#Feel free to add your own ideas or thoughts

[strawb3rryg2l]

How to lose 'Bob' in 10 Days, Part 2

Characters: Bob x Y/N, Robert Reynolds x Y/N, Sentry x Y/N, The Void x Y/N

Summary: You thought you'd lost, your husband, Robert Reynolds forever. Consumed by the Void and the chaos it left behind. But then you woke up in a world not your own. One where he's alive. Where he goes by Bob. Where he doesn't know you. To him, you’re a stranger. You have 10 days to lose him, before everything falls apart. But the cracks are already forming. Time stutters. Reality bends. And something followed you here, something made of grief, memory, and everything you refused to let die. As you try to lose Bob in 10 days, the world unravels with every lie you tell yourself. You’ll have to make an impossible choice: hold on to the man you love, or face the truth and finally let him go. Because if you don’t... this world won’t just end. You might go with it.

Word Count: 3,724

Warnings: A dark twisted version of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, spooky, creepy, Spoilers maybe? (Please let me know if I should add anymore.)

Note from the author: This is my work, and I will be posting on here and @ strawb3rrygal on Archivesofourown. Keep in mind these are my ONLY TWO accounts. Please feel free to reblog if you like it! I've been working on this one as I write my other fic 'The Temp' which you can also check out if you'd like.

New here? Go back in time -> Part 1 Done with Part 1 and 2 -> Part 3

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Y/N didn’t want to go out.

But Tara had been persistent. “You need to stop living in your head,” she said, eyeliner sharp. “Even if it’s just for one night.”

Marlene seconded it with her usual warmth. “Come on, love. You haven’t had a drink in weeks. We’ll take care of you.”

So Y/N let herself be pulled out into the city’s blur of neon and cigarette smoke, thumping bass and soft laughter. The bar was warm, cozy, cluttered with mismatched furniture and bathed in amber light. A small band played near the back, their sound quieting conversations and clinking glasses. She let Tara drag her toward the booth in the corner, Marlene ordering a drink. Y/N sat, half-listening. Her mind wandered like it always did now. Things still didn’t feel right. She still had the lingering sensation that she was a piece of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. The voices of her friends came and went in waves, drifting past her like white noise. 

It wasn’t until she turned her head half-heartedly scanning the room that she saw him. She blinked.

At the far end of the bar, under the low hanging pendant light, sat a man alone. Elbows on the counter. Quiet. Thoughtful. A glass of something in front of him. He wasn’t talking to anyone. He wasn’t smiling. She couldn’t see his face clearly, not yet. Just the shape of his shoulders. The curl of his hair. His posture. The way his fingers toyed with the rim of his glass.

Her stomach twisted.

It couldn’t be.

“Hey,” Tara snapped her fingers in front of her. “Earth to Y/N?”

“Hm? Sorry.” She turned back, but her gaze flicked over again. The man shifted. He leaned back a little. Light hit his cheek. It was almost Robert. Almost.

Her chest tightened not in recognition, but dissonance. The nose was slightly different. The jawline softer, less rigid. He wore black, but not a suit, just a t-shirt, plain and worn. His hair was tousled in a way Robert would have hated. He looked alive. Present. But...not right.

“Who’s that?” she asked, interrupting Tara mid-story.

“Who?” Marlene leaned over.

“That guy. At the bar. Alone.”

Marlene followed her gaze. “No idea. Cute, though. You want me to—?”

“No,” Y/N said, too quickly. She stood up before she could think better of it. “I’m gonna get some air.”

But she didn’t go outside.

She wandered toward the bar.

Not directly. She kept her distance. Walked slowly. Pretended to look at the drink list posted behind the counter. Her fingers drummed against the side of her thigh. Every step made her heart beat louder. Louder than the music. Louder than the chatter.

He didn’t notice her.

Not yet.

Up close, he was even more strange. Familiar. Unfamiliar. There was a scar on his knuckle that Robert never had. His eyes, when they glanced sideways, catching hers just briefly weren’t the exact same shade. Greyer, maybe. Or just colder.

But when he nodded at her in that polite, wordless way it made her breath catch. Something in her wanted to run.

Something else, something deeper, wanted to ask him his name. It’s what she needed to do anyway, right? She wanted desperately to convince herself this is why she wanted to talk with him. The only reason being that her job required she lose an Avenger romantically in ten days, nothing more, and well… she supposed nothing less.

Maybe she also wanted to figure out what the hell was going on. Why this Bob looked like her beloved husband? And maybe she also wanted to see him close up, the freckles that lined his face, did he smell like her Robert? This was too much. She huffed, exasperated. She needed some liquid courage. She turned in her seat and called over the bartender. Two tequila lemonades.

The drink tasted more like tequila than lemonade. She swallowed both drinks before she had time to process if this was a good idea. With an audible ekh and a scrunch of her face, she breathed in and out, grabbed her purse, and moved toward where Bob was sitting.

She tried to exuberate confidence, hide the nerves from her features. Her gray dress swayed like smoke as she crossed the floor. The low amber lights flickered above her like ghosts, shadows slipping past her heels. The band in the back began packing up, soft acoustic giving way to a thudding pulse. A new song clicking into the speakers with industrial synths and a Berlin-style bassline that rolled like thunder underwater.

The energy shifted. The room darkened. It felt like stepping through a threshold. Like stepping into a dream she didn’t remember having. She didn’t hesitate. She couldn’t afford to. If she did, she’d turn and run.

She slid onto the stool beside him before she could second-guess herself, her movement fluid, practiced. Like muscle memory. The sleeve of her dress slipped slightly off her shoulder, intentional or not, exposing the soft line of her collarbone to the light.

He glanced at her. Slowly. Not surprised, not wary, just aware. Present. The way someone might glance at a stormcloud on the horizon. Not yet threatening. But worth noting.

“You don’t look like you’re from around here,” he said, voice low, voice wrong. Not Robert’s. Not quite. A little rougher. Less precise.

“No?” she replied, mirroring his calm, trying to keep her breathing even. “What do I look like, then?”

He looked at her fully this time. His eyes weren’t the same. Not exactly. They had depth, but none of the warmth she remembered. They were colder. But not cruel. Analytical.

“Like someone who’s somewhere they don’t quite believe exists.”

Her mouth went dry.

“Is that your way of saying I’m out of place?”

“Maybe.” He turned back to his glass, letting the rim kiss his lip before taking a sip. “Maybe you’re… just lost.”

She laughed softly, the sound catching in her throat. “Aren’t we all?”

He gave a half-smile at that.  There was a silence then. Not awkward, but weighty. She watched his fingers. They were similar to Robert’s same shape, same veins beneath skin but the way he tapped the glass, the rhythm of his breath, even the angle of his jaw… all just slightly off. Like a song she used to know being played in a different key.

She cleared her throat. “I’m Y/N.”

He nodded, almost slow enough to miss. “Bob.”

“Is that short for something?” she asked, casually, because it was a lifeline she needed.

“Could be,” he said, smiling into his drink. “But most people don’t ask.”

She tilted her head. “I’m not most people.”

“I figured that much out already.”

The beat dropped the music behind them warping slightly, echoing through the floor and into the soles of her shoes. It made her feel unsteady, or maybe that was just him. Just this.

“You come here often?” she asked, voice a little sharper, shielding her own nerves with a blade. Trying to engage in some flirty banter.

“Not really,” he said, setting his glass down. “I tend to avoid places like this.”

She raised a brow. “Then why now?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in, just slightly, enough for her to catch the scent of his cologne sandalwood and something darker beneath. Not Robert’s. Not hers. Something new.

“I guess I was waiting for someone interesting to talk to.”

Her heart thudded in her ribs.

There was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something knowing. Or maybe she imagined it. Maybe her brain was just reaching, grasping for anything to tether her to the past she couldn’t make sense of anymore. She smiled.

“So here I am.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, swirling the last of his drink in the lowball glass. The ice clinked like wind chimes in a dark room. Something flickered in Y/N’s peripheral not light exactly, but a shift, a disturbance, like when a person stands just close enough to your shadow to alter its shape.

Before she could turn her head to see what it was, Bob stood.

“You’re leaving already?” she asked, trying and failing to hide the disappointment that slipped into her voice.

He nodded once. His eyes flickered over her shoulder, toward something or someone. “It was nice seeing you… Y/N.”

The way he said her name made her still.

It sounded like Robert. Not just in voice, that wasn’t it. It was in the rhythm, the weight he gave it. The reverence. Like her name meant something. Like it still did. Her throat closed. Her fingers gripped the edge of the bar. She watched him turn, his silhouette sliding back into the haze of bodies and colored light.

She didn’t know what to do with herself. For a second, she just sat there. Her heart pounded in her ribs, uncertain. Her brain tripped over itself, trying to be logical. It’s fine. It’s over. You did enough. He’s gone. But that aching part of her, the one that still dreamed in grayscale, screamed louder. Go after him.

She blinked. Took a shaky breath. And maybe it was because of the column she was going to write that she did it, but she stood.

It took everything, every ounce of courage, pride, adrenaline, to push off the stool and into the crowd. The bar had filled while she was with him. Shapes jostled and blurred. Laughter spiked and broke like glass. That pulsing, guttural bass rolled through her, louder now. The music had warped into something dark and surreal a synth-drenched, Berlin-style rave track that shook the walls and made the world feel distorted, hyperreal.

Her heels clicked against the old wooden floor. She moved fast, scanning for him, tall, broad, dark shirt, her eyes darting past couples, past dancing limbs and swinging lights. She caught him near the door. He was paused, one hand on the frame, like he was deciding whether to stay or vanish.

“Wait,” she called.

He turned slow again, like gravity fought him.

“Can I—” she faltered as she got close, breathless. “Can I get your number?”

His gaze was unreadable. The light caught just enough of his face to remind her how close he looked. How far he really was.

“You want my number?” he repeated.

She nodded, suddenly aware of how hot her skin felt under her dress, of how exposed she was in every sense of the word. “In case I… in case I want to talk again.”

For a long beat, he said nothing. Then, that half-smile again. Quiet. Careful.

He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pen, not a phone, and gently took her hand. Her heart jumped at the contact, soft and sudden. He scribbled a number across her palm. Not a name. Just a number.

“You sure you’ll call?” he asked, his voice lower now, like the question was meant for her and some shadow version of her heart.

“I might,” she answered, the corner of her mouth curling.

Another beat passed between them electric, reverent, unreal. And then he stepped out into the night. The door swung shut behind him, muting the sound for half a second. When it clicked closed, it felt like a chapter being sealed.

Y/N stood there, staring at the number inked onto her skin. Her breath came in shallow pulls.

Who the hell are you, Bob?

She walked back to the booth on unsteady legs, as if the floor had shifted under her while she’d been gone like gravity had slightly changed its rules. Her dress swayed at her knees with each step, and her fingers curled instinctively into her palm, clutching the number he’d written. The ink had smudged slightly with sweat, a soft blur of dark lines against her skin.

Tara spotted her first. She lit up like a firecracker. “Who was that?!” she shouted over the thudding bass, her voice riding the wave of electronic pulses now thundering through the speakers.

“The new Avenger Elise wanted me to date, if you’d believe it.” Y/N slid back into the booth beside them, shrugging like it was no big deal. She hoped her smile looked cool and detached, even though her heart still hadn’t quite slowed. Her skin buzzed with adrenaline and something else, something far less manageable.

Nothing about her felt nonchalant. Not the way her body still leaned in the direction he’d gone. Not the way her pulse beat in her throat. Not the way she kept rubbing the inside of her thumb over the numbers on her palm like she needed to remind herself they were real.

Tara’s eyes went wide. “That guy?” She whistled, dramatic and impressed. “Elise has taste.”

“Good for you!” Marlene said, nudging her playfully. “I don’t know how you’ll ever lose him in ten days — that man is gorgeous.”

Y/N forced a laugh. “I’ll find a way.”

That was the mission, wasn’t it? Ten days. Break his heart. Report back. Easy enough. She’d done harder things. She’d faked deeper smiles. And yet, when she leaned forward to grab her half-finished drink, she realized her hand was trembling. She took a long sip, trying to still it.

