#collected within 2 weeks lol

[tardis--dreams]

Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Nanami x Reader Fanfic Part 3

 Despite your crippling fear of men, your family sells you to the Doll House. Luckily, you end up with the handsome, gentlemanly Nanami as your trainer, and he’s about to show you how great a man can be.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Nanami’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m keeping the same tag list as Geto’s part. If you’d like to be removed, please let me know!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

The book series the characters are discussing is The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson. Jasnah and Shallan are both from it. Everyone please go read it because it’s amazing (and fall in love with Kaladin just like everyone else, in universe and out). 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Daddy kink. Hair pulling. Oral sex. Fingering. Spanking (with hand). Divider by @benkeibear!

Four weeks into your training, you and Nanami are both sitting in your chairs, reading. You adore these quiet moments between you two, where you’re both doing something you love, together. Nanami always seems so relaxed and comfortable sitting there, a heavy book in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. You’re happy he can feel that way in your presence. 

The feelings you’re starting to have for him… they’re dangerous. He’s explained to you already that you should avoid developing an attachment to him, because he’s not going to be your long term owner. You understand that. But while you are a little less scared of men in general (you can talk to most of the other trainers at dinner now without nearly having a panic attack), you’re still terrified of the idea of some strange man taking you away from here. Away from Nanami. 

“You’ll meet the buyer a few times before you go,” Nanami has told you. “He won’t be a complete stranger to you.”

You were slightly relieved to hear that, but you still felt a knot in your stomach when Nanami casually spoke of another man taking ownership of you. Won’t he miss you? How does he keep training women and then sending them away without a care in the world? 

Did the previous women feel this way about him? Did they get this close to him? These questions haunt you.

You close the book in your lap, finally finishing the second book in the series Nanami is lending you. At your pace, you should finish the third one before you have to leave. The books are massive though. 

He looks up. “Finished?”

“Yes, just now.”

His eyes seem a little warmer as he asks, “What did you think of it?”

Outside the window you tried to crawl out of once upon a time, snow is falling silently. There’s already a blanket of the shimmering diamond dust on the ground outside, making the warmth of Nanami’s room all the more cozy.

You tuck your legs under yourself and say, “It was amazing! That climax was incredible!”

He smiles and nods. “I thought so too. Have you chosen a favorite character yet?”

You think for a moment. He asked you the same question when you finished the first book, but you wanted to read more before deciding. Now, you think you have your answer. “Jasnah. She kind of reminds me of you.”

Nanami looks surprised. “She does?”

“Yeah. She’s super smart, mature, collected, strong, beautiful…”

He raises an eyebrow at that last word. 

“Uh, I mean… you’re… very handsome. But you know that already,” you say awkwardly. 

“I appreciate the compliment,” he says. “I think my favorite is Shallan. She’s a bit of a mess, but she’s trying.”

You feel heat creeping into your cheeks. You saw so much of yourself in Shallan that you almost didn’t like her. But she’s Nanami’s favorite? Maybe he thinks more of you than you thought. 

“I hope I can finish the third book by the time I leave,” you tell him. 

“You will. And you can take my copy of the fourth with you. Think of it as a gift.”

You blink at him. “A gift? How did you know my birthday is tomorrow?”

His eyes widen slightly. “Tomorrow is your birthday? I didn’t know. The book was going to be a farewell present, so I’ll get you something else tomorrow.”

You quickly wave your hands in a dismissive motion. “Oh, no, you don’t have to get me anything!”

“Let’s see, how about a nice dinner?” he asks, ignoring your protests. “I’ll make reservations in the morning. And we’ll need to get you something appropriate to wear. The restaurant I have in mind is high end.”

High end? So he’s taking you some place fancy. You remember your aunt taking you to fancy restaurants a few times in your teenage years, but you had panic attacks when any men came near. You probably scared the poor waiters half to death. In the end, you had to leave before the food was even served. By the time you reached adulthood, your aunt stopped trying, which meant she also stopped buying you fancy dresses to wear. 

The next morning, Nanami takes you to a boutique in town and instructs the stylist working there to help you find something suitable. He waits patiently while you try on several dresses, finally settling on a red, form fitting one with a high neckline to balance out the rather daring slit up to your hip. The stylist announces that the two of you have chosen a dress, and from the fitting room you hear Nanami’s voice ask, “Would you like to show it to me?”

“Not yet,” you call back through the curtain. “I want it to be a surprise tonight.”

After putting back on your regular clothes, you step out to find Nanami at the counter, paying the exorbitant price for the dress, as well as shoes and a long coat you’d picked out first. You told him you already had a good coat, but he insisted. 

Back at the Doll House, Nanami politely stepped out so that you could get ready. He was wearing a fine suit that looked ridiculously expensive and his hair was neatly styled back from his face. He looked so handsome, you almost asked if you could spend the evening in bed with him. 

One of the other dolls, the one being trained by Choso, worked in a salon before being a doll. You suppose that explains Choso’s constantly changing hairstyles, but you’re pleasantly surprised when she offers to do your hair and makeup for you. When she’s finished, and you’re wearing your new dress and shoes, you’re shocked by how fancy you look in the mirror. It’s been so long since you dressed up for anything, you’ve nearly forgotten how nice it feels. 

You pull on your new coat, which is long enough to conceal much of the dress. It’s beautiful, with fur trim, and very warm. There’s also a pair of sleek leather gloves laid out for you to wear. You wonder why he wants you to dress so warmly. Maybe he wants to take a romantic stroll through town. 

When you step into the welcome room, Nanami is waiting for you. He offers his arm to you in his typical gentlemanly fashion and the two of you step outside into the cold winter night. 

You stop short as soon as you walk out the door. There in front of the entrance is a beautiful horse-drawn carriage. The entire thing is white with gold trim, even the horses are the color of snow. Now you know why Nanami wanted you to be warm. 

He goes over to the carriage and opens the door. A step lowers down from the side and Nanami helps you up and into the seat, then sits beside you. There’s a heated blanket folded neatly on the seat across from you, and Nanami spreads it over both your laps. “Not too cold, are you?” he asks, sliding one warm arm around your shoulders. 

“No,” you say, still a bit awe struck, “it feels nice.”

“I’ve noticed you like to watch the snow falling outside the window, so I assumed you like snow,” he says. 

He’s been paying that much attention to you? The thought makes your heart flutter. “I love snow,” you tell him, looking up at the dark sky. The snow is falling softly but steadily, in a way that will only leave a thin coating on the ground. It’s breathtaking. 

As the carriage moves to the road, you can’t help feeling like a Princess. The sound of the horses’ hooves clacking on the road is comforting, and you end up leaning your head on Nanami’s shoulder, savoring his heat. 

*************

After the carriage stops in front of the exclusive French restaurant Nanami made reservations at, he stands up and climbs down, then helps his doll move down the steps provided. She seems breathless and excited, which is exactly what Nanami was hoping for. He knows being out in public, around men, makes her nervous. The plan was to make the trip there so unique, she wouldn’t have the chance to let her anxiety build. He also called ahead and requested a woman to be their server. He wants this to be a special night. 

Once inside the warm, well lit restaurant, Nanami removes his outer coat and hands it off to an attendant. Then he steps behind his doll and gently removes hers. After handing it over and turning back to face her, he finally gets to see the dress she has chosen.

He nearly stops breathing. She’s so stunning in the long red dress, the slit on the side going almost scandalously high, that he’s not sure he’ll be able to remain a gentleman tonight. At the moment, he wants nothing more than to take her home immediately and fuck her into the mattress. 

But tonight isn’t about what he wants. It’s about her, about celebrating the day she came into this world. 

So he holds out his arm and she takes it, curling her elbow around his to interlock herself with him as they walk through the restaurant. Nanami reserved a secluded table next to a large window, so that she could have an excellent view of the town and the falling snow as she enjoyed her meal. 

He pulls out her chair for her and then takes his own. She seems a little bit nervous, but relaxes when a woman comes to the table to ask what the couple would be having to drink this evening. Nanami orders champagne after confirming his doll likes it, and the two of them look over their menus as the server walks away. 

Once dinner is brought out, Nanami is impressed with the doll’s table manners. She grew up in a wealthy family, so he supposes it shouldn’t be a surprise, but the way she gracefully eats her meal and sips her champagne seems at odds with the awkward woman who ran to the bathroom to scream a few weeks ago. He still chuckles to himself when he remembers it. 

“Do you always take dolls to fancy restaurants like this?” she asks. 

“No, this is the first time, actually,” he replies. 

She seems surprised. “Really? So why me then?”

“It’s your birthday. And I haven’t been here in a very long time. I don’t enjoy eating here alone,” Nanami tells her. 

“I see,” she says, and he wonders why she sounds just a little disappointed. 

“That being said,” he adds, “if I’m going to bring someone here to eat with me, I’d prefer to bring a beautiful, intelligent woman like you.”

She blushes and looks back at her plate, making Nanami smile. They make pleasant conversation for the rest of the meal, then when his doll is finished eating, she suddenly touches her ear and says, “Oh no, I’ve lost an earring.”

There’s something strange about the way she says it, as if she’s not really worried, but she stands up from her chair and looks around on the floor. 

Nanami’s eyes scan the floor around the table as well. “I can ask if someone can help look for it,” he says, starting to get up himself. 

She holds up one hand to stop him. “No! It’s okay. I can find it!” Then she pulls the fabric of her dress up and to the side and gets down on her knees. Perplexed by this odd behavior, Nanami watches as she crawls beneath the table, disappearing behind the thick white tablecloth. A few seconds later, he feels her hands on his thighs, rubbing along the inner sides, then nudging them apart. 

He freezes, the glass of champagne in his hand halfway to his lips. For a moment, he sits perfectly still, feeling her hands working at his belt, then opening his pants. Then he slowly sits the glass back down and subtly lifts the edge of the tablecloth. There she is, his beautiful, awkward, sexy, silly doll, pulling his rapidly hardening cock from his pants and wrapping her red lips around it. 

He can feel her tongue gliding over him, coating him in saliva, her eyes staring up at his face. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, trying to maintain a stern tone but struggling to keep from moaning. 

She pulls away, strings of fluid connecting her lips to his tip. “I’m still hungry, Daddy.”

His self control is being severely tested. He reaches down and grabs a handful of her prettily styled hair, pulling her face back down and effectively shoving his cock back into her mouth. 

Fuck, she’s good at this. Her tongue never rests, her lips are tightly locked around him, and she’s making the hottest little “mmmm” sounds he’s ever heard. It’s a massive struggle to keep his composure. 

His blood nearly freezes in his veins when the server approaches the table. He hopes the tablecloth hides his lap well enough as he smiles politely up at the woman. She smiles back and says, “Will you be having dessert this evening?”

“No, thank you,” he says. 

“And what about your date?” the server asks, probably assuming his doll had went to the restroom.

His grip on her hair tightens and he pushes her head further down, stuffing her little throat beneath the table. “I believe she’s quite full,” he says smoothly to the server. 

After a few more words and leaving the check behind on a silver tray, the server leaves. Nanami lifts the tablecloth again and looks down. The lovely face looking up at him nearly makes him cum on the spot. “You’re being very brazen tonight,” he says, keeping his voice even with great effort. “Such a bad girl. I hate to have to punish you on your birthday, but you leave me no choice.”

Excitement flashes in her eyes. He’s been with her long enough to know what thrills her, what turns her on. And nothing gets her wetter than a good “punishment”. 

He can’t hold out any longer. He pushes her head down again and says, “Don’t make a mess. I don’t want to see a drop on your dress, or my pants.”

She doesn’t have a chance to respond before he cums directly into her tight, hot mouth. He can feel her tongue and throat working to swallow all of it, sucking the life out of him. He suppresses a groan and hopes no one in the restaurant saw the shudder that just rippled through him. 

A minute later, his doll crawls out from under the table and he helps her to her feet. She takes a napkin and wipes her mouth daintily, as if she hasn’t just guzzled his cum. Then she holds up a dangly silver earring and says, “What luck! I found it!”

He can’t stop a grin from spreading over his face, or the massive hardon already building in his pants. There’s no way he can wait until they get home. He leaves a generous tip for the server and then takes his doll by the hand, leading her out of the dining area. He finds the “powder room”, which is structured like a restroom without the toilets. There’s a sink, a mirror, and a wide, padded bench. Apparently it’s a place for people (probably women) to freshen up. 

Nanami confirms the room is empty, then locks the door. He sits down on the bench and then pulls his doll toward him by the arm. Using rough but fluid movements, he forces her to lie stomach-down across his lap. She gasps as he moves one hand under the slit in the dress, stroking her thigh, then pulls the fabric up, exposing her black lace panties. His hand moves over her ass, relishing the feel of the plump flesh, the way she’s already trembling beneath his touch. 

He pulls off his black silk tie and uses it to bind her wrists together behind her back. Then he pulls her panties down to her knees and gives her bare ass a harsh smack with the palm of his hand. 

She lets out a small cry, probably trying not to make too much noise. “I’m sorry, Daddy!” she says. She’s not sorry at all, judging from the lusty look in her eyes. 

Smack!

“And what are you sorry for?” he asks. 

Smack!

She whimpers and squirms in his lap. “F-for being brazen and shameless… and…”

Smack!

“And?” he says.

Smack! 

“For risking us getting caught… and embarrassing you.”

He gives another smack, marveling at the reddened, heated skin where his hand hits. Then he slides his hand down between her thighs, feeling how wet she is, smearing her arousal all over her backside. When he pushes two fingers inside her, she moans and jerks in his lap. He pumps them in and out while she wiggles around, releasing little cries of “ahh ahhh!”

When she’s on the edge of cumming, he withdraws his fingers and gives her another smack, harder this time, and she jolts from the sting. That’s the limit of his self control. Nanami lifts her up and shifts them around so that she’s face down on the bench, her ass in the air, her beautiful red dress bunched up at her waist, her wrists still tied together behind her. And then he’s burying his cock in her dripping pussy while she cries out a little too loudly. 

He gives her raw ass another smack as his thrusts get deeper, and she clenches so tightly around him that he sees stars. Three more smacks and she’s cumming on his cock, crying and quivering, her makeup ruined by her tears. Almost immediately after, he reaches his limit, shooting his cum into her core. 

For the next few minutes, they sit side by side on the bench, just catching their breath. Then they quietly help each other clean up and his doll fixes her hair and makeup as best she can at the sink. She catches Nanami’s eye in the mirror and gives him a sweet, warm smile. 

She’s incredible, he thinks. She’s incredible and she’s his. At least for now. 

The thought of his time with her being temporary has been on his mind lately, and he can’t seem to stop thinking about it. He feels so comfortable with her, as if he’s truly home when she’s by his side. She stimulates him both physically and emotionally. Lately, he can’t seem to picture his life without her in it. 

There is a way she could stay with him, and he’s given that a lot of thought these past few days. But what would she think of the idea? 

On the way home, in the carriage, he watches the snowflakes collect on her hair and leans over to kiss her, his hand finding hers under the heated blanket. 

The carriage drops them off back at the Doll House, and as they walk through the parking lot, still holding hands, Nanami broaches the topic to her. 

“Are you aware that all trainers at the Doll House are allowed to keep exactly one doll they’ve trained?” he asks. 

She looks at him, eyes wide. “No, I didn’t know that,” she says as they near the door. 

He reaches out and opens it for her. “These past few weeks have been wonderful. If they’ve been the same for you… I was thinking of ‘keeping you’. How would you feel about that?”

She’s stepping through the open door when the words hit her. Just inside, she whirls around to face him as he follows her in. She opens her mouth. “I-“

“There you are!”

A feminine voice cuts off his doll’s reply. The two of them look up to find an older, classy looking woman standing in the lobby. 

His doll looks shocked. “Aunt Rina?”

Aunt? So this is the woman who sold off her own terrified niece to the Doll House.  Nanami instantly dislikes the woman, but he keeps his expression politely neutral. 

Aunt Rina places one jewel-covered hand on her hip. “I’ve been waiting all evening,” she says to her bewildered looking niece. 

Then…

“Pack your things. I’m here to take you home.”

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx @deegausserr

[lethalchiralium]

High Water | Happiness Series

a/n: okay guys, I have ONE MONTH left of school for the semester, THEN I WILL HAVE TIME FOR THIS I PROMISE. a lot has happened since I last updated, this was all written over a six month period and of course finished three weeks after my major breakup w my bestie of 7 years LOL ENJOY

a/n 2: and thank you always to @as-is-above-so-below for not killing me over taking forever to update and for letting me fall down her stairs and (separate incident) get a splinter from her floor LOL

warnings: military talk. TW: TORTURE

summary: Price has to make a difficult decision.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

Night vision, gloved finger tensed on the trigger of his rifle. The back alley was secured, Soap kept two feet behind him at all times as Price unlocked the side door of the “abandoned” factory warehouse. 

Four pairs of boots were muted against the cracked concrete, rifles pointed upwards and watching for any hostiles in their way. The mission was to collect intel and neutralize any threats - hopefully this would deliver them to the target. A man who was a ghost just like Simon Riley, but just… tied up in debts that span decades. Expendable men were set in the center of the warehouse, a table set up with chairs, chips and cards strewn about the wooden surface. Silence was a friend to the Russian men’s killers, but not to them. A small radio lowly played some sot of music, it was melancholy and heavy on the sax. Blues, Simon reflected, fitting.

One Russian - wearing a white shirt and black pants, a deep purple bruise on his fair face - pulled a chair from the table, setting down a laptop on a handful of worn cards.

“Boss has two targets with him, they’re to be sold by the end of the week.”

The man with a green jacket shrugged, as he sat down too; kicking his feet onto the table. “Not sure if there’s a big enough market for screaming babies, друг.”

“We’ll be getting a big payout if we get them to auction before their family finds out.” 

