#but then I drew them and got really excited and then you asked and evidently got excited enough to type this whole thing lol

[the-mountain-flower]

I WANNA HEAR MORE ABOUT UR AURORA OCS THEY'RE SO COOL!!

AH!! 😃😁😁😁

OK SO,

Aimie (she/her) is young adult mostly-Unadapted Human with some elven ancestry, and the youngest of a not-rich-but-well-off family. She is adventurous and intelligent, yet clumsy and scatterbrained. She's an experimental researcher, and a dual mage with the ability to use Wind and Fire magic. She does a lot of travel, but she kind of has a talent for finding trouble and getting hurt. It's basically a miracle she's still alive, though only Siodha knows how (presumably).

Xynn (they/she) is a young adult coyote Shifter Ferin with Wind Elf heritage. She's frankly badass, and has picked up a lot of miscellaneous skills over the years of supporting themself and her younger sibling (he/him, early/mid teens, still coming up with a name for him... haven't found one that seems right yet), as they were both orphaned at a young age. Despite being extremely competent in most areas, they've had trouble finding work due to most people's treatment of Ferin.

When Aimie's parents (two dads btw) started looking for someone to hire to keep their daughter safe (and alive) on her travels, Xynn is the one they end up hiring. The pay is enough for Xynn to send back to their sibling, who is now old enough that Xynn's job taking her out of town for days or sefs on end isn't a problem.

When Aimie found out about that, she was initially abrasive, insisting that she "doesn't need a babysitter!" but relents after her parents just to try it once and see how it works. After a couple attempts to lose Xynn during their first time traveling together, it became clear that she wasn't gonna get rid of them that easily. Well, they're not bad company, so it's not long before she gets used to it.

Xynn quickly finds out just how accident-prone Aimie really is, to the point where they become very familiar with where the first-aid kit in Aimie's travel bag is. They're also admittedly impressed with how willing and comfortable she is sleeping on the ground with nothing but a single blanket.

They really warm up to each other during an incident when Aimie is startled awake by a snake, and Xynn casually picks it up and assures that it's just a little grass snake and it's not venomous. Despite their attempts to hide it, Aimie learns that Xynn loves snakes. When Xynn starts to try and tone down their excitement, she insists that she doesn't mind one bit, and goes out of her way to make sure they know that she's not going to shame her for it or anything.

During this journey, they both end up infodumping to each other a lot. And when one does, the other listens intently. (ISTG so many of my original character romances consist of one infodumping while the other(s) listen with heart eyes.)

When she's back home, Aimie pleasantly surprises her parents with how cool she was with the new travel arrangement, and that she approves of Xynn coming with her regularly.

Xynn's little sibling asks if the new job is good, and she replies that yes, it is. And they think they like it quite a bit.

Perhaps due to extended amounts of time spent traveling together, perhaps because they genuinely enjoy each others' company, it's not long before they become really close friends.

Xynn quickly figures out her own feelings for their travel companion not long after they start turning into what she considers a problem. They try to distance herself emotionally for a bit, but fails to get their relationship back to what would be considered "professional". They consider quitting for a bit, but she really, really doesn't want to bc they really do like their adventures together. Eventually she makes peace (sort of) with the fact that yes, they're in love with her travel companion, but that nothing would come of it...

In contrast, Aimie doesn't really know when she started to fall for Xynn. She doesn't even realize it for a while, until one day she finally puts a name to her new feelings, but doesn't have the first clue as to how to handle it. She feels like acting on those feelings would be taking advantage of Xynn, especially since by now she knows how much they need this job, so she keeps quiet.

At this point Xynn's told Aimie a fair bit about their sibling, though she's never met him, and Xynn has expressed she doesn't feel comfortable with Aimie knowing where they live. She's not ashamed or hiding it, just doesn't want to show her the barely-held-together shack they call home. Until one day, when Xynn's sibling goes missing, and Xynn asks Aimie for help.

An investigation and a wind missive leads them to find that he has been kidnapped. Pro tip: don't piss off a badass and protective coyote-shifter, and a Wind and Fire mage with very little regard for her own safety. The kidnappers get their asses beat, and Xynn's sibling is brought to safety.

After the rescue, it becomes clear that their previous living situation isn't viable for them anymore. Aimie arranges for them to live with her family, insisting that it's really not a problem, and when Xynn mentions that's not part of the deal she made with Aimie's parents, Aimie insists that it would've been if they'd known how much Xynn and were really struggling. She brings it up with her parents who are hesitant at first, but do a complete 180 when Aimie tells them about how they were living before and about the kidnapping thing, and suddenly Xynn and her sibling have a new, better place to live. Xynn manages to wait until she and Aimie are alone before she finally breaks down, into a mess of tears and "thank you"s. Aimie tells her that, given how often Xynn has saved her ass during their travels, it's only fair.

It's not long after this, that they finally, finally, admit their feelings for each other.

Xynn and Aimie travel together as partners (also Xynn's position with Aimie's folks transfers from hired help, to basically family).

Fun tidbits:

Aimie's magic channels are unevenly sized, her Wind one is higher-capacity than her Fire one (which is fairly small). She's also come up with ways to make larger flames than is natural for her by getting creative with her combination of magic abilities. (She has definitely found an large, empty space with nothing flamable nearby to figure out how to create a small fire tornado. Yes, she did get burned. On the bright side, she learned that awesome new spell.)

Alongside her first-aid supplies, Aimie keeps a small Life lacrima and in her travel bag for emergencies. She's had to use it less often when Xynn started traveling with her, both because they help prevent a number of accidents and because she can do first aid for Aimie when she can't do it for herself.

One time Xynn saved Aimie from getting bit by a venomous snake, but it resulted in them getting bit instead. When Aimie is taking care of the wound they reassure her that the poison won't be fatal, especially to a ferin, and she'll recover in no time and it'll be fine. Aimie asks how they're feeling, and at this point Xynn is comfortable enough with her, to admit that this is kind of the coolest thing to ever happen to them.

Xynn got a gift from Aimie that was a book she found about snakes. Xynn freaking loves it.

Aimie, affectionately: "where would I be without you?" / Xynn, equally affectionate: "dead, probably"

Aimie's joins Xynn's sibling as the only ones allowed to cuddle coyote Xynn

[mapiforpresident]

Most Likely To

Alexia x reader

warnings: none

~~~

It was currently almost Valentine's day, so Barcelona was having all the team couples do some short interviews to post on the actual day.

Alexia was not a fan of this, but she saw that you were excited, she reluctantly agreed. She wanted to maintain her professional captain persona, but she also knew that it was important for people to see that she was also a normal person at the end of the day and that it was ok for her to be dating a woman.

~~~

"Hey, how was your interview," you asked Mapi and Ingrid as they walked out of the media room. They had their interview right before yours.