These versions of Tara and Marlene, these strange, nearly-right reflections of her best friends didn’t know. They didn’t know anything about her husband. About Robert. About the night she watched the man she loved become someone else entirely. To them, she’d never been married. Never watched a god break down in her arms. Never grieved a man. She was just Y/N here. Just the girl assigned to seduce and leave a hero.

And yet he said her name like Robert used to.

The memory stung like a paper cut. Small, sharp, and unexpectedly painful.

“I’m proud of you,” Tara said suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise. She leaned in, sincerity softening her features. “Seriously. You’ve been floating lately, like you’re not all the way here. I was starting to get worried.”

Marlene nodded, looping her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “He looked at you like he saw you.”

Y/N looked down, her breath catching. That’s what scared her most. He had. She didn’t respond. Couldn’t. She just gave a half-smile, tipping the rest of her drink back.

The music shifted again, the beat deepening, crowd pressing in tighter. The strobe lights danced over faces and glasses, over lipstick smears and glistening eyes.

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” Y/N mumbled, standing again. She needed to breathe. Needed to think. She slid through the crowd, shoulder brushing strangers, the warmth of bodies a dull throb around her. In the hallway past the bar, she leaned against the cool tile of the wall and finally opened her hand. The number had faded slightly, but it was still legible. A quiet thread tethering her to something or someone who shouldn’t exist.

The bathroom was empty. Dim lighting flickered overhead, casting sharp shadows on the tiled walls. Y/N stood at the sink, staring at her reflection like it might offer answers like it might morph into something she recognized. But all she saw was herself: hair slightly messy, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed from alcohol and adrenaline.

She ran cold water over her hands. It helped a little. But when she looked up again, she wasn’t alone. There was a woman behind her in the mirror. Not in the room. Just in the reflection.

Y/N froze, breath caught in her throat. The woman stood perfectly still in one of the bathroom stalls, the door wide open behind her. She was pale, barefoot, wearing what looked like a dark trenchcoat. Her eyes were impossibly dark, like bruises like ink bleeding through paper.

And she was staring right at her. 

Y/N turned around fast.

The stall was empty.

Silence settled over her like dust.

She turned back to the mirror.

No one.

She blinked, her fingers curling tight around the porcelain sink. Maybe it was the tequila. Or the music, the lights, the emotional whiplash of the last hour. Maybe she was seeing things. This reality wasn’t her own, after all. Strange echoes came with the territory.

Still, her heart wouldn’t calm. Just as she reached for a paper towel, the bathroom door creaked open behind her. She flinched, shoulders going stiff. But it was only a woman in a red dress, humming softly as she walked past her into a stall. No ink-eyed ghost. No figment from the other side.

“Get it together,” Y/N muttered under her breath, drying her hands.

She stepped back into the bar’s main hallway, head still spinning. The crowd had thickened, music deeper now, vibrating in her bones. She started back toward Tara and Marlene when she felt it, that same tug. That flicker. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted.

Y/N turned.

In the narrow corridor near the fire exit, just past a “STAFF ONLY” door, something moved.

A figure, tall. Male. He stepped halfway into the light, enough for her to see the side of his face. He was watching her. Bob. But he was supposed to be gone. He had left, hadn’t he? Her breath hitched.

She hesitated for just a second, then took a step toward him.

“Bob?” she asked, louder than she meant to.

He didn’t speak. Just tilted his head, like he was studying her. And then he turned and slipped through the “STAFF ONLY” door. Y/N didn’t think. She followed. The door creaked open to reveal a narrow staircase, lit faintly by flickering yellow bulbs overhead. It smelled of old wood, beer, and something metallic underneath. She gripped the railing and started down, each step groaning beneath her.

“Bob?” she tried again, her voice lower now.

No answer.

The stairwell emptied into what looked like an unused lounge, long-abandoned couches, broken jukebox, crates of dusty glassware. It was cold down here. Quiet, compared to the storm of music upstairs. The silence had a hum to it. Her eyes scanned the room, heartbeat climbing. He was nowhere. But something lay on one of the tables. She stepped forward. It was a photo. Old. Worn. Curled at the corners. She picked it up slowly. It was a picture of Robert.

Her Robert, not Bob. Not the one upstairs in the bar.

He was standing in front of a government building, arms crossed, wearing his full suit. The Sentry. The man she loved. His eyes were softer than she remembered, almost at peace. A rare moment of calm captured. Her fingers trembled. There was writing on the back. She turned it.

“Do you remember the first version of him?” —D

Her breath left her in a slow, shocked exhale. The air in the room shifted, like something unseen had just moved behind her. She stood frozen, the photograph trembling slightly in her hand.

Do you remember the first version of him?

The words burned into her mind, inked in an unfamiliar script, precise, slanted, too clean. The “D” was signed like a whisper, and yet it roared in her ears. It made her feel like she was being watched. Her breath quickened. There was something wrong with the air. It was heavier now. Denser. She turned slowly, eyes scanning the room, the cracked furniture, the shadows stretching far too long for the size of the space.

She didn’t want to say it out loud. But something down here felt wrong. “Who’s there?” she asked, voice quieter than she meant.

No reply. Just the low buzz of a dying lightbulb above her, the faint drip of water in some unseen pipe. And then  footsteps. Not hers. Not above her. Below.

From another room just past the shadowed hallway.

Y/N took a step back. Every instinct told her to run. That the hallway, the basement, the photograph, none of it made sense. This wasn’t just a weird dream of a night. Something had cracked beneath the surface. And now the wrong things were seeping through.

But something else inside her, the same thing that made her follow Bob down here in the first place, told her not to leave yet. To keep going. She pocketed the photo and moved toward the hallway. It was narrow, pitch-black at the end. She reached for her phone to use its flashlight, and just as she lifted it—

click.

The hallway light snapped on by itself. Y/N flinched. The room beyond was small. Storage-like. But on the far wall, written in red across the crumbling plaster, was a phrase:

“HE DOESN’T REMEMBER YOU. BUT HE WILL.”

Her heartbeat thundered. Then came the sound of the “STAFF ONLY” door upstairs slamming shut. She turned fast, bolting out of the room and up the stairs, her heels pounding on wood that suddenly felt brittle beneath her. She burst through the door and found herself back in the crowded bar, lights too bright, music far too loud.

Everything looked the same. But she didn’t feel the same. She staggered back toward the main room, disoriented, her friends nowhere in sight. She didn’t realize she was shaking until someone caught her arm.

“Y/N?” a familiar voice.

She looked up.

Bob.

He wasn’t smiling. But his brows were furrowed, eyes focused on her like he was seeing through her.

“You alright?” he asked.

Her mouth opened. Closed. The words felt caught in her throat.

“I… I think someone’s messing with me.”

Bob’s expression didn’t shift. Not much. But she swore something flickered behind his gaze.

“Where did you go?”

“The basement,” she whispered. “There’s a hallway… a room. Someone left a photo of—” she stopped herself. She didn’t know if she should say his name.

He didn’t respond. Didn’t ask what she meant. He just glanced toward the back of the bar.

“There’s no basement here,” he said. Her stomach dropped.

“What?”

“I’ve been coming here for years. This place doesn’t have a basement.”

Y/N took a step back, her world tilting. But before she could speak again, Bob stepped forward, slowly, and leaned in, his voice brushing just above her ear.

“You should be careful,” he said, low. “There are things here that wear familiar faces.”

And then he pulled back, turned, and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Y/N stood motionless, her pulse roaring. The photo burned like a weight in her pocket.

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Author's post note: I wanted to have a layer of mystery and spookiness so I hope I succeeded hehe

[hidden-by-a-trench-coat]

Hi does anyone want to hear about my SFTH Orchestra AU???

I've had it in the back of my mind for a little while but I was suddenly struck with intense inspiration, so here's what I have so far ideas-wise with my favorites/more elaborated ones on top and going down with less detail (I'll split them up by longform for your convenience):

(Kind of a long post so beware. It should also be noted I have only been in orchestra and I know depressingly little about the choir and band so. I apologize in advance - please feel free to add input about either of those if you want!)

Unrelenting Aubergine

I'm not fully sure about what Margaery's role would be, but for some reason she gives me cellist vibes. Maybe it's the way Sam sits while playing her, idk- regardless I feel like she'd be really good at it and would have lots of experience

She can play baroque-style as well because I said so. (I'll get to it later but she plays in the group with Father Andrews and Begruvia, too)

She could also be the conductor... I feel like she'd fit the role well, but I want to keep that slot open for now

Titch and James, I'm not exactly sure what they'd play, but with Margaery playing cello it makes me think they could, too and Margeary's magic in this AU is instead her teaching their father to play and then also teaching them how to play. With them playing the same instrument, it still allows them to have their rivalry as they try to live up to their father's legacy! Maybe he leaves them a really really nice instrument and they're kind of competing for it

James also gives me double bass vibes so maybe he's just doing it to try to make their father proud but in reality he kind of just wants to play double bass. Maybe he likes jazz, he kind of gives me those vibes

And Derek!!! I can't forget about him. He gives me viola vibes for some reason. Or maybe second violinist. He just wants to support Titch!!! But I think he could play piano as I could see that fitting for him. He’s Titch’s accompaniment! Basically his assistant, still

(He also gives me music theory nerd vibes for some reason, so maybe he composes from time to time)

Phantom of Hornchurch

Begruvia plays baroque-style viola because I said so. (This is what inspired the AU, actually-) He can also play modern viola but he just prefers baroque-style

Andrews, meanwhile, plays the organ! (it's so associated with churches I though it would be fitting) That and maybe harpsichord/piano, too, since if he can play organ he can probably play those two as well

(He also kind of gives me conductor vibes, but that's usually reserved for the first violinist in ensembles [or, well, leading, is. Not exactly 'conducting']. He'd probably be second to lead, though)

They respect each other's skills but they don't really get along - probably because they have completely different musical interpretations of the pieces and things

Since it's probably a small group, however, - and as I mentioned earlier - Margaery is there, too, and they both respect her skills. She finds it amusing to watch them bicker when it's not interfering with their practice time. She is not afraid to scold them about them wasting time

Cardboard Stegosaurus

Cliff plays cello (I swear I'm not that biased- they just all give me cello vibes). He's in his own ensemble before meeting Maire-Claire

Marie-Claire plays either violin or harp, but I'm leaning towards violin. It mimics the voice, it can have such a sweet but intense sound; she steals the show and yet she is still so collaborative and knows how to work with a group so well and Cliff absolutely loves it (but she would also be so majestic with a harp so. Either or!)

Pierre plays viola or cello, too, but I'm actually leaning towards viola. Him and Marie-Claire used to do lots of duets together and they played in an ensemble together

Marie-Claire and Cliff meet at some kind of ensemble gathering together where they play in a group together and they are both just enamored by each other's playing and it goes from there.

I imagine they don't pressure Chip into playing any instruments, but he still wants to try. I think Marie-Claire would try to teach him some violin and maybe in the future if anything happens with Cliff and Pierre (because I kind of love them) Chip can pick up viola, too, and use what he learned about violin to transition to viola. Maybe he plays both - either way Pierre is impressed by how much Chip knows and probably recognizes the skills that he learned from Marie-Claire right away

Toby's Secret Pocket

Toby would play something really elegant. I could see him playing harp and being really proud of it - but I could also see him playing piano. Maybe he knows both

He could also compose music, that might make a little more sense (he'd probably play a bit, too, though)

I don't have any ideas for his wife yet, but I imagine she'd have some kind of role in the orchestra, too

Clancy and Doohickey, meanwhile, should be like, a really loud section. Either somewhere in the like band section (brass and woodwinds or whatever) or like. First violins. Something where they can fight about their positions all the time. I don’t know enough about band instruments to assign them any, though and I don't know if they fit violin

They also don't have to be in the same section, they could also be two different instruments always fighting about which instrument is better or which has better solos/pieces and stuff, which can do cooler things, that kind of stuff. They could have some funny stuff being at the front of their sections and constantly glaring at each other as they try to be the better player but also have to communicate so they just glare (I think they'd secretly respect each other's playing, though)

Jimmy can be there, too! I think he could play something like trombone, maybe. One of the brass instruments, I feel like. Or maybe we can give him a triangle. I think he’d like triangle. Regardless, he's just having a great time in the background

From here on I don't have as elaborate of ideas, but I still want to include them

Inside the Mysterious Cube

Jeremiah and Bubba I feel like would play something like the fiddle (which, fun fact, I'm pretty sure is literally just violin and all of the difference comes from the style of play, actually) or something like saxophone. Which, I know would make them be kind of out of place in an orchestra, but idk, I think it suits them for some reason

Regardless they just enjoy themselves. I feel like they'd do a lot of duets and things rather than like full group performances

Clarissa's DIY Wedding

Amanda could sing. I think she’d have a great singing voice. That or like. Bassoon??? Idk why I just like. I just see it.

