#I've wanted to write since I was a little kid so it's like

[mxrcielaguito]

Oh boi, I've been wanting to write Elliott x Farmer for a while so here we go:

Based off one of the comments of the original post

"I would suggest we make time for a little 'rendezvous' in my old cabin... But I'm afraid it's become rather... Musty... In my absence" Elliott says. I'd like to think he's being playful but I can't really tell. His words are mischievous but his eyes seem melancholic. I mean, well, he writes angsty stuff all the time, why would this be any different, he loves feeling melancholic. He's an overemotional drama queen, and that's pretty much why I fell for him in the first place. But something's off today.

I look at him, up and down. Wouldn't be the first time we escape a social gathering and make time for ourselves. I work relentlessly. He writes relentlessly. Our kids mess around the house relentlessly, too.

"Why not?" I suggest. "It's not like anyone's paying attention."

His green eyes widen, his face blushes for just an instant and I recognize his look. He bites his lower lip, grabs my arm and pulls me into the cabin so quickly I can't even react. As soon as I step into the cabin I understand what he meant by "musty". The air feels heavy, humid, and the wood is starting to decay. His old piano is still there; withering away.

He locks the door behind us and I can already feel his heavy breath. I can't help but find it cute. It's been three years and he still gets all hot and bothered. He's turning his back on me, his hand still on the door knob.

"Elliott? Are you all right?" I ask.

"I have really neglected this place, haven't I..." He murmurs. "It's- it's not romantic at all, I-..."

"Love, it's okay, I don't mind" I try to reassure him, rubbing his back. Something's wrong but I'm not can't put my finger on it. "It's been quite some time since the last time you came here, huh."

Elliott laughs nervously and forces himself to let go of the door knob. He turns around and looks at his cabin, his eyes scanning every corner.

"I really used to live like this, didn't I?"

"I didn't know this place brought you bad memories", I say, my voice soft, almost a whisper. I know we don't talk much; my words are usually rather scarce, I can't remember the last time we sat and spoke to each other. I'd rather listen, but Elliott doesn't speak too much, either.

He runs a hand through his copper hair.

"Once upon a time, there lived a man by the sea..." Elliott speaks quietly, absently. "He dreamed of fame and greatness; he dreamed of people remembering his name. However, that day never came, and his little cabin by the sea, he let it rot away."

I frown, trying to make a meaning off of this.

"My father bought this cabin a long time ago, we used to have our vacation here, when I was a kid. With time I guess we all forgot about it, then I remembered it when he kicked me out."

My eyes widen.

"He... Kicked you out? Why am I learning about this just now?!"

"Well, he wasn't happy when I said I wasn't pursuing a career in the family business." Elliott runs his hand through the dusty desk, then fidgets around with an old inkwell. The ink has been dry for a very long time. "I didn't have much money. I was running out when I met you."

"That part, I remember, yeah", I reply.

"It's not that this cabin holds bad memories, as you said. It just a reminder of almost everything that hasn't worked out in my life. All the scrapped manuscripts. All the arguing with my father. All the times I stayed up late, trying to come up with the perfect plot, the perfect words, the perfect... Everything" he closes his eyes and sighs. I look at him and take his hand in mine. I love it: it's so soft. "And then, one day, you showed up and took care of that old farm nobody cared about. And you took care of me..."

He leans his head over mine. His hair tickles my nose, and it smells like pomegranate shampoo.

"I can take care of this place, too" I suggest, trying to cheer him up. "Just like I did with the farm."

"No, no. This place is mine to bear, not yours. However I would like to take your example and make this old place something worth the effort. Something out kids will be happy inheriting."

I look up at him and smile.

"Yeah? You wanna do that?"

Elliott smiles and nods. I feel his hand make its way through my eternally sore back to my waist. I rest my hand on his, fidgeting with his wedding ring.

"It's not that musty", I tease, after a very long silence. "The bed's still in good shape."

When you're just trying to make some goddamn soup but Elliott wants to have sex in his mouldy ass cabin.

[lalalian]

dragon riding equipment | aethergarde academy dr

date: november 23, 2024

it's been a sec since i've done a longer post (like a little over a week or smth.. right?)

I was busy with my finals... I still am, but like... I miss posting 😭😭

Equipment will be outlined in aethergarde's student handbook too!

ANYWAY-- enjoy this incredibly long post! I'm sorry if there are any typos, I don't feel like looking over everything (T-T)

how to get your equipment (kinda)

It's pretty easy to find shops that sell dragon riding equipment in cities-- but in rural towns and villages, this kind of equipment can be almost impossible to find near you.

If you are not starting off as a noble like me, buy your equipment within the first week of school-- actually, no, get it ASAP. You should, ideally, start looking for equipment after you retrieve your egg (you need to get your egg as soon as you get to campus).

What if you don't have the equipment by the time you need to start using it? You'll be left out of lessons, standing off to the side while your peers fight or fly, which will absolutely tank your grades.

You should have your equipment before the first month of school ends.

If I have a month to get said equipment, why not wait?

There are lots of dragon riding equipment shops, but not all of them are of good quality. Rough half of the students attending Aethergarde will not be nobles, on top of that, nobles will commission the best shops-- especially luxury brand shops-- to custom make their armory, saddles, etc.

This makes the dragon equipment market rather busy around this time of year.

BUT

I'll help ya'll out, though, I can't promise you'll be the only commissioning things from these places.

school supplies list

let's start with the obvious, you'll need either an enchanted fountain pen, a regular fountain pen + ink, or some quills and ink. Quills and ink are cheaper, they're the equivalent to like, wooden pencils. Fountain pens have the same reputation as mechanical pencils. Enchanted fountain pens are really trendy! Definitely also get a set of gum wax, aka waxers (erasers); kids like to call them gummies (fruit gummy resembling snacks are called jellies here!)

You should get basic stuff like loose parchment (loose leaf paper), an academy bag (a backpack, highly recommend a messenger type bag), and writing books (notebooks to take notes in)

dragon mounting gear: includes such things like a saddle and reins, very similar to horse gear

wind-breaking charm OR riding goggles OR a riding visor: Wind-breaking charms are pretty hard to find-- I mean it's not impossible, but it's just not cheap. Riding goggles are an old rider thing, they aren't used much anymore. Riding goggles look like your typical steampunk-esque goggles. If you want a physical facial wind breaker, get a riding visor. Riding visors look similar to ski visors, but the glass lookin part tends to be tinted orange due to a strong sunglasses effect.

kinda like this ^^^^ but w/o the gas mask; if anyone's got a better idea for this btw, plz let me know!

I'm still in the works with this aspect.. mostly bc I feel like the visors don't fit the fantastical aesthetic-- but I didn't want to immediately default to using magic and charms because I want the rider uniforms to be more unique than the typical 'fighting leathers', yk? Idk, maybe the décolletage cover is unique enough.

Other sight wind-breaking options:

wind-protectant eyedrops: these are rather new (has been released to the market a year before you shift here) the liquid is runny like normal eyedrops when you put them in your eyes, but the substance begins to form a film over your eyes. The film feels exactly like contacts, so it's easy to forget the substance is still on your eye. The film only lasts for a few hours (the film will eventually dissolve), and does not do any damage to the eye. To manually remove it, use the 'antidote' eye drops (wind protectant eyedrops and antidote eyedrops are sold in a set) to lubricate your eyes, then after blinking a few times, remove the film by softly pinching it out of the eye (NOT WITH UR NAILS, USE THE PADS OF YOUR FINGERTIPS!!!). The downside to these eyedrops is that they do not protect against the sun; though, sun-resistance eyedrops are starting to come to the market. You must make sure the sun eyedrops are wind-protectant friendly, or the sun eyedrops won't stick to the film, causing the sun eyedrops to leave your eyes too quickly. These eyedrops are also pretty expensive, but it's still less expensive than rider grade wind-breaker charms.

rider grade sun-resistance charm: A lot of people carry these around just in general, especially during summer, but the one's you should buy should be rider grade. Rider sun charms are stronger and are made to be used when you're flying in the sky for long periods of time. Sun charms need to be replaced every few months; all sun-resistance charms have to (legally) have a label that gradually changes to black-- the darker it is, the less it works. It typically starts to darken after two months of use.

moving on--

fighting attire: Unfortunately, it's not ideal to fight in aethergarde's uniform-- But, it's not like it's impossible if you take the outer coat off. Speaking of uniforms, Aethergarde provides a fighting garment set that comes with the formal uniform (the pretty one). You're required to wear it for fighting lessons, including outside missions; in your third, fourth, and fifth years, you can start replacing elements of your uniform with better material. Why not simply allow students to get their own fighting garments from the start? Students need to know how to fight wearing armor made for higher ranking riders-- the material is different from lower ranking riders' uniform.

you'd be wearing smth like this but w/o all the stringy bits! consists of a lot of wild dragon hide.

a weapon: you'll need to have chosen a weapon before the end of the second month!

optional riding supplies

décolletage cover: Main purpose is to provide warmth for the face and neck area without compromising movement. It's highly recommended-- plus, you'll look cool. Many décolletage covers are charmed to always be warm and protect against harmful gases.

often looks like this but less kinky looking and the bottom part is fitted to the chest-- also not all of them have this same design, but they all do cover the same areas.

it'd fit like this ^^^^ to the body!

riding gloves: helps you have a better grip with weapons or to your saddle. If you're planning to sleep on your dragon while it flies, there's a little belt mechanism that you can loop through the front of the dragon saddle that attaches your hands to the saddle. This helps keep your body from sliding off the dragon during flight. If the front of your saddle isn't comfortable, you can loop the belt through any belt buckle on the dragon; the most common place is around the bottom of the dragon's neck (pictured in the 2nd pic). It's best to get black gloves, but brown can also work.

the highlighted yellow area is, relatively, where the most popular glove attachment is (for napping). There'd be more belts and stuff around the dragon btw, I just didn't feel like doing all that shit.

belt vial holder: you can place travel sized containers of potion bottles in the best + you can attach charms to the belt too

flight bag(s): This bag can be easily attached to your dragon's saddle, most saddles can hold up to 2-4 bags. Bags in general can be tailored to become flight bags, but it's best if the bag has some sort of tight buckle-- you don't want your bag to fall open when you're flying around!

these kinds of bags are common riding bag designs! if you have a smaller satchel you like bringing around, you can put it inside of one of these bags

how to get your equipment (actually) pt.2

Like I mentioned earlier, it's better to buy rider equipment in cities rather than villages and small towns. During rider season, it won't be uncommon to see a bunch of stalls along the streets selling rider stuff.

Getting stuff like academy bags, belt vial holders, and travel bottles from stalls isn't a bad idea, but it's always best to get your most important equipment from an expert with a good reputation.

Unless you know the crafter is great at making everything-- extremely durable saddles, reins, weapons, and fighting attire, you should go to shops that specialize in each part.

recommended shops:

Since common street shops will be busy this time of year, I'm going to recommend you some underground shops.

I cannot guarantee that these places will be completely empty, as they're all well-known in their own right, but they all will be able to cater to you before all of your deadlines.

Make sure you bring the actual school supplies list with you!

middle steed

Name: Aadam El-Hussein

Specialization: dragon saddles, belts, and flight bags

Summary: After his father's arthritis in the hands started becoming worse, Aadam took over Middle Stead. His dad still helps around at the tannery though! As with all the shopkeepers, Aadam and his father are extremely passionate about their jobs. Don't be afraid to ask for any innovative features; like if you think you'd sleep a lot on dragonback, you can ask Aadam to make the saddle more comfortable for you to lay in a certain position. If you're extremely worried about safety, you can always ask to have other safety features implemented in the design.

To get here:

Find the Dragonmead Brewery in Itresal (the city Aethergarde Academy is located in) the alehouse is located on Millmount Street.

There should be a space between that brewery and the bakery next to it-- go down that alleyway and pass two wooden doors. When you get to that third door, knock; either an old man (Aadam's dad) or Aadam himself will open the door

From there, you can order a saddle and all the appropriate equipment you need

Some tips:

Get another saddle commissioned by him every two years; dragons grow relatively fast, so simple tailoring won't always suffice

You can put off getting saddles until your dragon near rider flight age

Instead of bringing your dragon to Middle Stead, bring him into Aethergarde. He'll need measurements to make a proper saddle

Any metal (like in the buckles) should be plated with a matte coat or cold black iron

storm forage

Name: Reynard Ulysses

Specialization: Dragon rider armor and rider fighting attire

Summary: Reynard was born into a rural farmer family, but after his older brother ended up being a rider, Reynard moved to Itresal with his brother. Since Reynard was often tasked with preparing hide, he decided to work at a local butcher shop to help his brother financially. Oftentimes, his brother would come home and complain that he needed to replace his fighting garments. The two of them couldn't afford to keep buying cheap fighting attire, so Reynard started learning how to make it himself. Eventually, he started selling his products to other people-- over the years, he's honed his skills, and became known in underground spaces for having great fighting attire.

To get here:

Located in the southern part of Itresal in Ranger's Way

Go down the alleyway between Steel Whim (blacksmith) and the Loving Fowl Inn

Walk straight until you reach a fork; walk through the rightmost path, then go left at the end of the path

There should be a wooden sign that says Storm Forage on a door; knock on that door, you can order from there

Some tips:

You may see Callisto here

Everything you wear has to be matte; tell Reynard to plate any metal on your fighting attire with cold black iron

waning moon burrows (face wear)

Name: Yessuf Yohannes Tarik

Specialization: rider goggles, rider visors, cloaks, aerodynamic magitech

Summary: Yessuf is the only one out of all the merchants so far who was born of noble status; however, he left home to escape from the classic noble lifestyle in his early 20s. He no longer wants to be a noble, and simply identifies as a commoner. Yessuf was particularly driven to escape his luxurious life to pursue his passions and sell his products at a more reasonable price. Ever since he was young, he had a strong affinity for engineering, but when magitech came around, he took his passion to a whole different level. Though is not a dragon rider, he was always fascinated by dragons, this spurred him on to make technology that would aid riders. Yessuf is an innovative prodigy; Yessuf's shop is most likely to be busier than the all of the ones I've mentioned so far.

To get here:

Located in the central part of Itresal in Quarry Avenue

Find The Pioneer Brewery and ask for a "vermond tea served with a stick of sweetbark"

The bartender will ask you to come to the back to see the new selection of sweetbark; follow the bartender, they will take you to Waning Moon

Some tips:

Literally every single product this guy sells is amazing. Not a single one is bad, he puts in a lot of effort to make everything he sells as good as he can make it

Only sells wind-resistance charms on the weekend, but sells wind an sun-resistance eyedrops Monday, Wednesday, and Friday

His wind-sun resistance eyedrops and his wind-resistance charms sell really quick

if there's something you want that he doesn't actively sell, like, perhaps... a flying ship.. you can commission him to make one, but you will prob need to provide him with a lot of the materials

You should get wind-sun resistance charms here; they're cheaper because Yessuf does not base the price on existing market value

the dew drop: potion's shop

Name: Katherine Dowenstein (Blonde lady), Lorelai Dowenstein (Brown hair)

Specialization: Potions, tonics, elixirs, balms, herbs

Summary: Katherine Dowenstein grew up in an orphanage. Despite that, her life was rather peaceful growing up. Since she loved going outdoors, cooking, and baking, her caregivers often remarked that she'd be a great apocathary when she's older. Determined to meet their expectations, she began learning all about different plants and potions through both books and experience. When she was older, she decided to work in a potions' shop, but hated the restrictions placed on her. Kathie grew to hate her job, and her love for potions waned, but it wasn't until she healed a child who was thought to have an incurable disease secretly by giving the child tonics Kathie believed had a chance at helping her through her illness. That child was Lorelai; after she recovered, Lorelai begged to become Kathie's apprentice. By Kathie's request, Lorelai lied and told her parents and everyone else that her body simply fought the virus on its own. Kathie didn't want a lot of people knowing about her skills, as she didn't want to be confined by strict regulations any longer. Kathie started her own potion's shop; Lorelai helps her out.

To get here:

There's two different ways

One way is to find Lorelai; she frequents a bread shop called Crumb Hours at 8AM-10AM to read a book and eat before she goes to work (Mon-Fri)

Ask her if she's reading Time of Barbury by Guinevere Roth; she'll say yes, and she'll ask you to join her on her walk back to The Dew Drop at 10AM

Another way is to find the way to the shop yourself

To do this, go to the same bakery that Lorelai likes to go to, Crumb Hours, and go down the alleyway located between the bakery and Utred's Lenses

Go straight down until you reach the area where the path deviates; go left, continue down the path until you come across a fork

Go down the middle path; then knock on a door labelled The Dew Drop

Notice that the area is not the shop is not selling any potions-- only herbs

Lorelai will answer; tell her if she's selling the book Time of Barbury

She'll nod, and she'll take you down a trapdoor, which you lead you to the actual store

Once you see Kathie, you know you're in the right place

Some tips:

Katherine prefers to go by Kathie!

