#also because i see people draw his neck feathers white and stuff

[ouroborosreilig]

doodle because i was thinking about how dumb he'd look

[gingersnaaps]

"yes" is conditional

the whorification of y/n, courtesy of one kuroo tetsurou and his special... talents <3

wc: ~2.4k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): dubcon, expicit n*fw, brainwashing/conditioning, mindbreak, bimbofication, mental aphrodisiac, exhibitionism mentions, uh implied sexual slavery(there's a cage at the end??), corporate!setting, fem!reader with inner genitals,

a/n: written for @sugawara-sweetheart and her decadence collab!

i don't want minors interacting with my content

The movies always get it wrong.

Kuroo thinks it’s hilarious how far off the mark they can be, honestly. He’s seen countless renditions of what people think mind control is like, and it’s always so corny and contrived - it’s not like he forces anyone to do things they don’t actually want to. He just… makes suggestions.

Nobody actually knows where their own thoughts come from, do they? So it’s almost too easy to place a suggestion or two in the back of someone's mind and pass it off as their own idea.

Most of the time, people are all too happy to comply with these suggestions.

And Kuroo’s more or less content with the free drinks he receives, the frequent raises his boss dishes out, and the one-night stands he easily gets as a perk of his little power. He really does enjoy the gifts other people seem to drop into his lap and the temporary flings he always finds himself in.

But he’s bored.

He wants more. He’s had enough of the short-lived gratification every time he persuades another pretty girl to come home with him.

So when he sees you walk by his office window, with your head always ducked low and your modest outfits all prim and put-together, it’s out of a passing curiosity - just a whim - that he starts his experiment. He wants to know just how far he can go in suggesting ideas and replacing thoughts, just how deep he can reach, and you’re perfect. You’re an unassuming and quiet coworker, you don’t attract attention, and he can tell that you’re one of those good girls just from the way you flush and avert your gaze when he talks to you.

Besides, he’s always wondered what your ass would look like in tighter skirts. Or, alternatively, with no clothes on at all.

Kuroo decides to make a project out of you.

As the days pass, he makes sure to time his coffee breaks so they sync up perfectly with yours. He makes sure not to do anything too overt, though - he doesn’t make you give him your number right off the bat, or ask you out immediately, or even drop any compliments. He wants to play it a little more subtle this time.

You find that you can’t help but take note of him, partly due to his constant presence, but also because you just can’t seem to tear your eyes away. Suddenly, there’s an insistent urge in the back of your mind constantly telling you where to direct your gaze, a little voice that whispers out how good his collarbones look, or how his back muscles ripple out under his shirt when he stretches. Your eyes seem drawn to his - and every time you make eye contact, you start flushing furiously, a tingling warmth spreading down your spine and into your cunt.

When you pass by his office, all he has to do is flash a cheeky grin, wink, and just like that, your panties are fucking soaked. You don’t know why you’re no longer able to control yourself around him, but it must be natural, right? It’s normal to have a relationship with a coworker go from completely platonic to you fantasizing about him stuffing your cunt full, right?

If he’s going to be honest, Kuroo likes seeing how horny he can make you every time he’s close by. He likes the way your face heats up, the way that cute body of yours seems to tense up, the way you cross your legs a little bit tighter when he walks by.

It’s not hard to make up fantasies to put in your mind, either - Kuroo thinks about you nearly all the time, after all. So when he finds himself drifting off in his office, thinking of the way you’d moan and scream and mark up his back if he were to pound you into the mattress, or maybe of how your pretty face would look dripping with his cum as he grips your hair and fucks your face, he doesn’t mind sharing them with you. And the look on your face when he does - oh, baby, it’s so precious.

You must be barely more than a virgin with how absolutely ashamed you act.

And slowly, of course, your wardrobe begins to change. When you find yourself at the mall, you’re no longer looking for conservative sweaters and cardigans that disguise the shape of your body. Maybe you’ve just lost interest in that style, especially with the way you find yourself drawn to the more… vivacious section. Now, you find it empowering to sift through racks of the tightest skirts, of v-neck blouses that give away your cleavage whenever you lean over.

When you show up at work, legs clad in tight stockings and your breasts pushed tight up against your shirt, you feel almost proud when Kuroo sees the way you’re dressed. In fact, when you find your gaze drawn to his, looking into his dark pupils blown wide with arousal, you feel that intense, throbbing heat in your cunt flare up again.

You feel good. You feel happy. You dress this way because you want to.

And when he finally asks you out to dinner, it’s easy - almost second nature - for you to say yes. Why would you ever want to say no when you’ve been so fixated on him for the past few weeks, when your mind has been filled with the dirtiest, unspeakable thoughts, when you’re so undeniably attracted to him?

On that date, you can barely think straight.

You’re just so fucking turned on the entire time, aren’t you? You can’t stop thinking about the way his cock would feel dragging up against your tight, wet, heat, about how his fingers would feel methodically taking you apart, how the flat of his tongue would feel flicking up across your clit.

You don’t care about the food. You barely even notice how much the bill for the dinner comes to. All you can think about is him.

Kuroo finds it almost endearing how tightly you cling onto his side during the taxi ride to your place. He can feel how warm you are, your shallow breaths puffing in and out, the way you tremble when he brings a thumb up to caress your cheek.

His experiment was so fucking worth it. You’re putty in his hands, a little plaything he can mold and shape to his liking.

That night, you are very much to his liking.

You pull him out of the taxi, whispering into his ear how much you’d like to show him around, but he isn’t fooled. You’ve invited him up not because you want to give a tour of your living area, but because you need him, because you don’t really have a choice with the way he’s been conditioning you for the past few weeks.

Barely five minutes have passed before you drag him to your bedroom, stripping off every useless item of clothing off. “Please,” you whimper. “Fuck me. Please. Please. I want it so bad.”

He knows you’re telling the truth, and as he grasps your thighs with his large hands and spreads you until you’re open and dripping, he’s only too happy to oblige.

Sucking gentle kisses along the crook of your neck, he bites at your soft flesh, running his tongue up along your pulse point until you shiver. He reaches down, trailing his hand over your chest and tummy until he arrives at your clit, and rubs slow, feather-light circles that leave you squirming and shaking, bucking into thin air until he grabs your hips and holds them down firmly in place.

He knows you want more. He can tell by the way your puffy clit pulses, swollen and tender, and the way you mewl whenever his fingers brush against your entrance.

“More,” you whisper, eyes wide and pleading. “I need more. Please.”

His cock twitches at the ragged desperation in your voice, and he almost wants to draw it out for a bit longer. You make such a pretty picture - he wants to run his hands through your disheveled hair, all mussed up and soft, wants to hold your face, glowing with sweat and flushed pink, wants to sear how depraved you look into his mind forever.

But who is he to deny you when you’re begging so nicely?

Weeks of pent up frustration have left you so, so sensitive - after all, your short, stubby fingers can’t reach nearly as far as his can, and the angle he’s able to hit every time he curls his fingers in a come-hither there motion isn’t something you could ever replicate. It’s so easy to make you cum when you’re desperate, and he indulges you, making you cream around his fingers as he thrusts them deeper and strokes at your walls.

And when he’s done prepping you, Kuroo finds that fucking into a needy cunt is so much better than just a willing one. Your pussy, slick and dripping wet, almost seems to suck his cock into your hole, and the lewd moan that falls from your lips as he bottoms out sends heat rushing to his core. He goes slow and careful at first - he wants you to enjoy this, after all - but your pussy feels so good, so warm and velvety, that he can’t help but speed up and ram his cock into you until you’re squealing like a bitch in heat. It might feel better without the condom he has on in the way, but that’s okay - he’ll save fucking you raw for another day.

After that night, you only grow more eager. You start doing things you never would’ve even imagined prior to his little interventions - you send him nudes from the work bathroom, slutty pictures that show off the curve of your ass and your tits covered in lace, candid shots of your lips wrapped around your fingers, sucking on them like you would his cock, even pictures of your cunt right after you’ve been touching yourself.

And just days after he’d fucked you for the first time, you find yourself at the pharmacist picking up birth control. You want to feel him cum inside you, to paint your pussy white and stuff you full until his seed is dripping out of you and dirtying the sheets.

Most of all, you want to please him. You want to make him feel good so that he’ll fuck you, offer you some sweet relief from the persistent ache in your cunt that gets particularly intense whenever he’s nearby.

You let him fuck you almost anywhere, anytime. He bends you over the sink in public bathrooms, running his fingers along your folds, or sprawls you out on his lap in his car, his cock deep in your cunt. You don't really mind if other people see the two of you - as long as he's gripping your hips tight, bruising your cervix until your skin blooms black and blue, sticky drool leaking from the corners of your mouth - he could be showing your naked cunt off in the middle of Times Square for all you care.

Kuroo can’t help but beam with pride at the way your demeanor has changed as of late. You used to blush whenever he would make eye contact with you, and now you’re begging him to get you off during rush hour on public transportation.

He likes this new version of you very much.

-

Months go by, and you find that it gets harder to focus at work. Early on, it was easy to ignore the heat curling in your stomach whenever your thoughts drifted to Kuroo, but now the artificial glare of the screen gives you a headache, and the numbers and letters on the spreadsheets all seem to meld and jumble together until you can’t tell which is which.

You don’t really care about your boss’s performance review anymore. The customers can scream all they like. The most pressing concern on your mind, the one that you just can’t stop thinking about, is the insatiable need for Kuroo to fuck you, to lift you up against the wall and bounce you on his cock like a ragdoll.

Why would anything else matter?

To be completely honest, Kuroo hadn’t anticipated this particular side effect, but he supposes it makes sense that the more thoughts he replaces, the less original ones remain. There’s no longer as much of who you were before left, and - oh, Kuroo really shouldn’t be doing this to you, should he? But he finds that he doesn’t really care, doesn’t really mind, because you look so much better in your tight skirts, so much happier being the slut he’s slowly trained you to be.

He did like you for your personality - he really did. It was nice seeing you cute and quiet, but there’s just no room left for who you were anymore.

We’re all shaped and molded by our environment, aren’t we? The people we surround ourselves with, the places we grow up and live our lives in - it just happened that for you, your environment was Kuroo, and he did the work that society probably would have done anyway - albeit a bit differently, a bit more extreme.

Of course, he’s not delusional. He knows he’s responsible for the way you are now, so when you eventually get fired, he takes you in and lets you live with him. This way, you’re safe and warm and taken care of, and in exchange, he gets easy access to your cunt whenever he wants. There’s no more need for midnight calls or texts, because his pretty little fuckdoll is always waiting for him when he comes home.

He doesn’t have a spare room, but that’s not a problem. He lets you sleep on a couch at first, but the nice, comfy cage he orders for you comes in after just a few days. After all, he doesn’t want all his hard work to go to waste, and besides - you’re content with the few amenities your new accommodations offer: food, water, air, and cock.

Kuroo often finds himself admiring your pretty face, an expectant, needy expression plastered on your features and your eyes glazed over, stuck between the dirty metal bars like a dog waiting for a treat from its owner. He can’t help but think that this is how you were always meant to be, that this is the perfect relationship that makes both of you happiest.

Considering the state you’re in, you really don’t know any better, do you?

if you enjoyed this, please reblog or just drop by my inbox to say hi! requests are open

[bbq-hawks-wings]

Am I seeing things, or are Hawks’ legs in his Shifuku page kinda odd looking? Those baggy pants really hide how thin they are, they appear sorta crooked and curved??? Is it just me, or do you see it too? I’m squinting so hard to see where the pants and shoes end, it’s around the thin-belt like perimeter on the shoe right? Are his pants outside the shoe or inside it, is the white stuff part of the shoe too? That’s an odd design, I’m so sorry I’m still on the bird feet agenda-

You know what, I've been craving writing some slightly meatier meta lately, and this is just the kind of topic to scratch the itch. Spoilers ahead for the manga.

Now, I've mentioned before that I don't think Hawks canonically has bird feet. I do like the idea of him having more obviously avian traits, but besides his wings, eye markings, and hair texture I think anything else is all subliminal in canon. That is to say, this isn't "Haha, you're wrong" but more of a, "It is with a heavy heart I regret to inform you" kind of deal.

And with that, I regret to inform you his Shifuki page leads me to believe he has very lean human looking anatomy in what looks like wide-legged straight jeans that are bunching around the neck of his high-tops. Nevertheless, I do posses an explanation for what you're seeing as well as my evidence Hawks has normal human feet.

To address his curvy legs, it's simply a quirk of human anatomy that at the right angle the human shin appears to angle inward. In drawing - especially gesture drawing - a common principle is to stagger "curved" and "straight" lines to create a natural and organic flow to the body. This picture I found of a male and female dancer demonstrates that very well.

Thanks to the calf and knee muscles anchored around the joint and tapering out to more sinew and ligament tissues which lie close to bone around the ankle you can get this curvy shape (usually between 3/4 and 7/8 rotation like in his left foot pictured below) and the whole leg tends to generally slope backwards at the knee when standing straight. The clothes he's wearing also play into this illusion because of the way fabric will fall and bunch when influenced by gravity and friction with itself and the body.

Likely, he just has a very lean kind of muscular build unlike the beefcake Endeavor or peak All Might are sporting. He's built to be fast and light, not powerful and immoveable.

As for his feet -

[Sketch updated thanks to an inaccuracy caught by someone who brought it to my attention]

I've traced over his anatomy and roughly sketched typical bird anatomy next to it. Now, the severity of that backward angle has plenty of play in it seeing as we're talking about fantasy Frankenstein anatomy and the fact that some birds do sport very tall, straight legs such as this fancy, leggy, showboy:

(The world of show pigeons is wild, y'all.) But more important to me is the structure of the toes.

Most birds are anisodactyl, meaning that they have three toes pointed forward and one toe pointing back. Birds of prey - hawks and eagles in particular - are, exclusively anisodactyl to my knowledge. Relatively few types of birds have toes that all point forward, and those that do are usually adapted for a specific lifestyle.

Glance back up at the shape of his foot that I've outlined. The shape is completely flat in the back where his ankles connect to his feet and his sneakers don't look any different from a standard shoe for human feet which would make me wonder where that rear-facing toe is supposed to go. Even if this toe was supposed to be small, I'd be concerned for space as well as his center of balance given how tightly long, thin toes would have to be bunched up in that shoe and then support his whole weight as he walks and is generally active. His shoes are also consistently shaped and behave human throughout the series and in any frame we see of him. If anything, the fact his feet appear so small further supports the idea they're boring old people feet.

Further evidence are his hands. Hands and feet are normally radically different body parts to begin with, but my point comes from a character design perspective. Hands are much more visible so if Horikoshi wanted to make Hawks' design to be "a little bit of bird everywhere" as the bird feet would support it would make sense that we'd probably see the presence of talons, scales, longer and bonier fingers, etc. But once again, his hands are no different than yours or mine so it doesn't make much sense to think Horikoshi is secretly hiding these bird feet in his shoes where it's harder to make an excuse to show them off when there's nothing to see under his gloves.

If Horikoshi really wanted to push the bird anatomy hybridization he probably would have gone with something a lot more like this picture Kadeart drew which combines more feather interspersed across his body with scales and talons integrated into more otherwise human anatomy. (Seriously, go check out her stuff if you haven't already. It's a gold mine of quality Hawks content.)

In other words, I'm not against Hawks having more hybrid anatomy, I just refuse to believe it's canon because if turns out to be true that's some weak sauce and we were robbed when we could have had THAT. 👆

[sodamvelvets]

“ilysb”

park sooyoung x fem idol reader

warnings: intense make out at the start?

word count: 2,790

a/n: this one is inspired by LANY’s ILYSB, it’s my favorite song at the moment :) As promised, Yeri will be next! I really like how this one turned out, so I hope you guys like it too!

Sooyoung wakes up with her arms wrapped tightly around you, your head buried in the crook of her neck. Your soft breaths tickle her skin, causing Sooyoung to smile broadly as she presses a feather-light kiss onto the top of your skull, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. 

“I love you,” She whispers, not caring that in your sleeping state you won’t hear her.

Gently, she tucks a strand of your unkempt hair behind your ear, careful not to wake you, stopping for a moment to admire your delicate features. As she takes in your peaceful expression Sooyoung is certain that no one has ever made her feel the way she feels about you before. No one has ever been able to make her heartbeat quicken to the point where she thinks it will jump from her chest, with just the smallest smile. No one has ever been able to leave her wordless, struggling to even form a single sentence. And most importantly, no one has ever been able to make Sooyoung feel as if she’d move mountains just to hear your elegant laugh. 

Before you, Sooyoung occasionally found herself regretting her decision to become an idol. Despite the fact that she loved singing, and even more so her fans, but sometimes she wished she could have a normal life, where her every move wasn’t stalked and critiqued. Her life often felt like she was walking a thin and endless tightrope, where a single misstep would cause her to fall to her doom. It was difficult, finding a balance of her private life and her public one, and while her members also struggled with the same thing, she felt they didn’t truly understand her, none of them ever seemed to be unhappy with their choice to be an idol in the way Sooyoung was, and not wanting to appear ungrateful, she kept it to herself. But then she met you and all doubts about her career disappeared because she realized if she hadn’t become a singer, she would never have met you. 

It was backstage at one of Red Velvet’s promotional Inkigayo stages when she first saw you, waiting silently to perform with your bandmates and listening intently to your leader’s encouraging words. All of you were part of a still relatively new rookie group under YG Entertainment. At the time, Sooyoung had only briefly heard of you before, having heard short clips of your newest title track on the radio, but until then, she had never actually seen you and your members. But when her eyes landed on your group, more specifically you, her jaw dropped. 

Like many idols under YG, you had a striking beauty, and you held yourself with a certain cold confidence that left an icy feeling in your wake, something your makeup artists definitely played up to, making sure to paint your face in a mature and intimidating way that left Sooyoung staring. Sooyoung was only further smitten as she watched your performance, a bad girl concept that you and your bandmates nailed, your body rolls and intense moves leaving Sooyoung gaping, which Yerim had, of course, made sure to tease her for, the troublesome maknae even going as far to approach your group, and give you Sooyoung’s personal number with a smirk, all while Sooyoung watched with reddened cheeks. 

That had been almost a year and a half ago though, and now the two of you were in a fairly open relationship, both of your companies surprisingly having agreed to let the two of you go public, with a few restrictions of course. 

“Hey Sooyoung,” A smile spreads across Sooyoung’s face as she hears your husking voice.

“Hi Y/N,” Sooyoung says, shifting her body so your noses are touching, appreciating the way the golden flecks of your brown eyes sparkle in the morning sun. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” You murmur, snaking a hand under Sooyoung’s shirt and beginning to draw circles on her abdomen. “Last night was very tiring.”

Sooyoung chuckles, moving to kiss you, but you shove her away. “Ew, morning breath.” You whine, opening your mouth to continue before Sooyoung quickly cuts you off by flipping you on your back and straddling your waist, wearing a dangerous expression that makes you swallow thickly as the words die in your throat, no longer testifying as she captures your lips with her own in a bruising kiss, nipping at your bottom lip as her tongue tangles with yours, moaning into your mouth. Her palms press you deeper into the mattress causing you to whimper as her kiss becomes rougher, her fingers moving to tangle themselves amongst your already messy hair as she presses her knee in between your legs causing you to let out a surprised gasp. 

At the sound, Sooyoung instantly pulls herself away, wearing a knowing grin. “So, I was thinking we could drive out to the Gwangjang Market,” Sooyoung says casually, still hovering over you as your body squirms slightly, trying to escape her grasp. 

“Isn’t that a little far away?” You huff breathlessly as Sooyoung begins to teasingly kiss down your jaw. 

“Yeah,” She says, groaning as you finally manage to push her off, and by the annoyed look in your eyes, she gets the sense that you’ve figured out she was simply trying to work you up without actually finishing anything. “But the bindaetteok is worth it.”

You laugh, and Sooyoung pulls your body so your head is resting on her chest. “Fine,” You say. “But you better keep your hands to yourself, Park Sooyoung.”

///

“You look good,” Sooyoung comments with a lopsided smile as you step out of your shared walk-in closet, wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a Lie Collection T-shirt, coupled with one of Sooyoung’s leather jackets. It’s a much better outfit, Sooyoung thinks, than her plain black slacks and white blouse.

You raise a brow. “You’re only saying that because this jacket is yours.” You respond, a teasing lilt in your voice. 

Sooyoung stands, her taller form towering over you as she wraps her arms around your waist. “Maybe.”

You giggle and poke her side, causing her to let out a melodramatic yelp. “Sooyoung,” You say, rolling your eyes. “We should get going, it takes an hour to get there.”