Simon’s stomach clenched, he almost shot them both right there if it wasn’t for Gaz grabbing his arm and squeezing it. He couldn’t imagine it being you and the girls, it wouldn’t be anyway. Calm down. He focused on slinging his rifle silently over his shoulder, taking hold of the corner of sturdy boxes, wrapped up in plastic film. He hauled himself up, keeping his balance and grip focused on climbing up since the crate was the height of his shoulders. He placed his right foot on the top, pushing himself up before repeating the action with the next and final crate. It was routine the way he retrieved his rifle from his back, laying prone on the hefty crate with his finger parallel to the trigger and his eye in the scope. He was swift, it was second nature; his breath didn’t falter when Gaz settled on his torso beside him with his tact scope in his grasp.

“Bravo 0-7, do you have sight on the target?”

Ghost’s eye closed, the other focusing through the scope of his rifle. 

“Affirmative.”

There was a loud screech of the door Gaz was watching, Ghost’s chest clenched with anticipation as he watched the intel walk in - wearing joggers and a long sleeve shirt, talking loudly on his phone in Russian. 

“Soap, detain the target as soon as he is within range. Gaz, Ghost, drop ‘em as soon as Soap is clear.”

There wasn’t a beat of silence after that, as everyone launched into action. Johnny was quick to tackle the man, the other two dropped dead within milliseconds. His gloved hand seemed to cover the man’s whole jaw, fingertips pressed uncomfortably into the man’s skin. Ghost had dropped from his position in seconds and across the room in a few strides.

“Where is yer boss?”

Gaz slid a chair behind the man, Soap shoved him into it. Struggling hands were strapped to it, the man with dark blond hair and joggers spat out vicious words towards the skull balaclava. He barely caught Price snatching the open laptop from the table before he looked back to Soap and the hostage, the Sergeant dug his nails into the Russian’s face. The Lieutenant pulled a rag from his vest, watching them intently. The 141 was a well oiled machine, oiled with the saccharine taste of blood. 

“Where the fuck is yer boss?”

“You’ll never find him-“ Ghost shoved the cloth into the man’s mouth before in a flash, his knife found its new home in the hostage’s knee. The screams muffled, he leaned closer. The words spoken were low, but enough to elicit a snarl from the hostage before another scream.

Price only gazed at Ghost for a moment before looking back at the laptop, checking through folders for measly information. Gaz was stood by the door, watching for any  intruders - hand on his rifle, ignoring the muffled screams of the last threat alive in the room. But he wouldn’t be alive much longer with Ghost’s knives sticking out of his body like decorations. Don’t ask for mercy, my hounds won’t give you any, he remarked.

He looked down at the dashboard, seeing a browser left open. He clicked on it, seeing an encrypted chat log with the target and his right hand man - the man screaming for his life in the chair. 

Don’t be late

The damn baby is losing it

If I have to hear another word from this girl I’m going to kill her

Price is a stoic man, one hardened by war - barely scared of anything; yet, Price wasn’t prepared when he scrolled up. His heart shot straight into his throat, eyes widened by a fraction, his hand gripping the table could’ve broken it in half. He blindly grabbed his phone, taking a picture of the screen before slamming the laptop closed. It was secured between his arm and chest in three seconds, tapping a number on the screen of his phone before he walked past Gaz and out of the room. The building was secured, he knew that - yet, he felt the fear that he may be watched. The secure line droned on for only a moment before there was an answer.

“John?”

“Laswell. What the fuck happened?”

There’s crying in the background, he could recognize Winnie’s voice anywhere. They’ve been gone for three days. Nothing was supposed to get to Simon’s second chance, John thought he was sure of it. No, he was sure of it. He cased the house himself, did all the work to make sure one of their strongest and toughest allies would stay and protect them. What the fuck happened?

There’s a breath. “König’s been shot. Someone took Mellie and Y/N.”

“And the other one?” 

John’s stomach settled like concrete, weighing him down and making him sick. 

“She’s okay. She’s with us at the hospital. We took her to the park like her mother asked and when we came back, the door was kicked in, König was unconscious and bleeding out, and Mellie and Y/N weren’t there.” There was a pause. “There was a fight down here. König killed seven of them before going down.”

Okay. At least they could ID the bodies, link them to the mob - or at least, former associates of the mob. Any lead he could get.

If he could run his hand through his beard, he would’ve. It was a comfort, especially now that he has never felt this stressed in his life. Simon cannot know. Simon will destroy everything we’ve worked for to save them. 

“It has to do with the target.” 

John’s eyebrows furrowed. “Their intel is here. I am holding their intel.”

“John, these men are Russian. They are escaped convicts in the mob, known associates of the target.” There’s a pause, a short yell from Winnie, and Laswell sighing. “König left one unconscious. Roach is interrogating him now on base.”

“How long ago were they attacked?”

“Yesterday.” Another pause, soft words from Laswell to who he assumed was Winnie. “Listen, I’m working on this, but I need you. We need Ghost to run the rest of the operation, and we can’t do that if you tell him about this.”

There’s shouting behind the door, screaming from the victim that Ghost was torturing. John looked down the empty corridor, knowing he has to go to keep his friend safe. 

“Because if they came after the girls, that means they’re coming after him. And they need him alive.”

His hand could have snapped that laptop in half. “He needs them alive.”

“I know, John.” 

There’s more shouting in Russian, a loud thud and more incessant screaming. 

“Keep this on the down low. I only need you. Make sure Ghost knows how to proceed.”

“With caution and safety off.” John murmured, muscles clenching in his chest. This is not going to end well. 

“Get back to Manchester immediately. I’ll call if we’ve found something.” The line goes dead, Captain Price slipped the phone into his pocket before taking a deep breath. 

He opened the door back to the room, being submersed in the victim’s screaming as Ghost’s black blade dragged into the muscles of his leg. Price shut the door, standing tall with worry on his mind. Gaz nodded to him, hands out for the laptop - John shook his head. 

“Lieutenant.” 

The skull mask didn’t look away from his target, the one screaming Russian that he didn’t know anything, stop, you’re hurting me, go to fucking Hell- Soap took the man by his throat, forcing his head back before spitting some choice words at his face. Eyebrows furrowed, Price tried again.

“Mactavish, take over for the Lieutenant.” 

The Scot nodded, hand ripping Ghost’s knife out of the man’s thigh - all that filled the room were screams. Ghost finally looked to Price, an enraged look in his eye as he stood and walked towards him. 

“What the fuck-”

“I’ve been reassigned.” The Captain spoke with an even tone. Nothing is wrong. Believe me, Simon, believe me. “You will be running this operation until I get this assignment under control.”

It seemed that anger swelled throughout the Lieutenant like a poison, invading every space of the menacing man. “What the fuck did you get reassigned for?”

“Diplomat’s wife and daughter have been kidnapped.” The lie slid off of the tongue like butter, smooth as easy to go down for some people. For others… it’s unsettling. Price was a good liar, it came easy, but his lieutenant was always able to tell. Not always immediately, but he will know sooner or later. “I have to run this. Are you okay doing this assignment-“

Ghost patted his Captain’s shoulder. “Got it under control.”

Price smiled, strained. “Knew I could count on you.” He glanced to the man in the chair; blood poured down his face. He then looked back to his Lieutenant, his right hand man with as straight of face he could muster. “We need to hurry this up. Only 10 minutes remaining.”

“Rog.”

•••

The front door was covered in a tarp, the front porch light on and curtains drawn. John Price felt the cold sickle of Death slide down his spine as he could see blood splatter on a home he once considered sacred. Simon’s home, your home, was under red tape, unknown to anyone the military who wasn’t close to Ghost. Simon created a home from nothing for his child, then opened it for you, then his new little one - God, was John proud of him. Creating a life more than worth living, in a quaint house that should have never been found - even when it was hidden in plain sight. Even the most holy grounds have had blood shed upon them. 

Kate knew he was walking up the steps, she always knew, so she opened the door enough for him to slip through. Instantly, he’s met with the remnants of the carnage of your entrance way. Bullet holes and stains of blood decorated the walls and floors, even when they had been mopped and wiped clean. Dents in the walls, the floor - John imagined the beast that was König wrestling some of those fucks to the ground, snapping their necks with the twitch of his wrist. He couldn’t imagine your screams, couldn’t think of little Mellie wailing in terror. 

Did you scream? Did they drug you? Hurt you? Did they dare to touch the baby? God, Simon is going to burn the world.

He looked to Kate, there’s a hardened glint in her eye. He handed her the laptop, which hadn’t been scanned yet - it would take too much time, they both knew that. She took it without a word, turning back into the front room. John strode forwards, stepping over the baby gate that was recently put there. He assumed it was to keep Winnie out of the carnage that was the front entrance, he continued on to the living room where he could see Alex sitting on the couch. A little head peered over the side of the couch and as soon as her eyes saw John, she stood at full height with tears instantly pouring down her face. 

“Unc’John!” 

His heart felt bruised then, the beat of it aching with every stride he took to her. He instantly plucked her from the couch, holding her to his chest as she loudly cried. “Winnie, sweetheart, it’s alright.”

“Where-Where’s Mummy and Mellie?”

John could only bear to mutter a soft, “We’re finding them, sweetheart.” He couldn’t bring himself to say that the bad guys got them, that her daddy couldn’t be the hero she knows she wants him to be because of John’s decision. He was quick to bring her to the kitchen - which seemed untouched compared to the adjacent entryway - and settled her on the countertop, right beside the sink. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet to the right, filling it with water before handing it to Winnie. The five year old took greedy sips, breathing through her nose as tears raced down her face. “Put the water down, love, you need to take some deep breaths.”

He took the glass back, only for her to reach for his hand - he took it, giving it a small squeeze. God, he can’t even remember the last time he had seen his niece cry, let alone sob. Had it been that long since she had gone without you? 

“Are you hungry? Tired?” He set the glass on the counter, seeing her hiccup as she tried to catch her breath. He squeezed her hand again, all Winnie could do was let more tears fall down her face. 

“Where’s Mummy?” She begged, John’s tongue felt dry. He hated lying to her, he hated not knowing anything, he hated seeing her bawl her eyes out. She didn’t witness anything, thank God, but going without you after not having to for years is terrifying to a little girl. “N’Daddy? Why-Why isn’t Daddy home?” Her hand squeezed back, much harder than she did before. “M’scared.”

“I know, Winnie.” His throat began to itch, he wanted to desperately tell her that everything would be alright - that today was just a bad dream she’ll wake up from tomorrow, that her parents will be here in the morning with her baby sister. He also wanted to scream at God and tell him that it was fucked forcing him into sacrificing Simon’s family for a stupid fucking lead, even if it did lead back to you and Mellie. He didn’t want to have the possibility of telling his niece that neither of her parents were coming home, instead of the off chance of one; he hated delivering condolences, but he wasn’t sure he could do it to a five year old girl who he has watched grow up. “I think we need to go sit down again.” A little nod and she was scooped up into his arms again, held tight as he walked back into the couch; Alex nowhere to be seen, which was fine with John. He took his normal seat at the end of the couch, resting little Winnie on his chest and pulling the blanket from the back of the couch to lay on her. He tucked it in around her stomach, making sure to cover her socked feet before gently petting her hair. 

His eyes wandered to the TV, to the stupid blue dog show that she seemed to love - yet she held no interest right now. His eyes darted across the floor, seeing little firetrucks and airplanes and dolls scattered across the floor; then to the little mesh play pen that sat underneath the window, the blinds pulled up enough to where Mellie couldn’t reach, the strings tied up even higher. Soft toys and colorful blocks scattered inside of it, not to mention a few blankets and a pillow or two. Winnie’s been sleeping down here. She’s petrified. 

His gaze moved to the ceiling, hand gently patting her head with a calm rhythm. He’d lay here all night, way past when his back would get sore, way past when his legs would cramp, just to give Winnie some sort of stability. He refused to think about the possibility that he may have to follow through with his promise of being her godfather - he just never imagined that it might possibly be just Winnie, not Winnie and Mellie. The thought stirred nausea in his stomach, more than any whiplash, concussion, or shitty helicopter ride could give him. He had already made the silent promise to find you and Mellie, but just for tonight, his whole goal was to make sure Winnie isn’t more scared out of her mind than she already is. 

“Unc’John.”

He hummed at that, looking back down her. “Yes, sweetheart.”

Her little chin swiveled to rest on his chest to look up at him, her sweet brown eyes full of tears as she whispered, “I don’t wanna visit my Mummy at-at the cemetery like Mum G-Grace.”

I don’t want to visit my Mummy at the cemetery like Mum Grace.

I don’t want to visit my Mummy at the cemetery like Mum Grace. 

The words that leave his mouth are soft, spoken like a twisted prayer. “This isn’t like your Mum Grace.” His eyebrows furrowed, petting her hair back with a gentle touch. “I swear it.”

The five year old’s lip quivered, “Promise?”

John doesn’t promise anything, he never makes a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep. He never dared enter the realm of uncertainty, knowing he could fail and hurt someone he cared about. Hell, he rarely makes promises on equipment orders for his men. He doesn’t even promise his mother anything, not since he promised he wouldn’t go into the military and did it anyway. But as he watched his friend’s daughter, his niece and goddaughter, sob quietly on his chest, he felt he had no choice but to nod. “Promise.”

At that, Winnie’s head finally fell to rest on John’s chest, he watched her eyes close as it was evident she had only held out to hear his promise. She had stayed awake to see and hear someone she trusted and knew well, she waited to close her eyes until she knew he would find you, even if she didn’t directly ask him to. 

John felt obligated to keep Simon’s family alive since he knew just how much the deaths of his mother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew nearly killed him, how the death of Grace and embracing fatherhood almost drowned him, and just how much his daughters and wife saved him from saying “Fuck it.” and stepping into enemy fire. Not only that, he felt obligated to you - to find you and Mellie, bring you home, keep Winnie safe too. You had many years left with Simon, John could see it. You couldn’t possibly leave Simon now, not when he needs you the most. 

John’s eyes blinked slowly, looking down to the dozing Winnie on his chest and holding her closer, reminiscent of when she was a small toddler sleeping on his chest when he babysat. Fatigue was catching up to him, the hours in the early morning were spent combing through data for the prisoner the 141 now in had in possession, and now - your kidnapping. Simon is a dear friend, John knew him too well to say otherwise. And he also knew that you, Winnie, and Mellie were his whole world - the monster Simon was, the one John had nurtured and cared for to create a weapon, was sitting dormant in the man’s ribcage because of the unconditional love he had received. John could never argue that Simon had “gone soft” because of it, Simon had weeping and infected wounds healed by the soft touch of his wife. The Captain’s previously abused and petrified weapon was now perfect, he was the epitome of the perfect soldier. But with the knowledge of his wife and child’s safety at risk, John knew what the military didn’t. 

“Captain.” 

There’s a reason your husband wasn’t alerted of your abduction. John Price knew the second he said that you and Melody were missing, Simon would rip his ribcage from his chest with the force of a thousand men to expose the monster underneath. The one you only hear about in movies, the one that is passed down through tongues to generations, the one you fear will come from the shadows to eat you alive. Simon Riley is what the Captain likes to call, the Monster Under Your Bed. 

“Captain.”

He grunted a little, looking over his shoulder to a stoic Alex Keller. “She’s almost asleep, Alex-“

“We might have a location.”

taglist: @idkwtftitbh  @blingblong55  @local-spidey  @sanfransolomitatm  @frazie99  @Awilan @cosmoscoffeee @khadeejarh  @babygirl-riley  @emi-flaces  @marini03  @jeannieboys  @koshehehe  @tutuwuworld @froggy-anon @cxltblood @egdeverauxx @freyjasfenrir @lexi-zsy09 @Hosshihusshi @Isopaine @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @domaniquessidehoe2 @iaur @starsinyoureyes @graciereads @urfavoritepookie @ghost-with-a-teacup @moris666 @ghostwifeyy @ziggy0stardust @live-love-be-unique @magoopi @coririley @lunyyx @sterlizx

[court-jobi]

hi! i love your works so much!!! i was wondering if i could request a hawks x pop princess f! reader?

like he does security for her groups concert and hes like “pffft im number 2 why do i need to be here”. then he watches her during sound check and is like okay i need to know more about her. so while shes getting ready hes just hovering backstage trying to talk to her. after the show she finally gives him her number (def against her companies wishes) and hes like trying to be suave and flirty and shes like “oh my god why is this working”. just a lot of hawks being a lover boy and sending gifts to her company anonymously and cutesy stuff like that lol. they have to keep their relationship a secret bc her company has a very strict no dating unless we agree rule. can be pre or post war hawks btw! you can take this wherever you want with it as well! can be nsfw or not.

im sorry that was so long! i was trying to make sure my thoughts were coherent lol.

Ooooo I love this idea so much, what a lovely dynamic to picture: a fanboy Hawks for a change, perhaps?? ~ this was a fun one to work on! @strwbrrykthv i sure hope this one was worth the wait and that I've done it justice!

You all are seriously the best readers a gal could ask for, and these requests are ✨giving me life✨~ Keep 'em coming!!

Who Has the Mic

Words: 4.3k

Rating: T

Warnings: Pro Hero!Hawks x popstar fem!reader, forbidden romance, flirting, mostly FLUFF, mentions of canon-typical threats, protective instincts, Hawks is a little shitTM, we love him your honor

for my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Hawks falls prey to a special thrill out of extending favors to others. 

‘I owe ya one’-- such a simple nicety that in the beginning, he doubts anyone would truly come to collect on it. It makes him sound agreeable, charming, starved for connection even before the height of his inevitable fame. 

Then he rose and rose in the hero rankings, securing himself into the very visible and wildly popular top spot, in terms of viewer popularity. 

It’s now that the redemptions of Hawks’ pro-hero favors have come rolling in… The unexpected keeps him on his toes and entertains him for the most part; and if it’s all for the sake of protecting others, then why not have a little fun with it? 

