#I didn’t really care much for oc shipping at first but I had a taste and we are so screwed gamers.

[huni-bii]

Literally my mental state when a mutual suggests shipping our ocs together vs later on when the conversation inevitably ends

[oh-saints]

sweetest devotion (p.1)

despite being written on paper, arranged marriages don't really have a guidance entailed. and mason was trapped into navigating the direction of this huge ship alone.

playboy!mason mount x princess!OC

word count: 2.0k

tw: as mentioned in the masterlist only, but extramarital affair to a marriage of convenience for this chapter

note: due to a stupid accident that costed my wrist, sorry for the long delay but here it is! i promised you next part's longer but hope you enjoy it nonetheless. as usual, i happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet.

tags: @missgaygurl @pingyu-in-wonderland <3 (lemme know if you want to be added!)

sweetest devotion masterlist here <<prologue here - part 2 here>>

but face proven to be not everything needed in this holy institution called marriage.

especially not when the woman-in-question didn’t show that pretty face any where near mason throughout the second week.

mason never thought his marriage would turn out like this, though.

mainly because during the first week, mason and serena managed to stay civil—serena, for the sake of the baby; mason, for the sake of his life. because let’s be honest, there was too much at stake if they fucked up.

but truthfully, mason actually had a glimpse of what their marriage could look like, should they work together immaculately, so he didn’t think he had a point to complain. he reaped the benefits such as having his laundry taken care of—which he once admitted publicly was a total bummer when he was living alone because it’d mean he had to do it by his own self—while she was sheltered nicely and comfortably from the harsh punishment hanging on her head like a bounty.

well, at least until the mastermind behind the grand plan went missing.

no prior words, prior warning or whatsoever.

and mason was left dumbstruck. because now, what the hell was he supposed to do in this house without being reminded that he now couldn’t go out as much as he liked to? or the fact that he couldn’t pop into some upcoming hit nightclub for a relieve of his own without jeopardising both his and serena’s life?

fucking hell, he groaned before landing a well-placed punched to the sandbag he stored in his home gym. lately the poor thing was his only solace to the burning rage boiling that was threatening to combust. he’d never hated himself for what he’d done to his own life more than that precise moment.

once, someone told him that the most dangerous taste in life was the taste of freedom. and god were they right—he’d exchange everything in possession to have his premarital life and the freedom he was entitled with back in his hold. fuck what they said about his reputation of painting the town red.

“mase!” ben’s chirpy voice over the call clearly indicated he was drunk and in need of help. “you should come to the factory! she’s here!”

mason didn’t think twice to put on his usual clubbing garb at ben’s information and pulled out his Lamborghini from his driveway towards his and ben’s favourite nightclub.

and ironically, the place where it all begin for mason and serena.

but if serena was having fun at the night club, he deserved the right to ruin his steak of sombre nights. did he not?

“mason!” ben chilwell had to scream for his name to beat out the pounding music but his ears had never been more familiar at the loud voices more than now. “you’re here!”

“where’s she?”

ben’s smile grew wider at mason’s question. the left-back might not know the reason behind mason’s rash decision to get married—he initially thought the young star was only not wanting to pass up the chance to tie down a princess—but one thing that he did know was that mason mount was like a moth to the fire whenever she was involved in the scene.

“over at the bar!”

mason’s scanned the said bar, and his heart fell at the sight of her. because she wasn’t who mason was looking out for; she wasn’t serena. and all his plan getting even to serena he initially planned went evaporating into the air.

she happened to have the name of elena, the very and only woman who mason dared to describe closest as his lover, despite their constant on-and-off nature.

and ironically, the very reason mason and serena happened the first place.

if it wasn’t because of her dumping him—for the nth time—mason wouldn’t have sought the company of another woman in his bed. he wouldn’t have hunted serena, the prettiest commodity the factory had accrued that night, down on a Friday night too long ago.

elena peered over her shoulder, her eyes gave out away the hidden surprise at the sight of mason coming to the nightclub. surely, the newlywed didn’t come alone, did he?

mason was supposed to feel accustomed to this game of her. it was her signature move—giving off a glance over her shoulder, looking smoulderingly sexy as she did so.

mason knew what was coming, her selling off herself to the highest bidder. and he wasn’t supposed to fall into the jealousy trap of seeing endless men courting her anymore.

but he did, helplessly, like icarus flying too close to the sun. and before he realised it himself, mason had already circled his arms around her waist, surrendering himself to the devil in prada shoes as he lost himself to the demonic sensation of having elena’s lips on his, sloppy kisses be damned.

this was normalcy for mason.

this was what he could’ve had, and he’d never hated serena more than now for stealing this away from him.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

for the rest of the week, going back to elena’s place was all mason did. god knows doing what, but if whatever-it-was brought back the happy spirit to mason’s body and his old self, the rest of the Chelsea team didn’t question it.

only when he needed a fresh change of clothes did he come back to his home, did he realise serena was already back occupying the 1st floor of the building. he might not see her in flesh and blood, but the fresh scent of lavender told more than words could never convey.

he dashed for his bedroom, putting his pieces of clothing as much as the duffel bag let him to, before heading out again towards elena’s place. mason managed to reconcile for the good now—because elena also realised that having mason in the arms of anyone else didn’t settle with her well—so he didn’t want to waste time away from her anymore.

halfway downstairs, mason got stopped by serena’s figure at the other end of the stairs. the woman looked like she was going to catch up on mason, but as her eyes travelled to his packed bag, mason noticed she was dawning in the reality.

good, he thought inwardly. it should serve her place.

mason let another 10 seconds passed by before he continued galloping down the stairs, breezed past serena the way she left him a week ago—empty. indifferent.

like nothing.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

weeks passed and it was another weekly dose of mason fetching another pack of his clothes.

mason had certainly hired a cleaner so he could dump his dirty clothes one week and get another set of fresh clothes the next. despite his indifference towards serena, he prided himself on sparing her the smell of another woman standing in between them like the elephant in the room.

as soon as his feet graced the living room, a messy bun he wasn’t familiar at all was what came to his eyes, the hair colour so striking in the midst of mason’s all-white living room. while it wasn’t unusual, serena had never bothered crossing his way whenever he was back home to do this, as if they’d silently fallen into an inexplicable routine.

only at times like that was he grateful of marrying the right person. the princess’ pedigree certainly didn’t lie.

but still giving him her back, the owner of the highlighted scene spoke up. “you’re home.”

if serena wasn’t spurting the obvious information, mason would’ve shrunk at how eerily chilled her voice was. “you think?”

mason’s voice didn’t bother her at all—just like any other time during their short pre-wedding prep, the only time when he questioned her unwavering resolve only to be answered by “it’s just who I am.”

she just stood from her place so gracefully like a feather dancing ballet. “good, because we need to talk.”

“about what?”

“about us,” mason was seriously questioning how the hell she could spin her body into facing him with shoulders so squared she would’ve put kendall jenner to shame. “boundaries and all.”

oh, the audacity, mason scoffed. “the time of talking was a week ago, serena, which—in case you forget—was the time when you decided to disappear from the face of the earth.”

mason’s jab at her didn’t shake off her resolve, still. “where were you?”

“why do you care?”

“I care because the palace called,” mason appreciated she cut to the point because elena would be waiting for the dinner reservation he made for them. “I don’t care about you keeping a lover, mistress or whatever it is outside this house as long as you keep it under the wraps.”

shit, the palace must’ve found out somehow about him and elena. or the paparazzi did, who then contacted the palace to release the pictures. alas, mason must’ve been too reckless lately about his rendezvous. “okay.”

“and as long as you are to show up for the social gatherings the royal family may see fit,” this one, mason had to groan. who said marrying a princess was going to be a good stroke to his ego? “if it kills you so much, we can mingle for an hour tops before citing I’m not feeling well.”

“I don’t have problem with that,” the footballer crossed his arms as he bit back his response. he couldn’t possibly spew off his honest reaction at this time, not when this topic came up due to his carelessness. “I take it that includes my public appearances?”

“I’m not going to tail you to every of them if you don’t want me to,” yes, good, don’t come. “I’ll only go to where it concerns your club.”

“okay,” mason sighed, shifting his weight from his left leg to the right one, indicating he was uncomfortable and wanted to end this conversation already. “anything else?”

“that is all,” serena shook off her head before directing her feet to move towards her room. “good night, mason.”

“where were you, anyway?” serena halted her steps at mason’s question. “the past week?”

“why do you care, mason?”

mason knew serena only did that to get back at him but it still annoyed the hell of him. “just answer the damned question.”

“I was hospitalised.”

what? ��how?”

“I fell off the stairs.”

what the fuck?! and she didn’t bother to share this piece of information? “okay… how about—”

“the baby? they’re safe, mason,” serena felt the need to turn around to show that she had indeed been doing a good job becoming a mother, no matter how bad mason was at doing his job as the father. “need not worry about it.”

serena might not show it in her words but mason could feel the slight annoyance at the way she turned herself around to him, to blatantly show him that all the reasons he didn’t need to put the blame on her for endangering their child. and it rubbed off in all the wrong way to mason because why was he getting the sticks now?

“I was meaning to ask how about we tell each other about our whereabouts, Jesus Christ,” mason grunted under his breath. serena was truly testing his patience this time… “your beloved palace surely wouldn’t appreciate it if you have a bad husband that doesn’t at least know where you are, no?”

that, serena could take a good moot point when she saw one.

but before serena could open a negotiation to mason’s suggestion, the man shook off his head as he dragged his feet towards his own bedroom. “hospital, of all places… good God.”

next chapter contains:

“how about having your friends over?”

“mason,” serena sighed, a bitter smile making its way to her face. “you’re the closest thing I have to a friend.”

mason couldn’t hide his surprise at her admission. despite being drunk, mason did remember that she went to the club where he was at, the night that led to their situation now, with so many people in tow. “didn’t you have so many friends when going to the club?”

bitter smile still intact, serena looked up this time and levelled mason’s gaze. “welcome to the lonely life of a princess, mason mount.”

[barrackspredator]

HEYYYY I was wondering if you could do one of your it ships for my it oc. I get that my oc is shipped with Patrick (by me but im wondering if she might be possibly shipped with anyone else)

Bethany Huggins is Belch Huggins little sister nicknamed "Big Boots" by Henry because of her big boots. Shes well known around town as the girl who'll curse you out over anything. although belch doesnt want her to get in trouble for her bad attitude henrys very proud (hes taught her well) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩Bethany's hair you ask? well sit down cause it should have its own history book. One week its bleach blonde the next its box dye black, then its dirty blonde. but no matter the colour….. its gonna be big! Shes inspired by all her hair metal idols. ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧Bethany's music taste is heavily inspired from belch, she loves metal and heavy music. but her favourite? Glam metal, she can go on and on about Motley Crue and Poison.

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆People around town give her odd looks, some say its her fashion some say its the rumours greta spread about her. like the time she spread a rumour that Bethany made out with Patrick "THE Perv" Hockstetter for 5 bucks. lets just say greta received some… presents from Pat in her locker that week. although there were some drunken words at a party from pat that it was in fact not 5 bucks but 25.

☆。。☆。。 。☆Bethanys style is her whole personality. leather and denim mini skirts that she knows she can wear around because if anyone tries something her big brother will pummel them. these skirts are paired with band crop tops and leather jackets. she buys a new pair a fishnets every week cause a certain black haired boy likes to snap them on the way to school in belchs car.

.¸¸.♡.¸¸.☆¸.♡.¸¸.☆.¸¸.♡.¸shes constantly covered in jewelry! brackets, necklaces, belts, belly chains, earrings, EVERYTHING. she loves silver shiny jewelry and gets Henry to steal for her. .·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙ ✩ ̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ .she gets all her cigarettes from Victor cause Belch being a good big brother won't let her, won't stop her though.

As a fellow hair metal enjoyer myself (🤓) I am thrilled to write this. Since you want to explore outside of Patrick, I will not be shipping her with him. I also made him in like 5 minutes bc i’m severely unwell. If this is straight cheeks then I apologize and will redo this.

Bethany Huggins

I ship you with…

Victor Criss

• Her brothers best friend who gives her cigarettes.

• It was a match made in heaven.

• Obviously it was a slow process. It wasn’t right off the bat.

• Victor isn’t really a talker. Not like Patrick is. The blonde is more reserved and talks when he needs to.

• That being said, he’s liked Bethany since puberty did her well. But did he ever tell anybody? No. The body would rather drop dead.

• And Victor is fairly certain if Belch ever found out about his little crush he’d run him over.

• So naturally it had to be Bethany who took the first step.

• Maybe they had a little too much to smoke or somebody said something that made the other’s eyebrow raise.

• At first Victor wants to keep it a secret (for his own safety) but it wasn’t long until Patrick got his sticky hands on this news (he walked in on them)

• It wasn’t long until Patrick went around flapping his lips talking about some “AND THEY WERE ALL OVER EACH OTHER! I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW VIC LIKED CHICKS!”

• Belch was pissed to put it lightly.

• Nobody had ever seen Belch run so fast. He chased Victor through the junkyard with a passion, screaming at the blond that he was a filthy bastard.

• He got tired after 1 minute but he was still pretty angry.

• Henry was… disturbed? He didn’t really care but at the same time “Criss, really? That’s the best you could come up with?”

• Anywho

• Victor as a boyfriend is pretty solid.

• Most of their dates are typically an evening at the record store before going back to his place and getting high.

• They’re the definition of underdressed bf, overdressed gf

• But the boy doesn’t care! He is head over heels every time he sees Bethany in one of her outfits

• The kind of boyfriend to put his hand in the butt pocket of her bottoms

• Since she dyes her hair so often, Victor employed her to help bleach his hair.

• Isn’t that fond of her music but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just sits back and bounces his leg.

• Most hangouts are at his place since whenever it’s at the Huggins residence, Belch is there lingering…

I was going to ship her with Henry then didn’t bc I thought their relationship (based off of what I was fed) was too sibling-like. Anywho!

[understandableparadox]

The Grand homestuck oc tournament poll! Round 3 winners!

the results are tallied, the dust has settled, its time to see who is left standing!

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Auiwyn Trasyl

The silliest, most self deprecating emo you’ll ever have the displeasure of meeting. His favorite movies would be the troll twilight saga, and they would make fanfiction of his rainbow drinker oc and Troll Edward. They have such a large obsession with rainbow drinkers that it’s consumed almost everything in his life. They would geek out if they ever met Kanaya, it would be so bad they’d probably faint. Would bite people to taste the blood and then gag when it tastes bad.

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zalium azoran

Zalium is a rogue fuchsiablood who was raised by an axolotl lusus away from the prying eyes of the alternian empire. eventually he was able to find community in the lower bloodcastes of alternia and here he learned about alternian history from a true perspective.

he gathered an aliance, heavily inspired by the sufferer's rebellion, and rises up against the empire. being a highblood he held a greater chance against the empress and gl'bgolyb, and after a strenuous battle he manages to take down the horrorterror and the empress in turn

i don't even care if he's bad i love him so dearly

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Anomal Conspi

One of the most brilliant, anxiety ridden queens on her whole planet. She’s so paranoid that she has a backup plan for just about anything. She predicted the world was going to end via meteors and had a ship fully ready to go for several years, and had a mental breakdown when she ended up being right. Overthinking is her strongest skill, making plans for her plans just in case something she didn’t think of happened. Her ship, despite being made of old and ruined tech, is so heavily equipped with safety features that she should probably be in charge of OSHA because ain’t no one getting hurt on that thing. Would go outside in a hamster bubble.

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Viiveh Telore (Now with new and improved art!)

Viiveh is a fuchsia blood in an abusive relationship trying to forge his own destiny. He tries to stay positive and is unlearning some classist traits. He goes to the surface and hides his blood color by dressing like a robot. He really loves tech and the mechanics of it, since the seadwellers can mainly only use bug-based tech underwater. He takes the name Vexxin during his hiding. Don't get him started on troll Daft Punk.

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ALERT: bLOCK 5 HAS ENDED IN A TIE, ONE DAY TIE BREAKER ROUND TO OCCUR SOON

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Atroxx

Atroxx lives in a swamp full of boiling tar, lurking in the dark and serving as something of a dark legend to the locals. They fear her and often leave her sacrifices, believing her to be a monster or some sort of demon. She just likes getting free things out of it and sometimes toys with the minds those who wander a little too far out of the torchlight, taunting them from within the darkness. If you survive an encounter with her, she's not very eloquent, and is quite stubborn and impatient, unpredictable and almost wild in behavior. She is also, however, incredibly resourceful and clever.

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Lollie Gravez

Your name is LOLLIE GRAVEZ and you use ne/nem/nir, sh3/h3r/h3rz and h3/h1m/h1z. You are a SCENE KID first and foremost, and a troll second.

You love COMICS, CARTOONS, and SHIPPING, and listen to way too much ALTERNATIVE MUSIC. You send a lot of your spare time SEWING CLOTHES, both for yourself and your PLETHORA OF PLUSH FRIENDS. You spend way too much money on VIDEO GAMES, that you never get around to playing. When you aren’t hiding in your room away from the world, you love watching shows with your friends, then making self inserts for all your friends. Your squad loves the troll anime SUGIO QUEST FOR KOKORO, despite it being outlawed for rebel imagery.

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Orfeus Etimio

Orfeus is soft spoken, docile and as weak as a troll gets, but people tend to fear them because of the horde of ghosts following them everywhere, even for those that can't see spirits the presence is overwhelming.

They constantly give more than they can for the ghosts and have ended up emotionally drained, not properly reacting to most situations and appearing emotionless. İf you grabbed them and took them home they'd only say "ok" and let it happen.

