#And while she has possession most of the time

[trashytracktales]

Inked | LN⁴

. ݁₊ ⊹ summary ──── While Lando is away for a triple-header, she decides to surprise him with something bold. The moment he catches sight of it as she gets ready for an exclusive event, he’s completely captivated and, what begins as surprise quickly ignites into passion, as Lando makes it clear just how much he appreciates every inch of her inked skin.

. ݁₊ ⊹ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ rating ──── explicit

. ݁₊ ⊹ category ──── F/M

. ݁₊ ⊹ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, swearing, detailed depictions of sex, public teasing & suggestive behavior, possessiveness & intense emotional intimacy, praising, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, fingering, overstimulation, continued intimacy after initial climax.

. ݁₊ ⊹ word count ──── 4.2k

. ݁₊ ⊹ date ──── Jan. 25, 2025

. ݁₊ ⊹ a/n ──── Inspired by anon & based on THIS ASK 🤍 I couldn’t get BackTattoo!Reader out of my head, so now I am subjecting all of you to my interests. I have nothing to say except that this is simply, pure filth hehe. Enjoy ^^

. ݁₊ ⊹ dedication ──── @landooscurls this one’s for you, sweetie. No, I won’t elaborate, you know why 💋

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IT’S EIGHT O’CLOCK when Lando adjusts the cuffs of his tailored suit. His tie is still untied around his neck, a clear indication of his second-guessing habits.

His focus has been elsewhere completely ever since he got back home. More specifically, his girlfriend. After a triple header, sponsorships are the last thing he wants to deal with being back in Monaco, but he is content with the fact that she can accompany him this time.

On the counter, his phone is constantly buzzing with messages about tonight’s event. It’s supposed to be a big deal, but for Lando, every contract is the same. More or less.

No tie, he decides in the end.

Across the hall, she’s still in the bedroom, standing in front of the floor-length mirror. She’s chosen a dress that perfectly fits the grandeur of the event — a sleek, midnight-black gown with an open back that dips low, revealing her shoulders, spine, and the ink she’s been keeping a secret for a couple of weeks now. She is a bit nervous about it, because she’s been planning this for a long time, and his reaction might make or break her heart.

She’s aware of Lando’s opinion on tattoos. For now, at least, he wouldn’t get one, but he designed most of his helmets, merch and has a pretty good taste in cars. Even though she’s not sure yet how, she’s convinced that his ability to recognize art is transferable.

As she adjusts the delicate straps of the dress, she catches sight of herself in the mirror. Her tattoo is intricate, sprawling across the lower part of her back. The design is abstract, a mix of delicate lines and bold shading, flowing with the natural contours of her back. It’s a piece she’s thought about for years, and it feels like a part of her now.

Lando, finally deciding to stop stalling, heads toward the bedroom, calling out, “Babe, have you seen my cufflinks? I’m not sure—” he steps into the doorway and freezes mid-sentence, while eyes widen, immediately locking onto her reflection in the mirror. “What is that?”

She startles slightly at his tone, meeting his gaze while deliberately holding back a smile.

“Surprise?” she asks a little unsure.

Lando’s jaw tightens as he takes a step closer. “Turn around,” he says, his voice a mix between demand and curiosity.

She arches an eyebrow but obliges, slowly spinning before turning her back again. “You like it?” she asks lightly, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Like it?” he echoes, his hand already reaching out instinctively to touch her. His fingertips hover over the ink, tracing the air above it before gently sliding on her skin. “When the hell did you get this?” asks Lando, still questioning the authenticity of it, even though the proof is right in front of him.

“While you were away,” she answers, her smile widening. “I... please, be honest.”

“Well,” Lando begins, stepping closer until his chest nearly brushes her back. His hands slide to her waist, holding her firmly as he studies the tattoo, his breath warm against her neck. “It’s incredible,” he admits, the sincerity in his tone making her stomach flip.

Her laugh is soft, “Really?”

Lando’s eyes slide down her back, inhaling sharply, “Yeah. I think it’s fucking hot, baby. Let me see you.”

She closes her eyes for a short moment, her heart beating faster, but she’s more relaxed now.

“You’re supposed to be getting ready,” she says, turning around in his arms. “Come on, we’re already late.”

Lando scoffs, “I’m supposed to be doing a lot of things,” he agrees, his lips brushing against hers, while his eyes remain glued to her reflection in the mirror, “But I don’t think I can leave this apartment now.”

Her cheeks heat, stepping out of his hold. “Yes, you can. You can admire it later.”

“Later,” he repeats, sighing dramatically. “As if I’m not already obsessed with it.”

She moves back to the mirror, adjusting the delicate drop earrings she’s chosen, while Lando watches her with a mix of admiration and lingering distraction.

When she catches him staring, she smirks. “Where’s your tie?”

Lando puffs out a sigh, stepping back toward his side of the room. “I left it on the counter. Don’t feel like wearing one tonight,” he says, his gaze flickering back to her every few seconds, unable to help himself. “Just so you know,” he continues, his voice trailing off as he shakes his head, “I’m done for tonight.”

“Mission accomplished,” she quips, throwing him a wink.

THE VENUE IS screaming with opulence, a grand hotel perched high above the marina, its sprawling terraces and gilded architecture lit up against the night sky. Expensive cars line the valet entrance, and the air hums with a quiet kind of wealth — the kind that doesn’t need to flaunt itself because it’s simply understood.

Inside, every detail is curated to perfection, from the massive crystal chandeliers casting warm light onto marble floors, to the intricate floral arrangements placed at every corner.

Lando’s hand rests instinctively on her lower back as they walk in, the warmth of his palm sending a shiver down her spine. He’s polite and attentive as he nods to the occasional familiar face, but judging by the firm touch, his focus is clearly on her.

After chitchatting with various people, they stop at the bar to grab drinks, and as she leans slightly forward to give her order, the light catches the details of her tattoo again.

Lando exhales sharply, gripping his glass tighter than necessary.

“It’s gonna be a long night,” he says under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. “Can you at least stop doing that?”

She glances over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Doing what?”

“You know exactly what,” he counters, his voice low, but there’s a heat behind his words that makes her cheeks flush.

Before she can respond, another guest approaches to congratulate Lando on the sponsorship deal, and he’s forced to shift his attention momentarily. But even as he chats politely, his fingers find their way back to her lower back, tracing light circles against her skin, a silent claim, and a way to keep himself grounded.

A couple of hours later, Lando sits next to her at their table, his hand casually resting on the back of her chair. His smile is charming, seamlessly participating in the conversation that flies around the table. Yet, every so often, his eyes drift to her, taking in the way the delicate fabric of her dress.

She catches his gaze, raising an eyebrow in question, but he only grins and pulls out his phone. A few seconds later, a vibration hums against her thigh.

Lando: I’ve been thinking…

Reader: Not good.

L: We never did it in public, did we?

Her breath hitches, and she glances at him sharply, finding his expression impossibly casual as he sips from his glass.

She types back quickly.

R: No, we didn’t. Also, offended you had to ask.

L: Just making sure. So...?

R: NO. That’s illegal.

Another vibration follows almost immediately, his reply making her cheeks heat.

L: Only if we get caught 👀

She clenches her phone tightly, her flushed cheeks betraying her as she stares at the glass in her hand. Lando chuckles softly beside her, the sound silent enough for only her to hear.

His hand moves from the back of her chair to her bare back, his fingers brushing gently against her skin, the warmth of his touch giving her goosebumps.

L: ?

L: ??

L: You look so hot when you’re ignoring me.

L: Yeah, just like that 🥵🥵

Her grip tightens on her glass, and she dares a quick glance at him. He’s typing something else, his thumb moving lazily over his screen as if they weren’t in the middle of a packed room.