Ok so do note that the regulations placed on potions and tonics are there to (obviously) make sure that potions and stuff are safe to consume, but since it's so strict, it's hard to be innovative, and use different kinds of ingredients and recipes to make potions

"but what about weapons?"

You'll need to go to a shop that specifically caters to your weapon type; if the store sells weapons that aren't closely related to each other (like swords, bows, and scythes), it's unlikely that to shop is of the best quality. if a shop sells only daggers and swords, that means that the people making the equipment are actually specialized in making those weapons. Since there are so many weapon types, I don't think I can make shopkeepers for each!

[ehlnofay]

the world is so joyous and wonderful. and I am filled with glee at it all

[feroluce]

Belobog was my fave main quest but a lot of it is so. Contradictory. It's like they had multiple groups doing different shit and none of them checked in with each other for consistency. And you see this so much in Gepard's profile.

So in the main quest, they made him unfailingly, unquestionably loyal to Cocolia. Gepard's character arc is him learning to question authority etc etc. And this isn't even a bad thing; that's a story worth telling! It makes good conflict between him and Serval! And I love that we got Gepard as a boss battle and I get to see him all the time in SU!

But then you look at his character stories and it's like. The complete opposite.

According to his profile, Gepard has already HAD this awakening, long before the Astral Express, and he'd already decided Cocolia sucks. Even outside of his stories, there's a pretty damning readable between him and Pela.

He even disobeyed direct orders right in front of her- he has been disobeying orders for a while now!

So I've decided I'm marrying the two different sides of this into a 1.5k fic-ish thingy, because I think there's some fun potential there with Gepard not trusting Cocolia, but still having to pretend to be a good obedient little soldier.

Anyway. I love to think of it as like. Gepard knows Cocolia has sunk into her apathy. He can see it in her eyes every time he looks at her. She doesn't care. Not about him, not about Pela, not about all his soldiers on the frontlines giving their lives to protect the citizens. And that's... It makes him bristle a bit, but ok. Gepard can deal with this. Even if Cocolia no longer cares, as long as she does her job then it's fine. Having compassion behind an action doesn't matter as much as the action itself. If Cocolia's heart is no longer swayed, then he'll just have to care twice as hard to pick up the slack. He considers it part of his duty as a captain of the guard anyway. It's fine. Gepard can deal with it.

And then, Cocolia starts coming down to the restricted zone. Issuing direct orders.

And Gepard realizes he is in way over his head.

Because Cocolia orders him to stay back and issue commands from the ramparts, away from all his comrades, away from where he can protect them.

Gepard had thought nothing could be as bad as watching a fellow guard die right next to him. But the first time he watches someone struck by a killing blow, so far away, it hurts. Every defensive scar across his arms itches, his fingers curl in want of a weapon, the cold cannot numb his hands enough as they desperately ache for his shield. It hurts.

Gepard tries to find any reason to stay. Because surely... He knows Cocolia has lost her love for her people, but surely... She wouldn't...

One day, Cocolia orders for their gunners to advance 20 yards. There are no survivors. She almost looks like she smiles.

Gepard doesn't sleep that night.

Pela brings him the report at the end of the first month; and then the month after that, and the month after that. A significant uptick in losses, and all of it started on that first day Cocolia started overriding his authority and issuing her own orders. The ends of Gepard's pens have all been nearly chewed off. Pela outright calls Cocolia an idiot, and Gepard corrects her. Cocolia isn't an idiot. Gepard had known her through Serval, knew her through all her college years and then some, and he knows how intelligent she is. It's not that she's stupid, and it's not that she's inexperienced, it's nothing of the sort.

Cocolia knows exactly what she's doing.

She must, there's no way she could make such a horrible mess of things so badly by accident. And Pela, quick as a whip, sharp as a tack, always too smart for her own good, catches onto the meaning behind Gepard's correction without any further prompting. The tent goes deathly quiet, nothing but the wind howling outside.

"...She's trying to kill us," Pela whispers, her voice swiftly suffocated by the silence.

Gepard swallows. He can't bring himself to correct her this time. There is nothing he could say that he would actually mean.

His gaze drops, back down to his desk and the reports on it. The names aren't listed, just the numbers, but Gepard knows them, knew them, and there must be something wrong, something he's missing, because why, why would she-? What could this possibly accomplish-?

“Gepard! Focus!” Something snaps right under his nose, and Gepard startles, eyes instantly honing in on Pela's irritated face as she leans over his desk. She holds his gaze for a moment before she huffs and begins to pace, wedges a knuckle between her teeth and bites like Gepard hasn't seen her do since cadet school.

Pela angrily strides from one end of his tent to the other, words hissed between her grit teeth. “What are we going to do?” In the dim lighting, Gepard can just barely see the damp spot of blood weeping under her gloves. “We need a plan.”

“A plan?”

“Wh- Yes, a plan! Unless you want more people to die!” Pela rounds on him then, all the wrath of a blizzard, winds roaring and snow sharp enough to cut.

“We don't even know-”

“What does it matter?! She killed-!!” Pela cuts off with a garbled noise when Gepard leaps up from his desk, hastily shoves his hand over her mouth. The prosthetic, not the flesh one, because he knows better than to assume Pela won't seize the opportunity to leave teeth marks in his skin.

“You're right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry; you're right. But you need to keep quiet.” Pela quirks an eyebrow at him and Gepard can read the question in her face. “Because we both saw what she did to Serval,” he hisses.

It's amazing the snow plains haven't thawed out yet, the amount of heat Pela can put behind a glare. The mere mention of Serval, and the smoking ruins Cocolia had made of her life and career, have her bristling up like a riled cat. The sudden hot breath she takes fans fog across his metal skin, and Gepard wisely keeps it in place until Pela finally sighs and reaches up, taps her fingertips against the back of his hand.

The second she's free, Pela bats him away and then her knuckle is right back between her teeth again, Gepard leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed to watch her resume her pacing. “If we spread the word, she'll have us discharged and make sure we can't even touch the frontlines,” Pela's voice seethes like an open sore. Gepard nods but keeps his silence. He knows better than to get in her way.

“And if you and I are both out of the picture, Belobog is fucked.” A little harsher than how he would have put it, but there's no denying that they're both important to the city's survival. Pela has the restricted zone running as efficiently as ever, and Gepard had become the youngest captain on record for a reason. “We need to keep this tight under wraps, at least for now… It can't leak to anyone higher up the chain.” Another nod. “Serval might know other discontents…” Another n-

Gepard's head snaps up. “No.”

“No what?”

“No. We're not involving Serval in this.”

Somehow, even the same tone that leaves entire squadrons shaking in their boots has never worked on her. “You're not deciding that for her, Gepard.”

Pela hadn't seen the worst of it, though, back when his sister had just been banned from the Architects. Serval's pride hadn't allowed it. Pela wasn't the one to find her passed out bottle still in hand, hadn't been the one to wash the sick out of her hair or carry her to bed. 

Serval still has trouble thinking clearly when it comes to Cocolia, still can't quite bring herself to be objective. And Gepard maybe doesn't want her to be purely objective- but he would worry a lot less if she thought twice before she acted more often.

“At least let me be the one to bring it up to her.”

“Whatever, fine,” Pela gestures affirmatively at him as she paces past, and Gepard sighs. Good, at least that's one thing he can help.

From there, it's a lot of hemming and hawing and frustration. Cocolia has them under her boot, and Gepard and Pela both know it. Even with the way she's been cracking down on freedoms lately, Cocolia is still, overall, liked by the people. It's unlikely anyone would believe them. They don't even have solid proof, because most people don't know Cocolia as well as they do and won't see the clues in the same light. 

The Fragmentum has been ramping up in recent years, too. Everyone is struggling just to survive as is, they can't afford a fight on two fronts. Gepard is a damn good captain, one of the best for that matter. But they're at a massive disadvantage, his experience is narrowed to fighting a defensive battle against monsters, that's all he's ever done. That's all anyone there has ever done. He has no way of finding first-hand knowledge for taking the offensive against a human opponent, and if he goes at this blind, there's no way he'll get everyone out unscathed. He's going to lose people. He's going to lose a lot of people.

He'd never thought before that Cocolia would have it in her to have someone killed. And with this new knowledge, he has no guarantee she won't go after Serval or Lynx if she decides to retaliate.

Gepard has to remind himself to breathe when he realizes this.

Pela writes down every name the two of them can come up with. Lists and lists of names and groups and anyone they can think of who might be an ally in all of this. They memorize every bit of it, make their plans of who to talk to and when. Gepard watches the sparks reflect off Pela's glasses as they burn the evidence together.

Pela finally leaves, far too late to make it home, but says she wants to stay in the restricted zone anyway to investigate. Gepard watches her make her way in the direction of Dunn's tent, watches her back until she's out of his sight and squashes down the urge to follow and keep an eye on her. His tent feels empty.

In the morning, Gepard is up before the wake up bells. He drags himself out of bed, leads his soldiers through their morning training. The same people gravitate to each other everyday. Friend groups and training partners. There's an ongoing rivalry between a few squadrons that everyone bets on. Some of them have lockets around their necks, keepsakes, mementos. Some of them wear wedding rings.

Gepard is suddenly, painfully aware of something acidic clawing at the inside of his throat, of a heavy weight low in his chest that blooms, takes up room until it threatens to spread his ribs. His mouth tastes of bile and blood.

He rearranges the schedules. Puts himself down for every open patrol into the Fragmentum, makes sure he'll be on the frontlines every single time Cocolia visits.

He only hopes that it's enough.

[vidavalor]

<<I would also not accept Crowley hate. I just never see it.>>

Same. Yeah, it doesn't exist. A lot of people's internalized issues at work, if you ask me, as to why there's only hate for Aziraphale when there shouldn't be hate for either of them.

<<I think for that to work, you have to take Crowley as the protagonist of the story and Aziraphale as an -- um, adjunct? romantic interest? Rather than seeing them as 2 equal players in the story.>>

If you want to get really technical about it? From a writing standpoint, Aziraphale is the main character because it's his story arc we're following the most throughout the story. He is the character who will under go the most change from chronological start-to-finish in the story. He and Crowley are two halves of a whole, though, so it's a little tricky and they're closer to being co-main-characters than you might get in other stories. Inside the story, though, the characters are definitely equal partners, and I agree that it's irritating to not always see that reflected in attitudes towards the characters.

The funny thing is, though, that people who think Crowley is the sole main character are showing that they don't really know what one is and are just focused on Crowley. For reasons. I wouldn't presume to know why, exactly, but I suspect that they are likely of 'want to fuck him even though he's fictional and subconsciously hate the main character who gets to' variety. Also shows how little they know the character as Crowley would not. care. for it. if he were to learn that they were disparaging his angel.

<<the Edinburgh minisode, that make it look like Aziraphale is still toeing the Heaven line and he is the only one who still (in 1827!) has learned nothing>>

Yeah, that attitude in people is showing that they're not really putting together the minisode, imho. Aziraphale struggling with conflicts of what he's supposed to be according to Heaven versus who he really is are not the same thing as Aziraphale being on the side of Heaven. He's never been on the side of Heaven. He gave away his sword in Eden. He lied and miracled to save Job's kids. He's been badass since the start.

I think it's also a feature of some people not seeing that Aziraphale is kind of dryly bitching about his job to Crowley in 1827 more than he is actually disagreeing with Crowley and Elspeth. He lives on Earth. He knows how lunacy Heaven's ideas about things are. He's complaining to Crowley about what he's up against and getting some reassurance in Crowley's wtf that's crazy! response that he's not alone in thinking so. The moment that he learns that Dalrymple isn't just a ghoul but someone who wants the bodies for greater good reasons, Aziraphale is happy to throw over whatever Heaven nonsense he's supposed to at least pretend to believe to help. He'll always do what he can to help. It's just all very tiresome that people think Crowley is perfect. He's not always right. There also isn't always a "right" at all.

<<such as the way the f15 was shown (many people do not sense any real threat from the Metatron, don't get the "able to see/hear what's happening in the shop", don't see anything weird about Crowley letting Aziraphale go off with the Metatron, etc.>>

Yeah, this... 😂 My favorite wtf interaction that I've had here on the Tumblr Dot Com is the person who told me that Aziraphale and Crowley weren't worried about being spied on in The Final 15 and when I pointed out things like... Aziraphale, looking out the window at Our Villain, doing the downward hands of "not right now" at Crowley, and trying to get him to stop talking? I was told-- kid you not-- that he just turned his head.

The closet is a theme of the season and there's an entire foreshadowing plot with the Nazi Zombie Flesheaters about Crowley and Aziraphale being spied on through the window and people who cannot make simple connections enough to understand what's happening, so... how's that for irony? There's a whole plot about people being unable to make connections... about which this person couldn't make a connection.

I agree to some extent that it's designed to appear a certain way, with particular emphasis on Crowley acting out of character, but it's not so cloak-and-dagger that we can't see that something is amiss. The number of people who don't seem to see Crowley as acting out of character by letting Aziraphale go alone with The Being Claiming To Be The Metatron amazes me. It should be the primary question to come out of that scene. This is what we were saying above, though-- they are too focused on precious demon got his feelings hurt to notice that there is something really, really wrong with precious demon. He just sat there and let Aziraphale go alone with someone who had tried to kill him and he'd never do that of his own free will and that's somehow not the biggest point of discussion?

But this is also the same problem as most people just believing without question that it's The Metatron at the door. Sure, it might be, but they definitely gave us a laundry list of clues that suggest we should at least be questioning it. Five angels cannot recognize him and he has to get a demon to identify him but that's not Satan? Really? After a whole season of "who are you" in every other scene? And all the minisodes being about Hell? Even if it's not, the point is that it's all very weird and many people are just taking what's happening as if nothing is weird, which I find to be... well, weird.

So many people think that The Metatron was legitimately offering Aziraphale a job and everything was on the up-and-up and... why would he ever do that? He'd never offer Crowley to be restored as an angel, either. That'd collapse Heaven and Hell in a day as every demon then would demand their own status as demons reviewed. They think this is The Metatron and they still believe him, even though he just tried to murder Gabriel? I was so surprised to see the number of people who don't think Aziraphale is in any danger here and think he just got promoted when the whole season seems like it's building towards something quite different but we'll see what happens in The Finale.

The gods of the Disc have never bothered much about judging the souls of the dead, and so people only go to hell if that's where they believe, in their deepest heart, that they deserve to go. Which they won't do if they don't know about it. This explains why it is so important to shoot missionaries on sight.

Eric, Terry Prachett

[spotaus]

Thinking about Orchid and her connection to my take on Gender (because this was meant to be about her and the Crew but it just devolved into a character analysis kinda??? More trauma-dumping maybe???) This is very much an oc/personal rant so feel free to ignore it 🫡

So, Orchid started off as a character I didn't really think much of (hear me out this is going to be relevant) because I wanted to add a 'girl' character but didn't know what to *do* with her, y'know? She was always going to be the strongest one there, she had the odds stacked in her favor with her parents. She was always going to be the gloomy side-character to match Reset's energy. But I think she's gone through every stage of Generic Woman I could possibly find.

At first she was angry and abrasive (think Fell!Sans) where every other word was a curse and she was likely to throw the first punch then laugh as she kicks her enemy while they're down. This was when Reset was a cartoonishly self-centered villain whose goal was simply to prove others wrong. Then Orchid became a sort of sisterly figure. This was short-lived, but she was the one comforting people who Reset would torment, but would ultimately follow his orders, because at this point he was actually a danger and sadistic. And then there was the phase where the story mellowed out and she became the token Goth Girl who, yes she was strong, but was heavy on the 'whatever' energy. Then there was her Era of deep self-loathing and anxiety about her worth that held her back and made her a much more timid and meek character who would only lash out on occasion.

Now, Orchid is the best of those iterations I've written yet. She's calm, level-headed, and a natural leader. Her father raised those traits into her. But she's very reactive, and can be silly, and when she's comfortable it's likely that air of importance transforms into something more comfortable and familiar. She laughs loudly and grins wide, she likes loud video-games but loves to read in the quiet. She's extremely disciplined, and normally no one can get through her tough exterior besides her best friend, Reset. She does what she does for her own enjoyment, sure, but she's thought of every angle and makes her choice to help Reset and control the others with her whole chest. She still worries she won't live up to her invisible expectations, and that and her loyalty are her two driving forces.

