#⟢ || musings / building blocks of what makes you whole.

[soularsss]

Drawing Likeness: with Tem!

okaay since a few people actually showed interest in me sharing a bit of what I've been doing to figure out how to really capture likeness, specifically Temuera Morrison, I figured id do my best to write it out

I am also going to entice you with some of my recent clone art! (oooh some of it is unreleaaasedd)

I am putting the whole thing under the cut because I have a feeling its going to be long:

Read more!!!

a couple disclaimers before we start

-This is not some definite post about how everyone should be drawing clones, nor is it in any way claiming that this is the right way. This is just my musings as I stare at a mans face for way too long and try to replicate it

-I am inexperienced. As kind as you all are to me, drawing real people is relatively new to me, capturing a persons identity through their features is difficult for anybody, and I am no different. I have watched many a video on likeness and had my share of classes, but If im being honest, i rarely put it into practice successfully. So there'll probably be errors in this post or things i will come back to in a few months and wish I had said/done differently

ANYWAYs you guys get my vibe im just here to ramble and today we are rambling about mr copy paste. I am doing this for Law, my clone boy, because I plan on delving further into oc fanart and I want to put effort into representing him correctly!

SO LETS BEGIN

Before even deciding what specific pose of a person I want to draw, I tend to grab a bunch of references and compile them like so

(all of these can be found on my pinterest)

Why so many? Well, we are about to delve into facial features, so when we are dealing with photos we have to take into account that there are an abundance of circumstances that will influence how a persons face will appear, some of these include:

focal length: All of these are taken on different devices, and focal length can play a big part in distorting faces

age will play a part, your face changes a bunch throughout your life!

lighting, while not as major, can muddy the waters and make it difficult to interpret facial planes and features

SO, to make sure we get a proper grasp of what's really going on, I like to make sure we have lots of options to compare and contrast with.

Next up! What I like to do is block out the main facial features with colour on different layers, the features I block out usually are the general face shape, eyebrows, eyes, nose and lips. But what you are looking for is the defining features of a person, so that could include other things! Maybe a scar, or some particularly prominent cheekbones.

I dont have any rhyme or reason when it comes to picking my colours, all that matters is you can see all the shapes clearly.

Now I may be biased, because Ive been staring at these for 4 hours, but notice how it still looks like Tem? :D

Anyways, now we can break these parts down, and you'll see what I mean about compare and contrast:

We'll start with isolating the facial shape, putting all these next to eachother you'll notice they arent exactly the same (partly because of my shoddy work) But the distinguishing features run through each shape! Namely the very soft rectangular shape I sketched out in the bottom right there. Along with his soft, wide jaw structure.

I did the same for the rest of his features!

You'll notice I highlight the prominent shapes and ratios,

When drawing anything, it is important to start from the very base shapes and build up.

When drawing something you want to look like someone, those shapes relative to other shapes is what makes it look like them.

I didnt use the same technique with his eyes and lips, but I wrote out some helpful info for them! More importantly for his eyes.

When drawing eyes, I find the most important part is where exactly I draw the creases, (along with the overall shape of the eye itself) it is important to understand where those will present themselves with hooded eyes.

NOW, with an understanding of his facial features in place, lets take a detour to colours:

before I start, a couple things to note:

-Temuera morrison versus the clone troopers in the animated shows:

While I love the animated shows they don't exactly stay close to their source material. Im going to link here to an excellent post discussing whitewashing specifically in relation to the clones.

Temuera is Māori, of Te Arawa (Ngāti Whakaue) and Tainui (Ngāti Maniapoto, Ngāti Rarua) whakapapa, and also has Scottish and Irish ancestry.

The Māori people are the indigenous Polynesian people of mainland New Zealand (Aotearoa). Māori originated with settlers from East Polynesia. Māori people often vary in skin tone, Skin colour doesn't determine ethnicity. There's often a correlation but it's not a requirement.

But that is a tangent! What we are aiming for is to stay true to Temuera.

Bringing back my reference photos from before, Ive colour picked a buncha values and theyre all over the place. Why doesnt this work?

Similarly to earlier, you have to take into account the photos themselves. Many things like lighting, colour grading (when it comes to filmography) and makeup, can alter how a skin colour presents in photo.

You can attempt to get true to life by swatching from certain places on the face. Here I've tried to pick some photos with good lighting, and I've also tried to avoid overly lit/shaded areas.

Tem has a very warm, tan skin tone, Instead of colour picking I tend to try and replicate it myself, but I do often bring in references to make sure Im staying true to the source!

a brief intermission to talk about colour theory, something I myself struggle with alot. Often, when putting in flat colours without a background, I will forget to make sure the colours i intend to use will work with the skin tone i have picked! (something that is apparent in older works of mine, not just in relation to clones, but in general, the colours I end up with stray largely from their original sources and it is something I am doing my best to keep in mind and improve in! Although I don't think i am nearly experienced enough in the topic to say I have succeeded yet lol.)

anyways back to Tem :))

Now we can put all of that into practice! Things to keep in mind when drawing out a piece next to a reference like this:

the distance between the eyebrows? how far down his face does his nose go? Basically just, in relation to eachother, where do all those shapes we found earlier, sit?

The screenshot above is from before I did it myself, but instead of directly tracing from the reference, a handy trick I use it to complete your sketch first, and then overlay a traced version to see where your inconsistencies are! Alternatively, you could move your sketch over the image, but I didnt do it that way so!! uh!! im sure it works exactly the same!!!!

When it comes to a final illustration, or any sketch that isnt a direct study, of course you can push and pull and stylise! You'll see below that I'm not exactly 1:1 to my reference photo either.

The important thing with stylisation, or at least my own personal understanding of stylisation is that you need to thoroughly understand the thing you are stylizing! "You need to know the rules to break them" and all that. While shapes, lines and rendering can change, when it comes to drawing someone, and making it look like them, you have to make sure to keep their core features true to source. Caricature can capture a persons vibe whilst drastically exaggerating features, but it will only look like them if you KEEP THOSE FEATURES!!!! SHAPES!!! AHHH!!

But that is just my perspective on the discussion of style versus realism, please dont take is as Law, I dont know what Im on about half the time!!

anyways, after fixing your sketch, add local colours!

I rexified him because why tf not! But this is where you can go crazy with that clone personalization!

And then here is a very very barely rendered version (if you guys want me to explain how i RENDER that would need to be a completely different post, and I havent had anyone ask about it yet so who knows! maybe one day) But I digress, hopefully you learnt something new through my ramblings! It has certainly helped me organize my thoughts and I have also found some areas I would like to focus more on in the future to improve my own art!

TLDR: In order to understand an object, be it a face or a building or literally anything, you have to break it down to its simplest forms, understanding LARGER shapes will help you immensely in the long run

If you guys like this sorta content do let me know! I'd be down to do similar things for armor/anything really, I am very anti gatekeep so really anything at all you want to know! Send me an ask :))

also if you see a spelling mistake.. i don’t know how that got there

[vroomvroomcircuit]

You pulling in made me wish your Dad pulled out

(A/N): Thank you to @foreveralbon for workshopping this fic with me with this prompt. I don't know what to do if you weren't my muse.

Summary: Charles pissed off his neighbor with his parking. Her answers are notes taped to his car window. How can evolve more out of that?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

🏎Masterlist🏎 ________________________

(Y/N) knows that she isn’t the most professional car parker. She should never start a career as a valet for sure. After all, she needed a second attempt on her own practical test to attain her drivers license.

But there is this one neighbor of hers. She doesn’t know what he looks like, what his name is or where he even lives. But (Y/N) knows one thing for sure: He is a shit parker.

Like, he is the worst person at parking that has ever walked the world. If he could, he probably would park his oh so expensive car onto other cars. But she tries to not let that get too close to her. After all, we just talk about parking spaces and it’s not worth getting her blood pressure up over it.

But (Y/N) found her tipping point.

Her whole morning has been a shit show. Her alarm went off, but she accidentally turned it off instead of giving herself another five minutes of sleep. Five minutes turned into 45. That meant the young woman had to rush through her usual morning routine and she is 90 % sure that she put at least one clothing item on the wrong way.

But it’s ok, she is still on time. She just needs to get out of the car par-

This is where (Y/N) last thread of patience with that neighbor snaps in two like a potato chip, crisp and unclean. This person parked the front half of his car in a way that completely blocks (Y/N)’s rear end from exiting the car in a way that does not hinder the sidewalk.

It takes a solid seven minutes to get out of her spot, trying not to scratch hers or another car. Arriving a few minutes late at work because of that and receiving a reprimand from her boss is really the young woman’s last straw. On her lunch break she does some snooping on the internet and comes across a really fine find. It’s worth the price and shipping cost to her.

Actually, she can’t wait for the week it is supposed to take to arrive at her doorstep.

But the time between that particular day and the day of arrival do fly by when you use it getting madder and madder at the dickhead that is unable to park like a normal person.

The next occurrence doesn’t take long after (Y/N)’s package finally arrives. She wanted to park her vehicle in her usual spot when Mr. Ferrari already took his and her own too. How can one person be such an asshole?

(Y/N) takes one of the business card sized cuts out of her glove box and puts it in the slit of the black car’s window. Satisfied with her work she steps back into her vehicle and looks for a different spot, ending up walking several minutes back to her apartment building, having to look somewhere farther away.

Charles can see from a distance that there is a card at his car’s windowshield. Which makes him suspicious. Surely no one thinks that he wants to sell his car for cheap, so it can’t be one of those car handler’s business cards. Maybe it’s a new ruse of thieves, trying to get him to stand long enough at his car to read it and be able to steal his car. Or they are kidnappers. Anyways, he makes quick work of putting the card into his pocket and drives off at a neck breaking speed.

When he arrives at his destination, the Monegasque pulls the piece of paper out and reads it. “The way you pulled in makes me wish your dad pulled out”, he reads aloud, laughing a little to himself.

He has to admit that he might not be the best at parking. Who is he even kidding, he would win the world championship at being the worst car parker possible. But the thought of someone getting that angered over his non-existent skills.

It’s something that makes him happy throughout his entire day. Which is his main reason to try and look how much he can piss that particular neighbor off even more.

So Charles starts parking even worse. If he also starts on the habit of watching out of his window more often now, he would claim it is just a coincidence. But something in him wants to meet that neighbor.

That person that gets more and more creative with their insults. One time they called him an obstacle to evolution. The other day the business card said something along the lines of him belonging to the asshole club now.

Another, a handwritten, note asked him not to reproduce. The neighbor even left a condom for him. This made Charles laugh so loudly, that (Y/N) looked out her opened window.

She just finished one of the worst shifts she ever had since starting that job and all she wants is just a quiet evening to come down from the stress. Just the noise of the laugh is enough to set her off again.

Seeing her handsome neighbor from under her apartment pocketing the note and condom she left just minutes earlier isn’t what she expected. Watching him opening the car, sitting down and driving off is even less on her list.

It kind of destroys her world view, realizing that hot neighbor and asshole parker are the same person. In the last couple of weeks (Y/N) started to get some fun out of the mean comments she left at the black Ferrari’s window. This also could be her chance to finally make a move on him.

The young woman waits for the brunette to return with his car and stays seated on her couch for another couple minutes, for extra measure of course. After that, she leaves the apartment building with her prepared note and tapes it to the car’s rear window.

Charles on the other side stays glued to his window as soon as he enters his apartment. He finally wants to catch the person that gets angrier and angrier each time he parks in an outrageous way in the act.

Seeing the beautiful neighbor, who lives above him, sticking another note to his car makes his heart flutter in an unexpected way. For some time now he wanted to get to know her and if everything went according to his original plan, ask her out on a date. But maybe he can now use this to his advantage.

As soon as the beautiful neighbor is back in the building Charles waits an extra couple minutes before he once again makes his way to his car.

Running over his vehicle with a pep in his step, Charles is kind of excited about what insults or threats await him now. He has to admit, he actually parked pretty decently. Or as decent as he is able to. So the note has to be at least a little bit nicer than the previous ones.

“Hey neighbor. I thought instead of shitting on you and your parking skills even more, I want you to help and get better. I may not be a driving teacher, but helping you wouldn’t make your skills worse. Just text me with the times you are available at ;)” signed with (Y/N)’s name and number.

It’s kind of funny to explain to the press later how Charles met (Y/N) and became her boyfriend.

"Yeah, well I know that my driving has become sort of a, a meme,” he answers when asked a week after his announcement on instagram, “And my neighbor wasn’t too fond of it either. So she started to leave me these really funny, but also really aggressive notes at my car. One said something like I won the inconsiderate Parker Price. Which made me quite proud.” This entices a laugh out of the journalist. “Yeah, (Y/N) has a really good way with words, I fear. But in the end she offered me some parking lessons.” Charles smiles and thinks back to them.

He had texted (Y/N) immediately and they set up a date for the lesson two days away. But they still continued to text non stop and by the time they met up, it felt like they had been friends for years.

Which didn’t stop (Y/N) raging at Charles after his fifth failed attempt of parking his car according to her instructions. “I don’t believe you anymore. With the way you park you are not from Monaco but the deepest and wildest parts of Italy! Your Ferrari seems really fitting now!” This drew a laugh out of him until she graced him with the meanest look he didn’t expect her to be able to muster up.

“How about dinner as a thank you and apology?” He asked sheepishly, trying both to diffuse the situation and make his move. Why not shoot his shot right now?

Luckily the young woman agreed.

“In the end my parking skills weren’t enough to win her over, but my charm was what scored me a second date.”

And a third. A relationship. After some more funny parking jokes and him kneeling down on one knee with a ring and the promise to take lessons to keep their future family safe he even scored himself his unexpected forever.

[jackactuallywrites]

Hidden Paradise

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (detailed shagging)

Warnings: Unprotected sex and also shower sex which we all know is unsafe

Summary: You walk in on a man in the shower, it takes you seeing him in the skull mask a week later to realise it was Ghost, and he is very intrigued by your reaction

Notes: This absolutely wouldn’t be possible without @xxven my muse and pookie and beta reader who gave me the plot 🤍❤️ (also raven on TikTok for making a hot thirst trap that inspired a whole scene)

Word Count: 4,195 (I am very horny for ghost)

ao3 link

There was very little luxury to be found on a military base; your military fatigues were never soft, your boots were the cheapest given by the contractors, your bed squeaked every time you so much as moved an inch, and there wasn’t so much as a tealight allowed in the barracks.

However, you’d found a quiet sanctuary. Far from the rest of the buildings on the base, there was a small shower block, disused and forgotten about in favour of the newer, more convenient showers. The water pressure wasn’t all that great, and the tiles would probably never return to whatever shade of white they’d started out as, but all that mattered was that it was so wonderfully, blissfully quiet.

Silence was one of the hardest commodities to come across on a military base; there was always something going on, whether it be a training exercise with a hard-edged sergeant screaming at recruits or the grunts trying out whatever shiny new piece of equipment the government had seen fit to waste money on, but out there in the shower block, muffled by a copse of trees, there was nothing. Beautiful, precious, nothing.

Today had been yet another long lesson in tedium, worsened by the fact that your most beloved friends were out in the field, busy repairing the vehicles with whatever they could scavenge from the base. You already felt exhausted at the idea of how much paperwork you’d have to do after they’d torn through the place, and the day proved you right, with you having to go to every single place in the garages to check what stock had been taken as mechanics had an annoying habit of forgetting to write down what they’d used. It was long into the evening by the time you’d finally finished putting in the orders to replace every strange bit of junk the mechanics had used, and all you could think about was the long shower you were going to take.

The route through the forest was one of the only places you could get away with wearing your headphones and listening to music without getting scolded by the sergeant on patrol, and you took advantage of this privilege every time, blasting some classic disco music in your ears as you approached the shower block, blissfully unaware of the world outside. If not, you might have noticed the sound of the shower running.

As such, you walked into the block thinking of nothing but how your new eucalyptus shower steamer would smell, having got fairly good reviews online. You already had a favourite shower at this point, the one on the very end, with the best water pressure that the rusted old pipes could provide, though it had no door to speak of. You walked along the yellowed tile floor, passing by the empty showers until you finally reached your favourite one, only to find that it was very much not empty.

Standing under the sputtering stream of water was a tall, well-built man, his tan back glistening under the hundreds of droplets of water, highlighting the various white scars on his back, some of them small, some of them intimidatingly large. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down, admiring the muscles in his back and perfectly toned legs, as well as a surprisingly sculpted ass. Whoever he was, he was statuesque in his beauty, as though he had been carved out of marble, and as he turned around to face you, showcasing the golden hair that trailed down from his abs, you caught a glimpse of his shaft, thick and long, yet quickly covered by a large hand.

It was that movement that broke the lustful spell you were under, and your eyes finally stopped ogling his body and flicked up to his face. You didn’t recognise him, not his pale green eyes or his crooked nose, but you could absolutely recognise the outrage on his face, and you yanked down your headphones, keeping your eyes firmly above his waist, “I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was in here.” His voice was little more than a snarl, “Get out.” You had absolutely no desire to argue with a man built like that, so you gave a quick nod and hurried back out of the shower block, not willing to spend a single second more in his presence.