L: Turns me on almost as much as that tattoo.

She swallows hard, her cheeks catching fire. Her back straightens slightly as she tries to maintain composure, but his next text nearly makes her choke on air.

L: I’m thinking doggy tonight?? Wanna stare at it while you’re wrapped around me.

Her hands drop to her lap, pressing the phone down like it might combust. Lando’s fingers trace slow patterns along the edge of her tattoo now, his touch light but intentional.

Then, another vibration.

L: Non-negotiable.

She turns to him again, and he meets her gaze with a smirk so smug it nearly makes her gasp.

Lando leans in, brushing his lips close to her ear under the guise of conversation, and whispers, “Something wrong, love?”

Her only response is a roll of her eyes, and a desperate sip of her drink, which he watches with clear amusement.

While caught in their bubble, the room buzzes with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses, but it all fades into background noise as she places her palm on Lando’s thigh under the table. Her fingers glide upward with deliberate slowness, inching closer to his already semi-hard length. The moment she palms him through his trousers, Lando’s breath stutters, and he shifts in his chair, pretending to adjust his posture.

“Something wrong, love?” she copies his tone from earlier, the corners of her mouth rising in triumph.

As a response, Lando places his hand over hers, and for a brief second, she thinks he’s going to push her away. But instead, his long fingers cover hers, guiding her movements, and her smile flatters. Her breath hitches at the boldness of it, and she turns her head slightly toward him, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and anticipation.

Lando flashes her a smile, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he whispers, “Seriously, baby. I don’t know why you’re acting like I’m not going to bend you over this table and fuck you in front of all these people.”

She swallows hard at his affirmation, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as she whispers back, “Maybe because I want you to.”

His smile turns into a wicked smirk, his eyes flashing with something dark under his long, thick eyelashes. Without another word, Lando removes her hand, intertwining their fingers and pulling her to her feet. She blinks in confusion, but follows his lead, her heels clicking against the polished floor as he guides her toward the exit.

THE DRIVE HOME is pure torture, the air in the car thick with tension. Lando grips the steering wheel with one hand, his other hand firmly holding hers. Every now and then, he brings her knuckles to his lips, pressing tender kisses to her skin as if trying to soothe the storm brewing inside both of them. Her chest rises and falls nervously, her thighs pressing together to quell the ache building between them.

When they finally reach the apartment, they barely make it through the door before their hands are on each other. Stumbling backward, they move toward the bedroom, Lando’s lips brushing hers in quick, heated kisses. His hand blindly fumbles for the light switches along the way, filling the space with bright light.

“I want to see everything,” comes his excuse, breathing heavily against her lips, his voice husky with desire.

“You look so handsome,” she says as a realization. “Should’ve told you earlier—”

“Technical details,” Lando cuts her off, his hands already slipping beneath the straps of her dress.

One by one, their clothes fall to the floor, leaving a trail of discarded fabric they’re bound to trip over in the morning.

When her dress slides off her shoulders and pools at her feet, Lando freezes for a moment, taking her in. Every inch of her seems like has be sculpted for his eyes only, making her blush intensely under the weight of his gaze, knowing what kind of thoughts run through his mind.

The lights casts soft shadows over her skin, accentuating every curve, forcing a low groan out of Lando, as he strokes himself, pumping his cock a few times in his hand while his eyes drink her in.

“On all fours,” he orders gently, his voice thick with need.

She shifts into position, her movements slightly rushed, yet sensual, and the sight of her like this nearly makes him lose it. As he positions himself behind her, his hands trail reverently over her hips and down her thighs, grounding himself in the reality of the moment.

Almost obsessively, Lando’s hand starts tracing her tattoo, his fingers skating over the inked lines like he needs to memorize every detail as quickly as possible. The sight of it beneath his touch makes him harder, his cock pressing insistently against her ass. He lets himself rest there for a moment, one hand gripping her hip to angle her just right while the other slides between her legs. Gently, he parts her folds, and the moment he feels her slick heat, his breath catches in his throat. She instinctively presses into his touch, a small whimper escaping her lips as her body responds to him like it always does — so ready and inviting.

“That’s my good girl,” his thumb circles her clit briefly, satisfied with her silent response before he removes his hand, and gripping her hip to steady her as he lines himself up.

When he pushes in, the tight warmth is making him suck in a sharp breath. Her sensitive walls clench lightly around him, and he can’t help but let out a shaky moan. Her slickness allows him to set a rhythm effortlessly, each thrust accompanied by the soft slap of skin on skin.

His hands guide her hips, ensuring her rhythm matches his, while his eyes remain glued to the ink on her back; it is hypnotic, his palm sweeping over the tattoo as if claiming it along with her.

“Lan…” her eyes close in pleasure, pushing back against his slow, agonizing thrusts.

“I know,” he rasps, his voice breaking as he goes deeper; she lets out another moan in response, her body arching to meet him with every stroke.

The connection between them feels ancient, profound, electric, her breaths mixing with his in the air around them.

As his speed increases, Lando needs to adjust himself, grounding his foot against the mattress and lifting one knee for better leverage. The new position gives him absolute control, his thrusts precise and devastatingly deep. She feels as if he’s splitting her in two in the best way possible, as he alternates between slow, teasing movements that leave her whimpering, and hard, purposeful thrusts that have her crying out his name. Again, and again, until her voice cracks under the weight of euphoria that circulates throughout her body.

The sight of her beneath him, trembling with pleasure, and that tattoo that taunts back at him sends Lando careening toward the edge. He feels his climax building, but before he allows himself to exhale in relief, be pulls out abruptly but just in time, leaving her gasping at the sudden emptiness and clenching hard around nothing.

“Lando!” she protests, her elbows giving out as she collapses into the pillows. “Fuck, I was so close!”

A deep growl rumbles from his chest, his jaw flexing as his eyes darken. “My bad,” he breathes heavily, his hand wrapping around his slick cock, stroking himself with urgency, his swollen tip brushing her lower back.

With a guttural moan, he comes, his release painting her tattoo in warm, sticky streaks. The thought alone is enough to make her whimper at the sensation, her body so close to collapsing, as she realizes that’s just how he wanted to leave his mark on her this time.

Not quite done, Lando leans down to press a kiss to her shoulder, his breathing uneven and deep. Then, pulling back, he watches intently, almost mesmerized as he presses the pads of his fingers into her skin, spreading his release over the lines of her tattoo. There’s something maddening in the way he admires it, the contrast of white against her ink drawing a low hum from his throat.

His hand slides lower, gripping her ass as he speaks in a raspy voice, “You did so good with this. Putting on such a show for me from now on, hm?”

Her breath catches, but before she can respond, his palm lands a light slap on her ass, his grin smug as her body jolts slightly under his sudden touch. His cock twitches at the sight, still hard and insistent, and without another word, he guides himself back inside her.

The sensation pulls a moan from both of them, and he thrusts a couple more times, savoring the way her warmth envelopes him again. But his body gives in to exhaustion, and he collapses onto the mattress, pulling her with him. At that, doggy evolves into reverse cowgirl effortlessly, her thighs bracketing his hips as she straddles him. His hands find home on her waist, steadying her as she adjusts to the new — and quite unexpected — position.

Lando’s voice is low, encouraging, as he tells her, “Your turn, love. Let me see how beautiful you are.”

It is a good thing, she tells herself, that Lando can’t see her blush right now.

With a newfound determination, she starts to move experimentally at first, before finding her own rhythm. Each motion is hypnotic, her body arching and curving as she bounces on him, her head tilted back in pleasure.

Lando’s eyes trail her every move, from the sway of her hips to the lines of her body, and finally to his release, still glistening and dripping faintly from her lower back.

The sight is almost too much for him.

