#I love how they drew his crest so much

[angelplummie]

ur art baby trapping fic is all i can think abt btw

but but but. what if after the first time it becomes a regular occurrence, and after the first few times, when he buries himself as deep as his long cock can go inside you and cums so hard he loses vision, you think maybe it’s time to be safe again. you’ve taken a few pregnancy tests, and it’s seeming like you’re getting away with the risky sex, but the risk is not worth the reward.

you saunter into the kitchen one morning, were art reads the news on his laptop, sipping a black tea. what a serious man you were dating. your arms snake around his neck loosely, and you kiss this top of his blonde head.

“i’m gonna order some more birth control. what’s that gynos number again? i know i wrote it down somewhere but i can’t remember.”

art stilled. he placed the mug squarely on a coaster.

“you don’t need that.”

he reached up to hold your forearm gently, to ghost the pad of his thumb against your soft skin.

“well, i do a little bit. we’ve been lucky, but if we keep going raw we might be in trouble. then you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

he hummed, stomach flipping. you were so close to figuring him out.

“that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“what?”

he kissed the peach fuzz of your arm.

“i’d like being stuck with you.”

you didn’t let go, but you didn’t move either.

“are you saying you hope i get pregnant?”

“no,” he lied softly,”but if you did, that would also make me happy. wouldn’t it make you happy?”

you inhaled, shocked.

“i guess. i don’t- i don’t know how i would feel. i haven’t given it much thought. have you?”

he moved to get up, and you stepped back, unfurling yourself from him.

the chair scraped against the floor, and you watched arts feet as he moved around it to get back to you. he turned to face you, beautiful face set in a knowing, subtle smile. he took your face in his long hands, one on either side of your jaw.

“i’ve thought about a future with you and being with you forever, and about having a baby with you.”

your lips parted slightly, that rosy feeling cresting your cheeks and nose.

“i love you very much. i want you very much. is it that strange to think i might want to start a family with you?”

a cloudy feeling, humid and twinkly, filled your head. you drew in breath, but before you could make any kind of reply he kissed gently on your forehead, which nullified the part of your brain that might have any problem with what art was saying ever.

“why is that strange baby?”

“it’s not strange.”

“that’s right.”

and he pulls you into his chest. your arms remain tucked to you, and he wraps himself around you. tenderly his chin rests on your hair, and your breath in his smell. art was so clean, and so smart and kind. and he loved you. he wanted to be with you. you were so lucky.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

and that night, when he got you on top of him, cock buried deep in your tiny cunt, he made you feel even luckier. you were so wet it spilled down his shaft that split you open, down to his round full balls. his hands were clamped like shackles around your hips, preventing you from moving.

your hands splayed on his perky chest, you frowned in an effort to not fall apart, and he watched you with unbridled glee. you try to bounce, and your tits shake, but he holds you in place, all your leg muscles no match for the few at work in his arms. he watches as your titties settle still, his soft little angel.

“art please,” you dig your nails into his pillowy chest, but he doesn’t even flinch as you turn his pale skin pink.

“yes please,” you whisper. he smiles, thinly veiling his glee.

“you wanna ride me?”

your pussy clenches. even bellow you, he’s so far above. so much wiser and calmer.

“i’ll let you. on one condition.”

his fingers dug into your love handles, leaving white marks on your side. he readjusted himself, burying his cock inside your further, making you huff.

“tell me,” your cunt was so tight he had to pause as it squeezed him,” that you want me to get you pregnant. say the words.”

you blinked, trying to direct any of your attention away from the pseudo-pain of having him inside you still. his demanding tone alone makes your cunt throb, and wet his fat cock even more.

“what?”

“tell me you want me to cum inside you raw.”

your head tips back, and you swallow.

“i want you,” you say, thoughtless, desperate, so cock hungry it makes arts chest heave under your talons,” to cum inside me raw. get me pregnant please. please art, just fuck me.”

art grunted, and squeezed your hips even harder.

“yeah? you want that?”

and he drew you up on his dick, biting his lip hard enough to leave indents, to split skin.

he guided you up, so that only his pink tip stayed hooked inside your tight pussy hole.

yeah was the only word you could form, and you said it over and over like it was his name, like it was a prayer.

“ok baby. whatever you want.”

and he drove himself into you, holding you above him like an oversized fleshlight. you sounded like a fleshlight too, wet and soft and malleable to him. a wet schlick permeated the room with every thrust as he held you, suspended in the air, and fucked you like you weighed nothing.

your grip dragged up to his forearm, leaving a pink trail in your wake, jaw tipping open.

“art, art, art.”

as he moves sharply in and out, pounding your pussy, you legs turn to jelly, and you feel the distinct urge to writhe. you resist, and instead jerk with his every movement, moaning pathetically.

“you’re so tight. god,” he spits through gritted teeth. it’s like he’s angry at you, and he bullies your little cunt like he hates you. but he doesn’t hate you, he loves you very much. he can’t believe your his, he can’t believe you want to be his forever. he will make you happy. he will. you just have to give him a child.

his v-line and his hips crash into the softness of your thighs and make loud slaps. he grunts as he feels the tip split you open time and time again. you feel it, a deep thud inside you every time he presses down, and you whine absently.

“art, hold me.”

“what?”

“hold me.”

immediately, he rises from his lying position and props himself up on his head board, yanking you to him again. and then you were face to face, with his tousled blonde hair and blue, honest eyes, and his beautiful face. just as you asked, he held you. two strong arms encircled you waist, pushing your tits up on his chest.

digging his heels into the bed, he began pumping, buried so deep that he could only work the last increments of his cock into you. your eyes are misty, are big and desperate. your open mouth

"you ok?"

"yeah. I love you."

"mm."

and he kissed you again, tongue pawing at the inside of your mouth, like a kitten at a ball of yarn. he moaned rhymically, with every beat of your little heart. every moment you lived as his was total pleasure. you inched your hips forwards and back, against the force of his thrusts and kissed the side of his mouth, his cheek, his neck.

“you’re so beautiful,” he huffs,”you’re so pretty. i’m gonna get you pregnant.”

“please.”

“yeah, i know you want that.”

“yeah, i want it.”

you fuck yourself on him, and he kisses you again, harder, messier, noses smushing and tongues moving against each other.

“oh,” he says, and you know he’s close. so you say him what he wants to hear. what you know he’s wanted to hear this whole time. your clit presses against his pelvis, and as you tip over the edge you give him what he needs, like a good girl. friend. a good girlfriend.

“daddy, daddy.”

and it’s over. his grip tightens, pressing you harder against him so you can’t move at all in his lap. his hips stutter, and he lets out a grunting, groaning whine into your cheek, into your ear.

his balls tighten and twitch, and a fat load spurts inside you, clinging to your cervix and dribbling out of your spasming hole.

“fuck, god.”

one arms stays around your back, the other reaches up to your neck, to caress the skin and reach up into your hair. to stroke your jaw with his thumb as you both pant, slack jawed and satisfied.

“fuck.”

“art?”

“yeah?”

“i bet that did it. i bet i’m pregnant.”

“i bet you are. are you scared?”

you looked at each other and smiled, wide and goofy, forehead to forehead.

“no. are you? i really mean it, you’re never getting rid of me now.”

“darn.”

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

just some random prompts (up to you how you'll use it or not lol):

Din Djarin x forcesensitive/jedi!reader

Reader actually understands Mando'a, got flustered when Din calls her cyarika, mesh'la (maybe have the reader respond in Mando'a too and let's see how it goes from there)

Reader is some masked vigilante of some sort and has a bounty on her head, Din Djarin unmasked her during a fight and turns out she was also reported missing few years ago by her family (maybe make reader a noble-blood to sprinkle some drama)

I recommend the song Close to You by Neon Trees, maybe it's just me but it reminds me of your Din Djarin x Reader drabbles hehe

also, I love your writing so muuuuch. xx

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: mild start to something smutty if you squint lol

Word Count: 1,049 (damn it i was so close to under 1k)

LANGUAGE BARRIER

a/n: i have din djarin brain rot smh. also, ngl, i did not proof read this with the intensity i usually try to so🤷🏻‍♀️ OH AND HEY IF YOU HAVEN'T VOTED IN MY POLL YET GO DO SO, IT'S ON MY MASTERLIST.

Mando’a was an interesting language. It was different. That’s what initially drew you to it. Unlike the other languages you studied, Mando’a texts were hard to find. For a while, you had to make do with just scraps of information. That almost made learning it so much more satisfying though. Then, while at University, you met an elder who had grown up adopted by Mandalorians. He had never taken the Creed, drifted away from the culture, but not without becoming fluent in Mando’a. He was the reason the holes in your education were filled, and that meant he was also the reason you could enjoy Din Djarin’s mumbling.

Over the year you traveled with him, he became more and more comfortable with your presence⏤ at least, that’s what you assumed the reasoning was for him becoming more vocal. They were little statements at first. Din would be clearing out his weapon locker, run into a problem, and spit out a string of curses. Peli had once told him that the Razor Crest would be grounded for at least a week and you hung onto every word of Mando’a of the rant he spiraled into about the last quarry who had caused the damage. You had planned on telling him you knew Mando’a⏤ you were going to casually mention it.

Then, he called you mesh’la.

A nickname you hadn’t expected.

Din had a habit of using a lot of nicknames that you’d never expect from him. Cyar’ika. Ner sarad. Cyare. Senaar’ika. Each new, adoring nickname would bring warmth to your face, but you had missed the normal window of opportunity to mention to him that you spoke his language. Especially when, in a panic, he had referred to you as ‘cyar’ika’ for the first time and you asked him what it meant. Din had answered in a simple way, giving you the definition without missing a beat, as if it were a casual thing. For a while, you thought that meant there was no significant weight behind those words.

Your theory of the nicknames just being for fun was shot in the face when you nearly got shot yourself. While out in a city, you had gotten caught in the crossfire. The quarry himself had spotted you and with a sickening grin turned to put you down. Luckily, he had missed⏤ it only clipped you in the arm⏤ but the rampage that Din had gone into was shocking. Not nearly as shocking as when you heard him speak to the quarry after pummeling his face beyond recognition: ‘I’ll bring you in cold for that, bastard. I don’t show mercy to those who target what’s mine’. For the rest of the night, you convinced yourself that it wasn’t what you thought. Sure, the two of you shared lingering touches and the tension had grown since you came aboard, but it had to be something else. 

Weeks later, while waiting in a cantina for Din to return from obtaining new pucks, a Twi’lek man had saddled up beside you. Despite making it clear you had no interest, the man continued to invade your space. That is, until Din stepped up to your other side and pulled you into his side. The Twi’lek had abandoned his goal very quickly and the words that left Din’s lips stayed with you for weeks on end. ‘Should've known better than to leave someone as beautiful as you alone at the bar’. Still, no matter how badly you wanted to just jump him, you convinced yourself he didn’t want you. He was a friend. That was all.

Until seconds ago. You sat on one of the crates in the Razor Crest’s cargo hold as Din applied a bacta patch to the claw marks across your calf. A run in with a Trandoshan gone wrong. He had pulled off his gloves to provide the care, not something out of the ordinary, but the feel of his fingertips against your skin was not a sensation you’d ever get used to. Din set his entire hand against the upper half of your calf and his thumb caressed the skin there. Without looking up, he murmured, “I will know you forever.”

You fully understood the weight of his words. Din rose to stand and began to walk away to put away the first aid kit. The words fell out of your mouth before you could consider any of the consequences, “I can speak Mando’a, and I am so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier but I panicked.” In the most uncharacteristic move you had seen from him, Din tripped over some of the gear he had been passing in the rush to spin and look back at you. The Mandalorian caught himself before he could do more than stumble. You offered him a sheepish smile, “Sorry. Again.”

“You speak Mando’a?” Din asked in his language. 

“A little.” You nodded then shook your head. “Actually, a lot. I’m⏤ I’m fluent.”

“This entire time?” Din slowly crept back towards you. You nodded. He continued on until he stood between your legs. Din’s hands settled on his hip and you were forced to lean back a bit to keep your nose from being pressed against his chest.

You scrunched your nose in concern, “Are you mad?”

“No. Of course not, my love.” Din replied, his voice low. Din’s bare hand lifted to cup the side of your face. His thumb caressing the side of it. Din pressed in closer again so you were forced to tilt your head up to meet his hidden gaze as he stared down at you. His touch trailed away from your cheek, and he let the pad of his thumb ghost over the outline of your lips⏤ your breath hitched in your throat, heart beating wildly in your chest. Din pressed his thumb against your already parted lips more firmly, the tip of it brushing against your tongue, before he dragged it down further to open your mouth even wider. “But you are in trouble. Are you going to accept your punishment with grace?” Your lips twitched up in a smile as an ache of desire ran down your spine and straight to your core. You leaned in just enough to fully wrap your lips around his thumb. Din chuckled. “Good girl.”

[muzanswaifu]

Sweet Treat Teaser

Tomioka x Fem! Reader

18+

Here is a teaser for an request im working on for the lovely @muzans-stuff.

Summary: After Tomioka rejects her proposal, reader takes a different approach to gain his affection

Warnings: Rejection, Heart-break, Arguments, Reader has big breasts

-

-

The sour taste of bitter sadness and anger always upset her stomach, food seeming bland and tasteless and hobbies joyless and obsolete. The days drew long and slow, chores boring and pointless, yet sleep hadn’t seemed to be the answer either as she lay awake for hours. Mother and Father tried to give her time, but no amount of reprieve seemed to work, so they continued sending her to busy herself around the Wisteria House. Slayers came and went, their time seeming to last for seconds before the next batch would come and replace the others. All of them knew better than to take up too much of her time.

“It’s not you… It’s me.”

“What kind of ridiculous excuse is that?”

With the cold season cresting, more injured corps members required attention, Mother sending for more doctors and nurses as temporary help. She made her (y/n) help as well, despite her lack of medical knowledge, briefing her on the basics of care for those who had more minimal injuries. Harsh weather meant more victims and prey as demons had no fear of freezing to death. She found the cold refreshing, a numb pleasure to erase some of her darker thoughts. Feeling sad just felt so right during times like this.

“We wouldn’t be a good match… You wouldn’t like the lifestyle.”

“You don’t know that!”

Why did everything have to be so dull? Things used to be so worthwhile before what happened. Maybe it was her. She was the one who tried to change everything and had to open her stupid mouth. She could’ve left everything as it was, sure it would’ve been difficult and anti-climactic, but she would take that over this disgust with herself any day. She missed how things used to be. Why did he have to say no? They could’ve been happy.

“It’s not happening… I refuse.”

“Why?!”

“Because that’s my answer. That’s final.”

“You won’t even give it a chance? You were the one who kissed me! Did that mean nothing to you?”

“Enough.”

“I can’t believe you could be so- so heartless…”

“I said enough.”

“... I hate you.”

“ … ”

She should’ve kept silent, but every word from her pathetic mouth just drove her deeper into her pit of despair. Had she given him time to just think about her confession, maybe Giyu would’ve grown to accept it rather than push her away. But all she’d managed to do was upset him further, a look of disappointment falling upon his stoic expression and quickly making her realize what she’d said. She reached for him in the moment, tears welling in her eyes as an apology pulled at her lip, but he was gone, his form disappearing from her sight in only a moment, leaving only a slight breeze of chill. Or perhaps it was her own guilt that caused her to shiver.

