#Gotta draw knight armour more

[capriknightart]

Fleeaaam

[windmaedchen-oceanhorn]

Valen discussed their work as knights with Lucius (💙2💙, Remnant Peaks) and revealed that he's got a set of armour, too, but is not wearing it. (He's still gotta take care of it every month and it didn't sound like his favourite thing to do... xD)

Lady Vala also noted the missing armour... so here it is:

Valen's Armour - Headcanons

I decided he would have the same armour as Guywin as a foot soldier because it would be a standard design, easy and fast to produce and fittable for all knights.

Since he's been a mercenary in the years prior to joining the HO, never wearing much armour to begin with, I think he's a bit stingy with his money and refused to have anything more elaborate or custom-made and took the cheapest option available.

He was able to refuse a standard-issued sword since he had his own, but couldn't refuse the shield. It is also too big and too heavy for him to easily handle right off the bat. He'd need to practice but a shield is not his style... so he skips training.

He is keeping his armour at home. He has a mannequin but uses it for his current pauldron, belt plus swords and cloak. The other armour is on the floor. Not carelessly so, but still, it sits in a corner on the floor. xD

He loathes the monthly session of cleaning and maintaining it. At least that time's on the HO, so Valen ... kinda takes his time in doing that. Of that time he spends about 2/3rds on his actually worn armour.

Has worn this issued armour only once: when it was adjusted and fitted to him. Then never again. Though I can imagine him wearing it in order to hide among his colleagues ... but when and how???

His current dress is partly made up from the official uniform of the HO members, with minor changes between ranks. The long, blue vest, the belt and the boots. I guess I'll have to draw that next. xD The rest are either parts left over from his mercenary days, or due to his mercenary taste in mix and matching his outfit. <3

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Bartender!Kyle x gn!reader Part 2 babyyyyyy Not proofread so probably horrible. Sorry. Just wanted to get this out there as quickly as possible. I hope you have half as much fun reading as I had writing. Part 1 | COD Masterlist | Part 3

He's not waiting for you to return. He's not looking at the door everytime it opens the next few days. He's absolutely not hoping to see you again. Nope nopedy nope. He did not suddenly grow obsessed with you. He -

The door opens and his head whips around to look at who's coming in and he can feel himself straightening up, when he realizes that it is in fact you. You and some friends it seems.

You're all chattering amongst yourself and occupie a table in the corner. Kyle isn't sure who he has to thank for your return because his bar surely isn't the most popular with regular people and there's prettier spots out there, but he's not gonna complain.

He wipes his hands on a towel, swings it over his shoulder and approaches your table. Suddenly he's happy that his bar is so small and cozy that he can manage it alone.

"What can I get for you?"

One of your friends pats your shoulder after whatever they said to you and the two of them, a dude and a girl, order their stuff. Your eyes stay glued to the table and your friend orders for you.

He wonders what's up with that. You look.... down?

Shame, he would have loved to get a glimpse of your lovely eyes.

When he's behind the bar again, making your drinks he glances at you. Your friend goes to pat you on the shoulder again and you scowl.

Down and angry too? Maybe he can help with that.

He decides to double the amount of your drink and then approaches the table while balancing a tray with your drinks.

As he gets closer he can hear your voice, angry and frustrated.

"... improper language with a customer!? Can you believe it? That fuckwart had it coming, I swear. They should be grateful I got rid of that scum for them. But nooooo, 'You're fired' it is."

You let your head fall to the table in frustration and Kyle is being torn between feeling bad for you and being enamoured by the way you talk.

He never knew he could be attracted to the way someone talks. But your voice is utterly captivating and you have a particular way of pronouncing words, that just draws him in.

He silently puts the drinks on the table, putting yours before you. When you notice the amount in the glass you look up at him in surprise.

"Uh, I ordered a regular?", you question.

He smiles in response. "It's on the house. Noticed you didn't seem to be having the best day. Enjoy, dove."

When he turns around he can hear the girl squeal.

"Did you hear that!? He called you dove!? Oh my god! He was totally flirting with you."

"He's so cute too!", the guy adds knowingly smirking at you.

Then Kyle's too far away to catch more of the conversation. Shame, he would have loved hearing your response. But he's satisfied with the knowledge that your friends will definitely nudge you in his direction.

He's pretty sure everyone in the bar is too drunk to notice him paying special attention to your table and you're too busy moping about losing your job to notice him dropping by way more often that he'd need to.

It's honestly no ones business. He needs to check on his little dove.

He's coming by to ask if you need another drink once more when he hears you say: "Just gotta find another café to serve at."

Like a knight in shining armour Kyle is there.

"Sorry for eavesdropping but... I'm currently managing this bar alone and I could really use some help. So if you're interested in a job, maybe I've got the one for you.", he offers.

He smiles brightly and warmly at you and you gape up at him.

"Holy shit! That's awesome.", you say and immediately slap your hand over your mouth. Then you rush to say: "I can control my language, I promise!"

That makes him laugh and you grin up at him awkwardly until he makes you speechless once more.

"Oh, you can run your mouth here all you want. The customers won't care and I'm just happy to hear your pretty voice."

[the-woild-is-y-erster]

gonna talk about a dream i had so i don’t forget it

so i was at this camp, which was a lot like one i’ve been to for several years, we couldn’t have our phones or any food or even art for whatever reason? like we couldn’t keep anything we made, they would occasionally raid our stuff to look for anything contraband, so it was lights out, and i knew i wasn’t the only one with contraband, but for whatever reason i was the only one good at hiding it, so the counselor came in and caught one girl, so she sacked our stuff, and i was the only one that got caught, and blah blah blah timeskip, she comes in later asking if anyone has any trash, and i’m like “oh shit this is a trap” so i hide my stuff, and she comes in and takes everyone else’s stuff and blows up on them, sends them out of the cabin, and she’s stuffing people’s art in the trash bag and i’m like “why can’t we have any of this stuff?” she goes “it’s not allowed.” and so i argue eith her and she’s finally like whatever. one of you can keep some art at the end. so she leaves and suddenly for whatever reason sniper tf2 comes in????? and he’s like “m8 you look different, you alright?” because apparently we’re friends in my dream??? and i look down and i’ll have to draw it later because it was sick, but i had knights armour but it was more agile, and i had a cape and these giant crazy red feather wings, and an old grecian helmet with a red plume, and he’s like “that’s the lord high admiral’s uniform, yeah?” (wtf is the lord high admiral??) and i’m like oh shit youre right so apparently the lord high admiral just gets chosen by an act of valor and you have to fight the other one to the death to recieve your formal title??? so sniper’s like “you gotta scram, m8, lil birdy told me the prev one is wreakin havoc in the castle” which was apparently where the grounds of the camp was???? so i hug him and walk out the door and my armor like flickers and dissapears, classic “hero doesn’t know how to use their powers until theyre in the heat of battle” so i’m like whatever and then as i’m running towards the drawbridge of this bigass castle it comes back and i’m fckin flying, and i crash through this giant stained glass window into a corridor that for skme reason i know leads into the bell/clock tower, and there’s a ton of like, narnia style fighters, like rabbits and beavers and bears with battering rams and stuff, and they clear the way for me with my majestic ass cape and wings to the huge oak doors and they creak open and it’s like a greenhouse instead of the bell? so in the middle is a wooden throne, and sitting in it in the most faggy like legs over the armrest position, is my brother scout with the same gear i got, but in blue. and so i stand in front of him, and oh so dramatic dream me, as the doors are slamming shut, draws my blade and says “hello, brother.” AND THEN I WOKE UP???????

[langdxn]

OMGGG PLEASE WRITE FOR STAN ✨✨🖤🖤

well if you insist...

off the record | stan bowes x reporter!reader

WARNINGS: pretty graphic smut, fingering, vaginal sex, pet names errywhere, trump mentions, dom!stan

WORDS: 2.9k (excessive but necessary)

A/N: 110% not proofread yet so apologies for any errors which i’ll fix tomorrow.

The hustle and bustle of 5th Avenue spared Stan the embarrassment of leaving a torturous meeting at work. Tumbling out into the chaos of the New York streets offered him the anonymity he craved after a confrontation with Matt, the ability to blend in amongst the faces that couldn’t recognise him from the next suited, briefcase-toting businessman.

Bursting out of the doors to Trump Towers, Stan dropped his briefcase and rinsed his face with both hands, pressing his fingers to his eyes in a vain attempt to wipe away the day he’d just had. In that moment, no eyes were trained on him, no pressure on his shoulders, no demands of his time.

That is, until a sugary voice broke the crowd’s monotonous buzz.

“Trouble in economic paradise, honey?”

Stan’s hands dropped to his side as he searched for the source of his interruption, eyes intently scanning the street until they fell upon you, leaning against the building’s opulent marble pillars at the entrance.

“Sorta,” he mumbled under his breath, a grimace gently tapering his lips as he gazed down at his shoes. In an attempt to avoid your attentions, he trained his sights on a particularly worn paving slab. His distraction worked right up until your heels clacked toward him and planted right on his slab, the smoke from your cigarette swirling in his peripheral vision — there was no avoiding you, no matter how hard he tried. Stan’s head raised to meet your gaze, his deep brown eyes betraying a sadness and insecurity he may never put into words.

“I hear Mr Trump can be a harsh master,” you goaded your victim into spilling his guts, taking a deep puff of your cigarette before blowing it back to hover over his brown curls like a makeshift halo.

“I... I wouldn’t know, I barely see him,” Stan confessed, grabbing his suitcase and nodded toward the street. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Miss.”

Time for drastic action. The brunette stepped toward the street, ready to dismiss this exchange and continue his day.

“I smoke out here to drive your boss up the wall, you know,” you called after him, booming over the hubbub on 5th Avenue. “Admittedly he doesn’t come out much, but that jerk-off on the 41st floor certainly reads me for dirt every Friday night. What’s his name, Matt Bromley?”

Stan stopped in his tracks.

“Oh, so you know him too?” You pressed, pacing toward him with a staccato clack of your heels.

“He’s my superior, or at least he pretends to be,” Stan turned to face you, that same pained smirk dancing across his cheeks as his voice cracked between sentences. “Be careful around him, yeah? He’s not exactly one of the nice guys.”

“You’re telling me,” you scoffed, taking another swift drag while tipping your head to the side. “Luckily if he laid a finger on me, I’d put it front page of the Post and he’d never work in this overpriced dump again.”

“You’re a reporter?” Stan’s eyebrows quirked, intrigued but nonetheless concerned. Should he even be talking to a reporter like this? Will every word that passes his lips end up on tomorrow’s front page? He shook his head to dismiss any suspicious thoughts, he certainly didn’t have the headspace for that yet.

“For now,” you admitted with a pout and an eye-roll. “Your asshole ‘superior’ tries to rectify that on a regular basis. Keeps telling my boss I’m soliciting outside Trump Tower instead of reporting. Always digging through my personal life and not coming up with so much as an overdue rental VHS. Someday my editor will believe him, but I’m on my last warning as it is.”

“Seriously?” Stan’s smirk grew more sympathetic with the realisation one more life was being wrecked by the man he had the misfortune of sharing a floor with. “That’s pretty crazy.”

“That’s Manhattan, honey,” you smiled warmly at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not doorstepping you, I just happened to be here on a tip-off.”

“A tip-off? What sort of—.”

Stan cut himself off on hearing the approach of a familiar obnoxious voice on a cell phone booming in the golden foyer behind your exchange.

“Shit, that’s Bromley,” Stan panicked, suddenly grasping your arm and leading you away from the door, casting your half-smoked cigarette to the kerb. “Let’s get you outta here.”

“My nameless knight in shining armour,” you chuckled to yourself, somehow instincively following his lead on the street until you merged with the throngs of passers-by. “Where are we going, sweetie?”

“My name’s Stan Bowes, and I have absolutely no idea where we’re going.”

———

“You don’t look like a Stan,” you mused at the businessman seated across the table from you, tapping your chin with a finger as you contemplated alternative monikers. “More like a... Colin? Peter? Yeah, you’re a Peter—.”

“Can we just... rewind here?” Stan interrupted, eyes darting frantically at your surroundings, scanning the faces at the other tables. “D’ya mind explaining to me why we’re in a Five Guys right now?”

“You’ll thank me later, toots,” you quickly dismissed his objection as you swirled your soda cup in your other hand. “You think your psycho friend from the 41st floor’s gonna look for you in a diner? He’ll go straight to the Plaza... or even Indochine. Never a Five Guys. Plus, I needed somewhere I can afford to pay the bill so the Trump Organisation expense account doesn’t feel the burn.”

A wordless nod and raised eyebrow from your company suggested his silent approval, but his hands idly toying with the burger before him betrayed his confidence in your genius escape plan. Folding the lettuce edging out from beneath the bun, tugging at the rings of onion and nervously picking the sesame seeds from the top.

“You never told me what your tip-off was. What were you doing outside my work?” Stan raised his manhandled burger to his mouth, daring to undo all the strategic dismantling he’d just put into action.

“Somebody told the office that the blonde egomaniac at the top of your food chain is planning to run for president.”

Stan nearly choked on his first bite, resisting the temptation to spit it out in shock. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“‘Fraid not.”

“That... that can’t be true, he’s too busy with the plans to buy the Plaza two blocks away.”

“The Plaza?!” Your inquisitive voice changed pitch.

“Yeah, didn’t you know?” Stan screwed up his face. “Wait— you’re not gonna print this, are you?”

“I’m not here to rat you out,” You raised both surrendering hands in the space between you. “See? No notebook, no tape recorder, no agenda. It’s just me and you, baby.”

The brown haired man smiled warmly, visibly releasing the tension in his shoulders, comforted that he wasn’t being examined.

“So if you’re not here for business, why is a beautiful girl like you talking to me? I’m nothing special, I’m just a guy in an overpriced suit.”

Caving into the temptation to look him up and down, your gaze wandered to Stan’s hands, gently trembling as he held his burger.

“Because I like you, Peter,” you grinned at the sound of your company’s new moniker. “You and that suit. But you’re so much more than that suit, you know.”

“Eh, I’m not so sure about that. Matt doesn’t seem to think so either.”

“Screw what Bromley the office bully thinks,” you slammed the table with your palm. “This is about you. The guy who stopped to talk to a girl who looked like she was hustling outside your building, the guy who’s not afraid to sit in a diner with a total stranger to save her from his coworker. Face it, Peter, you’re one of the good guys.”

His lips tapered into a warm smile. “Thank you, miss, for not jumping to conclusions about me.”

“Don’t get me wrong, the pinstripes suit you. They’d look better on my floor, but...”

Stan immediately looked up from his food to your eyes, scanning for any sign of humour or any chance you were just trying to make him feel better.

“Did you just—?”

“I think I did!” You giggled, a hint of disbelief in your own words. “Is that a problem?”

Frozen in the moment, Stan just stared at you for a minute. His next move was exhilaratingly unpredictable, leaving your heart rate thundering in your ears, but something about the shimmer in his eyes suggested you wouldn’t have to worry.

“Peter, what’s wrong, did I—?”

You were cut off by Stan’s lips crashing into yours, lunging over the table and hooking a hand around your neck to draw you in. His kiss deepened with every second, dipping his nose into your cheek and moaning softly into your mouth. As you parted, his ear-to-ear grin beamed back to mirror yours.

“Yuppies don’t kiss like that,” you joked.

