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lokisgoodgirl · 5 months ago

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Successional Pleasure: The Rite (II)

A Masterlist for The Rite is here A link to my regular Masterlist is here Summary: (2) Loki arranges a meeting, and you're offered the opportunity of a lifetime (w/c 4.8k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Thirsting for unattainable royals. Language. Heavy petting. Ridiculous Asgardian HC lore. Smuttish.

This morning the palace criers announced mandatory palace court attendance for all of Asgard.

Word travels fast, you muse as another person shoves into your shoulder; especially when the Odinsons will be in full ceremonial dress.

A swell ripples through the crowd, pulsing forward. Only one row of people stand in front of you, and the guards lining the jostling mass are becoming impatient.

You always make an effort for these events; everyone does. However bland and self-aggrandising the subject matter (and with the Allfather, when is it not?) – one never knows who’ll attention you’ll draw. But this time, it’s different.

This time, as you fixed your hair and let your solitary maid tighten the laces of your dress – there was only one person you wanted to impress. Him. Because this time, for the first time, he may actually notice you.

But that’s madness, you think as you try and focus. His lovers are legendary. He has his pick of…anyone. Literal deities.

But then, the memory of Prince Loki’s glistening chest emerging from the palace baths with wet hair plastered over his brow as he grunted through his orgasm erupts in your mind. That’s a memory not easily forgotten. In fact, it’s very easily encouraged. And each time you think of it, more layers appear.

In the extended, delusional version, he crosses the pool, the lapping water licking around his proud cock snug to his stomach as he wages a path to cage you by the stone edge and—

Trumpets blare. “They’re here,” a woman beside you squeals. Her hand flies to yours, clawing with unhinged excitement. The guards straighten, spears thudding against marble in ceremonial greeting.

He probably does that shit all the time; wanking in the palace baths with people he doesn’t know. He won’t see you amongst thousands of faces. That’s madness. But when it came to Loki Odinson, didn’t that make it more likely? Nerves tighten your stomach. The glint of their ostentatious headwear is the first sign of approach; two small figures against the expanse of the ancient doors floor to ceiling of the hall. Cheers thunders like a burst dam through a canyon as they move in sync down the wide aisle, each set of guards they pass thunking their staff in salute. Each thud made your pussy clench. And finally, you catch sight of his face.

It's the picture of haughty expectation at the wild crowds losing their minds as he passes. Every slice and draw of his bone structure is set like marble. He’s above it all; stunning decorative armour that would be absolutely no use in battle accenting broad shoulders at sharp angles. Impeccable posture, as ever. Today, the prince wears full leathers beneath – ridiculously fitted trousers which melded seamlessly to a forest green tunic stitched in golden trim.

To complete the act of war that’s his outfit, a stiff collar cut to the curve of his jawline sweeps up to his earlobes; a solitary curl of ebony hair lying against the leather, freed from his helmet. Thor wears the same red and garish gold he always does, beaming greedily at the crowds.

Your eyes roam over Loki’s sweeping entrance and you smile to yourself that the last time you’d seen him – he’d been naked. The woman beside you begins to breathe heavily as they draw closer. You have no idea, you smirk.

Loki’s cape billows with theatrical elegance down the open aisle, and you wonder briefly if his magic has something to do with it. Thor’s certainly doesn’t flutter around his ankles with the same effortless gravitas. Thor’s doesn’t undulate with every stride, timed with the military precision of its master’s thighs.

The guard in front of you lifts his spear, ready to thrust it to the marble floor. You hold your breath, biting your lip, their glory radiating with each falling step. And then, time seems to stop. Because then, Loki, Prince of Asgard, looks at you. His eyes flicker to the side, narrowing softly in your direction. A low dimple in his cheek flashes, only for a moment. And then - -thunk

The metal clang makes you jump out your skin, and by the time you get your bearings, the princes have moved on. They each face the platform, sinking on one knee with bowed heads while Odin pats down the cheers. He begins to rumble on, something about war, or tradition or blah blah.

The dark prince’s jawline is a work of art as he kneels in performatively rapt attention. With each swallow, his cheekbones flash. The golden helmet highlights the harsh lines of his face, lids dropping every few minutes as he struggles not to roll his eyes. You smile.

“Oh that’s good,” the woman beside you hums. You frown at her, concentration broken. It was her turn to frown. She shakes her head, gazing back to Odin. “Thor reached a treaty with Muspelheim.”

The next hour passes slowly, and for once, you’re grateful. When Odin stops, it’s the Crown Prince’s turn to regale the audience of thousands with his diplomatic success. Only half-listening, you use the time to your advantage, perving on Loki kneeling on the polished floor with those long, pale fingers clasped around one knee. When the dark prince stands, the rest of the high-nobles do the same. He whips his cape back, allowing the crowd a gratuitous view of his muscular ass and thighs flexing beneath tight leather while he unfurls. Loki’s imperious eyes scan the heaving crowd with an air of disdain. The look rolls like a sea wind, cold and unforgiving until you feel its weight land on you.

You’re pinned by that stare as plainly as though it’s his hands; his body. Goosebumps ripple beneath your dress. I see you, he mouths silently, subtly, before his gaze falls on his brother once more.

The royal family wave a final time before slipping to the doors at the back of the Great Hall. Loki’s attention hadn’t fallen upon you again, but the waiting. The anticipation; it was exhausting.

Around you, the bustle of a thousand conversations grows to a roar. The front rows of the crowd begin to file out and follow the same path the royal family had taken through the golden doors. High-court, only. Friends and family, that sort of thing. A huge curtain hangs behind the throne, buffeting gently from some unseen breeze. It’s a rich amber with threads of green and red and blue, shimmering patterns that no mortal fingers could accomplish woven over centuries, millennia even.

Gods, noted warriors and chancellors all dutifully bow to the empty throne before circling around the platform and disappearing behind the curtain. On their way to a feast, no doubt.

A set of bird-like fingers wrap around your wrist. With a yank you pull it away, whipping round to see the expectant face of a young boy.

“Get out of here,” you snarl. Pickpockets are rife at these sorts of things. The boy stares. Puberty hadn’t darkened a shadow on his skin, and despite his age, he was un-phased by the abruptness.

“You are requested,” he says, bored eyes searching your face. People jostle by your shoulders in annoyance. “By who?” you scoff. They’d try anything these days.

The boy tugs your hand. “Requested,” he says again as though it explains everything, turning and pulling you earnestly towards the line of guards. With a single glance at an insignia on his tunic, they part for him.

You traipse behind him at pace, clutching long skirts in one fist while eyes in the crowd follow you down the marble aisle against the sea of people and behind the mysterious curtain. “Name?” a voice grunts.

You look from the back of the boy’s head to the bulky figure in front of you. He’s dressed in robes of scarlet, the hint of a dagger’s hilt beneath a thick belt. A wiry red beard hangs down his chest, resting on a buckle of black steel. “I know you not…” he sneers slowly. “No names,” the boy snaps. He barely came up to the gatekeeper’s stomach. “She’s been requested.” The gatekeeper’s face crumples and his eyes dart to the emblem on the boy’s chest before standing aside, holding his tongue.

The youth gestures with his head to follow him, and you do…. down a short corridor flooded with buttery light. Delicate jangling of lutes and laughter ring to ornate cloisters, a glittering view of Asgard below the balcony-walkway taking your breath away. “Hurry,” the boy snips without a backwards look. “Master is not a patient man.”

He claps his small hands three times and a set of golden doors at the end of the cloister swing open. Thor comes into view mid-conversation, still wearing his ceremonial armour, a goblet spilling over the sides clutched in one hand as he gesticulates wildly. There’s a rumble of polite laughter. Your hand shoots out, grabbing the boy’s shoulder.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mutter. He shoots a scathing glance over his shoulder, casting a salty look down to your feet and back again. “You have been—”

“—requested,” you finish petulantly. “Yeah, I know.”

Your ribs thrum as you walk through the doors, pulled by invisible hands. There can only be one person who harbours the desire to have you at this exclusive gathering. And even that’s beyond insanity. Has he mistaken you for someone else? The boy, that is. He’s a barely more than a child. You were about to ask where you should go, when you realise he’s gone. Casting a frantic look around the room it’s evident that familiar groups have already formed, jokes cracking in waves; picking at piles of nuts and fruit and meats. Frigga herself stands by an ornate silver trolley, ladling wine into a goblet while Lofn whispers in her ear. Your knees buckle slightly. There he is.

A small figure works through folds of silk and armoured angles to the back of the room. You follow him, before halting abruptly, steadying yourself against a table. The boy’s come to a stop in front of a shadowed figure, exchanging a conspiratorial nod. Loki Odinson claps him on the back, raising a goblet to his lips. He rests against a pillar, choosing to stay apart from the revels. Watching. Waiting. His eyes meet yours as he sips; dark and dangerous over a rim of gold. One brow twitches upwards in, you presume, greeting. Sweaty palms run slip the front of your dress and you fight the sudden urge to run. It’s pale blue, the finest you own. Which isn’t saying much. The same colour as his eyes, you realise.

The Prince lowers the goblet, cocking his head. He’s still adorned with the ensemble his part in the day’s festivities required save one, the helmet. Dark curls spill freely over the shoulders of the cape fastened to guards beneath, intricate folds of fabric worked to perfection.

He raises a hand, forefinger beckoning twice in subtle succession before lowering it again. Just like the baths, you think with a shameful thrill. Your gaze darts to faces you’ve only seen in paintings around the court as you glide over, trying to look like you belong - but no one bats an eye. Loki unhooks one foot from behind the other, nudging himself off the column. Leather boots gape teasingly around his calves. You wonder, if you beg like a common trollop, if he would fuck you wearing those boots. Only those boots—

“You’re not wearing green,” the Prince drawls. You open your mouth and close it again, irritatingly mute while his blue irises smoulder. “Usually they wear green.” You press your lips together, collecting yourself. “Who?” “Those trying to bed me,” Loki says.

“I’m not trying to—” The prince waves a dismissive hand. “—Catch my attention, then.”

You feel your cheeks heat under scrutiny, a very obvious swallow working its way down your throat. “I don’t know what you mean your Highness,” you say. “You summoned me.”

“Indeed, I did. So I imagine I must have a very good reason,” the Prince murmurs. He brings the pad of a fingertip to his lower lip, brushing it across the skin as you stand in silent bemusement. “Loki! Did you send for a jester? What fun!” You inhale sharply as Fandral slides into view beside your shoulder. His hair is on point this evening, a lush wave cresting over his forehead and swept to the side as his eyes trail to your feet and back to your face. “Oh, my mistake. Just someone getting a little a carried away with the rouge, it seems.” Your stomach tightens. “I’m leaving, your Highness,” you say with a lacklustre bow and a bitter taste in your mouth. “But you do not have my permission,” Loki growls quietly. His feet come into view on the floor and you raise your head, inhaling the sweet breath from his lungs clouding your lips. “More wine, Loki?” Fandral asks brightly, already pouring into Loki’s goblet. The prince’s eyes don’t leave yours, but his mouth hardens.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” he asks through gritted teeth. Fandral looks at you with mock-surprise. “Oh yes, most recent conquest is it? Come for a peek behind the gilded curtain before you’re sent back to the depths of banality? I thought he’d run out of new faces.” He winks; it makes your stomach churn. “She’s not a conquest,” Loki says, hovering the goblet by his lips. “Not one of mine, anyway.”

Your eyes dart to his and catch them narrow slightly. Fandral looks genuinely confused. “Well, what then? Why is she here? Who is she?”

Suddenly there’s a loud crash to the side. Thor stumbles against the table laden with wine-soaked pears and pastries and mounds of tartlets, knocking a pile of cold meats to the ground. He wobbles after them, kneeling on the floor and beginning to pick them off the stones as if they were jewels. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Loki mutters, and you feel the gentle pressure of a hand on your waist. “Walk with me,” he urges in your ear and a shudder rolls down your spine.

“Loki?” Fandral calls as the figures around you start to blur and the Prince manoeuvres you through the crowd like a feather. “Loki, I must speak to you about the…matter, I’ll…later. Yes, later. Quite.” A wall of fresh air skates over your skin. You hadn’t realised how warm it was inside. The two of you come to a stop at the wall of the balcony, nails skimming against polished marble. Loki clears his throat.

“I apologise for Fandral he’s…” Loki looks up from beneath his lashes, a performative sheepishness softening his face, “well, himself.” You stifle a laugh, focusing on the edge of the moonlit waterfalls in the distance. Silence hangs between you, made louder by the jumbled festivities inside. “Why am I here, Prince Loki?” you whisper, not daring to look at him. “If it’s about what happened in the baths, I won’t tell a soul I swear—” “—It’s not.” Irritation begins to brew in your stomach. “Well then Fandral has a point. Why am I here? I’m no one.” “Exactly.” A prickle of heat rises up your neck, stinging your ears. “Am I a joke to you, your Highness?”

Loki’s eyes flashing in moonlight, but he says nothing. It stings.

“You bring me here to make a fool out of me in front of your friends? In front of Frigga? Frigga.” “I needed to see if any of them knew you.” Loki’s voice is eerily calm, his gaze as unflinching as a cliff jutting into night. “And clearly, they do not. Fandral would recognise you if they did; that little fishwife knows absolutely everything.” “Why would they know me? And what does it matter?” “It matters a great deal. To me, at least. And to you, perhaps.” You push a strand of hair back from your forehead, hating that its damp. The skin feels hot. Hot and flustered and clammy with embarrassment and…shit, arousal. Can he tell?

Black strings of lax curl blow gently around Loki’s jawline, pale lips stained with wine. “Tell me, my Lady…have you heard of the Rite of Successional Pleasure?” he asks, and suddenly all other noise vanishes from your ears save the hum of his voice.

Loki’s eyes run down the blue chiffon of your robe, wondering if he could peel it off and cast it skating across the stone with a solitary swipe of his hand. Allowing you a moment to collect yourself, he decides that yes, he could. “Surely just a legend, my Prince…” you answer demurely, busying your hands and staring off into the distance as an unmistakable waft of heat courses from your bare neckline. He licks his lips, feeling a smirk curl the corners.

“Aren’t we all?” he purrs. Their eyes meet. “I assure you it is very real. A relic, to be sure. But real enough. And I require a partner to enact this Rite, else my succession to Asgard’s throne will not be entrenched in law. I have waited too long as it is, as I keep being reminded.”

“That’s very…interesting,” you say.

Loki straightens. He hadn’t taken you for a dullard, but he does appreciate the delayed gratification of enthusiasm at the proposal. Loki can hear your heart thud faster; he wonders how much of that blood is flushing to your sex beneath the gown billowing about your ankles. You glance at him and quickly look away. It makes Loki’s stomach twist. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps events in the bath-house were simply…opportunity. Or worse, fear. You clear your throat. “What is it, exactly? The Rite of Successional…” “—Pleasure,” Loki finishes abruptly. He rolls his shoulders back, steadying the flurry of unwelcome nerves in his chest.

“One of my family’s farcical traditions. When Asgard’s twin moons are in perfect equilibrium within the heavens, once every half millennia – eligible members of the royal family suitable for rule must, in order to be considered for finite succession, perform the Rite.” “Which is?”

Loki’s eyes fall down the curve of your neck, hovering on your moist lips. He’d thought of nothing else in the days since the bath-house; those lips sucked between his teeth, stretching around his cock; swollen and wet and…

“Pleasure.” It comes out sterner than intended. “To be given, only. A king must not just be skilled in diplomacy, in combat, in war and sacrifice, but in giving pleasure,” he says, imitating the cadence of his father’s voice with a caricatural wave of his hand. “How else can Asgard’s citizens know we are to be trusted, to be benevolent, if is not documented in the annals?”

“You can’t be serious,” you say. “I thought it was a joke, like the other things.” “Contrary to belief, I can be very serious indeed, little owl,” Loki replies with a smile. It fades. The weight of the pet name plucked from nowhere hangs in the air like smoke as you fidget with a fold of your dress. Gods, how he hates that it’s blue. “I still don’t see what it has to do with me,” you posture meekly. Loki tenses, words hissing between his teeth. “Bifrost’s blood, woman. I’m asking you to be my partner for the Rite. Must I carve it in stone?”

The widen of your eyes makes his stomach flutter and you attempt a clumsy curtsey which makes Thor’s staggered collapse among the strewn meats look elegant. “I…I don’t know what to…I—” Suddenly, you look up. “Is it witnessed?” “Of course.” Horror blossoms in your eyes. “Oh…it’s very tasteful,” Loki says, inspecting his nails. “Much more so than the Ceremony of the Sacred Seed, I assure you. It relies more on…aural methods. For the most part.”

“I’ve never been invited to that,” you reply absently, and Loki notes that your fingers have curled around his wrist armour, steadying yourself. “When is the…the moon thing?” “Five nights from now,” he says, and your jaw drops. “I understand I’ve left it rather late, but I really am in rather a bind.” The irony of him practically begging this unknown woman of the court to bring her the greatest ecstasy she’s ever know wasn’t lost on Loki, but for the moment at least…he decides to restrain his natural urge to remind her of that fact.

“Your reputation will only be enhanced, I assure you,” he adds. “It’s a great honour. And I am, if I may say, quite renowned for my skill in that department.” “Why me?” she asked. And there it was. He grimaced. “Don’t lie to me,” she added bravely, and his grimace deepened. “The Rite will only be valid if the recipient has never known the touch of a god. Or, more specifically their…essence. Our essences must never have touched each other. The punishment is severe; there are tomes and everything; rules…how I loathe them,” he says, offering a weak smile. Realisation blossoms in your eyes. “And…I’m afraid my roster has been rather full these past centuries.” A small laugh erupts from your throat that makes it incredibly difficult not to shut you up with his mouth. “Surely you can’t have fucked everyone in the high-court?”

Loki bit back a laugh of his own. “Rather brazen, aren’t you?” he says, narrowing his eyes. “Regrettably, my options in that circle are limited to Fandral. And I’m afraid I cannot bring myself to give him the satisfaction he most desperately desires; it’s far too much fun tormenting him.” You raise an eyebrow and Loki scoffs, smoothing a curl back. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. I know what they must say about me.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, your Highness,” you say with a conspiratorial smile.

“Liar,” Loki replies softly. The sparkle of your mischief fades, and he finds he immediately misses it. “So, I’m…a last resort, then?” “Somewhat, yes.” You bristle, goosebumps rising along your bare arms in the evening chill. Loki watches them flare, fighting the urge to soothe them with his fingertips. Another eruption of his brother’s drunken laughter bounces from the archways.

“What happened in the baths,” she says, eyeing him warily. “Wouldn’t that count? Wouldn’t your…uh, essence have…travelled?”

A small noise scratches from Loki’s throat. “Far too diluted. Fortunately…we were rather far apart.” She moves a step closer, looking up at him beneath her lashes. Her scent makes his mouth water. “And besides, if memory serves you made rather a hasty exit.” “If I agree to this, what’s in it for me?” you ask with a coolness he isn’t expecting. He frowns. “Aside from the obvious?” You shoot him a scathing glare. “You’ll be an honoured guest of Asgard’s highest echelons until the ceremony; luxurious quarters, the finest garments…yours to keep, naturally. A feast in your honour, the honour of my escort, a place in Asgard’s history, and of course…my eternal thanks.” He waits until you turn fractionally towards him before deploying a calculated wink. Your expression is stamped with suspicion, and yet he sees the intrigue nestled beneath the veneer of resistance. He’s not surprised when you shuffle closer, glancing over your shoulder. “Is there um…practice, involved?” Loki feels his brows shoot up. “Practice? Norns haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? Our…”

He whips his cape as he spins, eyeing over his shoulder, catching the glint of Fandral’s flaxen hair hovering by the feasting table. “Our evidence of arousal cannot be in contact before the Rite…not a single drop, lest the entire ceremony be declared null and my honour as a successor questioned.” “Right,” you say stiffly. “Of course.” He can feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from your skin.

You need her, fool. Loki clears his throat with a dry rattle. “But we may…get to know each other. That is expected, at least. If you agree, of course.” You turn to him, eyes shimmering in moonlight. Loki wonders again how he could possibly have missed such a rare jewel in the drab sameness of Asgard’s court. He straightens as your finger runs over the metal at his wrist, trailing up the hem of his cape. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” you ask. A thick swallow works down his throat, his trousers tightening as you add, “What do the rules say about that?” Suddenly it feels as though he could be three-hundred again, unfamiliar nerves sizzling in his belly like fire. “I…there is no impediment to that particular act, no.” “Don’t you think it would be wise to…make sure we’re compatible before you make such a momentous decision?” A flush creeps up Loki’s neck above the high collar of his tunic as the clink of goblets and laughter continue inside the archway and he’s thankful for darkness. A muscle in his jawline twitches, fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides. There it was again, that audacity. So wilful, and yet…

In a flash his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you back with him into shadow. He slips a hand around your back, cushioning your spine as you meet rough stone with a gasp. Your sultry eyes look up at him with manufactured innocence.

“Let’s spare ourselves the virginal theatrics,” he hums, drawing his nose up the line of your cheekbone. The shiver that racks your body makes the toes in his boots curl. “You will be my partner for this sacred Rite?” You catch his lips with the brush of an autumn breeze, grazing against the words. The scent of you overwhelms him; a deep forest tang with overtures of a fragrant sweetness he can’t place.

He groans into the kiss, hungrier with every work of his mouth against the reach of your tongue. Loki’s hands slide up the swell of your breasts, each moan shivering from your throat into his making him want to explode.