I know that Orchid is important to me because she's the longest-running female oc I've had. I have a rough relationship with womanhood/girlhood and I know looking back that Orchid recieved every ounce of my distaste for being a woman that I could shovel into her. That never made her less of a character, she was actually always one of my favorites, and rarely was she a 'punching bag oc'. I just... projected onto her a lot. And she's a good sign of how I've learned who I am. I've decided that my own femininity is something I could live without. I'd rather not associate myself with it, and I'd like to leave it in my past, focusing on a future where I'm not tied down with any gender roles or expectations. That won't happen, but I've come to terms with it myself. Orchid though? I figured out through her that I don't have to hate women characters. My own distaste for my circumstances doesn't mean I have to push it onto my characters (on God I've never expressed anything rude to actual people, that'd be rude as hell and uncalled for, but I have a bad habit of disliking fictional women in media). So, Orchid is a well-roubded character finally. She has motivations abd goals and a *lot* more depth than I ever expected her to. She's happy with being a woman, she's content. She's not treated differently for it in unfair ways by those she cares about, so she doesn't mind it. She likes to wear pretty outfits and lets Reset add bows to her ribbons. She doesn't let being a woman hold her back in the slightest.

So, yeah. Orchid is one of my babies. If I ever leave this Fandom behind for good, she's one that's coming with (Ichor, Orchid, and Pretender all have human designs I can use elsewhere lol-) but in the meantime I'll just rotate her around in my brain for a while longer.

If I'm right, she's been with me for nearly 5-6 years and I went through a *lot* with her as an outlet. So, she's kinda just like an old stuffed animal. A lil ripped, matted fur, maybe a stain or two, but there's a story there and that makes it important beyond belief.

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏

[nexus-nebulae]

found my ancient mp3 player recently. finally found a charger for it and plugged it in. and remembered i found a yt playlist of the whole httyd movie chopped up into like 20 videos and i downloaded the mp3s of all of them to listen to on the school bus. which is why i can effortlessly quote the whole first movie now

[nikaii-koi]

YOU HAVE LITERALLY MY THOUGHTS—well i have a theory of how stick sparked his vision but ill write/maybe draw it later tehee— i mean what if stick need dragon to harness his power so monkey can see that he is a powerful weapon (with how the place where he stood radiates and glows)?? Or perhaps stick needs the machine so he can talk to monkey first?? In movie stick were unactive when not with monkey right? We also know that only by monkey's touch stick can wake up/turn on (like some battery), so why in their first meeting he out of sudden active annd talk to monkey first?? Aannddd it happened again in the final battle,, but ofc yesh sometimes stick can be conscious too when monkey is conscious,,, grrahhhhh so confusingg. Just some hole from the movie i guess

Although we can sure that stick recognizes dragon in monkey's ceremony,, it means for 5000 years stick was fully awake right?? Scene when monkey and stick talking, dragon and other sea creatures didn't hear/see them (stick's glow) sooo what if stick tried to talk to dragon but his ass can't hear stick over his fruity demeanor

does stick actually have free will to be independent and has merely been sassily playing with monkey and dragons feelings because he enjoys the attention of those two competing for him

WHAT IF THAT REALLY HAPPENED HUHH—

Let me play with this dragon real quick. Dang he can't hear me. Lol he’s just sitting there all sad and bored. Maybe I should put on some lights show, a little treat for what he done to my place. Phew that was fun, look at his face omg— wait, he want my power for what now? It's not fun anymore. Oh another playmate! You can hear me? I've been waiting for this moment! Ok i want you, take me and let's get out of here. Oh it's dragon again! Gosh gentlemen stop fighting over me~ im serious stop it <- Stick probably

Just a pretty centerpiece

OH OHMY heres another one, do you think dragon built the machine like it's a dress up game?? "My gorgeous machine," cmon man he act like a mother dress up her kid with a gown machine she picked out, and like a kid playing with their doll and getting mad when another kid wants a turn,, anyway heck yeahh stick is pwettyyy~~

I MEAN LOOK AT THIS— is that a normal reaction when someone tells him that everyone loves his stuff (staff)??

"How dare you! Only me can love him" ahh reaction

GOODDAM YESSHHHHH MORE ANALYSIS POSTT YIPPIIEEEEE

I will live for the next 4 years dw ill be here when you done CANTT AGREE MORE stick is the key, the fundamental, the essential, the foundation, the boundary and the connector on how the protagonist and the antagonist explored, pushed each other, and transform into their better/bigger/stronger version of themselves when with him!!

As their lives revolve around stick.

One had lived with him since the dawn of time, one will live with him until the dusk of time.

Stick, The Monkey King's Plot Device: An Analysis

a matter of Free Will, Creativity, Control, Ownership, Choice, and Consent of an animated inanimate character

aka chronological notes of what happens in the movie with interpretative thoughts

for 5,000 years, stick only ever stood in one place in silence

the crystal palace was either; built around him, or he was left there tho it's hard to believe the center pillar of dragon king's home just has a spot reserved for him. I believe it's the former however it was, he never had a choice

dragon had stick stuck in a machine that will force and use him and his power to create a storm and flood, which is the opposite of what his original purpose was that got him down there to begin with thousands of years ago. an overglorified water meter

monkey was in search of the ultimate weapon, but stick said the first word. he's been waiting and immediately calls him "the most powerful being". this is promptly followed by being complimented not once, but twice from the guy he just met (ie "you are incredible") it is important to note monkey had never any positive assurance in his entire life, yet he says these things to stick, he makes this about stick, rather than himself

stick jumps into action and carries the battle, but he prioritises monkey's safety

he is a go-getter, taking the lead to take his new friend forward. he is a driving force that enables monkey to do what he does. he is excitable, violent, eager to please. stick has never been used in so long, he has a lot of pent up energy just bursting to get out. he protects monkey, but he is obedient to the point of losing his self by taking things literally. this should teach monkey how he works, that he is dependent on his wielder, his master, and that's why he couldn't have left the palace or dragon himself. he is a tool, who's entire existence is in the hands of whoever possesses him. he wants to be used and be useful. he wants to serve a purpose

monkey tells stick what to do, he listens, monkey tells stick to stop, he does so. and stick will do the best possible thing for them to show monkey what they are capable of together, giving him the confidence to trust his weapon as much as stick's chosen to trust him, that no matter what happens as long they communication, they will have each other's back

stick shares monkey's joys and sorrows. he cheers along the troop for his new name and groans when it seemed monkey got sad. they share excitement and aggressive tendencies too

they are more like a single entity with two equal parts rather than a pair, but it's not wrong to call them that either. mind & body, heart & soul, in action they are one, as people they are two, but must be kept together in order to work perfectly. stick is an extension of monkey, and monkey is an extension of stick. they match each others freak save for minor differences in preference and personality. when not in use, stick stands on his own, he reacts similarly as monkey, turns to him, and provides emphasis for the occasional words. he is completely supportive and always by his side if only a foot apart or at arms length, never out of reach

monkey is the same in the way that he values stick's own desires that are seemingly separate from himself. he is considerate of his weapon's wants despite having no impact or benefit to his own except maybe boost his ego. they share an ambition, yet something so minor like playing the guitar is so important to him because it's something stick wants. he didn't even ask if stick wanted anything, he already has him in mind, it was a matter of what and absolute that he gets it

the theme song is sung by stick's voice actor, the singer "ultimate screaming master" aka nan li from voodoo kungfu, an outstanding "world heavy metal music" band. so you could say stick wrote and sang a song about monkey throughout their 99 demons together. I know the lyrics are from monkey himself, the words are his, stick is the music, together they create harmony

stick is bloodthirsty, and he is an artist. both actions are forms of self-expression after lying dormant for millenniums. the same can be said for monkey in that he created an imaginary family, paired with his and stick's signature head-bashing, skull-splitting move, except he does this in sought of attention for being deprived of it his entire childhood, stick has always been the center of, yet was never heard, and the only thought he wants and cares about is from monkey

it was his idea the way they defeat red girl, unpromptly suggested

stick left his "home", because he finally could. he was stolen from dragon, who housed him. he was found by monkey, who allows him to be. stick can't be on his own without his wielder's permission and even then they're in close proximity of each other. monkey allows for stick's autonomy and will to be as free as he can be. he treats stick like a person more than the actual people he interacts with, while dragon still treats stick as property even after discovering he could talk. he doesn't care that stick has feelings, he only wants to abuse his power

Monkey: “What's wrong, Stick? You know this chump?”

Dragon: “Stick? You never talked to me!”

when dragon showed up, this is the only time stick vocalised in a way that it aggravated monkey enough to close his ears. stick doesn't get to say anything else, and he doesn't have to because no one but monkey listens to him, he doesn't need an explanation to come to his friend's defence. the same way stick is in-between the demons and monkey, this time monkey is shielding stick from dragon. a former roommate, acts like a controlling parent or possessive ex

Monkey, to Dragon: “You love my Stick, everyone loves the stick, but no one appreciates Stick like I do.”

Stick: “[incessant urgent warbling]”

Monkey: “Quiet Stick, the grown-ups are talking.”

of course monkey isn't perfect either, in the heat of the moment he ignores stick to protect him, and stick never holds a grudge or resentment towards monkey for his blunders, only dragon was met with initial hostility, but then none at all for the rest of the movie. stick is never really even annoyed with his partner, it just seems like he loves everything about him and wants the best for him, because that would mean what's best for himself too

dragon tries to talk to stick to come back, but monkey says he only listens to him. dragon responds with "I don't see a ring on it, honey" which is from the euphemism for a marriage proposal. dragon clearly doesn't approve of their relationship though this implies that in order for them to be together, they need to be wedded

without monkey, stick doesn't have a will. without a person, he is useless. he has no life, no will to life. it's meaningless without monkey, who he's waited for forever

he laughs at his jokes, they share a sense of humour

stick knows about hell. he knows about the scrolls of life and death

he could not have learned this during the 100 demons slaying because monkey would have known. the reason why stick never mentioned "crossing your name to cancel your death in order to become immortal" is that monkey was under the impression he would win the immortal ones' approval by conquering demons like the elder lead them to believe. why stick never corrected him, this wasn't the mission. stick is at his service, not looking specifically for the most efficient way to do things. he is able to have fun and live his best life with monkey and if the adventure ends, what is there left to do? he wouldn't want to be abandoned again. so he answers monkey's questions because monkey asked, not because stick has an obligation to be conscious or aware of how things play out, but because he's literal and needs to be direct with. whatever it is, he will enable monkey's desires, because what he wants, they both do

they argue about bringing lin along, in which stick advocates for her and scolds monkey because he knows her worth and neither of them can read. if monkey completely owns stick, why would he allow him to knock some sense into himself and fight about something like this? does stick actually have free will to be independent and has merely been sassily playing with monkey and dragons feelings because he enjoys the attention of those two competing for him, or does monkey allow stick to be his own person without the restraint of pleasing his ego in that he is cared for even if he doesn't like it because he subconsciously understands he can't do everything on his own and needs stick to be his conscience too, for both their sakes

their expressions often mirror each other, the way they move even apart is in sync, and they exchange glances, like you do with your best friend

stick also knows about cloning, which he also never told monkey that he knows they can both apparently do. the situation called for it so it's pretty reasonable, but why does stick know more about monkey's abilities than he himself does?

steroids, another song by voodoo kungfu, is used during the fight

although apparently stick didn't know enough as "cancelling your death date" only makes you half-immortal, but monkey immediately blames lin despite it being entirely stick's idea

stick is already immortal, he's an eternal object and looks good for above 5,000 years old. he just needs to keep his friend, who he's known for at least a couple years, alive. least he becomes alone again

stick finds monkey's prank on lin hilarious, monkey makes him laugh

stick sings along with monkey while they search for lin, he yells at her after too

monkey considers stick his best friend and family

stick doesn't care to say anything during the entire peach grove scene. not about benbo & babbo, not about dragon, even though he was used to jab at him. monkey is drugged, therefore his mind isn't intact, which seemingly affects stick's behaviour as well in that he isn't very conscious. they both get knocked ou

he jolts awake after monkey does

stick is empathetic, monkey is apathetic. there is a little bit of the other to them in a yin-yang sense, because stick only empathises with monkey, and maybe lin twice on-screen, while monkey has no consideration for anyone but himself, stick, and eventually lin to an extent. they only care for each other, as stick isn't concerned about anyone else, but monkey does in a way. both for selfish reasons

stick cannot be wielded by a baby monkey, he goes to sleep

monkey tells stick to help lin, he shrinks down for her to use

he sleeps again when monkey is kicked through the roof

despite being unconscious, stick extends himself towards monkey to give the elixir

stick is just as excited as monkey is, if not more, and is ready to fight, but when lin falls, he got worried for her too

lin teases monkey, talking to stick, and he laughs with her. he isn't above laughing at his friend's expense and with someone other than him no less, someone monkey handed him over to in the moment. he was trusted with to assist her and wasn't even aware of lin's attempt to steal him away. if monkey was a controlling master and stick the obedient weapon that he is, how is it that he's able to freely make fun of his own best friend? monkey shuts him up, and he complies, but the fact is while he is always supportive of monkey, he is capable of poking fun at and arguing with him too, usually provoked

stick is left alone with lin again, and is promptly sold out

"momentary fling" sir this is a family movie

stick is inactive throughout his entire hold in dragon's clutches. he is nothing but a prize to be won, a tool to be abused. monkey may need him in every battle to win, but stick has been a damsel-in-distress twice. he is handled by dragon, forced back into a machine that awakens and makes him grow. none of this he chose, none he wanted, he can't leave without help. while he is fulfilling a purpose, he isn't doing this out of his own will. he doesn't choose dragon and doesn't consent to being used this way, but it doesn't matter because dragon doesn't need his compliance, as long the machine works and he's useful

they are so happy to see each other, and missed one another so much,,,

stick is devoted to monkey. he enables him, needs him for his entire being and existence. if it were to be anyone in the universe he will always choose monkey. caught in the middle of the final battle, despite the brief grasp dragon has on him, he is able to fight for his self because monkey is there for him to return to and fall back on. to live in utter depravity under someone who only takes from and forces you into doing his bidding, it's not living at all. monkey gives him a life, stick lives for him and gets to be himself because he's allowed to be as much of a person any object is capable of

monkey is incredibly significant to stick. he is his entire world, and the same goes for him to monkey

they're separated again, the last thing he heard was monkey's desperate cry of his name after he couldn't handle buddha's clutch

lin found stick, either by chance or he called out to her. and he shrank for her once more so she could easily reunite him with his monkey. he doesn't even know she's the one who gave him away, but I don't think he'd hold it against her. he's a staff, not human or demon with complex thoughts and feelings. a simple stick who has a colourful personality, vibrant soul, and passion for music

he flies right into monkey's hold thanks to lin

monkey is stick's home, he is his best friend, his family, his life. they are symbiotic and co-dependent, for breaking them apart would leave them wrecked on their own, one completely helpless and the other out of his mind. there is a fear of abandonment within stick and separation anxiety in monkey, but only one of them has the ability to do something about it, and monkey allows for stick to be unbound by his own ego. they're a team, each others comfort

they meditate together, being one with each other, and stick is just as important as monkey because "the world needs us"

to summarise; stick is a deeply emotional, straight-forward, fun-loving, whimsical, thrill-seeking sentient weapon who's been deprived of activity for thousands of years, which affected the way he expresses himself through bloodthirsty violence and screaming, but he does have an ambition to learn and play the guitar, already being a singer himself. it is a creative outlet for him to release all that pent up energy when he lay dormant, and is allowed the freedom to live a life he wants alongside the one person who values and loves him for who he is

in conclusion... they are both crazy, and stick likes that about monkey

[broken-clover]

Bleh. I know it's stupid to let other peoples opinions dictate what I do and especially what I make but sometimes it's very difficult to not do when I know someone actively hates it when I do

[solidandsound]

Etrian Odyssey II - Notes on a journey

THE PARTY

Fret, Troubadour (portrait 3)

A fret is a piece that sits behind the strings on the neck of a stringed instrument, such as the lute that Fret plays.

Long ago, when they were all young, Fret, Contra, Travis, Ossia, and Barry formed a musical group, called Frisson. They never got popular, and eventually the others lost interest or faith in their ability to break through into the mainstream, and the band fell apart. Fret was always the most devoted. After Frisson disbanded, he continued to play music on his own, scraping by as a travelling troubadour. Recently, he made his way to Etria, and while there, he heard a lot about a group of youngsters who made major headway in the Yggdrasil labyrinth attached to the town. Fret and the other members of Frisson grew up in High Lagaard, which also had a labyrinth, but he never gave it much thought. Seeing the fame afforded to these young adventurers, however, gets his wheels turning...

Barry, War Magus (portrait 1)

Barry is named in reference to baritone, a male singing voice with a range between bass and tenor.