Sooyoung holds your hand throughout the car ride, the two of you making comfortable small talk as Sooyoung drives through the already busy roads of Seoul. Occasionally, she steals glances at you, admiring your serene expression as you watch the colorful billboards pass by, quickly directing her attention forwards when you look over at Sooyoung, knowing if you caught her staring you’d chide her and tell Sooyoung to keep her eyes on the road. 

“We’re here,” Sooyoung says as she pulls to stop in a public parking garage a couple miles away from the market. “Well kind of, we have to walk the rest of the way, if that’s alright?”

“That’s fine Sooyoung,” You say, moving to get out, but Sooyoung grabs your wrist.

“Wait, don’t move.”

Sooyoung hears you chuckle as she gets out of the car, walking around to open the passenger side door and offering you her hand, which you take. “I see Seungwan is starting to rub off on you,” You joke. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sooyoung asks as the two of you head for the garage exit.

You shrug. “The both of you are unbelievably greasy Sooyoung.” 

Sooyoung lightly shoves you, feigning offense, before reaching into her bag and producing two pairs of sunglasses. Even though the two of you are out to the public, Sooyoung would still prefer if neither of your fans were to recognize you and interrupt your date today. “Put these on.” 

You nod, taking them from Sooyoung and slipping them on just before the two of you step into the bustling street. 

“It’s a nice day,” Sooyoung notes, glancing up at the clear blue skies. “Jongmyo Park is just behind us, we should go later.”

“Sure, it’s been a while since we last went there.” You say, reaching to interlace your fingers with Sooyoung’s but she dodges your grasp, instead slipping her hand into your back pocket, and pulling you into her side.

Sooyoung laughs as your cheeks redden, enjoying your flustered state as well as the feeling of your smaller body fitting perfectly into hers. 

It takes you and Sooyoung about thirty minutes to reach the market, Sooyoung complaining it would’ve taken less time if you hadn’t insisted on stopping to take photos for your social media along the way, which only earns her a slap to the back of her head. 

As usual, Gwangjang is crowded with people, tourists and locals alike, and Sooyoung holds you close as you weave through the masses, pointing out stalls here and there that she notices are selling your favorite dishes, before eventually settling on a vendor. 

“I’m not all that hungry,” You murmur into Sooyoung’s ear. “I’ll just have some of whatever you get.”

Sooyoung raises a brow, and orders two plates of bindaetteok and a side of japchae, knowing you’d want your own once you started eating some of Sooyoung’s. 

“Sooyoung,” You whine as she passes the shop owner twenty thousand won. “I have a comeback soon, I can’t be eating this type of stuff!”

Sooyoung frowns, in her opinion, you’ve always been too harsh on yourself during your dieting periods. “Y/N, you’re going to need your energy for your practice from somewhere.” She scolds, pushing the food into your hands. “Plus it’s only one dish, and knowing you, you’ll burn it off in seconds.”

Hesitantly you nod, sitting down next to Sooyoung at the stall’s table, Sooyoung watching as you begin to eat and laughing at the way your eyes light up at the taste. 

“Thank you, Sooyoung,” You say, kissing her cheek as both of you finish your breakfasts, and stand to leave, Sooyoung once again wrapping an arm around your waist. 

She hums contentedly in response, giving you a warm smile that you gladly return. Sooyoung’s gaze flicks from store to store as you and her walk towards one of the many market exits, quietly admiring the delicately crafted silk hanboks that are displayed in some of the shop entrances. 

As the two of you step outside, Sooyoung notices the sun is slightly lower in the sky than when you first entered Gwangjang, and the air feels a few degrees colder. 

“Still want to go to Jongmyo?” Sooyoung questions. 

You nod. “Mm-hmm.”

A comfortable silence settles between you and Sooyoung as you walk, your footsteps falling into a synchronized pace, Sooyoung adoringly watching as you excitedly point out stores that interest you, squealing when you spot a poster featuring you and your group in your latest partnership with a popular makeup brand and she chuckles as you delightedly take a picture of the ad to send to your members, beginning to text back and forth with them. 

Sooyoung appreciates the new outlook you’ve brought to her life that makes her so much more grateful for moments like these. She loves the youthfulness you’ve given her but also the wisdom, and in a way you remind her of Joohyun, both of you sharing a seemingly icy personality, that once melted reveals a gentle and caring person who while sometimes childish, can also be mature and professional. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask as you look up from your phone. 

Sooyoung blinks, not realizing she had been staring. “What?”

You smirk. “You were staring like a creep.”

Sooyoung rolls her eyes, pulling you into her arms. “Is it so wrong for me to want to admire my beautiful girlfriend?” She mumbles into your hair. 

“I suppose not,” You say, reaching up to pinch Sooyoung’s cheek, Sooyoung surprising even herself, when she doesn’t swat your hand away. “You know,” You whisper teasingly. “If your members saw this, they’d say you’re getting soft.”

“I am not,” Sooyoung pouts, lightly pushing you away from her, causing you to laugh boisterously, and Sooyoung can’t help but let her scowl turn to a smile at the sound, interlacing her fingers with yours, and wordlessly letting you know you’re already forgiven as the two of you walk the rest of the way to Jongmyo, only stopping once you reach the park’s small pond where a tiny island sits with a large bonsai growing from its center. 

Sooyoung sighs happily as you lean into her side, resting your head on her shoulder. 

“I really missed this, Sooyoung,” You say suddenly. 

Sooyoung glances at you curiously, biting her lip. “Missed what?”

“Just being with you,” You sigh. “Our schedules haven’t been lining up recently, with my group’s upcoming comeback and your sponsorships,” A sad chuckle escapes your lips. “So I guess it’s just nice to be with you finally.”

It’s true, Sooyoung realizes, you’ve both been so busy lately that this is the first time in weeks you’ve been able to have a day to yourself. Despite living together, Sooyoung barely sees you around, unless it’s dead asleep in your bed, exhausted from a long day of practice. 

“Y/N,” Sooyoung says, turning your body so she can cup your face. “You don’t know how much I wish I could always be with you, but right now we only have this time together, so we have to make do with what we have. Plus,” Sooyoung adds, stroking your cheek. “Once you nail your comeback and finish promotions we’ll have even more time to be with each other.”

“Why do you always have to be right Sooyoung?” You murmur, hugging Sooyoung tightly. 

“It’s a talent,” Sooyoung jokes, frowning as she feels your body tense in her grasp.

“Someone’s watching us,” You whisper into Sooyoung’s neck. 

Sooyoung glances over your head, and sure enough, she spots a tall form standing across the pond in the shade of a tree. She squints, unable to make out any distinguishing features except the camera in their hands that is clearly angled at the two of you. “Let them,” She growls, capturing your lips in a rough and possessive kiss, her fingers digging into your hips as she holds you impossibly close, the world around her fading, becoming one about only you and the feeling of your body against hers. 

///

The photos of your date are already circulating the web by the time you and Sooyoung get home, and Sooyoung can’t help but laugh at you as you sit at the kitchen table scrolling through Dispatch’s latest article dubbing you ‘Korea’s Favorite Couple’, a blush clearly evident on your face. 

“I can’t believe they managed to follow us,” You mutter, closing your laptop and leaning back in your chair wearing a face of disbelief. “They even have pictures of us at Gwangjang, and that place is so crowded it’s nearly impossible to follow anyone.”

“Nothing is impossible for Dispatch,” Sooyoung jokes, leaning against the counter as she scrolls through her music playlists, before eventually selecting Somethin’ Kinda Crazy with a smirk, setting her phone down as the first verses begin to play.  

“Seriously?” You ask, making an unimpressed expression, immediately recognizing Seulgi and Seungwan’s distinct voices. “You’re playing your own song?”

Sooyoung shrugs, choosing to ignore your words as she walks behind you, wrapping her arms around you and starting to pepper your neck with kisses. “Dance with me,” She says quietly.

You giggle, clearly surprised by the request. “What?”

“Dance with me,” Sooyoung repeats, a begging look in her eyes. “Please?” She quickly adds, noticing your raised brow. 

“Fine,” You say, swatting Sooyoung away and standing from your seat. 

With a smile, Sooyoung gently places her hands on your hips, beginning to sway your bodies back and forth in sync as your head rests on her shoulder. Sooyoung hums along to the music, twirling you around occasionally and Sooyoung doesn’t think she’s ever been happier. 

A long time ago, Sooyoung regretted becoming an idol, wishing she could have a sense of normalcy. But as she holds you, she realizes she doesn’t regret anything anymore, not only has she found someone that can give her that simple life she’s always craved, but she’s also found someone who can understand her struggles as a celebrity. She’s found her soulmate.

“I like this song,” You murmur as the track shifts to the familiar beat of LANY’s ILYSB, and Sooyoung presses a gentle kiss to your lips, letting the music warp the two of you into your own personal universe.

“I love you, babe, so bad,” Sooyoung sings softly, and despite it being a part of the song, Sooyoung means every word of it, she does love you, so very bad. 

[connordavidscamera]

Moving In | Connor Brashier

A/n: this is the first CONcept I've made into a full fic and I'm excited to do many more. This is also the longest thing I’ve ever posted on here.

Summary: just a series of events that y/n and Connor experience whiling moving into their new home.

Warnings: fluff, and the tiniest bit of smut

Word count: 7k

***

I sigh when we get back into the car. “That’s the third house we’ve seen today, babe.”

“I know.”

“It doesn’t feel like home.”

“I know,” Connor takes my hand and places it in my lap while he rubs my knuckles with his thumb. “Just one more, okay?”

I stare down at our joined hands. “What if this one doesn’t work either?”

“Then maybe we need to stop looking for a little bit.”

I can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, “No offense, hon, but we’ve outgrown your apartment.”

“Our apartment,” he corrects. 

I roll my eyes. I know it’s technically ours, because over the past two years I have very slowly started bringing in my stuff. But until we got married just a month ago, I hadn’t moved in, not officially. And that probably sounds really weird, but I just wasn’t ready to get rid of something that was just mine - something I worked so hard to get. Connor understood that, but we did agree that once we were married, I’d move in with him officially. However, we didn’t realize just how much stuff we actually had when we put it all together and tried to fit it in his two bedroom apartment. Which is why we’re here now, house hunting because we can’t live there for much longer before we go completely crazy. 

“If it’s any consolation, I think this will be the one.”

I nod, “I hope so.”

“Hey,” he says when we roll to a halt at a stoplight.

“Hmm?” I glance over at him and he’s staring at me with those beautiful blue eyes that I don’t think have ever held anything but love. 

“You know I love you, right?”

I smile contently and lean forward to kiss his cheek. “Love you, too.”

He was right. The house is perfect. Four bedrooms, three and a half bath. Sure we don’t need all the bedrooms, but we can make a couple of them into other things. Con has always said he wanted a room to develop his photos and work on his videos. And I wouldn’t mind having an actual home office.  

“Y/n? What are you thinking, baby?” his arms encircle my waist and I fall into him. 

I nod, “It’s it, Con. This is our home.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say, turning in his arms, rubbing my hands up and down the backs of his arms. 

“Well I’m glad to hear you say that because I just told relator to draw up the contracts. It’s ours, baby girl.”

“It’s ours?” 

He presses a gentle kiss to my temple and holds his hand out for me, the keys in his palm. “All ours.”

---

It only took a week for us to sign the contracts and be out of the apartment. The boxes are piled high in our new living room and we’re still bringing some in. “We really should have asked the boys to help us move the stuff.”

Connor just shakes his head, bringing in what I think are the last two boxes. “They’re helping set everything up. I think we did good here by ourselves.”

I nod, looking back at him with a soft smile. “That the last of them?” I ask, gesturing to the boxes he just set by the fireplace.

“Yes ma’am.” He takes my hands and pulls me to his chest. “Now, come with me.”

“What? Where? We have to start unpacking.”

“It’ll only take a second, I promise.” He says, already pulling me to the front door. He closes it behind us and we’re both just here, standing on the porch. 

“Whatcha doing there, bub?”

He just smiles like he’s won the lottery. “I want to do something. Do you trust me?”

I narrow my eyes at him, “Not when you ask me that.”

He laughs and opens the door, but before I get to step in, he takes me in his arms, lifting me from my legs, in true bridal style. “Connor, put me down!” I beg, laughing too and wrapping my arms around his neck. He kicks the door open so we can walk in, and he sets me down in the middle of the living room. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, arms around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. 

“Yes?” I look back at him, a smile on my lips, hands covering his.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Brashier.”

I tilt my head up and press a kiss to his jaw. “Welcome home, Mr. Brashier. Now,” I pull away from him and walk over the one of the large piles of boxes. “Which one of these have the kitchen stuff?”

He just laughs, shaking his head at me. “The ones closest to the window.”

---

This is something that I’ve only ever heard people talk about, but I never thought it would be something that I got to experience. Connor and I are sitting on the floor in our living room, eating Chinese take-out, with paint samples between us.

“Ew, no. Why would we paint our bedroom yellow?” Connor says around a mouth full of egg roll.

“Chew with your mouth closed!” I scold, taking a piece of chicken from his container. “Okay, no yellow. What about red?”

“No way.”

“Why not? You like red.”

“Yes, but not for a bedroom. Red’s an angry color. Do you really want to go into a red room when we’re mad? It’ll make it worse.”

“Oh, so you believe in the subconscious effect that colors have on a person? That’s new.”

He rolled his eyes, popping a piece of broccoli in his mouth. “I’m just saying.”

“Fine. But since we’re talking about the feelings that colors give us, yellow is a happy color.”

“Yellow is also really bright. You won’t get to sleep in on the weekends like you love to do.”

I groan, “Okay, smarty pants. Then what do you think?”

“How about grey?” He sets his container down, “Can you had me a napkin?” 

“What kind of grey?” I put the stack of napkins between us and sift through the samples at our feet. “Like a light one? Or darker?”

“Lighter. Kinda like that one shirt you wear that I really like.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You like a lot of shirts, honey. Be more specific.”

“You know the one! You wore it on our first date. It’s not quite medium grey, but it’s not super light either. Kinda grainy. You wore it like two weeks ago. It has that small tear at the hem.”

“How do you remember what I was wearing on our first date?” I ask, amazed by his memory.

“That’s what you got from this? I was explaining the color I liked! Pay attention, dodo bird!” he shoves my shoulder lightly. 

“Okay, but you weren’t explaining the color, you were explaining the shirt. Which, by the way, gives you extra good husband points.”

“There’s points? What’s the prize?”

“Anything you want,” I say, looking him in the eyes, making sure he knew I meant it.

“Anything?” he smirks.

“Within reason,” I answer, looking back down at the colors. “Like this one?” I point to a color that’s not quite medium, but not quite white, either. 

“Yeah, like that. I like that a lot actually.”

“Then it’s decided. This will be the bedroom. Now everything else.” I let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Well, we don’t have to do everything now. We can leave some things the way they are and come back to them later. Like this room. Do we really have to paint it?”

I look around and scrunch up my nose. “No, I guess not.”

“I do, however,” he picks up his glass of water and takes a sip before continuing to speak, “have an idea for that wall.” He points to one that holds the large window in the middle of it. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, but I want to keep it a surprise for a little bit.”

“What? No! You can’t do that. What if I don’t like it?”

“You’ll like it,” he nods. “Now, I think it’s time we celebrated.”

“Celebrate what?” I look up at him from where he’s now standing. 

“Um… hello? Are you new here? We just moved into our house.”

“Well, I mean, we’re not technically moved in. Our stuff is just here.”

He groans and squats down, taking my face in his hands. His wedding ring, cool to the touch, rests on the side of my jaw. Connor presses a gentle chaste kiss to my lips, but doesn’t release me just yet. “You’re a handful, Brashier. You know that?”

“That’s why you have two hands, love.” I press a kiss to the tip of his nose and neither of us can pull back without a smile. 

---

I don’t think the intention was to go through an entire bottle and a half of wine in just once sitting, but I mean, that’s what we did. And that’s how we ended up making horrible dance routines to Nice to Meet Ya, and sending awful videos of us singing If I Can’t Have You to Shawn. And how we’re here, right now, in the middle of the room, heads resting on one another’s as we sway to Perfect. (Is that the most cheesy thing you’ve ever heard? Yeah, well it’s cheesy for us too. But the song holds a special place in both of our hearts. We consider it one of our songs - we have too many to count, really - because when we went on our first road trip together, this song was playing on practically every radio station every five minutes. We couldn’t escape it. It was almost comical, but it’s, ironically, one of our favorites now.)

“Listening to our favorite song, I have faith in what I see,” he mumbled into my hair. “Now I know I have met an angel in person and she looks perfect.”

“I don’t deserve this. You look perfect tonight.”

“Can we get really sappy for a minute?” He asks when the song comes to an end. 

“Sappier than Ed?”

“Just a little,” he holds his thumb and forefinger close together. 

I smile at the goofy man in front of me, “Sure, blue eyes. Go ahead.”

He picks my phone  up from one of the boxes and types in my password. I yawn as I watch him type something out and then set my phone back down when he’s found the song he wants. 

Elvis fills the room and I immediately feel my face turn red. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

“You may,” I give him my hand and we’re once again swaying to the music. 

“But I can’t help falling in love with you,” we sing in unison.

“Shall I stay?” he starts.

“Would it be a sin?” I respond, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“If I can’t help falling in love with you?” Connor picks my chin up and presses a feather-like kiss to my lips and I feel like I’m floating. Even after all this time, he still knows just how to sweep me off my feet. He knows how to make each kiss feel like the first, make each stare feel just as intense as when he’s trying to get me in bed with him. And the stare that he’s giving me now? Yeah, it’s doing exactly what he’s wanting it to. 

---

“Con, do we have a ladder?” I ask, standing on my tip toes, trying to get the paint as high as I could, which wasn’t high enough. 

“No, but I can have Brian bring one over later. Why?”

“Well, I mean,” I look up at the wall, “Unless you like the wall being only three fourths painted, I think we might need one.” I laugh, but he doesn’t look as amused. 

“Okay, smart ass. I’ll tell him to bring one.”

So, starting on opposite ends of the same wall was not our brightest idea, because when we meet in the middle, we’re nudging each other, trying to get our sides. The logical thing to do would be to have one of us just finish off the wall ad have the other start another wall, but clearly we’re not logical.  

“Y/n, move.”

“No, you. I’m trying to get my side.”

“And what do you think I’m doing? Standing here just to look pretty?”

I roll my eyes, “Fuck off, Brashier. You give me a headache.”

“I give you a headache? Since when?” 

“Since forever. This isn’t news. Now, scoot over.”

“Hmm,” he pouts and turns around, giving me the space I need to finish my part of the wall - well, what I could without the ladder. 

“Y/n.”

“What?” I ask, turning to face him and I’m struck with something wet on my cheek and nose.  I gasp. “Connor!” 

“There, now the paint fumes can be the reason for your headache instead of me.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get it.”

“Yeah -” he’s cut off when I take my rolling brush over his full face. “Right,” he finishes, wiping some of the paint out of his eyes. “Okay, I see how it is. I hope you know what you’ve started, love.”

“I didn’t start anything, you did. I just finished it.”

“Is that right? Well it’s funny that you think that because,” he swipes his brush over my shirt, but I just laugh. “Ha, this is your shirt, loser!”

“Damn it!” he curses and I smile triumphantly, and turn back to the task at hand and start painting again. I’m on my tip toes, stretching as far as I can to get as close to the trim as possible when I feel a sharp tap on my ass. 

“Ow, what the fuck?!” I laugh a little, bending over slightly in pain. “That stings, dickhead!”

“Sorry honey, but,” he holds his hand up, revealing a grey palm, “had to get you back somehow. And those shorts aren’t mine.” he smirks. 

I groan, “I’m going to kill you.”

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart.” And that’s how the paint war starts. We’re throwing it at each other by the handful. And now there is definitely more paint on us and on the tarp we threw over the floor than there is on the walls. We’re both laying on our backs, giggling messes. 

“Hey, look at me,” Connor said softly.

I do and his eyes look even bluer with the grey covering his beautiful face. “Yes?”

“Let me take some of this off you.” he mumbles and reaches out for my face, wiping gently at my skin with his thumbs, but it does nothing other than smear what’s already there. He laughs, “I don’t think this is working.”

I can’t help but laugh too, “You think? Your hands are covered in paint.” We’re practically hysterical, laughing so hard our stomachs hurt and our jaws ache, and we’re coughing. We look like two absolute messes and I wouldn’t want it to be any other way. And when we’re finally able to control ourselves, I roll closer to my boy and his arms instinctively open, ready for me to curl into his side. 