As your fingers card through his hair, he realises the other hand is working down the harsh wall of tunic, sliding down his abdomen, hungry for the engorged lust strapped to his hip. There is a barrier, he thinks wildly, tempering his fear. There is a barrier. You squeeze. “Norns, woman…” he growls between gritted teeth, steadying a forearm against the wall behind your head as his gnawing kisses work down your neck. Stone veins spread in crunching crackles under the pressure. “Loki,” you gasp beneath him, bucking into the press of his armour into your endless curves. The realisation he can’t sate it hits with sudden, unwelcome clarity.

“Far too familiar,” he chides against your ear with a feigned derision that makes another moan snake from your throat. Loki’s cock throbs harder. “I remain your Prince, and you will address me as such.” You crush his lips with a kiss full of such desire Loki thinks he might shatter. His cock rubs against your stomach, harsh friction sending jolts of pleasure lancing through his body and suddenly, you break from him with a pant. “Do you want to know my name now, my Prince?”

His saliva rings your mouth; lips swollen and puffed. He nods twice, keeping his chin low on the second as his eyes flutter closed as you lean to his ear, whispering the word. Now that he knows it, he can’t imagine it being anything else.

“…and I’m no one’s last resort, not even a god,” you say, meeting his eyes. Loki steps back, jaw hardening as you smooth down the front of your dress. “I didn’t mean to imply—” “—Well, you did. So, if this still seems like a good idea in the morning, I expect to see you again under less…crowded circumstances.” Loki bit back the urge to protest, but as much as he was loathe to admit it…she had a point. Preparations for the Rite were usually conducted over months, and as he widened his stance, clasping his hands behind his back, a familiar coiffured sheaf of golden hair glinted and disappeared with suspicious urgency. “Unless you’d rather partake with Fandral?”

Loki’s stomach flips but he swallows down the urge to answer. “You’re familiar with my apprentice?” he asks. You nod. “He shall come for you at noon tomorrow.” A small smile flickers at your glistening lips. “Very well, your Highness,” you say, sinking into a curtsey that makes Loki’s cock ache before rising and gliding towards the open archway. He rolls his lips together, fighting the urge to follow you – but he’s already shown his hand too heavily tonight.

As you pass through the arch, Thor wobbles in the other direction, casting a quizzical glance backwards. “There you are, brother,” he slurs, slumping onto the balcony. His arm makes a heavy gesture towards the party, swinging wildly. “She is the one?” Loki bristles. “Yes, brother.”

“Finally. Norns preserve us, I thought you’d never make it. You know she is not suitable for the ceremony if she has been...sampled, already?” he asks as both eyebrows rise. Loki scoffs and throws his brother an incredulous stare. “I know that,” he snarls. “What do you take me for, some kind of rube?” Thor sighs, picking a slice of cured boar from his breastplate and dangling into his mouth. “Let’s hope you can satisfy her, then – in every way. For all our sakes.” Loki’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “If you can scrape past the requirements, we both know I shall have no issue.” “Mmm,” his brother hums. “If it wasn’t for the other matter her response will be measured on.”

“It’s all in hand, brother,” he lies, ignoring the thump of his heart, watching the bob of your head as you wind between intoxicated council members towards the door. “Five moons is more than enough time for that.” And beside him, Thor snorts.

Chapter Three: Measurement The Masterlist for the Rite is here Tags in comments (≧ヮ≦) 💕

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hauntingrabbits · 5 months ago

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Batman my little pony AU. Part 2 here, Part 3 here

More info on these under the cut!

1. Sundown Mane/Batpony (Bruce Wayne)

His backstory & general situation is pretty much identical to every other batman out there so I wont get into it.

Other notes:

-His cutie mark is a masquerade mask that I tried to make vaguely bat-shaped. The general public sees his Cutie Mark through the lense of his reputation, and he leans into it heavily to obscure the truth. In interviews, he presents it as being tied to hosting galas (it’s the reason he started hosting those huge masquerade balls in the first place) and/or his fashionable looks, but in truth it’s far more representative of his stealth and disguise capabilities, as well as his masked night time hobbies as a whole.

-He’s not an actual bat-pony in any way, the bat wing appearance is just the costume (intentionally designed that way for intimidation, battle, and obscuring his identity further). Though most citizens assume he’s a true bat-pony, other rumors range from him being a vampire, to an Earth pony with false tech-based wings, to a magically disguised alicorn, to a spirit of the night.

-If Batman were actually to be a pony I think he’d 100% be an earth pony, because his big thing is relying on skill and tech rather than power and he has the whole “normal guy amongst gods” thing going on. HOWEVER. There are actual bat ponies in this show. How am I not supposed to utilize that somehow for the guy whose name is BATMAN? Also with Sundown I think being a Pegasus just fits the playboy personality front he puts up. I don’t know why, its just vibes.

-I think he just doesn’t fly much while patrolling as batpony, instead using his wings for extra jump or for intimidation and cover like with his cape. They’re probably steel-tipped or something too. He doesn’t rely on flight for advantage and trains entirely grounded because he doesn’t want to be dependent on flight and find himself lost if his wings are ever incapacitated.

2. Apollo Honeyscales/Two-Face (Harvey Dent)

Fascinated by the Equestrian legal system and craving a more organized society than what was offered by his generally disorderly and solitary fellow Chimeras, Apollo moved to Gotham to pursue higher education. Unfortunately, ponies are often intimidated by, if not downright terrified of Chimeras, so though Chimera cultures usually give each head equal social weight and three individual names, Apollo quickly adapted to instead try to present himself as pony-like as possible. He used a singular name and pronoun for his whole body, presented the less intimidating, herbivorous-looking goat as his “main” head, and eventually even took to having a faux Cutie Mark applied for media and court appearances. Prior to the attack, the lion and the snake head were never seen talking in public, and even in private the only ponies to have heard them speak were his close friends Sundown Mane and Glider Gold.

After being attacked with acid in court, Scales succumbed to injury and had to be amputated, while Honeybite was left alive but severely scarred. With this event, Apollo’s and Honeybite’s already fragile mental states from years of pony society othering them, the weight of their job, and personal repression finally snapped in their grief and anger, leading Honeybite to fully take the reins and create the criminal persona of Two-Face. Attempts from both Sundown and Glider and to reach out since have been unsuccessful.

Other Notes:

-According to the wiki only one chimera shows up in the whole show so. I made stuff up. -Chimeras typically being solitary is based on the fact we only ever see one in the show. This solitary nature would make it hard for them to have a widespread legal system at all, let alone to enforce it; thus Apollo’s original fascination with the foreign pony legal system. The Chimera in the show also has individual names for each head, each with a slightly different style (the goat following pony name conventions with the name Pumpkin Cake, the tiger following a slightly more violent version of pony name conventions with the name Sweetkill, and the Snake bluntly just being named Snakey). I tried to follow similar conventions for Apollo. I was most happy with the name Scales, because it followed the blunt snake naming convention while also sort of doubling as a scales of justice reference. Apollo is just a reference to Harvey’s nickname in some of the comics, and Honeybite is just for fun.

-His perfectly split coat is unique even among other chimeras, and as Apollo he was generally considered attractive and “exotic” by Equestrian media outlets.

-The temporary Cutie Mark application was done professionally. (Surely ponies have perfected this art, right? Like this has to be something pony society does and has services for, right? Ponies covering up embarrassing Cutie Marks, blank flanks covering up an embarrassing lack of a Curie Mark, Ponies getting Cutie Marks done for costumes, theater, movies, etc… you get it.) Apollo’s choice of a faux Cutie Mark is meant to serve as both a way of further integrating himself into pony society and a proclamation of his legal skills.

-Apollo was a genuinely great lawyer. Ponies on defense were often so preoccupied at the terror of having a lion and a snake silently stare them down that they wouldn’t realize it was actually the goat they should’ve really been afraid of until their entire case had already been ruthlessly torn to shreds.

3. Glider Gold (Gilda Gold)

Even prior to their relationship and subsequent engagement, Glider had long been Apollo’s closest friend and confidant. She saw the way his job and keeping up his image was tearing him apart long before the acid attack, and she deeply regrets not trying harder to get him the help he needed before it was too late. Multiple news outlets have been trying to get an interview with her and their efforts only increase every time Two-Face shows up in the news (despite Sundown’s efforts to dissuade them). She hasn’t been the same since the attack and Apollo’s disappearance, losing interest in her work and finding her friendship with Sundown heavily strained as they both feel the weight of Apollo’s absence.

Other notes:

-I wasn’t even going to draw Gilda originally because she’s such a minor character in Batman stuff but as I was writing out Apollo’s background she nudged her way back in. I like her too much.

-This version is based on her very first iteration where she was a sculptor. Her green coat is a reference to that version’s accompanying Two-Face (also his first iteration), who had green scarring.

- The choice for her to be a pegasus was mainly just to go with her silly name, but I do think being a pegasus would be beneficial to a sculptor. No ladder required to work on high details just fly up there.

-I am not immune to the bruce/harvey/gilda agenda

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tonicandjins · 1 year ago

Text

the room smells like absolute shit

CHARACTERS: haechan | lee donghyuck and reader

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

GENRE: harry potter au, slytherin!haechan, ravenclaw!reader

WARNINGS: none, just teenage fluff

amortentia (the room smells like absolute shit) is the second installment from 23 moments with donghyuck.

It’s no secret that the ongoing cat-and-mouse game between you and Slytherin House’s very own Lee Donghyuck remains unceasing from the day you and him were sorted five years ago to this day. Today’s no different than the others, except it’s the day before Slytherin House plays against Ravenclaw, your very own, and Lee Donghyuck seems like he’s decided to make your day extra horrible—he’s done it five times already, and it’s barely two in the afternoon.

one

The first one was during breakfast, and if you are being completely honest, you should’ve expected it. Lee Donghyuck likes torturing you when you’re on your period; you don’t even want to remember the full story of how the fuck he even knows what week of the month you get yours. (Long story short: Lee Donghyuck had to be there the first time you got your period in third year.) He claims that he knows your period is on as soon as you enter the Great Hall, because your hair is always uncombed on your first day and your eyebrows are always furrowed when you’re in pain. Donghyuck says if pain and aggravation had colors, you’d be burning in hues now.

“You’re easily the most predictable person I know,” he’d tease, mouth agape as he laughs at the way you would huff from the pranks he’d do just to make your day worse than it already is.

Today was no different. You hadn’t even seen him yet, but he’s made his presence known as soon as you sit and the loudest, most obnoxious sound of fart comes out. It’s Lee Donghyuck who laughs first, and you’re not really in the mood to say anything, hence you take the muggle-made fart cushion off from where you’re seated and throw it from where he’s sitting with his equally cunning friends. You wonder which of his friends brought it for him.

Yeji finds it hilarious. “He just wants to make you laugh,” she comments.

“More like want me to drop out and move across the world,” you grumble as you take a treacle tart and a piece of crumpets from the dishes. The pain stings as you try to sit comfortably. “Fuck this period. Why did none of our ancestors ever think of a stupid charm that could rid period cramps?”

Yuna sighs, agreeing. Yeji smiles even wider and hands you a vial filled with blue-ish liquid.

“What’s this?” you ask, taking it and observing how poorly it’s sealed. “Looks like something a first year would make.”

Yeji shrugs, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “It magically appeared on your seat. The same time that fart cushion popped up under your seat.”

You click your tongue, opening the vial and drinking it anyway. The ocean-colored liquid tastes like absolute crap, if you’re being honest, but its effects come as quickly as the potion runs down your throat. The cramping pain from your lower abdomen vanishes. Like magic.

two

Whining, Donghyuck follows you around after first period—all out, arms wrapped around one of yours as he drags his feet wherever yours take you.

“Donghyuck, my books are heavy enough, stop dragging me with your weight!” you shriek. “I’ll come! I’ll come! Just let me go!”

Donghyuck cheers, surprising you with a big, sloppy kiss on your left cheek, letting you go while you stand frozen in place. “I knew you could never resist me. I will see you at Quidditch then. And you will cheer for me! Fuck Houses! I’ll cheer for you in the Annual International Wizard Gardening Competition!”

He runs off and waves goodbye as he catches up with other players clad in their Quidditch capes and jerseys, blending in like he’s always been born to be in this scene.

You can’t remember a time that Lee Donghyuck isn’t talking about Quidditch. You’d met him in first year, when his voice squeaked higher than it does now, and the first thing he had asked Madam Hooch was when he could join the tryouts. Poor little Donghyuckie spent the entire period sulking and pouting when Madam Hooch confirmed that he should at least finish one year of flying lessons and ask her again next year. It was truly all Donghyuck had ever dreamed about. Hence, he had spent his entire first year in Hogwarts learning about the Quidditch and practicing flying more than anyone in the entire castle.

Come second year, Donghyuck auditions the first day of class after summer break. You remember how the entirety of the Hogwarts had cheered when he showed off his flying skills. It didn’t take long for the captain of Slytherin’s Quidditch team to pick him that day. He’d started as one of the keepers, showcasing his impressive ability to defend Slytherin’s hoops, and made his way up as the team’s Seeker, having been promoted this year, fifth year.

And today was his first big game as their house’s Seeker. It’s Slytherin versus Ravenclaw for the first round, and the entire castle is just shuddering in excitement. Lee Taeyong was Slytherin’s most well-known Seeker, the second youngest Seeker after Harry Potter himself, and the longest one for House Slytherin—from first year until he’d graduated last year. This year is exceptionally intriguing because no one’s won against Slytherin because of Lee Taeyong—at least for the rest of Hogwarts.

It’s different for you, though. It’s appealing in some sense, but stressful in a way.

Donghyuck must feel so much pressure now. You’ve unwillingly known him for years, and despite the never-ending games of teasing and pranks, you and him are everything but strangers. Hence, you conclude that it’s normal to feel this way.

“Quidditch players are so damn lucky,” Renjun, a friend from Hufflepuff, huffs from behind you. “They’re excused for classes when it’s Quidditch season. I wish Slug Club get some sort of perks, too.”

You giggle, hopping and wrapping an arm around the Hufflepuff’s shoulders. “We get the Christmas party every year.”

Renjun shakes you off of him. “Hey, I don’t want to get in trouble with the Slytherins.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why would you get in trouble with the Slytherins? That’s such a stereotype, Renjun-ah! You’re the last person I thought would have some prejudice over houses!”

“That’s not what I mean, idiot,” he replies. “Words say one of the Slytherins has a thing or two for you. And I don’t want to be in their radar.”

You slap him on the arm. “Didn’t take you to be such a gossiper.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s true!” he defends, ruffling your hair. “Off to Transfiguration?”

You groan. “Yeah. Let’s go together?”

“Sure. Did you finish the assignment—”

“Hey, idiot!” Renjun is cut off by Donghyuck running back to you. “I just remembered I need you for a moment.”

Then he’s pulling you away from Renjun.

You arrive late for Transfiguration. Because Donghyuck wanted you to look at his uniform. Talk about being annoying.

three

Defense Against the Dark Arts is in third period, and Yeji hurts herself halfway through the hour. Yeji and Chenle were playing around and were practicing hex-deflection; the scenarios happened too fast that nobody caught on that Yeji’s been hurt until Chenle started screaming.

“She’ll be fine,” Madam Pompfrey assures as she covers the now sleeping Yeji with duvet. “I’ll have her stay here for the night, too. You can go back to class.”

You nod. DADA is over by now, anyway. “By the way, Madam Pompfrey,” you call out just before she closes the curtain separating Yeji’s bed from the others.

“Earlier today,” you start. “I had really bad cramps because of my period. I found a vial with a blue, green-ish kind of fluid and recklessly drank it. It really helped. Do you have any idea what that is?”

Madam Pompfrey’s eyes widen. “So, that was for you?”

“Huh?”

She smiles. “Donghyuck from Slytherin house has been experimenting on that potion with me for weeks now. He’s been studying in the library, looking for the best ingredients to help with women’s menstrual cramps without any side effects that could compromise the condition of the rest of your body. I heard he had a sister in third year, so I assumed it was for her.”

Your heart somersaults like never before. Madam Pompfrey smiles knowingly. “I guess it was for you,” she concludes.

You leave the hospital wing with your breath hitched, each step making your knees weaker by the second. Lee Donghyuck knows how to annoy you even when he’s on the other side of the damn castle.

four

Lee Donghyuck pulls you away from your friends when you’re on your way out from the Great Hall after lunch.

The door of Room of Requirement appears before you, and Donghyuck pulls you with him, dressed in his brand-new uniform, different from the one he wore earlier before he ran off to practice at the Quidditch Tower. You wonder how he even finds the time to annoy you when the tournament starts in about two hours.

When the door closes, you observe that the room’s transformed itself into a room the size of a greenhouse, filled with lavenders, jasmine, and chamomile. And you have the slightest idea why Donghyuck needs a room full of flowers at this point. You gently place your copy of Advanced Potion-Making on a table that holds countless of ceramic plants holding lavenders.

He starts walking back and forth, anxiety showing in his eyes and the corners of his lips. You can hear how heavily he’s breathing from where you stand.

“Anxious?” you ask. Donghyuck only nods, still walking back and forth. “Here. Come here.” He stops, turning so he could look at you. You step closer when he doesn’t move and take both his hands in yours.

“Breathe in,” you softly say. Donghyuck follows. You start counting to five. “Breathe out.”

You and him repeat and stay like that until you hear his breathing go back to its normal pace. He keeps his eyes on your shoes.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you murmur. Donghyuck closes his eyes. You reach up and cradle his face in your palms. “Where’s all that confidence now? Did you run out of it after drowning me with an incredibly unnecessary amount of confidence all these years? This is the time you need it the most.”

Donghyuck falls apart in your touch and opens his eyes, chuckling. “I knew I made the right decision to pull you here. My confidence came back just now. You’re my confidence. Because you suck and I’m the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, rolling your eyes as you step back, the space between you and him reclaiming its presence. “That, you are.”

He smiles. “You don’t suck that much. Just a little. Sometimes.”

“You, too,” you agree. “You’re going to kill it. I’ll cheer on you even if it means everyone in Ravenclaw House hates me.”

“No one could ever hate you,” he says like it’s a fact.

You smirk. “You do, though.”

“I’ve never said I hate you,” he bites back. “In five years that we’ve been unwillingly revolving around each other’s gravity, I’ve never said I hate you.”

You nod. “I know.” You reach up to gently pat his cheeks once again. “People will know you as Lee Donghyuck today, not Lee Taeyong’s replacement. I know that is exactly what’s been going around in that head of yours. They’re gonna remember you today when you show them No Hands and woo the crowd with Sloth Grip Roll. And you’re gonna win it out there.”

Donghyuck’s eyes follow your lips as you speak. He stares at it longer than he should, and you stare at his, like a magnet pulling you in. His honey-colored skin and tantalizing brown eyes look beautiful under the sunlight peeking from the windows of the room, and from where you stand, you see how much he'd grown. Part of you wonders if he feels the same, seeing you in this light and being taken aback to five years ago, the very first day you'd met in the train to Hogwarts. You mull over the possibility of knowing him beyond what the walls of this castle could show you, knowing him beyond teasing remarks and harmless pranks, knowing him beyond all these years of push-and-pull, knowing him beyond sneaking glances at his lips.

But you’re not about to kiss him in the Room of Requirement. Not when all your feelings are all over the place, scattered and lost. Not when you aren’t sure if he even feels the same kind of rush when you’re around.

It doesn't help that this, whatever this means, has been going on for years. You and Donghyuck are growing up together, and though you and him keep saying you're unwillingly spending your teenage years together, you can't help but think, if given the choice in a few years, would you finally, willingly spend your twenties together?

You're nearing the end of your teenage years together, involuntarily and as borderline friends. Does Donghyuck ever think of you in ways you—admittedly—daydream about him sometimes? Does he think of you when he drinks chamomile tea the way you remember him when you get a taste of butterbeer? Does he also wonder what you do in the summer and think of calling you, only to back out right before pressing call because his heart is thump, thump, thumping like fucking crazy just by the thought of hearing your voice?

Does Donghyuck feel the way your knees are weak now?

Your heart pounds, so loud that you can hear it beating right in your eardrums.

So, you flee, telling him you’re late for Potions, which you most definitely are, leaving Donghyuck and hopefully, the feelings you can’t seem to figure out.

five

The room smells like the Quidditch pitch when you arrive fifteen minutes into the class.

Professor Slughorn raises an eyebrow on you, but tilts his head towards the board where it shows which potion the class is working on today. You find your way towards Yuna and it’s only then that you realize you’d left your Advanced Potions-Making book inside the Room of Requirement. Yuna lets you share her book. The entire class is halfway done anyway.

The potion for the day is called Amortentia, which is apparently the most powerful love potion in existence, which you think is absolute bullshit. You skip through all its description, effects, and history, proceeding to the details instructions of how it’s done.

You start with boiling half a cup of standard potion water and later on adding ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, refined peppermint oil, and moonstone. Once it’s exactly as it’s described in the book, you drop the mother of pearl. The last ingredient was a drop of blood, so you quickly prickle a finger with a needle, pressing your pink with two fingers until the red liquid drops from your skin down to the cauldron.

You finish a little later than everybody, and you’re not sure whether you’d followed the instructions correctly, because yours still smell like the Quidditch pitch. You look around, and everybody’s busy smelling theirs. You lean over to your cauldron, and it doesn’t smell like anything exceptional in particular. Alongside the grassy scent of the pitch is warm tonka bean, deep cedar, and the overwhelming scent of rich jasmine and vivacious juniper berries, which isn’t really that impressive because you smell this all the time.