“Fucking hell,” he swears, his hands tightening on her waist as his hips lift slightly to meet her movements; he is well aware that this is her moment, but he can’t help himself. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Her pace quickens, the control she has over her pleasure intoxicating. She rides him with confidence now, her movements purposeful and demanding.

Lando watches her in delirium, his gaze locked on the tattoo that started it all. Every bounce and every grind, pushes him closer to losing his mind, and he can’t help but let her see exactly what she’s done to him, his eyes burning with admiration and lust.

In the haze of pleasure, she glances over her shoulder, curious to see him. The sight makes her heart skip more than one beat. Lando looks completely undone — his lips parted, curls damp and clinging to his forehead, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. Every muscle in his body is tense, his hands gripping her like a lifeline as his eyes remain locked on her tattoo.

“Oh, fuck,” he exhales, voice hoarse and strained. “You look so good. Don’t stop, baby, please don’t stop.”

Her cheeks flush deeper at his praise, her own breathing ragged. Their bodies are slick with sweat and her wetness where they’re joined, the obscene sounds filling the room every time her hips meet his. The lewd rhythm of it only spurs her on, her movements growing more impatient.

“Yes,” she moans, the word drawn out as her head falls forward, overwhelmed by the intensity. “Can’t—shit, Lando.”

Her mind spins, every nerve alive with pleasure as she loses herself completely to him. Her body tightens around his cock, the pressure finally snapping as she falls over the edge, a cry of bliss leaving her lips in the form of his name.

The way her walls clench and pulse around him pulls a deep groan from Lando, and his grip on her waist tightens impossibly further.

“Fuck, that’s it. Fuck,” he repeats, his hips stuttering as he stills deep inside her, his release spilling into her this time. His head falls back against the pillow, jaw slack as he moans her name like a prayer, the pleasure washing over him in waves.

No one dares to move, but they’re both trembling from the intensity. The room feels warmer, the air heavy with the scent of sex and satisfaction as they catch their breath.

After she comes back to herself, she slowly rises to her knees, Lando’s cock slipping free, slapping against his lower abdomen, coated in the remnants of their shared pleasure. The slick mixture trails down her thighs, warm and unmistakable, and the oversensitivity makes her thighs press together instinctively as she falls beside him on the bed. Her breath still comes out in shallow pants, her body shaking with tiny replicas, completely spent.

Lando shifts beside her, reaching out to press a soft kiss to her temple, his lips lingering as he murmurs, “You’re a fucking masterpiece. I’ll never get enough of you.”

She lets out a soft moan, unexpected but undeniable, as his hand drapes her leg over his hip. Her body moves on autopilot, her hips rolling ever so slightly against his thigh, seeking a relief she doesn’t fully understand.

At that, Lando’s brows furrow in curiosity as he looks down at her, his voice gentle but slightly concerned. “Are you okay?”

Her answer is a shaky sigh, her body betraying her as her pussy presses harder against the solid muscle of his thigh. Lando’s gaze sharpens, his concern turning into realization, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he pushes her.

Shyness blooms across her face, and she shakes her head, her voice barely audible as she speaks, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Lando leans in closer, his voice soft yet insistent. “Then why are you still squirming, hm?” his hand cups her cheek, tilting her face so their eyes meet. “Keep lying, and I’ll make you beg for it.”

Her breath hitches at his words, her body already responding as her hips move again, this time more deliberately.

Lando’s hand slides down to her waist, steadying her as his lips ghost over hers, his voice a whisper against her skin. “Such a needy little thing.”

The vulnerability in her eyes fades, replaced by desire, and with a small nod, she surrenders to him once more. Lando smiles, sitting up slowly, gazing down at her with a look that’s a mix of confidence that he knows her too well, and pure, unfiltered love.

She looks utterly radiant, sprawled out in his bed, with her skin glowing, her hair messy, and her lips slightly parted as she catches her breath. Moments like these always remind him of just how lucky he is to have her.

With a low grunt, Lando leans forward, positioning himself between her legs. His hands trail gently up her thighs, and as he hovers above her, he finally presses a soft kiss to her lips. It’s tender, an ephemeral moment to savor before his lips begin a journey down her body. He kisses her jaw, her neck, the soft swell of her chest, all while his hands roam, one cupping her breast while the other is tracing the curve of her waist.

As his lips descend, so does his hand, sliding between her thighs. His fingers part her folds gently, and he exhales deeply at how wet and warm she is. Without hesitation, he pushes a finger inside her, the slickness allowing him to glide with ease. He starts working with calculated moves, curling and pumping in and out, watching her reactions as her hips instinctively rock into his hand.

“There’s my pretty little liar,” he tells her in a low voice, filled with accusation. “Squeezing my finger so sweetly… Want more?”

She nods, making Lando smile just as his lips return to her skin, kissing her breasts, taking her nipple into his mouth and slides a second finger in, scissoring them to stretch her further. She whimpers, her body arching off the bed, fisting the sheets as the tension within her builds.

He doesn’t stop, his pace increasing, his fingers waving into her, hitting the perfect spot, again and again. The sound of her wetness grows louder, mixing with her soft moans and the whisper of his praises.

“So good for me, look at you,” says Lando, studying her face in admiration just as her body tenses, her head pressing back into the pillow as her orgasm washes over her. Her cries fill the room, and Lando continues stroking her, coaxing her through it, not stopping even as her thighs tremble around his hand.

Without warning, she gasps sharply, her body quivering as a sudden gush of liquid escapes her, soaking his hand and the sheets beneath them.

Lando freezes for a moment, his eyes wide as he realizes what just happened. “Holy shit,” he breathes, utterly amazed.

Her moans grow louder, her face flushed with pleasure and embarrassment. “Fuck. Sorry, I can’t stop—”

He cuts her off, leaning down to kiss her. “God, look at the mess you made,” he adds while his fingers trace the wetness on her thighs, completely captivated. “The sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Lando’s eyes sparkle with excitement as he sits up quickly, his cock already hardening again at the sight of her, his pride evident in the way he bites his lower lip. Impatiently, he strokes himself once, then presses the head of his cock against her drenched folds, slapping it lightly against her clit, the wet sound echoing in the room.

The obscene noise sends a thrill through both of them, but he still finds the power to smirk down at her.

“You look so beautiful like this. I’m kinda offended you’ve never squirted for me before,” Lando’s voice trails off, mesmerized by her leaking hole. “You’re fucking dripping, baby,” he continues, his hand dipping back between her legs, unable to resist touching her again. “Come here, I’m not done with you yet.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[ender1821]

shinyduo/gempearl post-SL is sooo funny because before SL they were the typical "friends who like to do pranks with and against each other, partners in crime, really adorable sometimes" and then SL happened and they became OBSESSED with each other (really obvious from pearl's side since gem was more subtle) and innuendos started to appear left and right. now after WL they are not only obsessed they are also 10x times freakier and flirty. it's gem's fault a lot of the time but pearl enables it and digs herself into a deeper hole so she gets a wack too.

i am pleading to the sky for the fated shiny duo alliance to happen this year because 1) i am sure gem's possessiveness would get multiplied by 20 even if she tried to not show it and that'd be really fun + pearl would like it 2) their dynamic is so complex that they could be anything (codependent or healthy or possessive or die for each other or kill for each other or-) and 3) the aftermath of them teaming would be funny asf and the streams would be horrendous

thank you for coming to my ted talk 🙏

the freakier being in bold and italic is really getting to me for some reason lmao. anyway

you are right in the shift of them pre and post-SL, like, they are STILL giving cute partners in crime but also they’re. so. abnormal about each other??? thats not to say they weren’t flirty/making innuendos before the life series but god did all of that get worse after. also, it has kinda been shown how Gem is the one saying most of the questionable things, but Pearl definitely contributes a lot as well. lets not forget the pickles

of course we’re all manifesting for them to properly team up. its not even subtle at this point they both know that. the only things stopping it from happening really are luck and Gem’s homophobia (/j) cough. i mean. they would definitely get time to resolve what they failed to address back in WL if they’re allied together and can have time to talk. it could also make things worse but we’ll be seated either way. and then we’ll be questioning our existence again when the streams inevitably come