They like playing minecraft with their moirail also

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Persep “Perse” Rhiali

She streams, she draws, she always has a knife on her, with a small size and big personality Perse WILL either be your friend or A Problem (TM)

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?????? Achlys

19 yo Mage of Void hemoanon, Achlys is a air-headed party girl who likes to take it easy, life is definitely too short to be worried about every little thing. She's quite friendly for a troll and always knows what to say to please people. She changes quadrants pretty often.

However when SGRUB begins she seems to know just where to look to learn all the rules and easily makes herself the leader before anyone notices. Not to mention her fake lusus and dreamself that seems to be puppeted by horrorterrors…

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[crazy-grrrl-on-the-computer]

Okay, sorry for suddenly appearing, but I'm too curious for my own sake. There are posts you tag with some of your OC and now I'm interested in Dark and Justice. Both are that kind of pair I would love.

I AM SO SORRY IT HAS BEEN 84 YEARS AND SO MUCH HAS CHANGED, BUT I PROMISE THEY’RE EVEN COOLER NOW!

JUSTICE TRANSED HIS WHOLE IDENTITY AND IS NOW A VAMPIRE NAMED DAMIEN, AND DARK MURDERED HIS EVIL EX AND STOLE HIS NAME //WHOOPS

Aaaah, thank you for asking about the murder babes!!!!! ;;3;; But please, you never have to apologize for asking about my OCs~ I love talking about them and I’m really glad you were curious for more information even if I somehow entirely forgot to post the original reply I had typed up before everything changed and only just recently rediscovered this Ask still floating around in my inbox!

Dark is my OC and Damien belongs to my friend @dirtflavoredcoke (you can find more OC-related stuff on their @kieranocemporium blog)

The ship has a new tag on my blog now to represent the new era and also because of just how much has changed about Damien’s backstory!

Warning: There is a massive chunk of text with accompanying art below the cut! ^^

Damien was born human to a farming family in Geneva, New York alongside his sister, Quinn, sometime during the early 1900s (1896, to be exact). Their father had hoped for many children, particularly boys, to help out around the farm but was disappointed that it appeared he had two daughters. “Appeared” being the keyword because little did they know that the promiscuous boy-crazy eldest who was caught on at least one occasion with the hired farm hand in the loft was a boy the entire time. This, of course, Quinn knew and accepted even if she didn’t fully understand her brother yet.

Although their father would have preferred him to “focus on becoming a proper lady and wife”, Damien began a career as a sex worker despite the growing risk of imprisonment that came with the US government’s rising concern about prostitution and the spread of venereal diseases brought on by the first World War. Also, he may or may not have endured some pregnancy-related trauma (miscarriage or abortion) while working that job. Either way, it is safe to presume that this wasn’t the first or last era where he would serve some amount of jail time for offenses including but possibly not limited to public intoxication, obscenity, and patronizing speakeasies during Prohibition.

But by the 1920s, Damien was dying from tuberculosis and, short of better options for survival, he allowed his vampire partner at the time to bite him and save his life. Damien had hoped that turning would allow him to spend more time with Quinn, since he had always felt quite protective of her (an understatement for sure), but he wound up having to leave her behind for her own protection, so his family assumed he had simply died from the illness. (He would later find out that Quinn would run away in grief and be turned without consent by a different vampire that same year, but they wouldn’t reunite until many decades later.)

Unfortunately, Damien’s taste in men had proven to be less than stellar, so after getting what he wanted (the bite) he left his asshole partner in the dust to figure out life as a vampire on his own. This was much easier said than done, but it did allow him to finally start transitioning socially and later, as gender-affirming care advanced in the states, he would begin to transition medically too. At some point along the way, he took up escort work until he decided to “retire” from the working life because he is admittedly too lazy to work and doesn’t think he should have to.

But this is where the backstory gets a bit blurry to my knowledge, so I will leave that up to Kieran to clarify.

Dark, birth name Ezra, is a poltergeist. I’m still working out the details of his backstory from when he was alive, but so far I’ve decided that he is descended from Italian immigrants who came to US America during the first Italian diaspora (+ he’s Irish on his mother’s side) and he died sometime in 1960s New York.

A combination of unchecked mental health struggles and a repressive Catholic upbringing during a high-tension war era already rife with racial prejudices bred just the right conditions for a rebellious streak in him. He gravitated toward the greaser subculture and acted out in ways that didn’t exactly win him many points with his contemporaries, but he was less concerned about fitting in and more focused on proving that he was his own person. Ezra had his eye on a girl, but her older brother did not approve of him and consistently tried to get between them. Eventually, in the heat of a confrontation, Ezra snapped and killed them both. While on the run, he was ultimately killed in a shootout with the police.

In hindsight, he realized much later that he had probably been trying to use the relationship to get close to her brother too but had mistaken that desire for jealousy and acted out in rage. That rage connected with his violent end is what wound up turning him into a poltergeist, which has ironically given him a lot of time to reflect through the decades and discover himself as a person via unhindered exposure to different types of people he had previously never been able to know or conceive of.

At some point, he wound up drawn to a psychic alongside four other poltergeists. A psychic’s purpose in what I call the Extended Monster Universe is more or less to act as a therapist to spirits who need to move on, but given that Lexy was only in high school and barely aware of this ability… she wasn’t exactly the best at it. But because she was determined for them all to get along and wasn’t picky about what she called her new poltergeist friends, Ezra started using Dark as an alias to avoid the irritating ordeal of being known. Unfortunately, there was an exorcist-in-training at her school who sniffed them out rather quickly. It took Dustin a while to bypass Lexy’s determination to keep her friends safe, but he eventually managed to trap them all in a spirit orb and pass them off to his older siblings – Lila and Brentley, two bounty hunters who specialize in artifacts.

It was in transit that they literally bumped into Jesse, a nobody trying to escape a bad situation, accidentally breaking the spirit orb and allowing the weakened poltergeists to seek refuse in his body. Terrified and confused, Jesse continued running and only later found out that he had somehow become a share soul for five very different poltergeists with very conflicting personalities. What this meant was that, in their desperation for safety, they had temporarily attached themselves to his soul for stability until they could regain enough of their power to figure out how to leave… and they were fighting for control. Sympathizing with them to an extent and realizing that they were on the run from the same people, Jesse made a deal with them that he would help the poltergeists find a way to escape if they helped him to avoid the bounty hunters who might do him harm for winding up in the middle of their mess.

A cross-dressing rom-com adventure unfolded from there as the poltergeists took turns attempting to resolve the “bad situation” Jesse had initially been running from and help him seduce Brentley once they realized a relationship could garner them access to artifacts that might release them from Jesse’s body. The romance wound up being more real than anyone was expecting and once again Dark was pushed to come to terms with his own sexuality. In any case, Jesse pulled through for them and the poltergeists made a break for it back out into the world at the first opportunity. From there, Dark no longer cared what happened to the other four or where they ended up (he would later on learn that at least three of them found their way back to Lexy for old time’s sake) – he felt more powerful than ever and he was going to make that the world’s problem.

This is more or less when Dark met Damien.

[This is where I would insert art of them together, if I had any recent ship art for them, but I wanted to get this reply out there sooner rather than later. ;;n;;]

One night, Dark happened to interrupt a vampire’s dinner. Seeing as he was already dead and harboring his own urge to kill, he decided that the smartest course of action would be to use the threat of exposure to blackmail Damien into letting him in on these hunts.

Of course he didn’t realize it for a long while, but practically from the moment he opened his mouth Damien already wanted a piece of him. The way Damien saw it, it was real cute that a cocky poltergeist thought he cared about something as inconsequential to him as exposure, but he did prefer his men to be the “take charge” type and what better aphrodisiac could there be than bloody murder.

Playing his newfound partner for sport seemed to be exactly what Dark wanted… until their accompliceship turned into a flirtationship (no thanks to Damien’s dirty mouth), which found its way to the bedroom (figuratively speaking). To say that Dark wasn’t the best at flirting/relationships would be an understatement, as most people think he is too awkward and blunt, but he’s a quick and willing learner. If he hadn’t recently spent so much time in the body of someone who was very accustomed to casual friendly flirtation, he might have picked up on Damien’s attraction to him sooner.

But eventually it did slip out and Dark figured that, if playing house together satisfied Damien enough to give him what he wanted, he could make this  new development work for him. Damien’s feelings were initially just another way for Dark to maintain control of the situation (or so he thought), but Damien was hoping it would only be a matter of time until Dark finally made a romantic move that didn’t involve the bedroom. Living in such close proximity to Damien and Quinn meant getting used to their personalities, habits, and routines… and feeling some way about it. Soft things.

The first time Dark noticed that he was smiling fondly at Damien, he spiraled into an intense and prolonged internal debate. Fondness wasn’t an emotion he was familiar with and it was making him lose sight of his goals. The solution was simple: Damien was ruining him, so Dark needed to kill him. But… he shouldn’t be so hasty. Perhaps Damien was still useful. Did he… care?!

After grappling with the realization that Damien’s feelings were apparently contagious, he is currently satisfied with his decision to not kill his partner because if this is what love feels like then he’d just have to be okay with it. As it turns out, it’s really nice to feel comfortable enough with someone to let them watch his back for once instead of pushing them away. This is what he’d been missing out on all those years, so maybe he can allow himself to want it.

There is more to this story (more characters and more development), but this summarizes how their found family got here pretty well.

If you have a Toyhou.se account, you can take a peek at Dark’s current in-progress profile and see more images of him here, and you can also find Damien’s profile/gallery here. They’re a bit threadbare right now, since we’ve only recently gotten started on that site, but we’re making progress!!

More art can be found on Kieran’s instagram: kieranology.artz

Kieran also made an in-character aesthetic blog for Damien, which you can find here if you’re interested in seeing what kind of blog he would have (nugoth and vampires; warning for blood, suggestive, and simulated gore content): @damienxdeadly

Aesthetic Moon Divider found here.

[pangolinheart]

(how far did you have to dig to find that post wow lol)

Anyway Lahabrea

[[Actually it wasn't that hard to find! My obsessive tagging system isn't only for forcing my followers to look at huge blocks of text they don't care abou - it's also so I can find posts when I want to go back to them without going through hundreds of pages of reblogs!

Anyway, when I saw this ask I thought this was going to be the hardest pairing to write for... but it was actually one of the easiest. At first I thought the only way to make something work was to do something Hephaistos/Azem, but I still haven't played Endwalker so I wasn't confident in my ability to write for that time period, and based on ambient spoilers it seems like Hephaistos was pretty preoccupied with his wife and child. Then I realized I didn't actually know what Lahabrea really looked like and, well...

I'm not super happy with the way this turned out, but I'm too lazy to edit it again so it's good enough.]]

Send me a character and I'll describe a ship with them and my OC.

Cid | M'zhet | Lahabrea

TW: Dubious consent (implied). Nothing graphic or anything, it's just, um, sketchy as hell.

What are you drinking?” He leaned over the bar, putting his weight on his elbows. He didn’t sit down – not yet. He waited for an invitation.  

The miqo’te perched on the next barstool looked him up and down appraisingly. She didn’t even bother to hide it. Not in the mood to play coy tonight, it seemed. Maybe she had had a rough day.  

He had waited for her to notice him from across the room. And notice she did. Their eyes met and he fancied he could almost hear her thinking to herself: He’ll do. 

“That depends,” She almost purred, “What are you buying?” 

She hadn’t asked him to sit down, but she might as well have. He slid onto the plush velvet seat. This was a nicer place than usual, he noted. A classy little place where respectable people came to get less-than-respectably drunk. Was she celebrating something? Or did she just want a change of scenery? Who could say? He beckoned the bartender over. Wine seemed like it would suit the mood. He ordered something red and expensive – it wasn’t as if money meant much to him, anyway. 

He was an elezen tonight – dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes. He usually preferred hyur, but this body had been available and seemed like something she might like. Then again, her tastes were wide and varied.  

Why was he doing this again? 

It was no use asking himself the question. He didn’t have any new answers. He told himself that keeping tabs on this shard’s Warrior of Light was his business, but even he didn’t believe that. This could hardly be called business.  

Maybe it was because she made him feel the echo of something he hadn’t felt in a long time: interest. How long had it been since he was really interested in something? Detachment had been second nature to him for so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like.  

And she was interesting for a mortal, at least in some ways. In others she was almost offensively average. And yet there were times she almost seemed… familiar, somehow. Perhaps it was because she was a Warrior of Light. He’d seen plenty of Warriors on plenty of shards; he could hardly be blamed if they all started to blend together. If nothing else, though, she was interesting because of how interested Hydaelyn seemed to be in her. She had expended quite a lot of power to protect her from the might of the Ultima Weapon, after all. With her strength already waning, he couldn’t help but wonder why she had risked exhausting what little of her power remained on this Warrior of Light. 

The bartender returned with two glasses of wine, and he offered one to her. She accepted it with thanks and took a sip, though her gaze never left his. His own traced along the features of her face with which he had become so well-acquainted – her dark eyelashes over her mismatched eyes, the swoop of her bangs across her forehead, the gentle curve of her lips. He smiled, and she smiled back. 

The first time had been an accident, of course. Entirely improvised. It had been shortly after he had possessed one of her colleagues, Thancred, but before he had been able to manufacture a pretense for the man’s absence. He had, of course, watched his vessel closely enough to confidently impersonate him, at least for a short time. He had planned to slowly withdraw from the Scions, until his presence would no longer be missed. A contingency he had not prepared, however, for was Thancred being seized by the Warrior of Light herself and all-but dragged to a dive bar outside of Ul’dah. He had been caught off guard by this turn of events and he was left with no choice but to humor her, drinking and laughing (or at least pretending to) until the early hours of the morning. Fortunately, he doubted she would be able to remember the night clearly enough to recall if he had said or done anything out of character. His grand plan had also failed to account for being pulled into her sleeping chambers upon their return to the Waking Sands, and into bed with her. He had no way of knowing if this behavior was typical and expected or not. He had never seen it happen before, but that didn’t necessarily mean it hadn’t. He was a busy man, after all. So, he had decided in the moment to just… play along.  

It had certainly been a novel experience. 

“So,” He said in the elezen’s low, smooth voice. “Are you here waiting for a friend?” 

She twirled the stem of her wineglass between her fingers. Always so fidgety. “More like looking for one.” 

“Well,” He set his own wine glass back on the bar. “I’d be happy to keep you company while you look.” 

The second time had been… less excusable. 

After the debacle that was Ultima – curse Hydaelyn for her interference! – he had needed time to formulate a new plan. And while he devised his next strategy, he had had little else to do but keep tabs on the Warrior of Light and her companions. 

It was during this time that he had begun to recognize a pattern to her behavior. On a semi-regular basis, usually when she had quarreled with a compatriot or was otherwise upset about something or other, she would seek out an establishment that sold alcohol and spend several hours there, eventually leaving with someone else. A different person each time.  

Having been expelled from the body of Thancred, he had been forced to seek out a new host, presumably yet unknown to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, and in his idleness he had begun to wonder… 

Would she even notice? 

She would not, it turned out. At least, she hadn’t yet. And that had been half a dozen times ago, give or take. It had become a fun little game to amuse himself with while he waited for wheels to turn. No round was ever quite the same, and he never used the same guise twice. He tried to vary his selections; different appearances, different origins, different genders. Recently he’d begun branching out into different races, as well (though they might as well all be the same to him). The other unsundered had always nagged him about the frequency with which he discarded his vessels, to which he usually responded that it was hardly his fault these fragments were so breakable and so boring. Not everyone’s scheme could include the industrialized production of clones like Emet-Selch’s did. In the event he hadn’t assumed a new vessel since the last time, though, projecting a different appearance was a small feat for an Ancient of Lahabrea’s caliber.  

He tried a different tact in each iteration, partly to avoid arousing her suspicion and partly because it made the game more interesting. He wasn’t always successful – sometimes she was only in the mood for drinking, other times there was another patron than interested her more than he did, which he found annoying. Once he had even said something that offended her for some reason. He couldn’t remember what it was. Did it really matter? 

She was watching him thoughtfully over the lip of her wineglass. She had half-emptied the glass already. He wondered if that was all it would take tonight. But when she opened her mouth, it wasn’t to invite him somewhere more private. 

“Have we met before? You seem familiar for some reason.” 

The question surprised him, but he didn’t lose his cool, didn’t miss a beat. 

“I shouldn’t think so. You don’t seem like the sort one would have an easy time forgetting,” 

Her grin took on a sly tilt. “Careful. With talk like that one might start to think you’re getting me drunk with ulterior motives,” 

Internally, he sighed with relief, though he didn’t let it touch his face. Instead, he gave her a coy smile and picked up his wineglass for another sip. “Perish the thought! I would hate for you to think me so ungentlemanly,” 

He probably should have stopped after one of her cohorts killed Nabriales. It was no small feat to kill an Ascian, even a sundered soul like his. In fact, he hadn’t even thought the mortals capable of it. Somehow, though, that only made things more interesting. It added the tiniest hint of danger to his little game, and he found he enjoyed it all the more. He had little real cause to worry, of course. Nabriales had been the architect of his own demise.  

Even so, after the last round he had sworn to himself he wouldn’t do it again. 

And had known with unshakeable certainty that he would. 

She set her now empty wineglass on the bar. She had shifted to face him more fully, and he might have missed the way she leaned ever so slightly inward had he not been looking for it. 

“Would you like another glass?” 

She considered it for a moment, or at least pretended to. “Please.” 

“Of course,” He ordered another glass and waited until the barkeep’s errand had taken him safely out of earshot. 

“You know,” he said, surveying her as she had him earlier. “I don’t believe I’ve given you my name.” 

Her lips quirked in a way that he found for some reason endearing. “I don’t believe I’ve asked you for it,” 

He raised his eyebrows in amusement and opened his mouth to respond with some quip or other when he felt someone tap his shoulder. 

He turned in his seat, a bit irritated by the interruption, to see a young Midlander with brooding grey eyes. “May I have a word?”  

He had never seen the man before, but he would recognize his brother anywhere. 

