#『 new faces show up // muse sample 』

[cpirits]

(( muse sample meme -- anon said: “And Who Are You?”

Send “And Who Are You?” and I will respond with either an under-used, unfamiliar, or otherwise brand new Muse.

Golden hair flowed like fresh wheat as he stood on the outlook across the water. His thick mane billowed behind him as the sky grew dark and lit up with lightning. Clouds heavy with rain soon broke and the sky fell with rain, soaking the heavenly being as he watched the ocean swell.

Blue eyes were as stormy as the waves as they lapped against where he stood, the lighthouse peaking behind him and waving its guiding light for any ships lost at sea. Enki was a holy creature, one that chose a ruler of his own destiny, driven to serve that being until death.

Lighting flashed and thunder roared and the boy was no longer there. A horse-like creature, with wheat colored mane and tail with stunning blue eyes rode the air above the choppy waters. A singular horn upon the creature’s head, he was that boy, but not really a boy.

The mythical Kirin, thought to live in the heavens ages ago, made to bring the world great wealth and prosperity to wherever they resided. Kicking off in the air as if on solid ground, the Kirin retreated into the darkness of the sky, only a flicker of tail to be seen before a clap of lightning swallowed him and disappeared.

[ ENKI of  JUNNI KOKKI ]

[kedsandtubesocks]

this high of you & me

Lucien De Leon x F!Reader

summary: Lucien De Leon is your weed dealer and you think that’s about it

warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI. dealer!Lucien AU, drug use and discussion, shotgunning, sweet giggly moments, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Lucien is older) reader and Lucien under the influence but he’s still a consent king, one use of ‘good girl,’ light making out

word count: 1.4k

a/n: I wrote this in a possessed fever after that clip & I know this might not reflect his personality once the movie comes out but I just had to I’m sorry, thank you to @lowlights & @tightjeansjavi for letting me scream about this and if you decide to read this - know I’m thanking you a million times

His house is an eclectic mess.

There’s a framed photo of Gustav Klmit’s ‘The Kiss’ beside a black light poster of a tiger. His awful leather black couch screams of a bachelor refusing to grow up.

“All I have to drink is bad tap water, ginger ale, or a mini grey goose sample.” Lucien yells from his kitchen.

“Uh, the ginger ale is fine.” You answer back.

This is the first time you’ve ever been alone with him.

Normally you’ve only experienced him with your best friend and his boyfriend. They’re the ones, through a friend of a friend, who introduced you to Lucien.

That’s how he became your dealer.

Now as you try to seem busy, you scan the book shelves in his living room.

There are many things that catch your eye -

The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo, a very abstract but suggestively sexual mini sculpture of two beings entangled in a type of wave like motion, a clear quartz crystal and a cute elephant figurine.

The man known as Lucien De Leon is no short close to a chaotic puff of smoke you think you’re never meant to catch.

Behind you, you hear him rearranging things on his coffee table.

“You gonna joint me, or not?”

His pun makes you snort.

On the glass coffee table sits your drink among a cluttered collection of things.

“You asked for the usual right?” He mutters preparing everything like someone out a check out counter.

“Yeah, but I can go after you give me the- ”

“No, no it’s all good.” He reassures quickly, cutting you off. “I got nothing planned and company is always nice.”

He packages up the weed in the typical baggies he uses. This time they're holographic blue, almost matching his charming but strange vibes in a strange way.

“What happened to the dragon ball z themed bags you had?” You ask jokingly.

“Ran out.” He pouts and you grin.

After separating and packing up everything, he moves to start grinding the weed. Then with a click on his remote his stereo flows to life.

Frank Ocean’s ‘Pink + White’ begins playing and illuminates the room.

Small talk comes. Lucien asks about how work is going, any new shows you’ve gotten into.

He’s charming, like a bizzare off highway tourist attraction you can’t seem to leave.

“No need to sit on the floor. Come on. Spots open right here.” Lucien grins patting the couch beside him.

“Your couch is a pain, hate how it sticks to me.” You reply with a scrunch up face.

“Maybe I want you to keep sticking to it?” He offers light and you roll your eyes.

Being a notorious flirt, you try not to fall under his sweet words spell.

You’re about to make a quip back until you see him yank out a fuzzy blanket and spread it across the couch.

“What a gentleman.” You dryly smirk and Lucien shrugs.

But you rise up to sit besides him, close but not comfortably so.

“How much extra is this gonna cost me hm?” You muse watching him pack the bowl.

“Don’t you know the old saying, pretty babes don’t pay?” Lucien remarks so effortlessly.

Your throat gets a bit dry and you’re thankful for the ginger ale wetting your lips.

The lovely glass pipe, swirled with so many unique colors like the silk button up shirts Lucien wears, is handed to you.

“You first.” Lucien grins.

He even lights it for you, a modern day chivalrous knight in his own fucked up unique way.

The first inhale is always a favorite of yours. The smoke fills you, tickles your senses. But you can’t help but cough a bit.

“That’s the good stuff, huh baby?”

The phrasing and how smug his voice purrs out is dangerous.

“It’s one of the new strands I’ve been wanting to try. S’called ‘girl scout cookie.’ Pretty sweet name huh? But kinda makes me wish I could eat some right about now, ya know.” Lucien rambles as you hand the pipe back to him.

You at least appreciate how talkative and alluring he is. Between passing the pipe back and forth to him, you’re pulled into discussions about aliens, music and then, YouTube videos.

“No,” you giggle. “You gotta see this one.”

“If it’s another sad cat video I’m gonna cry and kick you out.” He pouts and you’re overcome with the urge to lean forward and kiss the furrow in between his brows.

You can’t deny how handsome he is. Like, ridiculously so. You know he’s older but there’s a youthfulness to him that’s reassuring. Like his spirit will always stay free. But you know that also seems dangerous after hearing about the list of exes he had from your best friend’s friend.

So very cautiously you tread into this new territory, whatever it is.

You lean closer, hold your phone up and show him your favorite go to funny video.

You can’t even stop the giggles. You wanna blame the weed, but it’s so hard not to laugh even without it. You’re overcome with glee and lean against Lucien’s shoulder. His shoulders shake and you hear the most adorable twinkling giggle.

He’s laughing.

“See!” You urge. “Told you it’s funny!”

“It’s not that! It’s you! You’re making me laugh.” He wheezes out and your heart flutters.

“Then I’ll stop laughing so you can stop laughing and watch!” You reply back determined.

So pressing your lips together, you rewind the video. You and him stay silent. Or you try to. Your lips twitch so terrible wanting to break.

Then Lucien’s shoulders shake again. In seconds you’re both busting out laughing. Your poor phone is forgotten.

This time he howls with an infectious joy and you feel it in your gut, in your bones.

“You weren’t supposed to laugh!” You chide him through the giggles.

“You weren’t either!” He cackles.

You realize you’re practically draped against him, and Lucien even fully leans back into you.

The smoke, the drug, coats everything in a smokey soft haze and with the high creeping its way into your mind, a molteness seeps into you

Lucien smells so good too, clean, cozy, but also like a cologne you wish you could pinpoint.

“Thanks, it’s dolce and gabbana.” Lucien replies.

Your face ignites in flames realizing you must have spoken your thoughts out loud.

You’re about to scramble out from this mess when you peer up and find Lucien staring. His earth soil eyes, softly dusted with a rosy color, hazily watch you.

“Y’smell good too.” He mumbles back.

“Thanks, it’s my fabric softener.” You tell him.

Lucien busts out laughing, a bright firework of a thing and you once again get caught up in how wildly warm he is.

Shaking his head he shifts to grab the pipe.

But his hand slides to rest against your thigh, like it’s a small way of saying don’t move, don’t leave.

And you don’t.

“You wanna try something fun?” He offers.

“Sure.” You don’t know what you might have just agreed too.

Lucien maneuvers, slides his large warm hand to your face and your heart stops. He tilts your head towards him and his thumb softly rubs against you.

“You trust me?”

The soft lull of Frank Ocean continues playing in the background softening this world around you.

You don’t even know if this man has a middle name or not, but you know him enough, or mainly, find yourself wanting to melt more into him.

So you nod quietly.

“Good girl, just keep your mouth open.”

That line takes your breath away.

You have an idea of what’s coming, but even with that, you crumble.

Lucien inhales from the pipe, filling his mouth with smoke. In a blur he moves. It’s like you blink and he’s all around you.

His hand on your face, his body pressed up flush against you and then, his face slowly moving towards you.

With his lips open, he breathes the smoke into your waiting mouth and your eyes shut in bliss. His lips graze against yours, a tease.

You inhale on instinct. Yet your hands move on their own, possessed, to run against his warm broad chest.

Once the smoke is in your mouth and you hold it in, allowing this mixture of the smoke and him to consume you. You also don’t miss the way Lucien himself breathes out.

Then before you can close your mouth, he lets his tongue gently swipe at your top lip, a kitten-like lick.

But it’s divine.

When a soft whine escapes you, Lucien effortlessly dives in to kiss you, cradling your face and steals your breath away again.

Making out with your dealer could probably be one of the dumbest decisions ever. But he’s a unique high of his own, one making you so dizzy, but you think you don't want it to end just yet.

So you melt into this smoke and into him.

And it’s otherworldly bliss.

[klausinamarink]

Oop let's try this again; for the birthday fics: “Because you’re a jinx!” angsty Steddie established relationship, chasing fame Eddie and some guy Steve who gets discovered while Eddie's band keeps being passed over? Platonic hellcheer and platonic Stobin.

I couldn’t find a way to put in the platonic ships but it’s still Steddie. Enjoy the angsty flavour electric boogaloo.

It was supposed to be Eddie’s lucky day.

This was supposed to be his time. The moment when the rich suits would look at Eddie and immediately offer him the contract that finally pushed his music to fame.

But it was just another fucking mediocre performance. Only a few people out of the dozens in the crowd cheered, but that was worse than getting no response at all. Nobody even went up to them for an autograph, their numbers, Instagram handles, music samples, anything that would’ve made the night worth it.