BUT. imo the alliance i really want is them + any other player. yep. i want a third wheel. it can literally be any other player because i think having someone else to affect/witness their dynamic is always entertaining, allows for exploration of new potentially fun dynamics between Pearl/Gem and another player while still offering plenty of opportunity for them to be. weird (/aff), and generally just gives the team a new spin instead of just Murder Camel 2.0. like. i’ve put way too much thought into this so there’s a whole ramble under cut about some of the potential trios and why i think they could be cool for a new life series

Jimmy: originally my life series s6 team predictions was pearl/gem/jimmy </3 mainly out of wanting more pearl + jimmy interactions, but i think having gem there helps just keep the team together. i thought they would be a nice team for jimmy in terms of support (think the SL scene where jimmy finds out he’s not the first out and they’re the ones there cheering him on) but well. thankfully we still had bamboozlers… anyway gem’s ego will get even worse if she had this team, and don’t we all wanna see that

Lizzie: PLEASE. impossible minecraft sent me to the point of no return because now i’m BEGGING for more pearl/gem/lizzie interactions. please. the girlies. we just need more gem + lizzie interactions in the life series imo, and we’ve already seen what happens when pearl + lizzie are together. i can’t tell you for sure if i think any betrayal will happen in this team but it would be really funny if there was, mainly just so lizzie and gem can bicker while pearl is just. There like a sad puppy. it’s cool if there isn’t though, i can see them thriving straight to the finale. cmon. think of the yuri

Ren: hey. hey. remember that one ren stream? you know the one. the wedding. do you see where i’m getting at. do you see the dynamic. it’s so funny to me ok. and we haven’t even mentioned the times where ren has mixed them up. i think it would be a horrible time for him to have to deal with these two and that’s so entertaining. if i picked jimmy because i thought he would have a nice time then for ren it’s for the complete opposite reason. make him suffer with these weirdos

Martyn: HE is the one who’s going to make them suffer. HE will be the one to make it worse. and it will be hilarious. let the man get some form of revenge for them terrorising him back in SL. they’re going to be insufferable and it’s going to be great. you might as well start the “hump duo” counter now …also i may just have a personal preference of wanting to see more pearl + martyn and gem + martyn interactions

Cleo: i mean. cmon. this one doesn’t need that much explanation. the people want a pearl/gem/cleo team

Impulse: same as cleo— SOUP GROUP ASSEMBLE!!!

Etho: pearl + etho interactions are great. gem + etho interactions are great. boom. gem gets to bully them both, then they either make a really successful trap or perform the greatest fumble ever! i see nothing but wins here

BigB: nosy neighbours… what if we tried again… plus i’m pretty sure there was a temporary gem + bigb team in RL, so why not give them a whole season. i think it would be fun. it’d be interesting to see how this team shifts with bigb’s general play style in the life series. i wonder how the base(s?) would turn out

Mumbo: listen to me. they have the funniest opportunity here to fluster this man to the high heavens. think about SL ep 5. think about it

Scar: so like. remember that 2v1? yeah. crazy, right? no but okay i don’t think if they teamed up there would be that much more emphasis on the 2v1 after all that in WL, but there WOULD be good times. i know this deep in my heart. the pearl/gem/scar interactions would go crazy. i hope they go on a hunting spree

Joel: i think this one is the least likely (on account of the fact that pearl has teamed with him in SL, and then gem doing the same in WL) but there could be beautiful world where pearl and joel build an even bigger and better car and gem just watches and sighs

Scott: insert manic laughter here. Pearlescentmoon you are about to have the worst time of your life ever

[toto-the-cactus]

Here is the crap I was creating. New Perturabo angst drop, so enjoy! Also, tagging those that helped me with the question I posted before so this thing could be written for ur entertainment. I hope you don't mind that I took your boy Maximum for this story, Throne. He deserves more stories and I wanted to include him here too uwu

@beckyninja @moodymisty @thethronezone @kit-williams

@justanothermemestrider @copitix @fulgrims-big-naturals

@yurihasurunbara @jaghatai-khock

Summary: The memories of a Primarch who had lost more than his humanity.

Pairing: Implied Perturabo x Reader (female)

CW: Murder attempt, general chaos bullshit, implied child death but no actual death.

Music Box

The memory had been seared over his mind the same way fire does over skin. The place where he let his mind wander against his will to bring back the pain he had become so accustomed to.

The birth went with the expected complications that the Apothecary had warned when one took into account your baseline anatomy but by the Throne, you endured, you screamed and even dared to curse his name once or twice only to be rewarded by the shrill cry of the baby that you had been carrying for 7 months (your body had been unable to complete the 9 months. Too risky, too taxing).

If Perturabo had been a possessive menace when around you, suddenly becoming the father of a small little girl had made him worse.

He had been the one to choose the name Klionike. Such a sweet child, always well-mannered and soft spoken wherever she went but with quite a terrifying intelligence that made his chest swell with pride, already showing great skills as a diplomatic and strategist.

She had been the first one to be gifted a music box handcrafted by Perturabo himself, with a melody that the Primarch knew had been the lullabies you sang to her when she had been still inside the womb.

What had been the words she had told him back then?

It has become hard to properly acknowledge those small details nowadays.

Ah, right!

“It’s beautiful, father” she said with propriety, opening the box and letting the soft tune engulf the growing family. Back then you had already birthed his other two precious girls, Melitta and Charis, only to be heavily pregnant again that same year again. The Apothecary hadn’t been amused at all.

After that, the rest of his daughters had wanted music boxes too and he had been too indulgent to deny them. Melitta, sweet and shy, got hers a bit earlier and the tune had been one personally chosen by Calliphone at the time.

Charis on the other hand, with a unique fierceness paired with the temperament of her father, had wanted a Bolter without hesitation. Of course he had refused the request of his youngest, but offered to give her a beautiful sword only when she would be ready to wield it (you hadn’t been happy by that decision but it was hard to impose your will on a stubborn child of a Primarch). His precious child had pouted and huffed in annoyance at that and, in consequence, refused the music box out of misplaced pride since she didn’t want a ‘useless snooty toy’.

Perturabo remembers scolding her too harshly since said toys were crafted with his own hands and he wasn’t about to allow any of his children to insult him like that.

As the hardened and morose Primarch that he was, he had refused to apologize for screaming at his daughter. They needed to learn obedience.

That never changed the fact that Perturabo had felt a pang of… something sting at his hearts when he saw the tears on Charis' eyes.

Insolence wasn’t about to be tolerated even by his own blood.

‘I need another cogwheel for this part’ he thought idly while hunched over his workshop.

Nowadays it was hard to tie most of those memories with any discernible emotion.

Ah, yes… After Charis, you had birthed his first and only son.

Perturabo wonders what he had hated the most about his son; the ever present disappointment or simply because the boy had been a carbon copy of himself.

Maximus had been the source of more than one fight between him and you. The kid constantly clinging to your dress and too close to bawling each time the Primarch even dared to look at him.

“He’s still my baby! Please don’t do this, Perturabo!” you had begged him that time. The stress of having Maximus taken away from you now that he was old enough to become an astartes wasn’t doing any favors to your (once again) pregnant body. Never in his life the demigod had dared to lay a hand on you against any logic. He had always been brutal when needed but his own mind and body had defied him more than once regarding you when he had felt the edge of his temper arise.