“What the hell happened here?” Brian’s voice startles us minutes later and we pull away from our cuddled position, looking up at our friend.

“Oh, hey.” I say, stifling a laugh. 

“‘Oh, hey?’ That’s it? That’s all you have to say? Why are you two covered in paint? What, did you bathe in it? It’s in your hair!”

“We may have gotten a little carried away,” Connor admitted. “Hey, did you bring that ladder?”

“Yeah, it’s downstairs. But we’ll get to that in a minute. Let’s focus here. Why are you covered in paint?”

“He started it-”

“She started it-” 

We say together, pointing accusingly at each other. 

“I don’t care who started it. Do you realize the mess you’ve made? Look at yourselves. You’re covered head to toe. And the floor! Thank god you put something down. There’s more paint on you and the floor than there is on the walls. And you,” he stepped farther into the room and scoffed, “And you still have two other walls to do? What on earth were you thinking? Do you know that paint is expensive?”

“Are you paying?” Connor challenged. 

“No, but you literally just moved in. You have bigger things to worry about than adding paint to your next shopping list.”

“Oh quit being a fun sucker. You’re just mad that you weren’t in on it.”

“Damn right I am! How dare you do this without me?!”

Connor and I exchange a look. “You’re right, Bri,” I stand up, suddenly very aware of just how covered I was. Con really got me good. “And we are so sorry that we didn’t invite you. Can we make it up to you?”

“Well…” he taps his chin and looks up which gives us the chance we need. Connor and I lunge for him, wrapping ourselves around him, covering him in paint too. “Hey, no. Fuck you guys! This is my favorite shirt!” he exclaims.

“It’s plain white, dubass!” Connor shoves his shoulder. “Buy another one.”

---

“I think that’s the last of it, sweetheart.” Connor says, placing his freshly fluffed pillow on his side. 

I flatten out the rug at the foot of the bed and smile fondly at the room. “It looks good, don’t you think?” I ask, glancing around the room. 

“Mhmm…” he hums, his arms wrapping around my waist. “But you look better.”

“Oh yes,” I mutter. “I’m sure my matted hair and sweat are a huge turn on for you, huh?”

“Well that’s how I leave every night, isn’t it?” He muses, running soft kisses down the side of my neck, to my shoulder, where his teeth sink into my skin. 

I can’t stop the moan that escapes my throat and he takes that as encouragement, moving the straps of my tank top to give himself even more access. “Con,” I say, turning in his arms, my hands flying to his hair. “We have to… work on… the bathroom,” I mumble against his lips.

“Later,” he growls. “Wanna love on you for a little bit.”

“But-”

“Baby, I’m doing some of my best work here, you can't just talk through it.”

“Best work, huh? I think you’ve done better.”

“Oh, I have? Well I guess we’re just gonna have to make this my best work then.”

“I’d love to see you try, bub.”

“Don’t challenge me, baby girl.” his hands sneak up my shirt, and back down, sending shivers down my spine as they come back down and he pops the button of my jeans. 

“Oh, an eager boy, are we?” I tease. 

His hand easily slips down my pants and I gasp. He smirks, “And I’m eager?” his lips graze my ear as he rubs me through my panties, causing my eyes to flutter shut.

“Yeah yeah,” I roll my eyes and pull him back to my lips. “Just keep your promise, okay?”

“I am a man of my word.” Before I know it, he has me on my back on our freshly made bed. But I’m enjoying his lips on my skin too much to worry about that right now. “Okay,” he says, pulling back from my heat where I so desperately need him. “I know I’m kind of busy here, but this rug is really comfortable.”

I laugh, covering my face, “Glad to hear it, now could you?”

“Right, sorry,” he wraps his arms around my thighs and buries his head between them once again. He’s sucking and slurping, while I fill the room with lengthy moans and heavy breaths. “Hmm… so wet for me,” he utters, kissing down my folds. 

“Jesus, Connor. More.”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” His lips leave a wet trail down the inside of my thigh and I can't help but whimper when his teeth sink into the sensitive skin. He kisses his way back up and I squirm at the feeling of his lips circling my clit. “Fuck.”

“Use your words, y/n. What do you want?"

“Fingers, Connor. Please. I need you.”

“That’s my girl,” he smirks against me as one finger slips inside, soon followed by another. Let’s just say I don’t last too long after that.

---

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” I ask my husband, fixing the covers on the bed. 

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“They could never leave.”

He hums, “Good point. But like, they’d have to eventually. I mean, hello! Shaw’s literally always touring. He’ll be here two days and be back on the road. 

“And Brian?” I cross my arms over my chest. 

He sighs and nods, “Yeah, we might have to kick him out.”

“We’re not giving them a key, right?”

“No, of course not,” he says all too quickly. 

“You already gave them one, didn’t you.”

“No…”

“Connor David!”

“I’m sorry! But I told them that it was just for emergencies.”

“A broken nail is an emergency in their eyes.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. It is no-”

“Y/n? Connor? Are you here? I stubbed my toe on the way up the steps. I think it’s broken!” Shawn’s voice rings from downstairs. 

“It’s not broken, he’s a big baby!” Brian comes trailing behind him and I give Connor a pointed look.

“Oops?” he chuckles and we make our way out of the room, closing the door behind us.

“Brashier!” Brian yells.

“What?” we answer in unison and then stop for a second, staring at each other with big dopey grins. 

“We’ve never done that before. Answered to the same name.”

I push his hair out of his eyes, “I know.”

“I like that.”

“Me too.”

“What so you can answer us, but not help with my broken toe?” Shawn says, dramatically limping up the stairs. 

“It’s not broken,” we all respond. 

“It could be!” 

“And if it is, that’s your fault for being so goddamn clumsy.”

“But-”

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Were you not listening? I broke my toe!”

“Yes, we heard. On our porch steps. So what are you doing here?”

He pouts and looks down at his feet. “We missed you guys.”

Connor laughs, and I try my best to stifle mine, but fail miserably.

“Hey! I’m serious. The hotel room is boring!”

“Oh, Shawn,” I step forward and wrap my arms around his torso. “I’m sorry. You’re welcome here anytime. You know that.” I look up at him and he presses a kiss to my nose. 

“Glad you mention that. Can I stay the night?”

“What?” Connor says, pulling me back to his chest, keeping his fingers tangled in my belt loops. 

“Come on, the hotel sucks! There’s nothing to do!”

“Get a stripper,” he suggests.

“Now why would I hire a stripper when y/n would do it for free?"

“Hey, watch your step, Mendes. That's my wife. I will kill you if I have to.”

I slap Con’s arm, “Bub, stop.” I turn my attention back to our friends. “Yes, Shawn. You can stay the night. But I’m not stripping. I’m off duty today.”

“Oh, but if Connor asked you’d be all for it, right?” Brian teased.

“Well obviously, he’s my husband.”

Connor pinched my side, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I want a stripper tonight,” he mutters teasingly into my ear.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Okay, we’ll get back to that grossness later, but if Shawn’s staying, I want to stay too.”

I know Connor’s rolling his eyes behind me. “Of course you do.”

“Guess we better show them, bub.”

“But it’s still not done.”

“I know, but if they’re staying the night, we might as well.”

“Show us what?”

“The guest room. We designed it specifically for moments like this.” I slide out of Connor’s arms and take a hand of both boys in front of us. “Follow me.” I take them to the end of the hall and face them when we reach the door. “Now, there’s still quite a bit that needs to be done with it, but I think it’ll work for now. Bub, can you open the door?”

“Yeah,” He nods and steps around us, turning the knob, revealing the only half done room to the boys.

“Are those?” Shawn started.

“Bunk beds?” Brian finished with a goofy grin.

Connor chuckles. “We figured if you’re staying here at the same time, you wouldn’t want to sleep in the same bed.”

We watch them exchange a glance and then they’re hurtling themselves toward the beds. “I call top bunk!” Shawn exclaims.

“Why so you can hit your head every time you sit up, you fucking giant. No way! I get top bunk.”

“With the way you toss and turn? No way. You’ll wiggle the bed from its screws and it’ll fall on top of me!”

“Fuck off, Shawn! I don’t even move that much.”

“Yes you do!”

“Should we leave them to fight over this?” Connor whispers into my ear, taking my left hand in his. I nod against his chest. 

“Do we trust them not to break anything?”

“I think it’ll be fine. Besides, I have a surprise for you.”

“For me?” I ask, intrigued. “What could you possibly have to give me.”

“It’s not necessarily something I’m giving you. It’s something I’m showing you.”

“Okay?” I follow him down the hall, the boys bickering still audible from the steps - and from the living room, where Connor has a large sheet covering the wall with the window. “So, I know you’ve been curious about this for a few weeks now.”

“Well obviously, you’ve been covering a big part of our living room, making it impossible for me to hang the curtains-” I go to point to the box that had been sitting by the fireplace, but is no longer there. I furrow my brows, “Did you move them?”

“No, just hung them up.”

“Is that my surprise?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Nope. Close your eyes.”

“But-”

“Close. Them.”

I sigh and do as instructed. “They’re closed.”

“Good. Now keep them that way until I say so.”

“Fine,” I cross my arms over my chest. I hear the rustling of the sheet and a soft thud as it hits the ground. The light from outside shines even through my closed lids. 

“Okay,” he says, his voice coming from behind me now. “Open them.”

I open only one eye, but they quickly both go wide when I see the wall in front of me, covered in black and white photos, the perfect contract to the red walls that Connor finally agreed on - after much coercion. (Well, really all it took was one blowjob and he was putty in my hands, but, hey, whose business is that… but if it’s that easy to get him to agree to a paint color, I wonder what else that can get me.) If my eyes aren’t deceiving me, they’re all of us. Past to present - the most recent being one of our wedding photos. I walk closer to the photos, noticing that not a single one of them repeats. I cover my face, feeling the tears start to well in my eyes. 

“Well? Do you like it?” He asks, hopefully, when I turn back to face him.

I sniffle, wiping at my tears and then I’m in his arms, holding onto him for dear life. “You are…” another sniffle. “You are incredible. I love it,” I pull away just enough to see his face and he removes his arms from my waist, his hands coming to my face, the pads of his thumbs swiping at my still falling tears. “And I love you. So much.”

He smiles, kissing my, no doubt, red nose. “I love you too, y/n/n.”

---

“Tell me again why we’re making a blanket fort,” I said, standing at the end of the stairs, holding a few more pillows.

“Because it’s fun. And also the only way to watch a movie decently,” Brian crawls out from under the blanket he and Shawn just threw over the couch and lamp. “Oh good, you got the pillows.”

“Where’s Connor?” I ask, looking around, not seeing or hearing my husband in the room. 

“Under here, love. Hey, do we have an extension cord somewhere?”

“Maybe in the garage. Why?”

“The lights don’t reach from here.”

“What lights?”

“I took the Christmas lights from the box in the closet. It was too dark under here.”

“Babe, just use the lamps.”

“One of the bulbs is out.”

“We have more.”

“Yeah, but they’re in a box somewhere and I didn’t feel like looking for them.”

“Connor, if those lights catch the blankets on fire, you’re sleeping on the couch for the rest of your life.”

He sighs, coming out from under the too big fort that’s taken over our living room. “Fine, I’ll find the bulbs.” He grumbles, the lights trailing behind him as he walks down the hall to the garage. 

I shake my head, “I love you,” I call out when the door opens. 

“I love you more!” he yells back. 

“Okay, so I ordered the pizza and wings. They should be here in thirty minutes.”

“I found the bulbs!” Connor says, rushing in and placing a kiss to my cheek before disappearing under the blankets again. 

“Why are you running?”

“I think I heard something move in the garage.” “Connor!” I exclaim.

“Dang, how often do you do that?” Brian teases, nudging my side. 

“Craigen, I swear to god, I will fight you.”

“Oh, hush. I’m just teasing.” He kisses my other cheek and follows behind Connor with the pillows I was holding. 

“So, what are y/n and I supposed to do?”

“Just stand there and look pretty, I guess. You’re good at that,” Brian grumbles. 

“Well,” I sit on one of the steps, patting the spot next to me, “I’m not one for standing.”

Shawn smiles and sits next to me. “Well, since they’re setting up, we should pick a movie.” 

"I think it should be an Alessia night."

Shawn tilts his head to the side, giving me a funny look. "You know she doesn't act, right?"

"Obviously! I mean, we should watch movies with her songs in them. Everything Everything, Moana, After."

"Fuck, yes! Let's watch Moana!" Brian stumbles out from his spot in the fort.

"As long as it's not Everything Everything, I'm down for whatever." Connor says, coming over to us and resting his chin on the banister. 

"Why doesn't he want to watch it?"

"You want me to watch my girl drool over some guy that isn't me for an hour and a half? No thank you."

"What?" Shawn chuckles and I roll my eyes.

"Hubby, here, thinks I have a thing for Nick Robinson."

"And why would he think that?" Brian asks.

"Because I have a thing for Nick Robinson," I answer like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"See! So, no. We won't watch it."

The movie is just about to start when the doorbell rings. "Must be the pizza. I got it." Shawn crawls to the opening of the fort and Brian follows after him.

"I'll get the plates and napkins." 

"Ah," Connor wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him. "Finally, some alone time." His lips dance over my jaw and I giggle, trying to push him away. 

"Come on, love. The boys will be back any second."

"I don't care." He shakes his head, capturing my lips in a heated kiss. I hum against him, gripping the side of his shirt to keep me close. His tongue quickly finds mine and I don't know what is, but this feels like our first kiss all over again. Of course then we were sitting on the hood of his car, at the beach, watching the sun go down. "I love you," he says, out of breath as he nibbles on my bottom lip.

I stifle a moan, but I'm not sure if it's from the words or the slight pull on my lip.

"Gross, you guys can't wait until we're asleep go have at each other?" Brian groans, coming back into the fort. "Move over," he says to Connor.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not watching a movie with you two sucking face right next to me." He plops himself down, partially in both of our laps seeing as we don't move fast enough. 

“Hey, you’re boney. Get off!” I push him to the side so I can move over a little.

We make it through the movie without too many interruptions, until Shawn scoots closer to me and rests his head in my lap. He takes my hand and sets it on his head. 

“Whatcha doing there, cutie?” I ask, threading my fingers through his hair.

He hums, “Want you to play with my hair. Your nails feel nice.”

“Okay,” I shake my head, turning my attention back to the screen.

“It doesn’t feel this nice when Connor does it.”

“Um, excuse you. What do you mean it doesn’t feel nice?! I’m great at playing with your hair!” He exclaims, throwing a handful of popcorn at Shawn, who sits up, throwing some back and I immediately regret us having two separate bowls. 

“She’s gentler than you are.”

“She loves it when I play with her hair! You’re just a baby!”

“Maybe she’s just too nice to tell you that you’re too rough with it. You don’t have the nails for it. She does.”

“Baby?” He looks at me with pouty eyes. “You like when I play with your hair, right?”

I frown, “Shawn, you hurt his feelings!” I slap his arm and he winces. “Yes, love. I do.”

“Yeah, that’s great. You all have hands and shit, now can you shut up? I’m trying to watch a movie here!” Brian grumbles, curling into the blanket in his lap. 

“Wait, is it almost over?” Shawn asks after a while. “Let’s call Les.”

“What? Why?”

“Let’s sing to her! She’ll love it!” He says, already trying to connect to FaceTime. 

“Hey, Shawn. What’s up?” 

“Hi, my love!” I come into frame, smiling widely at my friend.

“Y/n! What are you guys doing?”

“Well,” I take the phone from Shawn and turn it to the side so we can get Connor and Brian in the frame too. “The boys and I are having a movie night in this very impromptu blanket fort that took them over an hour to set up. And we’re just thinking about you.”

“Missing you,” Brian corrects. “When are you coming down? Their guest room has bunk beds!”

“Bunk beds?” she laughs. “Liv! Y/n and Connor have bunk beds!”

“For us?” We hear her ask and Connor and I shake our heads. 

“Well, they’re currently occupied by these two Canadians, but once they leave, we can make room for two more.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Connor!” Liv yells, shoving her face next to Alessia’s.

“Liv!” he yells back. 

“You treating our girl well?”

“In more ways than one,” he smirks. 

“Connor!” I gasp, lunging for him. Shawn takes the opportunity to steal the phone back. 

“Oh god! Cover the camera, Shawn. They’re going at it!” Brian jokes when I straddle myself over Con’s lap. His hands firmly on my waist.

“Well am I wrong?” he raises an eyebrow, challenging me. 

I run my fingers over his perfect, pouty lips. “No, but they don’t need to know that.” He playfully bites at the tips of my fingers and I throw my head back with a soft giggle.

“Get a room!” Shawn scolds, throwing a pillow at us. 

“The whole house is our room, dick!” Connor fires back, squeezing my hips a little tighter.

“So, what are you guys watching?” Alessia asks. And before any of us can answer the ending credits roll through and her voice fills the speakers. Brian starts and we can’t stop him, so we join in. 

“I wish I could be the perfect daughter, but I come back to the water. No matter how hard I try.” He sings totally off key, and so loud, but it’s Brian, what are you gonna do?

“Every turn I take,” Shawn continues. 

“Every trail I track.” Me.

“Every path I make.” Connor.

“Every road leads back to the place I know where I cannot go.” Shawn again.

“Where I long to be,” We all sing together.

“See the light where the sky meets the sea, it calls me!” she finishes, laughing hysterically with Liv beside her, continuing the song for us.

“Why are you watching Moana?” she asks when she’s finally calmed herself down.

“We told you. We missed you.”

“We were gonna watch Everything Everything, but we’re trying to keep Connor from divorcing y/n.”

“What? Why would he-?”

“She has a thing for Nick Robinson!”

“Who doesn’t? Connor get a grip!”

“I have one,” he says, showing the camera our joined hands. “And I’d like to keep it.”

“Awe,” I rest my head on his chest. “Don’t worry,” I mumble into the smooth skin of his neck. “Nick Robinson has nothing on you.” I press a gentle kiss to the base of his throat, “I’ll prove it to you later.”

“Hmm… don't tease me.”

---

"Y/n, can you come here for a second?"

"What's wrong, love?" I finish laying out the beach chair make my way over to him, where he's cleaning out the pool.

"What is that on the floor? It's kind of grey," he points in a general direction and I squint, trying to find what he's talk about. 

"I don't see anything."

"Well look closer. Look, it's right there." He points again, his other hand on the small of my back. I sense the push before I feel it, which is how I'm able to bring him in with me.

"You're an asshole, Brashier," I splash him when we come up for air.

He pushes his hair out of his face before holding his hands out for me. "Okay. I'm sorry. But you have to admit, it was kinda funny."

"You know, this is the third outfit you've ruined this week." I wrap my legs around his waist and his hands slip under my butt.

"It’s just wet. We'll dry it."

"Mhm… and the flannel I wore yesterday? I'm pretty sure one of the buttons is under your desk, Mr. Impatient." I kiss the underside of his jaw, playing with the tufts of hair on the nape of his neck.

"That's only two, if you're counting this one. Which I don't."

"My leggings," I answer, sucking a perfectly purple mark behind his ear. "Monday night on the kitchen counter."

"Well how was I supposed to know the seam would tear that easy?" he grumbles, pushing up my shirt, his hands running over my wet skin. "But let's get out of here before I do ruin this outfit too."

After a very steamy - and that's not entirely because of the water - shower together, Connor's sitting on the bed in just his boxers and I'm slipping into one of his flannels, just in case he gets any bright ideas. And I know I've made the right decision when I turn back and see his usually bright blue eyes dark with lust.

"What's up, baby blue?"

"C'mere, baby doll."

Oh yeah, he's in a mood. But it's going to end very well for both of us. "Don't you ever get tired?" I ask, straddling his lap. 

"Of you? God, are you crazy?" His hand tails slowly from my cheek to my throat, bringing me in for a heated kiss. I moan into the kiss and his tongue slips easily into my mouth while his grip on my throat tightens a little.

"What am I calling you tonight?" I question,  when he pulls away, forehead resting on mine.

"You should know by now." 

I smirk, "Yes sir."

And that's all it takes for him to flip us over, his body hovering over me. He unbuttons the shirt, moving it to the side, exposing my torso for him. He quickly pulls my panties down and I'm surprised he doesn't tear them. 

"Fuck," he mutters against my chest when he pushes himself inside me. "Feel so good around me, doll." I reach around him, scratching at his back, but he takes my hands, and pins them above my head. "No touching."

"But-"

He pulls on my bottom lip, "are you talking back?" 

"No, sir."