You smell it all the time because it smells exactly like Donghyuck.

You grab the book from the table you share with Yuna.

Page 62 says, “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence. It caused a powerful infatuation or obsession from the drinker. It had a distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rose from it in characteristic spirals. Amortentia is considered an incredibly dangerous potion, as one should have never underestimated obsessive infatuation.” Then why the fuck does it smell like Donghyuck? And the entire god damn room, too? Does Donghyuck bathe in Amortentia every day?

��Yuna,” you ask. “What does your potion smell like?”

“Sandalwood,” she answers dreamily. “And leather. And floral rose.”

Oh. Then you must have done something wrong. “I think I mixed up the ingredients.”

“Well, what does yours smell like?”

You shrug, “Something really weird.” You turn the page to 63 where the potion is described better.

“Amortentia smells different for everyone,” Yuna continues, and so does the book.

“Amortentia has a different aroma for everyone who smelt it, reminding each person of the things that they found most attractive," the book says.

“Basically,” Yuna’s voice fades in the background. “You smell whatever you’re attracted to."

"Even if the person did not acknowledge or was unaware of their fondness for the object of their affection themselves," the book shouts.

Oh no.

Yuna sighs dreamily, "I aced mine pretty well. I mean, for example, my potion smells exactly like—”

“Donghyuck,” you whisper when it truly, truly hits you.

“No, silly,” she laughs.

“No, Yuna,” you protest. “Mine smells like—”

“Donghyuck, what brings you here?” Professor Slughorn’s voice catches you off-guard. You and Yuna turn to where he’s looking at, and by the door, Lee Donghyuck stands, holding your copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

“I just wanted to bring this to Y/N. She’d left it when she was wandering around Slytherin’s quarters because she’s so obsessed with me,” he announces, smiling widely as he shows off the book.

You stay frozen in place. “What are you all cooking?” Donghyuck sniffs, looking around until he locks eyes with you. “What’s this horrible scent?”

Oh, no.

Donghyuck keeps his eyes on you, equally as confused when he starts realize what the potions smell like.

“Why are you wasting so much perfume, Y/N?” he asks. Everyone goes silent. “The room smells like absolute shit.”

Oh. Merlin’s Beard.

bonus

Slytherin House wins, of course, and you lose your voice cheering for Ravenclaw and Lee Donghyuck, which earned you side-eyes from your peers and at the same time teasing remarks from Renjun and Yuna.

His friends call you an honorary Slytherin and invites you to their Common Room. You're the first person that Lee Donghyuck looks for at the afterparty.

He arrives earlier than the others, and his mates gather around him as soon as he steps in the room, but Donghyuck, Merlin's Beard, Lee Donghyuck doesn't waste time and goes straight to where you stand and kisses the air out of your lungs.

You're on your fifth year in Hogwarts when you learn that Lee Donghyuck tastes like strawberries and that the perfume his mother makes for him is made from jasmine and juniper berries.

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jade0716 · 7 months ago

Text

Manon and Dorian are Mates: A Thesis

Now that we have more info on mates from CC, and with the speculation that the novel after the next acotar is a TOG one, I wanted to make a master post with all the evidence that I compiled that Manon and Dorian are mates. I even added dissenting opinions for the potential ones that could have other explanations because why not be thorough and impartial. AND I highlighted the ones in red that I felt like are absolutely evidence of mateness.

Here's hoping Sarah was dropping hints for a manorian spin off!!

TOG:

I. Pg. 8 “On his black doublet, an emblazoned gold rendering a wyvern occupied the entirety of the chest. His red cloak fell gracefully around him and his throne”.

the Adarlan colors being red (and gold) and the symbol being a Wyvern. This may be coincidence since in the beginning SJM was planning a Celeana/Dorian end game but I think SJM chose to make the Crochan capes red to parallel the first time we see Dorian in TOG . Manon then bonding with Abraxos who is a wyvern is the icing on the cake.).

Also keep in mind the Adarlan colors are crimson and gold. The Crochan color is red (crimsons is a shade of red) and manon is canonically known for her gold eyes. She radiates Adarlan’s colors.

Bonus: Dorian’s favorite color is white re Kaltain in TOG and she has white hair and alabaster skin. Not really mate evidence but definitely soulmate evidence.

Dissenting Opinion: The red cape was just a coincidence and red feels like the obvious color for witches given it is the color of blood. And the King of Adarlan/Erawan chose to breed wyverns because it was the symbol of house Havilliard.

QoS:

I. I know that the Valg eyes are why Manon was able to scare the Valg prince away in Dorian and pull him out of the possession. What interests me is:

Pg. 420, Roland was only able to regain control for a second after speaking to Manon before the demon took back over. I’m not going to quote this cause it’s the whole scene but go reread if you want. Dorian is able to beat the demon down and essentially say screw off while talking to Manon. Is it possible Dorian was able to regain control for a longer period of time because of a bond with Manon?

Pg. 463 “step away, get away. The demon prince inside him yanked so hard he took a step. But not away. Toward the white-haired witch”. Are we sure it’s the demon that was yanking him?? Especially since he was yanked towards her instead of away from her even though the demon wanted him away???

her name continued to ring in his head even after the demon took back over:

Pg. 469 “the words soon faded, swallowed up by screaming and blood and the demon’s cold fingers running over his mind. But those eyes lingered- and that name. Manon. Manon”

Pg. 518 “he could not remember a time when the demon had not been there inside of him. And yet- Manon.”

Is this a classic SJM easter egg similar to how we thought the bargain between Rhys and Feyre was the reason for the pull between them? Could she be trying to mislead the reader?

Dissenting Opinion: Manon's valg eyes and his want to be killed is why he remembers her name. He regained control longer because Dorian is stronger willed than Rolland.

II. Pg. 463, Dorian seeing Manon for the first time: “He’d never seen anyone so beautiful”.

Sarah uses the “most beautiful person ever seen” repeatedly for her mated couples when they first meet. This could be writing style but it seems like a pattern in how she writes her mates meeting. I read ACOTAR and CC before TOG and when I read this line I was like yep they are mates seen this before.

Pg. 188 ACOTAR “standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen” - Feyre when seeing Rhysand for the first time

Pg. 536 ACOMAF “you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I thought it from the first moment I saw you on Calanmai” Rhys about seeing Feyre the first time

In ACOWAR Lucien about Elain “she was the most beautiful female he had ever seen”.

Pg. 346 HOSAB “Ruhn found himself staring at the most beautiful female he’d ever seen” Ruhn seeing Lidia the first time.

Dissenting Opinion: Manon is canonically one of the most beautiful females in the world, especially because she is a witch designed to attract men.

III. pg. 492 “She stepped closer to the prince’s horse. ‘Dorian’… Sapphire eyes snapped to hers”..he remembered his name when she said it without looking into her Valg eyes. interesting.

IV. pg. 511 “Manon couldn’t tell why that thread kept yanking, why it felt so urgent, but she pushed them hard, all the way to Rifthold”. A thread is pulling her urgently towards Rifthold to save Dorian. Using the terms thread and Manon not knowing why it feels so important is so incredibly mate for shadowing.

Pg. 184 ACOTAR “go, a voice said, tugging at me. Go see.”

Pg. 412 ACOTAR “I was pulled from sleep by something tugging at my middle, a thread deep inside”. A THREAD.

Dissenting Opinion: Sarah does multiple times in TOG reference a tug pulling her main heroines to do things so this could just be the gods/fates pulling the thread.

V. pg. 640 “Dorian didn’t know what awoke him”. Some force awakens Dorian, he then goes out to his balcony and sees Manon outside.

Similar to Feyre being pulled to Rhys, Pg. 412 ACOTAR “I was pulled from sleep by something tugging at my middle, a thread deep inside"

Pg. 640 Manon says “she didn’t know why she’d bothered to go; why she’d been curious”. Manon Blackbeak, maneating witch, for no apparent reason, decides to go check up on a human man. Need I see more?

And again, her name echoes in his head (pg. 641) “through the darkness of his memories, through the pain and despair and terror he tried to forget, a name echoed in his head”.

EOS:

I. Manon saving Dorian from the yellow legs (duh). She says her “instincts took over her” when she saw someone “taking her kill” ... then proceeds to rescue said kill.

Pg. 44: “I have no doubt the Yellowlegs will try to claim his head. Stop any one of them who dares take it.”

Pg. 84: “And when Manon had spied that Yellowlegs sentinel perched inside the tower, readying to claim this kill for herself... a century of training and instinct had barreled into Manon. All it had taken was one swipe of Wind-Cleaver as Abraxos flew by, and Iskra's sentinel was dead.” WHAT INSTINCT? THE INSTINCT TO CLAIM YOUR KILL? Cause you actually rescued him afterwards not killed him sweetheart.

Clearly it wasn’t to claim the kill for herself. So what was it? Instinct? Helping the witches? She didn’t know of Dorian’s magic at this time, so how would saving Dorian help the witches? Seems like the instinct was from something else.

Pg. 85: “Some ancient, predatory part of her awoke at the half smile. It sat up, cocking its ears toward him”. Ancient and predatory? Mates.

II. The one million times Dorian protects her even though she starts off on Erawan’s side and he has no reason to be so protective:

Pg. 87: “Manon crashed to her knees. The king was instantly at her side, studying her for a heartbeat before he roared down the stairs, “NO!””

Pg. 369: ““No.” The word ripped from Dorian’s lips before he could think. But then it came out, over and over, as the wyvern and rider sailed closer to the ship. The witch was unconscious, her body leaning to the side because she was not awake, because that was blue blood all over her. Don’t shoot; don’t shoot— Dorian was roaring the order as he hurtled for where Fenrys had drawn his longbow, a black-tipped arrow aimed at the witch’s exposed neck. His words were swallowed by the shouting of the sailors and their captain. Dorian’s magic swelled as he unsheathed Damaris— “. This lowkey makes me chuckle like what is he gonna do with Damaris against a bunch of fae warriors lol.

Pg. 395: “Dorian didn’t feel like mentioning that he’d been the one who’d jumped into the water. He’d just … acted, as Manon had acted when she’d saved him in his tower. He owed her nothing less”.

Pg. 438: “Ice danced at Dorian’s fingertips as he slid beside Manon, still chained by the bed” when the bloodhound shows up on the ship.

Pg. 574: "That hunger shifted into something icy and vicious: 'You once asked me where I stand on the line between killing to protect and killing for pleasure'. His fingers grazed the seam of the scar across her abdomen. 'I'll stand on the other side of the line when I find your grandmother". Earlier in EOS Manon asks him why he didn’t make the bloodhound suffer, that there is a line even when it comes to their enemies. Apparently not when someone harms Manon.

III. Dorian’s magic reacting every time she is in danger or threatened:

Pg. 369: “His magic felt it before he did. A sense of awareness, of warning and awakening” when she comes in injured on Abraxos.

Pg. 369: “His words were swallowed by the shouting of the sailors and their captain. Dorian’s magic swelled as he unsheathed Damaris—“

Pg. 396: “Manon’s voice was flat and cold as death. “Tell Aelin Galathynius not to bother using me for negotiations. The Blackbeak Matron will not acknowledge me, either as heir or witch, and all you will get out of it is revealing your precise location.” His magic flickered. “What happened after Rifthold?”

Pg. 438: “Ice danced at Dorian’s fingertips as he slid beside Manon, still chained by the bed” when the bloodhound shows up on the ship.

Pg. 441: “Manon froze entirely. And didn’t particularly care as the Bloodhound lunged for her throat, teeth bared. It was not flame or wind that snapped the Bloodhound’s neck. But invisible hands. The crunch echoed through the room, and Manon whirled on Dorian Havilliard. His sapphire eyes were utterly merciless.”.

Pg. 457 ““If you were me,” Aelin murmured in a tone that had Dorian’s magic rising, ice cooling his fingertips. Aedion’s hand slid to his sword. “If you were me.” His magic flickering when Aelin RAISES HER VOICE at Manon (like come on this is mates shit).

Pg. 498-499: “ "As far as I recall,” Dorian went on with a sly grin, “you two—” The attack happened so fast that Aelin didn’t sense or see it until it was over. One moment, Manon was seated at the edge of the fire, the marshes a dark sprawl behind her. The next, scales and flashing white teeth were snapping for her, erupting from the brush on the bank. And then—stillness and silence as the enormous marsh beast froze in place. Halted by invisible hands—strong ones.” The fact that Dorian was mid sentence, not paying attention, and doesn’t even move a finger to protect her.

Even Aelin comments on it, Pg. 499: “But Dorian’s magic held the beast still, frozen with no ice to be seen. The same power as the one he’d wielded against the Bloodhound. Aelin surveyed him for any tether, any gleaming thread of power, and found none. He hadn’t even lifted a hand to direct it. Interesting.” IT IS INTERESTING AELIN. I also find it interesting that Aelin says the same power he wielded against the bloodhound, which was also to protect Manon. Granted I know Aelin is observing him bc his raw magic is so different from other forms of magic, but I still think it’s interesting that Sarah had Aelin comment on how he didn’t even react or move and his magic protected her.

Dorian about his magic sensing Rowan and Aelin’s bond, pg. 131, “His magic had felt the bond between Aelin and Rowan—the bond that went deeper than blood, than their magic, and he’d assumed it was just that they were mates, and hadn’t announced it to anyone.” Obviously later we find out it was because Aelin and Rowan were mates. So his magic canonically can sense a mating bond.

Also Rowan on Pg. 357 “I wanted to chuck you off a cliff, yet I bit you before I knew what I was doing. I think my body knew, my magic knew." His magic knew when he tasted her they were mates. Similar to how Dorian's magic has been acting? Like it knows something he doesn't?

VI. Pg. 575 “Manon thought the king tasted like the sea, like a winter morning, something so foreign and yet familiar it at last dragged that moan from deep in her.” The so foreign yet so familiar is so mate coded. Especially bc...

in HOF the Wastes are described as having winter mountains and near the western sea

Pg. 71: “To take our host to reclaim the Wastes from the mortal pigs who now dwell there." A fierce, wild thrill pierced Manon's chest, sharp as a knife. Following the Matron's gaze, Manon looked to the horizon, where the mountains were still blanketed with winter.”

Pg. 68: “Manon herself had never set foot in the former Witch Kingdom, had never seen the ruins or the flat, green expanse that stretched to the western sea.”

So it makes sense that the Wastes would smell of winter morning and the sea. They also call the wastes the “Frozen Wastes”, further implying a wintery sent.

VII. Pg. 577 “ Wondered what he’d say if she told him she’d wanted to sink her teeth into his neck and find out what he tasted like”.

Rowan on Pg. 357 “I wanted to chuck you off a cliff, yet I bit you before I knew what I was doing. I think my body knew, my magic knew. And you tasted …” Rowan loosed a jagged breath. “So good…”

Manon in HOF Pg. 33: “The common, watery taste of the man, laced with violence and fear, coated her tongue, and she spat onto the wooden floorboards.”

Manon in QoS Pg. 463 “I’ve been with plenty of men. You’re all the same. Taste the same”.

Manon has not shown to be particularly interested or intrigued by the blood of men aside from just to hunt and feed until Dorian. We also have Rowan describing how good Aelin tasted when he bit her and how he thinks "his magic knew". Is her attraction to Dorian’s blood because of this similar mating bond logic?

Dissenting Opinion: She just wants to taste Dorian's blood because she's attracted to him and so his blood is more enticing to her. She does say that the blood of the men at the Ferrian Gap distracts her in HOF, so obviously she sometimes does crave man blood.

KOA:

I. Again, we see Dorian’s magic reacting to her in a way instinctually

Cyrene attacks, pg. 78 “As Manon whirled, Dorian’s magic surged, already lashing at the unforeseen foe”

Pg. 130: “Despite who walked ahead of them, behind them, Manon smiled slightly. He surprised her further by saying,"I've been tunneling into my power since they appeared. One wrong move from them, and I'll blast them into nothing." This is so touch her and you die vibes I love it. This isn’t his magic acting instinctively I just wanted to include as another instance of him being protective of her using his magic.

Pg. 227: “ “I care.” His temper rose to meet hers. And he decided to hell with it—decided to let go of that leash he’d put on himself. Let go of that restraint. “I care about more than I should. I even care about you.”

Same scene: Pg. 228: “Dorian smiled slightly, and fell asleep once more, letting his magic warm them both. When they awoke, something sharp in his chest had dulled—just a fraction…Where that edge had dulled in his chest, his magic now flowed freer. As if it, too, had been freed from those inner restraints he’d loosened slightly last night. What he’d opened up, revealed to her. A sort of freedom, that letting go."

This is right after he says he’s been trying with Vesta for days to get his eyes to change color and it hasn’t worked but one time with Manon and she warms his heart enough to let his magic go free.

Pg. 143, Dorian goes to Cyrene to learn how she shifts…

“Is that what you do to summon the change: first think of what you want to become?” “With limits. I need a clear image within my mind, or else it will not work at all.”

Followed by Pg. 286 when Dorian is trying to shift… “Who do you wish to be? “Someone worthy of my friends,” he said into the quiet night. “A king worthy of his kingdom.” For a heartbeat, snow-white hair and golden eyes flashed into his mind. “Happy,” he whispered, and wrapped a hand around Damaris’s hilt. Let go of that lingering scrap of terror. The ancient sword warmed in his hand, a friendly and swift heat. It flowed up through his fingers, his wrist. To that place within him where all those truths had dwelled, where it became warmth edged with sharpest pain. And then the world grew… He made to touch his face, but found he had no hands. Only soot-black wings. Only an ebony beak that allowed no words past it. A raven.” In this scene Dorian thinks of Manon, which makes him think of happiness and very similar to the scene where she made his magic flow before, his magic begins to flow through him and he shifts, for the second time due to Manon warming his heart, into not just a bird, but a black beaked bird. I repeat, BLACKBEAK bird. It’s safe to assume this is because he pictured Manon, and as the spider said you have to have the picture in your head when you will the shift for it to happen. The image he had in his mind was Manon. This one I honestly think is crazy and such strong evidence of mateism , especially bc it happened TWICE in this book.

Manon fighting the Matrons, pg. 474 “Dorian’s magic writhed, seeking a way out, to stop this.”

When Maeve glamours as Manon to seduce Erawan, Pg. 639: “icy rage, pure and undiluted tore through Dorian as Manon stood before the Valg king.. Dorian focused upon his breathing, on the stones beneath him, anything to keep his magic from erupting at the desire on Erawan’s face” (also important bc when she glamoured as Aelin his magic didn’t do this!!!)

II. Pg. 225 ““Which do you like the best?”… “I like the ice best,” Dorian admitted at last, realizing he’d let the silence drip on. “It was the first element that came out of me—I don’t know why.” I know why!!

HOF pg. 230 “If Manon was ice and Asterin was fire, then Sorrel was rock.”

QOS pg. 68 “Asterin had always been that way—and that wildness was exactly why Manon had chosen her as her Second a century ago. The flame to Sorrel’s stone … and to Manon’s ice.”

III. Dorian refers to Manon as his equal, pg. 536 “she would be his wife, his queen. She was already his equal, his match, his mirror in so many ways”.

SJM is very consistent about mates being equals and being mirrors of each.

Quote from Tampon in ACOTAR: “High Fae mostly marry,' he said, his golden skin flushing a bit. 'But if they’re blessed, they’ll find their mate—their equal, their match in every way.” This is almost verbatim what Dorian said about Manon. Also want to note that ACOTAR (2015) ,where the idea that mates are equals really starting being engrained in the reader, came out 3 years prior to KOA (2018). Sarah was writing the ACOTAR trilogy concurrent with the later half of TOG. So for her to have Dorian use those words to describe Manon, she had to have known what she was doing. When KOA was released there were already three acotar books out that beat this idea into our head so i can’t believe this is a coincidence. I think Sarah would notice how that phrasing sounds exactly like how she describes mates considering how important the bond is in her books.

Feyre to the Suriel: “How can I possibly be his mate?' Mates were equals- matched, at least in some ways. '

Rowan about discovering Aelin is his mate pg. 678 EOS "His equal. His friend. His lover. His Wife. His mate."

Dissenting Opinion: This is just SJM's writing style, and I’ve also noticed SJM reusing some phrases for her couples across the series *ehem* nessian and sartaq/nesryn “I wish we had time”

IV. Also in this scene Dorian talks about wanting to “claim her” as his wife/queen... Pg. 538 “the temptation that his every instinct roared to claim. Not the body, but what she had offered…” This could just be SJM writing style (fair argument), but nevertheless "his every instinct to claim" is VERY matey especially with the instinct part and because "the claiming" is a thing. Some examples:

HOF Pg. 158: “the bite so strong and claiming that she was too stunned to move”

EOS Pg. 352: “You are mine,” Rowan breathed, and she felt the claiming in her bones, her soul.

EOS Pg. 422: “A claiming, mighty and true, that she understood he so desperately needed.”

Dissenting Opinion: This is just SJM's writing style. Just because the word claim is used doesn't mean they are mates.

V. Manon screaming his name when he almost dies pg. 133 "Manon bellowed his name, and Crochan arrows fired... Manon screamed his name again, but he couldn't move... Then there were iron-tipped hands gripping his shoulders, and gold eyes glaring into his own".