Once upon an overbearing press conference, back when he was first tiptoeing into the public scene… Hawks begged a makeup artist on staff for a spot to hide out in the green room and sneak a snack or two (or ten). He was granted pity for a teenager expected to take a seat at the table of an albeit boring Commission presentation. Well, it seems that particular makeup-artist rose within the talent realm themselves, and ended up reaching out to “that flyboy kid” back for a surprising accommodation: 

Top tier talent warrants top tier security.

Hawks takes a call at his agency and soon finds himself ushered in for the Tokyo opener of the reigning top-of-the-charts pop star with a voice of gold. The first meeting of old acquaintances led the Pro-Hero to tour the brand new, sky-high facilities, then return for the load-in day of the stage. Again for first dress, and each night of the week-long residency.

He carries his presence on the stealthier side, far above the stage floor in the scaffolding. Up here, lights are rigged with steel supports running every which way, where he executes perfect balance while walking in a straight line atop them. He’s checked -double and triple- that each outlet is free from hazard, each line of multi-ton equipment has been secured and safe, so that even his ‘adventuring’ from up high is not a risk.

He’s happy for the variety of work he faces as a hero- but right now, he’s bored. He shouldn't be feeling so dreadful, especially on the job, but he is. It’s not his style to be so down, after all. But Hawks has checked into every nook and cranny of this place and for the sake of an understandably hypervigilant security team, has an eye for which points of entry and exit could use a bird’s eye view come showtime.

His muscles are used to far more fast-paced antics and time-sensitive chases; not traipsing around like a literal vulture ready to swoop in at any moment. Surely he’s needed elsewhere.

But the threats have been rolling in… as they do for all of these larger-than-life musician types who found their way into the spotlight. They’re at risk of going in blind if they don’t have a good team around them to help them see.

So here he is, playing guardian angel to do his part and make sure all goes smoothly. It's a big operation by his count; there’s sixty members on the tech roster, plus the venue stage manager and their contracted staff, then all performers, and of course the headliner. Now where she is, he’d like to know– for not so selfless reasons.

He’d know her music by heart, given how much of an earworm and personal anthem her songs have become for him. It’s rare that the tables are turned, where Hawks is the fanboy and someone else is the idol. That dream is his dangling carrot for completing this mission successfully: he has the most sought-after bodyguard duty in the nation, and as good as a front row seat to her show.

Yet in a weird sense, Hawks also kinda hopes he never meets her. Doesn’t want to crush that bubble, ruin the allusion of the woman he’s got set as his ringtone.

So, he just runs his headcounts on all bodies supposed to be present at the top-of-show meeting to busy his mind. All is in order. ‘Cues’ are rounding up the pre-show acts, each in plainclothes for this rough stumble-through. Still doesn’t see the little starlet yet, and he gets the residual feeling that this might be typical behavior of ‘the talent’ to show up whenever she damn well pleases. 

Though funnily enough, he spots a pretty thing down there sporting some Hawks merch! Always nice to see a supportive fan in the most unlikely places… 

It's a well-fitting quarterzip sporting his red feather blades down each arm, an item he vaguely recognizes from this season’s newest launch. She’s got headphones on and subtly bopping about in her own little world, perhaps running through tonight’s set under her breath, if her self-contained taps of the fingers are an indication of her keeping beat. 

Hawks’ curious attention to that girl on the fringes of the stage is pulled when he hears the strict timbre of the stage director he’d met on day one take center stage.

“Ok, time to rein it in. As we covered in the email from Sec-Eng- which I’m assuming you gen-z’ers have read,” the bossman snarks to the younger members of this crew down below, “we’ve got some additional eyes in the sky pulling security for this leg in the tour. So, I want to give you all a chance to get your excitement out -along with your thanks- to our equally chart-topping hero, Hawks~ who’s… somewhere around here.”

Hoodie girl blanched– as if she’d been told she’d need to share her internet history to her grandmother. Immediately, she tosses off her headset and starts frantically stripping herself of the jacket she wore. While enthusiastic heads all fly around in every direction in search of the hero, Hawks chuckles at the sight of her alone. 

“...//Well, he’s probably checking the perimeters anyway//. How bout we all just send a big thank-you, eh?”

The couple of ‘Hoodie’s fellow dancers were poking fun at her -poor thing still flushed and clammed up- while the group gave a loud, singsongy ‘thank you!!’ up to the stage doors, assuming the Pro-Hero might be busting in, grand entrance fashion on command. The love-laden response from the dancers makes Hawks roll his eyes lightly, but he appreciates their praise all the same.

They giggle about in jazzed excitement with one’s voice carried out squealish and feminine, despite their professional assembly,

“Oh my god, you must be in HEAVEN!! He’s gonna be watching you ALL NIGHT!”

‘Hoodie’ looks downright mortified. The others have seemed to gather around spouting nothing but encouragement to this little fan girl who's doing her best to put on a poker face. Adorable. 

“Now we also need to make some edits before the crew breaks for lunch, everyone, so we are gonna start today with opening of Set 5 instead- hold.. Hold on… WHO HAS THE GOD MIC??”

The mics table scrambles for the one handheld microphone with omniscient audio range to the house. Surely it's the one thing they wouldn't lose and should hand straight to the Stage Manager, right? 

Well, said mic was sitting unattended there on the cart earlier… all for the Winged Hero’s taking when he was making his preliminary sweep earlier. 

From his inner jacket pocket, Hawks catches his lip in his teeth as he remembers where to turn the thing on. Once his throat cleared and the mic blinks red in sync with the soundboard, he amplifies a little trademark bird whistle: for each and every soul in sight to hear. 

The stage erupts in excitement, as planned. ‘Hoodie’ immediately teeters over to one of the props hideaways and stows said jacket away. 

Hawks chuckles with the mic at chest level– only to call her out from his perch,

“Saw that, dear~”

Seems logic caught up with the poor thing, as she -finally- pieced together the true vantage point of her idol’s presence, and looked up. 

Sparing her too much embarrassment, Hawks simply cocked his head on a folded up fist and gave a little wave of some fingers to her. 

Despite her clear shock and surprise, she did smile brilliantly back and gave a little signed ‘thank you for being here’ rather than a scream like all the others.

The stage manager followed her line of sight to where the hero stands in wait, ready to dismount and return his bit of cheekily stolen equipment. Despite some bewildered aggravation to Hawks’ antics, he gestures with the exhaustion of a high school teacher.

“There now, see kids? That's how you protect your voices before a show!! Better than belting your way to the doctor’s office. Our star here sure leads by example now doesn't she–” 

In rare form for the hero, it's Hawks’ turn to be stunned. His fangirl: it’s you.

Everyone else may be calling that first call time your lucky day… but you were intimidated to the point of feeling ill. Thank goodness for your poker face; because locking eyes with Hawks’ stunning crimson canopy and giving you that wink and a grin about sent you into a heart attack. 

You're starstruck. The absolute heartthrob of an idol you revere as your favorite Pro-Hero has been standing over 150 meters above your head, watching for every sign of danger that could threaten you for the last week. 

That near guarantee of safety would trump your fleeting nerves– if you hadn’t given the first impression of a closeted fangirl like you did!!

Nothing short of awe crossed your mind when you so much as think of the hero. A very vocal fan whenever he came up in the news or your social feed amongst your inner circle. Hawks is a household name for you, who you were incredibly fond of… both in how he handled massive crowds or charmed in intimate, one-on-one interviews. 

You know the role; you suck up for cameras, too, as it's all in the optics. But for every PR-guided response you know is crafted by easy-going smiles or a disarming tone, you remember to see past the spectacle of Hawks and look for ‘him’. Remove the wings and hero getup: who is he? Can you spot the tells on camera like your mom can when she watches you? No matter how big of a global phenomenon her baby girl gets, she can still tell when you have a headache while having to give an appearance on a talk show. 

The man you spot on screen has to have a series of faults and slips. Even battle-ready heroes put their shoes on one at a time– just like everyone else. He’s sure to have a favorite lunch spot, a favorite pen to use for autographs, a favorite singer, even… 

Surely not you, but a girl can dream.

There’s a glazed-over glint in Hawks’ eyes when he very subtly checks out when being spoken to which gives you the strong suspicion you two may not be so unalike. And that list of little mannerisms has grown exponentially– with every day that's passed:

Hawks has difficulty staying still, you've learned. He’s also much younger than people assume. Carries a crafty habit of popping up unexpectedly in a way that’s youthful– and borderline cheeky. From atop a stack of amps, to a crowdless green room, to the rigging of lights where you've stunned the crowds for the last four nights, he’s perched out of sight from your thousands of fans. 

Though each little comment thrown here and there in praise has floated down to your ears in sweet jest, things come to a head when the last night of your show arrived: where the crushing realization sought to dampen your mood. 

After tonight, you wouldn’t have your angelic, crimson-winged shadow anymore. 

But Hawks surprises you once again. 

You nearly miss it, too, once your final round of ‘surprise songs’ is revealed and you are snuck down to your assigned hideout to get ready to leave the venue. It’s back in your can-lit dressing room that you’re making double takes down the hall looking for any sign of your security team; especially the one to whom you owe a hefty ‘thank you’ to for all his efforts.

-but as your half-redressed form has donned your beloved Hawks hoodie once more, you’re not so spooked to hear a familiar whistle from behind you this time.

Headphones slung back down around his neck and wings slimmed down to a more presentable manner for tight hallways like these, Hawks slips into your prep space with a speedy uptick of steps. A knowing whisper to ‘shut the door fast so no one notices’ eeks out of him, eliciting a smile from you.

Each one of your suspicions are confirmed with that one comment alone; he knows this game well. Still, playing along with his dance of keep-away from any prying eyes (or cameras) doesn’t mean your heart isn’t  hammering away in your chest at the knowledge of getting your hero all to yourself.

So here, Hawks traipses around your makeshift room with unbidden interest– which, for such a small space, is cute to know how many little details pique his curiosity. Your various outfits still hang all facing the correct way, your personal backpack sits beside it on the end featuring your mess of pins and collected patches from the locations you’ve toured thus far. The run schedule is still taped on the wall, and below it, your laptop has your notation software open and idle onscreen.

“Well, now,” Hawks chimes in with a little crouch over the back of your empty chair, “Surely I’m not looking at our next chart-topping hit in the making, am I?”

“Maybe!” you chuckle, joining his side to quickly save your work before you forget. “It’s getting the lyrics and melody to marry right that’s the hard part. Working out the latter right now, and it’s kinda kicking my butt.”

“But you’re doing it! Look at all this– wait. Is this what you were dancing to earlier?”

Damn his powers of observation. You’d been testing out the rhythm of the hook this week– when you’d been caught under his attention.

“...M-maybe?” you hedge again.

“I knew it-” Hawks beamed, “A stunning starlet and a mastermind. What can’t you do?”

Flattered beyond belief, you answer honestly, 

“Keep myself outta trouble with my managers. Trying to, at least,” you close the laptop to conserve its power, “but between the shows and speaking engagements, it’s left me a bit starved for time to actually make the music.”

“N’why would writing get you in trouble?”

“It takes me away from all the other things I ‘have to do’,” you sigh easily. “They can bring in anyone to make the music and keep pitching songwriting teams to me to take the load off. Just think something’s gotten a little out of balance.”

Without meaning to, you held Hawks’ attention– enough to make him sit back on the armrest of your couch and listen with undivided attention while you explained your creative process more. While most J-Pop performers would be thrilled to have outside writers create the work and easy into a performance schedule with pre-set work to learn, you loved to have a hand in the writing process too. As an art form, it’s personal when you have to perform season after season. 

You’ve chatted quite a bit here and there over these last several days, though not this extensively. He was interested in so much about this whole operation, to the point where you wondered if he’d ever met any of the performers who you knew presented at some of those hero galas he went to. Apparently not, by the way he’d lock onto your every word when you spoke. Either your timekeepers (or his) would inevitably interrupt you, so back to work you two would fly off to.. though you’d seem to circle back to one another and chat about anything and everything if given the chance- little spurts of talk that always left you wanting more.

He’d commiserate with you on that front as well– the balance of stardom and freedom. Bogged down by meetings and public appearances wore on him just as much as you. With every roadblock you described about your recent album development, Hawks nodded along with expected understanding. 

The revolving issue of personal safety might have brought him into your employ, but you know more and more cases like yours filled up his day-to-day life in ways you couldn’t imagine… but he even shed some light on that as well to you. He’d burst the bubble on hero work as an industry through little asides with you offstage: comments he’d likely get reprimanded for if he ever spoke them in a public statement. 

But you’d keep his secrets safe. What happens on set stays on set.

So even now, as he’s tucked himself into your dressing room while you puttered around chatting about your true dreams of getting a new concept album wrapped by the end of the year, Hawks tuned in with genuine interest that only made your heart skip a beat for him more.

“I haven’t always gotten the time to work on it lately… though this week, I’ve had a clearer head to be in here rather than under lock and key with a security force breathing down my neck– which is largely thanks to you, Mr. Hawks.”

“Oh please,” Hawks scrunches his nose and teases, “Mr. Hawks is what the lawyers call me. Just Hawks is fine!”

You exhale, squishing back any girlish outburst from your voice at how fussy he looked. 

“All the same, thank you for your help this week,” you pressed, “It’s -uhm- not often I get to meet my favorite Pro Hero on the job…”

A pleased smirk lifts Hawks’ cheeks, though you spot a funny kind of shyness in them when he studies your sleeve rather than look you in the eye-

“Favorite, huh?” Hawks smiles, “ n’here I thought I was the lucky one, sweet’eart-” he taps his headphones for emphasis, “One day I’m listening to you on repeat on my morning commute– and the next, I’m standing two feet from you!”

“--You’re kidding.”

From his pocketed phone, Hawks challenges you with a press and hold on the speakers to boost the volume as high as it could go. Faintly, you caught your own pop vocals from your second ever album casting from Hawks’ headphones. 

You can’t believe your luck– he’s really a fan? Of yours?

The mix of sentimentality and surprise must be palpable on your face as you grasp exactly which song has Hawks spellbound before he cocks his head with a sheepish grin of his own, 

“Believe me now?”

Words fail you, but you shudder out a little giggle that speaks volumes. He tests with a smile,

“Soooo guess you wouldn’t mind if I asked a horribly stereotypical favor and snagged a selfie while I’m here?” 

Eyebrows shot up to the sky as Hawks dangled his phone between you, you immediately pause. No one on your Communications team is still backstage (to your knowledge), but the engrained warning about checking your professional list of partnerships before posting comes to mind… annoying as it is. All you want is a pic with him, too!

“Nothing for socials-” Hawks assures you with a gloved hand, “If your handlers are just as pesky as mine, they’d never let me live it down. Just– something to keep me grounded, on the hard days.”

That reasoning… it almost broke your heart just as quickly as your potential disappointment had been earlier. 

With a knowing smile, you nodded sweetly to Hawks- he’s charming in a whole new light to you.

“Only if you send it to me too, hm? Favor for a favor?”

“ ‘Course!”

Sliding up into his open space, Hawks clearly knows his best side but keeps you right in the center of his shot. That smile he makes… you are going to keep this proud glint in his eye and sight of his hand around you locked into your mind forever– even if he forgets to send it to your insta handle after this. 

It’s too brief of a moment, watching his wing curl around you though the phone’s front-facing camera burgeoning you close, head tilting gently against yours. Keeping a close-lipped smile seared into your mind when you think of him now.

Then in an even more lightning fast moment, while he’s fussing with a weird flip of his bangs, you reach to tap the shutter as you sneak a kiss onto his cheek. 

He’s stunned by the move, but by the even brighter muted smile, you stand by with pride double checking his photo gallery that the shot made it. It surely did. 

“You have a hard job, Hawks; harder and more dangerous than anyone I know,” 

You step away casually.. Though the need for distance is more for your sake than just optics of your forwardness. 

“... Thought you deserved more than one lil selfie. Hope that’s ok?”

“H-okay?” Hawks breathes out, studying his camera roll with reverence, “Better’n ok..”

Outside a muted feedback from the PA system is calling for Exit team to assemble– get staged for your departure from the venue at last.

“That’s me. Better bounce-” Hawks piped up after a small clearing of his throat. You’re nearly too shy to look at him after this-

-but when a kiss greets your hand, lifted imperceptibly fast and squeezed just as fleeting as his words grace your ears- you couldn’t look away if you tried.

“- a pleasure, dear.”

And before you can utter any further word of thanks or manage something other than a shocked smile, Hawks slips out of the room and off to hand the reins back to your team. You can barely hear from the still-live walkie talkies that your security detail is back at their regular stations, and your Pro-Hero is off for his final step of his hired work. Soon he’d be relieved of his station and off to save someone else from an unsavory fate.

He doesn’t forget to send you the photos; and you now have his private insta handle.

The photo where you snuck a peck onto his cheek would be set as your internal screenshot if it weren’t for your niece’s constant borrowing of your phone when she visits you on set… 

But now, you’re back for a month-long stay at the studio– your reward for a successful first half of the Tour.

Encouraged by your protective muse’s spark at the thought of your new music, you decide to take that energy back to Chichibu. Your headphones might as well be glued to your head, with how much you’ve head-dived into your sound mixing apps and sampling library. In fact, it’s that unwavering attention to your music that you nearly miss the most obvious sight walking through the lobby of the unassuming recording studio. Almost.

But how could you really– when the largest floral arrangement you’d ever seen is gracing the reception table? That stunning piece looks like it costs more than the linoleum flooring the desk sits on. 

A few aides have been distracted by the sight, studying the typed message attached and racking their brains for any sign of a calling card. One of your cutting room techs was currently rounding the base of the standing arrangement for some tucked note, which made you giggle how intently she was studying the thing. 

You know the sound booth manager best out of this group of other visiting accompanists,

“Lucky, lucky girl~” she reels you in excitedly, plucking the card from the other’s sights and handing to you directly. “Sorry to say there’s no hint who it’s from… but it’s for you, little bird!”

