#and even then its dark humour more than a pun

[s0fter-sin]

the world’s nittiest nitpick but ghost doesn’t tell puns, he tells dark jokes and military humour. soap is the one that goes for the puns. ghost uses dark humour as a coping mechanism and that’s so important to who he is, don’t mistake that for just a general sense of humour

[imdoingitareyou]

what could’ve been — joel miller x reader

summary: in jackson, you and joel talk about how things might’ve been, had you met outside of all the mess

warnings: its just fluff. its straight fluffy drabble.

After a day that wasn't particularly long at all, that hadn't left you tired or sad, that resembled something regular—as close to it as you could come in a post-apocalyptic world, anyway—nothing mattered because, still, all that you had wanted was Joel. You wanted him next to you, filling the air with his musk of wood and leather. You wanted his hand to hold and his lips to kiss. That was all.

Hence the instant relief when you heard the creak of your front door after a quick jangle of his spare key, and the immediate apologies that he cast down the hallway, explaining that Tommy had needed a hand with cleaning up some mess at the bar.

You were glad to see him when you did, having rushed out immediately from the lounge and finding him with one boot in his palm and the other still on his foot.

At just the sight of him you were grinning like a kid with ice cream.

He was tackled into a hug before he could even return the gesture with one of his more tame smiles.

Through a light chuckle, he said, “I missed you too.”

Head sunken into the crook of his neck, you mumbled some weak response, breathing him in. He did the same, his lips pressed against the top of your skull as he could finally do more than just imagine the scent of your strawberry shampoo.

It wasn't after long that the two of you were tangled up on the couch, just talking, when a thought crossed your mind.

“Do you think we would've had a chance, were it not for all of... this?”

“If I'd known you then... I would never have let you go.” You smiled again up at him. Joel did the same, briefly pressing a kiss to your cheek before holding your face in his palms. “Just like now.”

Through your nose, you exhaled slowly, contently.

“I wish it didn't have to be like this,” you uttered, “I wish I could take you places.”

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. I would've been the first person to get you outta Texas; would've been momentous,” you giggled lightly.

“Oh really?” he leaned back slightly. “Well, you'd have had to abduct me.”

You shrugged, “Maybe. But you'd like it, that place we'd go. Sicily—my mom's family had a lemon orchard there. Of course, I'd abduct Sarah, too,”

“Of course.”

“Yeah. We'd head down there in the fall, when they start to ripen, and would look out at the sea and fall asleep in the fields, looking at the stars. It's so beautiful there.”

As you spoke, you watched as his eyes closed slowly and he pictured it, breaths slow and heart rate steady.

“You'd meet my family and they'd get you drunk to show they loved you. We would do anything we wanted. And when we got back we'd already be planning the next visit—my parents usually go around Christmas. We'd think about bringing Tommy along, too. Back in our lives, we'd fill the time with trips to the museum for Sarah, and card games that I'd win, and she'd meet a quirky girl at school with a weird sense of humour—shitty puns and sarcastic comments. And I'd kiss you every night before we fell asleep and then every morning before breakfast.”

When he opened his dark brown eyes yet again and found you smiling he couldn't help from doing the same. “Sounds perfect.”

[raayllum]

What do you think of tdp's rating potentially changing for s6? Personally I'm all for it because I'm on the younger side of the fandom (not a minor but I definitely was when I started the show) and it's nice that the show is growing with me, but I've heard complaints that the increasing darkness doesn't fit well with some of tdp's less mature aspects/humor. One of my favorite artists dropped the show because of it, which is a little disheartening since I thought s5 was absolutely amazing.

Honestly I thought S3 was pushing the lid on Y7 with some of the final ep violence / some elements of the Aaravos-Viren-dark magic body horror, so I think realistically S4 (because of the Ibis scene) and s5 (gestures to - half the season) should absolutely be rated PG. Y7 tv shows tend to get away with a lot more than G-rated films (at least since the mid 2000s I think) so I think that skews stuff as well.

As for the humour, even when it doesn't work for me (personally S1, S5, and S4 have had the best humour for me) it's almost all character based so I give it a pass. Like soo many people acted like the goofiness in S4 or fart jokes were baseless / a personal offense, but 1) Claudia's always had bathroom humour and while it's never been something I found funny, I appreciated it for its character consistency and that a girl gets the gross out humour at all bc we just don't see that a lot, and 2) teens and adolescents make bad jokes all the time. I make fart jokes all the time. I don't really want 'em in my media, but I do think they're funny, and I like that the characters in my media think they're funny because yeah... Bad puns, stupid jokes, being ridiculous with your friends, even or especially in times of crisis - sounds pretty grounded in realism to me.

I think part of the disconnect people have with humour (and less 'mature' humour, which - my favourite Shakespeare joke is the "do you bite your thumb at me sir" from Romeo and Juliet which shows my 'maturity' level when it comes to laughs, lmao) vs the rest of the show is... People outside of the age demographic being unwilling to accept that they're outside of the age demographic. Like drop TDP for any reason you want, of course, but

It's like - I didn't love the episodes in She-ra about "learning how to be a good friend," but I'd be dumb if I genuinely complained about it because this show is For Kids and it's catering to them first and foremost. It's not supposed to cater all parts of itself to my age demographic, nevermind my taste and no art does that, even stuff that is for my age demographic because it's an unrealistic choice to put on media. TDP is a little different since they've gone on record stating that its for Families, so that warrants something a little more 'mature' by proxy (and I very much think the show reflects that) but like - it's for families, and that means reflecting all those elements, too. Including humour (some for adults, some for tweens/teens/etc).

TLDR; emotionally scared because I love all the kiddos but very glad overall about the rating change, cause I'd rather people be warned ahead of time / be able to make informed choices about what they want to watch / consume.

[moonstruckbirdie]

AS PROMISED LETS BEGIN @wildestdreamsblog

LATIBULE- HOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW DID THEY SURVIVE, RM eyes on you SIRRR, and Seokjin stop reveling in the fun here, coz man you MESSED UP so damn fucking much.. So YOONGI woke up, went full DEVDAS mode [I had to use this Bollywood movie reference, coz the main hero does the same soppy and sad once there is stuff happening in their love story, but like he is honestly pathetic in that, not Yoongi, he is awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, LIKE I WANTED TO GIVE HIM A BUG HUG], ok he is sad, like super sad, and then he finds her, thanks to his bros, but his reaction to us going blind SO FUCKING SWEET AND ADORABLE AND SAD, IT MADE ME CRY] Plus the reader is going through A LOT, SURVING A FIRE, WITH THE SAID PERPETRATOR OF FIRE, FINDING OUT YOU ARE PREGNANT, SAID PERP HELPING YOU RAISE THE KID, AND LOOSING YOUR EYESIGHT [oddly relatable, coz I am as good as blind without my glasses, ok I know its traumatic, but sarcasm and dark humour are my jams through trauma, so I apologise]. Hoseok is dead pan fried meat, once Yoongi finds him alive, maybe that's why RM is helping him, coz Jimin is fiercly loyal to Yoongi, V is busy being well V, JK is busy jamming to Taylor Swift and finding his wife, albiet not so SWIFTly [ word puns, woww, get a grip], and Seokjin SHOULD BE FUCKING BUSY GROVELLING, COZ IF HE IS NOT, DUDE WHAT IN THE LITERAL FUCKING HELL], leaves us with calculative, charming on the outside, sly on the inside, lawyer, wanna be dad. serving as DADDY NAMJOON [THAT'S IT, I have literally lost ALLLLLLLL GRIP], so like what happens now, when will he find his kid, will he go all, I am fucked how the fuck should I raise this kid, or fuck that I am all in, and not Seokjin stirring the pot by buying expensive baby clothes, sir the kid's going to outgrow it in, I KID YOU NOT, a minute. Moving on, the kid's going to have some really crazy, really eccentric but loving uncles. Coz V would be the literal embodiment of this meme while dealing with the kid, I can easily see him doing what ever shit LEE YEON AND LEE RANG did in season 2 of The Tale of the Nine-Tailed with the baby. So excited for future updates.

ELYSIAN- So,so, sooooooooooo, we going 2 steps forward and a giant fucking leap back is that it Jin, you dumbass, you bloke, you airhead, you no social cue, self absorbed, psycho, you know why i am so mad, coz dang it, that paragraph he so nicely and so pointedly LISTS all the reasons that why it is such a bad idea, I felt it, i could relate to hearing it, l felt I was there, hearing it all, and that broke my heart, it felt like damn these are the things I sometimes feel about myself. And then he is not even grovelling nicely, my man, add a bit more feel to it please, and seriously love how she was like, ok forgiven , let me sleep, COZ SAME GIRL, AIN'T nobody coming between me and my sleep, but my can't hold a grudge to save my life ass, would have actually cried while hightail walking from there, and then cried at home too. so props to her for not crying at least there. Also JK was so damn cute here.

But slight confusion, if both fics have the same timeline, then how is Hoseok at the boxing ring, like HOW IS HE THEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND HOW ARE THEY ALL, OH YEAH NO WORRIES ON THAT FIRE MAN, IT'S NOT EVETYDAY TUESDAY FOLKS, PLEASE HELP ME

ALSO that reminds me- the cutest things happened to me, so I need to share them with you-

I saw two synchronised golden retrievers tail swishes, not once but thrice, AMAZING

Then there's this husky, and golden, I found them walking while out on a walk, they were so cute and playful, like taller than me when they were on their hind legs [5'2 problems] but so fucking cute

TRIED some bibimguksu, and tried the triple spice buldak ramen two weeks later, and realised I can't handle super spicy food, coz I was SUCKING ON ICE CUBES WHILE SIMULATNEOUSLY EATING IT , LIKE THAT IS ONE WAY TO TORTURE ONESELF, THE BIBIMGUKSU WAS AWESOME THOUGH

Then, long story short, my dad's friends/business partner have a niece and she is super cute and amazing, just she wears hearing aid, so is kind of shy in part due to that, but somehow, after meeting her twice-thrice, I got to know though my mom, that she actually, genuinely like me, and I was like ain't no way Ma, you are joking, and that happened a while back, so I was still like why does she like me, really but why. So her birthday was last month, I went back home coz, just a day after is my mom's birthday as well, and since they were coming to meet us, dad was like, she likes you right, you only go buy her a gift , I was like cool, so I went to the market, remembered her mom mentioning she loves art and crafts ALOT, so a got her an age appropriate for an 11 year old, art and crafts kit. Her aunt was like you give it to her yourself, we go to her home, and now for the big reveal, she takes it, gives me a shy thank you, rips the wrapping in the next room

and

and

I hear the biggest happy shriek from that room, I could not contain my smile, she comes back a second later and now full blown THANK YOU,and her uncle just goes, you are the only one she talks that much too.

I WANTED TO HAPPY SCREAM MYSELF, I felt so happy, so like scene, genuine admiration from kids is so PURE.

So yeah sorry for turning this to a mini diary entry, but I just had to share.

Latibule Spinoff

I told you all I was bored

Elysian: Kim Seokjin x Intern!Reader

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

It brought you immense joy to make the renowned and the genius head doctor, Kim Seokjin, blushed uncontrollably. You thought it was just a harmless fun, an innocent and childlike flirting on your part when he never reciprocated your advances. Too bad you didn’t know you were flirting with the mafia prince.

Min Yoongi x Veterinarian!Reader

Latibule: Ongoing

Jung Hoseok x (Shhh To be announced)

xxx

Kim Namjoon x Secretary!Reader

You always thought he had two sides to him: the vicious, competent and calm lawyer that he was in the courtroom, and then the other was the cute, soft and shy boss that you had been working with for years. But there was a third side he had hidden from you- the deadly, violent, and cruel mafia that he was. Was it too late to resign now? Would he even ever let you leave?

Park Jimin x Detective!Reader

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have been a detective, you thought. From the moment you met and saved him back in the academy, you had never seen him other than the thin and weak man you met several years ago. From then on and until now that the two of you made it to being detectives, he had latched onto you and forged a strong friendship, regardless if you wanted to or not. He was weak and you were the stronger one. Well, that was what he made you believe. Park Jimin couldn’t be called weak, after all, he grew up in the mafia.

Kim Taehyung x Reporter!Reader

It all started when you, an investigative journalist, were forced to cover a charity event of the renowned actor, Kim Taehyung. For him, it all started even before that day. What could he do when you made him feel? Stalk and get you to give him the time of the day, of course. Or in which you made the clinically diagnosed psychopath who never once felt an emotion feel.

Jeon Jungkook x Wife!Reader

A marriage of convenience, you would say. A marriage of love, he would say. You thought you would marry an old and rich man. It turned out you would be marrying the Jeon Jungkook who turned out to be the kindest and sweetest man you had ever known, one who showered you with love and anything your heart desired. You lived in a fairytale, well- until you saw him unalived a man. And of course, you did the normal thing and ran.

Drabbles

🤍 MTL to let you go (Ko-Fi Exclusive)

[dalesramblingsblog]

A Brief Look at Stephen Marley's Chia Black Dragon Trilogy, Part I: Spirit Mirror

This is the first in a series of posts looking at the Chia Black Dragon trilogy, a "Chinese Gothic" series of fantasy novels published from 1988 to 1993 by Stephen Marley, whose writing career tangentially intersected the extended universe of Doctor Who and Judge Dredd in the 1990s. The remaining two instalments will probably be Ko-fi exclusive, with this post standing as a teaser for those who might want to donate and read more; as ever, I won't be making any effort to avoid spoilers, so read on at your own discretion if that's something you're concerned about.

The first thing we ought to note about Spirit Mirror is that it's the product of a first-time author. Granted, the fact that Stephen Marley was in his early forties upon the novel's publication does rather cut against the use of any adjectives like "young" or "inexperienced," but 1988 is still a good seven years before his lone Doctor Who novel, Managra, and a full five years before the earliest of his works that I've talked about to date, Virgin Books' Dreddlocked.

As much as it might be nice to say that I'm blown away by the talent on display here and am in complete disbelief that it's Marley's first novel, the truth is that I'm not. It's broadly good, to be clear, and certainly an experience I'm glad to have had in the final weighing of the matter. With that being said, the compellingly literate and erudite blend of black comedy, Gothic surrealism and idiosyncratic pop culture references that so animated Marley's later novels is largely only discernible as a presence at the very edge of the frame here, rather than a fully-fledged torrent.

To a certain extent, of course, it seems churlish to bemoan the lack of pop cultural references in a book like Spirit Mirror. Being set in second-century China, thousands of years before his later, more overtly sci-fi novels, he can't exactly have clones of James Cagney and Mary Shelley wandering about willy-nilly. The objection I'm raising here, then, is more a reaction of disappointment at the general conventionality of large swathes of the novel, particularly in its middle third. Managra, Dreddlocked and even the flawed Dread Dominion were many things, but they could hardly be labelled "conventional" with a straight face.

There's some hint that Spirit Mirror might be trying to offer a commentary on the ubiquity of a certain kind of rudimentary "quest" narrative within modern fantasy, with the second act low point being brought about by Chia's recklessly tackling a problem without fully understanding what she has to do. If this was the intent, however, it never really comes off as well as it might, if for no other reason than that the middle sections of the book play out the standard dark fantasy beats almost to a T. Like I say, the simple fact of the matter is that, apart from a few rather broad one-liners from Chia, Marley hasn't quite got his very peculiar and dark sense of humour down just yet, though from what I've heard of Mortal Mask and Shadow Sisters it's something he grows into with time.

This broadness also finds itself reflected in the characters themselves (no pun intended); Chia herself is compelling enough, even if "wise-cracking immortal masking a metric ton of insecurity and self-loathing" isn't exactly likely to set the world alight with its originality, but her supporting cast really lack much in the way of definition. Everyone gets in their fair share of quippy lines, but I found it extraordinarily difficult to get particularly invested in anyone besides Chia. Vinaya probably shows the most promise, but even he turns out to be possessed by the main villain, so oh well.

What, then, did I actually enjoy here? Well, at the risk of being blunt, it was mostly the stuff that served to bring to mind the quirks of Marley's later novels. Any time he chose to dial up the surrealism and the darkness, he had a pretty good chance of winning me over, with some gleefully nasty moments of repulsive violence and strange dreamscapes captured in Gothically overwritten fashion. Even as someone whose attention wandered in the middle portion of the novel, Chia's rebirth and brush with Enlightenment absolutely captivated me.

Thematically, Spirit Mirror is also pretty top-notch, being heavily steeped in an eclectic fusion of Buddhism and existentialist philosophy - it's always clear, as with his later works, that Marley comes from an academic background, though in the case of his debut novel this does often cut against his capacity for emotiveness - and the broad strokes of Chia's actual arc hang together well as an expression of those ideas.

Also particularly fun is the plain inspiration from Jorge Luis Borges - who died in 1986, just shy of two years prior to Spirit Mirror's publication - with the central legend of the Mirror Realm being almost directly lifted from The Book of Imaginary Beings. I suppose sticklers for originality might object, but by the same token, there are probably far worse and less interesting sources of inspiration for a first-time author than Borges.

On the whole, Spirit Mirror is a book that I ultimately admire and respect a lot more than I outright enjoy, and even then a lot of that respect and admiration stems from the seeds of Marley's later works that just happen to be visible at this early stage. Those traces might have been mere hazy, indistinct reflections at the periphery of my vision, but they were definitely there in some capacity.

And hey, in what other book will you bear witness to the main character giving birth to a tumour as a means of revealing a traitor close to her, followed not long after by the dispatching of the main villain by means of a severed, diseased hand being shoved down his throat?

[imagine-darksiders]

A gentle touch.

[Strife/Reader]

Summary: Set three years after humanity is resurrected. Strife shows up unannounced in your bedroom in the middle of the night, which would have been rude enough without him getting blood all over your cream-coloured carpet.

Tags: Blood, injury, PTSD, knife, protective Strife, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, sharing a bed ;), bandages and cleaning wounds, how not to administer first aid.

