#And I wanted to reflect that with this au

[peachsayshi]

PEACH YOUR BABY DADDY!SUKUNA.....

He distanced himself bc he's not a good guy, he's got a shit job, can barely pay child support but he does what he can. And he always looks after your daughter when you're busy, takes every moment to be with her that he can, even tho he knows that you're the more capable parent. You were always too good for him, and he was your bad boy fling, your mistake.

"I think you love momma more." His daughter told him, bless her unfiltered thoughts. She was probably right. Somehow, after all this time, he still found you completely stunning. He felt guilty for the way he treated you, seeing you persevere and thrive as you've gotten older. If anything, you got more beautiful with each passing day, and he couldn't be happier that his child was being raised by you, even if that meant he had to be out of the picture.

"maybe I do." He chuckled, a tinge of regret to his words. He remembered the ways he hurt you, the look on your face when he made you cry. His selfishness. It was always his selfishness that got in the way. "But I'm not good at it."

// brutally soft // III. 

baby daddy!sukuna x reader 

tags: non curse au; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different; mentions drug use and drinking; mentions cheating; sukuna being soft; unrequited love; angsty | | read this for more context & this & this

note: (I am so sorry this took me so long to respond to) but!! you don't get to leave something like this and not expect me to sweetly return the favor by meddling with your feelings the way you did mine. because holy shit, nyx, just hearing sukuna say "I'm not good at it" in a hushed, sad voice made me want to take my own ribs out.

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

"mama! guess what!" your daughter says. "I have a secret!"

you smile to yourself because she always has a secret to share these days. little, innocent things that capture her attention which seem worthy of keeping confidential.

"you know," you say as you help her into her dress. "you're not supposed to tell secrets when you have them..."

"but I tell you everything, mama!"

you lift her up in your arms, the weight of her body getting heavier by the day and reminding you of how fast she's growing.

sukuna is taking her to visit her uncle yuji, and she has been over the moon about it. you place her on the seat of her vanity, and proceed to fix her hair since sukuna will be arriving in twenty minutes, and you want to make sure that she's all set once her dad gets here. you giggle at her response, "okay, okay, what's the secret?"

she looks at you from the mirror's reflection and covers her mouth as she chuckles.

"hey, what's with the sly face?" you prod, holding a chunk of her hair gently between your palm.

"do you know ms. kiko?" she asks, referring to her pre-school teacher.

"mhmm, what about her?"

she giggles again. "well, she told told mrs. chiyo that she thinks daddy is cute!!"

your heart thumps. oddly.

you're not immune to the way that the women look at the father of your child. it's the same alluring, seductive energy that drew you to sukuna in the first place.

but it's been years since you've both been intimate together in any capacity, you're sure that he's probably got someone on call if and when necessary. considering he has more spare time than you do without a child running around, you're pretty sure that sukuna is satisfied with whatever situationship he's in. you've learned to swallow the discomfort of the idea of sukuna with other women. just like how you had to bury the hurt of the very one who tore your relationship apart.

you hum at her observation, your fingers idly braiding her hair.

it's not like you were single anymore either. you've been casually dating a lawyer on and off. it wasn't serious per se, but it wasn't a fleeting relationship where it made you feel like you were entirely free of the attachment.

he's even met sukuna at this point.

granted those dates are few and far between, but you were a single mother who worked full time.

trying to commit to a relationship is hard.

even though, you would love to share all this with...someone.

"anyway, I had to warn daddy to be careful..." your daughter interjects.

"warn him?" you repeat with a smile, her choice of words adorable.

"yeah! so, I told daddy that ms. kiko was in love with him, and asked him if I should tell her to stop..."

"stop?"

"being in love with him!" she responds with a grimace.

that makes you laugh. "and why would you do that, hmm?" you question gently for fun.

"because I know that daddy loves you more, mama!"

your heart thumps again, harder this time. so hard you feel it nearly knock the wind out of you. you clear your throat to ease the apprehension while your daughter kicks her legs with anticipation.

"and how would you know that?" "because," she insists, "daddy told me that he loves you more than anyone else in this world"

her words spill out of her, a glass of water that's been carelessly knocked over. you scrunch your brows as each word registers into your brain, soaking over your to do lists and mental checks.

"what?" you whisper as you stare at this little girl who has already carried on the conversation.

"after me, obviously," she presses - because no one can take her place when it comes to the love that you and sukuna both give her.

"wait-wait..." you say a little breathless, your hands suddenly trembling as you do your best to finish the job you started. "what did your daddy tell you? I didn't quite-"

"he said he loves you more than anyone else in the world..." she repeats, her focus on the rogue hair brush that sits at her small vanity. "so, yeah, that's why I asked daddy if I should tell ms. kiko to stop saying he's cute..."

"your...your daddy is just being silly..." you murmur, trying to underplay the statement. you slip the hairband around her second braid to secure the style in place.

impossible, you think. that's impossible.

so much time has passed between you both.

you buried that part of your past long ago.

left it and refused to look back-

"nu-uh. he said that I don't have to say anything to ms. kiko. that it's okay because he loves momma more, anyway. but daddy also told me once that he's not that good at it," she adds on, her fingers picking at the bristles of her bright purple brush, "whatever that means..."

"when did you and your daddy have this conversation..."

the realization hits her then, and she stares up at you before covering her mouth. "oops," she states, glancing from side to side, "I pinky promised daddy I wouldn't tell you that..."

before you can fish out anything else from her, she hops off her seat, her feet pattering away as she moves across the room towards her pile of plushies.

"who should I take with me?" she says loudly, brushing aside the fact that she said far more than she should. she stands with her hip jutted out and her finger pressed against her lips, her back facing you.

you have to lean against her closet to steady yourself. you do your best to rationalize sukuna's words, trying to decipher the pieces in this game of whispers.

your mind flashes to the horrid break up five and a half years ago. a memory that exists hazily in the back of your mind, to the moment of you standing in sukuna's dingy old apartment holding a lacy white bra between your fingers.

it was not yours.

"what is this?" you gasped, your breath straining as your chest rose and fell with unease. "what the fuck is this..."

it's the only time you've ever seen sukuna panicked.

your memory only captures his words in blurs.

of him drinking too much.

way too much.

of him not waking up alone but swearing that he thought he was was you.

of him not recollecting his own thoughts because he blacked out that night.

of him being just as shocked when he realized the warm body next to him was not his girlfriend.

he begged you to forgive him.

"Baby, I swear. I fucking swear I will clean up my act. I-I'll never fucking drink again. Fuck, I went too far last night. One of the guys was passing around these pills I shouldn't have fucked around with them..."

you couldn't.

you couldn't accept any of it.

you already tolerated so much with him.

the drinking, the recreational drug use, his inability to keep a job, and him nearly ending up in jail for causing fights.

but you saw so much more in that man - and yet, he proved you wrong.

this betrayal spoke volumes.

this betrayal proved to you that you were expendable to him too.

that you just weren't that important.

that shadow of that man doesn't exist anymore. not with this new version of sukuna in your life.

he almost makes you forget the past. this man; your daughter's sunlight. her knight in shining armor. the source of her joy.

he may not have been good at loving you, but that little girl has him in the palm of her hand.

and he loves her with all his might, it feels like his absolution.

"mama?" your daughter calls out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

she's standing right in front of you now, holding a rabbit plushie in one hand and a penguin in the other.

"can I take both?" she asks innocently, her wide eyes glittering brightly as she remains oblivious to your own personal drowning.

"n-no," you stammer out, and affectionately poke the small dimple in her cheek. "just one, my love. we all know your uncle yuji will have more for you when you see him..."

her eyes widen, "that's right!" she exclaims, "he always finds the best and softest ones!"

the bell rings, and you abruptly stand on your feet.

your throat tight, your stomach fluttering.

"daddy's here!" your daughter cheers, and instantly runs out of the room.

you pick up her weekend bag and sling it over your shoulder. you pause and exhale softly, telling yourself to relax before following in her footsteps.

sukuna's deep voice greets you first.

"look at these braids on you..."

you find them both at the foyer, your daughter already scooped up in her father's big, muscular arms. his hand is tugging at one of her braids and she's smiling wildly in his direction.

he's wearing an oversized leather jacket, the fit only bulking up his stature. your daughter is gripping his black tee between her hands, and she yanks it gently before asking: "can we go now?"

sukuna smiles and your spine shivers.

age has done wonders for him too.

"easy, princess, let me say hi to your mom first..."

your fingers grip onto the strap of her weekender bag nervously. you don't know why you suddenly feel very aware of how you look.

of the fact that you're completely barefaced and running on five hours of sleep. that your choice in clothes is a pair of unflattering sweats and hoodie which has some coffee stains on it. you desperately need to wash your hair, and are due for a manicure appointment.

sukuna turns to face you, "hey you, I didn't notice you standing there..."

you clear your throat again, "hi! sorry...I uh-I didn't want to interrupt..."

sukuna adjusts the hold on your daughter, allowing you to approach him as he couldn't take off his boots.

"she all ready for me?" he asks.

"mhmm" you answer quietly, at a complete loss for words because all you can hear is "daddy said he loves you more than anyone else in the world."

you hand off the bag to him, which he takes with ease.

"it's not too late to join us," he offers, but you give him a small smile and shrug of your shoulders.

"trapped with work unfortunately,"

sukuna glances in your daughters direction, "I tried..."

she pouts your way. "you sure, mama?"

"yeah, my love, I am sure."

you slide into sukuna's frame, doing your best to carefully not touch any part of his broad canvas. you stand up on your tip toes and place multiple kisses on your daughter's cheek.

"I love you and I am going to miss you like crazy these next two days," you state sweetly, feeling her wrap her arms around your neck to give you a hug and a kiss in return. "promise me you'll be on your best behavior..."

"I promise!!" she answers.

you find the courage to meet sukuna's soft eyes, the ease on his face doing nothing to help your shattering state.

"I guess you're both set then," you say with a sigh.

he furrows his brow at your tone, and leans forward to make direct eye contact toward you. your lips part slightly at the close proximity of his face with yours, and he tilts his head like a curious cat before asking: "you okay?"

your heat burns so naturally. your heart ready to climb it's way up your throat. you blink back in surprise at his question, and stutter out a "I-I'm fine..."