"It was really good we had to see who knew each other better and Ingrid won. I forgot her first pets name." Mapi told you. "I think you guys are doing the who is mostly likely to challange. I am excited to see if we learn anything new about big tough Ale over here that we didn't know." You laughed at this agreeing that you would make sure the fans learn how much of a softie Ale is for you.

~~~

You and Alexia then walked into the room as the media people explained how it would work and set up your mics. The interviewer then got started facing the camera, "Ok today we have special guests Alexia and Y/n. Today they will be playing the who is most likely to challange. They each have a paddle with their face on one side and the others face on the back. I will ask some questions and they have to show the face of who they think it fits better. At the end we also have a couple questions sent in by fans. Let's get started with the first question.."

"Ok we will start off very easy. The first question is who is most likely to forget their boots at home?"

You both immediately held up the side of the paddle with your face.

"I may have forgotten them before the champions league final. Luckily someone had an extra pair in my size. Ale always asks me three times if I have my boots now before we leave the house." You responded laughing towards the camera.

"She is very forgetful, she even forgot her passport before a game onetime and had to fly in the next day. I definitely made her run extra laps for that." You definitely gave Alexia a few heart attacks from all the times you forget things.

"Who is most likely to cry during a sad movie?" the interviewer queried with a grin.

You both exchanged a glance. You raised Alexia face as she reluctantly did the same. It was no secret to you or the team that Alexia had a soft spot for emotional films, often shedding a tear or two during particularly touching scenes.

As the interview progressed, the questions delved deeper into your relationship, sparking laughter and fond memories between you and Alexia.

The interviewer grinned as she posed the next question, her eyes flickering mischievously between you and Alexia. "Alright, who is most likely to hog the blankets in bed?"

You both hesitated for a moment, exchanging playful glances before simultaneously flipping the paddles to reveal the others face.

You chuckled, nudging Alexia playfully. "Come on, admit it. You're the blanket thief."

Alexia raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh, please. You practically cocoon yourself in the blankets every night."

As the interview drew to a close, the final question sent in by fans brought a sense of warmth to the room. "Who is most likely to surprise the other with a romantic gesture?"

Without hesitation, you both raised your paddles, a shared smile of affection passing between you. Despite the playful teasing and occasional disagreements, there was no doubt that your love for each other ran deep, evident in the small gestures of kindness and thoughtfulness that defined your relationship.

As the cameras stopped rolling, Alexia pulled you into a tender embrace, her voice soft with sincerity. "You know, despite my initial reservations, I'm glad we did this. It's nice to show the world a different side of us, to be able to share our love openly."

You returned her embrace, kissing her cheek lightly, feeling a surge of gratitude for the woman standing before you. "I couldn't agree more, bebé."

The fans absolutely loved the video and seeing this more personal side of Alexia and seeing more into your relationship.

[lemurlegs]

Bewitched

Hey guys, here's chapter 3, wooo!! The next chapter might be a bit delayed since I'm gonna need to rework it a bit. But I'll be posting some artwork i did of the fic, so expect to see that in the near future. Also, i really hope you guys like the story so far. Feel free to comment on my posts. I'd love to get to know yall. I appreciate everyone who reads my story 💕💕

Previous chapter

Wordcount: 5.5k

Warning: Valentino, blood, violence

Chapter 3.

Moth Against A Flame

Alastors pov

As the deal faded and the magic dissipated from her body, her hand slipped from his grips, and she fell unconscious. He was surprised by her sudden collapse; usually people don't just pass out from deals.

Bending down beside her, he intended to lift her and carry her to one of the rooms. However, before he could, he heard hurried footsteps approaching.

"What's with the light show, Radio Freak? You could've woken up the whole hotel!" Vaggie exclaimed, appearing in her pajamas. As she drew closer, she noticed the unconscious sinner lying in a pool of blood, with Alastor hovering over her.

"Alastor, what have you done!?" Vaggie demanded, pointing her spear at Alastor's face.

Alastor offered her a strained smile, annoyed by her accusatory tone. He had been trying to help. He could have let the fox bleed out on the floor, but instead, he had chosen to save the poor soul. Yet, it seemed that no one appreciated his kindness in this place.

Charlie arrived after her girlfriend, running and panting.

"Calm down, Vaggie. Oh my Satan, what... what happened here, Al? Is she okay?"

Charlie looked around with a worried expression.

"Well, dear, I was just indulging in my usual late-night reading when this little darling stumbled into the hotel, quite literally," Alastor explained.

"She was nearly at death's door, but I took it upon myself to save her," he added.

"Oh, that's so kind of you, Al. I really hope she's okay. It's so exciting; we haven't had a new resident in months. Maybe she'll be interested in redemption," Charlie exclaimed, her excitement evident.

"I wouldn't exactly call it kindness. You clearly got her to sign a deal with you; you just exploited her moment of weakness to acquire a new soul," Vaggie interjected, her tone accusing.

"Oh, Vagatha, you wound me, my dear. You think so lowly of me?" Alastor replied, feigning offense.

"Yes," Vaggie responded without hesitation.

"Is it true, Al? You have her soul?" Charlie asked, her expression hopeful, as if hoping Vaggie was mistaken.

"Why, of course. It takes a lot of power to bring someone back from the brink of death to tip-top shape. It's a fair price, if you ask me," Alastor replied nonchalantly.

"See? I told you. He doesn't do anything out of the kindness of his heart. Honestly, I highly doubt he even has one," Vaggie remarked, crossing her arms and giving Alastor a disapproving look. Charlie's disappointment was evident on her face.

Alastor then lifted the fox demon in a princess carry and began walking towards the stairs.

"Now, turn that frown upside down, girls. Nothing bad's going to happen to the little darling. I'll make sure of it," he assured them.

"Uh, yeah, because that's definitely reassuring coming from you," Vaggie retorted, matching Alastor's steps.

With Alastor taking brisk strides, Vaggie speed-walking beside him, and Charlie following closely, they silently made their way to one of the empty hotel rooms. Alastor effortlessly used one of his tendrils to open the door as they entered the suite.

Charlie swiftly pulled back the covers as Alastor gently placed the girl on the king-sized bed. Even in the dim light, her paleness was evident. Alastor hovered his hand over her stomach once more, this time intending to fully heal her. The two girls huddled together, anxiously watching the scene unfold.

The green glow of his magic began to shine, seeping through her bloodied cloak. The warm neon magic transformed into shining threads, carefully stitching up the gash on her stomach. As soon as the stitching appeared, her wound magically disappeared, as if it had never been there.

With his other hand, Alastor pointed his index and middle fingers, pressing them to where her heart lay. Another wave of green light flowed, and her blood began to regenerate, the color returning to her skin. After a few minutes of magical healing, Alastor withdrew his hands, placing them behind his back.

"There, the little vixen is as good as new," Alastor said to the two girls in front of him. He gently grabbed the corners of the blanket, covering her, before stepping away from the bed. With a snap of his fingers, Nifty appeared in the room.

"You need something, sir?" Nifty asked, her smile matching Alastor's wide grin.

"I need you to take the little sleeping beauty's measurements. She can't be walking around in bloody rags; it would be quite unbecoming," Alastor instructed.

"Sir, yes, sir," Nifty replied, giving a little salute before retrieving a measuring tape. She quickly climbed onto the bed and began carefully taking the girl's measurements.

Alastor turned back to Vaggie and Charlie with a reassuring look.

"She's going to be just fine. Tomorrow, we'll introduce her to everyone, but for now, she needs to rest. I may have fixed her with my magic, but rest is just as important in the healing process."

Upon hearing this, Vaggie and Charlie seemed to calm down a bit. They bid goodnight to the Radio Demon and returned to their own bedroom, ready to drift off into the land of dreams.

As the door closed, Nifty jumped off the bed and handed Alastor the measurements. With a swift motion of his hand, he conjured a stunning red dress, then made his way over to the wooden closet, placing the garment on an empty hanger.

After informing Nifty about the blood spill in the lobby, Alastor shadow-warped to his own room, settling into one of his sitting chairs. With a snap of his fingers, he lit the fireplace, and a green fire roared up, casting a warm glow throughout the room. He glanced up at the mantle, where an ornate, wooden, art deco-styled clock stood, showing 4:06. A lot had transpired in under an hour.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned back, finally allowing himself to relax after a long day of wearing his mask. Despite decades of embodying the persona of The Radio Demon, he couldn't deny the fatigue of upholding the facade. That's why his large room, alone, was the only place he could truly be himself. After a few moments of silence, Alastor rose to his feet, shedding his jacket and beginning to walk towards the bayou part of his room. As he kicked off his dress shoes, freeing his tired hooves and stepping onto the cold damp grass, he felt a sense of relief wash over him.

Passing between the large trees, he savored the sensation of the cold breeze blowing through his hair, allowing himself to relax into the forest's atmosphere. As he walked, his thoughts turned to the new soul he had just acquired, pondering what could have led her to such a dire situation. He wasn't so much focused on the stab wound as he was on the dark veil of magic that lingered around her. It didn't make sense to him; she seemed relatively new to hell, as she had no idea who he was.

So why was she shrouded in such negative energy?

Deciding that the best course of action would be to ask her directly, Alastor resolved to seek out the answers he needed from the fox demon's own words and body language.

The next day, Alastor waited for her to step out of the room, adorned in the dress he had prepared. She looked remarkably beautiful, cleaned up and adorned in the stunning red garment. Alastor found himself shaking his head at such peculiar thoughts.

Following her down the stairs, he waited until she reached the bottom before manifesting from the shadows, gently guiding her towards the crowd.

Her startled expression amused him greatly as he introduced her to the other residents. Alastor watched quietly as each member of the group greeted Ginger, observing their interactions closely.

However, the peaceful atmosphere was disrupted as the snake demon burst in with a large gun. Vaggie swiftly intervened, putting an end to the commotion. After a brief scolding from Vaggie, Ginger finally broke her silence, expressing her happiness to meet everyone.

When Charlie inquired about the length of time Ginger had spent in the fiery pits, she replied that it had only been a day.

Alastor couldn't help but find this revelation intriguing. He knew she was freshly fallen, yet only a day in hell? It certainly added a layer of complexity to the situation, especially considering the dark magic that surrounded her.

“We definitely need to teach you about how things work here then, we need to make sure you're safe after all.”

Alastor saw the perfect opportunity to get answers to his questions. Taking advantage of the situation he offers to explain everything about hell's workings over breakfast.

After enduring Vaggie's usual snide remarks, Alastor turned to Ginger and asked if she was hungry. Upon her confirmation, he urged her towards the streets of hell, offering her his arm. Though initially hesitant, Ginger accepted the gesture.

So he began guiding her to the cafe. He couldn't wait for the moment she witnessed the gruesome nature of hell. The disgusted terror filled expression of new sinners always brightened up his day. To his surprise Ginger didn't acknowledge the carnage, in fact, she even stepped over a dead body without as much as a twitch in her face. This woman just keeps getting more intriguing.

After a few minutes of walking they finally arrived at their destination. Alastor opened the door for Ginger, who seemed to snap out of her thoughts, slowly entering the cozy cafe.

He watched her as she took in the beauty of the establishment. This place had a warm and inviting atmosphere, with a classic feel to it. That's one of the reasons he frequented this place. He brought her to one of the empty tables, pulling out her chair and pushing her in, then taking a seat himself.

Leading her to one of the empty tables, Alastor pulled out her chair and pushed her in before taking a seat himself. Locking gazes with the fox demon, he pondered the secrets she was undoubtedly withholding. As she began shifting in her seat, Ginger broke the awkward silence with a compliment about the cafe.

Alastor then proceeded to tell her about the cafe's reputation for serving the best brew and breakfasts, noting that the food was another reason he frequented the establishment.

As the waiter appears Alastor orders his usual, with Ginger opting for a similar choice too. He breaks the silence this time. He starts explaining the inner workings of hell. The seven circles, the sinners and hellborns, the extermination.

Ginger listened to his words carefully, sometimes asking about something in more detail, but the conversation came to a halt once the food had arrived.

The smell of the meal was divine. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip of the scalding hot liquid. Bitter and flaming, just how he liked it.

He shifts his eyes to the fox, just in time to witness her scrunched up face from the bitterness of the coffee. It was adorable. Alastor continued observing her, as she poured two sugar packets in her drink. Two is quite a lot of sugar—he thought.

As she reached for the third, he couldn't help but make a judgmental face at the copious amount of sugar she's planning on consuming.

She noticed his reaction, to which she informed him that she liked sweets. Clearly. Alastor made a comment about how she was more so drinking sugar water with a side of coffee. At this she rolled her eyes. She poured the third one in, which he found ridiculous, imitating the action of her eyes.

“What's wrong, you don't fancy sweet coffee?” you tease, raising an eyebrow in playful inquiry.

“I don't enjoy anything sweet, darling. I prefer bitter and savory flavors.”

After that the conversation dies down, both of them focusing on their breakfasts. Alastor began thinking about what he should ask her about herself. After a few moments he settled on a question. Asking about her lack of reaction to the gore around them when they were on the streets.

She takes a moment, informing Alastor that it was because it wasn't her time seeing such gruesome sights. Saying that when she was alive, she would manipulate men into giving her everything that she desired. He took note of this fact she revealed. Deceptive and manipulative.

Another thing she revealed was that she has a more violent side, saying that she ‘took care’ of the bastards that tried taking advantage of her. Alastor was hoping that she meant murder when she said ‘handled them accordingly.’

“How interesting. And how did you meet your end, if you don't mind me asking?" Alastor asked curiously.

“Ugh, well, it's a bit embarrassing, not gonna lie. Foxglove. Not a fun way to die.”

Hm that is indeed an unfortunate way to go out—he thought.

Alastor decided to change the topic to something he was wondering about last night. How the hell did she get hurt so badly on her first day?

She takes a while to answer, chewing her food slower than she did before. So it's a sensitive subject then? Interesting—he thought. When she begins, clearly not giving away anything noteworthy, only giving vague answers.