-----

You have the apocalypse to thank for turning you into such a light-sleeper. 

Even though the nights of sleeping with one eye open are far behind you and Earth is back on the road to a long and arduous recovery, you'll still jolt awake if your unconscious mind hears something scuttle beneath the floorboards of your freshly-restored home, and God forbid a tree branch should happen to scratch at the bedroom window...

Waking up with the feeling that your heart is three beats from bursting right out of your chest is exhausting, to say the least. And it isn't just you who suffers from the onset of hyper-vigilance.

It was a decidedly cruel consequence that the resurrected humans were able to recall their lives before the end of the world. Crueller still, they woke up to remember exactly how and where they eventually kicked the bucket, and of course, nobody knew that a significant chunk of time had passed at all since the end of the world and its rebirth.

They thought they were still in danger.

In one moment, all they knew was immense and excruciating pain, and then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, they woke up again, screaming and writhing in the echoes of phantom pain that had occurred almost a century ago.

Three years down the line since ‘The Great Waking,’ and there isn’t a human alive who could claim that they’ve slept through an uninterrupted night.

------

The alarm clock on your bedside table has just ticked over to read '2:36am' when your eyes suddenly snap open and you fling yourself upright in bed, your spine ramrod straight and your ears ringing with a sharp, tinny note.

It isn’t a nightmare that wakes you. At least, not this time.

Worse.

It’s a sound.

An out-of-the-ordinary sound that isn't in keeping with the normal ambiance of your bedroom.

But where...? 

....It's coming from your window.

Tired eyes swivel to the curtains whilst your hand immediately flies out to blindly fumble with the drawer of your bedside table. Once your fingers find the cold, metal handle, you rip it open and plunge your hand inside, rummaging around until you feel the reassuring grip of your most precious possession.

Your trusty bread knife. Serrated edge, nine inch blade, perfect for cutting slices of toast in the morning and for tearing through the toughened hide of a hungry demon.

Peace between the Universe’s species had been declared once humanity was fully introduced to the connected realms, a decision that suited a vast majority of Creation. Hell, however, had offered up a fair amount of opposition to the notion before eventually conceding and agreeing – albeit begrudgingly – to honour the peace treaty alongside angels, makers, undead and the rest.

Even demon-kind knew not to incur the wrath of humanity's strongest and most ferocious protectors, the Horsemen.

But... there are always exceptions to the rule. Some demons just... hadn't gotten the memo.

It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had tried to make an assassination attempt on humanity’s envoy.

Heart in your throat, you grasp the knife securely in your dominant hand and peer through the darkness towards the window. 

Only a sliver of moonlight peeps through a tiny gap in the curtains. In another blink, the light suddenly disappears, and you know better than to assume that the moon has simply ducked behind a cloud. 

Something is standing at your window, blocking out the light.

You think you might actually be sick when you hear the sound again, claws scraping on wood – a sound you know all too well – well enough to send your head spinning into a panic.

Swallowing back the nausea in your throat, you brace yourself, instincts flicking between running for the door and knowing never to turn your back on a demon.

Sadly, the decision is swiftly taken out of your hands. Through the darkness and the deafening roar of blood rushing through your ears, you can make out the distinct sound of your window sliding slowly open.

The knife is a comforting weight in your hand. But it’s less than useless if you don’t calm down and try to remember the lessons that Death has taught you. If the eldest Horseman were here, he’d probably have berated you seven ways to Sunday by now for freezing up and missing an opportunity to better prepare yourself for an attack.

A dark silhouette pushes the fluttering fabric of your curtains aside and pulls itself halfway into your bedroom. 

Whatever it is, it’s big.

Breath catching in your throat, you clasp a handful of your duvet and get ready to fling it at the intruder as a distraction, hoping that it’ll be enough to buy you a precious few seconds to gain the upper hand. You've learned that humans are inherently weaker than demons, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned from Death, it’s that strength isn’t necessarily the deciding factor in any battle. You still have your wits. You only hope the demon has less.

Two luminous, golden eyes turn in your direction and you press yourself backwards into the headboard.

Several seconds drag by in perfect silence.

Then... 

“Hey.”

And just like, that tension leaves your body like a balloon deflating of air and you heave the loudest sigh you can muster, dropping the bread knife into your lap.

“Damn it, Strife! You about gave me a heart attack!���

With a 'whump,' you flop back against your pillows and take a second to breathe whilst one of the Four Horsemen drags himself the rest of the way through your bedroom window.

Strife.

It's only Strife...

Whilst certainly a dangerous being in his own right, you know you have nothing to fear from the Horseman who had all but appointed himself as your friend three, long years ago, all in an attempt to irritate his brother, Death, of course.

At least, at first.

Death was the one who pulled you from the dying Earth and preserved your life-force as you journeyed together on a quest to resurrect humanity, but after he made the jump to introduce you to his 'little' siblings, it had been Strife who'd taken a particular shine to you, and it had everything to do with a compatible, if terrible sense of humour.

That first meeting sparked what was sure to be an interesting friendship between the pair of you.

-----

“So, my brother went and got himself a human, huh?” Strife had teased, pointedly ignoring the withering look he received from Death to add, “Gotta say, I'm impressed, Kid. Didn't think anyone would have the inclination to willingly travel with my brother. But then, I guess...” He trailed off and you could almost see the smirk growing under his mask. “Deathperate times and all that, huh?”

At once, his siblings all groaned out varying noises of disapproval. Fury, the loudest, cocked her hip and shot Strife a frosty glower. “You are singlehandedly ruining our reputation, brother."

“She's right, you know,” you spoke up, trying not to flinch when all eyes snapped onto you once more, “That pun was pretty deadful.”

The brief, startled second of silence was soon blasted apart when Strife threw his head back and barked out a triumphant laugh, while Death slowly turned to look at you, utterly betrayed.

“Ha!” Strife's eyes positively gleamed with mischief, “You're right, human. Guess I should'a considered the reapercussions of a joke like that, huh?”

“I ought to have known introducing you two would be a mistake,” the eldest Horseman grumbled, earning a sympathetic look from War.

“Sorry, Death,” you said with a perfectly straight face, “You want us to get out of your scythe so you don’t have to look at us anymore?”

Strife had howled.

Death, however, merely heaved a long-suffering sigh. Fury's eyes all but rolled into the back of her skull and War just stood there, struggling to keep his lips from twitching at their corners.

And you had looked around at all of them, a little proud and blissfully unaware of what you'd just unwittingly signed yourself up for.

You'd had Strife's attention from that day on.

-----

Shaking off the fond memory, you tiredly will your mind back to the matter at hand.

You reach across your bed and drop the knife back into the drawer before leaning down and skirting your fingers over the wall in search of a switch. The next moment, there's a 'click!' and the room is illuminated by clustered fairy lights that you've draped around your ceiling, forcing you to squint blearily against the intrusion of light as Strife hauls his leg into your room.

“Honestly. How many times have I told you to use the door?”

“S'locked,” he grunts.

You're in the midst of rubbing your eyes to try and stimulate a little life back into your bones, so you miss the way he stumbles a few steps away from the wall and presses a gauntleted hand to his abdomen. 

“Yeah, it’s locked because it's-” You take a quick glance at the clock next to you. “-Two thirty in the morning! Strife, I’m supposed to be up at six to meet Ulthane! What do you need so badly that you'd-... Hey.. Are.. are you okay?”

At last taking a long, hard look, it suddenly occurs to you that the Horseman is... not entirely himself.

He's hunched over, his shoulders pulled in around his neck and his chest rising and falling in long, languid motions. The tattered cowl he wears around his neck hangs loose around his collarbones and it faces the very real threat of slipping off to the floor. At last, your eyes drop to the hand that's clamped over the left side of his abdomen and you blurt out a startled gasp.

In the paltry, pink glow of your fairy lights, you spot an unmistakably crimson liquid dribbling between his fingers, starkly contrasted against the steel-grey colour of his armour.

The next few seconds pass in a blur as you frantically begin kicking off your duvet and scramble out of bed, flying across the room to the Horseman's side.

“Strife! What'd you do!?”

“Oh, that's real sweet,” the Nephilim chuckles wryly whilst he collapses back against the wall and slides down it with a strained grunt, “Why're you – ung... assuming it's something I did?”

Without missing a beat, you snap, “This would hardly be the first time you got hurt because you're a wise-cracking jokester with a big mouth! Now tell me who you pissed off?!”

You drop onto your knees next to him and reach out, fingers hovering tentatively above his stomach. With your focus directed away from his helm, Strife doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes dart from left to right before they settle back on the top of your head.

“Ah, it was... just some demon, caught me slackin', that's all,” he shrugs, letting you carefully grasp his wrist and lift it away from his torso.

At once, fresh blood gushes from a deep gouge cut into in the dark, leather under-skin he wears beneath his cuirass and you yelp, slapping a hand over your mouth in abject horror.

The sound draws Strife's gaze to you and once he spots the shocked despair on your face, he gives himself a mental kick.

He hadn't meant to... He... doesn't like it when you’re scared because of him.

"Hey, no, no – I'm okay!” he rushes to reassure you, “Don't worry about this. I've had worse!”

“That's not the point, Strife!” you argue, dropping his wrist and carding your hands through your hair, “You're hurt now! And I don't – there's so much blood, and you-” Cutting yourself off, you squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply through your nose, willing your pulse to ease so that you can rationally address this situation. 

Another lesson Death had taught you - stay calm in a crisis. Panic kills.

Releasing a long, hard breath, you peel your eyes open again and nod, jaw set. “Okay. All right. I need to.. I need water. A-and I need to see the wound.”

The interrogation can come after you've dealt with... this.

“There's a bowl and flannel in my bathroom,” you announce, getting to your unsteady feet and gesturing towards Strife's cuirass, “Think you can get that off so I can have a look?”

Huffing out a breath of laughter, the Horseman winks at you suggestively and drawls, “An' here I was doin' things the hard way to get your attention. You know, you didn't have to wait till I got myself gutted before you asked me to take my armour off in your chambers.”

A wise-cracking flirt with a big mouth.

As exasperating as he is though, you don't mind it in the slightest.

This is your usual rapport, after all. A friendly back and forth interlaced with the occasional, flirtatious comment. At first, Strife had only initiated it because it drove an over-protective Death up the wall. The eldest Horseman had almost threatened to 'remove Strife's libido' until you'd up and flirted right back, distressing the old reaper even further.

It's funny. It's innocent. But right now, it's reassuring, if only somewhat, that Strife is behaving just like his shameless, old self.

Besides, you can give back as much as you get.

“Well, I had to wait for a good enough excuse,” you retort, “Couldn't come on too strong and risk scaring you off, now could I?”

In response, Strife just chuckles fondly and watches you turn and speed away to your ensuite, oblivious to the warm, soft glow radiating from his eyes.

In less than a minute, you're briskly striding back into the room, a dripping flannel in one hand and a bowl in the other, and he suddenly remembers that you'd asked him to remove his cuirass.

Mission failed.

But you don't even bat an eyelid to find it still in place, assuming that the Horseman can't get at the catches on the sides in his current state. 

In one, smooth motion, you drop down beside him once more and set the cloth and bowl nearby. “Here, let me help..”

The Horseman's pulse sputters when your tiny fingers reach around his torso and fumble with the buckles and straps that keep his armour securely in place. It doesn't pass his notice that your hands are trembling.

“Hey,” he calls, catching your eye for a moment before you go right back to fiddling with the cuirass, “This is nothin’, you know that, right?”

You only press your lips together and hum, clearly skeptical.

You're working fast and in almost no time at all, the straps have been released and you carefully take the Nephilim's broad shoulder, giving it a tug, guiding him to lean away from the walls so that you can start to peel the bulky armour off.

“Nng, hang on,” he mutters.

Reluctantly, you sit back to let him tug his chest piece loose before he simply drops it onto the carpet next to his legs with a dull 'clang.'

Exposed to the soft glow of your lights, your eyes are instantly drawn to the gaping wound that stretches in a horizontal line across the left side of his abdomen. It seems that something really has tried - and nearly succeeded - to gut him. Several inches long and goodness knows how deep, even against the iron-grey colour of his skin, the gash is alarmingly obvious and the blood far, far too noticeable for your liking. It still comes as something of a shock to learn that the Horsemen, barring Death, can actually bleed.

Wordlessly, you pick up the flannel and wring it out into the bowl of water, wondering if he'll mind that you didn't wait for the tap to get warm before you soaked it. It shouldn't surprise you that the Horseman doesn't protest or even flinch when you gently press the wet cloth to the bloodied skin around his wound, nowhere near the gash itself, not until you've cleared away some of the mess around it and determined its real depth.

You don't notice that his eyelids flutter closed once you press the cloth to his skin, nor do you see when their golden light fluctuates in contentment as the fingertips of your other hand press gently to his stomach, the pressure barely enough for him to feel, but enough to keep you steady whilst you daub at his drying blood.

It takes a formidable effort to suppress the shudder that nearly races up his spine. This is the first time he's felt your skin against his without a single piece of armour standing between you.

Creator, you're so soft! Just like he always imagined you would be.

“Jeezus, Strife,” you whistle, abruptly snatching his focus away from the soothing strokes of your silky fingers,“You've made a real mess of yourself. Why on Earth didn't you just go straight to Death? I thought he was the best healer in your family.”

The warm skin underneath your fingertips jumps as the Horseman puffs out a quick laugh, gazing dopily at your temple whilst you wipe at the edges of his wound with small, careful touches. 

“He is,” Strife readily agrees, “But the moody bastard wouldn't be nearly as gentle with me as you are.”

You blow an unimpressed huff from your nose and glance up at him in time to catch his lazy wink. “I can always press harder if you like?”

“Nah.” The Horseman settles himself more heavily against the wall, knocking his skull back against it and mumbling, “Just keep touchin' me all gentle like that. S'nice...”

Quite abruptly, the chatty Nephilim goes silent and the glow from his eyes that had illuminated your face only moments ago suddenly disappears.

��Strife?”

He doesn't respond.

“Hey, Cowboy! Don't you fall asleep on me, you hear?”

There's a long stretch of silence, then, “Won't,” he mumbles, cracking one eyelid open to peer down at you.

Harrumphing, you promptly turn back to the gash in his stomach and wipe the last of the dried blood off his skin, still far from clean, but at the very least, better than it had been.

“Right,” you declare, pulling away to stand up and drawing a decidedly petulant whine from the Horseman on your bedroom floor. “I'm gonna go get the first aid kit from downstairs.”

There’s a shift in his expression and something that hinges on alarm suddenly whistles through his blood.

“I won’t be long,” you promise, "Be right – Hey, woah! What're you doing!?”

Darting forwards, you hastily place your hands on each of Strife's broad shoulders, trying to push him back down as he grabs the window sill behind him and begins hauling himself up to his feet.

“What's it look like ‘m doing?” he answers gruffly, slouching forwards as if the weight of his own head is too much to keep aloft, “Comin’ with you”

Sputtering out a few, incredulous noises, you try to make him see sense. “I’ll bring the first aid kit to you! You need to rest! It's bad enough that you already climbed in through my second storey window!”

But Strife, stubborn as a mule and much, much stronger than you, isn't deterred by your protests. Grunting, he curls one arm over his stomach and takes a step forwards, ducking beneath your light fixture and standing to his full, imposing height.

Even with three years of companionship behind you, you’re still frequently taken aback at how effortlessly the Horseman can make you feel small and fragile when you stand close to him.

Knowing full well that you’ll never be able to force him down again, you allow your hands to slip from his shoulders and fall against your sides like lead weights. You aren’t sure why he’s suddenly so hellbent on following you, downstairs, of all places, but you don’t dwell on it, especially given that you’re far more preoccupied with the fresh blood that has already begun trickling out of his wound to replace the stains you’ve painstakingly cleaned away.

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Strife, please sit down?” You aren’t so proud that you won’t resort to begging, tired as you are and exasperated with his obstinate behaviour. “I’m worried about you...”

All at once, the Horseman stiffens. ‘Oh, now she’s fighting dirty,’ he muses to himself.

Gradually, you lift your eyes to meet his and try your very best to glare up at him, pinning him down with all the stern authority you can muster. For several, slow heartbeats, the Nephilim peers right back at you and you’re almost certain that you’ll lose this battle of wills, which is why it comes as such a shock when his fiery gaze falters, wavering slightly before it promptly drops to the floor near your feet.

It's... rare for Strife to be looked at by someone who isn't ashamed to show that they worry about him.

But the way you're looking at him now? Hell, the way you've��been looking at him since he clambered through your bedroom window? You're practically broadcasting your concern.

Strife just... isn't used to seeing that. So he glances down instead, finding the fibres of your carpet particularly exhilarating tonight. Slowly, begrudgingly, he sinks down to sit on the edge of your bed, heavy enough that the frame creaks and groans under the weight of a fully grown Nephilim and he has to hold back a contented sigh at the softness beneath his legs.

From the corner of an eye, he can see that your jaw is hanging ajar and remains so until you give yourself a little shake and throw him a satisfied nod. “Thank you,” you huff before turning on your heel and striding purposefully from the room.

Strife listens raptly to your footsteps disappearing down the staircase, unaware that his hands have curled into tight fists around your duvet.

'It's fine,' he assuages the insistent voice at the back of his head, 'She's fine.'

He took care of the threat. That demon asshole isn't coming after his friend.

You’re only downstairs. He can already hear you pushing open the door to your little kitchen whilst the rest of his senses remain trained on the sounds and smells of the night.

It isn't as though something bad might happen just because his eyes aren't fixed upon you...

Frankly, he thinks he’s being more than generous to allow a full, Earth minute to pass as he taps his heel impatiently against the side of your bed.

Didn’t you say you’d be right back?

...

“Fuck it...”

-------

Perhaps, in hindsight, keeping your first aid kit on the top of the fridge hadn’t been one of your brightest ideas, given that you need a chair to reach it. Then again, securing immediate access to bandages and plasters hadn’t exactly been on the forefront of your mind when you were rebuilding your old home from the ruins it had been left in.