~

Since your encounter in the showers, not a single night had gone past where you hadn’t dreamed about the man, his body, his hands, the dark blond hair that led down his navel, and the thick veins on his forearms. It lurked in the back of your mind, eternally present as a lustful little memory to entertain you during the more boring moments of your day.

Yet again, you were in another meeting writing down what items had been used over the week and what needed to be ordered for the next month's exercise. It was made slightly more interesting by the fact that this time, you were working with the SAS, and not just that, but with some of the most feared soldiers there were, including the worst of the worst, Ghost .

You swore you could almost feel the insidious aura coming from the man in the skull mask, as though it was radiating off him in dark waves. When he spoke, his words were sharp and to the point, never expending more energy than was strictly necessary, and rarely directing his attention to you, sitting in silence and taking notes, not that you were complaining. Every time the man spoke, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as though your body was trying to warn you that he was dangerous. It was only toward the end of the meeting that you finally spoke up, standing and reciting everything that you’d written down in your notebook.

It was times like that where you’d have to put on a brave face as if you feared the room of men no more than a pack of kittens, making sure your voice was loud and firm, forcing them to listen to you. None of them seemed particularly interested; after all, you were a perfect, albeit boring professional, yet you remained undeterred, making eye contact with each of them. Even Ghost was looking at you; you could see those pale green eyes watching you from underneath his skull mask with a strange intensity. You remained undeterred, staring back at the man as you read out the various things that were in stock and what would have to be ordered, yet there was something niggling at the back of your head. Those eyes were strangely familiar.

It took you a second to remember, and then the barely buried memory came back: the beautiful man in the shower, his body glistening, his toned muscles, and the dark blond hair that covered his navel. The words in your mouth died on your tongue, and you saw Ghost’s eyebrow raise underneath his mask as if he was intrigued by your reaction to him. You cleared your throat, hoping that the heat you felt in your cheeks wouldn’t show up on your skin as you dropped your eyes back down to your notebook, pointedly ignoring him as you focused back on your task, ensuring that you hadn’t missed anything.

Inexplicably, Ghost spoke up, interrupting your admittedly dull recital of your list, “How soon can we get a restock of the M16 mags?” His question forced you to look over at him, and his pale green eyes seemed as though they were trying to drill right through your head. You refused to back down this time, meeting his gaze no matter how prevalent the image of his naked body was in your mind, even if you did stumble over your words as you flipped through the pages, “Those mags, uh, the ammo for the M16 that is, we ordered those last Tues-Wednesday , so they’ll be in by the end of this week.”

You couldn’t see his expression under his mask, but you could have sworn that it tugged in a way that suggested he was smirking underneath the black fabric, a touch of smugness in his eyes. Was he flirting with you? There was no possible way for you to find out in the middle of a full room, so you decided to put that tantalising idea to the side, wrapping up the last few items on your list and then glancing around the room, “If there’s anything else, please send me an itemised list by the end of the day.”

With that, the meeting was over, every soldier packing up their files, undoubtedly each one as bored as you, and you had little desire to spend any more time with them, especially with the suspiciously intense look Ghost was giving you, so you gave your farewells and left the room as quickly as you could, doing your best to rid your mind of the confusing thoughts whirling around in your mind. Ghost, the supposed ‘psycho’ killer, was flirting with you. Or perhaps threatening you. You weren’t entirely sure which. And yet, you had a strange desire to find out, that small part of you that longed to step into dangerous territory. But how could you? That meeting had been the only time you’d ever interacted with the man; other than your brief encounter in the shower, it didn’t seem like there would ever be another opportunity to be alone with him.

Unless.

Regardless of how outraged he’d been previously, he’d seemed entirely intrigued by you in the meeting, almost amused. You’d seen the direction he was headed; if your mind wasn’t already overtaken with delusional optimism, you could have sworn that he was striding in the direction of the old shower block with what seemed like great determination.

This was one of those deciding moments, a fork in the path where you got to choose what the outcome would be: adherence to your usual routine or something far more thrilling. You could almost feel the clock ticking in your head, your time running short, and for once, you decided to be brave and at least a little bit stupid, heading to your barracks to pick up your things before heading out toward the shower block, adrenaline pounding in your veins as you made your way through the small woods to the brick building.

Even from the outside, you could hear the shuddering of the pipes as they desperately pumped water, your heart beginning to pick up the pace as you pushed open the heavy wooden door, closing it softly behind you, now able to hear the pattering of water on the tile floor and see the black clothing draped over the bench that ran the length of the wall. You walked down the centre of the block, approaching the last stall on the end, and yet, you couldn’t take that final step. Everything below the waist was screaming at you to leap into the shower with the man, yet your brain conjured images of the humiliating HR meeting you’d be in if you had, in fact, entirely misinterpreted what were admittedly very subtle hints. You didn’t dare push over that line with a man so far above you in rank, but you weren’t prepared to entirely give up, so you merely slunk into the stall next to his, stripping off your uniform and hanging it on the backside of the door, pulling it to and surrendering yourself to an unsatisfying shower.

The shower head shuddered as you twisted the knob for water, a few spats of water dripping out, yet nothing more. There was a good reason you stuck to that end stall; almost every other shower there had been neglected to the point of failure. You took this as a sign to give up, turning around to get your things, only to find Ghost standing in the now open doorway.

There was nothing but a towel lazily wrapped around his hips to cover him up, his blond hair already soaked, water leaving little trails down his body, pulling your eyes down. You quickly snapped your attention back to his face, your hands already going to cover your chest and between your legs instinctually. Ghost’s eyes lingered on your body before finally flicking to the broken shower head, then back to your face. You could see that intrigued twinkle in his eyes as he gave you a slightly smug smirk, gesturing toward the other shower stall with his head, “Mine works. We should share.”

You almost couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. The exact situation had been playing out in your mind ever since you’d seen him naked, yet never once had you made the connection between your shower Adonis and Lieutenant Ghost. The two couldn’t be reconciled in your head, but you quickly decided that this was a problem to be solved later, if at all. You turned your non-functioning shower off, though slightly reluctant to use the hand covering your chest to do so, and then walked out of the stall, ducking under Ghost’s arm holding the door open for you, and rounding the corner into the warm stream of the only functional shower, allowing the water to wash away all the important questions that should have been asked, only focusing on the present moment.

Though you’d chosen to face away from him, you could still hear the noise of his towel hitting the wall as he tossed it aside, your entire body tensing up as you felt his presence behind you, the nerves nipping at the back of your mind. You didn’t dare turn to look at him, trying to find something else to focus on to quiet your frenzied brain, your eyes flicking to the one bottle of his on the floor in the shower, trying to figure out what scent ‘original’ was supposed to be, and whether one liquid really could be shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

Your thoughts on his toiletries were brought to an instant halt at the first touch of his hand on your hip, a questioning touch as though he was gauging your interest before moving any further. He might have been feared special forces, yet here, you retained a level of control, of security. You relaxed into his touch, leaning back until you bumped up against his chest, and his arm snaked around your stomach, wrapping tightly around your waist as he stepped forward into the stream from the shower, his head dipping down to rest in the crook of your neck. You could feel his other hand trail a path up your thigh before it, too, wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him in a tight embrace, like a man starved for any sort of touch.

For a moment, the two of you remained in that simple intimacy, your arms resting on top of his, enjoying the sheer pleasure of his embrace. Your hands were the first to move, your fingertips gently trailing over the muscles in his forearms, admiring the strength in them, unable to hold back a smile as you saw the not-so-subtle way he flexed them for you. His hand moved then, and you followed them with your own, one trailing down over your hipbone to the top of your thigh, gently stroking the skin there, the other one shifting up until it was just underneath your breast, pausing right before he touched anywhere interesting.

Clearly, he wasn’t about to touch anywhere without your explicit permission, and you decided to test him, pulling his left hand up until it was settled over your breast. His fingers paused, and you felt the tenseness in his arms, yet after a beat, he stretched out his fingers, tracing a little pattern over the swell of your breast, circling your nipple before his hand covered your boob entirely, gently squeezing it in his hand. You could feel his breathing growing heavier, every exhale blowing air over the skin of your neck, but you had no intention of stopping, relaxing into his touch, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, your eyes closed. The hand on your thigh had grown tight, fingers digging into your flesh, and you began to move his hand further in to where you could feel a growing need for his touch.

The further you moved his hand, the tighter his grip on your chest got, pulling you closer against him until you could finally feel his hardness pressed against the small of your back. His clear excitement emboldened you further, and you pushed his hand firmly between your legs, letting his fingers slightly part your labia to rest on your clit. That action earned you a low growl from him, and he buried his face into your shoulder as he pushed his fingers further down, touching the slick wetness beginning to leak out of your needy pussy. The second he felt your wetness, he drew his fingers back from you, digging them into your hip and pulling you firmly against him, rubbing the bridge of his nose against your neck as though he was trying to ground himself in the moment.

You had no problem allowing him to take his time, focusing on the simple pleasure of the warm water on your skin and the heat emanating from his chest to your back. His hand moved back to your pussy, more determined than before, as he slid his fingers down your slit, gently probing your slick hole with his fingers. As he slowly slid one in, he let out a strangled groan, shifting his face so he could bite down on the flesh of your neck, his other hand massaging your breast as his finger began to easily slip inside you. He stretched his thumb up to rest on your clit as he gently began to pump his finger in and out of you, rubbing in little circles, and you couldn’t help but let out a little moan.

The slightest of noises from you seemed to spur him on, and he pushed another finger inside you, beginning to kiss and suck at your neck as he did so, your body easily accepting his two fingers, and so he followed it with a third, his dick twitching with excitement against your back as all three of his fingers sank inside you without resistance.

Whatever good sense you had left was beginning to dissipate in the haze of your lust, and you reached your hand behind you to wrap around his cock, slowly beginning to stroke him as he gently fucked you with his fingers. He rewarded you with a soft groan in your ear, and so you quickened your pace, beginning to pump his dick in earnest, wanting him to receive the same pleasure as you. Your body was eagerly opening up around him, and the last bit of your intelligence vanished as your desperation for him overpowered you, and you begged for stupidity in two words.

“Fuck me.”

There was no hesitance in Ghost’s touch now as he pulled his fingers out of you, turning you to face him and then bending down to grab your thighs and lift you up, pinning you to the cool, damp wall of the shower stall. You could see the lust in his eyes as he shifted to hold you with only one hand, the other quickly moving to his dick, positioning it at your slick entrance and then slowly beginning to lower you down onto him. There was no comparison to the pleasure you felt, not only from feeling him slide into you, but to watch his face as he did so, his open lips, the desperate look in his eyes, his gaze entirely focused on you as though you were Aphrodite herself. You sunk your teeth into your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud as you felt him stretch out your insides, yet you let your hands dig into his shoulders, your nails raking his skin as you felt every inch of him.

When you finally sunk down to the base of his cock, he leant forwards to rest his head on the wall beside you, clearly struggling to contain his composure, his hand digging into the flesh of your thigh, the other splayed out on the cool tile wall. He took a second to breathe before he began to slowly thrust up into you, his hand shifting from your thigh to your hip to pin you in place. Even in your wetness, you could feel how big he was, filling you up so perfectly, and you arched your back against him, desperate to feel every inch of him inside you. His eyes were on you now, and he moved his hands from the wall to your lips, tugging your bottom lip out from between your teeth and issuing you a singular command, his gaze intense.

“I want to hear you.”

Even in your pleasure, you couldn’t stop yourself from obeying a command from your superior officer, and you let out the moans you’d been holding back, tightening your legs around his waist to pull him into you as much as possible, your fingers raking against his back as he fucked you, his hips beginning to move more forcefully against you. His fingers now moved to your hair, brushing the errant strands out of your face and then shifting down to cup your cheek, lifting your face, his voice soft, “Look at me.”

There was no mistaking the utter lust in his gaze when you looked up at him, yet you could also see quite a great deal of tenderness, of genuine care, which only served to heighten your pleasure, your hands moving from his shoulders to the back of his neck as you clung to him, desperately grinding your hips against him. He picked up his pace further yet still restrained himself from fully slamming into you, his grip like a vice on your thigh. His voice grew hoarser as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, clearly strained, “Touch yourself.”

In another situation, you might have felt insecure, yet you were entirely awash in lustful pleasure, and so you obeyed, reaching down with one hand to begin rubbing circles around your increasingly sensitive clit, feeling that same build of pleasure in your core as Ghost fucked you faster still, his expression growing more desperate by the second. He leant forward to whisper his final command against your lips.

“Come for me.”

Your body seemed honour-bound to obey him as your pussy clenched around his dick, your pleasure building until it finally crescendoed, with Ghost’s lips crashing onto yours as you finished, his hips moving frantically as he desperately fucked you, his thrusts stuttering as he finally shot his load deep inside you, his body crushing yours into the wall in a tight embrace. Your kisses became softer as the both of you came down from your frenzied high, his grip on your body loosening slightly, your death grip around his neck becoming less deadly.

With a satisfied groan, Ghost let himself sink to the floor, pulling you down along with him into his lap, letting his dick remain inside you as you settled more comfortably on top of him, resting against his chest as he lazily wrapped his arms around your lower back, cradling you against him. After such bodily heat, the comparatively cool water of the shower felt heavenly on your skin, washing away your intermingled sweat.

You probably could have slept there, with Ghost still buried inside you, yet he was not so spellbound. With a gentle movement, he pulled his softening length out of you, reaching over to grab the bottle of soapy liquid he’d left on the floor. Then, he repositioned you so you were now sitting in between his legs, his thick thighs boxing you in as he opened the bottle behind you. You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, nor did you care, still awash in a pleasant afterglow. The touch of his fingers gently massaging the liquid into your hair was a heavenly surprise, and you practically melted into his hands, a human-sized pile of putty perfectly manipulated by him. He ran his fingers through the length of your hair, thoroughly soaping up every strand before he let the cool water wash away the suds.

Then, he got to work on your body. Never had you been so grateful for three-in-one soap as it meant you didn’t have to miss a second of his warm chest against your back as he began to soap up your body, his fingers incredibly gentle against your skin, paying attention to every single part of you, and then letting you lean back against his chest as the water washed everything away, his arms coming to rest around your waist. Every single care of yours seemed to follow the soap down the train as you relaxed into him, enjoying the way he rested his chin on your head as you closed your eyes, finally entirely at ease.

[delulustateofmind]

Potions & Shadows (Part II)

Summary: An old neighbor of Feyre's is revealed to be not who they seemed when Feyre was a child. Leadign to Feyre needing the once village apothecaries help. Inspired by Frieren: Beyond Journey's End.

A/n: This part is more background heavy to build up the plot a bit. Hybern in the books doesn't have a lot to build off of so I'm going to try to make him a greater villain tbh. At least make him a bit more feared. Thank you all for 100 follows btw!

Word Count: 3k

Part One, part two, part three. part four

Warmings: Mini trauma dump on Azriel, mentions of death.

Taglist: @cherry-cin, @sassybluebird, @aehllitas-blog

I shouldn’t enjoy doing this. what the hell is wrong with me

Is what Azriel had thought as he stared at the documents laid out before him in the middle of the night. Rhysand assigned him to look into you the moment you arrived in the night court. Of course, Rhysand trusted his mate that you were a good person. But one could not be too eager about letting someone foreign into the court. Also, it wasn’t like Azriel wasn’t curious about you. In fact, you were currently his muse. As you were easy to find information about, and perhaps in the future would inform you not to leave such an easy paper trail.

The sound of ruffling papers filled the room as he scanned the documents. 

By all means, you were an outstanding citizen. You were top of your class at a prestigious mage academy on a sponsorship a hundred years ago. You kept your mage certification current and renewed it before it expired. Initially, Azriel had thought that your adventurer guild meant you would be a mercenary, however, he was wrong. As he sifted through the quests you took on, he saw that they were for small rewards- helping farmers, rebuilding villages. You paid your taxes on time and your home in Feyre’s village is fully paid for. Mother above, there was no hidden information about you except for an eighty-year period where he couldn’t find a single piece of evidence that you existed anywhere, aside from word of mouth that a young elf lived alone in the woods.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed his face. You were too sweet—not even a small fine for failing to pay a toll. There was nothing bad about you, yet here he was, investigating your whole life, feeling like it was more for his own sake than for Rhysand's. A report sat in his hands that he had written about you for Rhysand, perhaps Rhysand would offer you a position in the inner circle. It wasn’t like a court mage would be bad, in fact, mages in Prythian were rare.  A knock pulled him out of his thoughts. He opened the door to reveal Elain standing in the doorway.

“Elain, you should be asleep, it’s the middle of the night,” Azriel spoke lowly as he shifted to lean against the doorway, one of his wings blocking her view of the room behind him. It was a subtle gesture that would go unnoticed by her, as she spoke softly. 

“I couldn’t sleep and I saw your light, so I figured I would come to check on you, you seemed distracted at dinner tonight,” Elain looked nervous as she looked up at Azriel whose eyes softened. Perhaps he was getting a soft spot for mortals. Yet, neither of you was truly mortal. You smelled like one, with a faint scent of blossoms, you seemed fragile like one but your eyes spoke of an immortality of knowledge. Had he been staring for too long into the distance because Elain’s soft voice pulled him away again, “Azriel? I asked if you wanted to walk with me to the gardens?” Azriel brought himself to look at the once mortal in front of him. There was no doubt she was beautiful, becoming fae just heightened those features and the way she looked at him, spoke something. Yet, when he looked at her, he had wished it were you asking him to escort you to the gardens or whatever hell you tasked him to do. 