In the days of Frisson, Barry was the group’s male singer. An immigrant to High Lagaard from the far south, his voice lent Frisson a unique edge, and he appreciated the companionship. Having come from a more musical culture, Barry enjoyed his time with the band, but found few opportunities to sing after its disbandment.

Barry has since become a city guard, and is watching the road into town when Fret comes sauntering back. Barry casually asks where Fret’s been, and Fret launches into his story about what he heard over in Etria and how he’s getting the band back together... to do some dungeon diving. Barry isn’t asked to commit to anything, only to meet up with Fret later, where he’ll explain everything. Then Fret runs off, leaving Barry confused, but curious.

Ossia, Hexer (portrait 3)

An ossia is an alternate musical passage which may be played instead of the original.

Before Ossia joined, another man held his place in Frisson, but that person was not a team player and was frequently disruptive with the aim of taking the spotlight, a habit made worse by the fact that he was in charge of the cymbal and other backing instruments. After that guy was fired, Ossia showed interest in taking his role. While the others were originally hesitant because Ossia gives off a somewhat creepy vibe, he ended up being a perfect fit.

Since the band’s breakup, Ossia has taken advantage of his creepy vibes and background as a Hexer to tell fortunes. However, everything he foretells is fabricated, as that’s not actually something that Hexers can do—most people just don’t know that. Ossia would really rather be doing anything else, and is pleased to see Fret enter his tent. The musician’s pitch leaves Ossia intrigued, and he decides to meet with Fret later, as requested, to find out more.

Contra, Gunner (portrait 4) and Travis, Ronin (portrait 1)

Contra is short for contralto, a type of singing voice with a low vocal range. Travis is a play on travesti, a term for a character in an opera or other performance that is played by someone of the opposite sex.

Contra was Frisson’s female vocalist, her surprisingly low singing voice complementing Barry’s well. Travis played a special piano configured for easy travel. Fret has been friends with these two since long before the forming of Frisson, and they were its first members, with Barry and finally Ossia joining later. Contra is quite shy, but was able to let loose in front of an audience. Travis always felt unable to express himself, except when behind the piano. These two bonded even further while playing music together, and soon fell in love and have remained together this whole time. They have stuck together through everything, from Contra’s health issues to Travis coming out as trans.

However, outside of their relationship, their lives have not been particularly fulfilling. Contra holds a mind-numbing secretarial job, and Travis does landscaping for High Lagaard’s wealthy. Their feelings are complicated seeing Fret, as they always are. Fret visits now and then, but his role in their lives is far reduced from what it once was. This time seems different, however, and so they agree to meet up later.

That evening, all five members of Frisson gather at a local restaurant. Contra and Travis haven’t had many opportunities lately to socialize with Barry and Ossia, and find the reunion pleasant, if a little awkward. Then Fret lays out the plan. As Frisson, they had a few dedicated fans who loved their sound, but had a hard time getting others to listen to them. But if they had had some fame to build off of, things could have been different.

In Etria, a guild met with great adventuring success and, subsequently, great fame. If Frisson could do the same, they could use that fame as a launching point for their musical careers. They could finally be a successful band!

Travis shuts it down, saying that those days have passed, but he is surprised when Barry and Ossia agree immediately. Neither man is happy with what they’re doing, so why not give it a go? Still, Travis doubts the likelihood of this plan succeeding. Why blow up their lives for something so risky? Right? He turns to Contra, but she hesitates. What if this could be their chance to make lives they can be proud of?

If it’s what Contra wants, he can’t bring himself to say no. Fret is ecstatic: the band is back together! The next day, they gear up and head to the guild office to register their band, nay, their guild, and tackle the labyrinth together.

FIRST STRATUM: Ancient Forest

Travis and Contra quit their crappy jobs. Fret and Ossia have no obligations to wrap up and are ready to go immediately. Barry simply ghosts the guard corps. He figures no one will miss him, or even recognize him if he runs into his old coworkers in the forest. They all look the same in their armour anyway.

In order to be allowed to explore the labyrinth further, the guild must first take on the Duchy’s introductory test, which is to map the first floor accurately. Barry is well aware of this, and has at times been the one to judge newbies’ maps. When they enter the labyrinth, a guard stops them to confirm their identities. Barry avoids eye contact, but the guard doesn’t seem to recognize him, as he assumed would be the case. The guard then takes them to a spot deep into the first floor and leaves them there to find their way back.

Contra and Travis start to panic, feeling that they have just been left to die. Indeed, some folks have died doing this, Barry says. But he reassures them: he can guide them in doing this as quickly and safely as possible, as long as they can survive any monster attacks along the way. Fret says that he has a great sense of direction and they should just head back the way they came, but Barry reminds him that that’s not all they need to do. They also need to map the area, and that includes dead ends and false paths. He remembers some of them, but in order to record them in accurate detail, he suggests they actually explore each path.

Having to engage in combat for the first time is jarring, but ultimately not too threatening. The party efficiently maps the area and returns to have the guard evaluate their work. With his approval, they report in to Minister Dubois at the duchy, who officially declares Frisson to be adventurers of Lagaard. He shares his hope that they may unveil the truth behind the myth of the floating castle at the top of the labyrinth. He also gives them a little spending money to get started, but it’s not much. Travis gets a little nervous seeing how little they’re meant to get by on, but Ossia knows from his interactions with adventurers that they can pick up some odd jobs at the tavern.

With that in mind, Frisson begins its exploration in earnest, making a bit of progress each time, avoiding tougher enemies and taking on tavern requests here and there to make a bit more money on top of selling what they find.

On the third floor, the group encounters a wolf, but it does not attack them. Instead, it seems to wish to direct them somewhere. Contra is smitten with the handsome hound; she and Travis have always wanted a dog, but have been waiting until they felt they could better take care of one. They follow the wolf’s directions and soon run into a man who calls himself Hrothgar, of Guild Beowulf. He gives the newbies some helpful tips, and then is joined by the wolf from before, apparently named Wulfgar. The two leave together; Contra is impressed by how helpful Wulfgar seems to be in the labyrinth.

The crew continues to check in with Minister Dubois every once in a while. On one visit, he expresses regret that adventurers seem, by and large, more competent than the guard corps posted in the forest, and wonders if he should be recruiting adventurers for the guard corps. Thinking back, Barry knows he never had as hard a time as a guard as he has so far as an adventurer. Maybe if this doesn’t pan out, he thinks, he can rejoin the corps and negotiate a raise...

Further into the third floor, Frisson sees Hrothgar and Wulfgar once again, guarding a door. Hrothgar stops them, and tells them to speak to the Duchy before they can proceed. When they speak to Dubois, they learn that ten guards have gone missing recently in the labyrinth. Barry feels strange upon hearing the news. Is it relief? Regret? He’s not sure. While saving the guards sounds like a lot of responsibility, Fret also knows that it is this kind of heroism that will kick off the fame they’re looking for, so the guild accepts the task.

Hrothgar lets the guild past, though his mood seems off. He warns them that the next room is filled with powerful monsters. Indeed, when they enter, they hear the cry of a beast and see, and smell, numerous corpses. Travis throws up. Barry is frozen; this could have been him... It is Ossia who gently pushes the group to continue. He counts only nine bodies.

With some careful sneaking, the guild finds a secret passage and there meet the final surviving guard. They help him escape back to town. There, Dubois thanks them with some cash, and tells them about what the guard was investigating in there to begin with. Apparently another monster, the Chimaera, is attracting more monsters than usual to the first stratum of the labyrinth. Frisson has Dubois’s trust now, and so they are tasked with defeating it.

While running errands, Fret hears the name Frisson come up every once in a while. It seems they are starting to get recognized as a strong guild... but he knows it’s not yet enough.

On the fourth floor, a guard tells the group that Beowulf have already gone up to the fifth floor to challenge Chimaera. Apparently, some of the guild’s members were killed by Chimaera some time ago, leaving only Hrothgar and Wulfgar. They lost with five members, but attempt the beast now with only two... Fret seems to miss this detail and suggests hurrying before Beowulf steal their thunder. Barry corrects him: they must hurry to save Beowulf. Contra is beside herself. “That poor, loyal puppy...”

On the fifth floor, Ossia points out a trail of blood. The guild follows it to find Wulfgar, alone and injured. Wulfgar points them westward and cries mournfully. Given that he is alone, that cry can only mean one thing... Contra wants to pet the dog, to comfort him, but cannot tell where he is injured through his thick fur, and so stays her hand. Travis shakes with rage. He assures Wulfgar that vengeance will be had.

The party confronts the Chimaera and, through a long battle with it and its lackeys, fell it. It lets out a final shriek, which nets a howling response from somewhere not too far away. Contra recognizes it immediately and rushes off, with the others hurrying to keep up with her.

Wulfgar is still where they left him, still heavily injured. However, he seems much less distressed. Upon Contra’s approach, the beast removes his collar with his paw, then lays down and closes his eyes. Crying, Contra takes the collar, Wulfgar’s final thanks for bringing peace to him and the rest of his guild.

SECOND STRATUM: Auburn Thicket

Even after taking their reward for defeating the Chimaera, the mood surrounding Frisson is muted as they enter the second stratum. A trail of berries catches Fret’s curiosity, so he follows it, with the rest of the group trailing behind. Something feels off, though, so he stops short of the end of the trail. Contra, deep in her fugue, keeps on mindlessly, and before anyone can stop her, gets her foot caught in a trap. It is easy enough for Travis’s blade to remove, and Contra’s injuries are minor, but it is enough to snap her back to reality a bit. There is danger everywhere in the labyrinth.

Further on, a hemp sack is seen dangling from a tree. Wary of another trap, the group examines the area thoroughly, but finds no threat. Barry climbs the tree to grab the sack. He manages to retrieve it, but upon reaching the ground, finds that his hands burn something fierce. Traps aside, even the trees themselves seem out to get the adventurers of the forest.

The next time Frisson checks in at the Duchy, they are let in on a secret: the Duke is very ill. His daughter is doing her best to find a cure, as she already lost her mother some time ago. Following her mother’s medicinal notes, she is tracking down ingredients in the forest that may help. Frisson is asked now to retrieve an ingredient that can be used to make a so-called “miracle cure”. Fret’s eyes shine. Saving the life of the Duke will get them the acclaim they’re looking for, that’s for sure! The ingredient in question is a feather from the Salamox, a formidable fire-breathing beast.

The guild also picks up a request at the bar to map the 7th and 8th floors, as the guard corp are having trouble with the task. On the 7th floor, they run into one such guard, who happily passes off the job to Frisson. He even hands them his map so far, and Fret is happy to have a head start, but as soon as the guard is out of sight, Barry takes his map and shreds it. He knows what kinds of shortcuts these guys take and doesn’t trust their work one bit.

On the 8th floor, the guild finds the guard assigned to this floor... brutalized by monsters, his armour rendered useless. They are ambushed by the same monsters that killed the guard, but manage to take them down. Then Barry examines the corpse. Like the other guard, this one has a partial map. Barry feels bad, but he leaves the map with the guard.

Also on the 8th floor is the Salamox’s lair. It takes some sneaking, but the group manages to infiltrate its nest and steal a stray feather. They return it to the Duchy and are rewarded handsomely. Fret cares more about the ingredient’s success as medicine, however, and urges Dubois to tell them right away if it works.

In the mean time, Fret intends to take the guild back into the labyrinth. They can’t just wait around for news that might not help them, after all. But Contra stops. Her hands shake. She still can’t stop thinking about Wulfgar and Hrothgar, about that dead guard, even that trap that snared her leg. Haven’t they done enough in the labyrinth? Haven’t they killed enough forest creatures? Can’t they stop? She turns to Travis, who didn’t want to do this in the first place. Surely he will convince the others. He gently takes her aside.

Thinking back on their lives before, he was never happy toiling in the gardens of the rich. Now he feels useful, even heroic at times. He was skeptical at first, but now he feels fulfilled. It is gruesome sometimes, yes, and certainly dangerous, but it’s work that means something. Contra agrees to go back into the labyrinth, but privately she wonders how much more of this she can take.

It is an uneventful journey to the 9th floor. Partway through, however, Contra hears a chirping. She follows it to a baby monster, clearly in distress. There is a lump in its throat, and it seems to be choking. The guild has fought grown-up versions of this thing, and one less monster would make the forest that much safer for them. Ossia prepares to finish the weakened beast, but Contra stops him. She massages the monster’s throat until the object is ejected. The little beast flees. Contra clings desperately to the feeling of having saved a life for once.

Later, on a trek that lasts past sundown, Frisson runs into a guard who isn’t doing much guarding; he’s asleep. He has a heavy money pouch, and it dangles temptingly... Ossia advocates for stealing it. They’ll definitely get away with it. Barry actually recognizes this particular guard, too, and he’s a real asshole... but Barry doesn’t want to stoop to his level. He asks Ossia to leave the guard’s money alone. Ossia shrugs. He doesn’t see what the big deal is, but he complies nevertheless.

On the tenth floor, Frisson comes to a door guarded by an intimidating older man holding two guns. He seems to have heard of Frisson, but the way he speaks of them suggests he is far from their biggest fan. He “suggests” that they turn around. Travis takes the man in cautiously, predicting a vicious fight, but Fret is oblivious and tries to brush the man off, saying that they’re definitely not stopping now. At that, the man introduces himself as Wilhelm and, at the same time, takes aim.

As Frisson prepares for a face-off, a woman appears, scolding Wilhelm for trying to start a fight. She calls herself Artelinde, of Guild Esbat. She tries to claim that Wilhelm was only concerned for their safety, as a terrible monster lies beyond the door. Ossia can see right through that; he could sense Wilhelm’s bloodlust, and something’s not right about this Artelinde girl, either. Nonetheless, she insists that the group first gets permission from the Duchy to proceed.

Back in town, Dubois confirms that he hired Esbat to guard the door. Previously, he tasked Esbat and other powerful guilds with the destruction of the beast beyond that door, but it revived days later. He urges caution if Guild Frisson intends to take on the Hellion.

Upon returning to the tenth floor, the group does not see Esbat anywhere. They are free to fight Hellion, which turns out to be a grotesque humanoid fire demon. They kill it and return to town to report to Dubois and receive their reward. Since it’s been a while, Fret asks for updates on the Duke’s health. Dubois shares that the fire plume wasn’t enough on its own. He has new information on a flower in the third stratum that may help. It seems the guards sent to retrieve these flowers haven’t been returning. While Barry wonders what happened to all those guards, and Ossia worries that they are being sent on a wild goose chase and there is no cure for the Duke, Fret eagerly accepts the mission, seeing only the guild’s fame if they succeed.

THIRD STRATUM: Frozen Grounds

The temperature drop on the first floor of the third stratum is sudden and severe. It would be easy to freeze to death. Barry wonders if that’s why the guards haven’t been returning...

When the guild shares their progress with the Dubois, he reveals that the Duke is offering nobility to those explorers who reach the top of the labyrinth... if they want it, of course. It’s worth pondering for Fret, although not for its own sake. Would being a Baron or Knight or something make him seem more notable as a musician?

On the 12th floor, the guild finds a guard, shivering violently. Barry’s theory gains credence. The guard explains that they’ve only been hunting for the flowers during the day, as it’s too dangerous at night, but they haven’t found any yet. Travis wonders how efficient they can even be when they’re reacting that poorly to the cold. He knows how much longer even a simple task can take when you’re freezing.

The group scouts out the floor a bit, but Contra has a nagging feeling that they won’t find the snow blooms either... Some terrifying monsters are napping throughout, sometimes blocking paths the group would like to take. The floor really would be more dangerous if they’re up and active at night.

They make their way through the floor until they are stopped a familiar voice. Artelinde appears and stands in front of the door to progress. She happily shares that there are no snow blooms further on, but Ossia senses something off about her; her cheer seems stiff somehow... Fret is frustrated. He tells her that they haven’t found any behind them either, but Artelinde insists that she’s correct. Fret’s fists bunch up, but before he can punch the girl, Contra speaks up with her theory: the flowers only bloom at night. They’ll have to come back after dark to spot them.