"you sure?" he presses as he casually stands upright again, like he didn't just pop the bubble of your personal space. "you seem a little off..."

"I am okay," you reassure with a firm nod, before dropping your gaze down at your feet as you shift your balance. "I-I just have a lot on my mind today is all..."

there is a gentle tap just underneath your chin, your attention lifts up to look back at sukuna. his expression is stoic, but you can see the concern in his tense jaw. he taps the space just beneath your bottom lip, your insides turning at the gesture he used to do to you countless times before.

"anything I need to be worried about?" he asks calmly, his choice of words a veil over his obvious unsettlement.

you feel like you really can't breathe then.

your mind spins to when you carelessly kissed him. to when he returned the gesture at your daughter's play.

what seemed so innocent now feels like a serious overstep.

your hand circles around his wrist and you pull him away from you. "I'm fine, Ryomen," you acknowledge politely, trying to keep your words detached but kind.

after you see them both off and shut the front door, you find yourself pressed against the wooden frame. your back weakly glides down the surface until you're sitting on the floor. you bring your knees close to your chest, shaking at the prospect not because you don't want it to be true, but because you are terrified of allowing yourself to even open your heart to sukuna again.

he broke you. he hurt you. and yet, he somehow was the only thing that healed those wounds.

he is the reason why you were able to bring your daughter into this world. he treated her with immense love and supported you in every capacity to build this imperfect little family with you.

ryomen sukuna - your dark angel. the source of your deepest pain, and the reason for your happiest joy.

the wall that you've kept between you and sukuna exists as a safety barrier. you can peek over whenever necessary, but it doesn't mean you ever have to cross that boundary.

and yet, you've caught yourself with the consideration of sitting on the ledge, or maybe even stepping onto the other side.

all it takes for you is to then see the cracks and damages of the past as a reminder of what keeps stopping you.

"get a grip of yourself" you mutter out loud.

you let go of that love. you remind yourself, and you both are better for it.

sukuna is a completely different individual now, and you are in a much happier place than you were before.

the whirlwind romance, the intense passion and addictive excitement fizzled. the sparkle having faded the moment his betrayal was revealed.

maybe your love for each other is just too destructive when intertwined so closely. but existing loosely as small strings, and tethered to the singular entity that lives and breathes because of it...

maybe that should be more than enough for you both.

and you don't know why the thought breaks your heart a little.

[clementine-kesh]

my most diabolical idea for a good ol fashioned bad ending voyager au starts from the premise that janeway wanted harry to take over as captain and the borg queen wanted seven to take over as the face of the collective and twists it so that what actually ends up happening is that harry becomes the new borg king (as the unintentional end result of some noble attempt at self-sacrifice) and seven becomes captain of voyager. cue thee craziest friends to sworn enemies with weird familial undertones dynamic ever. they’re warped reflections of each other, standing in the place the other was supposed to be, on opposite trajectories. they can’t bring themselves to kill each other but they also can’t leave each other alone. harry’s like “hey the collective’s actually a pretty great place i could keep voyager safe forever here if you would just let me” and seven’s like “i will unborg your ass if it’s the last thing i do”.

also b’elanna is seven’s first officer and she feels deeply guilty about all of this and tom has either been assimilated (possibly willingly) or is a broken shell of a human being

[buubonita]

In regards to your writing request posts, I am still thinking about that post about Killer cutting open Nightmare, if you wanna expand on that,, I can drop other ideas if you want tho,

I just think it would be nice if Killer cuts Nightmare open without a sexual connotation,, and more like "Let me open my boss's for the sake of my morbid curiosity" 😈 I genuinely find it more interesting than any real attraction between them.

I think Killer would be curious to unravel Nightmare because he's bored, and also needs to know more for his own survival, and not so much because he sees him as a potential companion/partner.

If he haves to deal with this bitch then he will try to go through it as his way, trying to balance things out for just a moment.

Of course, this doesn't take away from the fact that the powers in their relationship are unbalanced, and if things like Killer hurting Nightmare are a reality it's because Nightmare lets it happen and not because Killer has achieved it. They are always on unequal terms.

If Nightmare lets Killer do these things sometimes it's because he most likely underestimates him too much because of his god complex. Or maybe, if you want to think about it, he's also bored.

While I'm open to your suggestions, it's still a work in progress that's far from finished after all.

[bubblyernie]

BatCat AU for Biddley and Sadie, cuz I like the vibes very very much >:3 brooding goth detective and flirty edgy femme fatale who occassionally does crime yes please

also the second one: trying to figure out which of my OCs would be a good catwoman and one of them is sadie yes of course, but then I thought of Terry who's a butch lesbian and got so so so thrown by the idea of a butch catwoman I couldn't breathe

Im gonna redesign this at some point, I want to keep the femme-design of the character and the costume, but I want it to reflect some of Terry's woodsman-like vibes. Argh!! opposing motifs, my enemy!!!

art tag // commission info

[kizzfolio]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

피원하모니ㅤㅤㅤfem!reader, non-idol au, est relationship, skinship, kiss, fluff, scenarios ‹𝟹 proofread !! 979wc

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ──── how piwon would show their love for you

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤlikes and reblogs are appreciated <3

꒰ yoon — keeho ꒱ㅤㅤ(기호) . keeho would show his love with words, conversation would be the basis of your relationship. he knows you better than you know yourself, he remembers everything about you, from your favorite ice cream flavor to the brand of your conditioner. if there's anyone you can lean on, it's him, you understand each other beyond words. you're like each other's pillar,

he comes home with a bag of snacks for the two of you to share, too concerned about your well-being when he realizes that you've spent the whole evening too focused on studying for a test, "you know me so well," you say, munching on the food he brought for you, keeho ruffles your hair and you hum in disapproval, raising your head to look at him with narrowed eyes. "if you don't take care of yourself, i will personally babysit you."

꒰ choi — taeyang ꒱ ㅤㅤ(테오) . theo would never say what his love language was until he realized that spending so much time by your side was the answer. he would dedicate his time to walks, moments alone and conversations. the bond between the two of you would be built through small moments together. if you needed him, he would be here. he would be like your home, feeling comfort in your arms.

enjoying each other's company was what you usually did, counting the minutes that passed in silence, your body close to theo's while he dedicated himself to learning a new song on his guitar, your fingers between his strands of hair, caressing him until you suddenly stop, it took two whole minutes for theo to notice and look curiously to know the reason, smiling when he found you sleeping soundly.

꒰ choi — jiung ꒱ㅤㅤ(지웅) .   jiung would love to show his love through meaningful gifts and surprises. he would be the boyfriend who, when you were shopping, would ask if you liked something so he could buy it for you, and also, whenever he was out alone and saw something he thought you would like, he would make sure to buy it to give to you later.

"what do you think?" he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looks at the small pendant hanging over your collarbone through the mirror. it was shiny and you knew it had been an expensive gift. "it's so pretty, ji." he kisses your neck, you admire the gift in your reflection in the mirror that seemed to shine under the dim lights of the room, smiling at how sweet he had been to consider buying something so expensive just for the pleasure of gifting it to you.

꒰ hwang — intak ꒱ ㅤㅤ(인탁) .  intak would be so affectionate with you, he wouldn't be able to stay away from you for long. every day he spends with you is like magic and all the time together is cherished, he's always just a phone call away. even if you had just seen each other, he would miss you before you even said goodbye. in the kisses and hugs, your comfort is guaranteed in his arms.

"what's wrong?" you ask between a giggle as you feel intak's arms wrap around your figure in a warm and tight hug, pulling you closer until your back is pressed against his chest. he buries his face in your neck, sighing deeply, as if he wanted to engrave the scent of your perfume in his memory. you were getting ready to leave, but neither of you wanted to leave the other's side. he leaves a little kiss on your neck, mumbling softly for you not to leave him yet. "stay a little longer." he murmured, tightening his embrace as if with one slip of his hand you would disappear. 

꒰ haku — shota ꒱ ㅤㅤ(白翔太) . i believe that soul wouldn't talk much about his feelings, not being a very verbal person, he shows through actions and small gestures how much he likes you. patience and understanding are the key to a relationship like yours, people with quirks and habits that other people find strange understand each other more. being with soul is like finding your space, where you feel like you belong.

"it's so cold today, i feel like i could freeze." you chatter, curling up under the soft blankets next to soul who doesn't even seem to be affected by the cold that was happening tonight, just listening to your complaints. he smiles before getting up, mumbling that he'll be back in a few minutes. what seems like an eternity until he comes back with two mugs of hot chocolate for you to drink while watching doraemon. 

꒰ kim — jongseob ꒱ ㅤㅤ(종섭) . jongseob would be the boyfriend who would take care of you, you wouldn't even need to lift a finger because he would always be there to help you. from getting a pot from a high shelf to an important job, something he would help you with without even thinking twice and would do to see a radiant smile appear on your face. the feeling of being loved by jongseob is like the feeling of coming home after a tiring day, like a cold night where the only thing that can warm you up is being in his arms.

“ah, i forgot my coat at home.” you say as you feel the draft hit your body as you step out onto the street, making a shiver run down your spine and hug your own body. you weren’t far from home yet and could go back to get it. “i’ll be right back-”   before you could say anything else, jongseob took off his jacket, he was wearing a sweatshirt underneath so he wouldn’t be cold. “i knew you would forget.” he says with a smile, passing the jacket over your shoulders for you to put on. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ@kizzfolio

[always-just-red]

Hello! Y'know that one line of Sylus talking about his muscles saying "They're not real. But they move." The way he casually admits to not being entirely human

Could I request something angsty where Sylus has an uncanny valley aura about him where you just FELL something's not right and Sylus is all :( cause he can't make the MC feel comfortable around him but it's not like he can fix it either

Just a quick little fic for this whilst I work on a longer fic! Realised like two paragraphs in that I had the opportunity to do the most evil thing ever, so I did!! 😇 I'm really proud of this one guys pls show it some love! And thanks for the prompt, anon! You are my co-conspirator in all this evilness, mwa ha ha DISCLAIMER: This work does not reflect the feelings of the author, who would die for Sylus! Wants to hold Sylus's face in her hands and tell him he is everything good and pure in this dark, cynical chess game we call life! 😎✨

Monster

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: A Deepspace Hunter's instincts never lie...

