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gotnofucks · 4 years ago

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Colour Me Red

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Your boss is chasing you like the proverbial hound of hell, and one vibrant shade of red is going to be his undoing, and yours.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Oral sex, allusions to smut, suggestive talking, kinda workplace harassment but not really, boss and employee relationship, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is for my jaan Lexi’s 700 Challenge. Congratulations baby girl @bluemusickid , you deserve this and so so much more. Every day I live in awe of you and can only love you more. I’ve chosen the colour Red for this challenge.

Most people arrived at work early to impress their boss. You came early to avoid yours. Every morning was a race to dress up faster so that you could be out before he pulled up at your place to give you a ride. When you’d started working at the Avengers Compound, you thought your biggest problem would be alien attacks or spontaneous combustion. Yet, here you were, being pursued by your boss who was the very embodiment of the hounds of hell.

Captain Steve Rogers, for all his brilliance, was a man unaccustomed to being told no. At one word from him, agents would run in the field and fight a battle of their lives. He was respected and revered, his beautiful visage both an endearing and terrifying symbol. However, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone.

The first time you’d met him, Steve had taken one look at you and said, “I am going to fuck you”. You had gaped at him in disbelief, wondering if this was the true Captain America. You had almost gone back home, intent on finding another job but you needed the money and well, there were so many others around, how often would your paths cross with him?

Turns out, a lot. You had applied for the PR secretary position for Natasha, so imagine your surprise when you showed up for work and were told that you’ll be working for Steve Rogers. In retrospect, you should have quit that day, but the pay was far too good. You had ignored sleazy men before, how difficult could it be to ignore Steve’s advances?

From the very first day, Steve didn’t bother to hide his interest. He offered you a seat in his office, but only after you pointedly ignored his offer to sit on his lap. He had rolled his eyes playfully, explaining your role and duties before dismissing you.

“Walk slow, I want to have a good view of that ass.”

Months later now, you could say it was a well-versed routine. He would flirt with you and you’d kindly remind him about appropriate workplace practices. He would bring you flowers, and you’d pass it on to the old lady who sat behind the reception. You almost wanted to thank him, for it was because of him you’d become a pro at running in high heels.

Arranging your documents, you waited for Steve to arrive. He won’t be happy knowing he has a press conference today. You’d typed out his speech, he only needed to say it into the camera without looking constipated.

“You evaded me again today.” Steve greeted you, entering and taking his seat behind his desk. You met his eyes, unimpressed. He never gave up, did he?

“Good morning Captain Rogers.” You said with a smile, handing him the papers that he took with a wince.

“You don’t call me Captain Rogers in my dreams.” He casually said, going over the planned interview. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him the best you could. It would be a lie to say you didn’t find Steve attractive, but you were not about to sleep with your boss.

“Can you please stick to the script this time and not call the government a piece of shit organization who are greedy, racist, bigots?” You asked, not wanting another disaster management situation on your hands.

“Spot me the lie darling.” Steve said, smiling. He threw the papers on the desk, leaning back to look at you with a fond look in his eyes. “You need to let me drive you here someday. Or I’m gonna camp outside your house so you can’t run away.”

You flush, averting your gaze. God, why did he need to be so beautiful with such gorgeous eyes?

“Can you give it a rest until the press conference? I have a lot on my hands.” You said, rubbing your temples tiredly. Steve frowned, his eyes lingering over the dark circles under your eyes before getting up and coming around the desk to stand behind you, his large hands gently taking your shoulders and kneading. A soft moan escaped you, your bunched muscles relaxing under his touch.

You leaned back farther, your head meeting his firm stomach. His fingers splayed over your collarbones, heal of the hand pressing into the soft juncture where your neck met the shoulder. Groaning, you relaxed yourself, letting Steve massage the stiffness out of your body. Slowly, he leaned down, mouth right next to your ear.

“Imagine the kind of sounds you’ll make when you’re under me.” He breathed, pressing the softest of kisses on your cheek. Your eyes widened and you shot up, putting some distance between you. Steve grinned, taking in your labored breath with interest.

“Captain Rogers” You warned, taking a step back when he took one towards you.

“Say my name.” He demanded, walking purposely towards you until you crashed against the wall. Leisurely closing the distance between you both, he caged you with his hands, leaning in close. You gulped as he got into your space, his breath fanning over your heated cheeks and eyes turning liquid.

“This is inappropriate.” You said, blinking and looking away. You were scared his super senses would smell the arousal pooling between your thighs, warming your core. Steve chuckled, dipping his head as if to kiss you but stopping short.

“I’ll let it go today, since you’ll be screaming it soon enough. Why don’t you go and edit the speech, hmm? I want that part about thanking the government for their cooperation struck.” He smelled like sin, the musky aftershave he always wore clinging to your pores and infusing in your scent.

Smiling a little at the deer caught in the headlights look in your eyes, Steve pushed away from you and flicked your forehead playfully. He turned and walked back to his desk, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as your stumbled out of his office after hastily collecting your papers. Every time you thought you’d gotten used to his advances, Steve would reduce you to a bundle of nerves with a few well chosen words.

Persistent little fucker.

If he didn’t show up in five more minutes, you’ll have a coronary. The reporters were already waiting for him, and you still needed to debrief Steve about the changes you had made. Left to his own devices, he’d unapologetically curse the government out and call out their crap with Bucky and Sam cheering from the sidelines. Again. That had been a nightmare.

“Where is he?” Jacob asked. He looked frazzled, looking worriedly at Tony from across the room. His boss was just as likely as yours to cause a scandal during a press conference and when they sat together, a shit storm was definitely on its way.

“I have no fucking idea!” You swore, running a hand through your hair and hoping your makeup hadn’t run off. You’d be sitting at the podium beside Steve, ready to kick his shin at the first moment he went off script. Jacob shot you a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder, his hairline glittering with sweat.

“One day I’ll quit this job and be a professional troll just to roast these assholes. Oh god, where the hell is he?” You bemoaned.

“Right here.”

You turn around, finding Steve striding towards you. The frustration in your eyes melted as you looked him over, the crisp navy blue suit fitting his body in a way that saliva pooled under your tongue. Shaking your head, you wagged a finger at him, trying your best to give him an angry frown instead of fuck me eyes.

“You’re the reason I’ll get greys so early in my life.” You scolded. Steve, however, lost his smirk. His eyes were trained hard on you, eyebrows turning in as if deeply disappointed. When his eyes met yours, you unconsciously stepped back and stumbled into Jacob. You knew Steve had a temper, but that anger had never been directed so harshly at you before.

“What the fuck?” He hissed from between clenched teeth. You blinked in surprise, completely at a loss of words about why he was suddenly so angry. You exchanged a bemused look with Jacob who was inching away from you, eager to be out of sight of the fire that was so obviously burning in the captain’s eyes.

Gulping nervously, you peered at him and cleared your throat. “Captain Rogers?” Your voice was soft and confused, and yet it only seemed to incense Steve more. He made a deep rumbling sound in his chest before grabbing you by your arm and pulling you away with him. You protested, trying to steer him back towards the conference but you were no match for his strength. He remained silent as you tried to loosen his grip on your arm, alarm evident in your voice at this unexpected aggression.

He brough you back to his office, pushing you in before he shut the door with a loud bang that would be sure to scare off anyone who might have wanted to step in and save you. Facing him in bewilderment, you opened your mouth to ask him what the fuck had gotten into him when he raised a hand in warning.

“If I hear ‘Captain Rogers’ pass one more time from your lips, I’ll shut you up in a way that will leave your throat sore for days.” He growled. Your breath hitched, fear and thrill spreading like venom through your blood as he prowled towards you, completely masculine and yet feline in his approach. Your legs refused to follow your command to move away and stayed rooted to their spot, trembling when Steve was standing right before you.

“Say my name.” He whispered. You licked your lips, eyes locked with his as his name passed your lips for the first time ever.

“Steve”

It was barely audible and yet you could see the shiver that ran down Steve’s body, a victorious growl expelled from his throat and suddenly you were pulled flush to his chest, his lips enveloping yours and branding a searing kiss on your lips. You gasped into his mouth, clutching his shoulders to keep steady on your legs that had turned to jelly.

“You dare,” Steve said, pulling away to glare at you, “you dare wear that shade of sin on your mouth in front of the world?”

It took you a moment, brain still in shock from the intimate embrace you’d just came out from when you registered what he said. Taking in his words along with the red that bled from your mouth to his, you sputtered in indignation.

“Did you drag me in here because I wore a red lipstick?!” You asked, slapping his chest to push him away. Steve, unhappy with your ire, pulled you closer still and slowly traced the curve of your bottom lip, pulling back his thumb to show you your lipstick that sat in stark contrast to his pale skin.

“My girl doesn’t go out looking like this in front of the world.” He countered. You scowled, twisting in his hold so you could knock some sense into the sexist bastard.

“I won’t be policed by somebody who regularly wear three sizes too small t-shirts to fuck with my ovulation cycle deliberately. And what the fuck does it mean ‘looking like this’? What do I look like to you Captain Rogers?” You sassed, breathing heavily.

Steve fisted your chair, tilting your head back as he possessively ran his nose down your neck and sniffed appetitively. “Looking like this, like the forbidden fruit that caused man to fall. You are already my undoing, do you wish to cause a war looking as tempting as this?”

Anger that had boiled in your gut disappeared as if doused by water. Maybe you were still pissed at being treated this way, but the heat that simmered deep in your bones overpowered it. His words set your heart on fire, a raging desire you rarely let yourself feel near him sending you straight into his arms, your head buried in his massive chest that cradled you close. Oh so close.

“There are ten different things I have to say to you about what just happened here, but I’ll do it later when my sanity has returned to me.” You said and Steve chuckled, his arms around you strong like boulders.

“If my kisses alone drove you insane, you’ll be a puddle of dumb mess after I’m done with you.” He huskily whispered in your ear and your core pulsed, a warm gush flooding your panties. This man would be the death of you. For months you’d fought the urge to let him fuck you on his desk and in the elevator, trying your best to overlook this eye fucks and flirting only to end up in his arms, right where he had prophesized you belong the moment he clapped eyes on you.

You didn’t believe in destiny, but then again Steve Rogers didn’t need a divine force to interfere on his behalf to get him what he wants. This moment had been building for a while now, like a volcano threatening to erupt until it finally did, encasing those close to it in scalding layers of passion and sin and love.

“I love this shade but just this once, I’ll make an exception. I’ll wipe it off.” You conceded. This was not you accepting defeat, just a compromise. There was much left to talk about and discuss, but you had a hoard of reporters waiting for the good captain to make his big speech.

You reached for the napkins on his desk, intent in quickly wiping your lipstick off when Steve grabbed you to himself again, cupping your face.

“Oh no honey, that trace of desire won’t stain a piece of paper. The only place its going to be is smeared on my cock. On your knees.” He ordered, very much like he did on the field. And yet, the order was as much a request. You could say no and drag him to the conference right now with no consequences. He was the same man who came by every morning to give you a ride despite knowing you’d already have left. He was the same man who cheekily rolled his eyes when you snubbed his affections, and yet never said a mean word to you. What would it feel like, marking this exemplary man with your colour, knowing as he walked that he was coloured in you?

You sank to the floor, hands already working to free his cock from the confines of his pants. Steve looked at you, letting you do everything, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Peering up at him, you marveled at the fact that it took so long to have you here like this.

“You could launch a thousand ships even on your knees.” He said.

Your lips pressed against the head of his cock, kissing him delicately. Steve jerked at the first touch, digging his fingers in your flesh when you licked him from head to base, suckling lightly, teasingly. You adored the noises that escaped him, loving that he didn’t even think of hiding them from you. When it came to desire, Steve Rogers didn’t mince his words.

His cock was beautiful, silken and hard in your fist and on your tongue. He tasted like the sea after a storm, salty and electric, dangerous and beautiful. Loving him this way came easy, and though you hadn’t had much experience with cocks as big as his, you were determined to show him your feelings with a gusto. Running your tongue along his slit with an impish grin, you swallowed him deep, humming to send vibrations up his length. Had your mouth not been stretched around him, you would have smiled wide at the curse he just yelled.

Picking up your pace, you bobbed your head and rolled his balls, getting high on his taste and sounds as he came undone in your mouth, spilling his essence that went thickly down your throat and ended with a moan from both of you. Pulling away, you saw his member streaked with the red traces of your lipstick and an animalistic possessiveness swelled in your chest. You marked him.

Steve helped you stand up, kissing you deep as he seemed unable to utter anything at the moment. You reveled in his touch, holding him close and wiping the stray tear that was lingering at the corner of your eye.

“You know its love, don’t you?” He asked you softly, the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.

Was this love? Was it love when you’d secretly smile at his fixation with you? Was it love that you always kept a flower from his bouquets before passing it on to the old lady? Was it love when you could read his tiredness in the lines of his forehead and make his coffee stronger? Maybe it was. Maybe it was love because there was no other way you’d have went on your knees to worship a man. Unknowingly, in accepting every ‘no’ you threw his way, he had earned your ‘yes’. In forsaking the access to your body, you had gifted him your heart. Holding his gaze, you pressed your lips to his palm, smiling.

“It is love.”

“Mr. Stark, where is Captain Rogers?” A reporter asked. “Wasn’t he supposed to be a part of this conference?”

Jacob groaned, kicking Tony’s shin repeatedly to no avail. He wished he could slap a hand on his boss’s mouth and drag him away, because the glint in Tony’s eyes meant that he would be working damage control for the next coming weeks.

“Rogers, you ask?” Tony said grinning, his face alight in mischief. “Friday just gave me some million dollar worth information on that, and I am proud to announce to the public that the world’s oldest virgin just got his dick wet.”

Banging his head on the desk in the view of the clambering reporters, Jacob cursed you and your libido that had ruined him.

“Why couldn’t they wait until after the conference?” He moaned, jumping out and almost tackling Tony who was about to give the media some ‘video proof’. “Oh no you don’t Mr. Stark, you sir are on time out. I’ll be reporting you to Miss Potts!”

#lexisholiday2021 #bluemusickid700challenge #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #Steve Rogers #boss!steve

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howgalling · 2 years ago

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If you saw the post I deleted no you didn’t

Oh I refer to all the transformers as she 🫵🏼

So maybe u aren’t me and you didn’t spend ungodly hours just looking at shit on cyberpunk and taking screenshots and obsessing over the lore.

delete the straight sex obsessed side of cyberpunk from these characters I’m not here for brain dance smut

if you don’t know anything about cyberpunk I’m going to try to make some of the stuff easier to understand but sometimes just reading whatever cyberpunk wiki page there is on the phrases I’m using will give u context!! plus yaaay u get to read video game facts (one of my fave hobbies) so 😘. a gift. i will not be discussing if the game was good or not I do not care 💖💖

ANYWAY so many of the characters fit perfectly into the roles, like ripperdocs for example, it fits the not entirely defined doctor surgeon types we get in transformers perfectly, knockout, SPINSTER, for example!! I have a lot of fun porting them into that environment and figuring out what experience in cyberpunk would create a personality like the character has lol. PROWL FOR EXAMPLE COME ON!! You know the old fandom prowl that would crash and shut down when she got overwhelmed with data, that would work so well for a tactician with heavy heavy cybernetic mods that have gone through damage/trauma

But the variety too is fun, I have ratchet down as an ex trauma team medic who quit because well the wiki will immediately give you an exact perspective of this ratchets experience on trauma team. (trauma teams are under no obligation to transport casualties to a hospital if they don’t have the cash up front lol) as a good person who actually wants to help people and not leave people to die on the street if they can’t pay she then a starts up a clinic in a shitty part of town, pharmas the ex thats still with the trauma team, good potential ‘you dropped out of an amazing career<haughty disappointment’ lesbian ex drama u know the good stuff 🫵🏼 who then gets blackmailed by tarn LOL and it all blooms out from there.