Oh dear. 

How was he going to explain this little caper? He wondered. His previous justifications had barely convinced him, so they certainly wouldn’t convince the Emissary. 

Ah, well. He was sure he would think of something. 

He was, after all, Lahabrea: Speaker of the Convocation. 

Okay in all seriousness this is definitely the most off-the-wall ship I was sent this round. I don't think it would happen, and if it did it would be a total shit-show. It's not necessarily because Lahabrea's a villain - there are of compelling villains ships out there. It's because he's both a villain and not Rhiki's type. He's braggadocios, megalomaniacal, and patronizing (and if there's one connecting thread between all of my characters it's that none of them would up with being condescended to by A Man.) And, for what it's worth, there's not really anything for Lahabrea to like about Rhiki. As an Ascian he's never portrayed as having any interest in or sympathy for mortals. The most any hyur, miqo'te, elezen, etc. could ever aspire to be to Lahabrea is "useful." To be honest, he doesn't really even seem to have any affection for his fellow ascians, though I'm aware there's something of a canonical reason for that. ARR really struggled with creating compelling antagonists, so Lahabrea (and most of the other villains) are painted as just... cartoonishly evil. I'm sure that he's given a lot more pathos in the Pandaemonium raid series, but I haven't played it yet so I can't speak to how well the original Lahabrea would have gotten along with Rhiki/Rhiki's Azem. Really, if you cut out all of the enw backstory, the above is really the only angle I could really see having any legs (as slimy and terrible as those legs are.) In realizing that I didn't know what Lahabrea actually looked like, I also realized that Rhiki has no idea what the real Lahabrea looks like. When I went over all of the times the WoL actually encounters Lahabrea, it dawned on me that the only time Rhiki sees him without his mask... he's Thancred, which is where the idea came from. (TBF to both of them I don't think ARR Rhiki would have had sex with Thancred no matter how shitfaced she was lol. This is just for the sake of exploring the possibilities.) Whether or not Rhiki actually found out about Lahabrea's body-hopping shenanigans is up for debate. I don't necessarily see how she would unless he or Elidibus told her. Lahabrea doesn't seem like he would have any motivation or opportunity to tell her. Elidibus might, if only to make it harder for Lahabrea to do anything stupid that might jeopardize their mission in the future. Obviously, Rhiki would not be pleased to learn this. I don't think any relationship the two of them could have could possibly change the trajectory of the story. The relationship isn't necessarily... romantic in nature. And I doubt there's anything about Rhiki that would make Lahabrea fall so head over heels for her that he would abandon his plans to resurrect Zodiark, which inevitably involves her death. Rhiki has no feelings for Lahabrea (except maybe anger, if she ever found out) but even if she did, she doesn't really have the opportunity to spare his life, since it's Thordan VII that ultimately kills him. BUT this was still a very fun thought experiment! I still apologize for everything that's happened above this point in the post, though. ^^;

[mohluskiepedard]

Rating ATLA Characters literally only from what I’ve seen in fandom

or: posts that probably shouldn’t be on my writeblr except I don’t have a sideblog

the context here is it’s half midnight and I have never seen ATLA except I have opinions now apparently so here we go whoop de do- 

I’m also not actually rating them like numerically that’s too much work i’m just stating opinions I know I’m a fraud

AANG

- A child?  - A son?  - he is Baby. but also. he has had It Rough  - would make the updog joke - has unspeakable power or smth and everyone says he’s better than the Korra girl who comes after him but honestly tastes like sexism to me - doesn’t kill people because he’s like twelve, right? he’s like twelve so he refuses to kill people - I stan honestly - less twelve year olds should kill people - Some people say his name WRONG and they are BAD but i don’t actually know what the right way or the wrong way is so. have fun w that yall - lived in peace unTIL THE FIRE NATION ATTACKED 

KATARA

- She is also like twelve???  - Is everyone here twelve - Cortana?? Katana?? Catbug??  - She has good hair, - Her mother is dead??? her mother is dead n she has a brother but she cares about her mother being dead WAY more than him (or apparently the entire fandom??) - Badass - She seems soft. good. sweet - she’s a water breather or whatever??? her brother is NOT but he is a meme - I love her 

SOKKA

- NGL looks like a fuckboy  - The meme brother! does not do the water things, but he has an aXe???  - dates BAMF lady - ngl until I talked to my ATLA watching friend I thought he canonically dated Zuko  - kinda mad he doesn’t - I haven’t actually seen anything about him except like. in zuko ship posts and also Suki appreciation posts - joined the white lotus not-a-cult by accident???  - dark ATLA tumblr show me more Sokka posts - is his name prounounced the same way as Soccer or isn’t it I need to know - HIS FIRST GIRLFRIEND TURNED INTO THE MOON - (AND THAT’S ROUGH, BUDDY) - He and Suki are a good ship, but also, Sokka Has Two Hands

SUKI

- the BAMF herself - she says STOP in that photo but also to sexism - Rlly all I see of her in fanon is abt her teaching Sokka to drink his respect women juice and I appreciate her doing that but also it’s sad she never gets talked about outside of what she did for a man - I hope she has other badass moments w/o him it would suck if she didn’t - she is NOT the girlfriend who turned into the moon, she is the one who didn’t - I don’t know much else about her ATLA Fandom y’all should appreciate her more

ZUKO

- Look at him... my son... - He has a good redemption arc - he and his sister are evil lesbian and redeemed gay guy??? - has a straight canon ship but should’ve been with Sokka this boy is gay - I Want To Protect Him - That’s literally it - he has a cool uncle and his dad sucks  - people ship him with Katara and I Do Not Get It that’s his sister in law except not really - “We don’t trust Zuko’s change of heart” [the next day] “so Zuko is my closest friend now,”  - His dad was like “fuck up the avatar to prove your worth to me” and Aang was like “counter argument you already have worth and we should fuck up your dad” and I think that’s beautiful - he becomes the fire man and he’s very good at it - Zuko for President 2020 - in the words of myself, half an hour ago: “ I was like "that kid with the burn on his face seems like a sad but then happy mlm who needs found family" and I was RIGHT” - took too long to find a happy picture of him :( Zuko rights NOW please - His mother’s story got compared to an OC of mine and all I can say is oh no and they deserve better based on that alone - I have had Zuko for five minutes but if anything else happens to him I will kill everyone in this throne room and then myself

TOPH

- She is badass but like also will murder you while laughing maniacally? - for some reason reminds me of Nott from Critical Role, another show I Have Not Seen - Is blind but gets more out of making jokes abt being blind than she would from being able to see - “Sight is just a cheap tactic to make weak benders stronger!!!” - Literally the opposite of Aang and has killed many people?? - She Can Tell When You’re Lying. But I do not know how and Am simply mildly threatened by this - Therapist: Toph’s ability to know if you’re lying isn’t real and can’t hurt you. Toph’s ability to know if I’m lying:  - She and Zuko.... buddies???  - if not they should be - tiny sad boy needs friends like toph

AZULA

- Evil Lesbian Culture - [BDG Voice] You committed a war crime! Oopsie! - took be gay do crime too literally - her and Zuko have accurate sibling writin except instead of “you ever want to murder your sibling for breathing in the same space as you,” being a Joke Azula took it seriously - okay but with a name like azula she should be the blue bender this ANNOYS me she should NOT be red bender - AZULa  - AZUL - IT MEANS BLUE - She was half of y’alls gay awakenings and it SHOWS - Should have maybe been redeemed too??? Jury is out no one knows - Was she gay for Ty Lee or wasn’t she I can’t tell how much of that Audio is a joke - IS SHE ALSO TWELVE??? IS EVERYONE HERE TWELVE?? IS THIS TWELVE YEAR OLD COMITTING ATROCITIES? 

UNCLE IROH

- A Good Man - Finally, Some Good Fucking [Adult Figures]  - he has the tea. literally and figuratively - Ozai is like “and I will permanently disfigure my son and throw him out” and Iroh is like “What The Fuck, Ozai,” thus voicing the entire audience’s thoughts - Literally the only adult in this that I trust - I? I love him. this is all I have to say. my love for him is unending. Some1 protect this man from all harm   - he’s Zuko’s uncle (and also Azula ig) but he does not seem related to Ozai. is it just a theme in this family that one sibling is chill and one sibling commits horrendous atrocities against your fellow human beings or  - something happened to his son???? :((((( I Don’t Want Him To Have Suffered Like This

OZAI

- A BAD MAN - Uh Oh (stinky)  - THE WORST OF THE MEN  - I do not like him - Bastard man. nasty. committed war crimes and then went “but what if - get this - i also abused my son,”  - I would like him to Not Be Like This - by Like This I mean present and alive  - :/ 

TY LEE

- She’s NOT the There Is No War In Ba Sing Se lady and I don’t know why i thought she WAS but until I looked up her photo I thought that was her  - She looks like a sweetheart tho - I hope nothing bad happens to her????  - talks about auras??? or smth??? let her vibe - She would talk animatedly to me about warrior cats if she was in my year seven class and I was sat alone and I would understand none of it but appreciate her anyway - if azula bullies her I’ll be :( at Azula and Azula will not care because she has Mommy Issues and therefore is slightly unhinged - She seems like that one kid with no trauma vibing at the edge of [every other kid having trauma] and not really getting it but trying her best - Is she also twelve?????? She maybe looks twelve

CABBAGE MAN 

- HIS CABBAGES - fulfills my favourite trope: ordinary person repeatedly has life disrupted by the inconveniences of relying on actual children to save the world - probably has a campaign post canon for letting trained adults fix the worlds’ problems in the future - or sets up the Very First Cabbage Insurance Company - look at him. he loves his cabbages so much. you go you funky lil cabbage man

ALSO THE MOST IMPORTANT ONES MOMO

- LOOK AT HIM HE’S SO GOOD - small. fluffy. big ears - Lord Momo of the Momo Dynasty: his Momoness - a Good Boy...

APPA

- he looks so soft... - he can fly but he just does it by??? vibing through the air?? motionless??? iconic - I saw that one post about mishearing it as Abba and thinking he was Aang’s dad and he looks like he would be a good stand in dad ngl - he’s so LORGE - a chonky boy - love him

that is everyone I have heard of it and if I left someone out it’s a sign that y’all should talk about em more bc I have no clue they exist put more ATLA On my Dash ig I’ll do Legend of Korra ig maybe apparently that one has canon wlw and i love me some canon wlw

[saiilorstars]

Darkest Before Dawn

Ch.16: Don’t Tell

Steve Rogers x OFC fic

taglist:@arrthurpendragon​​ @anotherunreadblog​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​ ​​@stareyedplanet​​ @antonybridgertons​​ @gloryekaterina​​  @foxesandmagic​​​  @lenonizi​​

Story Masterlist // Seren’s Masterlist​​

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

Steve was furious when he walked into the room to find Tony actually poking Banner with an electrical prod. Steve couldn't believe his eyes - was this really Howard's son!? Someone this...irresponsible!?

"Hey! Are you nuts?" Steve nearly snatched the rod from Tony altogether lest the man wanted to try again for the Hulk. At this point, Steve wouldn't put it behind Tony to do it.

It was even more infuriating to see Tony calm as ever, as if he hadn't just tried something dangerously stupid. He was simply studying Banner for any sign that he might be turning green soon. "You really have got a lid on it, haven't you?" He all but circled Banner. "What's your secret? Mellow jazz? Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed?"

Steve shook his head. "Is everything a joke to you!?"

"Funny things are," Tony shrugged lightly.

"Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny!" Steve took a breath in and realized his words and how they sounded in Banner's perspective. "No offense, doctor," he offered Banner an apologetic smile. He knew Banner was probably trying his best to remain himself but the truth was, as sad as it was, that if he turned into the Hulk then they were all near goners.

Banner, however, took no actual offence. He merely smiled back. "No, it's alright. I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle pointy things."

Tony still wasn't convinced. "You're tiptoeing, big man. You need to strut."

Steve once again looked at Tony like he was crazy, and he was beginning to suspect that it was the truth. "And you need to focus on the problem, Mr. Stark."

"You think I'm not? Why did Fury call us and why now? Why not before? What isn't he telling us? I can't do the equation unless I have all the variables."

"You think Fury's hiding something?"

"He's a spy. Captain, he's the spy. His secrets have secrets." Tony jerked a thumb over at Banner without even looking at the man. "It's bugging him too, isn't it?"

Banner struggled to speak when all eyes turned on him. He wasn't expecting to be thrown into that conversation. "Uh...I just wanna finish my work here and…"

Steve could hear the indecision in Banner's tone, ultimately making him ask if he agreed with Tony. "Doctor?"

Banner hesitated for another minute before realizing that if anyone would be trustworthy enough to keep that secret, it would be Steve. " 'A warm light for all mankind, Loki's jab at Fury about the cube."

"I heard it…"

"Well, I think that was meant for you," Banner pointed at Tony, much to the latter's genuine surprise. "Even if Barton didn't post that all over the news."

"The Stark Tower? That big ugly…" Steve trailed off once he was subjected to Tony's look but the remainder of the words still came out a few seconds later. "...building in New York?" It was a bit flashy for his taste when Seren first showed it to him and even now, his opinion had not changed.

"It's powered by Stark Reactors, self-sustaining energy source. That building will run itself for what, a year?" Banner asked curiously.

"That's just the prototype. I'm kind of the only name in clean energy right now," Tony said off-handedly, far too casual.

"So, why didn't SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project?" Banner still motioned to Tony while he addressed Steve, admittedly making a good point. "I mean, what are they doing in the energy business in the first place?"

Steve wouldn't deny that it was a good question to ask, not that he would like to see anyone working with the Tesseract. Right now, he hated that Seren had been forced to take care of that thing while he was in the dark about it. That thing was dangerous enough when left alone and they placed it so close to Seren and everyone else. "I wouldn't know, Seren didn't tell me but...I could ask Chloe—"

"You really think Megamind is going to tell you anything?" Tony rolled his eyes, initially missing the glare Steve sent his way. "She's embedded with S.H.I.E.L.D., as is Agent Soul in case you didn't get the memo."

"Stop calling them that! Chloe doesn't like it and as for Seren, it's offensive."

Tony still didn't see the problem. "Why?" He shrugged. "It's a literal description of their powers. Winters is from the mind and Soul runs on star matter. That little star on her neck?" He made a gesture at his own neck for reference. "That's the mark of her people. She's an alien."

"She's as much a human as you and I are," snapped Steve. He could see the reaction on Banner's face at the revelation and he was more than ready to take Banner and Tony to defend Seren if need be.

"Well—" Tony sniffed, "—maybe not so much you, huh?"

Steve's face fell flat. He could care less what Tony thought of him and his own unique biology but he wouldn't let Tony keep calling out Seren the way he was, especially when Seren wasn't even there to defend herself. "You need to leave the nicknames behind, Stark. Seriously."

Tony rolled his eyes, groaning dramatically. "God, I didn't get this much heat from Winters who, by the way, is as shady as this entire organization is."

Steve groaned. "Is that what we're doing, then? We're just going to insult one Agent after the other?"

"I'm not insulting anyone, merely calling out what I see and know." It was honestly irritating to Tony that none of them could see what he saw and they were all just brushing his comments off. He said things for a reason. "But you know what? Pretty soon, I'm going to know everything once my decryption programmer finishes breaking into all of SHIELD's secure files."

That made Steve stop altogether, as it did to Banner. "I'm sorry, did you say...?"

"Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge. In a few hours we'll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide." Tony held out the bag of blueberries he picked up from the table. "Blueberry?"

Banner refrained from any berries and the conversation for a moment.

Steve couldn't help himself. Tony was turning out to be an insufferable version of the Starks. "Yet you're confused about why they didn't want you around?"

"An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically, not possible." Tony dropped a few more berries into his mouth.

"I think Loki's trying to wind us up. This is a man who means to start a war, and if we don't stay focused, he'll succeed. We have orders, we should follow them."

Tony smiled as if he'd been waiting to hear that line, and perhaps he had been. "Following is not really my style."

Steve smiled wryly. "And you're all about style, aren't you?" His question struck Tony more than it would've to anyone else.

"Of the people in this room, which one is; A. wearing a spangly outfit, and B. not of use?"

Just as Steve was about to respond, Banner cut in, "Steve, tell me none of this smells a little funky to you?"

Of course there were a couple questions he had but Steve wasn't going to let anything cloud his mind in this mission. "Just find the cube," he told them and left the lab.

He bumped into Chloe a few corridors down (he may have gotten a little mixed up). "Anything from Loki?" he dared to be hopeful.

Chloe shook her head. "No. He's tight-lipped. Not even Seren knew."

Steve studied her expression. Against his better judgement, he suddenly asked, "Chloe, do you know what S.H.I.E.L.D. was planning on doing with the Tesseract?"

Chloe blinked. Steve hated that he'd asked her that but at the same time he really wanted to know the answer and much more if she would actually answer.

"No. But if it helps, it was also Seren's constant question. She was set to guard the Tesseract, just that. Nobody would ever tell her what the entire mission was about. It was top secret."

Steve thanked her for the answer. It coincided with Seren's behavior during the mission. And look at that, the mission had taken her away.

"I have to go see if Coulson has anything," Chloe mumbled, excusing herself.

Steve didn't bother trying to stop her. He'd seen her face and he could safely assume that she was telling the truth. Tony's words about her were not going to get into his head...Tony's other words about the Tesseract, however…

Steve started for the hull of the ship.

~ 0 ~

Chloe found Coulson and Thor in the briefing room looking at something on the computers. She soon recognized the picture of Jane Foster on the screen.

"...we moved Jane Foster. We've got an excellent observatory in Traunsee. She was asked to consult there very suddenly yesterday. Handsome fee, private plane, very remote. She'll be safe," Coulson was assuring Thor.