Eddie stayed silent and seething for the whole drive home. The rest of the band left on their own respective vehicles, though Jeff had lingered longer to say something that Eddie mentally filtered out. Probably some shitty encouragement or a call to quit. 

His hands tightened around the wheel. Eddie felt the pulsing headache crawl to the back of his eyes. Goddamnit, he needed to sleep.

Maybe in Steve’s arms, but for once, Eddie just wanted to be alone for tonight. 

After he parked the car and trudged the stairs back to his apartment, Eddie bit his lip until he tasted the sting of copper. 

He was so tired. Not just physically, but in very foul shape that took its claws into him. It was the apathetic crowds and uninterested advisors. How the rest of the band delayed practice more and more. The bland methodical act of cutting up another piece of his shrinking soul as a muse for his lyrics. 

But still. He was close to that single star of recognition. Eddie had to taste it.

Unlocking the door, Eddie kept himself from collapsing until he dropped his guitar case and landed face-first on the couch. 

In the bedroom, he could catch some muffled conversation, the floor creaking as Steve paced back and forth inside. 

Eddie frowned and checked his phone for any missed messages. Steve hadn’t texted him since five,  soon after Eddie had left for the worst night of his life. It was almost eleven now. So why was his boyfriend still up and talking to someone?

Before Eddie could try and get up, the door opened and Steve came out, his phone in hand. Steve glanced up and stopped in his tracks when he saw Eddie. He gave a bright smile.

“Hey, babe! You okay?” 

Eddie groaned. If he had the energy, he could scream into the pillows.

The floor creaked as Steve approached and gently laid a hand on his back. “Was the band okay?”

Eddie groaned again, unable to hold himself back from pressing against Steve’s hand. He could really use a fucking massage. Or some quick, stress-relief sex. “It’s fucking awful. It’s always fucking awful.”

Steve made a sympathetic noise, “I’m sorry to hear that, Eds.”

Eddie lifted his head up and peered at Steve. Despite his words, there was an odd light in Steve’s eyes and his lips were fighting desperately not to smile.

“What is it?” He asked.

Steve had the nerve to look spooked, “Uh, well, I don’t want to ruin your mood-”

“What is it?”

Steve stared at him for a moment before he sighed like it was the start of a serious discussion.

“You know that audition I did back in Chicago two weeks ago?” Steve bit his lip. It only revealed the cracks of excitement on his face and Eddie already knew what he was about to say. “Well, my agent called and said that I’m officially casted. I’m gonna be in a HBO show!”

Record scratch.

Eddie only stared at Steve as the news hit him with the speed of a truck. When he saw Steve’s smile in full glory, he only saw blank faces who spat at him with rejection and disappointment and ‘try better’s. 

How the fuck does Steve get so many gigs when Eddie could barely find an open venue in advance? And now he’s going to work for fucking HBO, Jesus Christ-

Steve was frowning at him, “You- are you not happy?”

“Of course, I am!” Eddie said quickly. It felt hard to speak when there was something now stuck and burning in his throat. He got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen. He needed a drink. Maybe not alcohol, though tempting. But some actual water but he was too exhausted and sober for this shit. 

“I’m always here to support my wonderful and talented boyfriend who never misses an audition. Who always gets a spot in whatever he plays in, even if it’s a fucking diaper commercial or a glorified extra who gets five more cents than his less impressive boyfriend.” 

As he spoke, his words became more tinted with venom. Eddie took an empty glass and filled it under the tap. He almost choked from gulping it down in one go. It cooled his throat, but the burning simply expanded through his veins.

“Okay, you’re mad.” Steve said slowly, now behind him.

Eddie laughed bitterly, “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. They taught you that in acting class or was it a trick from your last ex?”

“Jesus, okay, Eddie.” Steve put his hands on Eddie’s shoulders but Eddie shook him off with more force than necessary. “You’re obviously in a bad mood and my news isn’t making it better, but you did ask and-”

Eddie whirled around. He was seeing red at the corners of his vision. “And now it’s my fault?!”

Steve backed away, his hands up in a plea of surrender. His face pinched with concern and hurt. “Eddie, let’s, let’s just go to bed. Take a shower-”

“Stop treating me like I’m a child!” 

“Fuck, even a child would tell me what’s making them this upset!”

“You wanna know why I’m so upset? Huh?” Eddie smacked a hand against Steve’s chest, pushing his boyfriend away. “Take a guess with your ‘subtlety’ talents and maybe you can fucking figure it out.”

“No, I- Eds, baby-” Steve stopped to take a breath. He looked back at Eddie with more firmness, but he saw the way Steve’s ego was crumbling in his eyes. “Can you please just tell me why are you acting like this? Was it because I did something or-?”

Eddie’s anger flared. It touched the back of his mouth so he spat it all out like a dragon. “Oh, everything you do with your squeaky clean and easy career is the reason why I’m pissed at you. You get all of these stupid roles to play some stupid character Twitter would make discourse for while I have spent the last three years trying to find someone who’s willing to listen to my band play in a goddamn studio! But I keep missing these opportunities for some reason that I’m starting to think that we’re cursed or shit.”

“Eds, it can’t-”

“And don’t you say you know how it feels like because you never knew how to fucking fail, Stevie! Everything you do is just rich executives giving you silver platters. I bet they all want that Harrington blowjob.”

Steve gasped softly and shook his head. He now had his arms around himself like it would protect him. “That’s not true- Why are you even saying these things to me?!”

“Because you’re a jinx! Because you’re Steve Harrington and I hate your dumb luck!”

Eddie’s words echoed across the apartment as he breathed heavily. He wouldn’t be surprised if it went out the windows and into the streets. 

Steve held an unbelievably idiotic expression. Mouth half-open, a slack jaw, glossy eyes that just stared at Eddie without any more light shining in them.

Finally, he spoke so quietly that Eddie had to strain to hear, “Okayâ€�� I’m going to Robin’s.”

With that, Steve hurried out, having some decency to not slam the door.

And then it was just Eddie, alone in the kitchen with the nasty thoughts and words that would soon bite back at him.

[waitmyturtles]

THE MORNING AFTER: ONLY FRIENDS, EPISODE 4 (“UHHH, IF I FEEL SOMETHING, DOES IT MEAN I HAVE FEELINGS, WOMP?”) EDITION

That’s how I felt after watching yesterday’s episode. I have NO BUSINESS writing meta in my current life-mental state, but I NEED to get a few words down. Just some list-y thoughts.

Shit’s starting to gel for me. The cast seems like they’ve warmed up to each other by way of actor-ly chemistry. (I know scenes are never shot in order, but there was maybe a little stiffness I felt at the start of the series? At this point, it might just be Lookjun carrying that, but I also don’t think she does “drunk” as well as the others.)

Such good meta that sustained me during my packing yesterday. @ranchthoughts on an ephemerality BREAKDOWN. @respectthepetty Senpai on sluts slutting — and HOW WE AUTOMATICALLY JUDGE AND LABEL SLUTS FOR SLUTTING (more on this in a BIT — go OFF, RTP Senpai). And @slayerkitty on nailing the narrative frameworks, which really struck me this episode, and this goes back to ephemerality again. Can’t believe I’m gonna meta, but let’s boogie, ‘cause I gotta.

@ranchthoughts — Ranch, I’m probably going to repeat some of what you wrote, so please forgive my stress-addled brain. I just lost it at Khaotung this episode, I thought he was just OVERFLOWING with BEST-NESS this episode — and the way we lived with Ray in his past in this episode. It was another play on time. And I love that @slayerkitty nailed that it was the flashbacks that were doing the talking this episode — because especially for Ray, the past is doing HIS talking. His mother didn’t love him in his past. Therefore, because of his past, he is unlovable in his present. (Interrrrgenerationalllll traumaaaa — the past affects your present. The opposite of ephemerality. That shit’ll STICK with you UNTIL you decide to face it head-on, like our beloved PatPran.)

Ooooh, baby. Gosh. The combination of the use of flashbacks, with Ray living in his past, only listening to music his parents listened to. And Sand — falling for Ray! — is holding Ray’s hand and bringing him to the present and the new. Sand’s a figure of change. Ray keeps toeing BACK to the past, to his memories, to his “love” for Mew, and Sand’s like, let me hold you down. (Ray going back and forth — like relapsing.) Ray STILL flashing back to Mew, holding that pendant (THAT LOOKS AN AWFUL LIKE AN ECLIPSE SYMBOL, AMIRITE AMIRITE) — and flashes again back and forward to the record store, where Sand found Ray’s hand.

What will Ray need for Sand to do to pull Ray even closer to the real-time present? How will Sand help Ray face his trauma? Will Sand really hold Ray down?

I am a big believer in the ships sinking, but goddamnit, First and Khao ATE this episode. GAAAHHHH.

Just musing: If Jojo and team started out this series having us think on ephemerality, the general lack of accountability, and the disappearance of time — are we entering the next act of the series where the characters grapple with the impacts of their pasts? That if you’re engaged emotionally and/or sexually with others, that not being accountable for your past and present is NOT an option? (That’s a kind of frame that speaks very closely to Jojo’s devotion to messages of sexual health in his past shows — especially regarding Nat in Gay OK Bangkok, who was HIV positive.)

Also musing: I saw some posts on my dash grappling with Top and Ray using coke. Drug use is obviously common on the partying circuit — their using coke doesn’t surprise me, especially considering that Top and Ray were both shown also being familiar with pills earlier. But I will note that the entire SE Asian region prosecutes the drug trade quite harshly, so to be honest, I was surprised to see Top actually snorting (but not surprised that that would be in a Jojo show). (Some passing links: when I Googled “drug use in Thailand,” this study shows that of a sample of vocational students in Thailand, LGBTQ+ students were more likely to use three or more drugs than heterosexual students, plus more findings. And this article briefly reviews the history of drug prosecution in Thailand.)