She wanted to blame only herself, she really did, but why did he drag her along so thoughtlessly? He was the one who asked for her personally to apply all his bandages and ointments (despite her novice experience.) He was the one who followed her around the house like a lost puppy while she worked despite her mother pestering him to rest and recuperate. He was the one who kissed her when she checked his temperature during his recovery, staring long into her eyes and slowly leaning in to brush his lips against hers ever-so-gently. Although he quickly pulled away and muttered his apologies, excusing his own inappropriate actions, the deed had already been done. She knew he’d had feelings for her for quite some time. Even despite the kiss she’d seen the way he looked at her, his eyes alight with a delicate passion when they met hers, or the clear lust that consumed him when those eyes ventured southward. It was obvious he had some obsession with her chest, his preference evident with his lingering stare and gaping mouth. Tomioka hadn’t even had the decency to keep his eyes up during their first meeting, his head quickly bowing down and mouth gawking as he ogled at her fullness. Sure, she would admit she was decently large, but she had no idea it would’ve elicited such a reaction from the swordsman. He’d gotten more manners later on but it always made her flush when she remembered that despite his nobility, he was a still man as well.

The house was so quiet ever since their fight, the snow muffling any sounds of nature and lulling everyone into a deep tire. The visiting slayers slugged around like zombies with such little energy which gave her an agonizing amount of time to pity herself.  Tomioka hadn’t visited for so many months, she wished she could excuse his absence for lack of injury but the chances that were miniscule. This wasn’t the only wisteria house in his district, so he was likely hiking the extra mile to another to avoid her. Even if he didn’t wish to see her anymore, she wished he would at least come to heal his injuries. Just knowing first-hand that he was alright would be enough, just seeing him would be enough.

Before long, even winter had passed, the air still chilly and dry but the ice starting to melt and thaw. Snow began to turn to rain and the frozen ground turning to sloshed muddy earth. A whole season passing without a single reunion.

She missed his peaceful company. She missed his small smile when he was humorous. She missed the way he’d look at her, how he’d look at her like she meant everything to him. As much as his rejection still stung, she still loved him.

-

The violent sound of clashing awoke her, feet and bodies audibly pounding across the floorboards in the medical ward of the estate. It wasn’t unusual for wounded slayer to come at this late hour, but they usually had the courtesy to arrive quietly.

“Hurry, hurry! Get him to the table now!”

(Y/n) could hear the frantic shrill voice of her mother and the shuffling of a few others through the walls, their panicked movements frightening her completely awake. Whatever was happening sounded serious, likely a life-threatening injury. Perhaps she should help.

She hastily threw on a robe over her nightgown, speed-walking down the hall to the sight of all the fuss. Her face scrunched in disgust as she was met with blood scattered across the floor, leading a crimson trail to one of the medical rooms. It smelled gross, a metallic odor filling the house and watering her eyes, but she continued onward to the room, peaking in to get some clue of the distress.

Blood everywhere, soaked into every article of clothing, several doctors and nurses ambled about the room, throwing commands to each other. Mother stood at the corner, biting her nails and anxiously watching the treatment. Everyone was frenzied but there was only one person on the table. She leaned forward through the doorway to get a better view. It was hard to see with everyone gathered around the patient, but she could see bits and pieces here and there, the body leaning toward male. But she didn’t have to further theorize as a nurse moved out of the way, revealing his face. She could feel the moment her heart stopped.

His face was a bit scuffed but the harm looked minimal, but there was still sweat beaded across his forehead, his teeth clenched together and eyes sewn shut, indicating his severe pain. A nurse’s hand held his slicked bangs back, and she could see the sea of bandages that began at his sternum. His deep blue eyes flickered open and locked onto hers, and she gasped. She stumbled away from the door, sneaking back to her own room quickly and shutting the door. Her heart was pounding, sweat glazing her burning flesh.

(Y/n) had never seen him so maimed, nor had she ever seen him in any pain really. Her presence couldn’t have made it any better for him, in fact, he was probably even more uncomfortable right now. Look at her, making everything worse as per usual.

She finally fell unconscious several hours later after worrying and dreading Giyu’s health. Would he recover from such injuries? Would he be permanently wounded? The pit in her stomach refused to go away, her angst building and building until her body physically couldn’t take anymore and her sunken eyes closed. She woke only a few hours later, dizzy from so many nightmares and promptly setting off to find her mother to ask for any updates. She found her already woken, putting away laundry in the early hours.

Mother explained he was decent, not perfect but not broken either. Apparently he’d stumbled in hellishly late last night, weakened and hallucinating from a poison demon’s attack. He managed to make it to the closest wisteria house, this one, quickly enough and was treated right away. As for his pained reactions, they were also a result from the demon’s art, the venom merely increasing his body’s sensitivity and heightening the effects. He was knocked out from pain killers and was going to be sleeping for quite some time, the actual damage was going to take a while to heal anyway.

Her answer was satisfactory enough, the girl sighing in relief and limping back to bed to get more rest. No wonder he’d come here, he was probably too out of it to realize why he was avoiding it. She wouldn’t put it past him to leave as soon as he composed himself.

But to her disbelief, he didn’t.

She almost didn’t believe her eyes when she walked past the courtyard one morning and saw him active outside, stretching out and wincing from his injuries. She took another route to get to the kitchen. The next day was the same. And the next. And the next. Each day she would try her best to avoid him, finding he most frequented the courtyard and the section of the estate where his room was. He seemed to be doing the same as well, turning the other way when she happened to come into view, staying in his room or training most of the day. Part of her is grateful he’s healing so fast. The other part is bitter. The bad memories still lingered in her thoughts. He was definitely still mad at her, and she was still hurt. If everything went smoothly, he would be out of here soon, she just had to be patient.

To be continued...

[solidlobster1998]

i love how you draw dirk so much, especially the detail of his hair kind of acting like a cat's ears with his emotions lol, he's so cute 🧡🧡🧡🩷🩷🩷

Hehe thanks!!!! I'm very glad that you have noticed this! in fact, I'm more comparing his "hair movement" to the crest of a parrot, like a corella, but you're right too!;]

some time ago, I even drew in more detail the dependence of his hairstyle on emotions and it seems that I did not post this here earlier

[mizunoryuu]

Day 1: Destiny/Favorite Chosen

I came for Tai, I stayed for Sora.

I loved Tai's forwardness and courage. He didn't back down and said what was on his mind (most of the time). As a kid, he was the kind of person I wanted to be like. Forward charging and confidant. But charging forward and blind confidence is reckless. He had to learn that being courageous didn't mean he had to be reckless, and that lesson left an impact on me as a child.

Sora on the other hand, gave me confidence in being a girl. While Tai was what I wanted to be like so I could hang out with boys in my grade, Sora was who I really could relate to. I enjoyed sports and videogames which most girls my age at the time weren't into, but rather guyes. She could hang out with guys through her hobbies. But she still kept her sensitive and feminine personality and didn't have to change herself to be more 'masculine'. Sora was just Sora.

But what really sealed Sora being my favorite Adventure Chosen was her relation to the Crest of Love. For those that know me, I had an incredibly hard time relating to my mother growing up and learning how to love, especially myself. I'll talk about this on the 8th with the bonus posts.

I drew Tai in shadow while giving Sora the spotlight here to show where I began and then who I really related to. Regardless, I have so much love for these two. Thank you, Tai, Sora, for being role models for me as a child and growing up with me through the years.

[l3m0ncyan]

If only

Marc Spector x Platonic! Reader, Steven Grant x Platonic! Reader, Jake Lockley x Platonic!Reader

Reader is gender neutral

Summary: After a huge argument between you and Marc, you two go without speaking for weeks. Until one day, the Moon system is missing and you go out looking for them to bring them back and apologize.

Note: Inspired by The Last of Us >:) also its more Marc x teen!reader tbh

Word count: 8,357 (gaahd daaamn)

Warning: ANGST, death, graphic, mentions of suicide

—————————————————————

Standing above your city, you looked down at the passing small cars and pedestrians. Each of them had their own story, and you wondered how they were doing. If they were going through what you were going through.

Each thought brought you closer to the edge of the abyss than you were already. The wind tried to blow you back as if to save you from your actions.

However, why should you be saved? Your parents were killed by a villain, and you spent your entire life trying to make them happy. But they had vanished, as had your motivation. You had no one else to love you the way they did.

You missed them so dearly that all you wanted to do was go and see them.

After reaching an acceptance, you lifted your foot off the cement, ready to free fall into peace.

“Are you alright?” You heard a man's voice come from behind you.

You turn around to see the same man dressed entirely in white. He was wrapped in cloth and wore what appeared to be body armor on parts of his body. A golden crest adorned the center of his chest. In addition to his costume, his mask featured two white glowing orbs.

“If I was, I wouldn’t be thinking about jumping off,” you say. He nods, admitting his obvious question. 

Without much thought, you look back to the edge and lift your foot up once again.

He extends his hand immediately as a deterrent to you continuing. "Wait, I know you might feel like there's nothing else to live for; believe me, I've felt that way before. But how will you know that the finish line was a better end if you just stop here?"

You keep quiet and just observe him. The wind howls, as if to say, take his hand and listen to what this man has to say. It wasn't what he said that made you reconsider, but rather how he attempted to save you. Why you?

You step off the ledge and take a step toward him. You can see him almost breathe out in relief. 

His mask vanishes, and you are startled before seeing a man with dark brown curly hair and tanned skin. He appears firm, but his eyes convey kindness.

You reach out to him and take his hand in yours.

—-----

It was the middle of winter and spring four years later. The cold and plush feel of the sheets was incredible. The blanket on top of them kept you close and let you know you were safe.

However, a masculine voice broke all that peace. A well-known one at that.

“Hey, wake up”

The sound of metal rubbing against metal indicated that the curtains were being pulled apart, signaling the end of your comfort. You drew the blanket up to shield your face from the sun's rays.

It was immediately pulled down, and your body balled into a fetal position as the winter cold engulfed you. As you slowly opened your eyes, you noticed Marc holding your blanket away from you. As the drowsiness faded, you reached out an arm to reclaim it, but he yanked it away.

"I know the bed is comfortable, but it's time to go, kid." Marc draped the blanket over the bedframe. He then exited the small room and entered the main part of the apartment.

You sat up slowly, your bones cracking as you did so. You looked out the window, blinking away the sleepiness, to see the day was sunny but cold.

Groaning, you stood up and walked out of your room. You slowly shuffled towards Gus’s tank, grabbing the small plastic can of fish food.

“Already fed them,” a chipper voice was heard.

Looking through the fish tank to the kitchen, you noticed Steven preparing something on the stove. Giving a quick hum, you placed the food back on top of the tank.

“Morning to you, Gus," you said as you lightly tapped the glass of the tank.

You walked to the kitchen to catch a scent of what Steven was cooking.

"Good morning, you three." You sat at the table, awaiting breakfast.

Steven approached you, carrying a plate of vegan sausage and eggs with toast. "Eat up, you and Marc are-”

"Are we going to patrol again? But it's light out and people are walking around," you said as you picked up a piece of vegan meat from the plate with a fork.

"The guys who were trying to catch only happen to come out during the day. So you'll be bait," Marc clarified as he sat down and started eating from his plate.

“Like always,” You grumbled

You guys continued to eat your breakfast before getting ready to start your days.

—

You tried looking for the location that Marc mentioned earlier for today's small mission while walking side by side through the streets of London. Even though it was later, the cold was still with you two, so you wore two layers of clothing.

Shivering, you pulled the collar of your hoodie up to your chin to get warmth. “So who is it we’re trying to stop?”

"A group has been kidnapping people for human trafficking," Marc says before motioning to a table with two seats in front of a cafe.

You two sat at the table, puzzled as to why you were there.

"That's bad. And a coffee break?" As you leaned back in your chair, you said

Marc shakes his head and motions to a building under construction. It was surrounded by a green fence and a large tarp sign with the name of the construction company.

"That's where they're meeting; for now, we'll just wait for them to turn up." Marc reclines in his metal chair.

A waitress approaches and starts asking about your orders. Marc takes the lead as he examines the menu. Meanwhile, you're too preoccupied with looking behind Marc.

Behind him was a table filled with students your age. Each of them had a drink in front of them, and one of them appeared to make a joke based on the way everyone began to laugh.

You couldn't help but be envious of the scene. You were young but mature enough to attend college. However, you were unable to attend one due to a number of factors. As a result, you found it difficult to make friends or socialize with people your own age. Instead, you were with Marc, fighting bad guys.

A voice sounding muffled slowly became clear and snapped you back into reality, “Y/N”

Blinking in realization, you saw Marc and the waitress staring at you, waiting.

"What do you want, kid?" Marc inquired, sounding less annoyed and more patient.

"Oh, I'll just get some matcha tea." You looked up at the waitress for confirmation, and she nodded and walked away.

You two sat in silence, your gaze fixed on the group. Marc noticed as well after following your eyes.

“Anything on your mind?” He turned back to you.

You slightly jumped at how Marc was able to notice you in deep thought, “Nothing really…..actually there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you”

 Marc raised a brow and asked, “What is it?”

You shrank, not expecting to be able to speak, and said, "Uh, so I was wondering if I could go back to school..."

Marc stared at you and said, “College?”

You nodded, and the waitress returned with your drinks before you could explain further. You two exchanged an awkward smile before she asked if that was all. She returned to the cafe with just a nod from you two.

“How long have you been thinking about it?” Marc questions that once you two are alone again,

"For a while now," you cross your arms and lean back, your gaze fixed on the road and passing cars.the street and passing cars. "I was thinking I could fit it in on days when you don't need me and I'm stuck at home all day."

You say the last part with annoyance, which Marc notices.

Marc sighs, “Y/N…”

"I know you say that being out in public makes it easy for bad people to find me, but I guarantee you that I can handle myself." You put your elbows on the table to get closer to Marc so he can listen better.

“Y/N”

“I won’t get too many classes!”

“Y/N”

"I'll even stay late to patrol with you guys, and-"

“No!” Marc raises his voice.

You don't mind that a few people in the cafe are now staring at you two. You look down at your untouched cup of matcha, angry rather than sad. Marc sighs, running his hand through his hair.

"We can't risk problems like that; college might make things worse, and you won't be able to handle it on your own if something goes wrong," Marc declares.

You remain silent and stare down at your cup. Marc looks at you, his lips pursed in guilt. He tries to think of ways to break the tension, but nothing comes to mind.

A few cars speed up but then slow down to turn around in front of the previous building. Two men enter and take a look around before closing the gate to the entrance.

"Are you ready to go?" Marc casts a glance your way, but you avoid his sights.

"Please, just—...  We'll finish this job and then talk about college, okay?" Marc nearly begged.

Looking back up, you made eye contact, thinking about it before nodding, “Okay”

—

After going over the plan again, you were sent to speak to the group. A few men stood guard by the gate, watching you as you approached. "Hey, I believe I was told to come here?" You looked around and pointed to your phone.

"Another way she's getting people in?" one of the men asks the other.

"She?" You thought to yourself, "This is the first time I hear a girl is leading shit."

“Yeah, follow us” the man finally says and the gate opens, letting you two in.

You look behind you to see if Marc is nearby, but he isn't. You already know he's hiding and trust that he'll be there every step of the way, but being alone for this part is terrifying.

They lead you to the first floor of the unfinished structure. Because it isn't built, the walls aren't there, allowing the wind to blow inside. It is detrimental to your body's temperature.

Looking around, there are a few wooden tables with guns on top of them. It was clear that the group didn't care that it was out in the open.

When they notice you looking at the weapons, they zip tie your hands together without a warning. You struggle to pull your hands apart. The friction you create against the plastic causes your wrist to burn.