You couldn’t do anything to stop him when he had grabbed roughly the arm of his son and took him away.

The silence that had followed lasted for days and it quickly turned into weeks.

Perturabo had been sure that you would eventually get over the matter, letting you be and regarding your cold anger as a mere temper tantrum that will eventually be left forgotten.

But then you moved your pillow and blanket inside Charis’ room. The Lord of Iron was starting to suspect that he had crossed a line that he had no way to back away from.

‘I need to cut the galvanized sheet to cover it’ he went on internally. Perturabo supposed that the isolation during that period had been a good thing, for it allowed him some introspection.

He couldn’t fault you for acting as a mother trying to protect and coddle her children. He would have been furious if that hadn’t been the case but you have always been a woman of infinite patience and kind by a fault. Being a loving parent was a role you had taken so naturally like a fish does to water.

The silent treatment lasted a whole year and, in consequence, he had missed the birth of his fifth child.

Another girl… and for what he had been informed by the Apothecary, there had been a complication with the umbilical cord and her underdeveloped second lungs. Little Timo’s welcome to the world had been a noose around her chubby neck and the obvious absence of her father.

You had refused to sleep and even more to let go of Timo; obsessively watching her breath to make sure that she was okay and safe between your arms in a weak attempt to protect her from the unforgiving universe.

That has been exactly how he had found you that day. Your tired and sore body curled around the baby and something inside Perturabo had felt horribly bitter when he saw you trying to curl even tighter when his presence was noticed.

“What do you want?” you asked with a hoarse voice and not looking him in the eyes. The Primarch was surprised at how long it had been since he had heard your voice and suddenly was reminded how lonely he had felt during the year.

“I will not apologize for sending Maximus away… he needs to grow and learn to fight” he doesn’t add more. Perturabo can see how you frown in both anger and concentration. Timo had almost died when she was just barely out of your womb and the comparison of losing a child to war felt just as terrible… but you suddenly understood that giving Maximus a chance to fight back in this hostile universe helped to sooth the hole his absence had left.

Doesn’t change that Perturabo hardly ever acknowledged anything noteworthy from his only son.

It took months to be able to sleep in the same bed and even longer for you to hold his hand when he finished any designs inside his workshop.

It wasn’t the normality you two were used to, but it was a start.

‘What happened after that?’ he wondered once again, a welding pen on his massive hand at the wait of closing one side of the box.

Oh… Horus Heresy.

That was when his most unpleasant memories started.

He had been so sure that following Horus was the right thing. He could finally be recognized by his talents and efforts and bring a better world for his children.

But things got out of control so horribly… Olympia… Calliphone. Perturabo had been already a strung up rope only needing a little push to snap completely. Then he arrived at his vessel only to find you and Kleonike carrying a few belongings in a hurry, your face pale and full of tears only to freeze in terror when you saw him at the door frame looking like a shadow of the man you loved.

He had looked like a monster into your eyes in those brief seconds and something possessive inside the Iron Lord snapped. You will not leave him.

He refused… and he was ready to force his will on you. It didn’t matter that you were carrying Timo in your arms and his precious girl was already crying by watching him. His hand was already close and looming over your head to snap your neck.

“Dad, stop! Please, stop!” Kleonike screamed with the most jarring cry, so out of character from her, that Perturabo was able to look down at what he had been ready to do.

Those seconds were all you needed to sprint in a run. Any belongings left behind and just brusquely taking your oldest daughter by the arm to escape without second thoughts. Kleonike may have been way taller than you, but even she knew that right now second guessing wasn’t an option.

The room was still the same despite all the millenia that had passed. He needed to keep it clean and ready for when you and his daughters would come back. Maximus too; he can forgive the boy for taking you all away from him since his son did it out of concern to protect his mother and sisters.

He may be a disappointment as a soldier but at least he did good as a son and brother.

“Done” Perturabo said without an ounce of emotion in his voice while admiring his handiwork. The carefully designed vines and flowers over the lid and corners of the box gave it a precious and beautiful presentation, but the real gem rested within the inside of the box itself.

With a slow movement, the Iron Lord lifted the lid and a soft tune immediately welcomed his ears.

So he closed his eyes… and tried to remember once again what it had been to have his family here.

“Happy birthday, Timo” he muttered absently. He wasn’t sure which would be the age of his youngest daughter now, but he kept creating the music boxes he had wished to give to all his girls every few decades.

One music box added to the thousands he still kept in a closet.

And so… Perturabo sat down back to his workshop.

Memories always came and went anyways.

There ya go! Hope yall liked it!

[insert-random-account-name]

Crappy Character Analysis, part 8

As I'm posting this, I've realized that I was really hard on Opportunist. So if he's your blorbo, I apologize. Thank you all for reading these, and be sure to check out the links for your favorite voice!

part 1 (Broken)

part 2 (Skeptic)

part 3 (Cold)

part 4 (Paranoid)

part 5 (Stubborn

part 6 (Contrarian)

part 7 (Smitten)

VOICE OF THE OPPORTUNIST

Of all of the voices in Slay the Princess, the Voice of the Opportunist is one of the most hated. I understand, I hate him too. The Pristine Cut has firmly cemented his place as an annoying stuck-up boot-licking jerk who changes his mind every five seconds. He tells you to stab the Thorn, actually stabs the Princess (and you) in the P&D, gets into a street fight with the Witch, and, when she possesses you, pulls out a chair in your subconscious for the Wraith to sit on and hands her your resume. What’s even worse about him is that he can’t even make up his mind! Any time someone says something, Opportunist immediately starts buttering them up, telling them how great of an idea they have. However, if someone else disagrees, he switches sides, telling them that their idea is the best, and that’s why he has always sided with them. In every appearance, he’s arrogant, slimy, and all-around untrustworthy. He even denies seeing the mirror, something which, as proven in literally every other chapter, every voice can see, just for the sake of playing both teams.

Why is the Opportunist like this? He wants to self-preserve. Every time you get him, you do it by stringing the Princess along, making her believe you’re going to help her, and then stabbing her in the back when opportunity arrives. Each time, the reason you stab her is because you value yourself and your agency over the person you promised to free. In the Spectre, you know what happens after you slay her, so why bother? To get her out of your head, to get full rein of your mind. In the Nightmare and Chapter 1, you stab her when it’s clear that the two of you will never escape together while the Narrator has anything to say about it. Every time Opportunist changes his mind, he does so in order to align himself with who he thinks has the most power. He does this in an attempt to ensure your safety when things inevitably get messy. This is seen in the Thorn, when he quickly switches sides once he realizes the Princess might have the knife. However, if you find it touching how much he cares about you, there’s still more to this argument. When Opportunist says he’s looking out for you, what he really means is “The body I’m inhabiting,” since, in the P&D, he stabs you with little hesitation. He wants to protect himself, but he claims to want to protect you because in the end, you are making the choices. The more he aligns himself with your viewpoints, the more likely you are to like him, meaning that you’ll take his advice later on. However, as showcased throughout the game, he really sucks at sounding genuine, and lays it on way too thick. Of course, he isn’t ride or die; if you make a choice that puts you in danger, Opportunist will protest. Out of all the voices, he’s the one that lacks empathy the most (Even more than Cold!). He is simply unable to make sacrifices to help someone else. He cannot put his trust in anyone except himself. He would never surrender power to another, no matter the risk. Honestly, I think the main reason people hate Opportunist is simply because of this attitude. I might have been a bit harsh on him, but the Pristine Cut did not make me like him very much.

[thearcaneblog]

Oh my God I’m so angry. I just read the absolute WORT take on the physical appearances of the “bad” characters in Arcane. They complained that the “bad” characters were always depicted in worse lighting and as ugly, whereas the “good” characters were depicted as more flattering.