"Good girl." He's working on my clit, kissing me everywhere, leaving love bites all down my torso. "You're so good for me."

"Baby, I'm close," I moan into his neck. "Cum for me, doll. Scream for me. Let the neighbors know just how good I make you feel." He says with a grunt. "Fuck, I'm close too."

"Hey, Connor, where's your - Holy shit!" The door swings open revealing our red headed friend with his hands covering his eyes. 

"Brian!" We both yell, Connor still very much on top of and inside me. "Get out!"

"I'm sorry! Fuck! I'll just," he closes the door behind him. "I'll be downstairs when you uh. Finish."

Connor laughs into my chest, but I'm mortified. "Con?"

"Yeah, love?" He says and he's no longer the dominant man he was only seconds ago. He's just Connor, my Connor. Which is why it's easy for me to say, "We're taking his key back."

He nods, "First thing I'll do when we go down there."

I whimper when I feel him pull out of me. "Guess the moment's gone, huh?" 

I shake my head, pulling him back, my back arching when he enters me again. "Finish, blue eyes. Please."

"But, Brian."

"Already knows what we're doing. He can wait."

He chuckles, "Yeah, love. He can wait." He says, slipping back into me.

Brian can't look us in the eyes when we come back down.

"So why'd you come?" I ask.

Brian shakes his head, "I can't remember. But I know why you did."

"Brian!" I cry out.

He laughs, patting Connor's shoulder. "Thought she only screamed your name, didn't you bud?"

"Haha, very funny. Yeah, we need your key."

***

I really hope you enjoyed! Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

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[yridenergyridenergy]

Dir en grey - Otaru GoldStone 09/28/2019 live report

1. Zetsuentai

2. Aka

3. Downfall

4. Devote My Life

5. Rubbish Heap

6. Merciless Cult

7. Keigaku no yoku

8. Celebrate Empty Howls

9. Ningen wo Kaburu

10. Keibetsu to hajimari

11. Values of Madness

12. Ranunculus

13. The World of Mercy

Encore

1. Fukai

2. Followers

3. Gaika, chinmoku ga nemuru koro

4. THE DEEPER VILENESS

5. Utafumi

What a night. Otaru Gold Stone is small, we were around 500 in it but the stage was low, the sound was too loud for some instruments depending on where you were in the venue, and holy hell I thought moshpits were forbidden here in Japan. We kept getting pushed and pushing, and someone we got closer everytime, so apparently people in the centre were getting squashed out toward the sides?!

This live report will be even more Kyo-centric than usual, because I could only crane my neck and stand on my toes among that wall of fans to concentrate on one member. But Toshiya seemed stern at first but as the show progressed, he came foth and enjoyed the crowd, even though he never fully cracked a smile. He encouragedthe audience though and appeared to approve of our reactions in general. He was just as entranced with his bass, turning his head upward during Ranunculus. As for Die, his vest really matches Kaoru's custom guitar. His long hair kept blowing in the wind and he would flip it occasionally. In one of the first few songs, he was staring at his side of the crowd with a grave expression but raised his chin a couple of times as if to say: "Oh yeah? That's it?" Kaoru I think remained very serious the whole time except that, at the end, he stayed the longest and really enjoyed the night. Shinya, all I could notice was that he rumbled away like there was no tomorrow at his heavy drums during The World of Mercy, he was in his own universe.

Kyo has a full pectorals tattoo! I doubt it is completely new, but it was definitely news to me. I have no idea what it is, it looked like the marks on a leopard's fur at first but it looks more complex, almost as if it's supposed to be the shadows of the skeleton inside his chest? And on his right side of his neck, it really looks like the drawing from Junji Ito, with the conjoined heads - the hair of a woman stretching toward something in the back. Just below his chin, it looked like a bunch of vertical lines only. He is going full on yakuza for sure.

He came on stage wearing a matching suit: both top and bottom were black with sparse big white feathers. The vest looked like it had a flap, like a short cape behind the neck, because at some point he crouched to give a growl or something and a piece of fabric came to cover his should, but it could not possible have been the lower ends of the vest itself... The dress shirt he had underneath was classic black, and he had a black tie. After three songs or so, he loosened it and also undid the first couple of buttons at the top. Near the end of the main setlist, more buttons had been undone and that's how we were able to see his chest, wide enough to see his nipples.

His hair! With the stripes of the feathers, the formal clothing, his styled hair and the smudged lipstick, he looked almost nazi-esque. This hairstyle is so close to the Tabula Rasa/In Situ one! I am so glad that I witnessed it in person! I guess, to describe it, it almost looks like Levi's hairstyle from Attack on Titan, but he styled the left side toward the back of his head. After sweating though, it was even more awesome and resembling!

He smoked twice or three times during the show. For the first instance, its scent came to my senses before I could see it, during the pause. He tried to do the iiiiiii high-pitched sound in Downfall (?) while having the cigarette on the corner of his mouth: that failed. Later, he was holding his cigarette with his two middle fingers, giving us the horns/fox sign he is now known for!

Aka was more dramatic than I remember it being. Kyo looped his mic cord around his neck twice and caressed it into a hanging string. I think it was during that song that he was dancing like a maniacal pantomime a lot too.

At the very beginning of Rubbish Heap, Kyo cones to the forefront of the stage next to his stand and he holds his fist up in the air for the first 'Fist!' of the song and he has that very obvious facial expression like "Come on guys, here's what I want you to do! Come on, you can do it, go!" which you would use for a child. And yet, what do the majority of the fans do? Still hands...

I cannot remember which song it was exactly, but Kyo started by hitting his forehead repetitively with the mic, and then the chest/heart, and again with the head. It might have been Ranunculus, because I remember that the sound of the hits came just before the circus-like sound and he was singing about kokoro. Doing it right before those sounds was nice, like a preclude, it made sense altogether.

Ranunculus was at least if not more intense than usual. I think that it was during it that Kyo clawed at his dress shirt's sleeve on his left arm, then brought his wrist to his mouth and actively bit it. Had his teeth been any sharper, he would have undoubtedly drawn blood.

After Ranunculus was The World of Mercy. In the transition between the two, Kyo spoke to himself, asking 'Naze?' (why) often, and he then began The World of Mercy fucking depressed, sad and desperate. The end of the song was very beautiful with the simple idea of blasting white light from behind the stage while he chants 'The World of Mercy', it really looked more angelic.

When singing about the game of life and repeating game ('yuugi'), Kyo kept tracing a large circle with his arm fully extended, strenghtening the never-ending nature of this foolishness/challenge.

When doing the return after the break in The World of Mercy, since there are no instruments at first, he yells the 'Jou ni-' with his mic near his hip.

People don't understand the intensity of tge part after 'sekai de' yet.

By the way, the stage just has a large poster of the The Insulated World cover, with fingers on each side. No movies at all this time.

In Keigaku no yoku, Kyo definitely changed that last sentence to 'ore-', but the part he adds after sounded more like 'watashi...'. He also changed or added an 'omae no' something to one of the songs, but it wasn't to make a compliment...

In the encore, Kyo came back wearing black jeans with ripped knees and a D.E.G. shirt without sleeves. The image was identical to the sticker they are currently selling in the goods, so perhaps this design will be used for the T-shirt sold in the USA, Mexico and Europe?

Kyo is such an amazing rocker. I believe that it was during Gaika chinmoku that he did that headbang, where he needs to lean his left hand on his thigh because of how heavy it gets, you know? Ugh. Really the total opposite of sukekiyo's feminine songs. He's so good all around.

As always I am probably forgetting stuff. I will try to draw some of my memories though.

[roseunspindle]

What if....

So, I’ve seen a lot of fics where post Metatron giving everyone the boot from heaven, Sam and Dean end up taking in the angels. I kept thinking about it, over and over, which led to this...

Sam notices how all the angels they’ve gathered have started flocking (ha, ha) to a certain member of the group, the research/what to know things angels have congregated around him, the more battle oriented angels (and the really uncertain and frighted ones) have started following Dean around, the fighters having traded in their suits for flannel and denim, ready to continue their fight against evil in new ways, while the uncertain angels, just sort of stared at Dean, apparently figuring this had helped Castiel....(Sam had already caught Dean giving the frighted ones smiles and half hugs of reassurance when new things scared them)

A smaller, but diehard group of “god will come back, god is still out there, clung to Kevin, as he translated stuff, hoping for a sign, they had all developed unhealthy addictions to coffee and red bull.

Another group was with Charlie, they were the “lets do the random stuff, lets learn about weird things, and also help find more lost angels and bring them home.” 

Castiel’s were the care-taker angels, the ones who, Sam thought, had always wanted to love and been un-allowed too, now they all carried bags packed with water bottles, snacks, ready hugs, and phones equipped with the online urban dictionary, to help any angel that needed it.

Sam observed this, while he and kevin and their angels worked on getting the angels back to heaven.

Dean’s, his fighters a least, were prepping for both battle against metatron if need be, and a life of hunting, if that failed. 

The biggest thing Sam noticed about the newly human angels was the way they always seemed shocked when they were praised, or asked their opinion on something, no matter which group they belonged to. 

An approving smile, or clap on the back from Dean was enough to make any Angel stand up straighter, while a “great job” or “I can’t believe I didn’t see that” from Kevin or sam had them just about glowing, “you rock” (once the concept was explained) from Charlie was greeted with proud smiles, and a “well done” was always met with quiet happiness when coming from Cas.

 Sam noticed after a while that any extremely overwhelmed angel, no matter the group, had a tendency to sit near him for a spell, which, when he asked Charlie if she noticed that, she said it was because he’d become so zen. After recovering from the trials, Sam’s calm had truly settled. He was firm in his conviction now that Dean loved him, their family was as complete as it could be, they had a home, they had purpose, and this made Sam happy. He was upset that the angels were locked out of their home, but they were doing what they could and so Sam didn’t feel the extreme turmoil he used to.

Things came together and heaven was reopened, metatron was defeated, and the angels were lined up, grace restored, ready to return to heaven, but instead of looking happy, they looked lost though, and kept glancing at himself, dean, cas, charlie, and kevin. Sam felt bad. The angels had never been someone’s priority before, he knew, they had never been more than cannon fodder for a father they didn’t even know.

Now, after being part of the “Winchester extended family”TM, where hugs, approval, and opinions were welcome, returning to heaven must have been daunting. Sam wished that there was something they could do for them, but they were human...

“You don’t have to be.” Said a voice behind him. Sam turned, startled. “Chuck!?” He asked incredulously. “Sort of,” he replied, and Sam swallowed. “Oh,” he said to God.

Chuck smiled ruefully, “yeah, oh”. Sam was about to start letting God have it, consequences be damned when Chuck held up a hand. “Look Sam, I came here to make you, well, all of you, an offer.” Sam glanced sideways, noticing that no one seemed to be moving around, him, the angels were frozen, while the others looked, well, like they were talking (in dean’s case shouting) at someone.

Sam looked back to chuck, “okay, what do you want?” “It’s more, what do you want, Sam.” 

Sam felt confused. “I’m here to make you an offer, my poor parenting skills have been made very clear to me, and you’ve done in months, what I couldn’t do in centuries, you took the angels, and you’ve made them people, true individual people, while letting them still be angels. So I want to make you all an offer.”

“What is it?” Sam asked. “Do you want the ability to go to heaven, to keep helping and guiding the angels? To help them be the aid to humanity I always wanted them to be?”

Sam thought about it. “What do you mean exactly, go to heaven, would we die?”

“No sam, you wouldn’t die, more to the fact, you’d never die. You would be the new archangels essentially.”

“Your archangels?” Sam asked, getting annoyed.

“Chuck shook his head sadly, “no, my time is done, I feel, my end is drawing nearer and soon Death will reap me. I’ll find out if there is anything beyond even heaven and hell.”

Chuck looked mournful, but also, just a little bit content with this statement.Sam looked over at the angels, Briathos standing just behind Dean’s shoulder, as he had since Dean had first chosen him as essentially his second in command, wearing a Led Zepplin t-shirt Dean had giveen him, Diniel, who was one of Castiel’s, who had been reading every book on babies he could find, and had taken to a true, genuine caretaker role with a great deal of enthusiasm. 

Eiael and Cochabiel, who were essentially Sam’s seconds, waiting patiently for the command to enter heaven, their worry hidden, but still visible to Sam. 

Gamaliel, who while inhabiting the body of a female, had chosen no true gender, they were Charlie’s second, and looked nearly rebellious at the idea of leaving her.

Laoel, she was Kevin’s “primary research assistant” a title she wore with pride up to and including a name tag dean had found her at a hunted library that read “assistant” she was still wearing it, fingers just coming up to touch it’s edge.

Hundreds of others, each one Sam new and each one was either visibly upset, or doing their damnedest to hide it. Sam felt a pull to them, the same pull that had he and Dean risking their necks to fight monsters for people who didn’t even know.

“There’s no catch is their?” Sam asked. Chuck shook his head, “No, but there is no going back either, choose this, and it’s quite literally forever. 

Sam examined his mind and heart, and knew his answer, “If Dean says yes, I’m in.” 

Chuck laughed. “That’s almost exactly what Dean just said.” Sam laughed, and then there was light, energy beyond description pouring into him. Chuck’s voice came, fainter now. “I did forget to mention, while my time is done, there does still need to be a god, and it seems they’ve all chosen you Sam, take care of them, my angels, my humans, love them better than I did.”

Then it was over. At first Sam didn’t feel different, then all at once, he did, but didn’t. He could see the world in layers, The human vessels, the angels within, the very make-up of the world, and even the truth of the portal to heaven in front of him. With a thought he stabilized it, and set about letting it grow, so that earth and heaven could once again be open to all.

He shook his head, God, he was supposed to be god now? That was dumb, but then he looked at the others. He saw their wings, the truest manifestations of themselves.

Charlie’s were a kaleidoscope of cheery reds and yellows, like a friendly bonfire, the kind you sat around to sing silly songs and roast marshmallows in. It suited her. Her grace burned in her body, already reaching out to touch the angels of her flock (no longer would they be coldly called garrisons). 

Kevin’s wings were a mix of stone and words, as though all the tablets had become part of him, and were him, in a way.

Castiel’s, and it was shocking to actually see them, where a huge mass of white feathers, six great pinions, Sam suspected they were a copy of what Dean might have imagined for Cas, Deans of course where black copies of Cas’s, with edges of what seemed to be the very essence of steel. Sam wasn’t surprised to see such a  similarity between the two. 

He didn’t look behind himself, he had no wings, no need of them truly. He realized everyone was looking at him, Charlie and Kevin with acceptance, Dean is happiness, and Cas in mounting joy, his wings swaying towards Dean, and Dean’s meeting his in the middle. Sam smiled at them, at the angels who looked awed and delighted by equal turns.

“Let’s go home.” He said. They spread their wings.

“And in the first days of the new god, the angels ascended to heaven and descended to earth in equal measures. They loved humanity as once they had been commanded to do so, and now did by choice.” - The Winchester Gospels

The first new angel was born only a few months after they entered heaven, Sam formed them from grace and with grace, Mary was the first, but she would not be the last.

[yellowdistress]

Oh my gosh I love your work! I was wondering if you could write a quick shot of Peter and Tony sharing a bed after a nightmare? When Peter is older? If you do, thank you so much, if you don’t, no problem! I love your work so much!

Hi thank you so much!!!!!! I did a little shot below. It was kinda long, didn’t wanna annoy people.

“Peter.”

 Voicesdidn’t usually cause Peter’s stomach to lurch in a painful twist, but that onedid. Voices were alive, generally, and the voices of the dead were set tovideos or recordings…Distant, like the president they showed in Peter’s historyclass. Someone that seemingly never existed, but they did to other people, itwas just so long ago, Peter could never recall, wasn’t even thought of. A far,far away memory.

 “Peter…cometo mommy.”

 Mary…Mary…Mary.Peter was fourteen, and she was such a long-ago thing. Sometimes when hethought of Mary he had to remind himself that she was Mom. Not Pepper who hadseemingly filled the roll so long ago. Peter refused to let himself forget herand Richard, because they had once loved him, and he knew he loved them too atone time. He still loved Mary…he really did, he told himself. Peter whirledaround, in the world of darkness, caressed by shadows and there was his mother.Her green eyes were shining, and her dark hair windblown. Like the picturePeter had found online, the one from her obituary.

 Heonly had pictures really, and some scattered memories.

 Theway she spoke, it was not to a fourteen-year-old. Peter shifted, swallowing…

 “Mom?”

 Sheapproached him, and she was frowning. Peter felt…well he felt sad, but he alsocouldn’t feel a grief that was too far away to grasp. He had memories ofcrying, late at night in his foster parent’s apartment, for his mother. He hadmemories of doing the same when he had first come to live with his father. Heremembered being scared of the big Malibu house. He remembered just wantingher, wanting her so badly it ached deep inside, like a wound that jarred everytimethe sun went down and she was gone, gone, gone…

 “Yeah,Petey.”

 Herhand lifted and touched the side of his face gently. It felt like a ghostfeather, her thumb sliding over the bone. So, it could not have been real, andPeter knew it must not have been. She died a long, long time ago…Being fourteenproved that. Fourteen…Spider-Man. Only for a few weeks, his father didn’t know,and he wondered if his mother knew. It wasn’t time for that, no one could know,not until he was old enough that his father wouldn’t take it away from him…

 “Mom– what?”

 Greeneyes narrowed on him, and she whispered…

 “You’rea liar.”

 Peterstiffened under her hand, she went on, “How long do you think you can lie toyour father about this? Lies got me and Richard killed, you know that…And yethere you are, hiding what you’ve been doing after school every day – “

 “Hewouldn’t understand,” Peter interrupted weakly, “Dad wouldn’t get it, he…I haveto wait until he understands.”

 Shereplied, “You and I both know that’s not true. You’re hiding it because you don’twant him to take it away. What happens if you don’t come home one day, huh? Ishe just supposed to wonder where you are, like you did about Richard and me?How you sat up at the babysitter’s wondering where mommy and daddy were? That’swhat you’ll do to your father, you know…when you don’t come home.”

 Peterstepped away, and her hand dropped as he snapped, “That’s not how it is.”

 “Isn’tit?” She followed him, but the way she moved was unnatural. It was as if herlegs weren’t taking steps at all, and the darkness around them felt as if itwas moving in…moving in to smother. Peter gasped, her face shifting from a brightpale to a sickly blue…the green eyes he had been staring into turned white,slowly, but then all at once and they resembled marbles. Her hand shot out,mouth opening and wailing and Peter couldn’t breathe when her hand wrappedaround his throat and squeezed.

 “Isn’tit?” She repeated.

 “Isn’tit?

 “Isn’tit?”

 “Okay, kid, okay. That’s enough, wake up.”

Peter flew upward, arms immediately restraining hisflailing limbs as he was pulled into someone’s chest. He knew as soon as thewaking world surrounded him and the dream dissolved that it was his father,just by the sound of his voice and the way the homing device was glowing on hischest where the reactor used to be. Peter gasped shakily, and the words came outbefore he could draw them back in recovery from shock, “Mom!”

The hand on the back of his neck seemingly tightenedand Peter was peering over his dad’s shoulder at the wall, gasping. Thinkingabout the suit down the street, hidden in a vent, wishing he could go put it onand just start swinging to escape the pounding in his ribcage. The handsqueezing the back of his neck rose into his hair, through his scalp, and Petertried to focus on that so that he would stop panting.

“Mom…” His dad hummed, “God, it’s been a long timesince you’ve dreamed about her, huh, kid?”

It was true, it had been a long time…since he wassmall at least. When he was younger, he would supposedly wake up and wander thehouse crying and looking for her, but as the memories of her had faded, so hadthe nightmares of her leaving. Peter gritted his teeth together and shut hiseyes before he turned his head sideways and practically burrowed into hisfather’s shoulder, despite the fourteen-year-old in him screaming to pull away,to stop crying, because his dad was never going to treat him like an adult if hecried over a bad dream about his dead mother.

“Y-yeah,” Peter murmured, “She…she’s gone.”

Slowly, his father pulled him away, and Peter openedhis eyes while both of his shoulders were gripped tightly. Sheepishly, helooked at his dad, hoping his face wouldn’t turn blue the same way his mother’shad, and that his eyes wouldn’t turn into white marbles like a horror film fullof monsters and things that didn’t forgive in the night. The room was dark,besides light from the hallway illuminating the man, and Peter felt the urge toconfess…to tell him about Spider-Man, about Oscorp all those weeks ago, aboutwhy he had broken that glass in his hand. To beg his father to call Pepper, andto make her come home.

But he didn’t.