With a grunt, you drop your rickety kitchen chair next to the fridge and clamber up onto the seat. “I have got to find a better place for you,” you grumble at an apathetic first aid kit that sits gathering dust near the wall. Stretching your arm out, you manage to snag it by the handle and drag it towards you-

“The hell're you doing!?”

The violent jolt that shoots through you like lightening nearly sends you toppling off the chair. You let out a yelp, just barely catching yourself on the fridge with your free hand before you whip about to see none other than Strife silhouetted in the kitchen doorway.

“Wh- the hell are you doing!?” you retort, knitting your brows into a frown and clutching the first aid kit against your heaving chest, “Why aren’t you upstairs?”

The Horseman’s glowing eyes are fixed unsettlingly on the chair beneath your feet and rather than answer the question, he ducks under the doorframe and thunders towards you in a few, short strides, leaving you with no time to protest before he suddenly sweeps you up off the chair and into his arms, caging you against a solid chest.

At once, you begin to struggle. “Strife! Your wound! Put me down, you'll hurt yourself!”

But the Nephilim is hardly paying attention. His glare lingers on the flimsy, wooden chair legs for a moment before he flicks his gaze towards the large window above your sink, noting with no small degree of distaste that it isn't even shut.

It’s like you’re inviting danger in.

If you had any idea of the fate he and his siblings are currently trying to protect you from, you might just try a little harder to take better care of yourself.

“Hey!” you continue to protest against his hold but manage to refrain from jostling about too much, mindful of his injury. “For god's sake! What's gotten into you?!”

He offers little more than a noncommittal grunt in response and begins trailing back towards the staircase, casting brief glances at the french doors leading out onto your patio.

'Structural weakness,' he registers, 'Perfect point of entry for anything smaller than a Trauma...'

Shaking his head, he turns sideways to fit you through the kitchen door and takes the stairs up to your room.

After a second, he lowers his eyes to meet yours and finds himself meeting a highly unimpressed scowl. “What?” he asks, the very picture of innocence.

Raising your brows, you snap, “Don't you 'what' me! The hell is all this about? I told you to stay put!”

“You were takin' too long,” he shrugs.

“Too long!?” Indignant, you flick your wrist and rap the first aid kit against his collar bone, “I was gone a minute, max! If you were so worried about me taking too long to fix you up, then why are you moving around and making your injury worse!?”

The light of Strife's golden gaze dims and he turns his head away, staring up towards the top of the stairs and your bedroom door beyond. “S'not me m' worried about,” he mumbles.

It's such an about-face from his usual demeanour that you can do little but blink dumbly up at him and fall still against his chest, your mouth hanging agape.

In silence, the Horseman ducks through the door into your room and sidles over to the bed where, hesitantly, he lowers you down until you're sitting safely on the edge.

In the next moment however, just as Strife drops heavily onto the bed next to you, you slip away and settle on the floor instead, placing the first aid kit beside his boots and fumbling with the latches.

Despite blowing out a rough grumble of disapproval that sounds entirely too much like War for his liking, he lets you go.

Chewing on your lip, you stare at the contents for a moment before snatching up a pack of antiseptic wipes, tearing one out and bringing it up to his stomach.

“You want to tell me why you just exacerbated your injury to rescue me from my kitchen chair?” you ask him, adding as an afterthought, “This might sting a bit..”

When he doesn't reply, you glance up and quirk a brow at the underside of his chin, only to catch him peering back at you from behind heavy-lidded eyes. Then, with a weary sigh, he sags forwards and raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck, looking sheepish, of all things.

Unable to dispel your frown, you blindly begin brushing the wipe underneath his bleeding wound.

He doesn't even wince.

Strife tips his helm towards the bedroom window and slumps further backwards into your mattress, seeming so entirely out of place amidst the colourful duvet cover and frilly cushions.

“Okay,” he mutters, “I uh, I got a confession to make.”

Interest piqued, you make an acknowledging sound at the back of your throat and return your attention to his abdomen.

“Death didn't want us to tell you about this,” he continues quietly whilst you toss the now ruined wipe over your shoulder and pull out a fresh one, “And, to be honest, neither did I. We didn't want you to have to worry, y'know?”

You don't know. And you nearly ask him what you should be worrying about, but you soon let your mouth fall shut and settle for humming curiously instead, trusting that he'll tell you soon enough anyway.

There's a long pause, during which you find the courage to bring your fingers close to the edges of his wound and immediately have to withhold a gag when the motion sends another spout of blood oozing from the cut and dribbling down your wrist.

After a moment, Strife huffs and forges ahead, “Course, War and Fury did want to tell you-”

He's stalling, you realise belatedly.

“-War thinks you have every right to know. And Fury said there's nothin' for you to worry about anyway, cause we've got your back.”

“Fury said that?” you ask distractedly, dropping the wipe and rummaging around for a gauze pad. In response, Strife exhales, a tiny, hidden smile creeping onto his lips. “Fury says a lot of stuff about you that you don't know about.”

Gently, you unroll the gauze and press it against his wound. “Wow, you sure that's your sister?  Sounds like she might've been body snatched.”

“Ha!” The Horseman suddenly throws his head back. “Well, if she has been replaced, I sure as shit ain't going lookin' for the original. This Fury is... she's...”

He pauses, tipping his head in thought before eventually settling on, “She's learning.”

You blow out a long, impressed whistle and he nods his agreement, adding, “Yeah, s'weird for all of us too.”

The room lapses into silence once again as you stretch the gauze across Strife's abdomen and mutter, “Hold this,” before your hands are retreating and the Horseman's slide down to keep the bandage in place.

Reaching into the box once more, you take some bandages and begin to unfurl them gingerly over the top of the gauze. “Not hurting you, am I?”

You miss the soft expression he aims at the top of your head. “Never.”

You're more than aware that he probably won't tell you you've hurt him even if you were to stick your fingers in the wound twist them.

“Sooo~....?” you prompt.

Peering down at you, Strife cocks his head to one side and echoes, “Soooo?”

“What did Fury and War think I should know?”

“Oh. Right...” His reluctance is as painfully obvious as a slap to the face but you're slightly more focused on plunging your hand back into the first aid kit and rooting around for a roll of adhesive tape.

He observes you for a moment, growing more and more certain that despite your curiosity, you aren’t actually paying a great deal of attention to his words. Quite abruptly, he asks, “You listening?”

Emitting little more than a vague hum, you finally snag the tape and run your fingernail along the smooth surface, searching for the ever-elusive end.

“You sure?” Strife grunts skeptically, “Kid, this is kind of important.”

Without missing a beat, you nod your chin towards his injury and reply, “Yeah, well, you're kind of important too, buddy.”

Oh.

Oh, that's...

Strife wracks his brain, trying to pluck an appropriate response from amidst his tumbling thoughts. Part of him wants to scoff – of course he's important! He's Strife! The best, damn marksman who ever walked the realms of existence.

But then, there's another part of him that lurks deep behind the walls of hubris and brass he's been building meticulously for centuries, and it gives a little leap at the sound of your words, delighted beyond measure.

Averting his gaze, Strife lets out a chuckle. “You're getting soft.”

“Ah, I've always been soft.”

His heart thrums. “Wasn't talkin' about you, kid.”

You shoot him a smirk as you stick a piece of tape over the bandages covering his injury. “Well, if you're talking about yourself, then you're wrong again. You aren't getting soft. You've always been soft.”

The Horseman mutters something incoherent, but it's his distinct lack of an articulate response that speaks volumes to your ears.

The slight pressure of your fingers as they prod at the tape with tentative care leaves him mourning the centuries he's gone without knowing such a gentle touch. Rolling his eyes down to you, his smile droops and he sighs, sagging forwards to rest his elbows on his knees just as you attempt to place another strip of tape.

“Strife!” you complain, leaning back, “I need to put more tape on!”

He merely blinks at you languidly and says, “Later. I want you concentratin' on me right now.”

“I've been concentrating on you all night,” you huff, though you eventually concede and sit back on your haunches, peering up at the Horseman expectantly.

Studying your face for another moment, he breathes a long sigh and gestures to his stomach. "I told you a demon did this..."

“Uh huh...”

Solemnly, Strife continues, “So more specifically, it was a Shadow Caster. Been on her trail for a couple of weeks now. Finally caught up with her on some farmlands west of the city...” 

“Okay?” you nod, digesting the information, “And why were you on her trail?”

He hesitates, flicking his eyes between you and the window a few times before he quietly admits, “She was comin’ after one of my friends...”

“Who?”

The look he throws you is so pointed, you suddenly feel like a fool for missing the obvious.

“Ah.” Understanding, you slowly nod your head.

“Yup.”

“But, she's dead now, right?” You gesture to his wound. “You came straight here after killing her.”

Strife's eyes darken further and each time they try to land on your face, they seem to slide right off again and drop to the carpet. “Uh, yeah. She's dead.”

You heave a sigh. “She wasn't the only one who's after me.”

“... No..”

“I see.” Inhaling long and slow through your nose, you tip your head back and slap your hands on your thighs, rubbing at them anxiously as you gaze around the room. “So, do we know how many there are?”

The Horseman eyes you for several, silent seconds. Eventually though, he speaks up. “Got wind of a small group of about four of 'em. Demons mostly, one undead. You and I've got a mutual... uh, friend, who's been keeping his ears to the ground, and he reckons they’re aiming to provoke another war between Hell and Earth by killin' the human envoy.”

“Wow. Talk about sore losers,” you scoff humourlessly, “So, who is this mutual friend?”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Strife's posture once he notices that you haven't immediately flown into a panic. “C'mon kid,” he snorts, “You know I can't expose my source. He doesn't want you know that he cares about you. Thinks you might start askin' for discounts if you thought he was getting' soft.”

“Discounts, huh?” Your lips quirk up at their edges and Strife smacks a palm over his mask in mock distress.

“Ah, hell, I gave it away, didn't I?”

“I bet his name rhymes with Shmulgrim, doesn't it?” you laugh.

Chuckling, Strife leans back on his hands again and replies, “Hey, you came to that conclusion on your own. Technically, I never told you who my source was.”

With the atmosphere in your bedroom gradually becoming lighter and lighter, you follow the Horseman's lead and relax backwards onto your hands, stealing a surreptitious glance at the bandages adhered to his torso.

It's no longer as surprising as it used to be that Vulgrim is invested in the well-being of his 'valuable asset.' The Horsemen are perhaps his best clients, hence the vested interest in keeping himself in their good graces by looking out for their human ward.

Shaking your head with a knowing smirk, you push yourself up onto your feet and glance down at yourself, brushing off your pyjama shorts, only to grimace when your hands do nothing but smear Strife's blood all over the fabric.

“Sorry... for the mess.”

You raise your head at the sound of the Horseman's voice and find him glowering down at the stains he's dripped onto your carpet, his eyes hooded and glum.

Heaving a sigh that you hope conveys both exasperation and affection, you reach out and place your comparatively tiny hand on his shoulder to give the pauldron a reassuring squeeze, drawing his gaze back up to your face. “I don't care about the mess, Strife” you tell him matter-of-factly, “The carpet's just here to stop my feet getting cold in the morning. You're my best friend.”

Ever so slowly, his luminous eyes grow wide with wonder and he lets his jaw drop open to speak, but before he manages to utter a soft, 'what?' you give his shoulder a friendly jostle and add, “So long as you're okay, pal, that's the main thing. Now...”

Trailing off, you move back around the bed and let your fingers slide off the Horseman's arm, stepping up to the bedside table containing your pyjamas, oblivious to how swiftly and easily you've just swept the rug out from underneath Strife's feet. He twists himself around on your mattress to watch you, his eyes as wide as than dinner plates.

Did you mean to say... best?

He – well, he always knew that you considered him a friend! Hell, he'd even go so far as to say the two of you are close friends.

But best?

Best implies that there's nobody – nobody – that you hold in higher regard than him...

'How did I miss that!?' his psyche all but screams at him, 'When the Hell did I get so important!?”

You aren't even looking at him, too busy rummaging through your drawers, as if you have no idea that you've just pulled his heart right out of his chest and now you have it cradled in the palms of your hands.

You could crush the life out of him with hardly a word.

“So, you never did say!” you call out to him as you duck into your ensuite bathroom and flick the light on, hiding yourself from view whilst you change, “How does the master of marksmanship get tagged by a Shadowcaster in the first place? You’re not usually the type to get up close and personal. That’s more War’s thing, right?”

All at once, the threats that demon witch had made against you ring like klaxons in Strife’s head and he has to make a conscious effort to ignore his instinct to leap off the bed and barge into the bathroom just to be sure you’re safe. He hears the shuffling of fabric against skin as you pull off the bloodied shorts and begin to pull on the new ones.

Grinding his teeth, he spits out, “She just.. got me mad, is all. Made me wanna have the satisfaction of wringing her neck with my bare hands instead of filling her with bullets.”

“Wait, seriously?” Your silhouette suddenly appears in the bathroom doorway and and strife glances up, briefly enraptured by the halo of light glowing at your back. A fellow human might have likened you to an angel. Strife, however, knows that none of the feathery bastards could hold a candle to you. 

Garbed in clean shorts that smell distinctly of you, and not copper, you step out into your bedroom. “How’d a demon manage to make you mad? You’re like, the champ of not getting mad. It’s like your superpower.”

“Yeah, well..” he mutters, turning his helm away, “This time, she went too far.”

You’re quiet as you flop down onto the bed next to him, your eyes flicking between his downturned head to the fists that are clenched like vices at his sides, metal claws gripping fistfuls of your duvet so tightly, you’re worried he might end up poking holes in the cover.

Whatever had been said to him must have been bad if he’s this riled up.

Biting your lip, you let out a pensive hum and lean backwards, your fingers brushing over a soft lump near the headboard. At once, your eyes grow wide and your lips stretch into a sly grin as your hand closes over something fluffy and familiar.

Strife is still busy stewing when he’s suddenly brought out of his thoughts by a face that’s shoved promptly into his line of sight. He blinks, drawing his head away to properly see what you’re holding up in front of him.

He can’t contain a chuckle once he realises that it’s none other than your old, toy horse, dangling in front of him with its little, black ears flopping forwards to cover a pair of button eyes.

Allowing a smile to grace the edge of his mouth, the Horseman wordlessly relaxes his grasp on your duvet in favour of reaching out to gently take the soft toy out of your hands, lowering it down into his lap.

“I thought David Hasselhoof might make you feel better,” you tell him, bumping your shoulder against his companionably.

The Nephilim simply smiles, stroking his palm over the horse’s fuzzy mane.

“Hey, Strife?” 

“Mmm?”

You fiddle with your fingernail for a moment, dropping your eyes to the bed and taking a breath before you ask, “What did the demon say that made you so angry?”

It isn’t as though you want to pry. But having your friend turn up at your house in the dead of night with his stomach torn open warrants a couple of questions, in your honest opinion.

The Horseman’s brows knit together underneath his helm and he shifts slightly, twisting away from you further until you can’t even see the lights of his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost dare to say that he looks shy. An impossibility, frankly.

When he speaks, his voice is gentle, a far cry from the normal, strident tone you’re used to hearing. “She, uh, she might’ve made a couple of threats about you.. Bad ones.” 

You wait for him to elaborate, but for some time, he doesn’t utter another word, prompting you to ask, “And?”

You very nearly reel backwards into your headboard when Strife whips around to face you. “And?!” he echoes, incredulous, “The Hell d’you mean ‘and?’ Isn’t that enough of a reason?!”

Taken aback, you lift your hands in a placating gesture and stammer, “Woah! I - I just meant... Well, it’s not like I haven’t been threatened before? Just seems like a weird thing for you to get so angry about.”

Without warning, the enormous Nephilim lurches to his feet, the cuddly horse left to tumble, forgotten out of his lap. “Did you not hear me?” he snaps, “She. Threatened. You!”

“A-and that... made you mad?”

“Did - Of course it did!” he all but howls, his voice cracking as it raises in pitch, “She made me listen to all the god damn, sick things she wanted to do to you when she found you! She said - she said, I’d never see you again!” Roughly, he drags his clawed fingertips through his spiky, black hair and exclaims, “Next thing I know, I’m droppin’ Redemption and Mercy, I’ve got her heart in my fist and I’m... I’m...” 

He trails off, knocked out of stride by his own admission. You remain silent, pressed up against your head board with the blankets clutched to your chest.

When he notices you staring up at him, small and wary amongst the sheets, the frustration saps from him like water circling the drain. “So... so yeah,” he huffs, his shoulders slumping and a great wave of shame crashing over him, “I got a little mad! I got a little pissed off. Cause I didn’t like hearin’ someone say they were gonna hurt my friend.”

And with that, he just... deflates, not unlike a punctured tyre. All the hot air inside him is dispelled with every heave of his mighty chest whilst he peers down at you, feeling the weight of your stare upon him. 

Guilt leaves a sour taste in his mouth, rancid and acidic.

You look so.. 

...scared.

Sometimes Strife forgets that to you, he’s an unassailable figure from biblical legend, a bringer of the end days and an ancient gunman with a body count higher than there are grains of sand on the earth. Of course you’re going to be scared of him when he’s raising his voice at you and towering over you like this. And all because he’d had the life scared out of him in the first place.

“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to -” The words die on his lips and he sighs, defeatedly casting his eye over towards your bedroom window. He doesn’t want to leave you, not without knowing that his siblings have dealt with the remaining threats to your life. But... “I’ll just.. I’ll go.”

Turning his back on you, the Horseman bends to retrieve his discarded cuirass and takes a step towards the window, but a voice, thin as the cobwebs in the corner of your room, stops him in his tracks.

“Strife.” 

The Horseman doesn’t move. he just stares at the darkness through your curtains.

Minutes pass without another word said between you. He remains stubbornly silent, hardly daring to breathe let alone respond to his name, until eventually, he hears a soft huff and rustling behind him.