Also musing: really loved how Top’s demeanor was SO different with Nick and Sand. Maybe this indicates how much he’s “controlling” himself around Mew (@ranchthoughts , beep beep, control). Especially when Nick was talking with Top — it seemed like Top had been approached for money like this before. And the way he was so forward with Sand, confident to tell Sand that Sand wasn’t up for keeping Boeing — that was a totally different Top than who we see with Mew.

Okay, penultimate point. @respectthepetty says: sluts gonna slut. @bengiyo says: dudes gonna dude.

Cheum calls Boston a ho. Top says Boston is nasty. Nick calls himself nasty. Nick is Boston’s “favorite.” Jojo challenges the viewer to think that Top was gonna sleep with Beam, as RTP Senpai writes. Top’s already slept with Boston while dating Mew. On and on and on.

I wrote in my review of Theory of Love that I related to Khai, and now I relate somewhat to Top by the way that some of the viewership has judged Top. I was VERY often called the slut/ho of my friend groups in my younger years. OFTEN. And this was while I was in my twenties, exploring myself, my boundaries, my sexuality, all of it.

I relate to the struggle of trying to shed labels. Ray is a “burden.” Boston is “nasty.” Mew wants the truth from Top as to if Top has been with anyone else while they were dating. Therefore — Mew is assuming that Top IS sleeping with other people.

Call these people by their labels, and they’ll start believing them. It’s just another kind of trauma, similar to intergenerational trauma.

I wrote in my Theory of Love piece that as a global society — humans don’t really believe that our fellow humans can CHANGE. We don’t accept change well. (Cancel culture rarely allows for someone to be uncancelled — right?) If someone takes on a label — we tend to believe that label, and we have a hard time believing that someone has SHED that label after time. If Ray was called a burden by his mother — what work will it take for Ray to shed that label? And same for our sexually active guys, too.

Think about how you talk about your friends to others. Think about if you use labels to talk about them. Think about how old those labels are, and if they’re accurate in the present. And. Think about how you judge others by their pasts. (“Remember when so-and-so was sleeping around?”) Think about whether or not you use the past to judge and/or justify your FEELINGS about someone.

Now, I don’t even KNOW if these guys WANT to change these paradigms. We get the SLIGHTEST hint that maybe Boston wants to do so with Nick in next week’s preview.

But. I just fucking love that Jojo is playing around with this. If someone is HIV positive — that’s a label, a stigma. If someone is a ho — that’s a label, a stigma.

These dudes are burdened by what everyone else is thinking and saying about them.

And we have Sand, on the other hand, processing his feelings with Nick. We have Nick acting like a damn BASKETCASE, but at least he admitted the wiretapping to Sand (??? lol honey but you gotta stop this now, nervous giggles, put Boston’s phone down). We didn’t see Yo in this episode, but we know Yo believes in accountability.

There’s something about the Ray-Mew-Cheum-Boston friend group that allows things to both slide and fester. We’ll get ever more clarity in the following episodes on this, but — these young folks are having ish dealing with their labels, the labels of their pasts, and what are they gonna do in their presents and futures to deal with changing themselves?

FINALLY, and then I’m done rambling. Is that supposed to be a penis, or something penis-like?!

(What’s good, Ephemerality Squad? Wish me luck with moving today! @slayerkitty @ranchthoughts @lurkingshan @neuroticbookworm @clara-maybe-ontheroad @twig-tea @distant-screaming @chickenstrangers)

[catgirlshauna]

holy shit guys really proud of this one hope yall enjoy 😠🗣️

warnings: smut, bad jokes, gp!reneé

words: 2100

being a composer of music was hard, especially when you composed for artists who aren't exactly huge yet. you believe in them the most, though, they're your favorite kind of people to work with. humble, kind, just trying to get to stardom. but your new client had been kept a secret from you by your managers. why? you have no idea. what could possibly freak you out so bad that they had to hide it?

fucking reneé rapp. thee regina george, which was debatable, but you don't care. she is your favorite. yours. her voice is beautiful, her face is beautiful, her personality is by far the best you've seen. she is like finding gold in a pan of gravel, diamonds amongst coal.

today is the day you meet her. you're nervous, you've applied three layers of deodorant with a nice unisex cologne to cover it up. your heart is absolutely pounding, your chest thumping to the beat of the song they sent you samples of. you sit in your studio, which happens to be in your apartment, a luxury you could afford thanks to people like reneé, and wait patiently for her to arrive.

the knock at your door is done to the tune of jingle bells, which did in fact shock you into freezing. it's june? you snort and move to open the door, revealing the happy-go-lucky blonde bouncing on her feet. adhd. or anxiety. you could relate.

“please, come in.” you step to the side, welcoming her into your apartment. she steps in, hands intertwined behind her back as she closely examines the art and posters on your walls.

“beyoncé?” reneé grins, looking over at you for a moment.

“of course.” you reply quickly, hopelessly begging her with your eyes to follow you to your studio. she just smiles, shaking her head and whispering ‘not yet’.

“i like your place.” she muses, picking up books and reading the covers out loud to herself. “like your uh, books, too..” she adds, adjusting the glasses on her nose that look just a little too dirty to actually see out of.

“um, miss rapp?”

“yeah?” you have her full attention now. horrifying.

“can we go to the studio now…? i'd like to show you some lyrics i thought of the other day.” you try not to sound too… pushy? if you did, reneé does not notice, and nods eagerly as she follows you into the closet-like room. ah. you never said your studio was big. you cramp into your chair, gesturing for her to sit as well.

“kinda romantic in here… is that the point?” reneé wiggles her eyebrows under her glasses. you sputter, grabbing the remote and changing the color to a calm blue. reneé pouts. “don't wanna feel romantic with me?”

“not really. anyway, please read.” you push the pages of heavily edited lyrics into her hands. she sighs, adjusting her glasses once again and reading your papers. you hope to god she likes them, because? you don't have an option b. you weren't given enough time, enough warning, that you'd be working with one of your favorite artists in the world.

she ‘mhm’s’ a couple times, puts the papers down, and grins this million dollar smile at you.

“i love it. i knew my people chose you for a reason.” she beams, placing her hand over yours, her thumb rubbing over the skin of your knuckles. “great job, baby.”

the second time you see reneé is unexpected, rather surprising, and had you throwing your phone at the wall with a scream. on your screen appears a picture of reneé, with very little clothes on. the lingerie hugged her curves like rivers hug canyons, the way her tits pushed up just perfectly in her lacey bra, her puffy nipples perked and played with in one hand, and the thong, that left nothing to the imagination.

you wanted to scream again, but you were pretty sure you just woke up your neighbors. the message that popped up after makes you nearly pass out.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: oopsy

you put your phone down, eyes wide and fingers pinched at your nose.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: that was 4 angourie sorry, needed her professional opinion on my nudes LMAO

you put your fucking phone down again, and hid it under a pillow this time. your hands shook, and your stomach was buzzing in excitement. were you about to masturbate? to that? the definite answer was yes, and it was the best orgasm potentially ever.

the third time you see reneé, you're sat next to each other at a big round table, her managers on the other side. it's a business meeting, a very official one, that has you so stressed out you can't seem to sit still. and reneé, being reneé, notices almost immediately. the way your leg bounces underneath the table, the way you pick at the skin of your fingers. she notices it all. and she takes initiative, grabbing your hand into her own and intertwining your fingers. she rubs her thumb over your knuckles, soft, soothing circles that have you relaxing into your chair. she leans over to whisper, “relax, baby. i'm right here.” i'm right here. you flush, your heart racing in your chest.

one thing you love about reneé is how soft she is behind closed doors, how caring and quiet she can be. you find yourself falling deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole of your own thoughts… does she like me? you think as she stares into your eyes, completely ignoring the very important men talking to her. the blue of her eyes, reminiscent of the polar ice caps, makes you shiver in your seat. they're so soft, so kind, that you couldn't imagine looking anywhere else.

that is until… one of your bosses clears his throat. “the meeting is over. did you pick up anything of importance?” he smiles knowingly, the holding of hands seems to not have gone unnoticed.

“yeah. yeah… i've picked up a lot of things.” you clear your throat, letting go of reneé’s hand and standing quite abruptly. “i gotta go but um… this was really insightful.” you give reneé what you hope is a beaming smile, before walking out of the room with a skip in your step. not only were you excited to hit your dab pen, you were excited that reneé seems to feel for you what you might feel for her!

the fifth time you meet reneé… well, she's drunk, on the phone, begging to come over. who are you to say no? of course you were going to say yes! what idiot wouldn't want reneé rapp drunk in their apartment?

she shows up at your door with a crooked grin, pushing her way in as you quickly shut the door behind her.

“haven't been here in a while… anything change while mama was gone?” reneé giggles, kicking off her heels and draping her body over your entire couch. you scoot her over, gently, and sit next to her.

“nah. i know unfamiliar things stress you out.” you say, a soft smile on your face as you stare down at her. she reaches her hand out to touch your face, caressing your cheek with her thumb.

“why do you care so much?” reneé asks suddenly, her eyes wide. her pupils are blown wide, whether it be from the alcohol or the loving stare she usually gives you, you couldn’t tell.

“cause i like you.” you say quietly, placing your hand over her own. she lets out a huff, a breath of surprise, and lets her hand tremble against your face.

“you like me?”

“more than anything.”

it's been a month since you and reneé started dating, and she's been getting extremely handsy as of late. saying sweetly dirty things over the phone while she's away for her tour, her hand settling right on your thigh with the lightest of squeezes to remind you she's there.

you two haven't gone beyond making out and palming at each other, but reneé has made it very clear that she wants more. which is why… well, she's set up a date at her apartment in LA. she promises it's going to be so romantic and perfect, then asks you to open the gift she left on her bed. the lingerie set she was wearing in that picture. in pink.

you nearly pass out when she texts you.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: wear it for me… please, baby?

you don't question it, not at all, and immediately find yourself putting it on. it's tight, hugging your curves, making you look as beautiful as it made her.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: is it on

you set yourself up in front of her full body mirror, sitting on your knees with your legs spread to reveal the parts of your body you know reneé likes best. the picture is sent, and not more than five seconds later she's typing already.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: let me in, baby, i'm outside :(

you run to the door, nearly slipping in your socks on the hardwood floors of your apartment. as soon as the lock is unlocked, the door is pushed open. standing on the other side? reneé, slowly squaring up to you, pressing her chest against your shoulder.