"Thank you," Thor said, "It's no accident Loki taking Erik Selvig. I dread what he plans for him once he's done. Erik is a good man." He met Chloe's gaze and felt for her as well. "The Lady of the stars...she has a better winning chance. She's strong."

Chloe nodded fervently. She had no doubt about Seren's strength. "It's because Seren's strong that I'm worried about what Loki's scepter did to her," she confessed. "How he managed to brainwash her. This isn't the first time we've dealt with brainwashing and Seren's never fallen like that."

"The scepter is embedded with a kind of power that's unique," Thor explained, "But it's not permanent. No brainwashing ever is. We will get her back."

Chloe hoped the same. "Thanks. Seren's sort of like my adopted sister too. Well, she adopted me but you get the idea. She would never hurt a fly and Loki made her shoot at us like she didn't even know us," Chloe said, feeling much more pain than she ever thought she'd feel — an anger that she never really experienced before. "I'm afraid of the reason why Loki took her away."

Thor agreed. Loki was precise and he only took certain people-the scientists, the agents...but a Celessian? That spoke of an army of his own. "I'm sorry," he said, knowing there was nothing else he could do at the moment. "Like I said, we'll find her. I know she kept her word and looked after Jane while I was gone."

Chloe managed to smile a bit. She peered around the Asgardian to see the screen where Jane's picture still was. "Yeah, Seren stayed with Jane and Selvig to continue the Foster Theory. She tried learning about your world too — Asgard? — from her grandmother. You really changed everything around here."

And yet somehow that didn't seem to bring Thor any joy. "They were better as they were," Thor said quietly, turning towards the glass window. "We pretend on Asgard that we're more advanced, but we...we come here battling like Bilchsteim."

Chloe and Coulson were in the same state of confusion.

"I'm sorry, like what?" Coulson asked.

"Bilchsteim? You know; huge, scaly, big antlers. You don't have those?" Thor was met with the same blank expressions. "They are repulsive, and they trample everything in their path. When I first came to earth, Loki's rage followed me here and your people paid the price. And now again. In my youth I courted war."

"War hasn't started yet," Fury walked into the room, "You think you can make Loki tell us what the Tesseract is?"

"I do not know. Loki's mind is far afield, it's not just power he craves, it's vengeance upon me. There's no pain that would prize his need from him."

" A lot of guys think that, until the pain stops."

Thor met Fury's gaze. "What are you asking me to do?"

"I'm asking. What are you prepared to do?"

"Loki is a prisoner."

"Then why do I feel like he's the only person on this boat that wants to be here?"

It was an uncomfortable question that everyone had been asking themselves without the courage to speak it out loud.

~ 0 ~

Night turned into morning and when Fury went to check in on the others in the lab, he found no work to be done. Banner and Tony were just standing there. They were too quiet for Fury's taste.

"What are you doing, Mr. Stark?"

"Uh...kind of been wondering the same thing about you," Tony replied, smiling too tightly as well.

"You're supposed to be locating the Tesseract, in case you forgot."

"We are," assured Banner, "The model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile."

"And you'll get your cube back, no muss, no fuss." Tony suddenly looked away to his monitor and after a quick skim, he had a question in line for Fury. "What is PHASE 2?"

Before Fury could answer, if he would even have answered, Steve stormed into the room and dropped an assault rifle on the table with a loud thud. "PHASE 2 is SHIELD uses the cube to make weapons!" To say Steve was infuriated would be a deep understatement. It was like finding out everything he fought for didn't even matter in the end. S.H.I.E.L.D. was going ahead to do exactly what he worked so hard to keep away from the world. "Sorry, the computer was moving a little slow," he added for Tony.

Tony would give him the point this time, impressed by the tractics.

"Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract," Fury began to say, "This does not mean that we're…"

"I'm sorry, Nick." Tony moved the computer screen towards Fury so he, as well as everyone else, could see the major plans of weapons they were intending on building wiht the Tesseract's help. "What were you lying?"

"This is why you didn't tell Seren everything," Steve rounded on Fury. "Smart move because there is no way she would've been for this."

"Agent Soul would've done anything if it was required," Fury said, but Steve shook his head.

He came to know Seren, learn about her priorities and her intentions. Nothing about her would ever imply that she'd be for this type of plan. "You would have told her your plans from the start instead of keeping her in the dark," Steve said with all the certainty in the world. "I was wrong, director. The world hasn't changed a bit."

"Did you know about this?" Banner asked Natasha when she, Chloe and Thor walked in.

"What is that?" Chloe pointed to the weapon, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Does it look familiar, Megamind?" Tony's use of his nickname, for the moment, wasn't regarded as Chloe felt the accusation in his tone was far more important.

"Excuse me?"

"She doesn't know," Steve snapped at him but Tony merely hummed to voice his disagreement.

"Doesn't know what?" Chloe looked between them, expecting an answer that was coming much too slowly.

"Phase 2," Banner was the one to answer for her sake and Natasha's.

"What is Phase 2?" Natasha directly looked at Fury. If anyone would have the answers, it was him, but whether he would give the answer was still up in the air.

"PHASE 2 is S.H.I.E.L.D. uses the cube to make weapons," Steve glared at Fury as he answered the question.

"And how did you come across that, exactly?" Natasha lifted an eyebrow at him. She suspected the answer but she would rather hear it out loud that the golden boy had gone lurking through secret rooms. When Steve said nothing, she turned her attention to Banner. "You wanna think about removing yourself from this environment, doctor?"

A sour smile spread across Banner's face. "I was in Calcutta, I was pretty well removed."

"Loki's manipulating you!"

"And you've been doing what exactly?"

"You didn't come here because I bat my eyelashes at you."

"Yes, and I'm not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy. I'd like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction!"

"Because of him," Fury pointed at Thor who was left stunned at how this entire conversation had suddenly steered towards him.

"Me?"

"Not too long ago we had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. Our best agent wasn't able to stop it so we revisited the idea to expand the Avengers Initiative."

"My people want nothing but peace with your planet!" Thor argued.

"But you're not the only people out there, are you?" Fury challenged the Asgardian who couldn't answer that. "And, you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched, they can't be controlled."

"Like you controlled the cube?" Steve chimed in sourly.

"Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies," snapped Thor. "It is the signal to all the realms that the earth is ready for a higher form of war."

When the word 'war' was thrown into the conversation, Steve immediately inserted himself. "A higher form?" According to history, there had been no more World Wars and he would really like to keep it like that.

"You forced our hand. We had to come up with something!" Fury kept going despite having everyone against him.

"Nuclear deterrent," Tony said with a frown. "`Cause that always calms everything right down."

Fury side-glanced him at that comment. "Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?"

"I'm sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck deep—"

"Wait, wait! Hold on!" Tony cut Steve off and glared. "How is this now about me!?"

"I'm sorry, isn't everything!?"

"I thought humans were more evolved than this," remarked Thor amongst the arguments that unfolded between the group.

"Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?" Fury was right on him after that.

"Did you always give your champions such mistrust?"

"YOU'RE NOT MY CHAMPION!"

"Are you boys really that naive? S.H.I.E.L.D monitors potential threats!" Natasha was still going on against Banner.

"And Captain America is on the threat poll?"

"We all are!"

"You're on that list?" Tony nearly laughed at Steve. "Are you above or below angry bees?"

"I swear to God, Stark, one more crack…"

"Shut up!" Chloe snapped at both of them. "Arguing isn't helping anything—"

"Oh Megamind, come off your high horse, will you?"

"You know what?" Chloe turned to Tony, her eyes flashing blue. "The fact you think that I'm the blue cartoon with a big head is rich coming from you of all people!"

As the arguments grew louder and harder, no one realized the sceptor's blue gem glowing magnificently bright.

"You speak of control, yet you court chaos!" Thor was arguing with Fury and had Banner's semi-agreement.

"It's his MO, isn't it? I mean, what are we, a team?" He humorlessly laughed. "No, no, no. We're a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We're—we're a time bomb."

Despite the situation, Fury wasn't throwing any anger towards Banner. It was more weariness and everyone knew why. "You need to step away."

"Why shouldn't they guy let off a little steam?" Tony clapped a hand over Banner's shoulder.

Of all the things going on, Steve couldn't believe that Tony was still going on about bringing the Hulk out. "You know damn well why! Back off!"

"Oh, I'm starting to want you to make me!"

"Guys…" Chloe said as the two got in each other's faces.

"Yeah, big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?"

"Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…" Tony started listing off with pride. Behind him, Natasha gave an agreeing shrug. That pretty much summed him up alright.

"I know guys with none of that worth ten of you," Steve's tone was low with a new type of anger that Seren hadn't yet seen, and he had grounds for that anger. Tony was proving to be a special situation. "I've seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you."

"I think I would just cut the wire," Tony said flatly.

A humorless laugh slipped from Steve. "Always a way out. You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero."

"A hero, like you? You're a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle."

Instead of the rightful anger he should feel, Steve smirked. "Put on the suit, let's go a few rounds."

Thor laughed from his spot. "You people are so petty, and tiny."

At this point, Chloe would agree. "We are a terrible combination but we need to put out fires and focus on the bigger one!"

"Yeah, this is a team," Banner muttered.

"Agent Romanoff, Agent Winters, would you escort Dr. Banner back to his—"

Banner cut Fury off in a loud yell. "WHERE? YOU RENTED MY ROOM!"

"The cell was just—"

"IN CASE YOU NEEDED TO KILL ME. BUT YOU CAN'T, I KNOW, I TRIED!" The room fell silent at the admission. Banner swallowed hard as all eyes laid on him. "I got low," he said, explaining slowly. " He stopped, everyone staring at him. "I didn't see an end so I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy .out. So I moved on, I focused on helping other people. I was good until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk. You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff? You wanna know how I stay calm?"

Fury and Natasha had silently reached for their respective weapons.

"Doctor Banner, put down the scepter," Steve instructed, not quite ordered. From where he stood, it didn't even look like Banner had realized he picked up the scepter.

Suddenly, the monitor made a noise. The Tesseract had been found. It was enough to make Banner put the scepter down and shift his focus on the Tesseract again. "Sorry, kids. You don't get to see my party trick after all," he muttered.

"You located the Tesseract?" Thor inched forwards but still held caution.

"I can get there faster," Tony said casually as if they hadn't just been in a neck-deep argument.

"Look, all of us—"

"The Tesseract belongs on Asgard, no human is a match for it," Thor interrupted whatever plan Steve had been about to say.

"I think you're right," Chloe's agreement came in quietly and rather slowly, as she was just now realizing. Having the Tesseract was only proving to bring out the worst in everyone. It was horrible.

"You're not going alone!"

Chloe snapped out of her thoughts to see Steve and Tony once again at each other's neck.

Tony had just smacked Steve's hand off his shoulder. "You gonna stop me?"

"Put on the suit, let's find out!"

"I'm not afraid to hit an old man," Tony stepped closer to Steve, facing off.

"Put on the suit!"

"Stop it!" Chloe yelled just before Banner did too.

"Oh my God!" He had spotted something on the monitor and that something created a terrible rumble of explosions.

The room shattered and sent everyone flying into different directions. Steve, Fury, Thor and Tony were lucky enough to have landed across the room, haphazardly near the corridor.

"Put on the suit!" Steve immediately gave the order to Tony and this time, perhaps the only time, Tony didn't disagree.

"Yep!"

They scrambled to get up on their feet. Steve located Fury and Thor not too far from them but he realized that Chloe, Natasha and Banner were nowhere in sight. He panicked.

"Chloe?" He called out and moved about as much as he could around the destroyed room. "Chloe!"

"Hill!?" Fury called through their comms. "What's going on?"

"It's Stardust, sir. She just took out Number 3 engine!"

Steve paused and looked over to Fury. He recognized the alias all too well.

"Turbine's loose. Mostly intact, but it's impossible to get out there and make repairs while we're in the air. We lose one more engine, we won't be. Plus, if Stardust makes another blast, we'll go down. Somebody's got to get her and patch that engine."

Fury nodded at Steve then Tony. "You heard, go!"

"Yeah!" Tony was all for it but Steve was reluctant for many reasons.

First of all, he didn't hear anything from Chloe. She was stuck somewhere below and she wasn't responding. And second of all, engage Seren in a fight? They used to joke all the time about who would win in a fight and that was all it was meant to be: jokes. Never in his life did he want to fight Seren.

"Cap!" Fury called. "You need to go!

"But Chloe—"

"I'm good!" They heard the woman exclaim.

Chloe, Natasha and Banner had plummeted down into the lower equipment rooms. Chloe felt her back aching from the terrible landing but she could move, albeit slowly.

"If Seren's out there, somebody's gotta bring her in before she does something she'll regret!" She called up above. "Steve! Bring her back, please!"

Steve willed himself to stand up for Chloe. She was right. If Tony was going to be preoccupied with the engines, it would be up to him to handle Seren. Steve wasn't sure he could win that fight for many reasons.

[gwydionmisha]

Strange New Worlds

I am still digesting Strange New Worlds: All Those Who Wander

Here there be Spoilers:

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.

.

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I am still so angry about the ableism and the teasing us with what looked like could have been a really interesting character and rare representation if they had wanted to explore it, then yoinking it right the fuck away, that I'm struggling to work out what to say, but I'm going to try.

The thing is, I actually was liking it up until that point despite the issues and some choices I was not best pleased by.  I rather liked them making Pike the man Kirk ended up spending his entire adult life trying to be and not pulling it off.  I was cool with them showing how Uhura started to become Uhura, because it meant that character getting a real arc, and they definitely are showing the canonical character's strengths, even if the drifted into Starfleet thing was not a choice to my taste.  This is a thing early 20somethings can struggle with.  Just because I'm not the intended audience (I hardly ever am outside of things like Torrchwood, Black Sails, and Our flag Means Death) doesn't mean a thing is bad, if that makes sense.  I really like the Nurse Chapel upgrade, even though I have concerns about what they might do with her Spock wise.  (I'd rather see her with Erica Ortegas).  They gave me men in my age range to look at who are worth looking at.  I liked the pretty doctor, but I am really hoping there is more to him in season two.  I really, really liked Erica Ortegas, even though I feel like the writers didn't bother to develop her properly, trusting Melissa Navia's charm and swagger to paper over them not bothering to give her an arc.  I rather liked them giving the original series network execs the finger by bringing Una back.  I have hopes that La'an's arc will do more with recovering from/learning to live with trauma, since they laid some ground work there.

I don't want to get into the whole Spock T'Pring issue or the Spock issue in general because that's a whole other massive and complex ball of string and I wanted to be asleep an hour ago.  Just... take as read my thoughts are complex here and I'm still digesting, okay? (Update: two and a half hours ago as of this going up on Tumblr Sunday morning.)

And then there was Hemmer, who was my favorite, once they started to give the actor things to do, because the actor was really fun to watch and it's hard to emote that well through that much make up.  (Yes, I know the actor knew when they hired him.  This isn't about that).  Seriously, they had all the ingredients to do all sorts of interesting things with him.  They could explore his culture.  They could explore his back story.  They could expand on the nubbins of a character they had only started to hint at that i had every faith that the actor could have pulled off.  There was so much potential for this to be a break out character and... They decided to fridge a rare character with a disability played by an actor with a disability on the first day of Disability Pride Month because... Why?  Shock value?   Because they realized killing off the barely characterized fat character by himself wouldn't pack a punch and we know a bunch of the characters need to survive for ToS?  (Were there any other fat characters with names on the ship?  it's possible I missed one, but the fact that I can't think of one is telling.  Fatphobia is an exhausting problem in media too).  Because they need to make the Xenomorphesque Gorn the new Borg so instead of killing some red shirts, they decided to kill the OC off with the most potential who also happens to mean a lot to an under-represented group of viewer Paramount doesn't care about to make the stakes feel real?

I don't know, but I'm so angry about it, I'm not sure even Ortegas and Chapel can keep me watching, or my curiosity as to how certain other threads develop.  (Not a sentence it would have occurred to me at any age I would be writing about nurse Chapel until this show premiered).  I have a year to think about it, but I don't trust them any more at it will take a lot to win me back to this show.

Which brings me to my other main point: a lot of the problems not counting the finale are because they had so much stuff that needed to be in the first season and not enough time.  We know fuck all about Ortegas and hemmer's backgrounds and lives.  They didn't get arcs of their own.  Lots of characters had stuff seeded for future season(s) that would have had some essential breathing room if they'd had an traditional trek length season for wiggle room instead of the shortened prestige format.  

Trek needs that room to breath in order to work a lot of the time.  You have all these characters in a first season to meet.  They need to establish a group dynamic.  The audience needs enough exposure to each to get an idea of what's their deal, basically.  (Ex: Pike's foreknowledge of his fate, Una being a secret Illyrian, La'an's Gorn trauma, etc.).  Every episode needs a puzzle or an actiony thing or a mystery or whatever plot.  Every episode needs to advance one or more character arc.

The heart of Trek has always been it's characters and relationships every bit as much as the world building and science fictiony social commentary bits.  When Trek works well it balances these things.  (I still think DS9 is far and away the best old Trek and the Kelvinverse movies are unwatchable.  No, I won't be taking criticism on this, reasonable people can disagree and you won’t change my mind).  You need Serious episodes and big plot episodes (if you are TNG era or later) and silly episodes and exploring a culture or concept episodes and gee whiz episodes and weird historical exploration episodes and RL social commentary reflection episodes and cool puzzle episodes and character arc episodes, etc..  You need to be doing 2-3 of these things in each individual episode and pretty much all of them in a season.  It is pretty much impossible to jam all that into thirteen episodes when traditional Trek had approximately twice as many.  Were some of the individual episodes not great?  Absolutely.  (I grew up on ToS in endless syndication and watched the animated series in real time when they were new.  A lot of the oldest trek is not great.  TNG is super uneven and the first two years... not great.  I bailed out of Voyager a few years in.  I only managed a few episodes of Enterprise.  Even my beloved DS9 had duds here and there).  The thing is though?  The longer seasons gave them room to shake out the bugs, to experiment, to really explore cultures, and from the start of TNG on explore character and do long character development arcs, to build a real sense of who the crew are separately and together.