Footsteps pad across the room and your scent grows stronger as you draw near, wafting over him like an intoxicating aroma before your hand places itself into his palm and he instinctively curls his fingers around it, shuddering at the feel of your soft skin pressed like silk against his roughened hide.

Your tiny, fragile hand... Creator, he really is just a beast standing next to you, isn’t he? The last time he felt this monstrous was..

No. Strife abruptly slams the shutters of his mind down around any thoughts of the Animus. Now is not the time to let dredge up old memories.

Luckily, your voice breaks through the haze and keeps him grounded. “Come on, big guy. Stay here, please?"

“You want me to stay?” he chokes out a laugh, “Even after I scared you?”

“Scared me? What?” It’s your turn to sound confused. “You didn’t scare me Strife, you shocked me. I’ve never seen you this serious before.” 

The Horseman half turns to face you, giving you a glimpse of his warm, golden eyes. “And, I’ve never had a best friend before.” he admits slowly, hearing a soft intake of breath behind him.

“Wait?... I’m your best friend?”

With your hand still in his, Strife steps around slowly to face you, shooting you a quizzical glance. “Uh, yeah? I mean, I don’t exactly have a plethora of friends to choose from, so the competition isn’t that fie- Oof!”

He’s violently interrupted by a soft, squishy body colliding with his. 

You fling your arms around the stunned Horseman’s waist and bury your face into his chest, momentarily forgetting about his injury. Strife, meanwhile, has to employ every molecule of willpower he owns to refrain from flinching, fearing that you’ll let go if he does. He can’t ignore how high his heart just jumped at the feeling of you pressed against him, nor the way his soul soars after realising that you still trust him enough to get this close. 

It’s something that both he and his siblings are all having to get used to, these impromptu hugs. 

Fury had almost flipped you over her shoulder and onto the ground the first time you came at her with your arms open wide, assuming you were going in for an attack. 

War had pulled the most remarkable face, a mixture of alarm and wary delight that caused Strife to keel over in hysterics when you threw your arms around his broad stomach.

Death... Well, Strife hadn’t been around to witness your first hug with his oldest brother, but he imagines it must have been like hugging a block of cold stone.

And Strife? Well, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first hug you gave him. It was so tight and comfortable, and for all of a moment, the only things that existed were the two of you. Inside the binding circle of your arms, his troubles couldn’t touch him, the anguish of his sins took a backseat and he became convinced that he could live happily and peacefully until the end of time trapped in your silent embrace.

The sentiment hasn’t dulled with frequency either. Every hug he receives is as powerful and intoxicating as the last. 

This one is no different. 

Strife's large, thickset arms carefully raise to your delicate back and shoulders, where he simply folds himself around you, pushing the nose of his helm into your soft, messy hair and drawing in a long, deep breath, earning your snort of amusement.

“You a big fan of coconut, then?”

“Is that what that smell is?” he mumbles, feeling the world settle around him as his eyes slip shut, “S'different from last time...”

“...Setting aside the fact that you remember what my hair smelled like last time we hugged.. I ran out of apple shampoo.”

“Mmm.” He trails off, humming into your hair, a sound that rumbles straight through you and leaves the top of your head tingling.

It takes your brain another few seconds to recall the injury on his torso.

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, leaning back and instantly finding your progress blocked by the Horseman's sturdy forearms. “I'm sorry, I didn't think -”

“- Eh, s'fine,” he cuts you off.

“It's not! I forgot, you need to be resting it!”

Strife grumbles his displeasure when you suddenly become very wriggly. “Strife, let go. You should be resting, not standing.”

Cracking one eye open, he roves his gaze over towards your bed. “Resting, huh? …. Not a bad idea.”

Without warning, he stoops down, and for the second time tonight, you find yourself suddenly swept up off your feet, bleating out a garbled squawk of alarm. “Stop picking me up! You'll start bleeding again!”

Smirking to himself, the Horseman takes two, loping steps towards your bed and lowers you down amongst the folds of the duvet, taking great pleasure in crawling over the top of you to get to the other side, armour and all. It isn't the first time he's rested in your bed, usually following a long night of playing your video games and catching up on all the human things he's been missing out on, and it likely won't be the last.

The bed springs creak despondently as he lifts his corner of the duvet and flops heavily onto his side next to you, grinning at the unimpressed glare you're shooting him.

“I like your bed,” he announces, burrowing himself deeper beneath the duvet, “You got a lot of pillows. And-”

His hand rustles beneath the covers for a moment before he winks... and slowly draws out David Hasselhoof, wiggling him back and forth in front of your eyes. “There's room for a threesome.”

“Oh my god. Goodnight, Strife!” Your lips quiver until you give in and crack a genuine smile, grabbing a pillow and whapping it softly down onto his helm. You get no resistance from the Horseman at all in retaliation. He merely lays there with his head hidden, black tufts of hair sticking out from behind your pillow as his shoulders bounce around a throaty chuckle.

Leaving him where he is, you roll over, turn off the fairy lights and plunge your bedroom into cozy, unassailable darkness.

A thick silence falls over the two of you, and the back of your neck begins to prickle, sensing without a shadow of a doubt that the Horseman's eyes are open and watching you. Sure enough, you peel your eyelids apart and find that your far wall is faintly illuminated by the golden light that emanates from his gaze.

Rolling your eyes, you resign yourself to a long night of fighting for your covers and kicking a wriggling Horseman back over onto his own side of the bed. And yet... if it's him, if it's Strife, it most likely won’t bother you in the slightest.

The alarm clock on your bedside table steadily ticks over to the three o'clock mark and you finally feel sleep crawl up behind your eyes. Just as you think you might nod off, however, the bed shakes ever so slightly, and behind you, there's the sound of shuffling sheets. It stops just as suddenly as it starts and you snort, chalking it up to a certain, restless Horseman trying to get used to the human-sized bed.

Several more minutes pass.

The shuffling starts up again, then it stops.

The same thing happens again a few more minutes later and your eyes snap open when something cool and solid nudges gently into the back of your head and you hear a quiet sniff before the whole bed shudders as the enormous Horseman laying upon it releases a monstrously low rumble of contentment.

-----

Strife leaves his helm right behind you all night, not that you'd know until the morning however, when you jerk awake to your bedroom door suddenly slamming open and Death thundering inside. He takes one look at his brother laying at your back and promptly begins a lecture that you're fairly certain will be the favoured topic of neighbourhood gossip for some time to come.

[ye-local-simp]

Hello! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ ♡

Congratulations on the 400+ followers!!! ☀️

Can I request a match-up please?

I'm short, about 5'1-5'2 almost like an IKEA nightstand and slightly plump like a padded bag chair. I have pale pink dyed hair and brown eyes. I also have a lot of moles on my body and barely noticeable freckles. Usually i wear comfortable loose clothes, something like sweatpants and some kind of oversize T-shirt, not super luxury.

I’m gemini, ISFP and i can describe myself as a person who have trust issues, so it’s hard for me to open up to people at first. Despite of this i love affections in various expressions. Compliments, hugs, smooches - I really like to show attachment to my family and friends! Even if it seems so clingy tbh.

To my family and close friends I seem like a crazy chihuahua - constantly on the move, hard to shut up and just a kind of chaotic personality. Actually, even if i more on introverted side i'm eccentric and active in some ways. I mean who one day came to work with invoices mustache and beard just because wanted to? Yep, me. A little weird me. I have specific tastes in everything from eating french fries with ice cream as sauce to non-standard combination of clothes and colors.

A little aggressive, sarcastic and sometimes rude, if I’m overwhelmed with emotions. It maybe sounds oddly but i like strange and absurd memes, dumb puns and black humour, and i quite often use them in conversations.

I adore astrology and mysticism. Some kind of mystery of the world attracts me, gives me ground for reflection, thereby forcing me to spend almost all my free time on it, and I find it really interesting. I also like everything related to maritime culture and mythology. Warm rainy days, autumn season and evening time of day when the sun slowly sets over the horizon. And I also really like such simple little things as cute pebbles that can be found not only on the beach, but also on an ordinary street, key rings and other seemingly unnecessary trinkets.

What about dislikes? Well, at first it’s wasps. Thank God that I didn't have to come into close contact with them. In my opinion, it's better to run from a flock of geese than from a gang of wasps. The second is acute. I can't and don't like too spicy food and dishes. One day I ate very spicy noodles and my lips cried from burning for half an hour. Not a very good feeling, especially when they are cracked...

When I was a little girl, I attended every school circle, but I didn't stay in any of them due to my frequent variability in both character and interests, and it's a little difficult for me to understand which hobby has sunk into my soul more, heh. I knitted, drew, and excelled in sports - everything in a row, but a little. If singing in the bathroom is considered a hobby, then this is one of them that stayed with me throughout my growing up, ha ha. I will give preference to drawing and writing more, perhaps.

Thank you for your work, I hope you have a wonderful day! ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

I will match you up with...

Malleus!!

-Poor man probably also got trust issues due to everyone judging his looks so at some point you two just found each other relatable and found trust in each other.

-Even though it may not look like it, Malleus is also big on physical touch so hugs and quick smooches are actually things you would do when you see each other.He doesn't actually find your clinging to be annoying, as long as you dont do it with Sebek around.Thats the one of the reason why most of your dates are walking around Ramshackle at night.Its actually a pretty neat date since Malleus could always protect you at night, there won't be people around, its calming and he can have a full view on the gargoyles.

-Furthermore, Malleus also has an interest in simple things as you can see from the obsession of gargoyles so he wouldn't really question you if you had an interest in some random trinket you walk past.Plus Malleus is the type of guy who would get your dark joke at random times of the day or the middle of night.As you know, Malleus loves ice cream so you can imagine the shock on his face when he sees you dip a fry on it. He would probably question if humans really did that or it tasted nice. In the end, he tried it and he can not actually say it is bad. Oh well, as long as it was better than Lilia's cooking.

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct: Chapter 6

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6200 (yup, the words ran away from me!)

Warnings: Language, mention of death.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

To an untrained eye, need and love are as easily mistaken for each other as the real master's painting and a forgery.

Deb Caletti

Chapter 6

A low lit room- more fitting of an old jail than an art lock up- surrounds you with cool air that tickles the tiny hairs on the back of your bare neck, as you bend over double, digging through the equipment in the abyss of your bag. A gap forms between the waist of your jeans and t-shirt, revealing the tiniest bit of the lace edging from your bra band- a tantalising fact that catches Marcus’ breath, alerting you to his presence, “Hey, you ok?” you ask straightening up, “Did you find something?”

“Yeah, uh sorry. Think I just had a bit of dust in my throat,” Marcus stammers, utterly thrown by that glimpse of your underwear, as he tries to clear his throat and remember the reason he was standing in front of you, “So, uh, yeah, um- we found a couple of signatures from Paul Guillaume and Albert C Barnes- weren’t they the guys we had to look out for?”

Looking over the papers with your cotton gloves still on, you pour over the shaping of the letters that made up the signatures of the possible previous owners, “I dunno. I’m not convinced- the positioning of the letters seem odd- like a crude rendition of someone’s signature. Almost like someone’s faking their mum’s signature to get out of PE class. Only the thing is, you know the movement of your mum’s hand as she signs something because you’ve watched her do it a million times before. Those signatures do not seem real to me, personally.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise as he crosses his arms, desperately trying to hide the smile that was creeping across his face. “You faked your mom’s signature a lot?”

“Poacher turned gamekeeper,” Élodie remarks as she crosses between the two of you, straightening your t-shirt up where it has caught upon the back of your jeans.

Marcus tries not to let his disappointment show. Calm down, Pike, you’re hardly a horny seventeen year old. But that was how you made him feel and certainly the uncomfortable pressure building in his jeans might prove otherwise.

“I don’t think we will necessarily manage to get this solved today,” you begin, “The section that Élodie looked at dates it reasonably within the time period but those signatures are now tingling my spidey senses. It’s probably going to need to be sent for further investigations at a proper lab. I’m about to look at it using the stereomicroscope- do you want to have a look with me?”

Marcus nods eagerly, earning a grin from you, and you start setting up the pieces you need- ensuring that the video camera is linked to your iPad so Marcus can see everything you are looking at in real time along with you.

Marcus drifts closer to the painting. You haven’t seemed to notice his closeness yet, and he half hopes you don't, as from where he’s standing the aromatically pleasing scent of your shampoo wafts dreamily from the dark shimmer of your hair.

“So tell me more about this piece. I love listening to you speaking about art. You make it seem like I’m looking over the artist’s shoulder as they’re painting it.” Marcus remarks, smiling when he notices the flush creeping over your cheeks that his words bring.

Impressed by your decision to play into his words rather than focus on how awkward you feel at the compliment, he loves how you fan yourself and flutter your eyelashes at him, “Monsieur, you flatter me! Well, looking at this piece it’s not difficult to imagine that Soutine may have had a longstanding beef with food. Though he was fascinated by food and frequently painted these edible arrangements, this stands as one of his most memorable and dare I say, raw interpretations.”

At these terrible puns, Marcus pretends to drum, “Ba da boom tish!”

“Do not encourage her!” Jacques shouts from the other side of the room where he is labeling the bags for the slide samples that Élodie had been collecting, “Once you acknowledge one pun, she’ll ensure that everything she says has one. Queen Nush of the dad jokes!”

“So at the meat of Soutine’s obsession,” Marcus half-snorts, half-groans, intending to encourage you as you add, “You find that a combination of not having anything to eat due to extreme poverty and using what food the family did have to practice Kosher traditions is largely to blame for his playing with his food rather than eating it.”

Marcus watches you flick through your phone so as not to interrupt the finally clear feed from the stereomicroscope focussing on how you bite your lip. You quickly google the Rembrandt that you want him to look at. “The remains of this omnivorous…”

“Oh you’re still gonna continue with that theme, yeah?” Marcus’ feels his lips curve at your humour, shaking his head at the ridiculous word play.

“Oh, I can keep this going all day,” you say with the cheekiest of winks, and Marcus hopes you will.

*****

“Omnivorous obsession,” you continue, “was based on his adoration of Rembrandt whose 1655 Flayed Ox was frequently salivated over by Soutine on his regular visits to the Louvre. Rembrandt’s carcass is noted for its vivid colors but when compared to Soutine’s, which was coated almost daily with fresh buckets of blood by his assistant, Rembrandt seems downright dull. The smell of rotting beef and fresh blood became so oppressive that neighbours called the police, who almost threw away the fermenting flesh before, what I can only assume was the Frankenstein-esque assistant, shooed them away like so many flies covering a carcass.”

“Always with the focus on the graphic elements of art,” Jacques calls out with a snort at your zombie-like impression before receiving a sharp nudge to his ribs to focus on the job Élodie has asked him to complete.

“Art is just a reflection of the things that humanity finds interesting and what can be more interesting to a temporal being than their own mortality or that of the creatures and objects that surround it?” At this statement, you tug Marcus’ coat sleeve away from the piece to come and look at the feed you have set up for him, “Come on you, we’d better focus or Élodie will have my guts for garters for not concentrating on what I should be doing!”

Marcus allows you to lead him over to a black metal folding chair to look at the feed, “So what are we looking for, Mademoiselle Pathologist?”

“Hah, did you just call her mademoiselle? She’s too old for that!” Élodie shouts in your direction.

Refusing to respond verbally to Élodie’s rudeness, you flick a finger up at her and turn back to Marcus, “Madame Pathologist will do- I am comfortable with my age. So what we are looking for are any bits of difficult to detect damage, fading, repairs and the ways paints and other coatings are distributed. Also if there are any strange fibres that we can spot using the double lens.”

Hovering the microscope over the bottom left hand corner, you start to scan the piece, “So what we’re looking for are any irregularities that we might not have picked up on a first scan that Élodie did to take the samples. The stereomicroscope helps us to understand the art in more 3D terms- so we can see something that generally looks flat becomes a landscape of hills and valleys.”

“Why’ve you chosen that corner to start?” Marcus probed inquisitively, wondering as to whether there’s method in your madness.

“Just felt like it!” You shrug and snort at his look of mock horror. “Nah, it’s where the signature is and ‘cos I’m not sure about the signatures on those documents you found, I want to take a closer look at Soutine’s over here. Kinda feels like a sensible place to start.” Your eyes squint as you drink in the images in front of you, snapping up when you hear a small grunt of consternation from your boss, “Have you found something, Marcus?”

“That’s weird. It kind of looks like the signature has been scratched into the art,” Marcus squints at the signature on the screen, reaching over to the table where the possible documents with Guillaume and Barnes’ scrawls lie, “Also, I am not an expert in graphology but the letter e looks consistent across the three names- they all arch at the same point.”

“Waouh- that’s a good catch,” Élodie agrees, pulling Jacques with her to look over Marcus’ shoulder at the finds upon the feed.

Jacques escapes Élodie’s clutch and starts to flit back and forth, checking between the painting and the feed with a mild look of confusion on his face, “This is preposterous. Why have they done the signature in a different medium to the one used to paint it? It’s almost like they want to be caught.”

“It looks like it has been lacerated by a needle,” Marcus scratches at his patchy beard in astonishment, “Spot on Jacques, it’s like they can’t even be bothered to hide their tracks.”

“Ok, I think we may have found one of our fakes,” a smile slowly creeps across your face, “Obviously, we can’t be definite -there are still so many tests that need to be done but I don’t think this is an original,” you shake your head with a half smile, “Élodie, I think we need to organise for this to be couriered back to the labs.”

An excited squeal from Élodie and a soft oof from Jacques puncture the cool air as she flies into his arms, squeezing him in sheer delight. As the pair embrace with joy, you and Marcus are left there- Marcus on the fold out chair, gripping the iPad tighter than necessary- I swear that man never quite knows what do with his hands- and you sitting cross legged on the floor with the stereomicroscope lying in your lap- grinning like idiots at each other.

✪✪✪✪✪

More coffee and cakes are devoured in the aftermath whilst you await a courier to come and pick up the likely forgery- you are not entirely sure that the blood in your body hasn’t entirely transformed into sugar and caffeine at this point. After checking alongside Élodie that the painting had been carefully loaded into a van, you sit next to her on the pavement outside the auction house.