He decided that if she was not going to give an honest answer, he wouldn't answer more questions. They were already on their last bites, so Alastor checks his pocket watch, noting that he has things to do, after all, he is a busy overlord.

He pays for the meal, then grabs Ginger's shoulder, telling her to prepare herself, not giving it away to what exactly she should prepare for. Hoping to get a reaction out of her this time, since hell's streets weren't surprising her.

Alastor's shadow warped both of them back to the hotel lobby. The journey through the shadows wasn't interesting, he got used to this mode of transportation a long time ago. Though he did relish in the panicked face Ginger made while warping.

“Well, that was certainly an experience,” She said as she flashed him a smile, but Alastor could tell she was shocked. How exhilarating.

“Shadow warping is quite the power”

…

Excuse me? Did she just say what I think she did? Yes, she said the correct term, shadow warping. So the little vixen knows a thing or two about magic. That might explain the dark energy that was lingering around her the day before—he thought as he lifted his eyebrow, searching for any reaction she might make. Sadly he could find anything that gives away any more clues about her identity.

With that, he left to run an errand he needed to do, leaving her alone in the lobby.

Ginger's pov

As you wandered through the confusing, winding corridors of the hotel, you stumbled upon various rooms and spaces—a kitchen, a dining room adorned with elegant decor, several storage closets filled with miscellaneous items, a laundry room with the hum of machines, a grand ballroom with echoes of past events, and even an indoor swimming pool for relaxation.

But amidst the familiar and the expected, you stumbled upon something utterly bizarre—a collector's room adorned with rubber ducks. A giant duck statue stood in the center, surrounded by riches and treasures, as if someone was worshiping a deity resembling a rubber duck. What the fuck is this place?—you thought to yourself.

After what felt like hours of exploration, you finally reached a room with two large wooden double doors. Pushing one open, you were greeted by the scent of dust and old paper—the Morningstar library.

As you walked between the towering bookshelves, you noticed the abandoned atmosphere, with dust covering the shelves and the air thick with neglect. Pulling out books one by one, you searched for any information that could shed light on the mysteries of this place.

You've searched the entire library for information on breaking curses, but unfortunately, you found nothing specific on that topic. However, you did come across some resources that seemed worth looking into.

In one corner of the room, you discovered a set of bean bags, offering a comfortable spot to settle in and dive into your findings. Bringing a few of the books you collected, you sank into the chair and began to unravel the secrets hidden within the pages.

The Morningstar Family History, Overlords of Hell vol. 47 - 2021 edition, Soul Binding Deals, How To Keep Yourself Safe From Exterminators, An Ultimate Guide To Demon Magic.

These were some of the books you decided to skim through. Page after page, book after book you found out more and more there is to know about hell. The few bits that jumped out to you were these sections.

“In the aftermath of Lucifer Morningstar's fall, the once ambitious archangel became dispirited and despondent, rendering him unfit to rule. Stepping into the void left by Lucifer's absence, Lilith, the Queen of Hell, took on the mantle of leadership. Through her inspiring songs, she rallied demonkind, challenging the very foundations of Heaven. In response, Heaven instituted the annual examination of Pride Ring's citizens, viewing Lilith's influence as a direct threat.”

Excerpt from "The Morningstar Family History”

“The infamous Radio Demon is still one of the most powerful and feared overlord. When he arrived in hell, many dismissed him. However, he soon revealed an unimaginable raw power never before witnessed in a human soul. He swiftly overthrew Overlords who had ruled for centuries and broadcasted the ensuing carnage on his radio show for all of Hell to hear. Eventually, he revealed himself as the mastermind behind these incidents, leading the denizens to dub him "The Radio Demon. His disappearance sparking many theories, as he hasn't been seen for 5 years, leaving many to wonder just what happened to The Radio Demon."

Excerpt from "Overlords of Hell vol. 47 - 2021 edition”

“Overlords make contacts with lesser sinners and take control of their souls, empowering themselves in the process in exchange for a favor/boon.

These soul pacts bolster the overlords' abilities, facilitating their pursuit of greater power. Leveraging these contracts, many overlords manipulate the souls under their control to carry out their commands, furthering their own agendas.”

Excerpt from "Soul Binding Deals”

Before you could continue with your reading, the spider demon you met earlier that morning entered the library. Spotting you sitting on the ground amidst a pile of books, he sauntered over and plopped down next to you in one of the bean bags.

"Finally found ya, toots. I've been searchin’ for ya since this mornin’," Angel Dust exclaimed.

“Whatcha doin in this dusty paper prison anyways? I haven't seen anybody come in here, like eva.”

Glancing up at him, you explained, "Sorry about that. After Alastor brought us back from the cafe, I decided to do some more research about this place."

Angel snorted at that. “What the Deer Daddy didn't tell ya anythin’ about hell? Wasn't that the reason he took ya out to eat? Or maybe he fancies ya.” Said Angel with a smirk wiggling his eyebrows.

Rolling your eyes, you replied, "I highly doubt that. He did explain some things, but before we could really delve deeper into anything, he said he needed to run an errand or something.”

“Tsk. Typical.” said Angel as he crossed four of his arms and shook his head.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, during which you pondered how to broach the subject of Alastor with Angel.

"Hey, Angel Dust—"

"Just call me Angel, toots." He corrects you.

"Alright. So, Angel, what do you know about Alastor? I've read about him in one of these books, the one that talks about the overlords. What's he like? Or more importantly, how does he treat his souls?"

Angel leaned back against the bean bag, contemplating your question. "Ahh, well, the guy's kind of an enigma. One day he just appeared in front of the hotel, sayin’ that he wanted to help Charlie with this ridiculous thing she's doing. He's been here since. As for how he treats his contracts, well, I haven't heard much. Ya should prolly ask Husk or Nifty bout that. Why do ya wanna know anyways?”

“Well, I sort of sold my soul to him," you confessed as you gave him a nervous smile.

"You what?!?! Why???" Angel exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock.

"Well, it was either that or death, so yeah, kinda didn't have a choice," you explained with a resigned shrug.

"Oh jeez, that's unfortunate," Angel sympathized.

You scoff "Yeah, tell me about it.”

As the conversation died down, Angel remembered the reason he had sought you out.

"Hey, toots, so actually, the reason I came looking for ya was 'cause Charlie wanted me to take ya shopping since you don't really have anything."

"Yeah, I don't have anything, not even money. So how am I supposed to buy things?" you questioned.

He waved you off dismissively. "Don't worry, she gave me her credit card. You can buy anything you wish for. She's the princess, after all. Her whole family is loaded."

"Well, shit, alright. I guess I do need some things," you acknowledged.

“That's the spirit, now let's get shoppin’.” Angel declared, eager to begin.

Before he could drag you out of your comfortable reading nook, you grabbed one of the books, planning on reading it later: "An Ultimate Guide To Demon Magic.”

You and Angel embarked on a shopping spree through the shops and boutiques of hell, purchasing toiletries, clothes, shoes, and other essential items, including a phone. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the shopping district. Nothing too noteworthy happened, well except for Angel urging you to buy more skimpy clothes, saying that you need to show off what God gave you. Or how he said it, what the ‘Big Heavenly Daddy’ gave ya.

After a few hours of trying on clothes and navigating the crowded streets, you both agreed it was time to head back. As you strolled through a street adorned with flashing neon signs and advertisements, something caught your eye—a humble little shop nestled amidst the glitzy storefronts. It stood out with its simplicity and quaint charm against the modern architecture surrounding it. You read the sign above the door: "Witches' Wonderland.”

"Hey, Angel, mind if we make one more stop?" you asked, gesturing towards the quaint shop.

"Sure, where would you like to go?" Angel replied, looking down at you with his hands full of bags—well, all his hands. It was evident that you two had bought quite a lot.

"There, 'Witches' Wonderland,'" you stated, pointing at the cottage-styled shop.

"Why would you want to shop there?" Angel inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not sure, it just looks unique, and I'm kinda curious what's inside," you explained.

Angel shrugged. "Sure, why not."

At that you two began making your way to the shop. You cross the filthy streets and appear in front of the door. You push in the big wooden door, hearing a little bell ringing that was attached to the doorknob, signaling to the workers that a new customer has entered.

The demon girl behind the desk, with features reminiscent of a raven, greeted you warmly, her eyes gleaming with delight at the sight of new customers. She encouraged you to gaze at her wares.And boy did you gaze.

The inside of the witchcraft shop is mystical and enchanting. The atmosphere is dimly lit, often by flickering candles or softly glowing lanterns, casting shadows that dance across the walls. The scent of incense—such as sandalwood, patchouli, or lavender—fills the air.

Shelves and display tables are adorned with a variety of intriguing items. You might find rows of glass jars filled with herbs, spices, and dried flowers, each labeled with their uses and magical properties. Crystals and gemstones of all shapes and sizes are displayed. There are sections dedicated to candles in every color too.

Bookshelves are filled with grimoires, spell books, and guides on various aspects of witchcraft, from beginner manuals to advanced tomes on spellcasting, divination, and alchemy. There are also journals and blank books for personal spell recording.

A corner devoted to divination tools, featuring tarot decks, pendulums, runes, and scrying mirrors. Another section showcases handcrafted wands, athames, chalices, and other ritual tools, often made from natural materials like wood, bone, and stone.

Oh how you feel at home. You look like a kid in the candy store, running around picking up items, deciding on what to buy while Angel just follows you, seemingly bored already.

With each enchanting discovery, you added more and more to your growing collection. Angel seemed shocked at the amount of money you were willing to spend, but it was not his money to worry about.

Bringing all the items to the register, the raven girl looked happier than ever, I mean after all you did buy half the store.

She began scanning all the items:

Herbs like Sage, Lavender, Rosemary, Basil, Chamomile, Mugwort, Bay leaves, Rose petals, Cinnamon sticks, Dried yarrow.

You also got a few gemstones too, for example Amethyst, Clear quartz, Rose quartz, Black tourmaline, Citrine, Moonstone, Obsidian, and Selenite sticks.

You also bought an assortment of different colored candles, divination tools, jars and a few spell books and a personal grimoire.

Exiting the store, you felt like the happiest witch in hell, your arms laden with six bags filled to the brim with supplies. With Angel by your side, both of you were now burdened with copious amounts of items, resembling the rich girls from 2000s teen movies as you strutted through the streets of hell.

As you two make your way back, a hot pink limo barreled down the street, smoothly hitting all unfortunate sinners in its way.

You look confused at the sight of the car pulling over next to you as the color drains from Angel's face.

He grabs your shoulders, making you draw your eyes away from the vehicle.

“Listen to me, ya need to get outta here fast.”

“Angel what's going on?”

“No time to explain, let's go”

At Angel’s worried urging, you picked up the pace, dropping your bags, almost running, hoping to get away from the mysterious car. You knew better than to question what was happening. Angel has been in hell a lot longer than you have.

As if anticipating your move, the limo accelerated, cutting you off as the back window rolled down.

"Angelcakes!" A sickeningly sweet voice called out. You could almost see the exact moment your new friend’s face hardened into a work mask.

Dislike churned in your stomach, but you maintained a neutral, if somewhat skeptical, expression as you both stopped so Angel could acknowledge the demon.

"Valentino.”

"Nice to see you out and about, Love Bug. I see you’ve got some bi—. Oooh, you’re cute." The way he switched from insults to sweet talk was insulting. Stepping out of the vehicle, his leather shoes crunched against the pavement as he stood to his full height. Taller than your friend, his red eyes were hidden behind heart-shaped sunglasses. With suave strides, he closed the gap between you in two steps, catching the hand you tried to avoid him with and pulling you closer. "Say baby, looking for a job?" Cringing as he kissed your hand.

Turning to your friend, Valentino's slick smile never wavered despite your clear discomfort. “Angel darling, why don’t you introduce us?” You tried to pull your arm free, but his grip was unnaturally strong, belying his lanky frame.

“This is Ginger. Ginger, this is my boss, Valentino.” Reluctantly, Angel made the introductions, his eyes fixed on Valentino’s hand gripping you, worry evident in his expression.

“Ginger.” You’d never heard your name sound so vile as when Valentino purred it. “Such an adorable name. Nice to meet you, Guapita. So about that job, a little vixen like you could be a star with that face.” His upper hands cupped your chin as he drew closer, the intoxicating scent of cigarette smoke and cologne making your head spin.

“Ah. Nice to meet you too, Angel’s boss. No, I’m not looking for a job right now, so I’ll decline.”

“Hey Val, what’d you stop by for? Were you looking for me?” Angel was by your side in an instant, trying to distract the pimp from his interest in you.

“Quiet, Angel. Can’t you see I’m occupied?" The taller man hissed before invading your space once more. “Come on now, Bambina. I’ve got just the right spotlight for you.” Multiple hands felt up your back and sides, that nauseating smell invading your lungs as much as its source was invading your personal space.

“No!” You pushed against those creepy hands with all your might.

“Val!” Angel intervened, grabbing the invading hands. Something in his actions triggered the man, and you were roughly shoved to the side before he rounded on Angel, venomous drool seeping from his lips as his coat flared out, turning into wings.

“Angel, Angel, Angel. Are you trying to tell me what to do? Did you forget, you’re mine! Shut up and let me do my business.” The sweetness in his voice drained with each word, replaced by a repulsive hiss as he spat abuse at the cowering Angel Dust.

“But Val, she’s not that typ’a girl. And—“ A fist flew at Angel's face too fast for him to avoid it. With a gasp, you watched your tall friend topple to the ground, his eye already swelling from the impact.

Something in you at that moment snapped, something about this scene feeling vaguely familiar. You needed to do something.

The air crackled with tension as you lunged towards Valentino, your claws extended and ready for battle. In an instant, the scene erupted into chaos.

Valentino, taken aback by your sudden attack, released his grip on Angel and stumbled backward. His wings flared out menacingly as he attempted to regain his footing, his sunglasses askew from the force of your assault.

“Fucking crazy bitch” hissed the moth demon.

As you advanced, purple flames burst forth from your fingertips, painting the street in an infernal hue. Valentino's eyes widened in shock at the display of your power. With each gesture, fiery torrents lashed out, scorching the ground and licking at his coat. He attempted to retreat from the fireballs you directed at his feet, guiding him back to his car with caution.

“And don't you dare think about hurting Angel again fucking disgusting mothman” you seethed.

Valentino, now sitting back in his limo, lightly charred, looking angrier than ever, began speaking.