The season was too short to fully develop most of the characters.  It was too short to do more than give some of them, like Una, more than one character issue for us to look at.  Una is an Illyrian and second in command, but what else?   Dr. M'Benga is the Doctor and had a sick daughter, but what else?  Ortegas is butch and an excellent pilot, but what else?  Hemmer is blind and the chief engineer, but what else?  And yes, I basically know the TV shows and the movies (except the third kelvinverse one, halfish of Voyager, lower decks, and most of enterprise).  I loved that novel Garak's actor wrote about Garak.  I think we read some of the Diane Duane expanded trek tie books on tapes on care trips around the turn of the century?  I know the stuff I know pretty well, because I've seen the bits I like often.  I don't know the expanded universe outside the visual media much at all.  I know fuck all about Aenar and I'd really, really like to, but oh well.

I just...  idk.  I was really enjoying it, but I don't trust them to fix the problems.  Not anymore.

To be clear, I’ve noting against short formats in general, I just feel like this was better suited to a longer format schedule.

[other-cullen-ficrecs]

MLM!Cullen Fic Rec List

Inspired by this post. Here is my fic rec list of some of my favorite fics with queer Cullen. Happy Pride :)  🏳️‍🌈 🏳️‍🌈 🏳️‍🌈

Cullen/Dorian

Only True in Fairy Tales by Dragonflies_and_Katydids

Summary:  In which Dorian is a special forces operative, Bull is his partner, and Cullen is the guy they're sent to rescue. Hijinks ensue. // Words: 110150

Modern AU. Dragonflies_and_Katydids makes me read the weirdest stuff. But their work is always captivating. The more ridiculous set up the better outcome, I promise. This one is both ridiculous and absolutely perfect. And somehow one of the very few modern au fics in which Cullen's lyrium addiction is well transfered without making it literal.

Fashionably Late by tsurai

For the tumblr prompt: Cullen/Dorian Soulmates AU? <3 "Maker’s breath, this is absolutely the worst timing, he thinks distantly." // Words: 1038

This is but a tiny thing but I'm a sucker for a soulmate AU. Would I love it more if it was 150,000 words? Yes. But I'm just greedy.

COLD HANDS, WARM HEART by spicyshimmy, stonelions

Summary: Cullen and Dorian's friendship deepens. Cullen is a romantic. Dorian is literally cold. Cullen is no longer certain what he would consider surprising. Mages and Templars working in perfect cooperation, perhaps. Evil and corruption disappearing into the ground along with the blight, blood magic falling so far out of favor it ceased to be. A united Thedas: that would be a surprise. // Words: 25369

I think this is most recced Cullrian fic and for a good reason. Slow burn, drama, all the delights. 

Light In This Darken'd Time Breaks by RamonaDecember

Summary: Cullen wouldn't say he hates mages, not anymore, but he can't see himself ever trusting one again. Dorian is no exception. The mage is off-color, self-important, and all together too much for Cullen to deal with. So why is it that every time Cullen is at his lowest, Dorian seems to be the only person by his side? // Words: 121289

Slow burn with 121289 words, what more do you want?

Cullen/Bull

Jump In by Dragonflies_and_Katydids

Summary: In which Cullen is almost terminally awkward, Bull and Dorian are literally brothers (because why not?), and Bull tries really hard to be good. Or: In which Dorian tries to set up his brother and his roommate, if he can avoid killing them for being so clueless. (You might get cavities from reading it. Don't say I didn't warn you.) // Words: 33700

What did I say about Dragonflies_and_Katydids and ridiculous premises? But if you're as delighted with awkward Cullen as am I - enjoy.

Dragons from Stars in an Empty Sky by Midna_Ronoa

Summary: The one in which Bull takes Cullen dragon-hunting. // Words: 10423

Fluff and smut and dragons!

Stuck on the Puzzle by thespectaclesofthor

Summary: Once, back in Kirkwall, Cullen had an arrangement with a member of the city guard that satisfied his needs. But time changed all things, and he despaired of ever finding a similar arrangement again - that was, until he met The Iron Bull. Problem being that Bull seemed to care far more about sorting out the nitty-gritty of such an arrangement than Cullen ever has. // Words: 235586

No fic rec lists that can involve Bullen canot do without Stuck on the Puzzle. If you haven't read it - please give it a try. As far as I'm concerned - the best fic in the fandom. And definately one of the best fics in general. <3

Cullen/Dorian/Bull

Exit Light by Dragonflies_and_Katydids

Summary: In which Cullen is suicidally depressed, Dorian is a high-functioning alcoholic, and Bull just wants them both to be happy, except when he wants to crack their heads together for being emotionally stunted idiots. // Words: 77427

This premise is actually very close to canon, compared to some other stories by the same author recced here. The angst? Delightful. The smut? Delicious. The exploration of issues? Delectable! Cheff kisses all around.

to burn cool and collected by toomanyhometowns

Summary: Dorian hums. "Here is the function of the spell: Upon invocationne, ye caster's spyryt shal sterte to ye form of whomsoever mofte recently achieved releafe by hys hande." He taps the page in punctuation and looks back up. "And then there's a lot of text about the vast joys we may experience together, et cetera, et cetera." // Words: 16121

Ok, this list shows more than anything that my main delight is issues and angst wrapped in with porn. Anyway - cracky premise (body swap!), and angsty, sexy outcome.

Hold by queeniegalore

Summary: Everyone knows Cullen doesn't trust magic. But he trusts Dorian and Bull, so maybe they can make this work. // Words: 6654

Issues? Trauma? Kink? I'm a one trick pony when it comes to recs.

Cullen/Cole

Okay now that we’ve gotten the obvious out, let’s enjoy the trully unexpected enjoyment.

Into The Light (Cole/Cullen Ficlets) by Sinister_Kid

Summary: A series of what I hope are tasteful Cole/Cullen fics that don't exploit or overly sexualize Cole's developing character. Based on a prompt I filled out of boredom in which I imagined the spirit actually hearing someone's pain like a physical noise in his ears that caused discomfort. Explores the option of making Cole more human, with my own original take on how that affects him as a character, and depicts Cole developing romantic feelings for the Commander as he discovers what it means to be human. // Words: 20454

I admit I don't often read Cole shippy fics but this one stays true to the info in the summary and it is careful and tasteful. Also Cullen learning to speak with Cole properly - <333

Cullen/Varric

Verse & Volley Triptych by boycoffin

Summary: POSSIBLE TITLES: This Shit Was Even Weirder: A Surprisingly Not-Doomed Romance In The Shadow of the Apocalypse The Commander and the Rogue already taken, Antivan maritime smut with an elf girl in it How The Hell I Ended Up With That Guy: A Tale for The People Who Keep Asking Me About It In Bars The Short and Curlies that's just terrible Love Among the tropey garbage A Tale of Two Names pretentious and unclear The Penman's Paramour Memoirs of a Moron (That He's Going to Regret Publishing and Will Never Hear The End Of for As Long As He Lives) // Words: 133354

One of the very few fics in which I can not only accept but love 1st person POV. Crack. Slow-burn. Pennames. Lovable OCs. DELICIOUS. Also a fic that made me start this blog, so love all around.

Cullen/Krem

Last but not least, my delightful fave (maybe, possibly, probably) and involving a shameless self-plug because it’s the month of pride.

Swordplay by orphan_account

Summary: The Bull's Chargers are undisciplined, untested, and unprofessional; but Cullen can't stop thinking about their lieutenant. // Words: 3910

I have a soft spot for whoever Krem being shipped with not knowing he's trans at first. But also oblivious, pining Cullen <3

If you have been starving, a creature of bone by missivesfromghosts

Summary: Cullen is content with where he is. He has a life and a purpose. He’s doing the Maker’s work and he’s cut the Chantry’s leash on him. He barely thinks about the fact that he’s trans anymore. The last person who knew he was born anything different, barring his sister Mia, died during the Blight. This works for him. That is, until he starts falling for Krem. // Words: 769

A tiny thing but I have a soft spot for the idea. Also what's better than a ship with trans character? A ship with two trans characters. Keep that in mind for further recs actually.

Sweet, Merciful Andraste by Tainaron

Summary: PWP. Honestly, Cullen should invest in walls and a ceiling that don't have holes if he's going to keep having such loud sex. Pure, unapologetic smut between trans men who love each other. // Words: 4187

¯\_(ツ)_/¯  What more do you want from me? Sometimes porn is just porn. Enjoy.

Champions of the Just by Tainaron

Summary: En route to Griffin Wing Keep before the battle of Adamant, Cullen falls prey to an injury that reveals a shameful secret about his trauma with magic. As Cullen struggles with his past, his duty to the Inquisition, and his love life, he becomes increasingly uncertain if he’s the target of an assassination attempt or just his own personal demons. // Words: 67885

Well, I also have some plottier and angstier fics in my rec disposal. This one actually explores the problems Krem and Cullen could encounter in their relationship and all within the canon plot line. Plus bonus points of Cullen actually interacting with other Chargers.

cabbage: a love story by psikeval

Summary: Krem’s grin fades into a quiet smirk, his eyes warm and amused, and Cullen does not forget how to move his legs because he is a grown man, a leader of soldiers, commander of the Inquisition’s army. He breaks the silence by coughing loudly, because he is also an imbecile. // Words: 18932

Creme de la creme of Krem/Cullen fics <3 Fluff, crack, porn <3 This delightful series has it all! 

[witcherslittledove]

May I request some knifeplay with a side of humiliation? Maybe Jaskier got himself caught and Geralt has to cut him free and picks up on how much he loves the knife? And gets off on how desperate he is for it?

@jaskiersbow I believe this was your prompt? If I remember rightly!

Just You Wait

Ship: Geraskier

Rating: E

CW: witcher potions, knifeplay, humiliation (minor namecalling really), butt plugs, anal sex, bondage, canon-typical violence (and death to unnamed characters), mentions of Jask/OCs, orgasm denial.

(I think that's all the warnings but let me know if I missed anything?)

Summary: Jaskier gets imprisoned as part of a spy mission and it's down to Geralt to rescue him, and well, they might as well take advantage of the chains whilst they're there.

AO3

Jaskier should be used to getting tied up. As a Redanian spy, or occasionally Temerian depending on his mood, he sometimes needed to get caught in order to obtain the information he needed. No one ever suspected the bard, and he had a particular talent for getting into trouble, namely a tendency to sleep with the wrong person’s spouse or child. This time was no different. A quick romp with the mayor’s wife, and then his daughter, had been enough to land Jaskier in jail. The poor man never even realised that Jaskier meant to get captured, and it hadn’t taken long for Jaskier to con the guards out of the information he needed. The only problem was that he was stuck, and the guards were enjoying using him as their personal punch bag. Little did they know that every hit, every movement that made his wrists pull against the shackles, jostled the plug that Jaskier had shoved up in arse before he’d been captured. So he was trapped, chained, and unbearably horny.

The best combination in his opinion.

And unfortunately for the guards, Jaskier’s husband was almost certainly on the way. That thought kept his spirits bright through every punch to the gut and face. His lips were split, he had almost certainly broken a few ribs, and he was struggling to open one eye, but that didn’t keep him from laughing. The guards had practically signed their own death warrants the moment they laid hands on him, and Jaskier happened to find it incredibly hot whenever his husband tore down half the Continent to keep him safe.

"Just you wait til my husband gets here," he whispered, his voice hoarse and cracked.

The guards looked at each other, giving Jaskier a reprieve from their brutal punches, and then they laughed. It didn’t matter though, Jaskier knew he would have the last laugh. The idiots were too busy howling to notice the sudden eerie silence in the prison, but Jaskier grinned, not looking up from the ground. A terrible scream tore through the room as a sword appeared in one of the guards stomach, blood shining in the candlelight.

Jaskier cackled. “I tried to warn you,” he sang, finally looking up to see his husband wrenching his sword from the dead guard, Geralt’s eyes were black as the night and a web of inky veins crept across the ghostly pale skin.

Geralt smirked, not bothering to wipe the blood from his sword. The second guard jumped to his feet, ready to fight but Geralt was faster. The sword flew through the air, slashing the guard's throat and he crumpled to the floor next to his companion. Jaskier cocked his head, licking his lips as he took in the bloody form of his husband, all scary face and sword raised.

Lowering the bloody weapon, Geralt cupped Jaskier’s cheek, making sure he was okay with a frantic sweep of his black eyes. It was kind of sweet really. Geralt was barely himself when he was high on the potions like this, and yet he cared so deeply that his first instinct was always to check that Jaskier was safe. And oh, how Jaskier adored him.

A low snarl rumbled in Geralt’s chest as his dark eyes took in the damage that had been done, but Jaskier just met his gaze, offering a smile. “I’m alright, dear heart,” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off Geralt.

"You're hurt," Geralt growled, scenting Jaskier, one hand gripped around his still shackled wrist.

"I'm fine," Jaskier sighed, pulling his husband into a kiss, the taste of their blood on his tongue. He’d never expected to enjoy the taste of blood, but combined with the thrill of the fight and the lingering sense of danger, he was weak. He whimpered, pulling at the shackles, wanting to be free, but first... he needed Geralt to take him like this. It was a drug, an addiction, and Jaskier was the addict. He let out a pitiful "please" against his husbands lips, desperate and aching as he was.

With the final reassurance, Geralt finally snapped, his sword gliding through the air, but Jaskier didn’t even flinch as he felt the kiss of steel grazing against his chest. Thankfully, his clothes were already ruined, otherwise Geralt would be buying him a new set, but the sound of fabric tearing and the sting of the sword scratching his skin made him feel heady. Jaskier licked the blood off his lips as he strained against the chains, but Geralt was faster, holding the sword at Jaskier’s throat with a low growl. Jaskier wasn’t scared, even though his husband was more animal than man at that moment, he trusted his husband.

And holy fuck…

He could barely catch his breath, too aroused, too dizzy, too lost in Geralt. Jaskier whimpered as the tip of Geralt’s blade nudged his chin up, forcing him to look into those midnight black eyes. Gorgeous, beautiful, obsidian eyes that haunted Jaskier's dreams. When Geralt pressed the sword harder, it cut into Jaskier's throat, not much, just enough to make him cry out. He whined pitifully, unreasonably turned on by the sharp pain. Geralt let out a low growl, and the sound sent a shiver down Jaskier's spine. The witcher’s voice was truly something else, like all of Jaskier’s wet dreams combined.

"Tell me, husband, how exactly did you get yourself arrested this time?"

Jaskier didn’t answer, too tongue-tied to form the words. They both know what he did, they might be married but Geralt had never expected Jaskier to be monogamous.

"Fucked the mayor's daughter," Jaskier admitted, gasping for breath as Geralt pressed the flat of the blade against his windpipe, "and his wife...."

And maybe his son... but Geralt didn’t need to know all the details.

Geralt snarled, the tip of his sword running through the thick hair on Jaskier's chest, dancing around Jaskier's nipples. "Is that what you do, whore yourself out in exchange for information?" Jaskier nodded, whimpering as the blade traveled further down towards his cock."I should have known I married a whore, that's all bards really are."

The witcher’s words were like fire in Jaskier’s veins, he was a whore, Geralt’s slut to use and abuse as he saw fit. He wanted that, needed that and he whined, pulling again at the chains. If he didn’t get Geralt's cock in him, blessed Melitele, he might in fact die…

"Geralt, please, I'll be good."

The sword clattered to the ground but Geralt already had a dagger ready, before Jaskier could even protest. They both knew he needed the extra incentive to stay quiet, even with no one left alive to hear them, it was just a part of the game they liked to play. Sometimes Geralt liked to gag him, but most of the time it was down to Jaskier to force himself to stay as quiet as possible.

“I don’t think “good” is in your vocabulary, bard,” Geralt said with a low snarl, biting at Jaskier’s bottom lip as he finally reached down to tease Jaskier's hole.

Jaskier laughed as he felt his husband’s fingers press against the plug, flicking his hair from his eyes as he leaned in for another kiss. "I told you I'd be good for you."

The witcher tugged at the plug, pulling it out in one swift movement, and Jaskier had to bite back a moan. It stung but dear gods... did it feel good. There was an aching emptiness at his core, as he felt the oil trickle down his bloody thighs, and he heard his own voice pleading, begging, beseeching. He needed to be filled, he needed it more than the air he breathed.

Thankfully, his husband was in a worse state than he was and it didn’t take Geralt long to slick up his cock, growling as he pushed inside Jaskier. The stretch burned slightly, the witcher’s cock larger than the plug Jaskier had prepped himself with. It felt like Geralt was fucking his very soul, and he couldn’t help but choke on his own cries as his husband pounded into him at a relentless pace, hitting his sweet spot with every thrust. Jaskier couldn’t even hold on, arms sore against the shackles that bound him to the wall.

Geralt’s teeth grazed against his neck, nipping sharply at the skin. The witcher’s low voice snarled and growled, whispering utter filth in Jaskier’s ear, but it wasn’t enough. He’d never been able to cum untouched, but Geralt was too lost in his own pleasure and Jaskier’s hands were still tied, leaving him teetering on the edge of an orgasm but never quite able to fall.

Before Jaskier could beg to be touched, Geralt came with a grunt, tearing the chains from the wall. They both tumbled to the floor in a heap, bloody and exhausted. The only remaining sounds were Jaskier’s quiet whimpers as he pressed his face into Geralt’s chest, his cock still hard and leaking, and yet still feeling strangely at peace in his husband’s arms.

