#and i drew him like a stereotypical muse

[dedfly]

tw:alcohol

Just Bill. Drunk Bill

I don't know it's kinda therapeutic for me

[clovenhoofedjester]

jellicle lineups; part 2/4

MOREEEE !!! MOREEEE !!!

rumpleteazer | 💰 🍹 🃏

PIGTAILS RUMP! PASTEL RUMP. blond rump. that is all. i really love that design. so i use it. the face markings are also meant to look like a stereotypical robber mask. i realized she looks a little fox-like while drawing her, which i didnt mind ! its fun !

her clothing design was already laid out for her so i left it virtually unchanged, asides from the pattern itself. imagine wearing clothes w a print of your best friends hair . that is rumpleteazer

even though 1 of her 3 words are impressionable, i think she is smarter than she lets on. i also think skimbleshanks is her dad. she'd be about 21 in human years

mungojerrie | 💸 🎰 🍾

PIGTAILS JERRIE AS WELL, BITCH ! i saw a jerrie w pigtails after i drew this and i felt so vindicated. i also based his design directly on 2019 mungojerrie because ommgggg transgender calico? trans little calico? i thought he deserved some pearls too. as well as a bell collar! it makes cats sneakier.

his clothing design is left unchanged too, asides from some fluff. he is also wearing a print of his best friends hair . smile 😃

hes just a funny fella. he totally doesnt have a history or anything. hed be 21 in human years

coricopat | 🍷 🔮 ♟

coricopat is pretty close to their replica design—the biggest difference being that the red in their design is warmer/purpler. that and the silver collar! i also had no idea what i was doing with her fit, so expect it to change in the upcoming art i do of him. i just wanted something gothy and flowy

hes also based on thalia, the muse of comedy. to keep the greek mythology theme going, and because i thought it was funny, and because (2x) i like... The Gimmick

i swear to god this cat knows things we dont. hed be like 22 in human years

tantomile | 🎭 🍩 🗝

tantomile is also close to his replica design. she has a gold collar. like i said w/ coricopat, the outfit is subject to change

as she was based on melpomene, the muse of tragedy, i decided to sacrifice identical makeup for the white mark on their muzzle being downturned like the frown of the tragedy mask :] giggle. smile

listen to all advice tantomile gives you. shed be also like 22 in human years

george | 🥏 🧋 🛹

i just had to give this (technical) swing some love. bless this happy background cat and his little :D smile. i decided to give him a simple little fit and made his fur/markings less plain white w some stripes. i think i also based his makeup off a victor costume ??

i think hes pouncival's older brother. hed also be 23 in human years

mr. mistoffelees | 🪄 ☕ 🌬

my silly, my funny. my little guy. i based their general Vibe on his john napier concept art, obc mistoffelees, 1990 paris mistoffelees, 2019 mistoffelees, and like. a fairys kiss of brentoffelees. i wish id have given him a bit of that il sistina style but i already had so many things going on LOL

it was definitely a very fun challenge to balance all of these. i also draw attention to the single white shoe—the cutest detail of timmy scotts misto

i definitely prefer a more visually unnerving, grown misto. and absolutely torn between portraying him as mute or verbal because on one hand... mute misto is so good. on the other hand.... oh my god. timothy scotts voice.jesus christ . i think hed be 23 in human years

the rum tum tugger | 🎤 🍽 🪞

WELCOME TO MY TWISTED WORLD. i really tried to keep tugger as cis guys i really did. but the thrall of a visually transgender tugger was too much to ignore. i already explained a lot of his design choices in my first posted drawing of it but like... blauhh... thigh garter, heart, golden whiskers/lashes. they are there. i also made his makeup a wee more theatrical w/ white on the chin to visually separate him from partridges tugger

i also decided to base his fur more on his obc design. like. terrence mann tugger. platinum blond spotted mane and head fur and such. i think it looks really good

im trying to hit the sweet spot between the goofy/serious/whiny/promiscuous portrayals of the him..... the man contains multitudes, you see. hed also be like 24 in human years and it goes without saying that hes one of deuts sons

AND THATS IT. stay tuned for more !

[burinazar]

what motivates you artistically? :3

well right now blelaf mainly. no ok hang on. alright. so.

when i was really young i had this feeling like if we could all just understand one another, if there was a perfect way to beam your thoughts and feelings into someone's head, it would fix almost everything re conflicts and human suffering. (naive obviously but this was what i thought lol.) when i started to be aware of what it was to read good books and look at good art it felt like in some ways the closest we could come to fully articulating an idea, a moment, a feeling, and placing it in its entirety into someone's mind. relatedly, uh, bad stories/art that didn't seem to respect their audience pissed me off at the squandered opportunity (sorry the snobbery came out sorry) and made me think, dammit, the audience and types of people evoked within this deserve better and i'm gonna try. with the combo of these two things it was like ..okay i'm going to start writing and drawing. it was all about stories ideas concepts. oh and also i really liked rodents and wanted to draw them as often as possible lol. i drew so fucking many rodents. gah. these concepts were no joke deeply linked for me because as a child i genuinely felt like the bad rap rodents get from people unthinkingly condemning them via stereotypes was a symptom of a societal lack of empathy and consideration. (possibly terry pratchett's fault)

(could not locate early rat art at this moment but here's relevant scribbling. i was nine i think.)

 tl;dr plunging themes and concepts i find interesting; communicating them to other people. (sometimes the concept is admittedly not highbrow. sometimes it is very silly. sometimes it is 'hey ! it would be hot if this happened to b*laf'.) it can be hard to reconcile the desire to 'communicate' via art/writing with some of my work just not having much of an audience or even feeling like i don't want to share it for various reasons lol, but in those cases i frame it to myself as, the effort of presenting the idea was enjoyable in and of itself, an act of personal communication between me and the subject or content of the work even if the thing itself will never be shown to another soul : v anyway fanwork can be a neat way to do that because it's like shared muses or canvases where what you see in them or love about them is already partially pre-communicated to people and you can hit the ground running on evoking emotions, concepts and narratives using the shared frame of reference, as well as skewing and transforming said frame as needed. btw i found another drawing of me and the sages that i didnt use in the other post so here it is

there have been many periods of my life when i was making more original work, though. (i'm sure i've said this many times now but before the sages i had a very comparable attachment to a couple of my OCs.) i also had a pretty terrible experience with fandom around middle school that sort of drove me away from heavily engaging for a long time; i was still in fandoms but basically never shared my writing outside of like PMs and servers. that's part of why my current abyss bullshit is so precious to me and also why i can get protective over it; it pretty much singlehandedly brought me back to the Blessings and Curses of being directly engaged in sharing a lot of fan content publicly. (man for a person who doesnt like bondrewd i do quote him a lot unfortunately.)

so anyway. yes. uhh sorry that was really long. i sort of just like blogging haha thank you very much for the ask! < 3

[gruesomejack]

"Do demons masturbate?"

Sabrina hitched in surprise, nearly dropping the poetry collection he was snooping through. Peeking over towards the bed, Victory was looking at him with a playful smile, batting those long lashes. Red, the hound frowned at him and shrugged. "Some of them, I guess. Some of us are-" He struggled for a moment, "Stereotypical. They indulge in anything, and everything people say are morally wrong. And some of us don't have any interest in fleshy pleasure."

Laying down on his belly and propping his chin in his hands, Vi peeked at Charlie for confirmation. The blonde hound shrugged too, "I mean, I hadn't thought about it much as a concept until you came around. We're kinda like people, I guess." He said, "What's got you thinkin' about that?"

"I'm a pervert." Vi mused, humming. Charlie let out a breath of a laugh while Sabrina rolled his eyes. "Have you ever touched yourself, pumpkin? Sex wasn't on Charlie's mind until recently, but what about you?"

Slamming the book down and then hesitating, Sabrina crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. When he looked at Vi again, he was pink and flustered. "None of your business."

"Oh, you have!" Victory sat up then, his eyes sparkling. "That's so cute. I want you to tell me all about it."

"Why would I tell you anything about that?!" The hound warmed further, especially as he watched the young man's eyes travel over him. Ugh. Something buzzed down his spine and settled in his lower belly; he shifted in his spot, his thighs squeezing.

Humming again, Vi closed his eyes. "I'm imagining you in a dark, secluded corner... Your chin tilted back and your wide hand down the front of your pants... I bet it's so pretty." He teased, flashing him a grin. Sabrina clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching. "You're such an instigator!" He huffed, "Can you-"

"Show me." Victory cut in and leaned forward, his lashes lowered with soft lust. Sabrina blinked and glanced between the two men on the bed. Charlie offered a small, playful smile to him, brows lifting. "Unless you're chicken."

"I'm not! I'm not, I-!" Cut off again, Vi had reached out and dragged him closer to the bed by the hips. Wide eyes gazed down at him, his voice coming out in a soft, nonsensical stutter. "Please, pumpkin? I want to see just how pretty you are..." Vi purred and drew and easy thumb up the fly of his pants.

Sabrina hitched, but he couldn't deny the heat between his thighs. If they wanted a show, he'd give it to them. Bastards. Batting Vi's hands away, he gave them both a small pout before undoing the top button. Blood was rushing in between his ears making him dizzy-- A pair of helping hands were back on him and as much as he wanted to be irritated by it, he was grateful for the way Vi eased the slacks down his thighs. The look in his sharp eyes was engulfing; if he hadn't known any better, he might've thought he was as much of a blood hungry monster as he and Charlie were. His hands twitched again, and Vi cooed, "Please?" He tried again. "I promise I'll give you something good for it."