“Don't you fucking think this is over” with that he slammed the door shut as the car stormed away.

You turned to Angel quickly, assessing the damage inflicted upon him by his disgusting boss—a black eye and a few bruises, nothing too severe.

"You're okay, Angel?" you inquired, bending down next to him and reaching up to his face to examine the impact.

"Yeah, I'm fine, toots. Jeez, you didn't have to save me like that," he replied with a casual shrug.

"Don't say that. I couldn't have just let him hurt you like that," you stated firmly, giving him a stern look.

"Wow, thanks, Ginger. That really means a lot," Angel remarked sincerely.

Standing up, you extended a hand to help your spider friend off the ground, pulling him up.

"C'mon, Angel, let's pick up our bags and get out of here. I think I've had enough adventure for today," you suggested.

"I agree," he replied.

With that, you two gathered your bags and began walking back to the hotel once more, hoping for an uninterrupted journey this time. As you walked in silence, Angel couldn't resist asking the burning question on his mind.

"So, fire, huh?" Angel inquired as you walked back towards the hotel.

"Oh, that? It's nothing, just a simple spell, really," you replied nonchalantly.

"A spell? Whatcha mean by that?" Angel pressed, intrigued.

"I mean it's not demon magic; it's just regular magic," you explained.

"Wait, there are other kinds of magics?" Angel asked, surprised.

"Oh yes, there are lots of them," you confirmed.

"Then what kind of demon magic do ya have?" Angel questioned further.

"Honestly, I don't know. That's mostly why I was in that dusty library. I was trying to find out more about demon powers," you admitted.

As you reached the hotel entrance, your hand hovered over the doorknob, and you turned to Angel.

"Hey, Angel, about what happened today, with the whole fire spell and me learning demon magic. Can we keep that between us?" you requested.

"Yeah, of course, toots. My lips are sealed. Though we might need to come up with a reasonable explanation for my black eye," Angel chuckled.

"Well, you're an actor, aren't you? Just improv it," you suggested with a smirk.

He laughed even harder at your response, the sound echoing through the lobby as you finally opened the door and stepped inside. With Angel by your side, you ascended the stairs, each of you carrying at least a dozen bags. Arriving at the room where you had slept the previous night, you both placed everything inside before bidding farewell to your new friend. Closing the door behind him, you sauntered over to the bed and flopped down face-first with a groan. It had indeed been a long day, and it wasn't even past 4pm.

With a sigh, you pulled yourself up from the soft sheets, reaching for the book you had smuggled out of the library. Opening it, you turned to the first page with determination.

"Demon magic, here we go!"

[acciomorningstar]

Yule Ball (Poppy Sweeting x Slytherin Reader)

I have been meaning to indulge my PoppyxReader Slytherpuff urges for a while now and the amazing blog by @lotterpotter basically gave me just the creative spark I needed <3

So without further ado, here’s Poppy Sweeting and Slytherin Reader at the Yule Ball, inspired by a post by @lotterpotter

“Do you know who I saw this morning?” Poppy overheard a Ravenclaw whispering when she was busy taking notes during a particularly long monologue from professor Hecat. “F/N L/N – carrying a rose.”

“L/N?” the Ravenclaw’s classmate asked, sounding surprised. “Why, I knew they were Slytherin royalty, but I didn’t suspect there’d be someone mad enough to actually ask them out –”

“Clearly they must be of high standing. I wonder who it could be…”

Poppy made sure to keep her head down when the Ravenclaw turned around so as not to give away the downcast expression on her face. Of course she had not expected anyone to ask her to the yule ball, but that didn’t quite explain the hollow feeling in her stomach. Maybe it was because she had allowed herself a silly shimmer of hope. She knew that you liked to spend time with her outside of classes, but obviously that was just because of the beasts. And there had been this one time where you had confided in her how you hated all the attention you got, grumbling that it was only because of your family – though obviously Poppy had been stupid enough to interpret that as meaning that you were actually more interested in her. It seemed such an embarrassing thought now: that there was really ever any possibility that Slytherin’s most sought-after student would really ask her, Peculiar Poppy, to a school dance. The rose obviously only confirmed what she had known deep down all along.

She didn’t talk much to others that day, preferring the company of the Puffskeins and Kneazles in professor Howin’s pen to that of her excited classmates. After her last class, however, she made the mistake of bumping into a group of other fifth-years when she had been contemplating how to occupy herself on the evening of the ball. One of them turned around at her with a mocking grin on his face. “Hey, Peculiar Poppy, we were just talking about you! So, tell us, will your date have fur or scales?”

They all burst out in howling laughter as Poppy felt her face flushing red. She tried to think of a clever retort, realised she was lost for words and tried to force a way through, but they cornered her without much effort. Just as she started to panic, someone in the back cleared their throat, causing the group to hurriedly split apart with uneasy expressions on their faces.

“I would like to speak to Poppy alone,” you said coldly, staring daggers at every single one of them. “Are you going to clear out or would you rather prefer I demonstrate my new jinx on one of you?”

Evidently no one was particularly eager to become a test subject, so they quickly picked up their bags and dispersed, leaving the two of you to stare at each other. Poppy noticed how you were holding a hand behind your back and guessed you had come to tell her about your date. In hindsight, maybe she would have preferred to endure the taunting instead.

“So, eh…” she began, trying to mask the disappointment in her voice, “t-thank you. I suppose you wanted to plan our next visit to Highwing?”

She was somewhat surprised to notice that you didn’t answer directly, and even more to notice that your cheeks were red; she was almost positive she had never seen you blush. “Actually,” you murmured, “I was meaning to ask you about… something else.”

You took a deep breath, drew your hand from behind your back, and before Poppy could register what was happening she suddenly found herself with a beautiful black rose held out to her. “I was wondering… if you would possibly consider… going to the dance with me.”

The Hufflepuff stood there completely frozen for quite some time, causing you to start fidgeting and mutter something about not being good at this. Then, she suddenly screeched and took the rose from you, bouncing on her feet. Your face broke open in a relieved smile and you asked: “So… I suppose that is a yes?”

There was really no spell or potion capable of helping Poppy find the words to describe the feeling washing over her in that moment, and so she just threw her arms around you to pull you into a hug, nearly knocking you off your feet.

* * *

Poppy quickly came down from the high she had been riding that day to transfigure into a complete ball of nerves the week before the ball. All of a sudden everyone in the corridors seemed to be staring at her and they probably were. Worst of all, she was perfectly aware she would likely be the centre of attention at the ball as well, which made her feel even more anxious. She was absolutely terrified she would become tongue-tied again or forget her moves and freeze up on the dance floor or do something else to ruin your big night. After her acceptation, you made every effort to reassure her, randomly dropping in after classes to check on her and bark at anyone who dared to give her as much as a funny look. You sweetly enlisted Natty to seek out a dress with her instead of going yourself, giving the Hufflepuff a chance to vent her anxiety, though by the start of the big night she was still thinking about making up some excuse to stay in the common room.

Eventually she managed to talk some sense into herself – could it really be worse than taking care of a hippogriff with a cold? – and headed up the stairs where you had agreed to meet. As soon as she saw you, she instantly realised it would be infinitely worse than taking care of an ill hippogriff. You had made an sincere effort to dress modestly, but your stately aura almost automatically caused the entire room to gravitate towards you. Still, you ignored all the looks around you with your usual air of disinterest. In fact, the only one you had eyes for was the Hufflepuff coming up the stairs.

“You look stunning,” you remarked, your eyes drifting to the black rose Poppy had put in her hair.

“Y-you look very pretty as well,” she could only reply, desperately trying to figure out where to look or put her hands. Taking notice, you offered your arm for her to take. “Shall we go, then?”

Poppy nodded, admittedly feeling slightly better with you by her side, but not much. The Great Hall had been transformed into a gorgeous ballroom, with white trees lining the walls and snow flowing down from the enchanted ceiling. It all seemed right out of one of the princess stories Poppy used to read when she was younger. It was a shame she felt anything but a princess right now, even with all the looks and hushed whispers coming from the crowd when the two of you entered the room. She looked up to catch a glimpse of you flashing a comforting smile at her. Were they already starting to regret asking me out? she wondered. Surely by now it must have gotten through to them that they could have so much better?

You met up with Natty – who almost seemed the complete opposite of Poppy in how excited she was – to have a brief chat and then took your place with the other couples as you waited for the music to start. Just as she was trying to focus on her breathing, Poppy suddenly felt her hand being squeezed tightly and looked up to notice a nervous expression on your face.

“I think it’s time I made a confession,” you whispered to her, “I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Wha –” Poppy replied with an open mouth, “Really?”

You nodded earnestly. “I… I was hoping you could guide me. You can do that, can’t you?”

She was momentarily lost for words: of course she had been practicing every day since accepting the invitation, but that didn’t mean she was in any way ready to take the lead. Still, it didn’t look like she had much choice. So when the music kicked in, she took a deep breath and led you on the dance floor, whispering to you to follow her lead.

It quickly turned out you had not been exaggerating. You were more clumsy than a mooncalf, constantly stumbling, tripping over your feet and forgetting the steps to each song. Fortunately Poppy was there to help, carrying the two of you with a grace she didn’t even know she was capable of. She gently led you through every song, completely focused on your joint rhythm. Every now and then you would lock eyes and the Hufflepuff could feel her cheeks reddening – but not because of embarrassment. In fact, by the sixth song she had completely forgotten to be nervous and was even insisting you join Natty and Sebastian for a group dance, getting so excited that she tripped and suddenly found herself in your arms as you smiled down at her with a cheeky grin.

After a while, she decided to confront you as you were taking a break to down some punch. “Say,” she said, tracing the rim of her glass with a finger, “you actually aren’t so terrible at dancing as you pretended to be, are you?”

“I suppose having an excellent teacher made a big difference,” you answered nonchalantly, barely making an effort to hide the joy in your voice.

Poppy smiled at you. “You can be really sweet sometimes, you know that?”

And before you could react, the Hufflepuff had already veered up to extend her hand. “May I have this next dance, my dear?”

[likesunsetorange]

I am extremely excited about the bodyguard au! Tbh at first I thought it was gonna be a really weird au, but now I can't wait!!! I also want to say that dol is the best eremika fanfic I've ever read ( and trust me I've read A LOT of them). I really hope the next chapter comes out soon cause I really miss it 😭. Your work is amazing!

lol at first glance i can understand that a bodyguard au does sound a little off so i don’t blame you haha but im glad youre excited!! its one of my favs so im really excited to share with yall!

and thank you omg, that means so much!! ik ive been treating dol like my bastard child lmao but i promise it’ll be coming soon ive been working on ch 17!! dol is my biggest love it brought me to eremika and all my friends on here so it’ll always be the favorite 🩵 but thank you again for reading all my stuff, im really glad you enjoy all my silly little stories!!!

here’s a little snippet from ch 17 just bc i feel like i never talk about dol on tumblr LOL i feel like i only do on twitter!!

The pads of Mikasa’s fingertips were gentle across his skin, rubbing soap across his skin in circular motions as to not further irritate the numerous burns the accident left him with. Even the smallest of touches would irritate his injuries, but Mikasa had always been delicate in everything she did.

It was the stark difference between the two of them—Mikasa approached life with a level of caution and tenderness that Eren had never possessed. He had gone through so much of his life approaching everything with a sense of callousness, always brash and aggressiveness, but it was as if all of Mikasa’s benevolence had somehow rubbed off onto Eren. He was certain part of it was a result of all the time they spent together, but also because Mikasa was deserving of all that was good—even from him.

The cool shower stream drew gently against her back, her dark hair slicked back from the water, droplets of water falling gingerly down her face. Her fingers traced the outlines of the where his scars spanned from his wrist to the curvature of his shoulder, some spots more mangled than others. A sullen look washed across her face, and he could see the faintest trace of her lip quivering.

“These are gonna scar,” she said quietly, her voice almost inaudible over the stream of the shower.

“And if they do, it’s okay, I don’t mind. I’ll get to tell everyone who asks how I almost got burned to death trying to play hero,” he attempted to reassure her. She gave him a reproachful look, evidently unable to appreciate the “humor” in his words. His face softened at her expression, knowing despite his constant reassurances, she was still shaken up by the accident.

“Mikasa…” He started softly. “I’m here right now, aren’t I? I’m okay, I promise. You don’t have to keep worrying.” Eren took the hand that was still inspecting his multiple burns and brought it to his chest, just above his heart. “You feel that? I’m alive and I’m okay. I’m here talking to you, and I have no intentions of going anywhere else. I’m here to stay as long as I’m able to—I can promise you that much, cariño.”

Her mouth opened as if to protest but she merely pressed her lips into a thin line, opting to merely nod in response instead. Her eyes had the glossed-over look they did whenever she was about to cry, only he knew that she wouldn’t allow herself to—not now, at least.

Eren’s face fell into a frown, knowing that whatever unspoken thoughts were running rampant in her head, were the exact opposite of not worrying. “Mikasa, look at me,” he urged, tilting her chin up so that her eyes met his. “Please, don’t worry anymore—if not for yourself, then for me. I will do everything on your list to the T, I promise. I won’t even try to still go on my runs like I had been secretly planning to—”

“Eren, what the hell? It’s almost like you don’t wanna get better or something,” she chastised, the scowl he had grown to appreciate perched on her face.

“Which is exactly why I’m not going to anymore, I don’t want you to keep stressing about this—about me.”

[hekateinhell]

You say Armand/Daniel weren't your first vc ship, which makes me wonder what *were* your first vc ships? Were you ride and die for Armand/Lestat from the start or did that come later?

I accidentally wrote a dissertation (but it is the holidays and I have time to kill).

The Vampire Armand was the first VC book I remember reading. I may have picked up IWTV when I was 10 or so but I didn't make it very far, because I was 10 and not that precocious so I couldn't really follow along yet. But I just had turned 12 when I read TVA, and at the time I didn't make the connection to IWTV—did not realize there was an entire TVC until I had already gotten pretty deep into the story.