“What the fuck?! Get these off!” You give your best acting.

"Shut up, you guys always yell too loud and it's making me deaf," grunts the man. "Let her know that we have another one."

A man nods and walks away. The man walks towards you, pulling a chair to himself and sitting on it backwards. 

“Well get comfortable, because it’ll be the-“

"Will this be the last time?" You scoff, shaking your head. You didn't care if it messed up the plan; you were still irritated with Marc.

"You guys just don't know how to make conversation." you moan

"Looks like you're not scared anymore," the man says with a small laugh. "Can you tell me your name, kid?"

"Ew, don't call me a kid, and why does it matter what my name is? You're just going to change it, or however human trafficking works."

This time, the man laugh loudly, "Human trafficking?! That has nothing to do with what we plan to do."

A group walks in on cue, and a woman holds a long object wrapped in cloth. “We found it! Call Vanessa!”

You take a look around and notice how pleased everyone is with the info they have got. You're curious on what everyone is so excited about. Another woman walks in, her ginger hair tied in a tight ponytail. She's dressed in a dark green tank top, cargo pants, and combat boots. The thing is, she's your age.

At this point, it is obvious who is the leader of the whole situation and who they call Vanessa.

She walks by and glances at you and asks, “How many do we have now?”

“About 14, you think that’s enough?” The man from before stands up from the chair.

“We’ll see” Vanessa grabs the object and begins to unwrap it. 

You concentrate on the mystery item because some of the colors show through each time the cloth is unwrapped. Your eyes then widen with each repetition.

Unwrapped, Vanessa holds up a cane. A cane with a crocodile head on top. 

You recall Steven telling you about a fight he and Marc had with a man named Harrow. With the assistance of a goddess named Ammit, he used a cane similar to the one now in use to murder people.

Marc assured you that it had been destroyed and that you were safe, but are you still safe?

The way the two explained the power it possessed scared you. Jake, on the other hand, terrified you with his explanation of the world's future if it returned.

“Bring them to me, we’ll test it out” Vanessa says as she grips the cane.

You blink and realize what is about to happen. Two men lift you up and drag you towards Vanessa.

“Get off!” You try to get away from their grip but they tighten their hold. You search up and around the place, hoping Marc or Steven is there.

Vanessa brings the top of the cane towards your face. You move your head back to escape, but Vanessa keeps drawing it closer. 

Marc nor Steven nor Jake were seen. Since they were taking long, you acted on your own.

You use your right hand to pull out the pocket knife you're carrying. You take out the blade and force it through the loop of the zip tie on the plastic. With your hands free, you flip the knife around and aim it at one of the guys' thigh. You slam it into their femur, eliciting a scream from the man.

Both men lose their grip and you stand up, swinging the knife at the other man’s throat. As they back away, more come.

Vanessa glares at you before she tries to use the cane. It starts to glow and you back up into a corner. Theres nowhere to go as the rest of the group surrounds you.

Before Vanessa could send you flying, Marc comes in and side-kicks her down. The cane clatters to the floor and skids across the room. 

She lifts herself up and looks at Marc with hatred, "Its you"

Looking at Marc in his suit, he swings left and right at the men. A few members of the group appear from behind you while he is busy. You duck the punches with your knife in hand and target specific areas of their body with the blade.

With the last one dropping to the floor, you catch your breath and look over to see Marc still fighting. To your right is a woman shooting at him but of course not working. Still, it is throwing Marc off course as he fights.

You rush up to her, wrapping your arm around her neck and stabbing her in the stomach. As her body falls limp, she drops the gun to the floor.

Marc notices and finishes off the last man before walking to you.

“Let’s go” He says harshly

“They have the cane, we could get it back” You gesture to where the cane is.

“Let’s go!”

You both go quiet as you hear a loud buzzing sound. As if something is powering up. Turning around, you see Vanessa pointing the cane towards you two, a purple light glowing brighter and brighter.

Not hesitating, Marc picks you up before running out of the building and flies off the ground. A blast passes you two just missing by a bit.

Vanessa glares at you two as you make a break for it.

“Get more ready” she commands the last of her team standing, “He’s going to come back for this”

She holds the cane tightly in her hand, the metal crocodile shining from its polished material.

——

Marc set you down at the apartment after you kicked and squirmed in his grasp. His suit vanished, and he began to walk away from you, hands on his hips, looking down.

"I told you to stick to the plan," he said, his voice deep within his throat. You can almost feel the lingering anger from it.

"I did, but as you saw back there, I was almost killed!" you scrunch up your face as you set your sweater down and sit on the couch. "And I did just fine on my own," you crossed your arms and turned your gaze away from him.

"Really?" he scoffs, "Because it looked like you were being cornered back there, with what? A knife?" He mocked

You try to get a word in but right now Marc is blowing up, “You straight up ignored what I asked of you and almost got yourself killed!”

“But I didn’t,” you say firmly, looking straight into his eyes.

Marc bites his cheek and shakes his head, “You can forget about college”

“What?!” You stand up from the couch.

"You heard me, if I can't trust you to follow a simple plan, how can I trust you to go somewhere as simple as class?"

"Oh, so just because I decided to stand up for myself, you don’t trust me anymore?” 

You raised your eyebrows at him, and you both glared at each other. Steven could feel the tension rising and knew things were about to get out of hand. He made the decision to take control of the body right away.

Marc’s composure became timid and soft, and you knew why. Looking up at Steven, he gave a small, one sided smile.

“How about we cool off shall we?” He patted you on the shoulder and began to walk to the kitchen, “Ill make us lunch alright? How does that sound?”

He turned to you with a grin but you stared down to the floor and mumbled, “Im not hungry”

From there, you marched up to your room and shut the door.

“You two could have just talked it through,” Steven sighed.

Jake hummed in response, while Marc stayed quiet. 

“You guys might not be related but you sure act like father and daughter”

-

You sat on your bed, your gaze fixed on the wall across from you. There were a few posters and wall decorations, such as shelves with figurines, but directly across from you was a picture of you and Marc at a lake. Jake was cooking kebabs on the grill in the picture next to it. Another picture of you with Steven and Layla.

Just one mistake, and now you've lost the chance to get a normal sense of life. Lost the ability to make friends. Lost the ability to experience so many things all together.

As your thoughts ate you up, you felt a burst of wind. Soon after Khonshu was sitting at your desk that was in the corner of your room. He held his staff and looked at you, waiting for you to acknowledge his presence.

“Why are you here?” You said annoyed.

“I came to see if you might have been climbing through the window again.” He set the staff down, making it lean on the wall.

“You know about me sneaking out?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I haven’t told your three fathers out there.” He slightly chuckled.

Your face scrunched up, “Don’t say that, you’ll probably jinx it”

After that, there was silence, and Khonshu exhaled, "They're just trying to protect you, especially Marc." They all do care about you”

“If they did care about me, they wouldn’t keep me locked up here,” you say, looking over to the window, seeing how it's still sunny out there.

Khonshu hesitates before continuing “...I know I shouldn’t say this but the reason why he has been keeping you safe is because he sees his younger brother in you” 

“He has a brother?”

“Had” he clarifies.

"Marc blames himself for his death and never forgave himself, despite the fact that he was only a child," Khonshu continues. "Perhaps that's why he wants to protect you and heal that wound."

You wrapped your head around what he said and only got angrier, “...So the real reason he kept me around was to use me as some kind of therapy?” 

Khonshu paused, “That isnt’t what I said”

“Well thats what it sounds like” you laugh and run your hands through your hair. You stand up from your bed and grab your other hoodie from your dresser and walk to the window.

“Where are you going?” Khonshu stands up, grabbing his staff in the process.

“Just– leave me alone” After you open the window and climb out onto the fire escape.

You descend the escape and walk to the place where you go to be alone. It’s a 20 minute walk from the flat but it’s worth it. It is an abandoned building with a stable flight of stairs leading to an open area with views of London. You walk over to the edge and sit, allowing your legs to dangle. Normally, you do this at night, but because the sun is shining, all you can do is stare at the sky and think.

-

As night falls, you can hear heavy footsteps ascending. When you turn your head, you see Marc in his white suit. His mask falls away, and you can see a sense of relief wash over him. His chest heaves as if he's just flown all over town looking for you. That he did.

You begin to stand up and he rushes towards you. He examines your face to see if your fine and then brings you into a hug.

“What the hell, you don’t just run off like that without telling me or sending me a text” he breathes out.

It would have been nice, but remembering what Khonshu said makes the embrace seem insincere. He was hugging his brother instead of you. You push him away, and he is taken aback but maintains his distance.

“Im tired, and I just want an explanation…” you finally say

Marc nods and asks, “Is it about college? Is that why you left?”

"Part of it” You breathe out, "But that’s not what I wanted to talk about”

“Then what is it?”

You take a moment to find the words but they aren’t hard to find. This makes Marc nervous though.

“Why did you save me?”

It went quiet, Marc looked at you confused, “What?”

“Back when we met, I was going to jump off that building, but you came and talked me out of it.” You hold your ground as you stare at him.

Marc stays quiet and you take that chance to continue talking, “I was supposed to die that day, I already had no plans for my life so I was ready. Instead, you came and saved me, why?”

“…I couldn’t just let you throw your life like that“ 

You scoffed, “Then tell me it was for me and not your brother”

Marc’s eyes widened and his jaw clenched, “Khonshu told you about my brother?”

You nodded, “So that’s why you saved me? To get closure or something?”

“No, Y/N I-“ 

“Then what?! Why was I so different that you had to save me?!” you said impatiently.

This time, you shoved him back. He stumbled but stayed on his feet.

“I’m now stuck here dealing with the bad part of the world again! I can’t even make friends because you think I’ll get hurt! And I have to live with hiding from everyone and everything, because of you!”

You try to shove him again, but Marc grabs your hands and pulls them away from you. He was hurt, but discovering the cane was back and failing to stop it was drowning it out. He didn't mean to say what he was about to say.

"Well, I couldn't just let you jump off and end up being a flat piece of meat! What?! Did you want to be another name on the list of people who couldn't deal with life anymore?!"

Taken aback, you step back. Marc notices what he said and closes his eyes in regret, “Kid, I didn’t mean to say that”

“…I should have jumped off faster,” you finally say, “I wish we had never fucking met”

Marc's lips part slightly and only stares at you. He forgets about earlier today and is only focused on you. How there are tears falling from your eyes when they only come out when you two are watching a sad movie. How you are angry when that only happens when you lose at Mario Kart. All these innocent reasons were out of the picture because he had said something he shouldn’t have.

“Y/N..” he reaches out to you but you slap his hand away.

"Don't fucking touch me," your words sting and tense Marc.

You walk past him and walk down the stairs, wiping all the tears with the sleeve of your sweater. Meanwhile Marc stays frozen in the same spot.

-

It’s been two weeks since your argument with Marc. Steven and Jake have taken turns in taking care of you since Marc decided to go AWOL.

He didn't do it because he wanted to; he did it because he knew you despised him. Despised him for never telling you the whole truth about your saving. But most importantly, for insulting your feelings.

The real reason you were angry with him wasn’t that he saved you. It was because he didn’t save you for you.

You were actually angry with him the first week. You didn't want to deal with him. You purposefully ignored him for the first week, only calling out to the other alters. When this happened, Steven and Jake felt terrible and looked at Marc, who only hid.

However, by the second week, all of that rage had vanished. You were no longer angry with him; instead, you missed him. You wanted to apologize, but you assumed he despised you because of the harsh words you used.

It was now raining and cold. It was like Mother Nature knew you were feeling gloomy and wanted to make it worse. You climbed out of bed and looked outside to the storm that was passing through. You frowned and turned to the door of your room.

You peeked to what was the rest of the apartment. It was quiet with only the bubbles from the fish tank bubbling and the rain hitting the roof. The boys weren’t here which left only you in the flat. You walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge to see if there was anything to eat.

Failing to do so, you shut the fridge door and turned to see a yellow lined sheet of paper on the dining table.

Taking a closer look, it looked like Marc’s handwriting. 

Knowing it was from him reminded you again of how much you missed him and his company. You were regretting ever trying to argue with him. If you hadn’t, he would have shared breakfast time with you like every other morning.

Hey, we went to find the cane. Well, be right back. Steven made some vegan stuff and left it on the stove. Please eat.

Even though it was just writing, you can tell Marc was hesitant in starting the note and felt like he was on thin ice. He was probably convinced by the other two to write.

It is delicious! I recommend heating on the stove instead of microwaving. Eat! You need strength! Also, we have news for you when we come back :)

You smiled at how Steven was so cheerful. You were honestly excited about what they had to say. Hopefully it meant you and Marc can stop going through silent treatment.

Cuídate mija, don’t open the door for anyone. My card is on the bed if you don’t want to eat Steven's cooking ;)

You almost laughed knowing it was Jake, he always loved bullying the other two. Getting to the last part, you notice how it switched to Marc’s handwriting again.

We’ll be back soon.

Love From, 

Marc, Steven, and Jake

You stared at how the word "love" was crossed out and wondered if Marc was the one who thought of it or if the others did. Either way, it moved you and you felt even worse about yelling at Marc.

You fold the note and put in the pocket of your sweatpants. Going to the fridge, you grab the pot of pasta and walk over to the stove. You heat it over the flame and wait for it boil.

In the meantime, you return to your room. You stoop to the level of your bed and place your hand beneath it. You move your hand around mindlessly until it comes into contact with a small box.

Pulling it out, you open it two see two blunts with a lighter inside. Once you take out both the lighter and a blunt, you make your way to the nearest window. 

Taking a look at the lighter, you examine the almost peeling moon sticker on it. It was from a sheet that you saw at the market when you went with Marc for groceries a while back

You slipped it into the basket before he noticed it in the line. All he did was simply look at it and give a small chuckle, glancing at you before putting it with the rest of the items.

You smiled as you inserted the blunt between your teeth and lit the end with your lighter. You inhaled deeply and exhaled the smoke out the window and into the world. Notifying everyone who passes by that you are high at the moment.

The soothing patter of the rain put you in a pondering state. Wondering if you can handle another two months of not speaking to Marc again. 

Actually you couldn’t, and you didn’t want to. 

You didn’t want to give him the silent treatment anymore and you wanted to apologize. Apologize for not having a civil conversation which turned to a yelling battle.

You thought of the choice of words for Marc and how to repay him for the damage that was done.

Letting out another breath of smoke, you came to a closing. 

“Hope you aren’t angry with me” you sigh and put out the blunt.

—————

A Few Hours Earlier

—————

In his Moon Knight suit, Marc was jumping from building to building trying to find the new hiding spot of the group. The storm made it almost difficult to see any suspicious buildings in sight. However, they weren’t even in his mind right now.

“Mate, I think it’s time to talk about Y/N”

“Yes, I think you two should talk when we come back”

“I know,” Marc continued staring straight ahead, “I just don’t know how to apologize. They probably hate me”

“They don’t hate you, they idolize you”

“They do?”

“Of course, that move they did back at the hideout was yours. They have been watching you anytime you go and fight”

Marc maintains his silence but can't help but smile. This time it hits him how much he misses you as well. He misses being able to tell you about his day. Your movie nights and Nintendo tournaments. For you, he’ll do anything to make it up to you.

“…I’ll talk to them when we’re done with this,” he says.

Steven and Jake smile, “Then let’s get this done quickly”

Marc continues running on top of the roofs until he stops and sees a building with purple flowing out of the windows.

