just the Vikings, humans all over the world were doing stuff on that level.” 


“Oh Grek … I really hope they tell you about the Spanish Inquisition,” Erica laughed before patting his side, for his shoulder was at least 2 feet higher than her. “I’m heading to the mess hall, join me if you want,” she nodded before making her way out. 

“I believe… I have lost my appetite,” he grumbled quietly. Humans… They were terrifying because they remembered these practices, whose to say they didn’t plan to use them if their enemies deserved it?

I’ve been wondering for a while, if, with the several implications of medical torture, Shiro might have a problem with beds from his missing year. Considering the prison cells we’ve seen on the imperial ships don’t seem to have any furnishings, just the floor- so during most of that year, the only time Shiro was actually lying up on something would be if he was strapped to a table.

While that’s a super dark note to start on, it led me to wonder if at a hypothetical point where Shiro actually starts doing better and catching up on sleep, the team just starts catching him sleeping in weird places. Upright in chairs. Across the back of the couch. Sometimes, in Black’s hangar leaning against one of her feet. He manages to terrify at least one person by dozing off standing up in a corner.

He probably likes corners and being able to put his back to a wall since subconsciously less things can sneak up on him, and eventually the team manages to come up with something more comfortable for him that doesn’t set him off so Shiro can actually get some goshdang sleep and not be, most likely, really sore afterwards.

Camp food

“Nichole, that’s not how a lady sits” the girl’s mother didn’t even look up from her book. It was as if she could simply feel the bad posture.

Nikki tried her best not to groan and sat straight up.

“Feet flat on the floor.”

She shifted her position so that she was no longer sitting on her feet, and they dangled just above the floor.

“Feet flat ON the floor. If they dangle, you’ll just kick your feet like you always do.”

Nikki scooted a bit forward so that her feet could reach the ground. It was taking everything in her power to not just inhale her meal and run off to go play.

But now there was a new problem, her right leg was shaking.

This wasn’t a new problem for Nikki, she used to claim it meant it was happy, but her mom told her that it was disruptive and needed to stop. She made a conscious effort to try and will her leg to stop, but it kept shaking as if dancing to a song no one else could hear.

Her mother simply looked up. That slight, almost unnoticeable motion was enough to make Nikki freeze in place.

“This is a dinner table, not a jungle gym. You can play when you’re finished Nichole.”

“I’m sorry mom…”

“If you’re sorry then fix it.” Nikki nodded and stepped on her right foot with her left. Her feet weren’t flat on the ground, but at least her leg wasn’t shaking.

She hadn’t even touched her food.

It wasn’t that her mom wasn’t a good cook, she was great, but every dinner was an exercise in remembering how to eat. It took years just to get which utensils go on which side of the plate. Nikki didn’t see the point, nor did she understand why you even needed more than one fork. They’re all forks, and she has two perfectly good hands anyway, no utensils needed.

She’d never actually try that though, at least not with her mom right there.

“Nichole, stop picking.” She froze again, she didn’t even realize she had been picking. Looking down, one of the scabs on her arm was bleeding. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, Nikki was always playing with or picking at things, be it loose thread, one of her many bandaids, or the wounds they cover. It got especially bad when she was nervous.

“Hey mom? I’m not really super hungry.”

“Put plastic wrap on it and put it in the fridge, we’ll try again later.” This always happened. She was beginning to forget what warm food tasted like. At least not warm food that hadn’t been microwaved only to go back in the fridge without having a bite taken out of it.


“Camp?” Nikki looked up from the sand box. She wanted to dig for pirate treasure other places but she didn’t get yelled out when she dug here.

“Yes, I was thinking of sending you to a summer camp,” the woman smiled slightly seeing her daughter’s excitement.

“Like outside? In nature?”

“Absolutely. I think it’ll be just what you need.”

“Will it have fun games and adventures?! Can I wrestle bears and befriend wolves and make new friends?”

“You can do… some of those things, yes.”

“Thank-you thank-you THANK-YOU” Nikki jumped up and hugged her mom’s leg. “What’s it’s name? Where’s it at?”

“The sleepy pines. They’re called the flower scouts.”


The first week hazing had been bad, but Nikki took it in stride, initiations were always like this on TV. She was tough though and while these girls were… well girly, Nikki wanted to be their friends more than anything. This was her chance to go to camp and make friends and go on adventures with them. She didn’t want to blow this.

The second week was worse, they stopped being friendly all-together. They started calling her things like “weirdo”, “freak”, “disgusting”, they made it a game to get up and move when she’d try to sit with them. What’s worse, they’d give the same treatment to everyone who tried to be nice to her. It wasn’t long before the whole camp avoided her like a plague. She started to feel like that’s what she actually was.

Why wasn’t she normal? If she was, then her mom wouldn’t be so disappointed in her. If she was, these girls would want to be friend. If she was, then she wouldn’t feel so lonely.

The final straw was something simple. She was sitting alone for dinner, like she always did. She didn’t have to worry about eating a certain way, it’s not like using forty forks like her mom told her would suddenly make everyone give her another chance. The food was delicious too, these camp chefs were apparently hired from France. Still, it felt so lonely.

“Ew, she’s peeling her scabs!” Nikki was brought back from her daydreams by the entire mess hall pointing and staring. Some of them even took out phones to take pictures.

“She’s such a fucking freak!”

“Do you think she eats them?”

“Probably, it’s like she’s not even human.”

“She’s probably not, she’s an ugly rat.”

“Eww, what if she has bugs?”

Nikki felt like a trapped animal, which is exactly what they thought she was. She backed a couple paces away from the table before running out of the cafeteria, tears forming in her eyes.

It didn’t take her long to flag down a counselor and ask to use a phone.

“Hello? Residence of doctor-”


“Nichole? Are you calling from camp?”