Clarissa, meanwhile I could also see singing. But maybe she picks up another instrument. I could see her playing flute

I think they would have met when they were young at some kind of music camp or at a music class at school and they just hit it off and became best friends from there. I think they would have done some great duets when they were younger

Mark would either play one of the brass instruments or like, keyboard. Some kind of electric instrument. Or maybe percussion. Admittedly I don't have many ideas for him (and I know too little about band to give him an instrument...) but he should be there, too

Priscilla's Final Petal

Priscilla! She still plays piano, she still pretty young (maybe somewhere around 18), still pressured into it by her parents (probably getting her into college, too), and she’s good at it, but… she doesn’t enjoy it.

Because of this she doesn’t have much musicality (or like. Putting emotion into the music, kind of). She plays the notes on the page as they’re written and doesn't really try much else. It doesn't have much emotion and it sometimes hinders the performance.

Everyone in the orchestra worries about her because she doesn’t seem to enjoy herself… (I like to think they try to take care of her or at least check in on her because she's still pretty young compared to most of them and she doesn't seem to be enjoying herself, but she's a good kid - I feel like Derek especially would check in on her, but people like Amanda, Jeremiah and Bubba, and Cliff do, too - oh, and Margaery! She acts like she doesn’t care but she does)

One time she gets really angry during a rehearsal and just stands up and yells at the conductor (whoever that ends up being, I still don't know) about how much she hates music and playing and how dumb it all is. Maybe she throws her music to the ground, of which some sections are just scribbled frantically out, and she just walks out and doesn’t return for the next few rehearsals

I think she would just need to find out how to enjoy music on her own or find something else to do - maybe a different instrument, maybe something else entirely, who knows

Wild, Wet, and Worrisome

Persephone!!! Maybe she sings but she just isn't great at it. Or maybe she is but she doesn't like it all that much. But the others still like her, even if they can be a bit rude at times (her sisters can be there, too). In my mind she desires to play another instrument and hasn't gotten a chance to try anything different (for some reason I want to say flute)

Maybe that’s how she meets Geoff. Maybe he plays something else - percussion? They’re both a bit awkward and they still hit it off - I don't have many other ideas about them, though, but I want them to be there

And that's it for now! I really want to include Tarquin and Amanda from Lost In Your Eyes (who would've guessed), but I don't have any ideas for them yet... I kind of want to include Beetroot Sam/Rupert and Justin, too, cause I like them, but I'm not sure. Maybe the Bandit Brothers, too. Jemima, David, and Mr. Steven from Milkman could also fit in... Caesar and Juliet could join in on the baroque-style playing group. Nigel, Andrew, and Uncle Sam could be fun to put in there, too. I should probably go to sleep now, but I might add onto this later with more ideas for them as I think of them.

Thank you for reading my ramblings! Feel free to add more ideas, I'm now very invested in this AU. Maybe I'll write something for it in the future but I'm not sure (Also, I need ideas for a conductor... I keep forgetting… Conductor Nigel, maybe…? I don’t know)

[whump-in-the-closet]

Whump Tropes Associated with Weapons

Knife- "hold still"/ pressed up against a wall/ caught off guard/ manipulated/ "Ah, ah, ah I wouldn't do that if I were you"/ blood dripping off hands/ facial scars/ blade tracing over the skin/ the sound of whimpering but with no one to hear/ betrayal/ left for dead

Crowbar- gasping/ concussions/ broken ribs and fractured bones/ a tooth spat out/ glaring up at the captor only to flinch back/ "we can do whatever we like, we just can't kill you"/ massive bruises/ powerful enemies/ falling into the enemy's hands/ used for bait/ raw defiance that cannot be beaten

Bare Fists- friends to enemies/ "for old times sake"/ kicked while still down/ black eyes/ manhandling/ backhanded slap/ friends knowing exactly how to hurt the other/ thrown against a wall/ a civilized fight turning into a brawl/ forced to fight

Syringe- kept in a lab/ deprived of privacy and humanity/ drugged/ restrained/ inhuman whumpee/ reduced to a shadow of their former selves/ deemed a threat/ public humiliation/ "You've got the wrong person!"

Gun- clubbed with pistol butt/ tilting chin up with the muzzle of the gun/ "Don't move"/ kidnapped/ found in an alleyway/ shot through the leg/ cursing/ not worth the struggle/ losing hope/ fatal mistake/ running their mouth until told to shut up/ hissed threats/ the cold detachment of the metal against their skin/ flight fight or freeze instinct kicking in

[otaku-tyriq]

Genuine Question: Logan Hurt/Comfort

So this is a genuine question regarding how y’all feel about this specific idea i had.

Basically we know Logan obv has an INSANE healing ability but that does not mean he is incapable of feeling pain.

So I was thinking what about a Hurt/comfort Stormverine or Poolverine fanfic where Logan suffers from Phantom Pains after getting injured? Cuz technically the wound has long healed up yet he still feels the pain although logically speaking he shouldn’t. And he knows he shouldn’t.

For extra angst maybe the pain comes from his claws? His claws are sheathed, his hands have healed, he technically should not be in pain yet he feels the blades ripping through his flesh nonetheless.

I got the idea while rewatching X-men (2008) with my friend Stephan recently and this scene stuck with me.

I hope that anything I’m saying makes even remotely sense, but TLDR; Wolverine having Phantom Pains despite (on maybe exactly because of) his insane healing powers, getting comforted by either Deadpool, Storm or whoever you desire, because this old man deserves to be loved.

(Gif by @filmslut)

[stickeykeys]

maybe this is a lil controversial, but i feel like as a community we just need to... just stop thinking that stuff we read about shifting is bible, if that makes sense.

you can read advice and follow it, of course!! following advice is great, but shifting is built on the principle of intention and you're own mind. nothing governs that but yourself.

there are no rules, you can do whatever you want, just set your intention.

you don't need a safe word, because if you set the intention you will come back to your cr.

you don't need to script beause if you set an intention of what you want to happen, it will.

as long as you have the intention to shift somewhere, you will. that's as simple as it is, that's the basic principle.

[scraemoo]

I'm reading through explanations of the Odyssey (specifically if Odysseus went to the underworld or not (he didn't)) and then I found something interesting:

It reminded me of Twenty One Pilots and Tyler's phrase "East is up". Twenty One Pilots discusses many mentally challenging experiences which include the discussion of life and death.

My theory is that, if Tyler took inspiration by that belief that the West portrays death, he wanted to portray East as life and something he motivates the listeners to strive and look for.

Addititonally the "up" from "East is up" can indicate a portrayal that we are currently stuck in our own problems, much like a bird in a cage, or an insect caged in a jar. Insects try to crawl up to try and get free. Birds fly up to try to avoid the danger on the grounds and have a greater view from above.

Therefore "East is up" is a symbol of freedom that can only be achieved by following this destination on a journey. May it be alone or in a swarm.

Thanks for listening to my TED talk

[phantompages]

I really really enjoy ageswap AUs and would love to take a crack at one myself honestly. It's fun seeing different ideas and takes on things, and I like seeing kid Reigen being a little shit. So I keep thinking about how Serizawa in canon is essentially what Shigeo would be like had he not had Reigen to help him out as a kid, and so in an ageswap au I can see Shigeo ending up a hikikomori, never leaving his room/apartment for anything other than perhaps the barest necessities.

Perhaps one time on a short, midnight run to the local 24/7 convenience store to stock up on food for the next few weeks, Shigeo sees something, just close enough to notice the movement out of the corner of his eye. Some kid with a mop of blond hair turned a dull silver in the pale moonlight and luminescent street lamps lurking around alleyways armed with a bag of salt, saying something about melting evil spirits.

It's an odd sight, but it's none of his business. He wasn't expecting anyone out at this hour, which is why he went out for food at this time, so he moves to leave, just go back home and not go out for the next long, long while.

And then an actual evil spirit shows up, making Shigeo's hair stand on end from the sudden burst of spiritual energy, and the kid makes a startled noise that catches his attention. There's not a lick of psychic energy in that kid, and there's a rather nasty spirit looming over him. It's not like Shigeo can just leave him be, the table salt the kid is violently throwing isn't even doing anything. He could get hurt.

The spirit ends up exorcized, perhaps a bit more explosively than Shigeo would have liked but it's been a long time since he used his powers. Of course this catches the kid's attention, and when said kid turns around to notice this haggard looking man in pajamas at 1 AM with convenience store bags and standing near the entrance to a sketchy alleyway the kid decides that clearly the best course of action is to run directly up to him and start chattering about "Did you do that?! Are you a psychic?!" Shigeo tries making a run for it but this is a man who barely leaves his apartment and hasn't exercised since he was like 13 or 14 for PE classes so the kid catches up embarrassingly quickly.

The kid enthusiastically introduces himself as Reigen Arataka; Rising Star of the Psychic World and soon to be Greatest Psychic of the 21st Century. The kid, Reigen, goes on and on about how he was looking around for an evil spirit he's heard about from classmates at Salt Middle and from gossiping housewives he's passed by, and obviously since spirits are more active at night it's a great idea to go looking then.

And since Shigeo's a psychic, that means he has to teach this kid how to use psychic powers. Obviously.

Shigeo is not thrilled at the idea. Using his powers right then was a one time deal and he's not going to use them ever again because he'll explode and hurt everyone and-

But Reigen's not going to take no for an answer, he gives Shigeo a card for a sketchy looking business called Spirits & Such, run by one Kurata Tome. Reigen says that's where he's working after school and on weekends, and that he'll be taking Shigeo there the next day. Somehow, Reigen manages to get Shigeo's name and address from him before prancing off into the night like it's a totally normal thing for a what, 13?? year old to be doing. Shigeo goes home for the night, that was way too much interaction for him for the next decade. And it's not like that kid will actually remember this and show up at his apartment, right?

Shigeo wakes up to insistent rings of the doorbell some time in the afternoon, and he's content to just not answer but damn that is loud and persistent and just wont stop ringing so he begrudgingly cracks the door open to find Reigen in all his like 5'1" glory ready to drag Shigeo out of his apartment and to Spirits & Such, calling him Shishou all the while.

So it turns out this Kurata person recognizes his name as that kid who refused to join her Telepathy Club in Middle School, which is awkward. Shigeo's not quite sure how he got here, getting a job and a makeover even (Kurata insisted she cut his hair rather than let Reigen handle the scissors) but Reigen's persistent enough that he finds himself falling more into a routine working at S&S, and it's... it's nice, actually. He's finding his anxieties quelling and himself relaxing more, and talking with Kurata and Reigen isn't all that bad. He's getting himself back on his feet. Reigen is impressive with how he speaks with customers and a part of Shigeo wishes he could do that, wishes he could speak so clearly and understand people so easily. He's working on it, bit by bit.

And then he finds himself questioning his life choices because of a spirit haunting an all-girl's high school, shutting down a cult and gaining a sentient fart cloud as a companion, running into a TV celebrity who happens to also be an esper, and a whole lot of other things go down that leaves Shigeo's head spinning.