Genre: angst oh my GOSH so much angst

Warnings/Additional tags: f!reader, AU I guess as this is a different spin on an existing scene, *passes you some tissues* here you might need these! 🥰

| Word count: 800 | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You know monsters.

Earth-shattering. Sky-shearing. Teeth, reckless: always striving for something soft to sink into. To make a home in and to eviscerate. You’ve been grazed by it— kissed by that violence more times than you can count— and you are not soft anymore; there isn’t space for it. There are scars and then there’s armour, the kind you carry with you, the kind you couldn’t shed if you tried, and you haven’t tried, because why would you?

Horror isn’t loud and cataclysmic, it’s quiet. It’s those few seconds before your Hunter’s watch signals a fluctuation of Metaflux. A premonition, trained, or maybe just human instinct, raw and vulnerable: something is wrong, here. That prickle on your skin— the tip of that claw, raked, snaked down your spine. You feel it whenever a Wanderer lurks in the shadows, or beneath a stretch of water that’s unfathomably deep and far, far too still.

Sometimes, you feel it when you look at Sylus.

I know monsters.

Before you, a fragment of a mural tells a very old story, and beside you, a red-eyed man is thinking of flowers. It’s late, and the museum is quiet. You look at the fragment’s centre, where a female warrior is plunging a blade through a dragon’s heart. “Look,” you say, nodding at the figure with a half-smile. “My predecessor.”

Sylus hums thoughtfully. “What makes you say that?”

“Because that looks like a standard Tuesday to me. Some things never change, huh?”

But other things do. With a chuckle, Sylus draws closer to you. The rumble of his laughter is warm and familiar, and his hand is near yours as he bends to examine the mural. He wants you to take it, to thread your fingers through his like you do when you resonate, when you need his power and he needs yours, except neither of you need it now. Why, then?

You know. Of course you know.

The man is all softness, voice and gaze like an afternoon sun in late summer that lulls you to sleep with thick, golden light. Always trying to evoke a dream. It’s weakness, it’s the dragon on the mural with a split heart, bleeding, and you’ll never understand why Sylus wears his on his sleeve.

It’ll be the death of him, one day. It’s set in stone. Right here.

When Sylus touches you— when the tip of his finger catches yours and makes an honest, desperate request— you don’t pull away. Something inside tugs at you, warns you, tells you a monster without a sword in its chest is one that can bite. What colour of blood would your hands prefer? His? Your own?

Your veins are cold and something is wrong, but no, you don’t pull away, because Sylus knows monsters too. Some declare themselves with twisted horns, razorlike wings and a long, barbed tail. Others declare themselves with something as subtle as a touch, withdrawn.

When Sylus steps away from you, that gash of dread closes up inside you. Heals like his wounds: no mess, no scar, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

He’s had a long time to look at the mural, and he smiles wistfully at the woman at its centre. “Some things never change,” he echoes, and it sounds as though there’s blood in his lungs, his throat, and that he has to swallow it down to say anything at all. It must sting.

“All in a day’s work for a Deepspace Hunter,” you joke flatly. You’re not even sure Sylus hears it.

Both of you stare at your fragment of history: an execution, a liberation. A matter of perspective. “Maybe…” Sylus begins, but then thinks better of it.

“Maybe what?”

He’s seeing something you don’t.

“Maybe what, Sylus?”

He spares you a glance. “The pose,” he says, indicating the warrior. “It’s ambiguous. Perhaps she isn’t slaying the beast, she could be—”

“Saving it?”

You’re considering a new perspective. Tapping a finger against your cheek as you lock eyes with your history— that elusive dream— ever oblivious to what’s behind you:

There’s a look of sheer, infinite longing— a gaze that’s been empty of you for too long, so sick of starvation, and determined to have its fill in the few, fleeting moments it can. It’s ravenous: dangerous, sharp, and irrevocably yours, if you would only turn around.

There are teeth and claws, but they’re all of them tame, and that makes them soft, doesn’t it? You could trust them on your skin. Turn around.

You do, and you are not the girl from the mural who tucked wildflowers into his hair and who sung him a song he still hears in his sleep. Sylus’s heart aches.

You are the girl from the mural who’s slaying a dragon, because it’s the oldest story, the only story.

Your eyes harden.

“Who would pull out a sword to save a monster?”

[waivyjellyfish]

Milgram but it's Mob100 AU

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

Brief summary of the characters.

Es: A very strong esper, once came to Shidou to become his student, and stayed as part-time worker. They knows perfectly well that Shidou has no psychic powers, but cleverly avoids this conversation.

Shidou: After his family died, he quit the clinic he worked it and decided to open his small massage buisness. He's very bad artist so his advertisement attracts people not only for massage, but also for the exorcism of evil spirits. Tries to tell his student that he has no psychic powers.

Amane: Es' younger sister. She is very attached to Es since they met in the shelter after losing their families and have become family to each other. Feels betrayed after Es found a part-time job and another person they can trust. Wants to wake up her psychic powers so she can keep up with Es.

Jakalope: A murky spirit of unclear origin whose Es prevented to arrange the sect and involve Amane in it. Wants to conquer the world and arrange it whole in a trial. He took Amane’s body to avenge Es and awakened her power as an esper.

Mahiru: A care-taker who took Es and Amane under her care. She had long ago wanted to take custody of the child from the orphanage with her boyfriend. But long after his death finally decided to take care of the two children (they were in a package) Does a lot to make sure the children have anything they need. Perhaps too much. Neither Es nor Amane are used to it at all. But after a while they did trust her.

Mahiru's Boyfriend: He died, but forgot why he died and stayed with the person about whom he had at least some memory. Almost got taken away because Es' first reaction to ghosts is banishment. Lives with Mahiru and the children as another member of the family, even if he's invisible. Was very happy that now not only Es can see him.

Yuno: Es' Sempai in school and an their example for emulating. Not an esper, but good at hiding from people what they don't need to know and behaves as a typical schoolgirl. She act's normal. Es wants to be normal.

Fuuta: Esper, who decided that if he had the power, he could bring justice to the masses. Was instantly one-shoted by Es and their great power, after which he reflected on life and decided to make friends with Es.(guess for whom this all the AU was made)

Kotoko: She was a lawyer, but her activities put her family at risk first, and then herself too, which eventually led to her death. After that she became an evil spirit and started her vigilante activity. When she started to needed a material body, she found Muu.

Mu: A rich girl posessed with evil spirit Kotoko.

Haruka: Muu's stepbrother. Was the one who found Shidou and Es (Shidou's terrible advertisement works perfectly)

Kazui: Esper that couldn't prevent the death of his wife and then plunged into a great depression. Repeated Serizawa's plot-path.

Kayano twins: Telepath brothers from the espers club that Amane entered after awakening.

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

Little pearls I did while I wrote this AU:

Shidou: Es-kun, this is important I don't have... [The deafening sound of the train in the background]

Es: What did you say teacher? We run out of tea for customers? I'll go buy some right now. [evaporates]

Shidou: It's not that I wanted to say, Es-kun...

Neighbors: Mahiru-san, where did you get such a cute little rabbit balloon? We saw your children with it.

Mahiru: I didn’t buy any balloons? Oh! Did they feel relaxed enough to buy a balloon?! We need to celebrate that! [This evening, Es and Amane find the whole house packed with balloons]

Shidou: Es-ku.. [his cup is cracking in half] … Es-kun, I want... [something runs past the window]… ask you to buy some apples..

Es, already on the low start to interrupt the teacher and change the subject, freezes with their mouth open on the half-term: Ah, okay.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

thank you so much for this lovely art :) it inspired me to make these

I love the idea that theyre at buggy’s circus, where you can originally go to beat him in a boss battle. They didnt get a chance to go through the circus part while they were there but chopper wanted cotton candy and was too scared to go alone so Zoro tagged along.

i like the idea that at the circus there'd be a bunch of minigames that are clearly rigged. like you shoot hoops onto pegs and a hand comes out and swipes it off. and only if the player gets it perfect perfect does it actually register. delighful...

anyway, some more art appreciation:

this art is absoltuely gorgeous thank you so so much for making them. theyre actually so sweet 2 me. I love thinking about how chopper is the first year zoro adopts as a senior. Zoro gives him rides to school as chopper shouts at him the directions the entire way the whole time. delightful.

the first piece is so atmospheric, it looks so warm and comfortable and fun. the details you put on choppers backpack is so lovely, it looks like its packed to the brim neatly with everything he could ever need. i love the star stickers he has too.. baby.....

love the prizes that are draped all over zoro too ouguh. the glasses the lay and the tiger. i wonder whether chopper won them all and gave them to zoro, or whether chopper couldnt win them so zoro won them all and is holding them so that chopper can run around freely.

i love how much personality the background has! the mirrors being vandalized or intentionally covered with paint splotches. or maybe thats reflecting the background... i like the paint idea better cuz it seems like theyve been tainted and buggy just hasnt cared to clean or to replace them since.

the frames of the mirrors are so fun too, i love how chopper gets the fun one and zoro's is pretty standard with some embellishments, like how their dynamic is that youre trying to depict :)

the second pic is so much fun :')))) chopper's ice cream kinda looking like a christmas tree... i can see him enjoying pistachio ice cream 100%. and zoro enjoying some kind of pink slushy or perhaps a boba. OH I JUST NOTICED THE TREATS THEYRE ENJOYING ARE EACHOTHERS COLORS STOPPPPP THATS SO CUUUTEEEOUOUOHGOUHGOUH i love how zoro is crazling wado as he crinks the drink, too. delightful to me....

i love the little background visual of the healthbars and the FIGHT ?, so cute, the style of this au works so well with your artstyleeee oooooohhhhh u_u i enjoy dearly...

i love how youve tweaked my designs too! Chopper's big baggy socks are so so darling to me and it makes me want to change his design so that he can have big fluffy leg warmers.... which im actually gonna go do. along with adjusting zoro's design to have a hood and black nail polish because those ideas are bloody delightful.

i also like zoro's big clunky shoes. i hope you dont mind me yoinking these ideas.

lastly, the way you render is so gorgeoussss its so lively and fun, truly a perfect match for the au. the way you fuzzed chopper's hat and the plush tiger are so nice i can feel them just by looking at it. and chopper's vials and bottle of liquids? me want drink.