“I…” she sniffed, “I wanna go home! I don’t like the flower scouts! They don’t do adventures or even go into the woods! A-and they’re mean and I don’t wanna be a flower scout, I wanna be a Nikki.”

There was a long sigh on the other side, “Are you sure you can’t stick out for a couple months?”

“N-none of them like me, they think I’m we-e-e-eird.” She sobbed, and wiped her nose with her sleeve.

“Sweetie, this wouldn’t happen if you just acted like a lady” Then the realization hit Nikki, she sent her there to try and change her, she wanted her daughter to act like these mean kids.

She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. “I wanna go home.”

“…are you sure?”

“Mmhm.” She sniffed

“Alright, I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“…okay. I love you.” She was answered with a repeated beeping, indicating her mom had hung up.


The mess hall was… well a mess. Max had convinced Space kid that the astronauts ate toothpaste and now there’s mint scented vomit all over that table. Nerris, having witnessed that, failed her constitution saving throw and lost her lunch as well. Then David, walking in without a care in the world, slipped on it and ate shit.

Max was basking in the situation he created, trying to get a handle on his hysterical laughter. Neil completely lost his appetite and pushed his tray away. Nikki hadn’t really noticed any of it, she was just scarfing down her food, completely spaced out.

Max snapped in front of her, “Nik, are you even seeing this?”

“Huh what? That’s a lotta barf.”

“Not the barf, well yeah the barf, but I meant David. He nearly fucking faceplanted in it!” Max laughed even harder when he noticed how much Neil was gagging. Nikki smiled more.

“Sorry I was out of it,” she said. “I was eating.”

“How can you eat this shit anyway? It’s not even real food.” He’s right, it couldn’t compare to home cooked meal, and especially not something made by professional chefs. But sitting here in perched frog on Lilly pad position, with her right leg shaking away, between her two best friends who, while flawed, love her for who she is and not despite it… she couldn’t ask for a better dinner.

“I dunno, it’s just good.”

“Whatever Nikki.” That’s right, she wasn’t Nichole, she wasn’t a flower scout. She was Nikki, and she was where she belonged.

The Diamonds introduction

I do love how Yellow Diamond was introduced. It was such an “oh, shit” moment. And the choice of VA was a great one. Yellow spoke with an older, refined voice that really helped sell the idea of her being someone with authority.

Then we see more and more of her. And that older, refined voice she has is almost a contrast to her personality. At least in a relaxed setting. She is delightfully immature. Stomps her feet at Blue and whines when she gets told off.

Blue Diamond had a similar feel. She was “introduced” via Garnet. It was Garnet’s voice, not Blue’s that we heard. And her presence in The Answer build her up like Yellow’s intro did. This was someone with supreme authority.

So when we finally see her? Her voice is small, low. Almost broken. Not the impression her presence in The Answer gave at all.

I just love that contrast. The buildup for the Diamonds didn’t disappoint and neither does us getting to know them better.

I made a tiny friend today 😁🐝

Can You Hear Me?

Hey Guys! New MultiChapter Alert! I’m Kind Of In Love With This One And Its Pretty Long So Let Me Know What You Think!

Riverdale, a small town riddled with political drama, town wide disagreements and the occasional murder that sent each and every resident into a flurry of destruction and stressful decision making. These things however monumental and pressing they seemed in the moment, well they passed. Everything seemed to pass in Riverdale, chaos and confusion eventually found its place buried deep in some invisible capsule never to be seen again, never to be spoken of for fear of disrupting whatever semblance of peace they had all managed to put together in the moment. But one rather large bump in the town that spoke of Unity, of togetherness, well… that never wavered, never went away.

That bump? that bump was none other than the infamous Southside Serpents.

Betty Cooper, perfect in every sense of the word, from the honey blonde curls that fell softly on her shoulders to her trim figure, earned by the written down diet and exercise regimen she followed religiously. The sixteen year old cheerleader and journalist was everyone’s best friend, her gentle way of speaking and her soft green eyes made her already warmhearted nature easy to spot and impossible to escape. She was the very picture of light and everyone knew it, which is why when she mentioned a dance, a Welcome to Riverdale High Winter Formal, no one had disagreed.

Southside High had burnt down last month, a Serpent prank gone terribly wrong leaving all of the students without a place to go. Riverdale High had been the only option and after a ridiculous amount of Town Meetings everyone had finally agreed that the children needed a place to learn. It had been tense in the High school from that point on, the anticipation and suspense would end tomorrow when the schools finally merged but as for tonight? tonight was a mixer, a chance to change perceptions, a chance to make friends, to unite.

“You do realize some of these people are criminals right? they’ve been in jail, they’re…hardened” Veronica Lodge exclaimed, heiress to Lodge Industries fortune and the most exotic thing Riverdale had ever seen. Her jet black hair, sharp eyes and knockout body had every boy within a ten mile radius drooling. She was also Bettys best friend since birth and had the kind of fierce loyalty you could only wish for in a friend. Right now though? her beautiful face was contorted into a grimace, Veronica, like most north siders was not looking forward to sharing her side of Riverdale.

“Didn’t your dad just get out of prison like last month?” Kevin Keller added, Kevin was also Bettys best friend and he was on her side no matter the circumstance. They had been thrown together at a young age, perfect Betty Cooper with the blonde pigtails and pink ribbons and the sheriffs son, it was a match made in heaven, It wasn’t long until they both found out that Betty wasn’t quite Kevin’s….type, they had been inseparable ever since.

“Totally not the point” Veronica waved a makeup brush in Kevin’s face threateningly as she slid into a skin tight  black dress by some designer Betty could only afford if she sold her arm. “ Listen all I’m saying is that we have to be careful, we have to look out for each other. these are not the good guys.” Veronicas eyes fell on Betty involuntarily as Kevin kept quiet, Betty knew he probably agreed with her, they were fiercely protective of her ever since the accident.

oh yeah something that should probably be added, she was  deaf.