What in the hells have you done to him, he had just met you yet he felt like something was pulling him to you. 

“I cannot tonight,” Azriel offered a small smile, one that caused Elain to stiffen as she looked away, a gesture that did not go unnoticed, “When I return from the camps tomorrow, I will join you though” he answered softly as she nodded and offered a goodnight before she went back to her quarters. Azriel gently closed the door, his shadows caressing his frame and mentions of sleep in their whispers. Azriel rubbed his eyes before finishing the report and heading to a short slumber. 

**** 

In the morning when Azriel walked out of his quarters strapped in his Illyrian leathers, Cassian was waiting down the hallway, leaning against the wall.

“You hate the camps, is this healer cute or something” Cassian flashed a grin, but his expression changed when he noticed Azriel flash him an annoyed look, “Given her race, I don’t want her to have trouble at the camps. If those potions break, we will be behind schedule for the war. It has nothing to do with how ‘cute’ she is” Azriel mentioned with a smile tugging his lips as he gave Cassian a gentle nudge with his wing as he made his way past to head out for the day. 

Cassian nodded a small smile still on his face, though Azirel sensed that his brother wasn’t waiting for him this morning. Cassian’s eyes flicked towards the eldest Archeron sister’s room, perhaps Cassian was waiting for a meeting with a viper. 

****

Meanwhile, at the healer’s cottage, you were carefully packing potions and elixirs into crates. With your staff in hand, you guided various bottles to float gently into three crates, the soft clinks of glass filling the room. As you worked, Madja entered.

“One of the members of the court is going to escort you. These Illyrians can be… unwelcoming to folk like yourself. Better safe than sorry kid,” she said, her tone awkward. She avoided meeting your gaze, but you understood her concern. You knew you were different and that the Fae in these parts might not be kind to you. Offering Madja a soft smile and a nod, you continued your preparations.

Once the crates were filled and securely clasped shut, you used your magic to float them into the main room of the cottage. Madja followed quietly as the front door opened, revealing Azriel and his shadows. His wings were tucked in tightly as he entered, his gaze immediately locking onto you and your staff. Your watercolor eyes met his golden ones that hid behind his dark curls that fell just above his eyes as you gently set the crates down and desummoned your staff.

Azriel felt his heart tug when he saw you. His shadows seemed intrigued, attempting to pull away from his grasp and head towards you. Azriel just held onto them tighter, not letting them dare touch you. 

So pretty, pretty little mage, the shadows whispered to him. They spoke of your mixed heritage, and your connection with nature, and reminded him of your humanity. So fragile their whispers ceased when he waved them off. As he looked at you, he did not have a clue what you were thinking as you gazed at the talons on top of his wings. 

“You probably might want to winnow, I fear flying will be a bit difficult. Even with your mage magic y/n,” Madja said, nodding your way. However Azriel was not paying attention as once he finally heard your name, it sung like a prayer in his mind. Finally a name for that pretty face. Azriel picked up the three crates with ease.

“Can you winnow?” He asked, Azriel was unfamiliar with mages as they were quite rare in Prythian, their magic was different than the fae, as mages were limited to spells. You shook your head in response. Azriel simply balanced the three crates in one hand, as he extended his other hand to you. 

“I can winnow us to a point, but it will be a mile or two of walking. Can you handle that?” Azriel stated softly. You seemed so fragile as you placed your small hand into his large one. He had been around full-blood humans in the past and knew how fragile they were. Elves weren’t much different besides their mana making them only somewhat stronger than humans. Azriel wondered where you may lay between the two. 

“I’ll be okay, I’m used to traveling,” offering him a reassuring smile. Within seconds, shadows swirled around you both as you winnowed to the middle of the woods a few miles outside the Illyrian camp. 

You stood a couple feet smaller than him, his shadows whispered, So petite, so fragile. With a wave of your hand, you summoned your staff, a crescent moon on top of with a glittering blue stone hanging from the crest. The magic lifted the crates from his arms as you both walked. A smile tugged Azriel’s lips as he clasped his hands behind his back slowing his pace to match your stride.

Time to fill in the gaps of his knowledge about you. He struck up a conversation, an interrogation of sorts, “How did you become a mage?” Azriel spoke softly, his voice a melody to your ears as you sheepishly glanced back at him. You feared that if you looked at him for too long, you would fall for this deadly presence, for whatever reason every instinct in your body feared him yet a part of you wanted to be closer. A new emotion seemed to fill you with every glance you sent his way. 

You released a sigh as your gaze shifted to the large pine trees that grew along the dirt path, “When I was young, I was saved by a human mage,” Human mages were something that had only occurred in the continent. The continent had a more progressive approach by human and fae standards, allowing humans to practice magic if they had the mana for it. Meanwhile, the human villages in Prythian still feared the presence of magic. 

“Saved?” Azriel echoed as he glanced at you. He knew most of the Elven villages were burned by Hybern centuries ago, by the thousands, Hybern had sought to eradicate most of the elves because of their high amounts of mana, a possible threat to fae kind. Whoever wasn’t killed, he had them as slaves wearing collars that stripped them of their mana. 

“Hybern’s generals still wreak havoc in the continent,” you murmured with your gaze still on the path, “My entire village was slaughtered one night when one of his generals arrived, many of the people in my village were half-breeds like myself, my mentor, the human mage found me that night after the war party had left,” 

Azriel looked at your face, expecting to see a sad expression. Instead, he found a look that was unreadable, devoid of emotion. Not even your eyes revealed your thoughts. 

“I never got your name,” You spoke as your gaze shifted to meet his lingering one, “or what you do for the court.” Azriel looked ahead to the path. They were nearing the camp soon enough. 

“It’s Azriel. My position, however, is a secret,” he said quietly, bringing a finger to his lips. “You can just assume that I do a lot of paperwork. A boring position, really.”

A lie, you thought as you looked into his eyes. From your time as an adventurer, you had learned to read people. One thing you learned was to look into a person’s eyes to discern who they truly were. Azriel’s eyes revealed much more; they showed that he had done many unsavory acts, perhaps with killing being the least brutal. His golden eyes, like a pot of honey, hid a sinister predator behind their warm facade.

One of his shadows moved to twirl around your wrist at his command. You jumped a little at the cool, silk-like touch of the shadow. “We are nearing the camp. I will take the crates to the camp leader. You will stay here by this tree,” Azriel commanded. He was not asking you to stay; he was telling you to. The shadow seemed to serve as either a way for him to track your location or to signal that you were his companion in case any other Illyrians came near. You made a mental note that Illyrians seemed to be territorial or overprotective.

You desummoned your staff as Azriel grabbed the crates and carried them the rest of the way to camp. Sitting down next to a tree, you waited for him. Around half an hour later, you felt a brush of wind against you as Azriel landed. His wings outstretched before tucking in behind him, instilling a sense of awe within you.

“You don’t have fae senses, do you?” he asked quietly. You shook your head as he helped you up from the ground. If you did, you would have sensed him the moment he was within a few feet of you. “Can you detect scents either?” he asked. Another shake of your head. You mentioned that you could detect mana, but only if it was from another mage or a magical creature. Azriel made a note of that, perhaps feeling thankful for your lack of senses. This way, you couldn’t sense how his heart pounded every time you met his gaze.

“Would you like a tour of Velaris?” he asked, “I promise I won’t drop you in flight,” he added with a hint of amusement. You looked at him and then at his wings as he stretched them slightly. A fear still instilled within you.

“I should help Madja with preparations…” you whispered. Azriel listened to your soft voice, noting the fear behind your words. He smiled—a genuine smile that he reserved only for his family. A smile that heightened his beautiful features, causing you to look away. “I promise I will go slow. It won’t be so bad, I assure you,” Azriel said, hearing your heart pounding. You were nervous. Were you scared to be near him?

“Another time,” you responded finally, grabbing his hand without a thought. “For now, can you winnow me back to the healer’s cottage?”

“Of course,” he said. With that, he led you back to the cottage, shadows swirling around you both as you disappeared from the forest and reappeared at the healer’s door. You waved him goodbye as he bowed slightly at the waist, causing a warmth to form on your cheeks when you saw his dark curls fall above his eyes that seemed to pierce you.

“Until next time, y/n,” Azriel spoke softly before he took off into the skies, his wings outstretched as if they were big enough to block the afternoon sun, powerful enough to rustle the trees. Such a powerful creature, you thought as you entered the cottage.

*****

Azriel took off to Rhysand’s office to drop off the report on the new healer. As he arrived, he found Rhysand at his desk, poring over piles of paperwork in preparation for the upcoming High Lords' meeting. Azriel observed the signs of stress on Rhysand—his disheveled hair, evidence of having run his fingers through it one too many times, and the dark circles under his violet eyes.

Rhysand glanced up as Azriel entered the room. “How was the camp?” he mused with a hint of amusement. “And the healer?”

Azriel smirked as he took a seat across from Rhysand, crossing one leg over the other and letting his wings drape behind him. “Camp was decent. Devlon scented her on the bottles and was asking if the humans were slaves again,” Azriel said, rolling his eyes. The healer's intoxicating scent still lingered on him, not that he minded. Rhysand muttered "Illyrian bastards" under his breath as he signed another document.

Azriel continued, “As for the healer, I have my report done. She’s a bit more closed off in person but leaves a paper trail. Overall, a good citizen. Only eighty years after her mage exam is left without any trail of her existence.” Azriel glanced at the document Rhysand was reading—something about budgets. “I have a feeling that was around the time her mentor passed away. Her mentor was human, after all.”

“From the continent then? Do you feel like she’s strong? From what Madja has praised, she’s a damn good healer,” Rhysand said, looking up.

Azriel nodded before continuing, “A first-class mage, one of the six that still remain. I can’t sense any magic or mana on her. I have a feeling she is suppressing it at all times—a skill even most fae can’t master.” Azriel smirked slightly. A damn good mage indeed.

“Your call then, Az,” Rhysand replied. “Is she a threat? Feyre wants her to come to dinner. Perhaps it would make her sisters feel more at ease with someone familiar around. Preferably Nesta,” Rhysand grimaced slightly with his last comment. 

Azriel looked at his scarred hand that once held your soft, dainty one. “Not a threat at all,” he murmured.

[piratefishmama]

Finders Givers | Part 2

“STEVEN MARION HARRINGTON.”

“Not my middle name.” Although Robin had made several valiant attempts in guessing it every time she needed to burst into his office all guns blazing. Which was unfortunately… often. She still hadn’t managed to crack it.

He didn’t actually have a middle name. He wasn’t going to tell her that though, this was funnier.

She slapped a sheaf of papers down onto his desk, a brief flick of the first page told him they were call logs and transcripts “What did you DO?! Claudia’s been getting calls all morning asking about renovations?”

“Okay, so, in my defence. It was Nancy’s idea.” That was his whole defence. It was Nancy’s idea. His idea had been worse.

“Explain.”

“You know, most people in my position don’t have to explain themselves to people who work for them, their people just respect them, and do as they say without argument.” He mused, mostly to himself, but he could see the woman’s eye twitch in annoyance and so he sighed in defeat, it’d only wind up with him having those papers whapped around his head. “Remember the wallet I found?”

“The one that was bumming you out?”

“Yeah! Well, when I went out for a walk, I found the guys work address and—”

“You know we have guys who do that sort of shit for us, right? You can’t be stalking people, Dingus, what the fuck?” That sheaf of papers was dangerously close to hitting him. She’d picked them back up an everything.

“Just listen! He was at work, I didn’t talk to him or anything I’m not stupid, but... his manager made this girl cry so he just decked him, laid him out, one punch an he was down, then he just quit his job, right there, shit was spectacular.” Steve could appreciate a good bit of muscle, could appreciate a scrapper. Plus the guy was hot so, that helped. “Doesn’t look like his photo either, he’s got so much hair, Robs, it’s... wow, he’s just—”

“Ew, I don’t wanna hear about your crush on some random guy, what’s this got to do with these renovations Claudia’s being spammed over?”

“Okay so, guy lost his job.”

“Quit, quit his job.”

“Defending a ladies honour, something I thought you’d appreciate.” She raised a single unimpressed brow “but, I... I was gonna just send him rent money for a few months, y’know, cover a few bills, charity!” His heart was in the right place, his head however, his head was in space.

“That’s not charity that’s stupidity, but go on.”

“That’s what Nance said! Apparently it’d be suspicious if I were to be found sending large amounts of cash in nondescript envelopes to an apartment block notorious for drug activity, so she suggested that since I’m already buying that bar nearby, it’d look less conspicuous if I just... bought the building the guy lives in and claim I was developing it, make it seem like I have an interest in building up local problem areas.” She frowned, silent in her thoughts as she processed.

“... And what about the rent forgiveness?”

“I was gonna pay for his rent, might as well just not have him pay rent, y’know? An it’s gotta be building wide or there’ll be questions, like why is he so special, it’d put him under scrutiny. So Nance suggested putting a stop on rent as we ‘renovate’ as a sort of, we’re disrupting your life so here’s a break for you kinda deal.” Honestly Nancy really was a life saver, he really ought to give her a raise, he’d have been fucked over years ago had he not pulled her into the fold.

“So that means we’re actually going to have to renovate this block then?”

“I mean—”

“Were going to have to renovate this block, Steve. We can’t just forgive the rent forever, that’s bonkers, that would raise eyebrows, and we can’t afford eyebrows being raised at us right now. So you’re going to have to have professionals go in and survey the apartments inside for renovations.” This was now an actual thing he’d have to do.

“Ah well, gives me something to occupy my time with. Also I was thinking—”

“Never a good sign”

“Shut up, I was thinking of putting Argyle in there as a plant, like... the drugs being peddled out of that block are just trash, at least we could get a solid dealer in there and get Argyle out of the Wheelers basement.” He’d only been staying there because Joyce didn’t have a basement and Jonathan didn’t have room for him.

He was Jonathan's friend, and Jonathan came with Nancy, Steve didn’t have any reason to help him out. Now he did! And that reason was getting those poor people better weed.

“Are you not worried that the existing dealers will start shit with him for moving into their turf?”

“They touch him they deal with Hargrove, he's been particularly irritable lately, anything could set him off, pretty sure he’d be jazzed to break a few legs.” Release some of that pent up rage he seemed so good at bottling up in tiny easily burstable bottles. “One visit from that nut job and they’ll settle right down.”

He didn’t like Hargrove, but he had to admit the guy was a useful enforcer. Indebted to Steve too after Jane had taken a nail imbedded baseball bat to his old employers head in a bid to help her friend Max escape the debt her stepdad had racked up with him. Billy had also been freed, being Max’s step brother, left unmoored and in danger of a jail cell.

Steve had taken them both in after getting rid of Creels corpse. It was Hopper’s idea. Billy wouldn’t have survived in jail, too many enemies in there.

“It only takes one hit to hurt Argyle beyond repair though, maybe get rid of the dealers in there already, then give Argyle one of the apartments.”

“See you’re already on board!” And there was the whack round the head with the papers, his sharp objection going ignored.

“Fine, I’m on board, but only because it’s Nancy’s idea.” She was retreating as she spoke “Yours was a trash fire, like, not just one of those little oil barrel fires I mean like a whole dumpster fire. Argyle stays out until it’s safe though, I mean it Steve, I will get Hopper involved.” She opened the door, ready to go.

“You can’t threaten me with my own Chief of Police! That’s so mean!”

“Watch me, dingus. Also you have two people downstairs from your little block purchase wanting more information, do you wanna deal with them or should I?”

“Do you think I could actually spin a good idea to explain this that won’t get immediately reworked by either you or Nance?” She paused, a thoughtful expression on her face that answered his question more than any actual answer would have. “Exactly, you deal with it, you’re better at timelines an stuff anyway.” He was more the big idea guy.

“Yeah but you’re better at people.” It was true, Steve was more the people person out of the two of them. “Fine, I’ll deal with it, and I’ll ask Nance to find some decent contractors to do the work for us. Maybe… drop into my office in like, ten minutes? Considering you let your dick lead you to places I wouldn’t even go with a gun, you should at least make an appearance for these people whose lives you’ve interrupted.”

“Ngghhh fine. Fine. I’ll be there in ten.” And she was out with a tiny salute as her goodbye.  

Part 4

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Fifteen

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 2.6k

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rating; 18+ for swearing and mature content

Notes; Last chapter for the weekend (I say weekend but it's only friday–) I'm really thinking about posting chapter sixteen, but I think I need to put more distance between my chapters I'm posting and what I'm currently working on, since twenty is real close to sixteen. I'll probably be working on chapter twenty this weekend and if I get to twenty-one, I might post sixteen! 🩷

Prev || Next

Masterlist

Melodious music serenades the luxurious banquet hall that’s illuminated by dreamy lighting.

Sylus calmly guides you across the dance floor, swaying to the song’s slow rhythm. He blocks the prying shadows around you both and when you look up, all you see is his face, which is quite infuriating because it’s a good face. It’s distracting.

“Y/n, you need to be smarter if you want to retaliate against me,” Sylus says with a small sigh. “Sorry, I’m not really used to these kinds of social gatherings,” You glance away from him with a small, sheepish smile and clumsily lift your heel off of his foot.