“you look… fucking amazing.” she breathes, embracing you softly. her lips graze the skin of your throat, and you find yourself tilting your head so she can get a better taste. “are you.. ready?” reneé whispers into your neck, inching her kisses towards your ear. she's breathing heavily, nearly panting because of how worked up she is.

you gently remove yourself from her body for a moment, a shy smile on your face. “can i..?” referring to her clothes, which reneé forgot existed for a moment. she quickly rids herself of her sweatpants and sweater, but now that she's in her panties? she makes it a goddamn show. she hooks her fingers into her panties and pullssss them down, revealing her aching dick.

you know you've soaked through your pretty panties already, but you don't care.

“can i put it in?” reneé pants, grinding her cock against your thigh as she pushes you down onto the bed, climbing over the top of you and straddling your hips. you can't speak, you can only blush and whimper out a yes.

reneé positions herself in front of your aching hole, pushing your panties to the side. she’s plunging in slow, her hips stuttering slightly at how tight and wet you are for her. she's had plenty of dates before, ones that ended in mind blowing sex, but for some reason she knew… this was going to be different.

she takes the lace off of your chest, revealing neglected nipples that begged for her full attention. reneé revels in the feeling of eye contact, so brushes her nose against yours, silently asking you to look her in the eyes. you flush, yet your eyes are opening to stare back into hers. she smiles, sickly sweet, before taking one of your nipples into her mouth. her tongue licks at you lazily, and soon her hips start to move again. she fucks you low and slow, like ribs at the barbecues she'd attend with her parents in north carolina.

“you don't mind if i bite, do you, baby?” reneé purrs, digging her teeth into the flesh by your nipple. you arch your chest forward into her mouth, while simultaneously arching your back to get her deeper inside of you.

she quickens her thrusts, her hands gripping at your hips to pull you into her cock. reneé bites her lip to stop from moaning, letting out a whimper. “can i cum in you, sweet thing?” she asks, her voice husky as she whispers it into your ear. you squirm in her grasp for a moment.

“never.. been cum in before.” you mutter, looking off to the side in embarrassment. reneé smiles, oh so sweetly, before pressing you into a more provocative position. a mating press. she whispers a soft ‘fuck’ and speeds up her thrusts.

“please let me cum in you, baby…” she begs, staring into your eyes pleadingly, almost like a lost puppy. you bite your lip and nod, then gasp as she fucks you harder, snapping her hips into yours. “feel so fuckin’ good, so good for me…” reneé nearly growls, her hips stuttering as she plunges herself as deep as she’ll go. you feel all the air leave your lungs as her cum fills you, and can barely recover before she's taking you into a deep kiss. “i can't wait to do this again, sweetheart.”

[lollipencil]

In The Pale Moonlight: What If....Blood Moon Sons?

A while ago, I read The "Only" Blood Son, then I suddenly remembered it and went "You know what would be interesting?" so, @harleyification, let's hope I'm right.

Enjoy and be gentle ---

They all stared blankly at the Bat-Computer. At the impossibility it showed.

"It's not correct," Marc stated in Steven's utter shock, "It can't be." "Si, run it again, Steven," Jake urged quickly. Wordlessly, without his eyes moving off the screen, Steven did as he was told. And kept rerunning it.

It was at the end of the thirty second test that someone finally came down.

"Boys?" Bruce's gentle voice drifted from behind. "How...?" Steven couldn't finish, just sagged in his chair and breathed deeply. "How what? What's wrong?" Steven couldn't even speak, just pointed at the batcomputer.

The hiss of Bruce's gasp echoed through the cave. "I don't understand," his voice wavered, but it never did that, "I've never been to Chicago. There is no way this could have happened." After that, the next thing they knew was when Alfred was gently pressing a hot chocolate into their hands. "I believe that I might know what's happened," he admitted once Marc had taken a large gulp, "Although, Commisioner Gordon will know more details."

---

Jim Gordon looked at the paper in his hands with a haunted expression. He opened his mouth, only to close it and sigh through his nose heavily. Finally, he looked up at the two men seated in front of him. "Mr Wayne, have you ever heard of the Purestone clinic?" he rasped quietly.

"Vaguely, it was sometime ago," Bruce shuffled awkwardly in place, "I only recently remembered because Alfred kept a record." "It was run by the Rollins family. Apparently, they had the bright idea of-" Commisioner Gordon paused, glancing at the exhaustion on Marc's face briefly, "they thought that not enough of Gotham's elite were having kids. So, they made the clinic, made it attractive to wealthy clientele, and planned to send out the collected samples to other cities. Men from their family would monitor all who used the samples 'provided' and, one day, reveal them and hold them for ransom."

Jim only just avoided flinching at the sheer fury that radiated from Bruce. "They were going to breed hostages," he stated, each word layered with faux-calm. "Yes. We'd thought that they'd been taken down before any samples were sent out, but, I guess... Mr Spector-Wayne?"

Marc blinked as if startled for a moment: "Yeah?" "I understand that you've heard this countless times, but I have to ask. Can you recall anything new about how you ended up in Gotham?" He sighed, "No, it's still the same. I'm in my bedroom, then in the alleyway."

Jim nodded and opened an email: "Admittedly both cases are likely going to be reopened, given this new evidence linking them." "Should we do a press conference?" Marc suddenly asked. "Might be best," Bruce mused outloud, "this will likely become public knowledge no matter what we do. At least, we can reveal it on our terms."

Jim just nodded as he finished up his email. "Are you ok if the GCPD also attend? The public will likely demand all the details, not to mention the news outlets." "Yes, that would be ideal. I'll have my team contact you. Thank you for your time." "Of cource, and, um," Jim hesitated as Bruce and Marc pause at the door to his office, "congratulations, I guess?"

A bit of warmth grew in their eyes as Bruce silently nodded in thanks. As the door closed, Jim sighed again.

Time to get to work.

[coal15]

I know I'm being super extra about promoting this Good Omens fic, but I'M JUST SO FUCKING PROUD OF IT! I mean, I don't dislike any of my published fic otherwise I wouldn't have published it--but it's like I have a more sentimental attachment to this one. It reminds me of back in the day when I was writing Protected (queliot/the magicians fix-it fic). I have so many feelings about that one. Anyhow, here's yet another sample from All Roads Lead Back because apparently I've turned into that obnoxious mama who needs to show everyone A MILLION PICTURES of their new baby. I apologize. But also, no I don't.

*************************************

Crowley had spent the entire drive back to London swearing to himself (and the Bentley) that he would just find a decent flat, settle in, and get on with the unavoidable task of getting over Aziraphale. But now here he is. Stood on a street corner glaring at the signage above the bookshop door, resenting every letter as if they also betrayed him. Vicious vowels and conniving consonants.

“Come onnnnnn you git,” he mutters to himself. “Just get back in the car and drive away.”

After a few moments’ waffling he does take his own advice, but no matter which street he turns down they all land him back at the bookshop. Like that whole magic-y business with the Buddy Holly records. 

Is this seriously happening?

Over and over again he tries. On the final effort he drives a full hundred miles out of London before making any full turns. Finally, he attempts a sharp left.

“And HERE WE ARE AGAIN!” He screams, furious as the Bentley emerges onto the street outside the bookshop. “WHY WON’T YOU LET ME LEAVE?!?” He parallel parks and sits motionless, grumbling various complaints and obscenities under his breath. A well and truly pissed off Demon. 

Is it the Bentley not letting me leave or is it the shop pulling me back? He wonders. And either way, WHY? It takes a full forty three minutes for him to calm down and accept the situation, but as soon as he does something strange happens. A feeling of optimism creeps in on tiptoe. He tries to swat it away, but it’s a stubborn bugger. Gets all the way under his skin and clings tight.  

“Six thousand years. Hell of a long time.” he muses. “And he and I always . . . we’ve always . . .”

While Crowley sits blathering away to an entirely disinterested vehicle, Muriel is sat in the shop just finishing a book about a boy who never wants to grow up. He only wants to remain happy and innocent forever. They find it a charming tale. Now, no one would claim Muriel to be among sharpest of tools in Heaven’s shed, but they are the nicest. A darling little thing with good intention, but very little grasp on the ins and outs of, well . . . anything. 

“Were you meant to return?” They yelp, startled when Crowley comes bursting through the door easy as you please. “I thought I was meant to mind the shop alone, was I supposed to have a room prepared in case you came back?” 

“No and no.” Crowley grunts, shuffling and struggling to see around the large potted plant he’s carrying. He hefts it up on the nearest available counter space, then spins on his heel to face Muriel. “Been driving all over this stupid little island for weeks, intended to use the time to get my head right, but d’y’know what I did instead? Went round visiting all the spots where Aziraphalel and I spent time together and making myself incredibly sad. But then-” he exits the shop to fetch another plant from the car and upon return continues the narration exactly where he left off. “-I realised that in six thousand years no matter how bad our falling out-and we’ve had our share-neither of us has ever abandoned the other for terribly long, even when we absolutely intended to. Which means,” he plunks himself down in a chair and swings his feet up on the nearby desk with a confident grin, “this whole quasi-divorce situation isn’t nearly as bad as it seems, is it? A waiting game, that’s all it is. Plain and simple. Aziraphale may be an idealist but he’s not stupid. At some point he will have to admit Heaven was never intended to function the way he wants to believe it was, all holy and righteous.”

“It-it wasn’t?”

“Nope.” Crowley shakes his head. “Anyhow, next step is he tries to deny it, then fails, then gets upset, then comes to his senses and comes back to me-to earth.” He quickly tacks on in a vain effort to disguise how badly he longs for the Angel’s return. “And he’ll come dashing right back here to this bookshop straight away.”

“Will he?” Muriel finds Crowley's certainty fascinating. 