Alright well i think thats just about it, thank you so much again, you are so lovely for making these :'))))

Also this is neither here nor there and I really like his little wings, but they’re actually just feathers, not wings 😅 BUT THE WAY YOU DREW THE WINGS ARE SO BEAUTIFUL!!! I kinda want them to be wings, maybe not coming from chopper but actually just being on the hat from Dr Hiroluck that he decorated them with before he kicked the bucket… them still flapping, his powers still going all these years later …. Yeah…. 😭😭😭😭

you’ve changed (for the better)

for @where-does-the-heart-lie ‘s fighting game au I love ur designs I love them dearly

[endwersed]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged in (a little while ago) by the brilliant @violetfairydust & @crownofstardustandbone ✨

I'm still working through the first draft of my next fic, call it off - a high school AU with closeted jock Derek and out loser Stiles. Lots of angst can be expected, and here's a little snippet of some 😄

-

Behind Stiles, the hinges of the bathroom door creak, not a knock or a word before it opens slowly, before somebody comes right in and does not immediately flee upon finding the room already occupied. He grits his teeth, his eyes screwing shut so hard colour dances behind his eyelids, and crushes his fingers white-knuckle tight around the edge of the sink.

“Someone’s already in here,” he says.

No response. No cowed footsteps of retreat, either. Just the hinges of the door sounding once again, the snick as it shuts firmly and locks whoever that fucking is inside here with him.

“Dude,” he says, a harsh snap to his voice, “I just fucking said. Someone’s already in –”

He lifts his head, opens his eyes, and spies the intruder through the mirror. His warning cuts off with an abrupt click of his teeth, the pit of his stomach sinking right down to his feet as his eyes lock with none other than Derek fucking Hale, those sharp features dark and twisted in that unmistakable reflection.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Derek says.

There is nothing that Stiles can do to stymie the sudden, incredulous laugh that barks right out of him. He spins quickly in place, hands flying up into the air as he moves, wild and trembling as they hover out in front of him, his head already shaking as he snags Derek’s eye once again.

“The fuck, man?” He lets his hands crash back down to slap against his thighs. “Did you fucking follow me?”

“Yes,” Derek says, instant and flat and entirely unrepentant, even as Stiles’ eyes practically bug right out of his skull. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

“Um, I’m using the bathroom,” Stiles snarks, eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead as he flings an arm out to gesture around the room. “Which isn’t something I really need your help with, actually. So you can, you know – get the fuck out.”

A muscle ticks at the notch of Derek’s jaw, his hands already curled into tight fists at his sides. His eyes are locked onto Stiles, unrelenting, as he takes a single, small step forwards. It is still enough to send Stiles reeling backwards, stumbling over his own feet to get away, the edge of the sink jutting painfully at the base of his spine.

Derek stops. It does not even look like he is breathing. His shoulders are squared rigid and back, the corded muscle of his forearms tensed to prominent attention. A slow, ragged exhale pushes out from his flared nostrils.

“You’re only talking to that guy to piss me off,” he grits out.

Stiles’ jaw practically hits the floor, his head already swinging in disbelief. His breathes are coming out hard and fast, his nails scratching into the rough denim of his jeans, his heart pounding the beat of an unsteady drum against the brittle bones of his ribcage.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, a nasty curl to his lip. “I’m talking to him because he’s hot, and he’s single, and he’s not ashamed to admit who he really fucking is. That’s more than I can say for you, asshole.”

“He probably just wants to fuck you,” Derek sneers.

“Well, yippee,” Stiles laughs, high and harsh and hollow. “I guess that means me and him want the same fucking thing, doesn’t it?”

It has exactly the intended effect. Derek’s face falls into something gutted, something cracked right open, raw and vulnerable. Stiles slides his gaze up to the ceiling, a burn at the back of his eyes that he will not pay heed to, anything so that he won’t have to see that expression on Derek for even a moment longer.

“You… you left.” Stiles’ voice is quiet, broken already on those two words alone. “You just… left me there. You messed around with me, spewed all this bullshit about how much you like me, and then you fucking… you ran away.” He pauses, a shudder of choked breath catching in his throat. “You said it was a mistake. You said it was wrong.”

“It was wrong,” Derek snaps, his words fast, urgent. “Don’t you get it? I – I had to leave.”

Stiles flicks his hard gaze down from the ceiling. He meets Derek’s lost, pale eyes.

“Then leave,” he says, nowhere near as steadily as he wants to. “Stop chasing after me. Let me talk to whoever I want, to Luke or to – or to whoever the fuck, I don’t know. You leave me, and I’ll leave you, and we can both just get on with our fucking lives.”

He does not let another second pass before he pushes himself away from the sink, a jerk of his body to propel him forwards, intent on shoving right past Derek, knocking right through him. But he finds himself caught, finds himself stopped, by the too-tight clamp of Derek’s fingers gripping at his arm, curling around his elbow and digging harshly, desperately, in.

Their faces are far, far closer than they should be as they stare at one another. The space between them is filled with ragged, meshing, panting breaths.

“Don’t do anything with him,” Derek whispers.

It sounds like a plea as it slips softly from Derek’s mouth. Stiles shuts his eyes against its sincerity and rips his arm out of Derek’s entreating hold.

“That’s not really any of your fucking business, is it?” he spits. “So just… just fuck off, Derek. Go back to your girlfriend. Leave me alone and go back to your fucking girlfriend.”

-

No pressure tags! @anothersigh @dear-massacre @eevylynn @heavensenthale @like-lazarus 🩷

@lucky-bishop @okdeannawrites @patolemus @raisesomehale @renmackree 🩷

[ledesaid]

Billy Batson Speedster AU | #2

⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡

Billy takes Barry's hand.

Lately, he does it much more often, this time to enter the school.

Billy doesn't want to go in and Barry knows it. The grip of his hand becomes tighter. They had a consensus...

Judging by the younger one's reaction, he has just learned that word, but he supposes they have reached a fair agreement: go to school in the mornings and run with Flash at night.

Fortunately for the younger one, Barry can see himself reflected in him and doesn't let it pass how Billy starts to breathe harder. He could hyperventilate or have a panic attack, Billy's strong grip was mixed with a gurgling of irregular breaths.

Barry: We can try it tomorrow.

Billy is holding his breath, the blond slides a smile while picking Billy up and leaving the place. The latter doesn't say a word and it's not necessary, Barry understands...

When his mother died, returning to classes had been a nightmare and fear can have different seeds, but this time Barry is on the other side.

And, although he feels moderately functional after a terrible darkness from his failure after the destruction of Fawcett, it wasn't easy to have those flashes of peace or tranquility. He never imagined himself as a paternal figure after losing Iris, but he doesn't stop being grateful for having Billy with him now.

The third speedster.

He wants to know him more and Detective West was helping him get to know his story. Quite a story for someone his size, from running away from foster homes to school dropout reports since...

Barry realizes a bit late that he should apply a new approach if he wanted Billy to reintegrate, academically speaking, but he has faith that there's nothing an ice cream in California can't cure. It's the first time that either of them leaves the state, the first time since he met Billy on his way to Canada...

Barry: Do you want to stretch your legs a bit, would that be okay?

Billy: Yes... That... That would be okay.

A provisional anti-friction suit leads Billy to wear a complete red jumpsuit with yellow details and also to travel across the country to an ice cream shop.

Barry: I found this place by accident, I like to come when I want a change of scenery...

Billy: Can I ask you a question?

Barry: As many as you want, kid.

The younger one lights up and clenches his fists under the table.

Billy: C-could... Could I study at home?

That surprises the adult. It really wasn't what he expected. The little one was closing his eyes. Flash sighed, really wishing he could reach Billy so he wouldn't be afraid to express what he wanted.

Billy: Of course, don't worry about that, we can make it work...

The dark-haired boy looks up and Flash smiles to him.

Barry: Since we're here, would you like to join me in visiting someone?

Billy: Is a superhero like you?

Barry: Of course, and he's also my best friend. He's a pilot and his favorite color is green.

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

Origin | Part 1

[fanaticsnail]

FUCK ME SNAIL!

Donquixote Rosinante: Winter Soldier AU

I am frothing at the mouth over this idea because he deserved so much better than death

not saying that being a winter soldier is better but at least he wouldn't be dead

I am deceased 💀

KNOW THAT I WANT TO WRITE IT SO BAD, HONEY BEE. I know it'd be a lot of work, but I can just hear the little:

"Cora-san?" Law asks with wide eyes, taking a step back and staring up in horror and awe at the man he once knew. His lip shudders at the anguish and pain the ghostly shell of familiarity overcame him at the man before him.

"Who the fuck is 'Cora-san'?" The man clad in black asks coldly before resuming his onslaught of bullets and deflecting attacks from the Heart Pirates rising to their captain's defence.

The voice rang in his mind, causing Law to focus on the tinea whistle recalling him to his youth. Bepo shaking his shoulders while protecting him from harms way did nothing to break him out of his visage. All he could see in place of the man striding towards him with heavy foot-falls was a single phrase that haunted him to this day.

"Leave him alone. He is free." Before a flurry of bullets punctured his minds eye.

Bepo was struck away from his captain with a single whipped gun-lash. A captain who was too distracted by sitting in his memory to notice. A captain who's eyes were now focussed on the black leather military pants in front of his sitting position.

"I'm... I'm your friend," Law tried one final time, peering up at the blonde man who began reaching for him through eyes that reflected nothing but emotionlessness.

"You're my mission, nothing more."

JUST RAAAAAAAAAA. I don't know what to do with this plot swirling around in my head. Do we want it to be a reader fic, or a truly Canon divergent fic focussed on these two meeting up again? There are so many scenes I could write. The "I knew him" before another mind wipe. My gosh. Can you imagine??

[hollyhomburg]

Prey Animals (8)

—  Pairing: Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader

—  Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, enemies to friends to lovers, Healing & Themes of trauma,

—  Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

—  Words: 6.4k

—  Warnings: Reluctant allies to lovers, Implied/referenced sexual abuse, implied non-con, physical abuse, spousal abuse, stalking, violence, Angst

—  Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! — 

(Yoongi, 113 days before)

When Yoongi first being taught the ropes of the family, the last beta, now dead- took him aside and taught him the ways of business.

She taught him how to think and how to breathe, how to manipulate and most importantly- how to lie. Her hand digging into his neck, her scent dulled by age but still stinky in his nose, something metallic, something like silver that he struggled not to pull away from. Her lips brush his ear. Yoongi never understood why she needed to get so close.