“Did you actually get information on the aether core?”

“You can choose not to believe me,” Sylus muses as you continue your dance. Catching a glimpse of a flashing red dot in the shadows, you use your hand that’s on his shoulder to push him in the opposite direction.

“But they wouldn’t leak such important information. Unless..” You trail off, trying to get him to talk about what you heard over the earpiece earlier, “It’s a trap.” “Exactly.” A smile tugs at the corner of Sylus’ lips, almost as if he’s proud of you for coming to that realization.

You look back up at him, a little concerned. “You’re not going to throw yourself into their trap, are you?” The man shakes his head before speaking with a smile, “Be content with your role. Don’t scare away the fish that already bit the hook.”

You sigh, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment, “There’s…eight evol bombs, fifteen high-frequency guns…They really want you dead. Sylus, you made a lot of enemies.” “This isn’t the first time it’s happened,” He replies nonchalantly as the music reaches a crescendo. The notes from the orchestra are layers on top of one another, like surging tidal waves.

The lights dim to the passionate beats and shadows surround you both on all sides.

“You have something up your sleeve, right? Even if you have a death wish, I don’t intend to die here with you,” You harshly whisper, feeling a panic build up in your chest.

“Don’t worry, you won’t die that easily.” Is all he says. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Boom

A deafening explosion drowns out the music and ensuing screams. The beautiful hall is instantly reduced to rubble.

Amidst the surging chaos, Sylus tightens his grip on your hand and while your heartbeat thunders in your ears, you can barely make out a scoff coming from him. To your surprise, you see him nonchalantly crush something before throwing it into the debris.

“You…had the detonator this whole time?” You ask, ears slightly ringing from the explosion as you look up at him. He laughs, a smile on his lips, “The vermin were taking their sweet time. I was getting impatient.”

 “The metaflux is quickly increasing and there’s more than one wanderer…be careful.” You look around at the rubble, hand subconsciously squeezing his tighter. Your free hand quickly pulls your gun from your thigh holster to fire several shots at the wanderer that was about to attack Sylus.

“Well, that was close..” You let out a sigh of relief. “How long do you think you’ll last with an outdated weapon like that?” He asks, jerking his chin in the direction of your pistols. “Hey..” You pout, holding your gun close to your chest.

They were like your babies. You couldn’t just get rid of them.

Sylus tosses over another gun and you fumble with it in your full hands. “Don’t waste your efforts.” he says, not elaborating on what he means. You shake your head with a small sigh, re-holstering your other guns to hold the new ones. They were definitely lighter than your old ones and seemed to be better made.

“Did Sherman make you do this? Where’s the aether core? Hey, answer me!” After you had handled the last wanderer, you found a henchman cowering in the corner. You press the muzzle of your gun against the back of his head as you spit-fired questions at him.

“You haven’t won yet! We still have a backup plan…! That thing is terrifying. When it shows up, not even Sylus– agh!” Black-red mist throws the man into a broken stone pillar. With a scream, he falls to the ground like a puppet whose strings were just cut. You jerk your head toward Sylus with a glare. “Violence should be used strategically,” He says with a shrug, calmly wiping the blood off of his face as the mist disappears from his hands.

“I would’ve believed you if your hands were clean,” You grumble with a small sigh, annoyed that you have to fight in heels– which is insane by the way. You’ve almost fallen over so many times.

Despite the venue being cleared, strong energy fluctuations manifest above you both and shake the ground you stand on. “What’s making that noise? Are there still some left?” You rub the back of your neck, before remembering that the henchman was talking about something being their backup plan.

“Let’s go.” Sylus turns to walk away and you throw your hands up in annoyance, “Where are we going?” The older man grabs your wrist and swiftly starts walking. “To the place that has what you want,” He says, his fingers deftly wrapped around your wrist.

The almost transparent elevator quickly ascends and the colourful night-time scenery is obscured by the clouds. The elevator doors creak open on the roof and your eyes widen as you notice the huge wormhole in the sky.

A sense of panic and foreboding claws at your chest from the image of something huge and alien-looking in the sky.

“What is this place..?” You manage to say as you both step out from the elevator and onto the dilapidated roof. Countless pieces of metal are strewn across the spacious rooftop. The area around you was shrouded in mist and in the haze, barely visible, are abandoned collection vessels, transporters, and other devices.

Broken steel bars poke out from the overgrown weeds. Rusty frames are propped up, outlining a bygone era. “It looks like a laboratory for experiments or something..” You murmur, hands gripping your guns tighter.

“It was one many years ago. But they abandoned it a while back,” Sylus finally answers, turning to look at you with his thumbs in his pockets. “They?” You parrot, head cocking to the side. Stepping over broken fragments and glass shards, Sylus’ tone remains aloof, “EVER.”

You pause at that bit of information. The EVER Cooperation? They were the leading force of intelligence in Linkon. Doing all kinds of research and good. Why were they ever in the N109 Zone?

As the most prestigious international business group, it basically supports the whole of Linkon City. So…how could they be involved with the N109 Zone?

“...I heard that before the Chronorift Catastrophe, the N109 Zone was the most prosperous tech hub so I guess it makes sense that EVER used it as a research base.” You say as you nod your head, managing to make sense of it before Sylus tears that thought down, “You really are a naive Linkon citizen.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You raise a brow. Hell, you weren’t even a real Linkon citizen to begin with. You weren’t even from here. You were just going off what you knew from the game itself!

Sylus gives you a look, crossing his arms over his chest, “Many locations were affected by that catastrophe, yet only the N109 Zone turned into a wasteland. Why do you think that is?”

Ohh…You recall some unverified theories, but your mind is a mess right now. You can’t think of anything useful to this situation.

“We’re here.” Sylus stops walking and you almost run into his firm back.

Slow vibrations resembling heartbeats pulsate through the sky and you look up to see the Deepspace Tunnel– at least that’s what you assume it is. You’ve never seen one since being in the game, after all, but it must be that, since you had no other explanation. It was eerily beautiful.

Dense clouds and vortexes churn amidst the darkness and occasionally, a stream of light flashes across the night sky like heat lightning. The silent tunnel is like a telescope peeking into the universe.

“The Deepspace Tunnel…This is the first time I’ve been so close to it,” You murmur, taking a deep breath as tiny beams of light enter your line of sight. You can’t help, but take a step closer– before you notice a stone fixture. “It’s a Flux Nexus. I saw one in the no-hunt zone!” You exclaim, remembering what it looked like from that one mission with Xavier, before you entered the game.

“Then you should know what it contains. These fluctuations aren’t produced by normal protocores,” Sylus says from next to you and you nod your head.

The aether core.

Sylus stands next to you, looking at you with his eyes that have unfathomable depths. “Think about it first. Once you take it out, there’s no going back.” You take a deep breath. You’re already here, why would you give up now?

Gritting your teeth, you put your hand on the Flux Nexus’s intricate patterns. The power of resonance instantly flows through your body and dazzling light seeps out from your palm. A shiny, floating gem appears from the slab. “The aether core..” You reach out to touch it and as soon as your fingers brush against it, the ground starts to shake violently.

A storm appears.

Violent fluctuations lash out from the Deepspace Tunnel’s entrance. A huge shadow emerges from the vortex. It’s getting closer and closer. Its wings blot out all light in the sky.

“Is this…the backup plan they were talking about?!” You quickly turn toward Sylus, worriedly, and he chuckles, “We finally get something presentable.” A huge protofield unfolds before you and then, the ferocious wanderer charges toward you both at breakneck speed.

It’s a large blue-black bird, an Arbiterwings. It might be a bit difficult to take on without resonating with Sylus, so you’d have to try. Its feathers were made of crystalized metaflux, so it seems like that would be the way to take it down, destroy the feathers and the bird will fall.

A blinding light comes from your palm as you press it against Sylus’ shoulder, concentrating on resonating with him as the bird flew about in the dark red protofield. Finally– You break apart from Sylus and hold your guns up. “Ready?” You ask and without waiting for his response, you begin shooting at the bird.

 The first didn’t take too long, maybe four or five minutes at most but, once it was over, you quickly turn to look at Sylus excitedly before you realize you’re not on the roof...

What...

The scenery before you is blurry, but you can make out that it’s a war ravaged, desolate planet.

“Where…am I?” You mumble to yourself as you look around.

All you can see is darkness. The sky is dark with smoke pluming from the burning planet, cracks in the ground reveal bright reddish orange magma.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest as your gaze slowly moves down to your trembling, bloody hands.

“There’s…so much..blood.” Why were your hands so bloody? What was going on?

“You must press on.” Sylus? You quickly look around, tears pricking your eyes in your terror, desperate to see a familiar face in this hellscape.

But you can barely make out the figure in front of you. His blurry figure seemed to have corroded crystals growing on his shoulders, neck, and lower half. You could see his bare chest with dark blue and purple veins clearly visible. “That’s..” You murmur, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Was he turning into a wanderer like those people from before?

You felt his thin, spindly hand squeeze yours around the hilt of the sword that was plunged into his chest.

“Because…if you don’t..There’s no going back.”

His voice was coming from this thing?

Your hands shake as you realize you stabbed Sylus and you have no idea why. Seriously— What's going on? 

“Sylus–” An inferno blazes before your eyes, your vision blurring and amidst the blood and fire, the Deepspace Tunnel appears. It shakes violently. “Y/n, you must press on.” You flinch as a red electrical current strikes before your eyes and once your vision clears, you notice Sylus is holding his hand out toward you.

“The life you owe me– now is not the time to repay it.” He says and as you look at the hand reaching out toward you.

You see Sylus’s cold face..there was a hint of worry beneath his usual gaze. But there also seems to be a shadow above him. You can’t help but reach out as well.

Unprecedented power swells between your intertwined fingers and, instantly, you feel a tremor from deep within your heart. Something flows through your veins. The wanderer’s dissipating particles fall like a misty rain, yet a brighter light pierces through the haze.

You lift your free hand up to shield your eyes from the light, your eyes squinting as you tried to make out where the light was coming from. The aether core emits countless rays of golden light that seeps into your chest. The warm, familiar power continues to surge.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when the fluctuations around your body slowly start to subside. The movements within your body cease. It’s as if an ocean’s roaring waves have silently calmed down, turning into ripples on a lake’s surface.

A tiny golden stone hovers in the sky above your head and you reach out for it, holding it between your thumb and index finger.

“So this is the aether core…” It shines for a moment before a crack appears on it. You quickly turn toward Sylus in shock, noticing he’s looking up at the sky. “...Sylus?” You question and he closes his eyes before saying, “Its power belongs to you now. Naturally, the vessel will break as a result.”

“To...me?” You raise a brow as the white haired man looks at you. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” He asks, looking away from you. He turns his back to you to walk away with you being dragged behind him.

“Hey! Where are you taking me?” You say, exasperated. Your feet hurt from wearing your heels all day and fighting in them. “Wait– This is...?” He stops walking as you stare down at your hands with wide eyes. He wasn’t even grabbing your wrist.

He lifts your hands with a small sigh, an invisible force binding them together. He shakes his arm back and forth, your hand being forced to move with him. “Let go already!” You groan, glaring at your arms as you notice they weren’t even that close together. They were a few inches apart, so why were they stuck together?

Then, a deep orange light swirls between your hands. The light circles around both your wrists with a string connecting the circle together like handcuffs. “What…is this thing?” You question, tugging at your hand before looking up at Sylus, who sighs.

He doesn’t respond and the powerful tremor that shook the Deepspace Tunnel ignites a chain reaction within the N109 Zone.

Those shadows, who believed they controlled Onychinus, are eliminated from fate’s tapestry. Unable to see the undercurrents beneath the water’s surface, you can only smell the scent of smoke becoming more poignant as it’s carried by the wind.

Structures crumble and collapse, and Mephisto’s wings pierce through the boundless darkness. He’s accompanied by the distant tolling of a bell. 

It’s almost like an announcement, as if the world is saying…The true leader of Onychinus has returned.

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes, @mitzkooni, @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 9

this has been a long time coming but it's finally here! have some simping over lockwood's hands to make up for the wait (there's more next chapter too 😉)

Word count: 5k words

Warnings: swearing, Steph (HUGE WARNING, I HATE HER IN THIS BUT IT'S NECESSARY FOR THE CONTINUATION OF THE SERIES, SHE MADE ME WANT TO THROW UP), a lot of simping over lockwood's hands (also he's wearing a ring), innuendos ig? references to not so sfw times, vague references to body image issues and related things, I think that's it?

family photos and a gingerbread house competition (part 1)

series master list

(couldn't pick between these two so I put them both, you're welcome, also thinking about it they both match the vibes that lockwood has in this part)

“Remind me why we're doing this?”

“Because it's a tradition, Anthony. I would have thought this would be right up your street!”

“Well it is, but I don't see why we have to be stood next to Steph and Linda.”

“That's just Mum's positioning. She says it looks best that way and nobody argues with her.”

Anthony hummed, looking around at the family members gathered in the living room. The fire had been set up a few minutes ago, Ben stacking up the kindling like building blocks and setting some larger pieces of wood around them, striking a match and closing the door. Most people were already ready for the family photo, and Anthony and Y/n were sat on their loveseat while they waited for Steph and Linda to come downstairs. 

Predictably, the two of them were still in their bedrooms fussing about the fact they had to do this, but Emma was taking full advantage of the fact that nobody could leave and had forced them into joining them. 

"I don't know why they're so upset, really,” Anthony mused, trailing his fingertips over Y/n's shoulder. The way they were sat with her curled into his side made it a slightly awkward angle, but he could put aside the pain in his own shoulder if it meant he was closer to her. “I think that you look adorable in that jumper.” Y/n frowned, scrunching her nose up and glaring up at him. 

“Adorable? I look like I've been shoved into a charity shop and been pulled out backwards through the racks!”

“The dancing reindeer really take the cake, if I'm being honest.”

“Stop it. They look deranged.”

“They look happy, darling.” He paused, taking in the wide eyes and toothy grins of the reindeer that decorated the matching red jumpers that the whole family were wearing.  “And possibly like they've seen too many deaths. But they're smiling, and they've got... what is that, chocolate bars?”

“I think it's beer, Ant. The deranged reindeer are drinking beer while they're being wrapped up in a net of Christmas lights.”

"Christmas lights... that actually light up," he grinned, pressing the button on her jumper to demonstrate his point. Y/n sighed, trying to look cross with him, but the small smile on her face gave her away. 

“You're such a ridiculous idiot sometimes,” she said quietly, gazing fondly at him. The lights on her jumper were still flashing, decorating her face in different colours. 

“Yeah, but I'm your ridiculous idiot.” She snorted, then kissed him gently on the lips. If they hadn't been in the presence of most of her family members, Anthony would have held her there for hours. 

As it was, however, she reluctantly pulled away a few seconds later, smiling widely when he automatically chased her mouth. 

“Alright, love birds, stop making the rest of us feel so single and lonely,” Will called out, attempting to sound annoyed. Anthony knew that the man couldn't be happier about his little sister getting a boyfriend, and that he was easily settling in to his newfound role of teasing them about their relationship. 

“Shove off, Will,” Y/n rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her brother, and he responded by sneakily giving her the middle finger. 

“Right,” Emma declared, looking around the room at everyone gathered. “Where's Linda? And Steph?”

"I think they're still upstairs, Mum," John replied, not looking up from the sofa as he sat on top of Sam and whacked him around the head with a pillow. Sam looked like he was being slightly suffocated under his brother's weight, but nobody seemed to take much notice. The two of them fought like that a lot, and Anthony supposed that everyone was used to it now which was why nobody intervened. 

“John, stop killing your brother for five minutes and go and find them. Tell them they need to come down right away or I'm dragging them. And putting flour in their hair.” John went to complain, but at the glare that was sent his way he quickly shut his mouth and headed out the room, not before delivering one last hit to Sam's head for good measure. 

Within three minutes John was back, Linda and Steph in tow as they grumbled about the jumpers they had been forced into. 

“This is disgusting. And we're all wearing the same ones? Really, Emma? It's bad enough that you made your own sister wear this... monstrosity, but forcing it on all of us? Unbelievable.” Anthony barely hid his scowl as Linda talked down on her sister, and if he didn't think Emma could defend herself he would have leapt to do it himself. 

“You can take it off the moment we're done here, alright? But this is my house, Linda, and you're playing by my rules. It's not like you can go anywhere, so you might as well shut it and take the damn photo with us.”

Linda opened and closed her mouth like a fish for a few moments, before deciding against responding and moving to where her sister had pointed for her to stand. 

“Thank you,” Emma sighed, finishing setting up the camera. “Right, everyone get into position please, no squabbling!”

Anthony smiled as Y/n huffed and stood up, stretching out her limbs after being curled up in his lap for the past however many minutes, and within the next five minutes (that felt much longer than that) all family members present were in the places that Y/n’s mother had assigned to them, and she was clicking the button on the camera to take the photo. She rushed to take her own place next to Ben as the timer started counting down, plastering on a wide smile a second before the flash went. 

“Can we go now?” Steph whined from where she stood to Anthony’s left. She’d had to squeeze in to fit in the picture, and the sheer amount of perfume she had on was making Anthony suffocate slightly.