“You good?” His dad questioned, “You wanna…talk aboutit?”

His father had never been great with this stuff, butGod help him, he tried to be. Peter couldn’t blame him, he imagined his grandadwasn’t awesome. At least from what Peter had heard, he hadn’t been. Peter shookhis head, “No, I’d rather – I’d rather not, it was stupid and…I’m sorry I wokeyou up.”

“I was already up,” His dad breathed, “You know me. I’mmost productive at two in the morning.”

Peter felt his stomach drop. Of course…his dad hadn’tbeen sleeping well since Pepper had left, Peter knew that. He had watched everyday, as his father emerged with bags under his eyes and Peter had wished hecould help him somehow…Like when everything after New York had happened. WhenPeter practically had to trick his father into resting, and when Peter lookedat him, he could see the purple markings under irises and Peter swallowedthickly, wondering if his father had been drinking. He didn’t smell like hehad.

And so…Peter was a liar.

“Could you…could you sleep here?” Peter asked slowly, “Ifyou’re done working.”

His dad had this thing, where Peter knew he wasn’tgoing to say no. Not if Peter asked like that. Not after a nightmare like that.His dad sighed, tilting his head slightly before he replied, “Seems like Iremember you telling me when you were twelve you were way too old to havepeople stay in your bed with you.”

But Peter’s father couldn’t sleep alone.

“Just tonight,” Peter said, “Please.”

The hard part was the relenting. He watched his fathercontemplate, and maybe he knew what Peter was trying to do, but eventually hisshoulders sagged in defeat and he gestured for Peter to scoot over. Peter didso hurriedly, and his father laid down. Peter glanced at him from the otherside of the bed, waiting for him to close his eyes, but instead his father wasstaring at the ceiling with an odd expression.

Peter ordered, “Promise me you’ll sleep here.”

His dad glanced at him just a moment, before he sighed…

“I promise, kid.”

Peter only allowed himself to flit off when he heardhis father’s breathing even out…When his new hearing allowed him to listen tothe way his heart finally calmed for the first time since Pepper had left. Itslowed to a comfortable pace and then Peter nestled into nothingness.

Peter was a liar. But sometimes, he had to be. AboutSpider-Man, and about getting his father to finally sleep.

[lassluna]

CSJJ Day 9: Because of the Cat

Summary: We’re sleeping together except now you got kidnapped? Guess I got to save you.

A/N: Thank you everyone who made this event possible, and everyone in the discord having a blast. Happy @csjanuaryjoy! Also thank you Anon who gave us the enchanted forest prompts. 

Ao3 Ffn

Part 1: Emma

He meets her on the dock; he has normal dock worker clothes on, trying to blend in. He is trying to gather intelligence on a ship with a large amount of wealth on it, it was either on The Darling, or it was on The Firebird. Considering both were going in opposite directions it was vital that Killian figures out which had the gold.

A hit this big would set his crew up for a while and really stick it to King Frank of Oz. Killian wanted more than to annoy the greedy king, but stealing all his money would do…for now.

He notices her immediately considering how out of place she is. She’s clean for one thing, crisp even in white linens and furs to combat the cold, not an ounce of dirt anywhere on her person. Her blonde hair striking and beautiful, she looks angelic.

She doesn’t look like she belongs anywhere near a pirate ship in the middle of the night. But she just stands in front of it with her arms crossed. In fact, she looks like she’s been crying.

Before he decides what to do, she spots him, green eyes filled with nothing but fire. He knows immediately that if he’s not careful he’ll burn from those eyes alone.

“Is this your ship?” She asks suddenly, blocking his path back.

“No.” He says curtly, “I just work on it, why do you need something?” He asks curiously, someone like her doesn’t want to talk to Captain Hook. They shouldn’t. Captain Hook is dangerous and dark.

“I need to speak to the captain.” She says sharply, he feels her eyes looking him up and down. He was absolutely right about those eyes.

“Well love, you can’t speak to him unless you can tell me why you need to speak to him.” He assures her. He comes up with a dozen possible answers, most of them involving a man as good and perfect as she seems to be.

Her answer is absolutely the last thing he expects.

She points to the cat on his ship, a mouser that crawled on the Jolly a few ports back. “Your cat looks sick.” She utters. “If you’re not going to take care of your animals, you might as well not have them.” She utters sharply.

It completely throws him for a loop.

“You’re here in the middle of the night, confronting a captain you do not know…because of a cat?” He confirms.

“Well I’m not here specifically for the cat.” She corrects. “The water calms me.” She admits. “I have a lot on my mind right now, a lot I can’t fix. But one thing I can fix is that cat so are you going to let me talk to your captain or not?”

He smiled at her. “I too use the ocean to calm me. You can see the Captain if you so desire.” He assured her, inviting him onto the ship, and down to his cabin. He poured them both shots of rum. He knows it was the right decision when she takes it in one swig and practically slams the glass back on the table.

“Now, what’s on your mind lass?” He asks, settling into his chair. “I can assure you, now that it’s been brought to my attention, I’ll see to the cat’s welfare.”

“I knew you were the captain.” She assured him. “I can tell you were lying.”

“Oh?”

“Plus you are too hot to be a simple deckhand.” She says boldly, lifting her chin and sitting on his bed.

“I assure you lass; there is nothing simple about me.” He assures her, drinking his own rum. “Why are you really here?” He asks, getting up from his chair, strolling over to her.

“The water calms me.” She repeats, breaking his gaze, looking out the port window.

“So you’ve said.” He places a hand on her shoulder feeling how soft her cloak is. She lets him. It feels more like feathers than furs.

“Your cat looks too skinny.” Her fingers rise to untie it, allowing him to push it down her shoulders. Her eyes are back on him.

“I promise I’ll fix that.” He pushes golden hair behind her ear and lets his hand rest on her cheek. She bites her lip.

“Good.” She rises from the bed quickly and suddenly, her hands on his coat pulling him into a kiss. It was fast and commanding. Her hands trying to push his jacket off his shoulders, he helps her along, his hand finding her waist.

He breaks the kiss. “Lass-“ But her mouth just finds his neck and he groans at the sensation. “You’re not here for that cat…”

“No.” She says, practically pushing him into sitting on the bed. “I’m not just here for the cat.” She smirks, eyes blown. “I think you can figure out what I’m here for.”

              He knows that this woman was going to ruin him.

//

He expects never to see her again. He expects her to be some aristocrat housewife, angry at her husband and wanting to bed a dirty pirate to stick it to him.

(It reminds him of another woman, one with dark hair, bedding him for the same reason, at least at first.)

He never got a name, but he calls her Swan in his head for the feather like texture the cloak had.

Regardless, he asks the cook to feed the cat any scraps he could spare. The man laughs at his request, but complies.

She does indeed show up next time he’s at that port, dressed less ostentatious than before, a simple burgundy dress. He tries to remain casual, tries to pretend that he hasn’t been thinking her of the months since they parted.

(Since she snuck out in the middle of the night with no word)

She looks more relaxed, almost peaceful as she stands by the dock.

“I have something for the cat.” She announces with a smile. There’s a container of milk with a bow on it.

“I assure you, the cat has gained some weight since we last parted.” He assures her.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She declares, inviting herself on his ship. Once she seems satisfied by the mouser, she helps herself to some rum and his chair.

“You have very good rum.” She insists.

“That’s your reason.” He asks with a smirk.

“Yup.”

“Not looking for anything else?” He asks leaning in. “Someone else.”

“Not at all.” She insists, taking another gulp of rum. “But seriously, where do you get this stuff.”

He promises he’ll bring her some next time he visits.

“Oh there is no next time.” She assures him. “Better make this one count.”

He does, he definitely does.

//

There is a next time, and a time after that, and a time after that. He eventually loses track of the times. Killian just knows that once he makes ports within a few days she appears with a bottle of milk for the cat, Henry as Swan has named him.

“You know Swan, one of these times; you’re going to have to tell me your name.” He tells her as she rests her head on his shoulder, hair ending up in his mouth, like it always does.

“But I like the Swan, Killian.” She replies. “Anyway, this…this is just this right? IT’s not like we’re…” She trails off.

He knows, he always knows.

It’s just sex.

//

He learns that she’s just as feisty with a sword as she is in his cabin. He offers her dinner on the deck, she accepts gladly, watching him look over his ship and prepare to depart the next day when one of the crew makes a rude remark about her.

He orders the man to stop, but it was too late, Swan was pissed.

She goes over and decks him in the jaw and when the man draws a blade, she picks one up herself. Swan demands that he fight her if he is to say such rude things about her.

It doesn’t take long for her to disarm him, a blade to his neck.

“Swan, please don’t kill my crew, they are hard to come by so close to the castle.” He says in a complaint, but really he’s truly mystified by her.

She jolts back to herself, helping the man up, who apologies for his comment and returns to his quarters, tail between his legs.

“You know Swan.” He says on the way back to his cabin. “I knew there was a little pirate in you.”

She beams.

//

They return after a nasty battle with the Oz Navy, they were almost caught. They’d evaded thankfully, a canon nearly taking off his head. They’d been boarded and he had a nasty cut in his side, but the Jolly Roger was victorious at the end.

He decides it’s best to drown himself in the bottle, as old thoughts and demons come about.; thoughts about Liam and the royals who killed him.

He didn’t intend on seeing her. But it was the closest port and they needed repairs done.

She finds him in his cabin, nursing his wounds. “The cat’s chasing a nasty rat in the kitchen.” He slurs.

“I didn’t come here for the cat.”

“Well you didn’t come here for me, so what do you want Swan?” He says; Killian’s too tired and too angry for these games.

“I heard you got hurt.” She snaps back. “I wanted to see if you were ok.”

He rolls his eyes leaning up in bed, despite the pull on his injury. “I’m fine Swan. I’ll be ship shape next time you need me to scratch that itch of yours, for now just leave me in peace.”

She gasps at his words.

“You think all I see you as is sex?” She demands. “Damn it Killian I was worried! I was worried that you wouldn’t come back! But if you don’t want me here, I’ll just go.”

He doesn’t want her to go. He catches her hand with his. She stops, fire in her eyes, but she stops. He doesn’t say he’s sorry. He doesn’t say anything at all.

Swan just sits in the bed next to him.

He eventually cracks, rum loosening his lips.

He rambles about the fight the battle, his endless crusade against the people who were responsible for Liam’s death, against all the royals, because it didn’t matter which crown you served they were all the same.

He never felt good enough for his brother his entire life, and now he can’t even avenge him.

Killian eventually falls asleep, head on Swan’s lap as she runs her hands through his hair, whispers of affection in his ear.

For once, when he wakes up that next morning, Swan’s still there

//

But all good things eventually end.

She comes to see him after a really ha

“Killian I need to tell you something.” She admits one night.

He expected this, expected the ‘husband talk’. He never cared with Milah, why should he care now?

(Why should he care about how she likes to raid his book collection when he has to chart their courses, she likes adventure book, why should he care that she loves the exotic spices he has the cook use when she’s here, or how some times she wears expensive earrings but curses them when she remembers them, like she forgot to take them off before coming here.

Why should he care after she sat with him as he was drunk and spewing nonsense, hurt and angry at the world.)

“I’m not who you think I am.” She practically blurts out, hands behind her as she shifted her weight constantly. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t quite understand why she’s so nervous.

“I don’t understand.” He insists. “You haven’t told me so much as your name, I don’t have any idea of your life apart from this.”

She averts his gaze, staring at his feet. “That’s because you’d know who I was the moment you heard my name.” She says. “I liked being Swan with you, just Swan, no backstory, no drama, nothing, just Swan and Killian on a pirate ship.”

He likes that too.

“Just who are you Swan?”

Green eyes flicker to his, burning just as brightly, but looking sad.

“My name is Emma.” She says as a whisper. “Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

Princess. He repeats the word in his head until it makes sense. Swan--no Emma-- is a Princess.

“I know how you feel about royals, how they killed your brother, and what happened wasn’t fair. It wasn’t what my family would ever do.” She continues. “But I can’t just ignore your feelings like that.”

He was sleeping with a princess, a princess who kept bringing milk to the cat, who he cares for intensely.

“If you never-…if you never want to see me again, I’ll understand.” She says ducking her head. IT breaks into the shock he’s feeling, hearing how…dare he say, heartbroken she sounds.

“Never want to see you again?” He repeats. “Darling, that thought never ever would cross my mind.” Green eyes snaps to his. He closes the distance between them, kissing her. He wants her to know, even if he can’t say it.  “Because of the cat.” He says when they break apart. Henry would be devastated.”

Swan, Emma smirks. She wipes tears from her eyes, tears he pretends he doesn’t see.

“Because of the cat.” She repeats. “Who would give him milk?” He presses another kiss to her lips.

“He’d miss you terribly.”

“He would wouldn’t he?”

“Absolutly.”

//

After finding out about her identity, Killian expected things to be easier. She finally told him things. Killian learned that her father taught her how to fight, how to lift your chin and weather the storm.

Her mother was a spit fire, never doing as she’s told, but having the grace to make you think she had. Killian learned that Emma’s best friend was Queen Elsa of Arendell, she often had her Aunt Ruby cover for her, but the woman didn’t know who she was seeing.

He learned why she was crying that night oh so long ago.

“I heard my parents consultants talking about me.” She says into the darkness, his arms tightly wrapped around her. He was tracing shapes into her hips with his hand. “They called me trouble, a rebel. They said I would never be like my parents, they put the kingdom before all else. I was too selfish for that…”

“Swan…”

“They said that no man would ever want to marry me. They said that I was too rebellious, too much for any prince to ever think about touching me…”

“That’s not true, any man would be lucky to have you. You’re strong and beautiful and passionate.” He insists, turning her over so she could see him. “You’re nothing if not selfless; you’re going to make a wonderful queen.”

//

“Are you sure you’re feeding Henry enough? He’s so skinny.” She insists, lying entirely in the nude under his blankets, the ship’s cat curled up on her lap. He glances over at her from his spot at the desk, finishing with his logs, months after her midnight confession, ever since then things had been bloody brilliant.

“I assure you Princess, he gets plenty to eat, along with the mice, he gets all the scraps from the crew along with the fresh milk you bring him.” He says looking up at her putting the grey cat’s head. Kilian can hear him purring from here.

She rolls her eyes at him. “I told you to quite the Princess talk, got it?”

He nods. “Of course, your highness.” He assures her.

“If Henry wasn’t asleep, I’d go over there and smack you.” She confirms. Killian has no doubt that was true. “We had a deal, no princess pirate talk while in bed, Killian”

“I’m not in bed.”

“That’s your own fault.”

Killian chuckles at that. “What time do I have to take you back?” He asks, glancing out at the sea all around them, he could see the port from here, but being a ways away was nice. Emma shrugs.

“I’m supposed to be out with Ruby, so maybe in a few hours?” She asks. “After this I won’t be able to meet after the b-“ She cuts off, Killian knows she thinks she’s said too much.

“The ball?” He repeats. A blush appears on her cheeks. “What’s so wrong about telling me about a ball, doesn’t your mother throw one every other month?” He asks.

Killian can already sense there’s something more to this one. People have been speaking about it far more in other ports in the area.

“She invited suitors to this one.” Emma murmurs softly. “She thought it was time, made me promise to keep an open mind.

Suitors. The word is a jab to the chest. Because it’s an all-too real reminder of what this is their doing, playing with fire on a ticking clock; one day Emma would belong to someone else and he would just be a distant memory.

“Anyone interesting?” He asks casually, trying not to act bothered. He wasn’t bothered.

“Why do you care?” She spits back. “We both new this isn’t anything Hook.”

Hook.

“You’re right.” He snaps back, clenching the pencil in his hand tightly. “I guess I don’t care.”

He doesn’t, he doesn’t care one bit who she’s going to meet that his ball of hers; he especially doesn’t care if she meets her future husband. He doesn’t care because it’s not going be him.

“Killian…” Emma says trying to backtrack. He can tell, but he’s already too angry.

“I hope you have a fabulous time at your ball.” He utters standing up.

“Killian don’t be like this.” She snaps. “You don’t get to be hurt by something you knew was coming.” He rolls his eyes.

“Of course your majesty, how silly I’ve been, just bedding the local pirate to blow off some steam.”

Swan stands up suddenly, making Henry meow loudly in complaint as she stalks up to him.

“You know damn well it’s about more than that.” She hisses. “You know that I care, and you know that we can’t keep doing this.”

Of course he knows.

“Then why do you keep coming back?” He asks. “And don’t say it’s about the cat.”

Emma shakes her head. “As if you don’t already know.” She insists, turning around and gathering up her clothes, changing in silence. “I guess this is goodbye Hook.” She says fully dressed on her way out of his cabin. She sounds sad and he instantly regrets his behavior.

“Until next time?” He asks, pleads really.

Emma looks back at him, cold flames burning him in her gaze. “No, I don’t think there will be a next time.” She insists.

And she’s gone.

//

Perhaps he is being foolish. Killian thinks, all decked up in clothes he considers royal, weeks after his fight with Swan. He was a stubborn ass and he needed to make it up to her. He needed her to know how sorry he was.

How lost he’s been without her, how much he needs her, how much he misses her.

How he had completely and utterly fallen in love with her.

“Invitation?” The woman at the front of the castle asks. He hands her one, he’d stolen it of course. He wonders if it was reported, “Prince Charles, we’ve been expecting you!” The woman gushes.

“The pleasure is mine.” He says kissing the woman’s hand, flashing her his charming smile. The woman blushes before letting him inside.

He was just one of the ‘suitors’ tonight, which arguably wasn’t a lie. One could argue he had been courting Emma since the day they met, just in a less traditional way.

Killian exchanges pleasantries with a few of the men, they don’t seem too terrible, but Killian is confident that none of them could handle Swan. She would chew them up and spit them out without even trying given half a chance.

One of the suitors didn’t even bother conversing with the other guests, decked out in green and gold, he stood apart, analyzing the ballroom as if he was waiting for something interesting to arrive.

Killian couldn’t help but approach the man. He rationalized that if he couldn’t be with Swan, he wanted her to be someone worthy of her. “What do you think the Princess is like?” He asks the man casually.

He looks him up and down. Killian knows that look; the man was looking at him like one does an insect, something beneath you. “Far out of your league.” He says with a toothy smirk.

“Oh?” He asks. “I believe I received the same invite you did.” He replies.

“Your was just to be polite.” He says in an attempt to be kind. “She’s a princess, of one of the largest kingdoms in the realms; she needs to be at the side of someone powerful if her kingdom is to grow.” He insists. “Besides you’ve heard the rumors, she’s wild, untamed, un-princess like at all. Her parents are dying to have her tied down so she won’t get into any more trouble.”

“I always heard that King James and Queen Snow married for love and wished the same thing for their daughter.” That’s how Emma put it at least.

“Love is nothing compared to power.” Killian decided that he definitely wanted to punch this man at some point this evening.

“Who were you again? I’m sorry, I don’t come to these things very often.” He got an eye roll from the man.

“Prince Walsh of Oz.” He explains. “Take my advise, find some lady here, have your fun and then go home to your tiny kingdom and forget all about Princess Emma, perhaps I’ll even invite you to the wedding if you stay out of my way.” With that Walsh, passed by him roughly, hitting his shoulder with his own causing Killian to stumble slightly.

Oh he wanted to punch him.  

Until he sees her, and God almighty, she’s beautiful.

And Emma is always beautiful when she comes to his ship, a breath of fresh air after long days at sea, but this was different. Tonight she looks truly like a princess. Her dress is red and flowing, seeming endless. Her hair is braided and up, like a halo. She looks like an absolute angel.

“Now introducing Princess Emma.” Someone announces as she enters the ballroom, Killian notices her father take her first dance, whispering into her ear as the music plays. Whatever he says makes her laugh, a bright real thing.

As soon as she finishes, a crowd of men greet her, hoping to have the next one. Just as predicted, Walsh seems to push past the others the hardest, speaking the loudest. She eventually accepts the offer, but Emma doesn’t look please, not one bit. He didn’t expect her to be.

If he knew Swan, and he definitely did, Walsh wouldn’t last one dance before opening his mouth and saying something insulting causing Emma to lash out at him. Killian waited with baited breath to see the man being knocked down a peg or two.

Killian feels his entire being go ablaze when the man moves his hand too low. Emma looks absolutely repulsed by whatever he’s saying. He practically marches over, wanting to rip him away from his Swan.

Except of course, Emma being Emma, the usual spitfire she is, detangles with him sharply, and hisses a few words at him and not too subtly stomps on his foot.

And that’s when he makes his move.