Hope that makes sense

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narrators-journal · 4 years ago

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The final step

This is it boys! The final part! After this, I have no other fic to post, so I’ll probably return to original work or silence lol. But! I’ll try to post what I can to feed ya’ll content!

cw: descriptions of murder, Hint o’ Hisoka, reader’s pregnant

Previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi spent a while helping you pack before the butlers he'd requested showed up, than he returned to his home across the street to pack up as well. After all, with you now on the track to marry him, he would no longer need the home. Though, maybe we could keep it, and use it as something of a vacation spot to escape mother's unrelenting nagging. He mused.

While he was shoving his clothes into his bag and mulling over that option, he spoke to said mother, or, more-so half listened to Kikyo squeal and giggle in pure delight at the news of your pregnancy. "Mother, please refrain from shrieking in my ear," he said when his excitable mother had to stop for breath, "I'm sorry dear, but this is such good news! Your father and I were hoping this woman would prove to be a good wife, and while I will say it's a little soon for a baby, this is good news nonetheless!" She squealed, making the assassin huff, "I know, I should've waited until after I'd married her to consummate," Kikyo about blew a raspberry at his words, making him blink, "Illumi, we don't care if you decide to have sex before you get married. My only concern is that this woman isn't the right one for you." she said, "Your father would prefer that you choose a woman a bit more suited for our line of work, but if she's really as submissive as you described, I'm sure she'll be a fine addition to the family. Oh! And I'm sure your child will be absolutely adorable! I can't wait to put little booties on them, and absolutely dote on them like you no longer let me do-" "Mother," Illumi said, though his mother knew despite his monotone voice that he was annoyed. "Well, you don't." she sniffed before changing the subject. "Anyway, when are you bringing her home? I want to meet her already!" she said, going into a bit of a rant over his failure to even show Kikyo a picture of you, but her son was no longer listening. Instead, Illumi's attention was turned to his surroundings, his senses on high alert from the waves of malicious intent he felt so suddenly from the direction of your home. "Mother, was Hisoka released?" Illumi asked, his mother's voice dying at the palpable tension coming through the phone, "I believe so? Your grandfather was apparently sick of the creep, so he had him thrown out." she offered a second before Illumi hung up. In a flash, the assassin was across the street at your home, his needles at the ready. As soon as he set foot in the house, the assassin was greeted with the familiar scent of blood hanging in the air like a heavy blanket and a silence that ate at his nerves. Your home was quiet. too quiet. It about drove the assassin insane with the possible reasons behind the lack of life. Of course, the butlers that were tasked with helping you pack your clothes were dead, so that helped to explain the stifling quiet, but the sight of the help mercilessly slaughtered didn't justify the way Illumi's heart raced and a strange feeling gripped at his throat until he felt he couldn't breathe. The only time that feeling seemed to finally leave, only to be replaced with wrath, was when the casually dressed assassin slipped into your bathroom, his needles poised to be thrown, and he was met with the one person he didn't want to see inside of your home. "Hisoka." he hissed, his dark eyes narrowing and his aura reflecting the heated rage that boiled his blood at the sight of the brightly colored magician, who turned to look at him lazily, frowning as if the soulless man was as equally unwanted as the pink haired man was, "Before you maul me and get no answers, I didn't hurt your precious (y/n)." He assured, plucking one of his signature playing cards and licking the blood of a butler from it before continuing "I believe she crawled out of the bathroom window. So, I suggest you go get her back before you focus on me. Don't want her to get too far away now, do we?" The magician pouted, knowing damned well Illumi wouldn't bother with him after that news, which meant Illumi wouldn't be fighting him, yet. The assassin did, in fact, leave the magician at your house, going out instead to find you. If the help wasn't so fucking incompetent this would be a lot easier. He thought as he forced his wrathful aura into zetsu while he coldly rushed by the corpses and returned outside to prowl down the chilly streets of town, turning that edgy, strangling, anxiety feeling in his throat into energy to fuel his possessive hunt for his wife, his property. On the bright side of the situation though, you were nothing compared to the dark-haired predator, so he had that to cool his unhinged emotions before running into you. You were a recluse, you likely didn't know your way around town that well, so your trail was pretty obvious. In times of life threatening danger, people, more-so women, usually went to crowded areas after all, and you didn't know of many places that would offer help, so you were likely going to head to your grocery store. Knowing that, Illumi was able to get ahead of you, scooping you up before you could slow from a mad dash fuelled by mortal terror to a speed at which you could avoid slamming into the hunter's chest. "(y/n)," he growled, shaking you once, firmly, to put a stop to your flailing and squirming, "I am this close to jamming one of my needles into your brain. STOP IT." He ordered, the force of slightly panicked rage in his words making you freeze and stare up in terror at him with your wide (e/c) eyes. For a few seconds you stared at one another, your form squished to his in an inescapable grip while his soulless eyes glared down at you until you finally burst into tears. "Please! Just let me go!" You plead, your voice quivering with barely restrained sobs, so he took a deep breath and ran his thumb down your already tear-stained cheek, "Why would I do that? I'm only trying to keep you and our baby safe." he reminded you, but you shook your head vigorously, making bits of your (h/l), (h/c) hair stick to your face, "You're scaring me! Please let me go, I'm begging you Illumi." you cried, trying to shake his comforting hug off, "I thought you loved me," he said, not releasing you even when your upset tantrum stuttered to a stop. For a moment, you seemed conflicted, but than closed your eyes and tried to kick him to no avail, "I...I don't know anymore. You've...become so scary recently, I have to p-put my own well being ahead of any shallow attraction." you sniffled, digging your nails into his t-shirt. He brushed a strand of hair from your (s/c) face as you shook against him "(y/n), I would never do anything to harm you or our baby unless you force me to. Just behave and act like you did before figuring out you were pregnant, everything will be okay." he assured, making his voice as comforting, soft, and loving as he could manage to try and sooth you. Thankfully, he could see the fear and rebellion in your (e/c) eyes dim, returning to their usual, gorgeously submissive state. After that, you only gave one final attempt at escaping his arms before finally giving up. "Good girl, (y/n). Now, let's go home. My mother is about to implode in her excitement to meet you." After that, Illumi returned to the house he had bought for his bag of clothes, then made a beeline for the Zoldyck estate. On the trip there, the long haired assassin tried to make you happy, providing you food, comfortable places to sleep when need-be, and finding you little gifts related to your hobbies to try and entertain and make you smile. He could tell that you were still uncomfortable with him, but you slowly began to warm back up to him when your human need for companionship demanded it. However, the one thing he couldn't save you from or prepare you for, was Kikyo. The woman about tackled Illumi when he pushed open the testing gates, but as soon as you were through and safely on Zoldyck land with your husband protectively at your side, his mother began her fussing. "She looks so ill! Illumi, did you make sure she's physically healthy?" "She's not much to look at, maybe if she tried more make-up and clothes that fit her better?" "Illumi, where are her things? Did you just snatch her up off of the street while she was pregnant?!" The only thing that saved you and Illumi from his mother's judgements and chiding was a firm look from his father, Silva, who was making a rare appearance to greet you in a much calmer manner. "To answer your questions, I will get the family doctor to look her over, and her things had to be left. A threat came up and I needed to bring her here before harm befell her, so I will need to buy her new clothes." The dead eyed assassin assured his mother, who obviously had more hen pecking to do, but she refrained under the stern look of her husband. After that, Illumi got you nicely settled in to his bedroom, and while you did put up some more of a fight over staying there, you mostly accepted your role as his wife-to-be and mother of his child rather easily. He knew you were simply acting out from your hormones and the stress of your situation, so he did his best to keep his temper with you. "It'll be okay (y/n), once you get comfortable here, we'll be happy." Illumi soothed one night after one of your bouts of sobbing and fighting to escape while he sat, cross-legged with you in his lap and his hands rubbing your belly. You weren't showing much yet, but it still pleased him greatly to now have his wife and child safely at home. That's right, he thought, letting a rare smile spread across his usually unreadable face, you're home now, (y/n)...

#Illumi #yandere illumi x reader #x reader #yandere #hisoka #hxh #hunter x hunter #part 12 #quotev #fanfiction

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plunnies-n-shit · 3 years ago

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Ichigo goes to Hueco Mundo for a year, post-tybw.

By his own choice, honest. He's. coming to terms with what he is now. Human, Shinigami, Quincy, Hollow. Exploring each facet of himself, turning it over and deciding where it fits within him. Straightening out the labyrinth of mirrors.

Shiro was born from a Hollow that was born in a lab-- he doesn't know the first thing about living as a Hollow, outside of Ichigo's soul. So Ichigo has a talk with Harribel, makes some arrangements, and then...

It takes some time, for Ichigo to adjust. It's just sand and moonlight and raw reishi and hollows howling in the distance. Shiro rises and subsides to a rhythm that neither of them can comprehend, and it makes them. Irritable. Snappish. Too much like one thing, not enough like two, dangerously close to three, Ichigo paces and prowls and despite being a diligent student in all things finds he can't pay attention during Harribel's lessons, can't focus, can't calm himself down enough to settle into his own damn skin.

Nelliel just laughs when Ichigo spills this across her lap. Points him to the cliffs where the shifting dunes meet the menos forest, the thin line of territory that Grimmjow has claimed for his own now that the fighting is done and Hueco Mundo turns attention towards healing, recovery. Rediscovering the secrets beneath the sand, beneath the trees, beneath the moonlight and raw reishi and hollows howling in the distance.

Ichigo assumes that Nelliel is telling him to go blow off some steam before returning, but

Grimmjow emerges from a cave, rubbing sleep from his eyes, looking everything like a cat that's been stirred from a good, deep nap. Tired, irritable but not irritated. "Twyre is in bloom. What the fuck are you doing awake, Deathberry?"

Just because Hueco Mundo is a world that wasn't supposed to exist doesn't mean it's not a world. An ecosystem. Everything is turtles all the way down, Ichigo thinks, mildly hysterically, when Grimmjow shows him the black flowers blooming on the edges of the trees, the dunes. Scrape away the dirt and there's... scales. Or bark. A huge plant-like Hollow, migrating and napping and, when the Twyre is in bloom, feeding. Sapping up ambient reishi, releasing it later when it--

"Oh, that's gross," Ichigo says, and in his head Shiro cackles, and Grimmjow just scowls and bullies Ichigo back to the caves with claws and a lot of grumbling.

"Circle of life and all that shit."

"There's a lion and a king, but this doesn't look like the Lion King."

"Shut the fuck up. Twyre is in bloom. You're gonna eat, and then take a nap, and when you wake up maybe I'll teach you about the alcohol we make around here."

(Ichigo shuts up and eats.)

a vaguely Pathologic AU where Grimmjow fills the role of a Menkhu and Ichigo is definitely some kind of Bachelor.

("The Lines," Grimmjow says, and he's split into fractals, into reflected geometric patterns, and Ichigo has never seen something so beautiful that it makes his eyes hurt before, and he thinks he never will again. "It's what we see, instead of your fancy ribbons."

"Why-- I don't think-- I couldn't--" Ichigo stumbles, but his tongue feels too thick for his mouth and his head feels too full of stripes of light snaking behind his eyes and he and Shiro are too close to one, too far from two, dangerously close to three.

Grimmjow laughs, and where their hands are joined, where Grimmjow's hand tips up Ichigo's chin, those Lines creep under Ichigo's skin, and it feels a little like a lot like swallowing the sun.

"You didn't," Grimmjow says. "Not until you shared mine."

And then Grimmjow kisses him, and he tastes like Twyrine and salt and sand and light.)

#q's plunnies #bleach #grimmichi #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #ichigo kurosaki #pathologic au #kinda #wow this one is #sooo #self-indulgent

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orbees · 2 years ago

Note

I'd love to hear more about ur Blades ocs, what are Vespera and Vincente like? What're their backgrounds n personalities and what kinda skills do they have >:3c

>:3c why thank you lydia for this opportunity to oc post.... sorry this got a lil long lol

so some of this is gonna be repetition but imma just use this as a chance to give a lil overview

vespera & vincente are my characters for the blades in the dark game im playing with my frands luna, kiwi, and pidge!! a cool thing about our blades game is that it takes place in the same setting that kitty's in >:3c just a different town... kitty's home town.... sin city......... so they could hypothetically run into eachother one day which would be really cool 👁👁

ves & vince are human / serpentfolk :3 they're also siblings, ves being the older sister and vince being the babby brother. ves is like 35 and vince is like... 26~28. yes im bad at pinning down exact ages sdfdsg

so to get more into this requires a lil explanation about blades and how it differs from dnd, which im going into cause i mean. this is a dnd blog and most of my pals play dnd sdfsdhg so here we go:

so one way which blades differs from dnd is that it doesnt have classes but instead playbooks... which provide some special abilities and framework for play but doesnt mean they have One Specific Role. like u know how in dnd theres the Healer, the Fighter, etc? blades differs from that in that any character can fight, heal, etc, just some characters are better at it than others.

so vespera has the spider playbook, which means shes very much a Social Networking kinda person, but not in the smooth talking charismatic way but rather the conspiracy / calculation way. very much a "mastermind behind the curtain" kinda vibes w/ her.

when making ves, i very much put her against kitty, and wanted her to be a foil for kitty. i thought a lot of the phrase "you get more flies with honey than with vinegar"... kitty is Very much the honey, but ves is the vinegar for sure. she doesnt pile on the compliments like kitty does, or weave a tapestry of pretty words... she gets stuff done thru her raw intellect + efficiency. and ves is someone who gets shit Done. in a lot of ways, ves tends to be way more honest than kitty; a pretty big deal in sin city where everyone tends to be playing word games. but ves doesnt rly do that. she plays with her cards face up, but shes already assured her win several days in advance anyways by making arrangements with the dealer and buying off everyone else at the table. very much that kinda person

idk how much sense this will make to anyone who isnt familiar with blades, but heres her "stats"

(1 point in study, 2 in survey, 1 in finesse, 2 in prowl, 1 in command, and 2 in consort)

as for vince, vince has the leech playbook; described as a saboteur and technician... pretty fitting for him, kinda like ves he is more behind the scenes but instead of calling on connections hes more fucking up the equipment and balancing his team mates humors and shit. oh yeah hes a physiker/doctor btw

(two in study, two in tinker, one in finesse, one in wreck, and one in consort)

like ves, he's pretty smart too, very good at memorizing things. as a doctor his tinker skill is more meant for. people but he also takes apart electronics and stuff more as a hobby. he was that kid that took apart the clock to see how it worked

this post is long and i am still working on backstory stuff, so ill save that for another post, but i do wanna give a lil taste of them as people instead of just the Raw Mechanics, so here we go

Vespera: is definitely the more collected of the two. calculating, quick on her feet, efficient. she is also distrustful by nature but to those who earn it, she is loyal to the end. shes quiet, more of an observer, and she has a keen eye. she does have a bit of a cold and serious exterior but with an underlying softness for her family. i didnt rly have a chance to plug it in anywhere else but ill say now: she has a son who is her Everything, she loves that kid to the ends of the earth and works hard to give him the warmth and comfort she didnt have while growing up. obligation is in fact her vice, fun fact

Vincente: is, quite frankly, a mess sdfsdg vespera is always having to get him out of trouble. he is someone who very much wants to Be put together, and tries to project that image of being better than everyone else but becomes unraveled pretty quickly. he's got a sarcastic wit and rly likes to hear himself talk. he's definitely a lot less strict / serious than ves and in fact can be pretty chaotic sdfsdg he likes to have a good time. his vice is pleasure

i think this a good lil intro for them so ill leave it here and make another post later w/ more about their backgrounds when i get that all hashed out >:3 but tysm for asking lydia, i had fun w/ this!!!