After resting up, the guild scours the 12th floor again, this time having to carefully avoid the monsters who now roam awake and hungry. Sure enough, they find beautiful glittering blooms, which they pick and take back to town. They hand the flowers over to Dubois, who disappears to report to his superior. Moments later, the princess of High Lagaard, Lady Gradriel, appears before the guild for the first time. Fret is floored, and is quick to kneel and ingratiate himself to her. Her favour would go a long way! Indeed, she is grateful for the help, but there is one more thing she needs to save her father, and that is the Holy Grail, said to be located in the floating castle. When the ingredients they’ve already found are mixed in the grail, any illness can be cured, supposedly. She begs the guild to find the grail and save her father, then flees tearfully. Most of the group is genuinely moved, but Ossia only sighs. He is even surer that there is no floating castle, there is no grail, and they are on nothing more than a wild goose chase. He can tell that no one else holds his opinion, however, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Nonetheless, if Frisson wishes to reach the floating castle, they must press on through the labyrinth. They return to where they were previously stopped by Artelinde, where she still waits. She cannot even feign enthusiasm this time. She asks them outright: will you give up and go home? Fret refuses outright. She doesn’t seem surprised. She shares a bit of the legend of the floating castle that Frisson hasn’t heard yet: that the ruler of the skies lives there, collecting the souls of those who die in the labyrinth... She says that if they want to proceed, she won’t stop them... yet. With that ominous last word, she disappears.

Frisson journeys on, making short work of the 13th floor. One floor up, they are stopped by Guild Esbat’s old gunner, his gaze as menacing as always. He warns the group not to go to the fifteenth floor, or else... Then he departs. Barry wonders aloud what Esbat’s deal is, as they seem intent on keeping other guilds from climbing too high. Fret doesn’t care what their reason is; they’re pissing him off!

On a trip back, Dubois shares that Frisson is a common topic of discussion among the guards. Fret is pleased; they’re getting famous! Barry feels weird about it. He never got along with the other guards, but now they’re following his exploits? And they don’t even seem to have clocked him as one of their own.

Deep into the 15th floor, the party is stopped again by Wilhelm, the Esbat gunner. Fret rolls his eyes and turns around to find another way, but they are blocked from behind by Artelinde. They’ve fallen into a trap. Artelinde speaks of a war magus who explored the labyrinth with her allies long ago, until she lost her life in the third stratum. Artelinde is overcome with emotion, so the old man continues for her, claiming that the ruler of the heavens gave that war magus eternal life... by turning her into a monster. Artelinde finishes: if Frisson continues, they will have to fight Esbat’s transformed friend, and she won’t allow that.

A fight ensues. Guild Esbat are tough, but there are only two of them; they stand no chance against a full party. Beaten down, they submit. Wilhelm switches tactics. Admitting that he can’t stop them, he asks them to find the floating castle, find its overlord, and kill him for his crimes, for transforming that war magus and who knows how many others. Then he leads Artelinde away, and the duo vanish. Contra thinks back to the stronger foes they’ve fought so far. Was the Hellion also...?

Frisson proceeds and comes to a great frozen lake. At the centre of it is a monster with various grotesque tentacles and appendages, but also the face of a woman. Contra’s heart falls. So this is Esbat’s beloved friend... The beast lets out a terrible, sad shriek. When it goes down, Travis cannot help but feel that perhaps they’ve done her a favour. At any rate, she is done. The fourth stratum awaits.

FOURTH STRATUM: Petal Bridge

The fourth stratum is filled with cherry blossoms in full bloom, pink petals falling and blowing in the wind. It is a striking sight. Not far into the stratum, the party comes upon a man with wings on his back. He seems to call upon his deity before flying off. Frisson is left shocked, awed, and confused. In all his time in the labyrinth, Barry has never seen or heard of anything like what he just saw.

The group returns to town to report what they saw immediately. Dubois hears the word “winged” and runs off to fetch Lady Gradriel. She is much calmer, and shares what she has read of them. According to ancient lore, they were created by the Overlord of the heavens and safeguard the entrance to the Heavenly Keep. There is a secret phrase that apparently works as a password to allow access, and Gradriel teaches it to the party. Travis commits it to memory. Ossia is quiet. He didn’t think the castle really existed, but if these winged folk are real, then maybe...

They proceed through the stratum, making it to the end of the 18th floor. As they are about to open the door there, they hear a familiar voice before seeing the winged man swoop down in front of them. He gives them the once over, then claims that they are unfit to use the Grail of Kings and commands them to turn back. Ever quick to anger, Fret docks an arrow in his bow, but Travis steps up before he can let loose. Travis repeats Gradriel’s phrase, the ancient pact that asks for guidance in mankind’s return to the heavens. The winged one acknowledges this and flies off, leaving the party free to proceed.

Before going further, they report back once more. Dubois shares that Gradriel has told her father about Frisson. Fret can barely contain his glee. The most powerful man in the land knows who he is! Of course, it will mean nothing if they can’t save his life.

Even outside the palace, there seems to be a lot more buzz around the guild’s exploits lately. Contra proposes that maybe they could even stop now, could shift back to music and be fine. Ossia contradicts her. He believes that, if they give up now, they will be something worse than unnoticed: hated. They have no choice but to finish what they started.

On the 20th floor, another door and another winged one blocking the way. This time the one blocking the path seems to be of a higher status, going by the way he dresses and holds himself. He seems to require a certain item before they group can proceed. Figuring Dubois may know about it, Frisson returns to town.

Dubois confirms that the one they met was the chief of the winged ones, but goes to fetch Gradriel when the group asks about the required artifact. She agrees to part with the keepsake, on one condition: the group agrees, once and for all, to find the Holy Grail. It’s a no-brainer, of course. Frisson is locked in at this point. On their way out, Dubois gives them a warning that the winged ones may be dangerous. After all, they are said to be the ones who bring people to the floating castle. Dubois does not want that to happen to anyone else.

Late at night, while the guild is preparing for the next day’s venture, they are approached by Abigail, the girl who runs the shop. She has a favour to ask, though she is hesitant to do so. Apparently, she head from another guild that they defeated a monster, but left its baby behind. Abigail wants Frisson to find it and feed it, so it doesn’t die without its mother. It is a ludicrous offer on the face of it, and Ossia protests. They’re killing monsters all the time out there. Letting a baby die now is easier than killing an adult later. Furthermore, they already spared one such baby earlier on and don’t need to do so again. Contra protests, that even if it isn’t logical, she can’t just let a baby die. Barry and Travis side with Contra, although Barry from the practical standpoint: they’ve been asked a favour, and would do well to gain Abigail’s regard by completing it. Ossia grumbles, but he is outnumbered, so he lets it go.

They find the spot Abigail mentioned on the 19th floor. There sits a small bird, all alone. Ossia challenges the party again: this is their last chance to simply leave it be. Contra ignores him and offers food to the monster chick. It eats happily and chirps graciously. It seems to be looking healthier already. Despite his protestations, Ossia can’t help but feel his heart warm a little at the sight. Maybe they will have to deal with it later, them or some other explorer, but for now it feels good to have done something human. He suggests leaving the rest of the food for it so it can feed itself, and the group moves on.

Frisson returns to the 20th floor, where the chief of the winged ones waits. Fret hands him the artifact. His demeanour changes immediately; he becomes almost gleeful. He asks for the group’s names, but Fret insists that there’s no need to remember each of their names as individuals. He can just call them Frisson.

In turn, the chief introduces himself as Canaan. He says that it is his duty to guide Frisson to the path to the heavens... but it is not so simple a task. The way is blocked by a winged beast. It is up to Frisson to defeat it if they want to continue. Canaan flies away, leaving Frisson to journey on alone.

The guild makes their way through the 20th floor, fighting off fiercer monsters than they’ve seen up to this point. At a door deeper in, Canaan reappears. He seems impressed that they were able to survive to this point, and offers to tell the group whatever they want to know. Travis is curious about what happens to the people who get carried up to the floating castle, but Canaan doesn’t know. Their orders are to fly the wounded to the entrance, but they are not allowed inside. They were created by the ruler and do as they are told, that is all. Ossia asks about the ‘winged beast’ mentioned previously. The Queen of the Skies, which lies just beyond, has massacred any winged folk who have attempted to make their way to the palace in recent years. Canaan cautions the guild to be careful in their battle, then flies off once more.

They enter the area where the Queen lies in wait. At first they don’t hear anything, but then they notice a beautiful song coming from above. It seems beautiful at first, anyway, but something seems off about it to Fret... He is about to share this observation when he notices that Barry, Travis, and Contra are utterly enchanted by the song! Ossia is on the same page, at least: he knows a siren song when he hears one. Fret breaks out his lute and sings a song of his own, which breaks his friends out of their spell. With that, the Queen of the Skies swoops down in a rage, but now that she doesn’t have a hold on anyone, the fight is easy. Frisson take her down.

Canaan returns. Shocked at the power of mere humans, he grants them passage beyond, to the heavens above. The party step into a glowing pillar of light, and are whisked away.

FIFTH STRATUM AND BEYOND: Heavenly Keep

Frisson find themselves on a bridge high in the sky, connected to a great golden fortress. As they approach the entrance to the keep, they are greeted by a haughty voice calling itself the Overlord. Fret, hyped up on his recent victory, demands to know who is speaking. The Overlord claims to be the one humans refer to as a god, for he is one who can grant eternal life. He invites the party to come to him, to claim their destinies and their immortality.

The offer is tempting for Fret. After all, isn’t that what they want? To have their music be known forever? Ossia reminds Fret that this Overlord’s idea of immortality seems to be turning people into regenerating monsters. Does he want to be the next Scylla? “Of course not,” he says, but in the back of his mind he thinks, at least the Queen of the Skies could still sing...

Back in town, Frisson share with those who are invested in their exploits that they have finally reached the floating castle. They receive much praise, with the bartender wanting to hear all about it. Dubois says he will remember their accomplishments to his grave.

On the 22nd floor, the group hears the Overlord’s voice again. He muses on death, and his own attempts to defy death. He states that Frisson will be put to use in service of that goal. A shiver runs down Contra’s spine.

On another return trip, Dubois notices that Fret’s shirt is torn, and immediately sends someone to fetch him a new one. Getting free stuff is a key part of being a celebrity, so Fret is pleased as punch.

Back in the labyrinth, on the 23rd floor, the Overlord speaks once more. He speaks again of the terror of death, and wonders at why the group do not seem keen to gain immortality. But the Overlord will prove his power to them, as one who has been granted eternal life guards this very floor: the Colossus! By this point, everyone in Frisson knows what that means, and they are not amused. They brace for a tough fight.

An army of mechanical monsters stands in the way, but the guild maneuvers past them all and into the chamber where the Colossus awaits. It is a towering beast, a many-horned behemoth. On sight, it bats Travis away, hitting him so hard he goes flying. This may be the Overlord’s greatest warrior. With Barry’s help, Travis gets back up, and so begins an arduous fight. They play defensively, slowly chipping away at the Colossus until it finally goes down.

The Overlord speaks. He is left with no choice but to face the party himselff. One way or another, he says, they will be granted eternal life...

Determined after having made it this far, Frisson climbs to the 25th floor and passes a particularly ornate door. The Overlord speaks once more, explaining that the Heavenly Keep was created as an ark to escape a calamity on the planet’s surface, long, long ago. The Earth became so contaminated that there was no way for its people to return as they were. That is when the Overlord began his research with the Grail of Kings, but it has a flaw in that it warps anyone who is granted immortality with it. The Overlord insists that he must continue his experiments, for the sake of mankind’s future. Barry is confused. He tries to tell the Overlord that mankind is doing just fine now, whatever happened in the past, but the supreme being is not willing to listen. He descends in an egg-shaped mechanical body and begins his attack.

Travis’s katana hits hard, and he slices the egg open. The Overlord backs off and shakily pleads, offering eternal life one last time in exchange for forgetting about the Grail. Everyone looks at Fret, wondering what he will say, but he refuses. The people of High Lagaard already treat him like a hero. He doesn’t need the Overlord’s help to make a lasting impression!

The Overlord retreats through a hole in the ceiling. The party finds a way up and follows him, but the egg is nowhere to be found. Instead, they see the Overlord’s true form, a towering mechanical warrior. A fierce fighter, to be sure, but no match for our band of heroes. The Overlord’s mechanical suit breaks up into a thousand beams of light, and then is gone.

Frisson return to town, victorious. They hand the Grail over to Gradriel, who uses it to return her father to full health. The Duke offers nobility to every member of the guild, but none of them want it. They’ve already gotten what they were looking for.

After only a few days of recovery, they begin their musical career anew. They play in High Lagaard, then travel the land, going to places even Fret has never been before. They always receive a good deal of attention as the heroes who saved High Lagaard. A lot of the attendees of their concerts are there for that reason alone, at least at first, but over time that particular brand of admirers gets bored, leaving only their true fans, of which there are plenty, more than enough to sustain a musical career.

In interviews, Barry speaks of his past career as a guard, and how much more fulfilled he feels now as a full-time musician. Travis and Contra get married and adopt a dog, who they name Wulfgar; Wulfy follows them on all their tours. Ossia becomes the band’s moral centre, ensuring that they never let their fame go to their heads and that they are always honest and fair to their fans. Fret has accomplished his dream of becoming a musician people will remember for generations, but that’s not the most satisfying part. As it turns out, what he wanted most of all was to play music again with his friends.

[yanmuffins]

waiter! waiter! more phineas and ferb reader pls!

I wonder how the batfam would react once they catch reader inventions on a random tuesday, like, "hm, what a nice day to look out on the window and HOLY SHIT WHY IS THERE A GIANT ROBOT SPITING FIRE WHILE RIDING A ROLLERCOASTER IN MY BACKYARD???"

the events that would follow this incident would be funny and exasperating, me thinks

also, wouldn't it be funnier if Perry the Platypus was part of the JL? and like, no one knows his identity but Superman, and neither of them are willing to talk about it-

I know it would be very unlikely, since everyone there would have enough neurons to recognize a platypus with and without a hat, but for the sake of shit and giggles, just think of how funny that would be

welp, I needed to get that outta ma chest, I hope I at least made you laugh a little, because seriously this is one of the best ideas I've seen in this tag and I can't stop thinking and giggling about it

Stay well!

context.

first: i was not expecting this concept to be so popular!! the responses i've gotten from everyone are so amazing!!  ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) thank you for the ask, anon!! it always makes my day.

i am formally announcing that i will be turning phineas and ferb reader into a fic now. it's too good a concept to pass up. something more light-hearted to work between the other fics i'm writing.

batfamily finding out about reader's whacky inventions would be an event. it so wholeheartedly shatters the image they had of reader to the point they just have to sit with what the hell just happened for a while before they even consider what to do about you next. still so many things that don't make sense. their newest case is how the fuck did we go this long without finding out (Y/N) has been building mechas in our backyard and why are those things always gone when it's convenient.

then the realizations just start dropping on them like an anvil on a looney tunes character. and they kinda feel like shit, cause how did they not notice? really puts into perspective how they've neglected you all this time. so many stunts you pulled right under their nose, on their backyard, their garage, throughout gotham and metropolis. ok, were out there being creative and amazing and you sure know how to spend the wayne family money, they'll give you that, but it was so irresponsible of you! who knows what could've gone wrong. you're not like them! you're a civilian with no training, the only regular teenager in the family, you're the last person who should be exposing themselves doing all that.

bruce goes off on you, screaming about how could you be so reckless, you did all of this behind his back– what? what do you mean he gave his permission? and he is floored, devastated, blood pressure up, when you remind him of every instance you dropped by his office with a document for him to sign or to ask for permission, with proof as you pull out every paper he put his signature without a second look.

and that, ladies and gentlemen, is when reader's dynamic with the batfam does a complete 180 and their little yandere antennae start going off. no more whacky cartoonish shenanigans. at least not without proper supervision. they know you're not a fan of this new arrangement, but you gotta understand they let you go unchecked for way too long! they'll drown you in family activities so you don't even have to worry about it. who wants to build a teleportation machine, anyway? just join them for family movie night.

as for perry, that is going to take them a while longer to figure out. bruce just can't stand another insane discovery, so when batman sees an intelligent platypus wearing a fedora and walking on two feet on justice league headquarters (if we're going by the idea that he's a part of JL), he's just going to think "my kid has a pet platypus. huh."

oh, consider:

dick: "damian, you knew all this time?! our sibling could've gotten into serious trouble! why didn't you tell us about this?"

damian: stares into the camera like he's in the office.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 15: Bonnie

Summary: Your heat is over and your pack has moved on with their lives, settling back into the familiar routine. Except, some things have begun to change, and you're not entirely sure if its for the better.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7456 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral, handjobs, overstimulation, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, switch Johnny, Johnny's lingerie kink, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, mention of nightmares, brief talk about killing and violence, insomnia, fluff, and of course a bit of angst

A/N: This chapter was an absolute bitch to write. I'm not kidding this was a nightmare. I'm happy with the changes I've made though, and how things are progressing. We've made a little bit of a time jump here, but not much. I think I'm getting sick so, posting the chapter before I inevitably pass out again. Oh, and Happy Easter everyone that celebrates.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

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Your eyes fly open as the alarm blares. They burn as you squint against the bright phone light. An arm reaches over you, the warm skin sliding against your back as he fumbles to turn off the offending noise. 