My first VC ships were Armand/Marius and Armand/Lestat. It took a few more years to be able to fully appreciate Devil's Minion and the absolute psychosexual hold it would have on me. I think I was about 16-17 when it... hit.

With Armand/Marius, the savior and student/teacher tropes really appealed to me as a kid who didn't actually comprehend much of those particular dynamics, and I was simply devastated by the way they were torn apart in Venice. As I got older and understood more, I did grow out of loving Marius and that ship altogether unless it's in fic, although I do think I'm able to empathize with him more and see him as a complete character now. I don't have to like someone in real life to feel empathy for them, and that translates over into fictional stuff for me personally. Everyone's different and honestly I don't overthink it lol.

Since I was introduced to Armand via his own book, I got to meet Lestat, Marius, and the rest of the cast through his eyes. I also have a rather peculiar habit (at least people tell me it's peculiar) of spoiling myself for everything I consume. I'll read the wiki pages of every movie and tv show before I watch them; I'll skip to the end of every book before I read the beginning so I'll know who's left standing. I don't like surprises! 

Technically, this is where I met Armand and Lestat:

It was Lestat, and he was tattered and dusty as he had been on the chapel floor. No thoughts emanated from his mind as far as I could figure, and his eyes looked vague and full of exhausting wonder. He stood before us, merely staring, and then as I rose to my feet, scrambled in fact, to embrace him; he came near to me, and whispered in my ear.

His voice was faltering and weak from lack of use, and he spoke very softly, his breath just touching my flesh.

"Sybelle," he said.

"Yes, Lestat, what is it, what about her, tell me," I said. I held his hands as firmly and lovingly as I could.

"Sybelle," he said again. "Do you think she would play the Sonata for me if you asked her? The Appassionato?"

I drew back and looked into his vague drifting blue eyes.

"Oh, yes," I said, near breathless with excitement, with overflowing feeling. "Lestat, I'm sure she would. Sybelle!"

Obviously, this Lestat guy is a big deal to Armand. Then when I went back and read the book properly (binged that baby in a day, took psychic damage that's still painfully evident today), I thought it was so interesting that Lestat really isn't featured in TVA that much and yet Armand doesn't talk about anyone the way he does Lestat. I was enchanted.

TVL was next on my list because I am a chaos gremlin with no respect for chronological order. Maybe this is why in my head I always think of TVL and TVA as companion novels? But I also see them as being the most similar in tone and style than any other two books in TVC. And once again, baby me was riveted by the L/A dynamic. 'Confusion and desire'! A 'monstrous intimacy'! The way Lestat describes Armand as one would a living angel, with all the horror, apprehension, allure, and worshipfulness that would entail.

Just as Armand doesn't speak on anyone the way he does Lestat, the same is true with Lestat when it comes to Armand. There's something so unique to their relationship and how they see each other that's not replicated with anyone else. I was hooked for life. 😔

And like I said, Devil's Minion came later to rearrange my brain chemistry one more time! I definitely go through phases with which ship I'm feeling the most but tbh I could talk about either of them all day long if given the opportunity (proof is in the archive, RIP). 🖤

But yes, I was an L/A girlie from day one, and I'm sure that's at least in part due to the way I started with TVA and TVL. I just love them so much, okay??? It's excellent writing and I think whether Anne meant to or not, she wrote them to complement each other perfectly and I'm gonna die emotional about it 🤧

[livsworld-ndstyle]

so im genuinely at a block so I'm gonna post my old neurodivergent thoughts onto one post.

DISCLAIMER: all the names presented in this are real.

… accidentally having an over-obsession with a special interest. okay… i sometimes consider mrs. tavernise a special interest :D because she understands me, i can confide in her, etc. i also have taken a decent number of her FGF recommendations and one of them being ruta sepetys i must betray you. in the middle of class, she was handing out these packets we’re making for mockingbird and she whispered to me, “when you leave class, look at the one-school one-book poster on my door.” and i understood the assignment. i looked, and because i was next to clover, i said, “omg!! no way. i can’t believe it!” i was ecstatic with joy. … finding a special interest is more fun than what’s actually happening around me. i was so bored in english that i started drawing some nice little sketches on my to kill a mockingbird worksheet. and it was fun. i wasn’t looking up to take any notes from her papers, i wasn’t myself. and i guess she realized that really quick, because i normally ALWAYS pay attention to her but i was feeling lazy and became clover. clover normally draws AND pays attention AND takes notes. i felt stupid. anyways she came up to me because it was evident that something happened. i was disappointed in my essay grade so it’s implied. anyway, she said, “make sure you get the notes from someone, okay?” like NO now that you told me I will NOT get the notes (in protest!!).

…forgetting not everyone is passionate about your special interest. i was drawing on my to kill a mockingbird essay packet and i drew a picture of mrs. tavernise in her black dress for like thirty minutes. at the end of the period i took a picture of it and showed it to her, expecting her to like it. she told me i had to start paying more attention, and i later asked her how to pay attention, and she said, stop drawing. don’t worry, I later resolved this conflict. i got an 88 on the essay! i’m so awesome :) 

… doing something that is not stated in the directions & redirection

i haven’t had to be redirected to drawing during class in a good couple of days or weeks. i love drawing, it’s a passion i semi-enjoy, and we were analyzing quotes in groups. so of course i assume i’m working with clover because so far preferred groups seem to be working. i hear clover’s name and get excited to listen for mine, but for some reason, she paired clover up with their respective partners in the same seating vicinity. i didn’t really care, so for our first part: quiet analysis, i start just casually drawing a speech bubble around the quote but rudely interrupted by mrs. tavernise’s pointer finger pointing to the quote. normally if i just draw i can get away with it, and i thought today was going to be one of those days. however, because mrs. tavernise is making us do a follow-up project; similar to the kill a mockingbird essay, she’s trying to make sure everyone’s on track. even the most neurodiverse of us.

luckily, liyana khan is my fav. she had two extra donuts and came outside my english class to give me half a donut.

she did have to talk to my english teacher -- kinda weird -- because i’d completely forgotten liyana’d promised me a half and mrs. tavernise gave no context whatsoever, except that whoever was outside needed me for 2 minutes. i had my donut and bumped into ms. moss. PERFECT TIMING, much? i told mrs. moss to come into my english class and help me with this because i couldn’t understand the quote, part of the reason i was drawing. she helped 10x a lot, and obviously mrs. tavernise seemed to be death-glancing me weirdly. i tried my hardest after that to avoid all eye contact with her. 

tysm for brightening my day liyana & mrs. moss!! :D

..and mrs. tavernise… don’t ever put me with boys EVER AGAIN. 

[sentimental-idiot25]

SasuSaku Shoujo Week Day Four: Fake Dating

{modern au}

Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke had planned to meet at a park, seeking a much-needed opportunity to catch up without the presence of anyone else or the weight of college-level studying. Sakura strolled towards the bench where she spotted Sasuke engrossed in his phone. As she removed the earbuds from her ears, she drew nearer. Sensing a presence approaching him, Sasuke shifted his attention from his phone to the figure approaching him. Sakura greeted him with a smile and wave, and Sasuke responded with a wave of his own.

”Hey!" Sakura began the conversation.

"Hi," Sasuke replied.

"So, how's life treating you?" Sakura inquired.

"Good. How about you?" Sasuke responded.

"Hinata set me up on a blind date last night, and it was a disaster," Sakura shared, a tinge of frustration evident in her voice.

"Oh, really? What happened?" Sasuke asked, genuinely interested.

"He couldn't stop checking his phone! I mean, either I'm incredibly dull, or he had better things to do," Sakura exclaimed, raising her hands in frustration.

"On a first date, you should never do that. He was just being a jerk," Sasuke offered some comforting words to alleviate Sakura's concerns.

"You've been on quite a few first dates lately, huh, Sasuke?" Sakura teased, playfully poking his arm.

"I've also been set up on some terrible blind dates. The matchmaking attempts have been completely off the mark. I'm fed up with it," Sasuke chuckled softly.

"Me too!" Sakura groaned. "It's exhausting, and I expected our friends to understand us better than this, to set us up with people we actually click with."

"Ah, the perks of being the only two single people in our friend group," Sasuke commented with lackluster enthusiasm, matching the tone of his statement with underwhelming jazz hands.

"It's surprising they haven't tried to set us up with each other," Sakura said, lightly gripping her knees, her words revealing a hint of embarrassment.

They exchanged glances and burst into laughter.

"Yeah, I don't think we'd work out together," Sasuke laughed.

"Hmph, and what makes you say that?" Sakura playfully teased.

"I don't think our personalities align," Sasuke quickly replied, not wanting to upset Sakura.

"Hmm, I'm not convinced. We've been friends for almost our entire lives..." Sakura retorted, obviously annoyed.

"Don't be stubborn," he teased, "Anyway, where's Naruto?" Sasuke checked his phone. "That idiot thought we were meeting at midnight, not noon."

"Who does that?" Sakura exclaimed. "But getting back to the topic of me being undateable..."

"You're not undateable. I just don't want to jeopardize our friendship, you know?" Sasuke explained.

"Ah, that makes sense, I guess," Sakura laughed. "But imagine if we actually dated! Everyone would be shocked. Plus, we wouldn't have to endure these terrible blind dates anymore."

"That would be nice," Sasuke smiled.

Sakura gasped, a sudden realization hitting her. "That's it! I've got an idea!"

"What do you mean?" Sasuke asked, intrigued.

"We should pretend to date! Just for a while, to get everyone off our backs. And once we find someone we genuinely like, we 'break up'," Sakura proposed, making air quotes with her fingers. "What do you say?"

"But won't they be skeptical?" Sasuke questioned.

"Well, like I said earlier, we've been friends for such a long time. I don't think anyone would question it," Sakura shrugged.

"Well... okay, deal," Sasuke agreed, extending his hand for Sakura to shake. She took his hand and gave it a jolt of excitement.

Their bodies subtly leaned towards each other as they delved into the logistics of their fake dating plan. The early noon sun cast a warm glow, enhancing the beauty of the cherry trees surrounding the park.

A brief moment of silence hung between them.

Nervously twirling a strand of her hair, Sakura stole glances at Sasuke from the corner of her eye. "I can't believe we're actually going through with this, Sasuke. But it's better than enduring another disastrous blind date, right?"

Sasuke's onyx eyes met Sakura's emerald gaze, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "Agreed. It's been nothing but awkward encounters so far. Maybe this fake dating thing will put an end to that."

As they continued their conversation, Sakura's mind wandered. Memories from their childhood resurfaced, reminding her of the days when she secretly admired Sasuke. Her heart fluttered then, and even now, in this unconventional situation, it seemed to do the same.

A similar sentiment echoed in Sasuke's mind. Sakura had always been more than just a childhood friend. She was his secret crush, someone he admired for her determination and kindness. The realization that they were embarking on this fake dating journey together stirred something deep within him, though he couldn't quite define it.

With each passing moment, Sakura and Sasuke grew more at ease. Their laughter became genuine, their gestures more comfortable. They found themselves leaning closer, sharing inside jokes and stolen glances that hinted at a connection beyond their pretense.

Unbeknownst to them, fate had intertwined their lives long ago, and this plan was merely a stepping stone toward a future they were destined to embrace. The park, the cherry blossoms, and the warmth between them became symbols of the love that had always lingered just beneath the surface, awaiting the perfect moment to bloom.

Hours slipped away as they lost track of time. Sasuke glanced at his phone, realizing that five hours had passed since they started talking. "That damn Naruto never showed up."

"Well, would that make this our unofficial official first fake dating date?" Sakura giggled, a hint of excitement lacing her voice.

Sasuke couldn't help but chuckle in response, his stoic demeanor momentarily giving way to amusement. "I suppose it would," he replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Okay so this is impossible not to request with Father Luc 🌟 but I would actually love to see a quick moment of Flora going to midnight mass despite being sick because she wants to see Father Luc in that robe and him noticing her fever because am I misremembering or does that blessing involve the priest touching people’s foreheads?? (I’m not catholic sorry lol) and this unspoken moment where he’s a little tripped up by it but there’s a line of people so he can only say it with a look, but then slightly later approaching her like hey I think you might have a fever 🥺

Title: Cheer My Wearied Spirit

Words: 1853

Note: Thank you for the request, my friend! I love the reversal here from the other Father Luc thing I just wrote. A lot of it felt similar to the previous father luc fic, but it was essentially the same setting (just different years) so I suppose that is to be expected. I am still planning to write the day 2 follow up to the original father luc fic! Over the holidays I will have quite a lot of down time and hope to do a lot of writing over those two weeks or so, and that follow up is top of the list 

It seemed she had just shut her eyes when the alarm telling her to start preparing for mass began to scream in her ear. Flora groaned as she reached out to shut it off. She didn't feel well. If anything she felt worse than she had before she fell asleep, which was obviously the opposite effect she had been hoping for. She nearly rolled over and went back to sleep. Since she was evidently going to be sick for Christmas, she was sure her parents would excuse her from midnight mass if she asked. 

However, the image of the hot, young priest who had recently been called to her parents' church flooded her mind. She hadn't been able to forget his beautiful smile in the intervening six months since she'd met him over the summer, and she'd be darned if she missed her chance to see it in person tonight. For one thing, she needed to confirm if he was really as handsome as she remembered. She had fruitlessly googled him and scoured the woefully out of date church website to no avail. She needed to see him again for herself.

Every joint ached and her head throbbed as she got out of bed and began to dress. As a precaution she also took her own temperature. She was desperate, but she wasn't stupid. If she had a high fever, then of course she couldn't go. However, the reading wasn't even over 100 degrees. The show would go on. She put on her best "I'm not sick" face for her parents when she emerged, and they didn't seem to suspect anything as they got their coats on and loaded into the car. 

The little church was packed when they arrived, and more people streamed in every second. The three of them were just barely able to squeeze into a pew while most of the other latecomers were relegated to folding chairs. They had hardly removed their coats when the organ began to belt out the opening chords to the first hymn. Everyone rose as one without being told, drew a collective breath, and began to sing their hearts out, with grinning and good cheer all around. 