This reminds me of in HOF when Manon shoots Rowan with an arrow and Aelin screams his name

Pg. 477 QoS... "Aelin's scream echoed down the Ravine" when Rowan is shot.

Pg. 655 EOS Aelin admits to Maeve she knew Rowan was her mate, "The moment the arrow when through his shoulder. Months ago"

This is also parallelled by Dorian screaming for Manon when she is in danger in EOS:

Pg. 87: “Manon crashed to her knees. The king was instantly at her side, studying her for a heartbeat before he roared down the stairs, “NO!””

Dissenting Opinion: Aelin tells Rowan she saved Manon because Asterin screamed her name the same way she screamed Rowan. So technically by this logic Asterin and Manon could be platonic mates. And maybe Manon just screams Dorian's name because she cares about him not anything to do with being mates. (Counter Argument- but then why did Dorian scream her name in EOS so aggressively when he didn’t even know her then??)

Edit:

Also want to comment on Manon being the scariest individual in the world, and yet repeatedly both Dorian and Manon comment about how he is not afraid of her. Across the SJM universes this is seen as a huge mating bond sign (“Aelin terrifies everyone, but not him [rowan]” ; Feyre not being afraid of Rhys).

ALSO want to mention that Manon had “never allowed another male atop her” during sex before Dorian. To me this is incredibly telling bc it indicates that Manon sees Dorian as an equal by allowing him to dominate her. Yes, Manon is attracted to his domineering manor, but you’re telling me never in 116 years she’s done anything but ridden a male, and Dorian walks in and she’s like yea tie me up and get on top of me… I mean I would to but you see my point. Additionally, them being incredibly attracted to each other could be a mate indicator as mates are obviously aggressively attracted to each other bc of the “animalisticness” of the mating bond.

Lastly, you’ll see above that there are lots of times where their “instincts” cause them to act or are pushing at them to act in relation to each other. Instinct is mate coded af, especially when they’ve had that instinct since they first met. It wasn’t something that grew over time they always had it.

Debunking arguments against them being mates:

I. Mates are only fae.

Manon is part fae, so she could have a mate.

E.g. Bryce is half fae half human also and mated with Hunt (who confirmed in HOFAS is the product of two angels and not fae); Lorcan is a demi fae and can have a mate (believed to be Elide who is human but unconfirmed); Aelin is demi fae prior to forging the lock and is mated with Rowan.

I also cannot find anywhere there is a rule that you must have XYZ amount of fae blood to have a fae-like mate, just have to have some fae blood. But we don't really know what percentage of Manon is fae vs Valg. Given she is half Ironteeth and half Crochan, she likely falls around that 50% fae line which is just as much fae blood as Lorcan, Bryce, Aelin, etc.

II. The Crochans believe in Mates

It’s not confirmed whether the Crochans do or don't have the traditional fae mating bonds, however we learned in CC2 it was proved that you can have a “true” mating bond as long as one person has fae blood, E.g. Bryce (half fae/human) and Hunt (Angel).

pg. 139 EOS the Crochans "... had adopted the Fae habit of selecting mates- if not a true mating bond, then in spirit".

pg. 139, EOS Manon's grandmother says about her father "But he did not love her- not with your mother as his true mate, the song of his soul". This sounds to me like her parents were believed to be a true fae mating bond not just "in spirit".

Pg. 316 HOSAB "Angels have mates. Not as.. soul-magicky as Fae, but we call life partners mates in lieu of husbands or wives". Sounds like the Angels have a mating bond "in spirit" similar to the Crochans. Except that Hunt then truly "fae mated" Bryce, and he doesn't have any fae blood.

When then find out Hunt and Bryce are "true mates"; Pg.492 HOSAB "It means that he's going ballistic in the way that only mates can when the other is threatened. It's what happened then and happened now. You're true mates- the way Fae are mates, in your bodies and souls".

III. Fae can have non fae mates.

We see Bryce/Hunt in CC that are different species and have a traditional fae mating bond.

Rhys/Feyre and Nesta/Cassian feel a pull to each other when Feyre and Nesta are human, which then clicks into place as a true mating bond.

There is also Elide/Lorcan and Gavin/Elena in TOG that are “mates” (unconfirmed since the humans never became fae). Fae queens Mab and Mora also give up immortality for their human "mates".

So it is canon that you can have inter species mates or human mates, it just may never "click" into place if they are human.

via Hunt and Bryce, we do know the bond can completely click (souls and scents merging, etc.) between "magical" species once it is accepted, but we do not have this evidence with fae and human bonds.

I also don’t believe Dorian is entirely human. But that is completely my speculation

Pg. 933 KOA " 'I am human.' It warmed in his hand... 'I am human," he repeated, to the stars now visible above the city. The sword didn't answer again. As if it knew he no longer needed it." Yes he is human but he can be other things too. Similar to Aelin's quote about being a human in a fae body below. They identify and choose their human moral side, but that does not mean there are parts of them that are not human.

Aelin KOA Pg. 723: "I am human, deep down, Faerie Queen nonsense aside. I had human parents, and their parents were human, mostly, and even with Mab's line running true... I'm a human who can turn into Fae. A human who wears a Fae body".

On par with the theme of "Be grateful for your human heart" (Rhys, ACOTAR)

Also curious as to whether he does or does not have valg blood from his father. Because he could also have fae blood (distantly) from Elena/Brannon/Mala (Valg + Fae= Witch?)

IV. The mating bond would have clicked when they fucked… I think we all know this ain’t true anymore (cough cough Nesta and Cassian). You can have sex but if you do not accept the bond it will not click.

Rowan also says on pg 396 HOF "Sometimes, mates can be together intimately before the actual bond snaps into place"

V. Wyrd/Urd/the Mother/Fate (aka Sarah) gets to decide whose mates and who isn't

The only thing Sarah has been clear about is that she can basically make anyone mates that she wants as long as one person has fae blood. And even then, there is very much a "fate like force" aka Wyrd/Urd/The Mother that is working to pull the strings of fate and make people mates.

Hellas speaks to Lorcan and Hellas's consort, the goddess Annieth, speaks to Elide. Lorcan and Elide are never confirmed mates as Elide remains human and yet there are still signs she is his mate even as a human.

Rhys's mind has able to find Feyre's when she was still human years before they met. Yes he has demati abilities but finding Feyre's mind is because they were fated to be mates.

Adias says about Hunt and Bryce mating bond HOFAS, Pg. 551 "I think that was left to higher powers. Whatever they might be".

There is no special "biological formula" proven necessary for a mating bond. To the best of our knowledge so far, the only thing we can be sure of is it happens when fate demands (and when one person has at least some fae blood). Therefore it logically makes sense why the Mother/Wyrd/Urd would manipulate fate to ensure that Dorian and Manon were mates because they needed Manon to get into the witch mirror and raise the witch forces. They needed Manon to unite with Brannon's heir to defeat Erawan and destroy the keys, whether that be Aelin or Dorian. A mating bond would ensure that.

Also Wyrd/Urd means fate/personal destiny in nors mythology —> https://www.mimisbrunnr.info/ksd-web-of-wyrd and https://norse-mythology.org/concepts/destiny-wyrd-urd/ (read these if you want to theorize about acotar)

In conclusion, I think they could be mates but it won't fully snap into place (they won't fully merge souls, scents, etc.) unless Dorian is somehow Made. The only evidence of interspecies true confirmed fae mating bonds is Bryce and Hunt, and while they were able to fully "click" without Hunt being fae, it is very unclear why this is other than "high powers". We do know though that human Elide was very likely Lorcan's true mate, but we were never told of any clicking between them on that fae physiological level. So it is safe to assume that for a mating bond between a human and fae it will not "click" into place unless that human is turned fae.

HOWEVER, I do think it is possible because of Dorian's raw magic, he could be a rare exception to this rule similar to Hunt. So maybe it just has not clicked because Manon and Dorian have not accepted it. Which would also make sense given the nature of their relationship through most of the series, them denying their feelings to each due to their emotional unavailability.

Dissenting Opinion: But we also don't know how the angels were created by the Asteri, so maybe Hunt is "made" and not actually an exception.

Anyway, there's my evidence. There was some more evidence that I had and then removed because even though I think it is proof of a deeper connection I didn't think it was mate related (e.g. Abraxos taking Manon to Dorian when she says take me somewhere safe, I came to the conclusion that that showed Abraxos's awareness in protecting Manon).

Here are the links to some other tumblr posts on them being mates. I did look at these when putting this together so full credit to those individuals :)

#manorian #manon x dorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #togcouples #dorian x manon #throne of glass #they are mates and I will not be silenced

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devildomwriter · 2 years ago

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Obey Me Simeon Birthday Special 100 Fun Facts

1. Simeon and Lucifer used to take naps together in the Celestial Realm

2. Simeon was once a seraph, for unknown reasons he was demoted to an archangel before the events of the game

3. Simeon’s favorite color is celestial blue

4. Simeon’s favorite animal is a sloth

5. Simeon owns a café in the human world called the angel’s halo

6. Simeon was close enough to Lucifer to be considered one of his brothers

7. Simeon is good at juggling, managing four clubs his first attempt

8. When Simeon is drunk he forgets words and easily cries

9. Simeon describes his job as middle management and cries to Lucifer about it when he gets drunk

10. Simeon makes the best pancakes

11. Simeon has a difficult time trying to act scary

12. Simeon claims he has a hard time getting mad but he’s seen getting mad many times especially as a play director

13. Simeon is the author of TSL

14. Simeon based the TSL characters off the seven brothers

15. Simeon thought it was cute when Levi shyly followed him around too nervous to ask for an autograph

16. Simeon and Diavolo do not get along because Simeon is so good at hiding his true feelings

17. Satan is curious to see what Simeon would be like angry, meanwhile Diavolo is scared to see it

18. Simeon loves making bento boxes for Luke

19. Simeon enjoys escape rooms

20. Simeon’s favorite Devildom food is Black Tapir

21. When a flame salamander became attached to Simeon he considered taking him back to the celestial realm

22. Simeon’s BLT sandwiches are popular among flame salamanders and Beelzebub

23. Simeon enjoys calling Lucifer, Lucy

24. Simeon’s motto is “Learning is a lifetime.”

25. Simeon keeps a daily diary

26. Simeon has been keeping a scrapbook of his and Luke’s time in the Devildom from day one. He claims to be very proud of Luke as he smiles more in each picture.

27. When asked what he’d do if the Devildom disappeared tomorrow, he said he’d take Luke back to the Celestial realm

28. Simeon’s a dog person, specifically chihuahuas

29. Simeon enjoys teasing Luke but prevents anyone else from doing it

30. Simeon and Lucifer used to have movie nights together frequently

31. Simeon is said to be the active one when it comes to love

32. Simeon wishes to “be bound” by his lover

33. Simeon cherishes relationship anniversaries and special dates of remembrance

34. For a relationship with obstacles Simeon states “I wouldn’t want to encounter that if I could avoid it, but I don’t think I’d give up for sure.”

35. Simeon is able to openly express his feelings but will still become jealous

36. It’s implied Lucifer avoids hanging out with Simeon because Simeon is one of the only people who can see through his prideful demeanor

37. Simeon gets along well with Cerberus

38. Simeon sees Luke as his grandson

39. Simeon saved Lucifer and MC’s lives by sneaking into a guarded celestial palace and stealing Michael’s ring of light to give to MC

40. Simeon is very bad with technology but as the game continues he slowly gets better

41. Simeon is so used to using his DDD camera that he’s forgotten how to use a regular camera

42. Simeon once got forced into a self checkout line and in a panic having no idea what to do, he called Lucifer to come save him

43. Simeon helps teach Luke how to do a handstand by holding him from his ankles

44. Simeon couldn’t figure out why he was bad at jump roping until Luke suggested he take off his cape

45. Teaching Simeon how to use his DDD is considered an exercise in futility

46. Simeon is the second-shortest side characters

47. Simeon enjoys cooking

48. Simeon says he can’t wink and is trying to practice

49. As an archangel Simeon is seen as a warrior by other angels

50. Simeon is a skilled musician

51. Simeon thinks horror movies are pretty fun

52. Simeon prefers sweet food over spicy food but likes both

53. Simeon’s human world outfit was chosen by Luke, he decided to go with it after seeing Luke’s cute smiling face

54. Simeon states that just because he’s an angel it doesn’t mean he’s all forgiving

55. As of season four, Simeon is a human after his angelic powers were taken as punishment for stealing from Michael

56. Simeon sees Michael as more of a friend than a supervisor

57. Simeon checks up on Luke to make sure whether or bit he’s actually gone to bed

58. When asmo had shocking pink hair Simeon states it hurt his eyes

59. Simeon believes the whip is an exciting expression of love

60. Simeon enjoys architectures digest

61. Simeon says the secret ingredient for his pancakes is love

62. Simeon was almost attacked by a giant jovial gingerbread man, all he did was smile at it and it shriveled into a fried cookie

63. Simeon taught Luke how to make pie

64. Solomon believes openly sassing the son of the demon king is a very Simeon thing to do

65. Simeon attempted to make solomon cry for his own amusement

66. Simeon once told MC he’d be okay with becoming a demon if it meant he could be with them

67. When Simeon was under a spell that showed him what he wanted to see, he was convinced that Lucifer and his brothers falling from the Devildom was all a long bad dream

68. Simeon says he wouldn’t mind if anyone caught him kissing MC and that they could even make it a point to kiss in front of them

69. Simeon didn’t believe in the exchange program until season four after seeing all the blood sweat and tears diavolo put into it

70. Simeon vents to Lucifer when he’s tired of Michael’s errands

71. Simeon once gave bangles to the brothers enchanted with a spell that would make them angelic. He didn’t place the spell but knew about it.

72. Simeon became an author after leviathan suggested it though at first he claims to be satisfied just reading them

73. Simeon would make up elaborate stories to tell the Cupids

74. Before season three Simeon never stayed in the human realm for a long period of time, though he says he has visited multiple times

75. Simeon enjoys cube puzzles

76. When a rumor about The Angel’s Halo spreads, Simeon requests Mammon and MC’s help to dispel the rumor that if you share a drink together you’ll be together forever. Mammon is unable to pretend to break up and starts crying so Simeon calls him useless

77. Simeon feels anxious seeing others work and not helping out

78. As a seraph Simeon was known to be the least intense

79. Simeon is very serious about his job even becoming very angry when the brothers disrupt him

80. Simeon adores rare books, during the first Christmas event when every swapped gifts he was excited to get the book Satan was hoping to get himself

81. Simeon once got detention in RAD

82. When Mammon created the Miss Em’ dolls, Simeon opted for the goth plushie

83. Raphael claims Simeon is much better at his job (the angelic one) after coming to the Devildom

84. Simeon is one of the only people who can calm down all the brothers

85. At the end of season four Simeon accepted that he’d become human and was okay wearing his celestial realm clothes again thanks to MC’s help and acceptance

86. At the end of season four Simeon decided to stay in the Devildom until Raphael’s year long exchange was over

87. After demotion to human, Simeon was confronted and asked if taking the ring of light is why it happened but he responds “something like that” hinting it could be for more than one reason

88. Simeon tells Mephistopheles he “smiles a lot by nature” when Mephistopheles accuses him of finding him caring for Luke as something funny

89. Simeon once escaped and left Luke to endure Solomon’s cooking by himself

90. Simeon will bribe Lucifer to hang out with him

91. On more than one occasion Simeon has snuck into events celebrating him (Christopher Peugeot)

92. Simeon gets a little embarrassed when he sees his books on store and library shelves

93. Simeon sends Michael sweets from the Devildom is exchange for sweets from the celestial realm

94. Luke claims Simeon is too fond of flouting the rules when it suits him

95. When there was a mess at the café Simeon scared the brothers into helping him clean up

96. As a director, Simeon was called a dictator by the brothers for how strict he was

97. Simeon says he prefers the hustle and bustle of the Devildom over the serene quiet of the celestial realm

98. Simeon is the first person to recognize and point out Levi’s degradation kink and tries to stop him multiple times

99. Despite Simeon always looking serious and seeming hard to read, he claims he’s not thinking about anything deep in particular, and that no one believes him when he explains

100. Simeon thinks it’s fun to cause a stir on occasion

#obey me shall we date #obey me simeon #obey me Simeon birthday #obey me birthday #obey me angels #obey me fun facts #obey me fun fact #obey me information

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ewingstan · 1 year ago

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Something else about Alec—when we first see him on the field, he’s remarkably less intimidating than the other Undersiders, with a costume much less fear-inspiring and more straight-up gimmicky. I’ve talked about the Undersider’s costumes before, but one of the subtler differences between Worm and more “traditional” superhero media is how the villains’ costumes and personas often don’t have the same level of camp to them that comic villains do. There’s much more focus on practicality, where the only thing that matters aesthetically about a costume is that it communicates “don’t fuck with me.” Every hero in worm has a detailed, practical-yet-aesthetically-pleasing costume, but you run into villain capes with no costume or only the bare bones of one all the time. Rachel’s dressed like a horror movie slasher, Brian doesn’t bother with more ornamentation than an intimidating helmet. Lisa looks the part of your Saturday-morning villain, but she’s more invested in doing that than most because her cops-and-robbers theory—plus, when she’s in action she’s nearly always the scariest person in the room. And Lung, the first supervillain we meet, doesn’t have a costume at all, just a commanding presence. In contrast, the next set of villains Taylor meets, Uber and Leet, are established as losers no one takes seriously partially through having costumes that are just gimmicky. Early worm establishes that the successful villains in this setting are focused on being scary before anything else. Considering the extend Taylor internalizes the “be feared or die” strategy as the story goes on, it’s important for Worm to set that dynamic up quickly at the beginning, even if later characters break this rule*.

But early Regent doesn’t care about being scary. He struts into the battlefield like he’s Gorgeous George**, complete with a costume that wouldn’t look out of place in professional wrestling. He spends less time trying to act intimidating when fighting people and more time trying to get people to forget he’s there until he can steal their cool canon. He’s not trying to scare heroes or rival villains off like the others are, and that’s largely because he didn’t create the Regent persona to scare away people and make crime easier—he made the Regent persona to have a life away from his horrible family. It’s an early indication that Alec’s motivation for being here are not the same as everyone else’s—the other Undersiders are criminals for a living, and are using their personas as tools for their job. Alec is in this to have a good time in a way he didn’t get to in his old life, and is using his Regent persona as a form of play.

*for the later successful villains who DO care a lot about aesthetics, such as Accord or Trickster, their motivation for bucking the trend tend to says a lot about them. But that’s a different post.

**now I have the image stuck in my head of Alec coming to an important villain meeting in an evening gown, puppeting his henchmen to spread a carpet of rose petals ahead of him. Fuck he’d love doing that. The real tragedy of the Behemoth fight is that it robbed us of Aisha and Alec forming the best tag-team heel duo the wrestling world has ever seen.

#alec vasil #wildbow #parahumans #worm #leo reads worm #leo says

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irwinsblender · 5 days ago

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drunk on halloween

a/n: felt like writing a halloween themed fic as halloween was coming up! and i noticed a lack of wallows fics on here!!! so i thought id write one for braeden :)

happy halloween to those who celebrate <3

pairing: braeden x reader

summary: you hadn’t been to many social gatherings since your break up quite a few months ago, braeden thinks going to a halloween party with a small amount of drinking may do you some good. although, that may come with an unexpected confession.

warnings: drinking alcohol, reader feeling negative about herself

word count: 2.4k

✩ ✩ ✩

Halloween.

Usually you’d be the first person to be wanting to go out and buy a costume to go to a gathering or party with your friends.

You loved halloween. It’s the time of year you get to dress up however you want, in whatever costume you want, and you always found that thrilling.

The past couple of years, you would match costumes with your boyfriend, go to some stupid party and most likely get laughed at by his friends. It wasn’t all that fun for you now that you think back to it.

This year would be very different. You and your boyfriend broke up back at the start of the year. Which meant, no matching costume, no shitty halloween party.

Instead, you would get to spend the day with your friends. Especially, your longtime friend, Braeden. You’d turned down his halloween plans since being with your boyfriend, which was mostly his doing, so this year would be a breath of fresh air.

In your opinion, Braeden had stayed friends with you for longer than he should’ve. For reasons out of your control, you didn’t talk to him as much, you skipped plans, you practically avoided him. All because of your ex.

Braeden repeatedly told you that it wasn’t your fault. That he knew what was going on, that he wasn’t mad at you over it whatsoever.

He could never be mad at you, he cared about you way too much for that.

Since your break up, Braeden had been with you almost every day. He’d be at your apartment, cooking you food, watching movies with you, letting you borrow his clothes, sleeping over with you more than being in his own house.

You hadn’t been out much since everything happened, so Braeden put in extra effort to get you to have a good time. He took you out to eat, took you to your favourite ice cream spot, everything a boyfriend would do.

He was the perfect guy. And maybe he’d wished you’d seen that sooner.

Now, you were sat on Braeden’s bed. Legs comfortably crossed in front of you as you waited for him to change into his costume in the bathroom.

He’d told you about the halloween party Dylan would be throwing at his place, suggesting that it might be a nice time for you to see friends and relax for the night.

It didn��t take long for him to walk into the room, standing with his arms out for you to see the full outfit.

“So, you’re meant to be a… magician?” You asked, the black pants, white shirt, cape and hat made that obvious.

“And I have the props to go with it,” he enthusiastically held out a deck of cards and a magic wand. “Maybe I can magic a rabbit out of my hat.”

“You have a rabbit?”