You let out a quiet groan as you catch the numbers dictating the time on the screen before the phone is placed back on the nightstand. “‘S too early.” You grumble, rubbing at your crusty eyes. 

“Go back to sleep.” John murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before he shifts, climbing over you to get out of the bed. He tucks the blankets back around you before slipping into the bathroom. 

You won't go back to sleep. The last time you'd glanced at the time on your phone had been two hours ago, at 2 A.M. You’ve been awake most of the night, as you have been the last couple nights. You haven't been sleeping well. It was like your heat opened a floodgate and now every time you close your eyes, you're transported back into the past, back when you were a child. Back when things weren't fine. 

You've started trying to avoid sleep, waking constantly during the night from nightmares or from your brain’s own fear of them starting back up. It’s only been a week since your heat ended, and yet you feel no more rested than you did coming out of it. Nothing you’ve tried has worked, not even staying awake until you inevitably pass out prevents your subconscious mind from pulling up the horrible memories of your past. 

Even sleeping next to your alpha hasn’t provided any comfort for your mind. His presence isn’t enough to quell the fear in your mind that the nightmares might come back, that the memories might surface. 

Even he can’t protect you from this. 

You close your eyes as the bathroom door opens again, pretending to sleep as John dresses for his morning workout. He’s quiet, near silent as he moves about the room. It’s almost terrifying how quiet they can be. Though, you suppose, if your survival depends on it, it’s a skill you’d spend plenty of time honing. 

John grabs his phone from the nightstand, running a gentle hand over your head before he leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You lay there for a few minutes, trying not to let the guilt eat you alive. You should tell them you’re struggling to sleep, that your mind is plaguing you with memories from your past, but you’re afraid of what they might think of you. You’re not the perfect omega, you’re not as whole as you might seem. 

You’re held together with duct tape on the inside. They already have enough to worry about now, they don’t need the weight of your misery thrown on top of the loads they all carry. 

You let out a long breath, turning over in John’s bed. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling the imprint of his scent on the fabric. It’s still warm where he was laying, and you shuffle over into that spot, letting your body go lax as you imagine him still there with you, arms still wrapped around your body. You want to bury yourself in his arms, press against his chest until you sink into him and become one. 

Only then, perhaps you can feel safe enough to sleep. 

You press your face further into the pillow, every inhale filled with John’s scent. It lulls you into a daze, the hypnagogic stage between sleep and wakefulness. 

You jolt as a hand touches your arm, calluses smoothing over the bare skin. You blink your eyes open, letting out a quiet groan. It’s light outside now, the room bathed in white light instead of the yellow tinge of the nightlight John had bought for his room for you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” John says, gently squeezing your arm. He’s already dressed for the day, hair still damp from the shower. You hadn’t even noticed he’d returned. 

You roll over, rubbing your eyes. “‘S fine. Didn’t even know I was asleep. Breakfast time?” 

John hums, leaning over you. “Almost. You’ve got time to get ready.” 

You blink up at him blearily, your mind still trying to wake up completely after your short nap. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in their blue depths. You feel like you could swim in them, his deep earthy scent drawing forward memories of camping and swimming in the lake. Memories you could pretend were happy, memories not tainted by fear and grief. 

“Christ,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, your lips moving against his as you kiss. You trail a hand up his arm, sliding it to his back. His shirt is soft, thin enough that you can feel the muscles in his back as you smooth your hand across his shoulder blades. 

“Wish I could stay here all day.” He murmurs, his face pressing into your throat. You tilt your head for him, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest at your sign of submission. He sighs, pressing his nose against your scent gland for a moment before he straightens back up. “Got a job to do.” 

You let out a groan as you stretch, arching your back. “Fuck your job.” 

“I’d much rather be fucking you.” He says, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip before he stands up, grabbing the shirt you’d worn to slip into his room last night off the floor. It’s one of his, one you’d stolen from his laundry hamper while he was in the shower. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.” 

You grin, pushing the sheets down before sitting up on the edge of the bed. You rub your eyes tiredly, stretching again before pulling on his shirt, slipping your slippers on. You pad back to your room, changing into more appropriate clothes for breakfast. You’ll be left to your own devices again afterward as the guys return to their normal training schedule. You won’t be napping this time, though, you fear. Instead you’ll be looking for ways to keep yourself awake. 

You and John walk hand in hand to the mess. It’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it, and you find you’ve grown to miss it a bit. You don’t miss the stares, the looks that pass over you and your entwined hands as John leads you to the line to get food. It’s like they know, like they all somehow witnessed what had transpired over the last couple weeks, like they had all been spectators to it. 

John makes your tray for you again, carrying it to the table where the others are already seated. You take your normal spot next to Kyle, both him and John sitting closer to you than before. Perhaps they were picking up on your nervous energy, but even Johnny and Ghost seemed to be sitting closer. You cast a glance between them before digging into your tray. Something had transpired, but you’re not quite sure what. 

You might never get to know. 

It’s quiet as you eat, the coffee bitter and watery, but you don’t care. You’ll suffer anything that might give you a boost of energy to make it to lunch without falling asleep. 

Johnny walks you back to the barracks after breakfast is over, his arm around your waist as you take your time crossing the courtyard. He’s oddly quiet compared to how energetic he usually is this early in the morning. Something must have happened to make him silent. 

“Johnny?” You ask after a group of soldiers jog past behind you. 

He hums, looking down at you. His eyes are still bright, but his brows are slightly furrowed. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask carefully, not wanting to risk pushing any buttons. 

“Aye.” He answers after letting out a sigh. “Jus’ an incident in the gym this mornin’. Nothing ye need tae worry about.” 

You raise your brows at him, silently conveying your desire for more information, if he can give you any. 

“Just some alphas talkin’ shite, like they do. Callin’ ye the 141’s whore. Askin’ if we all take turns or if ye let us all go at once.” He says, his tone practically seething as he leads you into the barracks. “Simon reminded them of their place.” 

You can only imagine how that went. 

Despite their obvious tension at the jabs made at you by the other alphas, you don't feel as angry as you probably should. Being called a whore was a bit demeaning, but part of what was said wasn't entirely wrong. Perhaps it's just some leftover hormones surging from your heat, or maybe being claimed has shifted your feelings towards your packmates, but the idea of being shared by them has warmth spreading through you. The mental images piecing together in your mind of taking them all at once would probably make the alphas that made that jab at you blush furiously. 

“Johnny?” You ask, turning to him when you reach your door. 

“Aye?” He stares down at you, his blue eyes soft as they gaze down into your own. 

“I, uh, I wouldn’t mind if at least part of what they said was true...” You sink your teeth into your lip. “You...uh...you’ve been waiting for a while...for your turn.” 

He gulps, shifting slightly on his feet. You can’t tell if he’s nervous or excited or something in between. 

“Well, I’ve been officially cleared to partake in more...strenuous activities..” 

“Christ.” He breathes, crowding you against the door. For a moment you’re worried he might just do it right here, right now, but instead he leans in, close enough you can smell the coffee he had with his breakfast. “I’d love that, kitten.” He bites his own lip as he stares down at yours. “Let me know, and I’ll be ready for you.” He leans down, closing the short distance between you as he kisses you. 

You lean into him, kissing him back. It feels like the first time you kissed him, except you can feel the hunger, the restraint behind this kiss. You can feel how much he’s been holding back, how long he’s waited to finally have this moment. To think of anyone desiring you in such a way makes your head spin. He wants you for you, not what you can do for him, not what you can give to him. Not even just for what’s between your legs, even if that’s what you’re going to do. 

He wants to be with you because you’re you. He doesn’t have to, he could choose not to, but he does. 

He pulls away, staring down at you. His eyes are darker now, speaking promises of what’s to come. “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.” 

“You're tired.” 

You blink, your gaze snapping to his face. You had been drifting thoughtlessly, quite enamored with a single spot on the floor. You're not sure how long he let you stand there, empty-headed and practically dozing upright. 

You rub your eyes, trying to force your brain back to awareness. “It's early.” You give the excuse, toeing off your shoes. “Been a while since we've done this.”

“You're going to have to work extra hard to gain it all back.” Ghost says, pulling off his sweatshirt. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his arms, the strength in them, the tattoos on his skin. You bite back the desire to move closer, to get just a glimpse at one close up. You want to sit and trace them, hear the story of every single one. You want to push his sleeve up, watch the way his muscles bulge and flex, see how far his tattoo goes up his arm. 

You snap yourself out of your thoughts, moving onto the mat before you do something embarrassing like starting to drool. You watch him as he stands at the edge of the mat, brown eyes taking you in as you stand there. Something tickles in the back of your mind, a hint of fear, the sense of sudden danger prevalent. What would you do if he suddenly ran at you? Try to dodge and make it to the door? Where would you go? The med center again? 

“Easy.” He grumbles, sensing your obvious tension.

Your gaze snaps back to him, his posture relaxed as he stays still. “I'm putting a lot of trust in you.”

“I know.” He says, standing almost as still as a statue. You wonder how he can possibly be so still, but you suppose it's something he learned to do. “I should never have broken that trust in the first place.”

Your eyes widen, brows lifting as you stare at him. You didn't expect such a straightforward apology from him. You haven't really gotten one, until now. You hesitate as you stand there in silence, Ghost obviously waiting for your response. 

“I don't know if I can forgive you.” You finally say. 

“You shouldn't.” He shrugs, his gaze shifting to the wall behind you. “Even if you weren't really in danger, it was still a dick move.”

Your eyebrows raise even higher. “An apology and admitting you were a dick? Should I be worried?”

He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Consider it an offering of amicability, for Johnny. I know you two are getting close, so inevitably we're going to find ourselves around each other more often than we have previously.”

“Well, I suppose I could accept that.” You say, shifting on your feet. “I don't think you could convince Johnny otherwise.”

“Hardly. He wouldn't listen anyway.” He finally moves, shifting on his feet. “You gonna put your hackles down so I can approach?”

You take a deep breath, relaxing the tension in your body. You don't really have a reason to fear him, despite what he did. He hasn't given you a reason to fear him since then, and he's even gone so far as to apologize in his own way. John wouldn't have allowed this to start again if he didn't trust Ghost not to do something that might put you in danger. 

John trusts him, so you should be able to as well. 

Ghost slowly approaches, your eyes watching him carefully until he's directly in front of you. You stare up at him, holding his gaze. You wish you could see the rest of his face on the off chance it might give you a hint at what he's thinking and feeling. You wonder if that's partially why he wears the mask. 

Ghost holds out his hand and you place your own in his. It's so much bigger than yours, his long fingers engulfing your wrist as he wraps your hand. You could probably do it yourself by this point, but you like making him do it. You like the way his hands hold yours, the roughness of his skin against your own. 

He starts out reviewing things you already know. Punches, kicks, dodging. It doesn't take long for you to get back into the groove of things, moving like it hasn't been nearly a month since your last training session. You notice the fatigue faster than you had during your last session, but you expected that after almost a month, paired with your heat two weeks ago. 

“Now, punching and kicking will only get you so far in a fight.” He says, giving you a moment to breathe. “Almost all fights are going to end up on the ground. Even if your goal is disarming enough to escape, the chances of you and your opponent ending up on the ground is highly likely.” 

He swipes your feet out from under you before you can even blink, nearly knocking the wind from you as you land on the mat on your back. He’s on you quickly, dropping to his hands and knees over you. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him above you, his hulking form seeming even larger from this angle. Your mind begins to run wild, imagining all the things that could happen in this position. 

“Focus.” He grumbles, arms flexing as he presses his hands into the mat where they rest on either side of your head. “You don’t want to be in this position in a fight. You’re too vulnerable.” 

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. You are vulnerable like this. Even with him, someone who doesn’t want to hurt you, it would be so easy. Your head begins to turn, your gaze leaving his as instinct begins to take over. 

“No.” He snaps, gripping your chin to turn your head back so he’s looking in your eyes. “You do that in a fight, you’re not going to see the other side.” 

You gulp, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers on your face, the firmness of his grip as he keeps you from showing submission to him. That’s not why you’re here. He’s right. If you do that in a fight, it’ll be over before you even have a chance to run. 

“Your legs are far stronger than your arms. Use them to your advantage.” He says, showing you how to get him into the right position to flip him. 

You know he’s helping you as you flip him onto his back. If he really was fighting you, you’re not sure you could have done it, even if you managed to land enough of a hit to disarm him. You wind up on top of him, sitting on his stomach. The position doesn’t help your racing thoughts, and you pray you can keep enough control over yourself so you don’t make it obvious. 

“Use your legs to pin my hands.” He directs you. You shift your knees slightly, trapping his hands against the mat. “Good.” He says, laying still under you. “You can’t hold a bigger opponent down here for long, but that’s not the point. This gives you a moment of opportunity to go for the face or the neck. Stun them and that gives you a headstart. If you have a weapon available, then you have one less person to worry about chasing you.” 

You gulp at his words. It hadn’t even crossed your mind during your training. He had said it so simply, so easily. You suppose it is to him, after years of doing it, after countless moments where it’s his life or theirs. Is that what he tells himself? Is that how he rationalizes it? Is there so much blood on his hands now that killing is as easy as breathing? 

You wonder how they all rationalize it. They all have blood on their hands, they all have killed, and will kill again. Every time they leave and come back, it’s with more blood, more nameless faces on the list of lives they've taken, all in the name of the greater good. 

Is violence and death really the path to the greater good? 

“What?” He asks, sensing your inner turmoil. 

You sit back on his stomach, your body rising and falling with his even breaths. “I don’t know if I could do it.” 

He tugs his hands from beneath your knees easily, resting them on the mat next to your legs. You can feel his fingers twitch as the blood rushes back into them. “You might not have much of a choice.” He says, holding your gaze. There’s a softness in his gaze you have never seen before. “Sometimes it’s the only choice. If they’re attacking you, they’re better off dead. Even if their goal is to take you alive, the things they’ll do to you.” He shakes his head. 

He’s speaking from experience. You know he’s seen things, witnessed the brutality omegas are subjected to at the hands of the worst kinds of alphas and betas. He’s watched omegas die in front of him while he’s sat helpless.

His hand lifts, cupping the back of your head to pull you down closer to his face. You catch yourself with your hands on either side of his head, fighting the urge to tense your shoulders. His hand doesn’t move from the back of your head, his fingers not even twitching as he holds you steady. 

“If they’re willing to do it to you, how many others have been on the receiving end? If you’re not willing to be the last, how many others will come after you?” He says, his gaze intense as he stares at you. “I hope you never have to, but you always have to prepare for the worst.” 

He holds you there for a breath, staring up into your eyes before he releases you, flipping you off of him and onto your back on the mat. He pushes himself up to stand, staring down at you as you lay there, catching your breath and thinking over the last few moments that transpired. 

“Come on. It’s almost time for breakfast.” 

It’s quiet in the rec room. The TV is off for once, only the hum of electricity and the occasional turning of a page the only sound breaking the silence. You and Ghost are the only two in the rec room, both of you relaxing silently as you read. He’s in the chair as usual, and you’re stretched out on the couch. 

You’re only halfway paying attention to your book, still thinking over your conversation with Johnny earlier, and what transpired in the gym during your training session yesterday. You know how much Johnny wants to be with you, and you're more than willing to go that far with him. You like Johnny, more than just as a packmate. It's hard not to fall for him with his confidence and his playful demeanor. You know he's been desperate to take things to the next level too. 

All he's waiting on is you saying the word. 

He will never force you into it. He'll impatiently wait for you to go to him, to tell him that you want it. All jokes and teasing aside, you know he'd never make you feel like you were being forced into something. 

The thought makes you want to cry. 

“Pull his hair.” Ghost’s voice cuts through the silence, nearly making you jump. 

You lower your book so you can see him, eyebrows raising in surprise at his words. “What?” 

“When you finally fuck Johnny, grab him by the mohawk. He likes it.” Ghost says, not even looking up from his own book. 

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering for a moment if he can read minds, or if you’re just not quite as subtle as you think you’re being. 

“I'll, uh, keep that in mind.” You say, lifting your book again to hide your blushing face. 

The room descends into silence once more, the two of you continuing to read as if nothing had happened, as if that conversation hadn’t transpired. You wish it felt that way in your mind, though. The mental images Ghost’s words have drawn up drowning out the words on the pages that you’re trying to read. You’re trying not to get worked up further, but you can’t help it. After your training session and the thoughts that had come to mind with Ghost, and now these new images of Johnny, you’re sure your scent has begun to sweeten with arousal. 

You need to rectify this, and fast. 

You knock on the door, shifting nervously on your feet. Your hands have disappeared in your sleeves, the weight of your phone in your pocket the only thing keeping you from floating to the ceiling and dissipating into the air from the anxiety. 