We don’t know that. they could be really sweet and misunderstood” the beautiful blonde sighed, smiling when Kevin handed her the soft yellow dress, zipping her up and nodding in approval. She had made the dress herself, layers of see through fabric made for the softest flowing skirt she had ever worn, the fabric skimming mid thigh as the strapless top was woven intricately in the same fabric, her makeup was minimal and her hair was pulled up into a loose bun resting low on the back of her neck,loose strands falling and resting on her cheeks.

“beautiful” Kevin signed. Betty could read lips amazingly well, she had only lost her hearing two years ago but she had been quick to learn sign language “ just in case the surgeries don’t work” she had explained. Kevin had been right alongside her, learning and at one point even teaching, They had a bond that was something so much more than special.

“well now that we all look absolutely amazing, as always, lets go break some Serpent hearts. Reggie’s already downstairs and you know how impatient he can be.” Veronica grabbed her clutch and breezed out the door.

Kevin rolled his eyes and turned to Betty “whenever you want to leave. let me know. well be out of there and in a booth at pops in seconds flat.”

Betty grinned “I love you Kevin” she whispered pulling him down the stairs, she glanced at the fridge in her kitchen ,a note hanging by a statue of liberty magnet

      “ have a great time at the dance, went away for the week. see you next Tuesday. love you! - mom and dad”

of course, her parents were never home she supposed it had been harder on them than it had been on hear, losing her hearing was burden everyone had to carry.

suddenly she was up and swinging around the kitchen, a familiar pair of incredibly muscular arms had her squeezed tight, a surprised giggle escaping her lips.

“Reggie.” she laughed, her feet finally touching the ground

“Look at you! you look mighty fine little mama.” he smirked, handsome as ever.
Reggie Mantle was her protector, her friend, her brother, he watched over her, guarded her, confided in her. He was a good person with a terrible reputation, but none of that mattered to her, first and foremost he was one of her closest friends and she loved him with all her heart.

“you don’t look so bad yourself Mantle.” she grinned

“What can I say, I clean up real nice.” he was such a goofball it instantly warmed her heart. “ now come on , we gotta go. whos gonna spike the punch bowl if I’m not there? a sober homecoming. a tragedy.”  

The four teens arrived at the dance just a half an hour late “ leave them guessing, B. first impressions are everything.” Veronica had explained as they sat in the gas station parking lot for twenty minutes.

There was absolutely no subtlety regarding the divide between the two separate schools, An alarming amount of leather and short skirts crowded the left half of the room while suit jackets mixed with Letterman jackets occupied the right.

“okay, okay! its not so bad! at least they came right? that’s a great sign!” Bettys unparalleled optimism was something to be admired.

“ It was mandatory, they kind of had to come.” Kevin shrugged apologetically.

“well, I’m going to go dance, this is my song and I have moves!” Veronica shimmied her way to the dance floor, pulling Reggie with her. Kevin’s eyes lit up when he spotted someone halfway across the dance floor, he looked nervously at Betty.

“Go” she signed, a genuine smile on her face as he scurried away, practically tripping over his feet. Betty squirmed, she felt eyes on her, someone was watching her. Glancing up she gasped at the intensity of the boy across the rooms stare, he was standing next to a girl with bright purple hair and a redheaded boy holding a flask, his rainstorm blue eyes burning into hers. he was beautiful, there wasn’t a question about it.

The Serpent currently watching her stood at least 6 feet tall, his long legs and ripped jeans tucked into worn in brown combat boots, his wavy ink black hair was messy, a single curl hanging in his eyes. There was a spattering of freckles and beauty marks covering his olive skin, and his lips were a shade very similar to Bettys favorite Perfectly pink lipstick. it was clear he was in shape by the way his leather jacket stretched across his biceps, the simple white t shirt snug on his chest. it took all of thirteen seconds for betty to realize she had been checking him out and half a second for her to tear her eyes from his and head the complete opposite direction, only stopping  when her classmates stopped her to talk.

Eventually Betty found herself behind the sound system, she could relax here, no one would look for her here. pressing her open palm to the speaker on her side, Betty closed her eyes. she could feel the rhythm pumping into her palm, the music flowing to her fingers. There were a lot of things she missed, the sound of an engine starting, Kevin’s laugh, Veronica singing her to sleep over the phone, even the crowded hallways passing classes but the one thing she missed more than anything was music. The doctors had been sure that she would gain her hearing back “a temporary thing” they had said, but slowly she saw the worry creep into their eyes after every failed surgery , every year that went by.

“have faith, betty. that’s all you can do” everyone said, but no one knew, no one understood.

she felt him before she saw him , the steady clomp of combat boots mixed with something much more stealthy. Looking up she wasn’t surprised to see the dark haired boy with the curious eyes standing in front of her, his hands shoved into his pockets as he said something far too quickly for betty to understand.

“ I can’t hear you, can you repeat that?” she questioned, stepping closer, her eyes trained on his lips.

he spoke again, still too quick to read but clearly he was attempting to speak louder

Betty shook her head, a soft smile on her lips as she grabbed his hand much to his surprise pulled him away from the speakers and into the hallway.
“its not because its too loud in there” she explained “ I cant hear you because I’m deaf. you speak a little  fast and I just couldn’t get a grip on your words” she smiled, nodding her head and encouraging him to try again.

It didn’t seem to phase him but when he spoke Betty noticed he was clearly trying to slow down.

“ I asked if you wanted to dance, I saw you and.. Listen I know its kind of a stupid thing to do.. I don’t even know you.. honestly I don’t even know why I asked.. I’m a jackass.. I set myself up for failure ya know? here I am asking a north side girl who looks like you to dance like a friggin wuss.. not that there’s anything wrong with how you look! you’re ya now.. I mean you know you’re beautiful, what are you like the prom queen? I’m jughead Jones , not that you asked or care.. I’m gonna stop talking now and walk away.” Jughead rambled turning 0n his heel before a tiny scarred palm landed on his forearm.