He had an odd expression on his face. An almost unreadable one. He went to his drawers, pulling out a headband… with bunny ears on it. He raised his eyebrows.

You realised at that moment why Braeden had suggested for you to wear your most hated white dress to this halloween party. You’d even put on a hoodie over it because you hated it so badly.

“You’re not serious,” you folded your arms. “You really want me to be the bunny?”

“I just thought i’d might be nice to have a matching outfit,” he defended himself.

“But, I only used to do matching outfits with—“

You sighed, running your hands through your hair. Braeden, put the headband down on his cabinet, slowly sitting down next to you.

“I thought us doing a matching outfit could take your mind off of it,” he explained. “Give you some new happy memories for halloween.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you looked at him, seeing the sorrowful look on his face. “I know you’re doing this for me, it’s just that it’s the first halloween since everything happened.”

“And I probably should’ve asked about these outfits before calling you over here,” he truly did feel bad. He didn’t want to make you do this if you didn’t want to. “I’ll take you home so you can wear something you want to wear.”

You contemplated for a moment. Looking at this thought out costume that Braeden was wearing. You didn’t want to ruin something else for him.

He did this for you, he wanted to try and make you happy, make you forget about your ex. Another example of how much he cared, that he was willing to take you home now if you really didn’t want to do this.

“Give me the bunny ears,” you held your hand out.

“You’ll do it?”

“I’ll do it.”

He abruptly stood, grabbing the bunny ears to give them to you. You stood up too, standing in front of his mirror to place them atop your head.

The ears looked ridiculously large on you. Either way, you turned around to show Braeden who was waiting patiently behind you to see. He let out a quiet laugh, coughing to cover it up after.

“Don’t laugh!” You folded your arms over your stomach. “You’re the one who wanted me to do this.”

“No, no, you look great,” He straightened up the ears on your head, staying close to you afterwards.

You looked up at him, the sweet expression on his face, the way he was looking at you. There was meaning in that look, there must’ve been.

“Um, we should probably get going,” he stepped away, finding his phone to check the time. “I have a pair of white gloves for you too, where did I put them?”

He rummaged through his drawer, finding them after a few moments. He handed them to you, watching as you slipped them on.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you smiled, Braeden raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Your hoodie.”

“What about it?”

“Aren’t you gonna take it off?” He asked. “For your dress.”

“Oh, uh, totally.”

You hesitated for a moment, taking your bunny ears off before slowly pulling the sleeves over your hands to go to take it off, but you stopped. Your dress was thin, slightly clingy. Did you have to do this?

“I always think you look beautiful in your dresses,” Braeden leaned against his wardrobe, noticing the unsure look on your face.

“it’s just—“ you closed your eyes, shaking your head. “It makes me look—“

“Pretty?” He spoke over you. “Gorgeous?”

“Come on, stop,” you chuckled.

He raised his hands in defence, looking away as you eventually pulled your hoodie over your head, placing it on Braeden’s bed before turning around.

He went to speak, no words coming out. He’d underestimated how much he’d missed getting to hang out with you, getting to do things like this with you. With his best friend. Perhaps the person he saw more as a friend.

“You look beautiful,” he smiled softly. You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, we look good together, huh?”

Together.

You looked down at your dress, over to his magician costume, “we match well,” you finally agreed. “Good job thinking of this.”

You both discussed final arrangements for Dylan’s party, making your way over to his house soon after.

It didn’t take long to get there, Dylan greeting you at the door in his priest costume before grabbing drinks for you both to have for the start of the night.

You passed Cole in his pumpkin outfit on the way to the living room, enjoying himself as much as everyone else here.

Braeden knew you had a tendency to drink to forget about your problems, so he was making sure to watch you didn’t over do it, not wanting you to end up feeling sick.

It was hard for you to admit to yourself, but you had been having a good time here so far. For the first time in two years, you were having fun on halloween. Without your boyfriend, without his stupid friends that you never knew.

You were having fun with Braeden, your best friend who you suddenly felt the need to be overly thankful to. Perhaps the alcohol in your system taking effect after being half way through your second drink.

“You know,” you gained Braeden’s attention, sitting on the sofa in the living room. “You really didn’t have to do all this matchy outfit thing for me just to try and make me happy.”

“You know,” he mocked jokingly. “I’d do anything for you if it means you’re happy.”

“Well, I am, I’m very happy,” you shuffled closer to him. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like you, or to keep you around.”

He sighed, glancing to your cup to see it was almost empty. You did tend to get emotional when you’re drunk, so that’s what this must be.

“I was always gonna stay around,” he leaned forwards, placing his cup on the small table. “I wasn’t about to lose you over some shitty guy.”

“He was shitty, wasn’t he?” You laughed with a shake of your head. “You’re not shitty though, you’ve never been shitty.”

“I try my best,” Braeden laughed with you.

As he sat back, you leaned that small bit closer, laying your head on his shoulder. You decided you liked him this close, feeling his arm go around your shoulders.

He noticed you fiddling with the top of your plastic cup, something you usually did if you had something on your mind. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing heart with you being so close.

From beside him, Dylan walked past, knocking his shoulder gently with a raise of his eyebrows. He knew how Braeden felt about you, so did Cole who was looking from the other side of the room.

“Why are they looking at us like that?” You asked, causing Braeden to abruptly look down at you.

You looked up at him, now realizing the close proximity you were in. Neither of you moved. It’s as if everything around you froze. Had his eyes always been this dreamy?

“Is it hot in here?” He suddenly questioned.

“what?”

“We should um, go and get some air,” he turned away. Glaring at his two friends as he stood up.

You didn’t know what was going on, but you followed his lead, stumbling slightly as you stood up, maybe you did drink a little too much.

Braeden immediately reached for your hand, steadying you before going any further.

“You okay?” He double checked.

You looked down at your hand in his, suddenly feeling your heart racing. This hadn’t happened before. What was going on?

“Drunk on halloween, how cliche,” you chuckled, forcing yourself to look up at him.

He shook his head at you, starting to lead you away from the living room, his hand keeping hold of yours.

You went to the back of the house, leaving through the back door. It was quiet in the backyard, peaceful, away from all the music and drinking.

You both sat down on the patio chair, now letting go of Braeden’s hand. It was a clear night, the bright stars glowing in the sky above you. Tonight was a perfect night.

Sitting in the quiet was definitely needed. Letting your mind settle, although, the only thing you could think about was all the moments you’d had with Braeden today.

The way he looked at you in his house when he adjusted your bunny ears, him calling you beautiful, his arm around you inside, the way he looked at you then, him holding your hand.

You were close to Braeden. He was your best friend. But things had felt different tonight.

Without thinking, your hand had started to edge closer to his. Pinky’s touching, linking yours with his as a little gentle touch. He didn’t move his hand away, didn’t ask what was going on.

Friends don’t act like this. do they?

“Thank you for getting me to come to this party,” you broke the silence. “It’s been nice spending this time with you again.”

“I’ve missed it,” he admitted. “It’s been a while since we’ve been together to have a good time, rather than you being upset.”

“yea, together.”

You took a long breath in, shuffling to look at Braeden beside you. He turned too, not knowing why you were looking at him the way you were.

You reached up, taking his hat off of his head to run your hand through his fluffy brown hair. The only look in his eyes was adoration, he couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t know why I ever thought he was a good guy,” you said referring to your ex. “When I’ve had you the whole time.”

Braeden furrowed his eyebrows, he didn’t understand where you were going with this.

“I don’t know why I didn’t see it before,” you cupped his cheek in your gloved hand. “I think it’s been you for longer than I realized before.”

“Stop,” he moved away slightly. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not saying this just because I’ve been drinking, Brae,” you defended. “No one’s ever cared about me the way you do, you’re always here, no matter what.”

He knew you were serious after calling him by that nickname. He sighed, relaxing into your touch as you continued on. You felt ever so closer to him now, the closest you’re sure you’d ever been to him.

Close enough to notice his quick glance down to your lips.

“I pushed you away, when I should’ve been honest with you, with myself, from the start.”

Now it was Braeden’s turn. He brushed his thumb delicately across your cheek before tucking your hair behind your ears.

“I guess my whole plan for tonight was to give you some happier halloween memories,” he holds your chin between his thumb and finger. “Can I kiss you?”

You don’t know what you’d expected, but it wasn’t for him to say that. Judging by his initial reaction, you were expecting him to move away completely.

“I thought you would’ve noticed the signs earlier on,” he leaned in closer. “Maybe now’s finally the right time.”

Without another word, he moved forwards. His lips connecting to yours in a soft kiss. He slowly pulled away after, waiting to see your reaction.

You had the most lovestruck smile on your face. A blush rising on your cheeks before you quickly cuddled up to Braeden.

This Halloween had been perfect. And now you knew that he’s all you needed and more.

✩ ✩ ✩

taglist: if you would like to join my wallows taglist, please comment here or see this post

#wallows #braeden lemasters #braeden lemasters fanfic #braeden lemasters imagine #braeden lemasters x reader #wallows imagine #wallows fanfic #dylan minnette #cole preston #irwinsblender writes #wallows x reader

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lealdern · 1 year ago

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Fuck around/Find out ch2

Explicit content: Minors please DNI.

Dick x Reader smut AO3 Link

Inspired by Send to All by Kerosceene

It's time for the both of you to find out (and fuck around)

second person/fuck or die/consent given/sex pollen/ she/her reader / reader has a vagina

Chapter 1

He’s avoiding you.

You knew Dick was okay, Jason had told you as much when you’d messaged him asking if Dick was okay after the other week.

But that glow of relief and comfort after sex? It didn’t last long.

Dick had drifted off to sleep, nose still pressed against your hair as his breaths turned even and his skin cooled. The combination of good sex and the comfort of strong arms holding you in place had sent you to sleep as well, because it just felt so good and right to be in his arms in the midday sunlight that spilled through your apartment windows painting the both of you in warm yellows.

But when you woke up he was gone, the room a dim blue and cold, despite the blanket he’d pulled over you, presumably before leaving.

It’s kind of heartbreaking if you think about it too much; you hadn’t thought Dick would be like that but you knew well he had… Emotional Issues, sometimes. So, you let him be to figure it out, even if it doesn’t feel good for you. Even if when you think on it, it feels like someone’s put their hand into your chest and is squeezing at your lungs and heart: It’s whatever.

You tell yourself you won’t dwell on it while you’re looking at the text you’d sent him that he hadn’t opened for days now, asking if he wants to talk.

He obviously didn’t.

You grab your bag and push your phone into it, resolving not to look at it for the next half hour, deciding to take a walk for your health.

Sunset hovers for a long time over Gotham at this time of year, twilight sitting on the edge of safe and dangerous just enough to still be comfortable to walk through.

Maybe night time is mad enough these days that the craziness has spilled over into daylight hours.

It’s a rumble first, it makes you stop in your steps and when thick green vines shoot through the walls around you with the force and speed of moving cars you thank your lucky stars you stopped. The world turns green, hell it smells green, and it doesn’t take a genius to know Poison Ivy is about.

There’s no way for you to get around the landscaping that’s turned your space into a little green bubble. The plants writhe around you, only small gaps showing the skies above. You give it a few minutes, listening to chaos and shouts outside before you decide to touch the vines, try to move them.

They do, and you make enough space to squeeze up and out into fresh air, except the vines underneath your palms stiffen, squeeze, and you’re trapped by the ankle, unable to pull your foot out of the tangle.

Looking around you sigh. There’s no one to be seen, even poison Ivy has moved further on down the street, where you catch sight of a black cape swooping down towards her as she commands the vines once more. The one that has captured your ankle squeezes and you hiss, pulling at your foot again hoping it doesn’t tighten any more.

The scent of green is taken over by something sweet as your nails drag through the vines and you pull and twist, before looking around frantically.

In front of you it twists as it grows, a flower bud that gives a little pop when it opens into a beautiful and massive red lily. The sweetness is thick on the air like syrup and you cough and breathe deep on reflex and cough again. The vines relax, or maybe you do, but your foot slips out completely and you tumble down the car sized vine, landing clumsily on the floor but on your feet all the same.

It’s when you get home it catches up with you.

Your throat feels dry and your skin too hot, clothes claustrophobic as you grab a bottle of water and nearly drain it greedily. Water running over the sides of your mouth and down your neck and chest makes you shudder, it feels intimate, like a lover trailing kisses along your skin.

Your mind takes you to Dick, the way his body was above you and you hum, before remembering you didn’t want to think about him.

There’s the sound of your phone ringing and you pull it out: It says it’s Dick and you consider for a moment before leaving it face down on the counter so you don’t have to see his name or his smiling face.

You don’t want to deal with him right now, you feel… Wrong? Good? It’s a weird amalgamation of the two. There are parts of your body that burn pleasantly, your fingertips tingle and the air around you feels good on your arms and legs. Your centre starts to hurt, like a cramp, it has you folding over while you groan.

Your phone rings again, you didn’t realise it had stopped.

It’s disrupting your focus on not folding up on the kitchen floor where you stand so you jab the lock button to hang up, and stumble into your bedroom.

The sheets are cool but not cool enough, they heat so quickly and rub against your body until it feels like a cheese grater against your skin. You pant and there’s a pounding on your door, making you open your eyes you hadn’t realised were closed and stopping the hand that’s rubbing pleasantly along your sternum, tracing the ghost of a kiss pressed there.

You hear Dick calling your name through the door and it pulls you out of your reverie, hand somehow already having slipped unbidden under the waistband of your jeans. Shuddering there’s the sensation of pain that no longer licks along the edge of pleasure and you sit up, walking towards the door when another wave of pain has you sliding down a nearby wall, pressing your palms to the cold tile and finding it pleasant enough to lay down and press your flushed cheek against.

Dick finds you like that after picking the lock on your door; panting and breathing too fast, skin too hot as you tremble on the kitchen floor, eyes half lidded and near delirious, and he curses himself for not spotting you trapped by the vines earlier.

Again, he calls your name, and you flinch as you open eyes that are darker and more heated than he wants to see, it looks like you’ve been got bad. He reaches out to you hesitantly and you pull back, pushing yourself up with great effort. He looks hurt by this, and you feel a sense of satisfaction at that.

“What d’you want?” you breathe out, feeling far too hot and uncomfortable in your own skin. That lick of pleasure from earlier has faded, leaving only pain that fuels your hurt; you turn that painful heat into a tool for focus. Dick watches you, body taut as if ready to move in a moment but he gives you space as he kneels a foot away, like you’re a wounded animal ready to lash out… You feel like one.

“You’ve- You were exposed to Poison Ivy’s plant.” He can see the pain across your features, the way your arms shake and you curl in on yourself. There’s a pain in his own voice and he knows he’s fucked up, he fucked up so, so bad and now you’re paying the price. “You need… You need help.”

Help. You think of what that would entail and feel the wetness between your legs saturate your underwear as you groan and curl in more on yourself. “You ghosted me,” the pain you’re feeling is pushed into the words and through grit teeth as you try not to focus on how nice it would feel to have Dick tease through that same wetness with his clever fingers. He hurt you, just as this is hurting you now, a matching pain that you’re only acknowledging at possibly the worst time to do so.

“Please,” Dick can see the danger turning into something more lethal, can see the way your body is overheating, heart beat climbing far too fast to be safe for very long, “We can talk after, I’ve been an idiot, but you need help now.”

He can see you fighting it, it’s impressive and scares him all at once, but you choke out a moan that ends in a pained cry that you cover with a shaking hand, squeezing your eyes shut. It hurts so bad: like the worst cramping you’ve ever had mixed with the worst flu, your whole body aches and feels like it doesn’t fit any more.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, sincere and pained like it’s been pulled from him, “you- I didn’t want to lose you but I want more. I’ve wanted more for a while and it scared me. I didn’t know how to tell you after, didn’t even understand it until after.”

All you can do is shake your head in disbelief as tears gather in your eyes, blurring the sight of him to a wash of colours, or it could be the light-headedness you’re feeling.

“It’s true. I promise.” He moves closer, reaching out tentatively to cup your cheek, fingers skimming the sensitive skin of your throat, as you breathe a sigh of relief that’s half a sob, leaning into his touch with heated skin, “Please let me help you.” He enters your space, his breath across your skin like a caress that causes a shiver of delight and you can feel your body respond, you can’t help but respond.

You don’t see surprise in his eyes when you push forward, fingers slipping through his hair as you kiss him in a way that steals his breath away from his lungs, and he gladly lets you have it if you need it.

You see relief.

You see the tenderness you’ve seen countless times when you’ve caught him watching you on late nights spent watching TV shows that slowly deteriorate through the episodes but still you continue watching because you’re not really watching TV, you’re just enjoying each other’s company.

You see the truth that he wants you, he has wanted you, and he keeps wanting you.

The way his hands barely graze your arms as you lean into him before, with a sucking in of breath and the flutter of his eyes closing, he pulls you against him like you weren’t close enough in the first place, tells you he wants you.

There’s nothing going through your mind after that except the realisation that every nerve in your body is firing where you connect with Dick. His lips taste like electricity and you can feel it soothing everything inside of you that yearns for this, every burning part of you finally quieting down in the wake of his touch.

You gain sanity and you speak between kisses that trail along Dick’s jawline, hear his breath hitch as you suck and nip the sensitive skin. “Don’t leave,” your hand presses against his chest, against his thudding heart, “not after this.”

There’s a desperation in your voice that rivals the one he knows must be consuming you and his arms tighten around you, “Not that stupid, to make the same mistake twice.” There’s resolution in his voice and he stands, pulling you up with him.

“Are you-“ you gasp when he picks you up easily, wrapping your legs around his waist and you can feel the length of him pressing against you through your clothes. “-sure about that?” You finish weakly, more moan than words.

“With this: Absolutely.” His hands feel like fire on your thighs, holding you up and burning all at once; close but not close enough to where you crave touch, any touch at all.

It’s not enough and he knows it.

He takes you through your apartment to your bedroom where he lowers you both onto your bedsheets. The weight of his body covering yours is soothing while the press of him where you need him is maddening. You pull at your clothes impatiently, pulling them away until your top half is bare and you tug at his clothes. He sees the flush of your skin and feels the heat of you against him, knows this can’t be the soft and sweet moment he’d like to give you.

There’ll be time for that later.

You watch as Dick pulls back, reaching for him with a pathetic little sound that doesn’t register in your mind as being one you made, and he places a placating hand on your stomach, soothing and promising, as he pulls your pants and underwear down your legs. His knuckles brushing against your thigh and the drag of your clothes has you writhing, the air on your finally-exposed skin feels like a sheet of ice, your nipples perk near painfully as you arch into Dick’s touch.

“Shhh,” he soothes, “I’m going to look after you,” he slips his clothes off and you barely have enough sense in you to wait until he’s bare before you sit up, hands settling on his chest and shoulder as you bend upward towards him, lips parted and heated eyes catching his before your mouth is just above his collarbone.

You can feel his hard and heavy cock resting against your thigh, and wriggle underneath him, impatient for the feel of him splitting you open and pushing deep, “I need it, please,” you murmur almost responding to your own thoughts, he knows what you mean and slides his hand between your bodies, feeling the heat emanating from you as his hand cups your sex, fingers slipping between your puffy soft lips, slick and welcoming. He can’t help but groan at the feeling, especially as he feels you growing wetter and wetter as you writhe, almost lost to the pollen madness because he’s so close to giving you what you need, what you want. “Please,” you whimper, eyes tearing, unseeing through the haze of heat and desire.

“Just a little longer, I promise,” he soothes as he slips one finger inside of you easily, so he adds a second to help the stretch not be so painful, thinking of how you’ll feel come tomorrow. He kisses you, just as hungry for more as you are, but he’s patient, and he knows what you need right now.

His fingers curl and caress inside of you and you gasp into his mouth, eyes locking on his in shock as he does something indescribable with his fingers that has your toes curling and your cunt gushing over his hand as your hips undulate as much as they can below him. When you come back to your body you swallow, mouth dry from the silent scream that had taken your breath away, “again,” you pant, “do that again.”

Dick can barely think, not after watching you fall apart below him as you did; eyes blown and lips reddening as they parted in such a pretty O. When your body relaxes once more he only feels satisfaction and absolute need for you when he hears the wet squelch of his fingers inside of you. When you ask him to do it again he can only comply, and take all of you in as he pushes you to soaking his hand once more, your walls flexing soft then hard around his skilful fingers. Your head falls back, the column of your neck exposed and he presses a kiss to it as you gasp out a sob.

He pulls his fingers out and soothes them over your hole, over your clit and lips, hand wet and slipping deliciously through the folds. Dick tries not to imagine the feel of your thighs around his head as you writhe underneath him and his clever tongue as he tastes you to his satisfaction. His wet hand settles on your inner thigh, gently prying your shaking legs to open for him, and you watch him panting.

His cock, much longer and thicker than his fingers, slides in with the help of your juices, and Dick bottoms out easily, snugly, the wet sound him slipping through your folds has you tightening around his length.

You feel like a live wire, humming with energy, only waiting for the circuit to be closed before you light up. And you do light up.

The tip of his cock presses against your cervix, and you swallow a keen as he angles his hips on the drag out to pull across the most sensitive nerves inside of you.

You babble as he starts to piston his hips, the push through you feeling endless, you wonder how you can feel so spent but still need more, still want it: You feel starved for it. Dick looks down at you, your lips moving, trying to find words that you can’t grasp right now, and he sooths a hand across your cheek, giving you sensation to ground yourself in, and you turn your head to take his thumb into your mouth; you shine with sweat and your eyes are lidded and smouldering as you watch him, his thumb in your mouth as your tongue swirls a sinful promise around it. It’s all he can do to grit his teeth and not come right there.