“That’s them”

Marc stands on the edge of a nearby building and examines each room, trying to find where the so called Vannessa is at.

“There”

Marc looks over to one window and sees Vanessa talking to some group members. In another window he can see the cane on a table unprotected.

Marc gets off the building and jumps into one of the windows closest to the cane. With the breaking of glass, everyone in the building is now alerted but Marc can take them.

That is until he feels his power begin to leak out of his body. Confused he looks to his hands and sees how his suit is starting to disappear to where soon he is just in his casual clothes. Looking around, he sees the group corner him with guns drawn. He doesn’t move a muscle and only raises his hands up to show surrender. Soon Vanessa makes her way in and stares at Marc. 

"I don't have a good feeling about this"

“Took you long enough. Got lost?” She said snarkily, “Oh wait, I forgot you're an ex-marine right?”

She then looks over to one of the men and gestures her head to Marc, “In the leg”

Before Marc can understand, a shotgun is loaded, soon aimed, and a bullet is fired at his thigh. Marc lets out a scream of pain and drops to his knees, holding the wound. Two men rush in and hold him against the wall.

"Marc!"

"Let me take control!"

Marc tries to get out of their grip, but with the pain in his leg throbbing, he feels his senses leaving.

Vanessa makes her way to him and crouches down to his level, looking into his eyes. 

“To cut it quick, remember how that red witch controlled that small town? Well it turns out she had a barrier going on, so I said why not I do it too. Point A you crossed and point B you are now powerless and,”

Vanessa takes out a blade and lodges it into Marc’s other thigh, which causes him to groan in pain, but he continues to look at her.

“Mortal. Oh, and I know about your weird alter, Jack? Jake? I don’t fucking know, but I know he’s a pain in the ass but with no mobility, he’s nothing”

"Hija del reputa madre"

Marc glares at her and stays quiet.

“Aren’t you wondering why I’m being a bitch to you?”

“Well when you see a bitch you’ll expect them to be a bitch” Marc remarks which causes Vanessa to land a punch on his face.

“Funny. You’re not going to be laughing soon. Do you know who I am?”

Marc huffs and just shrugs, “Why don’t you just tell me and get this over with”

Vanessa lands him another punch and this time Marc is now bleeding from his nose.

“Switzerland. You were there looking for the scarab, and my father,” Vanessa stabs Marc once again in the thigh, “was there and you killed him. For what? For trying to make the world a better place?”

Marc doesn’t say anything but just glares at her. Vanessa scoffs and gets up, walking to another table.

“Tourniquet his legs” is all she says before grabbing a bat. A woman does what she says and ties a rope above Marc’s wound.

Everyone watches Vanessa’s moves, awaiting for next command. She turns to him and winds her elbow back before landing a blow to Marc's head.

——

The rain was still going, which is what lulled you into sleep. You were laying on the couch with an arm covering half your face. The blunt might have also been part of the equation in your slumber.

The coffee table was a mess before but now an even bigger mess with the bowl of food that Steven made being on there with the fork inside. Next to it was your ashtray which had what was left of your blunt. 

You felt at peace before you heard urgent knocking at the door. Slowly opening your eyes, you sit up and hear your bones crack from being asleep.

Walking over to the door, you check the peephole and see Layla still knocking.

You open the door, and Layla looks at you a tad disappointed, "Hey, what’s up?”

“Can I come in? It’s urgent” She points to the inside of the apartment which you nod and let her in.

“Jesus, was that you?” Layla coughs and waves her hand to get the smoke that fills the room away.

“Uh, maybe. Anyway, what happened? You’re never this freaked out”

Layla bites her cheek, “Have you heard from Marc? Steven? Jake? Any of them?”

You blink, “Not as of lately, all I got was a note from them saying they were going to find the cane”

“Yeah, the last text I got was him saying he found the hideout, but I haven’t gotten a response.” Layla pulls out her phone.

She shows you the last message from him, which was about 5 hours ago. Usually Marc would need less than that to complete a job.

“Maybe things got heavy, they’re probably on their way now.” You try to reason, but in reality, you begin to worry.

“If they were, I would be able to see their location but it’s off. I have a bad feeling something might have happened” Layla's face is tense and she doesn't appear to be able to relax.

Usually Layla was the one who was the calmest amongst the trio. So whatever it was that happened must be bad.

“What do we do?” You cross your arms.

Layla fidgets with her wedding ring as she looks down, “I-I don’t know”

All you do is stare at Layla and try to think. The boys were always the brains in this sort of thing, all you did was follow. What would they do?

You can probably retrace your steps, but again, you have been missing out on all the meetings ever since you claimed your hatred for the side missions.

A blast of wind comes and blows away all the pages that were on the coffee table. You and Layla turn to the noise and see Khonshu. However, he looks rough and stressed. Having both of the ofthe group who always calm now stressed was odd and almost a bad omen. He doesn’t waste any time before he starts.

“They’re in trouble, the group created a barrier which caused me to unlatch from them” 

“What?” You say with disbelief.

“There’s no time! They are in grave danger and need help!���He bangs his staff on the ground to get the message across.

You feel your heart begin to beat rapidly. You’re almost frozen by the news that they're in danger. They have saved you countless of times so it would make sense to repay the debt.

“Take me,” you say and Layla looks at you shocked.

She grabs onto your shoulders, “Y/N, no. We have to go together, we don’t know what they are capable of”

“I can handle it on my own,” you say before removing her hands and holding them, “I’ll be fine, I’ll send you the address and you can meet us there”

You begin to walk to Khonshu which he does not hesitate to give you your own powers temporarily. You are quickly enveloped in a similar suit of the Moon Knight’s. If it was a normal situation, you would have gloated but today was different.

“Wait Y/N!” Layla calls out but you are gone. She looks around to think before she calls for an old friend.

——

All you can do is keep running, jumping from building to building. Nothing else is on your mind but the three men who have been by your side for the past few years.

“It’s right there!” Khonshu called out.

You looked down and see a building with a purple glow coming from inside the windows before it leaves. That must have been the barrier that was made to stop Marc and the others from having Khonshu by their side. 

Khonshu immediately takes you to the building's entrance. It doesn’t take you long before you burst through the doors. The suit disappearing at the same time. You don’t let Khonshu explain to you how many there are or what they are capable of doing. All you want is to see Marc again and apologize for everything you've said. How you are glad that you met him.

You look around the first floor quickly to find signs of one of the boys being there but they aren’t. Rushing up the flight of stairs you find an open space with a few tables of a few weapons. You walk to one and grab a pistol. You check for bullets which thankfully it has a few.

You never learned to handle one before which leads you to grabbing a knife from there too. Once you look over your weapons, you hear a large thud coming from upstairs and grunting. 

“Marc” You breath out and sprint up the stairs.

All that adrenaline begins to spread through your body. That is until you get to the top of the stairs.

The scene is horrifying. Your eyes widen and you feel the world go quiet, only your heartbeat can be heard banging through your ears. At first you thought it was your pulse going crazy.

Thud 

It was just your pulse.

Thud

It was your pulse, thats what you kept telling yourself.

Thud

Marc received another blow to the head. He was helpless. He could only lie on his stomach and let blood drain from his nose and mouth. His left eye was purple and swollen. Red had now stained his dark brown curls.

All of this pain inflicting on him was coming from the red haired woman. Vanessa.

You're enraged, and you swear you see red. You point the gun at her, ready to fire, when one of the members notices you and tries to take the gun from you. You two fall to the ground while attempting, causing the gun to skid across the floor. You pull out your knife before he can get up. You swing it at the man horizontally. Making a cut at his neck.

Unfortunately, it is not deep enough. 

When the other two members notice your presence, they tackle you. You try to push them off with all your strength, but they pin your arms behind your back. Their weight crushes you, causing your cheek to collide with the cold floor.

“Get the fuck off me!” You yell out.

The man who you cut wipes the blood off and glares at you. He immediately rushes to you and begins to kick you in your stomach, calling you a ‘bitch’. Before he can do more damage, another member holds him back.

“Hey! Hey! Thats enough!” Says the man as he tries to keep his friend from beating you.

You don’t care about the man though. All your attention is on the redhead. You have never felt so much anger as you do right now.

“You’re going to fucking die!” You growl.

She looks at you and cocks her head to the side, “It’s you from before”

You continue to glare at her before two other people come in. One man and one woman, they look at the scene before continuing on with Vanessa.

“Who’s that?” The man points at you.

The woman then adds, “How are they here? Why weren’t you on watch?”

The one with the cut on his neck yells, “I didn’t know he’d bring someone else!” 

“Well thats enough, it won’t take long until people report a noise complaint” the man looks at Vannessa.

“You want what I want, right?” She grips the base of the bat as she stares at the man.

The man stays quiet and just says, “End it. Now”

Realizing what they said, you stop resisting and look over to Marc’s body. You look at him with pleading eyes and beg, “Guys, get up. Get up!”

Even though they are badly hurt, you can see the small shift between Steven and Jake. Jake, who tries to move but fails. Steven, who tries to reach out to you but can’t.

They soon give control to Marc. He tries his best to open his eyes and looks over at you. He mumbles your name, you’re the only thing he focuses on once again.

“Marc, fucking get up!” Your voice cracks.

You look back at Vanessa and now beg, “Please stop!”

She ignores you and winds her arm back, having a tight grip on the bat.

“Please don’t do this…” you sob, “Marc, please get up!”

Vanessa then brings the bat down and smashes it against Marc’s skull. Blood spilling more than there was.

“Nooo!” You yell out feeling your throat burn from forcing your vocal cords.

You sob as you stare at Marc’s lifeless body. The man who loved and protected you was no longer here. He was gone.

One of the members walk up to his body and spit on him, wishing him to be in hell. That same anger from before comes back up and you try to get up.

“I'll fucking kill you!” You keep repeating to them.

The members of the group began debating whether or not to kill you. However, as you stare at Marc, all of their voices become muffled. Your gaze then shifts to Vanessa, who drops the bat and turns to face you.

You remember her features. In fact, all of their features. Memorize them so they don't believe they are free. Keep them close by memorizing them. Remember them for Marc. Remember them for Steven. Remember them for Jake. It's for them.

You breathe heavily before one member comes to you and kicks you in the head to knock you out.

-

“Y/N” Layla softly calls out to you, shaking your body awake.

She is wearing her suit given to her by Tawaret. She was too late though.

You open your eyes slowly and mumble, “Are they…”

Layla looks down and nods, “I’m sorry”

-

Back at the apartment, you stayed sitting on their bed. What once used to be their bed. The sheets are still undone and you can still see where their head lay. They would have done the bed by now. There would be food being cooked right now. Instead, it was their funeral.

You fidget with the Star of David necklace that used to be theirs. Looking at it, remembering how it sat around their neck.

A knock comes from the door but you don’t try to get up. Usually it was one of them knocking, usually because they forgot their keys or wallet. But they aren’t here. The door didn’t matter.

It opens, and you can hear hesitant steps approaching you. Layla can be recognised by her heels clicking on the wooden floors. "Are you ready?" she asks, holding both hands over her stomach as she turns to face you.

Her voice is almost a whisper. She must have been crying all night. 

“Yeah…” You look up at her and see you were right.

Her eyes were red and her face tear stained. Yet she tried to keep her composure for you. She wore a black slim dress with black heels. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail.

For you, all you had on was a black jacket, shirt, and jeans with black boots. 

You two made your way outside the building to a taxi. Layla spoke to the driver while you remained silent and gazed out the window. You were numb because the world seemed numb to you.

Soon enough you got to the cemetery and saw a few people there. Not family but more of colleagues from his Egyptian work it seemed. You and Layla stayed close to his grave, watching as his coffin lowered inside. All you could do was think about his beaten face inside that coffin. 

Once buried, everyone quickly left except you. You remained motionless, staring at the tombstone. You got down on your knees, grabbed a small pebble, and placed it on top of the stone, following a Jewish tradition you'd learned beforehand.

“I'm so sorry, I should have said that earlier. If only I did” you croaked.

After bidding farewell to last guests, Layla walked up behind you and put a hand on your shoulder, “When your ready”

"Um, I'll catch up to you. I just need more time," you say, looking up at her.

Layla gives a tight smile and nods, “Okay." She walks away, her steps fading away.

You breath out, seeing your breath in the cold. Your fingers were frozen but you didn’t care. As expected, you feel the wind pass by you. Knowing who it was, you didn’t bother in looking up.

“I am sorry for your loss, Y/N” Khonshu gently says.

You don’t say anything and continue to stare at Marc’s carved name on the tombstone. Khonshu doesn’t find it surprising and understands.

He thinks before he says, “As you humans say, they are no longer suffering here-”

“I want to go look for them.” You don’t look up at him when you say it. You grab a handful of dirt from the ground and slowly release it back down.

Khonshu, surprised, responds, "It's dangerous, they wouldn't want you to go alone"

"I know they wouldn't want me to, but I want to. Are you going to help me?" You take a step forward and look at him. He looks into your eyes and sees the revenge burning within your irises.

He stays quiet, which you take as a no. “Fine, I’ll do it by myself”

You clench your fist and look down at the grave. Marc's death plays over and over in your mind. Each face flashes through your mind, and you consider how each one aided in his death. How you begged them to stop.

“I’m going to kill, every last one of them” 

---

Anyways, wasn't that cool? :D

Also, I know the argument between the reader and Marc was dumb but you try coming up with an argument that isn't cliche or one that would be reasonable for you to get mad at. It was for the plot is what I'm trying to say.

If yall want me to write a happy ending to it let me know or don't idk

[bunnakit]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (you are here)

Wooyoung nearly sobbed at the intense wave of pleasure that washed over him, body writhing in the ebbing tide. His voice choked out of him, eliciting a deep and fond chuckle from above. He hated how warm San’s laugh was for how very cruel he was being. 

“Sannie please for the love of God move.” He begged, trying to kick out one of his legs only to have it pinned to the lumpy mattress, leaving Wooyoung reluctantly spread open. His cock leaked against his stomach and he couldn't help but think ‘Me too, buddy.’ 

San leaned down, pressing their lips together with lazy, lingering kisses. He was such a juxtaposition of unwavering strength and endless tenderness. He knew Choi San was one of a kind and he was so lucky to have met him that fateful rainy night. He’d never find anyone like him again. 

“Why don't you ask nicely?” San smirked against his jaw and he couldn't help but roll his eyes. 

“San if you don't fucking move I’m going to book the biggest, meanest bastard for your next fi-ah!” Breath swept into his lungs in a harsh gasp, expelled in a low and pathetic whine. It wasn't that San was the biggest he’d ever slept with - he was average, maybe above - it was that every movement was done with so much intent. He rolled his hips, gave teasing touches, and panted crude compliments all for nothing more than the satisfaction of his lover. 

It had been a night a lot like this, blowing off steam from an unsatisfying fight that San felt he won too quickly, when the revelation had struck Wooyoung. He had watched San then as he did now, the concentrated furrow of his brow, the clench of his jaw to stave off his own orgasm until he knew his lover was unequivocally satisfied. All of it came to the same conclusion Wooyoung drew in the current moment; He was unbearably in love with Choi San. 

“Why are you crying, jagi?” San’s movements stilled as he lifted his calloused palm, cupping his cheek gently.

Wooyoung blinked slowly, unaware of when the tears had begun to streak down his face but he could feel them carving tracks backwards. He kept his gaze on San, opening his mouth to speak but a cold tear dipped uncomfortably into his ear. He blinked and when he opened his eyes he welcomed a new cresting tide of tears. 