You hedge at the pet name once again– the nickname stuck unwillingly not only for your melodic talent, but the association with your clear celebrity (heroic) crush. 

However, as you read the note, the immediate assumption that this may have been another gift from a venue host was thrown right out the window…

This was a personal gift:

To keep my genius company while she makes her magic~ No one can give us the stories you can; don’t ever  let them take your voice. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve heard. Can’t wait to hear the new demo!

“No matter how high or low I am.. a piece of me will be here with you. It’s- where I'd rather be... Till next time…”

“Next time? Wait, who sent these again?!”

“It was just the delivery guy, from that really flouncy place downtown~” the receptionist answers with interest.

“Nooo, I mean on the card! Who signed the card?

“There's nothing– no initials, nothing..” you confirmed, still reeling over the message. But as you trail off over the cascade of tropical flowers, the flecks of red blooms catch your eye and bring you to study harder. 

Then- tucked under some deep green curls- a spot of red hides. A quill amongst the mossy padding of the arrangement- not unlike a surprise found in a nest.

Sifting through under the guise of feeling tender petals, you grasp the soft, downy feather which bears a small post-it flag on the underside with a sequence of numbers on it. 

“Do you have any idea who?”

Balling it carefully in your fist just as quickly, you answer, “Couldn't tell ya. But the pop of red sure is pretty, isn't it?”

In your booth -set up with your sticker-laden laptop and butterflies in your stomach- you hold the sticky note in one hand, pinching the crimson feather precariously in the other. 

Face warmed and unbelieving of your luck, you think on what to send first to your mic-stealer…

To be continued?

[cr4yolaas]

mezzo forte — ebb and flow

track 9: homesick v.2 | masterlist | track 11: tbd

she feels sick to her stomach when she opens her door. the mid afternoon sun beats down on his back — it’s clear in the sweat collecting on his face and the dark splotch around the collar of his t-shirt. she can’t decide if she wants to see him.

“haji, why are you here?”

the call of his name — not his nickname, never his nickname, not when it fell from her lips — renders him immobile. whatever confidence he mustered up on the trip to her place dissipates, and the lines he’d carefully conjured up while taking the steps up to the door slip away. “i wanted to see you,” he whispers, seemingly unsure in his answer.

she’s scared to respond. her irritation is still riddled within every crack and crevice. she doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“why?”

he pauses. it’s silly, watching someone as sure and stable as athletic trainer hajime iwaizumi crumble to dust at the receiving end of such a simple question. the thought makes him want to curl in on himself, until he’s no longer recognizable. instinctively, his hand drops to the hem of his shirt, the calluses on his fingertips catching onto the loose threads while he fiddles. she notices (she always does), but whatever acknowledgement she wants to wrangle out of her throat fails to escape, leaving them both in silence.

“i want it to be me,” he finally whispers. he looks at her earnestly, with the same determination he bore when he first asked her to play with him the week he moved in, and the same pride he carried when he ran to her first after every victorious game; all of it is reminiscent of the boy she grew up with, and not the man who stands before her with clammy palms and an unsteady head.

“what do you mean?” she asks, though she knows the answer already.

“i want the songs to be about me. all of it.”

“but you said they couldn’t be.”

he shakes his head instantly. he can’t hold it back anymore, the sweet and ripe and tender feeling that’s been growing in his chest since youth. “i didn’t mean that. i was just- i didn’t believe it. i didn’t want to. but now,” he breathes for a second. “i don’t want them to be about anyone else.”

whatever anger she’d been holding onto dissolves entirely, replacing itself with desperate, piercing yearning. the thoughts of her manager fall apart, and the thoughts of the (supposed) impending doom of her career escape her. instead, all she can think about is the way her hands fly to his collar and tug him towards her.

it’s messy, and rocky, and impulsive, but she can’t fight it. her lips meet his, and it feels natural. like she’s been waiting for it for an eternity.

♪ we are nearing the end

♪ i know the end by phoebe bridgers starts playing

♪ in all seriousness im just glad to end this soon LOL

♪ hajime iwaizumi the man that you are. if i were upset and he came to my door professing his love i think i’d also forget about all my issues

♪ shoyo considers himself a “good best man” bc he helped yachi and kiyo finally get together. he does not know wingman and best man are different things

♪ msby 4 has been putting up with iwa and his problems for too long they were jumping for joy when they found out it was over

♪ anyways. i’m glad this is ending soon i have other things i want to work on 😊

taglist: @zumicho @causenessus @guitarstringed-scars @yuminako @chemiru @sunnyskiezzzz @httpsivy @itsdragonius @theycallmenanamisgirl @wyrcan @19calicos @hunnies4bunnies @mawenskiblue @diorzs @loverlunaire @mfcherry @solaqes @myromanempiree @brithedemonspawn @corvid007 @lilchubbyyy @hyenagoated

italicized names are unable to be tagged. please check your privacy settings :)

[atlitudes]

I'm Cataloging Every Occurrence of the Piano in Malevolent in a Spreadsheet for Leitmotif Analysis. No, I'm Not Kidding.

As the title of this post reads, I've spent the last few weeks listening to every episode of Malevolent and logging every time the piano is heard (both within the story and as background score), to analyze the data for leitmotif/music based theory-crafting. I originally was planning on getting through the entire series before posting anything, but I am very quickly realizing that this is going to take me a while, and I start a new semester in two weeks, so there is a high likelihood I will not finish before I get too busy to chug through as many episodes a day as I am now. I'm on episode 16/44 and I've already logged 137 instances of piano music. I'm not even halfway done. And this is all I've been doing for the past multiple days. For this reason, I've decided to post the link to the spreadsheet before finishing.

If you're familiar with Malevolent, and just how much music is in it, you might be asking, "OP, are you utterly fucking insane?" And well, dear reader, the answer to that is probably yes, but while you might call it madness, I call it love. So, before getting into the meat of things, I wanted to explain why I even decided to do this. Spoilers ahead for Malevolent (obvious, but yeah). If you don't give a single shit about why I did this and want to get straight to the sheet, scroll to the bottom for the link.

So. About 2 weeks ago I finished my first listen-through of Malevolent. One thing about the most recent episodes struck me as very very significant: John and Arthur's "collective force" being titled as the Dies Irae.

Now, a full-bodied explanation of why I find this so important and the possible implications will come at a later date, but long story short, the Dies Irae is a very significant piece of musical literature-- it is, perhaps, the most commonly quoted leitmotif of the past 800 years, and it symbolizes death. So, understandably, the Themes of this kinda sent me down a spiral.

But the Dies Irae being mentioned in such a way also got me thinking: music is a pretty integral part of Malevolent. So, is the Dies Irae quoted anywhere in its soundtrack? I suddenly got very very excited at this prospect, particularly if it might be in Faroe's Song, because well... god that would hurt lol. I scoured the available songs on the bandcamp aaaaand... no luck (as far as I can tell). Regardless, even if the Dies Irae wasn't a part of the soundtrack, I became curious about what kind of leitmotifs were in the podcast, and what they might mean. And so, the spreadsheet was born.

I explain this in the User Guide part of the sheet (please read it before going through the rest btw), but I only track the piano parts of the podcast. The reason for this is two-fold:

First, score wise, piano is very easy for me to pick apart, and I don't see a lot of significance in the suspenseful string music for horror moments (though I don't deny there might be something to it, I simply won't be able to find it.) To me, the piano is also significantly more important than the strings because it's a notable part of the story-- Arthur and his relation to the instrument is a key part of the plot, and multiple of the piano compositions are made by him. For this reason, I found tracking the piano in the podcast worthwhile.

Second, I also don't touch any of the non-original radio tracks in the podcast (i.e. You Call It Madness (I Call It Love)) because this video by The Final Fantasmagorie already does an excellent job of covering them (please check it out!!), and I felt it would be redundant, especially considering the astronomical amount of ground I already have to cover. If these tracks start being featured as leitmotifs in the piano music then... well, I might change my mind, but so far, no dice.

If I noticed a non-piano piece of music (such as the wraith humming in Ep3) that I haven't found any analysis of whatsoever, I also noted it just so there was some record. Other than that, just piano tracks.

Explanations and disclaimers out of the way, here is the link to the spreadsheet. I might open it up to comments and/or editors at some point, but for now, it's just available to viewers. Once again, please read the disclaimer and user guide before the rest of the sheets.

Thanks for reading, I know this was a very long post, and I appreciate it if you've beared with me! Enjoy!

[littlejuicebox]

Midwinter Carol 8 / The Scheme

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 2.4K

Story navigation: [1][2][3][4] [5] [6] [7]

Summary/Setting: Based on the prologue/premise from my OneShot “A Midwinter Carol.” / Astarion and the OC broke up after his ascension. She left Baldur’s Gate for fifteen years, only to return just recently. Following the events of “A Midwinter Carol,” Ascended Astarion has been convinced to pursue a new beginning. Will he be able to change who he has become, with the help of his ex-lover or will he ultimately fall victim to himself?

Preview:

“You’re far too comfortable within our arrangement, darling. Now, simply stand there and look pretty. It’s what you’re best at,” Astarion had finally drawled after a long silence between the two of them, feigning nonchalance at her comment while the white-knuckled grip on his goblet told another story.

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / Eventual Smut / Angst, trauma, fluff / Gore / Violence / PTSD / Astarion’s past trauma

A/N: Took two weeks, but we finally got there! I am going to try to start posting my longfics on a more consistent schedule. Stay tuned for the schedule, once I've figured it out lol!

-----

Delilah loathed people in power. She hated the moneyed patrons looking down their noses at her, always with an air of disgust. The wealthy acted as if they were doing her a favor; as if they weren’t the ones begging for her skills.

The elite she entertained in the brothels might have different kinks, different preferences, and different fantasies that she danced around… but one rule applied to every entitled, powerful individual that purchased her time: they loved to hear themselves talk.

It was quite comical how much her clients would share when they perceived her as an idiot. They often thought her beneath them; nothing more than a glorified decoration, a plaything. An empty vessel to spill their seed into. 

But Delilah was far more cunning than she looked. She wouldn’t have been a whore, if only her circumstances had been different. Her aspirations had always been higher than sex work, and despite loathing people in power, she knew one of them would eventually be her meal ticket out of her situation. 

She was too smart to be a whore and yet too desperate to shy away from any opportunity that came knocking upon her brothel door. 

So when Astarion first spoke to her in Elvish, insulting her in the process, Delilah knew to stay silent. From almost the beginning, she intended to play the long game with the vampire and figured it best to appear ignorant. 

She assumed his goading to be a test. She felt the silver-haired elf wanted to know if she understood his native tongue, though she didn’t quite understand why at the time. So instead of giving any indication she knew Astarion had just called her a filthy whore, Delilah simply smiled and purred a superficial compliment; it was something about how sexy he sounded speaking Elvish.

He bought it. 

After that initial test from Astarion, he would often speak in Elvish when she morphed into Eirianwen’s shape. Most strings of his mother tongue were simply sweet nothings and lamentations he clearly would have preferred to say to the real woman, not the one he paid to portray her. It was tedious to endure the Ascendant as he relentlessly plunged in and out of her body, speaking sappy nonsense as she performed exactly the way he expected her to.

He always took forever to finish.

The ordeal was ridiculous, really. But her suffering proved worthwhile, for a time. It bought her connections to other elites, a new apartment, and — perhaps most valuable of all — pieces of information. 

Over the years, Delilah collected many useful bits  of knowledge from Astarion. The bastard loved to hear himself talk, in and out of bed, just like all the others. She sold some of the lesser information to his enemies and kept the most significant pieces stored within her mind. 

Delilah knew he held the secret to true power – it was etched upon his back — and she wanted it for herself. She spent years assembling pieces of the puzzle and carefully unlocking the vaults of his psyche for that one purpose. It was no easy task. 

But those years passed, and Delilah grew more impatient with the passing of each season. Astarion was dramatic, self-obsessed, privileged, and almost always held an air of missing that stupid sorceress. Constantly soothing his ego became a full time job, and Delilah began to think she loathed him more than she loved his money and connections to power.

Eventually, she thought she would simply convince Astarion to make her a true vampire, cut her losses, and just take those powers as a consolation prize. Her time enduring the Vampire Lord had been more than enough, and she was ready for it to end. She felt she understood why the real Eirianwen left him; if she’d had the means, Delilah would have been gone long ago, too.

But not everyone is a trust fund baby. 

So, one evening, at another party almost identical in theme and guest list to the soirée they’d attended the week prior, Delilah broached the subject of immortality with Astarion. Her frustration quickly rose to the forefront when the Vampire Lord denied her far too quickly, as if he’d considered the option long ago and decided against it. 

“Why not?” she’d pressed, her arm wrapped around his, simply playing the all-too-familiar part of a decoration at his side as they walked about the great hall of some noble’s mansion.

But, even as she asked, Delilah knew the reason: she was a glorified shell in his eyes; nothing more than a novelty item. She was hardly permitted to be in her own chosen form for these parties, or in general, after all. Astarion never wanted to see her as her. He always made her rotate her appearance as his date, instead. She was never supposed to be Eirianwen in public, of course, because imagine the scandal; but she was always some beautiful being. 

Just not herself. 

Among the many strange aspects of the egotistical man she’d tied herself to for years, Delilah found it odd that Astarion seemed to prefer the appearance of rakishness without actually being a rake. Though she suspected he liked the idea of appearing unattached, should the real Eirianwen ever flit back into his life. Idiot.

“I am not currently paying you to speak, Delilah,” Astarion had warned in a low hiss, his jaw tensed as he’d refused to look at the woman holding onto his arm. 

She was in the form of some gorgeous, pouty-lipped, large chested brunette she’d seen while working in Waterdeep years ago. Astarion always seemed to prefer silver-haired dates, so Delilah intentionally gave him anything else when she was particularly irritated with the bastard.

“It’s been half a decade… she isn’t coming back, you know,” Delilah had snapped in response, unable to hold back her frustration after tempering herself for ages. 

Five years had been far too long. 

She’d been attached to this vile man longer than his precious sorceress ever had been and still played second fiddle to a memory. The thought made her insides boil with rage.

Not that she loved Astarion. Absolutely not. But she felt he still owed her something after all this time. Because truly, he was dreadful, and he would have done nothing of note with all that money and power if she hadn’t pushed him in the right direction. Hells, he couldn’t even sleep properly when they first met, let alone play political dragonchess with dignitaries and crime bosses. 

No, the majority of that had been her doing. But of course, in his pride, the Vampire Lord was certain it had been him all along. 

“You’re far too comfortable within our arrangement, darling. Now, simply stand there and look pretty. It’s what you’re best at,” Astarion had finally drawled after a long silence between the two of them, feigning nonchalance at her comment while the white-knuckled grip on his goblet told another story. 

But the shapeshifter knew her value was severely underestimated. She was more than a common whore, more than an attractive escort, more than just a shell of someone else’s form. And after years of catering to Astarion’s massive ego, one would think her other talents would be of value to the Ascendant – at least enough to consider turning her.

Apparently not.

Ultimately, Astarion kept refusing Delilah’s requests for immortality. Eventually, the shapeshifter decided she’d had enough; she would have to find another route to power. 

She’d wasted too much time already.

*

When Delilah first planned to break into the Palace, she knew entering through the dungeon would be most convenient. Waltzing in right through the front door, while potentially possible in Astarion’s form, would attract far too much attention. The servants swarmed him the moment he entered any room. Plus, she suspected her target happened to be in the bowels of the Palace, away from prying eyes – the dungeon would be faster, too.

It would be a quick job – get in, get out, get back to her new boss, get turned. 

She knew the secret entryway into the dungeon was enchanted and required a password spoken in Astarion’s voice. At first, this had been a significant dilemma. Delilah’s shape shifting was flawless, and yet she always failed to adequately reproduce voices. However, thanks to his unwilling donation of DNA at the auction, the woman successfully brewed a potion that perfectly captured Astarion’s haughty tenor. 

One utterance of “aeterna amantes” later and she found herself in the frigid cobblestone dungeon underneath her ex-lover’s abode. 

She could not help but feel pride for her multiple talents at this moment. If Delilah had been able to afford tuition at Blackstaff thirty years ago, her life would be inconceivably different. Self-study and natural talents could only get her so far, unfortunately. 

Locating the Jathiman Dagger – or “The God Killer,” as it had been called in the texts she read on the subject – had been effortless in comparison to her first trial. The ancient blade was rippling with arcane magic, and Delilah simply reached out to the Weave for guidance. Like a compass, the Weave led her straight to the second hidden passageway in the dungeon, this one much less guarded than the first. And there, behind an illusory wall, was the ticket to her future in the form of a well-worn, rusted dagger.

In truth, the woman thought the weapon that could kill anything from a god to a devil – and certainly a mere Vampire Ascendant, by that logic – would be far grander in appearance than just a simple serrated blade with a leather-wrapped hilt. At first, Delilah worried it was a decoy. But the arcane thrum when she touched the weapon was undeniable; all that was left on her end of the deal was to get back to Lady Lysandra and deliver the dagger. She could leave Edmund to rot if she wanted, Lysandra had indicated him to be disposable in their scheming. 

But standing on the precipice of her future, and try as she might, Delilah couldn’t bring herself to take the final jump and leave the stupid spawn. Not after the time they spent together the past few months. He’d been, over all, a gentleman. And when she finally propositioned him after weeks, he’d never asked her to change into any other form, despite knowing she could… that had been a first for her. 

‘Leave him, leave him, leave him,’ she thought as she made her way toward the secret tunnel leading out of the cobblestoned torture chamber.

And yet, against her better judgment and with half of her mind screaming in disbelief, Delilah stopped just before reaching freedom, tucked the dagger into her robes and began to climb the cobblestone steps of the dungeon. She willingly walked straight into the lion’s den.