Cursing, he turned his pink, flustered face away, but brought a palm to the front of his underwear. Sabrina let out a shaky breath as he started to rub at himself through the fabric. All the teasing had gotten him chubby already, the spot beneath his core a little damp.

"...What are you thinking about?" Vi mused, watching him with a pleased gaze. It was hard not to throw his hands into the mix, but he wanted to get the hound riled up a little more before he tried. "Who are you thinking about?"

Sabrina swallowed and gave a little rut against his fingers, panting out from the friction the fabric offered. In the past, his fantasies consisted of long blonde hair and strong, warm arms-- He'd wanted Charlie in a carnal way for so long, he couldn't help it. But now, sometimes it changed. Charlie's calloused hands on his skin, but then the cattish gaze and plush lips of a young, mortal man. Sabrina parted his lips to say, but a quiet moan filled the place where the words should've been.

"I-I-" A soft gasp left his lips. Vi had tugged away his underwear, letting the cool air hit him where he was warmest. A nose pressed against his jaw, and when he glanced over, it seemed as Charlie moved from his spot on the bed to wrap his arms around him from behind. On instinct, he leaned back against his chest.

"C'mon puppy. Keep going." Vi egged him on, still smiling. "Show me how you do it."

Sabrina whined, but immediately obeyed the command, plunging a couple of eager fingers into himself. He pumped and rutted against his hand until they felt slick, pulling them out, then to start tugging on the erection peeking through coarse curls. Another moan started to move up his throat, but was caught by an eager mouth, taking any thoughts left in his head and replacing them with the sweet taste of Charlie's lips. He bucked into his fingers and started to protest as he felt his hands being moved, but he was surprised again--

Victory had knocked the hound's knees apart and slipped a pair of long fingers into wet heat. As he wiggled them and let him get acclimated, he ducked to wrap his lips around his pretty little cock. He gave a soft suck and the demon above him bucked, squeezing at the arms wrapped around him and whining against Charlie's tongue. Vi smiled.

Sabrina was panting. His voice fell from his lips in soft, sweet little howls of pleasure. Charlie had his arm around his hip and the other on his chest, squeezing as he nipped the sensitive skin beneath his jaw. Below him, Vi's fingers were reaching places he hadn't known were there, and his mouth was overwhelming. The hound had one hand on Charlie's cheek, and the other buried in Vi's bleached locks while he rutted shamelessly against his tongue.

"C-Cum! Gonna cum-" He whined, leaning hard against Charlie's chest. His thighs started to tremble, and the muscles in his stomach twitched in anticipation. Vi purred around him and squeezed at the hips he held onto, his fingers curling in him while he continued to suck. Two-toned eyes started to roll back, and Charlie laughed softly against his cheek before quickly pulling him in for another kiss. Sabrina groaned out and shivered, his fingers clutching at the two of them before he buckled, crumbling around Victory's hand and into his mouth. He bucked and rutted until the attention was too much, and he was cursing, his deep appreciation trickling down the wrist of the young man below him.

Vi eased back to lap it from his arm and to kiss the hound's pretty thigh. "...Good boy." He purred, grinning up at the pink-faced glare he got in return. "Sorry for getting in your way, pumpkin. I couldn't help myself."

Sabrina grunted, his lashes falling against his cheeks. "...Whatever." He breathed, but couldn't hide the pleased pull at his lips.

[the-haunted-office]

🔍 (Observation based on appearance) Doom or Thursday, about whoever in my nuthouse of muses they choose.

Send 🔍 for my muse to observe something about your muse based on their appearance/behaviour!

Thursday chooses to make some observations about Milo. She steps up to him with a magnifying glass, inspecting him closely as if she is looking for clues, before stepping back.

"I've figured you out, Milo, based on observation alone! You... are from a cartoon. Yes, that's right. A cartoon. As in you are a cartoon character. You've got all the traits, and they've depicted you as a nerd. You're tall, skinny, and you wear comically oversized glasses, because we all know that nerds only come in one size and always wear huge glasses, am I right? Oh, and since you're tall and gangly and nerdy, you must also be clumsy, and this means tripping over your own feet. We've already observed this with how you easily fall off roofs and things all the time. It's not something you can help. It's not your fault at all! Your creators and animators literally drew it right into your character! It's actually rather rude of them to stereotype you like that. How does that make you feel?"

[arcxnumvitae]

Who/What inspired my muses

I can’t believe I’m doing this oh it’s going to suck so much

Part 1 because it got long because I’m wordy

Veritas: In high school I was friends with two “the art kids”. I, meanwhile, was the bookworm/writer. We all thought it’d be fun to make a comic, them drawing and me writing the dialogue, so we all said we’d come up with characters from it. Mine ended up being an elf who wore long swishy skirts and fought with dual blades and one of them drew out the design for me. The comic, haha, never got far but when I got interested in doing Tumblr rp I looked at that initial oc idea and reworked it into Veritas. The only real remnants of that origin is, well, elf. And her two swords. But I mean, my interest in fleshing out my brand of elves led to what is what I actually consider a big part of my blog-- my elves. So a lot stemmed from that initial, silly and fun idea between three kids. I’m actually still best friends with one of those girls to this day!

Vendere: My second attempt at making a less morally pure muse after my real second-but-now-removed muse Tamashi ended up nice despite my wishes. I can’t say much of the thought process behind Ven other than his name being a continuation of a Latin theme I had started with Veritas and decided to keep going, which you will continue to see later on too. The only thing I can remember is choosing his name because it was the Latin verb for “to sell”, because info broker, and because I went, “Haha and I can call him V.en like in K.ingdom H.earts.” A lot of big brain ideas going on back when I was sixteen, of which I can’t even make jokes because I’ve done it again with muses fairly recently. In retrospect it makes no sense why his Italian parents would name him that but thus is my 16-year-old-idea oc burden to bear.

Jianhuren: My first muse who I added with the intent to have a bit of a storyline going! I also! Can’t remember why I got the idea for a form shifting person who  was an amnesiac. I’m fairly certain it was an idea that came straight out of my head. At the time, I hadn’t even intended to make a species of dragons, the Red Eyes from them. So it’s kind of why they may seem a bit different in feel or canon or themes or whatever from the other Red Eyes. We were winging it, baby!!

Somnio: Oh my gosh I can’t say I’ll do this and keep saying I don’t remember for these muses! I’m sorrrryyyy these were like a good six or so years ago! I think inspiration. I think maybe the feeling of days and friends gone/soon to be gone from Summertime Record inspired him regarding his feelings towards his dead friend? At the very least, I was listening to that song a lot when I added him and I was definitely thinking of him when I did it. The “Sayonara” part always really stuck out to me.

Amara: Me: What if I did a phoenix. Me: Oh, I see phoenixes in this sense have been pointed at from coming from either or both Greek and Egyptian myth let’s make both of those his background as a fun little easter egg. Me: what if I made a muse so tragic--

Qingshan: Here we see Red Eye lore starting to take more shape! Originally I had just said that Jianhuren was attacked by a monster or something, but I then had a thought of what if it were a betrayal and the monster story is just what was told? A lot of Qingshan’s vibes and the idea to do an evil or “bad” muse came from listening to Sacrifice from Rwby! Since I had just recently gotten into it. And I mean, the music rocks. Wait.....the lyrics never quite fit Qingshan at the time but now I’m realizing they fit Zhaohui well.... hm.

Ren: More desire to expand upon my elf lore that I had started with Veritas. And a desire to touch more on the trafficking issue that elves face. Then I just thought it’d be cool to give a muse the powerset of basically the Avatar-- with setbacks.

Kareena: You know me, I’m always going to look at a predominantly white-assumed category and go, “how can I make this more Brown(tm)? Elves are always so stereotypically white in the media I saw, and I’ve always had a desire to see myself represented in fantasy genres I love so much. Veritas was actually supposed to be brown, but she was my first oc and I couldn’t find a fc that fit what I imagined for her and had brown skin, I just changed it to match her fc. Now, I clearly don’t care, haha. Anyways, Kareena was me wanting to make a brown elf, and also a differently abled one too, and I settled on her being blind. I thought it’d be an interesting study since elves have heightened and stronger senses, and here was someone who was born without one. I will say, she wasn’t perfect representation at the time, since I unknowingly fell into a bad trap of “blind person uses super senses to get around anyways with no issue”, which is something I learned later that a lot of blind people don’t like to see in media about visually impaired people! The importance of doing research beforehand, kids. Especially if you’re writing of a culture, lifestyle, or experience you haven’t lived.

William/Thanatos: .......................ok.........I don’t...........remember, sorry. To explain a little, “Thanatos” actually existed on my blog as a man named William O’Connor! A man who had died but still lived on by some raw accidental deal made by his mom to some sort of death-like entity. I only remember that I was thinking on him back when I was in another state visiting by undergrad for like the first time? And Gen Con was going on and I had like just stuck my toe into C.ritical R.ole, but I don’t know if any of that actually influenced William. Anyways, I had no intention to actually ever state or clarify what “Death” was as I intended for It to just be some sort of amalgamation of different interpretations of Death. But later on I thought it’d open up for some more interesting opportunities if I put a name to the thing and had it able to interact and do a little more. Maybe a bit before Dawn came around, for reasons?

Lucia: I had mentioned in Ren’s backstory that he ran with a group of elves when he was a kid on the streets and I’d already established another, Aeon (who’s now a side muse) so I thought it’d be fun to pick out who their de facto leader was. And I thought it’d be funny if she seemed like the least intimidating-looking person ever, but absolutely was the leader of them all for good reason. I then picked up my “angsty backstory” hammer, and I then gave her a prompt solid whack with it.