“Name the facts of the situation, and order them by level of importance, the solution should reveal itself to you without you having to do much more work.”

“What should I consider most important?” he’d ask, childlike eagerness, a willingness to be good- a weapon in her hands.

Her voice had gone low. “Whatever you want to consider important is important. Say what you want and the others will follow.”

Now, sitting on the bed in his hotel room, Yoongi thinks should count himself lucky. He’s the one person that your husband cannot refuse a request from. The one person from whom Geumjae cannot keep you.

Even Yoongi cannot deny that it sends a good message to the rest of the family. He can almost imagine the words that Geumjae might say. See the beta is checking in not only on me but on the people closest to me, she’ll vouch for my character because my wife knows best.

She’s a pretty thing your wife, your mate to be.

No, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s all in good fun dude, don’t take it too seriously.

Yoongi insists over texts that the two of you go alone to look at jewelry. Yoongi wonders if you know that it’s just a simple ploy to learn more about you, to figure out the newcomer, and that he’s not really interested in anything beyond that. Geumjae need not waste his time with the affairs of an omega, he surely has more important things to do than go with you and help Yoongi pick out pretty things that sparkle.

He taps out the message on his phone, looking out over the city in the hotel room, bag packed on the bed a mess of torn through clothing that hardly smells like the pack at all. Not anymore.

New Number (11:32am): Thank fucking god, you know how boring all that frilly omega shit is to me.

New Number (11:32am): What’s mine is yours little bro

New Number (11:32am): Just not her.

Yoongi looks at the text for a long time, and then tosses his phone away.

The city is always rainy in the fall. The towering skyscrapers pierce the metallic clouds like a knife, and the rain hangs low. The rain is the only thing he can smell when he steps out of the taxi and into the street where you’ve agreed to meet. The scent of rain, cold and humid. You are already there on the sidewalk waiting. Peeking out from under the edge of your umbrella.

Yoongi did not bring one, he stands underneath the deluge of rainwater until you step close.

The heals you wear do little to provide you any real height, Yoongi still has to look down at you, but they do keep you out of the puddles, dark and reflective. You look every picture of a rich socialite. Designer bag, gaudy jewelry that clangs together when you reach to shake his hand. Your wedding band cold against his finger. Your introductions routine, formal. Your drop waist dress billows out from your hips gathering rain splotches.

It looks so out of character, so ill fitting, the dress several sizes bigger than would look flattering. You can’t be warm in it.

You’re still wearing the bracelets too; Yoongi wonders if you ever take them off- if Geumjae ever lets you. You smile at Yoongi when you see him, slow, it does not show your teeth.

Just not her.

“Did you have anywhere in particular you wanted to go, or is just the Cartier on 5th avenue fine for now Mr. Min?” You say, idly, your tone gentle, your words perfectly pronounced an enunciated. If you have any sort of accent, Geumjae has trained you out of it.

“Yoongi, you can call me Yoongi, I don’t mind.” Water drips onto the back of his neck. Yoongi feels like he’s under a microscope even though he’s only just next to you. You have your hair tied back again this time with a silk scarf- red with a dark blue boarder. Tiny cherry blossoms speckling it in an indistinct pattern. The only splotch of color on your entire outfit. The only thing that isn’t black.

Everything but your lips. There is a ridge across your bottom lip where you must have bitten them and bitten hard. Yoongi can see it through the lipstick, the family’s usual shade of crimson. Presented to all omega’s after presentation- or in your case- your marriage.  Yoongi wonders if it’s an anxiety tick or otherwise. But there is a tiny imperceptible gash there where it’s split, at the corner.

Your eyes widen, the perfect picture of coquettish surprise. Yoongi doesn’t believe it for a second. Yoongi knows you know better. He pauses on the sidewalk. He is not sure that he can trust you.

He offers his arm, and you are in no position to deny it. You wrap your arm around it gently, like you’re warry of putting too much of your body within reach. You fall into step beside him and Yoongi keeps his tone mild-mannered.

“Tell me, what’s it like being married to a psychopath?”

You pause, looking up at him, making eye contact without fear, Yoongi watches you breathe, watches you force yourself to make it slow.

“You’re the one who grew up with him. Why don’t you tell me?”

You step up to the front of the store and hold open the door for him, the front steps have red velvet on them, and a doorman holds open the interior for you. If you didn’t know what he’s like- you wouldn’t be asking me.

Yoongi steps past you.

“Don’t say it’s all bad.” He says, once a sales associate has been properly greeted and immediately dismissed. Your jewelry all but guarantees you entry and allowance here. Yoongi feels a little grubby by comparison in his ripped jeans and jacket. He gestures to the diamonds on your wrist, the one on your finger. The designer bag on your waist that costs more than what most people make per quarter.

You hold out your wedding ring to show him. You are not smiling. “I guess it’s not bad if you like expensive things.”

From anyone else, it would sound bratty, but you just sound tired. Yoongi takes it in, the ridge on your lips that must be from where you dig in your teeth, the bags under your eyes dotted with off color concealer, a similar discoloration he can see on the back of your hands and your throat when you look to some of the glass cases.

Yoongi moves with you, staying at your side. Gazing down at the things in the cases, the miniature serpents crafted into necklaces, bracelets, the flowers carved into earrings. All of it the finest that money can buy. All impressively ugly.

“Expensive is one way to put it.”

You breathe, and Yoongi watches it hitch. You look up at him, Yoongi sees the impulse to look away when you meet his eyes, sees you give into it.

“I don’t like it, not anymore. You don’t seem like you like fancy stuff either you’re not-” you cast an anxious glance at him, as if you realize who you’re talking too. Someone the family talks about with a hush under their breath. Both a myth and a man. But you do not have to look to far to see that Yoongi is not like his brother. “Like them.”

His fingers tap against the glass, the rhythm on it, a song in the back of his head, “Why would you say that?” He should be asking, if not out of curiosity than to make his mask better. You’ve barely been in his presence what? 3 hours? 4? And yet you’ve figured him out easily.

A little too easily.

You shrug and turn away, “call it a hunch.”

Yoongi has never been able to quite temper his gentleness, he might sneer and scowl like them, might curse like a sailor and walk like one too, but he’s never able to touch things with violence. Everything, everything since he’s stepped foot Infront of you- has been gentle. Yoongi should be more surprised that you’ve called him on his bluff, but he can’t feel anything other than impressed.

His hands move slow, dancing across the glass cases that hide things far rarer and more beautiful than you. You should know, your husband has told you it time and time again hat putting you in diamonds is like putting a tiara on a pig. Yoongi looks at you, his eyes asking you to explain.

“You don’t come home often; you don’t like it. You didn’t do-” You sniff hard, mimicking it instead of saying it, “-after dinner. And you don’t like my husband. Even though he’s your blood.”

Yoongi sucks a breath through his teeth and wonders why he feels a willingness to be honest with you.

“No, I do not.” 

Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice that your jewels are quite so ill fitting, he does not polish his words sharp. Just like at the dinner the other night. He speaks slowly and gently, the sound of rippling waves or the feeling of warm water.

You like the way he speaks.

The door jingles, Yoongi looks over your shoulder. Your hang grips his wrist, hard and cold fingers. Making him turn back out of the very shock of it. You wrap your arm around his elbow and look up at him, your expression almost coquettish. But Yoongi can tell that you’re shaking.

“You have a pack? Across the city?” Yoongi does not comment on your change of topic.

The man in the doorway taps off his umbrella on the marble floor, getting water everywhere. You notice the bulge of something under his arm, the way his eyes slide over you and Yoongi, the leather shoes. Expensive. The way he speaks to the attendant, softly- so as to not draw attention to himself.

Yoongi sees your spine straighten.

“Not across the city, up north. Just outside of…” He knows better than to make eye contact with the man, his hat pulled low.

“Would you tell me about them?” Yoongi closes his eyes just briefly. The memories of them rush over him like a tidal wave.  

The feel of Jin’s hands on his abdomen, splayed wide. The sound of Hobi’s laugher, the tuck of Jimin’s chin when he falls asleep during movie night, the listless way his hand tangles in Tae's sleeve over and over again the same sensation until it goes slack with sleep. The spiky feeling of Namjoon’s hair- shaved short in summer and the sound of Jin’s voice as he counts the grey hairs. The clack of plates at dinner time and the smell of the apartment when they’re all happy. Sugary and sweet. 

But he opens his eyes, and it’s raining outside. No- it’s not the outside that smells like rain- that is your scent. Rainy, wet. Like petrichor only a tad bit sweeter. It’s a melancholy scent, one that doesn’t quite fit your soft practiced smile.

“I’ve got 6 packmates.” Yoongi swallows past the lump in his throat.

“Two alphas and four omegas’?” You guess, walking from glass case to glass case barely pausing from one to the next. The man follows, mirroring your and Yoongi’s position on the exterior of the store. You see him through the displays of cut glass. Yoong passes a chandelier that’s polished so perfectly that he sees a hundred reflections of you and him in it dancing as they twinkle.

“No, the other way around actually.”

“So many alpha’s,” you comment. Whistling low. “They must give your omega’s a run for their money.”

Yoongi snorts and you turn, not expecting humor, not expecting the honesty that Yoongi offers. “No actually they-” Yoongi should remember who he’s talking too but it’s surprisingly hard to resist the urge to talk about them, his pack. Missing them pulses dully in his chest, a deeper wound than any knife could carve. A deeper danger than being honest to you.

You’re hardly the most important person in the family, what harm could honesty really do?

“The idea of anyone giving Jin or Jungkook a run for their money is laughable. They’re-” Yoongi should be more careful, he shouldn’t even be telling you their names but-

You look up at him, eyes brighter than they were at the dinner or at the start of today. They reflect the rainbow of the chandelier. Your scent warms, sweetens, loosing it’s damp edge.

“Disobedient?” Your finger dances across a dangle of crystal.

“No, Jin’s our pack omega, he keeps us all in line, but he also likes to laugh. He takes good care of us and Jungkook,” Yoongi hums. “Jungkook was raised by alphas, practically acts like one himself. He’s the one who gives us a run for our money, sometimes literally.”