*

Finding Astarion and Edmund had been simple; she only had to follow the pained grunts of the vampire spawn and the deranged shouting of her ex-lover. But as she walked in that direction, under cover of a simple invisibility spell, Delilah passed the master bedchambers where she’d laid under Astarion more times than she could count. Out of habit, she glanced into the room and spotted Eirianwen sound asleep, instead of writhing in pain like she should be with Delilah’s poisons working inside her body.

And gods that enraged Delilah. She wanted Astarion to suffer in the worst way, to watch the only person he ever seemed to love be tortured beyond belief, lose motor function, and eventually die after a long, chronic battle with the side effects of Delilah’s concoction. 

He deserved it, and by extension, Eirianwen did, too. She made him what he was, after all. 

But how was this possible? 

The knowledge-seeker in the shapeshifting woman decided to take a quick detour, temporarily ignoring the tortured cries from Edmund in the next room. He was strong, surely he could endure for a mere moment longer as she examined the sorceress, she thought.

After a quick study of Eirianwen, Delilah notices the ring on the sorceress’s blackening hand and realizes it's the flimsy golden band that’s protecting the woman. She remembers the auctioneer toting the magical abilities of the rings Astarion ultimately paid far too much for. 

But Delilah doesn’t dare touch Eirianwen to try and remove the ring. The newest potion coursing through the elven woman’s system had been a rush job; Delilah was not certain how potent the paralytic was or if it would transfer to her, another living being, via touch. It’s why she’d had Edmund carry the bottle around at the party, just in case there had been a mishap; her necrotic concoctions were much less potent on the undead, but on the living they were always particularly nasty. 

A flurry of curses on the other side of the wall, followed by more vitriol from the Vampire Lord, all coming from the space next door she knows to be Astarion’s office, finally rips Delilah from her thoughts and pushes her forward. She doesn’t have a plan. She really did not expect herself to risk her neck for this random spawn. 

Delilah morphs into Eirianwen’s form, mangled hand and all, and slowly edges her way toward the office. At minimum, she can distract Astarion and hopefully Edmund can break away with a bit of her assistance. He’s certainly strong.

When Delilah turns around the corner, she quickly realizes, much to her dismay, that any hopes of saving Edmund are gone. Astarion is crushing the other vampire’s skull in with one hand and plunging something into the man’s chest repeatedly with the other. Splatters of blood are sprinkled about the office like stars in the night sky. The man she’d spent months scheming with, fucking, and for whom she’d idly considered killing his master for once she achieved her goal is lying limp and mangled underneath the Ascendant. 

Edmund is gone. And the realization elicits a genuine, horrified scream from Delilah. In that moment she realizes that perhaps she actually cared for him… as much as someone like her could care about anyone. When Astarion’s eyes snap to her, Delilah forgets she’s in Eirianwen’s form and runs.

Before long, the woman recollects herself as the silver-haired elf shouts down the hallway, calling after his precious Ani. She turns to look at the Vampire Lord, her face filled with hatred, and misty steps as far as she can away from him, back toward the dungeon entrance on the lower floor. Delilah was supposed to leave the murder of Astarion Ancunin to Lady Lysandra… but she just decided that she changed her mind. 

She was going to kill Astarion in his own home, and she was going to savor every delicious moment as he watched the woman he loved stab him to death. 

-----

A/N: Special shoutout to a reader, @lil23akira for absolutely calling this! I love that you were able to pick up on all my foreshadowing. And thank you to @leomonae and @tallymonster for reading this and providing feedback as I worked through what was the most difficult chapter to write thus far.

[macabr3-barbi3]

God, That's Good!

Chapter 8: Pentious' Death

Pentious has dirt on Lucifer- and that just won't do. Something shifts in his relationship with Alastor.

Tags: EXPLICIT DEPICTION OF MURDER (I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. A MAN IS DYING); followed by Explicit Sexual Content™️

Sweet Lord this chapter was a lot! Please be mindful of the tags above before continuing. There is a smut scene in this chapter- I'll include dividers surrounding it in case you want to skip over that section!

Also just as a note- everything from chapter 7 to chapter 12 is taking place on the same day! I tried to figure out a way that it would make sense to space things out but ultimately just having a bunch of fuckery on the same day is what worked out the best xD

My weekly thank you to @fraugwinska for her eternal love and support, as well as to @minkdelovely for being so supportive and sweet about this story 🥹

(this divider doesn't count for the smut lol)

Act 1:  Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧 Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6  🥧Chapter 7 🥧 Chapter 8 🥧 Chapter 9

They stand there in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before he speaks. “So, what can I do for you?” Lucifer asks the other barber, and Pentious’ smile somehow gets even wider.

He straightens his shoulders. “I have come to check out your establishment,” he says, and Lucifer’s eyebrow quirks up. “Despite what Niffty may have claimed, it’s not much to look at- though I presume you’ll have it in top shape in no time!” He steps further into the shop, trailing his fingers over different surfaces, inspecting Lucifer’s razors, moving around until he’s within an arm’s length. “I have also come to collect my money back- the five dollars.”

And he’s been trying to be polite, but the request makes him laugh out loud. “Do you not know how a contest works, Sir Pentious? You lost- the money is no longer yours.”

“Furthermore,” Pentious continues, as though Lucifer hadn’t spoken, “I shall expect half of your earnings every week, delivered to me via Niffty, once you start getting customers in. You’re welcome to use your remaining share to make the place a little nicer-”

“Just why, exactly,” Lucifer cuts in, “would you expect me to do that?” He spoke as though Lucifer owed him something, when their contest had been cut and dry- Lucifer had won fair and square, he hadn’t cheated in any way, nor had he stolen the money.

Pentious holds out his hand to Lucifer, waiting for the money to be dropped into it. “You see, I thought I was wrong until you mentioned Fleet Street to the crowd asking where they could find you! I was but an apprentice- you taught me the tricks of the trade!”

For a moment Lucifer has no idea what he was talking about- then the memory hits like whiplash, causing him to dig his fingers into his palm, the faint pain of it keeping him grounded. Young Eddie- a slip of a teenager that he had given a few dollars a month to assist him in cleanup one summer when his business had been booming, his free time limited when it came to the state of the shop. He had been going through a late puberty, his facial hair growing in patchy and uneven around his red spots of acne, and he- Damien- had taken pity on the boy and taught him how to shave in the most basic of manners. 

He feels the blood drain from his face as he staggers back towards his chair, and Pentious barks out a harsh laugh. “Ha! So you recall my face at last, Damien Diggory- and you’ll adhere to my terms or I ssshall fetch the Beadle and tell her of my findingsss!” He stalks closer, his frame towering over Lucifer far less pleasantly than Alastor did, his words hissing through his teeth in his excitement. “You think you’re ssso much more clever than everyone else, coming back here, but I know who you are! And I ssshall have you on the first ssship back to the wastesss of Florida if you don’t do as I sssay.” He straightens his shoulders again, smile pleasant once more. “I ssshall like to have my money back now if you pleassse, Missster Diggory.”

His plans, his goals, his vengeance- they slip through his fingers like sand with every word from the other barber’s mouth. He’s still talking but Lucifer can’t hear him over the buzz of anger, of wrath, that fills his mind, his eyes going dark around the edges. Pentious would ruin everything that Lucifer had worked for if he wasn’t stopped; even if Lucifer did as he said the threat of it would loom over his head constantly, forever in the back of his mind, never sure if he would fulfill his plot before it all came crashing down around him.

And Lucifer does raise his hands from where they’ve been ramrod straight at his sides, but not to reach into his pocket for his wallet- he feels like a man possessed as he lunges instead for Pentious’ throat, the man letting out a choked off grunt when Lucifer tackles his tall frame to the ground. There’s a resounding thud that shakes the shop walls, and Lucifer is distantly conscious enough to hope that Alastor doesn’t hear it and come running, or God forbid the little girl come up to see this. But more pressing is the deep thudding inside his head, dark whispers saying to silence this man, that he was going to destroy everything that Lucifer had done if he didn’t stop him. Even now his past chased him as he tried to outrun it, this lowly charlatan that he had tried to help as a young man coming back to haunt him all these years later.

Pentious releases a hand from those encircling his throat, opting to rake his fingernails down Lucifer’s arm rather than dislodge his grip- he can feel bones shifting beneath his palms, the red of the man’s face ensuring that he couldn’t speak beyond the garbled noises that escaped his throat. He tries to twist his body, managing to knock Lucifer from his position and try to scramble away. The smooth fabric of his suit slips against the wooden floors, not giving him the traction he needs to truly escape. Lucifer tackles him once more, this time bringing his arm up to wrap around Pentious’ throat and finally,  finally,  his movements slow and eventually stop, his body hanging limply in Lucifer’s arms before he lets him gently to the floor.

He was well and truly fucked, he realizes, his panic rising when he hears the girl shouting something from downstairs. In a frenzy, he grabs Pentious’ boots and drags him across the floor to the half-open door of the apartment, scrambling to shove his body inside and ease the door shut before the door to the shop opens. He pulls his sleeves down in a rush so she can’t see the marks that her employer has left on him, and when she flings the door open she glances around curiously.

“Where’s Sir Pentious? He told me to make sure he wasn’t late for the tailor- I think it was supposed to be yesterday actually, but I know I have the time right at least!” She stands with her arms behind her back, rocking gently forward on her toes then back on her heels.

Lucifer clears his throat, hoping he doesn’t sound as panicked as he feels. “Sir Pentious had to leave,” he says in what he hopes is a reassuring manor. “Perhaps you should run along after him!”

She whips her head back and forth, red hair splaying in every direction. “No, sir- if he comes back and I’m not here I would be in some trouble! I mean- he says that, anyway. But between you and me, I think he’s a bit of a softie.” She gives Lucifer a conspiratorial wink, her smile fading when he doesn’t return it. “He’s okay though, right?”

“Oh, he’s fine! Just had to step out-”

He hears a soft noise from behind him, perhaps too low for the girl to pick up but he hears it clear as day- Pentious was waking up from his short bout of unconsciousness, Lucifer’s strength not enough to permanently put him out of commission. “-rather suddenly- why don’t you wait for him downstairs? Or, like you said- if he’s a softie, surely you wouldn’t get into any trouble for returning to his home or base of operations.” He returns her wink finally, and that seems to put her at ease- she flashes him a smile and is off in seconds, the door slamming behind her and the stairs thumping as she bounds down them. He breathes a sigh of relief, taking a deep breath for the first time since he had learned who Pentious was, steadying himself to go back into the apartment and try to talk reason into the man.

He doesn’t get a chance. Pentious charges him from the doorway of the apartment, Lucifer landing hard on his knees while Pentious tries to claw at his face, his throat, anything he can reach. His own throat is bruised, dark shades of purple and mottled green that makes him look like a dead man come back to life, his eyes red rimmed and furious as he tries to take Lucifer down. In a moment of desperation, Lucifer manages to grab his razor- he flicks it open with practiced ease, one hand adjusting the grip he has and the other reaching out to fist in Pentious’ hair, swinging his weight to change their positions. The force of the motion sends them both toppling backwards, Pentious still flailing in an attempt to get away despite the firm grasp Lucifer has on him, no true sounds coming from his ruined throat.

In a way, Lucifer’s mind clears as he lifts the razor. He stares at the ceiling of the barbershop, stray bits of hair obscuring his vision, but he feels for once like his body is at peace. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears over the muffled noises from the man above him- he doesn’t feel numb, or empty.

He feels justified. He brings the razor down in a swift, precise movement, a spurt of warm liquid that drenches his face before the body that rests on his chest falls still at last.

He’s unsure how long he lays there before he drops the razor, using the weight from both arms to shove Pentious off him. There’s the solid noise of something heavy dropping onto a hardwood floor, then silence. Lucifer can’t look at him, can’t face what he’s done yet even as the evidence coats his face, his chest, his hands. 

It was necessary. That’s what he tells himself as he rises to his knees, body vibrating with the leftover adrenaline of the fight. And no one would ever have to know- he would clean up, hide the body until dark when he could try to take it somewhere to bury him. There was that killer on the news, the Bayou Butcher- it could be passed off as one of their kills if anyone ever found the body. Alastor would never have to know. He seemed complacent enough with Lucifer’s plans but to actually see it plain as day, staining Lucifer’s skin? The conversation they had had not even an hour ago would be for nothing- Alastor would be frightened of him, would surely kick him out, report him to the authorities. He needed to move now, clean this mess up, hide the body-

There’s no creak of the stairs or the door, nothing to alert him to Alastor’s approach until he hears the soft gasp at the entrance, looking up from Pentious’ body and the pooling blood to see Alastor standing there with wide eyes, his hand covering his mouth.

“Alastor,” he gets out, his voice low and rough. “Fuck, I- I didn’t want you to see this.” 

“You killed him?” The baker asks, and Lucifer can’t identify the tone in his voice so he flinches at the sound of it. “You actually- you did this?”

He closes his eyes against the raw emotion in Alastor’s voice. “Yes. I- I wasn’t planning to, he recognized me from my past and he was going to blackmail me, I couldn’t just let him-” Alastor is still watching him, his eyes darting between Lucifer and Pentious, his hands trembling, and Lucifer’s chest aches with the possibility of Alastor being scared of him. He staggers from his knees to stand, his feet stuttering as he tries to approach Alastor, and he knows he must look a mess. “Please, Alastor, he would have ruined everything; you have to understand.”

And to Lucifer’s shock, he seems to. He removes his hand from his mouth to reach out and cup the barber’s cheek, his other hand coming up to wrap around his back and pull him into his chest. Lucifer could sob with relief, Alastor’s arms around him feeling like they were holding him together- like without them he would simply bust into pieces on the floor. “Fuck, I was- I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into Alastor’s shirt. “If you’re afraid, I understand; but please know that I would never, never harm you.” He places his own hand- coated in blood, he realizes, but he feels like he’s moving in slow motion, too late now to take the movement back- along Alastor’s face, stroking a thumb along his cheekbone.

To say he’s surprised when Alastor steals his mouth in a searing kiss would be an understatement; one he doesn’t have time to unpack as Alastor brings their lips together, a frenzy of teeth and tongue that has wires crossing in Lucifer’s brain, transforming the anxiety of the moment into something more heated that races confusedly through his veins. The baker guides him, walking him backwards towards the apartment until they cross the threshold, closing the door enough that they can’t see the body on the floor of the barbershop before shoving Lucifer onto the couch.

Dust puffs around them, tickling his nose, almost breaking the moment to let out a nervous giggle until Alastor starts pawing at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons until he gets it open and slides his hands along the planes of Lucifer’s chest and abdomen. One of his hands drifts lower, brushing against sensitive skin through the fabric of his pants and Lucifer’s hips buck up without conscious thought, a broken moan pouring into Alastor’s mouth that the other man simply drinks down. 

It’s not until he hears the clinking of his belt that he’s spurred into action, pulling off Alastor’s mouth with a gasp and stilling him with a hand to his wrist. “Jesus fucking- Alastor, wait-”

“I can’t,” Alastor groans, rolling his hips down against Lucifer’s, the friction against his clothed erection making Lucifer see stars. “I need you, need this, please…” He drags Lucifer’s hand away from his wrist, brings it to the hardness straining between his own thighs.

“Oh, fuck,” Lucifer manages before Alastor is taking his mouth again, tongue sliding against his, everything heated and moist and so much. “Fuck, I- we’re taking it slow,” he protests halfheartedly, already kicking himself for the possibility of the gorgeous man in his lap taking a step back. “We said we would slow down-”

“Slow down after, damn it,” Alastor near snarls, never ceasing the grinding of his lower body, and flashes of pleasure spark down Lucifer’s spine at the perfection of it. “Will you be so cruel as to make me beg?”

His head is shaking before he realizes it, soft words of affirmation spilling forth and spurring Alastor to finish removing Lucifer’s belt, tossing it carelessly behind him to clink onto the floor and shoving his shirt up. His hands are fast and deft, buttons undone in record time and reaching in to pull Lucifer’s cock from his pants, hard and aching in the slight chill of the room from the breeze that blows through the broken windows. He moans when Alastor gives him a stroke, his grip firm and perfect, and he finds the sense of mind to start working at the baker’s bottoms open as well. 

The whimper that escapes Alastor when Lucifer gets a hand around his erection will live in his mind forever, he thinks, low and keening against Lucifer’s mouth. He shifts his seat in the barber’s lap, impatiently smacking his hands away so he can bring their cocks together between his own hands and buck his hips, bare skin hot and hard against one another, the way eased by the fluid that leaks from them both. 

Lucifer is almost embarrassed by how quickly he’s losing control with this beautiful man in his lap, his fingers digging into the soft skin of Alastor’s hips- he’s sure to leave bruises, something he wishes he was a good enough man to feel sorry about, but the thought of leaving something that lasts on Alastor’s body was too delicious to pass up. He grips harder, and Alastor rips their mouths apart to let his head drop back and whine. “Touch me,” he asks earnestly despite his earlier despair at the thought of begging, freeing a hand from their lengths to bring Lucifer’s deathgrip from his waist to the buttons of his shirt, all but ripping them off in his haste to assist in undoing them. “Please, Lucifer-”

To have someone so lost in passion because of him that they plead with him for more, their release obvious and imminent in the tremble of their frame is a high Lucifer has seldom experienced. Even with Lilith he had never felt so desirable- but to think of her now was unfair to either of them. Right now he was here with Alastor, who was squirming and desperate seated on top of him, Lucifer would be damned if he didn’t give the man the attention he desired and deserved.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, taking over for Alastor’s nimble fingers and hastily opening his shirt, calloused fingers brushing against a dark, sensitive nipple, the motion causing Alastor to collapse forward with his head on Lucifer’s shoulder. He pants hot and wet in Lucifer’s ear as the barber lets his hands explore, trailing over beautiful, smooth skin that it was possible no one had ever touched before; his sounds are a combination of unrestrained pleasure and frantic whispers of Lucifer’s name. “You’re a marvel, so perfect for me-”

Alastor’s grip tightens fractionally, the rhythm of his hips faltering against Lucifer’s until his whole body tenses. Teeth sink into Lucifer’s throat- not hard enough to draw blood, perhaps more of an anchor to reality as orgasm crashes into Alastor, muffled noises escaping where he holds delicate skin between his teeth. The baker’s grip is so much wetter as he spills over his fingers, a hot splash of release that decorates Lucifer’s abdomen and makes the glide of their cocks against each other sloppy.