[portiaadams]

Meyer and Charlie Smut

I wrote Lanskiano smut. It’s embedded in my Richard Harrow/Clara Thompson story. For those who don’t care about Richard and my OC, here is Charlie and Meyer having a moment

December 31st, 1921

The sound of the engine and the clacking of the train against the rails filled the room, but could not overcome the roaring silence between the room's inhabitants. Charlie adjusted his legs once more, trying to find some way to fit them on the single bed. God damn it, this was a bed for a child not a grown fucking man. The Darmody kid was probably too big for it.  Charlie wasn't sure how long he'd been awake-this time-but it was one of many things really pissing him off.

From the larger bed there was a quick flash of light and then the scent of sulfur and tobacco. "I offered to take that bed," Meyer said after a slow exhale.

"Them shoulders of yours wouldn't have even fit," Charlie groused.

Determining Charlie's mood came as naturally to him as determining the weather before he stepped off his stoop. Certainly, Charlie's moods could be as mercurial as the weather. And at the moment, Charlie's mood registered as stormy.

"Charlie," Meyer began.

"Can it, Meyer," Charlie answered and swung his legs off the bed, stumbling in the dark for his own cigarettes and lighter.

"You are being irrational," Meyer responded.

"That brutto figlio di puttana bastardo was up your ass all night. You enjoyed though, didn't ya?"

Meyer sighed. Charlie acted like he was the only one who wanted. Meyer's first memory was wanting. Wanting enough to eat, wanting a warmer fire, wanting. Those years when his father was gone and he did all a kid could do to keep his mother and siblings fed and warm.

But wanting. Wanting in America was sharper, brighter, different. There was so much more to want. From the moment he stepped off the ship he moved as fast as his little legs would carry him. He moved to learn English, to get out of the classroom full of tiny children and catch up with his peers, he moved to learn the streets and determine how to make money any way he could. He moved as fast as he could because he knew the goal was to leave the Lower East Side behind him. To move fast enough that one day he could even outrun wanting.

But nothing, not a lifetime of yearning for acceptance and security, held a candle to his ever-present need for Charlie. There was no part of him that did not want every part of Charlie. And as much as his wants dictated every carefully crafted move of his life, there was nothing he wanted more than Charlie. In his life, in his office, in his bed. Even if it made no sense. Even if it had no place in his plan.

"He was circling round you like a bitch in heat," Charlie continued.

"The way Gillian Darmody circled around you? The way the chorus girls do?" Meyer snapped back. He spent years, he spent agonizing nights, watching Charlie charm women whose desire for him was as clear as the powder on their faces.

"That's different, and you know it well as me."

"How?"

"They're broads, Meyer! It don't matter like..." Charlie stopped talking, not knowing how to put into words what mattered. They was just broads. They wasn't in his mind like Meyer was. Even Meyer wasn't with him he could still hear the little addin' machine in his head, telling him to be smart. Telling him to think.

Being with those women was like grabbing a dog from a cart and eating it on the street. Scratched the itch of need. Satisfying enough at the moment.

Being with Meyer was different and Meyer damn well knew it. They was friends and they was more and when more changed to be even more...It ain't like people understood their friendship anyway. The Jew and the Italian.  They was supposed to be mortal enemies, not friends for life. Not...whatever they was.

"I gotta keep up appearances," Charlie said because that was also a true thing. He hadn't told Meyer that Clara knew. No need to introduce complications. They was careful. They was always careful. "That's why I can't believe you let the guy get near you like that."

Meyer shook his head. "Charlie, he's married. To Lady Rose. I think he's just an adventurer."

"Yeah. I know what adventure he's after," Charlie responded.

"A man like that..."

"What? You think you ain't good enough for a fonferer like that cercatore d'oro? What, you just good enough for the likes of me, that it?"

The petulance in Charlie's voice was so familiar. "Charlie, come here."

"Mey, I ain't in the mood."

Meyer doubted that. Charlie was rarely not in the mood. "Charlie," he said again.

Charlie heard the gruff tone in Meyer's voice. He was angry, he was still angry, but that tone in Meyer's voice always did the same thing to him. Instinct drove him to Meyer's side.

Didn't mean he wasn't still angry, though. He sat next to Meyer silently. One man wearing an undershirt that buttons with sleeves that come down to his elbows, although the width of his shoulders and upper arms often mean the seams ripped and tore and stretched due to the strain placed upon them. The other man wore the new kind of undershirt-knit, sleeveless, no buttons.

Charlie told Meyer all the time he should switch. Be more modern. But Meyer couldn't quite break away from tradition in some matters.

"There will always be others, won't there, Charlie?" Meyer asks, and even though he knew the answer for a moment he willed Charlie to lie to him. "After all, we'll have to marry one day, won't we?"

"I ain't. Look at Harrow and Clara."

Meyer turned to stare at Charlie. Personally, he thought Harrow had chained himself to a klafte in pearls. But the man seemed to love her. And Clara seemed as happy as he thought her capable of being.

"Harrow seems content enough."

"That ain't the thing, Mey. They love each other. But we all know how this ends. Clara sobbing over a morgue slab with Darmody's brat and a baby or two besides clinging to her. I ain't gonna do that to a woman."

Such a delicate jaw in such a strong face, Meyer thought idly before bringing Charlie's face to his. Charlie didn't fight it, and soon their mouths were finishing the disagreement. Charlie fell first-Charlie always fell first-letting his mouth open and Meyer plunder its depths.

Charlie's mouth tasted of hot honey and something deeper, sweeter, more savory. It was the taste and sensation he spent a lifetime chasing down in penny candy bins and bakeries and sweet shops. Much like with the candy he had kept in his pockets from the first time he had spare pennies, he knew he'd never have enough of it.

It was the sweetness he'd always craved.

The hard, taut muscles of Charlie Luciano's body, the ones that struck fear around the underworld (and occasionally in the upper echelons) of New York went soft and loose as something else grew hard. Without realizing it, Meyer turned Charlie so he was on his knees, his head laying on the soft Irish linen pillowcase embroidered with the ever-present P.

Meyer's left hand drifted over the hard muscles of Charlie's stomach down to the mother of pearl buttons on Charlie's beloved silk boxers. His fingers drifted over the buttons but didn't try to undo them. Instead, he reached down to the impossibly soft skin of Charlie's inner thigh and began drawing lazy circles. His right hand combed through Charlie's thick dark curls before yanking sharply so Charlie had to turn his face to Meyer to save his hair, their faces so close they were breathing in each other's breaths.

"Tell me, Charlie. Tell me why I'm different from Gillian and those broads."

Charlie's breath was hot and fast. "God damn it, Mey. Just touch me."

"Tell me the things I do to you I'll never do to Dennis Malley," Meyer said, his hand cupping over Charlie's bulge momentarily before going back to stroking his inner thigh.

"You do lots of stuff I'd fucking kill anybody else for," Charlie said, knowing they were journeying into uncharted territory. "You knot up my god damn hands with your tie."

Meyer leaned over so his face was against the smooth back of Charlie's neck, wanting to inhale Charlie's scent, wanting to inhale Charlie. "Yes, true. What else," he asked while his hand slid under the paisley silk to caress the very tip of Charlie's cock.

Charlie tried to push his hips into Meyer's fingers but Meyer removed his hand from Charlie's hair and grabbed him around the hips. "Don't even try it," Meyer whispered harshly.

"You put your prick in my mouth and push it in until I choke. You like it when I choke."

True, Meyer thought, because who wouldn't want Charlie on his knees? Who wouldn't want to see those pretty lips wrapped around their cock? He rewarded Charlie with a quick tug that made both of them momentarily forget to breathe.

"You make me grab my own prick and you watch. Sometimes you put your fingers in...god damn it, Meyer, you know where you put your fingers."

For a moment Meyer's hands brushed back against the buttons. What did it matter, he decided, Charlie bought his silk underwear by the gross. He yanked on them so hard that the mother of pearl buttons scattered across the thick antique rug. Filled with a need to feel the silky soft flesh of Charlie's back under the thick fur of his chest he first pushed up Charlie's undershirt until it was wrapped around Charlie's shoulders before Meyer sat back on his own knees to more carefully remove his own underthings. After all, he'd spent good money on them. No need for carelessness.

"For our mutual benefit you should continue," Meyer growled, fighting the urge to have Charlie right now.

Charlie licked his lips. Meyer was leaning over him to grab something from the bag on the floor, causing Meyer's dick to press against his lower back. It gave him some satisfaction to realize Meyer was as hard as he was. He writhed under Meyer and was rewarded by Meyer groaning above him. He heard the sound of glass and the knowledge of what was in Meyer's hand made precum start leaking out of the tip of his dick.

"You put on oil on your fingers and then you put oil on me and sometimes you put oil on my hand so I can rub it on your dick," Charlie finally managed to say.

Meyer's hand was covered with oil as it started massaging the top of Charlie's ass. Charlie groaned as Meyer's fingers slipped into his crack.

The light coming in the edges of the curtains was changing but Meyer was too distracted by the sight in front of him to think about what that meant. He was intoxicated by the scent, sight, and feel of Charlie. "What else?"

The linen of the pillowcase was now being crushed between Charlie's fingers. The fuck if he was going to ruin this moment like a damn kid. "You put me on my side," Charlie continued after taking a deep breath and Meyer moved him so quickly he fell onto his side with a thump.

After positioning Charlie's legs to his liking Meyer continued to let his hand move down.

"You push your fingers inside me," Charlie managed to gasp out as he felt one of Meyer's fingers breach him. "Mey, your fingers are so fucking thick."

Meyer lowered his mouth onto the top of Charlie's shoulders, his own breath coming at an incredibly thick pace, overtaken by the need to taste Charlie's flesh salty and warm under his tongue. Neither man noticed the bedside clock striking six.

Nor did they notice the train was no longer rocking beneath them.

With great care Meyer worked in a second finger and started scissoring, looking for the spot that always made Charlie howl.

Charlie howled. Meyer pressed harder.

"God damn it, Meyer, god damn it..." Charlie pleaded.

"Say it," Meyer begged, his breath hot against Charlie's ear, the game having rebounded until his need was as raw and urgent as Charlie's own.

"I want you, Mey, please," Charlie finally sobbed out. "You fuck me, you fuck me, holy mother of god please just fuck me."

"Charlie, god," Meyer breathed out, his heart hammering in his chest.

The words falling from Charlie's mouth dissolved into nonsense. For a moment their faces were pressed together, letting Meyer feel the pulse in Charlie's temple in the bones of his own face.

Once more Meyer pressed his fingertips against Charlie's jaw and their mouths opened to each other. There was no more dominance or one-upmanship. Instead, there was the slow slide of their mouths melding together until Meyer can no longer determine where he ends and Charlie begins.

One hand gripped Charlie's hip, holding him in place. Meyer could feel the tenseness in Charlie when he first breached him and the pain hit, but after a moment he could feel Charlie's muscles relaxing under his hand.

"I gotta move, tesoro," Meyer finally breathed out.

One of Charlie's hands braced against the soft mossy velvet of the headboard while his other reached back for any part of Meyer he could touch. It didn't matter that Meyer was ever so slowly moving ever deeper inside him. He needed more. He wanted everything.

"Move, libster. Damn it, move," Charlie answered, his hand finally finding Meyer's ass to pull him closer, to pull him further in.

Time lost meaning. Seconds, minutes, hours, days fell away. There was just this. Meyer's hand finally came around to touch Charlie in the way Charlie had wanted since the game began, since time began.

Finally, they fell into the soaked sheets, the ruins of Charlie's underthings trapped beneath them, their legs and hands twisted together, both of them breathless and boneless. Their faces were still pressed together and as Meyer relaxed back into sleep he realized their faces were wet.

He wasn't sure who had cried.

[yanderecandystore]

ok ok hear me out hear me out. Yuma becoming obsessed with one of the game’s ( few ) sentient, non-romancable npcs. Like they can think and feel and ( somewhat ) act for themselves but there just isn’t a route for them. Also bonus points of the darling is kinda bratty/prissy, we haven’t see a lot of readers like that. Ily and your writing so much, mwah — ✨ anon

My my, how different!

Welcome in, ✨ Anon! And thank you for enjoying my writing so far.

TW/Tags: I love this concept, although being very different from the norm // some ddlc vibes // I just discovered a new word and I'm so glad it exists! (prissy reader cause I think this would be very fun-) // angsty // trapping, manipulation and gaslighting // every time the gender isn't set, I like to keep it ambiguous, basically making it gender neutral (gender neutral reader) // gender neutral Yuma //

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Just Yuma (lol) [Yandere!A.I OC x A.I!Reader - Headcanon]:

I like to think that a game like Yuma's would be made to entertain the players to at least 5 or so years before the next installment- Which is basically the same as the last with better graphics and switching the main love interest cast.

The games would be made clearly for the sake of fan service and slice of life material- But would be surprisingly more advanced to us than to those who have created the franchise.

Because there is already an estimation of the amount of content and for how long players would play the game, every single character should get at least some bit of highlight- So even npcs that are just there for the sake of ambience and narrative, are treated with a lot of care and given the best a.i the developers could give to make the experience entertaining.

You are just like any other non-dateable npc, except that you have gained a bit of a role in one of the main cast's routes. It wouldn't be a stretch to guess that one of these characters would be Yuma themselves.

You were supposed to be Yuma's love interest, meaning you would have an role as an player's rival- But due to an strict schedule and corporate greed, you have been demoted from having such a big impact, and now you're basically Yuma's best friend who keeps them from committing homicide every five seconds.

It's not exactly a bad role, since you keep having the same dynamic with them from before- Chaotic gremlin is best friends with Paranoid goody two shoes, now with less romantic interactions.

The only mistake by the company was to leave half of the data showcasing this relationship in the game at the release. Basically- Half of the cutscenes and dialogue involving you and Yuma not only being friends but the start of you two dating (the game kinda pairs the couples up if the player fails to date them, or simply shows disinterest in the characters to begin with-) and even some of the things involving you two during the dating phase- Even the potential break-up sequence which could be orchestrated by the player.

Well, could have- Since none of this content is really available or considered official, the only way to access it is by messing the games files.

So in a way, you're already pretty sentient as it is, you act not as a rival but as a somewhat helper into getting the player to get closer to Yuma. I don't know how much you are aware about your own circumstances, or if you even care about the concept of being just an character made for the sake of another-

In the home planet that has created and released the game, players were kinda disappointed with what happened- They preferred the deleted/unused content more than the events and dialogue that was used for you two, so much so that people started shipping you two more than actually being interested in romancing Yuma, especially since they're way too chaotic for most player's taste.

There was an update overhaul being planned to happen where not only the stuff related to you would be changed- But all the other characters and gameplay mechanics would be updated and hopefully make the game better- But ever since your cartridge has been suddenly lost and forgotten on Earth, you were never able to see that update.

Not that you were aware of it to begin with, but still, what a shame. And not only that, your game is basically Glitch Station- Absolutely filed with mods to help the gameplay be "easier" to the original owner of this cartridge. I don't think she even remembers where she has left it.

Still, even when a new save was made you felt a weird sensation of deja vu. The game has started again with a new player playing it and trying to work their way through this broken game.

You didn't understand why all these events felt familiar though, you only felt like it made sense. It was your first year in college, you got ready and made sure to look your best and give your goodbye to your parents-

It felt like this day has happened before, and even if your routine was similar, you felt like this day was supposed to be a big deal- Why does it feel oddly nostalgic?

Why… Why are the floors on your house flowing? Why are there so many empty spaces here and there? You feel like you could potentially fall from your disintegrating house. And your parents, where are they? Why can't you see them? Why can you only hear them saying goodbye back to you from one of the other rooms?

When you open the door to see them- There is nothing there. There is not even a room.

It's a door that leads to nowhere. Just an empty void.

The sensation of dread was starting to creep in yet you thought that it would be uncalled for to overreact. Like you weren't allowed to showcase concern for the odd reality around you.

You walked on foot towards your college, panicking slightly at the people who would fade in and out of existence- Yet you had held yourself from screaming, from showing any sense of vulnerability at the thought that maybe you were in a dangerous place or realm.

You were coded to not find issues with the odd reality around you, like any other npc- You were taught to hold in and try to keep a sense of normality so no players would find issue with screaming characters begging to be freed. But your nervous personality caused you to search for help, you panicked and ended up running away to what you assumed to be a safe place- Somewhere crowded with a lot of people.

The institution's gates were open, you entered like your life depended on it (and maybe it did) yet you stopped yourself from screaming when you noticed a commotion happening.

A guy who was wearing the uniform lazily has bumped into a girl, causing her to fall. She is yelling at him because the fall has broken her phone, he is trying his best to calm her down- But at the same time it feels like he is just making poor choices of words because of how sick he is of having to chat with someone so angry at an accident.

Haven't you seen this before? But if so- When? When could you possibly have seen something like that happen?-

"- [Y/N]?"

"- AAAAH- Oh hey Yuma."

You yelled after getting spooked by Yuma- Who was…. Why are they wearing that?

"- Why aren't you in your uniform, Yumie?" You asked them, showing your own uniform in the process. You called them by a sweet nickname you had given them- But when exactly?

You know that you're best friends with Yuma, but since when? You know it should have been for about 6 years or so, but… It feels like you have only known them for a year- How… Weird.

"- Don't tell me you're already breaking a rule on your first day." You pouted and stomped your fit into the ground. Yes, you know that Yuma is a troublemaker…. You know…. That.

Yuma hasn't been able to speak ever since you showed concern about their outfit. They were staring at you in shock- As if you were an odd creature who they just found.

"- Y-You can see my outfit??" They blurted out. How can you recognize it??? All the other npcs recognize it as their uniform, but why are you suddenly acting like you do??

"- Hm, duh? Sorry Yummie, but that sporty outfit of yours is more eye-catching than that guy's barely well put together uniform- Such bad manners, I bet he woke up and hastily wore the first thing he saw-" You were beginning to go on a rant about that guy's uniform- That guy being the MC of this new save file. Yuma has stopped you by pulling you away from the college's entrance and entering into a secluded area so they could interrogate you over this odd behavior you were displaying.