“Do you know where Marcus and Jacques are?” you question as you sink onto the dusty ground next to her.

“Yeah, they’re inside taking an informal statement from the auction house owner before the local police quiz her properly,” Élodie rests her temple to your shoulder, “Today has been wonderful. I really like Marcus - from what I have seen of him. I think this will be a good move for you.”

“I do miss having you here though. Today feels like the first time I have had both of my arms. Since you returned to London, it has felt like a part of me has been missing.”

Hauling a deep breath into your lungs to try to quell that gnawing ache in your belly, you turn to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, “I am sorry, El. To be honest, I don’t even know where to start explaining what happened or even truly understand how everything fell apart so badly.”

The mountain wind decides to blow an icy gust that cuts through your clothes to the bones of you, “It was a normal undercover job- we’d been watching the comings and goings of the gang from a inside a local greasy spoon for ages-just trying to get a clear idea of what their patterns of behaviour were and it just all went South so quickly.

“Being a tiny caff on an industrial estate by the Thames, it was open 24 hours and the day it happened, it was during the middle of a night shift when the gang decided to up the ante. They’d obviously clocked that we weren’t exactly who we said we were,” you snort softly at the memory, “I mean Jas’ accent was a bit sus for being a short order cook but still.

“The gang openly marched the illegal immigrants out of the container and made them kneel in front of the caff as a lure to us, trying to get us to drop our cover. These fucking innocents just trying to find a better life and the evil fuckers just started executing them- one after the other. Jas just ran out there straight away- dropping his cover without any proper back up, a flak jacket or anything. His stupid, kind self trying to save at least one of them without a backward glance.

“I said the code word so we could have armed back up within minutes but I knew it wouldn’t be there quickly enough,” your voice starts to falter as your throat tightens over the words.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, chouchou,” Élodie squeezes the thigh nearest to her.

“I know but I should tell someone, somewhen. You’re probably one of the few who would understand.”

You pause, squeezing your eyes tight shut as you allow that stagnant, putrid box of memories to reopen, flooding your senses with the foul gangrenous smell of the past.

Having called in backup, you make the decision to slip out of the back door of the caff and run for cover behind the large communal bins. The incessant rain was giving zero sign of stopping and the noise was deafening as it bounced off the metal sides and drummed upon the tarmacked surface. You could barely hear the desperate negotiations that Jasper was trying to make for the lives of these poor, exploited humans.

From here, hiding amongst the shadows, you could catch the eye of one of the kneeling men and signal to him as to when he should try to make a run over to you. He’d reached his little finger out to the person to his right to alert them to the plan. Achingly slowly, tiny gestures had passed down the line of five remaining fellows, from person to person, notifying them of your presence and how you were attempting to save them.

You counted them down and then screamed for them to run. Gunshots rang throughout the air as they made a break for the supposed safety of the bins by you as blue lights and sirens swirled, announcing their arrival between the shipping containers. You counted them as they ran for their lives past you.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

But the gunshots…

Jasper.

As you ran to your former partner’s lifeless form, three more shots rang through the air, taking out the associates who’d been ruthlessly gunning down their illegal chattel. Jasper lay there in the harsh headlight of the armed response unit car, his apron and chef’s jacket were no longer the starchy white that glowed under the strip lighting of the kitchen but his skin had taken on a similar pallid tone as his life force pooled around him, staining the oily surface with a bloody bloom. Knelt there with the grit from the floor biting into the skin of your knees, you held his head in your lap, stroking his cold cheek as a shadow cast across you both.

“He’s gone, Nush.”

Tears course down your face in tiny rivulets and spill into Élodie’s hair, “If I had said yes at Fourvière. If I had accepted the position St Vincent had offered me, he’d still be here. He would still be here.”

After putting a hand on each cheek, Élodie then taps you upon the nose making your red-rimmed, watery eyes look into hers, “You didn’t shoot the gun. You didn’t kill him,” she says so matter of fact that you almost feel an inclination to believe her, “You have to stop blaming yourself at some point.”

“He made the decision to go out there without back up or any protection. If I remember correctly, it was Jas’ decision to head back to London too, effectively ending the freedom you had out here,” she adds gravely, “Everyone has to make decisions, Nush. Ours just tend to have more life or death outcomes and remember, the choice you made- you saved five people.

“As for marrying him, you didn’t want to and I don’t know quite how to clearly say this but you don’t have to marry someone because they ask you. Or because you think it’s the right thing to do. You saying no to him, had zero implications in how his life ended,” Élodie smooths a tendril of hair that has escaped your plait behind your ear, “Your relationship didn’t have a true balance because you spent so long trying to hide it- everything feels so much more amplified if you are constantly watching your coattails.”

Rubbing the exhaustion from the onslaught of emotions from your eyes, you turn to face Élodie, “What if that’s it? What if that was my chance of happiness?”

“Okay so you’re now fully in the ridiculous territory, idiot! So bloody naive,” Élodie rolls her eyes and slaps your knee, “ There’s no one person out there- nobody is perfect for you. There are just people who enter your life at different times and there is a certain compatibility…”

“Like you might want to jump their bones,” you giggle through the snot.

“Yep, that definitely helps! But after a while, other stuff comes up and again, you have to make those decisions whether you want to move to the next one or work at the relationship you have,” Élodie says frankly, “ Your first proper grown up relationship wasn’t ever truly allowed to develop into something normal and healthy but please don’t ever think for a second that is all you deserve or will ever get.”

“More happened than just Jasper’s death,” you confide in your ally.

“I know sweetheart. You tell me when you are ready,” Élodie pats your leg, “You will always have Jacques and I here for you. And I reckon Pierre would take you back in a heartbeat if you ever need to escape Marcus, not that I think you will.” You feel a little confused by Élodie’s last statement but don’t have time to swell upon it as the door to the auction house swings open.

Noticing two figures- one wiry and talking rapidly with his hands, the other broad and showing great interest in what the other has to say- walking towards you, you offer Élodie a hand up from your pavement seat. You feel a gentle hand brushing over your bottom and crane your neck to see who it belongs to, “Well, I’d hate for you to make my car any dirtier,” Élodie winks at you.

✪✪✪✪✪

The trip back to Lyon didn’t allow for any more rest for tired eyes against cool car windows. Excited chatter filled the car as between the four of you, you were all busily beavering away from making shouted calls to the science laboratories in Interpol- calling in favours to get your samples tested first- to fingers tapping on screens, flinging emails back to offices trying to inform everyone who needed to know. Although the journey was far longer, it felt as though five minutes had passed from the moment you’d left the auction house- the exhaustion from your disclosure to Élodie giving way to the adrenaline pumping through your veins with the excitement of having found a piece of the puzzle.

Jacques quickly parks in the Interpol car park, where you all pile out of the car, heading back towards the offices. As you walk together, you hear Marcus answer the phone to Andy back in London, filling him in on the events of the day- thankfully leaving out the parts where he’d talked you through a panic attack or accidentally held hands with him.

You didn’t need anyone else in the London offices thinking you were unprofessional. There were enough of those already.

Marcus. So much of the fear has ebbed away about the new role, and in such little time, thanks to your new boss. This straight-speaking American, who makes you speak up and want to stand up a bit taller. For the first time in what felt like forever, work doesn’t feel like a chore to pay the bills for a small, damp flat in South London. It isn’t so much the work as you know that like the back of your hand- it was that feeling of appreciation.

That feeling that someone sees what you can offer and values your contributions- not just as some rookie in an established office but as an equal. You know you are lucky- you get to use all the knowledge from your art history degree (oh how your family had groaned in consternation- doctor or lawyer- those were the proper options. Y’know, a proper career path not something seen as being so wishy-washy) and use it to protect the beauty of art from the shadier underbelly. Not that you could ever explain that part to your mum or her sisters, who just thought you were in some IT job with ridiculous hours.

In fact, it was the first time. You’d worked your way up from being a rookie with Stephens and although you'd got to work in a field with which you had a borderline obsession, you were still always seen as the new kid, even though others came and went after you’d joined and that got a bit wearing, especially when you’d hit your thirties and as you edged ever closer to your forties, it had bordered on the ridiculous.

But Marcus. He didn’t just listen to what you had to say, he positively encouraged you to speak- never expecting you to hold your tongue or wait for the “grown ups” to stop talking.

“Hey, Earth to Anushka,” those ridiculously warm eyes try to call your attention into focus.

“Sorry, heard you on the phone to Andy and took the opportunity to disappear with my thoughts for a bit. It’s been a bit of a day, hasn’t it?” you mutter as the knuckles of your hands almost rub holes in your eye sockets.

“Yeah, I thought we’d find zip on our first check as a team but that was something else,” Marcus nods, pouting his lips in thought, “I honestly thought it was an authentic piece when I found those signatures- just shows how careful we have to be with these crooks.

“You look about ready to collapse- that sleep on the way over, not help? I was about to ask if you fancied grabbing some dinner together but you’re dead on your feet.”

“Didn’t really get much sleep last night. Was kind of dreading what today would bring but,” your hand extends to squeeze Marcus’ forearm, “But you’ve made today far less painful than it could have been.” You feel a warmth creep through you, blooming from the spot where Marcus has placed his hand on top of yours, his thumb unconsciously tracing small circles upon your skin.

“How about a slow walk back to the hotel, we grab some pizza on the way back and sit and watch Sharknado 4 this evening?” you suggest, still not removing your hand from his arm, ”I need to eat something other than breakfast pastries today.”

“Hmmm, I would say that dinner is the best time for breakfast food but yeah, probably best that we find something a bit more substantial,” Marcus relents reluctantly like a petulant child as Élodie and Jacques turn towards you both.

“Oh, why the sad eyes, Marcus? Has she been mean to you? ” Élodie teases, “We have contacts- we can make her disappear…”

Jacques shoots you a despairing look from under his arched eyebrow. The aching sadness returns in your tummy- you’ve missed them so much and missed out on so many special moments with them, “Oof, hey Nush! This isn’t goodbye- no matter the threats Élodie makes upon your life!”

Élodie leans in to sandwich you between the pair of them, “No, Marcus has given me your phone number and your email address- and he has promised me that even if you don’t respond to my communications, that he will send regular updates.” You look over at Marcus, who sends you a sheepish grin and a slight shrug of his shoulders, flashing that goddamn dimple in his right cheek.

“Élodie, are you going upstairs to get everything ready?” Jacques questions his wife, “ There’s only twenty minutes before I need to pick up Xavier from my parents so I’d probably better head off. Can you grab a taxi home afterwards? Nush, I love you and I will see you soon.

“Marcus, it has been a pleasure. I will ensure that all the details are shared with you in London. Let’s keep the lines of communication open between us, oui?” A firm handshake was not the only thing to pass between the men, as Jacques pats Marcus on the back and they wordlessly share a thought, Marcus’ eyes flickering back to you with a small smile.

“Come on, let’s find food and a film before we collapse,” Marcus beckons you towards him with a wave back to Élodie and Jacques before they head off in their respective directions, Élodie’s hand stroking yours as she walks away.

✪✪✪✪✪

Half an hour later, you find yourself standing barefoot outside Marcus’ hotel room door, oddly nervous about knocking. Your hair hangs in waves around your shoulders, still holding some of the twisted kinks that the plaits you wore it in had formed over the course of the day, face scrubbed but you are second guessing your choice of wearing pjs to your new boss’ room. Not that they were in any way indecent- just a good old pair of cotton jammies from M&S and you’d kept your bra on underneath, because not even the worst war criminal deserves to be tortured by the sight of you with your bra off. Just as you were about to head back for a hoodie to perhaps offer an ounce more decency, the door swung open and a slightly surprised look adorns Marcus’ face.

“Hey, I was just about to check where you were. Pizza’s getting cold and you should probably have something warm in your belly that isn’t coffee today!”

“Oh, I was just going to swing back to my room for a hoodie,” you awkwardly mutter in the direction of the deliciously soft looking man, wearing grey joggers and a white t-shirt in front of you.

A small pout crosses Marcus’ lips, “Come on, if you’re chilly, the pizza’ll warm you up but if you’re still cold after eating, you can grab one of mine- that is if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable,” he checks by lowering his eyes and gently lifting your chin.

Deciding not to keep the pizza waiting, you nod and shuffle past Marcus, the plush carpet deliciously soft underfoot, “I haven’t forgotten that we were halfway through a conversation this morning when El and Jacques arrived to pick us up. You want to tell me why you don’t feel like you are where you feel you should be?” you don’t look at Marcus as you ask him, picking the olives off the top of your pizza.

“I thought you said you like olives?” Marcus questions confusedly as he grabs a slice himself.

“Oh I do, but I’ll eat them afterwards as I like to savour them by themselves,” you giggle at your weird pizza eating habits, “Was that a wish to evade the question? Would you prefer to put on a film?”

“Hah, no! You’re full of quirks, y’know? It’s cute,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Cute?” you raise an eyebrow at this affectionate comment, “Eh, I dunno. I don’t think you can get to almost forty without embracing your quirks at some point.”

“I just hoped that by this point I’d be married with 2.4 kids, a dog and a nice house. Y’know, settled- never taking it for granted, obviously but comfortable with a family,” there’s a flicker of pain that passes through Marcus’ eyes as he speaks and it cuts through you like a knife.

“How on Earth are you not in a long term relationship with a lucky person? From what you’ve shown me over the past two days, you’re kind, considerate and thoughtful- although you should never tease a woman about her supposed snoring,” you pull an ugly face at him, sticking your tongue out and wrinkling your nose to diffuse the tension in his forehead, forcing him to laugh.

“Oh, I was married once and had long term relationships but neither worked out, sadly,” Marcus shrugs, focussing intently on his next pizza slice, “Can’t the same thing be said about you? You’re a beautiful, funny and intelligent woman and although you are a menace to yourself and those around you with a coffee cup in your hands, I don’t get why you haven’t been snapped up.”

Grabbing the pizza box and Marcus’ hand- pulling them both towards your room, you say, “Come with me.”

Thrusting the pizza box towards his hands, you put the keycard in the door and the light flickers to green. Guiding Marcus by the food container through the room to the balcony, you swing the French doors open to be greeted by a stiff Alpine air and the twinkling lights of Lyon spreading towards you.

“As you know from today, I was here in Lyon before. My partner and I were seconded here to work alongside Interpol on an art smuggling case- that’s how I knew El, Jacques, Pierre and everyone else from this morning’s meeting. We weren’t just work partners, we’d been hiding a romantic relationship for just over a decade in London as we knew that our supervisors wouldn’t allow us to continue to work together,” you clear your throat and see a flash of concern from Marcus seeing how much your hands were trembling.

He reaches for your hand with the lightest of touches grazing your ring and little fingers but not letting go.

Drawing a deep breath, you continue, “You see the beautiful cathedral up there- Fourviere?” you catch Marcus giving a gentle nod as he looks in the direction of your hand, the one he’s not holding, “Jasper asked me to marry him up there. And I, um… I said no.” Your eyes guiltily shift to the left after owning up to your shoddy track record.

“I mean, I did love him but I couldn’t offer him what he wanted or needed from life or from me. We’d hidden too long in the shadows and the thought of trying to explain everything to our families, to our friends, to our workplace was just too overwhelming. I had a lot more to lose than him.

“As you said earlier, our work is very much an old boys network and as a mixed race woman against a white man- who’d got his position due to a bit of nepotism as his uncle was our London boss- I stood to lose so much more. I have always had to work harder and to be a more impressive candidate to be taken as seriously as any white man in the room.”

“Had we returned to London as a married couple, there would have been so many unspoken questions about when we would think about having babies so there’d never be a chance of going any higher for me. And although seeing El and Jacques today- they have it so balanced. El was telling me that they split her maternity leave equally and that even now their baby is one, they have flexi working times so although they have such a little one and such intense jobs, they can still be there for bedtimes and neither of them be sidelined. But I know that’s not how it would have worked with us. Jas would have worked full time and I would have been a simmering pot of resentment.”

You notice that despite your confession that Marcus still hasn’t stopped holding your hand and regardless of the evening chill, warmth spreads through you at the thought that you haven’t entirely repulsed him with your actions.

“Where is he now? DId he ask for a transfer when you headed back?” Marcus gently questions.

“He took the ultimate transfer. We were working together undercover and he was shot multiple times trying to save some people from being murdered,” with a small shrug, you take your hand back from Marcus despite the comfort it is bringing you and cover your face. As you do so, he pulls you towards him, holding you tightly into his chest, resting his chin on top of your head.

With a gentle push back from his broad chest but without leaving his arms completely, you tilt your face up at him, “In fact, other than Jas’ death the bitterest pill was me being transferred out of the department. As you can probably imagine, a lot of shit went down after that night and a lot of the blame from it was laid at my door. Whilst it was all happening, I wasn’t allowed to have any contact with work colleagues and of course, your family can only know so much of what’s going on when you follow our line of work.

“So, I spent eight months in a stupid kind of limbo- being paid full whack whilst sitting at home, mourning a man who I’d been with for a quarter of my life but didn’t want to marry.” Shaking your head slowly, you continue, “That’s why I was a bit of a mess today- I kind of dreaded seeing everyone and how they might blame me for everything that happened with Jas.”

“Shit, I’m sorry sweetheart,” with that affectionate nickname confidently trickling from Marcus’ lips, you look up and smile broadly at him, “I am sorry that you went through all that. I have to be honest, as I am a terrible liar- there is a part of me that is glad that our paths have overlapped- I just wish it could be under happier circumstances.”

“No,” you pat him upon his chest, “You don’t get to our age without some kind of baggage and in our occupation, it’s hard for most people to understand our commitment to our job.”

“Hah, you can say that again- that’s what ended my marriage. That and her new partner,” you scrunch your face in consideration of Marcus’ pain, your thumbs rubbing back and forth, “And the failed engagement is what brought me to London- kept seeing her and the man she left me for around the DC offices.”