Alexa: “Okay, so I touched on the elf trafficking, but what if I did what happened when one was successfully trafficked?” Et voila. 

Val: ‘Kristen, you just added Alexa, and sure you established she has a partner but you don’t need to full on add him as a muse-- oh no how did he get on my muse page.’ Alexa and Val are also meant to be foils in the way they deal with their servitude, with Alexa having given in and Val still being rebellious. Plus, I just love non-romantic soulmates. Mwah.

Imani: “I want a Black muse. An unambiguously Black muse. Make her an elf too while I’m at it.” I love sibling dynamics and I’m a sucker and wimp for older sibling dynamic stories too so that also came into play with her and her younger brother.

My gosh this is long, I’m doing a part 2 or something

[replicantdeviancy]

It was no secret by now that the detective enjoyed listening to his companion speak. James had a pleasant voice, warm & rich with a soothing undertone that was always present, even when he was showing off a bit of that dry wit of his. The accent only seemed to add to the appeal, though Connor had never before considered himself specifically drawn to any kind of accent. It was the culmination of everything behind that voice that really intrigued him, the calming nature of the priest’s company which drew him in so effortlessly. Passingly, the detective mused upon whether others were so easily susceptible to the man’s charm that they might find themselves irrevocably taken with him, or was this intrigue more of a rarity, something more exclusive to those who looked deeper than the surface. James wasn’t just a handsome face. Those eyes of his were intense & focused, but there was something withdrawn about the man. Connor hoped that the priest wasn’t put off by someone who not only could see through his carefully constructed mask, but wanted to.

He considered the possibility that it had been a very long time since James had been faced with that level of interest, that desire aimed his way wasn’t strictly carnal. Perhaps that was why he uttered such playfully disparaging complaints of his age while simultaneously flirting, playing with innuendo while remaining critical of himself. Did he think that he didn’t deserve such undivided attentiveness? Something more intimate than lust? Or was he afraid that his intuitive companion wouldn’t like what he saw when the curtain fell away to reveal him completely?

Connor pondered at this as he listened with chin in hand, a placid little expression on his face as his date spoke. So he was fifty-one, nearly twice the detective’s age. He hadn’t been too far off, though admittedly his assessment was influenced by the silver which had suffused itself throughout the man’s short, dark hair, the stubble upon his cheeks. The priest was just as lively as a more youthful man, but he had an older man’s patience, an experienced insight. He couldn't help smirking as James complained of creaking knees, & was equally helpless to quell his smart mouth. “You complain, but I’m sure those creaking knees don’t keep you from your prayers,” he interjected, quietly eager to steal away the opportunity to sass his date. “On the other hand, mine still work just fine.”

A wink from across the table, a sly little half-smile. James could do with the imagery the comment would invoke as he pleased, as Connor was under no obligation to confirm or dispel it. He took the time to pour himself some water, using the mundane process of it as a meager distraction, a moment in which they could pause, let his date ruminate a little on his possible intentions. All the while, through what seemed to be perfectly executed intervals, the detective would turn his gaze from his task to the man in his company. He set the pitcher down neatly to the side but he didn’t immediately drink, more contented by the preparations than anything else, the intricate ritual. The restaurant wasn’t anything fancy, more akin to a casual dining experience, yet Connor took his time neatly unwrapping his cutlery from the paper napkin it was rolled up in, setting each piece out properly. It was true what they said, that one’s fork would give away their class - it was obvious that this down to earth, rather mature young man came from money, but he still put his fork on the wrong side. Sophisticated by upbringing, but painfully American.

“I think you’ve got a few years left before that. Don’t you?” he quipped in reference to James’ teasing query over a future propensity towards telling off kids who disturbed his lawn, though the image did elicit some amusement. Connor could see him adhering to stereotype for the comicality of it, if nothing else. That got a little laugh out of him. He really did appreciate the priest’s particular humor, as it felt as deliciously ironic as Connor’s own. The detective wasn’t above taking a shot at himself, as he was irrevocably self aware.

But the prospect of an opportunity to take care of James a little did sound nice, especially when the ideation was mutual. Cooking for one another was so delightfully domestic, something the detective expected neither were particularly well versed in, though there were always small moments that desire could shine through. He imagined a situation where he might have the priest over to his apartment with the express intention of a shared meal. He wondered what James might have thought of his clean, modernist aesthetic with just the barest hint of industrialism that felt like an elegant nod to the downtown Detroit location. Would their tastes be all that different? Would he want to stay over? That concept had its appeal as well, leading towards yet another cheeky comment. “Maybe if you spend the night sometime, I’ll make you breakfast.” Again, there were implications which Connor carefully chose to leave open ended, while the playful smile lent towards a certain motivation. Teasing, but he wasn’t against the idea. Connor had never had a suitor over to his place before, certainly never long enough to offer breakfast. But it did have its allure if the right person were involved.

He didn’t yet know if James was that person, but he liked that his date could be open with him, that he wasn’t so shy with his interest as to downplay it. Connor knew that the priest liked him, but hearing it spoken aloud granted both elation & restlessness within him, as though the uncertainty of that which had yet to come to pass could affect him now. James, too, longed for connection, though he was apprehensive to give into the urge completely. Both were tentative in their behavior, masking infatuation with witty banter, but they couldn’t deny that pull. “Is there such a thing as liking somebody too much?” he posed, yet the answer was elusive to himself. But he liked to think not, that too much of a good thing wasn’t a possibility. He had already surmised that the priest was a careful man, purposeful. He pondered at the priest’s meaning.

The detective also realized that he had been far more famished than initially anticipated, now that he was finally settling. While the anticipation of what was to come did buzz readily in his busy mind, Connor used the precious seconds passed in reaching for his glass & enjoying a refreshing sip of water to collect his thoughts. He had made his intentions known. He left him curious as to the priest’s. “May I ask what compelled you to come out with me?” he questioned as he set his glass aside, his gaze meeting James’, softened. Hopeful, as though he wished for his speculations to be confirmed. “I don’t mean to imply anything. It’s just that you don’t seem the type to go out on a whim.” Not that one could discern that by speaking with the priest initially, as he was so openly flirtatious. It was only when one looked closer, & with purpose. Connor was compelled by the thirst for knowledge. “Though I can’t say I’m not grateful. You’re good company.” That was an understatement. James was fascinating, & the detective was eager to learn him.

"Maybe just a touch... never said I was perfect." The ease of his retort came as effortlessly as each breath filled his lungs, that wry smile of his only cementing the man's enjoyment. It really was a breath of fresh air to not worry about how he was taken, wondering whether the next sentence that came out of his mouth would be the final straw. Maybe it could still happen, but Connor had already proven that he was far more capable of taking more of the priest's dry little jabs than most people. How could he not relish in it a little? As if that was all, there was something so invigorating about the way the other man seemed to see through him. He could see it in his eyes, the way they assessed his every move, his every expression, regardless of how brief or minuscule -- - it all added up in the end, painting a picture of the silver-haired priest that few got to truly witness.

Though while it was certainly energising, there was also something a little unnerving about it at the very same time. Just how far would Connor see into him? What would he see behind those devilish smiles and sarcastic humour? There was a reason that James kept so much of himself hidden away, there were several reasons, in fact, the main being the important barrier between how most people viewed the world and how it really was. Did he really want the guy getting through to that side of him? The side that could easily drag the detective into a world of trouble? The side that could get him killed?

No, that was a thought for later on, a worry that would likely catch up to him when he was lying awake at stupid o'clock in the morning staring at his ceiling. For now, he just wanted to revel in the way the American was blushing at his words, the light dust of red on his cheeks that seemed to make him look entirely innocent. "Picturing a man of the cloth in such a sinful visage?" He mused with a cheeky tilt of his head again, more than making it clear how much the whole thing amused him, even if he had practically backed the bloke into a corner deliberately. "Very naughty." The word seemed to practically purr in the back of his throat, a momentary smirk leaving him as he glanced down, finally lifting a hand to pour some water into his glass while also keeping a close eye on the ice so that lots of it wouldn't just topple into his glass and splash everywhere.

He really was teasing the younger man at this point, but as always, it didn't come from a place of malice, but of genuine affection. Maybe it was a British thing, or maybe it was just a James thing, he wasn't even sure at this point, he went with it either way, regardless of what his peers and superiors thought. Yes, he was willing to toe the line in some matters, he went wherever he was told to go, did whatever he was told to do -- - mostly, usually with his own personal spin on it. Sent to investigate strange goings on in an area with suspected supernatural activity? Vampires, werewolves, whatever else was going bump in the night. But while the Brit had orders to do one thing, he did have a tendency to look at it in a more broad sense, maybe even in a more moral one. Were they deliberately causing harm? Or were they just lost souls who needed some help, some guidance? Who was he to turn them away? Or even stand as their judge, jury and executioner?

Either way, he did what he believed was right.

Was that something that Connor would understand too? He couldn't imagine the detective would never have been faced with similar circumstances? Having to measure a situation on the law but also from a moral standpoint. The law said one thing when someone's conscious might say another. Maybe he was thinking too much into it, trying to find common ground where there wasn't any, but he got the distinct impression that the American wasn't as cut and dry as people would expect him to be. After all, he was out on a date with a priest, wasn't he? If that wasn't a clue that there was more to him than met the eye, what was?