“Of course. And I fully intend to be here to make him do the ‘I Was Wrong’ dance the instant he does. Actually, I think I might make him do it over and over again for several days.” He gazes into the middle distance, visualising the absurd scene. “Yes. Decision made. He gives me several days of the dance on a loop or else I’ll ignore him completely.”

“I suppose that is one way to go about getting an apology. But, um, is there a particular reason you think Aziraphale will return to this bookshop? ” They cast their eyes around the room. “With all the lovely places on earth, what makes you so sure he wants to be here?

A cheeky grin slides onto the Demon’s lips. “I have . . . faith.” 

Muriel’s eyebrows furrow. “Faith?”  

“Yes, faith.” Crowley hops out of the chair and goes in search of a nice bottle of wine with which to toast his evolving outlook on things. “Blind faith for the first time ever, because in the long run he and I are incapable of letting eachother down. Always have been. Ha! Yes, here we are!” He exclaims upon finding a bottle of Old Vine Mourvedre stashed on a shelf beneath a dusty countertop. “You ever had wine, Muriel? Care to join me for a glass?” 

Muriel squirms and shifts on their feet, the very image of timidity. “Oh, well I, I suppose so,” they giggle, stepping forward to accept a glass. “I like trying new things.” 

“Good on you!” Crowley cheers. “Anyhow, even if it takes a century or five, or twelve, my ridiculous Angel-and he’s being especially ridiculous right now-will come back. And as for how I know it’s here he’ll return to? Simple. Emotional attachment. He likes ease, cosiness, and familiar things. Loves every book in this place, loves me whether he wants to admit it or not, and not only does this place have all the books, it’s the last place he and I were together.” 

“Ah.” Muriel nods. “I see.” 

Crowley grins and draws a deep, soothing breath. “All I have to do is be patient, stay put, and wait for the inevitable.” He takes a generous swig of wine straight from the bottle before pouring himself a proper glass. “I might need to keep a gentle buzz going in the meantime so all the waiting around doesn’t annoy me too much.” He downs the glass and pours another. “But it is a price I am willing to pay.” This second glass he holds aloft to clink against Muriel’s. “You, you clink it Muriel, it’s called toast. Clink the glass. Clink-here, like this.” He gently taps his glass against the befuddled Angel’s.

“Oh yes, I see,” they smile, then smash their glass against Crowley’s, shattering both to bits.

“We’ll work on it.” Crowley assures, carefully brushing wine and shards of glass off his hands. This is going to be like training a puppy, isn’t it? Never particularly wanted a puppy, but here we are.  

[khalixvitae]

sorry to hear your shift was shit!! arghghg we all toil under the goochie grip of capitalism. i had an idea about rook and vil but it's in the book 6 settings and though it's not really relevant to the plot nor is it spoiler heavy, the initiation of the scenario does involve some context from the book and i dont know if you'd mind mild spoilers!! not to mention the og thought leans into nitty gritty smutty territory lmfao lols.... all rook stans are vil stans by proxy and both these blonds whisper terrible thoughts into my head every nite... other thoughts vil and rook using you as a lipstick sample tester with their new array of colours; can't have their colour looking less than flattering on you when they kiss you, right? vil will gracefully leave a peck on your lips, on your cheek, on your forehead, on your jaw, on your neck. if he isn't satisfied, he huffs and wipes it off with gentle ease. if he is, he smiles to himself with prideful satisfaction-- leaves the mark on, and reaches for another. rook thinks all the colours are absolutely magnificent on you! he's a little less dignified than vil in having his turn, but it's also very crucial to see how the swatch looks smudged against your lips ok. at the end of it you'll be looking like that "came home drunk last night and got way too excited to see my cat" picture except your whole face is marked with kiss stains. or vil having you substitute in as an actor and him slowly growing enamored with your innate beauty, both on the silver screen and just right infront of him. maybe he has rook as the photographer and he, too, falls madly in love with you. now you're the muse of two people who are very adamant on helping you to be the most radiant version of yourself and showing you just how brilliant you are now...

- the same balls 2 tha walls anon

This is literally so perfect, thank you for the food anon 😭😭😭. I just woke up and what a wonderful thing to see. Also, I’m about 2/3 of the way done with Book 6 for reference !

Oh to be a living lipstick swatch for Vil and Rook <3 also you’re so right about becoming a Stan of one by association with the other. I actually started out the other way around as a Vil Stan™️ out the gate in book 5, and by book 6 Rook fully sank his claws into my brain. Their insane levels of loyalty and responsibility, as well as their loves for their respective crafts made them so interesting to me. There’s actually a post somewhere on here that I made right when I started book 6 about how I didn’t give a fuck what Idia had going on, I just heard I got a kiss from Vil and I was gonna bulldoze my way thru for him haha. Andddd then I ended up REALLY caring what Idia had going on (I still wanted my kiss though hehe hoo). Whatever the Shrouds have going on should be studied by our nations brightest minds bc girl what the FUCK. Book 6 has been my fav part so far though- the mini game segments were so cool??? Like I loved that addition sm.

Anywho, yes in my mind palace I am romantically involved with both Rook and Vil, they are my strange and wonderful companions <3 also swatching lipsticks so he knows what color looks best when he kisses you is SO Vil, and thinking that every color looks beautiful in its own way is SO ROOK like oh my god 😭😭 the only thing that they can manage to agree on, their respective eccentricities aside, is that you look lovely covered in kisses.

Another thing: anon, what should I call you? Because reading your signature as soon as I woke up had disastrous results- I did read it as “the same balls anon”. Which you could be, if you so wish- if you don’t want to have a moniker at All ofc that’s fine too! Have a great day <3

[crushculture03]

Chapter 15

The band had now made it to Los Angeles after traveling the whole night. Luckily for them, they had another day off, so Jules took it upon herself to show Matty around LA, even though he had been there multiple times before. She mainly just wanted him to meet her friends that she went to college with.

"Ok so we're going to meet my friend Kelsey for lunch, is that ok?" Jules asked her boyfriend as he pulled on a t-shirt. "Sounds lovely, I can't wait to meet her, '' Matty responded with a smile on his face.

" The boys and I have to go to the studio tomorrow to practice something for the new album," he said, "ooo is it a new song? Could I hear it?'' Jules asked, "You'll hear it soon I promise '' Matty responded. She nodded her head in response, then got up from the bed and made her way to the door. "Ready baby?" she asked, turning around and holding out her hand for him to take. He smiled and walked over to her, gently taking her hand in his and opening the door for her.

The two quickly made their way down the elevator, through the lobby, and into the Uber that was waiting for them outside.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Jules immediately spotted her friend. "Kelsey oh my god it's been so long!" Jules said, as she pulled her friend into a hug. "It's great to see you again," Kelsey responded back, "There's someone I want you to meet," Jules said as she pulled away from the hug. "This is Matty my boyfriend," Jules said, a huge grin painted on her face as she gently grabbed her boyfriend's hand.

"I can't believe it, Jules you're actually dating matty healy" Kelsey's jaw dropped, she knew her friend had a big celebrity crush on Matty forever and was stunned to see him not only in front of her but also dating her friend. "Finally got the real thing now compared to the poster" Kelsey laughed, this piqued Matty's interest as the three sat down. "Poster?" he chuckled "Aw isn't that so cute, Julie you had a poster of me in your room" Matty teased. Jule's face turned a dark shade of pink "Thanks a lot Kels now I'm never going to hear the end of this" Jules mumbled. Matty laughed and kissed his girlfriend on the cheek "I'm teasing love, I think it's cute", Jules just smiled in response.

The rest of the lunch went really well, it was nice for the girls to catch up and Matty got to know more about what Jules was like when she was in college.

"You were a wild one in college" Matty commented as the two walked out of the cafe, Jules giggled "A little, I guess" she responded. "How about we take a little walk in the gardens over there? I used to go to them when I needed to get away from the world" she said, as she led Matty over to the entrance. "Wow it's gorgeous in here, '' Matty commented, as he admired all the different types of flowers that were growing. "Yeah, it's one of my favorite places in the whole world, '' Jules remarked, as the couple walked further into the garden.

"So tell me more about the new album," Jules said, trying to get any information out of him, "Well I think you'll like it, you're the muse for some of the songs, but you'll just have to wait till it comes out to hear them" matty said, laughing slightly. "Aw come on babe please just a little sample" Jules begged, "You know I love it when you beg me Jules, but unfortunately I can't it's a secret '' he said. Jules laughed "You're cheeky for adding in the beginning comment Healy, you're lucky I like you". Matty chuckled and leaned over, placing a kiss on her cheek, "It'll be worth it I promise".

45 more minutes later, Matty and Jules decided to head back to the hotel. Once there Matty got a text on his phone, "Shit Jules George said he needs me to come over to his room to check something out for the new album, I'm so sorry" Matty said, quickly grabbing his coat. "It's ok! I'll be here if you need anything, go knock them dead" she said, he quickly kissed her goodbye and made his way to the studio.

In reality, the reason why Matty had to leave was to go to the studio, so the band could practice the new song he wrote. It was a love song that he planned to use to tell Jules he loved her, the song is appropriately called 'I'm in love with you'.

When he got to the studio, he was met with the faces of his three best friends, "When did you get so sappy, Healy?'' George joked as he sat down in front of the drums. " I don't know, something about her just makes my heart surrender, you know? Hey, that may be a good lyric" Matty said, and quickly jotted that down in his notebook. "So the plan is, Charli and Carly are going to blindfold her and lead her to the stage after our San Francisco show, then the lights will go out and we'll come on just like we do with any other show, boom lights go on revealing us I'll say something then we go into the song," Matty said, turning towards the band, they nodded their heads in response and got into place.

"Ok boys 1,2,1,2,3,4" and with that they began.

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Messere del Pietà || Role Reversal Sg AU

And it all breaks down at the role reversal- Got the muse in my head- she’s universal~

The sacrament was left unholy- burning and broken in ruins and aged in darkness and deceit until it was uncovered by a young man made steady by anger and hellfire.

His betrayer stood just out of sight, just out of mind- a wicked Iago, a Macbeth in actions as yet to be done... until the pistol fires.