“Let’s go toast to those ghosts and our converging paths with what will be now a very warm bottle of white wine and cold pizza,” with eyes widening in amusement you smile at him, your hands still on his chest and his hands on your back, “But indoors as it is fucking freezing out here, no matter how pretty it is.”

“Agreed,” Marcus chuckles deeply, moving his hands to rub some warmth back into your arms.

“Just going to grab a hoodie,” you call over your shoulder as you go back into your bedroom. As you rummage through your bag, you miss the flicker of disappointment on Marcus’s face that he wouldn’t get to smell your perfume on his clothes.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Hey,” that beautifully soft baritone meltingly drifted up from the sofa in Marcus’ room, “Comfy now? I hope you don’t mind but I chose Casablanca instead of Sharknado 4.”

As you cross the floor in socked feet to try and thaw them out from your balcony adventure, you shake your head with a lopsided smile, “Not ok,” but to put Marcus’ raised eyebrow at ease, you add, “It’s my favourite - but you’d better have tissues at the ready as it will make me a snotty mess.”

“Already prepared,” he holds a tissue box aloft, “It does the same to me too.”

Instead of sitting at the other end of the sofa, you grab a glass of wine from the table and slide into Marcus’ side- half sitting up, half leaning against him. He reaches over, pulling your head onto his shoulder, stroking your hair away from your face and there you stay, comfortably curled into his side. Not for the hour and three quarters of the film, but until rays of spring sunshine filter through the blinds the following morning.

Tag list of glory: If you’d like to be added or dropped from the tag list or have any thoughts, thots or suggestions, please do get in touch! I don’t bite hard 🥰

@astroboots @silverwolf319 @lunaserenade @danniburgh @leonieb @mrsparknuts @sirowsky @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespancakes @tardisfangurl @zukoyonce @absurdthirst @green-socks @pedropascalito @disgruntledspacedad @mouthymandalorian @the-ginger-hedge-witch @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[violet-t-9]

Check in on my (not very realistic) wish list for episode 137

1. Sheepleb interactions, I don’t care with whom - I need sheepleb my beloved to interact with people for reasons. I know the sheep-shifting may only last for 1 minutes but that’s 10 rounds, surely enough to get some sweet RP in.

YES Cad grab the sheep yes YASHA SCRATCH THAT BELLY sheepleb interactions my beloved. Jester yes make sheepleb move his cute little ears I love y’all. YES SHEEPLEB chew on Yasha’s coat. I never knew I would love a sheep but I do now apparently. Yasha continuing to pet sheepleb and continuing to hold Caleb after he shifts back I love her so much-

2. Caleb or Beau accidentally and telepathically speak to people by thinking too loudly. I can’t wait for their reactions, it will be hilarious.

Well, Caleb did so but more deliberately, and it was more enlightening than hilarious lol.

3. Beau and Caleb discover the third function of their eyes (if dark vision is included in true sight, then they are missing one feature).

Nope, the eyes were used against them again to expose their locations, but haven’t ever been used for mind control yet, so I’m okay with that.

4. Beau and Caleb do not gain any new eyes (pretty please, come on).

I mean they have bigger problems but yeah I got what I wanted!

5. Wait no it’s the astral sea there is no wild magic effect anymore :( but can they at least encounter some unique astral sea creatures, features or something as fun as Aeorian wild magic.

Well... That was a lot of astral sea creatures. More precisely creepy meaty enemies. I think it was fun! In a horrifying way, but fun.

6. Someone mentions Yussa and discuss the probability of saving him (honestly though I don’t know how that’s going to work).

Jester mentioned Yussa pretty soon but I think they are a bit... preoccupied to save anyone at the moment, oops.

7. Getting closer to the city and discovering more of its nature/power/how to stop it.

Wow that city description is cool oh boy I got chills from the empty city suddenly bustling with people. Also that Caleb telepathy experiment is so creepy and terrifying. Is the city alive?! With flesh and teeth?! EuughhHHh. Timorei the terrified rebel/Fear they first met (who seemed to be on Lucien’s side), with Elatis and Luctus opposing him? The Aether crux??! Ira/Wrath who acted in a sort of beast-like way and seemed antagonistic towards Mirumus and Gaudius?? It’s good to know the Somnovem are in fact far from one mind - their opinions seem pretty divided. Aether crux might be the way to go, couldn’t they just destroy all the Somnovem, since they want M9 to kill some of them anyways? Does the entire city function like a living body?

8. Beau and Yasha continue to flirt even in the astral sea and travel side-by-side or physically interact.

Twin initiative 21 yeah let’s go- wait when I said physical interaction I didn’t mean it like that come on!! Stop hitting each other. Also Yasha’s small “I love you but” aww. It was still a little bit flirty somehow lol loved it. ALSO the air kiss was so cute I can’t with these two and their awesome PDA. They also searched the building together!

9. Jester really doting on Artagan/Sprinkle like she never did before.

I mean, she paid him way more attention that’s for sure :D

10. Jester and Fjord have a longer one-on-one conversation or fight like a badass battle couple that they are.

Hey they were both great in combat and explored together! 

11. Obligatory wish for Essek’s fancy dunamancy or magical items (Bonus: we get to see one of those high-damage AOE offensive spells that he couldn’t cast).

AYY LIGHTNING BOLT HYPE! It was sort of an AOE too! Loved his flair as always. It’s not dunamancy technically but I’m counting it because cool purple-black spell.

12. Obligatory wish for Caleb’s polymorph spell (sheepleb was perfect, GIVE ME MORE).

Nope, but the sheepleb we got was awesome. 

13. Tiny Veth interactions with party members (Bonus: with Fjord, or sheepleb).

Nope, the effect probably didn’t last long? Or they just forgot about tiny Veth lol.

14. The party members try to reach Molly through Lucien and Lucien reacting more to things that they say.

They didn’t catch up to Lucien at all, but I have a feeling that they will next episode.

15. They catch up to Lucien and Cree somehow and manage to stop them from returning the city to the world (or at least start the combat).

Combat was started at the end of the episode with Cree! They did catch up to Cree! This is going in the right direction at least.

16. Successful divine intervention from Cad or Jester.

At least Cad and Jester both tried! They weren’t successful, but still.

17. Yasha decides to brute force through a problem and succeeds like the true Barbarian that she is.

I mean, all the combat is brute-force and Yasha did eliminate one of the flesh horror monsters with her cool holy avenger swing!

18. Someone pushes the big red button and derails them.

Nope! They’ve been focused and on task and that’s good! 

19. The wizards and their complicated whatever it is being addressed or developed more.

Not Caleb smirking at Essek using fire bolt then proceeding to use one himself and get a natural 20 I- that was so cool?? What?? Have I mentioned that I love those wizards because I love them. They also float the fastest of course.

20. Heroes’ feast/short rest or a long rest that they well deserve (Bonus: they have great rolls on the HP).

Nope, but I mean they probably need one soon.

21. Obligatory wish for Essek’s room in the tower.

Yeah nah this one is just a permanent feature on the wish list don’t mind it.

22. Oblitagory wish for Cad being a MVP in and out of combat.

Cad turned Caleb back (baaaaaaye sheepleb I love you), healed the group and discovered a lot about how the city worked, including using decompose. 

23. Veth being thirsty for Davexian still, or for whatever other Astral sea creature they are going to meet.

“Want to do some apple picking?” LMAO I’m not gonna count that of course but it was funny.

24. Obligatory wish for everyone to remain relatively happy and alive by the end of the episode except Lucien and Cree (they can perish, but now I kinda want Lucien to not die since he had some strange reactions), and the episode ends on a terrifying cliffhanger as always.

Score: 12/24

Welp, that took a turn. I did not expect so much Eldritch horror and expected way more humour (which in hindsight was unwise considering how the story is going lol), but honestly I’m not complaining one bit. Matt’s voice acting and everybody’s performance are top notch and the world-building is just *chef’s kiss*, terrifying or not. 

Bonus:

The subtitles said “bleating” when everybody yelled before the opening theme I’m dead lmao also “some a bit sheepish”, courtesy pun of the DM.

“I mean... *bleats*” hahahah I love sheepleb so much

Poor Essek had to start the combat on low HP, sadness. To be fair, our wonderful DM was busy playing many characters and giving beautiful expositions and the players were busy being captivated by all that! 

“When in Aeor” Fjord lmao making his face into a big red eyeball, as one does.

Torrent of Teeth ughhhhhAHH what an attack name

Caleb casting Widogast’s Web of Fire was the hottest thing I’ve seen, no pun intended - it was hotttt.

[firerose]

Miraculous ladybug for tv show asks 😊

Leave a TV show or movie in my ask box and I'll tell you...

Miraculous Ladybug;

favourite male character: Adrien Aka the most complex character of this show <3, Cat noir and him being the same person but Cat noir being his true personality is one great example of that!

or Luka.....that boys only trait is being nice sweet and good at music and that is enough for me to love him <3

favourite female character: Alya is just so supportive and kind, hope we get more of her in season 4 !

Marinette is great to cool too! Her obsession with Adrien was just a bit too much in season 3 ( I mean she broke into his house and sniffed his things......), but other than that she is a good character and I can't wait to watch her getting more depth in season 4.

Cloe's whole arc was ruined in season 3 I hated that she was irredeemable just because she was abused and that she was turned into a villain! But I still like the potential of her arc!

least favourite character: Gabriel or better said Hawkmoth......that man puts mind-controlling babies over caring spending time with his son so ........yea.......he sucks!

prettiest character: Marinette especially with her hair down <3 I was so happy when she had that look again in the season 3 finale <3 <3 <3

funniest character: Chat noir he's great at puns and annoying his lady XD favorite season: 2! Every ship in the love square got explored

Cloes redemption arc was awesome

We got actual good explained Miraculous lore (unlike season 3 were it was kinda all over the place)

favorite episode: Chat Blanc! Just the concept of Adrien not being able to escape from his fathers abuse after and him destroying the whole world because his love for Marinette was stronger than the Akuma inside him.......just everything about this episode is so dark and that's why its my favourite ! ( The only thing I don't like is how Marinette gets blamed by Chat blanc for breaking his heart .....she literally never did that and he even destroyed the world BECAUSE she still loved him so I don't get why he said that......)

favorite romantic ship: Ladynoir ... it's just delicious enemies to lovers even though the show kinda lacks much content for this ship especially angsty one :(

or Marichal which is just .....a very soft ship and a way for Marinette to learn more about Chat Noir besides his humour and crush on Ladybug <3

Lukanette ....listen the moment where Marinette breaks down in Lukas arms in the season 3 finale was so heartbreaking yet it showed how much Luka values Marinette and how Marinette can let her guard down and be weak for once when she is with him

favourite family ship: AdrienX MarinetteXKagami again with the season 3 finale XD ( I watched it today :D), It was refreshing to see them goofing around acting like normal teenagers for once <3, Adrien and Kagami both long for freedom and Marinette could help them with social skills around others they would make a pretty good trio if there wasn't Marinette's jealousy in the way!

favourite friendship: Ladynoir can I pick them as ship and friends? XD, anyway they have been through so much together, they learned to trust and respect each other and that is what good friends are supposed to do! ( season 4 is gonna wreck me I already know that :()

worst ship: Gabriel X Natalie ..I guess? Natalie honestly deserves better than to sacrifice her life for this cold ruthless man. I can sense big" I can fix him energy there and I don' know if Gabriel can or wants to be fixed!

[klmwrites]

Spoilers for The Batman movie up ahead!

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The batman was surprisingly a decent movie and i really enjoyed the adrenaline and hype the story brought to its audience. I will be splitting this post into 2 parts: the parts that can be improved first, followed abt what i liked abt the movie.

So here goes:

Part 1: Parts that could be improved.

1) The movie makes assumptions.  Understandable to be honest given that batman and the accompanying characters have been rebooted till the infinity at this point, but a flaw nevertheless. The movie plays on the assumption you know who batman and selena kyle is from the getgo, as well as the fact that bruce waynes parents were both killed by a gunman in the alley. If someone who is unfamiliar with the franchise comes and watch this they would probably summarize the movie as "a movie version of true crime solved by a man with emotional issues pretending to be a bat." (not my words, but a friend of mine who was unfamiliar with the franchise said so)

2. Selena as a character was severely undeveloped. She was portrayed as an individual who has no control over her emotions and did things out of impulse, albeit that her feelings were justified.  At every step of the way batman had to "rationalise" with her, which furthers reinforce the stereotype of women being impulsive and emotional beings incapable of seeing and acting for the bigger picture. Also, her backstory of being Falcone's daughter was such a cheap shot: not that having that storyline was bad in itself, but it was bad because it was rushed into the movie, and therefore had little to no screentime to be developed as a peoper plot.

3. The pacing of the movie was too hasty. Even as it was 3 hrs long, the entire movie felt rushed, not in terms of budget cuts, but it felt like the directors was trying to squeeze more items into an already overflowing box. They tried to add so many paradigms and complexities that they failed to remember that quality triumphs over quantity. Instead they should have picked several parts and let the riddler and batman play cat and mouse (no pun intended.) That way each stage of riddlers game would be fully developed and there would have enough complexities to establish a proper relationship between the antagonist and the protagonist.

Part 2: What i liked abt the movie:

1. The subtle dark humour. From Gordon mentioning "(batman) is wearing gloves" when batman touches the evidence to Penguin's snide remarks abt Gordons and Batman's poor spanish, The dark humour hits the spot every time.

2. The part where batman jumped from the top of the building looking more like a flying squirrel rather than a majestic bat. This is an example of more explicit humour, and the fact that it was batman in a poorly designed suit trying to look cool scene made it even funnier.

3. The nolmacy of the villians. Often not Batmans villians are seen as characters who are high and mighty, and untouchable. But not in this movie. This is especially telling on two accounts: Bruce meeting Falcone and Riddler addressing his followers online. In the former, Falcone talks to Bruce like one would talk to a son on the topic of Thomas Wayne's murder and in the latter the riddler starts of with a "hey guys, thank you for subscribing to my channel and following..." as if he is some sort of twitch streamer. The nolmacy of it all is laughable, and is meant to be because this humanizes the villians. This is not done however to invoke sympathy from the audience, but to reflect one grim reality regarding todays society: anyone can be an influencer and that in todays society, one must be careful of the people you meet, for often they are not who them seem to be. This is in my opinion the motif of the film.

4. On that note, lets talk about casting. Riddlers casting was spot on! The actor had such an unassuming face and it was difficult for the audience to reconcile with the fact that he was the same maniac screaming over facetime at batman while coleson had a bomb around his neck. Once again, this goes back to the idea and motif of the film that the person behind the mask/screen is not who they seem to be. Patterson being Batman was not bad of a choice, but he did come of as kinda emo at times also at times i could not reconcile that this  is batman all i saw was edward.  Selena's casting was spot on as well, but i had to admit i wasnt the fondest of andy serkis being alfred. Too little screen time, and the vibe just wasnt there.

But overall, I would give this movie a solid 8/10. Despite its flaws and all, it was a batman movie that was worth watching in cinemas.

[clearsky]

My Top Comfort Characters/Kins and My Main HCs For Them

(Note, not all my kins/comfort characters are on here, just the ones I have more than 5 hcs for)

CW: Korekiyo Shinguji (DRV3), Himiko Yumeno (DRV3), Shinsou Hitoshi (BNHA), Kyoko Kirigiri (THH), Tsuyu Asui (BNHA), Entrapta (Spop), Ibuki Mioda (SDR2), Celestia Ludenberg (THH), Funtime Foxy (FNAF), Peril (WOF)

Korekiyo Shinguji (DRV3)

Nonbinary

He/They pronouns

Autistic

Chains and loose accessories are for stimming

Likes the feeling of silk and cotton

Can't stand the feeling of anything rough or bumpy

He likes collecting small trinkets and the bones of small mammals

Can't stand anything salty. He'll eat it but he certainly won't enjoy it

Dating Rantaro

Can flirt, but only if he doesn't try

Petnames are a hell yea

Gets sunburnt really easily

Group dates with Celesnaegiri and Ikuzono

Can't cook for s h i t

Had a scene kid phase in middle school

Went to the same middle school as Celeste and Maki

Knew them when Celeste went through her "I'm not like other girls" phase and Maki was a Band Kid™

Himiko Yumeno (DRV3)

Female

She/Her pronouns

Lesbian

Can force herself to fall asleep within seconds regardless of where she is

100% forces herself to fall asleep when she doesn't wanna listen/talk to someone

Himiko/Angie/Tenko relationship. I'm calling them the Traffic Light Trio

She likes taking naps in the forest

She prefers enclosed/tight spaces more than open ones

Has several hundred stress balls and squishies laying around

She overheats easy

Shinsou Hitoshi (BNHA)

Questioning his gender, but goes by any pronouns

Knows he's Asexual, at least

Has no clue what his romantic orientation is though

The kind of person to carry treats in his pocket just in case he runs into a cat

Will stop to pet literally every cat he comes across

Great at reading people

Doesn't talk unless it's 100% needed

Hangs with Tokoyami, Jirou, and Denki most often

Aizawa has 100% unofficially adopted him

Fosters kittens

Not a big fan of physical touch

He is 100% in the bakusquad. Anyone who says he's in the Dekusquad is a c o w a r d

He and Tsuyu vibe

Knows a bunch of random facts

Dark humour? Dark humour

*skates backwards into his therapist's room slowly sipping from an absurdly huge cup of coffee* Candice you're not gonna BELIEVE the shit I just went through

In case I forgot to mention it, he skates

Kyoko Kirigiri (THH)

Mtf

She/Her

Bi with female preference

Burns go up to her shoulders/collarbone/chest

Prefers to just listen as opposed to saying anything

Knows a ton of random trivia about everyone else in her class

She keeps a notebook she fills with all the trivia

Doesn't celebrate her birthday. She just doesn't see the point of it

Doesn't hate sugar/sweets, but if given the choice she would choose literally everything else

Cuts her own hair

A cat person

Permanent dark circles

T-Tall 😳

Like,,, 6'1 at LEAST

Only person taller than her is Yasuhiro (6'3)

Canon no longer exist

Ahahaha healthy life habits? What are those?