His thrusts become deeper, lingering with each push as you gush around him with each meeting of your hips and you gasp around his thumb, and he pulls it out of your mouth, smearing spit on your lower lip in a filthy caress, “’m gonna- Dick, I’m…”

“Let go, baby, come,” his body angles over you, hair falling over his eyes as he watches you choke out a stilted breath, “that’s it,” he swallows thickly as your hips quake and your cunt tightens around his cock. When your back arches and you cry out he lets himself go, you can vaguely feel the heat of his cum spilling out of you as he continues thrusting through both of your orgasms.

Your body trembles in the aftershocks, but you feel cooler, less tightly wound, like your heart is finally beating in your chest as it should.

Above you, Dick huffs out a breath against your chest, pressing a kiss against the sweat flushed skin.

His body is warm underneath your hands that rest on his waist as you sag into your bed, spent in all the right ways you feel sticky and fulfilled. For a moment you worry that he is moving to leave, to get dressed and walk away while you’re floating away like he did last time but instead he shifts to lay beside you and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead: Somehow it’s just as intimate as the culmination of all you’ve just done together.

“You wont leave?” you ask, tired but holding on as your eyes threaten to start drooping.

Dick presses his lips to your forehead again as he pulls you close, nose brushing against your hair, “No, I promise,” he murmurs, “if you’re happy for me to stay…”

“Stay,” you breathe, fingers lazily tracing the column of his neck down to his collarbones. He hums, pulling you tighter to him, tucking you close. You fall into sleep, knowing when you wake up he’ll be there this time, and you’ll talk and it will be emotional and deep, and you’ll have sex again and something wonderful will blossom, but for now you sleep.

And now is good.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dc x reader #my writing #dick grayson reader #nightwing reader #nightwing/reader #dick grayson/reader

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sleepyfan-blog · 2 months ago

Text

Intake Form

Author's note: this is the first part of Lykos' backstory in the Husbandry AU! I hope you enjoy it. Next

Tagged:

Warnings: none, please ask me to tag something if it bothers you/I missed it

Summary: Lykos reports to a nearby base. He's given an intake form and has questions because of what he's asked about.

“I was told this is one of the nearby Astartes bases that accept Astartes from several different legions, rather than hosting a single legion?” Lykos stated, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked down at the startled mortal sitting behind the welcome desk at the base that he had presented himself at.

He had found himself upon this strange world a handful of days ago, and had wandered until he found civilization. The chaplain was glad that he had been suddenly transported upon this world in his usual all-black armor and cape as he would have found the abrupt transition more distressing were he without his armor and weapons. Not that he had yet to need either, but like most Astartes, Lykos spent more time inside his armor after he had earned it, than outside of it.

“I… Yes, that’s correct. We have. We have an intake form for you to fill out, if you don’t mind…?” The baseline mortal explained, handing over an astartes sized, thin block of wood with… Was that real paper upon it? Fascinating! He had seen the forest full of trees on the outskirts of the city, but Lykos had no idea that the supply of wood was in such abundance to use paper. They also handed him a writing implement as well.

“I will fill this out, thank you.” He murmured, smiling a little at the mortal. He’d removed his helmet upon entry to the base, having clipped it to his belt, to appear slightly more friendly. The skull mask of a chaplain’s helmet was meant to be intimidating, but he was not angling for being terrifying at the moment. Lykos could see the tell-tale signs of this base being inhabited by Ultramarines, so the luxury of paper wasn’t that much of a surprise to the chaplain. He walked over to one of the astartes-sized seats and felt himself sink into the very comfortable seats, leaning back a little as he diligently answered the questions. He briefly thumbed through the packet of paper he’d been given, before starting to read through the first question.

What is your name, rank, and Legion/chapter/war-band association? … Lykos was curious as to what was meant by chapter and war band, but he would refrain from asking until he completed this bit of paperwork. Chaplain Lykos Sirak, Word Bearers Third Company.

Time, date and location previous to arriving in this world? … The implication being that it was a common enough occurrence for Astartes to be randomly arriving on this world without being sent here deliberately was a fascinating one. 18:33, M031.876 Monarchia, Khur. Khur had been brought into compliance almost sixty years ago, and he had been helping to develop Monarchia into the place of beauty and worship that his gene-father had hoped it would become.

Lykos went to read the next question. There was a preface written before it. If you have heard of the Drop Site Massacre, or the Battle of Isstvan three, please read and answer the next five questions to the best of your abilities. If you have not, skip to question 8.

He had heard of the world Isstvan three, but only in passing. It was a world that was either in the process of being integrated into the Imperium, or recently had been. The chaplain mentally shrugged and dutifully skipped down to question eight.

Have you noticed any unusual changes in your superior officers and/or Primarch in the past few days/weeks/months or years? If so, can you pinpoint when they started to change, and list possible triggers for them to have started to act differently than they had previously. The answer to this question is confidential and will not be discussed with others unless you indicate a desire to do so in person. Please be as specific as possible.

Well… That was an ominous question. Lykos closed his eyes for several moments, going into a meditative state as he genuinely considered the question asked of him. He had been serving the Word Bearer’s legion for two hundred years as a chaplain, and a hundred and fifty before his promotion into the roll that had been created by his Primarch, as a way to minister to the spiritual and emotional needs of his sons, along with a way to encourage the compliance of new worlds into the Imperium with the potential of not having to fire a single shot. Yes, this sort of compliance was slower than the violence-forward methods that other Legions employed, but the citizens seemed to be grateful to not be trampled to death by the ceramite boots of their new rulers.

Lykos wrote down the truth as he knew it. As far as he was aware, his superior officers had been not been acting strangely. Lykos did not have the honor of interacting directly with his Primarch, and thus, could not say if the Imperial Son was acting strangely, and wrote that down. He then focused on the next question.

What are the dominant belief/faith or faiths of your legion/chapter/warband? Do you hold these beliefs, or do they differ? If they do differ, please explain the differences between the two.

Lykos hesitated to answer that, keenly aware that most legions would be unhappy to hear that they openly worshiped the Emperor of Mankind as a god, given the Imperial Truth that they were all supposed to espouse the Imperial Truth… But he had been honest on this form so far, and to lie now felt… Disingenuous. Besides, there was enough room on the paper to fully explain the reasoning behind why he and so many of his fellow Word Bearers believed in the divinity of The Emperor, which Lykos used.

What do you know of Chaos?

The… The theological concept? The inherent randomness of the universe? Lykos was baffled and wrote down what he knew about the concepts of chaos. Considering the amount of room to answer that question with, there was far, far more to the question of chaos than the chaplain knew. Ah well, if it was something he needed to know on this world, Lykos was fairly sure that someone would explain.

Are you a psyker? Nope. He had no psychic ability, though there were some in his legion gifted with such abilities.

Have you dabbled in sorcerous arts, or consider yourself to be a sorcerer or warlock? If so, please list the major abilities you possess and the contracts you have entered into. … Well that was blunt and pointed. Again, no, Lykos hadn’t and wrote as much.

The next several questions were asking about the kinds of missions that he had completed, his medical history including any prosthetics, distinctive markings/tattoos/scars he may have, and a request to list all of the weapons and the kind of armor he was in possession of. Questions about battles that he had participated in, honors won and lost. Lykos dutifully answered each and every question to the best of his abilities, pausing every so often to stretch out his writing wrist and fingers before continuing until he had written out his full history as he knew it.

Do you have any rivals/enemies among your fellow astartes? Lykos suppressed a chuckle. Some of the more passionate and stubborn of his Brothers had found Eternal Rivals and Bitter Enemies amongst both their brothers and other legions. But as far as he knew, Lykos had no enemies like that. Or at least, he didn’t consider any astartes an enemy or rival in such a way, and wrote that down.

The next few questions were about which legions or chapters (whatever a chapter was) he would prefer to interact with, those he’d rather avoid if possible, and other sorts of preferences and dislike questions, which he answered with mild amusement and confusion. He would work with whoever he was assigned to do so, regardless as to whether or not he liked them interpersonally. Part of a chaplain’s training was to ensure that one could separate their own emotions and put them on hold while dealing with whatever situation or emergency was going on… More so than most other kinds of Astartes.

Those questions were also the final questions that he was supposed to answer on the form as while there were other questions, the qualifying statements that stated whether or not he was to answer of them did not apply to him. For which Lykos was grateful, as he had spent a couple of hours writing down all of these answers. He suppressed a yawn as he got up and stretched before walking over to the mortal who’d given him this form. He smiled politely at them and said “Here you go. I have answered all of the questions that I am supposed to on this form. I have questions about some of the questions on this form.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. I probably can’t explain most if not all of your questions, but I can offer you several brochures that have been created for Astartes who’ve recently arrived on Earth… Or as Astartes call our world, Terra.” The baseline answered, taking the form, board and pen from Lykos, casually dropping an inexplicable information bomb on poor Lykos who hadn’t been expecting that.

“T-Terra? I’m… I’m on Terra? But-” Lykos spluttered, about to point out that there hadn’t been this much plant life on Terra in millenia.

The baseline raised a hand before saying “Before you tell me something you’re probably not supposed to, I would strongly recommend that you read these brochures. One of the Astartes practiced in helping Astartes new to Earth settle in will be by soon. In the meantime feel free to wander around the lobby and other publicly marked rooms of the base. Any door that is locked is not meant to be entered unless you have the key for it.”

“I… Alright. I’ll… I’ll read through these.” Lykos murmured, internally reeling still as he took the offered information pamphlets. They were astartes sized and also made out of yet more paper. He settled down into another astartes-sized chair and began to read the first brochure. It was titled “Welcome to Terra, Loyalist.”

#oc: lykus #word bearer #warhammer 30k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #my writing

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years ago

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s/o with a similar curse to eda hcs ; hunter

requested by ; anonymous (27/04/23)

fandom(s) ; the owl house

fandom masterlist(s) ; main | hunter-only

character(s) ; hunter wittebane

outline ; “Oh ho ho what about a Hunter x reader but the reader has curse similar to eda's (and maybe a little angsty if the reader happens to be cardinal themed >:3)”

warning(s) ; references to isolation, angst, angst -> fluff, brief reference to body horror, canon typical violence

by the time the two of you had met, hunter would have had his fair share of encounters with cursed witches

including eda before and after gaining control of her owl beast

which means that he would likely have been the first witch that you’d encountered in years that wasn’t immediately terrified of you and wanted you dead, captured or worse

it was confusing for you at first — well, for a while actually — and you were constantly on edge waiting for him to reveal his secret evil intentions

which he didn’t have, of course, but you had no way of knowing that

better to be safe than sorry, especially after spending your life running and hiding from people that wanted to torture and mutilate you and your beast

especially as your curse drained your magic and left you defenceless beyond that secondary form — the form that drew all of that negative, deadly attention to you in the first place

but over time you began to let your walls down around hunter — opening up bit by bit until you started to consider him your friend and, eventually, something more than that

something you never thought you’d get the chance to have because of your curse

and you were absolutely terrified of losing him like you’d lost your other loved ones

the memories of your bones contorting and breaking and reforming, and your skin stretching as you lost control of your body were so close to the forefront of your mind not to worry — you could still taste the metal on your tongue and feel the stringy flesh between your teeth if you thought about it for long enough

having some control over your curse didn’t mean that accidents couldn’t occur and you didn’t want to be another person to hurt him

to scar him like his ‘uncle’ had — leave him with more trauma and pain that he’d entered your relationship with — after he’d put so much trust into you

though through it all hunter continued to stand by you, to reassure and comfort you in private and to actively defend you whenever someone tried to harm you

you lost track of the amount of times that you had to patch him up and clean blood out of his clothes

his loyalty and determination to stand by you only faltered once — the first time he saw your cursed form

red feathers with spots of black here and there and about your face; large wings that curled around you like a crimson cape with darker feathers at the edges; eyes that looked so familiar

painfully familiar, a walking reminder of the first entity that saw good in him

the image of the being that saved his life more than once

a cardinal. a stunning red cardinal.

you’d never seen him cry until then, and he was sobbing so hard he couldn’t breathe and collapsing to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself tightly

and you didn’t know what to do, immediately turning back and cautiously approaching him

every cell in your body crying out for him yet you stood a distance away as you apologised and asked him what you could do to help

promising that you’d never turn back if that would make things better

you just didn’t want to lose him

and you wouldn’t

after taking some time to himself to grieve and mourn, hunter seeks you out again and explains, through tears, that he’s not afraid of you

that you’re beautiful

you just reminded him of someone that he loved and that he lost before you met

and he tells you about flapjack and his history and how he changed his life

and you say that you wished you could have met him

and he says that he would have loved you

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #cursed reader #toh x reader #the owl house x reader #hcs #headcanons #toh hunter x reader #hunter wittebane x reader

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thisnameisnotspokenfor · 2 months ago

Note

If Asha and Ceph were to meet other Disney/DreamWorks/Pixar characters,who would they get along with the least to the best?

Would Asha adore Hiccup's inventions?

I got this idea from thinking how toothless would react to ceph's true form.

On a side note

Which would Asha prefer,the assassins or her monthly.

And who would win Ceph's insanity or Baymax's care

Also who would win in a fashion debate between Edna Mode and Ceph?

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen a dreamworld movie so I’ll do Disney

((WARNING THIS IS LONG))

In terms of other Disney characters especially heroines I think Asha would get along not so well with Merida and maybe Aurora. Merida is sort of a frenemy. Merida breaks rules and societal expectations while Asha adheres too them a bit too much. Merida turned to magic to solve her problems- Asha hates that. So they’d probably be a little uncool with each other at times which ngl would be sorta funny because I imagine that Asha is unfortunately the only person in the joke who flat out understands Merida says. But I think they’d probably tolerate each other for the most part.

As for Aurora well I think Asha would understand her being upset at her life being suddenly uprooted but I mean considering Asha is a peasant if you ever wanna annoy her just be a princess who cries over having to be royal. She’ll politely tune you out in a heartbeat.

I think she’d be neutral on Anna. Not in a bad way. They’re on two completely different ends of the spectrum in everything.

I feel like she’d be torn over Elsa. Really torn.

Not sure how she’d get along with Raya tbh.

I think she’d respect Cinderella a lot- especially when Asha gains some more retrospective skills. (I’ll go into more detail about this in the future)

She’d get along super well with Mirabel, Kida, Snow White, Mulan, Rapunzel and Tiana. Works for her dreams like Tiana (with skepticism in the magic part), she’s uncovering her people’s past for the betterment of their society like Kida, relates to the chores/hardwork and admires Snow White’s good spirit and Mirabel? Goodness these two would be therapy buddies. They’ve both been the black sheep of their respective groups by not being born with magical abilities to serve the purpose of the authoritative figure who uses magic to rebuild a society and is paranoid of the past repeating itself.

I feel like she’d also get along well with Moana too! They both love sailing, and pushing boundaries. She thinks Moana is super clever as well

((I feel like her and rapunzel have a lot in common too- the authoritative figure in their life belittling them, and wanting to chase their dreams so they’d probably be close as well))

Asha would love Hiccups inventions! (I admit I’ve never seen how to train your dragon)

Uhh Toothless don’t look at that…you don’t want to see that….

And to answer your questions:

Asha is taking her monthly over the assassins.

Ceph is not openly insane to people he doesn’t know. So if anything if he met Baymax he’d act like a normal person at first (he’d be very curious about just what Baymax is)

That last one is a tough one. I mean Edna was spitting some facts but let’s be honest- If any of those things- getting sucked into a tornado, a plane engine, a rocket/bomb, etc happened to Ceph. He’d walk it off.

So they’d be at an impasse because I can’t see either side relenting and this is probably the only thing that even magnifico would side with Cepheus on.

Star clothes is different from earth clothes in SO MANY ways (supernatural properties, they’re very resilient, they change to match the sky etc). So the best outcome is for Ceph to just give her some star clothes and she lets him keep his cape.

Hopefully.

I might do a separate post on how Ceph would interact with other characters.

#asks #north towards the nightosphere #the kingdom of the stars #writers on tumblr #asha #cepheus

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 1 year ago

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Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 2]

Warnings and Information: Intended audience 13+ (18 if you squint) Oops, you fell asleep on the couch together and got spotted by the sister! Omega wonders what that means… Brotherly antics: don’t tease me or else, Crosshair! and Omega don’t repeat that word (even though we all swear)! Medic!Reader is invited to have breakfast with the Batch. Mild awkwardness if you really squint. Dialogue heavy. This whole series is absolutely RIFE with my personal headcanons. Sweet sibling interactions. Brief talks/mentions of war and vague recaps of past injuries the Batch has acquired and Medic!Reader has treated. Hunter, it's not polite to stare (and someone's bound to notice); one line is a little suggestive.

Word-count: 6,062

Omega shuffled into the common room, bleary-eyed and yawning in the youthful hours of sunlight. Aiming to get some breakfast, she was about to turn off into the kitchen before spotting the back of Hunter's head, briefly believing he was already awake, simply sitting in silence on the couch. "Mornin', Hunter." When he didn't answer, she didn't immediately think anything of it. He very well could have been in his own little world in this window of time while the travel-hub was relatively dormant and his siblings were asleep when his senses were not overwhelmed (and edging a “meltdown” on the rare occasion). But hearing a deep, level breathing pattern, she realized her brother was asleep.

"Oh, sorry!" Omega apologized reflexively, ready to slip away or maybe grab a blanket for him before noticing something else. He wasn't alone. Their medic friend [____] was sleeping on the couch with him. She was sleeping on him actually, curled up on her side, head on his thigh, and one of his arms was carefully draped over her the same way he would shelter Omega when they were out on a mission to secure credits.

When had [____] come over; was she still awake and no one told her their friend was coming by last night after all? Omega loved the doctor who looked the same age as her brothers, the woman who had saved her brothers. First Crosshair's parasite extraction despite the dangerously short temper and lashing out ("It's a biochemical response from the parasite. It provokes a lot of aggression. This is not your… vod's…? fault. Here, hand me that dropper for the subconjunctival bleeding in his left eye."). Then Tech's shrapnel in a very perilous area - too close to his heart - after an explosive caused a high-speed wreckage ("You're a smart girl like your brother: what subject keeps him calm? What'll keep him talking to distract himself at least?") on a mission to help some farmers stop dangerous intergalactic poachers. The time Omega had to all but use Echo's scomp link as a handle to steer him in the direction of [____]'s clinic, fighting her tears as she got them there just past the usual hours of business, to fight the dangerous beginnings of hypothermic shock when the Marauder had scarcely landed ("I'm sorry but I'm clo- Omega? Sweetheart what's the matte- ECHO!!") and her brother was paler than ever, wearing at least six blankets like a cape around his shoulders.

And once her, when Omega had eaten something she hadn't admittedly properly checked and believed was fairly innocuous. The way she'd been so sick. The way Hunter broke into the clinic in the middle of the night while someone fetched the doctor from her home, almost feral in his fretting that his little sister was burning with fever and keeping nothing down. The way she hadn't even changed out of her bed clothes to come and uphold a medic's oath to save, to heal, to nurture. The way she cradled Omega's sickly, hot and sweat-coated body to her own chest and rocked with her back and forth as she and Tech counted down the minutes past the administration of a little child's medical melt-away (multiplied out to an age-appropriate dosage) under Omega's tongue.

Wrecker was probably seen by [____] the most because he'd get so many scrapes, surface burns and blows to the head as the squad's strongman and demolitions expert. Hunter… never. He'd never been seen by the woman of wellness and health; he almost went out of his way and to great lengths not to trouble her at times without coming along as a reluctant secondary patient to one of CF99's scans. He was probably the most distant with her, and now she's got her head in his lap on the couch of the common room.

It was like the romantic holofilm she'd watched with Echo and Wrecker very recently when all three had enough downtime to bond over something together (while Tech, Hunter and Crosshair were taking on an easy three-person job for credits). Where two people secretly liked each other and then had a big realization together that I like you too that had made Wrecker chortle because he thought it was corny. Echo had looked equal parts wistful and teary-eyed because he thought it was touching that this "will-they-won't-they" storyline had a happy ending after all. She really liked the holofilm because it had allowed her brothers to take their mind off of the war, even for a little while; allowed her to spend time with them and then in good fun speculate what each brother in love might do. When the other three had returned and asked just what the animated discussion was about that had everyone laughing and giggling so much, Tech merely shrugged and admitted he didn't really consider the topic much, Crosshair and Wrecker started playfully insulting one another (as usual), and Hunter had been quiet.

He was likely and simply just overstimulated and eager to decompress soon that night, so that likely explained his behavior as he refrained from joining the friendly banter and speculations but curtly mentioned he was glad Omega and the two brothers enjoyed the romance film before striding from the room with an awkward nod and stiff smile when Omega tried asking what about you just as Wrecker and Crosshair started the "Oh yeah, well I-!" rounds.

Thinking about it again, now, wasn't that the same thing the male lead in the holofilm had done when his friends asked if he ever thought of someone special?

Omega had lingered long enough that Hunter had now subconsciously sensed a second party in his proximity, waking with a mild start. "Hm! Omega-? What have I told you about lingering like that?" The jolt had woken [____] as well, slowly sitting up with a sense of befuddlement in her voice seeing Omega just stationed in the mouth of the short hallway. "Hey there; what's wrong, kiddo? You not feeling well?"