“Uh, hang on. Let me check that it’s a good photo. Ugh, Tom, honey, you’re meant to be smiling, not staring at the camera like you want to kill it. Let’s try again. Sam, don’t be making stupid faces this time, alright?”

“Yes, Mum,” Sam said, stifling a laugh when Will poked him in the side. Nana Jean ruffled Tom’s hair, much to Emma’s chagrin (it had taken her ages to get it somewhat neat), but the action gained a smile in response. 

They tried again, the flash going off a second time, and when Emma gave the all-clear Linda and Steph immediately moved to take off their jumpers. “Hideous things,” Linda muttered, clearly not in the holiday spirit. 

“You two had better not go anywhere,” Nana Jean said, pointing a crooked finger at them when they went to leave. “We’re building gingerbread houses next and if nothing else it’ll be a competition where you can attempt to destroy everyone else, so get your asses in the kitchen!” Anthony had been pleasantly surprised at how much energy the 80-year-old woman had, especially since her knees were basically completely ruined, and he had found himself engaged in lively conversation with her on more than one occasion. She wasn’t entirely fond of Y/n’s choice of work, but from what Anthony could tell that was more to do with the fact that she was very fond of her granddaughter, and would rather not receive a letter in the mail telling her that Y/n was dead. 

“We’ll go together, right?” Y/n asked, looking up at him while everyone was getting into pairs. He was just about to answer when Nana Jean appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. He looked down at her in surprise (she was quite a small woman), confusion all over his face. 

“I’m taking this one, you can go with your Gramps. I’ve never won with him, not once. This’ll be my year, I can feel it! And your lover boy is going to help me!”

“Good luck, Nana. I don’t think Anthony can cook toast, let alone gingerbread.” Y/n was smirking, crossing her arms as she let triumph seep into her expression despite not having started the competition yet. 

“Oh really? You also didn’t think I’d be any good at snowball fights. You’d be surprised what I can do with my hands, darling.” He immediately blushed at the look on Y/n’s face, and steadfastly refused to look at either her or Nana Jean. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, shaking his head and hoping the situation would end so he could go and bury himself in blankets and hibernate for years. He felt someone nudge his side and his cheeks got hotter still when he saw Nana Jean smiling up at him with a cheeky look on her face. 

“I’m sure Y/n/n knows all about what your hands can do, love.”

“Nana!” Y/n cried, exasperation in her voice. “You can’t say that!”

“Well I don’t think I’m wrong! You’ve been together eight months now; I married your Gramps in less time! Come on, Anthony!” She cheerfully turned and headed out the living room, dragging Anthony behind her and leaving Y/n to stand staring incredulously after them.

~~~

Y/n still hadn’t fully recovered from Anthony’s comment (and then Nana Jean’s addition) about his hands, and she was meant to be making gingerbread. 

Her Gramps had settled at the dining table with tracing paper, a pencil and far too many rulers, while she was measuring out the ingredients and mixing them together in a large bowl. He’d been an architect before he retired, helping draw up the plans for the Fittes Building and providing sketches for housing that had helped when people were on the streets at the beginning of the Problem because their houses were unsafe. Y/n had listened to him talking about his job a thousand times, but she still didn’t know what the purpose of all the different rulers were. 

“Gramps, you know you don’t have to get that technical about it, right?”

“Oh yes I do! I’m not letting Jeanie win this year, oh no! She thinks I’ve lost my touch with architecture, but I was doing badly deliberately because I knew, one year, she’d get fed up and go with someone else! She has no idea what’s coming!” Her Gramps chuckled, shaking his head and clutching his side as he thought about how deceptive he had been. Y/n smiled, remembering all the previous years where Nana Jean had become so exasperated at his apparent incapability that she’d given up all hope of winning with him. It had had no impact on their marriage, and the two of them were just as in love as they had been when they first got married, but Nana Jean also had a healthy love of winning things, and gingerbread was one of her specialties. 

“Focus, love, you’re tipping the mix out the bowl,” her Gramps said, nudging her in the arm. Y/n looked down to see the mess that she’d made over the table, and cursed softly under her breath. “What were you thinking about to make you zone out like that?” She flushed, and cast a quick glance over to where Anthony was stood at the island in the kitchen carrying out the same job as her. Without thinking, her gaze drifted down to where his hands were mixing the ingredients together in the bowl, and when her Gramps coughed she snapped her focus back to him and realised that she hadn’t actually given him an answer. Damn her Nana for saying what she said about Anthony’s hands and putting thoughts into her head! 

“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to ignore the weird look he was giving her and the heat that was now permanently in her cheeks. 

“That’s alright, love. Just scoop it back up, like this, there we are. That’s looking pretty good I’d say. Go ahead and add the next bits now, and I’ll finish drawing up these stencils.”

~~~

“What do I need to do now?” Anthony asked, holding his hands just above the bowl. Nana Jean looked over from where she had finished cutting up the last of the stencils and smiled. 

“Ah, you’ve added in the butter mixture, good lad. Looks perfect to me, so let’s get it rolled out and we can start cutting. We need to make sure we get to the oven before Richard and Y/n do, because then we’ll have a head start on the decorating.”

“Alright.”

“You might want to wash your hands first though, what with all that mix on there. Make sure you get as much as you can in the bowl before you go and scrub ‘em.” Anthony nodded, starting to push off all the gingerbread mix that had clung to his fingers while he’d been bringing the ingredients together. He heard laughter from across the room and immediately recognised it as Y/n’s, which was strange because he didn’t think that he’d heard her laugh so unapologetically since coming here. Normally it was forced, or real but contained, and although they hadn’t got along before this entire situation had happened she had still laughed like she was currently (normally when he fell over from tripping on his coat). She was gorgeous when she smiled widely, and even more so when she laughed, and Anthony paused in his actions as he watched her be properly happy around her family for one of the first times this holiday. 

He knew that she got on well with her Gramps, despite his reservations about her job and some of the comments he made about her being ‘too much to handle sometimes’, but clearly they could forget about that when they were baking together, without the pressure of Steph and Linda watching their every move. 

No, Anthony had that pleasure, and Steph’s eyes hadn’t left his face for the past thirty minutes. 

He felt the weight of her gaze now, and after sending a small wave to Y/n when she looked over and saw him (she’d stuck her middle finger up in response, but had immediately blown him a kiss when he acted hurt) he sighed and turned to Steph. “Can I help you?” He asked, resuming his previous actions of taking the gingerbread mixture off of his hands and depositing it into the bowl. 

“I think you can,” she answered, plastering on a sickly sweet smile and slowly walking over to stand on his left. She stopped barely a hair’s breadth away from his arm, and the perfume she had on was swarming his senses and making him want to gag. It was just as cloying as her smile. “See, I’ve been thinking a lot recently,” Steph started, and Anthony bit back his retort of ‘careful, don’t strain yourself too much’ and tried not to flinch when her hand came in contact with his shoulder. “I think that we haven’t really had a chance to… get to know one another. Properly. And I really would like to… get to know you, Anthony.” Her fingers danced down his arm, and he couldn’t help the grimace that came across his face at her tone. He stepped away a little, trying to not knock Nana Jean while still putting some distance between Stephanie and her wandering hands (that had since moved to his chest). 

“I’m not sure I follow,” he frowned, turning and moving to the sink. He’d gotten as much of the sticky gingerbread mixture off of his hands as possible, and now all that was left was to douse them in water. Steph followed him, gripping his arm tightly and restricting his movement. He was too good of an agent to panic - panicking in his line of work meant almost-certain death - but he could feel unease creeping up his spine and a chill working its way into his bones like miasma. 

“Why don’t we take a minute? Out in the hallway?” He really didn’t like the way she’d said that, all low and what seemed like an attempt at seduction (he couldn’t tell because it was so bad, but from the look in her eyes he could make a guess), and he shook his head. 

“I’ve got to stay here, help out Jean. Shouldn’t you be making your own gingerbread?”

“Oh, that thing? No, we never win so what’s the point? I’d much rather spend some time with you… alone.” Anthony finished washing his hands, trying to ignore how Steph’s grip on his arm had somehow grown stronger in the last minute, and turned back to the island. His eyes scanned the kitchen and dining room, desperately searching for someone that would see he’d been accosted and would come to his rescue, but everybody was busy making gingerbread houses. 

“A minute and a minute only. No more than that,” he said, giving in. Steph’s smile turned smug, and she dragged him out of the kitchen, at which point Nana Jean did look up, sending him a questioning look. Anthony mouthed ‘sorry, back in a moment’ just in time before the kitchen door shut in his face. He sighed, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw in preparation for whatever the hell Steph wanted. “Right,” he started, opening his eyes again and looking around for her. “What’s so urgent that you needed to-” He was cut off by Steph practically lunging at him, grabbing his face and pushing her lips onto his. It took him roughly a second to figure out what was happening, and he quickly got over his initial shock and shoved her off. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, looking at Steph with disgust. 

“Oh come on! I know for a fact that you and Y/n aren’t actually together, so what does it matter? Besides,” she continued, sidling up to him again when he took a step back, “I know that deep down you want this, Anthony.” He frowned, both at her words and at how she was still coming towards him, and the previous chill that had settled on him was now a raging storm. He kept it contained, not wanting to cause too much of a scene when anyone could hear what was happening on the other side of the door (that was now blocked by Steph), but the anger was evident when he spoke. 

“I’m not sure where you got those ideas from, Stephanie, or why you think that I will ever want you when Y/n is in my life, but you need to stop.” She tried to contain her shock at his rough tone, but the way her eyes widened gave her away. 

“Wha-”

“Let me finish. First of all, why do you think we’re not actually together? Are you so disbelieving of the fact that Y/n is a genuinely incredible person and could absolutely get anyone she wanted? Because I consider myself lucky that she even tolerates my presence half the time, let alone wants to date me. Second, even if we weren’t together, it would matter to me. I’m not the sort of person who switches loyalties that easily, and I will always, always, put my relationship with Y/n before any kind of attempted civilities with you. As it happens, she is my girlfriend, and quite honestly the fact that you think I’ll ever leave her for you is laughable.” He was being mean, he knew, but he was too done with Steph’s behaviour to worry about being nice and charming now. He’d pieced together the last of the puzzle that had been bothering him since he first got here too, connecting the dots between Linda and Steph’s comments and Y/n’s subsequently strange behaviour since arriving here. “So no, I do not want this. What I want is for you to stop bullying her, and belittling her, and making her feel like shit all the damn time, because she doesn’t deserve it,” he seethed, jabbing his finger in her face. “She doesn’t deserve any of it at all. All the comments about how much she’s eating, or her body shape, or giving her a gym membership as a Christmas present, or telling her she’s not pretty enough because she doesn’t look like you, or because she wears the same dress two years in a row, all of that needs to stop. Because you make her act like an entirely different person when you’re around and that is not alright. Because Y/n is ten times the person that you will ever be, Steph, because she isn’t a bully. She’s genuine, and kind, and loving, and the most beautiful girl in the entire universe, and she doesn’t deserve a single iota of the hate that you give her.”

Steph was quiet for a minute, processing everything he’d just ranted about. “I overheard you,” she finally said, not looking at him. “That first night when Y/n stormed off upstairs in some stupid tantrum-”

“She stormed off upstairs because you were being a bitch.”

“Right,” Steph didn’t looked too bothered, but she at least had the grace to flinch at his icy tone. “Well after you went up, I followed, because yeah, you’re right, I am very disbelieving that someone as good-looking as you would ever go for someone as ugly as her when you know you could do at least twenty times better, and I thought there was something weird about it! And there was a very large period of time when I couldn’t hear anything, which was really annoying because my legs were getting tired from-”

“Steph, hurry it up.” He had barely any patience remaining now, and her voice had gone all whiny and irritating.

“Oh, yeah. Well, then I heard you two talking about how it was really hard pretending to like each other or something, and you were arguing and saying that you were pretending to date.” Anthony froze for a moment, but rapidly recovered and eased himself into his normal ‘customer service’ persona, plastering on a pitiful smile. Before he could say anything though, Steph was moving towards the kitchen door, one hand on the handle. “It’s been quite fun, really, watching you fake a relationship to everyone. I’ve been trying to work out when the best time to bring it up was ever since Christmas Day after you had a go at me. So, either you tell them all, or I do. You’ve got nowhere to hide now, and I am going to enjoy watching this whole thing collapse on Y/n. I’ll give you until after the competition’s been judged; I wouldn’t want to ruin the festivities.” Her smile was even more sickening than it had been when she’d first started this conversation back in the other room, and after she disappeared into the kitchen and closed the door behind her, Anthony let out a shaky breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. 

He needed to talk to Y/n before the end of the competition, and figure out how the hell they were going to deal with Steph. 

~~~

She couldn’t stop staring at his hands. 

Since coming back in from whatever hallway conversation he’d had with Steph, Anthony had gone right back to helping Nana Jean with a smile on his face, despite the wary glances he kept throwing towards Y/n’s cousin. She hadn’t seen the two of them step out, but she had noticed that Anthony was gone, because she’d gone to look at his hands again and he wasn’t there. 

Her Gramps was helping her cut out the shapes they would need for their gingerbread house, and she’d been doing just fine until out of the corner of her eye she’d seen Anthony slip back on the ring he always wore. 

He had taken it off earlier when Nana Jean told him he needed to mix the ingredients with his hands, not wanting to get the metal coated in gingerbread mix, but now that his hands were clean again he was adjusting it back on his finger. 

Why couldn’t she stop staring at his hands?

She’d nearly cut a piece of gingerbread entirely wrong just now because she had been too focused on how the metal band looked against his slender fingers while he rolled out the gingerbread, and her Gramps had scolded her by chucking a bit of flour at her face. 

“Pay attention, love, you’re very distracted today. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, uh- yeah… yes. Everything is… is fine.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off of his ring, which meant she didn’t see either her Gramps’ concerned look or Anthony’s bemused one until Will was calling across the kitchen. 

“Keep it in your pants, Squeak! You can take your Lover Boy to bed after the gingerbread competition!” Y/n flushed as her gaze snapped up to meet Anthony’s, finally noticing that she’d been caught blatantly checking out his hands. 

“Alright, Will,” her mother scolded, although there was a hint of amusement behind it that made Y/n want the ground to swallow her up. Anthony just raised his eyebrows at her, smirk on his face, and she didn’t have it in her to fight back, instead turning back to the gingerbread in front of her and cutting out the last of the shapes. 

~~~

“Hey,” Anthony said, finally getting a chance to talk to Y/n. Pretty much everybody either had their gingerbread shapes in the ovens, or they were waiting for a space to free up, so he had been excused by Nana Jean for a while. 

“Oh, hi!” She hadn’t seen him walk over, but the second she realised he was there she reached up and planted a quick kiss on his mouth. He felt himself blush, despite it being over faster than most of their kisses, and she let out a snort. “Really? All I did was give you a peck on the lips, Ant.”

A wave of confidence came over him, and although the heat stayed on his cheeks he leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Well I wasn’t doing much with my hands but I still had you blushing, didn’t I darling?” Y/n had no answer to that (not that it had really been a question; he’d seen her staring earlier and he was almost certain her thoughts had drifted somewhere other than something innocent), and before he pulled back Anthony pressed a lingering kiss just by her ear. 

“You- y- you can’t just say that, Ant! Jesus!” He laughed, wrapping his arm around her waist and bringing her into his chest while she hid her face in his neck. He hummed, happy, until he caught a glimpse of Steph out of the corner of his eye. 

“Darling?”

“What?” she replied, although it was somewhat muffled since her head was still buried in his christmas jumper. 

“We need to talk about something really quickly, do you want to step out?” Y/n lifted her head, frown crossing her features. Anthony wanted to press kisses to it until it disappeared, but the conversation he’d had with Stephanie was at the front of his mind. 

“Okay… is everything alright?” she asked as he led her out of the kitchen by the hand. He didn’t say anything until they were in the library, safely away from all other family members. “Ant, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Steph talked to me earlier.”

“Right… how was it?”

“Awful. She kissed me.”

“WHAT?!”

“Darling, it’s fine, it was less than a second and I shoved her off and-“

“What? Oh! Oh, no, I’m not angry with you, Ant. I’m pissed at her for kissing my fucking boyfriend!”

“Ah. Okay. Well that’s not actually the thing I wanted to talk about.”

“There’s more?!”

“She knows. That we’re not… that we weren’t… that we were faking it. She doesn’t know that we stopped doing that and started actually dating, because she walked away before I could tell her that, but she’s known since the first night and she’s been waiting ever since. She gave me an ultimatum, and said that either we fess up or she does, right after the competition has been judged. Seemed far too happy about watching you suffer, to be honest. I think she might need to see a doctor.” Y/n stared at him, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she shut it completely. 

“So, Steph knows. Steph has known basically the entire time. And Steph has done nothing?”

“Yes. She said something about wanting to ‘watch the whole thing collapse on you’ and that she would ‘enjoy it’ or something?”

“That bitch. Well what are we gonna do then? Because whatever happens it sounds like my family is finding out about this whole… thing,” she flapped her hands between them before sighing and pressing them to her face. “I was right. This is a shitshow.”