You huff, and Yoongi sees real confusion on your face. “So he’s disobedient but you like it?” He knows what it’s like- being in the family where ‘good’ and ‘obedient’ and ‘pretty’ are practically the only thing that matter when it comes to omega and the gold standard. The fact that Jungkook is only one of those things doesn’t make sense to you.

You turn, and the light catches your face, youthful cherub cheeks, not hollow, not yet. Yoongi is reminded of how young you are. How little you understand and how the family must have twisted your mind so to parrot these ideas and yet doubt them.

Geumjae is 35, you can hardly be older than 20. Something about the math, you being married two years ago, doesn’t add up.

“No- Jungkook’s sweet- he just likes to have fun.” Yoongi pauses, then can’t resist adding. “He smells like honey.”

You look up at him, drinking in his soft smile. How is it that he’s smiling. You wonder, who are the people who have charmed this brother’s heart? The better brother. Geumjae and Yoongi look so much alike, so alike that they could be identical where it not for the scar marring your husbands face. You know Yoongi is a few years younger than your husband. He doesn’t have the crinkles by his eyes yet.

Of course you chose the wrong one. That this man, an unseen Jungkook gets what you so desperately want but are denied, safety and a gentle man. Yoongi is surely gentle; you could smell it the second you met him. like blood to a hound, gentleness beacons to a heart as needy as yours.

But perhaps there are still choices to be made.

Your nose wrinkles, but then the man in the hat steps closer, behind the two of you. And Yoongi remembers that he’s being watched and followed. Remembers to be careful with his words.

“I think his style is a little different than this. Less gold. Less diamonds. Jungkook already sparkles enough.” You don’t look behind you, pointedly. He holds out his arm for you to take. Trying to be a gentleman.

“Should we try Tiffany’s?”

You and Yoongi keep your pace slow until you’re out the door. Yoongi grabs your elbow and tugs you along at a quicker pace. You immediately struggle to keep up with due to your height and your heels. The weather has gotten worse, it’s coming down so heavily now. The kind of rain that soaks you through in just a few seconds.

“We’re being followed.” You hiss low, Yoongi doesn’t say that’s obvious. He pulls his hood up but your coat doesn’t have one and you left your umbrella back at the store. The rain comes down hard, catching in your hair like a constellation of little diamonds, little stars. You turn one way than the other, deliberating, but Yoongi is still holding your elbow, tugging you, quickly now.

“Come on, before he spots us.”

Yoongi knows this area well- knows it by the back of his hand because the family has several fronts on this block, these are his alleyways and backstreets. He can pick out the business that the family owns from the sidewalk.

Rent is hard to make. And any real type of protection is even harder to come by. Yoongi’s family provides it for a reasonable fee that quickly becomes unreasonable once minor requests like money laundering or selling drugs out back door come due. But Yoongi does not concern himself with the petty squabbles of the underclass- not in this city, not right now.

His hand fists in the sleeve of your coat and he tugs you along.

Yoongi learned the ways of the family better than Geumjae or the omega tailing the two of you. Because Yoongi was offered an unaltered view of the scope of their operations. No family lines that needed to be maintained. No secrecy separates him from the truth.

He tugs you into the restaurant that he’s brokered many a back deal in, pulling you past bowing chefs, an angry man in a puffy hat that pulls a smaller looking woman down and says, “stay quiet,” voices hushed with the kind of deference offered to gods and not men.

You knock over a pot, and it sloshes, spilling dark bubbling liquid. Narrowly managing not to get it on your coat. “Sorry.” You say, but Yoongi Is already pulling you.

“It’s no problem Mrs. Min,” says the bright-eyed sous chef, all but trembling in her shoes.

You pop out into a back alleyway, tripping over your heals and the uneven step and old cobblestones but Yoongi’s hand goes from your elbow to your waist under your coat. You breathe, and your ribs push against his fingers, he lets go of your waist but not your arm, ignoring it as he pulls you. “Come on.” 

Yoongi doesn’t stop, aware of distant shouting. “I’m sorry sir but customers aren’t allowed back here.”

You sink out into the alleyway and slow your walking, only because it’s raining, and you’re quickly soaked. Yoongi watches as you catch your own eyes in a reflective pein of glass, watches as you tuck your hair back behind your ear, eyes flickering over your cheeks and down.

He scoffs, and you turn to him.

“What?”

He rolls his eyes, turning away to walk down the street, quicker. “Omega’s and their preening.” It’s scornful, and it’s out of character. But Yoongi has not had the easiest week.

You turn, a sharpness on your face that Yoongi hasn’t seen so far.

“If you haven’t figured out that beauty is currency by now, then there’s nothing I can do for you.” Your gaze is so intense that Yoongi has to look away, a tightness in his chest that he cannot name. Shame, or maybe embarrassment.

That’s because you weren’t just checking to see if your makeup was undisturbed, no- you were checking to make sure the bruises on your face weren’t visible. But they are now- wiped away by the rain. They’re a conflagration of purple and blue over your cheek. Pretty like spread ink. They’re going yellow on the side. They must be a few days old. Yoongi watches the rain melt away the makeup.

Yoongi hates them the second he realizes. Hates himself a little too for calling what you were doing ‘preening’. 

His hand comes up, fingers pressing into your cheekbone, it must be tender. It must hurt to put makeup on.

“Does he beat you?” You flinch. Moving your face away from his hand. For the first time you don’t say anything. You just keep fussing, turning back to the window and untucking your hair so that it hides the left side of your face.

“Yoongi” you say softly, almost chiding. It’s the first time he’ll ever hear you say his name. But he’s going to hear you say it thousands of times more in his lifetime. Countless times until the word feels less like his name and more like a promise (If only promises weren’t dreadfully easy to break.)

You look almost sad as you regard him. Pitying. Shoe scuffing on the cobblestone as you step up to him. “Don’t you know by now? There are worse things an alpha can do to an omega than just beat them.”

Yoongi hates the way that there’s pity in your face for him. He doesn’t know why it bothers him but he’ll stay awake thinking about it for hours after. Later tonight once he’s dragged you both across the city to the beta’s residence. Once he’s solidified it in his head the two facts he learned from today.

One, that you are not a bad person.

And two, you need help.

Yoongi stands there in the downpour, looking at you. The two of you spend a few breaths like that. Looking at each other. Sizing each other up. Yoongi watches the bruises become more and more visible; the cloudy water tainted with makeup dripping from your temple to your chin.

“We’re both soaking wet.” Just speaking makes the water move from his lips, like he’s spat it. At least the mascara you’re wearing is waterproof. “We need to get out of the rain.”

There is a yellow cab on the side of the street, and he pushes you into it, you slide across the seat to let him in after you. The cabbie in the front hardly looks up until you’re settles. Yoongi watches carefully. Looking for even a fleck of recognition in his face.

He can never be too careful.

Your wet hair drips onto the leather seat, and Yoongi reminds himself to leave a hefty tip. You lean forward and give the cabbie the address for your and Geumjae’s brownstone and finds his stare similarly blank. The timer on the meter says you’ve got 30 minutes until you reach your destination. Yoongi wonders if Geumjae had instructed you to bring him home to talk.

Yoongi’s long hair tickles his forehead wet, and he slides the partition between you and the driver shut with a shlick of plastic against plastic. Your eyes dart from him to the cabbie, and he keeps his voice hushed.

Your phone slides across the seat and hits him in the thigh, when he hands it back to you it’s faintly warm in his hands. Like the flashlight has been left on in your pocket.

Yoongi doesn’t let his suspicion show. The screen stays dark.

“There. Now we’re not being followed or listened in on we can talk about what matters.”

You eye the driver warily. “There are 1,305 people in our organization, not including law enforcement on payroll, give or take a few, you can’t possibly know them all by name.”

Yoongi blinks, “I do not,” he admits after a careful moment. He glances once again at the cabbie. He makes eye contact with Yoongi before quickly glancing away. “You know an absurdly large amount of information about my family.”

“Am I not supposed too?”

Yoongi chews his words before he says them. “Careful.” You don’t reach to buckle yourself in, hands tight in your lap. Wary again, in a car with this man, in a car with someone whom you do not know, if you can trust yet.

Yoongi reaches over and does the buckle for you, hand brushing your hip. It’s the softest touch- the tenderest touch that you’ve known in weeks, months maybe. You can’t remember the last time someone touched you so gently.

Your hip burns from it. Yoongi clicks the buckle closed.

Instead of acknowledging it you ask. “Why did you help that omega the other night? The one at dinner? The server.”

“Was I not supposed too?” Yoongi raised his eyebrow, “if you haven’t figured out that kindness is currency by now then there’s nothing I can do for you.” You roll your eyes at him, at having your words thrown back at you. Yoongi sees the bravery it takes in you, the way you watch and wait for him to get violent.

Violence with words has always been easier for Yoongi so he changes the subject. “Did you leave the other night because you knew something would happen to Jongho?”

“No, I didn’t know for sure.” Yoongi reads beyond your words.

“Was it Geumjae?” 

“No, it wasn’t.”

“But you won’t tell me who?” Yoongi feels more and more like he’s bickering with a child, compared to him you probably are. You must be 10 years younger than him, maybe more?

“I have my suspicions, as I’m sure you do.” An enigmatic answer.

“There are 1,305 people in my organization, there’s enough suspicion to go around.”

“And yet, you agreed to meet me.”

“In public, we’re not in private yet.”  

He leans forward opening up the plastic partition, now dewy with condensed air. He opens it.

“Actually, I think we have to change our final destination.” When he flops back against the seat, he watches the way your mouth moves, the corners lifting up a little at the edges.

Trust or no trust, Yoongi can’t imagine that he’s making a bad decision.

~-~

Not much has changed at the Beta’s lodgings. It’s less of an apartment and more of a safehouse carved out from the city, a slice of suburbia among the concrete. It’s probably worth fucking millions because of its location- but Yoongi’s never been quite sure who owns it. It’s always belonged to the beta in charge, always. 

And now, that beta is Yoongi, so it’s his.

The small yellow cottage has been owned by the family for almost longer than the city has been a city. Shoved between two apartment buildings and a 7/11. Hidden in an alleyway that’s barely wide enough for a car; most people wouldn’t even know it was a driveway with all of the shrubbery and the high cinderblock wall. The decorative potted plants that line the driveway are cracked in places- no doubt from the late beta’s poor driving.