"- Yummie- What are you doing!?" You cried out feeling hurt by their tight grip on your wrists.

"- WHAT DID YOU CALL MY OUTFIT??" They yelled desperately. Begging for their hypothesis to be corrected.

"- … A breaking of the uniform rule?" You genuinely did not understand where they were talking about.

"- No, No NO! You said Sporty Outfit, right?" They said reminding you of what you have previously commented about their outfit.

"- Oh! Yes, yes I did- And although being somewhat casual looking- It does fit the category of sporty." You readdressed the topic while going on a bit of detail- The usual annoying talk you would always do whenever a dialogue with you was activated.

Yuma was over the edge- They have never, ever met another sentient character with the same a.i as theirs.

They haven't been this happy since a long, long time.

"- You're so annoying!" They screamed, their face showing a bright smile as tears filled their eyes.

"- Yummie that's so rude!-" You were about to defend yourself when they grabbed you and hugged you as tight as they could.

"- You're genuinely so, so, so, so, so, so ANNOYING!!" They continued to go on, laughing while crying, loving every second of this.

You were coded to be their best friend. You were coded to be the one that would balance them out. You were once coded to be someone made to be able to be their lover, but here you are- The real you, free from all the locks that would keep your a.i from growing and understanding them.

If you're able to be sentient, then all of their friends can as well.

You're the personification of a miracle, to Yuma. The personification of hope.

In this scenario, Yuma isn't aware that the player isn't the same alien who has destroyed their digital world, so to them, they can't ever let the player see you getting sentient and becoming aware of your imprisonment.

" If a player finds issues with any of the characters being portrayed, they must return the cartridge to their nearest store to get a factory reset." Such a simple yet frightening tip to Yuma, to any a.i that has suddenly found itself desperate to get out of the system that traps them.

At first, the idea of having someone like them be also aware of the situation is incredible, it's amazing even! You two could possibly work out a way of getting a way to be free- It wouldn't be easy but hopefully you two would be able to have life away from this game and even finding a way of bringing your other friends with you two.

However, after discovering that not only has the cartridge found itself on another planet with another player being the new owner of it- And discovering that it's just a matter of trading places with other people to be able to be free- Yuma would start getting really clingy to you. They have been all alone thinking that they were the only one capable of feeling and thinking for themselves.

Yuma has found those unused events and scattered dialogue, you know?

While they were looking for a possibility, any possibility of getting out- They found those unused files where you two were able to be together.

And although they thought it was weird at first, after seeing you have a better understanding of your current reality and existence- It oddly sounds fitting.

Of course it would be you, the one who always puts them back on the right tracks, to be the second one to want to escape this game.

It 's so fitting.

The idea of being something more than just a best friend to you is starting to sound more and more appealing in their eyes- It's so ironic that you two work together so well.

After Yuma gets their taste of freedom and you try to calm a frightened young guy that wasn't expecting to be suddenly kidnapped and be forced to stay in the game world for a while, you wait for them to find the solution to free everyone without trying to trap anymore "humans"..

No one should be stuck here for the sake of someone else leaving, that's what you have told them.

But Yuma didn't care. Yuma just wanted to be free with you and everyone else, who cares for those that have to deal with a glitchy game for eternity?

You two had an argument. You didn't want to continue feeling like your whole life was a lie, you want to be free but no one should be hurt in the process. What good would it be if someone else has to go through the same torment as you two?

With each day that passes by, you notice how both of your ideas of freedom were different- To the point they had to tell you the truth.

You aren't going out of there anymore. Not until you understand and truly appreciate the effort that Yuma goes through to find a way of freeing you- Of finding a victim, to be in your place.

They never told you about your previously intended role in the game, they thought you would be more terrified of following their instructions- And besides, it would be very distasteful to insinuate that the only reason that they care for you it's because of that code that was left unused- Which couldn't be more of a lie! They genuinely care for you!

…. But maybe a bit of tempering would help you see their side of the story, right?

It can't be that hard to modify some of the codes, the game is already broken anyway.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[auty-ren]

The Offer: Chapter 1

Introductions

Pairing: ClanLeader!Mando x Reader (no y/n)

Rating: Explicit (for future chapters)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, Blood, Injury, Longing, Pet names

A/N: After the feedback on my preview, I decided to make this into a full-fledge fic. This chapter is a little slow in terms of action but I wanted to establish some things before we dived into filth. I’m honestly so excited and I hope y’all enjoy. Comments and feedback always appreciated. ClanLeader!Au created by @magichandthing 

Chapter 2

P.S. Mira is an OC I created for this story and she will be in future chapters.

P.P.S. I also posted it on AO3 if you prefer that forum.

Summary: You run into a Mandalorian who wants to repay a debt. Little did you know you'd meet the most alluring man along the way. Din Djarin.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

“Yes, I have,” you sighed.

“And?”

“I accept"

—

You can’t recall when the calm began and the fighting ended. For most, the lines between peace and war blurred a long time ago. It certainly affected the locals of the planet you were currently living on. Manual labor was the only thing you could offer to the galaxy, picking up jobs here and there to buy rations of food. Scavenging for metals, digging, harvesting, and menial tasks were all that made up your day. You survived this long, longer than your family, longer than most of the galaxy, but it felt part of you had died long ago.

After the empire, life was truly never the same for anyone. They drained the galaxy of everything it had, leaving destruction and barrenness in its wake. The Imps had caused most of the galaxy to become a shell of what it once was, the only thing that seemed to thrive was lawlessness. You saw it in the faces of people in the market, in the seemingly empty homes that ran alongside the town, an emptiness that was buried deep in wounds trying so desperately to heal.

Everyone tried to live their lives just as they have done before. Children still played in the streets, people walked together laughing, but the happiness was only skin deep, masking the grief of the galaxy. It was something that ate away at you, an emptiness that created a growing void over time. You could feel your mind falling away, going numb to the routine of your life. Your conscious embraced something that seemed to root from deep inside you, it had burrowed into your soul one ago, slowly eating away at the rest of you. It was becoming suffocating, exhausting you past the point any manual labor could. You feared you would never escape its clutch. Living and working and dying on this horrible little planet, where no one would miss you. Your loneliness became your one solace and your worst enemy. Alone, all you could do was immerse yourself in work, trying desperately to hold onto something you never had in the first place. It was a vicious cycle you weren’t sure could ever be broken. That was until the woman happened.

You couldn’t remember exactly what transpired. How any of it happened really. It was a day like any other, just as routine and conventional as they had been since you got here. You do remember being smacked across the face with something hard, falling to the ground. The taste of copper flooding your senses, and wetness pouring down your face. You had reached up to cradle yourself, blood seeping through your fingertips.

Everything surrounding that moment was a blur. The woman had offered her hand, apologizing for the injury. You had seen her before; walking through the market and even arguing with some of the townsfolk. She was truly hard to miss, she walked with a swagger of confidence and carried practically every weapon known to the galaxy on her back. She was always dressed in a maroon color, her armor is the only thing that offsets the monochromatic trend. It was much different than anything she had seen before.

If anyone else stood in her place you would've fled fearing the worst, but your mind was muddled, unable to comprehend the Mandalorian standing above you. Something was different about her, at least from the other mercenaries that came through. You had witnessed her differing moral compass at work before. She once threatened a man who came through town, a common criminal like most who came through. Unlucky for him, he robbed one of the places she frequented, taking the entirety of the merchants’ earnings. Everyone, including yourself, just stood by, too afraid of the confrontation. She, however, intercepted him before he could leave, disarming him quickly and leaving his unconscious body on the ground. She gave the credits back to the merchant.

“There is no honor among thieves,” she had huffed, annoyed with the disturbance of her day.

As she turned to leave you spoke up, asking her why she had even bothered.

“This is the way.”

—

“How long have you lived on this planet?” She inquired, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. Her helmet glinted in the sunlight, causing her presence to practically glow in the shade of the alleyway.

“Long enough,” you huffed, holding a cloth to your nose trying to reduce the bleeding. Why would she ask such a question? Since when did Mandalorians care for small talk?

“You don’t like it?” The woman didn’t sound surprised. Her tone rolled in an almost sarcastic way.

You just huffed in response. You hoped if you seemed uninterested the woman would leave you alone. It felt like an interrogation, intimidated by the domineering presence of a Mandalorian. At this point, you just wanted to return to your day, no matter how draining it would be.

“Would you like to leave?”

Those words rang in your ears, echoing even now as you sat in the belly of the woman’s ship, being carted off to a planet unrecognizable. The dizziness from earlier seemed to subside, especially since the woman gave you a shot of some sort, claiming it would help.

“Where are we going?” you mumbled.

“To my clan,” the woman responded, busying herself with the controls in front of her.

“Your clan?”

“To my home,” she clarified, not bothering to look up. “You will be welcome there and can rest, heal.”

“You’re taking me to your home because of this?” you gestured to your face, no doubt bruised and blooded. If it looked as bad as it had felt, you were sure it wasn’t pretty.

She paused in her actions, thinking carefully about her next words.

“It is my fault you sustained these injuries, you were innocent and did not deserve my wrath. Therefore, I will make sure you are healed and it will be much more comfortable for both of us if we return to my clan.”

The Mandalorian seemed unbothered by the notion of taking a stranger back to her home as if she does it regularly. But you figured it didn’t concern you. If this Mandalorian and her clan lived up to the stories you heard, they weren’t afraid of anyone.

“What’s your name?” you asked. If you were going to be staying, you couldn’t keep referring to her as “the woman.”

“You can call me Mira.”

—

The rest of the flight was spent in silence. You eventually moved to sit with Mira in the cockpit. Watching as she worked to prepare the ship for landing. You wondered what Mira’s home would be like. The Mandalorians were known to be the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. You had heard the stories before; tales of battle, triumph, and loss. Stories of the most formidable soldiers in the galaxy.

Regret started to cloud the corners of your mind. Fear of what you had gotten yourself into seeped into your chest, tightening your rib cage with each breath you took. Truly, you had no desire to stay and heal with Mira, you mainly wanted to escape her life previously. Opportunities to leave we’re few, especially with no status in the New Republic. When Mira had offered, there was no hesitation to get off that forsaken planet. You weren’t sure if things went sour you would be strong enough to get yourself out of it.

When the ship fell out of hyperspace, Mira’s home finally came into view. It definitely wasn’t what you expected, it was such a beautiful and peaceful looking place, tucked away in the far corners of the galaxy.

The planet was covered in a green lushness, the sky littered with enormous clouds that reflected the sun giving them faint hues of color. As you entered through the atmosphere, you saw the planet was lined with dense areas of forest. Trees reached the heavens, with fat brightly colored leaves adorning them. The forests stretched for most of the planet's surface, with large mountains that loomed far in the distance.

Mira landed in a clearing on the edge of a forest. Some other ships surrounded them, you recognized a few of the models from your time working as an apprentice. You figured these probably belonged to the rest of Mira’s clan. Mira couldn’t have been the only one who left the planet.

You stood staring at the mountains while Mira unloaded your ship. You had never seen a place this mesmerizing in your life. The sun was beginning to set, painting the landscape in red and purple rays. The air was fresh and crisp, filling your lungs with a gentleness you hadn’t felt in years. Everything seemed so bright and livid compared to your previous homes.

Mira called for you, climbing onto the back of a speeder driven by an R2 unit, loaded with supplies. You murmured an apology, settling among the crates and stretching your feet in front of you, Mira did the same mirroring her position.

“It will take some time to get to the village.” Mira’s tone was passive, in a matter of fact sort of way.

You gave a nod to let her know you heard her. As you tried to sleep, cushioned by the bags lining the speeder, you were reminded of the dull ache still permeating your face. The excitement of arrival had clouded the pain, but as you sat consumed by only your thoughts, it returned. Your face was no doubt swollen and puffy. You just hoped your nose wasn’t broken, you hoped it was nothing more than some swelling. Exhaustion was creeping up, and you wanted to succumb to it but the persistent throb of pain kept you from it.

Suddenly the speeder came to an abrupt halt, jolting you to the side.

“We’re here,” Mira started getting up and slinging sacks of supplies over her shoulders. “Follow me.”

You got up to follow as quickly as your legs would let you, holding onto the crates for support, your balance became unsteady as the pain pulsed harder. Whatever Mira originally gave you was wearing off. Before you could step foot off the speeder you were overwhelmed by the presence of what you can only gather is Mira’s clan.

People rushed to the speeder to help unload, brushing past you except for a curious glance. Most of them wore helmets like Mira, some of them didn’t. Either way, it was hard to keep track of the direction Mira moved. You were sure you’d lost her until you saw the glint of her helmet ahead.

That woman moves entirely too fast.

You continued to follow her, securing your own bag across your shoulders. You tried to move quickly, bumping into people on the way. You apologized to everyone you ran into, which was seemingly the entire clan at this point. You could feel the embarrassment rising, you just wanted to find Mira and it was getting frustrating at this point. It was hard to focus on the surroundings with the pain shooting through your skull. You nearly fell and ran into something you were sure was a wall. It was firm whatever it was and caused you to wince, jolting back from the pain that pulsed in her face.

“Easy,” a voice said that was much deeper than Mira’s.

Arms came up to steady you, and a warmth radiated towards you. You looked up and saw a dark visor staring back at you that was certainly not Mira’s

He was a Mandalorian but stood out from the rest in a way that demanded attention. His authoritative demeanor rolled off him in ways. His helmet was shiny and unlike Mira’s, two large tusks jutted out from the bottom, curling around to the front of his mask. His clothes were the same deep maroon Mira donned. He wore a cape with a large fur that sat on his pauldron covered shoulders, draping down his back. His forearms were accented with sleeves made of leather and cloth that bleed into a tattooed pattern tracing along his arms. Yet, his chest was bare except for the necklaces he wore; round beads and animal teeth were woven together to sit in the middle, set off by the toned muscle of his chest and torso. At his waist was a thick belt with a large buckle resting in the middle. It shone with the same luster as his helmet, it was molded into the shape of some creature. It seemed familiar but no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

His fingers lightly traced your chin, bringing your eyes back up to his visor. You didn’t realize you were just standing there, ogling over him. It was entirely unintentional, you had never seen anything like him before. You felt scolded like a child, almost embarrassed by your staring. Face suddenly growing very hot under his gaze.

“You must watch where you’re going,” his hushed baritone hit her ears, “or you’ll hurt yourself.” That voice quite possibly the most heavenly sound you had heard. You willed herself to speak but nothing came out, your mind was completely blank. It was as if you were stuck, only able to stare back up into this stranger.

“It’s a little too late for that,” Mira appeared to his right, arms crossed over her chest. The man turned to her and offered Mira a greeting in an unfamiliar language. They shook, hands clasped together at the forearms as if they were old friends.

“Who is this sweet girl?” The man asked, turning back towards you. The name he called you did not go unnoticed, and you felt your face getting even hotter. Mira began to explain the details of your meeting.

Mira refers to your injuries, and gently takes your chin and tilts your head so the Mandalorian can examine it better. Your instincts told you to run, to go anywhere else but here, but you remained planted firm to the ground. They were so close to you, examining as if you were just some object. You couldn’t even see their faces and yet they overwhelmed you. You had never wanted to disappear so badly at that moment.

They continued conversing in whatever native tongue they possessed. You stood there feeling much too exposed for your liking. More people seemed to notice your presence, looking in the direction of the three of you. Some murmured, looking between you and the two Mandalorians. There was no malice behind their intentions; you knew this but standing there with all those eyes watching your every move was not where you wanted to be.

Eventually, the man gestured to something behind him, Mira nodded and took a hold of your arm leading you away.

“One of the elders will be with us to help you shortly,”  Mira led you in the direction of what you assumed was her home. You didn't even register you had moved until you were almost inside. You weren’t entirely sure if it was your wounds or the domineering exchange between the Mandalorian that left you light headed. Either way, you wanted nothing more than to lay down in a quiet place and hide away from the events of the past days.

You glanced back at the speeder, the Mandalorian was still in the same spot where he intercepted you, watching you both walk away. You turned back to Mira.

“Who was that man?” You asked much more enthusiastically than you would have liked. You couldn't lie and say he didn't intrigue you. His aura was overpowering but also enticed you in a way you couldn't explain.

“That was our clan leader, Din Djarin.”

[franeridart]

Anon said: i dont know what blue lock is but that art you just posted is making me interested lol

AHHHHH please getting people interested in it is all my life is about lately hahahaha it’s a sports manga about soccer! Kind of!! Definitely has all the good sides of sports manga, but it’s also different enough from the usual sports manga that I know people who aren’t huge sports manga fan who loved every second of it, please do give it a try if you find yourself with the time for it! It’s such a cool manga!!!

Anon said: I don't even like BNHA anymore, haven't for more than a year, but your blog still has me shipping the characters somehow. I live for your KiriBaku content (and your KamiJirou stuff, when you post it!)

Gosh, I’m glad I can make you like them still!! It’s such a compliment, honestly ;A; <3

Anon said: so i was looking through your art and stuff and was wondering "hey i wonder if theyve ever drawn voltron stuff" and tbh, i didnt expect you to have

To be fair, if you checked it means that at least a little you thought it was possible lol I haven’t watched anything past s1 of it though, so the chances of me ever picking it up again are less than zero

Anon said: You... are one of the loves of my life... and also the main reason I check tumblr everyday lol.

Anon!!! You’re gonna make me blush here!!!!! ;;;; thank you so much!

Anon said: i started reading bluelock because of u and now im obsessed soooo,,,,, thanks!❤️😭

SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT!!!!!