"We'll let my creaking knees be the judge on that one." He joked with the same ease, more than willing to poke fun at himself and his age, even if he did miss the days when standing up had taken a bit less effort. "Close enough. Turned fifty-one a few months ago. Just counting down the days until retirement." He jabbed at himself again, even if that was definitely a joke seeing as he wouldn't bet money on actually reaching retirement age, let alone dare count down the days like a Christmas advent calendar. "Won't hold my old age against me when you find me sat on my front porch yelling at the neighbourhood kids to get off my lawn, will you?" That certainly brought an amusing image to mind.

"Well, I'm certainly no Gordon Ramsey, but I'll do my best." He wasn't even sure the last time he'd actually cooked for someone, or himself, now that he really thought about it. Most of the time he just grabbed something simple, some tasteless mess that he could throw into the microwave and have ready in a few minutes and then burn off the majority of his tastebuds. Or he'd just pop in somewhere and grab something to eat there, a cafe, takeaway, fast food, depending on where he was and how much time he had to spare. "Wouldn't mind seeing what you'd cook up for me though." It had him curious, what would Connor make for him if the time came? Something local? A recipe from his family? Something surprising? James hadn't experienced much of what America had to offer when it came to home cooking, or anything really, so at this point, he was largely open to just about everything.

Pulling his glass of water close, he took a few gulps, yet those calm blue eyes barely left the other for a moment, wondering just what was going on inside his head, what thoughts were bouncing around as he asked about his reasons for being out tonight. Perhaps the priest was a bit too sceptical to accept the notion that he'd join him all because of him rather than a few other reasons being piled on top. Curiosity being one of them. It was important to think about these things, always careful, trying his best to stay ahead. Which was easier said than done when engaging with a detective. Wasn't that their entire MO? As genuine as it all seemed, it still paid just to make sure. And maybe he'd be a little hurt if he were to find out the whole thing had been nothing more than a charade for information.

It seemed his underlying concerns were just that, unneeded worries, as he tried to look out for any telltale signs that might give Connor away. He may not be an expert on reading people, but from what he did know, what he'd picked up over the years, he didn't see any word of a lie on the guy. Not that it stopped the detective from being able to read him right back, James' lips pursing off to the side in quiet amusement at being told he liked Connor back all the same. "Sounds like you've got me all figured out." He noted with a growing smile, casually busying himself as his fingers pawed at the glass of water in front of him, trying his best not to let that grin claim his entire face. "But... you're right." This time looked up from the glass, light blue eyes practically sparkling in the dim restaurant lights. "Although, I'm sure you're used to that by now." He couldn't quite stop himself from teasing him again, briefly licking his lips as his gaze fell once more. More in thought than much else.

"Nothing gets passed you... and maybe that's one thing I'm worried about." He felt the need to be honest. He liked Connor, but it was always why he worried for him, his safety, his livelihood, even for his friends and family. At that moment, a softness flooded across his face, brightening that cheeky smile that remained. "I do like you, Connor. A lot. Most likely a lot more than I should." Though that was probably obvious by now. "But we both know that won't stop me just yet."

[chaserainbows]

☕️ Gen 6 aka X/Y was robbed by the poor storyline and the lack of focus on elements what could've been so good to have in the main plotline (from @multiplelivesinline)

send me a ☕️ and an opinion (popular or unpopular) and i’ll say whether i agree or disagree

Gen 6 was very much a transitional generation, like Gen 4 was between the GBA and the DS and Gen 8 turned out to be for the 3DS and the Switch, and if there's one thing in common between XY DP and SwSh is that these games were ROUGH but while Gen 4 had Platinum and Gen 8 had the DLCs to smooth things out the closest thing XY had was the anime which was a good season by anime standards but no match for what a full third game would be so the version of Kalos left in people's minds was the undercooked one

But at the same time I feel like Kalos is one of those regions people love to shit on for the sake of having something to hate the arguments against it are very circular and all boil down to oh the concepts are underdeveloped and don't get enough time to shine but at the same time the fandom has this weird idea where people will literally get angry if you develop the Kalos cast (other than Serena Lysandre and AZ) because otherwise they can't act as punching bags

Like my favorite region is Sinnoh it's a very popular region with very popular characters but I'm not gonna act like it's the pinnacle of storytelling that Gen 6 can never measure up to and the less said about Gen 1 fans talking shit about Gen 6 the better

There's a lot that can be done with the XY cast other than just Lysandre Is A God Among Men Serena (because no one writes protag Calem) Is A Camera With Legs That Only Exists To See Him In The Most Sympathetic Light AZ Is A Sad Grandpa And Everyone Else Sucks™️ especially to make the games' themes more prevalent which is one of the biggest things that drew me to rival!Calem as a muse because he is an underused character in canon with a rushed arc that could use a fresh coat of paint and gets a completely INSANE treatment by the fandom like people will make literally any excuse to hate him just so they don't have to admit that he's not actually that bad

"calem obviously wants to romance serena and uses the rivalry as an excuse to get close to her even though she's not actually interested" GIRL THE RIVAL WITH ROMANTIC SUBTEXT IS FUCKING SHAUNA MAYBE YOU'RE JUST CUMBRAINED

But other than him there are many other characters I'd like to see getting more attention like Shauna herself because she's reduced to being a dumb girl obsessed with pretty things stereotype but she's actually shown to be a very smart person like with her interest in puzzles her friendship with Clemont and Bonnie and her girlboss moments in Flare HQ which everyone loves to ignore because if you have to admit that Shauna's competent then you have no reason to hate on her

I could rant a lot more but this is getting really long already so part 2 might come Eventually

[legends-live-in-memories]

Picture Perfect

AYO! its me back with more content for the second time this week while i ignore my other wips again. this is a lil gift for @queen-o-leen who i promised wholesome content for! I hope you like it!

Timinette/Timari Oneshot 1.9K words (not related to my other timari oneshots)

Summary:

“Tim spends a nice day in a park in Paris and takes a picture of a pretty girl.

He somehow gets an almost date out of it.”

no warnings this time. completely family-friendly. I know i surprise myself with this one too.

without further ado

He would be the last to admit that Jason was right and that time away was what he needed at this point in life but it can’t be ignored that, for the first time in possibly three years, Tim was having a wonderful day. He was having a wonderful week actually. After one too many unsuccessful cold cases and the simmering anxiety of off-world missions, his family, primarily Jason, for some reason, demanded that he take some time off and away from his unusual brand of normal. How that meant being sent across the Atlantic Ocean to Paris of all places, he wasn’t entirely sure. Alfred probably had a hand in that decision given that, as part of his forced vacation, Tim was not allowed to actually plan any of it. Him. Timothy Jackson Drake. The guy who stalked and manoeuvred his way into Batman’s house and team. The guy who tracked and found said man when the universe thought he was dead but was actually drifting through time. Yeah, Tim was not pleased about being led blind on his vacation. 

At least Paris was a nice city. And he brought his camera. He figured he could use this time to get back into old hobbies and what better hobby to start up again in the city of love than photography? He’s taken pictures of every tourist attraction worth visiting by his second day and began to take candid shots of people and animals. Would Damian like the animal pictures? Maybe, if they came from someone who wasn’t Tim. Is he going to try and give them to him anyways? Absolutely not. He liked his liver where it is, thank you very much. They would serve as great bribing material however. But that’s a thought for another day. 

Right now he was working on capturing what could possibly be described as the stereotypical outing with friends. He’s sitting along some bushes near the entrance of a park and staring at a group of teens his own age hanging around. He spots a brunette with thick curls of hair animatedly speaking with a guy in a vibrant cap. She’s waving a camera herself, and he appreciates her taste in equipment. Her eyes spark with fox-like mischief while the cap guy has a peaceful aura about him; like an old turtle. Next he sees a blonde, her hair is in a ridiculously high ponytail and she’s in a deep conversation with a red head off to the side of the whole group; her words are rushing out of her and she’s a buzzing bee with excitement. Another blond is in the area, but he sits in a broad patch of sun possibly napping with an open book on his chest. Very cat-like Tim supposes. He barely pays them more than a second of thought however. No. 

His focus is on the quaint beauty directly in his line of sight. She’s poised up against the giant tree trunk with a sketchbook in her lap and pencils surrounding her. Her hair hangs by her shoulders in twintails and it’s a colour so dark it seems to absorb the shade of the tree. She’s scribbling furiously on the page before her and her tongue is slightly peaking out to the side. Her forehead is creased with stress lines and her shoulders hunch slightly over her frame. She’s the vision of deep concentration and dedication and Tim would be a fool not to capture her. He’s gotten wide shots of her companions but now he wants to focus on her. 

Looking through the lens of his camera he zooms in on her profile. When his camera focuses, he spots a constellation of freckles across her cheeks, barely there, almost blending in with her complexion but Tim is nothing if not hypervigilant. He goes to take another photo when a bug flies into view. It’s a ladybug. It lands precariously on the tip of her nose and it’s just the thing that breaks her out of her work-induced trance. Tim is watching her now, long forgetting to click the shutter. Her eyes cross as she stares intently at the black-spotted creature and its presence seems to amuse her. She’s giggling to herself, as if sharing an inside joke with the bug and reaches a slim finger to swipe the insect gently from her nose. She inspects it and smiles a smile so soft that not even a feather could compare. He feels like an intruder. More so than one who takes pictures of cute strangers in public. 

Coming back to his senses, he takes another picture, the final picture, and lowers the camera from his face. He looks back at his temporary muse and finds that she is already looking at him. Her head tilts in confusion. Apprehension. Possibly a bit of fear. Which is valid given that Tim was pointing a camera at her from across the public park. What should he do though to quell her fears? 