Omega felt tense with her confusion and budding anxieties and questions. She was feeling fine, but she felt… maybe a little upset that no one told her that [____] was here, and unsure why she had changed previous plans. Hunter could sense that Omega was fighting with being mad and being confused, seeing the flashing micro-expressions for what they were rather than looking like simply being fidgety.

"I, uh, hailed [____]'s comms by mistake last night shortly after she got back home and woke her when she'd barely gotten to sleep. You were already sleeping when I invited her to come here so I could help her with her injuries as a way of apologizing. I didn't want to wake you in case it was just a quick thing."

"It was not." A half-awake sniper lazily purred from over Omega's shoulder. "It took an hour."

Hunter bristled at the lilt of his brother's voice and Omega was hardly startled because she could hear Crosshair up and about, but he'd frightened their friend who had no warning. "Kriff, Cross… don't scare me like that. Do you not have footsteps?!" [____] hissed, looking startled. Crosshair chuckled dryly, mouth in the ghost of a smile as he moved past his sister into the kitchenette. "I think you need to get your ears checked, doctor." One smoky voice called after the other mostly in bastardized-Mando'a, the only word anyone unfamiliar with the language could be sure of was the Huttese "kark". Maybe, just maybe, don't do it in front of your little sister next time.

"What's kark, Hunter?"

"Don't say that!" Hunter demanded urgently, fruitlessly forbidding the young girl a little more of a colorful vocabulary out of a sense of instinctual responsibility. They all had an unfortunate habit of swearing, not like he was any better. There were simply times he felt it needed to be toned down or certain words and phrases be used more sparingly. A Sith’s left tit, he’d forgotten Omega was standing right there when Crosshair had suggested that it sounded like Hunter and the female medic had themselves a very nice night and the words simply just slipped when he told Cross to stow it or the oil in the weapons kit he was partial to would be replaced with spoiled cooking grease. Like the old times in the GAR.

Omega blinked, shoulders and eyebrows floating higher. "Why not? Is it worse than what some of the Regs used to say on Kamino?"

"No-no…" Cross started, golden-amber eyes sparking with mischief over one of his two hot cups of caf in his hands from the kitchenette, pretending not to notice that hardening glare and grinding jaw Hunter directed at him, "It's perfectly fine. Hunter's just being soft and paternal." A few more words were added with a dark chuckle, once again, not in Basic.

He wants to put on a good show for his little crush.

Hunter went red at the additional words from his brother, who was looking mighty, mighty pleased with himself for provoking such a reaction compared to the usual façade [____] knew him for. His eyes flared. Brows pinched.

"No! Stop! Don't listen to Crosshair!" Hunter warned him and Omega, flipping from looking stern and annoyed with each respective sibling. Cross heaved a mirthless laugh, then stepped towards [____] still seated on the couch with the other cup of caf outstretched. "Here. You'll be wanting this, doc."

She thanked him in a confused stammer, taking the caf, which she noticed looked made in her preferred fashion. How did he know? The continuation of this mischievous expression was not entirely comforting, but [____] gave it a cautious sip after blowing on it to cool it down a touch before putting such sensitive surfaces that would hurt to burn to the lip of the ceramic mug. It definitely was made the way she liked. "It's a little hotter than I usually have it, but it's good. Thanks, Cross."

"You can't start breakfast without a little caf on a good day." It was a very pointed statement, he meant her, her habits. How the kriff did he know? How kriffing much did he know? Has he been in my living space?! (Well yes, she’d later remember he'd been the one who went with Tech to fetch her when Omega was very ill. Lanky little bastard with his spindly limbs had gotten impatient (or desperate) and broke her window mechanism to shimmy inside when Tech was fooling around with the door code.) "It's not going to bite you, [____]." He was urging her to have another sip in the weirdest manner.

"Did you do something to my caf?" came the confused, impulsive accusation, something that made the marksman look at her with a hurt, but confused expression.

Cross was quick to shoot back his own question for the medic, standing a little straighter and a little stiffer than before. "I made it…?"

"Crosshair, this is the first time you've made some caf for her," Omega reminded him, speaking up after a long silence, "she doesn't know this is something you do for the people you care about. Of course she's confused, after just waking up recently…" The Loth-cat was out of the bag. Several Loth-cats, maybe.

[____] stammered wordlessly for a moment, processing the information she'd been given. Finding her voice, she meekly thanked him once again for the caf before Crosshair had decided to either duck from the room or deny everything Omega said in a moment of panicked impulse. Two bad habits of his. "Oh… I see. Well, thank you, Crosshair. It was awfully kind of you to make some for me before, uh...” the word breakfast hung on the edge of her tongue. Breakfast. Right… What day was it first and foremost? She hadn't planned on falling asleep at their housing when she came over last night at Hunter's invitation, thinking she'd be patched up and on her way back home. Sleeping somewhere other than the familiar comforts of her own bed had proven disorienting and she was struggling to feel mentally sharp. "Wh-what time is it?" Hunter mumbled some answer as he twitched his head in the direction of the hallway, distracted.

Crosshair seemed to know, too. "Echo's awake."

"How can you tell?" Hunter didn't answer, just skirted around the furniture and down the hall before tugging open the appropriate door, bare feet plodding across the tile quickly but quietly. "I-Is everything- What's going on?"

"This happens sometimes, doc. Hunter has it under control."

She couldn't help it, feeling like she wanted to make sure everything was okay. Her job. "What is "it", Cross? Should- Does he need help-"

"Doc: you're not on the job. Sit down, take a deep breath." Crosshair reminded her, using a brief, stern look to silence the reply she had when her jaw dropped open. She sat back down on the couch as told, and Omega took advantage of the opportunity to steal a hug and a spot on the sofa for herself. "Sometimes Echo's cybernetics make getting ready for the day… a little difficult," Omega offered a quiet explanation, frowning sympathetically, "I think Tech called it Phantom Limb Syndrome. Experiencing some sensation or degree of pain in… u-um…" Omega stopped, remembering that [____] was the type of healthcare worker who got nicknamed, for better or for worse, a term for someone who had learned a lot of health skills but mastered none during the war and she didn't need to explain what she'd learned from her brother. She couldn't even remember what the term was.

"It's okay. 'A limb no longer there by purposeful or accidental amputation'." [____] finished softly for her, showing Omega a nonverbal sign along with her words that it was okay, she could have explained it if she wanted to before taking a small swallow of caf. For a moment, there was a distant look in her eyes, clouded by sleep recently broken and the many memories she shouldered with her profession.

Just before Hunter helped Echo from his bedroom, one of his legs stiffer than the other and forcing him to hobble, Wrecker had emerged from his and Tech's room, from sleepy to bright-eyed in seconds in delighted confusion. "[____]'s here? U-uh, mornin'! Guess Hunter must've invited you to breakfast since you were off-planet around dinner!"

"Oh, I was getting around to it… Just trying to help Echo with a stubborn bolt in his left knee plate first and we couldn't find the tool in his room…" Hunter sighed, carefully timing his steps with Echo's as he supported his brother to a chair in the tight dining room that branched off from the common area of the house. "Think that tool's at the table. You want to stick around for breakfast, friend? Might be a while before it's all finished, but you're always welcome to join." It was the same invitation Hunter gave to join them for any meal, no matter how many times she'd joined them before.

"Pleeease?" Omega added sweetly, stitching her arms tighter around [____].

"Haha, okay, okay! I'd be happy to join. Anything I can do to help?" Hunter was about to protest, some remark about being a guest and taking it easy on her dominant arm while it was healing before Crosshair's eyes darted over to the kitchen in a follow me fashion. "It's a real blue milk run of a meal, but we can do it from scratch if you're up for it, doc."

"Sure!"

She followed after him into the kitchenette, carrying the gunmetal gray mug carefully. With a sharp swip! at least two knives were plucked from the cutting block by the master marksman as he regarded her with a little quirk of a neatly kept brow. "I'm only asking because I'll never hear the end of it from Tech if I don't," Crosshair started, now carelessly selecting a too-small cutting board at first before realizing his error, "but you know your knife safety, right?" He began looking through the stack of visually identical but differently sized boards stacked on the other counter to find the appropriate one. Next, Cross plunged his hands into the depths of a thick paper bag and felt around for something for just a heart's beat before he got what he was looking for. The criminally overpriced fruits (his own words) that he was very particular to, admittedly, that his siblings had taken a liking to as well. They went well with breakfast, and they were having a friend over; make it special, make it a proper occasion. Kriff, it could even be considered part of the apology for Hunter waking the good doctor up if he wanted to spin it that way for all Cross cared.

"Yeah, I'm familiar with a scalpel, if you'll recall."

Cross just chuckled softly, then nearly swore with a startled snarl as he bumped into Omega stepping back towards the first counter to give [____] the fruit with instructions it first needed to be skinned of the thick, fleshy outer layer and then diced. "You really are a JOAT-med; thank goodness for that. SHI- Omega, if you're going to be in the kitchen, don't stand right behind someone!"

Wrecker laughed and said something about a close one through a yawn from outside the kitchen. Omega's chin dipped into her collarbone with shame, glancing at him under her bangs as they fell into her face. "Sorry… I just wanted to see what you were making." Sighing, Crosshair set the second knife down on the cutting board and took a knee to better meet with Omega's eye level, a deliberate act of refusing to tower over her. "I'm sorry too, for snapping. You just need to be careful here, Omega. Look at me," There was a slender finger curled under her chin before he lazily flicked his thumb along her jaw to steady her head and encourage her to make eye contact once more before he took it as permission to speak again. "I'm not mad. You simply startled me. Let's just be extra cautious when everyone's still waking up. C'mere." He got on his feet again and scooped Omega up by the armpits to perch her on an empty counter on the other side from where Crosshair and [____] would be working on breakfast. "You can watch from there for right now. Okay?"

"Okay."

Crosshair had been the last of the brothers to connect with Omega due to many reasons beyond what they called "inhibitor chips", and she'd tried, Maker, how she'd tried, to treat him no differently than the others when his chip was slowly rearing an ugly head. Promising him she knew he was behaving like that because of these chips. Promising him she knew he couldn't help it. Promising again and again you're my brother too. With the removal, it hadn't immediately "fixed" Crosshair; it just made him less "dangerous". All of the men are less "dangerous" with these "chips" removed. It had taken time and patience, and a little of [____]'s help, for them to come together the same way she'd enmeshed herself in the hearts of her other vode.

"Crosshair?"

He paused before he nursed his caf once more after setting a mixing bowl down. "Yes?"

"What's a JOAT-med?"

"Jack Of All Trades Medic. Means the medic knows, or really seems to, a little bit of everything." Echo called into the kitchen on his way past, now walking a few test laps around the place to make sure things were properly adjusted. Looked like he and Hunter had gotten the problem bolt mostly figured out without needing to drag Tech into it. Wherever Tech was. He hadn't yet emerged from his and Wrecker's bedroom but it sounded like he was stirring, at least.

Omega seemed satisfied with the answer, grinning brightly and bouncing her head once, sharply. "Oh. Yeah: that's definitely [____]."

"Ah, is that what that means," came the semi-skeptical musing with deliberate and steady downstrokes of the knife through the sweet local fruit they were using for the first meal of the day, the controlled rhythm holding Omega's attention, rapt. "Been wondering about that. That amount of fruit look good for seven, Cross?" Crosshair glanced over his shoulder lazily as he was rummaging in an overhead cabinet for pastry flour and a few different seasonings. After a moment of thought, his hand darted back up into the back of the cabinetry to nab some kind of spice for those who wanted something with a bit of a bite. "That'll be enough."

"You can always ask about the jargon." Echo put out the offer on another pass by the kitchen. This lap was smoother, and the hobble was now gone. "Aw yeah, that's done it, thanks for the help, sarge. We'd be happy to answer."

"Seven? Seven what?" Tech stumbled into the common room now joining the rest of the waking world, dark circles under his eyes that made Echo pause just before sitting down to make one final adjustment with Hunter's help. "Sith's left tit, you okay, brother? Were you up late on your datapad again?"

Tech either ignored or hadn't heard the last, pointed question. (Echo was not a big fan of how much of the day Tech spent with his nose in his datapad with or without blue light filtration settings in the goggles.) "No, I… seem to have fallen asleep at my desk rather unexpectedly last night while trying to fix a setting in my helmet. I will be fine. Good morning, [____]."

"Mornin', Tech. You having trouble sleeping again, friend?" Phrasing the question like that would disarm Crosshair from reminding her a second time she wasn't on the job, that she was just asking as a friend first. A reminder that, like them, she was more than her job. "Erm, no, as I said, I will be fine. I'm not having trouble sleeping." She laughed softly, disarming one brother didn't always disarm another in the same way she'd realized too late. She needs to be more explicit with Tech. "I'm not asking as a medic," [____] gestured to the shoulder of her top bare of any medical insignia, "I'm asking as a friend, hun."

Tech's chin dropped just slightly with a silent oh at the clarification. "I see. Well… not to beat a dead bantha, but…"

The medic just laughed lightly with a warm smile to stop Tech from worrying his bottom lip while searching for an explanation to give her, "You will be fine. I know. Doesn't mean I won't worry about you, all of you, on occasion. Even when I know you're all plenty capable and tougher than you look." She met the eye of each Batcher meaningfully, that warm smile never budging for a second. She had to set everything in her hands down so Omega could safely dismount the counter and wallop her with another heartfelt hug. The last one to meet her eyes was Hunter; each of the men had looked a little parts flustered but no less touched in their own ways that she'd made the efforts to point out in a silent indication of yes, you too, mister/missy, but Hunter looked particularly flustered, even shyly ducking his head after a moment.

Tech was the first to thank the medic, because for once it was Wrecker who was distracted by Hunter's behavior. "That is very kind of you to be concerned for our well-being even though, as you said, you understand we are plenty capable. Thank you, [____]."

"What the genius said."

"Ah, don't mind him. Thanks, [____]."

"You're a good friend." Omega offered sweetly, her voice muffled by the material of the medic's top.

Wrecker disagrees with a boisterous laugh, which serves to make his sister laugh. "Nuh-uh! Better than good! A great friend!!"

Hunter, once again, was last to comment on the sentiment, shifting his weight from left to right foot and the un-inked side of his face looks… flushed as he mutters something. The usual warm, golden caramel skin looks like he's been out under the sun for too long, or he's feeling overheated. But the house feels comfortable, a little cold even, in the early morning. (She knows most of the men run a little hot, save for Echo, and for a fleeting moment of thought, she worries for the ARC trooper's comfort. But if he's cold, she knew from past experience Hunter would have adjusted the settings on the domicile's heating and cooling system.)

"I don't believe [____], or any of us, heard you, Hunter."

"Sorry... Guess I'm just not used to others outside of this…" Hunter paused, swallowing some thought while glancing at Omega and the way she was glued to the grown woman's side, contemplating what the right words were to explain himself, "... family caring about all of us like this, still. Even if it has been nearly a year. E-excuse me…"

He was their brother who had served as little else than their leader for so long he was still learning how to let go of or adapt certain habits, mindsets, he'd had with the GAR. [____] didn't, couldn't, fault him for these rare moments where he had to duck from the room and sort out the thoughts inside his head. "No, let him be," she encouraged each brother who was ready to follow after Hunter right away, "give him a few minutes before you go chasing after him. Remember?"

"'Let your vod take some time to have his feelings before you go see him.' I remember." Omega recalled perfectly, finally unlocking her arms from the medic's waist and hopping back up onto the counter where Crosshair had originally put her. How could she not remember that advice?

It was the advice [____] had given her, and the other brothers, after Omega had upset Cross by accident not long after he'd been treated for the parasite and no one had seen him all night when he stormed out in a huff. No one aside from the medic; it'd been her who found their brother in the waiting room of her practice and been asked to talk to her, asked her not to contact his brothers because he needed to talk in confidence. Her talk-therapy was dusty, but it'd helped him, helped everyone, when he was ready to go back to the barren housing by the first whispers of light breaking over the horizon. That awkward but tight hug that said I was worried about you! and the silent where in the stars were you, brother? and a relieved you're home safe! when Hunter scrambled to launch himself off the shallow steps of their stoop and drew his arms so firmly around Crosshair it felt more like he was being restrained and prepped for arrest than the first heartfelt hug since Kaller.

The first hug before many from each of his sleepless squ- family members who were all relieved to see him home safe with the medic watching quietly from the shadows because Crosshair was not scared but not eager to return to everyone on his own.

It was the first time Crosshair called her Omega. Not the kid. Or simply just kid. But Omega. Of course she remembered the advice that had started with "in the future" and ended with the first of many awkward hugs she'd received from her brother with shock-silver hair.

How in the galaxy could she forget? How in the galaxy could he?

He took care and caution every time he called her kid, even now. "You want your fruit pastry with or without the spice-dough, kid?"

"Without, please Crosshair."

"Sure. What about you, doc? Ever tried the spice-dough variety from ready-mades the shops around here carry?"

"Woof, that looks like a lot more seasoning than they put in the prepackaged stuff I've gotten once or twice. How much of a bite does it have? Is it pretty strong?"

"Eh," Cross chuckled softly, toeing the line on mischief, spooning a small dollop of the dough into the frying oil he'd set on the hotplate, "you're asking someone who likes a good bite to their spice. My tame will be different than your's."

"I'll get some milk out from the cold unit…" Tech sighed delicately, finished deciding quietly with Echo that the resourceful ARC would go check on Hunter now that some time has passed. "Just in case."

"Heh-heh. Crosshair likes it spicy enough to rip your tonsils out, if you'll let him!" Wrecker snickers, watching carefully with those in the snug kitchenette as [____] took the fried sample of spice-dough once it was ready and took a careful bite to test.

"Wo-woah! Think that's a b-bit much for my liking." She spluttered, taking a healthy swig of milk once Tech gave her the glass to quell the fire on her taste buds. "That certainly is a kick, Cross. Not sure I like it quite so strong like you."

"Hunter and I usually take about half that heat level, if you're interested." Echo offered kindly, returning with the aforementioned brother. Hunter looked resettled, refreshed with a change of clothes over Echo's shoulder with a thin bundle of clothing tucked in a drybag hanging on one arm.

"Oh, really kind of you, but I think I'll pass this time. Whatcha got there, Hunter?"

Hunter tossed the bundle of clothing in the medic's direction once she set everything aside, Crosshair saying he could take it from here and he'd get the breakfast pastries made up real soon, thanking her for her help with one of his rare, warm smiles. "Clothes for you. Your clothes, actually. You left these behind from the time you helped us hose down the Marauder in the shipyards about a month ago after the foreman complained about how much of an eyesore all that mud was."

[____] laughed brightly, fondly recalling that afternoon. She'd gone down to the shipyards to restock the Batch's medkit for them they had in the ship during her lunch break as a favor, and ended up getting sprayed with the large hose when Wrecker became distracted by Tech excitedly calling out a bird native to the planet that was rarely seen in the more suburban environments was perched on the very top fin of the ship. Instead of being angry that her nice, new top in her favorite color had been soaked through, she happily repaid Wrecker with a splash of water from the second hose Crosshair had been using at his offering, which was originally intended to allow her to get payback, but she was giggling with mischief instead. No one was safe from the hoses by the end of the afternoon, everyone's civvies sodden to the stars and back; she'd gone home in a borrowed pair of blacks after joining them all for dinner, sides aching with all the laughter of the day. "I was wondering what happened to those clothes! Thought that my laundry machines ate them. Thanks for holding onto 'em for me."

"You can borrow my room to change, [____]!" Omega clambered down from the counter a second time and took their friend by the hand, leading her along excitedly. "Tech helped me make a scale model bed for my Trooper doll! And I put up some more of my drawings too!"

"Oh yeah? Why don't you show me your favorite one first for now, just so we're not keeping your brothers waiting on us girls for breakfast?" The five brothers could practically hear the wink in the medic's voice as she followed after Omega, each smiling warmly to themselves or whoever met their eye.

Little moments like these meant so much to Omega. And to each of them too.

"Okay!!"

When all had crowded around the small table, some of the brothers had noticed that Hunter was having a hard time keeping his eyes to himself when [____] sat beside Omega in the new change of clothes. It was a very nice shirt on the medic, the marksman had to admit the woman had style, but that gaze Hunter had was lingering a little lower on the neckline once or twice. Hunter was over-chewing his food in his distraction, and it definitely wasn't the same kind of distraction their friend was engaged with as Tech was rattling off some interesting factoids he thought might be of interest to [____]. (Neat, guess an intergalactic band she liked was passing through the system, soon.) He had to rescue Hunter from himself before he was noticed. Crosshair plucked one of the colorful "this is spicy spicy" toothpicks from the breakfast pastry, and it was flicked at Hunter, one end landing in the center of where his heart would be like a spear to get his attention.

It worked, the half-skull face snapped in his direction immediately. "Oh what?" Hunter gave Crosshair a look that clearly expressed he believed it was too early for this sort of nonsense, cut it out.

It was returned with a why don't you make me smile, but the words out of Cross's mouth were calm, almost bored. "Pass the milk, please. Just in case Wrecker can't tough out his fruit and spice pastry."

"Oh please," Wrecker laughed from Crosshair's left, playfully slugging his shoulder, "I can totally tough it out. I'll be fine!" He took the milk anyway because he was thirsty, definitely not anything else, vod. Crosshair was not wholly convinced of that, but he'd let it go before he'd get another too early look from their brother. Their friend was no stranger to the roughhousing, the jestful jeering or the tomfoolery around the table, but on occasion lately, Hunter had been giving his brothers looks. Tone it down, quit throwing food, stop, behave. He'd never done it quite as much on Kamino. This was definitely new behavior.