“You should see me in the bedroom,” he retorted with a laugh.

“Deal.”

———

Hollywood movies were right about one thing: sex in the throes of passion often starts in the same way — bundling through your lover’s uptown hotel room with your legs wrapped around his waist while he juggles his keycard, both peppering sloppy open-mouthed kisses and showering each other with distracted affection until he drops you onto the satin sheets.

Stan, courteous as ever, gently placed you on the sprawling bed without his lips leaving yours, crawling between your thighs before thinking how to undress himself. With both his hands preoccupied passionately lacing into your hair, you grasped at the hem of your dress to take it off yourself.

“Hold on, princess,” he muttered into your mouth, immediately untangling a hand to trace down your figure and met your attempts to hitch your skirt. “Let me strip you.”

Stan thumbed at the edge of the fabric, savouring the moment before you became so much more than a beautiful stranger to him, before slowly rolling your dress up, passing your neck and whipping it over your head to limit the time before he could kiss you again.

“Peter, are you sure about this?” You queried out of respect while casting aside his evidently expensive belt, tearing his braces from his shoulders and laying waste to his shirt buttons.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he hummed against your lips between hot and ragged breaths. “And my name’s not fucking Peter.”

Stan made light work of yanking your panties down to your knees around him, unhooking them from one leg for quicker access and throwing the bundle of lace across the room, soon followed by your bra. In the blur of clothes flying, you tackled his suit pants down to his knees and slipped his silk boxers to join them. The less you thought about those silk boxers, the better.

With no clothes left between you, Stan pressed his bare chest against yours, his heart racing so fast it could burst out of his rib cage.

A needy groan erupted in his throat as he tore his lips away from yours, journeying to pepper heated kisses down your throat, sucking gently as his lips reached your collarbone and followed south to your breasts. While his tongue expertly swirled around one nipple, his hand travelled to the other and kneaded hungrily, gently rolling the hardening bud between his thumb and forefinger.

Your soft moan as he sucked harder gave him the signal to trail his fingers down your frame, his palm traversing the plane of your hips before he reached your exposed clit, tracing lazy circles around your bundle of nerves. Your back arched wildly into his touch, reaching a hand to wind into his brown curls when your helpless, urgent moans grew in volume.

“Don’t worry baby girl, I won’t leave you hanging much longer,” Stan whispered through a satisfied smile against your breast. “I just need to taste you first.”

His circling finger journeyed south to track around your folds, swollen and pulsing in anticipation of his next move. Slowly dipping the tip of his finger through your soaking entrance, your hips bucked upwards and instinctively widened your legs beneath him.

“That’s my good girl, spread yourself wide for me.” Stan’s eyelids fluttered excitedly, adding another finger inside your aching cunt and hooking both to graze your soft walls. His lips left your nipple so he could gaze at your form writhing beneath him, completely at his mercy.

His curled fingers pressed urgently into your walls, building an uncontrollable pressure within you and forcing your eyes to roll to the ceiling. Stan noticed you nearing ecstasy and immediately withdrew his dripping fingers, raising them to his lips and pressing them to his tongue.

“I knew you’d taste like heaven,” he cooed gently, lifting up to dip his head into your neck placing searing hot kisses beneath your ear. “Cat got your tongue, Miss New York Post?”

“I... I...,” you stuttered weakly, your whole body alight with waves of heat and anticipation you’d never felt before. “I...”

“You’re not usually this quiet,” Stan whispered. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“I... need... you...”

He hummed contentedly, trailing his hand south to line the head of his cock with your throbbing entrance.

“What’s that, princess? You want me to fuck you?” Stan questioned with false innocence, a devious smirk plumping his cheeks. “You’ve been such a good girl waiting for me, I think you’ve earned it.”

In one smooth rock of his hips, Stan’s length slipped through your folds and bottomed out inside you. Your eyes journeyed to the ceiling as he filled you, spine arching recklessly craving more friction. He drew his hips back slowly, but his next thrust slammed his cock inside you so hard, you let out a hollow gasp.

“I know baby, I know,” Stan comforted you, curling his hips to ensure every thrust brushed the tip of his length against your deepest points and revelling in your squirms under him. “You’re taking me so well.”

Lost for words in the stars emerging in the corners of your eyes, you remained speechless as Stan broke down every single one of your weaknesses and turned you into putty in his hands. Jerking uncontrollably and sinking your head back into the pillow with every devastating thrust, Stan kissed your exposed neck and moaned deeply. Seizing his opportunity, both hands flew to lightly grasp your throat, his thumbs calmly resting on your windpipe — his aim wasn’t to choke you, just to hold onto you enough to assert his ownership of you, claiming you as you writhed beneath him. He leaned back to admire his work of unravelling you, possessing you.

“Look at you,” he hummed through a grin, not missing a single beat of his determined thrusts. “You’re so, so beautiful.”

Chasing you to your height of ecstasy once more, Stan’s staccato rhythm jackhammered into you at the same rate as the tremors consuming your body beneath his. Your vision of his bouncing brown curls above you started to fade behind the glittering haze taking over your mind. Fighting for consciousness, you stuttered a hollow cry for release as you approached your climax.

“Stan, I— I need to... I’m gonna cu—.”

“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you,” Stan reassured, wrapping an arm around your neck and pulling you into his chest as his hips grew frantic and sloppy. “Let go for me.”

With a deep growl and a final erratic thrust, Stan spilled against your walls, flooding warmth inside you that sent your head dipping into the pillows. His lips gently pecked your throat again as he poured his length back to the depths of your pussy, pushing his load as far inside you as possible.

Emerging from the depths of the pillow as you regained control of your legs wrapped around his waist, Stan slowly drew his hips back and slipped his length out from your swollen folds, his gaze dropping to your entrance as if making sure his cum wouldn’t drip out. Content that he hadn’t left any suspicious stains on the hotel sheets, Stan returned to gaze into your eyes and beamed from ear to ear.

“You... you called me Stan?” He quizzed while tumbling down to the pillow beside you, a puzzled eyebrow quirking beneath beads of sweat.

“You called me princess,” you retaliated with a joking tap of his chest. “I think we’re equal here, don’t you?”

Stan chuckled to himself and turned to face you, propping his head up with an exhausted, trembling hand. A palpable silence fell as he composed his next sentence.

“Was this, er... would you... can you...,” He stumbled nervously over his words; his assertive alter ego must have left as soon as he came.

“Cat got your tongue, Mr Trump Organi—“

“Stay.”

Your gaze dropped to your chest as you laughed it off. “As much as I’d love to, I got the feeling this was just a one-off for you?”

“That’s what I thought you wanted, too,” Stan confirmed with a quirked eyebrow.

Chuckling to yourself, you shook your head to dismiss all the worries that the dapper businessman would make you do the walk of shame once he’d finished.

“Then I’ll stay, sugar,” you beamed, settling into Stan’s chest as he scooped his arm beneath your head.

“We’ll get room service to dry clean your dress and I’ll drive you to work in the morning, if that’s okay?” Stan’s courteous streak had definitely returned.

You smiled broadly, nodding against Stan’s chest and swooping an arm around his waist.

“Besides, now you can tell me all about that presidential tip-off you had,” he quizzed. “Trump may be an extremely powerful guy, but he’s never gonna be president…”

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 9

TW: Sexual harrasment

Words Count: 1.9k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 10

Days pass by as usual. And by usual, you mean it’s nothing short of Kim Minhyuk’s advance that seems to be getting more and more daring by day.

And you definitely hate it most when he finds you in the secluded photocopy room and you’re stuck at the corner when he approaches.

“Hey Y/N!” He greets, a little too enthusiastically and you don’t miss the way his eyes scans the small room for any other party. Satisfied that no one seems to be around, he saunters in and doesn’t hesitate to come close to you. “Busy day today?” He asks. His one hand placed flat on the wall behind you, his proximity a little too close for comfort.

Unknowingly, you fidget with your wedding ring on your necklace. It’s a habit that you notice you’ve developed over the series of events with Minhyuk, your fingers finding your wedding ring each time he makes his advances as if it somehow makes you feel safe, like he’s there.

You try as hard as you can to back yourself away and make some distance but Minhyuk doesn’t seem to notice your effort, or at least he purposely ignores you. He takes over the machine and places his own document.

You clear your throat. “You mind waiting for a few seconds while I finish this last document?” You ask, trying your best not to sound annoyed.

He looks at your for a few moment. “Oops, sorry sorry.” He says, definitely feigning innocence and you struggle not to roll your eyes. Once you’re done with your task, you set to exit immediately but before you could do so, Minhyuk snatches the papers from you and you struggle to claim them back and it ended up falling to the floor behind you.

You think your face is now red and fuming. He’s getting more ridiculous.

“Ah, sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to let it fall. I was just gonna see the papers you’re holding. You mind getting them back?” He asks, a tad too sweetly.

Begrudgingly, you bend over and picks them up and that’s when you feel something pressed against your behind. You gasp and straightens instantly. You glare at Minhyuk yet he has the nerve to smile innocently at you.

“You okay, princess?”

You don’t know why, but Jimin’s name is on the verge from leaving your lips at that moment. You wish he’s here to come and save you again, like he did with your brother.

But of course, this isn’t fairytale where your husband is your knight in shining armour.

You feel like bursting into tears at that exact moment. You glare at him as hard as you could, letting him know that he wasn’t supposed to do that and you wanted to shout at him but your lips remain tight because you don’t want to cause chaos at your own husband’s company.

What would people say if there’s sexual harassment at Bangtan Inc.? At your own husband’s freaking company? You think it’d do your husband more harm than good so with a simple, “Excuse me,” you said through gritted teeth, you almost half ran back to your own place.

Your heart thumps so fast from what you just experienced. Unconsciously, you finger grip your wedding ring even tighter like it’s some sort of a talisman. You feel like fainting with how fast your heart is beating. Sweat beading on your forehead yet you don’t notice it.

And you sure as hell don’t notice Jimin coming out from his room and walks over to you. He had to call you twice for you to look up at him with an alarmed expression.

“Did something happen to you?” He frowns at you as he takes in your expression that looks as if you’d just seen a ghost.

“Huh? I mean-what? No, nothing.” You shake your head furiously and drops your hand that’s clutching your wedding ring immediately, making Jimin even more suspicious. He eyes your necklace, probably now just realising that you put your wedding ring there. “Do you need anything?”

He eyes you for a moment before answering. “Yeah. I need the minutes report from yesterday’s meeting.”

You hand it over to him immediately. He regards you for a few moments before walking away. Once he’s out of your sight, you slump in your chair.

When you’re home later that night, you remain distracted that Jimin asks you one more time if there’s anything wrong. You’ve never been quicker to shake your head and he doesn’t question you further either.

For the next few days, you think that you’ve been blatant enough in your rejection against Minhyuk’s advances. But he clearly doesn’t think so. If anything, he’d been more brazen in his actions and the way his eyes would rake over you, making you more and more uncomfortable day by day.

The phone on your desk rings and you answer it instantly.

“Y/N.” Minhyuk’s voice echoes and you almost want to hang up immediately. “Come by my office, and bring the minutes for this morning’s meeting.”

He hangs and you draw a breath as your eyes dart towards the clock. It’s already 5:15PM.

You slowly swallow your throat. You really don’t have a good feeling about this. You stare longingly at your husband’s office door as if that would will him to come out at that instant and brings you home. But of course, nothing of the sort happens and you grab the file before dragging your feet to Minhyuk’s office.

“Come in.” His voice rings after you knock on his door. He was sitting behind his desk when he gestures you to sit across him.

“Um- I’m actually gonna-“ you start but immediately cut by him.

“Head home? Already?” He glances at the clock. “I just have to discuss a few things. Please, sit.”

Trying your best not to show your annoyed expession, you begrudgingly take your seat. Seconds tick by as Minhyuk reads the report you handed him yet doesn’t comment anything. You fidget in your seat, unsure of your purpose there.

After a while, you let out a slightly loud breath trying to tell him that you’re there in front of him. “Mr. Kim if there’s something about the report-“

He looks up at you. Then he smiles, a tad too sweet to be innocent. “Oh- if I gotta be honest,” he stands, “I didn’t call you here for the report.” Then he crosses his desk and proceeds to sit on the edge of his desk in front of you forcing you to lean back.

“Mr. Kim I don’t think-“ you begin to say. Your skin becoming cold from anxiety.

“Miss Y/N. I’ll just be honest here, since there’s no one else...” he takes extra care to emphasise the no one part, you note. “I’m interested in you.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about Mr. Kim. So if you can just let me-“

“I think I’ve been clear enough from my acts.. or are you really that oblivious? Or.. you’re just pretending not to understand?” He leans forward and you hold your breath, as if he’s a predator, ready to skin you alive if you breathe. “Tell me.. you secretly like it do you?”

As if you would. You’d spit on his face right at that moment but you’re still rational enough. With a furious expression, you stand immediately. “I’m not interested in this conversation Mr. Kim. Now please excuse me, I’d like to go home.” You turn on your heels and head for the door.

You’re just about to turn the knob when his hand landed on the door with a loud noise, making you startle. Both his hands flank you instantly and you’re immediately trapped. His mouth is so close to your ear and your cheek you feel tears threatening but you know you have to stay clear headed to escape.

“You’re always dressed in that tight little skirt..” he whispers making your whole body rigid in tense. “God damn you make it so hard for me to sleep at night sometimes.”

And at that moment, he spins your body so you could face him and pushes your back against the door roughly, making you gasp. His hand rise to your cheek and he runs his fingers across it.

“Stop it.” You glare at him.

“It’s okay princess.. it’s just you and me.” His other hand touched to your arm.

“Don’t you dare touch me Kim Minhyuk. Or-“

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll scream my lungs out.” You threaten.

He scoffs. “No one’s fucking here. Who’s gonna hear you?”

“Mr. President’s still here.”

“You think he’ll hear you this far? He fucks in his own office and you can’t hear him even though you sit right on his door. You think he’ll hear you now?”

You stay silent because you have nothing to answer to him.

“Come on now, Princess.. Give them to me..”

Jimin.. Jimin please.. your head chants his name a hundred times. Funny, even at crucial times like this, you still call out to him.

His face inches closer towards yours while his hand comes nearer and nearer towards your breast.

But of course, this isn’t drama. Jimin is not there to save you.

And that’s when you spit on Kim Minhyuk.

“What the fuck-“

At that exact moment, you kneed him right in his balls and when he groans, you slapped him, hard. Without stopping a single moment to look at him, you hold your necklace tight and you run away out of the office, not caring to turn back and grab your handbag.

You don’t stop running until you reach the bus stop. You curse yourself for not thinking to grab your stuff. Then your hand went to the pocket of your skirt. A few dollars. That’s all you have. You kept the balance after buying lunch that afternoon. You pull it all out and started counting but ended up sighing when the money isn’t enough until the nearest stop to your house.

You feel lost.

What can you do? Call your husband? You don’t have your phone with you. Heck, he might not even care. Go back to the office and ask Jimin to bring you home? And then what? Risk seeing Minhyuk again after what you just did to him? Or risk Jimin finding out about this?

You don’t even know which one’s worse.

Wiping your tears away with the back of your hand, you stand and got in the bus that just arrived. The money you had could make you reach Seoul Station, which is only two stops away from your house. It’s a long walk, but it’s manageable.