The pain of the bite, the sudden slickness to the friction of Alastor’s hands holding their erections together is too much for Lucifer as well. He throws his head back, his groan directed at the ceiling as his orgasm rips through him, body burning like he’s been set ablaze from the inside out. Ecstasy claws its way through him, sharp bolts of it that start in his abdomen and flash through his limbs and brain like explosions while he spends himself as Alastor had, hot and wet across his fingers and their cocks.

Lucifer isn’t sure how long they sit there, simply breathing one another in before Alastor withdraws his teeth from the barber’s throat. “My apologies,” he murmurs into Lucifer’s ear, and the shiver that races down his frame has little to do with the chilled air that resides in the apartment. “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

“I have some idea,” Lucifer says on a laugh, slipping a hand into Alastor’s dark curls to pull him from the crook of his neck and look at him properly. He brushes sweaty strands away from his forehead, presses a soft kiss to his lips. “It was an intense moment for both of us- there’s no need to apologize for it. If anything, I should be apologizing; I said I would court you properly before we did anything more and I’ve given in to the first temptation you offered me.”

Alastor scoots himself backwards on Lucifer’s lap, grimacing at the mess that still rests between them. “You’re the one who chose to name yourself after the origin of sin in Eden; perhaps I was counting on that.” He winks before he climbs out of Lucifer’s space entirely, grabbing a doily from the sofa arm to haphazardly wipe himself down before he slips through the door back into the barbershop.

Lucifer hears him speak, and the dopey smile still on his face from the linger aftershocks of pleasure fades when he remembers what lay on the other side of that door- what he and Alastor now had to race to fix before anyone came looking. 

“Oh dear,” Alastor exclaimed, and Lucifer could picture the worried crease in his eyebrow at the carnage. “What a mess!”

Act 1:  Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧 Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6  🥧Chapter 7 🥧 Chapter 8 🥧 Chapter 9

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Hey I read your Becky/Ambriel foc recently and was wondering how you go about writing the voices of characters who aren't in shows a lot. I feel Becky does have a distinct voice (which you nailed) but for Ambriel (and other characters you have written) did you just watch over her scenes or do you just go for it?

Like there's fandoms I've been in for 2 years and I wouldn't feel able to wrote the main characters' voices right.

Like ultimately when it comes to femslash (and all fic but especially femslash) it's better to write it bad than not at all but I would still appreciate knowing how you go about if that's okay to ask

I love talking about the writing process!! This got long and it's a big scattered mess of thoughts <3 it's hard to pin down a process because all of these thoughts and the actual writing of the piece happen concurrently so, chicken, egg, you know.

First of all, worrying about voice should really be an editing job, not a "writing the first draft" concern, in my opinion. Dean can sound like "good lord, why, is that my old chum Castiel? I do believe it is! Come, come, old chap, let us break burgers together and I shall tell thee of my frankly untenable week" and Cas can reply "bet" and you can put in square brackets [FIX THIS] and keep on trucking. I know this is hard to do. I too will pause on tricky sentences. Square brackets are my best friend. [Add Dean-ism] [insert joke] [reference that means "uh oh!]. But! To actually answer!

A particular character's voice is (unforch) something you can only fully develop through writing more of them and figuring out who they are to you. I used to be very stilted trying to figure out Cas’s voice, and then I wrote a lot of him and read a lot of other people's thoughts about him and thought about his actions in canon and now he's the easiest person for me to write!

What's more important than the surface level character-isms, is that they have depth and are consistent. Does the content of what they're saying make sense with the life they've led. Like, I don't think that my take on Meg really sounds all that much like canon Meg for example. But she is consistent within the fics I put her in, and shares enough snark with canon Meg that it works, AND she has motivations, reactions and ideas that are different to the other characters in the fic. It's like a cheat code, if two characters have different reactions to one event, that makes it come off like they have different voices.

Some other cheat codes: have one of them make a ton of references, and the other speak plainly (dean and sam core! but you can do that for most duos); have them make references to different things (tv vs classic literature, sci-fi vs fantasy); have one of them tell sillyjokes and the other tell dry jokes (destiel core...). Contrasts makes characters seem more separate.

For voice, I'll only rewatch if I don't remember how they said anything at all or if I remember they had a particularly distinctive way of speaking. If I needed to put Gabriel in a scene, I'd probably watch his episodes again. I've found if I do watch an episode to remind myself it can psyche me out of actually writing anything for them—Ava for example, I'm intimidating myself out of writing her at the moment lol.

For establishing a (deeper) character, you first need the basics:

Ambriel, helpfully, fits some basic tropes. Office worker. Apathetic. Angel in the vein of Castiel, Hannah and Anna (which is to say, autistic). I have a LOT of practice writing Castiel, and Ambriel is like Castiel didn't have his drive to help people or love of humanity. She is therefore: straightforward (angel), mildly bored (office worker) and her biggest want is for nothing to change for her (apathetic).

It's then how you build on the collection of tropes that makes them a Character. You figure out how to explain some of the above traits/situations they're in. What is her history? (She went to earth and didn't like it) Who is around her? (Kaisiel, whom she resists making a real connection with due to her apathy) Why is she apathetic? (It's repressed fear of punishment).

Something that really, really helps with unique characterisation for me is a little silly. Give them a niche interest. Something not mentioned in the source material at all, or is only briefly mentioned. Castiel is into the same sitcoms as me (and taxidermy). Ambriel is into data storage. Ava is into collecting small furniture.

And then go, why are they into this?

Castiel bc he loves to experience hunanity at a safe distance (and he likes to rummage).

Ambriel because it's within the scope of her job so is 'safe', which she takes pride in (and which I advanced from "pushing a button" because I thought that was stupid and bad world building 💙).

Ava wants to feel a sense of control in a world that is very much out of her control.

This not only gives you better insight into them as a character, it also makes them YOURS. that's not the cw's Ambriel, that's mine, she's into data storage, so it doesn't matter if she's off-model because no one will know, because she's mine.

As with Castiel's love of tv, you can also do this with canon interests, just hone in on specifically what it is and specifically why they like it. Dean doesn't like "music" he likes rock because it makes him feel powerful and affirms his masculinity and has a connection to his family being together. Charlie doesn't like "fantasy" she likes Lord Of The Rings and The Wizard of Oz because she values escapism and rooting for the little guy (these are also interests of Sam's!).

Plus - making it more niche and specific makes it SEEM like they have this rich inner life and history even if you don't bother to figure out why.

1) "Geraldine sighed and took the dog for a walk" vs

2) "Geraldine sighed, saved her game and took the dog for a walk" vs

3) "Geraldine sighed, saved her game of Pokemon Mystery Dungeon X, and took the dog for a walk."

Now!! Actually! 2 and 3 are where "voice" can come in. Is the POV character someone who doesn't care or know much about video games? Then 2 is the one for them. Does the POV character care a lot about being accurate, know Geraldine well enough to know what she's playing, and/or are knowledgeable about video games? Option 3! Or, bonus option 4, perhaps they're disdainful of video games/annoyed with Geraldine: "Geraldine sighed, saved her little game with the pretend animals, and finally took our very real and very whiny dog for a walk".

So!! We have a character. How do we make her distinct from the other characters in the fic? Build them concurrently!

Ambriel is apathetic about community THEREFORE Becky is desperate for it (and can't hold onto it). Becky is over-verbose, so Ambriel keeps it short (and is misunderstood as a result). Ambriel believes deep down that she doesn't matter, so Becky deep down believes that she (both herself and Ambriel) is special and important and deserves worship.

So. I think you were expecting this but. think about their motivations and then just start writing them and it'll work out.

okay I gotta go make dinner. does this help???? MWAH

[thistaleisabloodyone]

BOT2024: Jr. Exile vs. Neo Exile exchanges

In the lead up to BOT2024, they are releasing profiles for each member and one question is "What Jr.Exile/Neo Exile group would you want to join for a week?" @banqanas suggested that someone make it into a chart and I am nothing if not a glutton for punishment, so.

There are more charts below, breaking it into smaller sections. Below the cut so no one kills me for flooding their dash with this 🤣 Comparisons by group and some extras I found amusing.

Quick note - I stuck with the officially assigned colors off of the profiles for most groups, except BBZ and LIL. Originally, BBZ was orange and LIL was a slightly different shade of red from WHH, but. No one got blue and they gave me two shades of red and I just refused 😂 So I changed BBZ to blue and LIL to orange.

First image is where the members of that group are choosing to go, second image is who is joining that group.

RAMPAGE

RMPG has the singlest large clump of 'members choosing the same group', with Riku, Shohei and Itsuki all choosing BBZ. Kaisei ignored the spirit of the question and answered RMPG, so there's a small 'lol' between his name and the arrow because it amuses me.

RMPG has the most members choosing RMPG, with 8 (including Kaisei 😂 He will never live that down, this is his Mongoose 😂)

FANTASTICS

FANTA has one of the smallest numbers for people wanting to join, with two 😅

BALLISTIK BOYZ

BBZ has the most clumps of members - 3 from RMPG, 2 from KP. Notably, no singles here, it's all groups of members choosing BBZ.

PSYCHIC FEVER

Not much to comment on here 😅 3 picked PsyFe.

LIL LEAGUE

The only people to elect to join LIL are Riki and Ryuta from BBZ. Damn, poor LIL 😂

WOLF HOWL HARMONY

More people want to join Wolf Howl Harmony than there are members of the group 🤣 There are 4 Wolfies and 5 people volunteering to join them for a week 😂

THE JET BOY BANGERZ

-double checks I didn't miss someone who wants to join TJBB- Nope, four people picked TJBB. I still love Nosuke's reason for wanting to join Kid Pheno.

KID PHENOMENON

Kid Pheno gets my love for wanting to join the two groups I placed adjacent. I also adore the fact that Matora picked KP because Kohaku's there and Kohaku went "Brotherly love? What's that" and chose BBZ 😂

KP also has the most varied collection of members choosing them - of the 5 members picking them, no two are from the same group.

EXTRAS I FOUND AMUSING

THE HOARDS

Every group where multiple members picked the same group. Just for funsies. RMPG and Kid Pheno almost making an entirely new BBZ between themselves.

EQUAL EXCHANGES

Uh, unsure how to describe beyond 'equal exchange'? 😅 The five pairs where two members essentially switch. Shogo chose KP, Kensuke chose RMPG. Hiroto chose RMPG, Makoto chose WHH. Ghee chose PSYFE, Ryushin chose WHH. Sota chose KP, Soma chose FANTA. Rui chose TJBB, Kota chose RMPG.

RMPG has the highest number of equal exchanges, with 3.

NOT A CHART, BUT...

I decided to look at how many members stayed within their subgroup - so how many Jr.Exile members chose other Jr.Exile groups, how many Neo Exile members chose other Neo Exile groups.

Of 20 Jr.Exile members so far, 8 chose to stay in Jr.Exile, so 40% stayed within their subgroup. (RMPG accounted for more than half of those - Riku, Itsuki, Shohei, Kaisei and Kenta all chose fellow Jr.Exile groups, with Masa, Ren and Jimmy rounding out the last 4 places. Notably, no one in FANTA chose a fellow Jr.Exile group)

Of 14 Neo Exile member so far, 4 chose to stay in Neo Exile, so 28.5% stayed within their subgroup. (TJBB accounts for 3 - Nosuke, Shigetora and Takumi - with Matora rounding out as the fourth)

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

1/2 So this is driving me crazy cause I only noticed it after my hundredth rewatch of khux, but do all the cutscenes involving the union leaders only take place in like 4~ish days? I know UX is suppose to take place over a year, but when looking at the cutscenes with just the union leaders I think I counted like 4 days lol. I think the first day is from when they meet in the graveyard to when they enter the foretellers chamber for the first time cause Skuld tells them "not the touch anything".

no yeah you’re on the right track here!!

We have no hard confirmation for the timeline of…any of the union leaders scenes, really. But we do know that a lot of the scenes do happen in tandem and consecutively or like you said, within the span of a few days. Let me follow things with you…

Shift Pride’s the tricky part because that could’ve happened at literally any point after they began working on the Spirit Pets. Could’ve been a week, a month, a year. I like to think at least 3 months passed offscreen to account for them settling into their new responsibilities, getting to know each other better, and Player going to some disney worlds in between. The way they talk in the Shift Pride scene also suggests that a “substantial” amount of time has passed since they met at the graveyard. Like for example, Ephemera asks if they all remember reading about Shift Pride in the rulebook. He wouldn’t be asking if that they’d all just read it a few days prior, you know what I mean?

Following along the next scenes…yeah, it checks out. Lauriam meets Elrena, then returns to the tower. Then I assume he meets Player later the day after, since Eph says he wants to spend the day with them (implying “an entire new day”). Then the glitches happen and Eph and Player go off to Game Central Station. I’d guesstimate Eph is there for the rest of that day, and returns to Daybreak later that night.

Everything that happens after Eph returns from GCS (aka the impostor leader stuff, Maleficent vs Lauriam, Lauriam’s breakdown) happens concurrently with the rest of Player’s time in Candy Kingdom, which could reasonably be an additional 1-2 days maybe? And then they return to Daybreak just in time for the fight against Darkness

The next possible timeskip we get is after Ven’s sacrifice, where he’s unconscious. I can’t imagine it’s more than a day though, since Darkness just informed them that the world is ending, so there’d be that sense of urgency to get the lifeboats and everything all set up. I’d say maybe a few hours passed. And everything that follows in the finale happens consecutively.

So if we wanna approximately add it up…the union leaders’ collective screen time would encapsulate a week or less than a week’s worth of in-universe time. (4 days like you said seems reasonable, I’m just overshooting it a bit to provide some leeway.)

So in conclusion, we only got to see about one week of the time the union leaders spent together. Which is really insane to think about if you ask me!!

[ask-missparker]

Nice to meet you, where’ve you been? / Once Upon A Time AU fic ⚔️

—> Inspired by the Pilot episode of the series to give a quick glimpse of our characters, well some of them.

Summary: In Fighter-Town, Maine everyone is cursed to believe they are normal people. However there are certain things that are left unclear and to be discussed. So Riley and Belladonna, are on the case suggesting if a change would start to stir things up?

Context: Riley is the daughter of Little Red Riding Hood (Rick Banner) and Belladonna is the biological daughter of Ethan & adopted daughter of Liane

Pairings: Snow!Amelia x Charming!Nikolai, Prince of Hearts!Ethan x Maleficent!Liane, Red!Rick x Huntress!Luna