“ I’d love to dance with you Jughead Jones. I’m Betty Cooper” betty wrapped her arms around the surprised boys neck guiding his hands to her waist.

“Yeah?” he questioned “right here? you cant even hear the music?” he winced

“doesn’t matter much to me, No one ever asks me to dance because they’re afraid ill be insulted but actually I love to dance.” she beamed up at him, smile so bright it was almost impossible not to smile back. it was quiet for a minute before Betty spoke again, tilting so she could see his face “Why did you ask me to dance? there’s so many beautiful girls out there.”  

a funny kind of smile graced the gang members face
“ I cant explain it , I just know.. there’s not one other place Id want to be then right here.”

it was almost slow motion, no one knew who leaned in first, right before their lips were about to touch the fire alarm blared through the hallway the vibrations sending Betty backwards as she glanced around panicked

“Hey, Hey, its just the fire alarm its okay.” Jughead reached for her


a new voice from behind Jughead shoved him aside, a muscled Asian with a terrified expression gripped her hand “We gotta go! some snake set the locker room on fire, the cops are coming!”

“Jug! Lets get out of here, one more mark on our records and were done!”

Archie called from behind him. He had turned for only a second but by the time he looked back Betty was just a flash of blonde and yellow.

hopping on his motorcycle that night there was only one thing on his mind.

Who was Betty Cooper and why the hell did he feel this way?

Did someone say modern step sibling au lmao
I mentioned writing this before, I was gonna make it one long fic but i decided to break it up into a few shorter ones? It wont be that long tho I just don’t want it all to be in one thing.
ANYWAY, this is a modern au featuring JD and Heather Chandler as step siblings who are desperate for Veronica, a Known Bisexual. It’s honestly equal parts jdonica and chansaw so hopefully you’re into that lol. Here’s part one!

Keep reading

I took a shot at drawing Six, not the best thing in the world but considering I drew this at like 6 am with no sleep and a pretty bad reference photo it’s pretty good, I like it at least. I drew the other kids from the comic but I’m not sure if I’ll post those, eh we’ll have to see.

Considering Little Nightmares is a favourite of mine I’m surprised I haven’t attempted to draw anything from it yet, might try to draw The Janitor at some point soon.

An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.

Sooo. I needed some practice after my writer’s block so I decided to write this random tumblr prompt and make it slightly bokuroo. Please don’t shoot me. Enjoy!

“Grandma, what the fuck.”

Language, Tetsurou,” his grandmother scolds goodnaturedly.

Kuroo stares and stares and stares, because seriously, what the fuck, grandma.

“Hey hey!” The man beaming behind her waves a hand enthusiastically in greeting. “Nice house!”

“It’s uh, not mine.” Kuroo says awkwardly, and pats his grandma gently on the shoulder.

“Thank you, dear,” she also beams.

Why the fuck is everyone beaming, Kuroo thinks, what is so great about this. The attic is a bit of a steep descent, and at his grandmother’s age, she really shouldn’t be climbing up and down with those knees.

“I got it,” the man and his incredibly thick arms literally block the way when Kuroo moves to lend his grandma an arm.

“Right,” Kuroo grits. It’s my grandmother, he thinks viciously, but the guy looks so damn happy it’d be like kicking a puppy.

‘The guy’ is a bit of an understatement, to be quite honest. Maybe grandma’s just left her specs at the kitchen table again, but those weird horns- not to mention the black and white hair- are definitely not ‘guy’-like. They’re… evil-like, and Kuroo is really worried about his grandmother.

Those claws don’t look too comfortable either, but her thick jumper solves that problem. At least he’s got proper feet, Kuroo supposes, it’d be a bit awkward getting about with hooves.


Keep reading

Nihma was yet another student admitted to the EU, yet another face with an obviously fake name but only one letter away from the real one; a dangerous choice, but she was a practiced liar. Oddly enough she was also quite practiced in her protection from the gentry, even if she did happen to occasionally disappear once or twice a month.

She was the student that many went to for emergencies; not enough candy, iron pieces are missing, or the textbook they had w Her dorm happened to be the one where things turned up most, sadly her roommate often didn’t. She cracked the door open and handed items off, seeming to know who was at the door and what they would need. It helped, coming from a family of psychics.

On the days her roommate was gone, Nihma would keep the lights on, ignoring the shadows outlined in the corner; blinking, never fading, always growing. Instead, she recited textbook after textbook and tossed candy and wrappers behind her after every chapter, listening to the telltale crunch and heaving breath like a cat chewing on a bone. It receded after the fifth chapter as always; no one really questioned how she knew the material so well.

It was often chaotic on the days she vanished, so she pushed all lost items out of the room and extra candy and iron when she knew she would be gone; sometimes she would get a couple waterbottles and extra salt packets in return, a quiet welcome back from the other students. Her feet ached. Her mind was tired. At least she was back. Her roommate would be returned for two months. Then the process began again. “I have the notes you missed last week,” Nihma murmured, her roommate smiled.

“I appreciate it.”

(I hope you don’t mind, I really like Elsewhere University, I had to word vomit XD)


Red Lipstick and Leather Jackets

I haven’t had the chance to read it over so I apologise for any mistakes!

In the middle of the room, there’s a desk ringing around in a circle. It’s made of marble and shaking vines of grey stone runs through the beige. The lights dangle from the high ceiling and they cast a yellow glow over every inch of the room.

People are standing around, leaning against tables, sitting on chairs. They hand over cheques and withdraw money, their hearts beating at a regular pace, much to Justin’s disappointment.

He can see Y/N standing just outside the double doors. Her hands are drumming against the side of her thigh while she looks from left to right. He can see she has her leather jacket wrapped tightly around her body and he knows it’s because her weapon is being held within.