You couldn’t stop crying even in the bus. Your heart still hadn’t calmed down from your traumatic experience. Your trembling fingers find your necklace, clutching your wedding ring tightly.

Jimin.. you don’t even know why he’s the only one on your mind right now.

You scoff, almost wanting to laugh at yourself.

The bus eventually comes to a stop and you got off. It felt weird to not have a single thing on you, not a handbag or a phone. The wind howls past and you shiver immediately. In the attempt to escape quickly, you did not even bring your coat with you. It’s late Autumn night. It’s cold.

And you’re alone.

Link to Chapter 10

Posted on 210416 9:00PM

[alovesongshewrote]

Almost A Thousand Years - Witch Hunt | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot:  You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years.  You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years.  And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain.  But somewhere in that time, things changed.  [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count:  4,463

Warnings: i swear some more and uh... i can’t really give a warning, it’s spoilers.  you’ll probably like it tho, i promise

A/N:  today’s a/n shout out goes to @furblrwurblr​ for drawing femboy hooters douxie and fucking cursing me

Taglist:  @furblrwurblr​ @rainningdoom​ @fluffydmonkey @blondie0458​ @sitherin-mxschief​ @jinxedleo​ @lawlesshedgehog @einahpetsyarcip​ @dolphincommander​

Back | Next​

“I told you the boy was bad news Master,” past you said with way too much pride in their voice for your liking.

“Oh, would you shut up?”

“So you’re me from the future, then?  Tell me, how do you end up travelling time with the likes of that git?”

“Oi, shut your mouth you little-” Douxie put his hand over your mouth, effectively shutting you up for the time being.

“Calm down (Y/N), please,”

Both you and your past self said “No,” in unison.  It would have been funny in literally any other situation, but alas, this was what fate handed to you.

“All of you, silence!  Have you any idea what you’ve done?  I knew my apprentice was an ignoramus, but travelling through time?  Time!”

You felt a very strong urge to scream, but fortunately, Douxie was doing the talking.

“I think we handled ourselves just fine, all things considered.  And technically, it was your idea,”

“Damn right,”

“Well, then, you must have botched it up!  My planning is flawless!”

“For the record, Master, I had nothing to do with this.  He did, which is me, and… ugh!  Time travel, so confusing!”  past Douxie was awake, and you decided right then if anyone said anything else you were going to knock him, your past self, and Merlin unconscious just for some peace and quiet.

“Aah!  The timelines are in complete disarray!”

Oop, that counted as saying something, “They’re about to be in more disarray,” 

“Seriously, (Y/N), calm down,”

“Don’t you talk to me… us?  Like that!”  past you was a little confused, but they still had the spirit.  It was the wrong kind of spirit, but spirit nonetheless.  You sighed, knowing that Douxie was right.

“No, (Y/N)?  Me?  Whatever.  He’s right, I just need a second,”

Past you froze in absolute shock while Douxie's past self decided to relish in the fact that you were wrong.

Present Douxie didn’t have a lot of patience for this, “Look, both of you, quiet down for a second.  Master, I can fix this, I swear!”

“Ah-ah, your meddling has already wreaked enough havoc on history!”

“Then surely we can use the time map to change things back, and then it’ll all be as it was,”  Archie said as you, your Douxie and the familiar surrounded Merlin, your focus on the time map in your former master's hands.

“It doesn’t work that way.  The map only offers glimpses of possible futures!  There are no detailed instructions,”

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,”  Douxie said, reaching towards the device before Merlin slapped his apprentice’s hand away causing both of your hands to sting.

“Ow.  Look, life doesn't come with instructions, and we live through it every day without causing too much damage.  We can manage this!  It’ll be fine,”

“Not that bad, eh?  It’ll be fine, eh!?”  Merlin said before revealing just what the time map had to show you.  

King Arthur was on the ground, dead.  Needless to say, that was not good.

“Oh, fuzzbuckets,”  Both Douxies and your past self said.

“Oopsie,” you grimaced at the consequences of your actions. 

“Your little dungeon break must have changed fate!  Now, unless I stop it, the king will die!”

Merlin stormed out of the room, off, probably, to fix your mistakes.  Beside you, your Douxie groaned, bracing himself against the table.  You put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

“Seriously, how can you stand to touch him?”

It was your turn to groan.  You didn’t even look at your past self as you responded, “Because he is my friend and I care about him,”

It may have been a risky statement, one that could doom both you and your wizard, but the smile on Douxie’s face was worth it.

“I don’t understand, how can you-”  

Douxie cut off his past self, “You’ll understand when you’re older.  Now, you two stay here, we have to go,”  he grabbed your hand, and you left to find Claire or anything else that would help save the future.  Whichever came first.

It was Claire.  Claire came first.  You could hear the knights cheering from your place in the shadows.  The noise was a decent cover-up for your conversation.

“They’re hunting Jim!  If they catch him, he’ll be killed!”

“I know, and he’s not the only one.  Because of us, Arthur’s now fated to eat the big one, too!”

“Eat the what?  Oh, no, was I supposed to bring food?”

“He’ll be eating a death sandwich, Steve,”

“Ugh, who would eat that?  Gross,”

Douxie groaned, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little.  Times were tough, but that didn’t stop you from admitting that Steve absolutely had a point.

“Look, if Arthur dies, we lose the Battle of Killahead and the war,”

“Which will probably mess up time so much, you’ll never be able to return home,”  Archie said, pawing his way around your hiding space.

“At least, not our home,”  you glared at the ground, as if the dirt was the reason the world was at stake.

“Oh no!  Toby!”

You looked up at the time map just in time to see the War Hammer disappear into a blue mist.  That could not be a good sign.

“What’s happening to him?”

“The future- our future, is vanishing!”

“There’s gotta be a way to fix this,” you said, using the time map, searching through time to find something that would save your home.  Among the red, there was a moment of blue.  You paused as an image of Arthur and Morgana getting along flashed into the sphere.

“What’s that?”  Claire asked before you had the chance to ask the same thing.

“Well, that wasn’t there before.  It’s a new timeline, one where Arthur and Jim live,”

“And Morgana’s the hero?  I thought she was destined to become Mistress Doom,”

“No, you’re thinking Mistress of all Dark Magic.  Mistress of Doom is… something else,”

“What?”  Douxie paused, looking at you with vast amounts of suspicion.  

“You’d be surprised by some of the house calls I’ve made.  Now, keep talking,”

Douxie shook his head, but he was smiling.  Good.  You loved that smile.

“It looks like there’s a possibility if we get Arthur and Morgana to reconcile, then somehow, nobody dies,”

“I don’t think I have to say that that’s the outcome we want!”

You took a moment just to look at Douxie’s face.  In this small moment of victory, which was over too soon, he looked happier than you’d seen him in a while.  Of course, you never saw his face when he looked at you.

“Squire Steve!  We are all thirsty!”  and bam, moment over.  Thanks, Gallahad.

“I’ll keep an eye on Morgana.  Douxie, you work on Arthur.  (Y/N), Steve, make sure they don’t kill my boyfriend,”

“We’re on it.  Don’t die out there, guys,”

“We won’t,” Douxie said, taking one last look at you before he ran off.  You and Steve did the same.

About a minute in, you could feel things going wrong.  Your chest hurt as if you’d crashed to the floor.  It wasn’t awful, so you ignored it and kept moving forward, following Steve and the knights and making a mental note to make sure Douxie was ok when you had time.  A smirk made its way onto your face when said wizard knocked his past self out.  You couldn’t imagine that it was good for him, but if he could still perform magic, he was ok.  

And after that, things were okay.

At least for you.

Douxie was having a difficult time getting Arthur to listen to him.  Magic, as always, turned out to be a useful tool.  The king and his sister began their reconciliation, but something was troubling him.  He saw the way they looked at the illusion of Gweneviere.  They had both loved her.  Arthur even called Gwen “the heart of him,” and they had lost her.  He could see the grief on their faces, how it killed the king and weighed down the sorceress was clear to anyone who looked at them the right way.

This was not the first time Douxie contemplated his fear of losing you.  He’d been afraid of that for a long time, and one could say that he was used to the familiar sense of anxiety that made itself at home within him whenever you were in danger.  But now?  Now he looked at the faces of the royal family and realized that losing you would completely destroy him.  

Douxie was already a selfless person, one who would sacrifice everything he was to save the world, but right then, he decided that he would sacrifice the world to save you.  You were the world to him.  

But he couldn’t focus on that right now.  He had a job to do.

So did you.  And Steve was not making it any easier.

“Kill the beast!”

“Wait, kill?  I thought this was catch and release!”

“Oh, my g- ok, come on, Steve,”

You grabbed the boy by his armour and dragged him along as you followed the group, stopping dead when you reached the troll that the guards spoke of.

Arthur’s men had slung chains around the creature, restricting its movement to next to nothing.  You were not okay with this.

“Squire Steve, will you do the honours?”  Lancelot asked, tossing his sword to the boy.  

The boy whimpered, very obviously uncomfortable with this.  He turned to you, eyes desperately searching for instructions on what to do in this situation.  You shook your head, trying to get across that needless murder should probably be avoided.

Whether or not Steve got the message, you would never know.  The troll jumped at the teen.  You jumped in front of him, creating a shield with your magic, and Arthur jumped in front of you, swinging a sword at the troll and putting himself in some pretty needless danger.  You couldn’t talk on that subject though.  When it came to needless danger, you were freaking royalty.

“Careful, young squire, witch,” he spat out your title like it was a curse, “Show these beasts no sympathy,”

He kicked the troll into the sunlight, turning it to stone instantly.  You looked on with disappointment as the guards cheered.

Behind you, Steve whimpered again.  You turned, hoping to provide some comfort, or calm the kid down at least, when you froze, your blood running cold.  Behind Steve stood Bular, aka the Troll who kept trying to kill you.

“Shit,”

The Gumm-Gumm prince knocked Steve aside, advancing and attacking the guards.  He hadn't noticed you yet, and you intended to keep it that way, staying out of the troll's field of view, and going after Steve instead.  You helped the boy up and off the ground.  He wasn't injured, but you realized that the king was about to be.  

Before you could do anything, Douxie and Merlin had things under control, saving Arthur and taking out the troll prince.  You breathed a sigh of relief.  If things went well, Bular wouldn’t see you.  Very few things ever went well, but you had your fingers crossed.

And it worked!  For once, things went your way.  Arthur knocked the Gumm-Gumm out with a kick to the face.  Sure, he said some very menacing and antagonistic things right after, but you had no thoughts in your head other than, “Well, that was convenient,”

You watched the guards take Bular away, taking note of Morgana questioning who the real monster was.  If Bular hadn’t tried to kill you and your friends and hadn’t successfully gotten you tortured a couple decades ago, you might have agreed with that.  Unfortunately, he had.

You hadn’t realized that you’d lost yourself in memories until Douxie said your name.

“-(Y/N), are you alright, love?”

“I-” you watched them take the troll out of sight, “I will be,”

Your wizard took one of your hands, squeezing it, “I’m right here if you need me,”

“I know,”

It was silent for a moment.  Then you heard the knights calling Steve.

“I should go,”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,”

“But I should.  Someone needs to make sure that kid doesn’t run into any more high ranking Gumm-Gumms,”

Douxie seemed hesitant, but he respected your choice, “Stay safe,”

“You too,”

From the corner of her eye, Morgana watched you and Douxie.  She wasn’t focused on it, per-say, but she did find it odd.  Were Merlin’s apprentices not constantly at each other’s throats?  She ignored it for now and moved on.

Things went decently for you after that.  The forest was peaceful, the knights were quiet.  Everything was chill until Steve decided to walk through a trap.  You weren’t sure why he didn’t just stop.  Kids these days, honestly.  

You winced as the arrows hit his armour and his skin.  Beside you, Gallahad and Lancelot were absolutely losing their shit.  You had to admit, it was kind of funny, but you were also concerned for your friend.  You put up a shield around him, sheltering the teen from any further arrow-related damage.  Needless to say, the knights were very disappointed.

“Oh, come on, now!  Don’t spoil all the fun,”

“It was fun for the first minute.  Now I’m concerned for his health,”

“Really?  Merlin’s witch apprentice showing concern?  Well then, we’ve found something rarer than the holy grail!”

You took a moment, keeping up your shields as the king and his guards moved through the trap, Lancelot and Gallahad now supporting Steve.

It was weird to see how much you’d changed.  Talking to your past self had been surreal, and a decent reminder of what a little shit you had been, but you hadn’t considered the specifics.  Past you was a scared kid doing what their king told them to.  Under Gunmar, you didn’t have any interests or hobbies outside of getting stronger and staying alive.  Even after you left, you really didn’t start to become who you were now for a few centuries.  You'd been scared that the Gumm-Gumms would come for you at any moment, and that fear wouldn't leave you until at least the fifteen hundreds.  You suddenly felt enormous amounts of guilt weighing on your shoulders.  Guilt about what you’d forced your past self to go through, that you never got a childhood worth having, that you hadn’t been a person for so long that it took centuries to take a real interest in something.  And you felt guilty about how you’d treated other living things.  You knew now that everyone who could be saved deserved saving, but the child you were in the twelfth century didn’t know that.  

But you couldn’t fix the past, even though you were now reliving it.  The only thing you could do was forgive yourself.

And so you did.

Then you ran after the knights to see if Steve was okay.

He was.  Teenagers are surprisingly resilient, that’s how they can do dumb things and not die.  You counted Steve coming out of that trap mostly unscathed as a win.  What wasn’t a win was Lancelot spotting Jim and Callista, looking at what appeared to be Jim’s phone.

You had no idea if that would affect the space-time continuum, but what would affect you personally was your friends getting shot.  And Lancelot was aiming a crossbow at them.  Great.

Beside you, you could hear Steve’s internal panic.  This time he didn’t turn to you, instead, he chose to act, smacking the crossbow out of the knight’s hands.  The arrow still fired, but there was still time.  You put a spell on the arrow, knocking it off course a little more and lessening the impact.  However, there was still an impact.  You could hear as much from the trolls below you.

Lancelot lined up another shot, but Steve knocked the weapon aside again, and you used your magic to push the crossbow out of reach.  It didn’t do much, but it bought your friends some much needed time.  The knight thrust the crossbow at Steve, clearly frustrated.

“What if we just let this one go?”  Steve’s efforts were admirable, you’d give him that much

“You never let them go,”

Lancelot turned away from you to face the king, who was rallying his soldiers.

You put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Hey, you did a good thing, kid,”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Steve’s voice shook slightly, and you felt awful.  If you had time, you probably would have hugged him, told him everything was going to be okay, and maybe adopted him, but right now, you had to find some way to protect Jim.

The knights ran off, leaving you and Steve watching them go.  

Douxie and Merlin came out of the bushes, clearly in pursuit of the king.  They called out to him before running off again.

“C’mon Steve, we have to follow them,”

The boy, who was still shaken, nodded, following behind you as you ran after everyone else.  

Things were not going well.  Morgana and Arthur were fighting, knights were surrounding the area, and Lancelot was firing arrows at children.

Claire was skilled enough to fend for herself, scaring Lancelot, but before the knight could say anything that everyone would regret, Steve knocked him out with a large rock.  You were a bit surprised, but also very pleased.

“Whoa, man, that troll- that came out of nowhere!  Right guys?”

Lancelot woke, only for Steve to hit him again.  You were very proud.

“Nice one, Steve!”