[doodle-stroodle]

Ooh, so more on the TOH au:

What if when Will meets Mike, what if he had blonde hair?? (This’ll sound really shady but stick with me)

Yk how Ariana Grande has that really blonde hair rn and it makes her look washed out? Imagine that but with Mike. After he starts dating Will, it sort of brings light into his life and he changes his hair back to Black and it makes him look way livelier.

I thought about it when I was first designing the two, but didn’t fully commit to the idea because it felt to far from our og Mike 😭

I’m gonna draw it later 💪

Also feel free to add your own thoughts abt the au, I love hearing other people’s ideas!! <33

[kalosian-woods]

Oh yes please, more Clemont lore where you at🙏

Arghhh, where do I even begin?? ^^'

Clemont is pretty interesting as a guy when you consider what the anime decided to give us (very little). When he was a wee lad he got sent to the academy (is it caps? is it a uni? idk) by his father, and presumably Bonnie was pretty young at that time with the whole way that Ms Eclair was talking about her. I personally want to believe that Clemont didn't make as much friends as he claimed in-canon, because, I mean, look at him! He's a young little kid walking around with the big kids and having a vocabulary set wider than most of these people combined. While they're learning about circuits he's creating laser rays. And with his disposition and introverted personality I doubt he went out of his way to socialise, which is why I feel like he clicked with Shinx a whole bunch. Rare Electric Type who likes to play around? That's best friend material to baby Clemont right there, no questions asked. Why would he need anyone else?

Before then, though, I'm totally going with what the teraleak gave us about Clemont and Bonnie's mother about how she died with childbirth. Gonna be real with you here, I didn't think about the mother much while I was watching through the first time-- so many anipoke kids just don't have full sets of parents, if any, that it's hard to see it as a glaring absence. But the mother being gone in such a way really casts a very interesting light on the family's dynamics and the way they interact with the world around them (even if it is morbid): with Meyer being very hands-free with the kids and letting them grow however they want to (and not relying on him...), Bonnie asking out those girls for Clemont to have a support system and find someone who he can connect to, Clemont just being a worrywart in and of itself and trying to plan for every eventuality... it all stacks up heh. Going to go a little further with this and say that the mother might even have a connection with the Gym, which can explain why Clemont and Bonnie stay there more than, idk, their actual family home and Clemont taking up the position as early as he did. As a last place of connection, if anything else.

I also love love love the idea of Clemont being first interested in springs and that's how his father kinda started him on the path of ✨ inventions and science ✨ lol. Just imagine a little Clem just wandering around the shop getting a bunch of tools and holing himself up in his room. After the twenty-third time, Meyer had to stop Ampharos from being in charge of the toolbox for the next few years because clearly it was being biased (and couldn't resist baby eyes) (who was he kidding, he was the same way too). It was a really good father-and-son bonding activity except that of course Meyer had to mind the shop and the finances and a crying baby Bonnie, and he didn't want Clemont to be left alone or hamper his creativity or make him rely on his old man for too long.

And that's how, after some time, he had to make the decision to send that kid to a school that can help expand his horizons. After some searching the academy seemed to be the perfect place, and, well, Clemont seemed to really enjoy it. He looked so happy, in his element, away from home.

Meyer just wanted his kids to live a good life.

Clemont on the other hand was initially very scared and didn't know what to do, especially since the academy was pretty out there and nothing like busy and formal Lumiose. People gossiped, natural treelines existed and the closest people to him were his instructors. But, of course, Shinx made it a ton easier and he learnt to have fun and got all absorbed in the whole thing; he still had frequent video calls to home and missed his family, but he was growing here as well. And people seemed to think he was good, better, greater than, so he had to live up to those expectations.

Yadda yadda the whole ceremony problem and Clemont lost Shinx, got grand but ultimately empty accolades, and was (to his own perception at least) forced out of the academy and back into Lumiose. And that whole culture shock along with losing his only friend along with finally seeing his family again but they're older, it's different now that he can touch them, might've really startled Clemont a lot. He goes and retreats into himself and his room, building inventions day after day because that's what he's supposed to do, and catches his own Electric Pokemon as soon as he possibly could.

Bonnie doesn't really know any better because her memories are sort of hazy with the pre-academy life, but she knows that something is up, at least a little. She endeavours to make her big bro smile and laugh and get all chatty again and her first choice is getting him hooked up. What? He clearly needs a ladies touch to get him outside, that's what all the boys and girls are about (Lilia a few seasons away from shaking up that worldview lol). And Meyer? Well, he just thinks that it's the cost of growing up. Who is he to say that it's wrong? It's Clemont's choice, no matter what it is. As long as he's not, oh, I don't know, hanging off Prism Tower then everything is all right.

And speaking off, moving into Prism Tower looked like a pretty easy affair considering how most of the time the gang sleeps over at Meyer's when they're in Lumiose City. I feel like there isn't much space for beds around there but Clemont can sleep on anything (/deg) and he gave Bonnie the good bed and the good room. Prism Tower just looks very minimalist to me, if you catch my drift. Like how does he have room for the Gym (one whole level), the lab and all of his gear?? And not offer his friends space here?? Eh that's a question for another time. But yeah, I lost my point here lol. But we know the rest anyways with what happened at the Gym after a while...

Of course, I'm going to expand on this as I go through this series and rewatch XY like 10 more times + some ideas I want to keep to myself until the fics pop up, but for now these are pretty good starting points heh. My brain is fuzzy so there might be more ideas?? But I wanted to get these out and let you have some fun while waiting for the next fics (taking forever with my workload as it is). Thanks a lot for the question though, I've got to do a Clem appreciation/analysis post one day <33 :D

[indieblueart]

do u have any thoughts/headcanons on how plural chasing/grey wind would work?

Ohhhh buddy I have so many thoughts

(Disclaimer: I am not plural and my knowledge of plurality is limited as such. I’ve done research and taken notes from systems I’ve seen online, but what I know may not be perfect or representative of all systems. If there are any systems who read this post and would like to add on/correct me, you are free to do so.)

So! Plural Wind.

My hc is that plural Wind developed as a response to an incredibly argumentative and demanding colony of ancients. Several large factions divided the city, and even though Wind had been built very recently, each one demanded different things of Wind while simultaneously telling them not to answer the requests of the other factions. Wind was constantly bombarded with new messages, arguments, and specifications from a young age, which started to weigh heavily on them.

The stress of dealing with the colony, on top of working on the Great Problem and trying to communicate with other iterators, caused them to develop their plurality, as well as OCD.

Their main alters, or the ones that front the most, are Grey and Chasing, with Grey being more compliant, friendly, and polite versus Chasing being more upfront, direct, and stubborn. They have several more alters that front occasionally, including Swift Wind, Quiet Wind, and Red Wind, although they’re less developed.

On a lighter note, one of the last things (and one of the few nice things) Wind got from the ancients was the ability to change their body color.

They use this to distinguish who’s fronting at a given time, and can also change their name in the chat logs to reflect different alters as well.

As for some headcanons…

They keep a large amount of meticulously organized blank pearls in their chamber so they can write messages for themselves

They can only change color to grey or grey-adjacent tones, and they can also change the color of their inspectors and overseers

Neither Chasing Wind or Grey Wind was their original title

[zroqravity]

Pieces I saw at the museum in Amsterdam today and the fanart I'd make out of them if I had the time and talent to pull it off:

(Featuring jrwi riptide and dndads odyssey)

Empress malice and the stone statues

The doodler at the top middle, most important npcs from the campaign in the 4 side circles, the anchors in the semi circles, the dads, the most important charecter development moment for them and their sons in decending order under their respective anchor

Erin's birds from the witch is dead

May ferin with birds instead of the dog/ Ron's mom and rogue

Jay in anastasias arms at grimms mansion and chip/gill as the lady watching

Jay and May ferin family portrait from when Jay was a baby

Map of mana

More pieces that would make fire fanart but I didn't have a specific vision for

[umamaki]

cw: lowk red flag caleb lol, virginity loss

Caleb is pissed when you get asked out for the first time. He had deliberately warned everyone in both of your social circles to stay away from you. Not without threats of violence or death, either. So yeah, he’s pissed as fuck when you tell him. Did he have to burn the whole world down merely to keep you all to himself? To protect you from perverts and creeps?

But, unfortunate and naive, you were so damn excited for this date. He couldn’t spoil your mood. Not when you asked him which dress to wear—both of them too short for his liking—and certainly not when you asked him to zip up the back for you.

There was just something about how you looked, all dolled up and cute to see someone who wasn’t him. He can already barely control himself around you; even the thought of another man having access to you like this makes him utterly sick. “It’s just not a good idea. All guys want the same thing.”

“You’re a guy aren’t you, Caleb? So what, are you telling me you’re like that too? Hmm?” He wants to wipe the playful smile off your face. You just think everything’s some fucking game.

“He’s gonna want to kiss you. Touch you. Fuck you. Have you ever been fucked? Huh, pipsqueak?”

He thinks he went too far then, notes the way your eyes widen and lips slightly part. You shake your head, but he already knows. He knows everything about you. So when you ask if he can help you, give you some advice, he knows exactly how he will.

“So naive, let me just show you.” He smashes his lips against yours. The force would’ve sent you falling backwards had he not steadied you with his hand on the small of your back.

“This is how to kiss…” he mutters it into your mouth, not caring that your teeth are hitting each other.

“And this…” he lifts your skirt just enough so that he can pull your panties to the side and slide his fingers along your puffy folds. “This is how it feels to be fingered.”

“Ah—Caleb!” You squeal when he fully plunges his finger in deeper than your own fingers ever could. He adds another, and soon the room is filled with your moans and the lewd squelch of his fingers thrusting in and out of your soaked pussy.

His lips are back on yours, and this time his tongue is shoved inside your mouth, claiming it. He goes faster when he feels your walls clench around him, and lets you grip his biceps while you come around his fingers and leave behind crescent shaped indents on his arms.

He nearly throws you on the bed, eager to yank off your underwear and free himself from his own boxers, wasting no time in aligning his tip to your still sensitive cunt.

“This is how to take it like a good fucking girl.” You try your best to relax, to be so good for him as he buries himself into you. He lets you get used to his size, going slow. Not moving until you practically beg him to, then there’s no going back. He’s brutally snapping his hips against yours and watching your tits bounce through your dress.

“Already gonna come on my cock? You really are inexperienced. Can’t even control yourself. Go on then. Fucking. Come.” With two last jerks of his hips, your climax washes over you and he tries so fucking hard to delay his own orgasm. He begins to pull out but your legs lock him in place. He cums on the spot—still inside you.

“Don’t care that I ruined your dress? How you gonna go on your date now, baby?”

“Hm. Guess I have to cancel,” you say, faux disappointment coating your words.

He pauses. “There was no date.”

“There was no date.” You confirm, wearing that same stupid grin from before. Luckily your schedule is free, because he has a hell of a punishment waiting for you after that.

[starry-bi-sky]

haha tags have a 140 character count and a max 30 tag limit, not that i would know anything about reaching max of that....

whole ass fucking backstory is PHENOMENAL-

TY!!!! If you want I gave that whole backstory its own post which, there's nothing NEW to the post other than I gave the rogue cultivator that adopted Xin Yuan a name -- Lin Kai -- and i gave XY a childhood best friend, Liu Zhihao, who I shamelessly based off Liu Qingge. Are they ancestors?? Perhaps. They certainly share a resemblance, not that SY will know since this world's Liu Qingge has passed already.

Altho it'd be so very fun in the tragic sense if SY saw Liu Mingyan and has to do SUCH a sharp doubletake because regardless of the veil concealing half her face, the half he CAN see reminds him so sharply of his dear Xiao Zhi that its like he was slapped in the face. And yk he's purposely avoided thinking about the family he left behind for the last,,, thousand years or so,,,, so he's very rapidly overwhelmed with a bittersweet sense of grief.

LBH talks to LMY for some reason or another and is so surprised when, for the first time ever, Xin Mo isn't roiling in seething jealousy. He's not sulking, or pouting, or emanating discomfort. He's uncharacteristically calm, and if LBH searches, he can catch passing glimpses of grief?? Xin Mo refuses to comment when LBH asks him about it.