Like, oh my God. Tell me you don’t understand story analysis without telling me you don’t understand story analysis.

This is a common trope in ANY storytelling medium. It’s called “the mark of greatness.” It is a physical disability or mark on the body that sets a character apart. Oedipus’ feet are deformed because his parents tried to kill him. Harry’s lightning bolt scar, Luke Skywalker’s hand, etc., are all pivotal to furthering the plot and are important for fully nuanced characters and storytelling.

Let’s use Sevika since we know the most about her. She, like most of the characters in the show, is morally complex. When she feels like Vander’s choices lead to inaction and continued oppression she joins Silco. In the process two VERY important things happen to her character because one thing happens. And that is the loss of her arm. 1) by losing her arm she is baptized into Silco’s service. Losing something important, like let’s say an ARM, cause the person to change which is why it’s a baptism. 2) She literally sacrificed her arm to become Silco’s arm. Everything she does, she does in the name of Silco. This is HER mark of greatness. The physical absence of an appendage symbolizes, and I’m going to be redundant here, her loyalty to Silco and how she is the brawn of his operation.

Now. Let’s talk about Silco. Silco is missing/has limited use of his left eye. It’s a mark of greatness again, but IT IS SO MUCH MORE SINCE IT’S AN EYE. EYES ARE INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT IN STORYTELLING! The fact that it’s only one eye means his vision/focus is singular. He cares about his operation, about having Zaun become its own city, but NOTHING is more important to him than Jinx. Almost every time we see him in a scene, Jinx is brought up and often defended by him. Jinx is his damaged eye. She’s the only one he has a (literal) blind spot for.

The Chem Barons are more complex since we don’t know them like other characters. But speaking of them as a group, and still along the lines of “the mark of greatness,” their appearance is absolutely A+ storytelling. Their appearances signify their power, fear, and corruption. It’s all about unchecked power and technological and chemical experimentation. They warn of the consequences of aligning one’s humanity with destructive power.

Amara is a little different. While she is not deformed per se, she is older with wrinkles and has a forehead adornment. Again, like the Chem Barons, this reflects wisdom since it is on her forehead and power. Power as a trade union member, and the foreshadowing of her possession by the Black Rose. EVERYTHING IS DONE ON PURPOSE!

Don't come at me with some surface-level bad take like "I'm tired of 'bad guys' looking ugly." It is SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT!

[bwat5-blog]

A Rant: Dear Stupid People- Bonus content

**spoilers for arcane**

“Arcane really had Vi abandon her sister so she could fuck an Enforcer in a jail cell who was guilty of atrocities worse than Marcus ever committed”

…………………………………………….…………………………………………….…………………………………………….…………………………………………….

Just saw the earth-shattering insight above regarding Caitlyn and Vi’s scene in the comments of another post. Setting aside the idiocy of claiming Vi “abandoned” Jinx, what more caught my eye was the statement that what Caitlyn did was worse than this man here. The mustachioed menace himself.

MARCUS:

So I don’t have a ton of time at the moment to really pick this apart so let’s keep it short and sweet shall we?!

Marcus:

1. Complicit in the betrayal and murder of Sheriff Grayson

2. Complicit in murder of Benzo

3. Knowingly Complicit in abduction and murder of Vander and by extension the deaths of Mylo and Claggor

4. Kidnaps and imprisons a fifteen year old girl in the worst prison they have without trial or cause where she undergoes at the very least continuous physical assault if not worse

5. Knowingly Complicit in Silco’s crimes and covers for him, allowing the unleashing of Shimmer into the world as well as covering up who knows how many deaths and how much illegal activity

6. Pins the deaths of the six enforcers and destruction of the building on the firelights

7. Tries to kill Ekko and Caitlyn to protect Silco’s criminal enterprise

8. If we really wanna get deep, had Marcus not done what he did, its possible Silco never would have gotten a shot at Vander, which means Powder doesn’t become Jinx, which means she and Caitlyn’s history doesn’t happen, which means no martial law commander. So…….

SUMMARY: Complicit in countless murders including that of his seeming mentor and friend. Uses his position as the most powerful law enforcement officer in Piltover to knowingly and intentionally block all efforts to investigate Silco’s wrong doing. Plays major role in allowing the unleashing of Shimmer despite the harmful effects playing out in front of him. Abducts a child and leaves her in an adult prison to suffer for years. And does so in full and complete possession of his faculties out of fear. Not to mention that he quite intentionally made a deal with Silco even if he wasn’t expecting Grayson’s death.

Caitlyn:

1. Uses a non-lethal “strategic to a pinpoint”(courtesy of Amanda Overton) tool to clear the streets and take down Shimmer and the Chem-Barons while also hunting Jinx

2. Tries to shoot Jinx while Isha is in the way during clear manic/ptsd driven episode

3. Hits Vi with rifle stock

4. Accepts position of commander under martial law all given willingly by people in charge

5. Institutes Martial Law in Zaun where she has full authority to do so

6. Insists on lawful arrests and challenges unnecessary violence

7. Unknowingly complicit in Ambessa’s brutality and experimentation by allowing herself to trust in and be manipulated by Ambessa

SUMMARY: Goes on a fully sanctioned mission using non-lethal violence preventing tools. Risks a child’s life for revenge and hurts Vi in worst moment. Allows herself to be manipulated during period using authority willingly and fully given to her and the person she trusted hurt people in secret.

Yep. Those are comparable. I see what you mean. And before anyone starts with “she gassed a whole city and killed kids!” No. No she didn’t. And I know that. Because I’ve seen the show. And you can’t provide a shred of proof to back it up. So. Caitlyn did worse than Marcus?

[bardic-tales]

The Leviathan method: Step 11: Describe Your Protagonist(s)

Bianca Moore is a striking figure with golden hair that frames her flawless complexion and brown eyes, complemented by an hourglass figure. Standing at 5 feet tall, her appearance is both graceful and formidable, with white, black, and gold wings accented by golden feathers that hint at her celestial origins. Despite her angelic beauty, her elongated canines and aura of mystery hint at her hybrid nature. She is shaped by trauma and conflict. Bianca carries the weight of her tumultuous past with silent strength and often conceals her vulnerability behind a mask of pragmatism and reserve.

Quick Reference List

Tech Knowledge: Basic Modern Tech, Writing Software

Economic Class: Upper Middle-Class Author, Self-Sufficient, CEO Wife

Skills: Magic Combat (time-space-ice), Healing, Reality Manipulation. Swordsmanship (Noctemaris - Solstice)

Hobbies: Reading, Sketching, Writing

Classifications: Celestial-Demonic Hybrid, Otherworldly, Cosmic Horror

Vital Stats: Petite Build, Ethereal Glow, Dual Heritage

Bianca Moore: Detailed Character Breakdown

Technology/Tech Knowledge Bianca has a rudimentary understanding of modern technology but is far from a tech-savvy individual. She knows how to operate everyday devices like smartphones and laptops, using them primarily to write her novels or research. Her skills extend to basic software like word processors and communication tools, but she struggles with more advanced or futuristic technology. Due to her displacement, she has no need for advanced machinery, relying instead on her abilities. However, she is intrigued by weaponry and gadgets, particularly those she encounters in the world of Final Fantasy VII. Tech Knowledge: Basic Modern Tech, Writing Software

Economic/Social Class (during her marriage to Mordecai) Bianca’s economic status reflects her partnership with Mordecai, whose successful business ventures as CEO of Darklight Publishing ensured a comfortable and stable life for both of them. As an accomplished romance novelist, Bianca also contributed to their financial security. Her career, while not as lucrative as Mordecai’s publishing business, allowed her creative freedom and an independent sense of purpose. Economic Class: Middle-Class Author, Self-Sufficient, CEO's wife