He felt his face lift into a grin; he didn’t need to look at himself to know it was awkward and forced. A shrug of his shoulders and a flimsy wave of the camera in his hand was the only thing he did. Before he could begin to stumble over himself in apology, however, she surprised him. With a cautious hunch, her shoulders brought up to her ears, and an embarrassed smile to match his own, she slowly flips her sketchbook around and he comes face to face with, well, his face. It was a portrait of him. She had drawn a portrait of him. And she was showing him. Feeling embolden, he flips his camera to show her the screen but she’s too far away. He gets up on unsteady legs, cramped from his uncomfortable position, and begins a slow stride towards her. She meets him in the middle.

“Hi.” He barely speaks those words. They’re more like an exhale or a sigh of relief that he hadn’t scared her off. 

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind the drawing.” Her voice is high and light. Like a spring breeze. She’s daintily waving at him and he sees that her fingers are rough, and calloused. Unexpected but he finds it rather charming. Before he could get another word in, she’s off like an engine. “I just saw you there, and you had your camera so I figured you were taking pictures of us and thought that if you were then you wouldn’t mind me sketching you in kind but I should have asked and I’m sorry for breaching your privacy—” 

“Wait, slow down.” He fears that if he hadn’t interrupted her when he did she would run out of oxygen. Did she even breathe during her spiel? A voice in his head, that sounds like Cass, utters a soft ‘pot, kettle’ and okay, he sees a lot of himself in her mile-a-minute style of speaking. 

“No need to apologize. I’m flattered, truly. You were right, I was taking pictures of you. And your friends!” he hastily adds that last part. He turns his camera so the display screen faces her and he feels himself hold his breath in anticipation. 

A blush rises to her cheeks, red like the ladybug that interrupted her. He quite likes that colour on her. His eyes drift to the sketch and he’s further impressed by her skill. She has an eye for detail. He notices a bird in the background. It’s a robin. That piques his interest and lights a flicker of fear within him. 

“May I ask,” he begins slowly, unsure of what that little addition could mean. Did she know? How could she? Was his identity compromised?

“Why did you draw a robin in the background? It’s lovely but I’m curious,” he finishes. He’s going to play dumb until he has more information. She seems taken off guard by the question and raises her shoulders to her ears again in an embarrassed hunch.

“Well,” she starts, but she seems unsure and the words die on her tongue. She tries again.

“I just saw it fly by and then it landed behind you. So I thought ‘why not?’ and drew it. It seemed fitting.” She wasn’t looking him in the eye and now he felt kind of felt like a jerk for baselessly accusing some random girl. Of course it was just a coincidence. This bat-paranoia was going to be the end of him one day. It’s by sheer miracles and luck why it hasn’t already. 

“Oh, no worries. It just surprised me because it’s my favourite bird.” Right. Lie to the pretty French girl. But what else could he do? Tell her the truth?

“Then it’s a cool coincidence, huh?” She seems encouraged by that tidbit of information.

“Yeah, pure luck on your part.”

“What?” She seems more startled at that than Tim thinks she should be but before he can think deeper into it she speaks again and he would be a fool to not give her his undivided attention.

“Why did you take a picture of me with the ladybug? If you don’t mind me asking.” That stumps him because, to be honest, he does not know why himself. It just felt right. So he tells her as such.

“Well that would be another coincidence because ladybugs are my favourite insects.” She gives him a full smile alongside that statement and the brilliance of it almost blinds him. He wants to capture that smile for eternity. 

The thought strikes him. He doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows by the Friday of next week he’ll be flying back to Gotham where it’s business as usual and Red Robin won’t have time for commitments and puppy love. But right now? Right now Tim Drake is on vacation with a week and half left and all the time in the world to entertain the idea of a spring romance. Making the decision, he goes for it and takes the chance.

“I was getting a bit hungry. Do you know anywhere that’s good to eat at?” It’s an offer, open to interpretation. If she just lists some place, he knows where her interests lay. If she offers to escort him somewhere, then she’s taken the bait for exactly what it is, an invitation for more; whatever more is. He hopes she takes the bait. 

“Yes I do actually! My parents own a bakery just outside the park.” Her enthusiasm is uplifting and the offer of a place so personal is a good sign in Tim’s book. “Let me show the way, and I could join you if you would like.”

“Perfect. That’s wonderful. It will be my treat since you’re going out of your way on my account.”

“Nonsense. Like I said, it’s my parents’ bakery. They’ll be more than happy to give some complimentary snacks.” She loops her arm around his and begins to drag him to the park gate. She’s strong and her grip is firm and Tim feels lightheaded at the ease with which she pulls him. He can’t help but be swept up in the tides that is this girl. 

“I’m Tim, by the way. Tim Drake.” He offers his name, something he should have done at the beginning.

She looks back at him over her shoulder and he’s caught up in the oceans of her eyes. They’re alight with joy. 

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

“Nice to meet you too.”

They’re almost by the bakery now, he can smell the fresh baked goods from here, and he can’t wait to sit down and get to know this girl better. Maybe get her number by the end of their lunch.

Yeah. Tim was having a wonderful day.

[gogogobarry]

I HIT UNFOLLOW BY ACCIDENT WHEN I MEANT TO HIT ASK IM SO SORRY but either way! what drew you to rping barry all the way back in 2013? what's kept his muse so strong, despite approaching nearly 10 years? were there points where you didn't play him at all, or has he always been consistent?

ADA!! ASK DAN ANYTHING | accepting

[ FIRST OF ALL, no worries!! I SUPPOSE I can find it in my heart to forgive you...thanks for such an awesome ask!!

When I was looking for new creative writing outlets back in 2012-2013, I stumbled across what was then a very small Pokemon RP group on Tumblr. I joined up with an elderly Gambler Trainer OC and immediately took a liking to the scene. The group was full of insanely talented writers, artists, and creators--some of whom I still talk to today!--and I noticed that nearly all of them played conflicted or super serious characters (there’s nothing wrong with that btw!) What this group could use, I remember thinking, is a character who’s an blindingly bright ray of sunshine. And so, enter this blog right here. Enter Barry.

When I first started playing Barry back then, he was a total clown and an absolute meme, not meant to be taken seriously at all. My main goal with him was to farm Laughs. I was perfectly fine making him the butt of every joke, or injecting him into the most ridiculous AUs. No seriousness was allowed.

However, over time, I got inspired by my group to write serious hcs, explore Barry’s conflicts more, and create a more multifaceted image of the character. I still love writing Barry’s sheer amount of positive energy and bright-eyed enthusiasm, but I think I’m also careful not to let him devolve into just a “gotta run fast gonna fine you meme man” or some clown caricature of a portrayal (even if I sometimes gleefully toe that line.) I know that there are people in the fandom who think my boy’s too annoying, too hyper--but I like to think that I’ve developed Barry beyond those stereotypes, and he’s still growing in unexpected ways (PLA verse hello!!) thanks to many great people in the indie space. I can’t wait to see where he goes next, ‘cause I’m not planning on stopping. :)  

I’ve kept Barry around for so long because writing him honestly has proven to be a great stress reliever for me. Like Barry, I’ve always set my mind on one goal after the next--breaks be damned--and, as a result, my life has changed so much over these past ten years (no crap, lol.) I’ve always loved writing, but my first job was at a newspaper, where my writing was regularly axed with red pen. I worked at PR agency, where I felt like I was creating supremely fake content, not my own words. During my master’s, my final project was revised over and over again by others before it was approved. Even today, my job requires a lot of “business speak,” so I have to constantly monitor my language. When I RP, I have full control of what I want to say and create. When I write Barry, I can write silly, heartfelt, unfiltered things and just express myself without someone always looking over my shoulder for once! Ironically, writing Barry (+others) helps me relax (while also still serving as a really fun creative outlet/escape!)

I took a small break from this site from 10/2019 to 05/2020 because of said IRL stuff and adjusting to That One World Event, but I’m so glad I took the leap back into this scene. As overwhelming as the indie space can be sometimes, I’m grateful for the people I’ve met here/have interacted with so far! So, even as I continue to pump out novels for posts, I hope people are still enjoying Barry too. We’re gonna keep shining a light around here. :) ] 

[ka-go-me]

「巫女」:: She was amused internally at how he inhaled the food like there was no tomorrow, though she didn't know if she was surprised about it. He fit the bill of many stereotypical shounen heroes. Which could be odd. But she didn't bother to question it.

. She waited patiently for him to finish though, and then arched her brows slightly as he claimed that he was a monster. She didn't sense any youki from him, so clearly he wasn't a youkai, ayakashi, or bakemono. So, maybe he meant it figuratively. In which case she lacked the information about him in any capacity to make such a judgment call, so she made no verbal comment on his self-assessment.

Instead, she drew in a breath and sat back a little bit as he asked her if she was one to look for trouble or have it find her. She gave the inquiry a few seconds thought.::

. "Truthfully? Is it possible to be both? Because I often have trouble find me--but also, on other occasions, go out looking for it. Kind of a part of and comes with my job."

. ::She canted her head a little and frowned as he claimed he didn't want to talk about it. Pursing her lips a little, she pulled her legs up on the stools she was sitting on and sat cross-legged then, her pursed lips came together to be pressed into a line instead before she mused.::

. "And who have you told before? I get the sense--you haven't really told anyone about your plights for a long time. Maybe--it's got nothing to do with want---maybe you need to share your problems with someone.--It could help ease your load some. Because you look like the world is on your back."

He thought, maybe, he could finish every scrap of food in front of him, the momentum carrying on until everything from the table to the utensils were gone! Another scrap for the digestive system! Whatever the case, the morsels he had been given was at least enough to take the painful sting out of his stomach, leaving him with a much more cohesive step forward. He knew it wouldn't be long before he was right back where he started, but he couldn't let those thoughts cloud the way forward.