Can't handle horror games

She's the kind of person you'd go to if you needed to rant but didn't want any advice

Polyamourous yo

Celeste/Kyoko/Makoto

She's a dom yall are just scared to admit it

Tsuyu Asui (BNHA)

They go by They/Them

Lesbian

They and Ochaco are dating

They like to hang with Shinsou

Which mainly just means the two sitting in one of their dorms in near total silence doing whatever

Can speak English and French as well as Japanese

Learned English from cartoons

Picked up French bc they thought it'd be fun

Prefers to stay neutral in the whole Bakusquad / Dekusquad thing

They're invited to all outings/events by/for both squads

They like puns

They're a dumbass but willingly, and for fun

Like "someone says they like dark humour and they'll turn off the lights before telling a joke" kind dumbass for fun

Great at poker

Likes Disney Movies

Very touchy once you get close enough

Not in a sexual way, just likes physical contact

Especially fond of piggyback rides and cuddles

Extreme fear of needles

Entrapta (She-Ra)

She/Her or It/Its

Doesn't bother trying to figure out whether she's cis, trans, nonbinary, or what

Was AMAB though

Short as fuck (4'7)

Strong as fuck though

Cuddle game strong

Physical touch is a fuck yes

Cuddles

Piggyback rides

Hugs

Anything where she's touching someone is wonderful in her book

As long as she's the one that initiates it

Anyone else touching her without her permission makes her freak

Prefers being high up

Makes it harder for anyone to sneak up on her

An ace at video games

When it comes to sexuality she just says she's Questioning

Ibuki Mioda (SDR2)

Any pronouns + Pup/Pupself + It/Its

No idea what their gender is otherwise

Biromantic Asexual

Just likes sexual jokes

Gets distracted easily

Has severe hearing problems

She's plays her instruments as loud as possible, with the amp right next to her, without ANY ear protection

It's caused some damage

She talks so loud bc she has no idea how loud is considered acceptable

Wears hearings aids most of the time

Several piercings and tattoos

Likes hearing things jingle

She has a bracelet with a few bells hanging from it

She'll shake it whenever she's bored

LOVES hair accessories

Ribbons are a particular favourite

Occasionally she'll hang little charms from her hair "horns"

The kind of person who never takes any pills/medicine bc she keeps forgetting she has to

Frequently uses emojis

Skates everywhere but she isn't very good at it

She keeps crashing into everything

Has broken every bone in her body at least 3 times

Most of which was bc she keeps trying to kick in doors and skating down the stairs

Celestia Ludenberg (THH)

Nonbinary

Any pronouns, mainly goes by She/They

Bi, 70:30

Collects mini hand sanitizers and can tabs

Has single handedly gotten Mario Kart, Mario Party, Monopoly, Uno, and Clue banned a grand total of 17 times (and counting)

The kind of person to purposefully target someone regardless of what game was being played

Favourite victim is Byakuya (bc he gets so upset about it and she finds that hilarious)

Mains Waluigi

Celeste/Kyoko/Makoto

Has several banned Twitter accounts bc whenever she's bored she'll start discourse on purpose

Hangs with Korekiyo, Ibuki, Byakuya, Yasuhiro, and Leon most often

It's a weird friend group but everyone's sorta gotten used to it

She and Byakuya gamble together occasionally

She tries to avoid it bc he'll willingly blow his entire fortune in an attempt to beat her

Autustic

Can't stand the feeling of water

Mainly bc she can't swim for shit

Horror movies? Hates them

Gets flustered super easily

Taka is her twin brother

Kotoko, Kokichi, and Gundham are their half siblings (Same father)

Peko and Toko are their cousins

She sucks ass at go fish

Fuck canon she's 4'11 now

C h u b b y

Freckles

Once she gets comfortable enough with herself she dyes her hair in the peekaboo style

Either black and red or black and blonde

Haven't decided yet

I'll be doing Celesnaegiri hcs as a seperate post but I just feel it's important for you to know that she expresses her affection verbally and is a very touchy person

Went to middle school with Maki and Korekiyo

Has horrible eyesight

She wears contacts most of the time but she always puts off buying more

After the 5th or so time she ended up blindly stumbling around a week after her contacts ran out Kyoko convinced her to buy glasses as well

Religious accessories yo

Like chokers and dangly earrings with crosses and pentagrams and shit

Likes wearing wacky earrings

Can run and do all sorts of tricks in heels

She and Mukuro are exes yo

Keeps her hair short so it's easier to manage

Hair never gets longer than her shoulders if she can help it

She seems like the kind of person who'd keep her bangs grown past her eyes regardless of how frustrating or inconvenient it is

She's a sub yall just don't wanna admit it

Funtime Foxy (FNAF)

I'm going on the record to say this

Funtime Foxy is genderfluid and that is that

Goes by Funtime

Any pronouns, They/Them most commonly

Plays music (keyboard and guitar mainly)

They and Funtime Freddy (Freds) mainly play with the kids

Freds mainly tells stories with Bonbon while Funtime more so plays one-on-one

Has nicknames for everyone

Circus Baby - Ringleader

Ballora - Bells

Funtime Freddy - Partner

Bon Bon - Bun

Peril (WOF)

I like both Nonbinary She/They Peril and Mtf She/Her Peril

They're both such good concepts

She's a lesbian, Harold

She only had a crush on Clay bc he was pretty much everything she was supposed to like in a guy

Gimme a moment while I force all my mental disorders onto this poor child

Autistic, Anxiety (Social anxiety, mainly, but she has most types), Adhd, PTSD

I'd like to reiterate yet again that She's a lesbian

Sunny and Glory were her gay awakening

Peril in Book 1: Damn, Sunny and Glory sure are pretty. Anyone would be lucky to date them. Clay would probably go for them over me. He would be stupid if he didn't. I myself would willingly date them over someone like me. They're just so pretty :(

Peril waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of arc 2: WAIT-

Rarepair alert but Peril/Sora

Peril meeting Sora: "Hmmm She's attractive. I would love to date her. Too bad I'm straight and in love with her brother lmao :P"

Peril, a mere month later, waiting for Ruby to leave Jade Mountain, pacing in her cave, running face first into a wall: WAIT-

I remember reading this one amazing story where Sora taught Peril to read/write and Peril found out she set off the bomb and comforted her/convinced her her run so that's canon now

Btw if anyone can remember what that story was called/what platform it was on and could tell me I'd appreciate it very much

I'd even be willing to draw a character of your's or make you an icon or something

I usually don't accept requests bc I get burnt out easy but this is a special case

She runs into Sora again sometime between the beginning of TOP and the end

I like to imagine she just goes wandering around

Anyway she confesses like a mere few minutes after running into her again bc Peril is just subtle like that

The actual confession takes 15 minutes and the entire time Sora is just sitting here like "👁👄👁 sure"

Bam Peril/Sora

Peril plans to keep it a secret for a little while longer but she spends 3 seconds around Clay and pretty much blurts it out

Clay, who wasn't even aware that Peril was a lesbian, is just "👁👄👁"

I wanna say Clay doesn't know what a lesbian is but in my canon Sunny is a lesbian so Starflight has already told him

Anyway he's super supportive

From that point Peril is sorta open about her sexuality?

Like, she gives Clay permission to tell the rest of the D.O.D bc she isn't about to risk being in front of them when they hear the news

(When Sunny starts actively seeking her out as a hang out buddy and Tsunami, Glory, and Starflight appear to tolerate her presence just a bit more afterwards she pretends she isn't confused by the change)

She's pink, white, and blue bc I said so

If you look at a certain angle in the right lighting her eyes, mouth, fire, and under her scales all look purple

But her fire is normally white and blue bc I said so

Also she pale as fuck bc in my canon their fire just sorta burns their colour away

You know how you leave something outside for too long and it gets sunbleached? Where it gets all washed out?

Like that but more extreme

By the age of 10-12 firescale dragons are just white with pale eyes

That's right not even the eyes are safe

Ram horns :P

I'm also fond of Peril/Sunny

Or maybe Peril/Sora/Sunny

But Peril/Sora is the main thing

On the topic of that bringing in my hc that if one sib in a sib group is fire resistant all of them are

She,,, She can change her scale colour

But only slightly and only if her emotions are strong enough

Bc I don't give a fuck about Darkstalker's scroll we were robbed of hybrid Peril

Unfortunately all of Peril's emotions are strong

Rainwing ruff along her head and neck

It's like a hood

It's mainly smoothed to her sides but when she's startled it flares out

RAINWING PUPILS

Y'all will know what those look like as soon as I get off my ass :P

She,,, She can mimic bird cries

Hates the summer

She has more than enough body heat already and the outside is just hot enough to add on and make her feel sick

She can somewhat control her heat but most of the time it's based on her emotions

It can go from standing-in-the-middle-of-a-burning-building-cant-see-your-nose-smoke-is-so-thick heat (Strong emotion) to Hey-thats-a-nice-cozy-campfire heat (Calm/"weak" emotion/Sleeping)

I'm just gonna make a different post with all my Peril hcs cuz there isnt enough room for all of them here

[tumbledfreckles]

More than Okay

Jilytober @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world‘s Day 7 Prompt: First Kiss.  Hope your enjoy, you can read it here or on AO3 with my other prompts from the first week xx

He found her at the top of the Astronomy Tower. She often went here to think. He’d come to know it was a bad day place, a long day place, and sometimes, a happy day place.

He was hoping today was a happy day.

“You’re missing the party,” he commented as he took a seat next to her. His feet hung low past the balustrade as he looked down over the castle grounds.

“So are you,” she responded. “And it’s your party, Captain.”

James smiled as her shoulder nudged his. “It’s a house party.”

“You got us over 100 points on your own,” Lily raised her eyebrows at him.

He shook his head, “I was assisted on nearly all of those. And the beaters kept my path clear. Quidditch is a team sport, Evans, you know that.”

“Well, our team was led by an incredibly talented, hardworking, demanding Captain,” Lily insisted. “I would know, Marley’s been talking in moans and groans for the last two weeks.”

“She should have worked on her cardio over the holidays like I told her.”

“The game is on broomsticks, Potter. Running isn’t really relevant.”

“My plan won us the game, didn’t it?”

“Oh, so now you won the game? What happened to the team?”

“What happened to all those compliments you were giving me,” James grinned. “Let’s get back to those.”

Lily rolled her eyes, “I think your heads quite big enough there, dear.”

James’ grinned widened at the pun Lily didn’t even know she was making, “But I think you missed a few of my best points.”

“Such as?”

“My dashing good looks, my charming smile. Obviously, my great sense of humour, not to mention my full head of hair.”

“If you do say so yourself,” Lily reached up to tousle James’ hair, that despite his shower, still looked as if he’d just got off his broom. “Honestly, Potter, what kind of compliment is having a full head of hair? Your seventeen, not seventy.”

“You spend a lot of time with Slughorn,” James protested. “Maybe you had a thing for older blokes, I don’t know. Thought it was worth a mention.”

Lily smirked at the thought of the Potions professor’s terrible combover, that failed miserably to hide a large, shiny dome on the top of his head, before grimacing, “Yuck, Potter,” she pushed him a bit harder this time. “Yuck, yuck, yuck.”

James gripped the concrete edge of the wall they sat on, even as his eyes’ glinted mischievously. “Merlin, Evans, have a care. You’ll push me over the edge.”

“I can only hope,” she responded dryly.

“Now, now. Head Girls that go around murdering Head Boys do not get to be Aurors, no matter how many NEWTs they get,” James tutted.

“Good thing I’m smart enough that no one would ever know it was me. And sweet enough they’d never even suspect,” Lily gave him another playful shove.

“And so bloody charming and gorgeous even if they did, they’d probably help you hide my body,” James muttered darkly as Lily’s cheeks reddened slightly.

“Oh no, Marley would help me do that,” she said confidently, trying to brazen out the flutters in her chest. It wasn’t like James didn’t say things like that to her often. The frequency had definitely increased since Christmas. “I have enough dirt on her she’d never turn traitor on me.”

“An ideal secret keeper then,” James nodded approvingly, raising his hands in surrender. “Very well, have at it. I won’t even put up a resistance seeing you’ve got it so well planned.”

Lily reached over and pushed the closest hand back down to the brick and mortar between them, “Sorry, Potter, not today. If I killed you so early in the term, they’d only replace you and I’d have to break in a new Head Boy.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

“It really would. It took forever to teach you the points system. Imagine if it was Diggory! He’d never get a handle on the fractions.”

“See, I knew you only wanted me for my numbers,” James placed a hand across his chest. “You wound me, truly Evans.”

“Oh, shush,” she patted his hand where it rested next to her leg. “You know I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

“Yeah,” James caught her eye and smiled gently. “I know.”

Lily looked out over the dark castle grounds as they lapsed into silence. It was a cloudless, starry night, ever the chillier for the lack of cover. But the stars reflected off the lake in the distance and cast eery shadows from the trees and buildings on this side of the castle. She shivered, and realised she was holding her arms around her body, the cold not having registered during her conversation with James. It was a constant theme these days, tuning everyone and everything out when James was around. The girls loved to take the mick out of her for it.

A warm, heavy material settled around her shoulders, blocking out the cold. Lily swivelled her head to look at James, who shrugged a bit as he brought his hands back down from arranging his cloak around her.

“It’s cold,” he said simply.

Lily shook her head, “But now you’ll be cold.”

Ignoring James’ protests, she carefully shuffled closer to him on the wall and moved the cloak so it covered them both. This brought her into contact with James in several places and Lily felt her heart flutter again and her skin alight with every connection. Their shoulders, upper arm, elbow, hips, thighs, knees. His warmth seeped through her and she fought the urge to simply melt into his side. They lapsed back into a comfortable silence, listening to the faint notes of music drifted up to them from Gryffindor Tower.

“What brought you up here Lily?” James asked after a while, his voice soft.  

Lily took a few moments to answer. “It’ll probably sound silly.”

“I live with Sirius,” he reminded her. “Try me.”

“I was just,” Lily paused, sighed, and started again. “I was just sitting there in the Common Room, watching everyone dance, and drink, and have a good time. And I couldn’t help thinking, we only have a little bit of time left. Only one more Quidditch match, a couple more Hogsmeades. Soon enough it’ll be the end of Spring, exams and we’re gone. It’s all ending.”

“Hey, hey,” James placed a hand on her knee, squeezing gently as his heart clenched at her despondent tone. “It’s not all ending. Not all of it.” Lily looked at him with a weak smile and James just wanted to see its proper version. “All your mates will be still be there. Helping find your way.”

“I know,” Lily placed her hand over his, looking down at them.

“And I’ll still be there, Lily,” he murmured softly. “I’ll always be there.”

When Lily looked up, she wasn’t even surprised to see how close they were. James was leaning toward her, and she was leaning too, taking up all the empty space between them. His breath travelled across the cool air between them, mingling with hers in visible puffs. Their foreheads almost touched, their noses mere millimetres apart.

“Good,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” James’ eyes were so warm as she looked into them.

“Yeah,” she squeezed his hand. Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips before Lily even realised they’d gone dry and her heart and breath caught as one as she watched James’ eyes drop to follow her movement. “I’ve gotten used to having you around.”

“Good,” James echoed her earlier words. Softly and slowly, as if afraid he’d startle her and break the moment, he moved even closer than Lily thought was possible given all the space already felt taken up. The hand on her knee flipped over to link their fingers together, sliding further up her thigh. His other hand came across to grasp her jaw, tilting her face up as his lowered, until their noses nudged together.

Lily squeezed James’ hand in a bid to reassure herself this was real, he was real. She realised she hadn’t let out her breath yet, and surely that was the cause of the stars she suddenly found them surrounded by. She exhaled just as James’ lips dropped to press lightly onto her own, the gentle warm touch utterly robbing her mind of all but one thought.  

Finally.

He pulled back and looked down at her for a moment. Lily willed herself to move, to breathe, but there was too much emotion, too much everything for her heart to contain and for her brain to function. So, she just stared up at him, with what was most likely a fish out of water, confounded beyond recollection expression on her face.

Attractive, she was sure.

“Is,” James spoke so quietly, sounding suddenly so unsure, Lily barely recognised his voice. “Is this okay?”

Lily still couldn’t form a word to save her life. So, she did the only thing she could think. The hand that until now had still gripped the ledge beside her reached up, sinking into the silky mop she’d tousled earlier. Her fingers curled and gripped, pulling at the strands of hair caught between them. She pulled James’ head down the few inches that it had moved away and leant her body into him to keep her balance as she reached up. Their bodies pressed together as she pushed her lips back to meet his.

James took a second to register the kiss but responded with the enthusiasm she’d come to love him for. His lips moved over hers in a gorgeous slip and slide, tugging and pulling at her bottom lip before his tongue glided it. As her mouth opened their tongues mingled together, exploring as did their hands. James found Lily had let go his hand to push her own into his hip, gripping and pushing, making him tense and soften at the same time. His now freed hand reached up to mirror the other, cradling her face and adjusting their angles to reach more of her, feel more of her.

After the longest time they broke apart, each breathless and dazed as they looked at each other. James couldn’t help the beaming smile that spread across his face as he looked at those sparkling green eyes.

“That,” Lily eventually managed to say, feeling euphoric all the way down to her toes, “Was more than okay.”