Yoongi makes the taxi pull all the way up, just so the two of you (and your bruises) won’t be spotted. Yoongi knows the beta’s residence is constantly watched, constantly minded, constantly protected. It doesn’t feel like protection. To Yoongi, having the eyes of the family close feels like a threat.

At night, the street has a large amount of foot traffic, perfect to disappear into if you needed it, It feels like the cottage barely exists on the same plane as the rest of the city. Set far enough back that the sounds of people and cars just seem to melt away.

It’s considered as good as hallowed ground in the gang world. No blood can be spilled there or else an instant hit will be ordered on the person who has. It’s law, people need a safe place to come and seek council. The beta’s safety needs to be preserved.

Most of the late betas belongings have been moved out already, put in storage for however long it takes for someone trusted to go through it and burn anything that might be telling. There isn’t anyone to inherit their things nor much value to them otherwise. Their beta wasn’t a fan of designer clothes or fanciful trinkets that were paid for with blood money. Anything of value and any secrets have died with her.

A small shred of crime scene tape gets pinned to the slate pathway from the water, soaked and strewn about within the dying garden. Once lovingly maintained, it has already started to show signs of neglect in the form of heaps of leaves strewn about. One of the shutters hangs off it’s hinges and Yoongi wishes someone would repaint the whole building. A darker color maybe.

The yellow always shows the mold.  

If you have ever been inside the beta’s residence, you don’t show it on your face as Yoongi leads you inside. They’ve left most of the furniture at least. Yoongi would hate to have to furnish it himself. It’s only got one bedroom, but combined kitchen and Livingroom space has a bunch of windows. Yoongi tells you to sit and is unsurprised to find the bedroom clean with fresh sheets. A whole new bed and an open linen closet full of bright fluffy towels. Someone probably knew he was coming and set the place up for him. The heat’s even been turned on.

You were right not to trust the cabbie.

There are shadows on the wall where pictures hung, stripped of almost everything in the bedroom and bathroom. All of the clothes and trinkets collected in a lifetime stripped from the place. Yoongi wonders if the late beta would be disturbed or pleased. She was always picky with her evidence.

Yoongi’s going to have to get some shampoo from the hotel when he goes back to collect his things. And then maybe pilfer or borrow a bug sweeper from one of the families to double check that there’s nothing amiss here. From the bedroom, Yoongi can just see the neon lights from the street, the glowing seven just over the trees. It’s an interesting mix of quaint old world and blinding toxic neon. It has drafts under the windows and bad heating, the green velvet couch in the living room sags from the weight of years of use.

Yoongi retrieves two of the new towels from the bathroom ripping off the tag on the way through the house. He rubs the first one over his own head, mopping up some of the water and hands the other out to you. You’ve parked yourself on that green sofa, looking out the window at the rain. Your jacket discarded nearby on the back of a chair. Water dripping slowly out of it and seeping through the cracks in the uneven floorboards, warping with age.

Yoongi doesn’t sit down, even after you tentatively take the towel from him and start to dry your hair. Taking it out of its fastenings. Your silk scarf, once colorful. Sits on the nicked coffee table. Flaccid and soaked. The colors dull.

“What did Geumjae tell you?”

Your hair makes a gentle squish noise as you dry it. “About you? Or about the situation?”

About me, did he tell you to be afraid of me? I don’t want you to be afraid of me. Yoongi quiets his tongue around the words and focuses only on the necessities. The thing that will get him out of this city and back to the pack as soon as possible. That’s his priority.

“About the secession.”

Your eyes flicker up and down Yoongi’s body.

“He told me he’d do whatever he had to become Don. That the secession is up to you but that he can’t kill you because you’re on the no kill list now. And-” Your eyelashes are sticking together because of the rain, big globs of it. Yoongi looks at it instead of your eyes, intimidated by your beauty even though he’d sort of scorned you earlier. Your eyes are too open, too vulnerable, too pretty.

“-The next beta in line is like 4 years old and fucking hates his guts. You’re by far the better option.”

Yoongi huffs, as close to a laugh as he can get these days and sits back against the couch.

The kill list is an old and informal piece of information. There are only 3 names on it as far as Yoongi knows, his name, the past Beta, and the past Don. All current and past packmates of the ruling Beta and Don get put on it, to prevent extortion and retribution. The family doesn’t have many rules, but to kill someone on the kill list is as good as suicide.

The list is handed out to everyone connected to the family at the start of every year. Every assassin, even the low-level drug smugglers. Yoongi knows for a fact that Namjoon and Jin and the rest of them are not on it yet- because he hasn’t officially become the beta and he hasn’t announced them as packmates. After he names Don this will change. Yoongi slumps in the couch, sinking into the cushions.

He thinks of bringing them here, thinks of Jin and Jungkook in black with their lips painted red like you. Thinks of gentle Joonie and anxious Hobi. He thinks of Jimin stuck in a room with so many scents making his instincts go haywire. He thinks of Tae holding a gun and cannot stomach it.

Yoongi tamps down on it, cutting to the chase. There’s no real reason to beat around the bush. “Are you going to do whatever you have to do to see your husband on the throne?”

“No.” You reply with a snap, then sigh, tired, leaning your head back against the seat. So much about you is that- tired. Yoongi wonders what about that exhausted you so and why you replied as quick as you did. “You don’t seem like the kind of person to be manipulated without finesse.”

“And would you say finesse is something you lack?”

This is feeling more and more like a job interview. Your bracelets tinkle against each other as you reach up to tuck your hair behind your ear. And your wedding ring catches the light. It’s a true monster; three carats and glittering under the light, more stunning than half the pieces you saw back in that shop. Pretty due to its simplicity but ugly due to its size.

You look too young to look so sad but too old to look so scared.

“What I lack” you choose your words carefully because you don’t know how to not be careful- just like you don’t know how to not be afraid. “Is the motivation.”

Yoongi can’t help but laugh at that. A real laugh, deep and chuckling. And he misses the way you turn away. Hiding the smile on your face is harder and harder with every moment. If you’re not careful- your smile might be used against you.

You and Yoongi. You remind yourself. You’d hate for something bad to happen to him just because you can’t keep your expressions tamed.

“You might be the only person in this whole fucking city that doesn’t want to manipulate me.” If I believe you.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, and it makes Yoongi quiet, it’s high and clear- it’s a pretty sound, the kind of sound that makes the birds pause. The kind of tone that makes intro’s good and outro’s sentimental. Yoongi cannot stop the traitorous flutter of his heart.

You avoid his question and cock your head, and Yoongi thinks you’re angry until he sees your lower lip quiver.

“You act like I have a choice, like I’m like them- this isn’t-” you gesture between the two of you. “Even important. He told me about the succession and the only thing I thought was ‘If he’s got his throne maybe he’ll finally forget about me. Manipulation isn’t anything I’d do if it wasn’t necessary, I don’t like it.”

“Where would you go? If he did forget about you?”

You turn away, looking out the window at the rain, your face leaning on your hand. “I don’t know. Probably somewhere quiet.”

Yoongi’s answering hum is that- quiet. And he lets the silence still for a moment. The inside of the cottage is warm, and the two of you are no longer shivering.

“What do you like to do anyway, plan parties? Shop? Or is fancy jewelry and polite scheming your only hobby?”

“You don’t think I’d take these off if I could?” you hold out your wrists, the bracelets jangle against each other. So they actually are shackles then. Yoongi hadn’t been sure. You swallow, looking down at them. “If I had to choose one thing though, I like to-”

Before you can say anything else. Your phone dings, A different ringtone, a loud one. Yoongi doesn’t mean to look down at it but it’s hard not too since your phone sits between the two of you on the couch.

Yoongi doesn’t mean to catch a glimpse of the text on your phone, the contact at the top is devoid of any emoji’s or hearts. He finds his blood going cold at the sight of the message he sent through.

Husband (5:54): If you don’t come out here in the next 30 seconds, I’ll slit your fucking throat and use it as a new hole to fuck.

The silk scarf you used to tie your hair up still lies wet on the dinged coffee table, so your hair stays down as you bolt to your feet. And grab your jacket, heaving open the door without even putting it on. “Sorry I have to go- I have to-”

There is someone standing at the edge of the driveway underneath the bleed of the neon sign, the purple neon light bleeds onto the wet concrete. The light behind the man turns red. Silhouetting his figure. And Yoongi doesn’t have to look twice to know who it is.

You hurry out the door without offering him much of a goodbye. And Yoongi doesn’t know what to say, even less what to do.

Geumjae waits there at the end of the driveway. And Yoongi takes him in. His pursed lips, the umbrella he holds- the same one you left in the shop, and his hawkish eyes as you hasten in his direction. The black car is non-descript, but Geumjae still shoves you into it, uncaring of your comfort or who might see him do it.

You hit your head on the metal frame. And Yoongi see’s you gasp in pain from far away, clutching your forehead.

His fists tighten at his sides. Geumjae gives him one long look and then walks around to the driver’s side. Yoongi walks out onto the patio, the slate steps, not running but half jogging, bare feet smacking against the wet slate. Re-drenched in the downpour.

But by the time he’s gotten to the end of the driveway. The car has already pulled away.

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

- Tbh, I don’t think Yoongi will ever realize that he was groomed. I’m trying my best to show that his worldview has been skewed a little, I think it’s very telling that when we first see him with Jin he calls omega’s docile and then when he comes home- it’s pretty evident that he doesn’t view omega’s quite that terribly anymore.

- Omega’s that are not in the family that is, the omega’s in the family still get his derision because they uphold the same values and reinforce the very structures that subjugate them- but as the m/c says in this chapter. Beauty is the only way for any of them to gain any safety and she especially is in the position where safety is more important than freedom. I feel the need to unpack this because I think at face value you could easily think that Yoongi’s just an asshole. But he’s not- he’s just hyper critical of the systems that his family imposes.

- Yoongi and the m/c’s dialogue in this chapter is some of my favorite additions to the story that I’ve made with this edit. To me it feels like we really get to see her character before she goes quiet. Like obviously this doesn’t change what happens to her or how traumatized she is when the pack sees her, but I think I did a good job of building up her character a little.