“You’re going to regret that.” The man snarls as Killian nears, the other suitors are too distracted to notice what’s happening.

“Watch me Walsh.” Emma snaps back. “I’d rather die than marry you.”

The man moves towards her once again, grabbing at her arm but this time Killian is in the way.

“The dance is over mate.” He confirms,  stepping between this, his eyes daring him to challenge him. “If I were you I’d go find an unaccompanied lass and then go back to your kingdom tail between your legs.” He hisses with a smile on his face. The man stands there fuming, but backs away when he notices the King, Emma’s father looking their way suspiciously. The man’s hand was resting on his blade.

“Perhaps I can step in.” He says, turning to offer his hand to Emma. The look on Emma’s face is absolutely priceless. “You-“ She says. “You look…”

Killian smirks. “I know.” He says kissing her hand gently. “Prince Charles your highness.” He introduces. Emma catches on quickly, agreeing to his offer of a dance.

“What are you doing?” She hisses once they’re alone in the midst of a dance.

“I’m a pirate, stealing treasure is part of the job.” He teases, because he’s dancing with Emma in her castle, he’s holding her close, and flying far too close to the sun. One misstep and he’d be in the dungeon or on his way to the gallows.

“You’re lying to me.” Emma adds, the bite in her voice fading.

“Well you’re heart is the most valueable treasure here so I think I’m telling you the truth.” He counters.

“Seriously Killian.” Swan asks, face soft and pleading. It breaks his heart because she looks to be in pain by his presence and that’s the last thing he wants.

“Perhaps I’m apologizing.” He says in a softer tone. “Perhaps I do care.”

Emma hesitates as he twirls her. “You know we can’t.” She says softly. “What we are, what we have, is temporary. I have to find a husband, someone to lead by my side.”

He knows this. He’s always known this. She needs someone, anyone but him.

“I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t stand knowing that these boys who care more about your power or wealth than you get to dance with you while you’re mad at me.” He utters. “I didn’t want your last memory of me to be me being an ass because I was jealous.”

She pauses, looking to be caught off guard by his admittance.

“I’m sorry too. I know you care Killian, but you know this is only going to end one way right? Now or later, it’s going to hurt like crazy.”

He knows.

“Now that I’ve started looking for a husband, it should probably be now.”

No, please. This isn’t what he wanted.

“If you must, what your heart desires Swan, that’s all I’ll ever want.” But he’s not like her, at his core he’s still selfish, he is a greedy pirate when it comes to her. “But if this is what you want, will you give me this? One night of being the Fairytale Prince you deserve?” Just one more night to pretend that he could ever deserve his Swan, which she could possibly love…

“Ok.” She breathes. “Just one more night.”

Emma dances with all the suitors, but saves him a few dances throughout it. She tells him all about the others, laughing about the stupidity of it all.

If they did disappear into one of the empty bedrooms of the palace for ‘one last fling’ well, that’s their own secret.

//

“I thought we said last time was the last time.” Emma asks. Killian shrugs, pulling her closer. Her bare back pressed against his chest as he wrapped himself around her.  

“You came to me.” He reminds her. He hadn’t expected the Princess of Misthaven to come in midmorning in a hood and pants, practically dragging him back to his cabin for one last good time.

“I had to say goodbye to the cat.”

“Of course.” He tells her. “You can always come to see Henry.” He insists. A stray blonde hair finding itself in his mouth, making him spit it out.

“Killian.”

“I’m serious…you don’t have to call this off. This can be whatever you want it to be.” Emma turns over, pulling the sheets over herself.

              “You know I have to Killian. You deserve to find someone too.” He does, he knows he does, but he believes in his soul that he already has.

“Run away with me.” He blurts out.

“What?”

“We can be together, we can be happy, you always talked about the places you wanted to go, how you want to be just Swan, you can do that. Come with me, sail away with me and we can be together.”

It’s crazy, absolutely insane.

“I can’t just disappear.” Emma says.

“Why not?”

Emma doesn’t have an answer right away. “My family, my people.” She says eventually, “my friends, my life.”

He shakes his head. “You can still have that, eventually, you can write to your parents, see them, same thing with your friends, your parents are young, you can come back, we can be happy Emma, truly.”

Killian wants her to say yes.

“I’m sorry Killian.”

But understands when she can’t. He understands that Emma isn’tselfish, she puts everyone before herself. He loves that about her.

“I love you.” He says, watching her leave the Jolly for the last time.

“I know.”

“There won’t be a day I won’t think of you.” He says, she turns back and smiles.

“Good.”

//

“It appears Princess Emma of Misthaven is as wild as they claim.” The conversation peaks his interest, months after the last time he’s seen her. He was true to his word, letting her break it off without making it harder for her than it already was.

He tries his best to never stop at that port. He dies however, because sometimes it’s unavoidable. He’s still a captain and has to put his crew first.

She doesn’t come.

“Running away with some prince in another kingdom.” The sailor says with a disappointed sigh. “I bet she’s pregnant.”

Run away? It doesn’t sound like the Emma he knows. But really it hurt to think that she could have fallen in love with someone else so quickly, would be willing to run away with someone else.

Killian should just walk away, forget her, forget Swan. She deserves better, she was happy.

“What were you saying about the Princess?” He asks the two old sailors. They are more than happy to gossip with him. He’s always been a glutton for punishment.

Apparently, Swan was on her way to the docks, but never made it home. The kingdom searched for her until a letter was sent from Emma herself explaining how she’s fallen in love with Prince Walsh of Oz and she was marrying him despite her parents’ reservations.

Oh bloody hell. He curses, storming back to his ship. Killian remembers the man’s threat, his vow to make Emma pay.

Captain Hook was going to Oz and was getting his Swan back. Heaven help anyone that stood in his way.

//

Saving Emma was exactly what he intended to do at least, but when he burst into the throne room, he saw Emma bashing Walsh with a club, how she’d gotten a club, he had no idea.

“And that’s what you get for kidnapping me!” She shouts as the man moves to duck her blow. Killian can see he’s bleeding pretty badly. “Think this is going to trap me into accepting your ridiculous proposal?” She demands. He can feel pure fire in her entire being as she goes for blood.

“Guards!” He shouts.

Except Killian’s already knocked them out cold on his way here.

“Let them save you!” Emma hisses, going for Walsh again. “Take me back to the dungeon because all you’re getting from me is a kick in the-“ He approaches slowly, pressing a hand to her arm.

Emma spins around and punches Killian square in the nose.

Killian recoils sharply, nearly dropping his sword ad he cups his face from her right hook.

“You-“ Emma says, breathing heavily. She looks dumbstruck. Her face is smeared with blood and dirt, her dress is torn and ruined, she has one shoe on. It’s obvious that Emma hasn’t changed clothes since she was taken, weeks ago.

“Easy Swan.” He says. She doesn’t move, doesn’t drop her weapon, if anything she grips it tighter. “I’m here to save you.” He looks around at the bleeding prince on the ground. “But you seem to be depriving me of a dashing rescue.”

Now that elicits a response. “No one save me but me.” She says it stubbornly, glaring at Walsh.

She lets him place his arms around her, pulling her close to him. “I know Swan. I know.” She collapses into him. “I’ve got you.”

At this moment the prince choses to gather some courage, “What are you doing in my castle?” He says, grabbing a weapon. “I knew you were no prince.” He seethes. “Get away from my fiancé.”

Rage surges through Killian as he strikes, knocking him on the head with the blunt end of his hook.

“Come on Swan. Let’s go home.”

//

It takes her a while to calm down, adrenaline keeping her tense and battle ready. She refuses to stop until they’re back on The Jolly, and already cast out to sea, and the only reason she agrees to rest at all is because he’s seen the wounds on her wrists, the dried blood on her hair.

He wants to go back and gut everyone who even thought about hurting his Swan.

She doesn’t say much as he bandages her wrists, lost in her own head, a place he himself frequented often.

“It’ll take a few days to get back to Misthaven.” He says eventually. “I’ll bring you in a bath and I have some clothes you can change into.” He offers.

She nods.

“Henry misses you.” The cat was curled up beside her, acting like it hadn’t slept since they parted. His comment gets a smile. “Are you alright love?” he presses gently. Her silence isn’t normal; it’s the shock of the last few days.

She shakes her head. “The whole kingdom thinks I’m marrying him.” She utters softly. “I was running away in the middle of my night; put a decoy in my bed. I didn’t intend to run away, but I intended to sneak out. It’s going to ruin everything.” She says exasperated. “An international crisis they’ll say. But I can’t marry him Killian, I can’t-“ He stops her, pulling her close to his chest, shushing her.

“You won’t.”

“I’ll look like I was just using him, seeing what I can get from him and dumping him, that’s not me.” He knows. Walsh has her between a rock and hard place.

“I’ll never get married; I’ll be a disappointment to my family.”

“You won’t. Your parents love you, you’re never a disappointment Swan, you’re bloody brilliant, we’ll think of a way out of this mess.” He assures her. “And until then you can rest here, recover.” He won’t let anything happen to her.

“How did you find me?” She eventually blurts out, looking up at him. Life was slowly returning to her face. It was a relief if he was being honest.

“I heard a rumor about you that couldn’t be true. I went looking for the source and I found you.” He adds.

“But we’re not…anything anymore.” She adds.

He stares at her dumbfounded. “You know why Swan.” He reminds her, “We are never going to be nothing, because since we parted, I kept my promise, every day.”

There’s tears in her eyes as she kisses him.

“I was running away.” She repeats. “To find you, to tell you…” She trails off. “But it doesn’t matter now Killian. After all the rumors, I have to go home, I have to fix things.” He kisses her back. Knowing the words she can’t say.

They were always playing with fire; they always knew they’d both be burned.

“Until the end of my day, I’ll always love you.” He whispers into her hair. “And that’s why you are going to tell the truth. Tell them a pirate took you, you never made it to Oz. Tell them after this ordeal you need to rethink your plans, your love for Walsh.” He says it bitterly and sarcastically

Emma blinks in surprise. “Killian…”

“It’ll get you out of this mess. No one will suspect anything, there will be no international crisis.” He assures her. Because Emma cared about her people, and a war on Oz for her abduction was the last thing she wanted.

“I’d have to point the finger at you, Killian, they’ll be hunting for your head; my father, Oz, everyone. You’ve been safe because no one cared to hunt the Jolly Roger, not like this, you could never come back to Misthaven…”

He knows. “But you’ll be safe. You’ll be safe from Walsh, safe to find a husband who deserves you.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you, but it’s the only way.”

He doesn’t expect her to start to cry, practically sobbing into his chest, he just holds her as she does, the stress of everything hitting her all at once. He tells her it’ll be ok.

She doesn’t call him out for lying.

//

They spend the next few days hold up in his cabin or laughing on the deck, anything they can do to forget what will happen when they make port in Arendelle. The story is that she’ll ‘escape’ there, running to her friend who will give her safe passage home.

It takes longer than it usually does; Killian is greedy, knowing this will be the last he sees of her, so he takes the long way, going around storms rather than through them.

“You should take Henry with you.” He says when they reach their destination.

“He’s your mouser.” Emma argues, but he doesn’t care.

“I’ll come back for him.” He insists. “I know you’ll take care of him, and you’ll know that someday I’ll come back, for the cat of course.” He says with a wink.

“Of course.”

There’s a pause, he shifts uncertainly on his feet. He wants to kiss her, but he knows it’s goodbye.

Emma makes the decision for him, surging forward holding on to him for dear life. She kisses him like she’s drowning.

“I’m going to fix this Killian, I promise. I’m going to fix everything.” He asserts.

He knows she will, as he parts, watches her with the cat in hand, he knows that she’ll fix this, that he’ll come back to her someday.

Hopefully sooner rather than later.

[virtual-crisis]

⭐Alpha Centauri⭐, part two [Or, local jackass procrastinates once again]

I’d be waiting for reprimands, but let’s be honest, only a couple people were actually waiting for this. Let’s hope that number goes up so I can actually be chastised for how long the next part’s gonna take!

Part One

Next Part

My Patreon [and by extension, Alyssa’s]

Days passed of not much happening. Yeah, I know, this story starts in a boring time of the year for me. But I needed time to show you what life is like for me—the context surrounding my situation in life—or at least, before the week of… The party.

No, it’s not my birthday party, nor was it some huge event like prom or what have you. It was a house party thrown by one of the college’s sororities out in the suburbs surrounding Quincy.

Tyler and I chattered with eachother about which cheerleader’s idea it was to invite us—both, since Tyler was also on the cheer team. Honestly, she only joined because it’s in her nature: being an envy demon, she gets extremely jealous of others, and when she heard of my passion for the attention cheerleading would bring, she just HAD to join. Like, literally had to. The captain threw a fit at her wanting to join while so ‘out of shape’, but holy shit, the stuff she did to convince her, I just… It’s better I not elaborate.

“I hope they’re not gonna have champagne, I hate that stuff.”

“What, a drink you don’t like? I thought those didn’t exist.”

“I���m a foodie, not an alcoholic.” Tyler spat.

I rolled my eyes as we entered the sorority house. The football team were playing beer pong against the cheerleaders living in the place—with a couple trying to intentionally throw the game to get on the girls’ good sides, while the rest were sweating hard about how much better the girls actually were. A couple of the girls had invited real nerdy classmates from their major classes, who were lurking around the sitting room with phones and laptops. A few preps were talking it up in the living room, in which Tyler quickly joined to take charge of the conversation by subtle force. Overall, it was typical college cliques being typical college cliques.

Normally, I’d be amidst the cheerleaders jeering about the opposing sports teams of the month or something like that, but it was late at night. I sat in the kitchen, mulling over whether or not to drink an alcoholic drink or not, since it’d be problematically sedative in the event of me wanting to stay. I could’ve had something caffeinated, but of all the bad odds, I was allergic to caffeine. Nothing life threatening, but I’d be pretty badly sick for multiple days after having it.

“Hey Z-Quill, what’re you doing over here still? Make up your mind, jeez.” Tyler teased as she came by for her fifth helping of spaghetti.

I rolled my eyes, letting my head loll over to the side. “Shut up, I’m exhausted…” I grumbled.

Tyler stopped, glancing around at the others in the room, then waiting for them to head out before sitting next to me. “...Too tired? You oughta head on home then.”

“What, on foot without you? I need someone to carry me.”

“Hey, if you’re not too tired to walk, you oughta get home before you are. If you fall asleep here, it’d just… Well, I don’t wanna deal with that, okay.”

I lifted my head and looked Tyler in the eyes. She looked genuinely concerned, unlike usual. I sighed, slowly pulling myself to my feet. “Fine, fine… If I don’t call you within a couple hours, ping my phone.”

“And what if you’re not at home when I do?” Tyler said. She and I referenced a locational app me and Nate used with her, Paula and our parents: when pinged from a connected user, they’d be notified as to our location, since Nate and I tended to… Need that.

You’ll find out why soon.

I headed out with my bag over my shoulder, eating a burger from the party. The sun had just disappeared past the skyline, and twilight was steadily giving way to night. At some point I stumbled into a wrong turn on one of the back roads—but given the situation, it was probably a lot better that I wound up following a dirt trail into the woods and getting somewhat lost from my intended path.

“Odd place for one to go to take a nap.”

My eyes, previously half-closed from fatigue, opened wide, and I turned around. Behind me stood a guy in his mid-20s, wearing a sports blazer and with a duffel bag slung over his back. He was dressed as a member of the sports team from the university, but I did not recognize him—and when you’re a cheerleader for a school, you learn every face of every athlete you advocated for.

“I’m… Not out here to sleep,” I said flatly, “I’m on my way home.”

The guy maintained a blank expression—a stern poker face, with only his brows showing any hint of emotion: determination. “Not here for a nap in the dirt?”

I furrowed my brow. He said that intentionally. “Nap in the dirt”. Dirt nap. Dead. This wasn’t some guy tailing me to ask something or a psycho rapist. It was a lot worse.

A lot. LOT. Worse.

“Odd—you seem the ‘out in nature’ type.”

“Guess you’re not good at reading people.” I said, turning back to walk a decent pace faster.

I heard a… Supernatural sound. I glanced over my shoulder to see the source…

He’d pulled his duffel bag off his back. It had transmuted into a bow with an eye-straining glow about it, and a quiver of equally glowing arrows that remained on his back. His eyes quickly adopted a similar shine as he nocked an arrow and drew the string, staring as dead-eyed as ever at me.

I shrieked in fright, ducking away to the side as I felt a surge of energy fly past me, vibrating the air through me like a forced shudder. The arrow hit what I assumed was a tree, causing a loud hissing sound and a collection of tiny, anguished screams—little bugs in its trunk, dying slowly and painfully to what the arrow was made of: pure, holy light. I was being attacked by an angel from Heaven, and he was aiming to kill.

“Stay the fuck away from me!” I cried out, breaking into a run. The initial wave of energy from the arrow combined with my now-active adrenaline started to give me a headache.

“God will not allow your kind to flourish in this age!” the angel called after me. I thought in spans of split seconds what would happen if Tyler—rather, Chialer, her real name—had been attacked instead. The angel was obviously equipped to hunt demons, but she was a volatile one in a fight, surely, given her pure form being made from a radioactive material.

As for me, I still had static running along my back. The arrow must’ve disrupted… A balance in my… Body, let’s say. It was… Well.

My shirt tore in two long strips down the back. Holographic strings of energy wavered behind me like banners tacked onto my ribcage, before solidifying… Into a large, black and white-spotted pair of moth wings.

Another arrow flew by my face; it would’ve likely pierced my skull if I didn’t have a poor enough posture to be stumbling side to side as I ran. The pores on my face and neck flared, bristling with fluff that grew in.

My body was deteriorating, losing the human aspect to it. I won’t lie to you: this whole time, I haven’t been human. This fur and wings were meant to be my appearance. The compound eyes that my socketed ones [quite literally] bugged out into were returning to their norm.

Yes, I’m… A demon, like Chialer.

Okay, so maybe I was misleading and vague, implying I wasn’t with how I spoke about her. But you have to understand, monotheistic religion DOES want my kind vilified by all. The sheer fact you’re reading to this sentence shows that I’m doing a good enough job for this not to drive you away.

I stumbled over a raised tree root as a second pair of arms stretched and popped the seams of my shirt’s sleeves. I yelped in alarm, curling up in a ball to try and roll a few feet. Luckily, the speed I’d been leading him along, the angel couldn’t stop before falling over me.

I scrambled back to my feet, looking down at myself, then quickly throwing off my shirt before my head’s changing shape would prevent doing so. With antennae on my head, and a thick coating of deep violet fluff around my neck and chest, I was definitely becoming more insectoid than human now. The angel looked up as he grabbed for his bow, making a forced gag in disgust.

“I thought you fuckers were supposed to be paragons of nice or some shit?!” I sputtered.

“We are!” he hissed, getting back up. “And YOU are an embodiment of all that is unholy and corrupt!”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m an embodiment of sloth, you piece of shit! Do you not get that humans aren’t infinite wells of stamina?!”

“There’s a difference between resting and lazing!” he spat, drawing his bowstring. I seized up, jumping to the side. As he released the arrow to follow my movement, I dropped to the ground like a ragdoll, effectively psyching him out.

I used my now-four hands to quickly put myself back on my feet. The spots on the front of my wings sparked, static crackling between them. “Yeah and there’s also a difference between ‘love thy neighbor’ and ‘kill based on prejudice’!” I shouted.

Common demon tactic- use angels’ means against them by confronting them with their own ethical shortcomings. Most of God’s ‘soldiers’ were infamous among my kind for having a black-and-white view of things.

The angel scoffed, pulling out a shortsword from a covert sheath on his shin. Six feathered wings flapped out behind him as he lunged at me. I gritted my teeth. The static stopped around my wings, and the spots all widened: white spots on black wings became reverse-dilated eyes, fur retracting into them so not to insulate focused arcs of lightning that shot from them onto the angel. He screeched gutturally, stunned with far more voltage than any taser would be charged with.

I turned and started running as he dropped to the ground again. He’d reflexively dropped his sword, and clearly that was metallic enough to be electrified for a few moments.

Like I said, I’m an embodiment of sloth- a sloth demoness. A small part of me leans into the sin of lust, but it’s insignificant for my… Biology, I guess you could call it. My body stores energy like a battery, and releases it slowly through normal… Processes. Slowly happens by me being idle. Sitting around, watching TV or playing games, something sedentary. When physical activity gets involved, it starts to strain my body.

Adrenaline is a last resort system for my body. If it’s active… Let’s just say it’s like a surgeon delicately opening your skull. And punching you in your exposed brain. Repeatedly.