He sat, taking the first inhaled breath since he started devouring everything that was in front of him, letting everything settle back into place while his blue, blue eyes shifted to focus on Kagome. It might be rude, him staring, though it wasn't exactly her he was casting the entirety of his focus on. His eyes flitted about with the rotation of his thoughts, trying to keep up. Although he'd finally gotten something to fill his stomach, he was hardly of sound mind and body.

"Hm." A sound finally emerged past his lips. "Actually, I'm the monster." He said it in such a calm manner, it couldn't be true, and yet, there it was. "Are you someone who goes looking for trouble? Or does it often come to you?" Since fate had dragged him to that point, he thought maybe that wasn't as unlikely as it sounded. Though, she said it was her duty to serve in those ways, so maybe trouble was just part of her days, like it had once been for him.

"It's not that I...." He finally broke his gaze, looking up toward the ceiling. "It's not that I don't think you're capable. It's a long story. Honestly, I don't want to talk about it, let alone think about it." And yet he was forced to think about it every second. Hence his need to be on the move at all.

[lonely-harts]

Febuwhump- Day Twenty-Six: ‘Please don’t do this’

Content warnings for this chapter: Er, untrue racist stereotypes of fae eating babies? Other than that its just emotional whump/angst from not being completely honest

“Chris does not need you around right now, stay inside your house. You need to sort yourself out before you can talk to him again without hurting him,” appealed Auðr, standing in the way of the door.

Chris was outside, laying back in the leaves and despite the chilly February air, he felt warm and cosy. Kóri was laying down beside him, his memory of something close to this just on the edge of his mind.

Jonty nodded and backed off, moving rather like a wounded puppy back into his cold cold home.

Auðr satisfied he wouldn’t return, closed the door and picked up their fiddle which lay by the door. They winced as they did so, open wounds filled with salt still covering their arms. They sighed, playing would be the only way to heal those wounds and Chris’s.

“Right, are you ready, Chris?” Auðr asked softly, looking down at the quietly content face of Chris.

He looked up, their hair hanging so low it was nearly touching him. Auðr’s eyes were trying to smile, but there was a pain behind them.

“Please don’t hurt yourself playing now, I’m sure we can heal with time,” Chris suggested, thinking the pain was physical.

Auðr shook their head. “No, this needs to be healed now,” they explained.

“Okay, I trust you.”

Auðr put their hand to their chest, those simple words cutting at them. Knowing what they hadn’t said for a month and a half of knowing Chris. But they nodded anyway and walked back from Chris to play.

Kóri watched Chris’s eyes came alive and sparkled like the stars as Auðr played. And this man called him beautiful. I would love to be your muse, he wanted to whisper, but he couldn’t for he knew where Chris’s heart was already, with the one who made his eyes shimmer so beautifully.

“How are you?” Auðr asked as they finished the piece of music.

“So so happy,” confessed Chris, sitting up. His smile, though one of true happiness and no malice, threatened to cut Auðr again. They had to hurt him and in turn, that would hurt them.

Kóri looked meaningfully at Auðr, still laying on the leafy forest floor. You need to tell him a lot, Auðr, it's only fair. He needs to know himself and your feelings for him.

Auðr looked down, joining Chris in sitting cross-legged. “Chris, it got a bit wild in Jonty’s house, I don’t know what you remember of you saying, me saying, Kóri saying, any of it, but there are some things you need to know and they might not make you happy.”

“Oh,” Chris said softly, his smile dropping away. “My mind is already trying to claim all that happened in there was a nightmare. But yes, it really happened. I need to know if I need to know.”

Auðr closed their eyes, took a deep breath and opened their eyes again. “Okay, here I go,” they began. “I know from how I’ve seen you act and from what Kóri has told me, you have a romantic fondness for me.”

Chris bit his lip and fiddled with the hem of his jumper.

“I love you, Chris, but not in the way that you want or… need for that matter. I’m over one thousand years old, closer to one thousand five hundred years old. Yes, fae have larger age gaps than humans, I know couples and triads who are two centries apart in age but… I just feel… no. It wouldn’t be right for me to love you in the way you’re growing to love me. You’re more like a son, or like a friend who is my student. So, I ask, can we be friends, like you first asked?”

Chris drew his knees into his chest and began to cry. “It’s because I’m human, isn’t it? I’m sorry so many humans have hurt you, I promise-”

“No, it's not because you’re human because you…” Auðr took a shaky breath and Chris’s hand.

Chris looked up at Auðr, fighting to see the emotions on their face through his own tears.

You can do it, Kóri reassured Auðr, his soft seaside voice giving them a little more strength.

“It’s not because you’re human,” Auðr tried again. “Because you aren’t human.”

Chris snatched his hand back and Auðr’s lingered, wishing they could take those words back just as swiftly.

“What do you mean, I’m not human?” Chris said in disbelief.

“You’re fae, like me and Kóri. You’re a changeling though so I don’t-”

“P-Please don’t do this!” Chris stuttered. “Jonty p-put me through so so much and now you tell me I can’t go home to my mum because she isn’t mine?”

Auðr tried to soothe Chris, opening their arms for a hug but he leaned away. “But she is your mother, she cared for you from the day you were in her arms, she raised you and loved you. She is your mum and you are her son!”

“Not truly, you people stole her real son! And probably ate him!”

Chris, said Kóri sternly. We fae do not snatch or eat babies. That is a lie.

“Get out!” yelled Chris as he stood up. “Get out of my head, both of you!”

“Chris, please, you’ll need our help in the next few weeks,” begged Auðr. “Before you fully come into yourself.”

Chris shook his head and backed away. “No. Whatever the hell that means, no. You asked my birthday, all those weeks ago, because you knew about this and you didn’t tell me, Auðr. You let me get hurt by Jonty over and over when I’m like you and could have done some magic thing to make it stop!”

Chris, Kóri said softer this time. We all got hurt by Jonty, nothing could have prevented that.

“I told you to get out,” screamed Chris holding a handful of leaves. “You stupid see-through… stupid… stupid…” Chris fumbled for an insult but when he looked at the quivering form of Kóri, his ocean blue eyes wobbling with airy tears, he knew he couldn’t do it. 

Instead he half-heartedly threw the fistful of leaves at him, swirling in his body for a moment before dropping to the ground. Chris didn’t watch though, rather he turned and began to run through the woods, tears streaming down his face, and they burned. They burned harshly; the salty water confirming all to be true.

@febuwhump

[oatmilkslytherin]

fine line (d.malfoy)

description: it’s notorious that draco and fem!reader don’t exactly get along with one another, so much so that it’s seemingly become a part of their personalities. when a heated argument leads to an even more heated kiss, they learn how to draw the line between love and hate.

pairing: draco malfoy x non slytherin!fem!reader

warnings: none ??

requested: yes / no

taglist: @jud3cardan​ @dray-cookies​ 

a/n: sorry for my brief disappearance:) requests are open still i love you all

y/n’s pov:

there was a fine, fine line between love and hate. i knew i absolutely loved days when clouds brushed across the blue painted sky, shielding the castle in brief moments of cool shade. i adored the feeling of new ink on parchment. and i yearned for the feeling of the first bite of an apple when they were freshly picked from the trees. 

however, i knew i absolutely detested waking up early. i loathed the feeling of dry, cracked hands along my bedspread. and with every fiber of my being, i hated draco lucius malfoy.

it started off as nothing more than his pure distaste for the stereotypes that circulated amongst my house. then, it slowly progressed to his annoyance of my attitude whenever he acted like the spoilt little kid he was. now, in our sixth year, draco and i practically spat on each other every chance we got, never missing an opportunity to spew words of hatred towards each other whether the other was present or not.

today was nothing short of this. draco definitely did not hesitate to rip me into pieces when he caught me sneaking out of my common room past curfew. him being a prefect now, it only gave him more of an excuse to be so cruel towards me. after a while, you’d think i’d learn to be more careful when he was doing his rounds. 

i didn’t.

i crept around the corner, one of my hands gliding along the cold stone wall and the other tightly gripping my wand on the off-chance i would run into any professors or the caretaker, filch. 

my eyes squinted in attempt to adjust to the incredibly dim lightly that consumed the corridors. each step i took was one of caution, being extra mindful of the echoing walls that surrounded me as my feet padded along the hall. 

i knew it was stupid to be sneaking out so late especially when i’ve been caught a handful of times by none other than draco himself. however, the thrill was absolutely intoxicating. besides, when my best friends owled me to tell me they convinced the house elves to make them the most luxurious treats, i couldn’t pass an opportunity like this up.

i turned the last corner before my destination, about to break out into a quiet sprint before my body collided with a much larger stature. i let out an audible ‘oof’ as i found myself pressed against my counterpart, my hands reaching out to grasp anything to keep my unstable body from collapsing. the first thing my hands managed to grasp was the fabric of some expensive-feeling material. 

my eyes darted up immediately as i felt two hands wrap around my forearms, gripping into my skin tightly. i gulped audibly as i peered up at the figure, my throat going dry as anticipation coursed through my veins and into my thudding heart.

“y/l/n... why am i not surprised?” his voice made me shudder as i frantically released the fabric of his dress shirt from my grip. his hands, however, stayed resting on my forearms, containing me in our close proximity. 

“gonna turn me in now, malfoy?” i scoffed, attempting to suppress the nervousness coursing through me. draco only smirked at my words, eyeing me with an intense ferocity that made my knees buckle.

“actually, i’m not assigned to do my rounds tonight. you’re lucky i caught you and not zabini,” draco mused, his smirk impossibly cocky as he stared into me. i rolled my eyes, attempting to wriggle my arms from his grip, but he was relentless.