Your stomach nearly drops from your body as the door swings open, Gaz standing there in his full glory. 

“Everything alright?” He asks, staring down at you with those big brown eyes. “You look nervous.”

You swallow the nerves, nodding in response. “Yeah, I just...wanted to talk to you for a minute.” 

He steps away from the door, brows still pinched in worry and confusion as he motions for you to enter. You brush past him as you step into his room, taking a look around. You haven't been in his room before. It's slightly smaller than yours and John's, and it doesn't have a private bathroom. There's artwork up on the walls, and a couple of plants on his desk, along with a few personal belongings. It's neat and tidy, not that you expected anything less. 

“What did you want to talk about?” He asks, turning to face you after closing the door. 

You take a deep breath, calming the nervous twist in your stomach. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s a natural thing to bring up to packmates. You blame it on the fatigue from your lack of sleep putting you on edge.

“I wanted to ask you something.” You start, staring into his big brown eyes. They’re so beautiful, so expressive as they stare down at you. “Johnny and I...we’re going to...sleep together soon and...I just wanted to make sure that was okay? In case maybe you wanted to go first?” 

Kyle’s lips slowly lift up into a smile as you stare at him nervously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s been an absolute tosser since before your heat, and he’d only become utterly unbearable if he didn’t get to go first.” He steps up closer to you, grinning down at you. “For the sake of everyone’s sanity, I don’t mind being patient. Besides,” He leans down, his breath fanning your ear. “I at least know what you look like naked, so I can occupy myself while I wait.” 

Your face burns with warmth at his words, a shiver running down your spine. He’s not wrong. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, lost to your heat, naked and stuffed with John’s knot. Your brain flashes back to the start of your heat, the feel of his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. You swallow thickly, meeting his gaze as he pulls back. 

“Enjoy your time with Johnny, love.” He slips his hand into yours, lifting it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.” 

You feel a bit out of breath as you leave Kyle’s room, and you’re sure your scent has sweetened with arousal and excitement. You might have been tempted to just jump Kyle’s bones right now, had it not been for your desire for Johnny, and your commitment to letting him be first again. You know Kyle’s right. You’d never hear the end of it if Johnny didn’t get the chance to be next in line. 

Now you just have to find him and tell him the good news. 

“Ye look nervous. Are ye nervous?” 

“I mean, this is a big step...” You say, wrapping your arms around Johnny’s neck as he shifts you into his lap. You try not to think about how strong he is, how easily he moves you. 

“Ye don’t have tae do this, if ye don’ want to.” He says, looking down into your eyes. 

“It’s not that...” You say, shifting in his lap. “It’s more...there’s no going back after this.” 

He wraps his arms tighter around you. “If I didnae want it, I wouldnae offer. Yer a fucking stunnin’ omega, kitten. Would be crazy not tae want ye.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, your gaze dropping from the intensity of his own. His stubble tickles your fingers as you trace the line of his jaw, working your way towards his lips. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as your fingers trace the jagged scar on his chin. 

“Just...go easy on me? At least this first time?” You say, tracing his lips with your fingers. 

“‘Course, kitten.” He says, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. “Wouldnae want to scare ye away.” 

Your eyes widen slightly at the implications of his words, your stomach fluttering with excitement and a hint of fear at what he could possibly be alluding to. His hand lifts, gently grasping your chin, tilting your face slightly. He closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. 

“Don’ worry.” He murmurs against your lips. “Take good care of ye.” 

You hum against his lips, tasting the chocolate he’d been snacking on when you sought him out as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand leaves your chin, sliding down your throat to rest right at the base of your throat, fingers splayed across your clavicle. His thumb rests right on the edge of your mating mark, the pressure making you shiver. 

Johnny pulls you tighter against his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. He moans against your lips as you shift against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass. It’s not the first time you’ve felt it, but this time it’s different. This time you’re going to do something about it. 

“Fucking christ, take ye right here on this couch, if I’m not careful.” Johnny groans, nipping at your bottom lip. 

“Then best take me to bed, Sergeant.” You say, pulling back slightly to give him what you hope is a sultry look. 

The groan that’s pulled from his lips is downright salacious, something flashing in his eyes as you call him by his rank. He curses, tightening his hold around you before he stands, maneuvering you so you’re tossed over his shoulder. You let out a squeak of surprise that’s quickly replaced by giggles as he packs you down the hall to his room. 

He sets you on your feet once you're inside, closing the door. You look around his room, surprised to see it full of art supplies with drawings and paintings all over the walls. You stare open mouthed, taking it all in. It's messier than John and Kyle's rooms, though there's still a sense of order to it. A chaotic order, but you suppose that explains Johnny perfectly. 

“You draw?” You say, studying the art on the walls.

“Aye,” Johnny says, coming up behind you. “In my free time.”

“I didn't know that.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They're beautiful.”  

“Thank ye, kitten.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, reminding you of why you came in here in the first place. “Not quite as beautiful as you.”

Your face warms at his compliment and you tilt your head back, staring up at him. “You're such a charmer.” 

“Try my best.” He grins, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Promise I'll show ye my drawings later.”

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “I know. You're desperate.”

“Been waitin’ weeks for this, kitten.” He groans, grinding against you. 

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You tighten your grip around his neck, jumping into his arms. He manages to catch you, stumbling half a step back as his hands grip your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, lifting yourself so you’re face to face with him. 

“Christ.” He groans against your lips, walking forward until he reaches his bed.

He drops you on your back, your body bouncing on the mattress as he settles on his knees over you. His eyes have darkened as he stares down at you, your stomach twisting in excitement. Warmth has started to pool between your legs, your scent sweetening with arousal. 

Johnny’s hands are rough as they slip under your shirt, tugging it up over your head. He groans, eyes fluttering as he realizes you’re without a bra underneath. He curses quietly, something you can’t quite understand as his hands immediately close around your breasts. Your lips part as he squeezes the flesh in his hands, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You gasp at the sensation as his lips close around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he’s a man starved. 

Well, you suppose he is. 

He has been waiting for quite a while for this opportunity. Something about it makes your brain tingle, arousal pooling in your stomach at the thought of someone desiring you that much. 

It’s not just him, though. Three of the four members of your pack have expressed their desire for you in such a way. The thought makes your head spin. You’re just a simple omega, and yet, here they are going half crazy over you. 

Johnny releases your nipple with a pop, shifting so he can give the same attention to the other one. Arousal continues to pool between your legs, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You drag your fingernails across the back of his neck, a shiver wracking through his body, his hips grinding down against your thigh. 

“Fuck,” He gasps, releasing your nipple to stare up at you.

You repeat the motion, dragging your fingers slower. His eyes roll back, hips grinding harder against your thigh. He’s so sensitive, you think, pushing your thigh up against him. He lets out what can only be described as almost a whine, rutting his hips against your leg. 

“Fuck,” He curses again, pushing himself back up onto his knees. “Tonight is about you, kitten.” He takes a deep breath before slipping his fingers under the waistband of your pants, tugging them down quickly and tossing them on the floor next to your shirt. 

He sinks his teeth into his lip as he stares down at your panties, one of the pairs he got you on your shopping trip before your date with John. You had changed into them specifically for Johnny, remembering how excited he’d looked when he bought you five pairs of the lacy garments. He groans quietly as he runs his fingers over your lace covered skin, slowly lowering his fingers between your thighs. He glances up at you, meeting his gaze and you give him a nod before his fingers dip lower, trailing the wet spot on the lacy fabric. 

You part your legs more for him as he rubs you through your panties, quiet moans leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction from the fabric. His eyes are still on you, glued to your face as the pleasure begins to build just from his touch. You buck your hips against his hand, searching out more. More pleasure, more of his touch, more of him. 

“Look at ye, needy little thing.” He groans, his thumb dragging up your slit until he finds your clit, slowly circling it through the fabric. “Barely touched ye an’ yer cunt’s already soakin’ yer skids. Fucking sweet little thing, so needy for me, aren’t ye?” 

You push yourself up onto your elbows, staring down at him. “Are you going to sit there and run your mouth all night, or are you going to fuck me?” 

He grins wickedly at you. “I’m just gettin’ started, kitten.” 

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee before trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His thumb continues to stroke you through your panties, applying more and more pressure as he gets closer and closer to your center. He whispers out a curse as he shoves your panties to the side, revealing your glistening folds to him. He leans forward, warm breath fanning your slit before he closes his mouth around you. 

You gasp at the sensation, dropping back onto your back on the bed as he drags his tongue through your folds, flicking it across your clit before he closes his lips around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he did your nipples earlier. Pleasure shoots through you as he eats you like a man starved, slurping away at your pussy obscenely. 

“Fuck, Johnny!” You gasp, legs trying to close around his head, but he holds your inner thighs, keeping them spread. 

You’re not going to last very long, not with him alternating between sucking at your clit and swirling his tongue around it like that. He’s done this before, and you can’t help the momentary spike of jealousy at the thought of him between any other omega’s thighs now that he has you. 

“Gonna cum!” You whine, hips bucking against his face. 

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess all over my face?” He groans. 

You curse, your back arching as he continues to work you up, hands fisting his sheets. 

“That’s it.” He groans against your clit, dragging his teeth over the sensitive bud. “Be a good omega for me.” 

You cum with a cry, soaking his chin as he continues to tease you. He laps at your juices, not slowing any as he works you through your orgasm, even as you begin to shake with overstimulation. 

“I-I can’t.” You gasp, the burning feeling starting to pulse through you as he continues to suck at your clit. It’s quickly becoming too much, the feeling overwhelming you. 

Ghost’s words flash through your mind at that moment, his suggestion yesterday while you both spent time in the rec room reading. You reach down, sinking your fingers into Johnny’s mohawk, gripping the short strands. He lets out a groan as you tug, pulling his face from your pussy finally. His chin is glistening with your release, his tongue darting out to lick your juices from his lips. 

He follows as you tug upwards, drawing him away from your pussy. He crawls up your body until you’re almost face to face, your fingers still tangled in his hair. 

“I said that’s enough.” You say, slightly breathless from your orgasm, but you put as much authority in your tone as you can manage. 

“Yes ma’am.” He practically whines, the muscles in his arms flexing as he sinks his own fingers into the sheets around you. 

The sudden shift in control has something buzzing in your brain, the back of your neck tingling. You’re an omega. You’re not supposed to be in control, and yet, here Johnny is, practically folding in front of you. A thrill shoots through your veins at the thought of what you could make him do, what lengths he’d go to for you simply because you have him in this position. 

“Take your clothes off.” You say, releasing his mohawk. 

He sits back without complaint, tugging his shirt over his head. You take him in, the hard lines of his muscles, the dark hair on his chest, the line disappearing under the waistband of his pants. You lick your lips as he undoes the button on his pants, undoing the zipper before tugging them down with his boxers. 

His cock is hard and practically standing at attention as he kicks his pants off. He’s slightly smaller than John, but not by much. Your pussy clenches at the thought of him inside you, but you’re not ready for that quite yet. You guide Johnny back up to your face, pressing your lips against his. You can taste yourself on him, making him groan as you lick into his mouth. 

You guide him onto his back, trading places with him. He settles beneath you, his hands lifting to your hips, but you push them back as you pull away. You smirk down at him for a moment before you move, changing your position so you’re facing away from him. You trap his hands against the bed with your legs like Ghost showed you, sitting yourself on his taut stomach. He has a clear view of your ass still sporting your lacy panties, your wet folds pressed against his skin. 

“Simon show ye that one?” He asks, flexing his hands under you. He could easily overpower you and free himself, but he doesn’t.

“Uh huh.” You say, wrapping your hand around his cock. 

“Hells bells, what are you two gettin’ into during trainin’?” He groans, obviously starting to picture the lewd things you and Ghost might be doing. You wonder how he’d react to seeing you on top of Ghost like you were yesterday. 

“He’s just teaching me how to defend myself.” You say, slowly pumping his cock. “I’m finding there’s not much of a difference between fucking and fighting.” 

Johnny lets out another groan, but you’re not sure if it’s because of your words, or your hand on his cock. You continue to pump his length, feeling the softness of him in your hand, squeezing gently to feel the vein running along the bottom side. Johnny lets out a choked groan, hands twitching again under your legs. 

“Fuck, I cannae last much longer.” He gasps desperately, his length twitching in your hand. 

Pearly white beads of precum have begun to slip from his tip, and you can’t help but lean down and drag your tongue across his head, gathering some in your mouth. He lets out a whine that rivals ones of your own, his hips bucking as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm. 

“Please, kitten, let me cum inside ye.” He begs, pulling his hands free from underneath you so he can grip your hips. 

You pull away from his cock, sitting up on his stomach. He’s panting, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You shift yourself again, turning back around to face him. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, pupils blown with lust. His lips are parted as he pants, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain of holding himself back. You push yourself back until you’re hovering over his cock, pulling your panties to the side with one hand, grabbing his length with the other. 

You groan as you sink down onto him, bracing yourself with a hand on his stomach as he stretches you open. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing your hips as you work yourself down his length. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, pressing your hands against his abs as you sink down completely onto his cock, your hips flush with his. 

“So fucking tight and warm,” He groans, his grip near bruising around your hips. “Fucking feel fantastic, kitten.” 

You slowly begin rocking your hips, using your hands on his stomach for leverage. Your toes are curling already from this angle, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you with every rock of your hips. Small whines and whimpers leave your lips as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing your legs around his hips. They’re shaking already, and you know you won’t last long in this position. 

Johnny seems to notice that as well, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to guide your movements. You’re starting to sweat from the effort, your thighs burning, but it feels too good to stop. You’re getting close again, the stretch of him inside you paired with the high of having such control over him just a few moments ago driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

Johnny pushes himself up as your movements begin to slow, wrapping his arms around you to shift you in his lap, laying you down on the bed facing the footboard as he slots himself over you. He takes over, thrusting into you, setting a frantic pace. Your head falls back as he pounds into you, your back arching as he folds his body over yours, pressing his face into your neck. 

“Gonna cum for me? Need tae feel ye squeezing ‘round my cock.” He grunts, nipping at the skin of your throat. 

You let out a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “Just like that.” You pant, squeezing your legs around his hips. “Don’t stop!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, continuing to rut into you like your pussy is the only thing that can save his life. 

You practically see stars as you cum, squeezing around his cock as pleasure jolts through your body like electricity. Your hips buck against his, grinding together like some sort of forbidden dance as he’s forced into his own orgasm by your walls squeezing around him. His hips stutter before he stills, warmth spurting into you as he cums. You hold him there, his body trembling with yours as he groans into your throat. 

“Fucking hell.” He moans, starting to shallowly thrust into you. He’s still hard, his cock dragging through your sensitive walls as he continues to fuck you despite having just orgasmed. “Never gonnae tire of this sweet cunt.” 

He probably won’t, you think as he continues to slowly thrust into you again. 

You’re in for a long night. 

NEXT ->

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[fallingformatt]

SINCE WE’RE PLAYING GAMES M.S.

Matt x fem!reader

summary: what happens when you try to cheat your way to win a game of twister?

warnings: SMUTTTTTTTT! unprotected sex, slight bdsm.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: Yall are some freaky fucking fucks… over a thousand notes on my post? Yall are insane, im so thankful for yall dirty minded ass people. I truly did not expect that to happen on my second post ever. And thank you all for almost 300 followers yall are the GOATS!!!

Let me know if I should write a pt. 2 for FIRST GLANCE M.S. available here

post is not proofread

➽───────────────❥

I'm currently at the triplet's house. The sun is setting, casting a beautiful orange hue to the living room where we all are sitting, drinking some drinks, and just talking. The music in the background isn't loud but I can hear it clearly.

"I'm bored, let's do something fun," Matt says looking down into his half-empty cup. "Well I don't have any ideas," Chris shrugs his shoulders. "I have an amazing idea," Nick yells, startling me. "Nick, you scared me, I almost spilled my drink," I say out loudly slapping his shoulder. "Please ask me what my idea is, please, please, please," Nick tries to plead to make us ask him what his idea is.

"So what is ur 'amazing' idea?" I ask looking at him with a serious face. "We're all gonna play twister," Nick says ecstatically clapping his hands together like a kid. "No Nick, we are not playing twister, we're not five," Matt says annoyed. "Oh look I'm Matt, I'm so tuff and boring, I don't like to have fun," Nick mocks Matt, making me and Chris laugh.

"Well I don't know about y'all, but I'm tipsy, there's no way I could play twister right now," Matt says tugging on the collar of his black t-shirt, his eyes from across the room to meet mine, sending butterflies to my stomach.