“Thanks!  Uh, can you do your doctor thing?  Make sure I didn’t kill him?”

You kind of doubted that Lancelot had been killed by the rock, but head trauma exists in every century, so you nodded and began your assessment.  You managed to focus up and do your work, ignoring the clanging metallic noise of the battle before you.  Then the pain hit you.  It was like you’d been thrown back into a tree, but that hadn’t happened, so what was- Douxie!

You rushed your assessment, focused on the ache in your spine, “He isn’t dead, Steve, you’re in the clear,”

The teenager punched the air, saying something that you weren’t paying attention to.

“Sorry, kid, I’ll be right back,”

That was kind of a lie.  You weren’t sure when you’d be back.

You made your way to Douxie’s side, helping him up as Morgana sent a beam of gold magic into the sky, before bringing it down on the earth like a whip.  Your wizard pulled you close to him, trying to shield you from the magic.  Had she been paying attention, Morgana would have declared this officially strange, but at the moment she was fighting her brother and former mentor.

You, Claire and Douxie thought it would be a good idea to try and reason with the angry sorceress.

“Stop!  We found another way!”

“It doesn’t have to be like this!”

“We can do this peacefully!”

“The time for peace ended long ago,”

“Morgana,” Claire called out, “He’s not the enemy,”

Morgana continued to rant, but you were a little distracted by the fact that she was now flying.  It wasn’t the best choice either of you had made, but you and Douxie got closer, just in time for the sorceress to cast a spell, creating shadow-like clones of herself.

“Oh, buckets,”  Douxie said as shadow-clones appeared before all of you.

“Yeah, that,”  you drew your sword.  There wasn’t much left to do but fight.

Unfortunately, you were in the minority when it came to having a weapon.  You watched as your friends struggled and dodged, eventually backing away, but wherever they went the shadows followed (as shadows are wont to do.)

Your small group found their way to a cliff, overlooking the ocean.  You recognized this place, but you weren’t sure how.

You could hear Merlin call for someone to protect the king, but you were a little busy fighting for your life at that moment.  

Somehow, you found an opening and sliced through the clone.  You only enjoyed your victory for a moment before Douxie was thrown to the ground, causing you both to wince from the pain.  You were about to make your way over to him when Arthur pointed his sword towards the sky, drawing a spell into the blade and releasing it into the ground, knocking everyone back and banishing the shadow-clones.

Douxie helped you up before you both ran to get the time map.  The sphere flickered from red to blue.  You looked out into the sunset and suddenly realized where you recognized this place from.

Morgana’s name left your lips and Douxie’s at the same time.  The time map’s sphere showed the sorceress’s body.

You and your wizard ran towards the duelling siblings in a last attempt to stop them, but you were once again blown back.  

You screamed as Morgana fell off the cliff for the second time in your life.

You couldn’t remember walking back to the castle. 

You knew you must’ve done it because you would remember being carried back, but you didn’t know how you got from the cliff to Camelot.

And now Claire was talking, “She’s gone.  We failed,”  as if you needed reminding.

“No,” Douxie’s voice came from beside you, “I failed.  Master, I-I’m so sorry,”

“This is why you don’t meddle with time,”

You didn’t even sass Merlin about how this was his idea.  You were out of sass at the moment.  Your head was full of static as you tried to process things.

“But I tried, I tried to fix it,” Douxie fell to his knees, his eyes on the still flickering time map.

Correction, your brain was full of static and heartbreak.  You knelt beside your wizard, putting your hands on his shoulders as he focused on the time map.

“Don’t you see, boy?  There is no ‘fixing’ anything,  Every change has consequence.  Knowing the future is a responsibility to bear with caution, lest you cause the worst things to happen,”

You couldn’t look Merlin in the eye.  Even as he walked away, you didn’t watch him go.

“Morgana’s dead, Excalibur's broken.  This never happened,”

“We are in uncharted territory,” Archie said, coming closer to you and Douxie, allowing the wizard to pat him.

The pain in your chest was his.  The utter anguish he felt over failing to fix things stabbed through you.  And it wasn’t just that.  He had failed Claire, and Steve, and Jim.  He had failed Merlin, and Toby and Camelot.  But the worst thing was he had failed you.  He had destroyed your future, and now you were stuck here.  The very thought of it ripped through him, and you felt all of it.

You bit your lip, just then realizing what that day was.

As if he realized what was to come, Archie took a few steps back, wandering away from the two of you.

“Hey, Doux,” he turned to look at you, the sorrow in his eyes eating you alive, “This was the night.  In our timeline, anyway,”

“What?”

“Where was that fight again?  Merlin’s study?  The staircase?  The throne room?”

“(Y/N)?”

“If we wait outside, do you think we’ll see it happen?”

The pieces fell into place for him, too.

“I don’t even know if it will,”

You waited a moment.

“Who knows.  We hated each other enough, we might still get cursed,”  The joking tone in your voice made you both smile, even though it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Seriously, though, Douxie.  I think whatever bond Merlin gave us, I-” you took a deep breath, knowing that what you said next would definitely damn you both.  But that didn’t matter.  He needed to hear this.

“I think it was the best thing that ever happened to me.  You are the best thing that ever happened to me,”

Douxie looked surprised, only for a second, before his eyes cast their gaze to the ground, to the time map that sat closed on the floor.  “Are you sure?”

His voice was so quiet you barely heard him, and it was so sad, so scared, that you could feel your heart shatter into a million pieces right then and there, “Yeah,” your voice felt like it would break at any minute, “Yeah, I’m sure,”

Your predictions were correct.  Your voice broke and tears came to your eyes, much to your embarrassment.

“(Y/N),” Douxie turned his body towards yours, taking your face in his hands, “You-” he took a second, also feeling that his voice would fail him at any minute, “You mean everything to me, and I-I ruined your future.  We don’t have a home to go back to, and it’s my fault, I-”

“Douxie,” you cut him off, “As long as I’m with you, I’m home.  If we have to, we’ll just build a new future, together,” you ran a hand through his hair.  This was it.  This is what was going to kill you, “I love you, Hisirdoux Casperan,”

There was silence.

And then his lips were on yours.

Do you remember the kiss in the 80s?  Yeah, that was child’s play compared to this.

Your lips fit together perfectly,  his hands glided over your back, pulling you closer to him.  Your hands held his face, swiping away at the tears that threatened to fall.  You found your bottom lip captured between his.  A gasp escaped you when he bit down.  It wasn’t enough to draw blood, but it was enough for your heart to race a little faster, if that was even possible, and tighten your grip just a little.  You could almost feel his pulse racing, and you were absolutely certain he could feel yours.  Your last kiss had been everything in your past, but this kiss was your future.  It was a promise that no matter what came next, you would face it together.

And then you remembered exactly what it was that your future held.

T'was a mood killer.

You broke the kiss, almost unwillingly and definitely wanting more, but Douxie had been right.  He should know what, “I don’t want to kill you anymore,” meant.

Also, there was a loud crash and bright lights from one of the towers, and that was pretty distracting.

“Those damn kids.  Did we really fight so much?”

That almost got a laugh from you, but you had something else to focus on right now.  You rested your forehead against his for a moment, just breathing for a second before your spoke, your voice low, “Douxie, I have to explain some stuff,”

“What is it, darling?”

“You were right, there’s some stuff you should know.  Doux, I think now is later,”

You bit your lip before standing and motioning for him to follow you into the castle, “Let’s go,”

[ivorytowerblr]

NaNoWriMo 2021: Nov 17th

Still short on wordcount, but I’m tired enough that I can’t continue.

Title: Warcraft: Invasion (Vol 1 of Reborn AU) Word Count: 24319 (of 50000) Includes: Violence, mature sexual content, strong language. Summary: It was a dark and stormy night when the rift opened. From it spilled warriors of an alien culture bent on finding and destroying the cause of a sickness that plagued their world, all unknowing that the true cause was right under their noses all along.

Five years after the birth of his son, Llane Wrynn, Crown Prince of Stormwind, would learn of a terrible threat to his people, his nation, and his very world. The only natural thing to do is send his son to the protective walls of Northshire Abbey and, all unknowing, to the protection of a great hero, the prodigy-knight Mara Fordragon.

When sickness ravages your very world, you have no choice but to do whatever it takes to cure it, even if it means traveling to another world by means of the foulest of dark sorceries. It means standing at the side of a butcher, a monster, an abuser, a warrior, a chieftain, a hero to your clan. It means putting aside what is right to do what you must.

All these threads and more weave together to bring about a war like any other; two worlds will never be the same again.

Previous: 1st . 2nd . 3rd . 4th . 5th . 6th . 7th . 8th. . 9th . 10th . 11th . 12th . 13th . 14th . 15th . 16th . 

Orgrim sat still, his mind going suddenly, painfully blank. Slowly, he brought a hand up to touch Jhenna’s cheek, to stroke his fingers over her soft, green skin. His eyes drifted closed as he kissed her back and tugged her a little closer.

“Y’all are good at that,” Jhenna murmured softly. “Do you want to see my bed? Make yourself comfortable... put the booty in Booty Bay?” Her eyes twinkled a little with mirth.

“I... I am flattered, I promise you,” Orgrim said regretfully. “I am too big. You have a large personality, but not a large... person.”

“You let me take care of that, handsome,” Jhenna said, and patted his cheek. “Trust me.”

Orgrim nodded, and leaned in to kiss her softly, mindful of his tusks. Jhenna tasted sweet, of cookies and tea, and something else he couldn’t quite name. He stroked fingers through her hair -- blue, curling, bouncing around her shoulders -- before drawing back.

“Mm, that’s some nice sugar, sugar,” Jhenna said, and sat back. She gestured over towards the far part of the room, past her desk, that was concealed by a curtain that seemed gaudy to Orgrim’s sensibilities. “Just over there, I’ll be right over.”

Orgrim stood carefully, not wanting to upset the table -- or Jhenna -- and found himself towering over the goblin woman. I’m really not sure what her plan is, but if she has one... Orgrim blushed again, and crossed the slightly too-small room in moments.

“Can you undress for me, honey?” Jhenna called as she moved about the room. “All the way. I’da liked to have unwrapped my special package myself but that’s not gonna happen. Sometimes you gotta make sacrifices.”

“I’m a package, am I?” Orgrim asked, and tugged the curtain open, and blinked. This was, unquestionably, a sleeping platform of some kind unlike any he’d seen before. The bed was round, and it seemed to be one giant cushion, with blankets that were a rich, gaudy purple embroidered with gold. It was also, by his measure, at least a foot smaller than he would be if he were to lie on it. “This won’t...”

“Clothes, be gone,” Jhenna said. “Unless you don’t want to..?”

“I do,” Orgrim promised her. “Clothes will be gone.” Shaking his head in confused wonder, Orgrim stripped off his tunic and discarded it on the floor. His armour was already elsewhere, given the size and nature of the room, and he felt absurdly grateful for that fact. A moment later he shucked his trousers and then finally, more slowly, his loincloth.

Naked, he stood before the bed, and looked around, trying not to feel self-conscious. This part of Jhenna’s room had clothes hanging on hooks, and a stray roll of paper or two. Orgrim bent carefully to pick one up and unroll it. The drawing on it was odd, of some kind of plant, perhaps, or a very alien animal: it was a long oval, fins sticking out from one end, with a small structure snuggled against the underside.

So odd... Orgrim thought, studying the picture for a moment. These markings here... words? I can speak the human language, but I don’t have any idea how to read it, or if this is even the human tongue. It could be the goblin tongue, or a special language meant only for building.

“Hey, sugar, put that down and look at me,” Jhenna called. Orgrim rolled up the paper carefully and replaced it in the alcove where he’d taken it from. He turned to face her, and saw that she had a large metal contraption in her hands. It hummed menacingly. Orgrim’s eyes widened in alarm. “Smile!”

Jhenna fired, striking him square in the chest. His vision blurred and Orgrim was forced to close his eyes tightly before the sensation stopped. Slowly, he opened one eye, then the other. “What did you do to me?”

Jhenna lifted the contraption, the nose of the device smoking slightly. “Nothin’ much, just cut you down to size. Go look at the bed again while I put this away.”

Orgrim nodded to her, confused, but turned. The bed had grown, and looked more to his size. Wonderingly, he bent towards it and climbed onto the gaudy coverings, and felt the bed shift, though it did not break. He ran his fingers over the blankets and found them soft in a way he had never felt before.

“Mm, that’s the stuff,” Jhenna said, and Orgrim turned around. “Whaddya think?”

“Did you..?” Orgrim gestured around him. “The world is bigger. This bed was smaller. You...”

Jhenna had not undressed, and she walked towards the bed. “Lay down, sugar. The world ain’t bigger, y’all are smaller. Borrowed that from one of the gnome boys that drops by Booty Bay sometimes. Won’t tell me how it works -- trade secret from Gnomeregan, I guess -- but it works as you can see.”

“It... it does,” Orgrim said. He gazed over at her. “You’re still smaller than I am.”

“That’s no way to treat a lady,” Jhenna chided him. “Pull the blankets out to the side, we’re gonna need ‘em later. And, there’s a limit to how much you can shrink someone. You’re a big boy, Oggie. Takes a bit of work to get you small.”

[electropath]

@cannibalisticskittles  replied to your post “i have one (1) drawing idea and then i’m all out so Yall Fuckin Know”

okay this isn’t exactly a drawing request but i have to know what you think abt darth revan’s armor from kotor, is it Fashionable or is it a dud, i’m very fond of it but idk if i’m just biased, so! how does it hold up to the Modern Sith Fashion of the knights of ren and so forth?

he’s fashionable as fuck!! he’s got the right idea adding colour and embellishments to his look. with the helmet and hooded cloak kylo’s tfa mask + cowl + dress combination is similar to it, just kylo’s is all in black and without extra bits. but i like the extra bits!

vader is The Benchmark for sith fashion since he’s the first one we ever saw, but that’s out-of-universe. in-universe his look is pretty standard, following what came before, not that outstanding, more focused on function than fashion.  which is reasonable for vader. but man, seeing how well revan pulls his armour off, i think we can all benefit from some fuckin gold gauntlets and unnecessary belts

and re: the knights of ren, i’m really into all their looks (plenty of extra bits!) but still it’s all black and little hints of silver. they’ve taken from general sith fashion which is fine, but we gotta branch out boys! we must go bolder! we mustn’t be afraid of colour! which is why i love kylo’s vanity fair blue, because even though there’s no extra bits, it’s blue!! on a darksider!!

so what i’m saying is, love revan’s armour, i think it holds up very nicely

[miss-pearlescent]

A Work in Progress

This was a draft that I never got around to finishing until I was moved by all the support you guys were giving me...AND IT’S STILL NOT ACTUALLY COMPETE but I figured I would “talk” you all through the ending LOL Read on and you’ll understand.

Oh, and happy holidays!

“I would move a mountain for you.”

The tears started flowing and she couldn’t stop them. An ache settled deep within her chest as the book she was reading began to get blurry before her watery eyes. She lived for the pain and angst of romance novels, but she could never live through the misery of unrequited love herself.

“Sona?”

Speaking of...

She felt heavy fingers brush through her fine hair as the naked body behind her began to stir.

She wiped at the tears with the heavy sheets. “Hmm?” she asked, though her voice squeaked at the end.

“Sona, are you crying?”