Oh yeah, Cross mused to himself, easily passing off the bubbling chuckle as a response to something Tech said and showed [____] off his datapad, Hunter definitely wants to put on a good show for his little crush.

Wrecker elbowed Crosshair gingerly to get his attention, and once he was sure he had it he began clumsily gesticulating with his left hand. Hand signals? Wrecker hated the hand signals and it was the opinion of the whole squad he was rather terrible at them. But okay, he'd bite back the annoyance and humor the big guy. (Crosshair, not Tech (who had memorized them forwards and literally backwards), had the most luck with accurately interpreting the Wrecker version of the family's established hand signals, in a twist of irony.)

Leader. Ahead. Look.

Crosshair looked at Hunter, who'd gone back to staring at [____] still so engrossed in this "conversation" Tech was carrying on with the medic, then back to Wrecker with a bounce of his head that said so? to show he understood. Another attempt, the third word taking the longest time to form.

Leader. Look. Grenade.

Wrecker frowned at the small head wagging and chuckling from the marksman, who had done his best not to sigh. The properly articulated 'Grenade' was signed back to him, to tease him, before Crosshair showed him the correct sign sequence. Slowly, taking care to draw out the movements of each hand signal with a unique kind of fluidity as brother guided brother to understanding.

Leader. Look. Medic.

Wrecker nodded gratefully in thanks, happy Crosshair was being patient with him. Next, the boyish giant pointed to his own heart with a double jab before jerking his thumb over to Hunter, and lastly swinging it out to [____] at the other end of the table with a large brow bucking towards the ceiling.

Does he like her?

In response to the pantomime, Crosshair bounced a single shoulder with a devil-may-care smile. Last time he could remember Cross doing that had been the last we'll see/sure looks like it gesture before Clone Force 99 got themselves banned from 79's for a standard year after pissing off a bunch of Regs from different units and squadrons and battalions that they were one color short of the rainbow. (Echo had talked the blue of the 501st into leaving before the fight that earned CF99 their ban.) Wrecker would take it to mean the second thing.

Sure looks like it.

[MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

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pilot-boi · 2 years ago

Note

Jaune had to check to make sure team rwby was real. So he is hallucinating. So that mean he has gone mad from loneliness

The first time it happens is just after the one month mark.

Jaune has set up a temporary camp on the shore of the golden ocean. Temporary because he won’t be staying long, his friends will land on the too-gold sands any day now and then they’ll all get out of here.

His stupidity can’t have flung him that far back in time. Surely gods don’t hate him that much.

He’s taken to patrolling the shore searching for Crescent Rose whenever he can’t sleep.

Which is often.

The weapon fell along side him, after all, and he knows that Ruby will want her scythe back. He has to fight down the sly little voice in the back of his mind that hisses that he’s just trying to buy her forgiveness. It’s quite literally the least he can do in repentance for murdering her…

Friend? Girlfriend? Jaune’s never been the best at figuring out romantic relationships.

As far as Jaune has seen, he’s the only human sort of person living here. There’s dozens of mice, and he’s long grown used to the fact that they can talk. If there’s people living further inland, Jaune doesn’t know. The jungle spits him back out on the beach whenever he ventures more than twenty feet inside.

Stupid jungle.

So it takes him aback when he spots what is undoubtedly a person peeking at him from behind a palm tree.

Twin silver eyes gaze out of the shadows, a red cape dappled with the shadows of leaves.

“Ruby…?” Her name drops from Jaune’s lips in barely more than a whisper. She smiles, turns, walks back into the jungle.

It takes him a second to remember to breath, because holy shit! She’s here! He’s not alone anymore!

“Ruby! Ruby wait-” Jaune calls, jerking into motion and kicking up sand in his haste. “Ruby thank the gods I-” He chokes out a sob, smiling through tears and pushing leaves out of the way. “I thought I’d never see any of you again”

He steps into a clearing. But nobody is there.

Jaune stops short.

But Ruby was… she was right in front of him he saw her. He saw her! Jaune whirls around, sure he’s about to find his best friend hiding ready to startle him. Because why else would she be missing? Where is she?!

The bright colored pelican bird (Dodo, he’s taken to calling it) squawks, startling Jaune out of his thoughts.

He jumps a foot in the air, and tragically there’s no one around to hear the very undignified shriek he lets out. “Dodo, don’t do that to me!” Jaune reprimands, a hand on his chest.

He’d give more than anything to hear his friends laughing at him good-naturedly. Or heck, even cruelly. What he wouldn’t give to hear another person right now.

A yawn creeps up on him, and he slumps. Guess he imagined the whole thing. The flawless moon hangs above him in the sky, mocking him in its perfection because it’s not right.

He really hasn’t been sleeping well…

Months turn to seasons, and seasons turn to years. Other than the shift of the suns and the perfect moon, it’s hard to tell if time is passing. Jaune tries to keep a tally with a rock, but the waves wash away his effort.

Ruby won’t leave him alone, and as the months pass neither do her teammates. He never saw any of them land, but here they are regardless of all logic.

Not that this place seems to put that much stock in logic.

They never say anything. Just smile and watch him from the tree line. Or the doorway of his hut. Or where the waves crash on the sand.

There’s nothing real about their smiles.

Blake’s cheeks don’t dimple the same way, there’s no warmth in Yang’s eyes. Weiss’s smile is as unfeeling as the day they met, and Ruby’s grin isn’t the crooked one his friend always wears.

And no matter how Jaune tries, he can’t follow them far into the shade of the trees. Dodo squawks chidingly at him whenever he ventures into the jungle and it spits him back out onto the beach.

Part of him wonders if this is his penance, if he’s actually dead. Cursed to remain forever on this beach haunted by the specters of those he’s killed. But that can’t be right, because then where is Penny?

Where is Pyrrha?

The only way he can really tell that the years are moving on without him is the rust that gathers on his armor. It takes him a year before he realizes his hair is at his shoulders again. It’s like nothing has changed since Beacon.

He laughs until he cries.

Pyrrha’s sash frays from constant washing in golden saltwater until he has to untie it from his waist. “I don’t want to get rid of it.” Jaune finds himself speaking to the apparitions, even though they’re one hundred percent not real. He must really be going crazy. “What do you think?”

Blake’s dark hair buffets in the wind and she smiles her empty smile.

“You’re right.” Jaune uses the precious scarps to tie back his hair into a short ponytail. “Guess I finally got that warrior’s wolf tail.” His laughter sounds hollow even to his own ears.

Blake walks into the jungle. Jaune can’t follow.

His shield tarnishes, Pyrrha’s metal going from gold, to bronze, to rust. Jaune blinks and days pass. The suns whip across the heavens as he sits in one place.

His hair is past his shoulders. He’s no longer certain that RWBY aren’t real.

It’s midday and Jaune lays sprawled on the beach, one arm over his eyes, blocking the suns. He’s too tired to remove his armor even if the rust let him. What’s the point of moving if nothing ever changes?

“I’m boiling alive out here,” he groans. He feels weak and floaty, his brain not quite tethered to his body. “Did we make it to Vacuo?”

Weiss smiles down at him, flawless and silent as ever. The humidity doesn’t touch her, even as Jaune burns alive.

“Yeah,” he agrees. His head flops onto the sand. “I never thought I’d miss Solitas.”

Weiss walks into the jungle. Jaune can’t follow.

“How do you deal with this?” he whines, voice like a child even as time weathers his features. He’s battling with tangles in his ever lengthening hair, glaring at Yang’s perfectly coiffed curls as he does so.

Yang smiles at him, eyes empty. She reminds him so much of his sisters, in temperament as well as looks.

“Just stand there, sure,” he grumbles, combing his hair out with his fingers. Why won’t she just help him? Why won’t any of them just help him?!

Yang walks into the jungle. Jaune can’t follow.

His muscles are weighed down by new armor and the weight of years. Crescent Rose is found and tucked safely away. And there, as if she felt her weapon’s call, stands Ruby in his doorway.

“I found it,” he says, voice cracking. She smiles at him, her eyes as unfeeling as the metal of their name. “I finally found Crescent Rose!”

His armor is rusted so that he can barely move, Penny’s blood on his sword has damaged the shattered blade beyond all recovery. But Crescent Rose is perfect.

Jaune is broken, rusting, corroding away mind and body and soul. And before him Ruby stands. With that damned smile on her face.

“Can I leave? Please, I found it can I just-” Jaune doesn’t know who he’s talking to anymore. His friends that can walk away while he’s forced to wait behind? That charge forward into a place they know he can’t follow?

Or himself. The idiot coward failure of a hero who can’t seem even die properly.

Ruby smiles at him.

“I know, I know,” Jaune sighs. He turns his gaze back to the ocean. “I can’t follow any of you anyway.” His voice sounds like his father’s, like his grandfather’s. How long has he been on this beach, waiting?

Unable to just move on?

Ruby turns and walks into the jungle. For once, he doesn’t watch her leave.

Because Jaune is watching the sky above him, hand out stretched, to where two meteors of cool blue fire streak across flawless moon.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #anonymous #mine #my writing #rwby volume 9 #rwby spoilers

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angeldrawsstuffs · 1 year ago

Text

No Title, Just RBG Angst (Puppet AU)

Summary: After over a year, the ninja have tracked down Kai’s location to a small village, but what exactly he’s doing there, none of them could’ve expected.

(Like all Puppet AU content, the AU isn’t mine, it’s @kittydemon9000’s, go look at their cool shit)

The blood in Nya’s veins is boiling.

Seriously, more than it ever has, even for someone like Nadakhan. Because this? This is too far.

It’s been over a year since she last saw her older brother, and she and the others have barely slept, Lloyd especially. Even Misako and Sensei Wu haven’t rested since Kai’s disappearance.

It was supposed to be a simple mission: capture some rouge Serpentine and get them back to the city for Skales to deal with, nothing new there, just a typical Tuesday.

But it was new.

Because Kai never came back, gone without trace.

That’s when the search began. Posters, emails, billboards, TV appearances… anything they could do to get the word out and let people know to be on the lookout…

And that leads to earlier in the day.

Someone had contacted The Bounty, saying they saw someone that looks just like Kai in a village a few hundred miles from Ninjago City. After a year of dead ends, the ninja team ventured out on foot so as to not alert Kai’s kidnappers. If this was, in fact, Kai.

But they found nothing. Many villagers claimed they saw him, but none could tell them where he went.

That’s when they stumbled upon a chalkboard advertisement.

It was for a puppet show, run by some semi-known legacy performer. The ninja went just because they thought they could use a break, something to take their minds off of things…

The puppet should’ve been their first hint something was very wrong.

“It” looked just like Kai, but, since it was just a marionette, the team didn’t- they didn’t think-

They went up to the owner of the show afterwards, a tall, very unsettling person who only addresses themselves by “Puppeteer”. If they only had the purple suit and cape, then yeah, maybe they were just a little eccentric…

But his mask was downright CREEPY.

It was made to look like one of those comedy masks from ancient theater, the kind of stuff Sensei Wu would’ve seen around when he was young.

Anyway, Lloyd asked about the doll, explaining their situation with Kai being missing. They thought that, behind the creepy mask and weirdly on the nose stage name, Puppeteer was truly trying to help them.

They should’ve known better.

The team was allowed backstage to talk privately, away from any stragglers in the audience, which is where Nya saw the puppet hanging from a giant cross brace on stage left. “It” looked even more like her brother up close, even having a chip in “its” “skin” over “its” eye to match Kai’s scar.

Puppeteer called it attention to detail.

Nya calls it sick degeneracy.

While the others talked, Nya’s gaze was kept firmly on the puppet, something about “it” seeming just… too uncanny for her liking.

And that’s when she noticed it.

A detail so small, so perfect, that not even Puppeteer’s alleged “attention to detail” could catch.

A scar. One small, tiny scar ok the puppet’s foot.

A scar on Kai that only he and Nya knew about. One he’d gotten from a minor blacksmithing accident when they were kids.

That’s when it all clicked.

The puppet didn’t just look like Kai…

It was Kai.

All this time he was gone, he was really here, with some traveling show, stuck as the main attraction: a puppet!

Nya couldn’t imagine how long her brother’s been stuck like this. Could he even think anymore? Was he aware of his surroundings? What exactly is the extent of what this monster’s done to him?

Which is why she and the others are currently outside of the carriage they followed Puppeteer to.

They know where Kai is now. They just need to get him back and hopefully reverse whatever magic’s been done to him.

“Zane.” Nya whispers, “Do you hear anyone inside?”

“I do not hear nor sense anyone is currently in the main entrance. We are free to enter.” Zane replies.

Without another thought to the matter, Nya hastily finished picking the lock and quietly sprints into the main room, which appears to be a small auditorium of some kind.

“Kai’s probably somewhere back there!” Lloyd exclaims, frantically gesturing to the stage.

Jay turns around to look at Lloyd annoyedly “Oh, really? This crazed puppet guy who turned Kai into some sideshow puppet wouldn’t just keep his star attraction out on the open?? WHAT A SUR- mrf-!”

Cole covers his friend’s mouth.

“Shut up! Do you want to find out what happens if we’re caught??” He questions.

Jay shakes his head, still glaring at Cole.

“Well then cram it, Zaptrap. This could be our one shot to get Kai back.”

Cole lets go of the motormouth, with a light shove for good measure.

“Stop messing around, guys.” Lloyd comments as he makes his way behind the curtains.

“But they were not, they simply-“ Zane tries to say but is cut off by Cole’s hand on his shoulder.

“Greenie’s just worried, Frosty. Let’s not focus on the semantics.”

Zane nods before he and the rest of the team follow Lloyd backstage, where, much to their dismay, Kai isn’t.

But that’s when they hear it.

Exuding from a seemingly unimportant door, comes music. Older music, sure, but music nonetheless.

Lloyd looks amongst his team before drawing his sword, the others doing the same with their respective weapons, all understanding they may be in for the fight of their lives.

With a deep breath, Lloyd opens the door to reveal…

A corridor.

A long, dark, creepy corridor.

Lloyd motions for the others to follow him, the only lights in their path being the glow of Zane’s eyes.

Nya hates to admit it, but the whole thing is makes her skin crawl. Has this carriage really been Kai’s whole world for a year?

It must’ve been hell…

The music grows louder.

A few doors down, Zane halts the group, pointing to the door they’re currently in front of.

“Here is where the music is coming from.” Zane states.

“Then what are we waiting for??” Nya impatiently asks, “Let’s go get my brother!”

“Perhaps we should think of a plan before we jump to any-“

Zane’s words fall on deaf ears as Nya and Lloyd bust open the door, trident and sword ready to maim Puppeteer at a moment’s notice.

But that isn’t what they come across when inside.

No, instead of anger, the sight makes their hearts simultaneously drop and pound in their chests. The siblings’ grips on their weapons loosing as their eyes widen in shock, tears pricking at their eyes.

Why?

Because in the door, dancing almost hauntingly perfectly, is Kai.

Not a puppet, nor made of a wood, just… Kai.

He’s in a black dance uniform with his hair slicked down, but he’s still Kai!

“Kai!” Nya exclaims, “We- We’re here! We’re gonna bring you home!”

The master of water’s hear pounds in anticipation of her brother’s response…

But none comes.

“Kai..?” Lloyd asks, “You- you do know who we are, right?”

Nya’s heart practically stops at Lloyd’s insinuation. She hadn’t considered the idea of brainwashing. Puppeteer could’ve convinced Kai of anything he wanted if that was the case…

Maybe even something like forgetting his family.

“Hairgel, this isn’t the time to be ignoring us.” Cole steps into the room, “You need to stop dancing.”

Kai makes a leap across the room…

Still no response.

“Ugh! This is IMPOSSIBLE!” Jay groans, “We’re not gonna get Kai back because he’s probably been BRAINWASHED into thinking this is ok and that- OW!”

Cole smacks the back of Jay’s head.

“Motormouth, he’s been stuck here for a year! Maybe think about that before talking!

Jay rubs his head, but shuts up.

“Kai… please, answer us.” Nya pleads, “We’re going to rescue you! You don’t have to be here anymore! Not- Not with that monster!”

Kai halts his dance, side-eyeing his sister.

The ninja hold their breaths.

Kai silently walks over to the record player, where the music was evidently coming from, and turns it of.

“And what makes you think I want to leave?” He asks monotonously.

“What?” Nya gasps, “B-Because you were kidnapped! We’ve been looking-“

“If you were looking, you would’ve found me earlier.” Kai accuses.

“Realistically, given that you were constantly changing locations, no, we could not have.” Zane rebuts.

“Heh- oh yeah? Then I’m sure you all immediately realized who I was onstage then, right?”

The group falls silent…

Nya wants to say something, but even she didn’t realize until seeing Kai up close.

“That’s what I thought. Just do us all a favor and forget I’m here, I’m not interested in rejoining you all.”

“But- Kai-“ Lloyd chokes out.

“Don’t ‘but Kai’ me! You all abandoned me!” Kai shouts, tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes.

“We were looking! We haven’t stopped this whole time!”

“Then why didn’t you find me?! It’s not like I was in the same village I disappeared in for *days* after Puppeteer took me in!”

“We- we checked the whole village! People saw you run off… but not where to.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Where’s your uniform?” Jay asks without thinking, “You’re kinda gonna need it for-“

“Don’t you get it?!” Kai snaps back, “*This* is my uniform now.”

“You’re not a dancer, Kai.” Cole adds.

“You’re absolutely right.” Kai responds, leaving the others at a loss for words.

Not a dancer? But that’s what he’s been doing, is it not? If not a dancer, then what-

“I’m Puppeteer’s doll now.”

“…What?!” Nya demands, anger rising in her voice.

“Did I stutter?? I said-”

“We heard you.” Lloyd interjects, “But this isn’t you! You- you’re a ninja, Kai! You’re not some- some doll!”

“Last I checked, I get a say in what I am, and I’ve gotta say: being a doll for Puppeteer is better than being a ninja for you any day! So leave me alone and stop acting like we’re still family!”

A silence befalls the ninja.

Lloyd’s sword drops.

Nya has to catch her brother, who almost collapses in shock.

“The hell, Kai?!”

“Hestia.”

“What-“

“I don’t really use ‘Kai’ anymore.” He states, shockingly unresponsive to his little brother’s plight.

“But that’s your name!” Nya shouts back, “You’re Kai! Kai Smith! Master of Fire! Red Ninja! Our brother!”

“Well, it’s too bad you threw away all of those things when you decided to stop looking for me! Puppeteer warned me you’d try to lie like this, and I’m not fucking having it, ok?! I’m not Kai, I’m not your brother, and I’m absolutely NOT a ninja! Ok?!”

Nya grits her teeth, eyes narrowing at her brother.

“SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO YOURSELF! YOU’VE BEEN BRAINWASHED, KAI! LET US HELP YOU!”

“Well I-”

“𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒮𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓀𝓁𝑒𝓇? Is everything alright?” A voice comes from the doorway.

The ninja all snap their heads to face Puppeteer, mask and voice has chipper as before.

Nya hands Lloyd off to Zane.

“Everything is NOT alright you SON OF A-“

As Nya draws her sword to attack, a wall of fire separates her from Puppeteer.

“H-Huh?” She looks at back to brother, flames licking his frame as his arms are outstretched.

“Don’t hurt him. He’s more my family than you were.” Kai glares.

Nya would be lying if she said that didn’t sting.

“And no, Puppeteer, they were just watching me practice our new routine and were about to leave.” he continues.

“Like hell we-“

“Please, escort them out.”

“Kai… we’re not going to leave-“ Lloyd tries to say, but is cut off.

“Out. Now.”

Nya’s grip on her trident tightens as her whole body tenses.

She- she can’t leave her brother. She just- she can’t! He’s so clearly been brainwashed by this lunatic that he- he-

“AUGH!” Nya shouts, all of her pain and frustration unable to be put into words.

“𝒪𝒽 𝓂𝓎, you are quite the 𝒻𝒾𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓎 one, aren’t you?” Puppeteer comments.

“Cram it, asshole! You’re nothing more than a fucking monster!”

Puppeteer falls silent for a moment.

“𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒮𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓀𝓁𝑒𝓇, might I..?”

“Don’t, it’ll just convince them more I’m somehow suffering here. Just… get them out some other way.”

“Ah, 𝐼 𝓈𝑒𝑒.” Puppeteer comments, looking around at the ninja before speaking once more, this time in some kind of… unknown language.

Nya conjures a torrent of water, channeling all of her rage, all of her fury, and all of her pain into one singular blast of water, and once it’s fired…

It slices a tree clean in half.

…A tree? But they were all just-

Looking around, Nya and the others notice how they’re no longer in the carriage, but, rather, about a few yards away from it outside.

…What?

Before anyone can properly react, the sound of clopping hooves and turning wheels echos throughout the thin forest.

The carriage- it’s leaving.

No- not now, not today, LIKE FUCKING HELL THEY’RE TAKING HER BROTHER AWAY AGAIN!

And so, Nya runs.

For how long? She couldn’t tell you.

But by the end of it, the carriage is at least half a mile away and the sun is peeking up over the horizon.

She falls to the ground, legs too exhausted to carry her anymore.

She isn’t sure when she falls asleep, but she wakes back in bed to Misako holding a cold washcloth onto her forehead.

Misako says something Nya doesn’t understand.

But she doesn’t care.

She’d care if her brother were around.

But he isn’t.

She failed.

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