He was back here, in the almost clinical bedroom in the corner of a house that had never felt like home. His eyes burned with tears and he knew he’d been crying for much longer than the brief snippet in his dream. He stumbled to his feet and tread into the bathroom, grimacing at the image staring back at him in the mirror. His long hair was a mess, greasy and in disarray, and his eyes were nearly swollen with how puffy they were. 

Wooyoung ducked his head, splashing icy water on his face several times. He was so tired of crying, so fucking tired of it, and yet he couldn't stop. Every single morning he woke up and pressed a cold compress to his eyelids until he resembled something close to human again. He ignored that step today, turning off the sink just to turn on the shower. 

He wanted to wallow, to stay in bed all day and cry himself to sleep again, to rot in his silk sheets on his stupidly expensive mattress. He craved a lumpy mattress permeated in the smell of cologne, sweat, sex, and San. It was so tempting to fall back under the covers and shut out the world but he knew, as much as he hated it, that San would never want to see him like this. And somehow that was enough. 

Wooyoung finished his shower quickly, wrapping a towel around his waist and going through his skin care routine that had way more steps than even made sense. He finished rubbing in his moisturizer before he opened the drawer beside him. Multiple watches in a variety of styles lined the inside, save for a vacant spot in the very center. 

His heart dropped through his feet, thrashing and writhing somewhere on his heated bathroom floor. 

Where is it? 

I put it here, didn't I?

My nightstand- Not here. 

The dresser-

No, no, no, nononono- Where is it?! 

His breath came in a rapid staccato, unsustainable and painful. He didn't really care if he ever breathed again, not if he’d truly lost Sannie’s watch. He needed it, needed to feel close to him in the only way he was allowed now. 

“Where is it?” He gasped, black spots dancing at the edge of his vision just before he heard a door open in the main section of his apartment. He yanked on a pair of sweatpants left hanging over a bedpost before stumbling out into his living space. 

“Hyunsoo-ssi, have you seen my watch? The silver one with the big dial-”

“Oh, that atrocity.” He tsked and dread mixed with something else, something sticky and molten, bubbled in Wooyoung’s stomach. “I cleaned out all your old designs for this year’s collection,” He passed a judgemental eye to the sweats hanging off his hips. “Though it seems I might have missed some.” 

Again, Wooyoung didn't feel when the tears started. He could only feel the cold streaks left in their wake as his skin grew impossibly warm. His fingers curled into his palms, nails pressing indents into the soft flesh. 

“And where are they now?” He hissed through clenched teeth, eyes closed as those black dots appeared in his periphery again. He felt wound tight, a coiled spring ready to snap - or perhaps a leopard, crouched low in wait for one wrong move, one little -

“I threw them out. Don't worry, Wooyoung-ssi, this year's designs are much-” 

He hadn't made a decision to throw the salt lamp across the room. Wooyoung hadn't even been aware he was holding it until it left his fingertips, hurtling towards the wall with an impressive amount of speed. His nostrils flared as the drywall crumbled and shards of the salt block scattered around his floor. He opened his eyes, vision tinted red as his eyes locked on his father's assistant. 

Wooyoung hated himself for it, hated the way it reminded him of his childhood, but he took a sick thrill in the fear that washed over Hyunsoo’s face. Good. “Get out.” He croaked, voice hoarse with barely restrained screams. 

There was a spot on the rug in his father's office, a deep brown and an odd wobbly shape. Spilled coffee, his father had said, knocked over by one of his visiting business partners who Wooyoung could barely remember. He understood now what that stain really was. 

His mouth flooded with spit the moment Hyunsoo closed the door behind him and Wooyoung had only a moment to sprint to his kitchen sink, more grateful than ever for his open floor plan as he slid to a stop on the tile just in time to eject the contents of his stomach into the shiny silver basin. He’d barely eaten the night before, something his stomach hadn't thanked him for, but at least it was a benefit to him now as he had very little to offer up. Snot and tears spilled down the lower half of his face and he groaned, using the spray nozzle on his faucet to rinse both the sink and his face. 

Wooyoung slammed the tap to shut it off before sliding down to the floor, back pressed against the uncomfortable grooves of the cabinet behind him and knees tucked to his chest. He tucked his forehead against them, the moisture dripping from his hair soaking the knee of his sweats. One hand lifted, rubbing a slow circle over the left side of his chest. 

His last connection to San, gone with something as simple as a careless - or perhaps malicious - act of service. The hickeys had long faded from his sternum, the scent of San’s cologne no longer clung to the clothes he'd worn that night. The watch had been all he had left to prove that he had been lucky enough to have been known - been loved - by Choi San. 

Wooyoung felt the rhythmic thumping against his fingers, an undeniable sign that blood still pumped through his veins. His heart was there, it was still there, so why did his chest feel so hollow? He wanted to thrash, to wail, to make sure the world could hear the pain that scraped his insides raw. Instead, he cried silently, vacant gaze locked on the mangled hole in the wall, lamp cord dangling down to the floor. 

Crying had never gotten him anything but a scolding so he had learned a long time ago to keep silent. 

When Wooyoung looked at himself in the mirror again the next morning another grimace spread over his face but this time accompanied by a nauseating twist in his gut. He lifted his hand to brush through his hair, twisting his fingers around the too-short strands and tugging until he felt a light sting at his scalp. It looked as wrong as he felt but he had an image to maintain now - Father’s perfect puppet. 

The image nearly made him sick, not from an attractiveness standpoint, but rather he missed who he was before. He missed San carding his fingers through his hair as he sang to him softly, half drunk but full of love. He missed San gripping with his fingers close to Wooyoung’s scalp, tilting his head back to press open-mouthed kisses against his neck. He missed San rolling over onto his hair in the middle of the night, coaxing him back to sleep with hushed apologies. 

He had hoped it would feel cleansing but instead it felt like a final goodbye to the man he could have had and the man he could have become.

[crookedfivefingers]

Ten x Martha • Mature

WIP snippet. AU scenario where there wasn’t a “Year that Never Was” and Martha continued traveling aboard the TARDIS (against her better judgment). Also AU in the sense that the Doctor is actually willing to smother all of that UST once and for all.

The Doctor walked right into Martha’s personal space, succumbing to her orbit, studying her face as his hands pursued a symmetrical study of her sides.

The tank top she wore clung to her curves: modal and elastane blended into something red and soft beneath the exploration of his fingers. The hem met bare skin over the crests of her hips, which he traced with wide sweeps of his thumbs, dragging the material without ever slipping beneath.

“So,” he began conversationally, choosing not to acknowledge the tremors he could feel running through her body like a dozen little currents. Barely tilting his head, he leaned in close, only stopping once his nose brushed alongside hers. “Have we got a plan, or are we just sort of making it up as we go along?”

Standing this close, Martha didn’t even need to try for him — not really. She probably had no idea that her body was already making short work of his senses, laying claim to them, bolstering his resolve to have her — and in as many ways as she would allow.

In addition to the allure of seeing her dressed down, she smelled clean and lovely: like shea butter and peppermint toothpaste, both of which the Doctor could already taste as trace molecules sought refuge on his tongue.

They barely managed to mask the telltale plume of pheromones that were coming off of her, however.

“I… oh,” Martha gasped as his grip tightened to tug her closer, a nervous smile playing on her lips. “Erm. Well…” She hesitated just before placing her hands flat on his chest, then seemed to reconsider, sliding her arms up to wind around his neck. “Reckon we sort’ve work best when… When we haven’t got a plan, yeah?”

Humming appreciatively, the Doctor slid his hands around to her lower back, reveling in the way his long fingers seemed to splay from one side of her body to the next. Blimey, she’s small, isn’t she?

Steadying his hands, he drew back, smirking at her half-mast stare. “Mm. I knew there was a reason I wanted to keep you,” he purred, husking through each syllable, allowing the heat of his words to pour into her parted lips without an ounce of pretense as he once more brought his face to hers.

Though Martha’s eyes fell shut, the Doctor’s remained shuttered as his mouth hovered over hers — a gentle (and entirely unnecessary) tease. The poor girl was already so far gone, her petite frame all but trembling against him — but he had to admit it was a bit fun keeping her perched there, trapped on a razor’s edge.

It was only a matter of time before he would make up for all of this torture, certainly (and with handsome interest) — but presently, he could hear her heart pounding between every last uneven breath; he could feel so much human heat radiating off of her skin, enticing him further, and… Oh, yes.

They were going to have great fun, weren’t they?

It was fascinating just how seductive this regeneration was proving to be. It felt brilliant. Every nerve, every neuron was alight with wanting, tempting him to draw out every detail, savoring the prelude to what he could imagine would wind up being quite the torrid fucking.

Something told him that was exactly what she wanted — what they both needed — and the Doctor was happy to oblige.

[lonelyredfox]

Thorn and Fox - Pride lore

I have too much lore on the drawing and no one to vent it to so I’m going to post it here.

I think Fox would describe Thorn as his sun. They’re the one who brighten up his day, who make everything more bearable. Fox seems to carry the whole planet on his shoulders and Thorn is always there trying to help him in whatever way they can. The little golden sun (tragus?) piercing in Thorn’s ear was a gift from Fox. They don’t have many credits, so Fox saves up for many months before he can buy it (and spends all the credits he has.) He wanted them to know that they’re his source of warmth, his comfort and one of the few things in his life that still give him hope. When he gave it to them, he said that their love shines brighter than any sun could. Thorn never takes it out, only to clean it occasionally.

Fox is Thorn’s moon. He’s the brightest source of light during their darkest times. He’s the one who takes care of the whole Guard. Who protects their shinies from senators and the other evils on Coruscant, that no amount of training could have prepared them for. One night Thorn tells Fox exactly that. Fox replies that the moon can only shine because it reflects the light of the sun. If Thorn cried, no one had to know. They decide that they want to gift Fox something as well. It has to be something subtle that won’t be noticed and won’t get in the way (Piercings don’t matter because the Guard isn’t ever allowed to take their helmets of outside of their barracks). He gets him a (tragus??) piercing as well. A silver one that looks like it has thorns surrounding it. Fox is over the moon (HA!).

While buying the piercing for Fox (which also cost a significant amount of credits) Thorn finds the little fox earring. They can’t afford it, but the salesperson finds them so sweet that they gift it to them. (It’s the middle of the war and the shop is one of the few that still allowed clones. The owner is a nice Trandoshan. The piercings were objectively not expensive at all. The Guard didn’t really get leave and that’s the only time when the troopers are given money, hence why they all have to throw their credits together to buy a single bottle of alcohol. Also, Stone, Thire, Hound and the Corrie CMO (Break?) somehow found out about the gifts the two were giving to each other so they all secretly put some credits into the stash.) The little Fox will always remind Thorn of him. When Fox sees it he hugs them and doesn’t let go for a long while.

After the war and without the barrier the helmet provided Fox gets increasingly insecure about his scars. Thorn makes sure to remind him everyday that they’re just a sign that he survived and that he saved others. Thorn is not as confident with their scars at they let on but Fox makes sure they know how beautiful they still are

Fox calls Thorn tran (sun) or tranyc (lit. star-burned but translated with ‘sunny’). The first time he called them that Thorn’s smile was so bright it complemented the name perfectly.

Thorns tattoos are the wings that are also painted on his helmet.

The Guard crest was already there for a few months while the Mythosaur in Fox’s tattoo was added shortly before the end of the war when the Guard collectively agreed that Fox was more mandokarla than anyone else. The smoke between the symbols represents the shadows they had to walk through and the generally shady atmosphere in the Core. (The skull in between stands for the death they escaped.)

The ten-ten (his CC number) was tattooed on him by someone Palpatine hired. He wanted to make sure Fox would never forget his place. Fox despised the tattoo with every fibre of his being. He saw it as a symbol of all his failures for a long time but learned to live with it. When he had the option the get rid of it, he declines.

(please have mercy on my writing, English isn't my first language)

[running2reanimation]

@tulipsempai - I blame you for this.

Ketchup

The King of Condiments.

It hadn't been that long since he'd inherited the cart from his old man. Maybe a month, but really, he'd been working the business for as long as he could hold a stick.

He twirled the dog and handed it to the little girl with a long mastered flourish, drawing and excited gasp and a admiring "Ooooh" from somewhere nearby.

A golden child charged down to his cart, only barely avoiding crashing into the girl and her family. They stared wide-eyed at the cart and at the corn dogs prepped and ready for frying, "What are they?"

"Corn dogs," He smiled down at the inquisitive tot, "If you want one you hafta' ask your parent."

"Okay!" And the child was off like a shot back up the hill, just as the tall orange stick crested the hill.

"Dad! Dad! Can I get a corn dog?" The kid asked as the guy leaned down with his hands on his knees, clearly catching his breath.

"That's not exactly a healthy lunch," The tall stick wheezed, straightening up while the excited kid tugged at his pant leg.

"Pleeeease, I'll... I'll eat all my vegetables at supper tonight!" They wheedled, and the Dad placed a hand on their head, clearly about to relent.

"Promise? Even if it's asparagus?" They made a face but nodded with a sigh.

"Even s'gus."

"Okay then," Dad nodded, turning to look at him finally, "How much?"

"Two bucks each."

He dug into his wallet and handed him a five, "Two corndogs, keep the change."

"You got it, big guy. Two dogs, coming right up," With a grin, he set to work his magic. Obviously it wasn't actual magic, but it was enough to have the kid enraptured.

"So what are we putting on this thing?" He asked, twirling the dog casually.

"Put on it?" The kid tilted his head curiously.

"Like ketchup, mustard, relish, mayo." They looked at their Dad.

"I usually just get mustard on mine."

"Then I want mustard too!"

"You sure? Mustard's pretty sour. Usually people like ketchup better - it's considered the king of condiments, y'know?"

"Condiments?"

"The stuff you put on corn dogs. N' burgers, n' stuff," He explained, twirling the ketchup now. The kid put a hand to his chin, before shaking his head.

"I want mustard too! Dad is King, and his con-condeemint is mustard!"

"Okie-dokie!" With a casual flick of the wrists, he drew a little smile on the corn dog, then deftly grabbed and dressed the other one, "Here you lovely folk are, two of the best corn dogs in the city, courtesy of your pal, Ketchup."

Technically his name wasn't Ketchup, but he sold more dogs with a funky nickname than his real one. Having your food prepared by Rust didn't really... appeal.

"Oh! You're King too! King of the Condeemints!" The kid beamed up at him, before taking a big bite of his corn dog, "Mmmm!"

As the two walked away, Ketchup couldn't help but feel more than a little confuse

--

The kid and his Dad came by the park every Saturday. And Ketchup was always there (at least in spring, summer and autumn) to sell them corn dogs.

And eventually Ketchup learned what the kid - Gold - meant. His Dad's name was King. So they were both Kings. So they were both royal, which according to the twig's logic meant they had to get married.

Wasn't that crazy?

--

"Looking forward to the cultural festival tonight?" Ketchup asked, handing the pair their usual, corn dogs with mustard.

"Yeah!" Gold nodded, still full of that same enthusiasm he'd had as a kid, "Are you gonna set up there?"

"Nah, costs too much. Besides, if I'm selling, I can't go as an attendee."

"Oh, you're going? Maybe we'll see you there?" King seemed surprised to hear that Ketchup might go.

"Maybe," Ketchup winked and Gold looked between him and his Dad before giggling. Fortunately King was as oblivious as ever, and just arched an eyebrow.

"I think I missed the joke."