“you’re absolutely infuriating, malfoy,” i muttered, taking a step back from him. draco’s hold on me only tightened as he pulled me back towards him, our bodies pressed together so close that i could feel his warm breath fan across my face as i craned my neck up to glare at him.

“as are you, y/l/n,” draco spat back, his cocky smirk dissolving into the usual look of hatred and annoyance he had whenever he saw me. i had half a mind to just walk away and leave the situation as it was, but the other part of me was flooded with adrenaline and the overwhelming desire to pick a fight in the dead of night.

“i could be worse. at least i don’t walk around acting like i own the school just because my daddy’s rich,” i sneered, a smirk of my own finding home on my lips. draco pursed his lips together, his jaw clenching as his pressed his fingertips into the skin of my arm. 

“watch your mouth, y/l/n. it’s gonna get you in big trouble one day,” draco muttered, his eyes glazing over with a looming darkness. i didn’t listen to his warning, though, knowing that i had the upper-hand for the first time in a long time in this dispute.

“big like your ego? honestly, malfoy, you-”

my rambling was cut off by his lips on mine. my breathing hitched immediately as i felt the softness against me, my eyes widening momentarily as i felt frozen in place. i contemplated the entire scenario, wondering if this was real life or just some convoluted dream i was having. 

after my momentary crisis of surprise, i melted into the kiss, the tenseness of my shoulders dissolving as i moved my lips against his. the kiss was full of rage and years of hatred between us, our lips moving frantically and passionately against one another’s. draco pulled me even closer to him, our bodies now melting into one another’s as he traced circles into the skin of my forearm. 

my heart was beating out of my chest, i was sure he could feel it due to our close proximity. never in a million years did i think i’d be kissing my sworn enemy in the middle of a dark corridor hours past curfew. but, here we were. was it stupid to say that i kind of liked it?

draco pulled away from the kiss first. our breathing was heavy and uneven, and even in the dim light i could see his swollen lips and the soft red hue that painted his porcelain skin. he looked just as flustered as i felt. 

“you’re absolutely infuriating. i loathe you with every bone in my body. but, merlin have i wanted to do that for the longest time,” draco spoke finally, his words coming out slightly faltered and shaky from his jagged breathing. i could only smirk up at him when he spoke, moving my arms from his grasp and wrapping them around his neck.

“there’s a fine line between love and hate. in fact, i don’t think you hate me at all,” i laughed, making draco roll his eyes. his hands moved to grip my hips, keeping my body pressed against his. 

“not at all,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. i couldn’t help but notice how sheepish he looked in this moment. it was a nice change of scenery considering i’ve spent the last five years staring at his glowering eyes and wicked smirk. 

“in that case, i don’t hate you either. not at all,” i teased, moving my lips closer to his once more. draco’s breathing hitched as our lips brushed against one another’s.

“you’re so annoying, just kiss me again,” draco muttered as his grip tightened on my waist. i smiled as i happily obliged, pressing our lips together once more in a much softer, needier way.

after so many years of hating draco, maybe i was just confused where we actually drew the line.

[kxllerblond]

Clark bites back as smile as he lifts his glass and he has to hope he looks a normal amount of mused and not the sort of type of amused a wolf might look seeing a rabbit stumble over its own feet-—funny since one of them here was literally a wolf and it was in fact not him.

❝ Teddy, you're doing fine. Dates, especially firsts, are supposed to be fun. Try and focus on that. ❞ as awkward and stiff as he could be with connections, with getting to know someone on a deeper level-—first dates were a breeze for him. First dates were sizing one another up, were seeing surface traits that either drew you in or pushed you away. It was the small talk of relationships. Surface fun and meaningless if that's all you wanted them to be but with plenty of room to then pursue something deeper.

Clark looks about, blinking a bit dumbly as if he wasn't quite sure what Teddy meant. ❝ It's a pretty stereotypical location I assumed would be fine. If it's not your scene, we can leave. Truthfully, I myself prefer quieter places if I'm looking for something...❞ he searched for the words, thumbing at the edge of his glass. ❝...with substance. ❞ because he liked Teddy, he felt drawn to him. Interested on a genuine level that was just mildly terrifying when he really let himself sit with his thoughts and acknowledge it.

But as nerve-wracking as the idea was that he wanted to genuinely get to know someone on a, god forbid, truly personal level-—he'd made it this far and seemed set on pursuing it with gusto. ❝ Wherever you want. Name it and we'll go. ❞

other chooses whiskey too, and teddy is immediately curious, wondering if clark truly prefers the beverage like himself, or if he's simply matching what teddy's giving. he doesn't question it though, doesn't think they're at the point of challenging in this delicate first date balance. there's an art to these things, one that the werewolf is almost certain he's fucking up because clark feels the need to call him out on his obvious tension. shoulders drop from around neck and he gives a little sardonic smile to himself as bartender hands them their drinks.

❝ i'm, uh, trying. this dating thing is . . . new to me. ❞ to put it lightly. he'd only been familiar with his pack up until recently, up until losing them; the various facets he has to adapt to now is almost overwhelming. but this is nice, he thinks, though he's making it more awkward than it has to be. and then clark asks what exactly he means by private, and the werewolf flushes with a hot streak of sudden arousal at the mention of taking each other back home. ❝ ―i meant quiet corner of a diner, personally. is this more your scene ? ❞ he gives a look around the room.

[realm-sweet-realm]

A Worthwhile Investment, chapter 2

Please enjoy this Shawn x Grant story. It is a part of my canon.

Thankfully, Shawn and Grant were able to sneak out undetected. Shawn knew the warehouse Norman had told them to meet at- the one Lacie worked in, roughly two blocks from the studio and not visible from it. From there, they called a cab to take them to a bar (as Norman had promised and Shawn had reminded him) and declared themselves safe.

“Uh, sorry the raid was a bust,” Shawn said.

“It wasn’t.” Norman held up a set of keys. “I can go anywhere I want in the studio now, whenever. And I saw Sammy Lawrence wearing a Bendy mask. I knew it. I knew he was a part of this. I’m gonna crack this if it kills me.”

“Sure you will,” Lacie drawled. “Mind telling us why this is your choice of hobby? Like, why are you like this?” Shawn could tell that she was using her friendly cold, judgmental tone, which was different from her genuinely cold, judgmental tone. He hoped Norman could, too.

“Like I’d tell you. What, you think I’d ask for your life story just like that?”

“I’ll tell it. I ain’t got nothing to hide. I was born to two crack-addicted pieces of shit, so I learned to rely on the parents of neighbourhood kids on days they decided not to care for me. It was like that basically my entire life before my sister sorted herself out and I moved in with her. But it taught me I could take care of myself, so I didn’t mind moving with Bertrum wherever he went, and I didn’t cry when he retired.”

“And it’s a good thing he retired, or I might not’ve met Lacie when ah did. Bein’ an immigrant, away from home for the first time an’ barely speaking teh language- it woulda been real lonely otherwise. Of course, Ah make friends easy, but I’m still glad she was one'a them.”

Lacie’s sharp eyes landed on Grant. They’d only met once before and neither had been too comfortable with the other. “And what about you, Grant? Anything interesting in your past?”

“Oh, no. Normal upbringing. Parents who loved me. Nothing special.” It was lame, but it was the truth.

The four of them kept chatting for about an hour.

How did I end up surrounded by the three strongest people I know? Grant wondered. Most of his friends growing up had been cousins or kids of family friends, and his social circle hadn’t diversified much since, until he met Shawn and Norman. Comparatively, these three were freaks. But they were all so respectable, and honestly, Shawn and Norman were some of the best friends he’d ever had.

Life in general had given Grant a lot to be thankful for as of late. The early thirties had been hard on him- after the stock market crashed, he’d gone through a job loss, the collapse of his marriage, some domestic abuse, his divorce, and losing custody of his children. But now? Things were alright. He had a new job, and the studio was, generally speaking at least, holding steady financially. Against all odds, his daughters seemed to be fine living with their mother- maybe she had been serious about working on herself for them. Grant cherished the time he did have with them, and though he hated to admit it, he was much happier divorced. And of course, now he had these two. It was while he was there, listening to the three of them talk, that he realized that he was currently the most content he’d been in years.

Shawn had had a few drinks by that point, and leaned on Grant as though he intended to fall asleep on him.

“I think I should take Shawn home. Norman, can we talk about something tomorrow? In the projector booth.”

“Of course,” Norman said. Something in the way he said it told Grant that he already knew what it would be about.

---

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Norman asked, as if he didn’t already know.

“It’s about Shawn,” Grant started. How much to say? He figured that Norman knew he was gay- very little escaped Norman’s notice, after all- but maybe Norman was only okay with that because he didn’t act on it.

“You know Sammy Lawrence?” Norman mused, looking through the window into the music room. “For a long time, he was dating his- very much male, I should mention- lyricist. I saw them making out once- this gorgeous pretty boy and this middle-aged marshmallow- I guess love is blind and all that. I’ve got no damning evidence of it, but I’d bet anything that Joey Drew is gay as well. And I could go on! This studio has more queer people than you would believe, and my powers tell me about more than just existential dreads.” There was a pause. Norman turned back to look at Grant. “So. As a living lie-detector, one of the best gaydars you’ll ever see on a straight man, and your best friend of over half a decade who would never betray you... you can tell me anything about what’s going on with him.”

Grant gave a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you’re okay with this. And yes, I’m considering dating Shawn.”

“Great. He likes you- I could tell.”