Magic Abilities or Skills Bianca possesses a vast array of abilities tied to her celestial and demonic lineage. Her most prominent powers include spatial manipulation, energy projection, and the ability to interact with the souls of the departed. She has time, space, ice, nightmare, healing and protective magic, . Her combat style relies on agility, evasion, and precision strikes with her celestial blade, Solstice, and demonic blade Noctemaris. While she has some knowledge of swordsmanship, she excels more in magical combat and strategic planning. Skills: Magic Combat (time-space-ice), Healing, Reality Manipulation

Culture and Hobbies Bianca is a passionate reader, finding solace in romance and survival novels that mirror aspects of her life. She also enjoys sketching, often drawing scenes from her past or the people she holds dear. She appreciates moments of quiet reflection, writing in her journal, or exploring natural landscapes. Her hobbies provide a reprieve from her turbulent existence, grounding her in a sense of normalcy. Hobbies: Reading, Sketching, Writing

Classifications Bianca’s unique lineage as a celestial-demonic hybrid grants a distinctive appearance. Her golden hair, radiant complexion, and glowing eyes mark her as a being of divine origin, She has angel wings (black, white, and gold feathers). Classifications: Celestial-Demonic Hybrid, Otherworldly, Cosmic Horror

Vital Statistics Height: 5 feet (152 cm) Weight: 105 lbs (47.6 kg); 128.6 lbs (58.3 kg) including wings Age: 23 Health: Moderately stable, though influenced by her traumatic past Appearance: Bianca has waist-length wavy gold hair, piercing brown eyes that glows gold when she uses her powers, and an hourglass figure. Vital Stats: Petite Build, Ethereal Glow, Dual Heritage

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @whatwedointhecraft @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap @seastarblue

@inkandimpressions

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Chapter Eleven: Eidetic

One of the few notable qualities that Ichabod Crane possesses (in his modest opinion) is his eidetic memory, and, after months of living in Abbie's company, spending nearly every waking moment with her, whether it's at their underground headquarters, perusing old religious texts for any trace of useful information, out on supernatural patrol, out shopping at the trade markets in town, or snuggled up on the sofa at their (her, he has to repeatedly correct himself) apartment, he's learned to read every single one of her facial expressions, has memorized every curve and marking, down to the very last freckle. By now, he's come to recognize, almost immediately, when something is bothering her, and as much as it frustrates him that she won't just be honest with him about it, it's nothing compared to the vexation he feels over the fact that he can't puzzle it out on his own.

Over the past week, Abbie's behavior had been nothing less than startling. Much to Ichabod's disfavor, Abbie had seemed to gravitate back and forth between blissful (if the upward curve to her partially parted lips and slightly unfocused, far off gaze she'd fix on an unmoving target in the distance was any indication,) reverie, pointedly abandoning their research for several minutes at a time, and unwarranted (as far as he was aware) bellicose behavior, aimed specifically, it would seem, at him, even though he was never quite sure what he'd done to deserve it. It was all very disorientating, this hot-and-cold contrast in Abbie's conduct, especially when he had always known her to be completely calm and collected, even in the most dangerous and terrifying of situations. And since she wouldn't outright tell him what'd been bothering her, wouldn't tell him what he'd done wrong by her so that he could go about correcting it, he had tried, desperately, to read her body language, but even that was sending him mixed signals.

Caught in her daydreams, sometimes, though rarely, Abbie's body would unwillingly give her away, and Ichabod would take note of the subtle shifts in her demeanor with delicate precision. The flush in her cheeks whenever he'd called her by her full name (her real name, Grace Abigail Mills, which he does rarely, as he still feels rather awkward and impolite calling her by anything but her proper title…much to his dismay, it appears to be one of the only tried and true ways to get her attention whenever it slips out of his grasp and Abbie falls into one of her daytime musings.) The way a shiver would run down her spine and light up her entire body like a live wire at a simple, accidental brush of skin against skin. The way she would stumble over her words whenever he'd caught her off-guard. The way she'd giggle and sigh whenever he would smile at her. 

And then, sometimes, he'd even catch her staring at him, gazing longingly at the rise and fall of his chest, at the curve of his lips as he spoke, at the twist of his muscles, performing even the most ordinary of tasks, all the while unwittingly sending his heart into a frantic flutter (though he'd never admit to any such thing.)

Were she any other woman, Ichabod would have no choice but to assume, by careful observation of her recent behavior, that she had somehow taken a fancy to him…but this is Abbie we're talking about, and Ichabod knows better than to presume that a woman like her could ever see a man like him in any way other than an unlikely friend, or, as it were, a trusted companion in the upcoming apocalypse. After all, they're worlds apart, and he's a disheveled mess of a man with a suffocating amount of emotional baggage…not to mention the fact that he's married. 

He should know better, and he's foolish to think that, were he unwed, he's actually got a chance with a woman like Abbie Mills. It's alarming, really, how often he has to remind himself that he's still married, to a powerful sorceress no less, and that nothing could ever happen between himself and the Lieutenant. 

And yet, that doesn't seem to stop him from blurting out compliments left and right like he's trying far too hard to woo her, reminding her that her aesthetic beauty rivals that of all other women, that she's unendingly kind and brave and loyal and strong, that she possesses the singing voice of an angel. He hadn't even tried this hard to win Katrina's heart, but then, Abbie is much more of a challenge, and besides, it isn't like any of what he's said is untrue…he's merely stating obvious facts. At least, that's what he tells himself whenever he catches his mind wandering where it shouldn't.

Based on her behavior over the course of the past week alone, Ichabod would've been wise to assume that Abbie was starting to feel romantic affection for him, if only it didn't switch to the polar opposite the moment he'd brought her back out of her head and into reality, into the present. Whenever he'd ripped her out of the world inside her head, she'd become nothing less than cold and cruel. And even now, even though it's dwindled to significantly smaller amount of instances, there's still something different about the way in which she holds herself…she's constantly on edge, muscles wound tight with tension, more so than he's ever seen of her…and it breaks his heart, the way her muscles tighten at the slightest movement he makes, the way she recoils from his touch like he's suddenly become venomous, this disgusting thing that she no longer wants anything to do with.

She won't look him directly in the eye anymore, will hardly speak to him unless it's strictly necessary, won't confirm that something has gone terribly, terribly wrong within her, but Ichabod knows, in his heart, that something isn't quite right. All of their playful teasing and lively banter is gone, and as he feels Abbie slipping away from, just like he'd feared would happen, just like it had with Katrina, it only makes him want to cling tighter to her. He's walking on eggshells around her, and it's left him utterly devastated. 

He tries his damnedest to make it up to her, to right whatever he's done to upset her, because he can't bear the thought of losing her trust, her company, her everything. And when he poses his simple questions, she tells him that she's been losing sleep, that she's stressed and worn out and preoccupied, and he knows deep down that she's likely just worried about her sister, about the demon in the woods, about everything that's coming for them, still mourning the loss of Corbin, the only man who'd ever felt like a father to her, but he also knows how to read her, knows that that can't be all there is. She's keeping something from him, and it's troubling him to the point where he feels sick with worry. He resolves to figure it out, to keep trying, to keep prying and needling it out of her…the only thing that matters, above all else, is fixing Abbie.

Until it isn't. Until he's lying on the forest floor, the heels of his leather boots digging into the graveyard dirt of Katrina's tombstone, mud and leaves and blood and ashes strewn across his torn and tattered clothes, feral sobs ripping from his chest and his throat as Abbie waits in the distance, at a complete loss for what to do, because nothing that she could possibly say to him could make this any better, could fix this, could fix him…he's falling to pieces all over again, losing Katrina all over again, for good this time, because he'd watched her soul pass through the veil and into the spirit world, never to return. 