(TL:DR; Xin Yuan and Liu Zhihao promised to ascend together prior to Xin Yuan getting sworded, and traveled together constantly when they were adults. LZH was XY's best friend.)

Anyways-- the Shang Qinghua and Xin Mo friendship is probably one of my favorite ideas for this au specifically because neither of them are willing to provide context?? About why they're all of a sudden friends now?? Whenever LBH is in the northern empire, Xin Mo is either sheathed at his hip, or off bothering SQH for reasons unforetold.

Shen Yuan is sprawled across one of the chairs in SQH's provided Spy Office either bitching about some dumb wifeplot they came across, bothering SQH about what Cang Qiong Mountain sect is like -- bc cmon he's SO curious about it, and he wants to know about the peak lords before they're all slaughtered in binghe's quest for revenge, OR they're complaining about their systems or about missing modern amenities. Albeit Xin Mo's memory is probably much fuzzier than SQH's in that regard since he's centuries old.

"Oh yeah I forgot about that" is a bit of a common phrase. Shang Qinghua is probably the first person -- outside of Binghe, although its up in the air whether or not Xin Mo would be that willingly emotionally honest about his past -- to know that Xin Mo was once Xin Yuan. Of which SQH inelegantly goes "WHAT?!"

Add a new conversation topic: SQH bugging SY about what his world was like a thousand years ago and verifying which epic about Xin Yuan is real and which is blown out of proportion nonsense. It's like pulling teeth though, Xin Mo would like to Ignore His Past ty. He is an epic demonic sword now, epic demonic swords don't have families or friends or lost loved ones.

It's actually not that well known that Xin Mo has cultivated a human form I think. Nothing more than a rumor, actually. Xin Mo doesn't take human form unless he's certain that the area they're in is secure. He knows that Binghe can handle himself very well on his own, but still -- it makes him twitchy.

Binghe has to coax Xin Mo out of the sword at every lord's house they take sanctuary in, and at every camp they set up in. It's a coin toss whether or not he's successful, and depends on a ton of different variables. Wifeplots, Binghe's physical state, the terrain, etc. Once Binghe takes over the underground palace, Xin Mo starts to make more physical appearances.

Once they reach the mortal realm is a new ballpark though. Xin Mo has a huge demonic presence that's easier to suppress as a sword -- but as a human? That's a different story. It's probably where Xin Mo finally reveals that he can take in spiritual qi, he just never mentioned it before because it wasn't relevant. Also, his spiritual meridians were in far worse shape than the demonic ones. The equivalent of atrophied muscles from a thousand years of disuse.

I'll need some time to figure out how that works, but eventually Xin Mo is able to cultivate enough spiritual energy to, for lack of better words, switch forms. He can't go by Xin Mo in either human or sword form since that'll certainly raise a few eyebrows, so he tells Binghe to refer to him as Sha Yuan.

Also, Binghe takes one step into the human realm when Xin Mo quite literally throws himself out of the sword and collapses onto the ground. LBH is alarmed for all of thirty seconds, before Xin Mo says "I haven't seen the sun in a thousand years" in this breathy, astonished voice, like he doesn't mean to say it out loud. His fingers are kneading the grass, and he's pressing back into the ground like he's trying to sink into the dirt.

Luo Binghe lets him stay like that for as long as he'd like.

Svsss au where Shen Yuan transmigrated as Xin Mo. Yes, that Xin Mo. Obviously Shen Yuan is pissed at this development and tried to kick up a storm but can't because sword so he is stuck waiting for Luo Binghe to show up.

After dealing with the occasional demon and mindless boredom of being just a sword, Binghe shows up. Shen Yuan is just ready to throw himself at him so they can finally get out of the abyss and the rest of the plot to happen. Binghe is surprised to learn the super powerful sword that can rip through time and space is a chill dude that wants Shen Qingqiu's castration a little too much.

Eventually through the power of the system, Soul Eater logic, or straight up complaining to God himself (sqh), Shen Yuan gets the ability to transform into a humanoid form and Luo Binghe officially needs him carnally. Shen Yuan is so happy to have hands again that he totally missed how Binghe was looking at him.

Rest the au goes on with Shen Yuan pushing Binghe to get the plot going, trying to get him to get his empire, revenge, and wives as Binghe is trying to figure out swordception.

[fabled-fiction]

Cregan Stark x Targaryen daughter of Rhaenyra

I don’t have a deep plot but I do have an idea. What if reader takes the place of Jace and flies to encourage Cregan like in the recent episode and he’s mesmerized by her beauty? 👀 Something along those lines — feel free to add or change it! ☺️ Thanks!

Snowflakes, Stolen Looks, and Beating Hearts

(Cregan Stark x Strong!Reader)

Summary: When you are sent with your brother Jacaerys to meet up with the Lord in the North, Cregan Stark, some feeling being to make the both of you light headed and forget just exactly what duty calls from the both of you. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: MAYBE POSSIBLE SPOILER ISH FOR EP 1. Yearning, possible OOC for Cregan (love does things to a man can you blame him??), Use of (Y/N)

A/N: This took…too long to write. I wanted to make this a yearning lovesick-y fic of Cregan that I have been DYING for and kept mulling over all the details. BUT ALAS it is here, I hope it filled your request and you all enjoy!!

You never thought that you would see snow.

You always wished to see it, having heard of its beauty. Ice falling from the sky in beautifully small flakes that seemed to be sewn together by the gods.

Looking at the palm of your hand, you smiled as you studied the pattern of the snowflake. Its exquisite beauty only lasting mere seconds as it began to melt into the valleys of your skin. A small frown made its way in place of your smile as you temporarily mourned the flake, before you wiped your hand on your cloak.

To think this place was blanketed in such beauty for the entire year.

Just ahead, Jace took a glance over his shoulder as he stared at the spectacle that was you. You stood next to your dragon, still as ever letting the snow collect on your hair and shoulders. You looked statue-esque as you continued to catch snowflakes, admiring them before they met their inevitable fate. Lost in your own world as you took a moment to forget about everything that had been plaguing you for the past few months.

He wished he could do the same, even for just a moment. Arriving at Winterfell, had him feeling on edge. For his whole life Jacaerys had protected you, feeling it was his duty to make sure nothing ever hurt you. The both of you, him being the first son of Queen Rhaenyra and you the first and only daughter, had grown up to know the true meaning of duty. This alone had bonded the two of you practically to the hip, it did not matter that you were older than him.

Looking back at you, he smiled as he saw how much snow had collected on your hair…people could mistake you for a “true” Targaryen…

That alone reminded him of the reason they were there.

“(Y/N)...c’mon we mustn't be even more late than we already are to meet with Lord Stark. Nightfall will be upon us yet…”

He watched as you finally looked up from the palm of your hand and sighed. Shaking the snow off of your head and shoulders, you rushed to meet his pace.

“I must say, I quite like this cold. It's much better than the humidity we face on Dragonstone.”

This earned a chuckle from Jacaerys. “Is that what you think of now? Not what to say to Lord Stark? What words to sew together to ensure he is our ally?”

“I do not need to take such action. Diplomacy comes easy to me. Besides, the Starks are known to be loyal to a fault.”

That much was true. Jace wasn’t entirely sure why he felt such anxiety with this meeting. It could have been that the simple act of ensuring allyship meant that war was truly upon your house. Or perhaps it could have simply just been that he did not wish to look a fool aside you as you expertly made your way through conversation with Lord Stark despite this being your first meeting. Since the both of you were small you had a knack for persuading people with your words. The Silver Tongued Dragon, you had been known as not long after this talent was found out.

Yes, he had nothing to fear. This would all go smoothly.

“Lord Stark, Prince Jacaeyrs Velaryon and Princess (Y/N) Velaryon of House Velaryon have arrived.”

Cregan nodded to the squire, straightening his cloak as he strapped Ice to his back.

This meeting in particular was one he was not too entirely worried about. House Stark had bent the knee to King Visery’s when he named his daughter as heir to the iron throne. This matter had been in the back of Cregan’s mind, with many more pressing matters being his top priority. He supposed that is why he often did not make the best first impressions, as his priorities were not that of the common list that many found themselves concerned with. He did not take an immediate interest in the pursuit of heirs or of ensuring that the house had a formidable reputation. Duty was his priority.

This meeting was a matter of formality to him. To ensure that he would stand behind Queen Rhanerya and support her in whatever way he could, without crippling the defenses on the Wall.

His hands reached back to tie his hair halfway up, his eyes focusing on the black ice of the steps. As his fingers struggled to snap the band around, he finally looked up to meet the faces of the two young dragons.

When his eyes met yours, everything seemed to stop.

It was as if the snows knew to freeze this moment over, so he could have the chance to meet your eye.

Cregan Stark had heard of the beauty of the old Valyria. He listened to the stories men shared of the silver haired house that brought out the darkest of temptations of man. How their men and women held a grace about them that had wives and husbands lust for just the touch of their hand on theirs.

As he looked at you, he felt that those stories were watered down backswill of a drunkard. There was not a word within the all known language of the Seven Kingdoms that could describe what he felt in this moment as he had the fortune to lay his eye upon you. He felt his grip on the banister tighten as he took in the sight of you. You, who looked up at him with the most mesmerizing beautiful eyes that only looked at him. 

It wasn't until he saw the rise and fall of your own chest did he remember to breathe.

“Lord Stark, It's an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Looking over at your brother, Cregan cleared his throat as he made his way down the stairs to properly shake his hand.

“The honor is all mine, to host the both of you here. My apologies for the weather, but it is the North.”

His accent stuck out to you. On Dragonstone and even throughout the Keep, when you had stayed there once upon a time, people often shrouded themselves in uppity falsehoods. Either to seem as if they were meant to truly walk amongst you, or to be someone entirely different from whence they came. It was part of the reason why you were so glad to have fled to Dragonstone, there were not as many falsehoods there.

So to see Cregan Stark have no fear in brandishing his weaponry, and speak to you in the laced tongue of the North was refreshing. You were drawn to the way he felt as if the niceties of royalty were second thought. As if the both of you could afford to toss aside pleasantries. It made you smile.

There was something else to be said about the Northerner. Just the way he stood before the both of you alone was enough action to intrigue you.

“Lady Velaryon, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

When his hand enveloped yours, you felt your breath catch in your throat. His eyes did not leave yours, as he lifted your knuckles to his lips.

“I wish it under other circumstances, Lord Stark.”

Giving him a small smile, the two of you stood there eye in eye. He had yet to let go of your hand as the two of you held each other there. When you stood this close to him you were able to get a better look at the man they had named Wolf of the North. Cregan Stark stood before you, dressed in fur and leather, bowing as he held your hand. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter as he held your eye. A flurry of grey and blue looked at you, purely you, and you couldn't help but feel as if that's all he wanted to do. Just as you stood there now, feeling consumed by the eye of the storm and wanting nothing more but to throw yourself to the whims of the winds.

“Lord Stark, Is there somewhere more private we could discuss?”

Feeling the hot stare of Jacaerys gaze on you, you regrettably took your hand from Cregan’s grasp. The imprint of his warmth on your skin remained, even through the leather, making you bring your hand to your chest as you bowed your head to him quickly.

Clearing his throat, Cregan looked at Jacaerys with a nod before motioning to the large metal lift.

“ ‘Course, let us talk atop the Wall.”

Jacaery’s held your eye for a moment as the both of you followed the Wolf. His eyes held a question within them as the two of you silently spoke. He had watched that whole scene unfold, having been a bystander to the tension that grew with every second that Cregan held your gaze. You simply rolled your eyes as you shoved him before following the Northerner into the metal cage.

Closing your eyes, you froze for a moment to feel the northern winds run through your hair and cloak. Snowflakes found themselves resting on you again, drawn to the warmth that ran through your Targaryen blood. As the lift brought you higher and higher into the sky, level with where you flew your dragon, it almost felt as if the air in your lungs crystallized.