“Thanks. But I already knew- he kissed me suddenly about ten days ago. I didn’t know how to react, and I kind of froze up, and I told him that I liked him, but I needed to think about whether we could be together. Up until last night, I thought I’d tell him ‘no-’ I just hadn’t had the willpower to yet. And then I had an epiphany.”

“What was the epiphany?”

“I realized that I respect a bunch of very unconventional people- yourself included- so it’s okay that I’m not perfectly conventional. But... even if it’s not inherently wrong, the idea of acting on it still scares me. If my mother ever found out, it would break her heart. My father would be humiliated if anyone else knew about it, and he might not want to speak to me again. And if it got to my ex-wife, she’d do anything she could to keep me away from my kids- she might even report me. I don’t have to worry about any of that if I don’t act on it. I don’t know... is it even responsible to risk it? These are people I have obligations to. Is it worth it?”

“Well, only you can choose that. But don’t you want a chance at actual love? I mean, I sure like having a loving partner. Why give that up over the risk that someone else might find out?”

“I guess you’re right. Shawn could be my only opportunity for a while. I really don’t know if I want to get involved in whatever culture gay men have going on. If the stereotypes are true, I’d be walking into a group of dangerous people looking to take advantage of a naïve outsider. Of course, they might not be true, but I don’t want to just walk in without knowing. And anyhow, I wouldn’t know how to find anything like that if I tried.”

Norman nodded, taking some time to process everything he’d said. “Alright. Look- you’re overcomplicating a bunch of simple problems by rolling them together into one big problem. Just take it one issue at a time. You want your family to be happy? Make them happy, and don’t worry about something that won’t hurt them. Any partner you might have will know that this kind of thing has to be kept secret, and New York is a big city- you can hide it. You want to date Shawn? Date Shawn. I can tell he makes you happy. You don’t want to get into gay culture without knowing what it’s like? Then don’t. I don’t know anything about their culture, but you have no idea how many gay men are here at Joey Drew Studios. Plenty of people you can ask about it to decide if it’s your thing.”

“Wow. Thank you. You really made that all sound so simple.” Norman had a way of cutting straight to the point.

“Yeah. You’re gonna be okay. Heck, even if you decide not to have a love life after Shawn, I’m glad you’ll be doing it because you’re risk-adverse and not because you’re still ashamed.”

“Thanks again. Now I need to go find Shawn.”

In the end, Grant couldn’t find Shawn before it was time to get back to work, so the next day he left a note in his locker with some flowers. Like a schoolboy. Ridiculous. But that was how Shawn made him feel.

Over the next few years, their relationship went on, and off, and on again. They fought, probably more than the average couple. But overall, they were glad to have each other. It was worth it.    

[vesuvian-american-fics]

True Bloodlust Ch 9

Play The Part

The gala begins, how well can you compose your thirst for violence at a venue filled to the brim with the Glam Gas Land Mafia. (AO3)

Words: 1,411

The next morning passed in a blur. Feitan woke to find you fully dressed and patting at his head to wake him gently.  

“We’re about to go over the job one last time.” You said in a soft quiet tone.  

He shot you annoyed glare before sitting up on the bed blinking the sleep from his eyes. You smiled at him playfully before heading into the living room with the others.  

As Feitan entered, the five of you discussed the plan for this evening.  

You and Shalnark will enter the gala as a couple in disguise, the goal is to find and steal a 175,000 jenny check without harming or killing anyone in attendance. You huffed in disappointment at that, making Shalnark chuckle in response.  

“Sounds like no fun.” You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest. Nobunaga sighed before taking a sip of his drink.  

“Well, me and my hot date need clothes to look the part for tonight, right?” Shalnark added, before sending you a playful wink.  

Phinks glanced at Feitan to garner his reaction at that exchange but outwardly, Feitan was unaffected. You sighed as you rose from your seat to head towards the door.  

“Let’s head out Shal! Be back soon!” And obediently, Shalnark followed hot on your heels. Feitan  sucked his teeth before rising from his seat and heading to the door as well.  

“Where are you going?!” Phinks barked, but his question went unanswered as Feitan continued towards the door.  

Nobunaga made quick work of closing the door just as Feitan was about to pass through and follow you.  

“They got you going soft Fei?” Phinks toyed, those words caused Feitan to stop in his tracks, his frustration building.  

“I don’t think they’d like being stalked...” Nobunaga added, hoping to bring Feitan back inside to wait on your return properly. Feitan growled deep in his throat before slinking back inside and dropping onto the couch. The frown plastered on his face made Nobunaga chuckle.  

“I like whatever you two have going on but don’t get too caught up. We have more important things to worry about.” The samurai commented before patting Feitan on the shoulder.  

“Don’t insult me.” He snapped, shrugging Nobunaga’s hand off of him. Nobunaga withdrew his hands apologetically.  

“Of course, of course.” He uttered, a smug grin on his lips. He scratched his cheek absentmindedly as he fell back deeper into the couch, thinking of a way to pass the time.  

...

As the hours drew on, and the sun began to set, you and Shalnark were dressed and ready for the gala. Nobunaga scoffed, still thinking he fit the bill for this event much better than Shalnark .  

“You two look too young. Like someone’s lost children.” Phinks commented, folding his muscular arms together annoyed at missing out on the work.  

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” Nobunaga added, fixing Shalnark’s crooked neck tie. Feitan remained silent, always being a man of few words. Deep inside however, he couldn’t deny that you looked stunning just like the first time he saw you.  

“Whatever!” Shalnark said, whipping out a pair of glasses he fashioned for you to wear this evening.  

He placed them delicately atop your nose and took a step back to make sure everything was situated correctly. These glasses worked as a disguise and as a camera to feed the actions of the night live back to the base and the hotel television. That way Chrollo and the others could watch firsthandhow well you could handle yourself on your first job alone.  

You wiggled the glasses further up your nose before turning to Feitan and grinning.  

“How do I look?” You said shooting him a sweet smile and twirling your hair childishly. Feitan stared at your blankly before sucking his teeth and answering dryly.  

“Foolish.” He stated plainly, but there was no true venom to his insult and it only served to make you laugh. He shook his head in mock disappointment, the faint smirk on his lips, one only you could catch.  

Shalnark exhaled harshly through his nose, silently laughing at your exchange with the quiet man. He made his way to the door and the two of you set off towards the venue of the ball. On the way, Shalnark reached for his phone making sure your fake glasses were recording and the feed was broadcasting properly to Chrollo and the others at the hotel.  

Feeling giddy, you looped your arm together with Shalnark , that way the two of you looked more like a couple and not "lost children". You were greeted kindly by the valet and when stepping inside, you quickly spotted the host of the event sticking out hideously like a sore thumb in his emerald sequin suite.

Shalnark was quick to pick up on something else as well. There was an alarming amount of mafia in attendance of the gala. Shalnark whispered to you and your glasses inconspicuously as his eyes scanned over the room.  

“Boss, did you know so many mafias would be here?” He asked, a playful lilt to his tone since he was already sure of the answer. Back at the base Chrollo chuckled to himself.  

“Let’s see how you two handle this, shall we?” Taking a sip of his wine, the boss leaned back comfortably in his large chair. He loosened his tie from around his neck and swirled his drink as he watched the screen in anticipation.  

The rest of the spiders watched from a different television, giving the boss his privacy. He needed peace and quiet to analyze the footage carefully and they all knew Uvogin couldn’t help but being talkative, rooting the two of you on whilst simultaneously complaining that he couldn’t tag along at the top of his lungs.

The fine hairs over your body rose in excitement, you wondered if the mafia would play nice or if you’d have to get physical. For that you hoped, and maybe Chrollo anticipated this after all. How could you navigate a tense situation like this, slipping away from the venue crawling with mafia men without spilling a drop of blood. Interesting play, Boss.  

...

The hours drew on as you and your blonde colleague played as a happy couple. It was quite boring for the two of you but, you did your best to entertain the rich folk slithering about the gala. Rich snobby people like these were your main targets in the past, it was hard not sinking your teeth into them and getting a taste of that sweet blood. However, Shalnark kept your composed, and you were eager to please your new boss in hopes of having a more secure spot within the Spiders.  

Finally, just as the clock struck 12 the object of your mission was about to make its day view. An oversized, and obviously fake check was walked across the main stage and handed off from the host to another stumpy stupidly rich man. He wore a stereotypical top hat and monocle, pairing perfectly with a signature curly mustache. “Absolutely cartoonish”, you whispered to yourself. Unknown to you, earning a smirk from Feitan.  

You faked your clapping along with the other guests as the winner signed his signature on the decoy check, all the while your eyes darted about the room noticing any shifty activity from the Mafia.  

Unfortunately for you, it seems the Mafia was somehow growing suspicious of you and Shalnark , because you found many of them already had their eyes on you. A chill ran down your spine, but not one of fear, no, it was a chill of exhilaration. You gave Shalnark’s arm a light squeeze to garner his attention.  

“Seems the mafia has spotted us.” A kittenish tone to your voice, Shalnark could only smile at the comment.  

“Oh really? Fun.” He said, smiling harder at you while you grinned right back.  

As if on cue, Shalnark’s bat shaped phone vibrated against his chest, must be the Boss. You listened intently to the one-sided conversation, anticipating any good news.  

“He wishes us good luck, if they try anything, we have the green light to engage.” He mused, feeling you practically vibrate with enthusiasm. Feitanwas feeling giddy himself, thrilled to witness your power in such a tense situation. Just how strong were you?  

“ Perfect . ♥” You purred, a sultry air to your voice that made Hisoka quirk his brow back at the base. Finally, some real fun.