#oc posting #oc: vespera #oc: vicente

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rreyie · 4 years ago

Text

pleasure’s all mine

summary- pretty much pegging bertholdt idk

warnings- pegging, anal fingering (m recieving), bert being a bottom, unedited work

a/n- sorry for the wait on this one, i’ve been so busy with school lately and trying to do requests that my mind is about to combust but, anyways i’ve been thinking about this for a very long time so i couldn’t resist writing smut about it

it all started when you had entered the bedroom, and bert was laying down on the bed, book in hand as he carefully studied each page before flipping to the next. his face lit up as soon as you walked in.

“oh, good evening y/n!” he chimed, shutting the novel and placing it gently beside him. “have a nice day?”

“sure”, you reply. “that one ashy-haired kid is relentless with his flirting, what’s his name again? john? jake? jean? i think that’s it.”

bertholdt sighed. “i can’t blame him, since you’re absolutely goregous.” your face warmed at the compliment as you sat down next to him. his arms quickly wrapped around your waist, like you were some sort of lifeline. you nuzzled your head into his toned chest, giving a quiet hum of approval.

after a few minutes of being held by the tall man, he cleared his throat. you looked up to him, finding a nervous expression all over his face.

“so um... can you peg me?”

“what?” you question him, pulling away from his embrace. “where did this come from?”

“i-i was just doing some research, a-and i came across the concept- you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, of course!” his right hand reached behind his to scratch his head.

now that you thought about it, a switch of roles could be quite nice. you had to admit that you wanted to do this at some point too, but were a bit afraid to ask him. after all he was a bit vanilla when it came to sex, and new things didn’t come easily.

“know what? let’s do it”, you say confidently. you roll over and get up to grab the bottle of lube that rested on your nightstand. “you’re going to have to follow my lead if you want it to work though.”

“r-really?” bertholdt asked, maroon eyes widening. “whenever you’re ready to start i’m-“

“not so fast”, you reply. “gonna need to prep you first so it doesn’t hurt.”

bertholdt nodded, and began to unbuckle his belt, placing it on the corner of the bed nearly before he unzipped the fly of his jeans. he pulled them down swiftly, and ripped his shirt off soon after. his figure never failed to amaze you, you wouldn’t expect such a body from a tall, awkward man.

bertholdt sat back down on the bed and watched you pour a generous amount of lube onto your fingers. you gesture for him to come sit with you- or rather on you. be obliged, sitting with his lead on your shoulder as he placed his warmer than usual palms on your clothed back.

“okay. we have a safe word, remember?” you ask him. “we can stop whenever you get uncomfy or it starts to hurt, okay bert? now just pull down your boxers for me.”

bertholdt gave a tug at the waistband of his grey boxers, rapidly pulling them down and discarding them in a random spot in the room. his cock rested close to your abdomen, not hard yet, but he was most likely going to be by the end of this.

your fingers approach his hole, tracing your digits around the ring of muscle before slowly pushing them in. it was a tight fit, but the lube helped a lot.

bertholdt twitched a bit, obviously not used to the feeling of having a finger up his ass, but you swirled it around a bit in an effort to find his prostate- in which, the effort was successful. you could tell by the loud gasp bertholdt had let loose from his mouth.

“like that?” you ask, continuously pushing your finger pad against his g spot. he couldn’t make words out of the compete euphoria he was feeling, only a broken moan came out in place of words. “i’m going to take that as a yes.”

bertholdts grip became increasingly tight around your back, his fingers digging into your back to the point where it was borderline painful. red marks were now etched onto your back. his breathing became quickened against your nearly bare neck as you continued to finger his tight hole.

at this point, he was most definitely hard, his dick throbbing and twitching with each new motion you added into your sequence. your hand that once rested on his back moved to his cock, giving it a few reassuring strokes. you could tell he was getting close by how red his tip was starting to get, so you pulled your finger out. bertholdt gave a saddened grunt at the loss of sensation.

“can’t let you cum early”, you say. “we haven’t even begun yet.”

you reached over to your nightstand, and pulled out a small drawer which had a rather large purple dildo. bertholdt gasped.

“you’re telling me... that’s going up my ass?” he asked.

“we can stop here if you want to-“

“n-no, keep going”, he urged. “please.”

you nod. “okay then, lay down with your ass facing the end of the bed while i get the strap, okay bert?”

you walk over to your closet where you grabbed a large band-like contraption. you fastened a few buckles and adjusted them to your waist, before clipping on the dildo to the front.

prowling back over to where bertholdt was laid back, you kiss his chapped lips for a moment, the strap pressing up against his skin. it sent a shiver down his spine, knowing it would be inside him in a moment.

“just take deep breaths, try to relax while i do this”, you command. “you should try and jack yourself off while-“

“just put it in, y/n”, bertholdt groaned. “i-i’m sorry, i’m impatient but i’m just so-“

he is cut off by you sliding the tip of the dildo past his tight little hole, his hazel eyes rolling into the back of his head as he firmly grasped his cock.

you push it a bit further, trying to look for any signs of discomfort in your boyfriend. luckily, you prepared him well so that he was wet enough to slide into, allowing a relatively easy time.

now came the fun part.

you began to thrust a bit, taking baby steps and not going too far in. his fists clutched the sheets of the bed, knuckles turning pale. a pathetic whimper left his lips, black hair a mess and tears forming in his eyes.

but he didn’t use the safe word. that meant he was enjoying this.

your thrusts got a little quicker, finding his prostate once again. this made his palm slap the mattress, coming down with a hard ‘thwap’. another strained moan echoed through the room.

“ah- oh god, yes, yes please, harder...” he gasped, stroking his cock quickly, trying to find some sort of release. sweat covered his scarlet cheeks, dark hair a mess as you pounded into him.

you’d like to tease him, you really would. but tonight was about him. you tilt your hips in a different angle to hit his g spot more efficiently, allowing another few groans to pass though his mouth.

“pease let me cum!” he gasped. “please, i’ll do anything, this just feels s-so good!”

your movements come to a halt, looking him in the eyes for a moment.

“you don’t have to beg, baby boy. i’ll let you cum. just relax for me.”

with one last thrust, bertholdt came undone, cum spurting all over his hand and his bare abdomen. warm tears streamed down his cheeks as he cried out in pleasure from the impact.

as bertholdt came down, you discarded the strap and put it back in the closet. laying down next to him, you press a thumb to his cheeks and wipe away his tears that had now ran cold. his hand cupped your cheek as he kissed you right on the lips.

“t-thank you, y/n”, he stuttered. “that felt... really, really good...”

“pleasures all mine”, you reply, giving him a warm smile as you peck his cheek again. “one thing though... if you’re not tired, can you, help me out?” you look down to your panties, a wet spot staining the bottom.

bertholdt chuckled, and moved down in between your legs, to help you with your little problem.

#aot hcs #aot headcanons #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #snk headcanons #aot smut #snk smut #aot bertolt #aot bertholdt #bertolt hoover #snk bertholdt #bertholdt hoover

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elidelochans · 4 years ago

Text

Handle With Care

Written for @ladywitchling, “Something with Manorian and children” Here ya go babes

WC: 4747

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

"Manon, I'm sorry," he said, weaving his silken, slim tie underneath each other. Looping it into a knot pulling it flush against the white-collar, "I didn't think I'd be called in when I told Aelin we could."

Her arms folded tight across her chest. Leaning against the crowning of the door frame. Fixing him a pointed look through the mirror. Holding his gaze, gold meeting sapphire. She watched her husband run his long fingers through perfectly coiled blue-black hair.

"Since it was your suggestion. Why don't you take her to work?" she questioned, surveying the way his solid muscle moved underneath his button-down. Crimson lips pursing as her gaze swept over him.

He simply turned towards her, a lazy smile from a mouth that harbored all sorts of wicked things. Dorian pinned her against the door. A hand settling on her hip. Her palms splayed across his chest.

"I can't or I would. Besides, it’s not for long. Chaol said Duke needs to have a finance meeting immediately, " Manon rolled her eyes, huffing out a response while Dorian brushed his nose along hers, hovering his mouth over Manon's blood-red ones, "Are you telling me Manon Havilliard can't handle a toddler?" If it wasn’t displayed so roguishly on his handsome face, she could hear his mocking smile in the words.

Her lips curled upward, coiling at his tie bringing his lips hovering over hers, “Oh I can. And you will bring me that big bottle of merlot from Wendlyn Wines and sushi when you get home,” She tugged him a tad closer, feeling his breath hot against her mouth. Like the caress of a heated wind kissing her lips.

Dorian dropped a hand gripping her waist firmly. She in turn tilted her head, holding his gaze. His words fell from his lips, tone dark and sensual, “I’ll give you something big alright.”

He closed the short distance between them, nipping at her bottom lip before claiming her mouth. A soft moan came from her, slipping her tongue between his parted lips searching for his. Dorian pressed his wife harder into the door, hearing it smack against the wall behind them. Her hands slid up into the perfectly styled hair all set for a day's worth of meetings. Just when his hands moved to cup her pert ass and lift her. The doorbell chimed ringing through both floors of the house. Breaking apart from each other, both with heavy breaths and blushed cheeks. Manon fixed her loose fitted shirt the color of granite giving him a chaste kiss.

“Finish getting ready. I’ll get her,” She turned to leave their room.

He called out to Manon as she reached the hallway smiling at her with encouragement, “You’re gonna do great.”

“I know."

Dorian knew the way she said it, his wife wasn't so sure.

It wasn’t that Manon had some irrational fear of kids. She simply didn’t know what to do with them. Despite her cousin Asterin having one and Elide having two. Manon had successfully dodged babysitting. Until now. Two years into marriage and the question was like a battering ram. To her and Dorian both. Have you thought about kids? Do you know time is ticking? She was a thirty-year-old woman and they had a few years before “time was ticking”. The happily married couple had discussed it. Plenty of times and the answer was always the same. If it happens, then it was meant to be. The Havilliards were perfectly content with their huskies, Abby and Abraxos. That was their family. Having a child wasn’t on top of their lists. At least for Manon.

For Dorian, the more their friends had children the more she noticed the longing on his face. Whether it was family gatherings, dinners, or birthdays he was always with the kids. Playing whatever games they asked and roughhousing with them. Majority of the time a babe would be in his arms. Or an older child on his hip or his shoulders. The warmth and tenderness would fill her watching him play the role of fun uncle. Knowing how good he would be as a dad. Manon knew her husband only said if it happens to appease her. To let her know it was okay and he’d wait months, years for her to be ready. It seemed now, she would have a test to see if she was. If she’d ever be.

Manon walked out of their room and down the hall, following the loud noises of their dogs barking relentlessly in a chorus of excitement. She shouted at the door, knowing it was Aelin on the other side. Quickly she pulled the sliding glass door open ushering the dogs outside. Closing it after Abby stepped onto the porch. Manon rushed to the front door pulling it open with a twist of the knob. Aelin stood in the doorway, a backpack over her shoulder filled to the brim. Looking more like she was preparing Manon for a hike in the Terrasen mountains and not watching a child. Manon’s gaze fell to the girl, standing up to Aelin’s knee, Keira Whitehorn. Her hair primarily taking after her father. Though thanks to her mother most likely, it was a lighter shade. More of pale moonlight. Close to Manon’s. The girl sported evenly split pigtails that bounced as she swayed behind her mother. Besides the hair shade, she looked practically identical to her. Including the traditional Ashryver eyes, turquoise, and gold.

It was then Manon noticed the shimmer on Keira’s lips and the bright pink on her cheeks. Manon arched a brow at the look. Aelin must’ve caught the confused look in her eyes as she sighed.

“Kay refused to leave until she did her makeup. Because auntie Manon likes makeup. She’s in a copycat phase, “ Aeling said handing over the bag. Manon took it setting it inside her home, “It’s pretend makeup and will come off with water. Anyways, Good Morning.”

She thought most of the kids tolerated her because they loved Dorian so much. Honestly, she believed they were scared of her. Which was ridiculous although given her usual cold appearance understandable. It was never the kids' fault, Manon just had a people tolerance level and after some point, she was ready to go home and be with her dogs and Dorian. He always felt the same, Dorian just had a better way of masking it. Little Keira wanted to copy her, to be like her. Manon could truly say she was touched by this notion.

“Good Morning, “ Manon crouched down to Keira’s level, a softness in her voice that surprised even her, “Not bad, I could give you some pointers if you’d like, I might need a model... If your mother is okay with it that is.”

Keira gasped, eyes widening tugging on her mother's blazer, “Please oh please!” she begged, working her best puppy face.

“Your father would have a fit,” Aelin commented, running her fingers as if in thought before flashing a grin, “but his face would be priceless. Do it.”

“What are we doing?”

Manon heard her husband question as he stepped behind her. Keira shouted his name flying into his arms. Dorian hoisted her up, keeping her on the seat of his hips. Keira’s small four-year-old face lit up as bright as the smile on his. Gone was the seductive prowl of the man moments ago who almost took his wife against a door. Yet, Manon found him equally desirable at this moment.

“Manon’s gonna do my makeup,” she giggled.

“She is?” he quipped, looking over at her. Manon shrugged as if saying, it’s what she wants.

“I have to go. Thanks again you guys,” Aelin kissed her daughter's brow, “Don’t be a terror,” the girl twisted her brows pouting her face, “too much of a terror. I love you and I’ll see you tonight.”