Justin let’s his eyes linger on her for a few seconds longer than he should. As though she can feel his blazing eyes burning into her back, Y/N turns and glances in through the doors. She can see him watching her and she sends him a wink, followed by her blood-red lipstick sending him a kiss. He grins evilly with both lust and adoration for his girlfriend-stroke-sidekick and winks back in her direction, hoping no one catches on to dishonest scheme the man and woman in the matching leather jackets are preparing for.

In the small pocket of his jacket, the 44 Magnum gun sits quietly, it’s cool exterior burning his hand. The pad of his thumb tapped the side of it continuously as he awaited the perfect victim.

A well-built man walks by and Justin is far too experienced to know it would be a mistake to attack someone of that size, so he shifts his gaze away and manages to clock a man who seems to be trembling as he walks. Draped in a fancy suit with spectacles on the bridge of his crooked nose, the hair on the bank manager’s head is thinning and it’s clear to Justin that he’s the one he needs.

In two seconds Justin manages to turn swiftly and pull the man into a headlock so that his arm is digging into his Adam’s Apple. A shriek emits from the dry lips of Justin’s helpless prey and fingernails as sharp as pins dig into his arm. As a result, Justin presses the head of the gun against the shining temple of the man.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Justin whispers before pointing the gun back to the crowd of cowering people. “Now, listen up! Things are about to get interesting!” Justin lets out a sharp laugh with a huge grin on his face. There’s a mad look in his eye.

No one dares to move with the barrel of the gun staring at them, instead they raise their hands in the air or curl in up in a ball on the marble floor.

“I want all of you to sit pretty for a little while, I don’t really want to hurt any of you but if you move even a muscle, I won’t hesitate to blow your brains out and paint a picture on these lovely marble walls with your innards.” He walks slowly into the middle of the room - the manager now sweating heavily under Justin’s grip - and still wears a devilish grin on his lips. “Now, come on Mr. Bank Manager. You’re gonna show me where you keep your treasure.”

“W-what do you want?” the shaking mess asks hesitantly.

“Have you not caught on yet? I want all of your money. D’you think you’ll be able to show me where you keep it?”

“We, we don’t keep it all here, on-only a percentage-“

“And that percentage is what I’m after. Lead the way, Sir,” Justin chuckles roughly into the manager’s ear and it sends a shiver down his spine. His feet threaten to give way beneath him but Justin’s grip forces him to stay on the balls of his feet.

The two men walk slowly around the room, Justin’s gun glares at anyone that makes the slightest movement or the slightest whimper of panic.

“There’s s-some in there.” A shaking finger points towards the cash register behind the high marble desk. “We have tills to-“

“I don’t need to know the bank’s fucking history,” Justin hisses and begins to stride towards the till. He frees the man of his strong hold and points the gun towards his head. “Open it.”

While Justin is busy making his way around the machines and the hidden safes throughout the bank, Y/N hangs around outside under the warm sun. There’s a gun hidden in the depth of her jacket and she can feel its figure against the palm of her hand. She can feel the high levels of power she has with such an object and it sends a wave of recklessness through her entire being.

She risks a glance inside every now and then and she’s able to see Justin pacing around. His hair falls in his face and every now and then, he’ll bother to swipe it back. She remembers the feeling of each strand passing her fingers when she does it for him.

He doesn’t have the slightest look of doubt or fear in the way the way he presents himself and she licks her lips with lust for him.

She realises she’s distracted herself and she quickly shifts her attention back to her surroundings. There’s men and women going about their day, oblivious to what they’d witness if they just turned their attention to anything but their phones or the pavement passing under their feet.

It takes at least another ten minutes before her phone buzzes in her pocket. Not wanting to look too suspicious, she takes her time pulling it out and answering it.

“Get in here, babygirl,” Justin’s deep voice rasps through her ear as though he was stood directly beside here. “I have some friends I want you to meet.” A throaty chuckle chases his words before the line cuts off. I turn on my heels and push open the double doors.

“There she is!” Justin grins madly while holding a gun to the man’s temple. “Mr. Bank Manager, you guys,” he says, waving the gun effortlessly towards the group of flinching men and women, “this is my sweetheart. Isn’t she a beauty?”

Y/N comes to Justin’s side, resting her arm on his shoulder. A small smile plays on her lips but she says nothing.

Robbing the banks and keeping watch is the part she loves; taking money from those who had too much, but frightening the victims and playing with their lives is Justin’s strong point.

“You know,” Justin starts, as though it was the first time he had spoken in a while. “This has been fun. We should do this again.”

The panic on the people’s faces doesn’t seem to disappear but instead, they seem to worsen.

“Princess.” Justin turns to look at Y/N. “After you,” he says and licks his lips when his eyes latch onto the bright red lipstick.

Y/N stares back, a subtle smirk now playing on her lips as she realises her favourite part is coming up; the part where the pair of them because insanely rich in a matter of seconds. She sways her hips because she knows Justin is watching, and her eyes shine onto the sacks that having kindly been filled to the brim with wads of money. She guessed it was Justin’s way of keeping the group busy. 

“Well,” Justin announces. “We’ll be getting off.” Y/N can almost hear the relief setting into everyone’s bodies at Justin’s words. “Is the van outside?” he mutters into her ear. It startles her because she isn’t aware he’d moved across the room. Turning to look at him, she can see him watching her with a hungry look. She nods. “Grab a bag, baby, this is all yours.”

She’s unable to let the idea of it have an affect on her because his lips come in contact with hers and she’s taken under. They’re hot, harsh and hungry for her, and she’s more than happy to give they what they want. Justin growls against her lips in the way he knows she loves, a wave of affection washes over her.

All the while, the gun in Justin’s hand has lowered and Y/N thought it was lucky that no one in the room had the confidence to strike while Justin was distracted.