“Hey, hey. Worst case scenario is Steph tells everyone, yes? But then we can just tell them the truth. Will knows, and he’ll back us up, right? And I’m fairly certain that Nana Jean knows but I’m not sure how, she just kept making these little comments while we were baking earlier and winking at me and I just - it just feels like she knows.” 

“Nana Jean’s just like that, I suppose. It would make sense if she knew. Okay. You’re right. We can do this. We’ll just wait until Steph tells everyone, and then tell the truth.” Y/n paused for a moment, looking down at the floor while she chewed her lip. “I don’t think I can tell the truth,” she said, and when she brought her gaze back up her eyes were shining with the tears that were threatening to fall. Anthony stepped closer, framing her face in his hands and planting a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“You don’t need to tell the whole truth. Not if you don’t want to. Just the bit about us being in a proper relationship now if you like, and I can do that if you need me to. But whatever you choose, darling, I’ll be with you. I will be right by your side, Y/n, always.”

“Thank you, Anthony.”

“Anytime, my darling. Anytime at all.”

He hoped she knew just how much he meant it. 

part 10

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @magicandrosewaters

desperately hoping this is everyone, but as always just let me know if you want to be added/removed (or if I forgot you) and I'll do that as soon as I can! <3

[colibrie]

Confrontations: Bullseye, Krang.

This installation wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for @trilobitepunch. Not only is she responsible for the amazing art, but she got me through when life and writer's block hit me hard. Parts of the writing here is hers, and I am so greatful for her input and her patience.

There were three truths, as fundamental to the foundation of universe as the force. The first was that strength always prevailed. The second was that there were many, many ways to exert one’s strength. The third was opportunities were rare, and thus every one was to be exploited to the fullest. Krang had always known these rules, and had followed them faithfully even when trapped within the sanctimonious confines of the Jedi order.

They had kept him sharp when others had become complacent, had kept him focused when arrogance had blinded that pompous council to what lay right under their upturned noses. He had seen and seized the opportunity of the Empire. He alone strode from the smoldering ruins of the temple, ready for what lay ahead. And next to the emperor, he alone understood the art, the sever beauty, that lay within the dark side of the force. Unlike the other imbecilic inquisitors, or the emperors simpering apprentice, he knew that killing jedi was a waste, and torture alone was lazy. The best paths to breaking a jedi were often the slowest. Pressure was key, but timing was everything.

His longest running projects had just handed him two gilded prospects. Two force sensitives, unaware and untrained. Two individuals his masterpiece had taken pains to hide not just from Krang, but from his own flesh. He could practically taste the potential, feel the scales of the force teetering to-and-fro. Whoever these two were, they were essential, the missing piece to complete his magnum opus. Two lambs, perfect for the sacrifice. He just had to think…

A knock shattered the silence within his office, bringing him back to the present, and his waiting opponent.

Earlier than he’d expected, but he would adapt.

“Enter.”

Heavy footsteps shuffled across the floor, armor clicking and clanking as its wearer snapped into a salute. Determination and fear flooded the air in a sweet and sour scent, and he allowed himself a brief, hungry grin before schooling his face into a stern scowl.

“I don’t recall sending for you, Inquisitor,” Krang mused, sinking back into his desk chair. He laced his claws togethers as he swiveled to face his visitor. Raphael. The simple brute was less of a challenge than his prodigy brother, yet he possessed characteristics that were their own unique form of intriguing. Ones that made him worthy to play the game.

“I trust you have a good reason for this interruption.”

“I do, sir,” Raph replied, massive body shifting with discomfort as his gaze flickered between the red eye of the mech suit and his golden eyes. It was an easy opening move. The indecision and anxiety of which to maintain eye contact with was such a simple means to discomfit the weaker chattel within the Empires ranks. From whole suites of pompous admirals, intoxicated with their engorged egos and perceived importance to ranks of pawn level inquisitors, all could be caught wrong footed without having to exert himself.

He let the tension build, keeping his face the picture of cold indifference as Raphael’s shoulders slowly bowed inward, as his eyes finally settled on some far point over Krangs shoulder. Signs of submission. Finally, Krang raised a hand, claws skimming the air in ambiguous invitation.

“Then speak but make it brief. I am busy.”

“It was Raph’s fault the mission failed,” Raphael reported, hands tightly clasped behind his back as his eyes remained fixed on their chosen spot. “I underestimated the younger targets’ agility an took out one of the ruins supporting walls. Donatello nearly had the other target apprehended before the place came down. I figured you should know before you start deciding punishments.”

“I see,” Krang hummed, anticipation building. “Are you so eager for punishment?”

“I own my messes,” Raph growled, chest swelling slightly as his eyes finally drifted to meet Krangs own. Something shone in their depths, a molten red that Krang relished seeing. Now, the true game could begin. “Donatello woulda been successful otherwise. He doesn’t deserve punishment.”

“You forget yourself inquisitor. That decision does not lie with you. Do you require a reminder?”

“No! I... I’m sorry." Ah, but how quickly he backtracked, those brilliant carmine emotions running so hot then cold. His boldness was perhaps admirable, if ill formed and entirely misplaced. Krang waited, fingers drumming steadily against the metal of his desk as the stocky young Inquisitor reigned in his resolve once more. "But really, it was my fault! Please, ya can’t punish Don.”

There it was. The thing that made Krangs time and efforts worthwhile. Earnest fidelity spread wide like herald’s banner for all to see. A pillar of strength that refused to bend or cede, no matter how the darkside of the force crashed against it. It was a trait that once would have been hailed by the Order, the dead Order that would also have ironically condemned the very bond that fed into it. The bond of brotherhood... While not an intelligent player, Raphael would still perform above and beyond expected parameters for his brother's sake.

It was harder to hold back his hunger for dominance, to keep the smirk he felt from surfacing upon his face as he thought of the earlier debriefing. How hard Donatello had fought to control himself, to control the flow and shape of the information reported. The silent symphonic devastation that had slowly built as his witless older brother revealed everything, placing yet another victory squarely in Krangs crown. Young Donatello’s mind was Krangs to command, and it was a far more effective punishment than any of the physical penalties preferred by the indolent thugs within the Empire’s ranks.

Yet Raphael had presented the opportunity, and Krang never let an opportunity go to waste. It was time for the next phase.     

 He remained aloof as he intoned the rule, one he knew Raphael to be aware of, savoring each step as their game drew closer to its inevitable climax.

“Punishments are shared. There are no exceptions.”

“I-”

Krang silenced him off with a look, his next words subtly sweet as they rolled off his tongue. “However, the proportions of said punishments can be…adjusted.”

“A-Adjusted?”

The elder brothers face lit with the light of a false hope. The snare was set. All that was required now was a final push…

“Since you confess that the failure was primarily yours, you may choose to take on half of Inquisitor Donatello’s punishment in addition to your own.”

“I do! I mean, I will!” Raphael blurted all too eagerly.

This time Krang very nearly did smile, savage glee making it difficult to manage the façade of bored acceptance.

“Very well,” he straightened just a touch, brandishing his claws in a casually sweeping gesture towards the door. “The isolation chamber awaits.”

He sat back, savoring every moment as the snare snapped tight.

 Raphael paled, pupils dilating as his whole body shuddered in primal terror. It was as satisfying as watching Donatello try to hide his spiraling collapse, watching as the pillar trembled, tiny microfractures hidden within its foundation spreading like broken wings. The banner faltered, colors fading as darkness loomed.

“Th-e…the isolation…”

“Changed our mind already, have we?" Krang scoffed, one claw coming up to mockingly tap the edge of his face plate, glancing dismissively down at the documents on his desk as though intending to resume his prior tasks. "Very well, Donatello’s punishment will be-”

“NO!"

The dread from the other side of the desk was palpable, its progenitor so tightly coiled that Krang half-expected the boy to lunge at him. Some part of him, the part that sang for battle and conquest half hoped the fool would do it. He arrested the urge as he watched Raphael wrestle with himself before taking a step forward. Eyes filled with miserable determination dropped to the floor, head bowing in defeat as his arm slowly rose to a salute of surrender.

“No, I…Permission to begin my punishment, sir?”

“Granted," Krang replied, putting weight into the word like it were a sentencing. Raphael nodded, body shuffling away, blind to the wolfish smirk that had finally slipped across his superior’s face. A few quick taps to his personal consol, and Krang was leaning forward in his chair, grin now a full-blown sneer as he watched Raphael curl up into the smallest physical ball within the isolation chamber, head buried deep in the circle of his arms as he slowly swayed side to side.

“I wonder how long he’ll last this time,” he idly mused to the ether, eyeing the deep, overlapping claw marks gouged into the walls. “Perhaps he’ll make things interesting and go for a full two hours. Heh.”

The shadows of the room swallowed the tartness of his laugh, heavy hush ruling once more as he closed the screen. As amusing as it would be to watch the pillar break itself, he had work to do, and two new subjects to account for in the greater game.

“Now…where are they?”

[britcision]

Okay WIP Wednesday! I’ve had a real fucking busy weekend painting the house and building new furniture and making some fucking HELLACIOUS overalls (pics later maybe???)

But I basically haven’t been on except my occasional cursed thought, and hopefully I’ll be around more and actually get to some messages this week 👀 maybe

In the meantime! Here is the Danny segment I considered giving you last week!

————————

A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence iii

Honestly, driving in Gotham wasn’t even all that exciting from Danny’s perspective. After being tossed around the GAV despite the seatbelts, a couple of cranky fellow drivers just didn’t register.

If they hadn’t been going through the city, maybe going highway speeds it might have been different, but he’d kind of worked out how loud he had to be to be heard.

By Jason snickering when he screamed at pedestrians.

If they didn’t want to be screamed at they shouldn’t be trying to loom menacingly.

Of course, that just meant now was the perfect time for him to use his new power for evil. Danny flipped his visor up, straining as high as he could to yell to Jason.

“SO, THAT CONSTANTINE GUY?”

There was a sudden click in his ear and he jumped as Jason’s voice came through, quiet and definitely amused.

“There’s a radio in your helmet, Danny.”

Oh.

News to fucking him, he was pretty sure that wasn’t standard in motorcycle helmets, but not from any lived experience. Johnny 13’s dead experiences were a little out of date.

Poking around the sides of his helmet, Danny soon found a button.

“Sweet. Looks like you finally forgot to mention something,” he teased, and heard Jason snort loud and clear.

Didn’t have to hold the button to talk then. Good times. He’d get Tucker to take a look on the way home after he ecto infused it. For now he flipped the visor back down.

“Looks like,” Jason agreed dryly, swerving them around a cluster of traffic.

He wasn’t exactly sticking to the letter of the law, they were definitely half again over the speed limit, but they hadn’t gone on a sidewalk so it was nothing to a Fenton. There was even an empty slot in the lane he merged into.

“So what about Constantine,” he prompted, and while it broke Danny out of his musings, it also reminded him of the exact thing he’d planned to do to make the trip more interesting.

“Oh, I own his soul. Like, a dozen times over,” Danny chirped perkily, grip tightening just before Jason had to slam on the breaks to keep from hitting the car beside them.

They sped off again before the sudden swerve caused comment, and passed a block or two in silence. Then Jason sighed.

“Of fucking course you do that for everything and not just Mariokart.” He mostly sounded resigned, so Danny allowed himself a snicker.

“What, it’s not like we’re gonna die. You’re even still on the road,” he dismissed easily, waving a hand to show just how unconcerned he was.

Did not expect Jason to huff, reach back and grab his hand, and pull it back around himself.

“I’m reconsidering teaching you to drive,” he told Danny flatly, and Danny pouted but took the hint and held on.

“Oh come on, you can’t say that, you haven’t even seen me try!” Danny protested.

Jason made an unimpressed noise.

“Your town’s weather includes reports of if your parents will be on the road.”

Which, by the way, was totally unfair of him, since he’d never have known that if Danny hadn’t told him. Or Tucker hadn’t told Tim.

Same difference.

“My parents, not me,” Danny argued anyway, shrugging, “and it wasn’t their driving that killed me.”

This time he was close enough, snugged tight to Jason’s back, that he felt the guy’s whole body shiver with a loud and rumbling growl. The same growl he’d heard and soothed earlier.

Something had really riled up Jason’s pit ghost.

Danny hummed another quick soothing trill, stroking his aura gently across Jason and his extra passenger.

Sort of trying to do it unobtrusively; he would actually really prefer that they didn’t fully crash. It kinda worked, in that Jason managed to unlock suddenly solid muscles enough for them to make the next turn.

“Sorry,” Danny said quickly, kind of to both of them, “guess Pitty doesn’t like the death jokes today.”

They passed another few buildings in silence, anf Danny had definitely noticed by now that they weren’t heading for the manor. Didn’t matter so long as Jason knew where they were going.

Danny waited him out, long enough that he almost wanted to make another joke and lighten the mood. Again though, Jason broke it first.

“Pitty.” He did not sound impressed. But he didn’t feel mad. More what the fuck just came outta your mouth.

Danny gave him a quick squeeze, and almost felt the pit purr.

It was kinda getting stronger the longer they hung out. Technically that probably meant that both cores were making progress.

“Well, technically you probably get to name it, but until you come up with something I’m calling it Pitty,” Danny explained, and rather felt that Jason should be grateful.

Unlike the rest of his family, Jason had seen the full list of how Jack Fenton named things. Danny preferred to think he took after his aunt.

He coulda called it the Fenton Pit Friend or something. Really, it wasn’t hard to think of anything worse.

From his aura, Jason now seemed to be intentionally ignoring him.

Stewing in indignation-disbelief-confused-confused-confused. Well, that was his call.

Anyway.

“Back to Constantine though, I wasn’t kidding. I do actually own his soul,” Danny said casually, since they’d gotten distracted from his previous attempt to make the drive more interesting.

For a moment he wasn’t sure if Jason would rise to the bait this time either, and then another sigh came over the radio.

“Y’know, somehow, that’s the least surprising thing you’ve said. Man sells his soul so much everyone seems to have a chunk,” Jason grumbled, and Danny snickered.

“Oh, pretty much. He’s the Caterpie of human souls. He never made a deal with me directly though,” he added quickly, without being fully sure why.

He was pretty sure Jason wouldn’t jump straight to “Danny is a soul trader”, but honestly he’d gotten used to getting ahead of wilder trains of thought.

“Oh? How’d you get twelve then?” Jason shot back, clearly warming back up to things.

Mission accomplished. Danny grinned.

“Well, previous Ghost King was in nappy time for a couple thousand years, but he had this whole thing about collecting souls to add to his army of thralls, so basically anyone could sign their soul over for a chunk of power. Real charmer,” Danny snorted, rolling his eyes.

It was so far from the worst thing Pariah Dark had ever done, but so far it was definitely the longest lingering annoyance.

“I got the impression,” Jason agreed in pretty much the same tone, prompting Danny to continue.

Which. Yeah. Was more fun than thinking about the mountain of thrall contracts still awaiting their owner’s deaths, which the Observants were still fussing over.

Nobody wanted more thralls, souls wiped clean of everything that made them, well, souls. Just unliving batteries. Even ghosts found them creepy.

On the other hand, there was nothing the Observants loved more than rules. And the rules said a signed contract had to be honoured.

Really they shoulda expected Danny to ask who the fuck signed for Pariah, since he was (again) in nappy time prison. He hoped nobody else died while they sorted that out.

“Danny?”

Ah. Yup, he did it again. Danny shook his head and sighed, kinda missing the wind in his hair. It kept him more present than the enclosed space of the helmet.

“Sorry. So, John Constantine, clever bitch, wrote himself a contract that signed his soul over to the Ghost King, not Pariah Dark. Got through whatever screening was in place no problem, and now he’s my problem.”

A problem that Clockwork had presented Danny with on his fucking birthday no less.

That had been part one of the soul screening process; who was stuck with Pariah by name, and ho boy that was a depressingly long list… and still growing, though it had slowed recently.

News of Pariah losing his crown was slow to spread, and frankly Danny himself could be doing more to help that, except. Well.

Not taking the damn crown himself until he had to. Not wanting to give the creeps of the world anything to call him.

There were a lot of good reasons, okay? And Clockwork had specially singled out Constantine’s contract and delivered it to Danny himself as a birthday present.

“Well, that explains one,” Jason agreed with a snicker, pulling to a stop in front of the police station, “but what about the other eleven times?”

Danny snorted a laugh, sliding off the bike and stretching. As much fun as hugging Jason at high speeds was, he didn’t like being still for too long.

“Tax season,” he explained cheerfully, pulling off the helmet and looking around, “I guess we’re meeting Harley here?”

Snickering to himself, Jason pulled off his own helmet and tucked it into the storage on the back of his bike. Danny passed it over, noting that Jason had also had to get a second little pod for the other helmet.

He wasn’t gonna ask. Maybe they were in storage?

“Yeah, we’re meeting Harley here. Better not to swing by the manor for a while,” Jason added, his expression souring.

Which did make Danny feel a little bad actually. He didn’t want to cause trouble for Jason with his family…

But before he could say anything Jason ruffled his hair roughly, shaking his head.

“It’s not your fault, Danny. This kinda shit happens every other week, Bruce gets on his bullshit and I steer clear. He’ll calm the fuck down eventually and remember to mind his own business,” he explained dryly, nodding towards the doors.

Danny hesitated before moving to follow. It felt true, he could feel Jason’s sincere-exhausted-familiar-still over it clear as day, it just.