Keira said her goodbyes as Aelin walked away shouting good luck. As she peeled out of the parking lot Dorian slid Keira into Manon’s arms. Manon kept her steady on her hip. She’s held kids before, but the feeling always felt off to her. Dorian pressed a quick peck to her cheek, as he ruffled the top of Keira’s hair musing up the perfectly brushed strands pulled into elastic bands.

“I should go too. The sooner I get this over with. The sooner I can come home.”

Manon nodded, “Remember your promise. Sushi and wine. The big bottle.”

He leaned over growling against her ear that sent a shiver down her spine, “I told you there’s something bigger I’d rather give you,” teeth nipping at her ear. Causing her body to heat at the wanton touch. Prick.

Manon squeezed Keira tightly as she stepped back, shoving Dorian in the shoulder as he laughed, “I'm holding a kid you rutting ass-” he cut his wife off with a quick searing kiss.

“Language Havilliard. There’s a child present,” Dorian quipped.

Manon glared at her ass of a husband. He grinned, his sapphire eyes shining bright in the sunlight. Suddenly his features turned soft and caring. Then Manon knew why he did what he did. To ease her tension. On the outside, she appeared calm and ready for a day with a four-year-old. On the inside, she was still nerve wrecked. Taking care of kids wasn’t something she knew nor understood. In mere minutes it would only be Manon and Keira. When Manon glanced over to the girl in her arms, with pretend makeup on for her. She felt the uneasiness begin to ebb away.

Dorian flashed her a glance that said, If you need me just call, but I think you’ve got this.

Manon placed the young girl down onto the cemented ground, approaching her husband kissing him ever so lightly on his lush lips, "I love you. Have a good day at work,” she responded in the way a loving wife would. Manon whispered into his ear far away from the peering ears of the toddler behind her, “Bring me my wine or that big thing can find your hand tonight.”

His only response was a low hungry purr. Dorian knelt to Keira, wrapping her in a tight embrace as he said his goodbye. How he can be in a state of primal desire and tender to a child in the same breath, Manon didn’t know. Only that her desire and love for him grew. With a wink and an I’ll call you later he left, leaving behind Manon and Keira as they went inside.

“Auntie Manon?” Keira questioned following Manon to the patio door. She didn’t wait for her aunt to respond, “You don’t have to worry. Mommy calls daddy a bastard all the time.”

“I see.” it was the only thing she could muster in the shock of this four-year-old saying bastard. Then again she is Aelin’s child.

After Manon let the dogs in and they kissed all over the little girl. The duo went to their food and skittered off somewhere in the house. Keira flopped onto the crimson sofa as Manon sat next to her. The little girl kicked her feet as her aunt chewed her bottom lip lost in thought. Manon was good at thinking on her toes, but with kids, she was unsure of what to do. Sure she promised her make up lessons. By Aelin’s response, she thought it better to wait until later.

The girl leaned back on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling, “Mama told me you met uncle Dorian on my birthday at the hospital.”

Manon bit back a smile recalling the memory of Asterin's thirteen-hour delivery and the sapphire blue-eyed idiot who wouldn’t leave her alone in the general waiting room, “I did.”

“So you fell in love and married because of me?”

“If that’s what you wanna think kid.” Manon drawled.

Things fell to another beat of silence. Manon was sure the dogs were sprawled out on her bed, napping. The living room felt still and awkward. She could hear the rustle of Keira’s tutu as she moved and twisted angling herself to look at Manon. Manon looked at her from the corner of her eyes as the girl watched her and she could tell Keira had more questions.

“Why don’t you have a baby? Do you want a baby? Mommy says you’re not sure. Daddy tells her it’s none of her business. She sticks out her tongue and then he gives her a spanking,” Keira rushed that all out in a single breath. It was more of Rowan and Aelin then she cared to know.

“Well you’re father is right. It is none of her business and I don’t know."

Manon prayed to whatever God would listen that this conversation would end and soon. She didn’t want to find some child-like way of explaining her fears. Terrified of being a horrible mother. Growing up she didn’t have a mother figure. Her mother and father passed away in a tragic accident. Her grandmother was a hard woman with a cold heart. Because of that Manon believed in the depths of her soul, she would parent with a cold harshness. That wasn’t what she wanted for any future child of hers.

“Babies are cute and funny. You should think about it. Can we watch Frozen and have a tea party?”

Manon furrowed her brows, tapping a finger lightly on her chin, “I’ve never had a tea party before,” she didn’t miss the confused look or the gaping on the small girl, “My grandmother raised me. She wasn’t a tea party kind of person. I learned how to shoot a bow, martial arts, Sword Fighting, which sounds insane now that I think about it.”

Keira’s eyes danced like rays of sun glittering on the clear ocean waters. Her smile grew from ear to ear. If Manon had any doubt this kid belonged to Rowan and Aelin, her excitement over this showed it. With Rowan being an FBI agent in a specialized unit called The Cadre, he knew various skill sets of a violent trade. Aelin took up jiu-jitsu as well as a routine fitness regime. Which Manon knew well being they worked out together. It was no surprise Keira marveled at her confession.

“What would your parents say if I let you play with a wooden sword in the yard?” she grinned.

Keira shot her an incredulous look too much like Aelin.

"I have toy swords all over my home."

"Welp," Manon slapped a hand on her leg, "To the yard. Beat me once I'll buy Frozen and order pizza for lunch. Kids like pizza right?"

Keira nodded jumping off the sofa, speaking with enthusiasm, "Deal!"

Perhaps, this kid thing wasn't all too bad.

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

There were no other words to put it. Dorian simply felt bad for his wife. He had a whole day planned for them, but when Chaol called about a meeting his irritating second cousin, Duke demanded to be held today. Citing it needed immediate attention, Dorian had no choice in the matter.

He knew she wasn’t ready for kids if she ever would be. Despite their friends around them growing their families, It suited them both just fine. True, he loved kids. He loved playing with their nieces and nephews during get-togethers, holidays, and the like. A small part of him envied the fatherly joy beheld by Rowan, Chaol, and Lorcan.

He understood the depths of her fears. That it wasn’t the thought of having kids, it was Manon’s inner conflict. The fear of treating her children the way her grandmother treated her, with little love and a brutal life. That thought usually kept her away from kids, even her goddaughter. Dorian despised her grandmother for sowing these feelings so deep into Manon.

When the few times she was with Asterin’s daughter, Stella, or how she was with their dogs, he knew Manon would be the perfect mother. Harsh and stern when needed, yet loving them with such fierceness that even the mere thought made his heart swell with pride. He hoped with two of them watching Keira it would ease that fear. Now he was sitting here in a four-walled office tapping his fingers along the rich mahogany desk and she was home with a child and her fears swirling inside her like darkness.

As he waited for that damned prick, Dorian looked through his emails when the camera icon caught his attention. He might not be able to be with her, but he could watch her. Was it an invasion of privacy? Probably. Would she beat his ass for it? Yes. If he saw her acting like a mother, perhaps he could ease those wicked feelings. It was worth the risk. Clicking the icon and waiting for the cameras to appear he wasn’t prepared for the video that popped up.

There was his wife, her precious crimson blanket passed down from her family on her father’s side, wrapped around her neck like a cloak. Something in her hand, a wooden sword he assumed. Dorian rubbed his palm over his face, keeping it over his mouth hiding his laugh. His wife was in their yard with a play sword clashing against a toddler. Noticing Keira’s hair was now pulled into a braid just like Manon as the small girl charged at her, most likely with a warrior’s cry. His dogs running beside her.

He could envision himself there, with a child of their own running through the yard. With a kid and the dogs trailing behind as he or she chased down their parents. Until they would collide into each other, Dorian tickling the kid while he busied kissing his wife. Abby and Abraxos jumping in on the fun licking whoever they could. Or until one of them fell, like Keira just did of the gravel clutching her legs. He didn’t have to be there to know the girl was crying a wallop of tears falling down her small face. Manon threw the sword down undoing the blanket immediately scooping the girl in her arms and running into their home.

His phone rang as Dorian looked over Manon’s distressed face appearing on his screen. Flicking the answer key he held up his phone smiling at her pretending he didn’t witness the events that unfolded, “Having fun?”

“Dorian I broke the kid," Manon confessed

“Babe you didn’t break her,” he noted the worry hidden behind her golden gaze.

Keira was crying and whimpering in the background. From what he could see, Aelin’s daughter sat on the toilet. Legs propped up, with two bright red knee caps, a deep scarlet slowly trickling down. Manon wiped the blood away once more.

“I already cleaned both knees, but I can’t find any band-aids,” she rushed out, setting her phone down.

Dorian watched as she lowered herself to Keira. Brushing a thumb affectionately over the girl’s tiny hand. The touch he could tell was gentle like a mother’s caress. Manon tucked a stray strand behind her ear.

“You’re a tough girl right?” she said soothingly. Keira sniffled, nodding her head. Manon took a tissue wiping Keira’s tears away, “Tough girls can cry when we get hurt, but we’re strong right?” Another nod followed by a smile from his wife, “ Tough girls dry there eyes because these,” pointing to her knees, “Are your battle scars from defeating the evil witch queen. You should wear them with pride.”

“Okay,” Keira’s voice was barely above a whisper. Dorian was lucky enough to hear it, “We can watch Frozen now? With pizza and a tea party?”

“Soon as I find the band-aids."

Dorian refused to bring attention to what he witnessed. He’d save that for later.

“Manon look on the top shelf in the cabinet. We have a first aid kit in the kitchen too.”

Picking up the phone she replied, “Thanks. I’ll text you later.” and then she clicked off the phone.

Dorian sat in this meeting bored out of his mind. What any part of this couldn’t wait till Monday he didn’t understand. He was only half paying attention to the discussion. His mind on other things as in his wife having a tea party with pizza and Disney films. Being the CEO of Havilliard Enterprises he knew this was highly unprofessional. However, as the man in charge, he could do as he pleased. To which included pulling his phone out and accessing the security cameras of his home. Dorian leaned into the armchair of his cushioned leather seat. Eyes scanning the small squares until he found the camera angled in his living room. If the swordplay warmed his heart, this melted it entirely.

There sat Manon, her back braced against the sofa, tucked in between the base and the coffee table. A box opened in front of her that Dorian figured was pizza. He stifled a laugh seeing she had two coffee mugs on the table and not teacups. It was hard to tell what part of the movie was playing. Seeing Keira twirling around and pulling Manon to her feet, he knew the iconic song that every parent abhorred was about to play. The pride and love in him radiated watching Manon pretend to use ice magic and what he guessed was sing with Keira.

“Mr. Havilliard I had no idea fiances put a smile like that on your face,” Perrington commented in a way that seemed to be a falsified attempt at pleasantries, “Or was I disturbing something important?” he questioned raising his brow.

It was this moment, Dorian knew he’d have enough. This dreadful meeting could wait. He wanted to be near his wife and niece.

Turning his phone off returning it to his pocket as he stood grabbing his blazer from his chair, the faintest glare on his face, “Truthfully Mr. Perrington. I find this immediate finance meeting on a Saturday unimportant. Nothing you have mentioned needed any sense of urgency and could have easily waited until Monday,” Duke went to speak and Dorian held up a hand, “I’m not finished. To answer your question yes you did disturb something important today. If you’ll excuse me I’m going to leave now and we can continue this Monday. Disturb me again when things do not need urgency and you will find yourself out of a job,”

“You wouldn’t do that to your second cousin would you?”

Dorian had to reign in the gag at his pathetic attempt of innocence.

“You mean the same cousin who believes I am unfit to run this company?” Dorian’s smile turned wicked almost lethal striding over to him, clapping a shoulder on the older man squeezing it tightly, “Enjoy your day Duke,” Dorian lowered his head down, “My warning holds. I will fucking fire you.”

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

With that Dorian walked away from the grey walled meeting room, leaving a raging Duke Perrington behind. Dorian didn’t care, he was going to go home.

Opening the door with Manon’s favorite merlot in hand, he noticed it was quiet. Too quiet for a four-year-old and two dogs. As if they heard him thinking Abby and Abraxos showed up. Dorian hung his keys on the wall before petting them. He looked around for any movement and saw nothing. The couch was empty and the tv stayed on the rental screen. Settling the bottle on their counter he walked through the house.

“Man? I’m home,” he wondered if they were hiding from him. He did send her a message after all. Maybe they were trying to spook him, “Babe?”

His shoes tapped along the wooden flooring down the hallway. Checking everywhere he could think, even their bedroom. No one. His heart started racing. They weren’t outside and Manon’s car was in the driveway so they didn’t leave. If anyone broke in there was no sign of struggle. Rounding the corner he noticed their library door ajar, though the lights were off. Still, he pressed on pushing against the ivory door. This was Aelin’s kid he should have looked here first.

“Manon?”

Still nothing.

He moved past the various shelves of books. All lined with fantasy, history, and whatever books caught their eyes. Walking past four aisles he wandered into the reading space. In between, two wing-backed chairs he found blankets tied on the knobs of each one, a faint glow coming from within. Dorian silently stepped forward, crouching when he opened the lip of this makeshift tent. Immediately he pulled his phone out to snap a picture before crawling inside.

In the tent, there were pillows scattered across the floor. Manon and Keira huddled in a corner a protective arm wrapped tightly around the little girl. Keira nuzzled into the nape of his wife’s neck. A small hand resting on her chest. Manon’s hand settled over Keira’s hair. Both of them breathing deeply as they slept. Carefully Dorian slipped next to his wife. The tips of his fingers, gingerly running across her arm kissing her brow as he did so. Manon shifted ever so lightly leaning into him. Her hold on Keira remaining tight.

“You’re home earlier than expected,” she whispered keeping her eyes closed.

“I can leave,” he suggested. “And take your wine with me.”

Golden eyes flashed open as quick as she could, Manon turned at him, “Don’t you dare,” she paused, “and my sushi?”

He pulled her and Keira in tighter, his nose brushing along her neck, “I was thinking after Aelin picks up Kay we can order sushi, finish what we started earlier…” he trailed off.

Manon hummed her approval, “practice making a baby,” the way she suggested it gave him the implications she was serious.

He blinked once, twice. His mouth opening several times to speak yet no words would come, until he swallowed thickly as her statement sunk in.

“Manon...Are you serious?” She turned to face him carefully slipping out and away from Keira. Sitting up Dorian followed her movements.

She thought about her day with Keira. From the sword playing to the fear and maternal instincts that kicked in when she fell. Even in her panicked moment how Dorian, unknowing to him calmed Manon. After Manon placed a bandage on her knees, Keira flung herself from the toilet hugging her. At first, she froze surprised by the action, then she returned the hug. Since then she didn't think as a sitter, or an aunt, she thought as a mother. To test it out. Manon pictured her husband with her doing these things, the movies, dancing, innocent duels, and stories in a tent.

When Keira asked for story time in a tent. They built one together, the one they sat in now. It was this moment that truly settled the notion everything would be fine. When Keira snuggled up to her as she read the book about a pig named Olivia. Occasionally Manon would glance over to the empty spot, thinking of this situation with Dorian and a child of their own. It struck her how badly she wanted this. There was an ache, a burn in her chest knowing in a couple of hours and after she does Keira’s makeup, she will be childless again. Until the foreseeable future. And she hated it.