"Don't worry about it," Ketchup reassured and Gold rolled his eyes, "Anyway, I'm actually about to close up. Gotta go get cleaned up if I want to go out in public."

"Alright then. See you, Ketchup!" He really should get around to admitting that's not his name.

[cinebration]

Already Awake (Geralt of Rivia x Reader) [Part 2; Request]

Hii can you please write part 2 for "Already Awake" please i love it so much

And i just wanted to say i love your writing❤❤❤❤—Requested by anon

Part 1 | Part 2

Tagged: @constantshitposter, @whiskeywinter89​, @beautifulsweetchaos, @dreamingaboutyousworld​, @itsrubberbisquit​, @pretty-toxic-revolver, @the-soot-sprite

Warnings: none

Gif Source: dobrien

Everything ached with the fire of a thousand suns, and yet there were still miles to go before you arrived at what you hoped was salvation. To be delivered from this not-dream, you had to travel across the Continent beside the gruff, almost surly white-haired man whose help had been reluctantly given after seeing how piteous you were in this strange land.

Having never ridden a horse before, you were ill-suited to it. The rhythm of the horse’s trot eluded you, reminding you of your old piano lessons. Your teacher, a middle-aged woman with a kind face, had a voice like a whip when you failed to adhere to the metronome. If ever you had disbelieved that rhythm had never been your strong suit, your inability to match the horse’s stride painfully drove the point home.

The sharp chill of the encroaching winter in conjunction with every jolt of pain through your joints from the horse’s trot convinced you that you were not slumbering at all. A faint spark of hope burned in a secret part of yourself, whispering, It’s still a dream, just a vivid one. You’ll forget upon waking.

It grew dimmer with each passing day, burning brightest only in the morning as you emerged from real sleep into this other world. In the wee hours of the morning, the sun cresting above through the trees, its light more diffuse each sunrise as winter drew nearer, you prayed—to whom, to what, to whatever was necessary—that you would wake properly. Bargaining, you offered to sacrifice reading fantasy, even watching it on TV, if only you would be delivered.

If the man, Geralt, hear you in those moments, he kept silent, preferring his own company. The gruff, brooding type had always been one of your favorites in stories, but sitting beside the real thing, sharing silent meals, was less disappointing and more unnerving. You weren’t sure the man was fully or truly human, and you couldn’t help wondering if he was leading you to certain doom.

“How much further?” you asked on the sixth morning, the words a pained croak as fire lanced up your battered back.

“Another two days,” he answered as gruff as he always did, his voice rasping like coal.

“Two days,” you muttered, suppressing a tired sob. “Two days.” It seemed an eternity, the whole week several eternities.

The horses plodded along at a leisurely pace in the early morning sunshine slicing rays through the trees lining the road.

“Will they be able to send me home?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You twisted in your saddle, winced as more pain shot through you, and dared to look at his rugged features.

He fixed golden-yellow eyes on you, sending a shiver down your spine.

“There’s no guarantee?”

“Nothing is guaranteed.”

Strangling a noise of distress, you clenched tight the reins of your horse until your knuckles turned white and fresh pain crackled up your forearms. The tiny spark of hope dimmed further, a mere ember in ash.

You didn’t speak again until dinner that evening. The fire crackled and blazed comfortingly, but you loathed the sight of it. You never wished to see a campfire again.

“Who are they?” you asked, chewing on the tough jerky Geralt had produced from his pack. “Your friend.”

The man hesitated long enough for you to wonder if he had heard you at all. “A sorceress,” he said at last.

“A sorceress? With real magic?” The words rang in your ears, hitching your breath and skipping your heart. Magic? Well, of course, you reasoned. If this is a fantasy world, then magic should abound.

Geralt grunted assent, a shadow darkening his rough features. A chill clawed up your spine as you saw the ominous cloud flicker over him.

“Is that…is that a bad thing? Is she a bad thing?”

“No.”

“A-are you sure? Because it doesn’t sound like you are.”

Geralt closed his eyes, his shoulders hunching minutely beneath his leather coat. “It’s…complicated.”

Your guts twisted. “Complicated for me or complicated for you?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Both, I would imagine.”

“Great. That’s just…great.” Between the pain and the unexpected news, you lost your appetite, shredding the jerky with your thumbs instead. “There isn’t…there isn’t somebody else?”

“Not with the same kind of power.”

Night birds called from their perches in the trees as the fire cracked and popped. You forced yourself to eat more of the jerky, hearing your mother’s admonition to clean your plate. Your vision blurred as you thought of her.

“I don’t even know how I got here,” you mumbled, your throat tightening as you felt sobs building in your chest. “If I don’t know that, how will your friend know how to send me home?”

The man offered nothing but silence.

Shifting on the log, you gasped with pain as new waves of it rolled through your legs and torso. Curses flew from your lips as you struggled to find a spot that didn’t ache, anything for a slight reprieve. Tears spilled down your cheeks despite your valiant efforts to stop them.

Slumping onto your side, you curled up beneath the cloak the man had given you, the flames of the fire wavering before you. The ground was too hard, the air too cold. Everything would hurt forever, and there would be no relief.

“You shouldn’t have told me I was awake,” you cried. “You should have let me believe I was dreaming.”

Geralt remained silent.

[cerealforkart]

I made myself these little dress up dolls because everyone’s getting changed all the time, here’s the first batch, outfits pre-episode 13

Design notes under the cut

[part 2] [part 3]

Lincoln

* I would first of all like to thank Lincoln for being shaped like a model (long boy) and thus very easy to dress up

* I forgot that Link needed to tear off his sleeves to make Normal a diaper in lesson 14, so in lesson 11 he grabs a sweater when I assume he goes home between escaping the FBI and returning to school

* Lincoln is so comically tall the Teeny costume (which I just moved from Normal to Link and edited to match Link’s pose) only reaches his knees. It actually looked so stupid that I had to edit it to make the Teeny costume slightly longer in the legs

* Link has two roombas in his room, he’s a clean boy, he isn’t walking around Taylor’s house in his bare feet, he doesn’t trust like that, it’s sock time

Scary

* I actually originally planned for Scary to have more piercings, but I forgot to add them in lesson 1. Let’s just say her mom won’t let her go crazy on the piercings, from what we’ve heard in rad facts (wouldn’t let her get a tongue piercing or learn guitar) that sounds in character

* I wanted to do the Shit Garden logo on Scary’s shirt like one of those metal bands that only people who like metal can actually read, but I only have so much time and patience

* I want so badly to play with Scary’s hair more, but I haven’t really had the chance, I hope there will be more excuses to give her different styles in the future, I like the braided bun for fancy occasions a lot

* Big T-shirt and shorts are peak pyjamas, love it for her. Also, you don’t need to know how long I spent trying to come up with something for her shirt to say

Normal

* Don’t tell anyone but I kind of miss drawing Teeny’s big stupid head every day, it was easy comedy

* I did actually draw a Jimmy Buffet design on the shirt before scribbling over it, you can barely see if you look closely

* I don’t actually have anything to say about Normal’s dance outfit so I guess I’ll just take this opportunity to talk about my Normal design in general. He was the one it took me the longest to land on and I’m still unsure if I’m happy with him, I want his hair to be long enough to just sorta hang and be greasy, but not so long that it will get in his face too much and I still consistently fail on it

* Not much to say about his sleepover fit either. Froggy :)

Taylor

* I had originally planned for everyone to be wearing their bracelets on their left wrists but in episode 8 it’s mentioned that Taylor is wearing his on his right, at that point I think I had only drawn Taylor’s bracelet once so it was easier to just change his and let him be a special boy (also, they keep the bracelets on post-FBI because Taylor never really has an opportunity to take it off and the others wear theirs in solidarity)

*After Lesson 10, Taylor swaps out the crest of friendship from Digimon to wear his dad’s ring of swapping as a necklace, he tends to grab at it when his dad or the topic of betrayal comes up

* I hate Taylor for his dance fit. No longer my favourite son

* Not really a design note but I watched the Sailor Moon dub in three parts on youtube with my little sister huddled around our home computer after school, we’re real OGs

Hermie

* I finally decided to add the Joker makeup to my Hermie design, I found a powdery sorta brush to use for it so now he’s a true clown. Good for him I guess

* You may notice that I’ve tweaked my Hermie design and his colour scheme just a little bit. This is because white Hermie is dead and you know what? Good for him. I also made his hair a little wavier for Scam, you’ll start seeing the updated Hermie design (as if you can tell there’s a difference other than the very slight change in hairstyle) in lesson 16, because I drew the lesson 15 pages before episode 23 came out and I wasn’t going to go back and change them

* Stupid Joker tie. Hate it

* No sleepover fit for Hermie. Tragic. They need to have another sleepover and include him

[contrivedcoincidences6]

Cold, Cold, Cold

AlistairXWardenSurana

A little thing I could not get out of my head about Neria on the Deep Roads considering the traditional end for a Warden. No beta! Just had to get it out of my head!

****

"Come, or go, we belong together. Lying here forever, in the cold, cold, cold. Lay low, shake your limbs forever. Lying here together, in the cold, cold, cold." - The Family Crest, Cold, Cold, Cold

****

The Deep Roads were everything Neria had heard they would be. The air was oppressive, heavy with the scent of taint and rot. There had been a time, only months before though it felt like a lifetime, where she imagined herself growing old in the tower. Maybe she would have become First Enchanter someday, but she had not imagined much excitement in her life. There had been idle daydreams but until she met Duncan they had been farfetched. 

Yet now she stood staring her destiny in the face. Assuming she didn’t die by the Archdemon a day would come when she would enter the Deep Roads, never to return. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be alone when that day came. At that thought she turned to look at her fellow Warden who seemed to be on a similar train of thought. His brow creased, sword and shield in front of him bracing for whatever was to come. Seeming to feel her gaze upon him Alistair turned to look at her and shot her a crooked grin that didn’t quite cover the melancholy. 

They walked for some time, the only noise that accompanied them was the rattle of their armor, Shale’s heavy footsteps, and the sound of distant Darkspawn. Through the tainted bond, she could feel them, far off for the moment. They’d been traveling for hours, encountering many groups of Darkspawn and other dangers along the way and she was exhausted, her mana all but gone. 

She’d replaced her staff with her greatsword hours before, only able to keep it aloft with her recent knowledge of the ancient arcane warrior arts, she’d spent many hours as they traveled to Orzammar training with Alistair and Sten, learning how to use her magic to lift the sword and their instruction on how to wield it. It was a useful talent, especially considering how many Darkspawn needed killing in the Deep Roads. 

Her sparring with her fellow Grey Warden had also produced a whole new set of pleasures. Many times their sparring sessions ended in passionate embraces that brought heat to her cheeks at the thought. Her mind wandered to the night before when they’d sparred in Orzammar in a training ring that had been put aside for the party’s use. It had been the most daring they’d ever been, making love on the dusty floor. Anyone could have entered which had made it even hotter. A sudden shiver went up her spine, and not the nice kind she’d gotten moments before, as a group of Darkspawn drew near. She shook the more pleasant thoughts from her mind to focus on what lay ahead.  “The Darkspawn have sensed us,” she whispered to her companions, covering their weapons in frost and taking a battle stance. 

The ensuing fight wasn’t a challenge, a handful of Genlocks fell to the party’s might in a matter of minutes. Despite the ease of victory, Neria was tired, and looking into her companion's faces she could see the same exhaustion.  “Time to make camp, Sten will give you your watch assignments. This rest will be short so take advantage of it,” she commanded and everyone was ready to comply. Except for Shale. 

“Why does it stop? Is it’s puny form tired already?” Shale questioned as Neria scouted the area for a good spot to put her tent. 

“Yes, don’t worry there will be much more squishing when we wake,” she responded tiredly. 

Shale grumbled at this but didn’t argue and began a slow patrol around the area. 

A strong pair of armored arms wrapped around her waist as she began to set up her tent. Their tent. 

“Sten put us on separate watches again,” Alistair complained into her neck. 

Neria chuckled and ran her fingers through his hair, grimy and sweaty much like her own but that was no different than usual. 

“It’s a sound strategy,” she reminded. 

Alistair let out an exaggerated sigh and laid light kisses up and down her neck. 

“Not even waiting for the tent are we?” Neria asked with a laugh as she laid her head back onto his plate armor. It wasn’t comfortable but it was the most contact she could get through their armor. She longed to take it all off but in the Deep Roads, they all agreed they needed to keep as much armor on as possible, even in sleep. 

“Ah, dinner and a show I see?” Asked a smooth voice with an Antivan accent. 

Alistair groaned in disappointment and let her go. He turned a glare on Zev who stood behind them looking quite pleased with himself. 

“No show tonight Zev,” Neria said lightly, ignoring her partner’s glare at the assassin. 

“What a shame, we could use some entertainment after today’s march,” Zev added wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Don’t you have a tent to set up?” Alistair ground out.

The Crow shrugged and replied, “Not much point in setting up a tent, no? There won’t be any rain in these cursed tunnels.” 

He was right of course but Neria continued to set up, wanting the couple hours of being in Alistair’s arms.  

She ignored the back and forth between Alistair and Zev as her fellow Warden tried to get the assassin to go away and Zev became more amused with Alistair’s consternation. Usually, she found such interactions fun to watch but her head was pounding and her body weak and all she wanted to do in the world was take what little armor she could and lay in her lover's arms, something she knew wouldn’t happen for some time to come. 

Wrapped up in her thoughts she didn’t notice Zev’s exit as she finished setting up the tent until Alistair laid a gloved hand on her shoulder. 

“Are you okay, my dear?” Alistair whispered, his breath a soft caress against her ear as he crouched next to her.

Neria sighed and let herself rest against his bulk for a moment before responding. 

“No, I feel like this place is sucking the life out of me,” she turned in his arms and laid her head on his armor, imagining the heartbeat and warmth that lay beneath, “I can’t stop thinking, assuming we survive the Blight, I’ll die here. Driven mad, under a pile of Darkspawn.” 

His arms tightened around her and he said, “Yeah it’s been on my mind a bit as well,” he let out a short humorless laugh, “It’s hard not to think about it here.”

“When the time comes-” she stopped short feeling suddenly insecure. 

“When the time comes?” Alistair prompted and rubbed her back with his gauntleted hand. 

The Mage sighed and continued her thought, not looking up into his face even though she could feel his eyes on her, “Can we go together?” 

Cold metal lifted her chin until she met his lovely hazel eyes. His lips met hers before she could take back the question and it stole the breath from her lungs. Outside of their tent, Alistair’s kisses were generally sweet and warm but this was passionate and felt like a promise of its own. 

After many long moments, they pulled away gasping for air and he laid another small kiss on her cheek before saying, “Of course we will, we belong together.” 

Swiftly she pulled him back down for another fierce kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as best she could in his heavy armor. 

The sound of a whistle from across the makeshift camp broke them apart. Neria shot off a rude gesture in the direction of the whistle, took Alistair’s hand, and pulled him into their tent for just a couple hours of peace amongst the horror. 

[silvergolddraco28]

He’s Mine- Ch 2- Shadow’s Prize

FYI this is crossposted on AO3 and as such i’ll be leaving out the more ‘spicy’ parts on the Tumblr version so some chapters might be shorted on Tumblr because i had to cut out some of the lemon and spice.

Anyway please give a hand or limb to my partner in crime as we give this Sun and Moon pair a twisted wonderland of love!