“I’m still sorry I wound him up though,” Danny finally decided, heading after Jason up and in. Jason who rolled his eyes and held the door open.

“Danny. He winds himself up. You could be a literal angel and he would not fucking care. You couldn’t unwind him even if you miraculously found the key. We’ve all tried,” Jason said with a sigh, though at least the anger seemed to have burned off into just…

Tired.

Jason just felt tired.

Probably cuz he was off fucking around with Cass last night, but Danny wasn’t about to call him out on it.

Not when they’d just walked into the police station (ew) and the wild sight of Harley Quinn, hair in pigtails and dressed in her signature red and black, sat on the duty officer’s desk with a bat. Filing her nails.

Total silence filled the room, broken only by the swing of the doors opening as Danny and Jason stepped through.

The whole room was watching her in a kind of terrified awe, like she was a particularly dangerous bomb waiting to go off. Danny’d swear they weren’t even breathing.

She looked up as the door opened, grinning broadly at the sight of them and waving in a large, exuberant gesture.

“Oh, there’s my boys! Hey boys!” She called in obvious delight, and half the room flinched.

Didn’t seem to matter that she hadn’t even been in Gotham for ages, let alone being her former roguish self. She had the kind of presence that left a lasting impression.

No wonder Danny liked her. She coulda fit right in with his ghost friends.

Maybe she’d come join them for fight club.

——————

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai

[sketchfanda]

A Little Moxxie Love:Kinky Kiki

Within the late evening of Imp City, it was pretty much time for most save for the night owls to call it a day and start closing up shop. Business hours over and closing time for a few and that especially applied to the non-chalant building that housed both the offices of IMP and the personal recording studio of THE Verosika Mayday. Save for two stragglers of course who were in late, one of whom we find ourselves with at this very moment. The more petite but still quite sexy member of the succubus popstar's entourage known as Kiki.

The perky stringbean sex demon sat on a bare counter top glaring at her cellphone with absolute spite, eyes narrowed and glowing venomously at the text she'd received. Just the sort of news she didn't need but of course what'd this asshole know and care? There was this private little rave party happening down in Lust City tonight and the guy she'd lined up as her Plus One date claimed he had cancel, literally last minute!! She couldn't be bothered to care what excuse he had given as she deleted the message and blocked his number, taking him out from her contacts entirely.

Sometimes you had to make it clear that when it came to Verosika''s girls, you only had one shot with a good first impression and did this chump ever blow it big time. Locking and closing the studio up as she stepped out, the doors shut as she made plans to maybe give the party a miss and maybe binge-watch some porn to get off to except if it was from Valentino, that guy was a dirtbag even if some of the stuff with Angeldust was quality material. The succu-bitch's mental musing interrupted as she found she wasn't the only one who'd been stuck working late as she stood waiting for the elevator, looking over her shoulder to see a certain imp humming as he had finished closing and locking up the doors for I.M.P's office, a folder stock of papers under one arm as he now stood beside her waiting for the lift. No doubt the little dude got stuck with the last minute day's workload to sort out, knowing his luck and going by what she could remember about Verosika's shall we say, less than favourable opinion of her ex, said little dude's boss.

Not that she felt the need to pry into his personal business of course, the sweet little possum seemed more than used to Blitzo's antics, as the pair stood in comfortable silence side by side as they waited for the elevator. Moxxie humming a little tune, whistling in between while Kiki would glance at him in between browsing her phone as the succubus groupie wondered if maybe the little guy might be considerate enough to take up being her plus one for the rave. After all when opportunity came knocking with a chance to do the horizontal tango with the imp stud that rocked Verosika Mayday's world, you'd do well sure to make sure to seize it. Kiki of course mulled it over in her brain as the duo stepped into the elevator soon as it dinged its arrival, the doors opening as she pushed the button for the ground floor.

It was all going about as routine as an elevator ride could get of course, the dull music piping and chiming in through the speakers as the cubicle made it was way down the shaft. Moxxie being the polite little gentleman he was of course doing his best not to stare at Kiki, not that you could blame after what had happened in the studio before the whole spring Break fiasco. The petite, perky succubus of course pressing her thighs together as she felt them all soaked and sticky, just being this close to the little stud imp was getting her horny. Memories of that video she'd watched over and over, the fantasies shared back and forth between herself, Milky, Coco and Apple, to say nothing of the scent of sex she could detect off of him.

It was somewhere between a few hours to days but in her eyes, it was akin to a Yautja's visual spectrum as she could pick up the distinct aura and flavours of Moxxie's liaisons. From the constant fresh perfume of his wife and that moody Hellhound to Verosika herself, who knew the little dude was such an erotic dynamo. It was taking much willpower to resist pouncing on him and finally have herself a ride on the Moxxie thrill ride, deciding to bite the bullet and ask him out to the rave, the imp and succubus fumbled a bit a the elevator car shook a bit before coming to a half as its lights dimmed slightly. Just their luck, seems a glitch had caused them to wind up stuck and who knows how long they'd be stuck in here for.

Fortunately between their cells and the elevator's emergency phone, they were able to ensure help would be on the way but for all Kiki knew, the rave would be halfway done if not long since over by the time they got out. What's more, this damn box as getting hotter by the minute and she was getting hornier, the scent from Moxxie intensifying as she could practically feel herself going into heat. Struggling as she fidgeted about trying not to touch herself, all the while that adorkable possum tried to kill any pending awkward silence with small talk. Unaware for the time being that Kiki was an erotic ticking timebomb that could go off a any moment, really such a sweetheart being stuck in an elevator with a succubus and he's not even trying to force himself on her, small wonder he was named Moxxie.

Moxxie:*Humming away as he browsed his phone, the folder of paperwork kept tucked away in a corner as he looked for a topic to pass the time. Figuring Kiki wasn't one for anything related to politics either or boring junk like that, all the while not yet realising she was looking ready to pounce and ride him for some hot, sweaty babymaking.*"Soooooooo..........how about the weather huh? Think it might rain later today?"*In her current state of arousal of course, bless the sweet little possum's infernal heart of gold, all it would take for a succubus like Kiki is any chance to respond the with a flirt or a double entendre. But at the volume of bitch in heat state she was in right now, subtlety was going right out the goddamn window.*

Kiki:*Silently hisses, erotically biting her lower lip as she felt a shuddering tingle run up along her spine at hearing Moxxie's sweet little voice. Eyes half-lidded as she looked at him with sensual desire, giggling and purring as she leaned in close to him, her warm breath in his ear.*"Mhmm, you know what? I'm so fucking wet right now...." *The sheer rapture she felt his reaction, the look of shock and surprise on his adorable face was just delicious but as not as delicious as she found his lips as she pressed her own to them. Capturing them in a sloppy passionate kiss as her tongue invaded his mouth, making it more than clear that she was Down to Fuck.*

It wasn't like Moxxie was giving much resistance, much as Kiki's blunt and very direct statement had shocked and caught him off guard because after all in his experience? As the old chestnut of wisdom goes, when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade and in Moxxie's case? He was making some very erotic lemonade right about now as his and the succubus in heat's clothing was soon scattered about the elevator interior's floor. The sweet little imp sex machine backed up against a corner as Kiki knelt on the floor practically suffocating herself with the intense fellatio she was giving his cock.

Really now it wasn't like she was in the mood for foreplay when the chance to finally have herself a ride on the Moxxie Love XXXpress presented itself like this, after sleepless nights of masturbating to that video and the passionate wet dreams. Pink glowing hearts of lust dancing in her eyes as she bobbed her head like a piston, deepthroating his length and girth with sloppy desire. Drowing that shaft in her drool as her lips touched the base and balls as she sucked and blew on it, the tastebuds of her tongue dazzled by the flavour of his pre as it poured and flowed down her throat. Pussy dribbling as juices rained down to a growing puddle on the floor which only intensified as her lover boi grasped her horns and began pumping and thrusting his quite gifted hips like a jackhammer for a powerful facefuck.

As if the succu-bitch in heat thought she couldn't get any hornier from this oral preview of the spine tingling pleasure her pussy would come to receive, she was more than delighted to be proven wrong when the moment arrived. A mind shattering orgasm rocking her nerves from head to toe, brain drowning in delicious ecstasy from the moment that length and girth penetrated her sloppy, wet slit. Inches of that womb hammering, pussy filling veiny piece of demonic heaven hitting all the right nerves as it sunk in deeper as she mounted Moxxie cowgirl style, keeping the compact little love machine on the elevator flor as she rode the tidal wave of pleasure. Before proceeding to finally start working her hips as she began to bounce and ride that shaft, their confinement cube shaking and echoing with her cries and moans of lust and passion as she began building up momentum.

Momentum which only began to skyrocket in the best possible ways when the sweet little possum of her wet dreams began to assert dominance as he grabbed her toned hips and began to pump and piston his pelvis like a jackhammer. Making her see stars as she found her erotic rodeo intensifying with every thrust, her perky tits bouncing and her well toned ass feeling those golf ball sized baby makers smack against them. Were she to look down, there wasn't any doubt she'd see her usually smooth stomach swollen with a bump indicating the depth and reach of Moxxie's length and girth rising up and down as he took her to satisfaction avenue and back. And she was loving every fuck damn second of this as she felt herself getting a rushing buzz packing more punch than a swig of Beelze-juice!!

And it only got better as not only was she getting more orgasms than she could keep track or count of but Moxxie was proving first hand what an absolute stamina machine he was. Putting her through a variety of positions before the rush of him blowing his load hit, flooding and painting her womb while that amazing cock of his didn’t get anywhere near soft or limp. But oh was he also good with his hands and his tongue as the elevator became flooded with the scent and stains of animalistic, pornographic mating. Echoing with moans of pleasure and the primal rhythm of skin slapping on skin.

From being pinned down in a mating press to taking it from behind doggy style for as long as her arms and legs could hold her up to the thrill of being pinned up against the wall. Arms and legs wrapped around her compact little possum love machine as that quite strong for its size body pounded away into her sloppy, flooded her still eager pussy. Noticeable love bites and marks especially around her petite yet perky tits showing that the little guy really knew how to enjoy a woman no matter her body shape and size. The succubus and imp sharing one final simultaneous orgasm together after god knows how many minutes if not an hour or more of fucking like animals finally caught up to them.

This sweet little intimate climax of course coming in the shape and form of Moxxie sitting up against the elevator wall opposite it’s doors as he grasped Kiki’s waist. The lust fuelled and well fed succubus bouncing snd riding him reverse cowgirl, as those thrusting balls smacked her clit before they shuddered and groaned as her nectar slrsyed and soaked his lap while her womb once again found itself filling up with that baby batter of his. The duo panting as they relaxed to bask in the afterglow, Kiki looking over her shoulder at the cute lover boi who rocked her world as she leaned in to give him a tender yet sensual kiss as thanks. Their brief soft make out interrupted as the ding that signalled the elevator landing and it’s doors opening caught their attention.

Revealing none other than Verosika, Tex, Loona and Millie on the ground floor outside along with a rather cute little lady custodian imp who tried and failed to cover her eyes at the naked pair. Tex of course tiled his head, saying nothing but humming a sound that implied he was impressed at what a feat the little dude no doubt managed to pull off. Loona was herself as ever, non chalant in snapping a picture on her phone but if you were to read her body language like the way she bit her lower lip and rubbed her thighs, you could tell she was turned on. Verosika of course looked amused who,e a millie looked quite giddy at this erotic crime scene they were just witnessing as Moxxie and Kiki felt like deers in the headlights.

Verosika:”Well who needs a rave in Lust town when you clewrly had a more fun party here….”*The pop star turned to the janitor who was still struggling with trying not to peep. Key word trying.*”So don’t suppose we ca egt a copy of the security tape here can we?”*All and all, Kiki had to say her boss was right. Best laid plans were all well and good but getting LAID like this was Way more fun…*

[impalafullofbees]

I made seven sonnets about one-sided radiostatic because I guess I’m very deeply entrenched in this fandom now. This is my first ever post on this site, I’ve been on it for approximately two minutes now so if I mess up the tagging or whatever, just tell me please.

Anyway-

Sonnet 1

It all started when Vox sat in his tower

Quite bored, couch-sitting with Val and Velvette

He sat there contemplating Alastor’s power

Determined to have him in his clutches yet.

“There has to be a way,” his fury erupted,

“To topple his throne, get him here, make him pay.”

Val and Vel ignored him uninterrupted

These outbursts were common, the same day by day.

He rounded on them with a terrible groan.

“Listen to me, I need to defeat him.

But he has friends, I need friends of my own.

Let’s plot, scheme, plan something not on a whim.”

Vel looked up finally, sighing she says,

“You work on waves, so does he. Disrupt his.”

Sonnet 2

Vox posture relaxed, he was taken aback,

Their contributions were few and far between.

His obsession and his verbal attacks

They encouraged not and did not intervene.

But this was a plan, and not a half-bad one

He mused, pacing, thanking Vel as he went.

He had to start planning and get that plan done

With Alastor gone, he would be content.

But how to disrupt the Radio Demon

And kick him off of his own radio waves?

He would be stopped before he could even begin

Fighting head-on would be making his grave.

Then he stopped pacing, revelation struck

With a signal-blocking device, Al would be stuck!

Sonnet 3

Vox rushed his room, plugged his head in with glee

To make a device both subtle and strong

Until too late, Alastor shouldn’t see

This half-planned device that could do no wrong

Surely Vel and Val still sat grateful

That Vox’s obsession was turned to his work

To make a device that could be so fateful

They relaxed finally, still bored, jobs shirked.

But Vox was still tense as he worked without tire

Building programs, deleting, scrapping it all

Every click of the keyboard had passion of fire

Perfection was key, no wrong big or small.

Finally, after hours of hard toil,

It was done, complete, his work long-last assoiled.

Sonnet 4

Now to enact his plan most effective

He sent off a drone to infiltrate the hotel

It would, with luck, complete his objective,

Do what has failed prior for all of Hell.

He cackled with mirth as he set the drone free,

It had quite the girth as it sailed red skies

Precious cargo aboard, worth all can see.

Vox watched it from earth with stars in his eye.

It attached, like a fly, to the hotel wall

Its camera eye glinted as it drilled way inside

Then scuttled, a spider, scurrying down the hall

Sneakily slithered, snakelike, to where Alastor did reside.

Finally it breached, the mighty little bug,

Alastor’s room. It buried in a rug.

Sonnet 5

They waited, Bug and Vox, for Alastor

Anticipation nearly swallowed them whole.

But he came, cane clicking, as Bug ticked and whirred

It was quiet, Vox made sure to control.

Alastor stopped, his smile frozen in place

While both Bug and Vox stayed frozen in seats.

Did he notice Bug, which invaded his space?

Or would Vox’s mission be long-last complete?

Then he looked down to where Bug was hidden.

Vox’s brain-child, his brain-egg he freely exposed

To Alastor’s brain-sperm of thought, unbidden

They made Bug jointly, their joining predisposed.

He looked at the floor and gave a soft hum

And he plucked Bug between his forefinger and thumb.

Sonnet 6

“Why hello Vox, I am aware, my old friend,

Your spying, that’s old, that, I can allow,

But my room is a reach you cannot extend.

Arrive prompt, and by prompt I mean now.”

Bug chittered, scared, as Vox nervously sweat.

They were caught, no escape, their plan had failed.

Vox teleported there, his match had been met

Saw poor Bug trapped in Al’s grasp and he paled.

“I just want to talk, no harm meant I swear.

You know spying, for me, often crosses lines.

There were limits? I was not made aware.

I can go now, leave you and your confines.”

“No, you wanted to talk, let’s talk right here. ”

“I should leave, I’ve invaded your space, that’s clear.”

Sonnet 7

Then, with no hesitation, he dropped Bug

Who made a “ting” on the hard wood floor

For Alastor had moved the soft, plush rug

Crushed Vox’s work underfoot, destroyed forevermore.

It was a threat, that much was made glaring

No time to mourn, now Vox had to think fast-

Why would they talk? They made an odd pairing-

To cover his lie and escape un-harrassed

So quickly he blurted what came to mind

“I’m in love with you, I don’t want to fight.”

Alastor laughed loud, then rudely declined

On his heel turned, left, and turned out the light.

And Vox was left sitting, alone, in the room

Sonnets are about love, but this one is gloom.

[deathblossomed]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 & 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒

( @thuganomxcs. ) ♊ (K A R M A ) ♊ - The muse is split into two or more versions of themselves, each of which either holds a different facet of the muse’s personality, is an inverted/alternative version of the muse, or is just an exact duplicate.

The Relic of Four Points. That's what they were supposed to be looking for, deep in the cavernous remains of what may have been a palace centuries before, now mysteriously sealed away, as if the entire ruin had been placed inside a bubble at the edges of Reikai's borders. But the seal was weakening after centuries of self containment and a mysterious power gleamed within, a voice whispering that to retrieve the Four Points, one must pass it's trial. And who better to send to fetch such a trinket than Yusuke, despite his 'retirement'.

It seemed such an easy venture, the building split into four quadrants, arranged like a diamond, with the Four Points held in the center, four triangles, split from on another with the image of a six pointed star above. The minute they enter the center room, Botan starts to feel dizzy and the closer they get to the Four Points, the worse it gets, until she's slowly sinking to the floor, panting on her hands and knees.