Manon knew not every day would be perfect. There would be days she struggled. That Dorian would struggle. Days where they would argue and days where their kids would be at their absolute worst. Seeing this girl look at her today like she was the world. Filled her with a feeling she couldn’t possibly describe. It was a sensation that made the fear and those soon to be harsh days worth it.

Manon glanced over at Keira watching as she started to stir under the blanket, “Being with her today and you not being here. I kept thinking of what it would be like for us to be doing these things with our own, “turning to face Dorian once more, “I want that Dorian. I want our family to grow. I know on low days as a parent I’ll have you and you won’t let me fall.”

Dorian pulled her into a warm embrace, wrapping his arms around her. Resting his head over hers. Manon ran her hands down the expanse of his back, “I saw you on the security cameras playing with her. I watched you, heard you comfort her when she was hurt. Manon, you will be amazing as a mother and yes I won't let you fall. I'll be here. Always."

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

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theflashdriver · 4 years ago

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Rapunzel’s Tower (Silvaze)

The clatter and jangle of heavy bangles boomed above the sound of fast footsteps on cobblestone streets as a young knight rushed towards the tower. Blaze the cat, age seven, was not her usual self today; the young feline had taken on a guise, a façade to fit a role she was currently playing. While she was wearing her usual tattered robe and tights, a cape from a centuries abandoned costume store was flitting and fluttering behind her while the visor of and old plastic helmet obscured her vision of the cracked and burning streets around her. Those old trinkets, coupled with the rusted pipe that was her sword, might have given the illusion that she was a more pitiful and crude knight, but this was not the case.

Blaze was playing the role of a young knight who had set off to save a fair maiden from a distant castle in which she'd been sealed, battling her way over all manner of obstacles and destroying all kinds of beasts in search of her true love. Of course, despite the make-believe nature of this game, those obstacles and monsters were oh so very real. The flaming beasts that prowled this city had got in her way more than once, only to be seen off by either a thwack from her supposed sword or a burst of flame from her free hand. Every time she had to dispose of a monster or hurl herself across a lava filled gorge, she would question whether this game of theirs was the best idea but soon she'd fall back into her knightly persona.

This had all come about as a result of two ancient but very different sources. The first was the books they'd been reading or, well, more specifically; the books that the tower's maiden had rather fallen in love with. Since the destruction of their prior home, they'd taken up residence in a library on the edge of the city and rather fallen in love with the various books housed within it. They'd started by reading informative pieces, introducing themselves to the wonders of the past, before gradually stumbling upon the more fanciful tales of both regular and not so regular lives. Her partner, Silver, had rather fallen in love with tales of pirates and knights and kings and queens, often reading them to her and bordering on enacting them to her. His excitement had come to a head recently though, after they'd discovered a most peculiar shop. It seemed to have gone mostly untouched by time, no one had breached its windows or broken down its door, but both inside were countless treasures. Rings, bangles, tiaras, necklaces and other trinkets had just been left in glass display cases for no clear reason. Why someone would choose to buy those shiny objects rather than food or water, neither of them really knew but they did know that the objects belonged in treasure chests and adorning princesses.

Now, taking from long abandoned shops was nothing new for them (it was the only way to survive in their long-destroyed world) but, usually, they stole for either comfort or survival. All of these objects, despite how pretty they were, looked to be entirely pointless; they could gain no sustenance from them and they offered no comfort or protection. However, the naïve pleading of her partner, and a certain red gem that fit so well on her forehead, had convinced Blaze to fill a bag with those sparkling trinkets. On the way home he had proposed using them in a re-enactment; more specifically, that they re-enacted a scene from one of the shorter stories that he'd read to her. It'd taken some convincing, but she had agreed to play his little game under only one condition: that she got to be the knight while he played the part of the princess.

He'd immediately agreed, simply excited to play and not seeming to particularly care what role he took. While that had embarrassed her at first, she'd stood helpless as he scrambled to find some shining armour and when he had brought her a cape from his bedroom, Blaze had felt an excitement brewing in her stomach. A childish, foolish, excitement but excitement none the less. Her armour was adorned from most of their plundered goods, broaches and pins had been stuck through her robe to create small shining patches. Rings and bangles had covered her hands to take the form of makeshift gauntlets, but many had been shed as she ran. Admittedly, even with all they'd taken and dressed her in, she didn't look much like the knights they'd read about in history books or plays, but she did feel… different.

She dashed and leapt across another jagged chasm, using her sword as leverage to vault over an especially wide gap and land safely on the other side. Her eyes locked on a pair of prowling magma hounds, their maws snapped open as they caught sight of the small girl's form. She threw her left hand in one's direction, unleashing a blast of flame that threw it backwards. The second rushed towards her, arriving just in time for its face to meet with her rusted pipe. Without so much as looking back, she kept running; the castle now in sight.

The tower, in actuality, was a skyscraper that had broken and collapsed long before either of them were born. Though the majority of it now lay shattered over the shops and houses that were behind it, its stump still stood tall and proud over the majority of the surrounding buildings. Though Blaze could see it, she knew that the site was especially difficult to reach; that was why they'd chosen it as the stranded princess' keep, after all.

Focusing again on her role, becoming the knight, Blaze charged around the final corner and locked her eyes upon the tower's decrepit plaza. There was a lot on her way; several lava rivers had carved channels through this part of the city and earthquakes had displaced much of the land, segmenting the streets and pavement alike. She threw a glance to the top of the tower; she swore that she could see the flickering of cyan light but, from this distance and at this angle, she couldn't make out Silver.

She resumed her sprint, tracing along the angular central crack that ran along the street, but soon she had shifted to jumping and bouncing. Every third or fourth step was followed by more cracking, the ground had been made brittle by years of constant heat and pressure. She found herself more and more using her pipe to vault and ground herself, very almost losing it to the flames time and time again only to catch and swing it at the very last second. Fleet of foot and elegant, but perhaps not steadfast like the knight in the tale, Blaze soon found herself in the plaza beneath the broken structure.

It took her a moment to find a spot that would fully support her, it seemed as though her every step disturbed the ground somehow, but, eventually, she settled near the spire's base. In its working life, the building had provided homes to hundreds of people. Now it was but a jagged piece of the skyline, too rickety and impractical for anyone to really live in. Positioned closer and frowning upward, the kitten could see a psychic glow plainly emanating above her. After a bit more squinting, Blaze determined that Silver wasn't in view yet; he was hiding until she called out to him, just as the princess had in the story. The moment she spoke up, he'd make his appearance and recite his lines.

Blaze thought for a moment, trying to remember what the knight had said. She must have taken a while because, before she could hazard a guess, the very book that she was supposed to be enacting tumbled down from the skyscraper on a beam of cyan light. The young feline managed to snatch it from the air, finding it already open at the perfect page.

Upon reading no more than the first few words, the knight automatically recalled her lines. Holding the book behind her back, she pointed her sword to the heavens, "Rapunzel, my dearest Rapunzel, I've come for you!"

Now, finally, the princess showed herself. Silver, currently known as Rapunzel, had borrowed one of Blaze's hair ties and pulled back his usually over the top quills. In an attempt to further transform his appearance, the hedgehog had wrapped himself in a thick beige shawl and various silk scarves to give the outfit more colour. From down there it was difficult to see, but she knew that his fingers were covered in rings too.

"Who is it? Who has come to see me?" He called down, leaning precariously over what remained of a wall.

"It is I, your handsome knight!" She shouted back, unable to keep herself from thinking that the so-called knight in the story thought just a little too highly of himself. After all, his only name in this entire book was the handsome knight, "I've come to save you!"

"But how will you join me up here? My father broke the stairs when he locked me away in this tower, I'm trapped!" He exposited, "I've been alone up here for so many years, I'm oh so lonely!"

"But it is being alone for so many years that will bring me to you!" She replied, pointing her sword even harder, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"

There was a beat of silence, a mutual realisation surely dawned upon both of them. In the story, the princess Rapunzel was supposed to let down her hair for the knight to climb up. While it was unclear how the happy pair had got down afterwards and left to live happily ever after, the story could not continue without the scaling of the princess' tower and the actual first meeting of the knight and their love. Silver's quills were long, but they weren't multiple stories long, there was no way-

"Dear knight! Do you trust me?" That wasn't in the book, "My hair may not yet be long enough, but I can bring us together another way!"

Blaze saw cyan light begin to pulse and flicker around her frame and creep into her vision, not imprisoning her or grasping her so much as it was making clear his intent. She bit her lip, both her fists tightened around the respectively grasped book and pipe. She was frightened, terrified of heights, but she knew the answer to what he'd asked. They were alone in this destroyed world, they worked and fought and lived and played together.

"Of course, I trust you, d-dear princess! More than I trust anyone else!" She called out, shutting her eyes tight, "J-Just promise that you'll get me up there safely!"

Aura began to tickle at her sides, "I promise, my knight! I'll get you up here as quickly as I can!"

"M-Maybe not quickly!" She felt his psychic touch hesitate, "But not too slowly either…" She grumbled, probably too quietly for him to hear, "Just safely! J-Just get me up there safely!"

The kitten felt a gentle touch, like some kind of hug, wrap around her shoulders before gradually spreading to encase her entire torso. Mere moments after she'd managed to get comfortable with that, her feet seemed to slip from the ground and a light wind began to whistle through her ears. Her toes curled and her teeth grit, she didn't dare to open her eyes even if she knew what was happening. She trusted him not to drop her, that much was true, but she didn't trust her fear not to stoke her powers and tear her from his grasp; sending her plummeting to the concrete below. Eventually though, she felt the air brush her muzzle directly rather than from above; she'd reached the correct elevation, she was being pulled towards him. The moment of truth arrived not with a sound, but something brushing past her shoulder and a hand taking hold of her book wielding wrist.

Her eyes opened, blue energy still tinted her vision, but Silver was the centre of all she saw. The small hedgehog was close, almost nose to nose with her, as he leaned out over the edge of the tower to manually pull her onto its top. She let her sword drop before she landed, it clattered onto the roof as she grabbed at his shoulder with her newly freed hand. Her fear of heights had gotten better since she'd met him, he'd offered to help her with it much too often, but there was still a way to go until she'd be comfortable jumping from building to building or even standing atop this one. They'd been up here before, she knew the floor was stable, but this rooftop was never meant to be a rooftop; it wasn't designed to endure rain, let alone the landing and spittle of lava monsters, and she swore it'd gained more holes since their last visit.

As if noticing her worry, as she made contact with the ground, Silver brought both his arms to tightly wrap around her. It was a comfort and contact that she immediately returned, dropping the book too as she took hold of him. It only took a minute or so for her to relax, feeling her heart slow to match his, but the moment that her features softened and she caught his eye, a smile broke onto his face.

"My knight, you have saved me from my isolation!" He continued the story, continuing to beam, "How can I repay you?"

"Just stay by my side forever, that will be more than enough," She recited from memory, attempting to regain the knight's cool air, "I've searched for you for so long, I don't want to lose you again."

"Then it will be done, I'll stay by your side forevermore!" He insisted, completing the scene by pulling her into an even tighter hug.

His fluffy quills brushed and ticked at her. Though she turned her head in an attempt to hide it, Blaze couldn't help but grin. It'd been very silly, they probably should've spent this time searching for food or reinforcing their home, but Blaze couldn't deny that she'd thoroughly enjoyed this pseudo performance. There was something almost regular about it all, almost as if it suited them better than doing what they had to. She supposed that made sense, they were kids after all and, according to the books at least, kids were supposed to imagine and play games. There was a whole section in the library meant for children and very little of its literature was particularly practical, even if those stories were far more fun to read.

She would never admit that, of course. She always insisted that silly games like this were the result of his sole machinations. But then, he displayed more than enough joy for the both of them.

"You did great Blaze, you really fit the part!" He was practically bouncing, beaming brighter and brighter with each passing second, "But… can I be the knight next time? That all looked really fun and I'll be able to fly up to you; you won't have to worry about getting scared if I do that, right?"

"We can take turns," She conceded but, as she through a small glance towards the ground, her grip on him redoubled in tightness, "But… I don't want to be up this high without you."

"Alright! We can find somewhere lower," He offered, grinning so widely that she thought his cheeks might break, "We could even just do it in the library if you prefer, there are plenty of fairy tales about princesses in dungeons too!"

--- --- ---

The memories of that time were a lifetime away and yet they were still so fresh in her mind. Blaze the cat, age eighteen, was stood on her bedroom balcony. The structure overlooked the royal gardens. Though the grounds were currently devoid of workers, the rose bushes, sunflowers and plants from far afield had been tended for generations and bloomed today with the same vigour they had a century prior. The sun had set almost an hour ago, the last trickles of pink and orange were slowly fading from the sky, and yet she was still wide awake. In a rather uncouth fashion, she'd brought her dinner to her bedroom with the promise to eat while she worked.

But she had done neither. Instead, she'd spent what little time she'd had pacing back and forth across the royal bedchamber; her mind had latched onto those old memories she'd so recently discovered. Memories of a life in which she played the part of a princess rather than lived as one.

They'd thought jewellery no more than interesting rocks stuck to shiny metals, their concept of value had been so jaded that the plate of cold paella on her desk would be worth all the rings and diamonds in the world. They'd been famished, they were delusional children clinging to each other against the odds. Any rational person wouldn't dare think back to those memories or, if they did, would consider them no better than tragic, the most difficult and dangerous time of their lives. So why did she feel like this, what were these bizarre thoughts that cluttered her mind and pushed out every other thought?

Why was she so nostalgic for that terrible place, what possible reason was there?

She'd left that world wishing it better, she'd given her life without so much as hesitating. She could remember looking down at him as her ethereal form drifted up and split the clouds as she passed from one life into the next. Blaze had essentially reincarnated, not only had she forgotten that life, but its pain and strain had been entirely removed from her mind and body. She'd been reborn, this new dimension had granted her an entire refresh of both mind and body, but yesterday had seen her regain half of that. Her mind was spinning, filled to burst with tumultuous memories that so heavily contradicted the life she'd just lived. The current mismatched form of her memory was already having impacts on her mind and body.

The sunset she'd just spent the past hour watching had occurred outside her bedroom window every night for the past eighteen years. Every night, she'd had the option to watch or even simply glance as the sun descended before slipping beneath the horizon. She never had though, or, at least, she hadn't since she was young. The glory and wonder of that sight had been entirely lost on her, she'd become desensitised to it. It'd been made mundane by its perpetuity, made a commodity by their daily occurrence, but now it wasn't so daily. Now she could remember fourteen years spent in a city where the clouds never parted, and it was as if this was the first sunset she'd ever actually seen.

Until her departure, the skies of that future had been overwhelmed by black sulphurous clouds that light refused to penetrate. She'd gone without seeing a sunrise or sunset for fourteen whole years, she'd seen nothing but the most dower of grey skies. This life hadn't been so different though, the sky had been there, but she'd never seen its value. It was all thanks to him; his returning of her memories had saved her from more than a dull castle view, he had unlocked the version of her that'd been hidden away in the shambling tower that was her newly unharmed body.