However, Flora wasn't paying much attention to anyone except the man in the robe who had just taken his place at the front of the church. He, too, was grinning as he picked up a hymnal and began to sing along, his face rosy and fresh and his eyes perfectly set off by the royal blue of his stole. Corny as it was, the most fitting comparison that came to her mind in the candlelit room was that of an angel. 

"Damn," Flora sighed to herself. "He really is that beautiful."

The service was the same as it had been every year of her life. Usually she loved the comforting familiarity, but tonight there was a thrumming undertone that she couldn't quite place, except that it intensified whenever Father Luc looked her way. It would have been deliciously exciting if she hadn't been feeling so gross. 

Ten minutes into the service and she began to wonder if coming had been a mistake. She immediately began to overheat, squeezed between her parents as she was, and the air felt thick even in the sanctuary, with its soaring ceiling and dozens of windows. Her head was throbbing before the end of the first hymn, which she couldn't sing along with anyway since her throat felt as if she'd swallowed glass. While her eyes followed the priest's every move, her sluggish thoughts couldn't actually follow what he was saying. She swallowed yawn after yawn, and soon she found herself thinking about her bed more than anything else.

She was in such a fog by the end of the service that she didn't realize it was almost time for communion until Father Luc began to prepare the host. She shook herself out of her stupor as much as she could and readied herself to be inches away from the hot priest. 

She hadn't been to confession in months so she didn't plan to partake of communion (not to mention the idea of knowingly sharing a cup with the rest of the congregation while she was ill made her shudder), but she wasn't going to miss out on the chance to be blessed by him, so when her parents rose she did the same, and the three of them walked to the front when their turn came. 

She moved down the line, lulled into peace by the familiarity of the sacrament and the lovely piano piece being performed. She didn't realize it was her turn until she was shocked into awareness when Father Luc made eye contact with her, his eyes warm and bright. She wordlessly indicated that she did not wish to partake in the sacrament, mesmerized by his deep blue eyes. With a warm smile he laid his hand on her head and began to murmur a blessing, according to tradition. However, she was startled when the smile faltered as his skin made contact with hers, and for a moment she thought he was going to draw his hand back, blessedly cool as it was. He did not, but blessed her as usual, though his gaze probed hers and a strange expression tugged his eyebrows toward the center–was it worry, perhaps?

She was unable to discern the meaning of his behavior before she was pushed along by the queue behind her. She made her way back to her seat in a haze of confusion and sickness, clamping her lips shut against a cough as she sat back down. She didn't have much time to dwell on the strange interaction before the service drew to an end. A little more talking, a little more chanting, and then the introduction to "Silent Night" could be heard as the lights were dimmed and candles were handed down the rows and lit. Soon Father Luc was only visible from the chin up, the candle he held casting strange shadows on his face as he sang, yet Flora still couldn't keep her eyes off him. She wished she could talk to him–say something funny or witty or memorable, in the hope that she would stick in his mind just as he had stuck in hers. 

When the service ended, the congregation began to file out of the pews to meet the priest who greeted them as they exited the sanctuary as always. Once again Flora was electrified as she made eye contact with him, and he froze for a split second too. Her parents quickly drew his attention, seemingly not realizing what had transpired between them. They clasped his hand, thanked him for the service, and presented her for an introduction. 

"This is our daughter, Flora. She's home from nursing school for the holiday break," her mother said. "I think you met her once before over the summer."

"I believe you're right. It's a pleasure to see you again, Flora," he said, holding out his hand to shake. 

Flora mirrored the gesture breathlessly,  attempting a smile. "Same to you, Father," she said. 

Once again, the handsome smile flickered when they touched. This time his hand felt roastingly warm while she had started to shiver in the line to get out the door. 

He opened his mouth, hesitated for a split second, then seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say. "I hope you are well this evening," he said, his eyes probing hers again. 

She nodded and smiled as she was supposed to, then moved along so the next people could greet him. If only he knew, she thought to herself, that she was the opposite of well. And yet she thought he might suspect the state of her health. Why else would he look at her so closely? And use that particular phrase? 

Her parents were always some of the last people to leave any church service. This had been the case her entire life. Their families had been attending this church for generations, so they knew everyone here, and if they didn't know them then they made it their mission to get to know them. Usually Flora didn't mind, but tonight she certainly did. She hovered by the door closest to their car, holding the door for everyone else lucky enough to be leaving and mentally imploring her folks to hurry up just this once. 

However, her patience was rewarded in an unexpected way. Out of nowhere, Father Luc appeared and headed right for her as if he'd been searching for her. He had removed his robe and was wearing a royal blue sweater, the same color the stole had been, over a striped collared shirt and tie, looking very dashing indeed. Flora's heart fluttered as he drew near. 

"Flora, I was hoping I would catch you before you left," he said, stopping only inches away. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. This will probably sound strange, but when you were receiving the blessing, I thought your face seemed very warm. I think you might have a fever. I just wanted to let you know so you could check when you get home."

Flora flushed immediately, fever notwithstanding. "I think you're probably right. I wasn't feeling the best this evening, but I really wanted to make it to mass. I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have come tonight."

"Oh no, that's not… it's a blessing to have you with us tonight and I wasn't trying to say otherwise. I just wanted to make sure you're taken care of. No one likes being sick on Christmas." 

She flushed even brighter. "Thank you, Father. I have everything I need back at my parents." 

"I'm glad," he said earnestly. "And while I am excited to gather with the congregation again for Christmas Day, under the circumstances I'll say that I hope I DON'T see you tomorrow!... Unless you make a miraculous recovery of course. And if the Lord chooses to work such a miracle, all the better! But… I guess you understand what I'm getting at," he stammered, his face red now as well. 

She giggled a tiny bit, his nervous rambling somehow cuter to her than anything else he could have said, and also serving to put her at ease. "I do. I promise I'll stay home tomorrow if I'm still sick. I appreciate you checking on me."

"Certainly, and I hope you feel better soon. Take care, Flora." He turned and walked away, both of them still red-faced.

He had hardly turned the corner when her parents emerged at last, and Flora avoided their eyes, lest they notice anything amiss. She ushered them through the door with pleas to head home to bed, not needing to exaggerate the fatigue she felt. She wouldn't tell them she was sick tonight. They would only fuss and blame themselves for bringing her out in the cold weather. There would be plenty of time to be fussed over through the rest of this holiday break. Instead, she let silence reign during the drive home, smiling to herself as she imagined his cool hand on her face over and over again. 

[fox-buried-in-maple-leaves]

Interview

The Black Shores have finally got a hand on the ruthless criminal known only to them as the Windcracker's Riposte.

taglist: @cerasus--flores

“We finally found him. Can you watch over the interrogation?”

Aalto groaned, leaning back in his chair to tilt his head back to look at the man shrouded in darkness. “Do I have to?” But he already knew the answer, pushing himself away from his desk with his boot so he could stand up.

“Be warned, he isn’t what we expected.”

The man was led down the dimly lit hallway towards the interrogation rooms, he played with a shell credit, flipping it several times between his fingers. One door was opened, leading into a dark room with a one way mirror looking into the interrogation room.

He wasn’t what the man had expected, that was true.

The man by his side knocked on the glass and the interrogator on the other side started.

“What’s your name?”

“What’s it to ya?”

A fox featured man sat in the chair opposite the interrogator, silver eyes relaxed. This was the Windcracker’s Riposte they’d heard about? A man with as many connections as Aalto, except his sort of connections ran on the darker side of things. 

“Let’s cut to the chase, then. You’ve been connected to a number of crimes committed within the New Federation, Huanglong, Sepunia. You even managed to cause problems in Rinas.” And the man chuckled at that, bringing up his hand to scratch his cheek with a clawed finger.

“Yeah that was a good one. I’m proud of that one.”

“Rinas was the-”

“Stole a statue of a Sentinel, nobody knows where it is still.” Aalto nodded in understanding.

“Yet no evidence can actually connect you to any of these crimes, just that this was a Riposte.”

The man shrugged with his hands and arms, a soft smile on his face. “Despite your skill, you’ve turned down numerous opportunities with several organizations. Most notably of which are the Fractsidus. From my understanding, they’ve tried many times to get you to join.”

“Yeah I don’t do organizations. Groups, sure. But organizations?” The man waved his hand and sighed. “Boring.”

“Okay, in your own words. What is it exactly you provide these individuals?”

The man chuckled, bringing his hand up he looked at his painted claws. “You’re finally asking the right questions. I’m a consultant of unsavoury types.” He looked beyond his hand at the interrogator. “They bring me their plans and I…” He did a flourish with his hand, sitting up straight. “I make them viable.”

“And you let them take the fall if anything goes wrong?”

“Listen.. I like committing crimes. It’s fun, really. Never have to live a day wondering where your next meal comes from. Doesn't that sound nice?" He leaned forward, smile sharp.

Aalto narrowed his eyes on the other side of the glass, arms crossed over his chest. That stood out to him. A surprisingly vulnerable comment for a criminal being detained for information. He made a mental note of the man’s words.

“Not to mention the thrill!” He laughed, standing up. His tail swished behind him as his tone grew more excited. “Oh the thrill of stealing classified documents and watching someone else take the fall." The man spun so his back was to the interrogator, but he partially sat on the edge of the metal table.

His tone suddenly grew grim however as he stared directly into the mirror, well aware of the people on the other side of it. "What's the point if I don't have everyone that's anyone in my claws?" He asked, but it wasn’t the interrogator he was addressing.

“What’s your take, Aalto?” 

Aalto hesitated, the man was hard to read. Nearly impossible. The broker couldn’t even tell if he drew genuine glee from his crimes or not. If it was a position he was put into or one he sought out. 

“So you’re a glorified blackmailer?” The interrogator questioned and the man looked over his shoulder at him. Displeased.

"Oh no, what I do is much more dignified, much more involved." He looked back towards the glass, hands gripping the metal table beneath him. “Mere puppets on my strings. Even you, g-man. This is the Black Shores’ island isn’t it?” 

“How do you..”

The man laughed, unhinged and pitched up as he pushed himself off of the table. “I just stole all your records, that’s how.” He turned towards the surprised interrogator and the man beside Aalto groaned quietly. “I would like you to understand one thing.” The man winked at the interrogator.

“I am not stuck in here with you.” He pointed a clawed finger at the man before he brought his arm up at an angle to poke his own cheek. “You are stuck in here with me.”

“Oh that’s not good.” Aalto muttered.

“What’s not good?”

But Aalto’s form already dissipated into mist, protecting himself from the shattering of the glass. 

“I’m going home now! Nice meeting you~”

[ssparksflyy]

piper mclean dating hcs !

pairing : piper mclean x gn!reader warnings : cursing ( whoops ! ) a/n : heart eyes for this girl I SWEARRRRR

piper mclean ily pls marry me

piper is SO sweet to you ♡♡

this girl LOVES to spoil you

we all know she's got MONEY because of her dad

and girlie just adores spending money on things she loves

( aka you )

piper doesn't care about the thousands of times you've told her that it really wasn't necessary, and she didn't have to get you anything

she'll do it anyway cause she knows you'll repay her with a kiss 😋

of course, piper'll buy you things that she knows you like or have had you eye on

but she'll also buy you things that'll remind you of her

allow me to explain

say, you don't like hello kitty / it just isn't something you pay attention to

( everybody moved on, i stayed there. page 5. annabeth's pov. mark of athena. "today she was dressed in tattered jeans, worn out sneakers, and a white tank top with pink hello kitty designs." dont play w me )

anyway, say you don't like hello kitty, piper'll still buy you like a tiny plushie or key chain that you can carry wherever, and it'll remind you of her

she also buys herself things that you like, so she can also get reminded of you !

speaking of buying things, piper has all of your favorite colors ( youre lying if you say you only have one ), favorite snacks, fast food orders, and alllll of your preferences down and memorized in her brain for whenever you go out together ♡♡

but just in case she also has them down on a small notepad she carries in her bag

piper is an addict.

what's she addicted to you may ask, kissing you

she's always peppering you face with quick little kisses

and then when she stops, she'll just stand there, leaning her cheek towards you cause she'd "very greatly appreciate it if you could return the favor"

at least she's honest !!

piper'll kiss you at the most random times

lets be real this girl does not give 2 fucks about pda, she's with her #1, got a problem with it?

so she'll just sneak up behind you, spin you around and peck your lips

she's so cute i love her

now

say you were a little nervous about dating piper, becauses yk, many children of aphrodite want their rite of passage, and she can charmspeak

piper will literally do anything it take for you to trust her completely

i don't think she'd exactly be hurt if you had your doubts in the beginning of your relationship, like, she gets it, but she'd still want to try and prove you can trust her as quickly as she cam

she'd literally never use her charmspeak on you unless she HAS to

like say you were gonna do something really stupid

despite your protests, saying that you'll be fine, and nothing will happen

she'll still give you a dead look and drag you away

she's js looking out for you ya know

piper's favorite "hobby" is spending time with you

if you tell her that's not a hobby she'll straight up pull out her claim evidence and reasoning

she loves cuddling in the aphrodite cabin, as a way to be like "HAH yall wish you could have thisss" to her jerk siblings *cough* DREW

piper likes trying different things, i feel like she'd be really crafty ngl

like she'll LOVE making matching frinedship bracelets for you

and im talking like NICE ones like she's got soo many beads omg

she was for sure one of those kids who started a buisness in elementary school

( as if she wasnt already rich )

she'd be so excited to make some with you

and ofc she'll want to teach u how to make fancy wavy ones yk

her love language is definitely quality time fight me

in summary, if ur looking for a hot, adorable, trustworthy, affectionate, caring, sweet, spoils u, mrs. treat ! you ! right! , piper's the one for youuuuu !!

a/n pt. 2 : hii! hope u enjoyed this but omg i feel like its kinda short and all i did was ramble abt random stuff in this one ahhh srry

thats all for now! wishing u a wonderful day / night !

peace from manhattan,

percy jackson

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[earlgreydream]

injured.

| stucky x reader | fluff | smut |