“No,” she lied, even as she craned her neck back to see the sleepy demon prince rise from his sleep.

He rested his chin on her shoulder as he watched her with concern in his eyes. “What happened?”

Sona shook her head. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“It’s not nothing if you’re crying.” He grabbed her by the waist and turned her around so she was resting on his chest. “Now tell me what Kai, the mighty Prince of Hell, can do for you.”

She rolled her eyes in amusement but closed her book to settle closer to him. “I was just reading a book.”

“Ah,” Kai murmured as if that told him everything. “What happened this time? The dragon ate the knight in shining armour and now the princess has to marry the big, scary beast?”

She cut him a look. “No, worse.”

“Worse?” he asked in an exaggerated voice. “What’s worse than being forced to marry a dragon?”

Burying her face into his chest, Sona took a deep breath. “Not knowing if the one you love loves you back,” she whispered. “The hero is about to die and he thinks the heroine is in love with somebody else. All he wants is for her to feel loved and do you know what he said just now, right as he was about to take his last dying breath?” She punctuated her words with tiny jabs at his chest.

Kai was tracing little circles along the back of her neck, comforting her. “What did he say?” he asked softly.

“He said he would move a mountain for her.” Sona sniffled and squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears. “A whole mountain!”

He let her wallow in her own sorrow for a moment. She clung to his chest, relishing in the comfort he provided but also wishing she could finish her novel at the same time. There was quite a bit left and she knew there were twists and turns around the corner. She just had to get through those to reach the happy ending.

Sona felt the little scoff that came from Kai. She rose her head and narrowed her eyes, daring him to laugh at her emotions.

He didn’t look at her, just continued to watch the spot on her shoulder where he drew shapes and lines. “He said he would move a mountain? Just one?” The corner of his lips kicked up as he gave her a sly look. “I’d part the seas and move a whole mountain range to create its own island if my woman wanted it.”

She snorted and laid her head back down. “This isn’t a competition.” She began tracing her own little drawings on his palm. “Besides, he’s a human, Mr. Mighty Prince of Hell. You’re not allowed to compare your powers to us.”

“You’re a pretty strong human yourself, Little Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” he teased. “I’m sure you could move a mountain or two yourself if you wanted.”

“I just got lucky at birth,” she said, referring to her ability to cast spells that influenced the weather. Then she thought about how her abilities got her to this place, running from her King straight into the arms and bed of the “enemy.” “Or maybe I got unlucky,” she mumbled with a shrug.

Kai gave a deep sigh but he kept his mouth shut. Sona knew how much he hated it when she disliked her own powers, but she had only started learning to contain the self-hate.

Growing up, Sona was raised in a kingdom of humans, where everybody was the same and nobody knew about the supernatural. Then her mom gave birth to a daughter who, at the age of 6, could ask a cloud to rain upon her mother’s crops in the middle of a drought that had originally caused a mass famine.

At first, the villagers had been frightened of Sona...until hunger took over and they knocked on her mother’s door to ask for rain on their own lands.

Though her mother had started with lies, saying there was no such thing as magic, Sona saw the desperation in her neighbours’ eyes and gave the farmers some rain during the night when nobody could see.

Her village flourished and things were great as Sona grew older. There was only one summer where officials were suspicious. It was hard enough to grow produce on the side of the mountain, but Sona’s mother was bringing carts and carts of crops to the market everyday.

After they had a suspicious official search their home, Sona knew she couldn’t overdo it with the weather anymore. She kept low until a second drought hit her kingdom years later.

The new King had heard of the remarkable growth of Sona’s village and sent soldiers to interrogate the people.

She didn’t like to think about that day because it was the last time she saw her mother before being dragged away to the King’s court.

There, her powers were honed and abused. She was locked up for days until she could cause floods that filled all the rice paddies, till she could bring the sun out in the middle of the night.

And she was forced into an engagement with the King.

It wasn’t until one of her guards saw her plans for an escape that he helped her leave the walls of the kingdom. She walked for days and days until she came upon a town inhabited by what she thought were monsters.

She remembered blacking out before waking up to see Kai’s face.

“What are your plans for today?” he asked, changing the subject and pulling her out of her reverie.

She smiled to herself, thinking of the past month where he patched her up and introduced her to a spellcaster in his outcast town who helped build her skills. Kai was the leader of this town on the other side of the mountain and she grew to love him day by day.

Which was why she wasn’t surprised when he told her he was a demon prince, banished from hell to live out his life on Earth.

Sona played with the chain around his neck. “I think I’ll go visit Mr. Oh this afternoon and bring his family some cake. It’s his grandson’s birthday.” Mr. Oh was the spellcaster who was surprised by Sona’s powers and excited to work with her. He was like a father figure to her. “What’s this?” she asked, pointing at the clover on Kai’s chain.

“It’s the protection charm you gave me,” he explained. She had given Kai a coin with a protection spell on it the day Mr. Oh had taught it to her. “I didn’t know where to keep the coin so I got it melted down into a clover and attached it to my neck. Now I won’t be able to lose it.”

She felt a smile cracking through her lips. “I like it.” She leaned up to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

He rolled her over to deepen it. “You’ll like this too.”

Sona moaned as a hand skated up her side, brushing her nipple in a tease.

And this was where her conscious fought with her.

The relationship she shared with Kai was so perfect, yet neither of them knew where they stood. When she had first climbed into his bed, it was like a magnet had brought them together. After that, they were unable to spend a night apart. And during the day, she longed to be close to him. She wanted to share all her thoughts and ideas with him.

But she knew his greatest wish was to go back home. Things were difficult on Earth, especially in a town where it rained often. And many days were a gloomy grey. In the middle of a week of rain, Sona broke her own rules just to part the clouds and let the sun peak through a bit.

She didn’t realize her heart would be the one to warm up when she saw Kai watching her with awe and pride.

So, selfishly, she tried everything she could to make him happy. She wanted him to stay despite knowing it was futile. He deserved to go back home, where he could be treated like the prince he was.

And where humans weren’t allowed unless they were dead.

---

OK I’ve let this “first chapter” sit here for a long while and I’ve tried to come back to it but I can’t so here is the rest of the plot:

The next day, they wake up to their village being seized by Sona’s kingdom’s army. Kai fights them and wins, but a soldier named Baekhyun finds Sona. Baekhyun is the one who freed Sona in the first place so even though Kai is like “WTFFFF IMMA KILL YOU,” Sona is like “lemme talk to Baekhyun.” Baek is like “yo, I admit defeat but like...you gotta come back with me to your kingdom.”

Kai is pissed.

Sona (the reasonable person she is) asks “why?”

Baekhyun: If you don’t, the king is gonna burn down the whole kingdom.

The kingdom is on the other side of the mountain. The inland side, so it doesn’t get much rain.

In comparison, Kai’s village is on the side of the mountain that faces the ocean and therefore gets hella rain.

The proper term for all of this is “rain shadow.” For reference, think of North America’s Rocky Mountains LOOOL

ANYWAY, Sona’s kingdom is dying once again because it’s a desert and only she was able to grow FUCKEN RICE IN A DESERT. So the king is calling her back or else he’s gonna set fire to a kingdom of starving people.

And why is Baekhyun so worried? BECAUSE HE’S GOT A GIRL BACK THERE ;______; He was ready to wife her!!!!!

Sona is like “nooooo :( moral duties!”

Kai’s like “FJKDALGHDKALFJDKSLJFDKALHGDKLSJ YOU CAN’T GO.....OK I KNOW YOU WANNA GO REALLY BAD BUT...JFKDALGHKS ok but like I’m coming.”

Sona’s like “no the humans hate demons. they’re gonna kill you :(((((((((( This is my fight.”

Kai’s like “LISTEN. TO. ME. LINDA.”

Ofc he has to be heroic and shit so Sona’s like “FINE. But you are only gonna be chaperoning me. I am NOT risking ur ass by taking you into a kingdom that hates anything ~magical~”

Kai agrees but more like “k watever”

ANYWAY, THEY GO.

Here is where I had a dilemma LOL I wanted them to go on a motorcycle because KIM JONGIN IS SO HOT ON A MOTORCYCLE LMFAO but why would a demon from a poor wittle village have a motorcycle....

So in my head, they rode on some motorcycle thingy that had a big black cloud veil and whatnot while Baekhyun rode his horse with the other nearly-dead soldiers behind them lol

They arrive at the kingdom and Kai is pissed af because he’s worried :( Yeah I hate when men do this because it’s a really bad way to channel your emotions but men are dumb and never change ALAS!

They get in a big fight and Sona has to leave to go into the kingdom while they’re still angry/ignoring each other.

Kai is all haughty and fuming, waiting in a tree and shit while he watches Sona be escorted past the gates of the kingdom....and the moment she is gone, HE STARTS REGRETTING EVERYTHING LMFAO

jokes on you!

Sona agrees to whatever the king says (idk what he says, lol my imagination didn’t care about this king) BUT THE KING GOES BACK ON HIS WORD BECAUSE HE’S SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT HIS KINGDOM IS PERISHING DUE TO CIRCUMSTANCES OUT OF HIS CONTROL YET EVERYBODY THINKS IT’S HIS OWN FAULT so he sets fire to everything including himself. I feel like his brain’s going “If I can’t rule this kingdom, THEN NOBODY SHALL!”

He dies, but his orders were to have soldiers scattered around the kingdom so that once the king’s castle was lit on fire, these soldiers would know to start fires in their own places too.

Thankfully, they’re not ALL dumb as shit. Some decide that this is actually a bad idea, so they help evacuate whoever they can.

Ofc, our heroine helps too :’) She brings whoever she can out past the gates and then tries to bring some rain from the ocean.

While she’s working, she realizes that Kai is not at their meeting spot. She doesn’t see him at all, actually.

She’s scared but SHE HAS WORK TO DO!

So she’s all busy concentrating on bringing the rain past the mountains (she cannot gather enough water from the land around her to create a mass of precipitation because it’s a desert.......yes, i think about these things too)

BUT SHE’S STRUGGLING CUZ BITCH, THESE ARE SOME BIG MOUNTAIN RANGES AND IT WASN’T MEANT TO RAIN FOR ANOTHER MONTH.

Then she sees Kai running towards her carrying a whole cart of people (indeed, our man found a CART!)

She’s about to call him but then he runs back in and she’s like “OMFG I’M GONNA LOSE HIM” but that thought only stays for a split second cuz she still has to get the rain over here lol

The fire’s basically burned down the kingdom at this point. Kai has brought out many people (he’s fine in the fire because he’s a demon AND he has a cute protection charm hehehe) but then he sees Sona struggling and he looks up and sees the dark clouds forming on the other side of the mountain.

Guess what he does?

biiiiitch

Sona is like “O_O” when she suddenly looks over and KAI IS PUSHING THE MOUNTAIN RANGE OVER.

biiiitch he did that!

Rain pooooooooours down the mountain and starts dousing the fire. Problem is, everything is suddenly dark and the ground is slippery lol DIDN’T THINK OF THAT, HUH?

So they’re still scrambling to get survivors out. Towards the end, Sona is helping a family out when suddenly she slips because she’s human and there’s mud everywhere. Her ankle twists and she just sits there for a second as she sees Baekhyun call off the search. It’s been hours and everyone’s exhausted.

Kai turns back and starts walking towards Sona, and she’s shook because 1) HE’S HOT AF and 2) his eyes are blue and his hair is white...sound familiar??

THIS IS THE PERFORMANCE (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-VX60sGRjo) THAT STARTED THIS WHOLE STORY IN MY HEAD LOOOOL SUCH A GOOD FANCAM! SUCH A GOOD LOOK! DO YOU SEE THAT CLOVER ON HIS NECK? YUM!

Anyway, he takes off his hat and holds out his hand with a smirk on his face and goes “Did I move enough mountains for you?”

JFKLADHGDKALFJDKSLGHDKALJFDKSL imma punch him

He pulls Sona up off the ground and sees that shes limping and suddenly drops his smirk. She’s like “no, it’s nothing” but ofc Kai has to be heroic and shit so he picks her up and VROOM VROOM they go off in their motorcycle back to the village LOOOOOOOOOOOOL

The whole way back though, they’re silent but for different reasons. Sona is hella sad because she’s sooooo in love with Kai but knows that she’s just drawing out something that’s gonna end badly. She wants to protect her heart, ya know!

Whereas Kai....has different reasons :)

So we get back to Kai’s place and Sona is washing up while Kai just sits on his little settee. When Sona’s done, she tells him to go wash up but he just grunts.

We love grunting. Why? CUZ HE’S BROODING?

WHY IS HE BROODING? DIDN’T THEY JUST SAVE A WHOLE KINGDOM?

Sona is thinking the same thing LOL but Kai directs her to lay down on the settee (isn’t it dirty, Kai??) and props her foot up on a couple pillows.

“Why do you still look like this?” she asks in a whisper, gently fingering through the strands of white on his head.

(a/n: sorry I had to /write/ that part out because it sets the mood a lot but DAMN i wanna barf at my own writing LOL just imagine everything is warm and candlelit, and Kai is attentively catering to Sona while she lounges on the settee)

Kai doesn’t meet her eyes. Just shrugs.

Okkkkkkk so obviously it’s a sensitive topic???

She continues to comb through his hair cuz it’s cute. And because he’s a wittle puppy (see: demon prince from hell), HE BREAKS WHEN SHE SCRATCHES THAT ONE SPOT ON HIS HEAD.

He grabs her wrist and takes deep gulping breaths.

Meanwhile, she holds her breath.

“I was banished from hell for not taking a mate.”

Her brows furrow and she starts to sit up but Kai pins her down with his hands. His blue eyes reflect the fire in the hearth.

“It was during mating season, and everyone was in a frenzy. My father found a girl for me. I remember she was so scared when she was brought into court.”

Kai takes a breath. Sona uses her other hand to stroke his hair, offering whatever comfort she could.

“I couldn’t do it.” He choked on his last syllable. “I couldn’t do such a horrible thing to a little girl who had screamed and cried until her voice was gone. They brought her to me when she barely had any fight left in her.”

Kai put his forehead against Sona’s shoulder. “Mating season meant you lost yourself. You had the hair and eyes of your inner demon, along with its mindset. But I refused to do anything to the poor girl, so I hid her away and sent her to the outskirts of the land.”

Sona let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “You did what was right,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “She couldn’t go back to her parents who would sell her again. She didn’t have anywhere to go. I was banished before I could find her again.” His body was shaking with grief. “She could be dead because of me.”

Sona cried for him. Cried for the man that tried to do the right thing and still had everything turn out wrong. Cried for the young girl that had no choice in what was done to her. Cried for the fact that Sona herself could not turn back time and undo all of it.

They stayed like that on the settee—Kai crouching on the rug in front of her—for what seemed like hours.

When he rose, his eyes were bloodshot and glassy.

Sona pushed him toward the tub, insisting he’d feel better after having a wash.

He came out looking ragged still, but cleaner. He took a seat on the ground in front of her again, staring into the fire.

“So it’s mating season for you again?”

He nodded. “It comes every five to seven years. That’s another reason why my father banished me. He needed an heir and I was unwilling to produce one, so he turned to my next brother.”

“You don’t seem...” Sona searched for the word, “animalistic to me.”

Kai shrugged. “I don’t like to let the demon rule me. It’s hard to control my body once instinct takes over.”