Unlike that once forgotten day, the first of many times they'd embodied those childish roles and played that silly game, she'd actually saved him. She'd given herself up for him and the world; she'd revealed the sky by leaving rather than arriving. It was painful to think how pointless it had all been though, that their loss of one another had only pealed back one of many layers of disaster that stood between them and the good future they desired. The peaceful world that he fought for was still sealed behind a two-hundred-year barrier of crisis that would surely take decades of work to unlock.

It was with that thought that a speck of cyan light fluttered up and found its way into Blaze's vision, soon being followed by a handful of larger glowing globules before, finally, a grey-white figure masked by that that same energy floated up to enter her vision. Despite his arrival and their reuniting just yesterday, she hadn't been able to see him all day. Her work as both guardian and princess had taken up far too much of her time and refused to halt regardless of her headspace. Silver the hedgehog, age eighteen, was floating just outside her grasp. His body was bound in bandages she'd set just yesterday,

He hung before her in the air, smiling as he reached out to her, just as he had in days long past when he had played the role of knight and she had been princess. Without so much as blinking, she took his hand and lead him to stand on the balcony beside her. The contact seemed to stun him just a little, it took a moment for him to round from his position to land beside her.

He'd quickly gone from grinning to looking sheepish, "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, I know you said to get here before sundown but I got a little lost and distracted," Before he could even fully apologise, his eyes were flickering back to the outside world, "This place is just so pretty, even the garden down there, it's…"

"It's beautiful," She finished his sentence before continuing, "The sun sets every evening only to rise the next morning without fail and, in the time between the two, the stars come out to dance so wonderfully."

"It's a very different sight from the one I've been seeing," He admitted, plainly scanning the sky for the twinkling of the first star, "Well… not very different, but different enough to notice."

"Oh?" She hummed, briefly managing to tear her gaze from his softer smile.

"Yeah, I don't recognise any constellations, your moon's just a little different too. In the past of my world a lot of it got destroyed. This one looks perfect," She couldn't see it now, but she had last night so she understood him perfectly. Alike the sunset, the moon had stolen a place in her heart, it was undeniably beautiful.

Still, her eyes returned to his frame and the feeling of his hand in hers sapped all of her thoughts. For as overwhelmed as she felt, struggling to rise after that rush of old memories, he was struggling more, even if it wasn't showing so plainly. He'd arrived in a world that perhaps embodied his perfect future only to receive a clear reminder of how long he'd been working at his task, all that it'd already cost him and the future trials ahead of him. Even if he hadn't considered such things yet, those thoughts would surely materialise and bring him to worry; he could be so insecure when he was on his own, so she didn't plan to leave his side.

Blaze tugged his hand, turning him to look away from the sky and to her. He stumbled a little, almost colliding with her as he was made to align with her and the entryway to the royal bedchambers. The hedgehog was framed by the descending sun, even without looking, she could see the stars flickering into visibility behind him. He'd never quite looked real to her, always just a little otherworldly; a figure of bright colours that stood in stark contrast to the burning city that had surrounded them. Here though, flanked by the cosmos beyond this world, he looked more at home than he ever had before. It was almost as if he belonged in this tower rather than her, she couldn't imagine that she looked so stunning with that vista behind her.

Despite how he'd arrived, despite him hovering up to meet her, Blaze knew the role she wanted to play. Fortunately, it was the one she most often took She knew that she wanted to look after him before even considering letting him look after her.

"You know…" She couldn't help but primitively roll her eyes at what she was about to say, a small grin had surely snuck its way onto her lips, but she spoke in her usual dry tone, "I think I liked things better when you were the princess."

Tensions were still so high, these feelings and memories were just so raw, but she couldn't hold a straight face for long and, naturally, neither could he. Their frames reunited, her hands found his shoulders while he came to hug her and their heads heavily pressed against one another. Laughing, even if neither of them were quite sure why they were, they found themselves slowly shifting deeper into her room.

Once they were beyond the threshold, Blaze managed to shift her head from his and take the hedgehog in again. Silver was still laughing, eyes shut as he so casually leant against her. He was quite the mess, his quills still thoroughly overgrown and his fur made mismatched lengths by the injuries he had sustained across this second life, but the warmth behind his smile still shined through. Though his form was slightly different to the Silver she'd known, that smile told her that the naïve hedgehog she'd once known lived on in this new shell. As his eyes finally reopened, she recognised the flash of excitement in them.

"W-Well then, my knight," He was struggling to keep a straight face as he continued her joke, "I made a promise to you once, I don't intend to let it break again," He was playing his role from way back then, perfectly falling back into it, "Now that I've arrived in your tower, I would ask no more than the same from you."

"If that is truly all you wish, my dear princess, then of course, I agree to your terms," At this distance, though she'd been distracted, the scent of salt, smoke and sweat was deeply rooted in his person. Where her soft fur met with his coarser fluff, she could feel the bizarre friction; she'd given him some care yesterday, but it hadn't been enough. No matter how nice he looked with that skyline behind him, there was no denying the truth, "Come on, I'll draw you a bath. You're filthy."

"I jumped in the sea this morning though," He earnestly responded, looking down at himself, "I thought that would be good enough… it took ages to dry off."

"You're still so naïve," He still had so much to learn about living normally, let alone this world, "Just as it's a knight's job to protect the princess, it's my job to look after you. You're dirty, hurt, overgrown…" She noticed that his gaze had drifted past her, his nose was wrinkling. A glance over her shoulder revealed her cold dish of rice and fish, "And clearly famished. Let's get you more comfortable. I won't let you struggle alone for another moment."

All it took was another tug at his wrist to pull his stupefied frame after her. Though this wasn't the role she'd been reborn into, she knew it was the one she suited far better. That and, as the innocently perplexed look on his face proved, he did make for a rather adorable damsel, even if he didn't much need the guardian's more literal protecting.

#silvaze #Blaze the Cat #Silver the Hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #silver and blaze

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henrikvanderswoon · 5 years ago

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Double the Kill: A Nancy Drew Play Written by 12-year-old Yours Truly - Readthrough Reactions

Okay, guys, I went through two cups of super strong coffee reading through this thing and I think I can hear colors now so… Have fun reading this!

I sincerely haven’t read this thing in probably ten years and I legitimately forgot almost everything about this play I wrote for myself and my twin/two best friends to perform. We used to write plays for each other all the time, as well as play Nancy Drew games together, so… this was all very fitting.

Anyway, this is a super long one and I APOLOGIZE but also I hope you enjoy reading this thing as much as I enjoyed writing it 😂

Okay, for starters, this story is titled: “Double the Kill” for two reasons that I can remember: (1) someone actually gets murdered, and (2) someone beheaded the Lincoln Memorial statue.

…

You know when you’re in middle school and you’re assigned some topic to research for a project and suddenly you have this stupid amount of knowledge about something you don’t know what to do with?

That’s what happened here.

Anyway.

So, apparently I didn’t know what the word “pervert” was when I was 12 (poor, sheltered creature) so I legitimately named a character Blake Pervey and I’m gonna fling myself into the sun.

Oh my gosh, I wrote up a case profile for this, complete with character roles and everything. Incredible.

Let’s provide that for you guys:

The Case: Billionaire Erving Nickels is holding a benefit concert at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C., where the band “One Love” will be performing. Erv senses trouble, so he calls Nancy Drew and her best friend Bess Marvin to watch out for anything “suspicious.” But about an hour before the concert’s about to start, One Love’s lead singer Terri James is found dead near the Lincoln statue and the head of the statue is gone!

Contact: Erving Nickels - a billionaire who’d arranged the benefit concert. He asked Nancy to come and watch for anything “suspicious.”

Suspects:

Erving Nickels: Goes by Erv, for short. As it turns out, this man has actually gone bankrupt recently. Could he go to desperate measures to gain back his wealth?

Blake Pervey (I still want to die): One Love’s back-up singer. Terri had broken up with him recently because he’d attempted to cheat on her (huh, maybe he really is a pervert after all). Did he murder her to get revenge and take her place as the lead singer?

Lyza Benton: The make-up artist. Lyza is always on the prowl for the next juicy gossip to spill to the press and gain publicity. Could she have killed Terri to create the ultimate story?

Myra “Ryan” Williams: One Love’s guitarist. She was the person Blake had attempted to cheat with, but she’d refused. Terri didn’t believe Ryan’s story and blamed her for everything, which caused the two women to hate each other.

Victim: Terry James

Okay. Already this is a little better than “Murder at Turquoise Inn,” because there are actual suspects with actual motives??? aMAZING.

Wow, Nancy’s a bitch. She didn’t even tell Erving that Bess was coming along.

Erv keeps saying that he thinks something bad is going to happen tonight, and Nancy and Bess are both like,“Can you please explain why?” And he’s like, “I just have a feeling.” Like boi, that’s sketch.

Bess: “Sorry to change the subject, Mr. Nickels.”

Erv: “Please, just call me Erv.”

Bess: “No thank you.”

Bess…I know Erv is a weird name, but…why?

Mr. Nickels is taking Nancy and Bess on a tour, right? And I keep peppering in random facts about the Lincoln Memorial I learned for school and it’s SENDING ME.

“I’ll watch and wait for our groovy band to arrive, while you girls split up and watch for suspicious activity. Now, let’s boogie!”

Asfbadka Erv, no one talks liKE That!

I would just like to take a moment to preface the rest of this post with the fact that I wrote this for me and my friends, and we were always writing the stupidest dialogue for each other because we thought it was hilarious. Um…which hopefully explains lines like these:

(1) No one calls Erv Nickels, the handsome billionaire, “Darling.” Except his mother.

(2) [We’re going to change.] No, don’t change. We like you guys just the way you are. *laughs obnoxiously*

…

I hate myself.

So Blake and Terri arrive in the limo and let me tell ya’ll Blake is definitely flirting with Erv right now and I’m so fucking confused.

Terri: That man’s got problems. I guess money does that to people.

Blake: But we have money and we don’t have problems.

Terri: Maybe it only happens to men.”

Blake: But… I am a man.

Terri: Exactly.

Okay, you can tell my love for writing banter was here from the fuckin get-go.

Oh god, now Blake is flirting with Nancy. Fuckin hell. I may not have known what the word “pervert” was when I was 12, but this man was aptly named.

Suspicious, suspicious.*Mocking* ‘Can you girls watch for anything suspicious?’ Something suspicious, yeah right. Oh look! A BUG. Oh, soooo suspicious.

Bess…. I love you.

Okay, as dumb as everything is in this thing, some of this dialogue is fucking cracking me up so hard.

Bess: No! Honestly. I swear, it’s almost like he’s trying to keep us busy so something bad can happen.

*A faraway scream cuts in from offstage*

*Nancy and Bess look off in the direction it came from, way too casual*

Bess: What was that?

Nancy: I dunno.

*They pause, then their eyes widen in realization*

Nancy: Oh crap.

Listen, I know I’m a comedic genius, but this is getting out of hand. Dsbfsjkdsjfbk

Bess: Mr. Nickels! What woman was screaming so high like that?

Erv: That was me.

I CAN’T BREATHE.

I saw Terri lying there on the floor, apparently dead.

Erving… the woman is DEAD. What do you mean “apparently?”

Nancy and Bess find a letter Terri was going to give to Erving to tell him she can’t do the concert because she also felt like something terrible was going to happen to her, and all Bess can do is repeatedly laugh at the word, “Flee.”

Hey, too bad “Honest Abe” is missing his head, otherwise he could tell us whodunnit.

Wow, yall. Bess is my favorite.

You know, the funniest thing about this is that you can definitely tell how many of the games I played between writing my horrible novel at the age of ten and writing this. If this thing had better dialogue and more fleshed out story/characterization, I could picture this as an actual game, not gonna lie.

And… maybe if it didn’t involve removing the whole-ass head of the Lincoln statue…

Yanno, tiny details like that.

Lyza: *laughing* Scared you, didn’t I?

Bess: Oh, “scared’"is such a strong word. I’d say more… "severely startled.”

So Erving reveals to Nancy that he’s actually not dumb as bricks, but puts up the facade because he’s broke and doesn’t want anyone thinking he’s not still super rich and air-headed. I’m crying.

You sensed something bad was going to happen. You should have called the police to stand guard! Not some amatuer teenager who calls herself a detective and her little friend!

…. The pervert has a point.

So Lyza likes to meddle in people’s business. Ryan had written about Blake’s advances in her journal and Lyza blackmailed her about it, Terri blamed Ryan for Blake’s attempted cheating. Blake tried to bribe Ryan into going out with him by telling her he’d discovered a way to get his hands on a fabulous collection of priceless jewels, and Terri broke it off with him. He’s upset, Ryan’s pissed that Terri thinks she went along with Blake, Erving borrowed money to organize the benefit concert (in order to benefit himself) and now he’s in even deeper debt because the concert has been cancelled and Lyza is having a fuckin field day.

BOY AM I ON BOARD FOR THIS SHIT.

Before he came into wealth, Erving worked in a museum in Chicago, and Bess finds a piece of paper on the floor of Ryan’s trailer with the phone number to this exact museum. Nancy calls to see if there is any connection between that museum and the Lincoln Memorial and apparently there’s a theory that the head of the Lincoln statue contains jewels that the museum talks about in a part of their exhibit.

*kronk’s face* Oh yeah. It’s all coming together.

Nancy: For all I know, you could be the murderer.

Erv: Why would I do that? I needed the money from the concert!

Nancy: No you didn’t. You could’ve just–I dunno–stolen the head of Abe over there in search for the ALLEGED JEWELS INSIDE.

Ya’ll… please don’t ask me how the FUCK one person would get tools to remove that head without anyone noticing. Please.

Blake: Hey, guys, have you seen Ryan anywhere?

Nancy: Why? You gonna ask her out again?

Kjdbfisfdosidnf FUCKIN’ SAVAGE, NANCE.

oH MY GOD THE CULPRIT SLIPPED UP SO EASILY I’M SCREAMING.

oH my god, Nancy told Erving they needed something to pick the lock on one of the trailers and he’s all: “Like a bobby pin?” And just takes off his hat, removes a bobby pin, and “lets his long hair cascade down and over his shoulders like a waterfall” and I’m crying. I can’t fuckin’ breathe.

Oh shit, wait… the first culprit was actually covering for the real culprit all along I’m losing my mind. My twelve-year-old brain was so advanced I just threw a curveball at myself sjdbfshdbfagh

Okay, so I’m not gonna spoil anything because I think it’s hilarious to keep you all wondering what the fuck is going on and who the hell did it and why, but I would just like you all to know that this play literally ends with one of the characters singing Hannah Montana’s “The Best of Both Worlds” completely off key because I thought it would be hilarious and I think that really tells you a lot about who I am as a person.

#I'm so sad I dont have more things to live react to cause holy shit is this so much fun jxnzjznsksks #nancy drew #nd humor #nancy drew humor #clue crew #long post #have fun guys this went way longer than I'd expected it to jxbsjjsja

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yakumtsaki · 5 years ago

Photo

I taste just like ice cream, bitch I am so icy, heart cold like an ice queen, that's why they don't like me 🎵

-What the hell was that.