She watches for a moment as he while his phone out of his pocket to call the few men they had dragged along to help them at this time. Y/N can’t help but notice how the roughness of his face makes him look so attractive. He has a slight mad look in his eyes and she adores it. She remembers a few nights ago when she told him she thought a beard would suit him, and she notices he’s now a few days unshaven.

He turns back to the crowd and continues watching guard, the gun was now in full force. She has to shake her head from left to right to bring herself out of the trance she’d fallen into before grabbing a few of the hefty bags and heading for the door. It opens as her fingers are about to wrap around it, and three familiar faces appear.

She doesn’t have to speak to them; they merely nod at her before silently making their way towards the heap of bags of money. Y/N can hear Justin entertaining the group as they load the van.

Because they’re eager to escape with success, it takes just under fifteen minutes for all the bags to be transferred. Once they’re ready, Justin begins to retreat for the door, making sure the group of - still - shaking men and women don’t move a muscle.

“If you’re going to call the police, please refrain from doing so until we’ve managed to get within a decent radius,” Justin chuckles and the hard grin makes another appearance. “Pleasant day to you all.”

He makes an effort to get to the door as quick as his feet can take him, and once the door is slammed shut and the cool wind is stroking his skin, he lets out a breath before jumping into the front seat of the van. It feels heavy with success.

“Get out,” he says to the three men hunched over in the back. He speaks again before they can protest. “You’ll get your share soon, just get out, and I’d run if I were you.”

A few incoherent curse words are thrown into the air but Justin doesn’t seem to care. The door is slammed shut and not even a second later, Justin and Y/N are gliding around the back of the building at full speed.

“We did it again, babydoll,” Justin grins with triumph, it seems to get bigger when his foot steps harder against the pedal. The engine roars like a riled lion.

“When do we ever fail?” She returns the grin and a familiar look washes across his face like a mask.

“You can have anything you want. What do you want, baby? Anything in your wildest dreams, it can be yours.”

“Just you.”

Justin loves her response, and he has to refrain from growling. A hot rush blinds his sight and he presses his foot down even further, the outside world is one big blur as they speed down the highway.

“Yeah?” he replies before throwing his head back and laughing. “That’s a very dangerous thing to say, babydoll. You know damn well if you play with fire, you get burned.”

His hair is wild and ruffled and she decides he looks beautiful.

“I could snap you like a twig, I could cut you like a rope.” He takes his eyes off of the road to look at her, and all he can see is affection. He’s overcome with adoration and is almost unable to control the hand that reaches across to touch her throat. “And you’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

The two of them are hurtling at full speed, and Justin shows now signs in slowing down. His fingers tickle her throat, but make her skin burn, too. He pressed them in deep for only a few seconds before retracting them suddenly.

“I adore you,” Justin licks his lips and Y/N feels a strong desire to bite down on the bottom one. “I very much want you to play with me, I want you to play with me, even if you know you have a relatively high chance of being burned to death.”

Justin takes Y/N’s hand in his own. His grip is strong and dominant around her small and fragile one. His hot lips drop the psychotic smirk to kiss the top of her hand, it leaves a burning sensation.

anonymous asked:

Imagine Steve gets taken and is not fed much at all, much less the amount a super soldier needs - so when his friends find him he is very weak.

“Guys!” Steve sits up, grinning. “You found me!”

“Yeah,” says Natasha. “Only took us three days.”

“When you get nabbed, you really know how to get nabbed,” Sam agrees.

Steve laughs and pulls on the top of his uniform, which he’d been using as a pillow. “What’s the plan?” he asks as he fiddles with the zipper. It’s oddly slippery in his shaking fingers. He stands, takes a step – and his knees collapse under him.

Nat rushes forward, catches him around the chest. She plants her feet while he struggles to take at least a little bit of his weight off her. “Jesus, how are you so heavy?” she grunts. “What have you been eating?”

“Oh,” he says, letting Sam duck under his arm and haul him upright, “a little of this, a little of that.” Between them, he takes a step, most of his weight on them. “They gave me some soup yesterday.”

“Is that the last time you ate?” Nat asks. He nods.

Sam sighs. “Let’s get out of here. Thor was busy fighting like sixteen agents at the same time, but if he’s done with that then he’ll be able to get you out of here.”

By the time they get to the exit, both Sam and Nat are panting. So is Steve, come to think of it. They lean him up against the side of the building and Sam radios for Thor.

When Thor arrives, Steve’s sitting on the ground. He grins up at him. “Hi,” he says. “Good to see you.”

“And you,” Thor replies, raising his eyebrows.

Still smiling, Steve reaches his hands up. Thor leans down, letting Steve kiss his cheek before getting his shoulder into Steve’s stomach and lifting him off his feet. “Oh,” Steve says. He’d sort of been expecting Thor just to support him to the jet. This is very caveman-ish. Thor’s cape is in his face.

“Nat, don’t take a picture of this,” Steve says, because he’s sure if he doesn’t head that off at the pass then he’ll never live it down. Still, he hears a camera sound. “Nat!”

“Wasn’t me,” Nat’s voice says from off to his left somewhere.


“Also not me,” Sam says from his right.

“It was me,” says Wanda. “I took the picture.”

If Steve had any strength whatsoever, he’d give her a lecture.

Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Day 6- First “I Love You”

Ok so for this one, let’s kind of pretend that s4 never happened. Yeah, I know, that’s hard to do! But honestly, I feel like any first ILY can’t really be believable if s4 happened and it’s set after that. Thank goodness for the non-canon category for this week’s themes lol! And I believe both @elennemigo and @fangirlhani were in favor of me writing the first ILY theme. Hope you guys (and everyone) enjoy what I came up with! Oh and thanks to @artbylexie for not only beta reading but also helping me come up with the setup of this plot. Fun times lol!;))

On Again, Off Again

Molly Hooper stomped up the stairs to 221B. Really stomped. The anger that coursed through her body was intense enough that it felt good to at the very least slam her feet on the steps as she climbed them.