He stays until there's nothing left in him…no tears, no breath, no feeling of any kind, doesn't even register the chilling numbness in his fingertips, until Abbie closes her soft, warm hands around his, wraps her jacket around his shoulders, and leads him to the car, the both of them cold and miserable and soaking wet from the violent downpour of rain and ice. He doesn't register the details of the rest of that night, when Abbie takes him home and bundles him up in his bed, freeing him of his rain-soaked clothes…the only thing he registers, the only thing that tears him from his sorrow, right before he falls asleep, is the fact that, at the very least, he's got his Abbie back, and he knows, now more than ever, that she isn't ever going to leave him…not without a fight.

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You Always Want What You're Running From

Sleepy Hollow » Ichabbie

Title: You Always Want What You're Running From

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Sleepy Hollow (Masterlist)

Relationship: Abbie Mills x Ichabod Crane

AO3 Rating: Mature (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: When Abbie invites Ichabod to come live with her, the last thing she expects is for him to start feeling like home.

She'll tell herself, over and over again like a mantra, that it's because she feels indebted to him, that she feels bad for him, that it'll make their casework much easier if she can keep a constant eye on him, that it's convenient.  But really, it's because, in spite of everything, in spite of an impending apocalypse that only they, the unwilling witnesses, can prevent, he keeps her grounded, keeps her sane. For reasons she can't explain, she trusts him.  She hasn't trusted anyone like this since Corbin…and now, Crane is all she has left. In his company, she feels secure. Protected. Cared for. They've only known each other for a short while, and yet…Crane's company feels like home. Besides…how bad could living with a man from the 1700's truly be?

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[hazelkjt]

Hazel has her moments holding the Idiot Ball as well.

[mourn-and-watch]

one thing that is fascinating to me about merrill's arc is the way narrative manages to convince a big part of the fandom that she's immature and irresponsible and overall stupid. what we know about merrill and what we actually see on screen is that she successfully avoids possession for 6 years while working closely with a demon, almost every time she participates in some magic/spirit-related discourse she acts calm and confident and has some interesting input, she actively uses her knowledge of dalish lore and tradition to reason with her keeper, and that she actually did make progress with fixing and studying an ancient long forgotten artifact no one knows particularly anything about. but then an old woman who's never been shown to be an undeniably wise and reasonable figure, a guy who got willingly possessed with no awareness of possible consequences and whose whole mindset is still deeply andrastian and a bunch of people who know nothing about magic start judging and doubting her and everyone's like. yeah. she's so fucking dumb.

[starry-bi-sky]

Stillborn? No, still born au -- Dani Phantom! Clone girl herself. :]

She can't exist in this au. And it's not that I don't want to add her -- although I'll be blunt, I don't, I'll be the first to admit that I think she's more often than not nothing more than a narrative deadweight used to prop up Danny and I don't like adding characters as props -- but her existence quite literally goes against and muddies the Vlad and Danny dynamic I have for this au. Ellie's existence in canon itself states that she was created -- and Danny's other clones too -- because Vlad gave up on trying to convert him to his side and decided to just make a son instead.

Something that just, doesn't happen in the stillborn-still born au. See, for folks who are only just hearing about this au or didn't see my post about Vlad in this au, he and Danny have a complicated love-hate relationship where they mutually want to adopt each other, but their morals and way of doing things -- mainly Vlad's insistence on getting revenge against the Fentons -- gets in the way of them being able to do that in full.

Vlad knows Danny wants him to adopt him, and is only fighting him on it because he refuses to let Vlad kill the Fentons for essentially killing the both of them. He's succeed in 50% of his goal. Canon Vlad never even made it to 1%. With that in mind, stillborn Vlad has no reason and sees no reason to clone Danny, he has his son. He just needs to convince him to let him avenge them both.

Dani simply has no place in the stillborn-still born au. And in fact, if Vlad did decide to clone Danny -- for whatever reason, -- it would damage his relationship with Danny damn near beyond repair. That's because Danny would view it the same way he views Damian's existence; as a replacement for himself. He would become beyond furious and hurt, and not for the typical 'I can't believe you cloned me, you creep!' reason, but for a 'I can't believe you cloned me, you said I was your son!' reason.

I am not pulling any punches here when I say Danny wants Vlad to be his dad just as much as Vlad wants Danny to be his son, there's just a lot of factors getting in the way. They are, as the french say, ✨mentally unwell.✨ Danny has a ton of abandonment and trust issues due to his experiences in foster care. He would immediately become jealous, insecure, and incredibly furious and hurt. He'd despise her on principal and want nothing to do with her, or Vlad for that matter. He'd just fucking haaate her. It's not her fault she was made but Danny doesn't really care, he's lashing out and pushing people away because he's been betrayed yet again.

The only way they could get along or for Danny to actually like her in any capacity would be if it was his idea to clone himself. Which is like, kinda obvious but considering most clone plots tend to be non-consensual it's kinda gotta be said. He has to have a hand in creating her, that's the only way I can see him liking her in any way. Or if someone other than Vlad created her. If Vlad clones him though, all bets are off the table and he'll despise her.

TL;DR: Dani can't exist in this au because she goes against the narrative I've got for the two most fucked up half-dead could-be-father-son duo in existence, but if she did exist Danny would despise her.

[quietwingsinthesky]

i know what tattoo millie doesn’t have, because during the short period where lucifer’s possessing her, she keeps taking the wheel of the vessel to go and get herself the ugliest cartoon devil tattoos money can buy. lucifer is wasting precious grace getting those off of her body because he can’t stand them, and then she just goes and gets another one in a couple days time.

[transformers-bold-bright-brisk]

Oh yeah! Did I forget to mention i totally ship Starclaw?… Sharpdrive??… Sharpstar???… Clawdrive????

There are just so many possibilities, like you wouldn’t believe…

[universallydestinytaco]

:’)

[torgawl]

this week's episode was pretty set on confirming a few of our suspections were true like tianchen impersonating his sister and cheng xiaoshi being in lu guang's body at the end of the last episode. to me the thing i'm most curious about is tianchen's ability. is he actually red eyes? red eyes from last season could use their ability though photos but the tianchen we personally know controlls people through touch. having the ability to control multiple people (or two, specifically) simultaneously, which is something quite interesting. unless he can use his technique in two different ways, which we haven't seen any ability user do so far, this feels really odd and i'm starting to think the siblings having red eyes was simply a detail to throw us off?! maybe this doesn't make sense but you know how cxs has brown eyes but his eyes change colour while using his ability? why wouldn't tianchen's eyes change colour if he was the one possessing other people's bodies? and the way his eyes glow in the final scene with lu-guang... is that to show he's evil or is that a sign he's using his ability? but then how? because he was just talking to lu guang in his own body and lu guang wasn't under his influence, right? i'm very confused about him and his relationship with qian jin

[todds-rwby-liveblog]

Ruby really just fucking went into the Ever After finding out just how badly all of her plan with Amity and getting help fast failed on top of the knowledge that she will always be a target for Salem to Grimmify her or worse for the rest of her life and also the way she has NO idea whether her mom is dead or worse anymore and having it left up to her imagination. AND on top of finding out that Atlas fell and so many people died and in the end it was quite literally all for nothing. AND on top of that Penny died anyway despite the fact that everything that she’d ever wanted (finally being seen as more than just a war machine and making new friends) was finally coming true. Everything has well and truly gone to all shit possible in her mind, Penny dying wasn’t even a last straw for her it was like half the payload getting dropped on her at maximum velocity. I’m gonna go to bed <3