Traditionally I start Union updates with semi-relevant song lyrics.

-Why did you start an update at all.

Because it’s time, Shajar! I took a holy oath in my 2020 simming goals post to update Unions once a month, and I’m already a month late.

-But nothing interesting is happening.

That’s never stopped me before. Now listen to Rico Nasty, cry some more about Sophie blowing you off, and shut up.

-Ugh please, I couldn’t be more over Sonia if I tried. I hardly ever texted her links to wedding pinterest boards and quizzes to determine if our parenting styles are compatible.

Did she ever reply?

-She did once and said ‘who dis’. Of course the letters unscrambled spell out ‘do wish’, meaning she did wish me to keep messaging her. I just don’t know where it all went wrong.

-Hey there, 17 year old girl, maybe you’ve had enough neat whiskey for the night? We’re actually running out of bottles.

-Beat it, ponytail, I need to dull my pain. I’ve just been stabbed right in the gut by the love of my life. Just like my style idol and general role model, space opera fascist Kylo Ren.

Shaj I really hate seeing you like this, and not just because the red neon light is super unflattering on your complexion.

-You can fuck right off too, I was perfectly happy with my dads who hate me and my imbecile sister and my brother who might as well not exist, noogie-ing people all day AND night long, but you had to be all ‘OMG IT’S SOPHIE MIGUEL SHAJAR GO TALK TO HER’. Life-ruining-moron.

But I was totally right about you two hitting it off, I mean look how sad you are now that she dumped- yea never mind, that’s not a good argument.

-Look what I can do even though I’ve had 46 whiskeys!! How you like me now, Sophie???

-You’re paying for all these broken glasses, I’m going to need your name and a credit card.

-Yes, fair enough, my name is Cyneswith Union-

-I LOOK GOOD ENOUGH TO EAT

Yea, you really should eat something to soak up all the alcohol. And not to kick you when you’re down, but you should also disregard all those cliches about ~a smile being the most beautiful thing you can wear~ because MAN. Watch out Joaquin, there’s a new Joker on the prowl.

-So.. 20 lobsters thermidor and our most expensive appetizers?

-Aha.

-Would you mind settling your bill now?

-Of course not! My name is Cyneswith Union and this is the credit card my parents got me when I was 6 because we’re super duper best friends! I love my parents! They don’t care about their other daughter at all, even when their other daughter is going through a really hard time because she got the emotional equivalent of a lightsaber wound in the gut. You know what, let me also get 20 bottles of your most overpriced champagne to go with the lobsters.

Feeling better?

-Well it’s hard to feel bad when you’re spending your parents’ money recklessly and with malice aforethought.

It sure is. Alright well, the sun is coming up, maybe we should head home.

-What’s the rush? What is going to happen if I don’t go home, my parents will get worried? LOL

God your life sucks. Ok let’s hit a couple more places.

-Greetings. Welcome to our establishment. I am a human employee from this planet.

Great, nice to meet you.

-I just want there to be no doubt that I am indeed an earthling, born and raised under the earth’s exosphere and not above it.

Leave us alone.

-And I’m the resident community lot sim with that one face template you hate! There must be one of us on every lot you visit!

-And I am here in my revealing outfit to use the dance sphere and make everyone uncomfortable!

You’re actually pretty, I need to keep you in mind for after Don Oates takes a wrecking ball to our genetics, but yea, let’s bounce, Shajar.

Time to visit the happiest place on earth, Deh'Javu Modern Art Museum, home to my favorite piece of art in any medium, The Toilet of Fire. Shove that Fountain up your ass, Duchamp. How we feeling, Shaj?

-This trash can reminds of Sophie :( She used to go around town throwing money she stole from charities in trash cans and then send them riddles for where to find them :(

Enough with Sophie, we’ll find you someone better! Like..

..your aunt! Get the hell out of here Brit Brit, you’re taking up townie space.

-I won’t be long, Gunther’s amazing close-up portrait of my hair was rejected by the museum so I’m here to set this shithole on fire.

In other words Gunther just painted a canvas black and called it a day?

-His art doesn’t cater to plebs. Yes, offense.

Our old friend Ugly Teen Townie is here so finally we can have some fun. Shajar had gone almost 12 hours(!) without noogieing someone and I was starting to worry for her health.

-Yes, yes, I’m starting to feel like myself again..

Good for you, Shaj!

-Hope you’ve made peace with your God, Ugly Teen Townie, this water balloon is filled with horse feces!

-WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET HORSE SHIT

-I ordered it from some guy named Leod McGreggor.

-How about a another joke, MuRRAY?

-What?!

-Now you say, ‘no, I think we’ve had enough of your jokes’. Say it!

-No, I think we’ve had enough of your jokes.

-What do you get when you cross a mentally-ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash? Now you say ‘call the police, Gene!’

-Call the police, Gene!

-I'll tell you what you get..

-YOU GET WHAT YOU FUCKING DESERVE. HAHA oh man! Good stuff.

Alright I’m starting to feel bad for Ugly Teen Townie, first he had to come to all the toddler birthday parties during the Victoria/Komei era and now this, he has suffered enough at this family’s hands. Time to go home, Shaj.

-Not so fast!

Wow, the Countess and Mrs. Crumplebottom on the same lot, top 10 anime crossovers.

-I have been sent here by the Limp Dick Vamps United organization to recruit Shajar Union.

Ugh you people are still around? Haven’t heard of you losers since the Count wouldn’t let Victoria bang him, which I’m still annoyed about.

-Indeed we are, and it’s clear Shajar is ready to join us, dedicating her life to evil deeds without romantic distractions. I have no idea what Crumplebottom is doing here.

-I’m here to recruit Shajar to my own organization, Bitter Sims Worldwide Alliance. We’re always on the lookout for new members who want to spread their misery to their fellow Sim.

It sounds like it’d be more effective if you guys just merged your organizations.

-I will NEVER merge my organization with someone who displays her bosom like a common whore.

-Eat a dick, Crumplebottom!

-MAKE ME, FANGTOOTH

-Alright here I am, what the fuck do you want?

-Shajar, it is a pleasure to meet you! Ardent admirer of your work.

-What work, freakshow?

-Torturing everyone around you, what else!

-What? I don’t torture people around me, if anything they torture me.

-Why don’t you talk to me about it?

-I’d rather not, you look like a bejeweled snowman.

-Look deep into my eyes, Shajar..

-And now look deep into my razor sharp teeth..

-Ugh fine, let’s talk.

-Is that Victoria and Komei’s teen granddaughter hanging out with a vampire?

Yes it is Kennedy, keep it moving.

-God, wtf is wrong with this family.

Nothing now that you’ve been removed from our social circle, go away! Just kidding, you’re an icon and I’m marrying you in at some point.

-Hard pass.

Your loss, hombre.

-It definitely isn’t.

-If I had known your turn on was vampires I would had set you two up!

STOP SETTING UP TEENS WITH ADULTS, LAKSHMI. And Shajar’s turn ons isn’t vampires, it’s fitness/fatness. Body positive queen.

-Well, Shajar, you alphabetically listing all the people who have wronged you while I was trying to kill Crumplebottom telepathically has made for a very productive conversation. We’ll be in touch.

-Thanks, Countess, it’s been real.

Shajar!!! Who cares about Sophie when you might bag a hot, rich vamp??

-Meh.

I’m gonna need you to be more excited about this prospect because a vampire spouse might just be enough of a draw to beat the comedic factor of fucking Don Oates turning us into an unintentional uglacy and I’m doing whatever I can to avoid my fate.

Ugh.

UGH

UGHHHHHHH

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO VICTORIA

-GET FUCKED, BROKEN FACED WEIRDO

God I miss you Vic 💔

-Donnie-bear, not to be not-nice, but mopping your pee off my front lawn is not exactly what I pictured doing during this date.

This guy won’t even mop up his own piss, what a catch.

Wow, manipulative much?? You are a piss piece of work, Donaldo.

-Don’t think we forgot about you, you 10-nice-point disgrace!

-VICTOR NO

-GET THAT MOP READY

-Finally, some peace and quiet.. Just me, alone with my broken heart, pondering my hopeless, loveless future..

-💗💗💗OMG SIS THERE YOU ARE. DONNIE AND I MADE OUT!!! 💗💗💗 But then grandma’s ghost scared him into soiling himself.

-Good for grandma, hopefully next time she gives him a stroke. Now shut up and let’s eat in silence while I ponder my hopeless, loveless future.

-Okie dokie! 💗💗💗

-Um, I think mine has vomit in it.

-Yea I did that, but it’s just whiskey and lobster, if anything it increased in value.

-Awww thanks sis! 💗💗💗

-Stop patronizing me, you little bitch. God I want to poke your eye out with this chopstick so badly.

-I love you too Shaj! 💗💗💗

And I hate both of you. Where’s your brother, I haven’t paid attention to him in 3 days.

-He went upstairs, I think he’s pusshurt we forgot his birthday LOL

IT’S HIS BIRTHDAY????

-Don’t feel bad, I forgot it too! 💗💗💗

GODDAMMIT. WULF! WULF WHERE ARE YOU

-I’m here, I just grew up and dare I say it could not have gone better!

Really?? Finally some good news! Let me look upon you-

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA

WULF WHAT THE FUCK

-I was Mozart musical genius boy but now I’m a sk8ter boi! Character development!

Ok this is the most iconic birthday look since Gunther grew up in the pirate costume, we’re obviously keeping it.

-Great! And as if the fact I’m a Wyatt face template with 0 Jojo genes wasn’t enough to make me unelectable, I also rolled family! :D I’m doing everything I can to ensure I live that sweet motherlode spare life!

Honestly you should had picked another outfit cause now that you’re dressed like this I unironically want you to win. Hoisted with your own petard.

#gen 2

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entropic-introspection · 4 years ago

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Hey kid, you want some headcannon TFA Drift stuff with additional bonus Autobot politics

Yeah you do get in here

So let’s say sometime after S3 we get to meet Drift, a nice ninjabot whose out looking for an acceptable successor to Yoketron. What? Why would Yoketron need a successor, and now of all times? He’s been gone a long while, right?

Yeah, well, that’s why he needs a successor. Yoketron, and by extension his ninjabots, guarded protoforms in the dojo. Behind a door that required processor over matter to enter, a ninjabot technique, or apparently high explosives and a way to get around the safeguards that would have to be in place to protect something so precious. With the Allspark bouncing around somewhere in space (I am never getting over how stupid that decision was), those protoforms are one of the very very few ways new sparks from Vector Sigma/other sources can become actual functioning people.

Yoketron is also completely willing to take in an angry young Prowl who was trying to desert. Yoketron took in Lockdown, who later left and went rogue. Yoketron took in Jazz, the single most relaxed Elite Guard we see in the show, who is willing to join Team Earth against orders because he wants to do the right thing.

Yoketron just might be willing to take in a disillusioned young Decepticon looking for a way out.

Yoketron, Drift explains, did not give a single solitary fuck about the Council or the war. One does not become a ninjabot just because of ability; you got there because Yoketron kept an optic out for the misfits and would swoop in and grab them whenever he could. The Council doesn’t want to piss off the dude holding their future in the palm of his hand- sure, he would never hurt any of the protoforms, but he sure as hell could make them disappear into the depths of the planet if lines were crossed.

So Drift gets a second chance. He partners up with Yoketron’s current second, nice young ‘bot named Wing. Drift voluntarily undergoes a complete frame rehaul just so people will stop staring and in the hopes that the Council will ease up. Drift gets a chance to fight For Cybertron and does well. Wing dies, because war is hell and tragic. Drift has now somehow inherited Wing’s position as second, but he feels as though he hasn’t earned it. Drift can’t master P over M because he can’t put aside his emotions, and feels like a bigger failure for it. His martial prowess is incredible and his politeness is scrupulous (because he CANNOT mess up he can’t he can’t oh Primus people are already troubled enough by him-), but he’s not really a true successor to Yoketron, as he puts it.

Drift thinks Prowl was being viewed as a potential successor. His training wasn’t finished, no, but depending on if he could manage P over M his final training could have been very different. Yoketron would have to teach any successor the political ropes as well as any ninjabot stuff, and that’s a lot. Better to see if the kid can actually do a key part of the role before dumping the very heavy info.

Obviously shit happened.

Ninjabots didn’t really go for a heavy hierarchy- with Yoketron dead, they’d be mostly individuals or small teams used to working together. Some of them got snapped up to be bodyguards, some drifted into the Elite Guard. Drift was one of the few trained to handle larger groups, or, y’know, a whole-ass organization, but no respectable Autobot is going to trust an ex-Con. So Drift is trying to look out for the ninjas that remain, but he doesn’t have the same leverage, he doesn’t have trust from important people, he sure as hell can’t recruit anyone new without being interrogated about his intentions. So ninjabots just sort of... disappear. There aren’t many new Cybertronians being made anyways (comparatively to past eras, anyways), so the candidate pool is smaller anyways. You have a few bots passing on what they know, but mostly, a true blue ninjabot isn’t going to show up. It becomes more a descriptor of someone’s skills rather than “the forces trained by and marshaled under Yoketron”.

But hey, we got the Allspark back now, and Megatron got captured, wars over, right?

Ehhhh.

Drift wants to restart the ninjabot academy, not just to keep the ninjabot knowledge going- he knows there’s going to be so many new sparks that just aren’t made for war, won’t fit in, will need protecting, but he’s convinced he’s not the one to do it. He can find someone, teach them what they need to know, help them figure out some new leverage to keep them safe from the Council (speculatively eyes our suddenly worthwhile shiny Prime boi who came back with the Allspark), but an ex-Con just can’t be the one to do all this.

Right?

#maccadam #tfa #tf #cannon will be beaten with a stick like a pinata so i can make off with delicious candy

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selfindulgentpoorlywritten · 5 years ago

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Alright y’all, I’m gonna post the prologue to this N. Hischier thing I’ve been working on. Please please please tell me if you like it so I know whether to invest the time and energy! Also, all the German is mine, so if it’s bad, it’s because I haven’t practiced German in six years, sorry.

Rating: T

Pairing: Nico Hischier/Reader

Words: 1414

Warnings: alcohol, blood, vague abuse reference

Requested: yes/no

Summary: This isn’t how you expected the wrap party to go, but here you are.

The pain is immediate and knocks the wind out of you; or more into you, with the way it makes you gasp. You feel more than hear the crunch, and that would make you worry if you could think anything other than “ouch”. Except the dude who hit you is talking, so you should say something back, and it’s pretty lucky you speak German cause this guy either doesn’t know English or is too panicked to remember it.

“Mir geht’s gut!” you reassure him, making a placating gesture with the hand not holding the blood in your nose, “Schmerz wie eine Miststück, aber es wird mir gut gehen.” It hurts like a bitch, but I’ll be okay. Speaking German comes naturally after the first sentence or so, once your brain gets with the program. It helps that German makes a whole lot more sense than English, in pretty much every way.