"You didn't think it'd be that easy did you?" chimes a voice. A small pixie materializes above the artifact, wings buzzing like a bee. She flies toward Botan, poking her forehead. "Wow, a shinigami and a real interesting human. Or almost a human, yeah? But this one is cute, they'll like her. Look, look, they've been waiting eons for a good host. So nice of you to bring one!" The pixie points excitedly to the triangles, now rising above the pillar. Each one glows a different color, hovering before flying toward Botan, the guardian blocking any attempt Yusuke makes to get closer. Each triangle plunges through her body like a ghost, pulling a glowing flare of energy out of her, she collapses after the fourth, eyes closed. The pixie squeals gleefully.

To the side, the energy balls begin to take form. And before Yusuke stands for woman, each a near perfect reflection of Botan herself. It's her face, her body dressed in unique kimonos, but it's the hair that makes it different.

The first steps forward, humming curiously. Her hair flows like water, a soft and clear blue, ebbing and flowing from her. She's dressed in a pale blue kimono with lily pads printed in the fabric. She looks toward Yusuke and smiles, so serene. "Don't be angry, Yusuke. I like it better when you smile," she chimes.

The second floats above the ground, giggling and twirling. Her hair wafts in cloudy, white pigtails. Her yukata is a pale cream, with curling patterns across it. "Yeah! Smile, smile, c'mon, we can fly around and see the whole world!" She laughs, beaming like the sun.

"Could you all focus, please. He's clearly upset," says the third. She stands straight, hair like autumn leaves framing her face and spreading over her shoulders. Her look is stern but not without warmth. Her kimono is a rich brown with green threading.

"Aw, do you think he's gonna cry~ Poor thing," the forth grins devilishly. Her hair flares up above her, a ponytail of reds and oranges flaming up behind her, bangs crackling and sparking with movement. Her kimono and hakama are bright red and charcoal black and when she laughs it's loud. "Hey, hey, you better come play with me,"

And without another word, she jets off to one of the quadrants. The others follow suit, waving and inviting Yusuke to pick them to see first. "No way, we can watch the clouds!" "I think I'd rather sit with a good book, we could read together." "You must be tired from the journey, I'll prepare some tea." They each depart in different directions, leaving Yusuke with the pixie and Botan's still form.

The pixie hovers over his shoulder, still smiling. "If you want your girlfriend back, you better put the Points together~ Or you can pick which one you like best and take her home! Better act fast, tick tock!"

[godstrayed]

before you interact please read the post! / mutuals only.

hello! it’s that time again i try to sell myself as a potential writing partner. i have written these in the past and been successful in occasionally finding roleplay partners who are interested in the same sorts of things as me. so i am looking for people who want to world build with me. i really like discussing plots, headcanons, and anything that can make me understand your muse better! i love sharing memes, drabbles, not roleplaying linearly and tossing around multiple threads! i don't need many people to write with but i really prefer to have a handful of people who i know well, am invested in their muses/feel super comfortable with my knowledge of their muses & pingpong my annoying ideas at them easily.

i tend to write lengthier things but i am okay with any length as long as it’s not one-liners! i also have zero interest in writing with someone who i will only have one thread with and never speak to again. 💀 i just rather focus on threads that will grow outside of just one single reaction! i like to think i am pretty easy to toss shit around with but i am a little shy so sometimes it takes a while for the ball to start rolling but once it is i am full-sending that shit.

so if you’re interested please GIVE THIS A LIKE and I WILL APPROACH YOU after i check out your muses/rules, if i haven't gotten around to it already! i am 100% gonna write the starter for whatever we come up with! i just ask if i take the time to write the starter that you reply to it at least once. failure to do so will result in me soft blocking since it happens so often and is super discouraging (and a waste of my time tbh). that might seem harsh but we could always write together when you do have the time or availability to reply.

WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT ME: can call me nic! 29. cst. they/them. selective. slow replies due to work and other responsibilities. willing to make new muses for people if i really like an idea/plot! emphasis on slow activity! please keep in mind that i take a whole lot of time sometimes.

THINGS I REALLY LIKE: pacific rim, the 100, the walking dead, baldur's gate 3, queens gambit, any apocalyptic setting, harry potter series, alice in borderlands, video games, league of legends, any mcu movie, x-men series, fantasy shows/games, fairies, hunger game series, graceling & demon slayer.

TYPES OF AUS: any type of apocalypse setting, fantasy, crime aus, soulmates au, period/era verses, dystopian, slice of life, mythological, anything with werewolves, royal aus, vigilantes, & mutant aus.

VIBES: angst (tbh most of my blog is angst), fluff, horror, cliches, tropes welcome, & the occasional smut when it fits the mood.

CHARACTERIZATION: i exist in extremities. i like writing really bad villains with zero remorse or softer characters with a more righteous morality. i enjoy writing against almost everything. i am open to exploring most things and you can find out more extensively my habits through my rules.

open to any type of relationship: family/friendship/romantic/enemies. doesn’t have to be romantic. however, if it is – i always write with anyone so gender/fc/etc doesn’t every bother me. write who you want to!

be prepared to: communicate, toss around ideas, explore plots & dynamics, share your interests with me as well, & be adored / have your muse(s) adored by me & mine.

  links: muses & laws. memes. verses. wanted plots.

[fanaticmorelikefantastic]

Leon Fic Chapter 3

I just wanted to post this chapter, what even happened 😭

Synopsis: end of date, Leon leaves for a while, emo rambling and a magical fairy appears at the end of the chapter (not really though don't take that literally)

The wind felt like little ice pricking at my skin, sparking electricity in my veins as I held on to Leon for dear life. Exhilarating, that was the word I was looking for. At some point, I opened my eyes to see the gorgeous lights of the city as we whisked by them. It was unreal. This whole situation was. Me, out on a date with a guy who, even though I just met him, feels like I’ve known him my whole life, on a motorcycle for the first time in my life, but feeling completely safe. I take a moment to thank the writer’s block that led me to that cafe as I watch the encouraging fairies pass by. They don’t feel like regular lights anymore. They feel like fairies. I almost feel like a fairy. At a red light, I readjust my hands around his waist to make sure I don't fall off, interlocking my fingers. He glances behind at me for a second.

“You okay?” His voice sounds close and far at the same time. I was too enamored in the sights around me to think too much about his dark leather jacket, or the sleek helmet he wore. Breathlessly (it was taken already), I replied.

“Yea.” He laughed lightly.

“We’ve gotta get you a helmet.”

“Yea.”

The food at that place was amazing. I don’t know if it’s because of how effervescent I’m feeling, or the chef’s careful measurements. As usual, Leon is a regular, though the stand man says it’s the first time he’s visited in months “and with a girl, no less.” I’m not quite sure what it is I ordered, but it has that quality that only someone passionate enough to work in a truck can put into their food. There were wooden park tables built around the place, making it feel like a real restaurant. The truck even had its own veranda. After our meal, I couldn’t help but feel like dancing. I held it in, though (barely). 

We were outside of my apartment building now, me loosely holding onto the light pole Leon stopped at while he sat on his bike, helmet off, eyes staring so perfectly. He was so perfect. I don’t even remember how I got here, I only remember his face, his hands, his voice. 

“I was probably the last kind of girl you were hoping to take on a date. Some deranged creative who accidentally wrote you into a book. Sorry for wasting so much of your time.” He laughed at me again, that soft and low breathy thing he calls a laugh. I try my best not to swoon, but I don’t think it’s working. I really do love that laugh.

“If you’d believe me, I think you’re the only person I ever should’ve taken on a date.” He adjusts himself to get a better view of me. “And I wouldn’t mind being your muse. If you’ll have me.” He looks so honest about it and it’s my turn to laugh now. I don’t think he understands what a muse is, but that’s okay. Anything he does is okay. I allow the pole to support most of my weight, unable to trust my feet anymore.

“Be prepared for that. It’s not for the faint of heart.” I can already tell just from the time we spent together, his heart is anything but faint. 

“So, when will I see you again?” I try my best not to look as eager to see him as I am. 

“That depends, when are you free?” He’s flirtatious, effortlessly so, but I do my best to match him.

“Almost always. Just come by when-” I was cut off by Leon’s phone ringing. I was a little surprised by it, but more than that I was taken aback by the complete drop in his expression. It felt like he already knew who it was before checking the caller I.D.. I motioned that I would walk out of earshot for him, and he smiled apologetically. I loitered around a bit down the street, sometimes looking at the grave expression he had on while he spoke. Somewhat instinctively, I knew what it was about. I remembered the way he faltered for a second when talking about work. It has to be about that. He’s special forces, after all. I think about movies I’ve seen and wonder if the real thing is the same or not. It’s probably much worse. At some point he beckoned me back over, quickly running his hand through his hair before he spoke. 

“I’m sorry, it’s- work. I might not be back for a while, so I guess I’ll have to trust you were serious about me being able to stop by whenever.” He tried to play it cool, but I could tell he was anxious. He probably had to leave soon. I won’t keep him any longer.

“Of course I was. I’ll see you when you’re back?” He will come back, right? I had a feeling of unexplainable uncertainty, the kind that happens right before something terrible occurs. 

“Yea.” He stops to look at the floor for a moment. “You’ll be the first person I see.” With that, he drove off at a worrying speed. I was left there, underneath that light post, all alone with my thoughts. And so, so many feelings.

I didn’t see him for a little over a week, though that week felt like months. I continued my typical routine, but with a bitter aftertaste in every activity. Courtesy of the time I used to waste sleeping, I finished the first few chapters of that book and turned them into my editor. She praised me for being ahead of schedule. I wondered what the schedule was for whatever he was doing. I accidentally fell asleep on the couch and woke up wondering if he had a decent place to sleep. I ate at that cafe again (and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again), wondering if he had a proper meal yet. I was most certainly having more feelings than necessary for someone I only knew for a day, but I couldn’t help it. They kept falling out like heather-scented sludge from a broken faucet. I knew that I would never be allowed to know what he was doing or where he was going, that’s something they wouldn’t even tell his wife, but it was the fact that I knew he was in a dangerous position. To say it messed with me would be a gross understatement (mess, like the mess on the floor from the water I spilled, I need to clean that up). I was so disconcerted, in fact, that I even started working on that painting for that mean old man, thinking maybe he felt a similarish way about his late wife. I painted with guilt and grief and longing and all the things I suddenly realized were prevalent in people. I am much too nescient, and now was the worst time to have realized such a thing.

I was just beginning to stir from a nap on the couch when I heard a ping from my phone. I languidly checked to see what message I got from my editor, probably. It was not my editor. It was Leon. I panicked for a moment, and before I even got the chance to properly read the message, he was calling me. 

“Hey, what’s your apartment number?”

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

[galemasters]

How Gunvolt lost its muse, literally and figuratively

So, if you're a Mega Man fan, you've probably at least heard of the Azure Striker: Gunvolt series, which is a spiritual successor to Mega Man Zero by the developer of those games, Inti Creates. The gameplay is fairly well-received, as a score attack focused side scroller with a speed running mode. The narrative, on the other hand, has often been decried as a rehash of Mega Man Zero, except replace "androids" with "psychics".

This take, I feel, is at least partly based on those who had played the game when it first come out and no longer cared about it, because if you had played the initial release you absolutely would have left with that impression. The thing is, that's because the original localization bastardized the whole thing. It was a very unfaithful translation which also cut out a lot of dialogue, namely the stage chatter and, most importantly, the slice of life snippets that could be accessed from the stage select menu. This meant that the primary theme of the game was lost.

In the original localization, the fact that you had to collect jewels for Joule in order to get the true ending seemed like a silly pun, but it's not just that. The game starts with Gunvolt rescuing and adopting her for a reason. She is the spiritual center of the game, not merely a gameplay mechanic to justify how Gunvolt can come back back to life powered up on defeat. Those slice of life snippets helped build up Gunvolt's relationship with Joule. The jewels you collected for her were used to create a necklace that blocked a bullet, allowing Joule to bring Gunvolt back when all seemed lost. This is because everything Gunvolt does is to protect Joule. She is his muse. The "humans vs. Adepts" plot is ultimately just a framework for this very relationship-focused narrative, which is quite different from Mega Man Zero. Zero had relationships, true, but the narrative was very much about the human-Reploid conflict and the role Zero played in it.

The sequel continued this. Joule is now just a ghost, and Gunvolt is hung up on this, but still inspired by her to keep pushing forward. Of course, the sequel also made Gunvolt's rival Copen playable. Copen actually has a muse of his own: his biological sister, Mytyl. In the ending, it's revealed that Mytyl was the original muse whose Joule's powers come from. Joule merges with her, so Gunvolt and Copen's final battle is over the Muse, as a singular entity. Regardless of who wins, they ultimately decide to let her have what she always wanted: a normal life. This devastates them, but it does mean that rather than Gunvolt or Copen getting a happy ending, the Muse does. This is because the Muse is the main character, not merely a damsel in distress to be stuffed in the fridge.

So, in that case, how do future games follow up on that? In Copen's case, his spinoff games are part of an alternate timeline. Additionally, the first spinoff game of his really is about the human-Adept conflict, and rightly so given that Copen's fatal flaw is his bigotry towards Adepts. For these reasons, I won't dwell on it. That said, they do manage to incorporate the idea of the Muse into the plot by revealing that Mytyl has been transformed into a monster, forcing Copen to put her down. The second spinoff takes place in an entirely different setting, weirdly enough, and has very little to do with the human-Adept conflict or the Muse.

As for the third mainline game, Gunvolt 2 ended on a cliffhanger. Gunvolt's mission control was revealed to have plans involving Mytyl. I was admittedly a little nervous about how they might follow up on that. Gunvolt 2 was effectively the end of the Muse's arc. Why take away their happy ending? So, I was hoping that Gunvolt 3 would find a way to make those plans not end Mytyl's normal life, or else do something different.

Gunvolt 3 actually did nothing with this cliffhanger. Instead, it's revealed at the beginning of the game that Gunvolt's powers spiraled out of control, causing him to almost kill the character that was set up as his future love interest in the previous game, Quinn. Out of fear, he turned himself into the evil mega corporation from the first game, Sumeragi Group, whose goal is to control Adepts, and was sealed away for several decades until his power grew to the point that a shrine maiden with purification powers was forced to step in. Now Gunvolt helps the shrine maiden purify other Adepts whose powers are driving them mad.

"Great!" You say. "That's something different!" Except... no, they actually just brought in a counterpart to the Maverick virus from the Mega Man franchise, the one thing from that series Gunvolt was lacking. Gunvolt's narrative actually became even more of a Mega Man rehash. The Muse technically returns as a sort of program that achieves sentience as a result of Gunvolt's influence, but here she plays almost no narrative role and is just there for the returning gameplay mechanic. Additionally, the bad guys have a muse, of sorts, but she's not really all that important, and instead just the MacGuffin that the bad guys are using to try and brainwash everyone like they wanted to with Joule in the first game.

In essence, while I would disagree that the first two games were just a Mega Man Zero rehash narratively, the third game is and it makes me sad.

[resolutepath]

three prompts from the “be honest” meme.

2. Are aesthetics important to you? If they are, why?

No, absolutely not. I make my icons from screencaps and MS Paint when I can be bothered. My borders are made on MS Paint. The higher quality stuff (promo, blog header) was generally all made by merlin and I can claim none of the credit, it is a wonderful friend to me. The only aesthetics I care about are a well organised tag system and blog directory. I want things that are easy to find, and easy to block for others. I'm pretty simple on the formatting too: small text, bold for speech, italics for thoughts / emphasis.

17. Have you ever sent a message to yourself on anon? Why?

Yes, once or twice in the past because I've accidentally deleted an ask I wanted to reply to with a click happy finger dksfhksdfh. Fortunately I remembered the sentence prompt it was so sent it to myself with a URL attached and then sighed at myself a lot. I've also sent myself inbox messages in the past to remind myself to write a hc I've been thinking about but those aren't on anon.

25. Are you open to duplicates? Why / why not?

For the most part, it is a resounding yes. Generally it's mostly because I have a ton of other muses and there's definitely someone I can throw your way. For example if you write Childe too, well I have multiple Harbingers I can bring off the roster. I also enjoy exploring connections from both perspectives, e.g. I write both Diluc and Kaeya and I enjoy writing with Dilucs and Kaeyas to drill down into that dynamic and see it from multiple sides so generally I'm quite happy to write with your version too. I also enjoy the nuance of interpretation and seeing what resonates with us about the same character. I'm always happy to come up with situations where our muses would feature in duplicate, be it the classic twin au, or using something from canon to put two of the same muse together e.g. Dan Heng & Dan Feng if someone wanted to explore or a past / future version, alternative timelines aka if we went back to that key moment and I did this instead of what you did this is what you'd have become lets chat kind of aus - easiest example is my Stellaron Hunter Gepard AU over on his blog. The only exception to this are characters like Elio and Diamond. Characters that come from mere scraps of information, and particularly with Elio, I've put my whole heart and soul into building up, joining the pieces, drawing on influences, working out where I stand. Because I've put so much into them and I just can't see them any other way. I ultimately will accept there's another way (canon) but for now I'd prefer not to interact someone else's version there.