“So tell me Lord Stark, What is this that falls from the sky and shivers my bones? Is it not still summer throughout the isles of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Cregan was so lost in his jealousy of the snowflakes that rested upon your skin that he almost didn't hear you speak. It wasn't until you had opened your eyes and looked at him through your lashes did he realize you had addressed him.

“This is only a late summer snow, my princess. In the true winter it will cover all you see, any memories you hold of warmth will be forgotten.”

“Sounds..hauntingly beautiful. Whilst this is my first time seeing snow it is my understanding that this is not the first time our ancestors have met here to treat? If I am correct it was the…Conqueror and the King in the North?” 

Jacaerys felt a relief fall over his shoulders as he heard you expertly laced the matter at hand into conversation. His eyes landed on Cregan as he watched the man hang onto every word you spoke. Not once had he looked at Jacaerys after the three of you stepped into the lift. His eyes never left you even before you spoke. He would like to think that it was because of the presence and attention you demanded. He had seen it many a time before, people could not look away from you whenever you entered a room, and their fates were often sealed after you had started to speak.

But, something else lay within his gaze. Jacaerys had seen that look before. The look of total awe and devotion to the other.

It was the same exact look he gave Baela.

“Surely the great Torrhen Stark would have sooner died than bent the knee. Unless of course he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms?” 

Cregan looked over to Jacaerys with a sigh. This meeting was meant for diplomacy, he had to remind himself of this as he looked to the Prince. He felt a crease grow within his brow as the three of you walked throughout the icy walkways of the top of the wall.

When your hand reached to hold his arm, he felt a fire light in his chest at your touch alone. It was as if you took all his pain and worry, forbidding it from plaguing him. When he took the opportunity to look over at you, he felt the ice in his veins thaw. 

“What my brother is getting at, Lord Stark, is that there is a threat upon the unity to the Seven Kingdoms. One that would tear the realm apart if the men and women who swore an oath to our grandfather do not remember who the rightful heir is. You understand our concerns do you not?”

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my princess…”

Looking at your hand placed on the crook of his elbow, he swallowed as he rested his hand atop yours.

“Can we depend on your men if the time comes that the Hightowers declare war upon our mother’s claim to the throne?”

Looking at Jacaerys, Cregan swallowed. He should not have felt torn, but he did. He needed his men here, to defend the wall from that which dared to plague Westeros. There were forces that lay in wait, that threatened the sanctity of not only the North but the South as well. He did not wish for his duty to falter in this dire time of need. But he had seen the worry in your eye. He knew that you were dependent on the power of the North if your mother’s throne, if you family was meant to remain the next in line. Another part of him wanted to promise whatever he could, whatever you needed just at the drop of the word.

“You must understand my hesitation, my Prince. Whilst I wish for nothing more than to offer you the whole of which the North has to offer, I must keep my army here to defend the Wall. Do you think my ancestors built a seven hundred foot wall to keep out snow and savages?”

As the three of you approached a divet within the wall, all of a sudden a very overwhelming dread filled your stomach. Looking over the edge, you saw nothing but a vast forest, covered in snow. But for some reason, the dragon within you faltered. Every sense you had was screaming at you to back away from the ledge that you took further steps towards. 

“What does it keep out?” Jace asked, as he felt his heart fall in his chest at the sight of you taking a closer step to the edge of the Wall.

“Death.”

You took a moment to look over your shoulder at Cregan once hearing the declaration. You had heard stories about the meeting place that took place here. How when King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne stood in your very spot, their dragons refused to cross the threshold. It made your stomach drop just at the idea of there being something more beyond the wall. That was a thought for another time however.

Both Jace and Cregan watched as you stood still as a statue once more, looking over the land of the North.

“I understand your hesitation to pull your men from the Wall, Lord Stark. It is quite the responsibility you have here,” Taking a step back, you swallowed as you smoothed your hair back. Jace offered you a hand to steady yourself as you took a few steps back from the edge.

“All we ask is that you provide whatever you can when the time comes. In return I personally can promise you’ll have mine when needed.”

Cregan sighed as he looked between the Wall and you. That alone had just sealed his fate, that he truely would give you whatever you needed, especially now knowing that you felt a duty to protect what was his as well. He could see it in your eyes when you looked over that edge. You believe his tales of things that lurked in the dark, just as he believed you when it came to the vile words of treachery.

The both of you would need the other soon enough yet.

“I can offer you thousands of greybeards. They have seen far too many winters, having grown a distaste for the cold. Their skills are well honed, and they can be ready to fight at a moment's notice. They will fight hard for you, like Northerners.”

There was a visible tension that dropped from the both of your and Jace’s shoulders after his words. Your brother rested his hand on your shoulder as you clasped your hands together in front of you. Jace then reached forward to shake Cregan’s hand with both of his.

“Thank you Lord Stark. Your promises will not be forgotten.”

Finding your way beside the both of them, you clapped your hand on both their shoulders with a beaming smile.

“Lets celebrate shall we?”

-

He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You sat across the table, the warmth of the candle light that lit up the meeting hall suiting itself well on your cheeks. You had settled in well at the opposite head of the table, chatting with other Northern women. You were content, from as well as he could tell.

His eyes hadn’t left you since the minute you found yourself in his halls, drinking his wine and eating his food. There was something that stirred in the pits of his stomach as he…provided for you. In the ways of war and also in the niceties of comfort. You had taken well to both, and he planned to bathe in your presence for as long as he could before you took your inevitable departure.

After that he wasn’t sure he would see you again ever.

While he should have been fine with that, as he had told himself a multitude of times that courting and the ways of society were well beyond his interests, something made him sick at the idea of letting you just slip away because of some silly notions he had been telling himself. You had bewitched him at first glance, and as he had taken in more of your presence throughout the day he could rightfully say that you had taken up a space in his mind if not in its entirety. 

His hand gripped his chin tighter at these thoughts alone.

“Lord Stark…” 

Shaking his head, he looked over to see your brother standing beside him.

“My prince, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jace motioned to the chair besides Cregan, sitting down as the Lord motioned him. Taking one last look at you, as you laughed aloud at whatever the person holding your attention had said, he figured he could spare a moment of his attention being somewhere else.

“I just wanted to come by and thank you once again for pledging your support. I know it was not your responsibility to ease my anxieties but you did anyway, and I am grateful for it.”

He gave a curt smile to the prince, turning his body to face him to ensure that he was indeed involved in whatever conversation Jacaerys had meant to begin. However that could not be further from the truth as his mind began to wander.

“A Stark never forgets their oath. I would not be the man I am today had I intended to ever break it. “

“I figured as much. My sister said quite the same thing when we arrived, she being the more faithful one.”

Cregan smiled at the comment, taking another look over to you. You were alone in thought now, whoever you were speaking with having taken your attention for granted no doubt and departing to enjoy the festivities that were about. You were looking out the window, taking in the snow of the North like you had been earlier that day.

“She the smarter of the two of you hmm?” He quipped, smirking as he watched Jace chuckle to himself.

“She is the smartest out of all my siblings I would say. (Y/N) has always been a good judge of character, I don’t think I have ever seen her put her trust into someone who didn’t deserve it.”

His heart jumped at the words Jace bestowed upon him. Somehow knowing that you trusted him, that he was one of the few that could claim to have earned your admiration even within just a few words made him feel stronger in a sense. Is this what men talked about, when they said that the affection of a woman made them feel as if they could move the hills? If this is how he felt just at the mention of your trusting him, he couldn’t help but ponder on how he would feel from being the object of your affections.

“I think that might be one of the main reasons why she hasn’t been courted.”

Cregan froze, feeling himself look over at you once again. For some reason the thought did not run through his mind that your hand could have already been called for. It stirred something in him, knowing that your name was still Velaryon.

Your seat was empty when Cregan looked over again. He saw your silhouette turn the corner quickly, vanishing in a flurry of red and black.

“Enjoy the rest of the meal my prince.” Cregan laid his hand on Jace’s shoulder before making his exit in the same direction that you had.

Jace smiled to himself as he watched the man quickly follow your footsteps with haste, his cloak making a rather dramatic arch at the turn.

There you stood, looking into the sky. You looked as if you were infatuated by the moon herself, lit up only by her beam as snowflakes flitted around you. If it was possible for you to look anymore ethereal Cregan would become devote. You were cast in a halo of moonlight, so entranced that it almost made him guilty for interrupting such an intimate moment.

Looking over your shoulder, he swallowed whatever nerves he was feeling so he could actually have the opportunity to talk with you. But then you smiled at him, and he felt himself grow weak. Part of him wanted to fight against this foreign feeling, the other wanted to bask in it.

“Lord Stark, I hope my leaving didn’t come off as rude. I wanted to enjoy the cold for just a little longer.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you have taken such an interest in what others would consider harsh.”

This got a small hum from you as you held your gloved hand out. “How one could consider this harsh is beyond me.”

Cregan chuckled to himself as he came to stand next to you, watching as you studied the snowflake in your palm.

“Winter is not often kind. The cold and ice have a tendency to turn those away, since it takes so much and gives so little.”

“Fire does the same, yet people hold it in such a high regard. People should do the same with snow.”

Cregan hung onto every word you said, taking this private moment deep within. Hearing you speak so poetically, especially when the topic was anything other than the purpose of which you came. To get a glimpse into who you were, to know the person that was you made him think of a million other questions to ask just to fill out every step it took to understanding you.

He watched you closely as you brought your hand down, and held your arms when you looked up. The cloak you had dawned earlier was nowhere in sight, and if he could recall it had been left behind on your chair in the haste of leaving the room. Cregan was quick to remove his own fur lined cloak, and drape it across your shoulders. It swallowed you, enveloping you in the lingering warmth that was him.

“Thank you, you did not have to.”

“What type of a host would I be if I let you freeze?”

You laughed at his comment, a full laugh, and placed your hand on his bicep. It was still cold, from catching snowflakes, but it warmed him none the less.

“Plus, it looks better on you. The North suits you.”

A flash of blush rested on your cheeks at the comment, and made you tighten the grip on his cloak.

“Thank you, Lord Stark. I do have to say of all the places I’ve been I think I have enjoyed my time here the most.”

With a nod, he clasped his hands behind his back before leaning a little closer to whisper to you.

“Well I hope then that the next time you are here I can show you all that Winterfell has to offer..that is if there is a next time?”

You both had turned to face each other now, your hand still holding his arm as you looked up and only him now. He looked at you the same way the moon did, and you basked in the warmth of him in the same way.

Reaching forward, his hand came to hold a bit of your bang before wiping the snow from it and tucking it behind your ear. His hand came to rest on your cheek, holding the side of your face as the both of you were able to finally really look at each other without the wandering eye of anyone else.

He took his time committing your face to memory, just in case this was truly the last time he would see you. Cregan wanted to make sure his dreams were able to replicate the image of you.

You stood there, doing the same. You were surrounded by him entirely, in scent and sight. This entire afternoon when he wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him. You could feel this back and forth game of cat and mouse that had played out, but there was a nagging reminder of everything that lead to this meeting and everything that waited after it.

Perhaps you could take this night to bask in something that wasn’t duty.

“I could entertain the thought, only if you could make the trip worthwhile.”

This earned a laugh from the northerner as he looked at you, and his thumb ran under your eye. The feeling off his touch had you feeling drunk off his attention. Oh you were absolutely certain if anyone had seen the two of you in this exact moment there would be many an accusation.

“Oh? And how exactly would I do that my princess?” He mused, looking at you tenderly

Reaching to hold the wrist of the hand that held you, you stroked his wrist and hummed.

“Give me a reason to come back, Cregan Stark. A reason that isn't just snow, or the cold. Something that is more than the North. More than duty.”

He stood there, just staring back into your eyes as he thought of the declaration. To give you a true and proper reason to ride all the way back here, where he was nothing but duty and sacrifice. To give you a part of him that was something else completely. You asked this of him as if it was the easiest thing he could sacrifice in order to see you again.

It should have been a hard request to fill. A question that should have left him tormented when giving the answer.