[floralkittygambler]

Am I Tripping Or Is Helluva Boss Also Stereotypical? (Bit of a rant sorry, wasnt impressed :< )

Name is Cleatus with a ‘hill billy’ (sorry, idk if that’s seen as an offensive term? I think red neck is offensive so Im going for what feels safer but idk help me out-) accent. (Honestly the voice is so unfitting it feels like a parody-). HB seems to love the Southern accent (nothing wrong w the accent but the portrayals... Ehhhhh...) Considering everyone gets their own VA to sound unique, the female sheep sounds like we’ve heard her voice in all of Viv’s works before. It’s a pretty voice! But just... Save money and VAs are versatile to play various roles in one series- This really caps their full potential.  Horse imagery everywhere. Lets be honest, Blitz liking horses and his IG pet ended up being the SH logo, it’s really awkward self praise- I hate to say it but it does make me cringe a little... The sciency villians designs. Just... Awful and out of place- Seems like a try hard attempt at a parody. Forced. Misses the mark. Also got Villainous vibes too, like that Dementia (sorry forgot her name but lizard hoodie girl!) lady. She suits her world at least and carries her humour a bit better. The warning is again immature (its an adult cartoon yet I - an adult - feel more like a teen when they cant trust their audience to understand ‘sexual references/scenes’ and opt for ‘horny’. Also no suicide warnings bc dayum even censored it was graphic - and Im a fuckin horror simp! Plus - even accidental - it’s a sensitive topic you need to be careful with. Again, just feels like childish attempts to make ‘funny edgy humour’. Dark humour is an artform most think they have yet lack.  Removal of Tilla. The most unique designed and actually interesting looking imp. Gone. And with the poster originally showing all three earlier it just shows lack of consistency when S2 is scripted therefore there should be consistency now.  Blitz going back to the silent o. CAN WE PLEASE JUST LEARN THE CORRECT FUCKIN NAME! I struggle with pronunciations as it is ;; Moxxie abuse for no reason that isnt actually funny needs a counter. Does anyone else find some of the animation in HB a little robotic/delayed/jarring sometimes? Idk... Just doesnt feel as fluid or smooth anymore - ESPECIALLY for actual movement (like walking. They look and feel so rigid..) Tour bus appears and disappears a lot.  Free stock photo of money for a trillionaire is pretty chuckle worthy! But immediately ruined by suicide prompting. No warning for animal mauling if anyone needed it (Honestly they could have done that joke way better like how it’s done in Madagascar, which this scene reminded me of) Pro: Cat suits (minus Blitz’s, sorry. It wasnt cute) Idk how I felt about the cuties ref tbh. Imma sound fuckin paranoid as hell but Im pretty sure Netflix declined Hazbin according to the timeline and tweets. Agreed, cuties was fucked up and why they accepted it idk but this felt less calling out nonces and more of a petty jab at Netflix. Again, personal opinion but still. More suicide prompting. Also kinda weird Blitz is asking teens in cars whether theyd fuck an old guy... Right after using pedophilia to upset him. The opera was empty then suddenly full. Also Im getting Phantom of the Opera vibes but... Less classy of an homage- Sorry. Im not normally into musicals but that is a brilliant one!  Ok I sorta like the glimpse of Heaven being just as bad as hell but it feels messy. Good point, they’re hypocrites. However the easy to anger seems more like the sin of wrath- which doesnt make sense for a Heavenborne. The swearing... Look, Im always fuckin effin and jeffin but couldnt they just for ONCE think of some more articulate way for the characters to express themselves? At this point, it feels like 50 shades of a single oc. It’s nice to see Millie and Mox be affectionate but that kiss was definitely a gross factor and what teens joke about kissing being like.  Pro: Cat Mox and Mil. Again. I love cats. Though seeing Millie never help when he’s hurt yet him always coming to help her gives me Chaggie vibes.  How is Opera lady still singing when shes dead? Another horse ref shown by unicorn. Old man you could literally de-age yourself in the machine you stupid motherfucker (I miss cowbelly) Ok seeing the old man in diapers and hearing some creepy shit recently about diaper kinks was yikes. Also Cherubs, yall coulda helped him with that piano. Love the pianists class though. Again good to show the hypocrisy of Heaven yet it feels really... 1 dimentional? Also didnt Viv say in a recent stream Heaven was going to be alien and futuristic? And yet its... Just cliche lambs and cherubs with a doe and some bees? The same futuristic heaven she criticised another creator for-  Im sure Wally’s only back bc he got so much fan simping tbh, similar to how Pent was supposed to be a one off and Travis is a minor character. Overall the humour really didnt hit (and I LOVE shitty puns-), it felt mediocre at best BUT BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT Can we give credit that FU-CKING FINALLY we had 1 - ONE - UNO - SINGULAR plot that actually fucking flowed, made sense (sorta), wasnt just messily patchworked plot pieces together and actually flowed like an episode? Still that should be bare minimal that it feels almost dirty to give credit for. Likewise, I felt *stupid* watching. Like they think the audience is so stupid they have to explain everything to them. Basically a kids show if blood and swears slipped in.  Weirdly, this was the weakest episode as well as the strongest plotwise. Halfway through S1, this is... I laughed once, which was even less than last time.  It just feels like watching someone with talent piss it all away for their 15 minutes instead of building a more solid foundation thatll last far longer. Likewise, it almost felt like anti-heaven propoganda in a way rather than ‘both sides wack’ and like heaven is an after thought. I didnt really feel the passion. Yes the other episodes need a LOT of work to be professional studio quality but at least you could feel a soul, a passion. This felt filler. There was no development or anything. Like you could skip it and still understand (well ‘understand’ considering the usual storytelling). Like Ep 1 had a flowing, linear plot (look Viv and SH have shown they arent capable at branching and juggling multiple plots efficiently) and everything sorta feels downhill from there for me... Also for a cat owner it feels Vivs only seen persians and tuxedo cats. (Id also like to personally add - AND IM SORRY - that how husk-like Mox’s felt, idk whether it was a subtle shitty HD ref or just lack of creativity for cats. Also the tux cat with ‘buttons’ and bowtie needs some variation and spice FAST) Again, its a shame Viv/SH dont open themselves up for genuine critique as itll bit their ass sooner or later. Been there, done that, never a-fuckin-gain.

[elysicndrcvm]

━♡ guess the 23 YEAR OLD FEBRUARY baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because CHU EUNHA is just as BEDAZZLING as the month of FEBRUARY. wait, why do they remind me of JACOB BAE? beyond that, they seemed JOYOUS and SAVVY upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of DELICATE and QUIXOTIC though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX 1 / APARTMENT 0215 / FLOOR 3 ; HE seem(s) to have a lot going on with HIS job as a PATISSERIE OWNER/NUTRITIONAL SCIENCE STUDENT. ( ez, 21, she/they, gmt. )

     well hey there !! im ez but you fellow dallyeogers can call me ezzy, i have been in dallyeog before so some may remember me as having someone v different to my new bb i bring u now, i joined before with miss tam carmen !! anygays i return with this lil angel who i am all ‘ i say that’s my baby and i’m proud ’ over already even tho i literally came up with him like two days ago. you can find his pinboard here ( which btw i fuckeN love like he’s so aesthetic to me u go king ) and i made him a lil playlist which u can vibe to here. you can learn more about him under the cut but he’s a super soft-hearted gentle dove of a muse and quite...simple for me ?? sdhdh that’s not the right wording but U GET IT djjflg he isn’t super full of angst or trauma he’s just kinda viBIN livin his best life so that’s fun !! but ye without further ado: 

so as u kno from his app he owns a patisserie, it’s his lil babey and he is very dedicated to his craft and makin sure all his ideas for the place and the baked goods he sells are like rlly quirky and avant-garde. like he is so passionate about it u dont even KNOW, he tries to make sure most of the stuff on his menu is something like fun and new u wouldn’t get at just any old patisserie or cafe and that it’s super varied and also kinda aesthetic af? the place is very like trendy. it’s called patisserie d’elysian cause ya know he’s an extra biTCHH and proud.

he has three pupperino’s. all as adorable as each other, snickerdoodle is his golden lab and often ppl shorten it down to snickers, butterscotch is his dapple daschund pup, shortens the name to scotchie often. toulouse is his fancy toy poodle boi, shortens the name down as toto. if u are on the shortened name basis with his pups then u can consider urself one of his close pals. 

he’s actually adopted by his aunt but she raised him like she was his mother so that is what he considers her, she’s on his mother’s side but they are half-siblings. in terms of first name reasoning as well she just liked eunha as a name and didn’t even think about how it is traditionally for a female, she liked that it meant gift from heaven so it stuck. his father is still around, he’s just quite elderly so it felt like a better living situation for him to be raised primarily by his auntie. unfortunately his mother has passed on but no tragic story, she just went peacefully in old age. 

he dyes his hair quite often, it’s currently like a really pastel blue with black streaks consistently throughout like lil ones so it looks super cool. but he’s also had it be a more electric blue, lilac, and a duck egg kinda faded silvery blue. it’s naturally dark brunette. has brown eyes kind of a hazel hue. 

his style is kinda androgynous ig?? he just lives for soft retro fashion, lots of color in his wardrobe but also lots of tapered short and t-shirt fits frequented, sweater vests, rolled up jeans, high skater boi socks, soft jumpers with shirts, shirts in bright colours or satiny texture worn over plain white t-shirts, cardigans, pastel denim jackets, jeans with printed patterns on like clouds, flowers etc, favors yellow and blues. sometimes does eye makeup, occasionally wears heels bc he’s a baddie or super heeled boots/chunky shoes. 

obsessed with music, can play violin and guitar. he’s a big mitski and rina sawayama fanatic, likes anything that sounds peaceful or calming or has like a good fun vibe to it. also likes the trademark gay icons like carly rae jepsen, lorde, etc. he’s not ashamed. obsessed with mamma mia movies. but also likes rap which is rlly funny cause its like the bad bitch female rappers only and like he’ll listen to it while arranging his sock drawer or making his bed or something ajdjdj it’s like hype anthems for being a baddie and a hoe and he’s just doing his night sleepy routine adkfkf. 

showers, blankets, music, baked goods especially bagels are his happy places. 

very much a sensitive lil romanticist, falls in ‘love’ like five times a day, he just likes to giggle and smile around pretty people and admire the artwork hnghdh, he’s like yeARNS though ya know?? like he’s all i will flirt by making prolonged eye contact, i made you a playlist, this song makes me think of you etc. it’s either memes as flirting with him or elaborate love letters u never know what ur gonna get akdkd. 

awful sense of humour, loves his friends more than anything on earth except his pups, would fully live in a huge house of just like his pups and all his closest buds for all eternity. likes fruits way too much, enjoys puns about fruits way too much. milkshakes, sushi, orange hues and bus rides are some of his absolute favorite simple pleasures of life. clouds, flowers, salt lamps, the sunrise over the sea, skateboarding, fresh soda, teddy bears, busy street markets, parasols, fish tanks with exotic fish, sorbet, bike riding, polaroids, record players, rain at night against floor to ceiling windows with a fresh steaming pot of tea on the desk beside it and warm fresh sheets from the laundry on his bed, ponds, skateboarding. all little joys in life that give him like the biggest pleasure dopamine hit in the world. 

his cousin actually owns a florists so he has flowers just littering his apartment like a lot and it just looks like he has ten million suitors from the late eighteenth century attempting to court him but no all these flowers are from him to him or worse from his aunt djfjg she sends him some for valentines every valentines, pls help him, pls send him flowers. 

studies nutritional science and he fucken hates it. do not ask him shit cause he doesn’t KNOW OKAY? he doesn’t understand it either. he took it because he needed something to go alongside the passion for baking that was a real ‘qualification’/job so that is the only reason he’s doing it. no point doing a baking degree after all when he’s already a baker with a business, he’s super young still he gotta keep his prospects open. so YAH. he’d rather be doing culinary arts but eh. nutritional science sounded better and more logic based. the real miracle is he still gets top grades all the time even tho he spends his life like wtf am i even doing is this even legit akdkdk. school is the worst thing in the world for him watch his mood instantly deflate the second its brought up. 

despite being a quixotic, he’s a lil afraid of intimacy. like oh god does he love it, those small touches and acts of affection u kno? the subtle things that normally go unnoticed, eye contact, brushing of hands, linking of little fingers, rubbing a thumb, kissing eyelids or foreheads or palms or shoulders in little gentle pecks, back massages and rubs or finger tracing patterns absent-minded, shoulder massages, laying your head on someone’s shoulder or on their lap, knocking knees together, exchanging a small glance only the two of you get before bursting into laughter, smiling into kisses, napping together, having blankets placed over you warm and fresh, or towels put ready like it, someone making you something they know you like a lot. that’s his sHIT. but like he’s terrified still, someone skimming their fingers on his skin makes his breath hitch like he’s a scandalized and alarmingly aroused victorian woman sjdjd. he’s literally still a virgin, he hasn’t even had his first kiss okay my baby is delicate be gentle with him akdkd but he still LIKES PASSION AIGHT kfkf. 

real soft spoken, honey tinted voice like i shit u not this boy talks like he’s an angel sent from heavens above to guide you to the paradisaical garden of eden or some shit akdkd. ur gonna fall in love with eunha’s voice before u even fall in love with any other part of him like his adorable beaming smile or stunning eyes akdkf. 

has dance parties around his room when getting ready in the morning, listens to bella’s lullaby unironically yes from twilight yes u heard right, bit of a himbo streak sometimes in his obliviousness djfjf. quite silently subtly funny actually much like jacob himself. 

he is gay, afraid of driving, cannot do math, blanks out often and he is valid for all of those things. has a collection of cartoon and disney animal movie dvds. has a dream notebook. always has blue painted nails in some kinda shade. 

does not enjoy turning in assignments bc he is scared he’ll fail, avoids looking at his grades for weeks after they’re released and hates knowing that they’re out. 

cannot dance, dances often. collects vintage stuff esp clothes and mostly sweaters. likes midnight trips to corner stores and fields where he can just lay and look at the stars. makes friends rlly easily but has super bad performance anxiety. cannot ever have a messy room like even the tiniest bit messy. even like clothes being stacked on a chair instead of away. 

bakes peanut butter, banana and choc chip muffins (they r called monkey bites normally) whenever he’s super stressed. if u want to cheer him up when he’s anxious or stressed then u should give him french lavender honey, chia seeds and caramelized pear on toast/bagel. it is his comfort food. he fancii when he needs a pick me up. treat urself and all that. 

[writerwhofears]

Hey! When I write I usually wind up making it more dark than intended. How do I add comic relief and/or know when to add it?

As someone who consistently finds their writing darker than intended (or even imagined), I understand the struggle of finding a way to lighten up the mood a little bit. 

When it comes to comedic relief, here are a few ways to incorporate it in your writing:

The comedic relief character or moment:

- A serious character makes a sarcastic comment that is taken literally

 “Yes, you should definitely jump off the bridge.”

 “Well, if you say so–”

 “The hell? No–stop!”

- A literal comment is taken as sarcastic/joking

 “If you hit that button, the entire room will explode”

*rolls eyes* “You mean this button?”

- Characters who blurt out whatever they are thinking 

Could be a curse word coming from a character who never curses

 Blurting out something embarrassing

Word vomit

- Have a character get their words mixed up 

Think of sound-alike words: they say “Cherry” instead of “Ferry” or something. 

 Calling a rifle a “boom stick” or something: this can happen if your character speaks a different language, or is from a different place, or fumbles with their words a lot

- Insert an inappropriate response that makes the reader giggle 

Someone proposes, and a character starts choking on their wine 

The villain threatens to kill them, and the hero holds up a hand and yawns

 Speeding away from a bank robbery when a character pokes their head from the back seat and announces, “Wait, we’re missing Tony!”

 Anything to create that, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” moment

- Introduce a blunt character to a sensitive topic or person

“Your face is blazing red.”

*Clamping hands on face* “W-what? Oh, sorry, I just…” 

“Did you confess your love to him?”

*Eyes opening wide, going even redder*

*Enter romantic interest, having heard everything* “Sorry, what?”

- Likewise, have a sensitive character navigate around a blunt topic

“Listen. When someone asks you how they look… you can’t just say they look like a bloated toad.”

*looking confused* “So I’m expected to lie?”

*Swallowing hard* “You’re, uh… no, not lie exactly… just be nicer?”

- Create a massive misunderstanding between characters

 “I thought you said you were pregnant!”

 “I wasn’t talking about me!

- When a character is oblivious to the obvious

“So… explain to me again just what happened.”

*pulling hair out of head* “Did you not just see the explosion?!”

“So that’s what that was!”

 - The unexpected comment from the smart aleck character 

I always think of El Dorado when Tulio and Miguel are adrift at sea with no supplies and no land in sight:

“Tulio, did you ever imagine it would end like this?”

“The horse is a surprise.”

Utilize humourous language:

This can be in the form of:

Puns

Funny Words

 An unexpected metaphor or simile 

Misused Idioms

 Click here for more ideas!

 Oh, and here.

Make the situation funny:

You know how this one goes… 

When to use comedy:

To release the tension in your writing

If you want to lighten up your writing (if you personally feel like its too dark, depressing, gory, or some of your readers feel it necessary)

To remind readers that there is a light at the end of the tunnel

To give the reader some relief 

When comedy hurts: Click here

If you’re writing about a serious/heavy topic (illness, injury, abuse, rape, assault, life flashing before the eyes, etc.), inserting comedy can take away from the gravity/seriousness  of the situation

Comedy can undermine the credibility of a character, making them appear less threatening. If you want a villain who gives nightmares, leave the comedy out

Comedy can also make your character look like a jerk. If you have someone in the hospital, and you want your character to come across as kind and considerate, you don’t want the first thing comes out of the character’s mouth to be some horrible, brash joke. You’ll want to match the dialogue with the tone.

 If your reader cares about a character, humiliating them won’t make the character laugh. It will make them cry.

 “If you have a genuinely serious or emotional scene, don’t make that scene into a joke–treat it with the gravity it deserves”

Comedy during a sincere high stakes/dramatic scene will take away from the moment. Readers will not like the interruption, especially if emotionally invested. 

See the above link for more ideas!

 And this link as well: Tips for Writing Dark Stories, Settings, Characters

I also want to put out there that darkness is not bad! Sometimes darkness makes a novel or writing snippet more powerful. Sometimes the heaviness needs to be felt. 

Hope this helps, and thank you for the ask!