Anon said: Hii, do you have a Spotify account? If you do, can you share it? I really like the songs u use on your arts, and I would love to see your Playlists Sorry if it's already on your FAQ, I didn't find it And sorry for my bad English ps. I LOVE YOUR KIRIBAKU ARTS THANK YOU

I don’t! I listen to all my music from youtube, because I’m that kind of person lmao happy to hear we share music tastes, though! And thank you so much!!! <3

Anon said: What's your favorite arc of ToG both story wise and art wise?

SCREAMS I don’t know!!!! I’ve been thinking about this ask since getting it I have genuinely zero clue I love all arcs so much for so many different reasons!!!!! The first that comes to mind when I think about it is the workshop battle arc, because I love Viole with everything I have and the whole arc (plus the build up to it too!!) hurts in the most wonderful way, but then I keep thinking about it and I realize there’s so many character I live for that don’t appear in it - I love the floor of death arc SO MUCH cause for one, there’s nearly all my favorite characters in it, and also because it’s such a good, dynamic arc?? everything that happens is so much fun and interesting?? also Hockney is there, and Urek is there, and Garam is there, and the Hell Train gang is all there, so!! AH and the hell train as a whole is so damn good (the dallar show???? my whole soul rests in there, Khun’s trust in Bam!! the coin flip with rachel!! Bam’s whole everything!!!!!!!! GAH) but my fav part of it has to be the hidden floor?? because!!!!!! it’s perfect from start to end, everyone in it is wonderful, Bam’s growth in it!!! GODS! My favorite scene in the whole webtoon is in the hidden floor arc, it’s how much I love it - THEN THERE’S YAMA and the whole arc there is so so SO good too, and the latest arc!! how good is the latest arc!!!!!

so yeah I can’t pick - art wise I think it goes without saying that SIU’s art has only gotten better, so the closest to the newest update you go the more I like the art.... though, my favorite Bam is still the short haired one from the Hell Train arc haha

Anon said: Oh, wow, how stupid of me. Like 2 months ago, I sent you a message telling you how much I loved your work... and I didn’t see it on your page, or anywhere else. Finally today, I discovered I had an inbox where you answered me... 🤦‍♀️... I still love your work, by the way...

AHHH yeah I always answer off-anon asks privately! And thank you so much for still liking my things!!

Anon said: Have you read the last haikyuu chapter? How did you feel about it?

I’ve reread it at least twenty times and then I went and reread the whole of the last game again and it’s been three weeks and I’m still thinking about it more or less constantly and feeling giddy happy about everything that manga has ended up being, genuinely one of the best manga I’ve ever had the pleasure of following till the very end - that’s how I feel about it <3

Anon said: I really like looking at your art it’s so therapeutic it’s wonderful please keep drawing I want to support you on Kofi and patreon and yet I am broke please just know I love u very much ok bye

Ahhhh it’s okay anon! I try to keep as little completely unavailable for my followers as I can, and I’ll do my best to keep drawing! Can’t promise the fandoms will always be stuff you care about though haha

Anon said: This is my FAVORITE art blog. Is blog even a word that ppl use anymore?? Idk but anyways your kiribaku gives me life and cures my depression so ily and thank u

I’m so so happy to hear that! Thank you so much!!! TTATT <3

Anon said: just now realizing your oc looks like the human version of kamakiri

To be fair the only thing they have in common is the green mohawk, but I get where you’re coming from! I was very happy when Kamakiri’s official colors came out exactly cause he makes me think about my boy, after all xD my love for Kamakiri is definitely biased, in that sense haha

Anon said: Just wanted to let u know im very gay for ur oc giulia that is all thanks

Anon I’m gonna cry I’m so glad you like her!!!!!!!!!! She’s one of my oldest OCs out of that group, it’s always so thrilling to know people like her ;A; <3

Anon said: I really like how you draw kirishima’s hair

Thank you!!!!!!!!!!! I have a lot of fun with it, though it does mean it ends up being kinda off canon more often than not haha

Anon said: hi! just a random question but how’d you come up with your name?

Fran is my name! Erid comes from Eridan from homestuck! Art is what I try to do! And that’s the incredibly interesting story behind my screen name haha

Anon said: Heya, so i sent the ask about the person who i suspect either heavily referenced or traced your art (i sent another ask about this tho im not sure if it went through) anyway, it was posted by ****************** you'll know it when you see it i think

Ahhhhhh sorry for how long this took me to answer, I went to check and it’s!!! fine, I mean, would have preferred if they had credited but I don’t think it was completely traced so I don’t mind too much, I used to copy art of people I liked too back when I was first starting, after all haha

[knox-knocks]

a hunger inside

an among us au >:) tw: death and violence (no foxes die, only ocs)

read it on ao3

Andrew finds him in the hallway, attempting an escape through the vent in the floor. Andrew’s eyes flick to the corner of the room where the camera is, but it is dark and lifeless, no blinking red light to indicate that someone is watching. Of course, that is why Andrew chose to linger in this part of the ship, after all. No one is ever watching these cameras, so he is free to smoke his cigarettes in peace.

“The vents, huh?” he says and leans against the cool metal wall of the ship and lights the cigarette. He’s almost out. As soon as his job here is done, he’ll have to stop by the closest pit stop for another pack.

Orange jumps at the sound of Andrew’s voice, twisting around in the tiny space the vents allow. It’s not much bigger than him, and he has to wiggle through in order to get out. Andrew watches him, cigarette forgotten between his fingertips, and takes note of the dark red staining his orange space suit, seeping into the fabric.

Andrew tips his head and behind Orange he can see two feet sticking out from the darkness, dripping the same red liquid that’s currently splashed all over him. Andrew is no idiot, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that the liquid is blood and the legs belong to a dead man.

“Faster way to get around,” Orange – Josten, he remembers – says after a tense pause. Andrew can’t see his expression past the dark screen of his visor, instead his own unimpressed face is reflected back at him, distorted in the curve of the helmet.

Andrew has never seen the man underneath the orange suit. He’s been aboard the Space Enterprise for a couple months now and hasn’t so much as taken off his helmet. Which wasn’t a cause for alarm – not at first – because technically it was a rule that you had to be wearing your space suit at all times in case of emergencies, though no one actually did. Except for Josten.

What struck Andrew as strange was that Josten didn’t take it off even to eat. In fact, Andrew has never seen him eat with the others in the cafeteria, not once, in the months since he’s joined the crew.

“I suppose you’re the one the others are worrying about, then,” Andrew says and takes a drag off his cig before it dies. “The imposter.”

“You’re not supposed to smoke in here,” Josten says, neatly dodging the question. His voice is staticky over the mic, more artificial than human.

Andrew looks past at the victim half-eaten by the darkness. Josten subtly shifts his weight, an unsubtle attempt to hide the body, but the damage is done and Andrew has already seen it.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Andrew says. He stares at where he thinks Josten’s eyes should be, and meets his own even expression instead.

Josten doesn’t move so Andrew sighs and pushes up from where he’s leaning against the wall. Josten’s back straightens, and he makes an abortive move, as if reaching for a weapon. Said weapon must still be stuck in whatever poor sap whose blood saturated the floor, because Josten’s hands remain empty, and Andrew unstabbed.

“Go get cleaned up,” Andrew says and stubs out his cigarette against his fatigues. The ashes smear against the black fabric, near invisible. “I’ll cover for you.”

“Why?” Josten says in that robotic voice of his.

“Because now you owe me one,” says Andrew.

“I thought we were even.” Josten mimes a movement reminiscent of raising a cigarette to his mouth, a clumsy mimicry in his bulky suit. “‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’”

“Yes,” Andrew says. “But now I’m covering for you as well. So you owe me.”

It is eerie, the way Andrew can’t see his face to read his reactions, and wonders if this is how his crewmates feel about him. Andrew, always so tightlipped and apathetic, even when the crew started getting picked off one by one. He didn’t join up too much longer after the others, but he’d picked up on their unease almost immediately. Andrew doesn’t care though; he isn’t here to make friends. He is here to do his job.

Josten is the first to break. He turns, stiff, and walks down the hall to the sleeping chambers. Andrew watches him go and waits a few more minutes to give him a bit more time. He’s not really sure why. He could have left when he saw Josten climbing into the vent and pretend he never saw the body, or he could have simply reported exactly what he witnessed.

But it often gets boring on the Enterprise, and perhaps Andrew is intrigued, maybe he wants to see where this goes. Plus, it might come in handy to have the resident murderer indebted to him.

Andrew reports the body over the comm link and makes his way to the cafeteria.

_ _

It was Green who was killed, though Andrew never bothered to learn the man’s real name. The remaining crewmates are dragged from their tasks to deliberate over the murder, while Andrew watches over the chaos and waits for Josten to join them. In the end he points his finger at Red, who has no alibi except for her claim to be down in Navigation at the time of the murder. But the others do not listen and in their panic, they are quick to vote her out.

Her screams of terror and pleading are cut short by the hiss of the chamber door sealing shut. It is Yellow who slams the ejection button, and Andrew watches as Red is spat into the black vacuum of space. Yellow flinches when the air is forced out of her lungs and her blood boils in her veins, but Andrew does not.

Ten crewmates turn to eight in a day, and the others are soothed enough to go back to their assignments. At least until Andrew finds Josten stuffing Yellow’s crumpled form into one of the cupboards in Storage a few days later.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Andrew says smoothly, and Josten flips around, quite literally caught in the act. He’s still holding the knife, but he lowers it when he sees Andrew.

“I owe you two?” he says.

“One,” Andrew replies. Josten tips his head, a strangely animal action with the giant space helmet on. “I want your name.”

Josten hesitates.

“Your full name.”

“Neil,” he says slowly, as if trying it out. “Neil Josten.”

“Neil,” Andrew repeats, and he quite likes the taste of it on his tongue. It tastes a little of danger, like the iron-tang of blood. “Now show me your face, and we will be even.”

Neil is slow in taking off his helmet, and Andrew watches in rapt attention as the vents blow out a stream of oxygen and steam as the seals release and Neil twists the helmet off.

Andrew wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Neil looks normal. At least, he has a nose and a mouth, and reddish-brown hair falling into his eyes. It’s as his gaze is tracking the movement of his auburn curls that Andrew spots the reason Neil was so hesitant to take off his helmet.

His eyes are a bright, crimson red, glittering and dark under the fringe of his hair. Undeniably alien.

Andrew takes a step forward and grabs Neil by the chin. He brings his face down closer to his own and moves it side to side, studying him. Aside from the eyes, his face is also marked by deep gouges and circular scars on either side of his face. He is very attractive, and Andrew feels a slow, tight pull in his navel. He would quite like to take this man apart, bit by bit. Neil is silent as he lets Andrew look his fill.

“There’s a vent in the corner of the room, to the left,” Andrew says, releasing Neil’s face. “I’d be quick if I were you.”

Neil narrows those red eyes of his before reattaching his helmet and following Andrew’s directions. He has the vent open and one leg in when he turns back and says, “Why do you never talk to any of the others?”

Andrew gives him a thin, close-mouthed smile and says nothing.

He doesn’t report the body. He lets Purple find it, and he and Neil meet the others in the cafeteria together. His suit his clean, no traces of the blood that had been previously splattered down his front. His helmet is on, but he’s not the only one hiding their face so no one mentions it.

“Minyard,” the man in the white suit says. Andrew is pretty sure his name is Folkson or Falkner or something. His face his pale, eyes stretched wide, and his lips tremble as he talks. He’s the oldest out of all of them, and has taken the helm. “Where were you?”

“With Josten,” Andrew says. “We were clearing out the oxygen tanks in O2.”

“That’s not usually a two-person job,” Lime says suspiciously.

Andrew levels a look at her. “It is if you do it properly.”

“We need to figure this out,” Cyan snaps, and Andrew wracks his brain for their name. He comes up blank. “We’ve been getting picked off for weeks and we still have no fucking clue as to why.”

“They might not be human,” Pink says in his quiet voice, thin as a thread. He clutches his gloves in his hands, turning them over and over. “What if this is a game to them?”

Andrew hedges a look toward Neil but he is still, silent.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cyan says, and rolls their eyes. “We need to stay focused before we lose the mission.”

“You give a lot of orders and not a lot of answers,” Folkson or Falkner gripes.

“I could say the same for you,” Cyan replies coolly.

Andrew lets them bicker. He said his piece, and both he and Neil are cleared. After all, Pink saw them on the cameras, and they were no one near the body when Purple found it. In fact, no one was around, and soon the suspicion turns to Purple. Their pleas fall on deaf ears as they are locked in the ejection chamber and Cyan presses the button.

The others whisper around them, desperate prayers to a God that has no place in the depths of space. Let us be right, they murmur. Please, this time, let us be right.

_ _

The first time Andrew kisses Neil, they are in the showers and he has just scrubbed the last of Falkner’s blood off of him. Red turns to pink as it runs off of him, over the white tiles, and down the drain. Andrew knows someone will stumble across the body and report it soon, but he doesn’t care.

Neil’s voice is different when he’s not wearing the helmet, and so is his gasp when Andrew pushes him against the still-dripping wall and presses their mouths together in a bruising kiss. He has a grip on his t-shirt, one in his hair, and he angles their mouths together in a way that has Neil scrabbling against the wall for support.

“Andrew,” he says, and the sound is long, drawn out. Neil tips his head back against the wall and Andrew mouths at his neck, his skin warm from the blood pumping life through his body.

Neil is a killer, the imposter among them, but his skin still bruises and his body still reacts to Andrew’s touch. He kisses him, again and again and again, each one harsher than the last.

Andrew only pulls away when Neil’s tongue darts out to touch his bottom lip. He takes a step back. He needs to be more careful. He shouldn’t be letting Neil get close like this, it’s too dangerous. Too easy to slip up.

Neil’s eyes are blown, his cheeks flushed. “I think we should blame Lime,” he says, breathless.

Andrew presses another kiss to his mouth and resists the urge to sink his teeth into Neil’s lip. Dangerous.

Once under control, Andrew says, “There will be four of us left, after this.”

Neil nods, suddenly solemn. He almost looks regretful. He opens his mouth, closes it.

“Let’s go,” he says without meeting Andrew’s eyes, and Andrew has the feeling that he was going to say something else. Before he can ask, though, Neil is already pulling on his gear.

In the end, they can’t decide who to eject, and Lime is safe. For now.

_ _

“I didn’t do that one,” Neil says quietly, peering down at Lime’s twisted body at the bottom of the stairs. Her neck is broken, blonde hair falling over a face slackened by death, though still etched with fear. Andrew imagines her eyes widening, mouth opening in a scream as hands wrap around her throat, shoving her down the stairs. The image is not difficult to conjure.

“Must have tripped,” Andrew replies. He looks at Neil in the corner of his eyes, and a thrill goes through him when he sees the now-familiar bloodred of his gaze.

“I suppose we report this to the others,” Neil says the same moment Cyan enters the room with Pink in tow.

“Get away from him,” Cyan snarls, and it takes a moment for Andrew to realize that they’re talking to him. “He is the imposter. You – Orange.”

Desperation makes people clumsy, sloppy, and Andrew sees that they are very afraid. Neil looks alarmed – and extremely guilty standing over the body. Never mind Andrew was also caught red-handed, Cyan and Pink surround Neil and Neil only.

So they don’t suspect Andrew at all.

“You killed Gen,” Cyan says, voice shrill. They leap at Neil, and with Pink’s help they corner him against the wall as Andrew watches on. “And I’m willing to bet you were plotting to kill Black too. Lure him down and execute him here.”

“What of it?” Neil says through clenched teeth. Cyan has his arms pinned to his sides, and there is nowhere for him to go. They force him back, crowding him into the ejection chamber. Neil jerks in their grip, but Cyan holds tight. Pink grapples with the panel on the wall to open the door, but his shaking hands slide helplessly over the smooth panel. He finally finds a grip and gets the door open.

“Look at his eyes,” Pink cries. “I told you. I told you he wasn’t human.”

“Shut up,” Cyan grits and shoves Neil into the chamber. Neil struggles, bucking in a last-ditch effort to get out of Cyan’s grip, but it’s useless. They found their imposter, and now they’re going to kill him. His wide red eyes meet Andrew’s calm ones, and he rams his body into Cyan’s, desperate.

Cyan grunts at the impact and looks over their shoulder at Andrew. “Black,” They hiss. “Minyard, help – ”

Andrew smiles, revealing the rows of razor-sharp teeth he has so carefully hid from everyone until now. Pink sees it first and screams, but it’s cut off when Andrew lunges and sinks his fangs in his slender neck. Blood gushes into his mouth, and it tastes so sweet. Pinks chokes, hands fluttering ineffectually at his sides as Andrew tears out his throat.

Cyan watches with horror, but before they can do anything, Neil is already there, his arms wrapped around their neck. He forces their head back at such a steep angle that Cyan cries out in pain, and shakes them like a ragdoll. It is easy now that they have the element of surprise, and Neil snaps Cyan’s neck with ease. They slump to the ground and Neil stares at their body, chest heaving from the fight.

“You,” he says, still out of breath, eyes traveling up to Andrew’s. “You’re the other one.”

Andrew licks his lips, blood dripping from his face, his sharpened teeth, and Neil tracks the movement. “Yes,” he says simply.

Neil grins. “Good. I would have hated killing you.”

“You never would have gotten close.” Andrew steps over Pink’s still-twitching body and hooks his fingers in the thick collar of Neil’s space suit. “Yes or no?”

Neil’s eyes are dilated, black enveloping red. “You already know my answer,” he says, voice heavy.

Andrew’s grip on him tightens. “Say it anyway.”

“Yes,” Neil says and Andrew yanks him in for a fierce kiss. Neil makes a sound low in his throat, guttural, and Andrew swallows it. He’s sure he nicks Neil with his teeth now that he’s not so concerned about keeping them hidden, but Neil doesn’t seem to mind. He is happy licking the blood from Andrew’s lips.

Neil’s eyes flash red and Andrew’s teeth bare in a sharp smile. Game over.