Brainstorm lays sprawled in blood and flaw like a paraded messiah; a sacrificial lamb to the war machine once again and Quark shows nothing on his face as he turns on his heel to leave.

“Close it off.”, he says as he walks back, whispering into his comm, “I’ve got what I need- sadly my... fellow scientist met with an unfortunate accident.”

An oversized heart beats out of rhythm and Brainstorm curls up with a gag, clutching his chest as the pain radiates from the bullet wound in his back. The aged and broken altar, to one called Adaptus he thinks (translation is hard, and he taught himself the glyphics alone in the shuttle to the research site) and he reaches a hand out; trembling in the face of a forgotten god.

Something reaches back- writhing down a carving in a lattice of toxicity and for a sick moment before the flare goes fully dark it looks as those the relief is weeping; in anguish or joy, who can say.

The tomb closes down a winding hewn hall, and Quark smiles to himself as he inspects the samples, glancing to the prick to his wrist where he had hurriedly made the decision to become god.

“If anyone is worth the power ascribed in those old carvings...”, he muses to himself, “It’s me.”

His regret will scrawl itself on every vein wall a few days later, as he travels back to Kimia taken by a brutal fever and violent hallucinations- and a terrible, unkillable thirst he can’t seem to name. One that makes his eyes blow wide and hungry at the smell of blood.

In the darkness, someone sleeps.

He cried his tears, feeling over the ruins of an altar before climbing up onto it; getting himself off a damp and mildewy stone floor in what he knew (deep down) was a futile attempt at keeping his wound from lying in the dirt. The living fibers along the reliefs in the walls seem to glimmer to life- bioluminescence of some kind, the glow lets him see just enough to process his new grave. He closes his eyes.

“I don’t. I don’t want to d-die.”, he rasps weakly, “At l-least. Not until I wipe that piece of shit from existence. Traitorous bastard.”

He drapes half on, half off the old destroyed altar- just trying to breathe even as his sight wavers before he gets his knees steady.

He laughs briefly, choking on the sound, at the sight this must be. A scientist kneeling at a forgotten altar and whispering his final words in the presence of a God who’s name was lost to time itself.

He can feel himself moving through the stages of grief like molasses, he moves his head to look once more upon the strange discovery he had been assigned to inspect... And then he looks down.

The lines that had been creeping slowly can coalesced into a winding umbilical cord- the end of which writhed in the puddle of his blood left behind from when he moved to his current position. And the puddle seemed to grow more shallow with each second.

The idea was. Foolish. Imbecillic. Outrageous.

....Necessity is the mother of invention. Adaptation is the key to survival.

The eroded statues of old Adaptus watch as Brainstorm pushes away from the altar only to drop- back and gunshot wound first- onto what Brainstorm would later learns was mycelium.

A mycomutagen. A fungal parasite that worms it’s way into Brainstorm’s very veins, his heart made too big for his lithe body; pooling gently behind eyes developed in a hurry with no care for the ability to last, only to last just long enough.

The pain is excruciating. He howls his anguish- the sound echoing through fractures and the very stones surrounding him and chasing researchers away for hours or even days at a time and it lasts for weeks. Some days the darkness is alive; grasping at him with false hands and cold whispers in voices he swears he should recognize. The fever burns him from the inside out, he swears his saliva is scorching his very mouth.

His hands and spine ache. Every joint in his body feels like it is burning and breaking all once until one day they feel heavy, hardened. He slams a fist against the stone when he swears his back is sizzling like it lays on old iron and he stares in shock as the stone itself clicks and cracks and chips from the hit.

Quark grows thin. Sickly. Hungry. He haunts the halls, a ghoul of his own making. But above all- he avoids.

Blue eyes built now of violence follow his every move from behind shining glasses and the malicious intent behind them nearly screams itself into existence.

‘He’s dead.’

‘Yes, Perceptor- I am... truly sorry for your loss, it was a freak accident, couldn’t have been predicted. If you need. Comfort. During this trying time I-’

‘Would you like to die, Quark.’

‘...Pardon?’

‘You are a very bad liar. You smile when you are lying- a smug and sleazy expression. He is dead, yes, I believe that. But it was no accident.’

‘What are you saying, Perceptor?’

‘I’m saying, as someone who has been developing weapons just as long if not longer than you... I can tell when someone has fired a gun.’

The threat is unspoken, the promise unnamed. Perceptor cools like a lavaflow; hiding the unbridled hell beneath a stone stoic exterior when he turns on his heel and stomps away with fists curled so tight his palms bleed.

Brainstorm sleeps.

He awakes in darkness- he knows it is darkness. He sees the black coils racing under his skin, pulsing in time with the heartbeat he hears slowing so gradually before his chest begins to ache like it’s collapsing. His jaw clicks and creaks as he opens and closes it and wonders how long he’s been out. Wonders how long he’s been stuck in this oubliette of forgotten relics- a reliquary for the blessed and damned.

And then there is light.

Brainstorm holds up a hand, each finger tipped in a dewclaw and squints with a hissed exhale.

He feels his chest aching, feels his heart slowing and knows it’s being overtaken by something. And then, the smell.

“Shit, racked my goddamn hand AGAIN. This shitty jagged ass stone... They should’ve given up better gear, we’re RESEARCHERS not spelun..kers... Holy shit, Drop. Droptop, look! Is that a fucking person?!”

“Wh- Holy shit. They said an MTO died down here like a year ago... Lash, you don’t think. Whiplash is that a ghost?!”

“No, idiot, look- he’s breathing and shit. Hey, hey man! You alright, how’d you get down here?!”

Brainstorm looks up, smiling with lidded eyes and running a tongue over the teeth he can feel are sharper than a hypodermic needle.

“My coworker robbed me and ditched me. I’m hurt bad- I’ve been shot.”, he says, his voice smooth and soft and drizzled in honey amaretto as he reaches a hand out, “Please, I’m very weak.”

He watches their pupils go blank as his words worm into their minds in a foldover of so many tones- a hypnotist’s bell, a fae curse.

They never leave the ruins.

But Brainstorm does. His clothes are dirtied and worn from months of writhing in his own sickness, of opening his heart and soul to the charity of infection and infestation- he licks the still warm crimson smears from his lips and cheeks and laughs as he steps out into the night.

He adjusts the clothing he stole and trudges off to the shuttlepad, his face suddenly grim.

His sclera are darkened; the surface of the eye patterned strangely and a thousand thousand images fold down into one as he looks around and sees every minutiae of the world he never noticed before. His belly is full, his heart is silent and heavy and it becomes the core of a network.

He puts a hand on the shuttle receptionist’s desk.

He smiles, he gives his name, his identification number. They stare at him in shock and rasp out “One moment.”

He watches them vanish behind a door, and he smiles without it being honest.

Perceptor is working the security shift when the comm comes in, rapid and rushed and he answers with a deadpan tone.

“...He says his name is what.”, he whispers at the hurried flow of information sputtered into his comm, “...I can be there in three hours. Tell him to wait for an escort.”

Brainstorm opens his eyes, feeling hair grown long and ragged from his rebirth shift against his skin. He can.. hear them. He knows that voice, it’s Perceptor but something is wrong. No doubt Quark returned to the colony with lies already prepared.

Brainstorm’s back burns.

“Sir?”

“Ah, yes? Are my numbers no longer active?”, he asked innocently, letting unnerving and jewel-like eyes widen just so.

“N-No, it’s not that. However, I contacted a supervisor on your home colony. They’ll be here in roughly three hours, they insisted you wait. I can put you in temp quarters for now, a sanitation cubicle and a bed and not much else but...”

“That would be delightful. I’ve been through... quite the ringer, precious.”

His voice feels foreign. Sounds foreign. The fawning cloud that passes over his newest target’s eyes fills him with giddy joy at the sheer control he has.

Three hours. Plenty of time.

The shower he takes is heavenly after so long. He moans weakly at the hot water, only nicking himself a few times with his new claws and grumbling at the sting it left behind. The water runs dark before it runs clear- pulling away the muck and dust of months dying and living and dying again and he’s unused to his hair being this length. The waves are wild, untamed, he uses his fingers to comb shampoo through them and sighs as he feels his scalp lighten from being clean.

Borrowed clothing- a familiar colony uniform but it will do for now; it will do for now, to be sure.

He inspects his body as he dries himself off; noting how the strange black lines like mycelial roots had already fades, how the scars from corrective and reparative surgeries innumerable had lessened so quickly.

He inspected his teeth- how they have gained a slight curve, how the needlepoint tips now show. Sticks out his tongue at the mirror and raises his eyebrows at the increased length.

He still tastes copper from his first frenzy.

He brushes his new teeth.

He turns down the offer of a meal, citing a ‘nervous stomach’ and winking slyly when he jokes about his ‘particular tastes’ and preens internally at the blush on the other person’s face as they stammer and avoid his direct gaze.

He hears the distant sound of a shuttle door- his hearing is preternatural and so finely tuned now, he swears he hears the heartbeats of the people around him and smells their circulatory system working- and glances to the door of the temp housing and waits a full minute before letting himself ease into a smile as it opens.

“Hello Percy.”

The hug is spine-breaking. Brainstorm squawks, almost angry but mostly relaxed as he shoves halfheartedly at the scientist clinging so tight to him he wouldn’t be able to breathe if he needed to.

He doesn’t think he does, anymore.

“He told us it was a freak accident. That you died and he couldn’t retrieve the body. What happened.”, says Perceptor, his voice wavering and Brainstorm feels pinpoints of too warm and knows he is crying and trying desperately to hide it.

“I survived. That’s all that matters right?”, muses the weaponsmaker, “Now if you’re done emoting, I’d like to get home and get into some clothes that fit right.”

“Fuck, right- come along; I used a private shuttle. I figured you’d prefer the privacy.”

“Mm. Yes I’d prefer it. Sure.”, teases Brainstorm and Perceptor meets his eyes for the first time since the reports of his death were so greatly exaggerated- and Perceptor gasps.