“I see.” She stared at the ceiling and fought a blush creeping across her cheeks, trying not to think of all the inappropriate things Kai would do to her if “instinct” had taken over.

Except, he wasn’t letting it, was he? He didn’t want to have sex right now. He didn’t want a mate right now.

Sona tamped down her disappointment and put on a smile, turning her head to look at him. “Well, if—” She bit off her sentence with a squeak when she saw Kai’s blazing blue eyes staring back at her.

His nostrils flared. “Why do I smell your arousal, Sona?”

She opens her mouth but closes it again when he rises above her.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks in a growl.

That just made the ache between her legs even worse. “I-I was just wondering about the demon side of you.”

His eyes glinted and she swore she saw fangs as he cracked a devilish grin. “What would you like to know?”

“Oh, just general stuff.” She waved her hands in the air. “Like what you eat in Hell, how you communicate with other demons, how you—”

He cut her off by pressing the calf of her broken ankle against the back of the settee. “How we mate?” He hiked up her nightgown and grinned at the sight before him. “Keep your bad leg still and I’ll show you.”

Sona almost came just from the hunger in his eyes, but she snapped out of her haze and clamped her hands down between her legs. “No.”

Kai blinked and looked up. “No?”

“No,” she bit out. Her body was so ready, but she couldn’t keep hurting the both of them like this. “I can’t mate with you.”

The fire in Kai’s eyes died as he backed away, still holding onto her leg so it wouldn’t drop forcefully onto the pillows.

Talking felt like pushing lead from her throat. “We can’t do this anymore, Kai. We are torturing ourselves.” She took a deep breath. “You have to know that I love you so much and you are the best person I’ve ever met, but I can’t be the right mate for you.”

A line set between his brows. “Why not?” he bit out.

“Because I can’t be what you need. You need a queen to go with you into Hell and run a whole Hell-dom there. Someone who can bring you back home where you belong, where your powers can flourish.” She couldn’t stop the whimper that followed. “Not a human who holds you back on Earth.”

His thumb stroked her calf, a kindness she didn’t deserve. Her heart was breaking into two and he was still her providing comfort.

Next thing she knew, he was kissing her. Gently on the cheek at first and then slowly grazing her lips.

“Kai,” she whispered between pecks. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “So do you want to be my mate?”

“Kai!” She pushed against his shoulders.

He caught her hand and kissed it. “I heard what you said and I still want you. I want you whether you can come to Hell or not. It doesn’t matter, because I feel at home when I’m with you.”

Sona shook her head through the tears. “That doesn’t make sense.”

He kissed her, hard. “If I left this village, would it still feel like a home to you?”

“Of course not.”

“Would you go back to your kingdom?”

She vehemently shook her head.

“Then where would you go?”

Sona licked her lips. “I...I don’t know.”

“Me neither.” He kissed her again, crawling between her legs. “I would try to find you. I would want to be with you for the rest of my life, if you would have me.”

She wrapped her good leg around his waist. “Then please take me.”

He chuckled and nipped her on the shoulder. “Then promise not to move your bad leg.”

(THEY DO IT)

OK that’s enough /writing/ LOL so they do the dirty and suddenly they’re mated and Sona’s ankle is healed. Why? BECAUSE SHE GOT SOME POWERS FROM HER MAN. And Kai suddenly has a purple aura around him and he can move a couple clouds with just a thought. How? BECAUSE HE GOT POWERS FROM HIS WOMAN.

And they can both transcend into hell cuz she’s no longer human-human, CUZ WHY? CUZ SHE’S GOT A DEMON BABY BAKING INSIDE OF HER MWAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA

the end.

ok now it’s time for a quick shameless plug :3 Red Velvet came back so of course I had to cover it! Please check it out and give us a like if you can :’’‘‘)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFmPgY_6wWQ

[spacecreatorart]

Goretober Day 29 - Wings

My goretober list

This one is quick because we gotta live fastt.

A bit of story behind the drawing below the cut.

If you remember the “Acid” day then maybe you read about the cult of the forgotten god and his cultists looking for messiah. Well, this boy is the messiah. His name is Agran, but he also is known as Ellyan. He is a half elf. His father was a human noble, his mother an elven maidservant. For his entire life his one and only dream was to be a knight someday, and despite racism, despite people who did not wish him well, he managed to earn his sword and his cape and his armour. He was why about his success, but so proud, so happy...

Soon he was assigned to protect a large group of pilgrims, as they were resting on his father’s land.

In the middle of the night, he was captured as many others from the camp by cultists. He was enslaved and tortured, waiting for his turn to be fed, as all of the other slaves, with the liquid flame.

When his turn came up, after months of imprisonment, he wasn’t one to die immediataly after drinking the liquid that burned his throat and his tongue and his lips. When it reached his stomach, it bursted with flame filling his entire body with fire. He fainted and a god of all things dying appeared in front of his eyes. The god opened his huge, burning mouth and swallowed him whole, making him his own, marking him as his messiah.

He woke up days later, in his cell, where he was thrown with many others who lost their mind or fell in a coma or died after drinking the liquid flame. He woke up, filled with rage. His entire body was burning on the inside, hurting like hell. He couldn’t say anything, only grunt with his teeth gritted, jaws clenched because of pain. His back was hurting the most. Like he had raw flesh exposed on his back, that turned out to be... a pair of naked wings, the skin charred, with old blood stains. His body was changed. His blood was no more his own.

The fire filled him with rage. Blinded by pain, blinded by his god’s consciousness, who finally could manifest in this realm, he murdered every person his eyes laid upon. All of the cultists, all of the slaves, even the Prophet, who was the only person who could really hear his god’s words.

He realised what he had done days later, when he again woke up, still stiff with pain and burning from the inside, but his mind clear. He saw all the blood on his hands, saw the cave filled with corpses he created, saw his own blood - now a liquid flame - covering his body, but with no injuries. All of them healed in a matter of hours.

He couldn’t go back home. Not like this. Not with fire burning inside his body, not with crooked naked wings growing from his back, not with a rage that would make him kill half a hundred men in frenzy. He covered himself, buried the bodies and with destroyed mind and soul that was no longer his own, he ran away from that terrible place.

Will I post more art of this poor, tortured half-elf boy? Yes. Eventually. I’ll make him a proper introduction and show his face.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Dancing with Legends: Prologue

Summary: Professional dancers Rachel, Sam and Natia get the adventure of their live son day when they end up taking a trip though dimensions. Especially since Rachel apparently looks like someone called the Witch Queen.

Co-author is: @cometthespacechinchilla because I rant way to much in the chat.

-

"It’s not the end of the world,” Sam tells his dance partner, grimacing at the group of Georgian dancers who had just won the competition. “We’re still in for best tango dancers in the USA…”

“I know. Just sucks.” Rachel sighs as she adjusts the hem of her dress. “We should probably go and like… say congratulations?” Sam shrugs and runs a hand through his short fohawk.

“We can not and-“

“Come on, maybe you can hit on one of them.” Sam perks up at that.

“Ooooh, I can offer my lovely self as a prize!” Sam grins wickedly while Rachel sighs.

“What is with you and sex?”

“Sex is fucking fantastic. Almost as good as dancing with a good partner.” Sam says seriously. Rachel snorts and pulls her dancer partner over to the other group, where a tall woman with her blonde hair up in a bun is standing somewhat apart. Her face looks deadpan as she stands there, but looks up at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Congratulations!” Rachel offers, offering her hand, still holding onto Sam’s arm. “You and your team deserve the win.” The woman blinks but then nods, offering her own hand.

As soon as they shake hands, the temperature of the place drops suddenly.

“What the-“ Rachel begins but the sound of breaking glass fills the air. The three of them feel like they’re been lifted off their feet, and spun around and around fast.

They finally came out and landed with a thump on the ground. Rachel groans from where she landed on her back, Sam sprawled across her.

“Get off me.” She grunts, shoving him off.

“Fuck, I landed on a rock.” Sam grunts, sitting up with a wince. “…What the fuck?”

“French-“ Rachel says, only to stop when she lifts herself up, staring around her. A bunch of people dressed in peasant clothing were around them, while they were also in the middle of a village that…

“What the hell?” asks the Georgian Dancer, as she herself sits up.

“I have no idea what you said.” Rachel tells her.

“..Sorry. I said what the hell.” The dancer mutters. “This looks like something from a… a…”

“Play?” Sam offers.

“Yes, that.” The dancer stands up as does Same who also helps Rachel to her feet. They look around themselves.

“…Does anyone have a phone?” Rachel asks. Sam pats himself down while the people all take a step back.

“I do not think they like us,” the dancer observes, crossing her arms.

“No shit,” Sam voices. “Fuck, no phone.”

“We were dancing, you take your phone on the dance floor?”

“Hey, Maria calls me alright? Gotta watch out for my cousin.” Sam shoots back as someone on a horse comes riding through the square. The man sitting on it is wearing armour and scowling. “…Okay, hot eye candy, this place just got better.”

“Would it kill you to think about something other then sex?” asks Rachel. Sam looks a little upset.

“Hey! I think about dancing most of the time!” he tells her as the man comes and drops off the horse.

“Witch Queen!” he shouts, pointing at Rachel.

“…I know your dress is a little revealing but witch?” Sam asks outloud.

“Shut up Sam.” Rachel hisses as the dancer frowns.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Are these your new followers?” the man demands. “Are you rebuilding your army witch?”

“Whoa buddy,” Rachel says. “I have no idea who you’re talking about here.” The man scoffs.

“A likely story!” he snaps at Rachel and the girl scowls, placing her hands on her hips and drawing herself up.

“…You are way to short even in heels.” Sam mutters.

“This is serious Sam!” Rachel hisses at him and he shrugs.

“I know, I’m just pointing out you’re to short to try to look tall.” Sam says to her as Rachel scowls deeper and a white haired man comes up to them.

“…An elf?!” the dancer says, looking shocked.

“Again, we don’t understand.” Sam tells the woman who scowls. “Hey, I get the same problem to.”

“How are you so calm?” Rachel hisses.

“Because everyone here is insanely attractive so I get eye candy.” Sam answers honestly. The new comer along with the man and dancer stare.

Rachel slaps a hand over her face and groans, loudly.

“Of course.” Sam shrugs.

“There are very beautiful people around us, how can I despair upon seeing them?” Sam twitches a little and Rachel blinks, noticing how he stands.

Oh.

She herself moves her feet a little, eyeing the people around her.

“I quite like this companion,” chuckles the newcomer. “Though I do agree with you August, the resemblance is… startling.” He looks at Rachel with wary eyes and Sam twitches a bit more.

That’s when Rachel really looks and sees the weapons on the men’s hips. She reaches out to touch Sam’s shoulder.

“Don’t.” She says, not bothering to hide it. Better to warn Sam not to start something. “Elf’s got a bow.” Sam blinks, and looks over the men and shrugs.

“Fine. Still though, very attractive faces. Glad I’m not trying to punch them.” He winks and grins, dropping his stance and holding up his hands with a lazy grin. The elf laughs while the other guy- August- scowls.

“Would you have fought them?” the dancer asks. Sam blinks at her but seems to understand what she's saying- more or less.

“Elf’s got a weak spot in the armour I noticed, aim there I could get ‘im on the ground quick. Knight’s a harder sell but if I got his arm I could flip ‘im and put him down and book it. Bow complicates things.” Sam says pleasantly.

“Ah… smart. I would go for legs.”

“And still, no clue what you're saying.”

“Shut up.” Rachel hisses at both of them. August looks pissed while the elf looks amused but wary. “Look, I am not the Witch Queen-“

“Liar!” August snaps. “You appear here with a new… general and a bodyguard and do not expect us to notice?!”

“…Who’s the general?”

“SAM SHUT UP.” Rachel growls at Sam, causing the man to shrug.

“Fine, deprive you of my wit I shall.” Rachel covers her face as August scowls.

“You will follow me Witch! I shall take you to Lord Reiner this instant! Your general and bodyguard shall come as well!” Rachel wrinkles her nose as he pulls out rope and then stops. “…You shall all walk.”

“I’m down with that.” Sam says pleasantly. “You alright in the shoes Rachel?”

“If I can dance in my heels, I can walk.” Rachel replies.

“Awesome.” Sam cheers. “…By the way, what the hell is your name?” He nods to the dancer who just scowls. “I'm Sam Bellamy.”

“Natia Bakhia.” The dancer- Natia- says.

“Nice.” Sam offers his hand and Natia shakes it. It looks awkward with their hands tied together.

“Rachel Archer.” Rachel offers, offering her bound hands. Natia glares at her instead. “What’s with the look?” She asks. Natia snorts. “What?”

“You’re apparently the look alike of the Witch Queen.” Sam says. “Fantasy usually says it’s your fault we’re in this mess.” Rachel scowls at him while Natia nods.

“Fuck both of you.” Sam grins then. “Shit.”

“Why my lovely Rachel! I had no idea that you felt that way about me!” he clasps his hands to his chest. “Ah, my heart cannot-“

“I will shove you into a fucking lake.” Rachel hisses, prompting him to laugh. “Go back to staring at the asses of the people taking us to meet a lord or whatever.”

“They are lovely asses.” Sam agrees, prompting August to sputter.

“Why thank you dear sir!” the elf says, smirking. “May I say yours is pleasant as well?”

“You may!” Sam cackles.

“Iseul! Cease your flirtations with the bodyguard!” August snaps. However, the elf and Sam don’t listen, flirting back and forth as the trudge towards the castle.

“I regret the handshake so much now.” Rachel mutters.

[riverdaleroundup]

Riverdale Roundup: 2x06 “ Death Proof”

Okay so here we are, back at it.

So first of all does Jughead just live in that white tank top now? I just don’t dig it and I honestly need him to put a proper shirt on. I get that he lives in a trailer park or whatever but it’s just trying too hard for me.

So Betty is racing down the street to the five seasons and you know she’s frazzled because her hair is down. She arrives to the St. Clair suite to see Nicky just chillin in a bathrobe with his fucked up face and she’s honestly shook that he isn’t dead yet. I don’t get what her plan was here? Did she think she was going to burst in to find his dead body or like the black hood mopping up blood stains? If she was going to stop the murder wouldn’t the first step to have been to call Sheriff Keller? Thankfully Sheriff Silver Fox is already on the premises ready to take names. Despite the drama of this whole scene I just can’t get past Nick in the bathrobe, he looks like such a little bish. He should not be brooding with that much ankle exposed so casually, it’s just not fitting.

By some mercy of God Betty has learned how to put her phone on silent and I am so very very grateful. I could not take one more round of “ lollipop”.  Archie texts betty “ You up?”  like the true Fuck Boy he is but honestly it’s like mid morning at this point so like what’s the game arch?

We see Penelope sitting down with the Lodge Loons to discuss the Nicholas issue and she’s such a stone cold bitch and like not in an iconic Alice Cooper way. What a heartless Wench. Also how is her face not fucked up? How is she not completely messed? From the first episode I thought that she was going to be bedridden but like she’s fine. Not even a scratch. Okay we see that her arm is burned later but like come on? Did Mark Sloan himself come back from the grave to reconstruct her horrible burned face back to sheer perfection?  

Toni and Jughead are having breakfast and she’s all like “ Yeah we aren’t going to happen. I don’t want to be your rebound” even though the second that Jughead was like “ Betty isn’t in the picture anymore “  she was all up in his business. So like what’s the truth Toni?