@Sanityisinthemusic

_————_

Returning to consciousness was a grueling experience as they fought against the pain coursing through their body, forcing their eyes to open. They were laid out on a large and soft bed with thick bandages around their bare chest while some sort of splint was around their left leg. On their right leg was a glowing purple shackle and chain firmly attached to the foot of the large bed. ‘Crap…’ they mentally cursed, raising a hand to the black choker around their throat and feeling an embossing of a crescent moon with a familiar name ‘Liuer Mihou’ along the enchanted material. “…fuck…” the golden furred being cursed.

A dark-coated humanoid male monkey perked up with a wide smirk as he quietly closed the book he had been reading while keeping an eye on the other. He was sitting comfortably in a plush armchair in the corner of the room. "Nice to see you're finally awake Wukong." He stood from his spot and approached the golden monkey, placing the book on the nightstand by the bed, next to a cup of water and a little bowl of fruit he'd brought in while the king was sleeping. "How ya feeling bud? You were in pretty bad shape when I got to you two. Had to be if those thugs were causing you enough trouble to finally get in touch." The words were as curious as they were mocking as he watched the other.

The golden monkey, Wukong, gave a rather weak glare in return. “I didn't have much of a choice while being chased for over a month all over the city with guns. Bad enough with this damn collar restricting everything.” Wukong replied the words flowing without much of a filter with the collar around his throat humming with a strong compulsion to give answers to its ‘Master’.

The black monkey chuckled. "I don't know, I kind of like it. It suits you." He purred, reaching down to finger the collar, pulling it ever so slightly. He particularly liked the label that he'd noticed had appeared on it while he was cleaning the other up. He never had thought he'd see him wear anything with his name on it, but he was enjoying the sight. "What is it anyway? How'd they even get it on you? Oh wait, they used the kid right?"

Wukong pulled away. “It's an enslavement collar. The group that cornered us invoked an old arcane demon law the ‘Right of Mating Conquest’ in other words a ‘Demon Mate Hunt’. The collar is meant to mark the being that the law has been activated on and reduce any powers they have to nearly ten percent before shocking them with divine energy if they go over the ‘allowance’. The name and crest of the demon that manages to ‘capture’ the one the demon law has marked appears on the collar in response. The collar can't be removed until after a century or an heir is produced.” Wukong rattled off wincing as he tried to stop but the collar simply hummed and pulsed pulling more words out to the questions the dark monkey had asked. “The second aspect was that if the one marked has already claimed an heir be it by blood or by magic then the heir is reduced in age until they are young enough to imprint on a new ‘parent’.”

"Huh. So that's why the kid shrunk." He muttered, a smile falling away as he took all of that in. Wukong was his mate. He was bound to him for a century. And he was so incredibly, tantalizingly weak right now. His tail flicked behind him as he drew his head back. "Also explains why you haven't already broken your restraint." He glances down at the shackle that had, much to his surprise, not been broken the moment the other awoke. Thinking about it, that also explained why he wasn't healing the way he usually would. He couldn't stop himself from grinning if he tried as he sat next to the king who was his mate now apparently. "Thousands of years of life, and you finally got caught up in something like this. It's kind of hard to believe. And to think, you'd choose to let me be your mate. I'm honored." He reached out and poked the sage in the nose, just to annoy him a little bit more. This was all way too much for Mihou.

The poke did much more than just annoy the golden monkey as slivers of golden cracks spread making the golden monkey’s eyes shrink. ‘The glamors!’ He thought in shock as the thick illusions shattered like glass. Crystallized red sclera with molten gold irises was revealed first while just above the demonic eyes was a familiar golden crown battered with age while snuggly set in a notable dent along his head. He knew his body was littered with scars both from battle and with missing patches of fur from either being skinned off or burned to a degree that fur refused to grow there for a couple of decades. He also knew that his actual fur was rather matted and hadn't been given proper grooming in centuries given how he always wore clothes that covered all of his body just in case he was in battle and had to save power by dropping sections of his glamor.

Mihou froze, eyes wide as he took in what happened. The injuries and that collar were taking more out of Wukong than he thought. He hadn't seen him unarmored in... how long had it even been? Probably since the mountain. His eyes slowly roved over the monkey, taking in the spots he could see. The matting was new, but it's not like he would be much better if he dropped his glamor, with no good way to groom the hard-to-reach spots with nobody around to help. He wondered briefly how the mountain monkeys had let him get this bad but focused back on his ‘mate’. Those eyes, he remembered them. Unlike his former golden, unburned eyes, those red eyes only seemed to know how to glare at him. Until today, at least. He honestly kind of liked them when they weren't trying to burn a hole through his skull, but he'd never tell Wukong that. Those weren't the things that grabbed his attention though. A sharp laugh ripped its way out of him, sounding nearly hysterical as he wrapped his arms around his stomach. "They- they left that- they left that damn thing on?" He gasped for breath through the laughter, fighting it back so he could talk. "You've got to be fucking kidding me! After all of that," the laughter died down, but the disbelieving smile stayed in place, "after you broke off nearly every connection you had, after you killed me, after everything you did, they left that damn crown on you!" He shook his head, still grinning. "What a waste. You really should've just let me kill the stupid monk and been done with the whole thing."

“It wasn't my choice! Heaven deemed it necessary after I killed you the Celestial Monkey of Wind and my direct elemental opposite.” Wukong snapped back before the collar caused his throat to lock up with an intense shock of lightning like every arcing through his body coupled with the golden crown around his head giving a squeeze in response to the divine energy coursing through it and causing it to activate.

Mihou blinked, brows furrowing in confusion for a moment. He frowned when he noticed the crown activate. He couldn't stand that thing. Heaven using his death as an excuse to leave it on his head was appalling. "I didn't want that left on you in the first place Wukong. Don't go snapping at me because the Jade Emperor used me as an excuse. "

The ‘order’ caused the collar to glow around Wukong's throat as the next words were forced out by the collar. “Yes, Master Macaque."

Macaque's eyes grew round, mouth hanging open as he stared at the other. "I might hate the circlet but I think I like that collar more by the minute," he muttered.

Wukong glared at the black monkey before tearing his eyes away, looking around for Mk. Now rendered mute he couldn't speak at all unless it was to Macaque’s direct questions or orders. ‘Gods I hate this thing!’ Wukong mentally thought to himself half wondering if Macaque was going to abuse the power the collar now gave him.

Macaque grinned again, surprised but amused at the lack of response. He wondered if that was a thing with the collar too. He placed one of his elbows on his knee, bent under him on the bed to better face the king, so he could rest his head in one hand. "Whatcha looking for Peaches?"

The collar glowed as Wukong ‘answered’ the question. “I'm looking for Qi Xiaotain, Master.”

"Gods that's funny, but I don't know how much I like the constant subservient thing. You can just talk Wukong." He said, still grinning. It was so fun and he could probably just make him go back to this any time he wanted, but there was no fun in the Monkey King not being able to respond to his jabs at all. "And Qi Xiaotian is fine." He held out his arms and a shadow portal appeared above them. Out popped a tiny little boy in orange pjs (that he'd just stolen through a shadow portal from somewhere but Wukong didn't need to know that) with a red ribbon tied around his forehead. He caught the child, dozing at the moment just like he'd been when he last checked on him. "See? He's fine."

Wukong rolled his head as the collar ‘unlocked’ his voice as he plucked the sleeping child from Macaque’s arms, a rumbling monkey purr of contentment came from his chest at seeing Mk wasn't harmed at all and was instantly snuggling into Wukong. A sleepy baby monkey chirp escaped the child, making Wukong almost freeze in fear. ‘Crap! Macaque doesn't know about that!’ He remembered how protective Macaque was over Cubs back in their younger years, far more when Wukong was near them or directly taking care of an orphaned cub.

Macaque did not attempt to stop Wukong from taking the kid, their kid now apparently, away from him. He liked that thought. And then he heard it. His smile froze, eyes widening slightly as seemed to focus in on the little boy in Wukong's arms. "Wukong. Wukong did Xiaotian just...?" He looked back up into the other's eyes. That... changed some things.

“He gave a chirp. He’s been around the mountain for nearly two years he was going to pick up things from the troop.” Wukong replied not exactly lying even though he knew the truth about why Mk chirped like a baby monkey.

Macaque eyed the other, frowning. His eyes drifted back to the tiny Xiaotian, humming. "Chirp to him," he ordered.

Wukong gave a chirp in accordance to the order instantly getting a sleepy response from Mk that seemed to rouse the child from his dozed state.

"You're such a liar." He leaned forward, gently running his claws through Xiaotian's hair- no, he supposed it was fur on top of his head, very lightly scratching. "Is this a result of him being the heir, or was he always a monkey cub?"

“He was always a Cub as Nuwa designed… a stone monkey without flaws,” Wukong answered while mentally cursing out the collar around his throat.

His tail flicked behind him in interest, eyes staying on the little one clinging so happily to his former mentor-turned-parent. "Did he even know that, or did you forget to mention it like you do most things?"

“Nuwa did not want him growing under my care after he hatched nor did she want him knowing he wasn't even human. I sealed away his power and took him to the place Nuwa told me he was to be raised until the day he took up my staff and broke the seal.” Wukong responded to the inquiry as the truth came out.

"Guess Nuwa's plan didn't quite work out the way she'd hoped." He pulled his hand back from the cub, looking up at Wukong. "It's no wonder he was able to adapt so well to your powers." This also explained why taking what he had been fairly sure were Wukong's powers had done him no good. "Looks like you'll be raising him after all. Looking forward to it?" He smiled now, in what could be seen as a soft way. His tail waved behind him, the only true hint of the seeming excitement he felt over this new information.

“Yes.” Wukong softly responded as he looked down at the child in his arms who finally woke up looking about with wonder before looking up at Wukong.

“Mama!” the child grinned, Wukong’s eyes went wide in response with a scarlet blush on his cheeks.

‘I have enough of that from the orphaned cubs! Now my cub is calling me mama?!?’

Macaque chuckled fondly. "You always did get pinned as the maternal type with the cubs, huh? Not that surprising when you dote on them so much."

The child turned his head to the dark monkey tilting his head curiously before he spoke with just as happy a tone as he had with Wukong. “Baba!"

The smile only grew on Macaque's face as he plucked the child from his King's arms, grinning. "Hey there bud. Have a nice nap?" He asked, holding the child to his chest now, one arm supporting him and the other hand pressing against his back. His tail curled around the child possessively.

The child nodded, snuggling his face into Macaque’s chest imprinting upon Macaque’s scent and heartbeat. Mk gave a little chirp to Macaque, one that called for a cub’s parents.

Macaque immediately chirped back, soothing and assuring the cub that he was here, and all was safe. His tail tip twitched back and forth, enjoying this moment more than he ever would have even thought possible. He dropped the glamor over his ears, letting himself hear the little one's heartbeat as he gently rocked back and forth.

“Pretty,” Mk commented on the softly glowing lotus petal ears with wonder in his eyes.

Macaque paused briefly, before tilting his head slightly and making his ears twitch. "Thanks."

Mk giggled while Wukong just watched the entire interaction with dread in his stomach. ‘How am I supposed to get away with Mk now that Macaque has gotten attached?! Damn it! What am I going to do once Macaque starts showing his twisted nature from the Diyu?’ Wukong mentally worried for Mk’s safety and the young one’s now impressionable mind as he felt the seal on the child keeping his form human getting chipped away by Macaque’s power overruling the old seal.

A soft glow of golden light grew over the boy making Mk sneeze causing dark chocolate brown fur to spread along the child’s body with twin tails swaying behind the child the left dipped in gold and the right dipped in a dark purple while a pale red flame mask decorated Mk’s little face with peach colored dots under his eyes mimicking freckles while fluttering on the sides of his head were six cute lotus ears that started a bright gold before fading to a deep purple with specks of white looking like the between sunset and moon rise with the first stars of the night. His eyes had also changed to both irises were a mixed shade of gold but his left sclera was a light red while the right sclera was a rich purple.

Macaque's eyes widened for a moment before a loud, deep purr caused his chest to rumble under the child. He lowered his head and nuzzled his nose into his little cub, closing his eyes for a moment as the pleasure of everything took over, breathing in the smells of peaches and rain, a wonderful combination of their unique scents. He opened his eyes and glanced at Wukong through his laches, paying little attention to the frown on the other's face. "He even looks like our cub, Gem," he whispered. "He's so beautiful."

“That's not how he looked when he was hatched…” Wukong softly muttered as Mk rubbed against the nose giggling at the affection as his twin tails coiled around Macaque’s arm like a typical young monkey’s tail would.

Macaque chuckled again at his cub's antics. "Oh, and what did he look like before?" He asked, pressing a kiss to his and Wukong's little one's head.

“Light brown fur, a single tail, a pair of monkey ears, and a very light heart-shaped pink mask…” Wukong trailed off in contemplation. “Could his core have changed…?” Wukong mused knowing he didn't exactly have the spare power to check at the moment.

"It's possible I suppose. Maybe it's a reaction to the collar's magic?" He mused aloud, lifting his head from the squirming cub, unable to stop himself from focusing on those wonderful six ears of his. "A response to my victory and you becoming my mate?" He shifted the hand on his child's back up to his shoulders and used his thumb to ever so gently pet one set of those delicate ears.

Mk instantly seemed to go boneless as his ears were petted giving purrs and chirps of bliss leaning into the hand for more.

His tail tip flicked again, before drifting from where it had been around the little one safe in his arms and bumping Wukong's tail. He slid the tail underneath the tail of the golden monkey and wrapped his tail around the other's as he continued to pet the little one's ears, knowing from experience exactly how to treat such delicate appendages.

Wukong suppressed a flinch at the contact as well as forcing his tail to stay still. He did not want to make Macaque upset with him nor did he want to find out exactly what Macaque would do if Wukong did something the shadow monkey did not like at all. ‘Typical demons punish those that anger or disappoint them. I rather not find out how extreme that would turn out to be with Macaque.’ Wukong thought in mild fear.

Mihou hummed. He couldn't help the satisfaction of seeing his King submit to his loyal warrior. He glanced at the nightstand before looking back at the other. "How painful is moving right now?"

“A five on a ten scale,” Wukong replied.

"Got enough strength to hold a glass of water or sit up?" Mihou asked next.

“I can hold a Cub. A glass of water should be fine.” Wukogn replied as he forced himself to sit up before reaching over for the glass of water, easily holding it in his grip and bringing it to his lips to down in a few gulps.

"Then the glass of water on the nightstand is yours." He nodded toward the nightstand, not quite up to even taking a hand off of the cub despite knowing that the child probably had a good enough grip by now to stay where he was if he let his free hand. "So is the big bowl of fruit. There's a peach or two in there I think, I just grabbed some at random."

“Not very hungry,” Wukong replied. Having forgone the effort to eat in case of any drugs in any of his food for the past month he didn't feel safe enough just yet to eat he did make sure to feed Mk though even if it had been a very embarrassing thing he had to do.

He hummed. "You need to make sure to take care of yourself for the cub. You sure you don't want it?" Macaque raised an eyebrow at the other.

The collar glowed softly along his throat. “I am hungry but I don't feel safe enough to eat.” the words were pulled from Wukong’s throat.

Mihou hummed at that. He should probably be offended, but he can't blame his King for being uncomfortable after all he'd had to go through in this last month. And the pathetic lowlives that must have been desperate enough to use the kid against him to get that collar on him? The bastards he'd slaughtered for daring to try to touch his sunshine? He could see them resorting to all sorts of nasty tricks to win that little game of cat and mouse they were playing with the great sage. The reminder of that annoyed him greatly, that anyone would dare touch his king . He looked down at the little one again and stopped petting his ear, smiling down at the pout that earned him. "Xiaotian, you want to go back to Mama? Baba needs to do something," he told the little one.