“Your... your eyes.”

“...Yes. A side effect of. Survival.”, is the soft answer, “I’ll tell you more later. When we’re safe. And alone.”

Brainstorm will never admit the purr that rumbled in his chest was caused by the depth of the blush over Perceptor’s face as he reacted to the hypnotic tone of Brainstorm’s new and warmer voice.

[sonicasura]

Dart was not exactly close to the Berkians.

They had spent their time sneaking around the island since that very freezing cold winter…

So, where exactly was the hesitation to say goodbye coming from? The dragons (their dragons) had all been settled in new nests across the island itself or the Omnitrix user saw them return to their original homes. Dart found themself pacing in the Warren space they created… Part of them wondered whether they should destroy it or not. History would be affected in this universe regardless.

(Eldritch scorpion “mode” had come out once when in Slitherwing Hell. They were going to be wary of anything rope-like for a little longer.)

…No. The Omnitrix user hid the Warren well enough that no one unsavory should discover it. Besides, they had rendered some of the crafting facilities defunct in order to keep history on track. No need for someone to find their attempts at making an ice cream freezer.

All the Berkians thought they were Loki still—only the Rider kids truly grasped they were a shapeshifter in general. Those baby Night Furies would grow up in a moderately peaceful time. Every loose end wrapped up, right?

Maybe.

It was a good thing they were still always caught up over the goodbyes they had to make? Better to feel than be numb. The part of their brain which thought up mild pranks knew a way to not make the goodbye long.

None of the Berkians had seen them teleport.

*******************

That other full-grown Night Fury was a rare enough sight so once the younger children spotted it, soon the whole village knew.

It was sitting on one of the cliffs facing the sea although it was turned toward the village. Some Vikings edged around the area to see it, mainly said young kids who were enamored by the likes of Toothless and the young Furies. There was something almost adorable in the way Night Furies were extremely expressive.

Several minutes passed with the wilder Night Fury tolerating being pet—handling the affair with an aura of unusual patience. Though, this changed when the Dragon Riders arrived.

Those six being in the “know” led them to believe the shapeshifter had come here for a purpose. Toothless’ body language shifted to semi-concern which Hiccup recognized and became even more confused by. The dragons themselves gave out various noises to which the more intact Night Fury crooned at.

Speaking of earlier, the six young Night Furies scrambled through the crowds to meet their “parent”. A growing trend with new members of a species was them recognizing the shapeshifter’s presence. Truly, whether this was a quirk of the Omnitrix’s unique energy signature or genetic memory was still unclear.

Several chuffs were exchanged with the young Night Furies soon letting out faintly mournful croons. Something sad was going on—the riders realized. The shapeshifter briefly met each of their eyes, then shuffled around to now be facing the sea. Their wings unfolded slowly to show off their full wingspan and their tail fins opened up preparing to take flight.

A warbling laugh left them before they flew up into the air. Gaining a lot of height, the “Night Fury” slowed to a smooth glide. They stuck out their tongue cheekily until falling into a dive.

Wrapping their wings around themself as a green grow bloomed from the circlet on their tail. In a green flash—they disappeared.

.

.

.

Several more items were added to the Loki shrine, though the Dragon Riders merely dedicated a small space in the academy.

Not to the God of Mischief, but the rather curious individual who never meant them harm.

————————————

“I assume you will want to properly test your various new species’ forms in an expanded environment? Well, after you have properly settled back in.” Azmuth mused, finishing up the health scan to make sure his protege didn’t pick anything up in the Viking age universe. “That gargantuan species you picked up is oddly hardy. It can survive submerging in lava if the sample examination is to be trusted.”

The old Galvan was relieved to see Dart in high spirits after being in the “Dragon” universe for so long. Although they revealed themselves to the locals, the Omnitrix user wove a narrative to hide the true extent of their presence. He was very proud of them for helping to partially prolong an endangered species. Those Night Furies would not experience a full come back given all the current members were related…

Perhaps the individuals could find subspecies of their kind and at least prolong it further in a silence. Species going extinct was always a very personal issue for him—longevity put a great many things into perspective. Galvans were one of the few fortunate and unfortunate species.

Azmuth was startled out of his thoughts when he caught the green flash of a transformation out the corner of his eye. He was about to question why Dart felt the need to transform now, but something encased him…

The old galvan took a few (embarrassingly) long moments to realize what had happened. Scattershot, the Terrible Terror species transformation, was a form uniquely suited for several things. Including—apparently—allowing his protege to hug him. They were. A very tactile person at times. But, normally refrained due to the differences in biology between mentor and mentee. (That didn’t stop Ben trying…) Always mindful of the slightly heightened strength reigniting the recessive traits granted them.

Dart was also prone to needing reassurances which was perfectly acceptable for someone of their age and mental state. That being said, Azmuth found his own mind at odds with being embraced in something as childish as a hug. Galvans were simply less tactile and being wrapped up in a scaly embrace brought back a more instinctual fear related to Omnivoracious. The fact he was briefly terrorized by one when Psychobos turned Levin’s canine into one—

“Though they cannot verbalize it, Dart is equally apologetic and non-apologetic about doing this.” The Omnitrix chimed in cutting through the vestiges of faint unnerving. “They have had hugging you without hurting you on their mind ever since gaining this form. I do hope you realize this will likely be the first of many from now on, Creator.” His creation’s voice maintained its normal calm yet there was light teasing threaded into its tone.

Dart huffed, adjusting the embrace to be less encapsulating. The Galvan just shook his head and reluctantly (gladly) accepted his fate.

—ROB’d Anon.

Next stage in impromptu therapy. More physical reassurances for Dart, by Dart, and sometimes to Dart.

Aww. Azmuth is definitely gonna have to get used to hugs.

[bllsbailey]

Room With an Ugly 'View'—Whoopi and Co. Reportedly Down in the Dumps As ABC Says Quit With the Hysterics

It’s gotta be tough to be one of the performers on “The View,” seeing as the uninformed takes of Whoopi Goldberg, Ana Navarro, Sunny Hostin and company are routinely eviscerated by much smarter people than themselves for the idiotic takes they hurl daily at their sycophantic ABC audience.

They are more a national joke than a national treasure, and it seems even their home network is getting sick of their antics. Having to force Hostin to repeatedly read walkbacks of her “hot takes” to avoid legal peril probably doesn’t make her revered by many in the front office.

So it comes as no surprise that the head honchos are saying, ladies, please—get a grip already, will you? How about maybe reining in the crazy:

The fiery hosts at ABC News’ “The View” have faced pressure to dial back their anti-President Trump rhetoric – leading to tension in front of the cameras, The Post has learned... One source close to the show’s co-hosts — Whoopi Goldberg, Joy Behar, Sunny Hostin, Sara Haines, Alyssa Farah Griffin and Ana Navarro — said the fear and loathing is partly because Brian Teta, executive producer of the daytime gab-fest, spoke to staffers about “going easy” on Trump-related commentary in the days leading up to the 47th president taking the oath of office.

We have no shortage of brain-addling musings from the lovely ladies—some would call them shrieking harridans—of the morning gabfest, a show that once actually enjoyed some prestige when Barbara Walters was at the helm, but here’s but a sample:

A Warped "View" of the World: 

Sunny Hostin Trots Out Her Racial Martyr Complex, Says Black Women 'Voted to Save' America From Trump

Harris Faulkner Beats 'The View' in Ratings, Now She's Taunting Them: All They Do is 'Talk, Talk, Talk'

'The View' Has Become Objectively Evil, and ABC News Is Culpable

Click here to see the full list of our coverage of the histrionic fact-free spewings from the ugly “View.” Maybe they want to stop throwing out baseless, defamatory comments for a change?

The directive followed an embarrassing moment in November when the co-hosts were forced to issue four “legal notes” or disclaimers during a broadcast while discussing allegations leveled at several of Trump’s cabinet nominees. Since then, the outspoken hosts have been somewhat more careful, with Haines admitting that she and her fellow panelists are out-of-touch with a large portion of Americans because none voted for Trump.

"Out of touch?" How about out of their minds?

It’s hard to come up with a definitive list of idiotic moments from the show, but here are just a few to give you an idea:

It’s been a tough time for the fear-mongers at ABC News:

….“The View” staffers remain rattled after Teta quietly laid off at least nine workers — including two senior female producers, Jamie Hammer and Audrey Jones, one insider told The Post. “People were shocked that he’d fire such experienced, well-respected producers,” the source said. “Morale is low.”

“Morale is low.” Aww. 

The firings were part of parent company Disney’s wider cost-cutting moves in October, but “everybody is waiting for the other shoe to drop,” the source added. “There’s a lot of anxiety even though they just went through layoffs.” The turmoil follows Disney executives’ decision to pay out $16 million to Trump to settle a defamation lawsuit that the president filed against anchor George Stephanopoulos, who wrongly asserted during an interview with Rep. Nancy Mace (R-SC) that Trump was found liable for raping writer E. Jean Carroll.

Incurious George: Sad Days at ABC News: Stephanopoulos 'Apoplectic' Over $15M Settlement, Staff in Turmoil

As my English babysitter used to say, “My heart pumps peanuts.” (What that precisely means, I don’t know, but somehow it seems to sum up my feelings for deeply unsympathetic, ever-race-baiting hosts on perhaps the silliest program on network television.)

Why ABC continues to let them blather on is beyond me, but I can tell you this: unserious, violence-inciting “journalism” like this is one of the main reasons Americans have lost almost all trust in mainstream media. Sorry, Whoopi et al., the reality that regular Americans are expressing quite clearly that they’ve had enough of this junk is not going to go well for you, and I for one am not sad in the slightest.