Archie and Betty are coming to Pops and Betty claims she won't be answering the blackhoods calls anymore but I mean come on that sounds fake. She also claims that the people “ at the farm” are going to help Polly disappear for a while. What kind of farm is this that they take in Wayward pregnant teens and also double as a projection program? They see Toni and Jughead eating breakfast together and it’s honestly drama.

There’s an emergency meeting at the cooper house where Alice basically tells everyone that their kids are trash and huge whore’s but that Betty is an angel. Kevin learns that Bughead is no more and is honestly shook. It’s so going in his blog.

Josie’s mom is ready to lock her in a tower for taking “ jj” and decides to clear out the south side in retaliation. Archie races to South Side high to be Jugheads knight in shining armour, but Jughead just assumes he’s there to break up with him again and is v pissy about it. The cops burst into the school ready to arrest anyone wearing leather and Archie basically has to drag jughead out of there by his ear.  Also Sheriff Keller and his boys are pure fashion in those hats.

Veronica doesn’t want to tell her dad about Nick getting handsy with her because she knows that Daddy will straight up murder him and not even think about it. Kevin is very disloyal to Betty honestly. I get that he’s friends with Veronica as well and that Betty was super bitchy to her but he’s only known V a few months and Betty is supposed to be like his ride or die. Could he not at least hear her out for a minute before slaying her with alliteration?

Black hood calls Betty and she obviously picks up even tho she said she wouldn’t because she’s a fucking liar. Black hood is like “ Infiltrate the dealers. Find the supplier.” sending betty out in search of the Sugar Man.  For once Betty realizes that she isn’t in the FBI and is literally a fresh 15 and reminds BH that she’s “ Just a high school reporter” and he’s like “ I don’t give a single fuck. Infiltrate the dealers. Find the supplier.”

Archie is willing to break up with Jughead for Betty but he wouldn’t get back together with him for her so he tell’s Jughead to go talk to her.

Betty rolls up to the new Thorn Hill to find Cheryl lounging in a bathing suit, reading a book and enjoying a little spread. Here’s the thing. What month is it? There was literally just snow everywhere and Sweetwater River was frozen. School hasn’t been in session that long. In theory is should be like November/ December ish if that.  But here Cheryl is in a bathing suit, everyone's walking around without jackets,  and everyone shows up to the race in like tanktops and shorts. What is good!?! What month is it? On the subject of months how many months pregnant is Polly? She was with the sisters for like 5 months right? And she’s been home for a good while so when are the children of incest going to vacate her womb and enter riverdale where they will probably be accused of murder or something by the time they’re 6 weeks old.

Betty asks Cheryl about the Sugar man and Cheryl is like “ Duh Betty he’s a scary story my crazy ass mom created. Try to keep up.”  Cheryl proceeds to rip Betty a new one about trying to ruin literally all of her childhood memories and shoos her away so she can enjoy her trail mix in peace.

Papa Andrews tries to make sure that Archie is taking care of Jughead and Archie is like “ yas i’m trying but it’s fucking hard”, meanwhile Jughead is slithering into the Goolies lair where Tall Boy  is chilling saying they should all be BFFs.

Cheryl goes through a box of her and Jason's old stuff and finds a crayon drawing of Sugar man and decides that he’s real. But like??????? How is that proof?

Betty and Keller chit chat about the Sugar Man and Sheriff says that Old Clifford was the Sugar Man so now it could be anyone and  they are shit out of luck.  Veronica is lurking in the background so she and Betty share some milkshakes and Betty comes clean about the black hood calls. She enlists Veronica to help her find the Sugar Man and now they’re tight again.

Jughead is pacing the trailer ranting about the Goolies and it’s really dark so I did not see Archie sitting there and I honestly thought he was just ranting to Hot Dog and I was like okay how very relatable. I bitch at my dog all the time. He’s a great listener. Archie suggests they go to FP for advice and i’m like yas I miss you come back.  He says they should challenge them to a street race and i’m like are you sure we shouldn’t just have another rumble at midnight. That worked very well the first time.

Cheryl tries to talk to her mom about the sugar man but her mom just calls her a crazy bitch and reminds her that she literally burned down their house so maybe she should just shut up.

The gang has to clean up this nasty ass park and Kevin is so disgusted by it that even he wouldn’t troll for stray dick there. Reggie and Josie awkwardly flirt and i’m like ohhh this is a thing now? Veronica ruins their romantic banter by demanding the number of Reggie's dealer. Infiltrate the dealer, find the supplier.

So Veronica rolls up to the south side to get the JJ from one of the Goolies goons. I get that both gangs couldn't just wear straight leather but having the Goonies wear studs and animal print really just makes them look like jokes.

“ What about my change Asshat?” This wouldn’t happen if the dealers were kind enough to take credit.

So we see some of the Jingle Jangle production and they’re literally putting these things together with hot glue and i’m dying.

There’s a truly tragic exchange of Veronica, Betty, Archie, and Jughead all saying each other's names and then saying “ what are you doing here “ in unison and i’m like again with the scooby doo?

Jughead and Archie gotta take their bitches and skanks and get the fuck out, but Jughead having been a serpent for a solid 45 minutes decides he has the authority to bet the family farm and offers up their bar and the trailer park as collateral on this race. A bitch is ballsy.

Nick shows up at Pops and calls Nick “ Sharon” and I literally want to vom. Nick tries to play all innocent.  Although the “ Desperate tart from a truck stop town” was a pretty solid insult he’s still a huge douche canoe. At least he paid for her lunch.

Betty is helping Jughead fix Reggie's car and I know she said she used to help Hal fix cars but I have a ton of trouble picturing Hal in his tight sweaters fixing a car. Oh shove it Hal. Jughead calls Betty out on being heartless and  dumping him via Archie and she’s like “ Ohh i can explain but like not now” and i’m over here being frustrated as hell like bitch you’ve been sitting in awkward silence just tell him it won’t affect his driving skills. You know what will tho? THE FACT HE’S 15 AND DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE.

Cheryl finds the hush money cheque in her mom's room and i’m like yass that’s what people do with cheques for large amounts of money. They hide them in their underwear drawer and hope that the cash just magically appears in their account. So more likely Mrs Blossom is above going to the bank and took a picture of the cheque to deposit it and now Cheryl is just holding a piece of meaningless paper hostage.

Veronica and Archie are lounging in bed together and i’m like where is Fred? Does he allow this sin under his roof? Cheryl kills the mood by telling Veronica that the St.Clairs are still investing in SoDale so she goes to Daddy and Daddy promises that he’s going to fuck shit up.

So we come to the drag race and everyone has put on their fourth of july best. Kevin is pissed that Ru Paul isn’t there but is glad that there is a lot of eye candy. He clearly has a thing for gang members.

Instead of offering Jughead a lock of her hair Betty gives Juggie her declaration of love and some driving advice. Cheryl tells Toni/Cha Cha  to stuff it because this is her moment and the race is on. In what world would the Goolies  race that old ass car that was never made to go more than 25 miles an hour?

Archie is a little baby and pulls the E break which should basically guarantee that they lose but Archie called Sheriff Keller with a hot tip ahead of time. Everyone is pissed at Archie but I mean they won so……

Penelope threw that cheque that i’m convinced now that she already cashed in the fire and finally spills the tea to Cheryl. Cheryl calls Betty with the intel about who the sugar man is and like a fucking sane normal girl who doesn’t live in fucking Rosewood she calls the police. The Black Hood is pissed and we find out the Sugar Man is Charles Fucking Percy, whose name in this is like Mr Phillip or some bullshit I really don’t care.

Betty is threatening the black hood being like I’ve solved all these mysteries so I can totally catch you and i’m like Betty maybe like back the heck up, I say again you are 15.

So does Fred pop pills on the regular now? Is this going to be a story line?

So the Lodges ran the St. Clair car off the road  and they all sit around and smile about it while playing chess. Not at all menacing.

Despite all Betty's best efforts, the Black Hood is still putting a hit on Percy/ Aka Robert Phillips/ Aka The Sugar man. So sad… but….not really.

That’s it.

[ceaselessims]

😩🍑🗡

inspired by x

Castiel jumps ten feet in the air when a loud racket of clinging medal falls down behind him. This day has been hectic enough. It’s almost time to go home and Castiel is counting down the minutes. He promised Dean he’d try LARPing but after a full day he can safely say that this just isn’t for him. Whoever is making this day even more unnecessary is going to get a mouthful.

He turns his head around, a frown pulling at his lips, to find Dean, of all people. Well, he supposes it isn’t technically Dean per say. It’s Dean’s “character,” a lonesome knight who just barely got out of being the Queen’s scullery maid. Or so Charlie says. Castiel thinks Dean’s masculinity was threatened and he begged and pleaded to be a knight. Probably on his hands and knees.

Furrowing his brow, Castiel just barely remembers to call Dean by his character name. “What is it, Damen the Righteous?” He only just manages not to roll his eyes.

A mischievous smirk plays over Dean’s lips, curling up slightly over the corners of his mouth. A glint in his eyes makes Castiel suspicious. What is he doing?

“Didn’t you see?” Dean asks, a challenge in his tone, “I’ve dropped the gauntlet.” A grand gesture, and Castiel notices the armoured plates of that thing Charlie had hung on the side of her tent.

Castiel’s frown deepens. They’re starting to draw a crowd and it’s making him slightly uneasy. What on earth is Dean playing at? What is his purpose?

“Don’t you know what that means, Stephen of the Seven Seraphs?” There’s an edge to Dean right now. He’s buzzing, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for Castiel to understand what’s going on. But in all honesty, Castiel can barely keep up with the names, let alone the rituals that the game has. If he was in a better mood, perhaps he’d remember. Now, he just doesn’t care.  

“Forgive me,” he deadpans, “I have forgotten.”

The crowd that’s gathered chuckles around him. He nearly tosses his head back in a groan. A half hour. That’s all he had left. A half hour before he could go home and drink the new raspberry tea he bought the other day. A half hour before there could be such a thing as silence again. Dean is torturing him, and Castiel is sure that it is on purpose.

“It means,” Dean says, fixing Cas with another sinister grin, “That I’m challenging you. To a duel.”

For fucksake. This could not be happening right now.

“Really, Damen?” Castiel groans out dejectedly.

Dean’s grin just gets bigger. “Really.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Castiel contemplates his options. “I don’t suppose there is any way you’d be open to peace?”

“Nope.” That cheeky bastard. He know’s what he’s doing and, in this moment, Castiel hates him for it. “Rules say you gotta duel.”

Castiel resigns himself to look at him. His arms are folded across himself and his chest is puffed out. All he’s doing is making Castiel want to knock him down to his knees. Though, Castiel supposes that is the purpose of all this ruckus. On the plus side, Dean is a beautiful picture on his knees.

Fucking fine. If Dean wants a duel then he’ll get a goddamn duel.

Heaving himself off the bench, he meets Dean’s challenging gaze. For a split second he thinks he sees Dean’s facade break but then pure genuine enthusiasm encompasses his entire being, making his face split even more.

“What, perchance are the rules?” He makes a show of unsheathing his “rapier.” It’s plastic but for all intents and purposes, it is a sword. Playing with the tip, he makes a calculated step forward into Dean’s space.

“Three hits, you’re out.” Dean offers nonchalantly, as if he’s not making a huge scene out of what was supposed to be Castiel’s wind-down.

“And if I win?” Castiel asks, dragging the tip of his sword down Dean’s cheek.

Dean bends down to whisper along Castiel’s ear. “You can have my ass all night tonight, Cas, hmm? You can do anything you want with me. How does that sound?”

Castle nearly swallows his tongue at that thought. It sounds divine, and if he wasn’t so determined to make good on that promise, his joints would be weak as jello. All he can offer as an answer is a possessive growl.

A sultry chuckle escaped Dean’s lips before he drags them over the shell of Castiel’s ear. Pulling away, he looks as if he hadn’t just been propositioning Castiel in the middle of a park in front of at least twenty others. Actually, he looks as if Christmas and his birthday happened all at once.

Dean draws his own sword. “But you have to win, Cas,” he taunts, “If I win, then you have to come to every LARP event on the roster.” Castiel knows he’s bluffing.  Dean would never make him to anything that he didn’t want, or that he wasn’t comfortable with. But the audacity to claim such a thing in front of so many gets Castiel’s blood boiling. It’s time to put Dean back in his place. Perhaps he should have remained a scullery maid.

With a steady grip on the handle of his rapier, Castiel postures and readies for the duel. Dean mimics him, setting into a defensive stance. It’s almost comical, as if Dean wants to lose. His left foot is completely out of balance with the entire other side of his body, his arms a little too stiff to hold his sword properly. Dean likely doesn’t notice these small miniscule mistakes, but Castiel can pick them out clear as day.

So it’s a slight surprise when Castiel’s first offensive move against him is met with a smooth deflecting. He and Dean’s eyes catch and all Castiel can see is Dean’s amusement. He thinks this is funny? Oh so it’s going to be like this, is it? He’ll see what’s fucking funny.

Castiel makes a snap forward, and catches Dean’s foot under his own, throwing his opponent off balance. Turning a one-eighty, he knocks at Dean’s offensive arm so that it clips into his own face, throwing him off balance. This gives Castiel time to turn away and bat at Dean’s side.

One.

He retreats cautiously to his starting position to give Dean time to recover.

Dean fixes himself right and raises his eyes. “You dirty bastard. Didn’t know you had it in ya.” He laughs, twirling his sword over his wrist. “Let’s try that again.”

It’s far more difficult, Castiel must confess, than he imagined sword fighting with Dean could be. He must have just been off balance on the off chance the first time, because now Castiel faces the real challenge of Dean’s movements. It seems that almost every time he thinks he has the upper hand, Dean is only just out of reach. Slight miscalculations over a set of a few minutes cost Castiel two blows to himself and only one more to Dean, leaving them with even hits.

It’s down to whoever can take the final hit. Gritting his teeth, Castiel grips the handle of his sword with fierce determination. He understands that either way this ends, Dean will still likely end up in his bed tonight. But now he’s in too deep. He has to see this play out until the end. And he is no going to lose.

This time, it’s Dean who makes the first offensive strike. Castiel easily maneuvers out of the way, causing his opponent to fall forward onto his leading foot. And it’s like that for much of this duel. A game of cat and mouse, pushing and pulling, each of them biding their time until one of them makes just a single wrong move. They’re each on the head of a pin and they know it. But Castiel has just one more Ace up his sleeve.

Backing slowly away to gain a few feets space, Castiel fixes Dean with a impish grin of his own. Dean quirks and eyebrow. “Why are you smiling, huh?”

That only causes Castiel’s insides to swell with excitement and boldness. “Because I know something you don’t, Damen the Righteous.”

“And what is that?” The talking makes Dean take one minutely weaker step on his left.

Jackpot. 

“I am not right handed” Castiel declares brashley as he cradles the sword swiftly into his other hand. Dean only has a second for his eyes to bulge comically before Castiel leans into position and strikes his sword directly onto Dean’s vulnerable posterior, which then in turn throws Dean of balance, causing him to fall.

Three.  

Laughs erupt from Dean and he falls into fits as he cradles the spot Castiel struck him. “Oh my god,” he rasps between breaths as Castiel only looks on, his own amusment bubbling contently in his chest, “You hit my ass.”

“Well, you did say I could do anything I wanted with it.” Castiel retorts, offering Dean his hand.