Note: I changed some last names cause of the curse lol

~~~

It was the late afternoon in Boston, as the dimly lit apartment shined with beer bottles and the sound GTA video game playing in the background, as Ethan lay across the couch. He had a week off from work and wanted to enjoy it when suddenly there was a knock on his door, as he stood up to answer it.

Once he opened it, he was met with a short tan Latina with bangs and a black coat. She held a serious face, raising an eyebrow as she held her hands behind her back and asked, “Are you Ethan Long?

“Yes? Are you here for something?” He replies, holding the doorknob.

“You’re smarter than you look. I’m Belladonna, you’re daughter.”

“I..huh?”

She didn’t give him a moment to collect his thoughts as she walked inside the apartment hearing him saying a couple of things. She sighed and turned around to ask, “More than a few years ago you gave up a baby girl for adoption and that was me. And no, I’m not here for money. It’s not worth it.”

“So why are you here? Where are your parents?” He asked narrowing his eyes, picking up his cell phone.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’ll tell them you kidnapped me if you call the cops.”

“And they’ll believe you cause I’m your birth father. Clever. What do you want?”

“I need you to take me downtown to an address, to pick someone, and then I want you to come home with me.”

“You’re good, real good. Look you’re not going anywhere expect the police station because I can tell your lying.”

“I ain’t. Don’t call the police, just come home with me and then you’ll never want to leave.”

“Why’s that?”

“My town has one of the best diners in Maine.”

“Alright let’s go.”

After a short ride downtown, Ethan stopped at a apartment building and watched his daughter get out of the car. Belladonna looked at her watch, as she knocked at the door of the apartment knowing time was ticking and Riley wouldn’t hold them occupied forever. She sighed and waited to notice a tall teenager around 2 years old than her opened the door.

He raised an eyebrow and looked around the hallway for a moment before facing her. He was confused not recognizing her from anywhere as a shiver of fear came into his spine, he’s been on the run for a few months now trying to lay low wondering if the agency sent her here.

“Hey eyes over here, dude.” Said Belleadonna with a short half smile, trying to be kind here.

“Look, I uh, don’t want to cause an trouble here..” He replied, as he tried to regain his composure quickly.

“Good to here. I just want to give you something and then ask you a few questions.”

“Are they drugs?”

“No. Do I look like a pothead to you?”

“No…?”

She opened her black bag and handed him a note. It said ‘Baby boy left the doorstep of a adoption house. I know who you are but you need to trust me.’, referring to Joshua Nolan’s small new article within the small note. He awkwardly stood there eyeing the young girl who seemed to know more than she lead on.

“What is going on?” He asked, leading her inside his small rental apartment that belonged to a friend of his.

She glanced over the place and responded, “Do you believe in fairytales Mr. Nolan?”

“I read my fair share of them. Why?”

“What if I told you there is more to the tales.”

“Okay I’ll bite. I spend my life watching tv and movies, anything to escape reality.”

“Then you’re coming with me.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry?”

“You’re living on your own and you just said, you rather escape this time. So either you come with me or you’ll regret it.” She commented with a serious tone, “Names Belladonna, and your Joshua Nolan. We’re very different yet but somehow alike. There’s a place called Fighter-Town, in Maine, where I’m from and you’re welcome to come with me on the fact that you’re from there.”

“From there how?”

“Our parents used to be friends but then some stuff happened and well..here we are.”

“My parents are gone.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Eh, well not all parents are the best..but do you believe in the case of hope in what I’m saying?”

“…yes? Don’t take this for granted, Belladonna, but, you’ll always want your parents around even if they aren’t the best..”

They were silent for a moment. Belladonna wasn’t one for sympathy but she could tell he was alone for a good part of his life, as she stayed nodding. Telling him to grab his coat as she explained along the way down to her birth father’s car a few of things as the young teen just hummed in response.

Ethan was a little more than surprised that he had 2 teenagers in his car, driving them to Maine but he just shrugged what else could he lose? To be honest, it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him that week. Belladonna held onto a copy of her book, as Ethan asked what is it in her hand as she bluntly that they are fairytale. It may sound stupid but it’s true, the whole town where they are going to is unlike any other because of the secrets they hold. Joshua heard her the whole time and wondered a few things but stayed silent.

“You got problems kid.” Ethan said driving with a small chuckle.

She nods and adds, “Yeah, well, we all do. And you’re gonna fix ‘em.”

——

Meanwhile in Fighter-Town, Liane was pacing back and forth between the front yard of her home. Rick was watching her, sitting on the couch with his daughter who was pretending to mind her own business but he knew Riley was covering for Belladonna. The town sheriff, Erik, was trying to calm her down asking for answers but got nothing in return.

“How could she do that? Just run off and not say anything!” Liane said stopped in her tracks when the sheiff put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a mini glare, “..sorry. Where could she have gone?”

Erik rolled his eyes and scoffed, “She’s a teenager, Felton. They rebel more than most.”

Riley was playing with her nails and shrugged, “..maybe she’s at the library. We all know she loves to read.”

Rick scoffed with a half hearted comment, “Sweetie, your not helping. You kids are always up to something, for the 8th time where is Belladonna?”

“Well..”

“I’m right here..” They all turned around hearing the young brunette voice, being accompanied by Ethan standing on the sidewalk with Joshua who was playing with the pieces of paper in his pockets.

Liane ran up to them, almost breaking her kitten heel and pulled her daughter into a hug as the young brunette have her a pat on the back calling her mother dramatic. Liane asked, “What happened?! Where did you go? I was worried sick..”

“I found my birth father..and a uh, pen pal.” Belladonna repiled, glances over her shoulder to look at Joshua and then nods at Riley.

“Y-your Bella’s birth father?”

Ethan half smiled and shrugged sheepishly, “Hi.”

Rick was looking at the young boy who was mentioned to be a pen pal raising an eyebrow. Erik looked at Ethan and felt something striking familiar wash over him but couldn’t place it as he said, “Hey. Uh, how about I take Belladonna inside then go about my rounds? I’m Erik Lawson by the way.”

Ethan nodded, “Ethan Long sir, nice to meet ya. And this is uh, Joshua.”

Liane eyed the guy for a moment, something shifted in the way he presented himself as she smiled, “Well thank you for bringing her back, I guess. Would you like to come inside? Get a drink?”

The two eyes met as the man nodded following her and the sheriff inside the the house.

However. Joshua waved shyly with a grin, he bounced around foster home to foster home before meeting a lot of people but his confidence wasn’t ever this low, he was mainly trying to take it all in. He glanced at Rick who was eyeing him for a long moment, as if he was suspicious of the young boy.

The young brunette straighten up and gave a small smile, “Hey. She came all this way to meet me I guess..I thought it was best Belladonna went home..”

Rick could tell he was being somewhat honest and asked, “You agreed to come along to see her come home? What’s in it for you kid?”

“N-no, nothing sir..I have nowhere else to go and she uh kinda invited me..”

“I have a bit of a superpower, we can call it that, I can tell when a kid is lying. Why are you really here?”

“Like I said, I have nowhere else to go, living on my own with a old friend..and it’s been a weird night.”

Rick wasn’t just a father but a teacher, he has seen students of all kind walk in and out his doorstep to his classroom. By the look in the young brunette’s eyes and how odd his daughter has been acting, he could tell they wanted to be cautious yet kind to him. This kid was alone but yet he doesn’t seem to want to go back home anytime soon, maybe make a friend.

“Okay.” The blonde simply said, “I don’t trust anyone and I know for a fact you ain’t Belladonna’s boyfriend.”

“No sir i uhm. I ain’t that..” The brunettes said, fixing his backpack and then noticed the young blonde girl eyeing him as well.

The blonde had a tiny smirk on her face and asked, “He can stay at Grandpa’s diner, right? The bed and breakfast.”

Rick nodded and lightly pushed the young boy into the direction of the diner, telling him to stay out of trouble or else. Rick walked walked away with Riley, passing by the record store to notice his favorite short pink headed girl who shyly waved at him. And her son who was playing with the record in hand. Riley just grinned to herself.

As Ethan and Liane were chatting at her house that night, Joshua found himself wondering the town as he lead to the direction of the diner. There was something cozy but chilling about the town so late in the evening, he has been on the run for a few years now never staying for too long or just not finding anything that called him name.

And here is he is, wearing a coat and carrying his backpack being invited to visit a new place. Never done better. He had nothing going on for him back in Boston, he was never once to stay in school too often. It was new and freshly made but he didn’t want to get his hopes up just yet.

As he walked into the warm Diner also known as The Bed & Breakfast, he sat down pulling out the piece of paper left by Belladonna eariler and silently smiled softly seeing she left a phone number just in case. He quietly asked for a room and then went downstairs to get something to eat from the diner, hearing the plenty of people talk.

One of the workers there, Melissa smiled asking, “What can I get you kid?”

“Uh, um..a glass of water and um what do you got?” Joshua asked back with a kind smile.

“Hm it’s a school night and on Thursday’s our meals are half off for teen, how about some fries?”

“And a milkshake to dip it in?”

Melissa was entertained by his response with that being a classic move and chuckled, “My kind of kid! Coming right up, uh..?”

“Joe.” He answered, giving her his nickname growing up instead of his real one.

“Joe. Short, sweet and quick to say.”

“Yeah something like that..”

She returned with his milkshake and smile, returning back to the counter to toss some M&Ms into her mouth. She looked at the kid noticing that he might be new, she did see a dark navy brown car drive into the town earlier but didn’t suspect he drove it. She shrugged.

———

The next day at the sheriff station, in came a blonde followed by the blonde from last night, Liane, shouting that Belladonna left again as Erik tried to calm her down again.

“She left again! Cassie tell him! Oh god—” Liane yelled then stopped noticing Ethan standing there behind a cell door and she gasped, “Oh my what happened to you?”

“It was raining, I hit the side of the road..and saw a wolf. Yet, you’re Sheriff thinks I was drunk.” Ethan explained, leaning against the bar and sighed, “..where did the kid go?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing. I swear it’s hard raising a teenager. I thought she was in school! Did you have something to do with it?”

“Me?! Honey, I have not seen or heard of her since I dropped her off at your place. Not even her little friend. But I can help you find her.”

Erik looked back at Ethan and furrow his brows, “You’re gonna help find her?”

“Uh yeah, I was an officer for a while. I track people down for a living and used to bring them back to the building.”

“She was probably with her little friends or her favorite place. You can look there if she’s not at school.”

Cassie was watching Ethan for a few short second then spoke up, “You can try the library..if students aren’t volunteering or hanging out at the mall, some at the library or the park.”

After a few moment of strong brickering between Erik and Ethan, he let the man go find the kid as Cassie went to bring Liane over to her flower shop for some tea to calm the nerves. Ethan went to the park first and didn’t find anything then decided to take a look at the library which was hugely interesting to him. He was always a bit of a bookworm and guessed Belladonna was the same way.

He looked over to notice a young man sitting at the front set of tables reading, who looked annoyed to be distracted from his book. Ethan noticed the man just pointed to the 5th row of books in the corner as that’s where he found his daughter.

Belladonna was reading a text and looked up to notice her birth father and groaned, “Can’t I have 5 minutes of silence please?”

“And here I thought you were happy to see me.” Ethan responded, taking a seat behind her, “Why aren’t you in school?”

“Because it’s boring, the teachers are decently nice but it’s not as interesting..you stayed?”

“Yeah, well, I was knocked out cold last night and woke up in a cell. Go figure. Why do you keep running away? You’re mother, despite her dramatic flares of action, seems pretty nice.”

“…she tries. She’s busy with work at the jewelry store and uh, she’s not who she says she is.”

“Who is she then?”

“…uh, Maleficent. She’s alright. Kinda strict and drama, uh she can be happy at time but always on edge other.”

“Because you can away.”

“No one gets it.”

Ethan paused taking a moment to think and looked directly at her, “I do, believe it or not. When your young, you feel like you alone and no one completely understands it, but yourself so you tend to stay in your own lane instead, parents can be tough at times may not always make the right decisions..so, as bad as you think she may be, she’s trying her best here, she wants you. That’s all anyone could ever ask for. You get where I’m getting?”

She thought she could ease him into the fairytale thing as she nodded, “..yeah. I do, i see what your saying. In the book, she’s a hardass but sorta nice when you get to know her. You know her.”

“I just met her.”

“Yeah, you just met her..but sometimes you meet someone you feel like you know ‘em.”

“Whatever, kiddo. I just met her and yes she’s seems like a piece of work but give her a break her.”

They decided to back to Liane’s place to smooth things over. Belladonna picked out a couple of books aside the women she already carried with her, going to the front desk with Ethan. The same guy from earlier, was at the checkout process, who they found out was named Cole stood there. Ethan decided to buy a couple of books for her.

As he was ringing him up, the guy Cole, asked, “Name?”

“Uh, Ethan Long and Belladonna.” He repiled with a nod handing his card as he looked around the room.

Cole blinked and paused for a slight moment, taking a peek of a breather as he smiled, “Ethan and Belladonna. I heard of her..but you, are you new?”

“Yeah, uh I’m new. Just here for her.”

“Alright good. Enjoy your stay.”

The father and daughter walked out of the library as Cole waited to stumbled into his chair, almost letting out a cough at the wave of realization hit him. That was his brother. A couple of memories came flowing back as he did as he took another breath. He remembered his father pushing his brother into a wardrobe, well hearing about it, as he was confused and slightly worried. Which is rare cause he was never worried for his brother.

Then it clicked for him what Erik did back then and the fact that he had a daughter.

He remembered that he casted a memory tickling curse on him to snap him out of it if and when he heard one of the children’s name. But, what he didn’t expect was it to be his own freaking niece?! Oh god—he’s related to Maleficent legally! Cole thanked the fact that he owned half of the town’s library because then he was able to slip out of there and go to his shop to pour himself a long ass couple of drinks.

He was gonna need all that information to sit in for a while.

~~~

Joshua was on his own at the park, watching a couple of kids after school play as he snacked on bag of blueberries when he felt a pair of eyes spot him. He looked up from his phone and almost jumped out of his pants as the same pair of eyes from the night before was staring at him.

This time she was alone, a part of him thanked god because he was kinda scared of her father but won’t admit it. She sat down on the park bench beside her, wearing her school uniform as her feet dangled above the ground. She must’ve been 8 years old, maybe even 10 because she looked kinda older. But he could be wrong. He noticed she was holding a stuff rabbit in one hand and a book in the other.

“Uh..hi?” Joshua asked, giving her a tiny smile as he eyed her movements.

“Hi! You are welcome.” She replied with a soft little grin, “..for recommending Grandpa’s diner, i mean.”

“Oh right, thanks for that. I would’ve just slept anywhere but thank you..whatcha got there?”

“Oh! My storybook! D-did Bella tell you?”

Riley held it up with a smile that made her look younger than most that moment, almost full of sweet memories and spirt, holding up the front page with such determination. She explained how theses stories are real, well they feel very real to her, especially the ones about her parents. She said her daddy was little red riding hood.

He stopped her for a moment, “You’re father is little red..riding hood? Like with the red cape, the grandparents and big bad wolf?”

“Yup!” She replies like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “..well um..Bella is better at this than i am..”

“Try to explain it to me then..in your own way, of course.”

“Well she says that the stories here are very different from the movies. Not very simple or tr-trad-traditional..they have twists to them..like Red Riding Hood is a guy and he has a grandpa who is very sweet!”

“Uh honey, how do you know Red is your father?”

“I just do. I believe it.”

“Hmm..”

“Red Riding Hood is very kind, strong, cool and protective of everyone. Like he knows a lot. But a little silly and goofy! Just like my daddy.”

What Riley said all was true, she just believes it to be true. One of the sweetest and most beautiful gifts children of all ages have is this sense of hope, of belief in something, a strong feeling in their heart. You can’t always take it away from that but it will come back no matter what.

Joshua kinda wanted to believe what she did and he didn’t have the heart to break her spirt, seeing how much her eyes sparkled with pride. So he simply nodded, “Hm, alright I’ll humor you sweetie, anything else about your book?”

“Well I’m in it. Cause he is my father..” She said with a smile, confidence laced in her movements and continued, “A lot of people are in it..like you! You’re in this book.”

“Yeah right. I don’t think I’m in a fairytale sweetie, i think i would know that.”

“Well duh! You don’t remember cause you were a baby.”

“Huh?”

“I think time in this town is frozen for some people here. It’s why everyone looks so young, they all age slower.”

“Hmm..let’s say i am in this book, who am i?”

“You’re parents are Snow White and Prince Charming.”

Joshua snorted and his body softly shake with laughter but noticed Riley was serious, a look similar to her father but her eyes were of someone else. Possibly her mother, who he doesn’t know about yet.

“O-oh you’re serious?” He asked, as he stopped laughing as he started to grow curious.

“Mhm!” She replies with a loud hum.

“But I’m not as white as snow or have jet back hair..?”

“Duh! Different types of story, it does look like the normal thing.”

“I’ll see it when I believe it, sweetie. But I’ll keep an open mind.”

“Good! I gotta go we are have chicken fingers tonight.”

Before he could ask anything else, she was off the bench and running away to say goodbye to her friends, being a set of redhead twins, as she went on her merry way. He chuckled seeing her and the other kids, he then realized he hasn’t had anything to properly eat yet then rushed off to Grandpa’s diner for lunch.

As he made his way to the center of the town, passing the streets and stories buzzing with children, teens and adults, he realized he stepped on something. He picked it up, realizing it was an earbud. A set of blackberry colored earbuds, as if the someone was rushing off and it fell out of their pocket. He looked up to see someone a few feet away from him jogging, as if he was late for something.

He called out to them, jogging up to the guys at a similar pace calling out him again, until he turned around to face realizing he was talking to him. The moment he turned around he was met a brunette with short styled curls, a jean jacket, black jeans and a white sweater underneath. His brown eyes were dark yet rich with color, as he pulled down his hoodie a hint of a tattoo could be seen. He was holding a stake of paperwork underneath his armpit and a coffee in the other, as a backpack swinging over one side.

“Yeah?” He asked breathless from his running, a soft smile on his cheeks.

Joshua could help but return the soft smile, “You dropped this? Your headphones.”

“Oh shit. I didn’t even realize it, thanks man.”

“No problem. You should be lucky I didn’t break them with my boot.”

“Yeah, well it’s not the first time i lost theses headphones and won’t be the last.”

“That I can relate to. When you headed off to in such a hurry..? Don’t mind to ask.”

The young man huffed and gave a slight crooked smile, “Errands to run. I have to drop stuff off at town hall, then pick up some food and uh, buy some more gasoline.”

“Yikes, tough break. Sorry about that.” Joshua replied offering him a kind smile, understanding he must be busy.

“Yeah well, gotta make a living somehow. Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”

“Uhh yeah, not a student—here. Not a student here, kinda out of town.”

“Out of town, that’s odd…ohh, you’re the one kid i heard Melissa was telling me about.”

“Come again?”

“Don’t worry, she’s a waitress who is very observant, she likes to gossip a tiny bit.”

He felt a little at least with that part, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. The guy smiled, something about this kid made him not feel uncomfortable or anything, like a familiar feeling. But then the thought quickly rushed away, as he noticed something in his eyes.

He spoke up, “Oh hey, like i said don’t worry about her. She’s all good! If your not at school, are you here with your parents or something?”

“Nope. I’ve been on my own, it’s cool.” He repiled with a shrug feeling at ease with him for a moment, “Just staying for a while.”

“Well if you do, then you will love our record store and bakery.”

“Duly noted.”

The man was about to say something else when he got a text message on his phone that he ignored for a second and looked back at him with a apologetic smile. The teen seemed to get the sign and nodded with understanding. He apologized betting they might cross paths again, just as he was about to walk away he realized something. It was silly but still.

The older brunette softly shouted, “Hey?”

“Hm?” Hummed the younger brunette in response.

“What’s your name?”

“Um, Joshua Nolan.”

“Nikolai. Nikolai Hawkins.”

Joshua smiled, “Nice to meet you, Nikolai.”

“Nice to meet you too, Joshua.” He replied before running off to answer the message he got a couple of minutes ago.

———

—> Sooo I may or may not gotta a little carried away with the fic (sorry if it’s a little all over the place oops 😅 ). What did you think?

=> I really wanna do some inspired by moments from episodes like ‘Snow Falls’ and ‘Red-Handed’, idk just trying to remember my favorite episodes. Idk yet let’s see how fics I will roll out 🤷‍♀️

—> Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @mallowbee4 @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @thecavalrywife and etc

[foggypeacestrawberry]

Dragonfish Reloaded

I continue the story of the WaterFireGod, for part 1 click here

(1) Remember the gate, where the humanoid aliens came through?:

(2) It changed a lot after them humanoids arived -

(3) The second invasion started at dawn. It all happened very fast:

Some very mighty guards came through the gate...