I took a deep, strained breath as I ran. I could hear the angel shout in annoyance as he fumbled with the sword, and a fortunate part of me insisted on looking back every few moments in case of more arrows. Fortunate, since one soon came flying through the leaves, luckily several feet off to the side of me.

My wings fluttered behind me, but there was no chance of me getting away by flight. Physical exertion aside, that angel had to be trained to track the likes of me. I clenched my four fists for a moment. No way I could take that thing in a fistfight, let alone try to disarm him.

Another arrow flew past me. I turned around abruptly, holding up my hands to the sides of my head. As the angel skidded to a stop on the dirt, drawing another arrow, my fingers crackled with electricity. “Take another step closer to me and I’ll put myself to sleep.” I hissed.

The angel scoffed, narrowing his eyes. “You say that as if it’s a threat.”

I sneered wildly. “Short-term memory loss? I’m a sloth demon. Not gonna end well for you.”

The angel attempted to loose the arrow at me. I quickly ducked under it, smirking at him as I stood up straight again. “Gonna be that way, huh? Heh. Can’t say I’ll miss you.”

The static on my hands flared, arcing to my head. In a moment, the voltage electrified my neurons just right to make me lose consciousness.

[the-static-silence-of-pastels]

((WIP)) Finish this off for posting: Dialogue for Day 1 has to be finished before posting.

Needs to be edited, updated and reassessed before posting. 

Title ideas: Tar and Angels (??? too dramatic), Dreams of Illogicality (maybe???), I’m Out of Good Ideas (yeah we’ll go with that one :P)

Chapter 1: Night 1

He’s flying in the dream. He knows it’s a dream because he’s flying, but the fact that he is flying makes him forget how unrealistic it is for a few precious moments. The wind blows hard against his face, his eyes water but he loves it. Loves the feeling of the wind pushing up against his wings, lifting him high as he soars through a clear and starry night. The world below him is fewer trees and plants, more like a gigantic lake reflecting the stars above with a gleam of something not quite sky like. It ripples a little and he knows it’s water as his feathers brush the surface gently, wind and water pulling back behind him in a “V” shape. It doesn’t matter how illogical it all is, because for once he’s free from the bonds of being in a world ruled by logic, being told and knowing day after day that he would never be able to fly under a star-speckled sky with wings of starlight.

He looks at his wings again because he knows they’re not actually made of starlight, more like dark feathers ranging from black to a shimmering dark blue with tiny flecks of white and silver dotted on them, shining with the light of the stars. The wings on his back are powerful but light, they flap and take him higher and higher. Suddenly there are clouds and he bursts through them to find the moon.

He stops flapping, arms outstretched, hand grasping for a moon that isn’t there and a sky that has turned pitch black. He can’t see anything, and his wings are heavy, pulling him down. With a cry, he’s plummeting to the ground, through the clouds, through the water, past inky black sky and into the waiting embrace of a tar-like substance that pulls the feathers from his wings if he moves. His instincts scream to pull free and he tries but the pain is too much, and he sinks, tar filling his mouth and nostrils, suffocating him as he glimpses one last feather sitting on top of the tar before darkness surrounds him.

Day Dialogue needed: 

(Something, something, waking up and going about the day until night comes...maybe have a video planned or something, maybe just have Logan editing idk, like have something dull so people look forward to the dream sequences...maybe add drama in the form of an argument that sparks between Logan and Roman. You know people will only read this for the ships right? Yeah, I know, but I can at least try to make the day dialogue as pretty sounding as the dream-scape dialogue. But it’s really not worth it, is it? Yeah, it is, people will like the extra stuff, right? Look, it’s up to you whether you want to add all of those bells and whistles or whether you want to have the beauty and the beast.)

Chapter 2: Night 2

He’s falling tonight. Arms outstretched, legs bent a little as if the wind is cradling him as it rushes past in a torrent of icy air. It’s like an out of body experience, he can see what’s below him, knows what’s there without even looking. Shiny black tar, glistening like oil, fractured like sparkling black onyx gems. He knows he’s going to fall right into it and this time he doesn’t have wings to even try to save him. This time he’s surrendering himself to the fall, to the tar, to the eventual death and the eventual waking. It’s all just a dream, a dream that he’ll wake from as soon as it becomes too much, but for now it feels so real and he’s terrified to land in the tar. He can feel the iciness rising from the tar, moving ever closer until he knows he’s about to hit it. His body stops moving, arms clasped around him, stopping him from falling further. A hand grips his shoulders tightly, another holds his outer kneecap. He doesn’t feel or see himself blinking, face turning to the one who’d saved him, but he knows he does.

The person who saved him is familiar. Colours he can’t make out in a face so like his own. He’s so tired and they’re so warm. They disappear for a second, his world covered in black as he blinks slowly. His mind is faltering, stopping and starting as he tries to think of a name, a letter, something to remember of this person that is dropping to their knees and letting his legs touch the hard tar below. It’s cold through his pants but the fingers that caress his cheek are warm and soft. They twirl his hair a little, dropping to run over his check before landing on his neck. His saviour’s fingers stop there for a second, running over something carefully before retreating up his face. Their forehead touches his and he gasps softly at the warmth. They hush him, drawing their hand to his chin and tilting it slowly. He can’t move, he doesn’t want to and then it’s all sucked away as the tar drops away from under him. His saviour’s eyes go wide, hands reaching out to grab at him before he turns into a small speck of pale peach and white, a smear growing ever fainter until only black remains.

Day Dialogue needed:

Roman bolted upright, sweat pouring off his forehead and down past wide eyes. The wet cascade didn’t cease even as Roman gripped his hair and pulled on the brown strands with an angry shriek. He’d let go again, lost his love to the void once more and watched the feathered beauty plunge into the cold black depths. Roman grasped for a normal heart rate, breath slowing as he pulled his knees to his chest, tears slowly building as he looked at the hand that had reached out for his love, the hands that had let him go, the arms that had cradled him and let him down.

The prince rolled onto his side, footsteps nearing the door before someone knocked on the large ornate piece of wood that separated his bedroom form the rest of the room. He waited with bated breath, not feeling like talking about his failure to keep someone safe. He wondered briefly if his love had also woken up, had come to see if Roman had woken and wanted to talk. Roman dismissed it quickly afterwards, knowing for sure that the one he’d tried to save from the dream turned nightmare would have in no way seen his face, dreams were fickle like that. In all likelihood his angel wouldn’t have seen more than a blurry smudge when he entered his dream to find and save him. It was heartbreaking to think that after everything he’d been through, his love wouldn’t even know it was he who’d saved him only to lose him in the end. (Edit that part out. Should we have Roman know who it is or leave it as a mystery until the end so only the audience knows and they’re screaming “open your eyes you daft man, you” or should he know who it is and spend the whole fic agonising over whether they like him and trying to tell them and having them not believe him. Your call.)

[midoridragonuus]

grune reviews wubcats

godd wr itten reviews are so mcuh ahrder

@flightlessfalling​

iM REALLY UNSULTED THAT THE FIRST THING I SEE ISNICCAGE BABY IM JSUT

IT IS SO OFFENSIVE IM CALLING THE PLOCE FOR HELP

secondly i see ul ike rats

i do n ot like rats ive had htehm in my house and i do not like them sam i am

this is amrs and i picked her becaude i love sailor mars from sailro moon

im sure theyre not the same but i jsut wanted you to know wht i picke dher to being with. shes super cute and pretty and red and thats very rei like ok

ok

i also do not lie daub but since its covered here it gets a passed i thought it was shimmer tbh because  ididnt look at it zoomed in until now on tumble but im sure you understand what im saying here.

what is thsi!?!???

i feel like shuri bc what are THOSE

i lvoe this dae i love that u have faes i think fae are under loved and this one is so cute and all of the fae are cute but here  is a cute

i love the purple blue green i wish that was used more as a gradient its nice

um i dont like the crown but thats not rur fault fr drew it horribly it loks like jughead on drugs i wish it was better as a jesters crown but here WE ARE HUH VFR

so shes shadowy and nice i hope u like her i do

mnnn a nother g1 fae i bey u can see whayt im after ho ho h o delightfully devilish grune

ok so i love fae i really do iwish more people did bc theyre smol and talk with a monotone i mimagine all of them to sound like ben stein and this is ono exeption. i love the bone mask. i love the carapace atrm i lvoe the skeleman accent its good ur good thisd ragon is good

ALSO A GEN ONE HMMM

i really love the acceent on the secondary it’s vey art noveaurx

i also love the familair matching ehre i think i clicked on her bc shes so...... different from what i usually see for an sd and i think thats beautiful

i think she’s really unique and u shaould be prdous o d what s going on hhere

TRAIL h uh  idont have any trail yet i havent found the riht ppporitunity but i cant see that you did! i think shes very elegant. im happy so see capsule make an apperance and i think that i spileld my drink and she looks really nice i love the silks and the whings which can be bulkey but arent here

ok ok

xyx is not my fave g1 but here we are i thnk it woorks i love the mushrooms that is the ebst part of this dragon i dont know if u know but im TELLING U this is the best part of this man i love tbhe muchsrooms

i thinkthe helpmedt gives some mysterousness but the eyes plush mushrooms and highlights in his hair and wings AHA  good

LOOKIT THIS BINCH I LVOE HER

i lvoe bgos female bogs ar e my new faves and shes amazing i think she works i think that despite their dick shaped necks that thebogis the supreme dragon forde i think the cobwebs are cute. i like the toxin i like the skulls being the white and drawing attention i love the green i lvoe her

sangria my g bc i love sangria as a drink it is my fave wine derivvative ok

i love this nexck is very good i like the priate stuff i lofe the feather matching the head thingo it looks cnie thats what im getting at here

LASTLY

do you see her killernose

killer

nose

why did u name her this shes not a ridfge shes not out impaling ppl on her nose shes protec shes a cute arm carapiece and horns and u go and curse her with thi s name how she gonna tindder with this

what is wrong with you

rename her

fix ur dragon

 i love ur g1 bogs and daes thoe perfect

- love grune

[aliatori]

how do you picture cyborg!Gladio to look? (it may be for a cosplay O////O)

First, thank you for this ask, and I’m SO SORRY THE ANSWER IS SO LATE, but I do love talking about cyborg!Gladio.

The easiest part is to start with the similarities.  You can assume the canon build for Gladio as far as height/musculature. He has a touch more muscle packed onto that frame—why get rebuilt if you’re not gonna come back better—but visually it would be more or less the same as canon!Gladio.

(Yes, he’s entirely functional. Y’all and your smutty minds.)

Facially we start to see some differences. Gladio rocks a buzz cut in Artificial since he lost it during reconstruction, and he has no patience to go through growing it back out again.  As it starts to grow out, this is a pretty accurate representation to what he’s rocking these days (not my image, obvs), with a bit shorter of a beard.  For comparison’s sake, this is what I imagined he’d rock pre-reconstruction. (Nyx only successfully got Gladio to let him braid his hair twice.)

Another key difference is the removal of his scar and the replacement of it with his tattoo. The tattoo covers the length of where his scar was and is about an inch/2.5cm wide.  Instead of the whole plant, it’s a black and white realism tattoo of the gladiolus blossoms themselves, with a suggestion of the stem at the top and bottom. Here’s a suitable closeup of gladiolus flowers, and here’s a random example of black and white realism involving flowers!

Augments! This is so tough for me to describe with words beyond what I’ve already done, so instead I made a really bad drawing to approximate the area they cover. Things that may not be apparently obvious from this gorgeous piece of art: there’s more skin between the augments that encircle his arms than the ones on his back (those are very tightly woven metal mesh that essentially looks solid black); the solid mesh extends up around his neck and curls around his ears, as well as covering his hips and part of the outsides of his thighs; the exception to this is on his hands, where solid black metal lines follow the lines of his tendons and fingers all the way to the nail.

As far as what the pattern on his arms and chest is, I kiiinda leave that to imagination.  Something like a feather motif seen here or like the metalwork patterns seen here are the closest images I can come up with. Again, this isn’t exact, and my apologies that my words fail me—I can see them in my head, but my artistic ability comes up short when it comes to drawing them.

And last but not least, CLOTHING. For super casual home stuff, cyborg!Gladio loves the tank and sweats combo.  For dressing up, leather jackets and dark wash jeans and vintage tees, none of this fancy synthweave crap for him.  His unarmored uniform in the Lucian Coalition is very similar to the Kingsglaive outfit in FFXV, just more starkly black and silver.  His combat armor is much like you’d picture typical sci-fi armor, heavy and composed of lots of black plate with silver accents (heyyy royal colours) with a full coverage helmet.

There’s also some new Crownsguard digs coming that I’ll describe once we get there, but this picture is darn close to what AU!Prompto wears—Gladio will get a similar new ‘uniform,’ because you can’t exactly roll up to Niff controlled territories with royal uniforms on. Until you do. (;

That got way longer than I thought, but I hope it helps! If you have any other questions I’ll do my best to answer them, but really, I’m as excited to see people’s interpretations as I am to talk about cyborg!Gladio. Thanks so much for asking about my BB.

[twistednuns]

January 2021

Creating art is about growing the world and increasing its reach, and it has more to do with the act of creation itself than what is actually made. Anything that animates us creatively in a positive way — be it the grand design of a great architectural wonder or the Big Bang of a child’s drawing — is a re-enactment of the original creation story. Whether we realise it or not, making art is a religious encounter as it is our attempts to grow beyond ourselves that energise the soul of the universe. (Nick Cave on shitty art)

Seeing the old library guy having dinner table with his wife. They even lit a candle. How celebratory.                                                                       

Writing a birthday message for Frank about my new beginnings and first days of the year.

Making my nails look as if I had dipped my fingertips into a jar of silver glitter.

How black and glossy blueberries suddenly become after being coated in my warm coconut porridge.

Shinto does not strictly divide the world between material and spiritual, nor between this world and an alternative perfect realm, but instead emphasises that intuitive spirituality facilitates the fusion and equilibrium of all realm. - Why Haruki Murakami is so very Japanese

Sporting a hickey on my neck like a basic 16-year-old.

Going new paths (on my daily walk).

Feeling really grateful for the habits I established last year. A daily walk, taking helpful supplements, flossing, hair and face masks before every shower. Cold showers! A reasonable bedtime. I'm incredibly excited about forming new habits this year! The first ones to tackle are meditation, strength training and a daily creativity practice.

Suddenly imagining the taste of strawberry sauce. Anticipating the first spaghetti ice-cream of the year.

Loving kindness meditation (!) and smiling meditation. Spotify's Wake Up/Wind Down podcast is really quite good, too.

Cracking the impossibly hard to reach spot in my back by twisting and stretching my right leg (who knew).

The first tulips of the year on my nightstand. I chose a dark yellow, almost ochre.

Sparkling water with passion fruit juice. All I could think of during the last minutes of a long and cold walk. Getting undressed. Stretching. Meditation.

Vivid dreams of diving. How I miss being underwater. At least I got to do it in the nightly virtual reality show, eh?

Walking in a winter wonderland. I hate snow but I do admit it's quite pretty when the whole forest is covered in white.

A friendly nod from the delivery guy with the amazing curls.

Running into the neighbourhood's wild cat. Giving him a good scratch.

My new salt crystal lamp. I love its warm light.

The random house on a street nearby with the word nest next to its doorbell. Is that really the family's name? Or just what they call their house? (I would totally get that as nest is one of my favourite words)

Kalimba covers. With cat. Wholesome.

Sinking my face into a pair of warm tracksuit pants which had been drying on the heater. The warmth and the fresh laundry smell were so nice.

Plucking icicles.

The fact that the sidewalks aren't quite as icy and slippery anymore (I hate having no proper grip when I'm walking).

A gorgeous animal atlas with really pretty drawings in one of the boxes with free stuff people often put out these days.

Sarah Wilson. I could hardly put her new book down and immediately started reading her book about anxiety when I was finished. In a way I feel really connected to her. What an inspiring woman! Another thing I love is how she structures her books. She merely numbers her paragraphs, some only a few lines long, some a few pages.

The taste of strawberries. It's hard to describe but somehow it lights up my brain? Can I say that?

Osteopathy. I don't know what she does or how she does it but Laura has magic hands. My body feels completely healed after a session with her.

Simply walking everywhere. I get my steps in and don't have to deal with annoying public transport or my shitty bike.

Peeking out of my shell: looking at people I came across on an early walk and saying good morning.

Little yellowhammer birds on my balcony. I've never seen them before around here. And the tiniest bird on one of my walks through the forest. Perhaps a wren?

Dreaming of India. Visiting a local family, inquiring about a "somatic reading" (whatever that is) but deciding that it was too expensive and watching them prepare food instead. Talking to the grandmother. Riding to their restaurant on the market in a little wagon together.

Lying in bed after taking a shower, bathing in sunlight.

Dorky donkey confetti paper tissues.

A very soothing video of a cat purring loudly got me through a lousy Thursday. I kept coming back to it every couple of hours and it actually helped.

I'm currently watching Chilling Adventures of Sabrina on Netflix. It was a bit hard to get into it at first because it's SO different from the series with Melissa Joan Hart I used to watch as a teenager but ever since that cheerleading scene where Sabrina and Ros perform to RUN DMC's It's Tricky I'm absolutely sold.

The other day there was a lady just standing at the edge of a field, watching her dog run around in the snow, enjoying the sunset. A very peaceful image.

More tulips: red ones this time, a smaller variety. I loved watching them blossom.

Collecting ideas and yellow objects for a yellow-themed letter.

These baby blue and pink sunrises I have been seeing lately.

A new magic trick: summoning dogs by simply holding their gaze for a while.

I hate snow. I really do. But I love how bright the light suddenly is. I smile apologetically at people shovelling snow when I walk by. The other day I stood under a branch when a couple shook the tree and let the snow fall down. I would have been mad if it hadn't been for my umbrella.

When the first and last bits of light colour the tree tops in a warm, gold and orange colour during sunrise and sunset.

The smell of my armpits (have we all stopped using deodorant during lockdown and are suddenly able to smell our armpits or is it just me) made me remember kids carnival parties at our local sports club. We wore cheap costumes made from synthetic fabric and were all super sweaty from running around all day as princesses, vampires and cowboys on a sugar high.

Learning the reason why snow melts faster under trees.

Listening to the New York Times' The Daily podcast. More speficially the Sunday Read (which mostly seems to feature the topics I'm really interested in). There was the wonderfully whimsical episode about the Cloud Appreciation Society. I'd never realised that Joni Mitchell's song Both Sides Now is about seeing shapes in clouds ("pareidolia"): Rows and flows of angel hair / And ice cream castles in the air / And feather canyons every where / Looked at clouds that way. Then there was this other episode about Moonstruck, a movie starring Cher and Nicholas Cage. At the end they keep playing the film music for a while before the episode slowly fades out. I was walking down a snowy alley and felt like the heroine in a late 90's movie (which I could also describe as end-of-century now, how peculiar).

Pelvic floor training. I have more strength, I'm taller and it somehow keeps straightening my back? I'm really impressed of how effective it is and am planning on learning more about the Cantienica method.

I know I'm late to the game but last night I watched the whole first season of Emily in Paris in one go. I needed something to cheer my up and, oh my, did Emily deliver. Well, not really her, but Paris. Everything about the serious can only be described as delicious. The food, the man candy, the fashion, colours and backdrop. While watching I kept thinking about outfit planning, exotic cuisine, roadtrips, kissing strangers, enjoying the good life. Oh how much I miss it. I feel awfully trapped in my apartment these days. One last thing I need to highlight: Sylvie, played by Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu, who is the real star of this series for me. She is just SO chic.

More light! I actually stand a chance to get home before sunset now when I head out late-ish for one of my daily walks.

A good talk with Lena. Home-made ramen. Watching en episode of Planet Earth and Blue Planet each.

Sourdough pizza with goat cheese, honey and fresh truffle.

[writerleo86]

Armor Champions Super R - Episode 148 (Do Not Copy)

   Somewhere on the planet Mars, a hooded figure arrived at the middle of an abandoned courtyard. And another person stood at the other side of the large area.

   It was the stern man named Ronan. He had a thin beard and longer hair. And he had on a pair of golden earrings. He wore a collared white shirt that showed his hairy chest. He had on gray pants that had vertical black stripes. He also had on a burgundy coat with a long gray-furred collar, a golden seal design on the right shoulder, and a thick black belt with a golden buckle. And he had on a pair of long dark boots. Around his neck were two medallions. The top was a black lace that carried a small orange jewel. The other was made of gold with a large red diamond.

   After the pair faced one another, the person took off their hood and revealed themselves to the emotionless Ronan.