But somehow his answer was sealed the minute you stepped into view.

“Me…Come back for me.”

In the silent moment between the two of you, all that could be heard was the howl of the wind and the beating of your hearts as they became forever joined with just a touch.

[erebus0dora]

some of you asked if you could print/chew/otherwise consume my Devil's Minion art, and i did ask if you needed a masterpost on the topic, so-

may i offer you this Google Drive folder, o gentle creatures..?

i'll add more, and i believe it's sensible to add the links to the original posts with these images, but frankly speaking i am chill with whatever way you use or share them if that's for your personal use

just keep them free, that's my only request

what was born as a free art should remain free art

any questions left? ask them, i don't bite unless you would really like that

now, have a peaceful day and my digital hug

💜UPDATE💜

it feels appropriate to make it a fully shaped masterpost, links and all, so... links to each and every artwork on the theme - below the cut

the Tarot cards (Hermit/Death)

"...rest" (but mirrored)

first take on Armand that looks like anime

some thoughts on the age of the magnolia tree

human!Daniel deliberately thinking of beautiful things

The Magnolia Tee Print

animated Daniel (literally, as in, a gif)

a very vampire!Daniel, thoroughly researched

Byzantine Icon Armand

a tender moment which is vague but there you go

sleeping Armand from a fic

hugs (the quiet)

more hugs (abrupt)

more hugs (headphones on, updated)

Daniel gently cleaning Armand's face

some extra somfte quiet gremlin

crack!chibi!Daniel on tees

crack!chibi!Daniel on teefs

sneaky sleepy uncertain hug for another fic

moar tender touch for another fic

beige pillow

the return of the beige pillow

"i see you"

kissing the maker's hand

more tender face-touching, couldn't choose one

Daniel comes to Louvre

Daniel collects art

four pages of Armand running and Daniel chasing

Hug The Gremlin

Hug The Gremlin For He Is Art

Armand as a candle, literally

Armand and magnolia petals (the art)

Armand and magnolia petals (the sculpture)

(slightly off-topic, but) Perforated Heart because ffs Eric knows his shit

good old don't you maître me thing which i keep forgetting to include

Only Fangs Molloy - keep in mind there's a JPEG and a TIFF version in the Drive folder, the TIFF works better if u wanna print it

(+bonus TALK SHIT GET BIT file is also there)

A LOT of traditional stuffs, scanned in 350 dpi for your entertainment

Daniel gently feeding his feral master, which is honestly one of the most tender things i have created

cozy sated hugs on a sofa

a domestic scene of Daniel waiting for Armand to enter his space, i suck at descriptions

trad art bonus! fighting with graphite dust, vol. 1, Luke

trad art bonus! fighting with graphite dust, vol. 2, Assad

an inspired old dogboy Molloy because face it, the world needs more hot aged people

trad art bonus! fighting with graphite dust, vol. 3, Armand

trad art bonus! Salomé Armand (+ vid)

MORE trad art! sculpting dat old hot man

what happens when you use ur own slightly inaccurate sculpture as a ref

EVEN MORE trad art!! Eric vs. watercolours, for his face compels me and his wild ig inspires me (+ vid)

TRAD ART AGAIN, since i found paper that looks like fun base for bookmarks (+ vid and bonus Daniel)

"he is behind my back, isn't he" (+ linked explanation)

tbc🫀

"he is 100% behind my back and i have ideas about it 😈"

MORE TRAD ART WITH TIMELAPSE VIDS:

an honest-to-God oil-painted Eric

a very purple-eyed Eric/Daniel (gouache testing)

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (7) r.cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, dd/lg, sugar daddy rafe, spoiling kink, little space, reader is feeling extra small, little editing, barry doing barry things 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Finally!!

word count: 4.2k

In which your Daddy wants to take you on a business trip but you're feeling way too little to want to tag along.

masterlist

Rafe pressed his phone between his shoulder and ear, needing to free both his hands to attend to you. Tears streamed down your face as you squirmed around on the sunroom couch. Two small swollen spots were on your arm, bee stings, but you were flailing so much that Rafe could barely get a good look. Unfortunately, Rafe was on the phone when the incident happened, and he and Barry were discussing today’s important plans. 

“It hurts!” you cried out, and Rafe could only assume that you’d never been stung by anything before. You woke up pouty, with Rafe sensing that you were on edge, maybe disappointed that Lana had been gone for so long, but this seemed to be the final straw for you: “It hurts!”

“What’s all the drama, Country Club?”

“Got stung by some bees,” Rafe spoke tersely, trying to pin your arm down, “I know, baby, I know. Gotta get the stingers out.”

He pressed his body weight against your hip, gaining better leverage to keep you still. Holding your arm tightly, he used a card from his wallet to scrape the area side to side. This only seemed to distress you more, but this was the best way he knew how to get rid of them. 

“Please, please, please,” You begged over and over, “It hurts, Daddy.”

“She gonna be okay for the trip?” Rafe heard Barry ask. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. She’s gonna love it,” Rafe grunted, keeping you pinned underneath him. 

Maybe this was a sign, Rafe thought. The morning so far had been terrible and no good for you, he didn't want to add further to your discomfort. With relative ease, Rafe got both stingers out, but you were still in pain, that was clear, “Stay right there, don’t move,” Rafe spoke sternly before he moved from on top of you, “Gonna get you some ice.”

“Don’t wanna go–please don’t leave me,” Rafe huffed at your immediate refusal of his command. He had no idea why you’d gotten so riled up. For time and argument’s sake, Rafe lifted you into his arms. He carried you back into the house and towards the kitchen. 

“Sterling was pretty willing to stop stealing your workers and spreading rumors about the company, yet he wants to meet again. You don’t think it’s shady he wants to meet outside of Kildare?”

“He wants more,” Rafe said as he sat you down on the kitchen island. He grabbed his phone again with his hand as he started to rummage through the freezer, “That’s the only possible reason.”

“And you want to hear him out? What else do we need from him?”

“What, you don’t think we need him?” Rafe countered, “You’re the one who gave me the idea in the first place.”

“I just …” Barry started, “I didn’t think you would want to go further.” 

“I’m not–It’s not a big deal,” Rafe shook his head as he finally picked out an icepack. Rafe’s mind was split between the urgent need to soothe your pain and the looming business discussions with Barry. A huge real estate investment convention was being held at some fancy hotel in Charleston and Sterling had chosen it as the setting of their next meeting. 

With the ice pack in hand, he returned swiftly to where you sat on the kitchen island, visibly distressed and still sniffling from the bee stings. “Here, baby. Hold that against your arm for me. It’ll make it feel better.”

Reluctantly, you held the icepack against your injury. The tears had stopped falling, but Rafe could sense that you were starting to grow upset with him rather than the bee sting. 

Rafe leaned against the counter, trying to ignore your glare and focus back on the conversation. "It’ll be a good chance to see who he’s connected with, maybe find some new business partners. I wanna see what else he’s after,” Rafe explained. “You didn’t see how desperate he acted at the club … I know we can get much more out of him. Like you said, everyone has a weakness.”

“We could use his connections,” Barry conceded, “But you don’t think he’s gonna maybe want an actual chance with Bambi?”

“I know how to handle this. I won’t let him get close enough to think he actually has a chance.”

“Huh,” Rafe could practically feel Barry’s uncertainty through the phone.

“Barry,” Rafe continued, his tone sharp and commanding, “I want everything ready. We’re taking three cars—two SUVs and the truck. You’ll drive the SUV with two guards, and me and Bambi will ride in the truck, and we’ll need another two men riding behind us. You’ll lead the way to Charleston. We won’t need it, but I want backup, extra firepower, the works.” 

Without another word, Rafe hung up the phone call, throwing his cell phone onto the counter. 

Next, Rafe searched for the first aid kit underneath the sink, “Are you angry, Daddy?”

“No,” Rafe said, looking into your eyes. “You know how Barry and I talk to each other. Daddy’s not mad.”

“Who were you talking about?” You brought your uninjured arm up to wipe your wet face. 

“We’re going on a trip,” As you stared at him, Rafe pulled out a red first aid kit. He set it on the counter before he rummaged through it, pulling out the tools he needed. “Remember Mr. Sterling? Daddy’s got some business to handle with him.”

You flinched when Rafe dragged an alcohol wipe across your skin, but he placed a hand on your waist, steadying you. You were much more compliant, much calmer when Rafe’s skin was against yours. 

“Oh,” You spoke simply and Rafe searched your eyes for the thoughts swirling behind them, “My arm hurts.” 

Rafe sighed, finding the pack of bandaids, “I know, Bambi. You want a pink or green bandaid?” 

“Where’s the Cinderella ones?” Your lips pouted as you looked down at the options Rafe presented you. 

“I don’t know. We must be out. You can have pink or green.” As your frowned deepened, Rafe took a deep breath, trying to hold his tongue, “Pick. Or Daddy’s gonna pick for you.” 

Reluctantly you reached out a finger and pointed to the pink bandaid. Rafe carefully placed it over the sting. 

Rafe leaned back, studying your face for lingering distress. “After this morning, I think a little vacation would make you feel better,” he said softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m taking care of everything. I just need you to be good.” 

“I want Lana to come with us.”

“She has the week off, remember?”

“What am I supposed to do while you’re working? You can call her, maybe? Maybe she’ll want to come.” 

“She’s with her family, Bambi. All week. I’m not gonna bother her,” Rafe spoke, finality in his tone. 

He closed the first aid kit and pushed it aside. “You’ll be fine without Lana. You’ve got me. I’ll keep you busy.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your gaze, but you were still pouting, your fingers fiddling with the edge of the pink bandaid he’d applied moments earlier.

“You’re always working,” you muttered, looking down at your arm. “You won’t have time.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but his tone remained measured. “When I’m not working, I’m with you. Today’s no different. You’re gonna love it. We’ll stay in a big room and you can order whatever food you want and they’ll bring it to you.”

Your lips twitched as if considering a smile, but the pout remained. “But Lana always packs good snacks.”

“Bambi,” Rafe chuckled, stepping closer to wrap an arm around your waist. “I can pack snacks. I know what you like, don’t I? 

“Okay,” you mumbled reluctantly. 

Rafe smirked, satisfied with your compliance, before he lifted you off the counter and onto your feet, “No more tears, yeah? I don’t like seeing you upset.”

You nodded, watching as Rafe returned to his phone and began typing furiously. Your face fell again, and you realized that you craved Rafe’s undivided attention. Rafe’s “work” was beginning to bother you. When you stood in place, he looked up at you once more, “Why don’t you go upstairs and start packing baby? Put on something comfortable for the drive.”

You parted your lips but closed them quickly. You considered just being grateful that Rafe was taking you along on his business trip. After all, you hadn’t left the island the entire time you’d been with Rafe. Wasn’t there part of you that wanted to see more of the world? You ignored that voice in your head. Today, all you felt was that you wanted to be in bed, cuddled up to Rafe. You moped all the way up the stairs, and once you got to your room, you plopped sadly down onto your plush carpet. 

Rafe tried to organize his thoughts and keep everything he needed to do in line. He’d surprised himself with how much responsibility he’d been able to handle after caring for you for so long. He certainly wasn’t the man he used to be. Every step he made now was for you. 

Still, he was beginning to realize just how much he relied on Lana, how much she had helped both of you. Now, it was all on him. Between packing business attire, sorting through important documents, confirming meetings, and delegating tasks to his employees, he also had to make sure his truck was ready for the road. And then there was you, your lunch had to be packed, along with plenty of snacks, your favorite water bottle adorned with pink bows, and a tablet with headphones to keep you entertained. More importantly, to keep you from overhearing the kinds of conversations he didn’t want you listening to.

He finally felt on top of things, Barry and his men had arrived, and the cars were readied in driveway. But the moment he climbed the stairs and stepped into your room, that sense of control vanished. His jaw tightened at the sight before him. You were sitting on the carpet in the poofiest pink dress you owned, tears streaking your cheeks as you fumbled with a ribbon, your small hands trembling in frustration as you struggled to tie a bow in your hair.