I've always had a little crush on Matt, but I never really did anything about it, because I didn't want to ruin the friendship between us. I mean yeah, sure I would sometimes tease him, wearing something revealing, making his eyes wander to places they shouldn't, for example, today, I was wearing short, low-waisted shorts and a small leopard print baby tee, but I knew that, me doing something with Matt would probably change the dynamics of the group as a whole, so I left it as is, hoping my crush on Matt would sooner or later die down.

"You're just scared that you'll lose, so I have a proposition, whoever loses takes a shot of vodka," Nick says proudly. "That's the dumbest thing I have heard in my life," Matt says crossing his arms. "Well, as far as I know, five-year-olds can't drink vodka, so who's the five-year-old now huh?" Nick defends his idea. "We all are a bit tipsy so the chances of you winning are fair, you're just a pussy," Nick says trying to provoke Matt. "Yeah Matt, don't be a pussy," Chris joins in. "Okay, that's it, we're playing, and I'm going to win," Matt says and smiles confidently. Nick claps his hands excitedly as he stands up and walks to the pile of board games that are stacked on a shelf above the TV.

"Found it! Y'all are going down, I hope y'all like the taste of losing, because y'all are gonna be licking the L's shortly," Nick says with a devious smile. "Okay, this one's clearly had more than enough to drink," Matt says as he facepalms.

Nick sets up the game, laying the playing pad down on the floor and placing the spinner next to the mat. "So, who wants to go first?" Nick says grinning. "I'll go," Chris answers and bends down to spin the indicator. "Right foot on red." He says out loud and steps on the playing mat. We all take our turns and the game is starting to get intense.

"Nick you are going to lose," Matt says his voice getting higher at the end of the sentence. The poses we are in are criminal. We are four, grown adults standing on this little mat, meant for children. At this point in the game, the slightest movement could make us all fall down. "Chris, you look like a deformed frog," I say as I'm laughing, almost snorting. Chris's right foot is still on red, his left foot is on blue, his right hand on blue, in front of his left leg, and his left hand is in front of his right leg. Nick is chilling in a comfortable position, meanwhile, I'm stretched out, so close to fall.

We all spin a few times. When all of a sudden Chris loses his balance and falls. "Hah, it wasn't even your turn, you're out, take a shot," Nick yells, happy that he's still in the game. "This is so annoying, 100 bucks on Nick falling next," Chris says as he takes a shot of vodka. I'm now in a compromising position, both of my hands are on red and my feet are on green and yellow, my position is leaving my ass high up in the air. Nick is now barely staying in the game.

"Nick it's your turn," Chris says out loudly, the alcohol he's had, making him unaware of the volume he's speaking in. Nick spins the spinner, "right hand green," Chris says. As Nick tried to move his hand, he lost his balance and fell. "Fuck," he yells out as he stands up. "Where my money at?" Chris says as he hands Nick a shot of vodka.

"Spin it," I say to Matt, and he does. "Left hand red," I say and Matt starts to move his left hand. Now both of his hands need to be on red and the only place in order for him not to fall is on either side of my hands. As he moves over me he brushes against my ass making me lose my balance slightly. Placing his hand next to mine, his head is now next to mine, "sorry," he says quietly, his hot breath brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

It's now my turn and if I don't think of something quickly, I'm going to lose. I look over my shoulder to see what Chris and Nick are doing, they are currently in the kitchen getting some drinks. My lips move making a small grin, this is perfect.

As I reach for the spinner, I pop up my ass, making it brush against Matt's crotch. "Right hand red, looks like I'm safe for now," I say as I turn to Matt, a smirk appearing on my lips.

After taking my turn, I move back, again brushing against his crotch, now feeling something hard. "Don't do that," Matt says in an almost moaning tone. "Do what?" I say looking at him. "Don't try to act all innocent," he says in a serious tone. "It's your turn," I say, a smile plastered on my face.

Matt takes his turn and spins the spinner, "left foot green," He says, looking at the spinner. As he tries to move, I once again pop up my ass, making him brush against it once again, the tension on his crotch getting too much for him, making him lose his balance and he falls. "Ha, I win," I say as I stand up clapping my hands together. Nick and Chris rush over to the living room.

"Did Matt lose?" Nick asks. "Yeah because she cheated," he says, anger and frustration can be heard in his voice. "What did I do, that counts as cheating?" I ask, raising one eyebrow, as a smirk creeps on my lips again, knowing he can't say anything without explaining him further. "Nothing," Matt murmurs. "What's that? I couldn't hear you," I tease him. "I said, nothing," Matt raises his voice, standing up and storming off to his room.

"I am too drunk for this," Chris says throwing up his hands as he turns around and heads to his room. "Can you help me clean this up?" I ask Nick, and he nods kneeling down.

We cleaned everything up and put the game back in its place. "You ready to head to bed?" Nick asks. "You go, I'm going to come later, I'm going to check on Matt," I say as I start walking to Matt's room. "Goodnight Nick," I say smiling. "Goodnight." He answers.

Without knocking I open the door to Matt's room. "Hey, you okay?" I ask as I look at him. He's sitting on the edge of his bed looking straight at me. "I was waiting for you to come in, want to play a game?" Matt says. "Sure, what game?" I ask unsure what game he had planned.

"Since we're playing games, let's play a game you can't cheat in," he says a smirk creeping on his lips. "Simon says, close the door," Matt says. Oh shit, we're already playing. I close the door not moving an inch. "Simon says turn around and lock the door," his voice getting deeper. I do as he says. "Simon says turn back around and stand in front of me," he says. As I turn around, about to walk in front of Matt, my eyes meet his, his eyes grow dark and his lips form a slight grin.

"Simon says strip," he says his tone getting even deeper, a hint of lust accompanying his voice. "What?" I ask, my voice slightly trembling. "You heard me, Simon says strip," he repeats. I start off by taking off my baby tee throwing it on the ground leaving my upper body fully naked. I slip out of my shorts, letting them fall to my ankles before stepping out of them. I pick up my head to look at Matt, he stares me up and down licking his lips.

He stands up and walks closer to me, his hands move my hair to one side of my shoulder, then proceeds to leave a wet kiss on the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His hand reaches over my body, touching my neck as he stands behind me "Left hand red." He says as slides his hand down my neck stopping at my breast. He massages my boob, pulling on my nipple making me moan.

"You like that?" He whispers in my ear. I don't answer. "Simon says answer," Matt says as his other hand slides down into my panties, pressing his finger against my clit before rubbing circles, making me moan. "Yes Matt I like that," I say as I throw back my head resting it on Matt's shoulder. He pulls out his hand, "Simon says turn around," Matt says and as soon as I do, he smashes his lips onto mine.

Matt wraps his hand around my waist taking small steps, leading us to his bed without breaking the kiss. I brush against his clothed cock, rubbing it slightly before I feel a slap on my hand making me break the kiss, I look up. "Nuh uh," Matt says shaking his finger, "Simon didn't say," he smirks and pulls his black t-shirt over his head throwing it to the ground next to my clothes.

He removes his belt, sliding it out of the belt loops of his oversized jean shorts, making them slide down a little, revealing the band of his boxers. He looks at me before moving his gaze to my hands.

"Simon says, extend your hands." His voice was demanding, I brought out my hands, and he grabbed them and put them together before wrapping and tying them together with his belt.

Matt puts his hand on my hips pushing them back, guiding me backward. As I take steps backward, I eventually fall on his bed. He crawls on top of me, spreading my legs with his knee, making space for himself.

He yanks up my hands by the tied belt, pinning them above my head, immediately, Matt attacks my neck with his lips, leaving a trail of kisses from my neck to my breasts, he kisses softly, slipping in a few bites. His hand slides up my thigh, stopping at my heat, his thumb starts to draw circles on my clit.

"Matt," I moan out. "Shhh, we don't want Nick or Chris hearing us do we?" He says looking up at me, taking his lips off of my breast. I shake my head in response and he smirks, "good girl," he says as he continues to rub circles on my clit his lips now moving back from my breast to my collarbone to my jaw before meeting my lips.

"Matt," I moan out as I try to pull my hands out of his grip. "Matt what?" He says as his hands push harder on mine, making sure I can't move. "Please, I need you," I whimper. He lets go of my hands and pulls away from my clit, making me let out a whimper from the loss of contact.

I immediately bring my hands down to my clit and start rubbing circles on my clit, pleasuring myself. As he unbuttons his jeans, he notices my hands, he grabs and pins them above my head again. "Are you gonna make me punish you?" He says his voice filthy and dark. "No," I say, shaking my head and looking at him. "Yeah, be a good girl for me," Matt says practically growling.

I move up and down my hips trying to get some relief as I watch him undo his jean shorts pulling them down, his boxers with them making his cock spring out, hitting his lower abdomen, precum glistening on his tip. Matt looks at me, "see what your little strategy to win did to me," he says raising his eyebrow.

"Please Matt, I can't take it anymore," I say as I scoot closer. Matt moves on top of me pinning my hands again, his other hand sliding my panties to the side before aligning himself with my heat. He pushes his cock in slowly before pulling it out almost completely, then pushing back in hard. "Oh- my- god- Matt-" I moan out between thrusts, his hand moving over my mouth to muffle my moans.

Matt fastens his thrusts, with each thrust going in deeper, making me moan out loud, he leans into my ear. "That's it, sweetheart, take my cock so good," Matt growls, pushing in me deeper than ever, his tip hitting my g-spot with every thrust. "Mmmm Matt you feel so good, I'm close," I moan out feeling my climax creeping up tension building in my stomach.

Matt moves his elbow next to my head, positioning himself so he's able to thrust even deeper. I arch my back as the pleasure takes over my body. His quiet moans landed in my ear, his hot breath sending me over the edge.

"Matt, I'm about to cum," I moan out. He smashes his lips onto mine in order to contain my moans as he plants a few more thrusts before I feel my walls tighten around his length, feeling the knot in my stomach releasing, my climax coming over me, I moan into the kiss. His hips continue to move as he thrusts in me a few more times before planting his cum inside me groaning, breaking the kiss.

He pulls out falling next to me, turning his head to look at me. "Who won?" He says smirking. "I did," I answer smiling, knowing this will piss him off. "Can you untie me?" I say as I shake my hands. "You didn't say Simon says," Matt answers teasing me back. "Simon says round two," I say as a devilish smirk appears on my lips.

I guess I won't be heading to Nick's room tonight.

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Tbf canon did forcibly remove Norman and Emma from the trio for roughly two years </3 Not to detract from the point you're making though.

Also feel like @thedoodlenoodlesuniverse's trio dynamics graph is still fairly accurate (original deleted, reblog here)

Eternally grateful I've never come across jealous/spiteful Norman and Ray fighting over Emma, or jealous/spiteful Emma and Ray fighting over Norman.

(although I do subscribe to the headcanon of Norman having a pang of jealousy over how much time RE got to spend together before their reunion in the Paradise Hideout with how he tends to navigate extremes at that age, but it’s of a very specific variety. Seeing how close the Grace Field escapees have become during their near two years out in demon world and how that shared trauma brought them together could be a mixed bag for him, with the aching reminder that he wasn’t there with them, didn’t share those memories with them after a lifetime of being together, and the initial flare of jealously turns into shame over thinking it in the first place when 1) he’s mad at not being able to have been there with them‚ not at them, 2) how selfish it is to still want that when they already went through his death once and now will have to go through that a second time, and 3) he spent so long isolated and effectively helpless in his immediate circumstances while at Lambda and suffered for no justifiable reason that it manifests in a festering internal rage, which heartbreakingly can never be given a satisfactory answer…so basically banana_slug_army’s Interwoven lol)

full score trio 😔

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader #33 Ghost helps fix up your house or makes repairs - for @glitterypirateduck's Ghost writing challenge

His phone rings again on the following Tuesday morning.

It's been a day and a half, since he's seen you and Orion last. Since he made you promise to call, no matter what, if you needed something. Or if you needed a break, or some company.

Anything. Anything, and he'd be there.

You had tried to push him off a bit, tried to assert your independence, which he appreciates, he values. He likes to know you can take care of yourself and the baby when he's not here. But when he is-

"We're really fine, you know. You don't have to be... available for us, whenever. I mean, like if you have other things. Or people, you don't have to be here all the time. I've been doin' it on my own, and I'm fine. We're fine. I don't want you to feel like you have to-"

His fork clatters to the plate, and your eyes go round as he rises from the chair and steps toward you, firm hand cupping your arm. "I'm here because I wan' to be."

"O-okay, I just don't want you to be here because you think you have to... because you're all the sudden saddled with a kid."

"I'm not here because I feel like 've been saddled with a kid. I'm here because I want to be, because I wanted you the night we made him, and I still do. I want you both." Your mouth drops wide before snapping shut abruptly, warmth rising in your cheeks. You're so cute like this, flustered and nervous, and it reminds him of the night he met you, a sweet little kitten, all alone at the bar. "And you've done more than just a fine job, sweet girl, takin' care of yourself and our baby for me, but when 'm here, it's my job."

So, his phone rings, and it doesn't matter that he's in the middle of spotting Soap at the squat rack.

He drops everything.

"Hi." You're a little out of breath when you open the door, eyes wide and wild, chewing on your lip. Orion is asleep in your arms, blissfully unaware, head lolling on your shoulder, clad only in a diaper.

His head buzzes, still trying to reconcile the truth of this entire thing, the fact that this is his, you and his baby. His.

"What's wrong?" He's massive in your door frame, and ushers you back inside, clicking the lock into place behind him. "What's goin' on?"

"It's... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called. I just... I don't know how to fix it and you said I could... call, right? So-"

"Hey." His thumb gently presses into the inside of your elbow, and then he squeezes slightly. "It's okay. I want you to call me. What is it?"

"It's the laundry." You blurt, and then freeze, eyes flicking down to see if Ry has woken up. "I broke the washer, and today is the day I do the baby's clothes, but I can't get it to work and... it hates me." He chuckles.

"It doesn't hate you, sweetheart. Let's take a look." This, he can do. Things with his hands, mechanical things, physical puzzles, easy. It's not the first time he'll have fixed an appliance, and it won't be the last.

He takes the machine apart as quickly as possible, pieces laid out exactly where he needs them, washers and screws and everything all accounted for. It's the belt, he discovers rapidly, an easily fixed problem with a new part.

"I'll have to run down the street quick," he tells you, drawing up to his full height and motioning towards the entryway, "but it's a quick fix." You nod, stepping out of the way, small smile on your lips. He promises he'll be right back, that he'll have it done in no time, and you pad along to the door, standing back as he pulls it wide.

"Simon..." you whisper, and he turns, "thank you."

"Of course."

True to his word, he's back before the hour. The low murmur of the TV echoes from the living room, and he gravitates there before returning to his task, driven to lay eyes on both of you, to make sure you're here, you're okay-

and the sight of it stops him in his tracks.

You're asleep on the couch, shirt pulled up and bra unhooked from it's strap. Orion is cradled against your chest, his tiny fingers curled in the flesh of your breast, mouth lax around your nipple. There's a dribble of milk sliding down his cheek, and the sight of it all makes Simon dizzy. He knew you nursed him, but seeing it for the first time fills him with something he's not sure how to reconcile, adding onto the heap of adoration and possession pounding in his heart. It's a different kind of puzzle, the same kind of barbaric instinct and need roaring in his blood, the one that tells him to tuck you away and never let you go.

He stares for a second longer, scratching this moment into his memory as much as he can before he realizes how tired you are. You do a good job of hiding it, smiling and buzzing about, but in the early afternoon light, he can see the exhaustion so clearly, and kicks himself for not noticing sooner.

When Ry starts to fuss, your brow furrows in your sleep, and Simon can't stop himself. "Shh, shhh." He soothes, pulling him free as gently as he can. You twitch, hands searching, and then your head snaps up in a panic, breaths stuttered. "It's okay. I got him, you just closed your eyes, is all. It's alright."

"Sorry." You croak, sitting up and fumbling with your top. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's okay, mama." He's on his knees in front of the couch, in front of you, and you stare down at him, mystified. "What does he usually do after he eats?"

"Uh... burp? And then he goes down to sleep." You yawn. "A change, if he needs it."

"Alright, 've got it, you go rest. After I put him down, I'll finish the washer."

"Oh, no... I can-"

"I've got him. Nothin' I can't handle." He shifts Orion, supporting his head as he props him up over his shoulder, rubbing his back slowly. He wants to do this, wants you to let him do this, wants you to trust him.

He needs it.

You hesitate. "Are you sure?"

"If I need anythin', I'll wake you." There's a burp cloth on the coffee table, and he places it under Ry's chin. "Huh, lad? If we need mama, we'll get her, right?" You soften, posture relaxing a bit, and then you nod.

"Alright, then."