She’d rarely been this angry.


Molly stormed into his flat with fire in her eyes. There he stood, his safety glasses covered eyes looking a bit confused as he stood at his kitchen table holding a beaker with some unidentified fluid in it.

“Molly?” He looked her up and down in an obvious attempt at deduction as she marched in the room and tossed her bag and coat aside in preparation for battle.

“Sherlock, of all the deceitful, unfeeling, and insulting things to do…” she began, pacing back and forth with clenched fists. “How could you think to treat a friend this way?!”

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Hotel California (1/2)

Originally posted by sailorslayla

Title : Hotel California

Pairing : Mark x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Romance

Summary : Mark is a night-shifts receptionist in his own hotel and it sucks, until one of his client turns up to be a pretty, annoying girl.


It was pure agony. The mere idea of pulling an all-nighter for the sole purpose of work was agonising. Even the old coppered clock’s hand was limping, showing the wrong hour and the time was almost passing in slow motion.

Mark groaned when the opening credits of Frasier made its way on the small and very old television set.

“Excuse me…?” He heard a voice and checked the black and white monitor, spotting a middle-aged man in a tuxedo, tapping the counter. He got up, the desk chair wincing and took a small key from the numerous ones hung up the wall.

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TimSteph and Photography

(With all the dark and angsty headcanons I’ve been doing lately, I need to do some happy ones otherwise my head will explode) 

Headcanon that Tim has a thing for taking candid photos of Stephanie when she doesn’t expect it. He likes to hide where she won’t see him and take pictures of her doing normal everyday things like drinking coffee or folding laundry. He has them all compiled in a huge photo album titled “Stephanie’s Prettiest Moments,” and by now he’s got hundreds of cute photos in there. Some gems: 

• A photo of Steph, taken from behind as she dances around the kitchen in sock feet while making pancakes 

• Blushing Steph standing in a doorway, trying not to smile as a toothbrush hangs from her mouth and her hand can be seen trying to block her face from the camera 

• Steph sleeping on the floor with her legs propped on the couch and Alfred the Cat curled up on her stomach. A book lays sprawled open next to her 

• Angry Steph flipping off the camera as Alfred tends to a gunshot wound on her leg. Dick can be seen laughing in the background 

• Sick Steph curled up on the couch, snuggled cozily in a blanket so only her eyes and nose are visible. Piles of tissues and stacks of DVDs surround her and steam can be seen from a bowl of soup on the coffee table  

• Steph posing with a new CD she got for Christmas, perched happily under the tree with a Santa hat and tinsel wrapped around her neck like a scarf. She’s in fluffy snowman pajamas and reindeer slippers, and there’s the smallest hint of an eggnog mustache on her lip 

• Steph early in the morning without any makeup on yet, smiling as she watches cartoons. The photo is taken from around Tim’s body, and his arm can be seen around Steph’s shoulder, so it’s clear that he was trying to be sneaky and took it while they had been cuddling side by side on the couch together   

• Steph with tears streaming down her face, in the middle of throwing a pillow at Tim while the ending scene from Toy Story 3 can be seen on the tv in the background

• Steph half asleep with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in her hands, wearing one of Tim’s old shirts that stops at her knees paired with knee length cat socks. Her hair is in a wild disarray, and despite her tiredness she’s giving a small smile to the camera  

• Steph sitting in a library, books scattered around her as she reads with a look of intense concentration on her face, her brows wrinkled in thought and her teeth chewing her bottom lip. The camera is angled from just below the table and half the screen is blocked by it, as if Tim was trying very hard not to be seen taking the picture 

• Steph trying to get what looks like eggs and flour out of her hair. Various ingredients scatter the kitchen, and one can easily deduce it was taken after a food fight gone wrong. There’s cocoa powder blurring the camera lens, giving the photo an odd appearance  

• Steph sitting on a picnic blanket atop some grass, gazing at the sky as pink and green fireworks burst above. It’s dark, so you can see mostly only shadows on her face, but the lights from the fireworks make her eyes appear to glow  

• Steph running on a treadmill in workout clothes with ear buds in her ears. The photo’s taken from at least twenty feet away behind an elliptical machine 

• This one is taken from what’s obviously the inside of a closet, and you can only see through a small crack in the door. Steph is seen in their bedroom, wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants as she dances around the room and sings into a hairbrush 

• Steph with her eyes half closed and pink frosting on the corner of her mouth as she bites into a cupcake 

• Steph laying back on a beach towel, wearing a purple bikini and sunglasses. She can obviously see Tim taking her picture, but she’s too busy relaxing to care 

• There’s one photo where it’s actually Tim in the shot, and this one was clearly taken by Stephanie. Tim’s sleeping with his head on multiple papers and files on his desk, a cold cup of coffee and some old takeout containers beside him 

• Steph sleeping sprawled out and taking up the entire bed, her hair tangled around the pillow like golden seaweed and the covers in a heap on the floor, likely after being kicked off in her sleep 

• Steph sitting on top of Damian, who’s red faced and looks ready to kill. The shot is blurry, as though the person with the camera was laughing when he took it 

• This shot is blurry as well. It’s a close up selfie of Steph’s face with Tim’s face rushing into the frame, planting a huge impromptu kiss on her cheek. Steph looks surprised, as if shocked out of focus, and one can easily deduce that Tim snuck up on her for a peck  

• Steph from behind in a long mauve gown, her arms up and her fingers working intricately on her hair. Her face cannot be seen, and she’s too busy concentrating to notice that Tim’s in the room. There’s a floor length mirror in the frame, so you can see Tim as well, clad in a nice tux and his hair gelled back with a camera in hand  