“You should let me take you to the hospital,” he continues in what’s clearly Swiss German, making abortive movements like he wants to reach out and help but isn’t sure his touch would be welcome. Someone at the table he seems to be with hands him some napkins, which he passes to you. Your shirt is already ruined, but the napkins help control the flow of blood so it doesn’t ruin anything around you.

“No, it’s fine,” you insist, surprised at how well you’re speaking, “The hospital is literally down the street, I can walk.” You leave out the part where your nose is definitely broken, because the guy already looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack.

“Hey, Switzerland v. Germany,” another guy from the table calls, standing and looking at the guy who’d elbowed you in the face like a little brother he’s responsible for, “Pretty sure someone should be taking this chick to the ER.” Usually being called a “chick” would annoy you, but he says it so neutrally it’s somehow not at all irritating.

“I’m trying to take her,” Elbow-guy responds, almost defensive. If they looked at all alike, you really would think they were siblings.

“There’s a 24-hour Urgent Care down the street,” you say, adjusting the napkins as the blood refuses to stop, “I can walk myself.” You’re not exactly a wilting flower. They probably can’t see that, though, because of the leather jacket you’re wearing-- which is totally ruined now too, fuck. They’re probably misunderstanding the thickness of your thighs and bagginess of your shirt as hiding extra softness, rather than meaning you could bench press or squat any one of them. Not that that says anything about your pain tolerance, ‘cause often the big strong guys are the ones who cry at any pain. The number of tattoos littering your body however, that does say a little something.

“I’ll let all of you walk with me if y’all just let me go,” you huff, because the point of the matter is that you need to go get your nose set and this is getting kind of ridiculous.

“Good, I’m coming then,” Elbow-guy says immediately, taking a resolute step forward. You shrug and shoot a text to your friends at the bar as you head toward the door. Elbow-guy rushes ahead to open and hold the door for you. You look to the side and make momentary eye contact with Big-brother-guy before you both roll your eyes.

You really have no idea why you’re calling them Elbow-guy and Big-brother- guy when you know exactly who they are. Calling them by their names just seems… weird? Like “Nico” and “Taylor” seems too familiar, but “Mr. Hischier” and “Mr. Hall” seems oddly formal, y’know? Probably best to stick with Elbow-guy and Big-brother-guy.

“I’m really sorry,” Elbow-guy says, and he seems sincere, except now all you can think about is how weird it feels to call him Elbow-guy.

“It’s fine, dude,” you reassure him again, “It’s not like you did it on purpose. You’re not like some serial face-elbower.” You mean it as a joke, but his face seems conflicted. Big-brother-guy laughs, though, so that’s good.

“Yeah, you caught us,” he jokes back, “We’re out prowling the bars, looking for just the right face to elbow.” You smile and, not one to be outdone, continue the ribbing.

“I mean, there are a lot of factors,” you say, faux-serious, “The nose itself, the person it’s attached to, the way they sound when they have to breathe out of their mouth…”

“Oh yeah,” Big-brother-guy grins in that big-brother way, “How fun they’ll be to walk to Urgent Care-- how close you are to an Urgent Care-- it’s a whole thing.” The two of you laugh, yours infinitely worse than his with the whole ‘breathing through your mouth’ thing. Elbow-guy looks annoyed but also like he’s trying not to laugh when he mutters “I hate you” under his breath. You and Big-brother laugh again.

“Man, first you break my nose, now you say you hate me?” you try to act offended, but you can’t quite stop smiling, “I’ve been taken to dinner for less.” You weren’t kidding when you said the place was right up the street, the sign already burning bright a scant few yards away.

“Well,” you stop in front of the door, “This is my stop. Thanks for the company.” You give a little mock-salute and turn to open the door. You hear the two of them talking in hushed tones behind you, but you let the door shut them out and head toward the check-in.

The secretary is kind enough, definitely tired but not outright nasty. She takes your ID and insurance card and scans them, going about the usual song and dance of figuring out coverage and co-pays and all that bullshit. You hand over your card for the co-pay, idly weighing the pros and cons of carrying more cash on you, like you have a thousand times before. She instructs you to take a seat “with your boyfriend”, which is super weird, until you turn around and see Big-brother is still there. You don’t bother correcting her before you go plop down in the chair to his left.

“You like sports?” he asks, just too intentionally casual. You laugh, even though the situation isn’t particularly funny.

“I’m not gonna, like, sue him,” you assure him, kind of loving just how much he fits the Big Brother role.

“Yeah, everyone always thinks that,” he says, trying for smarmy, probably, but ending up bitter. You would wonder how often people try to bring up litigation against players, but it’s really none of your business, and you have enough to worry about already, so you push it out of your mind.

“Dude,” you sigh, “I have insurance, so I don’t need help with bills. I’m kind of trying to make my own name for my own work, so a scandal is pretty much the opposite of what I want. Also, I’m not an asshole. Your boy is safe.” A tech opens a door from the opposite side and calls your name, so you stand and walk backward toward the door.

“Go back to the bar,” you say, “Have a drink for me.” You turn as soon as you’re finished talking, not keen on also running into something tonight.

The exam goes about as well as it can. Your nose is broken, but nothing too severe. They bandage it and a kindly-looking woman comes in and asks you all sorts of questions about who you live with and how they treat you and all about your “boyfriend”. You just grin and bear it, reminding yourself to be glad this process exists for those who need it, and to be grateful that you don’t need it.

Once you’re all wrapped up and ready to go, you stop by the check-out counter, which is just the back side of the check-in counter. At this time of night on a weekday, it’s the same secretary, and she talks excitedly about “those sweet boys” who have apparently left you flowers, which, where the hell did they get a bouquet of carnations at midnight on a Tuesday? The more important part seems to be the slip of paper tucked among the petals, with nothing but a phone number and the message “call me any time :) -Nico”. You roll your eyes and shove the paper in your jeans pocket with no intention of ever using it, but can’t bring yourself to toss the flowers.

#nico hischier imagine #nhl imagines #ri #andis coping mechanism #nhischier

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 5 years ago

Text

Tfa character review! (8/12)

Spittor!!:

He was only on for like two seconds??? But i kinda dig him? Frog boy. I had to look up more of him and he's just a nasty fucker?? Not much to report here tbh.

Verdict:4/10?? Maybe 3? Because he snatched my girl red alert?? Take him home i guess, for like...a pet or something? Hes on this list because he unfortunately fits my criteria.

Cyclonus!!;

Like the rest of team Charr, not much personality was given. Except that he can fuck shit up, and i appreciate that. According to the allspark almanac, he's not social, and when he DOES speak, its about the worlds end. So...me. unfortunately i have to base my review based on the show as MUCH as possible. And in the show, i nutted.

Verdict: 5/10. Hes big, tall, definitely brooding, and id smash. Take him home, but he'll only talk about how the earth is dying. Has to be good in berth though.

Oil slick!!;

I didn't get to know him TOO much, but i know a few things. One, he has too much hot topic cash to spend and he needs help. Two, he hurt my baby Rodimus. Yes he survived. Not the point. Give him one thing though, hes a SWEET looking bike.

Verdict:3/10. Points for the creativity in the wiki, but deducing a LOT of points for him not portraying it enough in the series.

Blackout!!;

We knew him for only a few seconds. But i kinda liked him? Like he comes in, accidentally fucks up the groundbridge, mutters a "Sorry" and fixes it. Idk there was something cute about that. Just? Big dumb?? I stan.

Verdict:5/10. Take him home, but make conversation easy on him. Grimlock is probably smarter than him.

Lockdown!!;

Lockdown! Oh my god. Oh my god. I loved this guy! He was SUCH a huge role in Ratchets story, and never ceased to get me excited whenever he was on screen. Bounty hunter, loyal to no one but himself and upgrades, was a DAMN good protagonist. I loved how he evolved Prowl, showed us that Sentinel was even more of an ass than we thought, and he wasn't weak in personality. Even if something messed up his plans, he didn't let it phase him. I also loved how his mentality worked. He doesn't recognize bots by names or faces, but by upgrades. And i love that since his motive is so simple, it made him very easy to stretch him amongst the series. Plus...dudes voice is hot as shit. I could jerk it to him. And i have.

Verdict:8/10. He BELONGED in this series. Take him home, he's the guy your folks warned you about. But lets face it, boy fucks you just right.

#spittor #cyclonus #oil slick #blackout #lockdown #transformers #reviews #lemon #tfa

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elizascharlesdanceblog · 6 years ago

Photo

He's 61 with a penchant for lovers half his age, so who are the women who 'Dance with the Devil?'

By PAUL SCOTT FOR MAILONLINE UPDATED: 20:01 BST, 4 September 2008

{x}

Despite his advancing years, actor Charles Dance makes a point of being in the right physical shape to shed his clothes for the cameras at a moment's notice should the need arise.

At the age of 61, it means he sets himself the sort of punishing fitness regime that would have a man half his age on his knees.

On weekend mornings, he rises early at his North London home and cycles furiously to nearby Hampstead Heath.

There, winter or summer, he strips off for a bracing 20-minute swim in the unheated outdoor pool. And while some others who brave the cold water first don a wet suit, Dance thrashes up and down in his skimpy Speedos.

After a hot shower, he pedals back home, before submitting himself to exactly an hour and ten minutes of pumping iron, yoga and Pilates.

His efforts have not been in vain. In recent times, he's appeared in nothing more than fishnets and a red rubber micro mini-skirt in Ali G In Da House, and completely naked (with just a pepper pot to protect his modesty) in another Britflick.

His on-screen disrobing, it should be said, does not necessarily have to be in the name of art. 'Oh, I'll do anything for money, darling,' he is fond of saying.

Nonetheless, Dance is justifiably proud of his 6ft 3in physique. Plus, of course, there is the added advantage that his buff body ensures he remains positive catnip to a carousel of younger women.

Take last weekend, for example. The still handsome star, who made his name as a series of dashing leading men in the likes of The Jewel In The Crown and White Mischief, was to be spotted, after his morning dip, in the company of a suitably enamoured younger blonde as they strolled on nearby Parliament Hill Fields.

Intriguingly, she was not the statuesque and beautiful former Gucci model, Shambhala Marthe, who has been filling the on-off role of Dance's arm candy for the past three years.

But then trying to keep tabs on the ginger-haired Lothario's tangled amorous adventures would tax the logistical capabilities of a PowerPoint presentation.

History: Dance with ex-wife Joanna who he left after 33 years of marriage

No wonder Dance has developed a reputation in the theatrical circles in which he moves for occasionally casting himself in something akin to the role of smooth-talking bounder.

Certainly, he has acquired, of late, the sort of unenviable love-them-and-leave-them status that has led his showbiz chums to christen him, jokily, Dance With The Devil.

And the French-born Miss Marthe, 36, is hardly alone in discovering her posh-sounding lover is not quite the gentleman he has made a career out of playing.

Witness his treatment of Sophia Myles, who starred as Lady Penelope in the movie version of Thunderbirds.

The blonde Miss Myles, just 23 when she started dating Dance five years ago, was said to be 'utterly devastated' when dumped out of the blue in 2005.

She had, according to friends, been expecting him to propose - but Dance suddenly called time on their affair, as her circle muttered darkly that 'the Charles who starts relationships is very different from the one who ends them'.

Dance, it is said, had relentlessly pursued vicar's daughter Miss Myles and told her she was the 'love of his life'.

Cruelly dumped: Sophia Myles was hoping for a lasting relationship with Dance despite the significant age gap between them

But when the time came for him to move on, her friends accused her ageing lover of treating her 'cruelly and bizarrely'.

A treatment, one imagines, that might chime with Joanna, Dance's sculptress wife and mother of his two grown-up children, whom he left equally suddenly in 2003 after 33 years of marriage.

Within months, he was to be spotted out and about looking very cosy with Miss Myles, whom he had met two years earlier on the set of the ITV adaptation of the Dickens classic Nicholas Nickleby.

As part of the divorce settlement, the couple, who have a son Oliver, 33, and daughter Rebecca, 24, had to sell their idyllic 17th-century Somerset manor house and Dance moved into a modest terrace bachelor pad in London's Kentish Town.

Later, he admitted to 'an unexpected series of watersheds' in the run-up to the end of the marriage, and only recently felt able to confess he was 'not the greatest husband in the world'.

Miss Myles was not the first time he had been linked with another woman during the marriage.

In 2001, three years before the split with his wife, he was said to have struck up a close friendship with the then 27-year-old Emilia Fox, actress daughter of Edward Fox and Joanna David.

In the immediate aftermath of the marriage, he was also reported to be dating an unnamed woman 12 years his senior.

On-off: Dance with Shambhala Marthe who is said to be smitten with the actor

And a few months after the split, he was seen in Barbados with Hilary Heath, ex-wife of millionaire showbusiness agent Duncan Heath.

Since then he has been seen out with a seemingly never-ending procession of attractive women.

Friends of his told the Mail this week that one of the many women he has taken a shine to is former newsreader Anna Ford, whom, they say, he has escorted on a series of dates, including to the open-air opera in London's Holland Park.

None of which, one imagines, will have gone down particularly well with Miss Marthe, the 6ft 2in catwalk model-turned-photographer whom Dance met in a London fruit and veg market in 2005.

It was not long before he was taking her on dates to his favourite Polish restaurant in Shepherd's Bush and on holiday to Turkey. He also sat for her as she took a series of rather flattering portraits of him.

Soon the smitten Shambhala, who came to Britain from France 11 years ago, was gushing about how the handsome actor had bought her a ring from a stall on a bazaar while they were away as a 'love token'.

'It's not expensive, but he knows my taste very well and that means a lot to me,' she trilled at the time. 'He's great company, and older men know how to woo a lady.'

Significantly, perhaps, she took to wearing the ring on her right hand. But friends say that after one failed marriage, Dance is not keen to tie the knot again.

Nor is he inclined to give up his independence. Instead, he has become a familiar figure at showbusiness parties, prowling the room on the lookout for what he calls 'glamorous creatures'.

'I like women, to be perfectly frank with you,' he recently told an interviewer. 'I feel 35. I probably act 25.'

All of which has the unmistakable whiff of mid-life crisis about it. He has also taken recently to wearing trendy 'urban wear' off screen, including baggy jeans and heavy black combat boots.

And despite rave reviews for his stage work, Dance, whose portrayal of the dashing Guy Perron in the acclaimed 1983 ITV series The Jewel In The Crown made him a instant heart-throb to millions of female fans, is said by friends to mourn the passing of his movie star status and once-lustrous hair.

Indeed, it's 15 years since he last appeared in a major Hollywood film - Arnold Schwarzenegger's much-derided Last Action Hero - and 21 since he starred in White Mischief opposite Greta Scacchi.

A director friend told the Mail: 'I honestly believe when Charles looks in the mirror, he still sees himself at 30.' No wonder, given his taste for a revolving door of girlfriends, Dance is making sure he stays in shape with those freezing morning dips.

source: dailymail

#CD #charles dance #dance with the devil #a remarkable man

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