anon requested. After so many pleads for Y/N to stay home and be safe away from the mission; she still goes on that solo mission. However, when an injury occurs, she fears that Steve and Bucky will forbid/get mad at her for going. So she tries to hide it. However, when lust take over the same night she comes home; shower sex is in play between her lovers and her. And during all that, Steve and Bucky find the injury on her body and question it. Yet all Y/N wants to do is finish what they had started... yet to bad, having overprotective boyfriends are just what she has.

cw: mentions of violence, injury

“Shit,” you limped onto your jet, nearly collapsing to your knees on the floor.

The glass was cold and unforgiving, and you struggled to inhale, black bruises forming on your side. A sharp pain shot through your chest when you took a breath, and you wondered if your ribs were fractured, otherwise deeply bruised.

You hit the autopilot, sighing as the jet lifted and set for home. You laid back on the floor, unconsciousness clouding your mind. You fought it off, trying to keep your eyes open and focusing on breathing.

.

“Don’t go, Y/N. It’s a solo, Stark can send someone else,” Steve argued with you, knowing the dangers of sending you alone to Sokovian ruins to retrieve intel.

“You’re being ridiculous. I’ll be perfectly fine. I go on team missions all the time, and this is just intel. You worry too much,” you’d shaken your head, giving him a kiss.

Bucky was unsettled, joining Steve in his attempts to convince you to stay behind. You had brushed them off, excited to finally be assigned a solo mission. You were a newer addition to the avengers team, and you hadn’t had a chance to take a solo mission. It didn’t help when you had not one, but two overly protective boyfriends. With Steve being responsible for most mission assignments, you had been placed in groups— usually with both Steve and Bucky. You were aptly trained, but they still feared for you.

.

You laid on the floor of the jet, thinking about your mission that had gone horribly wrong.

Panic seized you as you realized that Steve and Bucky were going to lose their shit. They’d told you to stay home and you’d ignored them, and ended up injured.

What was supposed to be a simple intel gain, had turned violent when someone realized you were undercover. You’d managed to escape the sleazy club with the help of a local, but only after you’d been brutally beaten.

You had barely made it back to the jet, and now pain was flooding through your body, leaving you exhausted, and struggling to take shallow breaths. You ached, but the fear of Steve and Bucky banning you from missions was worse.

Steve could be an extremist, overly anxious about your safety. Bucky was much more level-headed and rational, but you doubted that even he would remain calm when he saw your bruises.

No problem, you just had to figure out a way to cover it up. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and you didn’t intend to let them find out.

Your brain spun through how you were going to hide it, coming up short with ideas. You pushed yourself onto your knees and iced the bruises, taking some painkiller that Stark kept on the jet.

.

You managed to get yourself standing by the time you arrived back at the compound, though you still looked a mess.

Stark greeted you when the jet opened, and you hurried onto the tarmac. His eyes widened when he saw you, and you swore.

“That bad?”

“Yeah. You look like death. What the hell happened?” Stark demanded, following you inside.

Luckily, Steve and Bucky were caught up on a mission somewhere else, and you had a couple of hours before they returned.

“Morozova caught on. Gave me a beating, but I’m fine. And I managed to get the intel you asked for. But Tony, promise me you won’t tell the boys!” You begged, and the inventor looked hesitant.

“I’m fine, and you know they’ll overreact. I’ll be more careful next time, but don’t blow this for me, please!” You pleaded, walking with him to the lab.

“Fine. But only because I owe you. And if they find out, you deny that I knew. Come on, let’s get you some help.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thanking Tony and letting him inspect your injuries. He concluded all your bones were intact, and you didn’t have internal bleeding. He cleaned your scrapes and cuts, and told you to watch the bruising. It was clear you’d had the shit kicked out of you, your ribs, stomach, hips, legs, and back evidence of the assault.

“This looks painful. You’ll need to be careful, and no physical training until you’re healed up. Got it?”

“Got it. Thanks, Stark.”

He hummed in his annoyed, impatient tone, and you watched him go. You gave yourself a moment before walking to your suite, changing into leggings and Bucky’s vintage “Stark Industries” hoodie, knowing it would hide all the bruising. You fell asleep waiting for them, exhaustion getting to you.

.

You slowly opened your eyes when lips pressed against your forehead. The touch was familiar, and you tilted your head back to meet Bucky’s mouth.

“Hi, doll,” he murmured, smiling against your lips.

You sat up, greeting the boys and kissing Steve.

“How was the mission?” Steve brushed hair from your face.

“I got all the intel for Stark,” you smiled, earning proud grins from the boys.

“That’s my girl,” Bucky kissed your cheek.

You were thankful you hadn’t been dragged into their arms, squeezed and smothered like they occasionally preferred. You concealed your pain, reduced to a dull ache from the Tylenol.

“Let’s shower, calm down a bit?” Bucky offered, kissing your neck, making your spine prickle with need.

“I’m good, go ahead. I’ve already showered.” The lie slipped out before you could stop it, and Bucky drew away from kissing your neck.

He exchanged a look with Steve before turning back to you, steel and sky blue eyes narrowing at you.

“Y/N…” Steve began, but cut off, allowing you an opportunity to explain your lie.

“I mean, I just, don’t feel up to it…” you tried, shying away from Steve when he reached out to set his hand on your leg.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” Bucky asked, worry flashing across his eyes.

“Nothing, honey. I’m fine,” you promised, touching his scruffy face and giving him a kiss.

“Then let’s have some shower sex,” Steve met your gaze.

You nodded, going in the bathroom first. You got in the shower, and they followed, seeing your body covered in bruises and scrapes.

“Y/N!” Bucky cried, lifting your arm and inspecting your injuries.

“It’s fine, really. No broken bones or internal bleeding.”

“What happened? Why didn’t you tell us?!” Steve raised his voice, making you sink back against the cold tile.

“Because I didn’t want you to get angry and forbid me from going on missions!” You defended yourself.

Both men tried to contain their agitation, not wanting you to feel like they were angry. Their fears became tangible, seeing you wounded.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been injured, we’re just worried. You need to tell us when you’re hurt,” Steve’s tone softened.

“I’m sorry,” you finally conceded.

“Don’t be. First of all, are you okay?” Bucky asked, tilting your face up.

“It hurts,” you admitted.

Bucky winced at your tone, understanding how much pain you were in. You abandoned your attempts to conceal it, and he could hear the agony in your voice.

“I’m so sorry,” he leaned down and gently kissed your bruises. Steve joined, and suddenly they were kissing all over your body.

Your hands went to Bucky’s hair as he kissed your hip, and sparkling grey eyes gazed up at you. Steve kissed your inner thigh, and you bit your lip, need pooling between your legs. Tingling started to spread through your body, and you were seconds away from begging your boyfriends to touch you.

Steve stood, towering over you from behind. Strong arms gently snaked around you, supporting your weight without putting pressure on the bruises.

“Steve-?” You looked up at him, but you tightened your grip on Bucky’s hair as his mouth went where you desired.

“Oh,” you breathed as Bucky’s tongue gently lapped through your folds, brushing over your clit.

“We’re going to be gentle, doll,” Steve promised, pressing his lips just below your ear.

“Going to make some of that ache go away,” Bucky mumbled against your heat, his speech sending echoed vibrations through your sex.

You gripped Steve’s arm, thankful he was holding you up, or else your knees would’ve buckled, weak from Bucky eating you out.

He reached up, gently brushing his fingertips over your entrance, gauging your reaction. Your muscles fluttered at the touch, trying to pull him in. He smirked against you, sucking on your clit and using his tongue to tease you. You fisted his dark hair, slipping between your fingers from being soaked by the shower, and you struggled to find solidity.

“James!” You cried, throwing your head back on Steve’s shoulder as Bucky pushed two fingers inside of you, stroking your velvety walls.

Steve gently groped your chest, teasingly rolling your nipple between his fingers. The boys knew how to get you off— and knew how to do it gently. You’d never been more thankful for them as you were in this moment, soft heat wrapping around your body, mixing with the steam of the warm shower.

Your eyes fell closed and you arched your sore back off of Steve, grinding against Bucky’s face before he coaxed an orgasm from you.

“That’s it, pretty girl, come all over Buck’s face,” Steve smirked into your neck. 

You cried out, yanking on Bucky’s hair and collapsing against Steve. You winced as he bumped your bruises, trying to catch you. He murmured out an apology, and Bucky leaned back under the water, grinning up at you. 

“Let’s get you clean, then you can rest, doll.”

You were so tired you could barely keep your eyes open as they helped you wash up, sending you to dry off so they could take care of one another. You offered to jerk them off, returning the favor, but Steve just laughed and kissed you.

“Go get in bed. We’ll join you in a bit.”

You didn’t argue, sliding into bed in fresh pajamas, printed with Steve’s shields. He’d gotten them for you as a bit of a joke, but you’d loved them, wearing them all the time. The boys’ dog tags rested under the button-down top, cold against your warm skin. You were nearly lulled to sleep by the hum of the shower, struggling to stay awake as the two boys returned to your bedroom, going to either side. 

“What happened on the mission, love?” Steve asked quietly, lying down with his face inches from yours. 

“I was in a meeting, getting the information that Stark wanted on the Hydra transfers. I’m not sure what gave it away, but General Morozova found out that I was under cover. He beat me, but a Sokovian helped me escape,” you explained wearily, sighing as Bucky’s arm went around you protectively.

“You’re safe now. Once you’re recovered, we’ll talk about future missions.”

“So you’re not banning me?” you asked hopefully, looking up at Steve.

“You’re too valuable, but you’re not going on missions without Bucky and I for a while,” Steve conceded, kissing your nose.

“I could be okay with that,” you squeezed them in a hug, ignoring the pain that shot through you. 

You giggled as kisses were littered all over your face, the three of you talking until you fell asleep. 

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

Right Hand Offered

Riley paused at the door to the office and rapped his knuckles against the doorframe. “Hey, boss, you got a minute?”

He knew full well that he was supposed to be free right now. But recently, Boss Emmet’s “breaks” seemed to be mostly consisting of working. Not on the subway—breaks were breaks and blurring the line between them and work was out of the question—but on some other project, clearly. It was part of Riley’s growing mental folder of evidence.

The sudden burst of rescheduling and checks to make sure all the stations were mostly self-sufficient. The refreshing and codifying of new guidelines that had been unwritten standards for years. His own recent promotion—which, not that Riley wasn’t excited about that, but all of it together pointed to something.

Emmet lifted one hand and drew a circle next to his ear, the silent signal for go on, I’m listening.

“You’re, uh. Leaving, aren’t you? Sir.”

He still didn’t look up, but his head tilted slightly. There was a moment of silence.

“Because-“

“Yes- well. I am not… leaving. Not stepping down. I am… taking a…” fingers rapped against the table as he thought. “Holiday?”

“Oh.” The first part of that was a relief—Riley definitely didn’t want to be the boss of everything, and he wasn’t super keen on seeing who the transit authority would send down if nobody was promoted—but the explanation… on the surface, it was completely reasonable. He certainly deserved one, with all the work he did. And he probably needed one, after Boss Ingo’s disappearance and the subsequent upending of the entire subway that had demanded all his time and focus to manage, and left him no time to himself. But something still seemed… off, for some reason.

“Can I ask… why, sir? I mean, um. Do you have. Plans?”

“Sinnoh.”

“…What?”

“I. Am going. To Sinnoh.” He waved a hand like he was dismissing a thought, and finally looked up at Riley. “I cannot run the trains from Sinnoh!”

“Uh, yeah, no, that makes sense. Why… why all the way to Sinnoh?”

He looked back down again. “Eat your lunch, Riley.”

That meant he was dismissed and the conversation was over. “Yes, sir.” 

---

Galactic Boss Cyrus was not given the benefit of an alarm.

The Galactic Headquarters was meant to be impenetrable, and had the security to match, and nobody had ever really expected they’d face any problems, not at this stage—their guards were battle-ready, and why would anyone bother raiding the office of an energy company, anyway? So an “alarm” probably would have consisted of someone shouting into the PA, or possibly just breaking down his door in a panic, and neither of those things happened.

Instead, he was in the middle of unwrapping his lunch when the doors to his office were slammed open by a person he didn’t recognize.

“Wh- what the- who let you in here? Did-“

Any initial suspicion that he’d forgotten a meeting was dashed when the stranger took two deliberate steps across the room and lifted a Pokéball. He bounced it once, twice, in his hand.

“You are Cyrus?” His smile was distinctly not friendly.

He knocked his chair over as he stood up. “Guards!” he shouted in the direction of the door.

But the man in white did a half-shrug. “No guards!”

“What?”

“No guards! All the guards are taken care of!” The statement rung like a bell. He almost looked prideful. “Now it is your turn. Battle me.”

What had been a random trespasser suddenly became something much different. Cyrus picked his first Pokémon off the shelf under his desk. “What do you want?”

He sent out Sneasel. His opponent led with a Haxorus. “I am Emmet. You are Cyrus. You have a plan to end the world.”

His stomach dropped, almost pulling his focus away from the battle. He led with a Screech, planning to set up for an Ice Punch. The Haxorus took the opportunity to Dragon Dance.

“How do you know about that? Nobody is supposed to know about that.”

“I researched,” he said, cordial as if he were discussing the weather. "You are not denying it?”

Fuck.

Haxorus, now faster than him, Dragon Tailed before he could get a move off, knocking Sneasel off the field, and he was forced to choose a new Pokémon. He went with Crobat. “It’s a little late for that, I suppose.”

Dragon Dance again. Cyrus started to order a Supersonic, hoping to use those attack increases against his opponent, and then paused to question the wisdom of confusing a Haxorus that was about three feet and one flimsy desk away from him. He opted for Poison Fang instead, and, thankfully, the secondary effect took.

“You will do this using the power of Sinnoh’s deities. Still true?”

“Yes. I don’t know where you got this information, but there’s no point in denying it, is there?”

A Dragon Claw—almighty, that was a one-hit. Damned Dancing. At least Haxorus was poisoned now. He sent out Honchkrow. His opponent Dragon Danced again despite the bad poisoning, just to add insult to injury.

“Dialga and Palkia, space and time. You have found a way to capture them. Yes?”

Night Shade. It was effective, but not enough, and once again, a single Dragon Claw put Honchkrow down. He sent out Sneasel with little hope—no way in hell could he be faster at this point. Cold sweat was starting to bead on the back of his neck. “Yes, yes, you damn- what is it you want?”

“You are going to capture Dialga and use it for your own ends. You are clearly an evil person.”

He recalled Sneasel, putting a bite in his voice he didn’t really feel. “And, what, you’re here to play hero? Stop me before I even get started?” He raised his hands to either side, exposing his chest. “Capture me? Kill me? Well, go on, then! Congratulations! You’ve left me nowhere to run!”