“Okay! Hungry Mama!” Mk cheerfully stated as he was handed over to Wukong who gave a faint blush looking away from Macaque as the cub began to breastfeed from the golden monkey a trait the golden monkey was a bit embarrassed about along with the fact of his duel gender most didn't even know about.

Macaque chuckled. "Nothing new to me peaches. It's nice to see you getting in touch with your feminine side." His tail swayed in amusement as it released the other's lighter tail. Scooting forward, Macaque grabbed the bowl of fruit. He set it securely in his lap and pulled out the peach that was sitting near the top of the little pile. Holding out one hand, shadows gathered and condensed, shifting and solidifying into a wickedly sharp blade. He sliced out a wedge. Letting the knife disappear, he gently pried the soft fruit away from the stone hidden beneath. He showed this to Wukong before taking a small bite of the wedge, going through the process of chewing and swallowing it before he leaned forward. He placed the peach in front of the other's lips. "There, see, it's safe. Eat."

Wukong didn't have much of a choice as he bit into the peach held against his lips. He was being hand-fed while Mk watched them as the cub ‘ate’ his meal.

"Good boy. That wasn't too hard was it." Mihou's tail flicked behind him in amusement as he smirked at the king. "I'm going to take good care of you two, so you've got to let me, okay? And that includes needing to eat so you can heal up."

Wukong only nodded once in understanding. ‘I forgot how sharp Macaque could create his shadows when he wanted to go ‘hunting’.’ Wukong thought. He was very much aware that Macaque had trained as an assassin before he became Wukong’s Shadow General and his closest adviser until the fallout with Heaven.

"Good." Mihou continued feeding the king slices of peach, having him finish the entire thing before he stopped, dropping the pit through a shadow portal. He sat back, leaning on his hands after putting the bowl back on the nightstand. 'I wonder if I'll ever get bored of any of this. Not likely.' The King was bound to him now, and they had a cub. He doubted Wukong would stay this submissive once he was healed, but he was looking forward to that. "So, what are the limitations of that collar? Do you know that? I have a hard time believing it can restrain someone as stubborn as you that thoroughly. Not at full health surely?"

“There aren't any. This collar was made specifically for powerful demons. Even at the start of all this when I was completely fine the moment this collar appeared my power was cut into and diverted to power the collar’s enchantments while leaving a ten percent ‘allowance’ for daily use. I’m not even sure if there are limitations and if there are they were never leaked by any that had been under its influence.” Wukong replied with a grimace as Mk snuggled into his side sleeping off his ‘meal’.

"If it's feeding off of your magic, it's indestructible," Macaque mused. He leaned forward and placed his hand on the side of Wukong's neck, running his thumb over the engraving on his name. "I doubt there's anyone in the three realms that could remove it." He smiled again, tail swaying happily behind him as he said that. "Man, talk about a role reversal."

Wukong lightly shuttered under the touch. ‘Damn, my touch-starved body…’ Mihou paused briefly, watching the other's face contemplatively. He was tense, but he'd been tense the entire time. He didn't notice any signs of fear. That smile came back to his face as the other possibility crossed his mind.

"Oh wow, someone's sensitive." He chuckled, raising the hand experimentally to rub lightly against his cheek. “And here I thought by this point the kid would have gotten you pretty used to physical affection." He glanced briefly toward the dozing cub before looking back into those gold and scarlet eyes.

Wukong couldn't help it as his eyes slipped closed and he nuzzled into the hand, his tail lightly wagging at the contact. He might have been used to the kid touching him and his monkeys but that was as far as he aloud other than in battle and even then he was high on adrenaline to focus on how touch-starved he was.

Macaque smirked. He was sensitive. He couldn't believe he'd missed this, but they'd barely had a chance to touch at all outside of combat. He wasn't any better if he were, to be honest, he might be worse. But Wukong didn't need to know that. "My poor king must have been so neglected in my absence." He purred lowly, shifting his body and allowing himself to sit closer to the king. He knelt on the bed, before twisting and letting himself half lay next to his king, wrapping his tail around his leg and nuzzling the king's shoulder before rubbing his cheek against the other, spreading his scent onto the king. "We'll have to work on that, won't we?" Macaque let his arm wrap around Wukong's waist, rubbing his side gently as his other hand carded through the fur on the yellow monkey's head.

Wukong couldn't help the low purrs that escaped him as he was physically soothed into melting into the other’s warmth and touch while true sleep tugged at his mind reminding him he hadn't slept in over five days.

Mihou's tail wrapped around the other's again, purring back at the king as he continued to nuzzle him, encouraging him to relax more into his warrior's hold.

Soon enough Wukong nodded off using Macaque’s shoulder as a pillow as he slept with deep and steady breaths completely relaxed into the other’s touch like clay.

Mihou looked down at the sleeping pair, fingers still buried deeply in Wukong's fur. His eyes lingered on the baby monkey snoozing soundly against Wukong's other side. He'd move the child between them if he wasn't worried about disturbing the two. He'd protect them. Wukong was going to be practically defenseless for a long time now, and who knew when Xiaotian would start growing or even maybe being able to fight? There was some time before that would be possible. So he'd protect them, keep them under his watchful eye, and never let anyone harm them again. Without anywhere to go without disturbing the king, he closed his eyes and purred contentedly, knowing that his king and his son would be safely next to him when he awoke, exactly should always be.

[stillhavetodothat]

Replaying Nancy Drew without Cheating - Part 10: Curse of Blackmoor Manor

Bruuuhhhh. This is the best project I have ever embarked on and I will tell you why. Never have I ever appreciated the gameplay and storytelling of Nancy Drew games this much before now, which is saying something, since I have always been a massive fan. Constantly switching between the game and Gameboomers ruins the immersion, and if there is ever a game you want to be immersed in, it’s this one. Still to this day, I think this is my number 1 Nancy game of all time. There are still over 20 more to go, including some I’ve never played before, so there is always time for me to change my mind. But goddamn, this is good.

The Curse of Blackmoor Manor is a MASTERPIECE. The backstory is rich and nicely tied together, and the gameplay is complex. The fact that Her made this entire family tree and a (more often than not, tragic) backstory for each person in it was awesome. And of course, the setting is super spooky. I got goosebumps multiple times even when I knew a scare was coming. I also love that the game relied less on dialogue than most other games, and really emphasized puzzles and exploring. Never even realized how much I enjoyed this aspect of the game - I like being shown and not told.

Surprisingly, I was NOT tempted to cheat in this game, despite it being one of the hardest games of the series, at least in my memory. I got frustrated at Alan’s ghost game, because there was one I kept missing in the hallway by the kitchen (which I believe was also the same one I missed every single time in prior plays before ultimately looking up the solution). Other than that, it is a very satisfying game and I had a very smooth playthrough, and it will have me humming “Brigitte” nonstop for likely the next month, much to my fiance’s chagrin.

Here are some of my thoughts:

1. I totally forgot how many random scenes there are in this game that aren’t triggered every time you play. I was waiting and waiting to see the lady in black floating down the hallway in the middle of the night, or to see Mrs. Drake putting a pendant over Linda’s doorframe, but instead I got the dream where the crests were flashing and a disembodied voice says, with a little too much cheer, “How bout we just shake this stuff off and go to the mall?” That was so wildly unsettling, and I had never seen it before with any playthrough. The dream with all the distorted portraits above Nancy’s bed with the sinister chuckling in the background is SO creepy and felt too much like a fever dream I would have if I came down with the flu on the moor.

2. I thought this before and I still think it now - how is a weak ass glowstick seriously the best source of portable light in the entire wretched mansion?? 

3. We should have been able to go into Mrs. Drake’s room. Robbed.

4. Kudos to the developers for including elements of cults, astronomy, and alchemy all in one game. The vibes were ~immaculate~.

5. Nigel Mookerjee had the most punchable face I’ve seen in a while. Almost as much as Shorty. I was so excited to terrorize him by moving the statue in the library that I ended up doing it WAY before I found the forge and even knew what I needed to do with that puzzle. I got it through a lot of trial and error. I just couldn’t wait to hear his screams.

6. I loathe Jane. It’s surprising I love this game so much, because I hate every single one of the characters (with the exception, of course, of LouLou, and Tommy at the pub). As the eldest child in my entire family, on both sides, I found her incessant need to latch onto me and have me constantly entertaining her completely triggering. As a kid, when the cage falls on top of her in the forge at the very end, I remember being disappointed that I actually had to help her out and couldn’t just let her suffocate in there. I also wish Nancy would have told Jane that Brady “Total Hottie” Armstrong effectively tried to kill Maya and is a terrible, terrible person, just to ruin that crush for her.

7. You probably think I’m a bad person based on 5 and 6. I’m sorry to tell you that you are right.

8. I want to live in a world where a few weeks of a hair growth product yields THESE sorts of results. No one would ever go bald! Everyone would have a lucious head of hair! Hairlines would be all the way down to eyebrows!

9. The fact that this game was chock-full of puzzles and we had to do almost NO chores is so amazingly rare. After all the vegetable picking, horse and chicken feeding, chicken coop fixing, and egg collecting of SHA, it was nice to have a little break from being everyone’s bitch. I can forgive Mrs. Drake for making us organize her stupid succulents in a box. The alchemy puzzle was super fun, playing against Betty was super fun, finding the secret slide was fun as HECK, even figuring out the moving rooms (like, REALLY trying to figure it out rather than panicking and looking up the walkthrough) was fun(ish) too.

9a. If I could change one thing puzzle-wise, it would be the fact that we had to re-do the dragon hands/goblin swivels every time we wanted to get into a secret passageway. Very repetitive, which is never my cup of tea. Who would have thought, though, that the combinations would be so burned into my mind from childhood that I’d be able to open both just from muscle memory each time?

10. I want to know whose idea it was to print out these portraits (and spend good money to have them framed) of Hugh looking like a sweet puppy dog and Linda looking like the most unpleasant person in the world? Are these really the moments we want to remember?

11. Finally, I think this is the first game where I found an Easter egg (the teeth!!). Is it the first one with an Easter egg at all? No, but for some reason it is the first one I have gotten throughout this playthrough. For some reason, when I think of Easter eggs in videogames, I always think of this particular Easter egg. The Easter egg of Easter eggs, if you will.

I kind of feel that moving on to the Secret of the Old Clock is going to feel like a major downgrade after this, just like playing most other games would feel like a downgrade. However, I will perservere, even when I am inevitably pulling my hair out trying to get par on Josiah’s golf course! 1930, Nancy saying “horsefeathers,” and never getting tipped on a telegram, here I come!

[another-lost-mc]

alpheratz has all sorts of creative ways to keep you warm.

pairing: alpheratz x afab!reader

content: nsfw. thigh riding, sugar daddy kink if you squint.

word count: 1k

Alpheratz held your hips with his large, calloused hands while you worked yourself against his thigh. You were straddling him in the armchair in his private chambers, his shirt unbuttoned and his thick cloak was still draped over his shoulders. He leaned forward and dragged his lips across your collarbones. The fireplace nearby crackled and it cast his room in shadows that danced along your bare skin. He chased the shapes greedily with his tongue.

He came to your room earlier in the evening and smiled when you linked your arm through his. You walked side by side quietly as he led you to town, guiding you towards the cozy restaurant where he booked your dinner reservation. There was a new seasonal menu and a small selection of exquisite wines available for the holidays. He watched with a satisfied smile as you savored your meal and allowed him to pour you a glass of the most expensive ice wine to compliment your dessert. He didn’t like acknowledging his prestigious family or their wealth, but the rich foods and high-quality clothing he preferred were luxuries he could easily afford. Tonight’s dinner with you was no exception.

You’ve been dating for a few months now and his generous nature still surprised you. In the early days of his courtship, your room gradually filled with the slow trickle of things he gave you. He brought you a new set of sheets and a fluffy duvet a few days after you complained off-handedly that the school’s standard linens felt scratchy to use. You saved up and gifted him a small bottle of cologne on his birthday, something with subtle woody nights and a hint of musk. He reciprocated by commissioning a local alchemist to prepare a complimentary fragrance for you. When you wore it, the scent lingered in his room and his clothes, teasing him with your presence long after you’d gone.

After you were both full of good food and sweet wine, you slipped your hands in your pockets to shield them from the chilly wind as you started the walk back to Contell. Alpheratz rested his hand on your shoulder to stop you before he slowly drew your hands from your pockets. He pulled something out of his pocket, and you let him slide a pair of soft leather gloves onto your hands. They were dyed a deep chocolate brown that matched the cloak he wore. You flexed your fingers inside your new gloves and blushed at the perfect fit, as though he had them made specially for you.

Knowing him, he probably did.

“Alph, I can’t possibly accept these. They’re too much.”

He held your hands gently and admired how lovely you looked wearing them. “Your hands were cold.”

You laughed. “There are other ways to warm up, you know.”

At the time, you imagined tucking your hands back into your pockets, or possibly linking your fingers through his. You didn't imagine the situation you find yourself in now, but you can't complain; your body blazed with the heat of his lips on your neck. He moaned when your gloved fingers dug into his shoulders for purchase, the fine gloves preventing you from scratching him with your nails. You whimpered when his slacks brushed your skin as you rubbed yourself harder against his thigh. Your arousal trickled down your thighs and slicked the skin between your legs; it made the glide so much better.

“I’m going to ruin your pants if we don’t stop,” you whined into the crook of his neck, maintaining a quick, jerky rhythm as you rode him.

“I want you to,” he groaned, moving his thigh to meet your desperate movements. You trembled in his arms and knew you were close.

“I want—I want—” Pitiful whimpers tumbled from your lips between breathy moans, and you quickened your pace as pleasure began to crest over you like a wave. The chair creaked beneath the force of your rocking but neither of you cared enough to stop; he could always buy another.

“Anything you want,” he promised as he nuzzled against your ear, kissing the delicate skin and tugging it gently between his teeth. “Take it all, it’s yours.”

You muffled your cries into the thick hood of his cloak when you came. He wrapped his arms around you and held you steady when you collapsed against his chest in a sweaty, sated heap. He stroked your back and peppered your bare shoulder with featherlight kisses, murmuring praise for you all the while.

You didn’t have to look to know there was a large wet spot on his thigh from your slick. His cock was hard and needy between his legs; it pressed against your belly and stoked the embers of desire inside you every time it twitched. When you leaned in for a kiss, he obliged happily. He nipped at your lips and coaxed your tongue to twirl with his as he tasted your mouth and smiled at the taste of sweet fruity wine that lingered on your lips. You broke the kiss to gasp for air and you couldn't help but wonder what he saw when he looked at you: something made his gaze sinful, hungrier than you've ever seen him before.

After a few moments, he sat up straight in his chair and held your hands so you could slide off his lap without falling. “I want to watch you touch yourself,” he said thickly, raising your gloved hands to his mouth and kissing the buttery-soft leather that covered your fingers.

Was that all he wanted?

You were surprised by the request, but his words were laced with heat and it made you tremble with excitement. You wouldn't giving him a little performance if that’s what he wanted tonight. You walked backwards until the back of your thighs hit the mattress. Your clothes—or what was left of them—came off easily and dropped to your feet.

Once you were bare to his greedy gaze, you started to take your gloves off next. He leaned forward suddenly with his hand raised to stop you before you could pull the first glove off.

“Wait,” he said breathlessly. He was staring at your hands and his lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Keep them on.”

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