(4) ...and them tiny fragile blossoms, that arrived earlier with the humanoids, grew within seconds into all kinds of - plants?! :

(5) At the same time, a second gate opened…

(6) … spitting out some more "visitors"…

(7) … all kinds of pretty agressive fellas!

(8) The whole garden of our little unnamed sim changed into a nightmare.

Well, he called them, and they came, right?

(9) They forced him to sit down and stay put on an alienesh-crystal-stone-stool-thingy…

(10) …and startet talking…

(11) … to their GOD! The WaterFireGod. Our well known dragonfish.

(12) Then they told our little unnamed sim, that they will return to their home planet through that portal, together with their god...

(13) … right after they solved this kind-a-tricky problem, that they just learned about from the little fish - sry, your highness, of course -

(14) Turns out, unfortunatly they can not just kill the sim, and leave with their god, as they intended…

(15) … because their god can not survive without our little unnamed sim, due to the bond that exists between them. This bond must be broken of course. Or else!

(16) (Moment of akward silence)

(17) They startet negotiating. Meanwhile it was bright daylight.

(18) They discussed during the whole day…

(19) …and also the whole next night.

(20) It turned out, there is more to the good old dragonfish than we ever imagined:

When he spits fire unterwater, while living with a sim that he has a very special bond with, the fire sinks down on the ground, and turnes into gold.

And you know what they say about dragons… they protect treasure.

Next time I will tell you:

What kind of bond the sim + the dragonfish do have,

what the sim is doing with all this gold?!,

and what the "Fisch des Grauens*" has to do with all that

ITS YOUR TURN NOW!

I want you to have the option to influence the story. You can choose 1 of these 3 options, what you want me to put into the story next:

No 1 - Someone will die

OR

No 2 - No one will die

OR

No 3 - Something will happen that has to do with owls.

Just write it into the comments until the End of April, then we will wrap it up and count the voices for 1/2/3!

* Please someone tell me how this fish is called in English, I couldn´t figure that out! (the dark-greenish fella living in the ponds of graveyards, killing all other fishes, and that can be used for prolonging live) - Or maybe I´ll just make up a new name for it :-D , you can recognize it anyway by the pictures I will take then.

The mods I used here for the first time:

Asparagus densiflorus, from alex_stanton1983

Lotus Lamp, from 4Sims

Floor-Lamp Skoll, from sim_man123

From @murfeelee :

TW3 Archespore Miniset

Skyrim Blackreach Giant Mushrooms as Outdoor Lights Miniset

AMR Small Plants Group

Junk Pile as Coin Pile

Deniisu_TS4 to TS3 RoM Rug Medallion as Floor Light

Thank you, @murfeelee! Love your stuff since I played the first time with the telvanni-village, and that was on my old computer (meanwhile, this computer I´m using now is pretty old).

I will also continue the 10-things-challange, weeks ago I already picked the items for the next round - but at the moment, I want to finish that alien-story first!

And yes, I still have to finish the sorting of my mod-collection. That has highest priority, not just because I want to continue playing, but also because of this 10-things-challange I started. For both I need a well-sorted, richly filled mod-folder (lol).

Well. The last weekend I spend downloading nearly everything that Murfeelee ever published :-D ! Just the sorting of this murfeelee-collection alone will take a week, or two, or whatever it takes :-D.

I started yesterday evening with the Letter A. Today I will do the B… like in "babysteps". Like in "Baby Yoda as Teddybear", that is the first mod beginning with a "B" in my murfeel-folder.

Just imagine, this green little fella, how well he would have fit in my alien-story, if I would have known this mod a week before.

You all have a good time :-)

Oh NO now I need to do the tagging. I still have NO clue how that really works here on tumblr, although I always watch you other simmers out there, and try to get it.

[rgr-pop]

we had literally just had a user services meeting where my supervisor said the library decided not to put any high time sensitive stacks project on the agenda for the summer. she was like please use your vacation time!

the next monday at 3pm our director read our meeting notes, became mad, and decided unilaterally to assign us (just me and my supervisor plus my students if i have them) to shift the whole general collection by august starting now. more or less out or nowhere (i spent last summer and fall outliningwhat we’d need to do and getting trained up while i was creating a whole oversize collection from scratch but was told up til a few weeks ago that it wouldn’t go on the calendar—primarily because we don’t have the staff.)

we asked for the plan and he said “shifting ldoesn’t need a plan. just move the books. distribute the evenly across the shelves with each shelf at 60-75% fill capacity.” (WHICH and okay math?)

please if you’ve ever planned or participated in a collection shift chime in. not sure i can possibly explain how deranged this is

fun fact TS isn’t sure how many volumes are in our collection due to not being inventoried in about a decade. the director didn’t have a sense within 10,000 of how many books he was asking us to move even if a shift was just moving books from one location to another (it’s not). we were gonna focus on missing and inventory over the summer (fun fact we have a missing list about SEVEN PERCENT OF THE COLLECTION!!!) it’s good practice to always measure the materials on the shelf for a shift but it’s essential when you don’t have a well maintained collection— the other way we would make the estimation of how to distribute a collection evenly would be to use a formula estimating volumes per linear inch in various collection types. but again we have a 7% missing collection lmao

so over the past two and a half workdays i’ve been working a 10 page project plan all by myself — planning stacks projects is not my job. i’m still a clerk with some extra technical duties on paper. i make about 24k in a year working part time. the people doing this task at msu make 2-3 times what i make. there are two administrators above me, one who is lying about the work itself and being insane (also the worst at his job or anyone alive), the other doesn’t know how to do any of this. and she’s dedicated herself to getting caught up and this makes me feel a million times better but in theory on principle i should not do this (he will make me “move the books” regardless sooo)

we have this thing in my unit called responsibility dollars you can apply for to get a small bonus for a project outside your job description. if i was full time i would be eligible for an extra $3.25 or so, but as part time i can only get $1.20. so onward requesting my $33 per week summer stipend.. my director might block admin from approving it because he doesn’t believe a plan is required. i should just move the books! (google how to plan a library shift if you’re interested in my work)

anyway the problem is that i really enjoy doing this and would love to do a good job at it. it’s not happening in august lol be real. what rows this man want us speed shelving for. TO WHAT END?? WHY?? i will see this through and start applying to archives jobs—the real core of the “thrown into the most chaotic situation imaginable and plan a lil system” field—it’s what i’m good at and i’m putting this stupid shit in my portfolio. all i actually want is to not have my work openly disrespected by a man who wants the library to literally crumble because he hates queer people so much ! he still by the way refuses to speak directly to me or read anything i produce 🤷‍♀️

my supervisor texted me this morning at 11 am asking me if i was at work (i was in the staff kitchen and didn’t see it til hours later bc i was AT WORK not ON MY PHONE and she didn’t use work communication) so now i’m paranoid that they’re watching my time, which is insane bc i’m so much more productive… he tried this last year too around the incident. challenged some hours i worked out of nowhere and said he didn’t remember me being here and i was like ok there’s nothing i can do to demonstrate that?? so i had to take hours i worked off my timecard. to my knowledge no one else but me is required to do time tracking or has had their time challenged —only Me who accused him of homophobic retaliation and got disciplined for it and can now get fired for any reaaaason :’) so anyway i worked til 11 pm monday and i will be here til 8 every night the rest of the week due to paranoia

[beardedmrbean]

Brother, want some news that made me big mad to hear?

In my hometown a couple weeks ago someone shot a California Condor and now the Games warden is tearing ass to get the guy that did it.

Got any fun facts about that bird to brighten the day or do you wanna suffer with me?

We finally got those off the critically endangered list a year or so ago I thought, ain't just gonna be the game warden going after him. Feds are gonna get in on that and not the FBI but one of the ones that actually does its job.

Wrong about the critically endangered, but we're getting there.

Here's a kinda weird infodump that plays in no particular order, except the last 3 images because I noticed they were numbered.

Here's from 2019

Went through like 15 pages to find a good video, birdoftheweek was on the first page.

Looks like there's a bunch over at Pinnacles, used to hike and climb there all the time but there were no condors that I can recall from the mid to late 90's.

Let's see what the Park Service has to say, (they say there were I'll trust them)

California condors once ranged from British Columbia, Canada down to Baja California, Mexico. This range shrank with the increase of European settlers moving west. The causes of the decrease in condors included poisoning, shooting, habitat degradation, and the collection of eggs and feathers. By the late 1800s, naturalists were already making note of the California condors’ declining numbers and in 1967, condors were listed as an endangered species. Despite this protection, their population continued to decrease and dropped to a low of 22 individuals in the 1980s. All wild condors were then trapped and placed in captive breeding programs in an effort to save the species from extinction.

Since 1992, captive-bred condors have been released at five different sites in western North America (Pinnacles National Park, Big Sur, Hopper Mountain Wildlife Refuge Complex, Vermillion Cliffs, and Baja California). Each release site monitors the flock’s behaviors, movements, nesting attempts, and mortalities. Pinnacles joined the recovery program in 2003 with the release of 2 captive-bred condors on December 20th. In 2016, the first condor chick since 1898 (condor 828) fledged from a nest within Pinnacles. Since their reintroduction, condor numbers in the wild have slowly increased thanks to wild nesting and the release of captive-bred condors. As of the end of 2018, there were a total of 488 condors in the world, with 312 of those flying free in the wild. However, condors today are still dying due to lead poisoning, consuming litter and microtrash, and electrocution from power poles. Learn more about what you can do to help condors and other wildlife here.

ones over by Pinnacles might be in the group for your local deal, or maybe there's other groups in the area too.

Speaking of that area, can I just tell you how confusing it was for me as someone who had done the 152 run oodles and oodles of times when the Hollister clothing brand came out and made it big.

All I could think was who in the world would think that's a place that should have a "cool" clothing brand named after it.

Few years later I learned it was a gap thing and most people had no clue Hollister was a real place, lol.

You may proceed to laugh at me now.

[middletone]

Introduction Post

Spring – Year 1: Week 1 - Week 2 - Week 3 - Week 4

Summer – Year 1: Week 1- Week 2 - Week 3 - Week 4

Current Goals:

Fast-track Blue Chickens

Fishing Level 10

Weekly Summary: Leander has taken the first steps towards becoming a part of the Pelican Town community! Having heard rumors of Shane’s chicken husbandry skills, our farmer is attempting to befriend possibly the only person in town to actively avoid having friends. Very rude; we just want to talk about chickens!

Leander has found solace in fishing. He prefers fishing at the dock in front of Willy’s shop, but will sometimes move to one of the small islands of the mountain lake. The Fiberglass Rod was a much needed purchase. The mines do instill a growing need for adventure, however…

Having met with the Wizard and “partaken” of his brew, Leander’s magics have begun to reawaken; enough that the Fae saw it within their good graces to bless our first crops. A fruitful first week back at Aurora Fields.

Daily summary & donation checklists under the cut; mod list in the Introduction post.

Day 01:

Beginner chickens are Honey (white) & Biscuit (brown)

Cleared some of the farm

Collected enough wood for 2 chests

Bought and planted: 1 Parsnip, 1 Cauliflower, 1 Kale, 1 Green Bean, 1 Blue Jazz, 1 Tulip, 3 Potatoes

Said “Hi” to everyone excluding Alex, Willy, & the Wizard - Not bad!

Found all possible Spring Foragables - Great start!

Dug up a Rusty Spoon and spoke with Gunther about the museum

Hit Foraging Level 1

Day 02:

Forgot to pet the chickens; continue to be mad I can’t pet them while they’re sleeping

Got word from Willy & went to the beach for our first fishing rod

Dropped a chest in front of Willy’s shop & fished until 5pm; treasure: iron ore, frozen geodes

Found Glass Shards on the beach - Serious safety hazard!

Said “Hi” to Willy & Alex

Gifted a daffodil to Linus for the ‘Making Friends’ quest

Cleared some of the farm before heading to bed

Hit Fishing Levels 1 & 2

Day 03:

Caught all rain fish except the Shad

Fenced off a portion of the Coop area for the blue chewy grass to spread without being eaten

Chickens fully grown - Got our first eggs!

Gifted Shane an egg; Operation Fast-track Blue Chickens is a go!

Purchased a Fiberglass Rod & Bait from Willy’s Shop

Spent the day fishing; treasure: iron ore, geode, Aquamarine

Cleared some of the farm before heading to bed

Hit Fishing Levels 3 & 4

Got Fisherman achievement

Day 04:

Spent the day fishing

Gave Pam a Joja Cola to rub on her sore nose - ?

Egg for Shane

Did some foraging before bed

Hit Fishing Level 5 - Chose Fisher perk

Day 05:

Adopted our first cat, Steve “Captain America” Rogers

Cleared some of the farm towards the southern exit

Completed the Rat Problem & Mine cut scenes

Dropped a chest in the mine by the elevator for future use

Dropped a chest in front of the Community Center & moved items in preparation for first round of donations - Reminds me of stacking bugs/fish outside Blather’s while the museum upgrades in ACNH lol

Spent the day fishing

Day 06:

Got high with the wizard and made first round of donations to the Community Center

Gave Sam a Flounder that he wanted for unspecified reasons

Spent the day fishing

Cleared some of the farm before heading to bed

Received a visit from the Fairy!

Hit Fishing Level 6 & Foraging Level 2

Day 07:

Learned Stir Fry recipe

Bought a Red Mushroom from the Traveling Cart

Gave Lewis a Daffodil for his birthday

Bought & planted 8 Potatoes; purchased the first pack upgrade

Spent the day fishing; treasure: Skeletal Tail

Cleared some of the farm before heading to bed

Found & read Mining Monthly; gained mining XP

Hit Farming Level 1 & Mining Level 1; got Mother Catch achievement

Donations:

Community Center - Crafts Room 1/6:

4/4 Spring Foraging: Wild Horseradish, Daffodil, Leek, Spring Onion

0/3 Summer Foraging: Grape, Spice Berry, Sweet Pea

0/4 Fall Foraging: Common Mushroom, Wild Plum, Hazelnut, Blackberry

0/4 Winter Foraging: Crystal Fruit, Snow Yam, Crocus, Holly

0/5 Exotic Foraging: Coconut, Cactus Fruit, Cave Carrot, Red Mushroom, Purple Mushroom, Maple Syrup, Oak Resin, Pine Tar, Morel

0/3 Forest: Moss (10), Fiber (200), Maple Seed (10)

Community Center - Pantry 1/6:

4/4 Spring Crops: Parsnip, Green Bean, Cauliflower, Potato

0/4 Summer Crops: Hot Pepper, Blueberry, Melon, Summer Squash

0/4 Fall Crops: Corn, Eggplant, Pumpkin, Yam

0/1 Rare Crops: Ancient Fruit, Sweet Gem Berry

2/4 Garden: Tulip, Summer Spangle, Fairy Rose, Blue Jazz, Sunflower

0/4 Brewer’s: Mead, Wine, Juice, Pale Ale, Green Tea

Community Center - Fish Tank 0/6:

1/4 River Fish: Sunfish, Catfish, Shad, Tiger Trout

3/4 Lake Fish: Largemouth Bass, Carp, Bullhead, Sturgeon

1/4 Ocean Fish: Sardine, Tuna, Red Snapper, Tilapia

2/3 Night Fishing: Walleye, Bream, Eel

2/5 Crab Pot: Lobster, Crayfish, Crab, Cockle, Mussel, Shrimp, Snail, Periwinkle, Oyster, Clam

0/2 Master Fisher’s: Lava Eel, Scorpion Carp, Octopus, Blobfish

Community Center - Boiler Room 0/3:

0/4 Geologist’s: Quartz, Earth Crystal, Frozen Tear, Fire Quartz

0/5 Treasure Hunter’s: Amethyst, Topaz, Emerald, Diamond, Ruby, Aquamarine

0/3 Engineer’s: Iridium Ore, Battery Pack, Refined Quartz (5)

Museum - Artifacts 1/42:

Dwarf Scroll I, Dwarf Scroll II, Dwarf Scroll III, Dwarf Scroll IV, Chipped Amphora, Arrowhead, Ancient Doll, Elvish Jewelry, Chewing Stick, Ornamental Fan, Dinosaur Egg, Rare Disc, Ancient Sword, Rusty Spoon, Rusty Spur, Rusty Cog, Chicken Statue, Ancient Seed, Prehistoric Tool, Dried Starfish, Anchor, Glass Shards, Bone Flute, Prehistoric Handaxe, Dwarvish Helm, Dwarf Gadget, Ancient Drum, Golden Mask, Golden Relic, Strange Doll, Prehistoric Scapula, Prehistoric Tibia, Prehistoric Skull, Skeletal Hand, Prehistoric Rib, Prehistoric Vertebra, Skeletal Tail, Nautilus Fossil, Amphibian Fossil, Palm Fossil, Trilobite

Museum – Minerals 0/53:

Emerald, Aquamarine, Ruby, Amethyst, Topaz, Jade, Diamond, Prismatic Shard, Quartz, Fire Quartz, Frozen Tear, Earth Crystal, Alamite, Bixite, Baryte, Aerinite, Calcite, Dolomite, Esperite, Fluorapatite, Geminite, Helvite, Jamborite, Jagoite, Kyanite, Lunarite, Malachite, Neptunite, Lemon Stone, Nekoite, Orpiment, Petrified Slime, Thunder Egg, Pyrite, Ocean Stone, Ghost Crystal, Tigerseye, Jasper, Opal, Fire Opal, Celestine, Marble, Sandstone, Granite, Basalt, Limestone, Soapstone, Hematite, Mudstone, Obsidian, Slate, Fairy Stone, Star Shards