The man in white was still fucking smiling.

“No.”

“What?” He lowered his hands slightly, caught off-guard.

“You are evil. But! Our destinations are very close.” He recalled Haxorus and took a step forwards, across the makeshift battle field they’d been using. “I need to find Dialga, too.”

“What? Why?”

He reached inside his white coat—Cyrus flinched, despite himself—but what he withdrew was a sheet of printer paper, which he held up, displaying what was printed on the front. He leaned forwards and squinted to read it.

“Who is–?”

"Are you following the archeology in your region?”

“…Not… closely? Most of it’s not open for public viewing– what does this matter?”

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, smile waning slightly, like he was being forced to explain something to a child. “A long time ago—a verrry long time ago—there was a crisis in Sinnoh. Nobody knows what it was. Only that Dialga and Palkia were involved somehow.” His eyes were open again, and the electric determination in them made Cyrus flinch for a different reason. “I need to go back there.”

The paper was refolded and returned to its pocket. Cyrus stepped back again. “So you’ve come to raid our research, then? If so, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. We’re still in early stages–”

“I want,” now impatience was creeping into his voice, “to work for you.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he started to chuckle humorlessly, shaking his head. “Well you’ve got a funny damn way of showing it. Breaking and entering, beating all my guards, demanding a battle and calling me evil? Why on earth would I trust you?”

The remaining space between them was crossed in two steps. “This was a demonstration. Of my ability. Until you find Dialga, we want the same thing. Your goals are mine. I would do anything you asked. If it got us closer to our destination.” He lifted the right side of his coat—opposite from the pocket with the letter—and Cyrus saw six Pokéballs hooked on his belt. A full team. And he’d only needed one to beat him. Almighty.

“And when we did find Dialga…” 

“Oh. Then I would stop you.” His grin gained fangs, for a moment.

Cyrus leaned back against his desk, considering the carpet. This was… an interesting situation. He was the strongest trainer in Team Galactic, without question, and this stranger had beaten him—and an entire building of guards—without breaking a sweat. That fire in his eyes… that single-minded determination… he knew how powerful that could be. What kinds of things a man might do in service to it. And to have that kind of leverage on someone so strong…

The only issue was his caveat. The end of the proposed arrangement. As things were now, they almost certainly stood no chance once he turned on them. But… then again, nothing was stopping him from simply coming back once they got closer to their goal and taking what he wanted, if Cyrus refused him. And maybe by keeping him close, he could sway him, or sabotage him…

“Do you need to think about it?” the stranger asked. His voice had returned to the perfectly cool, even tone it had been at the beginning, any hint of impatience or frustration vanished from it.

He looked up. “What did you say your name was?” 

“I am Emmet.”

With a slow nod, he lifted one hand, extending it for a handshake. “Commander Emmet. Welcome aboard.” 

[bloodraven55]

I saw a post recently where someone else analysed how Luz's love language is acts of service and Amity's is physical affection, and it got me thinking so in light of today's incredible episode I want to do some serious digging into Luz's feelings for Amity. This is probably gonna get pretty long but hey, these two are more than worth it.

I'm going to go through three key episodes for Luz and Amity's relationship so that I can properly illustrate my points, starting with Lost in Language.

First, I want to talk about how, despite the fact that Amity had been nothing but objectionable to her so far, literally all it takes for Luz to decide she wants to befriend her anyway is reading about Azura befriending Hecate in her book and seeing Amity reading to kids at the library. This clearly establishes that Luz is intrigued by Amity and willing to go out of her way to connect with her, even when Amity hasn't yet given her any particular reason to do so.

Next, let's talk about the manner in which Luz tries to save Amity from Otabin later in the same episode. This is one of the first times we see Luz attempt to be Amity's hero, as she chooses to make an unnecessarily dramatic entrance dressed as her own version of Azura, playing the role of the dashing knight come to rescue the fair maiden albeit not quite as gracefully as is usual in these stories lol. She even takes the time to doodle Amity being impressed by her performance too, introducing the idea that Amity's perception of her means a lot to Luz.

Finally for this episode, we get another example of both these things: Luz putting in a substantial effort to bond with Amity, and Luz wanting to impress Amity or get specific reactions from her. After impulsive plan to get them away from Otabin works, Luz finds the time to be a good even when they're running for their lives and actually manages to make Amity laugh which was an impressive feat at that point tbh, looking extremely pleased when her comment is received positively.

These next two moments provide a neat link to the next episode I want to discuss, Adventures in the Elements, so I'll cover them in one go. We see Luz's first Act of Service for Amity when she offers her the Azura book she's missing to show that she wants to be friends, and then when she meets Amity to get it back we see how important the gesture was for Luz. She's very eager to hear Amity's thoughts, loves it when she finds the fanart Amity drew, and in general it's just obvious that this was another attempt to impress Amity on Luz's part.

This only continues as Luz proudly proclaims that she's going to join Amity's class at Hexside, even winking at her in the process, and solidifies the significance of her giving Amity the book even more by suggesting they start a club to talk about it further. Like, seriously, this entire episode is pretty much just Luz being adorably excited to share classes with Amity and flat out learning a whole new spell just to make sure it happens.

The interesting thing here, though, is that Luz gets really nervous as soon as the twins suggest they all train together, enough to lie to them in a moment of panic, and then gets super embarrassed when she sees that Amity is also practicing at the Knee. This doesn't seem to make much sense since Amity is being pretty nice by this point and not at all mocking or condescending, and Luz has given up on trying to look cool to the twins by now too. But it actually makes a lot of sense when you consider that this is another instance of Luz wanting to impress Amity and worrying about looking inept in front of her.

There's also the way that Luz is just... so clumsy and awkward around Amity in these episodes. The girl knocks a book to the floor and falls off a rock just trying to say hello, for crying out loud, complete with stammering over her words. Yeah, it's safe to say Luz is lowkey crushing on Amity here.

Don't worry, because I saved the best for last. Enchanting Grom Fright is basically the culmination of everything those two previous episodes set up. Not only do we get two Acts of Service from Luz, with her offering to face her own worst fear for Amity with zero hesitation and then happily offering to go to Grom with her so that Amity wouldn't end up alone, but she also brings out some dramatic flair when she declares herself Amity's “fearless champion,” like a knight in shining armour vowing to protect her princess although she still hasn't got the graceful part down lmao.

Plus, there's the fact that in both of their Lingering Eye Contact in Close Proximity with Romantic Tension™ moments in the episode, Luz's expression is the exact same as Amity's, wide-eyed and curious like she's not quite sure what to make of what she's feeling. And that's even before she just full on starts flirting with Amity later on. I'm sorry, but those smirks and fancy show-off moves while dancing are not remotely heterosexual, Luz.

All of this brings us to their current situation: Amity is aware of her crush on Luz but thinks that Luz only sees her as a friend, and Luz is subconsciously flirting with Amity as well as trying to show off for her and be her hero but remains fairly unaware of her crush on her and thinks that Amity likes someone else. So in conclusion, teenagers are useless, but we been knew. Rather, the point I want to end on is that there's a reason why Luz and Amity were so in sync with such amazing chemistry during their dance when they weren't talking, and it's because they both have different ways of communicating their emotions but when they let their actions speak for them they were finally on the same page albeit briefly.

tl;dr - Luz and Amity are both crushing hard on each other, they just need to realise that the other has a different way of expressing their feelings and find the courage to be honest with each other. Amity's crush is more glaringly blatant, what with all the blushing and gay panicking and wanting to ask Luz to the school dance, but Luz's crush on Amity is also pretty evident in the way she tries so hard to impress her and often steps in to help her out with grand gestures, which she never does to anywhere near the same extent with any of her other friends.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Camping: Hunter’s  Ending

 Intro

   “I guess I’ll go with Hunter,” you said, earning a grin from Omega. Hunter glanced your way with a smile- the kind of smile that made your heart do a little flip. You were lost in it before Omega gave you a push in his direction.

   “I think that’s a good idea,” she replied. “Well, you two have fun!”

   “Aren’t you coming?”

   “Nope! I’m going to go exploring with Wrecker. See you!” Omega practically skipped away, and you were left standing there beside Hunter.

   He watched her go, the fatherly affection glowing in his gaze. “She seems to be having a good day already,” he chuckled.

   “I’m glad we came. I think this is really good for her.”

   “I think you’re right.” Hunter walked over to the tent to grab his backpack, unzipping it and fishing out his water bottle. “Alright, you ready?”

   “Yes, sir.”

   He stole a glance over your shoulder, brow raised in amusement. You stifled a giggle and followed him out of the clearing. A small dirt trail began at the edge of the woods. You should have been more focused on the path in front of you, but your eyes were trained on the sergeant in front of you who paused every now and then to get a feel for his surroundings.

   He looked much more relaxed. He donned a green civie t-shirt, a change from his usual armor or blacks, and his expression was not so hardened by the stress of a mission. His eyes didn’t hold that sharpness. His brows were not furrowed in concentration. When he stopped to check on you behind him, he smiled.

   “You good?”

   You nodded. “Yeah, you?”

   “So far.” Hunter took in a deep breath and released it with a sigh. “It sure is nice here. Not a trace of engine fuel stench.”

   You looked at him sympathetically, though his attention was on the path ahead. “That must be difficult for you, to be so sensitive to things like that.”

   “You get used to it,” he replied, though his tone wasn’t as convincing. Sometimes the toll Hunter’s ability took on him was evident. Some days, it wasn’t so bad. But every now and then, he’d disappear to his bunk after a mission to recuperate.

   The train of thought was interrupted when you nearly walked right into him. Hunter held up a hand, signaling for you to halt as well. He looked at you, putting a finger to his lips while motioning for you with his other hand to approach slowly. Peeking over his shoulder, you saw movement.

   It was a mother deer walking through the brush with a fawn at her hooves. The doe paused only for a moment to look at the two of you with her big dark eyes before continuing on her way. The fawn was leaping around, and in a way, it reminded you a bit of Omega.

   “How beautiful,” you murmured.

   “They didn’t seem to mind us,” Hunter replied. By then, they were far enough away that you didn’t have to worry about frightening them. You and Hunter resumed your hike, and you found yourself more conscious of the wildlife around you. He pointed out more creatures scuttling along the forest floor. The twitter of birds could be heard all around, but when you looked closer, you could see them fluttering from branch to branch above.

   “Wow, that one is really singing its heart out,” you commented, pointing to a one with a vibrant orange chest. Its call rang out clear as a bell.

   “It’s probably a male showing off for a female. You know how us males are,” he said, shooting you a smirk. “We aim to impress.”

   “Why yes, I certainly do. I’ve travelled with the five of you long enough. Bunch of show-offs.”

   “And?”

  “And what?”

   “Has anyone succeeded in impressing you?”

   Your face warmed under his playful gaze. He had paused to hear your reply, though you figured he was also enjoying the sight of you getting flustered.

   “I didn’t think it mattered.”

   He chuckled. “Believe it or not, I think everyone had their eye on you at one point. Wrecker especially got a little competitive.”

   Your mouth fell open. “What? I had no idea. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble...”

   “Things sort of died down after some time. We got used to having you around and saw you more as a teammate, part of the family.”

   “Ah,” you nodded, trying to hide your disappointment. You were glad the others saw you that way, but part of you always hoped that you’d caught Hunter’s attention. “I see.”

   “Well, I guess it didn’t totally die down for all of us.”

   Your gaze snapped up to meet his, and your next step was taken out of surprise. A thorny branch caught on your leg, and you drew in a sharp breath from the sting. “Ouch.” Hunter’s attention was drawn to the spot and he knelt down to help you disentangle yourself from the briars.

   “You alright?” he asked.

   You winced again. “Yeah, it just caught me by surprise.” He stood to his feet again, and you stared into his eyes. You weren’t going to let him get away with that statement so easily. “What did you mean by that?”

   “I meant that...not everyone on the squad let go of the idea,” he said, eyes unwavering. You got a pretty good idea who he was referring to. Still, you played along.

   “Really? Like who?”

   Hunter didn’t voice a reply. He kept staring into your eyes with that inviting gaze, as if daring you to take a guess. You ventured forward, noting how his chest moved up and down more noticeably the moment you stepped into his space. His eyes remained fixed on you as you took another step, though this one was smaller. You bit your lip, heart racing.

   It was like two magnets snapping together. There was no drawing back. No retreat. He was suddenly overwhelming your senses; broad shoulders in your view, his scent filling your nose, and his hands resting on either side of your waist. Hunter brought his face closer to yours, breath fanning your face, though he hesitated before your lips touched, giving you a chance to protest or back up if you chose. Instead, you satisfied the urge you’d had for some time and pressed your lips to his. His mouth began to move against yours at the moment of contact, and you could feel the depth of his feelings in his kiss. Your hands clenched over fistfuls of his t-shirt, and his grip on your waist tightened.

   He pulled back to trail a few kisses along your cheek, pausing near your ear to utter in a low voice, “in case you weren’t sure before; it’s me.”

   You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. You pulled back to see that amused glint in his eye, and you laughed again, wrapping your arms around his neck as you embraced him. His arms slid around your form fully as he exhaled.

   “I have to say; that was really smooth,” you chuckled into his shoulder.

   “It’s like I said. We males aim to impress.”

   The two of you held each other for a while. Your hands idly played with the ends of his hair while he ran a hand up and down your back. It was a peaceful moment, and at the same time, your mind was buzzing with the excitement of the kiss. As the minutes passed, it occurred to you that it would soon be time to head back.

   Hunter seemed to be thinking the same thing because he slowly began to pull away. “We should get back.”

   “Yeah, it’ll be lunch time soon. We still don’t know what we’re going to eat.”

   “Mhm,” he hummed. Keeping a hold on one of your hands, he gave you a flirty look as he squeezed past you on the narrow trail to take the lead on the way back to camp. “We’ll figure something out.”