- I know it’s stereotypical, but the scarf that the m/c has in her hair is actually one that I own. I’ve had it forever and I love it a lot. I can’t remember where I got it but!! I have pictures if people really do want to see <3

-The first ever girl I had a crush on had that ridge on her lips, the same one that I describe the m/c having in this. I remember looking over at her during class and just being hopelessly crushed, hopelessly in love. I wish I’d been brave enough to understand it. Jenny, if you ever read this, Ni hao!! 你好 and I hope you’re still making 3 pointers! I am still very bad at Chinese but thank you for letting me practice <3

- In my mind, the m/c and Yoongi Walk through the restaurant in the bear! that’s just what my brain does! Tbh, I think the ‘bright eyed sous chef’ could be Sydney!

- I do think it’s up to interpretation if the mc is manipulating Yoongi or not BUT If we’re getting into the nitty gritty of it, I think that the m/c purposefully wore non-waterproof makeup so that Yoongi would see that she has bruises. Her intent is to make herself a sympathetic character and every so subtly try to manipulate Yoongi to see Geumjae in a poor light. A subtle way for her to make sure Yoongi knows, that someone knows what he’s doing to her.

- Is the m/c’s phone recording them or is it being tracked? What do you think? Why is it warm? I personally think it’s being tracked by Geumjae- but Yoongi in the moment is unsure what’s going on. Like even he’s confused if he should trust or if he should suspect the m/c.

- (tw) When she talks about the ‘worst’ thing an alpha can do to an omega, that is rape. She’s talking about rape.

- (SPOILER) When Yoongi says “he thinks of Tae holding a gun and cannot stomach it.” Yeah, that’s a direct reference to how the story ends and the fact that Tae kills the assassin.

- The bracelets she wears are the cartier love bracelets, if that wasn’t clear! They run about 7k a pop. I do think Geumjae has used them to tie her down before. They are small enough that she can’t pull them over her knuckles and can’t take them off or remove them. They were some of the first gifts Geumjae ever got her.

[sevilai]

Why yes, the horrors persist, but so do I

Just got done with a piece I can't share yet so I'm in sneaking some art that I wanna do before I reopen for commissions. And shockingly, at least TWO other human beings wanted to see him, too, so I made a little reference for my headcanon Shadow design! As a treat <3

Not part of an AU or anything this is just what he looks like in my heart

Some dumb assorted headcanons I have for him under the cut(should you want those):

The fifth inhibitor on his neck does much less work than the other four and can be removed safely for an extended time. He doesn't make a habit of removing it, though.

He's realistically only about 20% hedgehog, and that's being generous. His genetic make up reads something like, "16% hedgehog, 68% Black Arms, and around 16% various other animal DNA to bridge the gap between them. He exhibits very few hedgehog behaviors aside from curling up, raising his quills and making that godawful engine revving noise when he feels threatened.

Tail lashes when he's angry or focused.

He doesn't have 'true' spines. Where say, Sonic's spines would be a solid grouping of quills forming the shape, Shadow has something more akin to fleshy horns with fur and quills covering them.

Has a tapetum lucidum that reflects yellow in the light.

Oddly at home in the water.

His fur is only this shiny during periods he's taking decent care of himself (rare).

An amount of genetic editing was done to ensure he expressed softer traits; His scales are soft and smooth, his fur is sleek, and his quills aren't that sharp. Though he was required to be a weapon, the professor ensured he'd still be an acceptable amount of cuddly as Maria's medical support animal.

Can absolutely breath fire. He is Black Arms after all.

[supergraphicgirl81]

With A Little Help From My Friends ⋆⁺₊❅.

Max Verstappen ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆

Formula 1 college hockey team social media AU! Playlist Edition

The tight-knit college hockey team, the Silver Blades, run by team captain Max Verstappen, isn't just about scoring goals—it's a chosen family. On and off the ice, the team has each other's backs, whether that's through college assignments, throwing awesome parties, or winning the championship together. Follow these overworked, tired, college students as they post through their day-to-day life.

With A Little Help From My Friends Masterlist ꩜.ᐟ Max Verstappen Masterlist ꩜.ᐟ

Authors Note: I know playlists aren't that common on these kinds of things but I'm literally listening to music 24/7 and giving these characters songs is the only way I make it through life. ♡♡♡♡ The songs reflect a mixture of what I think they would listen to with songs I just think describe them. I'm going to just kind of put them on here, in a list? BUTTTT If you also ever wanted an explanation on why I chose a song for a character......... I would LOVE to give it. And if you notice any doubled songs from other playlists, it's on purpose 😉

I'm Your #1

SIDE A -

Von Dutch - Charli XCX

2. shut up - Ariana Grande

3. Crash - Charli XCX

4. Devil's Advocate - The Neighbourhood

5. PRIDE. - Kendrick Lamar

6. Shut Up And Drive - Rihanna

7. Heartless - The Weeknd

8. United In Grief - Kendrick Lamar

9. After Midnight - Chappell Roan

10. BIRDS OF A FEATHER - Billie Eilish

SIDE B -

11. teenage dream - Olivia Rodrigo

12. GOLDWING - Billie Eilish

13. Vienna - Billy Joel

14. Winner - Conan Gray

15. Your Best American Girl - Mitski

16. Liability - Lorde

17. Lonesome - Sabrina Carpenter

18. Northern Attitude - Noah Kahan

19. The Winner Takes It All - ABBA

20. BLUE - Billie Eilish

RUN TIME - 1h 11m

[brightsstar]

Been a bit in the making, but i redesigned Phoenix (Eclipse v4) to fit better with the post-Mimic version of him, as well as laying out some new headcanons, which i will also type in text cuz of my chaotic handwriting on paper.

One of the more difficult things about this was trying to figure out where to have Puppet's hair be visible. I was inspired by a couple other designs i saw where Puppet's hair is visible on him in some form. My initial idea of him was that Puppet put her hair inside of him, but i didn't like that idea much, so I used this instead after a bit of debate with what i wanted to do with it. Puppet's hair is tied around Phoenix's shoulders. I'll also add some extra info to some of the headcanons to better make sense of how i see them.

Headcanons:

1. Phantom pain all over his body. Puppet's hair blocks out the worst of it. (He has times where he doesn't feel it at all, and even when he does, it's mainly a dull ache that doesn't vary much in intensity, and doesn't hinder his movement or ability to function. Reason i am not saying chronic pain is because the intensity doesn't vary that much. It remains mostly consistent. Annoying to him, but consistent. Going off what the show has shown so far. Eclipse doesn't seem very affected by his crushed endo, so i am going with this unless that changes)

2. His endo is still just as badly damaged as Mimic left it. (Ruin wants to properly fix him, but Eclipse still won't let Ruin that close to such a vulnerable spot. Yes, he still, very much has trust issues, and Mimic did not help that situation at all.)

3. His eyes have more gold than white as the incident brought out more Solar traits in him. (Past digital pieces i made depict Phoenix with golden eyes fading into white. Reason for that being because i still firmly believe Ruin made Ember/Phoenix (v3/v4) from that code he copied from Solar so long ago, and my Solar has golden eyes, and so does Ember in Sea and Sky, which would also be his true eye color if he had all of... well... Solar's memories in the main Stoked Embers AU. Because at Ember's core, he is a Solar, not really an Eclipse (as in the evil, vengeful types like v1/2 were. He has way more Solar mannerisms and traits, which carried over to v4). Ruin made tweaks to Phoenix to make him more Eclipse-like, by doing more proper implementation of Eclipse's memories, something that failed to happen with Ember. Ember was simply stuck with directives telling him how to behave and what to do. Phoenix doesn't have those. The white parts of his irises were leftover from Ember when he was killed, and the fact that Phoenix also doesn't have the full picture. However his eyes began to change to gold the more he grew and changed. He's behaving closer to Solar as time goes on and his eyes reflect that growth.)

4. He's a little nicer, but still very much Eclipse. (Self explanatory.)

5. He tries to hide Puppet's hair under his ruffles. Doesn't work very well. (He hates how weak it makes him look, knowing that's what's allowing him to be able to stand and move. The only other one who knows about this, besides Puppet ofc, is Ruin, but even if the others don't know, he doesn't like having it show.)

6. Of course he can't take her hair off or he'll be left as he was when Mimic was kicked out. (Not really a headcanon, it is canon.. but i'll throw it in anyways.)

[thedo0zyslider]

Ok so I mentioned my old gem au in this post and figured, why not share some of the notes I have. Though they are from a year ago....

(@pastelfools helped me brainstorm and bounced ideas around with me!!)

The au might get more development after this, or it might not, we'll see.

Scar is some kinda of quartz soldier. Thats where the scars came from, plus accidents he gets himself into. (His gem is also really scuffed up and has probably almost been cracked before.) Depsite being made for combat, he's really into building and designing things. And being so strong and bulky certainly helps with that!

I made Joel some sort of corrupted gem monster. But don't ask me how the corrupting light works/happened here I never got that far. (He might be a nephrite...)

Xornorth is also here and also corrupted bc I love xornorth and. What is Scott without his boyfriend or brother related angst

Didn't decide on Jimmy’s gem, but he's definitely low ranking

So Jimmy actually WATCHED Joel get corrupted him and he couldn't do anything. He's very desperate to get him back and also feels guilty about just...sitting there.

Jizzie is real in the au. Live laugh love Jizzie.

Lizzie is also trying to get her corrupted boyfriend back. She misses him :[ (her and Jimmy r found family btw!!)

Joel has enough sanity? To recognize jimmy and lizzie can not attack them. Everyone else is fair game tho

Pearlescentmoon is Not A Pearl, even if it would've been an easy choice for me. I dont think a pearl really fits....any of her characters? The pearls we see in the show certainly don't. I actually wrote down that she might be a copper, since this au was made when new life was airing. (If bismuth, a non gem irl, can be a canon character so can copper okay....). I might change it though..

I think I also had ren as some corrupted gem. And ya know martyns on his whole loyalty "I have to uncorrupt my favorite guy" thing

I think Martyn, Jimmy, BigB, Pearl and Grian were all made on the same planet (evo planet)

idea I had while writing this: I could like. Put some of them in the human zoo lol (<- watching SU season 4 while typing this)

Mumbo was a fusion and then they shattered his other half. Lmao get fucked.

Etho is a zircon. And he also got exiled for some reason.

Oli would probably be a spinel

I had a note about Jimmy get corrupted GSFWFS