   It was the strong woman, Eiri Allazar. She had long blond hair with purple streaks at the right side. She also had on dark-brown eyeliner. And she had on peach lipstick.

   Ronan shook his head and Eiri told him "It's time we talk."

   "And what..." Ronan questioned. "What must the two of us speak about?"

   The woman lowered her head for a moment.

   Then Eiri looked into the dark eyes of the grim Ronan and she replied "First off, I wanna talk about our son!"

Armor Champions Super R - Episode 148:  The Cursed Child Arc -- Ronan and Eiri

   "Our son?" Ronan recalled.

   And Eiri implied "I see you forgot about your cult comin' after our Nemo."

   "Nemo?" Ronan asked. "Is his name Nemo?"

   "How could you forget your own child?" Eiri cried. "You were the one that sent them bastards after him! The cult that worship that damn sword!"

   "You may have given birth to him," Ronan replied. "But the boy is nothing more than a tool for the Blade."

   "I guess you forgot what those freaks did to me too!" Eiri yelled. "They made me drink that stuff from the Fallen himself. Then they strapped me to a bed and left me there after givin' birth to our boy. You left us to play pirates with the law!"

   "It was the order of the Holy Blade," Ronan told her. "If I were to refuse, it would be as if I disrespected the Angel himself. You would have understood this if you had remained at your post."

   "My post?" Eiri shouted. "You get that I was taken from my home by them, right? Those people kept me for months. But if felt like an eternality!"

   Tears started falling from her eyes as the angry woman continued.

   "You know someone else is manipulatin' you! They're usin' that sword to give you marchin' orders. Sastro told you that. I was there!"

Eiri's thoughts:

During the late evening in Sentina City, the emotionless Sastro Allazar stood before the team of young champions in armor as they all faced their wicked opponents led by Ronan.

Sand rose around the champions as Sastro told Ronan "Your master wishes to eliminate all that draw breath on this plane. He had driven you into madness, Ronan. The lords of my planet have chosen to place their faith on a force greater to face the Deceiver, and win."

Sastro turned his head to the young heroes and said "Our lives are all in the hands of you all."

Then he added "And He will not have the heart of an innocent to use in his scheme."

"He?" questioned Ronan.

"It is not the sword that brought a curse upon you, Ronan," Sastro implied. "But it is the force that haunts the tool. The Golden Eye of Hypnos is wanted by another being that wishes only destruction -- a force that had been long forgotten."

   After that, she placed her hands together and Eiri said more.

   "Sastro said that he learned that someone was controllin' you pirates from behind the scenes. I think this is the same guy that runs the cult. What my problem is that you are followin' this guy -- this evil that is going after our son. If you had a heart, you'd know this is wrong."

   "This..." Ronan responded. "This boy... He does not concern me. He never has. He was only born to be his sacrifice. We need the child in order to release our lord from his prison. He must return. This realm... It will be as you wanted all those years ago."

   "This guy..." Eiri cried. "The guy you worship... He's gonna destroy everything. He is gonna destroy everyone dear to us too. There will be nothing left. He's a living bomb ready to blow up!"

   Ronan lowered his head and said "If that is what he chooses, then I must do what I can to complete his wishes."

   Suddenly, the fiery Eiri gave a great slap to his left cheek with her left hand.

   Then she yelled "Have you gone crazy? You really want this thing to destroy this universe? You want your son to be killed? Is that what you want?"

   Ronan stared at her once again and answered "I must do what I was ordered by the Great Blade. I am bound to him, no matter if he is who Lord Allazar claims."

   And Ronan began walking away from her.

   "What happened to you, Aster?" Eiri cried. "You changed! You ain't like you were when we met. You were one of the most generous people I met. Now you turned into someone I don't even know! This you... This you has no heart!"

   The altered man stopped and told Eiri "I only performed what was told by my lord."

   "What?" questioned Eiri.

   "It was but an illusion," Ronan revealed. "I made you believe that I had love for you. But in truth, I felt nothing for you."

   Ronan resumed by walking away as Eiri yelled "You're lying! I know you loved me! This cult's just in your mind!"

   Soon, there was a great explosion near her location.

   "What is that?" She cried.

   So, Eiri ran as quick as she could through the large gust of wind that blew from the explosion.

   After passing a mile, the worried woman reached a large gate that guarded a fortress. She spotted smoke rising from the middle part of the long building immediately.

   "No!" She yelled. "No! Nemo!"

   Then she spotted four people flying up from the fortress. Two of them that were at the front were the deranged Jester and the ruthless Muiten. Another flying behind them was the emotionless female, Misha. And the last one was the silent Turbo who carried someone on his left shoulder with both arms.

   "No!" shouted Eiri. "Nemo! No!"

   An hour later, a questioning Jede Kaballa hurried to the front door of the old mansion. He opened the door and found someone waiting anxiously.

   This was a young woman with brown eyes, fair skin, and a slender body. She had long black hair with a red streak at the front right side. She wore a leathered black blouse, tight black pants, and black boots. She also had a black lace around her neck which had a golden locket at the center.

   "By the gods!" Jede cried. "I cannot believe you have shown yourself after this whole time."

   "Hi J," She responded. "Sorry to barge in like this. But I need you to come with me now."

   And two more people hurried to Jede.

   One that stood by Jede's right side was the calm Joey Spade. He had on a sleeveless green shirt, black shorts, brown socks, and black shoes.

   The other was the charming Aaron Brief. He wore a pale-violet shirt with long sleeves, tight white jeans, and brown shoes.

   Joey spotted her and gave her a welcoming hug as he called "Violet!"

   "Hey Joey," She greeted.

   "What has happened?" questioned Jede. "And why do you seem frightened?"

   She faced Jede and said "I need you guys to come with me. I'll explain on the way. We have to help E."

   "By the heavens!" Jede cried. "Is E in danger?"

   "Yeah," Violet answered. "And in a big way."

   Then someone hurried down from the stairway and found their friends standing with the familiar girl.

   "Vy!"

   It was the blazing cowboy, Desoto Martin. He wore a white shirt with short gray sleeves, tight dark-blue jeans, and tan Cowboy-like boots. And his black band was worn around his head.

   "Well, well, well!" Desoto continued. "I ain't seen ya in a minute! How are ya Vy?"

   "Desoto's here too," Violet replied. "Good. Because I need more of you for this. E's in serious trouble."

   And the four boys followed her out of the neighborhood.

   "Oh!" Violet informed them. "You guys better transform. E needs a lotta fire power!"

   "Very well," said Jede.

   "E?" Desoto cried. "Who's E?'

   "I have no idea," Aaron told him. "I don't even know who she is."

   "That's Violet Fisher," Joey responded. "She helped us fight against the Crystal Kingdom. She is good people."

   "So this is Violet," Aaron replied.

   "Hurry up and transform Guys!" ordered Violet.

   Each of the boys held their colored devices to the air and began transforming.

   "Aaron of the SilverLight Super Power!"

   "Desoto of da BlackShadow Super Power!"

   "Joey of the EnergyTree Super Power!"

   "Super Jede of the CosmicFire Armor Power!"

   A white light shined around him as Aaron's clothing faded away. White energy shaped as long feathers emerged as his white suit appeared along with his silver armor and transparent cloths.

   A black cloud spiraled around his body as the clothes on Desoto vanished. A black light soon lowered onto his body. And Desoto emerged as he wore a white suit with black armor and transparent cloths.

   Green leaves whirled around him as a green light glowed from Joey's body. He soon came out wearing his white suit with green armor and transparent cloths.

   A warm red light formed around Jede as his clothing burned away. A large red flame soon rose to his body as a white suit formed along with his golden armor and transparent red cloths. And a thin golden crown formed on his head as the flame lifted.

   After the four champions were formed, they continued to follow Violet Fisher to the middle of a green forest during the calm night in Violet City. Then the group discovered a man fighting against guards dressed in white armor. And the enemies were led by the undead nobleman in white, Agis Basileus.

   This was a muscular man with short dark hair, cold purple eyes, dark skin, and a thin beard. He wore a collared black shirt, long black pants, and dark-brown shoes. And he held a long rod made of silver.

   He used his weapon to bring down many of the armored guards. And the captain of the guards -- Basileus -- began to battle him. He tried to kill his opponent using the sharp tip of his silver rapier as the other man blocked his assault using his long weapon. Then Basileus pushed the back of his opponent to a tree nearby. And he placed the tip of his blade toward the neck of the helpless man.

   "It is time..." Basileus informed him. "...that we end the long quarrel between the both of us."

   The opponent yelled "I will not stop until you are dead, White King!"

   Suddenly, Basileus flew to the air as he spotted a large wave of black energy coming to his left side. And he spotted the determined woman -- Violet Fisher -- standing along with the four champions in armor.

   "I sought to come for you all," Basileus implied. "I thought about causing my version of havoc on your very city to flush the lot of you out."

   Then he turned to the man who remained by the tree. And Basileus responded "But I was delayed... by this... boy."

   Jede of the CosmicFire had asked "Was this attack a way to find the boy we guard?"

   "Actually," Basileus replied. "I was told that we had found what we seek. Now it will be short before our lord is imprisoned no more. I have come only to silence the lot of you Armored Ones myself."

   "You have received what you have searched for this whole time?" questioned Jede of the CosmicFire.

   And Aaron of the SilverLight cried "No! They couldn't have!"

   "What da hell?" yelled Desoto of the BlackShadow. "They got da kid? How?"

   Jede lowered his head and said "The other agents of Ferrumdiaboli must have discovered where they were hidden and infiltrated the place."

   After that, an enraged Desoto placed his hands on the ground.

   "You intend to use the Shadow Paralysis Technique to subdue me?" Basileus implied.

   He gave out a short laugh and told Desoto "It will not help if I am far to the sky."

   "I know dat!" Desoto replied. "Dat's why I'm usin' somethin' else!"

   And the champion in black armor called out "Weather Manipulation -- Mist of Hades!"

   A thick mist rose from the ground and covered the entire area. As the mist became thicker, its cold breeze had affected the enemies along with Basileus.

   The undead man in white wrapped his arms and cried "What sorcery is this?"

   "Where in the names of Zeus and Argos..." Jede of the CosmicFire cried to his friend. "...have you learned this technique?"

   "Jealous Kaballa?" Desoto yelled. "After Mystic gave me dis power, I trained my ass off!"

   "You guys aren't the only ones!"

   Joey of the EnergyTree spreads his hands out and green leaves whirls from his right hand. He soon turned clockwise once and the leaves blew toward the villains.

   "Lightning Release..." Joey whispered. "Wintergreen Hurricane!"

   All of the wicked guards were blown away by the attack. Meanwhile, Basileus protected himself by creating a barrier around him that was made of pink energy.

   After the green leaves faded away, Basileus lowered his shield and flew down to the champions with the tip of his rapier ready.

   "You will have to do better!" He yelled.

   Next, Aaron of the SilverLight rose his hands as he faced the night sky.

   "Light Release..." He called. "Great Heaven's Wrath!"

   A globe of silver energy formed around each hand. And Aaron threw his fists forward which released a barrage of small silver beams. Basileus had fallen from the sky after he was hit by many of the quick projectiles. He landed on his right foot and defended himself by clashing more of Aaron's projectiles using his long rapier.

   But a large black cloud began to form behind the champion in silver armor. Aaron quickly rolled away as a large wave of red energy shot from the ghastly fog. And the fog had formed into a person -- the deranged Damien Spade.

   Damien roared with laughter as Joey of the EnergyTree reported "Damien's here too!"

   After that, Damien threw a pair of long wires that had a sharp blade wrapped at each tip form his glowing left palm. And the two stringed blades fell for the defenseless Violet Fisher.

   Damien yelled "DIE!"

[maximumsuckage]

Satan goes to the store

Word count: 1815 

 There are a lot of odd things that go on in the parking lot of the average Walmart.  Over there, in the back corner, you can see a couple of teenagers.  Look at them, all greasy, their faces covered in the red blemishes of puberty.  One of them is counting cash- he thinks he’s being surreptitious, but in reality, the way he glances around, his floppy hair flopping with every motion of his head like a black and red streaked flag, is a beacon to any cop that might be sitting around that something shady is about to go down.  Oh, look!  There’s the cop now!  He’s sitting a few parking spots away, noshing on a pastry he’d just bought, eyeballing the woman walking by with a look of disdain.  And no wonder- she’s walking down the parking lot, enormous hips swaying in the tight yoga pants she has pulled up to just under her sagging bosom.  She wears no bra- her nipples are currently fighting a winning battle to bust through the transparent fabric of the wife-beater she wears with the pride of a queen. 

Although, the cop can’t really judge her, considering that he’s missed the drug deal that just transpired in front of him.  Perhaps he’ll notice when one of the boys pulls a badly wrapped joint out of the paper bag?  No, he doesn’t notice. 

His attention, however, is turned to the sleek black car that speeds down the row of the lot.  It’s a beautiful car, something old and yet well cared for, with a trunk large enough to fit a dead body in.  There is no exhaust, no purr of engine.  It speeds, and yet it is silent.  Odd, I’m sure, but, like I said, a lot of shit goes down in a Walmart parking lot. 

The cop considers flagging the car down, but there’s a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach, an ancestral fear that borders on genetic, it’s so old.  Who is he to flag down such a glorious car?  Who is he to stop the king of the road, the lord of the highway, the sultan of the interstate?

The black car slows, and pulls into a handicap spot.

What a scumbag, honestly.  There is no handicap tag hanging in the windshield.  I hope the cop works up the courage to go and ticket that asshole with the silent cool old car. 

The door of the car opens, and out steps a man.

Well- I think he’s a man.  He’s certainly man shaped- what a man, oh, what a man.  His shoulders are rounded with deltoids of the gods; his white button-down clings to his pectorals.  His waist is as slim as a woman’s, no doubt with more abs than Captain America himself, and his face- his face looks as though it was carved by God himself, with perfect cheekbones and a strong chin and lips that could only be described as soft, yet firm, kissable, and yet untouchable. 

His eyes though- how can I describe those eyes?  They are like…

No.  I must refrain. 

The scumbag parked in the handicap, remember.  He is, somewhere beneath those muscles that any sane girl would love to run her hands slowly over as they glisten with sweat, the hole of an ass.

He reaches into the pockets of his jeans, which cling to his perfectly formed gluteus, and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.  Let’s zoom in a bit to see what it says-

No, too close.  Don’t let me get distracted by the perfume of sweetly burning incense that hangs around him like a fog of heavenly breath. 

Too far, now I can’t see the paper.

There we go.  Now let’s read together.

Eggs.  Bread.  Headphones.  Pencil sharpener.  Pens.  Party lights.  Chips.  Salsa.  Guac.  Greeting cards.  Knife sharpener.  Stain remover. Nail clippers.  Eyeliner.  Toothbrush/toothpaste.  Hair gel.

Wow, that’s a solid list.  Let’s watch him try to find all the items.  After all, there’s nothing more fun than watching a sexy beast of a man try to traverse through your average Walmart.

The greeter is an elderly woman who looks like she would be better off using the parking lot he stole.  “Hi, how’s it going?  Can we help you find anything?” 

He ignores her and attempts to walk past.  He’s not a very nice person, as we’ve already established.  Perhaps this would change if he were to meet a nice girl, in her early twenties, who works hard in college and enjoys writing on the side.  But, alas, that is not to be. 

The greeter follows him.  Her hair is like a wild white mane; her face is too wrinkled to even discern where her eyes once were.  “Sir, it’s a beautiful day out!  Let one of our friendly staff members help you find-”

“I know where everything is!”  He whips around, and there’s fire in his eyes.  Literal fire in his eyes… hmmm, that’s odd, wouldn’t you say?  Now that I think of it, are there horns curling from between his luscious locks of thick black hair?  Weird… but weird stuff happens at Walmart, so who are we to judge?

“Okay then.”  The old woman raises her hands innocently, but there’s a sassiness to the flick of her wrists that belies her enormous age.  “Just trying to help.  You didn’t need to go all crazy on me, but who am I to try to do my job?”

“Who are any of us to do our damn jobs?” He mutters to himself, stalking towards the toiletries section. 

What an odd thing to say?  Would it seem that the hunky piece of man candy is not satisfied in his current career path?  Let’s zoom in closer and see what else we can glean from his errand. 

He’s standing in front of the tooth paste selection now.  Apparently he can’t decide which one to choose.  That’s an understandable conundrum- there’s so many!  You can have whitening toothpaste, non-whitening tooth paste, toothpaste for sensitive teeth, generic toothpaste, toothpaste with baking powder, sensitive and whitening toothpaste…

He settles for regular Crest toothpaste.  A solid choice sir- I applaud you!  And then he moves to the toothbrushes.  This time, he doesn’t spend that much time, and simply grabs a package of four cheap ones.  That’s also a good choice.  I, personally, don’t see much difference between toothbrushes, but I know some people care a great amount. 

Now he checks his list and sighs, heading across the store to the food aisle.  He takes a little detour though, jogging his path to cut through the makeup aisle, thereby avoiding the greeter.  Hey, remember you need to buy eyeliner, you beautiful douchebag! 

Nope.  He forgot.  He’ll have to make another detour. 

He pauses to pick up a basket on his way to the bread, hanging it off his lean forearm so he can carry more items at once.  Clever boy! 

There’s a woman already at the bread.  Hey, it’s the woman from earlier- remember her?  Her nipples are like a second pair of eyeballs pressed against the fabric of her shirt.  She studies the bread, picking up every loaf and reading the labels carefully, like getting the wrong loaf might make her blow up. 

Our anti-hero walks up to the bread, his triangle-tipped tail flicking in irritation at being there.  Did you see the tail before?  I didn’t, but I was distracted by his pecs.  I know, I know.  It’s a weakness.  But I’m a reliable narrator.  I swear. 

It’s a nice tail.  It’s all feathered, with a sleek black that match his wings-

SHIT!  I forgot to tell you this guy has wings too! 

I’m just failing you here.  I’m sorry.  I’ll do better from here on out.  Really, it’s just such an odd thing to see, even in such a place as Walmart. 

He reaches around the woman for a loaf of whole wheat bread, and she turns so suddenly that her bosoms are set a-swinging.  One enormous breast hits the end of its swing, bounces back, and smacks our hero right in his perfectly sculpted arm. 

He freezes, and is that- it is!  His cheeks, pale and white as a corpse in a coffin, pink a little, like the setting sun tinting the sky with rose, when he feels the nipple touch the bare flesh exposed by his folded sleeve. 

“Excuse you?”  The woman puts her hands on her hips, drawing herself up to her full height, which, to be frank, isn’t that impressive.  “I was over here, trying to shop, and you just shove on through?”

He takes a half step back, taken by surprise, no doubt, by the suddenly irate woman. 

“The nerve of people!  You think that just because you’re a man, you can have whatever you want?  Well fuck you!"

Now he’s had a moment to regroup.  The blush vanishes and his feathers fluff up dramatically.  “Do you dare berate me, woman?  Be gone, foul slut!  Take your admonishments elsewhere!”

“Are you yelling at me now?”  She crosses her arms now, sticking her hip out like she’d seen somebody trendy do on the TV.  “How dare you.  How dare you?  You think you can just come into my store and yell at me when I have just as much a right to shop here as you?  Fuck you!  Fuck you and fuck your life!”

“I want to buy a loaf of bread!”  His eyes flared, and the woman suddenly gasped, bug eyed, clutching at her throat.  “I came here to buy a loaf of bread, and-”

“Hey, uh, Satan?”

What’s this?  Another person has entered the scene.  He’s not a large man, and he looks a bit awkward interrupting the encounter that has been going down.  Our delicious scumbag pauses, hand raised in the air, feathers fluffed in fight mode, and looks down at the newcomer, who happens to be wearing Walmart blue. 

“What do you want?”  His voice is a low growl, a sneer in vocal form.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, man.  You can’t choke out any of our customers again.”

“She yelled at me!”

“I know she yelled at you, bud, but sometimes you just gotta take the hit and keep moving.”  The employee points.  “You can come back tomorrow.”

Satan glares at him, and then glares at the woman, who is floating about four feet above the ground and gasping as her cheeks turn blue. 

“Drop her, Satan.”

Still, he hesitates, as the woman clutches at her neck. 

“Satan.”

Finally, he drops her.  She falls to the floor, gasping, and then gets up.  “You think you can just choke me?  You pervert, I’ll have you know-”

But what she’ll have Satan know, he’ll never know, because he’s gone,leaving only the lingering stench of brimstone behind.  Oh, unhappy day.  I shall never see such beautiful musculature again.