Dean accepts, but continues laughing. “Oh, touche motherfucker,” and after a beat he concedes, “Guess that means you won, huh?”

Castiel hums with pleasure, taking Dean by his waist and pulling them together. “I certainly hope so.”

“Mm,” Dean rumbles, his voice dipping into a huskier tone. “Lucky me.”

“I didn’t actually hurt you did I?”

“No, no Cas.” Dean shakes his head, “Just a little love tap is all.”

“Good,” Castiel says, dipping his free and forward to cup the safe side of Dean’s ass, “Cause I’ve got plans tonight.”

Before Dean can say anything of the lewd thoughts on his mind, they both perk up at the sound of Charlie cursing them out for “groping each other in front of the eyes of her pure citizens” and advises them to “get a room” or fear her wrath.

Once she’s done, Dean gives  Castiel a resigned shrug. “Well, we should probably head back home anyway.”

“Yes,” Castiel agrees, “That’s a reasonable proposal.”

Dean holds him close, brushing their noses together. “I don’t suppose you’d want to come to this with me again would you?”

Castiel sighs. “As much fun as this was it’s just not… How do you say it? Not a chance in hell.”

Dean laughs again at that, and takes Castiel’s hand in his. “Well then we should probably get home soon. You see I have a deal to pay up for.”

Oh yes you do, Castiel thinks as he draws Dean him in for one small kiss, a promise of what it to come.

[shellalana]

About-face

(continued from here)

“So you’re telling me you can see the future.” Reyna blew the steam from her cup of black tea and set it aside to cool further. She still wasn’t fond of the stuff, but it had given him a reason to leave her alone in the bridge for a few minutes. “Only a few seconds before it happens. The dream thing is new.” Siali settled into pilot’s tea as he drank the tea hot, not caring about the scalding of his tongue and throat. He needed the extra shot of caffeine to keep him awake if he wanted to continue this conversation with her and see where it led. Plus it wasn’t very often he got to talk to the Valkyrie of all people in a casual setting such as this one. “Well, cue me not sleeping the rest of this trip then. I don’t need you in my head.” “Keep your friends close, as they say.” “We ain’t friends.” The look she gave him could cut glass. With a smile, he raised his mug to her. “Exactly.” She had no good comeback and wrapped her arms around herself, focusing on the approaching and passing darkness around them. Even with the company she had, she’d never felt so alone in the void of space. The nothingness was starting to feel confining, and she had to remind herself to breathe before she got lost in it all. Could people really come back out here to live? She could see Siali’s mouth opening to say something, probably another snide remark in regards to her current state of mind, and she raised a hand to stop him. “I’ll be fine.” “Whatever you say, cherie.” Another swig from his mug and the tea was entirely gone. He stifled a satisfied burp from behind a closed fist over his mouth and leaned back in his chair. “... you’re not gonna ask why?” “Why what?” she gave in. She knew that if she ignored him, he was only going to get more annoying. Better to get it out of the way now. “Why I’d wanna see the future.” As he felt the fogginess lifting from his senses, he sighed contentedly and closed his eyes. “Why I’d smoke that s**t knowing what it’ll do to me in the end.” “Siali, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass why. People do stupid s**t all the time for dumbass reasons.” Herself included. “And that’s why you’d be wrong. Where we’re going, you’d prefer jumping in the deep end not knowing how to swim, or would you want someone on your side, knowing if there’s sharks or not?” “Problem is you ain’t on my side.” “Besides the point. People who want to go into Darkspace, they need someone like me. Someone who knows what’s on the other side, what to expect when they get there, whether who or what they’re looking for’s even gonna be there.” “Woo hoo. You’re a knight in f**king armour.” Reyna spun her finger in the air with no amount of enthusiasm. He was tooting his own horn again, and she was just about done with it. How much further was this ride going to be? “Come on, you gotta give me some credit.” “I don’t have to give you anything. Now if we’re done stroking your ego here, I’m gonna take that hot shower now.” The tea forgotten, she vacated the seat and headed to the door. “Too bad. We’re all out of hot water. Shame, that.” With a sigh and the rubbing of her temples, she stomped off to treat herself to a cold shower.

“Here, you’re gonna need these.” Siali tossed her what looked like a pair of goggles before the doors of his little ship slid open. She turned them over in her hand, wondering what they were for... and how she could keep this pair to reverse-engineer it for herself. As her eyebrow twitched in question, he gestured towards the darkness that awaited them. “Takes what’s out there, and converts it into a spectrum you can see. Unless you like flying blind.”

She raised the goggles to her face with some amount of skepticism, and adjusted the straps until it rested comfortably against her cheeks. A glance out the door revealed shapes and outlines of plant life, abandoned vehicles, and assorted rubble she couldn’t put a name to. This was definitely going to be beneficial once she found a way to send raiding parties out here. Her hand rested nervously on her hip, where her holster resided, and brought up her command glove to provide her with a sense of safety as she dropped down from the ship. The orange glow skewed some of the visual data in her goggles, making some of the ground and the objects visible before and around her in a wash of its light. This was going to be a problem if she needed to shoot anything. She wasn’t sure what they were looking for, or how they would even find it, but coming here was better than nothing. If there was any chance that she could find them again and bring them back home, then... Then what? She tried not to think about future plans - that would only muddle her thoughts more - and focused on the pulse pounding in her head, her breathing, and continued forward. There was only one of two ways this could end, but she had to see things through to discover which it would be. Their footfalls made no sound; she guessed the soft sinking under their feet consisted of a thick layer of dust. Or ashes. She didn’t dwell on that thought much longer. The further they traveled, the more desolate their surroundings became. There was no one in sight, but no dead bodies either, and that gave her a glimmer of hope that their efforts would be fruitful.  “You always this positive?” his voice echoed dully off the blackness surrounding them. Though he was whispering, the silence made his voice sound a million times louder. “Someone’s gotta be.” She idly pointed her command gauntlet at his face as a threat. Now wasn’t the time for talking. “Good. I like that.” Siali hooked a finger through her belt loop and spun her around, the small Valkyrie pressed against him. “Here in the dark, you’re still trying to shine like a star. Admirable.” The lightest touch to her ear had her scowling, and she fought to get out of his grasp. How could he find time to joke like this? “You know, if you took me up on my offer, you wouldn’t have to work so hard. I’d provide for you. Treat you like a queen.” “At the expense of the people of Solus? No thanks.” “Like you wouldn’t have done the same before you found people to care about.” “Answer’s still no. You want a bullet in your foot?” His beard tickled at her brow bone as he planted a quick kiss on her forehead, too fast for her to dodge. The grip around her waist tightened. His smile faded to nothing. Reyna could see the faint thrum of his racing pulse in a vein in his neck. Was he...? “Turn around.” “This isn’t-” A hand cut off her hissing retort, and she could see the shift of his almost-silver eyes to something past her. “Turn around,” he repeated, this time with more command in his voice that sent a ripple of worry down her spine. She turned slowly with a breath caught in her throat and her pulse sounding in her ears. She blinked - what was that? - and felt the trapped air escape her in one violent exhale. The ache wrapped her chest, squeezed at her ribs until she thought she was going to pass out. She thought she heard him whisper “breathe” but that could have been the sound of air rushing into her lungs once more. Shapes and tendrils snaked out towards her, clawing the empty air for a taste of her skin and blood. Varelsi, thousands of them, milled about as if they were waiting for the next train to pick them up, unaware of the trespassers in their domain. How had they gotten this far without the Varelsi noticing them?There was no way they could fight off this many. “Follow my lead.” She jumped at the feel of his arm around her waist once more, guiding her back as they retreated from the scene towards the ship. His steps were careful, seeking out flat, empty ground to prevent any stumbles or disturbances that would draw their attention. She kept her heels against the toes of his boots, mirroring his movements to ensure they got out of this in one piece. Reyna’s heart sank when she felt his body jerk against her back, afraid that they’d been found and the Varelsi had sank their claws into him. A soft escape of air and the gentle shaking of his arms told her he was laughing. “Found the ship.” Believing they were far enough away, he tapped a boot heel against the metal. “We’re just going to leave?” She allowed him to guide her through the open shuttle door as she maintained her gaze on the inky, undulating forms of her enemies. “You paid me to get you here, not to throw my life away in some fight.” She watched them disappear from view behind the closing door. “I got credits-” she snapped as she ripped off the goggles. A finger to her lips silenced the thought. “No. I paid too much for this ship, and you paid too much to get to where you are. You really think throwing your life away out here’s gonna make a difference?” Genuine concern knitted his brows together as he tossed his own pair to the ground and twisted the end of his beard. “They did. S’the only reason I got to where I am.” “No, you did that on your own. Not dead pa-” It was her turn to silence him with a punch to his jaw. “You don’t know that.” Reyna primed her fist for another swing, but he had a grip on it before she could. Right. That clairvoyance thing... Then- “Gave you a freebie cuz you needed it. Better to get it out than keep it buried, they say.” He teased at his lip with his tongue, and was satisfied to find no blood there. “So what now?” Reyna sank to the ground as she pulled her hand free. So far, they’d seen nothing, but the appearance of the Varelsi definitely put a damper on things. “We wait.” He sat, his knees folded to his chest to give her her space. Teasing her didn’t seem so fun anymore.

[lostinreveriefiction]

My Hand’s Getting Awful Lonely, You Might Wanna Take It. [Donald Pierce x Reader]

[Anon Request: Donald Pierce / ‘My hand’s getting awful lonely, you might wanna take it.’]

Warnings: None.

Mutants. The greater species. Powerful meta-humans with abilities beyond the normal mind’s understanding. Some dangerous, most just trying to live a normal life without prejudice. However, when they started going extinct, they became more of a commodity. A collectible for some. And one man was just great at collecting said commodities.

You hated him. Or, at least, you wanted to hate him but he just didn’t make it easy. Donald Pierce. The only man on the earth to track you down for longer than any living person should, but the bastard had a steely determination on him – which is why he was the best. But that wasn’t the worst thing about him. He had this sick way of making you feel comfortable around him, like you were the only girl in the world that mattered to him – and you hated that you liked it.

“How’s my girl doin’?” You heard him ask the guard on the outside of your cell. The guard mumbled some unintelligible back before opening the door and allowing Donald to enter. “There she is.”

“Please,” you whimpered, backing up to the wall as he entered.

“Shh, baby, come on,” he replied, watching as you slid down the wall into the corner. Standing over you, he shook his head and offered his hand – the robotic one. You eyed it for a moment, before looking to him, noticing that feigned kindness in both his smile and his eyes. “Come now, my hands getting awful lonely, you might wanna take it.”

Reaching out, hand shaking with fear, you grabbed onto the metal hand and felt its strange hinges tighten around yours before pulling you to your feet, and into his arms.

“That’s a good girl,” he cooed, before leading you to the door he had come from.

It wasn’t him that made you feel frightened, no. It was the people he worked for. They somehow preferred harsher methods of gaining information from someone –which meant pain. Having been here for a week already, you really didn’t need any more of that.

“Where are we going?” You ask, tucked under Donald’s arm as you walked together through the corridors.

“Don’t you worry,” he said, before leaning down close to your ear. “Trust me, baby.”

Continuing on, you passed many familiar faced guards as they shot you a smirk or side glance in passing. It wasn’t long until you were in a room with Donald, with the door locked behind the two of you. He planted you into a seat and took his jacket off, slinging it over the back of the chair opposite you before sitting down too.

“What is this?” You ask, looking around the pristine room. Beside the small seating area you were occupying was a small bunk and wash-up area. It must’ve been Donald’s private quarters.

“Well, now, you aren’t responding to the treatment we’ve been giving you. So-“

“Wait! Treatment? You mean torture!” You argued, before reeling yourself back in, scared of what his reaction might be. Donald was extremely unpredictable and as much as it would excite most people, it made you a little wary.

“We can put that behind us, right?” He said, shifting closer to you and placing his real hand on top of yours. “Now, come on, it’s just you and me, baby.”

“I don’t understand.”

“(Y/N), you gotta tell me where she is,” he finally said it, and everything became clear. He’d appear to be the knight in shining armour and save you from the dingy cell – but only in return for the information. How chivalrous.

See, the thing is, you’re just a normal every day human. You don’t own the mutant gene at all. Just a good old fashioned, average Joe, human. But your best friend, well, more than best friend – she was like your sister, she happened to be a mutant. She could fly.

“I don’t know where she is,” you replied, being 100% honest with him. The last you heard she had flown off to a different state entirely. Now? Well, she could be anywhere.

“I’ll be straight with ya,” he began, scooting real close to you, legs now touching. Donald leaned in close to your ear, and breathed slightly, sending shivers down your spine. “I do not care where that little bird is. I just want to spend some time with you.”

Drawing back, you gave him a look, an eyebrow raising up and your head automatically cocking to the side. Donald chuckled at this and raised his hand up, attempting to stop you doubting him.

“Now I know you think I’m lying, sugar. I can see it in those (Y/E/C) eyes of yours.” Licking his lips, he moved closer slightly again and kissed your cheek – his lips just as soft as you had imagined. “But I don’t bring just any girl back to this room. And I most certainly do not do this with just any girl.”

Watching him carefully, he placed his hand under your chin to bring your face to be level with his. He bit his lower lip before moistening them and pulling your face to his, kissing you.

His lips moved slowly at first, waiting for your response which happened almost automatically. Gently, his hand snaked around the back your back, before his tongue attempted to pry between your lips a little, ultimately leading to a passionate dance between both your tongues. You could feel yourself getting more and more flustered as the kiss lingered and his hand danced its way up between your breasts, tickling at the skin on your neck.

Moving his mouth down, he left a trail of kisses before gently tonguing your pulse point and allowing his lips to cover your skin in gentle kisses.

“You know,” you began, your breath a little laboured as you tried your best. “I could never know where she really is.”

“Is that so?” He asked, continuing to litter your neck with his mouth.

“She won’t even be in (Your home city) anymore – she can fucking fly! She could be anywhere.”

Donald stopped, planting one final kiss on your neck, before drawing back quick and smiling at you. He wiped his mouth and fixed his hair a little.

“(Your home city)?” He asked again. A nod from you prompted him to stand up and adjust his crotch area, it was obvious that all the kissing had had an effect on him too. He cracked his head to the side before wandering over to the door of the room.

“Where are you going?” You asked, finally coming out of your stupor.

“Don’t you worry, baby,” he said, opening the door and cocking his head out. “Guard!” He yelled and you stood up, running over to him and only just realising what you had done.

“You bastard!” You yelled, pouncing onto him as he grabbed your arm and tucked it behind your back, pulling you toward him while facing away from his body.

 “I told them, you know,” he mumbled into your ear, his voice strained while he kept you in place, waiting for the guard to come and get you.

“What?” You asked, struggling against his strength.

“With women, it’s a whole different ballgame. You catch more flies with honey, than vinegar.” The guard appeared at the door and grabbed you from his grip, flinging handcuffs onto your wrists. “Baby, I just caught the whole nest!”

As the guard dragged you away from Donald, you saw him yank out a device before speaking into it. Your aforementioned hometown came out of his mouth as well as a few celebratory words. Nausea took over your body as you watched him practically dance around, making a complete fool of you. He might not have her location completely, but you had given him a lead and that was all he needed. The best hunter in town was now on the track to finding your best friend, and you had sent him on the right path.