“Bambi, baby. We’re gonna be in the car for hours. It’s not dress up time,” Rafe chided. 

“Don’ wanna’ go,” You hiccuped. Looking around the room, Rafe saw no sign that you’d actually begun gathering anything for the trip, “Please.”

Rafe consciously took a deep breath to steady his heart rate. The last thing he wanted to do was take out his frustration on you when you were in this state. He walked over to your armoire and picked out an appropriate outfit for you. 

Sitting down on the carpet with you, Rafe easily grabbed you by your hips and pulled you into his lap, “What’s going on with you, huh?” Rafe asked, tilting your chin to look him in the eyes. He brushed a finger across your cheek, wiping away tears. 

You pouted in response and Rafe’s lips pressed into a thin line. He grabbed the thick tulle of your dress at your waist and started to pull it up your torso. You started to wiggle a but Rafe only pulled you closer, “Arms up, c’mon,” Rafe encouraged. He pressed down the urge to discipline, to become impatient at the fact that you were delaying their departure.  

Instead, he stripped the dress off in one swift motion, letting the poofy fabric pool beside you before reaching for the soft, light green Tinker Bell baby tee he’d picked out.

Sliding each of your arms through the sleeves, he tilted his head, studying you as he pulled the fabric down over your torso. "Are you too little to dress yourself today, Bambi?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. A theory was already forming in his mind, a quiet suspicion about what was really behind your unusual behavior.

You nodded shyly before laying forward, resting your head on his shoulder. “I see, hmm. You’ll need Daddy’s help then,” Rafe sighed, now fully understanding you were slipping into a younger head space. Instinctively, his hands smoothed over your back. For so long, you’d been determined to be independent, eager to explore the world, to make friends at ballet, to learn and grow on your own terms. He had been so focused on giving you freedom within the boundaries he set. He hadn’t considered how much comfort you might find in letting go completely. In regressing.

And now, here you were, seeking the security of his presence, of his care. Holding you tight in one hand, he reached into the pocket of his jeans. He texted Barry to give him twenty more minutes. He held you there for a few minutes longer and debated how he would coerce you into the car. 

“You want some bows in your hair, baby?” He asked after a moment and you nodded against his shoulder. He reached for the one you were fumbling with earlier, “Daddy’s gonna bring you to the bathroom, okay?”

He carried you to the bathroom, placing you on the cool counter as he tended to your hair. It wasn’t his best work but he managed to tie some ribbons around the two curly buns on top of your head, “Look, there’s my beautiful, baby,” Rafe kissed you on your forehead, then nose, then both of your cheeks, until you couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your lips, “Let’s get you ready. Don’t worry, Daddy will do everything.” 

He dressed you in a light, yellow tennis skirt with comfortable built-in shorts, the soft fabric swishing as he adjusted it on your hip. Packing a pair of converse in your bag, he let you remain in your flower-printed socks. He doubted you would get to the car in any other way than in his arms. 

Making sure you had things to do in the car and a few stuffed animals, he packed the rest of the things you needed, mostly outfits for the rest of weekend, into your suitcase. Satisfied that everything was in order, he zipped up your bright pink suitcase and set it aside. Now, all that was left was getting you to the car which, as he expected, would likely mean carrying you there himself.

When the two of you finally made it out of the front door, Rafe found Barry leaning against the hood of his SUV, “What’s the hold up?” Barry asked immediately, his sharp gaze flicking between Rafe and the way you clung to him.

Rafe was too focused, though. Without so much as a glance, he handed off your bright pink suitcase, dropping it into Barry’s hands with an unspoken expectation.

Rafe opened the passenger door, settling you into your seat and buckling you in. He placed a stuffed giraffe in your arms, making sure your water was in the cupholder, and you could reach your backpack. You looked up at him with sad eyes, your lips starting to tremble, “What is it?” Rafe asked, eyes full of concern. 

“Need Bunny,” you murmured, your voice small.

Of course, Rafe had forgotten the most important thing, your American Girl doll, “Where’d you leave her, baby?” 

When you only shrugged, Rafe sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Okay, stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Closing the door securely, he rounded the truck, his stride purposeful as he shot Barry a glance. “We’re leaving in two minutes.”

Barry scoffed but didn’t argue, watching as Rafe disappeared back inside the house.

You awoke to Rafe opening the passenger door. Carefully, he slipped off your headphones before pausing the Disney movie that you were watching on your tablet. You started to stir as Rafe undid your seatbelt. You whined, “Let’s stretch those little legs, Bambi,” Rafe spoke softly in response, “We’re halfway there.” 

You yawned, reaching out to him, even half asleep. Rafe tried to explain gently that he wouldn’t be able to carry you in public. To keep you from having a full meltdown, he promised he wouldn’t let go of your hand. 

You swung your legs over the side of the seat and Rafe was able to help you slip on your shoes, tying your laces quickly. When you finally got to your feet, you were wobbly. Rafe smoothed out your skirt for you, ensuring it wasn’t riding up in the back, before he grabbed your hand. 

“Where..” You started, pausing as you rubbed your eyes with your free hand. 

“Gas station. Let’s go pick some snacks, yeah?” 

“Candy?” You perked up. 

“One candy,” Rafe agreed. 

You spotted Barry, filling up at the gas pump directly behind the one Rafe had parked at. You liked Barry, he was nice to you, even if he usually had harsh words with your Daddy. He flashed his gold tooth at you, offering a small wave, but you tucked your face into Rafe’s arm, hiding yourself. You felt overwhelmingly shy, still, despite know him well. 

Rafe held your hand as you stepped inside, your eyes taking in everything around you with wide, sleepy curiosity. The air inside the station was cool and the fluorescent lights flickered softly above.

The gas station was quiet, typical for this time of day, with just a few locals milling around, most of them grabbing their own snacks or paying for their gas.

You clung to Rafe’s hand, your fingers curled tight around his, your sleepy eyes still darting around the store. You weren’t quite sure where to look first. The shelves lined with brightly colored candy wrappers drew your attention, but so did the rows of chips and juice boxes.

He walked with you toward the candy aisle. You let go of Rafe’s hand for just a second, standing on your tiptoes to try and see the top shelf. There were so many choices but your eyes always came back to a package of gummy worms. Rafe stood behind you, his arms crossed, watching as you took your time. 

You finally picked up the bag and held it up to him, the smile on your face shy. You glanced back at the candy before you asked with a small, barely audible voice, “One for Barry?”

Rafe looked over at Barry through the glass windows, still pumping gas outside, “You want to get something for Barry?”

You nodded and something flickered in Rafe’s eyes, something dark, maybe anger or possessiveness, “Fine, you can pick one thing.” 

When you’d picked out another bag of gummy wors for Barry, you followed Rafe as he grabbed a large bottle of water and a bag of chips. After Rafe paid for everything with his black card, you followed him back through the parking lot. You looked up at Rafe expectantly as you approached the three vehicles all of you were traveling in. 

“It’s your gift, you give it to him,” Rafe said. His look of encouragement was slightly forced but he placed a small hand on your back, urging you forward, “Go, little girl. I’m right here.”

“Here,” you said quietly, when your hesitant steps finally brought you over to the Barry’s car. In the passenger seat, you saw a tall and muscular man that you didn’t recognize. You looked away from him quickly, focusing on Barry. You placed the bag in his hand.“Candy… for you.”

Barry looked down, clearly surprised, but his lips curled into a grin. “Well, look at that,” he drawled, “That’s mighty sweet of you. Thank you, Bambi.”

Rafe, standing off to the side, shot Barry a sharp look, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. 

You nodded, fingers curling around the edge of your skirt before you turned and walked back towards Rafe. With one last glance toward Barry, who was still standing by the SUV, Rafe slid his hand to the small of your back, guiding you back to the truck.

The Uptown Grand sits in the heart of Charleston’s historic district, a five-star hotel that exudes old-world Southern charm. The bustling energy of the high-end real estate development convention provided the perfect backdrop for your Daddy's plans. He didn’t seem to flinch at the curious glances from the occasional attendee who dared to acknowledge his entourage. To most, he was a shadow moving through the crowd, and to those few who did give him a second glance, his quiet authority was all too clear.

Rafe sat you on top of a stack of suitcases that sat on the luggage cart, keeping you out of the way, as he handled checking in to the opulent hotel. A song from the Little Mermaid played in your headphones as your eyes wandered everywhere, to the soft velvet curtains, polished marble floors, and all of the antique, gold chandeliers. In the center of the lobby was a large fountain that added an unexpected calm to the environment. You watched as men and women in impeccable business attire navigated the space, their footsteps purposeful, conversations hushed but intense.

You shifted slightly, taking it all in, feeling like a quiet observer in a world that wasn’t quite yours. Bringing you back down to earth, Barry offered you a gummy worm and you happily accepted, having ate all of yours hours ago. 

You tuned out as Rafe began to push the cart towards the elevator, walking along with Barry, they talked about business things that you didnt understand. You adjusted your headphones, looking down at the sorting game you’d been playing on your tablet. 

You rode on the cart all the way from the elevator to the hotel suite. Your room had double doors and sat at the end of the hallway. Barry was in the room right next door and you watched as Rafe spoke some parting words before you both entered your room. The door shut and Rafe swiftly helped you down from the spot where you were perched. Still enjoying your calming music, you walked around the room, setting your tablet down on the coffee table in the seating area. 

The furniture and decor was extravagant, even more so than at Tannyhill. High ceilings stretched above you and warm light casted golden hues on the room. You wandered further, into the bedroom, finding a king-sized bed dressed in soft looking sheets and a tufted headboard that stretched nearly to the ceiling. The en-suite, visible from the bedroom, featured those same marble floors from the lobby and gold fixtures. 

You were still taking it all in when you felt strong arms wrap around you, Rafe pulling your body into his. He tucked his head into your neck, placing kisses there, until you were giggling. When he loosened his grip, you turned to face him. He slowly lifted your headphones, grinning tiredly down at you, “It’s been a long day,” He said, “A bath and then it’s bedtime, okay?”

You didn’t argue, just melted against him. 

He lifted you, carrying you into the bathroom. You sat on the counter, swinging your legs idly, watching him with tired eyes as he ran the bath, testing the temperature with his hand. You watched him undress, your cheeks heating up at the sight of his sculpted figure. After he undressed you, the two of you slipped into the water. You settled between his knees, laying back against his chest. He arms curled around your middle and for awhile there was only silence. Just the rhythmic sound of water against porcelain, the steady rise and fall of his breath against your shoulder. 

When you were close to falling asleep, Rafe guided a soapy cloth over your skin, getting you clean. 

“Bambi,” Rafe spoke softly, “I have to tell you something.”

You hummed in response, loving the feeling of his gentle hands, “This weekend is very important to Daddy. You’ve already been a good girl but I need you to be Daddy’s perfect angel. Everything I say, or Barry says, you do. Do you understand?” 

“Mhm, Daddy,” You murmured, feeling his arms tighten around you in approval, “Can I ask somethin’?”

“Course, baby.”

“Wha…”  You tried to put your words together, choosing each one carefully, “Wha do you want from Mr. Sterling?”

Rafe went quiet for a moment. You turned your head to peak at him, “Everything, I think.”

“Everything,” You repeated, blinking up at him. 

“Mhm,” He presses a kiss to your temple, “Everything pretty and shiny. All the toy’s he doesn’t play with correctly. He’s sitting on a whole kingdom, doens’t even know how to run it. Doesn’t know how to take care of it.”

You scrunched your nose, thinking, “You’ll ask him for it?” 

“Something like that, baby,” Rafe’s lips twitched as if he was holding back a smirk, “Just gonna help him understand. Help him see things my way.”

“Daddy’s so smart,” You sighed, snuggling against him. 

Rafe hummed, pleased. “That’s right, angel,” he whispered against your hair. “And my baby’s gonna be extra good for me, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled sleepily. “I’ll be so, so good…”

hope you enjoyed!! a reblog w/ your thoughts would be much appreciated :)