[withleeknow]

100% agree - it's all a fat marketing ploy (randomly selected albums for enha's cb had fabric samples “worn”* by the members?? *just mass-produced but the way it was marketed as such is an ick, like no-one really needs that IMO) + I saw there's a new survival show that's been launched for contestants aged *drumroll pls* 3-15 😳

when they posted this today, they 100% had us in mind w/ the hyunho bakery straight off the bat tinyurl.com/2btpa47y what is with everyone's face cards this cb? they're all looking too good for my sanity I can't keep up-

also the way that mimo and jay are the certified acts-of-service mother-chef hybrid of their groups is just asdfghjkl i would trust them with everything <3 and ik mimo is the bread-and-butter, the muse, the forever moment but your seungmin fics truly do something to me. the man just works so well with quick-witted, tension-building scenes basically an INTJ's dream

lastly sending you these cutie-patooties as a serotonin boost - tinyurl.com/mr39mtkj - i adore their dynamic <3

I lied. last swerve into 💜 territory - have you listened to jimin's muse? ๋࣭  ࣪𓍼

oh yeah i read about the survival show. hello people wtf are toddlers supposed to showcase lmao. kpop gets wilder and wilder every day i cannot comprehend anymore. how does any of this still get greenlit. we are living in the worst timeline fr

HYUNHO THIS CB 😭 i've been deprived for a minute and they said hello here you go this is a feast!! but yes i agree lol what is this face economy that everyone is serving. every day new content drops and idek where to look idek how to process anything bc everyone looks so good 😭

hehehhe i do have a lot of fun writing seungmin! i feel like writing that kind of personality comes pretty naturally to me, seriously an intj's dream lmao. and ngl you know i love hyunjin but idk honestly i have kind of a hard time writing him for some reason 😭 we're still trying to figure out how to best portray him but it is a whole Process lol

THIS WAS SO CUTE :(((( look at hyunjin's smile and his instant and enthusiastic yes! ahh my heart i love him :((((

i have listened to jimin's album yes! the visuals are fun, the music is fun, overall i like it. however nothing can beat FACE for me tho, he really popped off with that one and i don't think i've ever really moved on from it lol that was one of my top bangtan solo albums! wbu onigiri, thoughts on MUSE? 👀

[ravisurendra]

"I... yes, exactly! I couldn't agree more." Soren's eyes widened a fraction, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a surprised smile. Part of him almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. He uncrossed his arms, bracing his hands on the back of the chair across from Cassian's desk and leaning in, intrigued, as the other man went for his computer. "I remember asking my mentor in undergrad the same kind of questions and feeling flabbergasted that we were somehow in the 21st century and no closer to the answers. It stuck with me, for a long while."

A little after that, he'd begun to realize that so much of that research seemed frozen in time because many of the subjects of it were uninterested in being understood. Vampires, for one, were less than eager to let humanity start picking apart their mysteries. It wasn't that Soren didn't believe that research was happening, but he was sure it wasn't going to include mortal researchers anytime soon. They were on their own. "I would argue against disease. If anything, vampirism seems to be the exact opposite. An unfettered abundance of vitality, absent the challenges that arise with overproduction as with cancer cells, though it needs frequent supplementation. It makes you start to think harder about the processes of DNA repair, doesn't it? What are they actually getting from blood as a feeding process?"

The sudden chime from his trouser pocket was enough to prompt Soren out of his intense musing; 'Ravi' had barely any contacts outside of work, no girlfriend or family checking in, most of his notifications now were silent news alerts. It had taken getting used to, not wading through email pings for half an hour before bed every night. He hazarded a peek at the screen, right around the time Cassian explained. "Excellent," Soren said, impressed. The designation of which samples were 'mine' was not lost on him. It was a confirmation, albeit one Soren had absolutely not expected. He straightened up again, feeling a mite self-conscious even with this surprising new rapport between then. Soren didn't think he'd ever stood face to face with an actual dragon before, let alone been alone in a room with one.

He rubbed his hands together, slow, trying not to let the gesture make him seem any more nervous. "You and me both. Perhaps..." Ah, to hell with it. If something sounded too good to be true, it was worth it to doublecheck anyways. Dragon or no, they'd be a door away from each other for likely months. Soren couldn't just pass that up. "Perhaps after work one day I can show you one of the better restaurants out here, if you're interested. More nice places than you'd expect, being in the middle of nowhere." Councilman privilege, to be sure. "If you can tolerate talking business off the clock, I think you might be interested in hearing more detail about my research. We've put a lot of a time and a lot of money into trying to answer those very questions, over the years. I'm still trying to answer some of them myself." Funny, being on the other side of the elevator pitch. Something told him Cassian might just take it.

"Immunology," he purred, as if pleased to have the topic brought up. "A fascinating subject in today's world. What makes it so that some people have systems that can withstand nearly anything? Why do some develop cancer or fight a transplanted organ when every single piece of data points to it being a perfect match?" Cassian pushed off the desk and moved around to the proper side, ignoring the ergonomic and expensive chair to stand instead, setting his laptop on top of the pile of frames. He opened it, keying in his password with deft fingers.

"My question is, why can certain people contract cancer or autoimmune diseases when some physically can't? Vampires, we know are frozen in time. But how? Is it technically disease? And what about other species? What about living creatures who have walked this earth for millennia and surely missed a strain of evolution that would cause a crack in their genetics? There's always one exception to the rule. Always. So what's causing such... Genetic and bodily perfection? And don't get me started on hybrids. Absolutely fascinating and mind boggling."

Cassian's laptop wallpaper was a beautiful shot of a stormy countryside with rolling, green hills. There were big, pregnant storm clouds obscuring the sky but no rain. Only craggy, slithering bolts of illuminating lightning striking in the distance like broken spears from above thrown by a raging god. It was there and gone as he pulled up files, compressing them together and attaching them to an email. He opens the contact list given to him from a receptionist and finds 'Ravi' quickly to send it off with a subject of '!!!' and no body text.

"I've sent you some drafts of research I've conducted over the past decade or so. I've never exactly had the time to do much more than this on immunology but I'd love for you to take a look and get your opinions. It's a bit skewed heavily towards humans and dragons and only includes a handful of sample specimens. The dragon blood, marrow, and tissue are mine. A couple of old scales. It's a small drop in the vast ocean. But now I have free time."

He looked to Soren and watched his gaze flicker to the leaning frame that he'd abandoned. It was his doctorate of osteopathic medicine. It wasn't his first, wasn't his only doctorate. Cassian typically liked to study and go to school for a medical subject that caught his attention, earn his doctorate and any certifications, then go play in the field until he got bored and found something else to hyper fixate on for about twenty years or so. The pile of frames hold his latest accomplishments. Sometimes he has to go study and test again to renew some things. He realized that he was using his degrees to hold up his laptop and sheepishly closed it, moving it off to the side and making sure no glass cracked.

"Ah, anyway." He cleared his throat and gave a bit of a sheepish grin. "Funny you should mention what you did. That is my passion. I want to know what separates man from 'monster', if you will. What makes all our bodies tick so in tune and out of sync all at once."

[cpirits]

(( @red-head-courage said [ “And Who Are You?” ]

Send “And Who Are You?” and I will respond with either an under-used, unfamiliar, or otherwise brand new Muse. // accepting

When the voice echoed from the pits of the various cells, and rank of the dank prision where the bottom feeders were, the worst of the worst, Riddick turned in his cell, eyes gleaming in the darkness. One hand balled into a fist as he got up from the metal bed, boots scuffing on the rock floor. His head cocked at an angle, much like a predator sizing up some prey.

"What do I look like to you? A nut?" This maggot didn't need to know his name, but he was trapped at the moment -- it wasn't time for the cells to open yet. "Just know that you're not safe, no one here is." Reaching out he grasped the bars of the cell, the little light coming from the lights above made him seem like a cat, curious, but deadly and unblinking.

muse: Richard B. Riddick of (PITCH BLACK *2000 & THE CHRONICLES OF RIDDICK *2004 & RIDDICK *2013)

[koolades-world]

Exclusive Mc Privileges: Side Character Edition

I don't know Raphael well enough to include him yet, so I'm sorry about that. To any Raphael fans out there, let me know how I can pay you back. I'm on lesson 41 right now lol

Diavolo

Sitting in his lap during important meetings and playing with his hair

Drawing on his arm and him displaying it proudly no matter what it is

Playing dress up in finery

Shopping sprees!

Becoming his royal hand holder <3

Cheering him on while he's doing paperwork and bringing him treats

Sneaking out together so he can show you his favorite spots in the Devildom

Having sleepovers weekly so he can learn more about "human culture"

Barbatos

Interrupting his castle duties with no consequences

Leaving you love notes for you to find throughout the day

Helping with your homework

Exchanging recipes

Brushing his hair!

Helping cook and getting as many tastes as you want

Freeing all the rats you find in the castle outside for him

Spending all his free time with you

Simeon

Helping him learn more about computers even if he's asked this question ten times already

Getting best massages in the three realms

Moonbathing

Helping him bake

Writing his scripts for him when his hands hurt

Getting to look at old concepts and manuscripts

Being his muse <3

Feeding him snacks

Solomon

Reorganizing his potions ingredients because it's always a mess

Dancing among the stars together

Attempting to teach him to cook (and failing)

Teaching him how to be hip and cool

Letting you admire his various pact marks and hearing the stories behind each one

Lets you style his hair differently just to see what he would look like

Forgiving you each and every time you set him on fire during lessons

Luke

Ruffling his hair

Tucking him into bed at night

Always being the first person to sample his desserts

Sharing concept ideas with you about new dessert ideas

Helping him deal with the brothers and their teasing

Ironing his clothes

Giving him piggy back rides and boosts to higher areas

Doing homework together that he's to afraid to ask a demon for help with

Thirteen

Braiding and styling her hair

Doing her makeup!

Throwing snacks and candy into each other's mouths

Getting sneak peaks into her latest pranks

Taking turns drawing on various sleeping people's faces to see who can do the most without waking them up

Having mini fashion shows that are mostly just her admiring you

Taking lots of pictures on your phone when you're not looking

Mephisto

Kidnapping and having free reign of his cane

Hitting him with the cane (lovingly)

Teasing him about Diavolo and Lucifer

Showing his affection for you in front of the brothers

Adding cute bows to his hair

Looking over drafts for the school paper

Learning how to horseback ride

Squishing his man titties