• A blurry photo of Steph laughing, her nose crinkled and her eyes shut as she giggles at something funny Tim said 

• One is taken by Cass, who hijacked Tim’s camera and snuck up on the couple, getting a shot of them with their faces an inch away from each other, caught as they leaned in for a kiss 

• Steph leaning over the back of the chair to the batcomputer as Bruce points to something on the screen. Jason is next to Steph, but he’s the only one who noticed Tim and his camera. He’s smiling wryly as he holds up the middle finger with one hand and gives Steph bunny ears with the other 

• Steph in the middle of the ocean, awkwardly surfing a high wave. The shot is angled as though Tim was dropping the camera as it was taken, likely to help Steph out because she’s actually falling off the surfboard 

• Steph in the opposite end of a booth at a diner, grinning and laughing as Tim’s finger dots a dollop of whipped cream on the tip of her nose    

Fluff Friday, May 26th| fox fire

tfw when you crawl out of hell to participate in @thefreckledone and @vesperlionheart ‘s Fluff Friday(s) 

(I have so much respect for them it’s not even funny, every time someone asks me how/why I started writing I tell them a super exciting story about three brilliant writers and if you read their work, you will be BLESSED and inspired its like MAGIC) 

Prompt(s): ghibli, runaway

Pairing: madasaku

there was only one thing in my heart while writing this and that was Kamisama Hajimemashita :((

She was a terrible person, she was sure of it.

Sakura pulled her knees in tighter, trying to merge with the rough bark of the tree that sheltered her from the rain. Her eyes were wet, not from the raindrops but from the guilt of what she had done.

 A tiny part of her told her she hadn’t had a choice, that Ino would be out of there soon enough and Ino was the one who told her to run. Her fingers curled around a broken arrow. It was better than nothing.

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From Amy, With Love

(Here you go, the first part of the sequel to ADWD. I want to thank all the little cuties who helped make suggestions but especially @kyuubikaiju for making a suggestion similar to the title I’ve decided to use. I wanted to give you all something a little more hopeful to make up for the hell that was Pt. 6&7 because I love you all bunches and bunches! I’ve been feeling kinda down lately, and it helped me to write this, like writer therapy or something. So I hope you enjoy! *and I’ll stop rambling now*)

“Why doesn’t he remember me?”

“Simple, I took his memories of you.”

“Give them back.”

“Let me out of this cell.”

Amy lunges for Dark, but Google catches her. “You’ve done enough, Amy. You should be resting, not interrogating your attacker.”

“He’s taken Mark from me! And where’s Wilford?” she asks with a hiss. Amy stares at Dark like her gaze might burn right through. “What did you do with him?”

“He’s alive.” A trail of blood runs from the corner of Dark’s mouth down to his jaw where it drips onto his torn slacks. “That should be a comfort.”

Amy fights against Google’s hold, and the droid is growing impatient. “That’s enough, Amy! He won’t tell us anymore now!” He motions to Oliver who takes Amy and leads her out of the basement.

“Where are you taking me?” Amy doesn’t want to be mad at Oliver or even Google, but right now, she’s mad at everything.

“Where would you like to go? It would be inadvisable to be alone at this present time,” Oliver says eagerly. “Maybe I could take you home? Explain to the others what happened? The love of your friends would be beneficial at such a time as this.”

Amy shakes her head. She doesn’t want the others to know about this, not yet anyway. “Take me to see the Host. I want to ask him something.”

Oliver smiles and nods. “This seems acceptable!” The Host is waiting when the elevator arrives with a blanket draped over his arm and a cup of chamomile tea in hand. Oliver seems satisfied that Host has things covered and leaves the two of them alone.

“I knew you would be coming back, so I got together some things that I thought might comfort you…” Host nervously offers her the cup of tea. “Was I right to do this?”

Amy sets the cup aside and ducks her head. “Host, can I have a hug?” In answer, the Host wraps both the blanket and his arms around Amy’s shoulders. Up until this point, Amy hasn’t really allowed herself to cry, not when she wasn’t having a complete mental breakdown anyway. And the Host is so warm.

She sobs until she’s run fresh out of tears, and then she hiccups into his chest until the Host pulls away and pushes the cup of tea back into her hands. “Drink this, please,” he says softly.

Between sips of the soothing tea Amy asks, “Host, can you make me forget?”

Host seems confused by her question at first, but then he understands. “No, Amy. I—it just wouldn’t be right to do that.”

“I just want to forget this whole awful thing, and maybe if I forgot Mark too…” her voice trails off. Maybe if she forgot Mark and the Egos, maybe her heart wouldn’t be hurting so much right now. Maybe she wouldn’t be sitting on the floor of a blind man’s library sipping tea and sobbing into his trench coat. Maybe, maybe, maybe… “I saw what you did for the Doctor, how you made him relax. C-can you at least help me sleep?”

Host nods slowly. He helps her to her feet, leading her through the library to his room where he very seldom sleeps himself, and tucks her into his bed. “How about I tell you a story to help you sleep?” Amy nods, closes her eyes, and tries to relax.

“Once upon a time, there was a princess held captive in a tower by an evil sorcerer. The princess had many admirers, and they each loved her truly. However, none of them could best the sorcerer, and they fell into his traps one by one. So, in order to save her friends, the princess full of golden light, fought the dark sorcerer until finally he was beaten.”

Amy feels the words brushing over her mind like a warm, gentle breeze. It takes her back to the day in the park with Host when she told him about the clouds, and the flowers, and the trees. Slowly, her muscles relax, and Amy falls asleep with a pleasant smile on her lips. But the Host continues his story.

“When the evil sorcerer was defeated, the princess realized she had lost much, but one of her companions swore a promise to her. He would do whatever it took, no matter the cost, to bring those lost things back. So that they could all live happily ever after.”

With that, the Host steps quietly from the bedroom and heads for the basement.