#combat doll mood

[melodrangea]

Nicknames Soul Eaters Boys call their S/O

———————

Soul “Eater” Evans

sweetheart

he says this extremely sarcastically, especially during training

“C’mon sweetheart, is that all you got? I saw you lift twice as much yesterday.”

doll

often uses it in a more formal setting or when he’s trying to tease

“What’s the matter doll? Cat got your tongue?”

He’s a little menace but he’s our menace <3

babe

most common out of the three

you name DOES NOT exist to this man

no name, no nickname, nothing

“Babe can I borrow your notes. Babe where do you wanna go later? BABE”

———————

Black Star

n/n or another variation of you name

doesn’t really use pet names much (sorry babes)

why words words on pet names? he’s way too blunt and if he’s feeling something he’ll just say it, not waste time on fancy words or pet names

(that’s what he tells himself being fr he’s not creative enough as much as I love him)

babe

mostly used around friends (this dumbass thinks he’s being smug)

“hey babe wasn’t going out yesterday awesome? I mean since we’re so inlove and everything.”

the little shit would make your relationship EVERYONE ELSE’S problem (no one is safe 😭)

———————

Death the Kid

Darling

this pretentious hipster

is fairly consistent with the pet names he uses but darling is his favorite

“Darling can you please pass me that book there?”

“Are you alright darling?”

my dear

uses this one without realizing it most of the time

will be chilling in the library studying and will half-consciously call for you

“are you almost done?”

“just a few minutes more my dear, then we can go”

you chuckled, “what did you call me”

“what do you mean, what did I call you?”

love

Kid is a romantic at heart, very classy as well

he would stare into your eyes and call you love

“my love you have no clue how much I love you.”

———————

Crona Gorgon

honey

you would call him honey bunny as a joke and he loved it so he started calling you honey

would always have the cutest blush in his face when he said it too

“o-oh thank you honey :)” (cutie patootie 💋)

dear

would definitely take him a while to start calling this, but when he does 🤌💋

“are you alright if we stay a little longer dear? It’s been a while since we’ve seen the others”

being fr this poor soul would be TERRIFIED to call you something other than your name or a variation for A WHILE

his brains running six times the speed ����🏼

———————

Professor Stein

this sadistic mf

i pray for anyone dating this man

but we can be delulu for a few

dove

would absolutely call you dove or some other kind of bird

reminds him of how he protects you like your a delicate bird (and he likes experimenting on birds if yk what i mean 😏)

angel

TELL ME HE WOULDN’T

ngl he only calls you angel when he’s horny asf in a good mood

“hey angel, can you come here for a bit?”

NONE OF YOUR HOLES ARE SAFE RIP

honey

only time your safe if when he calls you honey

mostly calls you this when you’re having a bad day

BUT HE STILL MANAGES TO SOUND SARCASTIC ASF

this is a warning, this man will accidentally hurt your feelings 24/7

“You doing alright there honey? You want to talk about it?”

———————

Kilik Rung

fuck not being allowed to have favorites I LOVE THIS BITCH

only fully green flag in the show i stg (except Marie ofc)

lovebug

he will call you every single pet name he can come up with, but love bug is his favorite

neither of you know how it started but you’re not complaining

“You’re too sweet for me lovebug” <33

sweets

ya see what i did there? ofc he combines his two favorite things: you and those damn candy bars

“This class is so boring, right sweets?”

will calls you sweets often to express thanks kinda like a “thanks toots”

getting more into that

toots

he thinks he’s funny (and he is)

will say this very ironically and usually infront of friends to make everyone laugh

the only slightly annoying quality abt Kilik is his inability to take anything other than combat seriously

“hey toots, how’s it goin’?”

hon

I SWEAR THIS IS THE LAST ONE!

but you cannot tell me this man is not from New Orleans or some other adjacent

and the hon with the southern-ish accent

being so fr he will call you hon all the time and it will fluster tf out of you (he’s smug abt it, just a little 🤏

“You look nice, who are you all dressed up for hun?”

———————————————————————————

woo hoo first post!

anyways hope y’all are doing great

any comments, questions, requests or concerns feel free to DM me!

-Melodrangea <3

[j0kers-light]

hi bae, ik youve been going thru a rough patch i hope(in fact ik) you’ll bounce back harder.🫶🏻

i really wanted to make a request for a long long time now, no pressure write it whenever u feel like it i am just going to drop it here.

for me J has always been a Lana del rey song specially the ultra violence album, he’s shades of blue, he’s ultraviolenec, smts hes even brooklyn baby. Can you write something dark, like real dark where hes possessive, violent, exatcly like he was in TDK. Pulling stunts and dropping hints. maybe he kidnappes the reader or smt like that, he’s acting all crazy and violent but something inside him just makes him slip to a lil caring or loving side every now and then, which eventually leads to some serious SMUT 😏😏

the reader could be his enemy’s daughter(maybe even batman’s daughter lol i am going wild) he tortures her,loves her, takes care of her then tortures her a lil more but make no mistake the reader is a fireball she gives him that lil fight they have in her which makes J even more attached to her.

ik i am just blabbing and making no sense, but i hope ukwim. i am also attaching a link to my fav J edit ever which might give u an outline of what i am trying to say. maybe even add J’s POV.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CqyP1PdveA9/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

okay ill shut up now. feel better love you 🫶🏻

His Lighthouse: Broken Dolls (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Broken Dolls - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

I feel ashamed that you had to wait so long for this request. Forgive me times a thousand @heathisbae !! I still love you and I got carried away with the word count. (10,500 words!!) I promise you that my blood, sweat, and tears went into this request. You should've let me stay in my enclosure. I LOVE DARK requests and I was in a dark and lonely place when I wrote this. The perfect mood for Broken Dolls.

Gather round children it’s time to go over some legal stuff. I usually do not care about trigger warnings. You are responsible for your own reading pleasure, BUT I’ll add a TW: List because yall gone need it. Chaos had a lil bit too much fun writing this one.. 👀😬

TW! Dark!Joker. rape, knife, blood, impact, choking, power play, dacryphilia, spitting, biting kinks, unprotected sex, overstimulation if you squint, degradation, no prep (foreplay is important kids) uhhhh… I’m missing something. 🤔 It’s canon Joker people. He’s a walking trigger warning.

Just be careful if you decide to read this one. I know I went overboard but your mental health is always my top priority. Enjoy or not. It’s entirely up to you. Since its a dark request, I decided not to tag anyone except @heathisbae Read at your own risk 🖤✨

Your father made it virtually impossible for anyone to find out. By fate’s design, you looked nothing like the iconic figure you called “father”, and you were forever grateful for that. 

Your skin complexion, eye, and hair color masked you from the surname that was your birthright. You were the rumored Wayne heiress that Gotham City whispered about. Many far and wide longed to meet you to strengthen their businesses by marriage, whereas others flat out questioned your conception.  

Bruce Wayne had neither confirmed nor denied the mother of any of his children to the world. Not like he ever would. There were only a few secrets Bruce had left in this world: you being the most important one.  

Your life would be in danger if anyone were to find out you were a Wayne or worse, the precious daughter of Batman.  

Many were adopted into the bat family, but you were blood to Bruce. A last-ditch effort he made to secure his family’s legacy; He hired a surrogate.  

Should Batman ever fall in combat, you could pick up the torch and continue the Wayne legacy.  

At an early age you wanted to make your father proud and wisely decided not to follow in his footsteps moonlighting as a vigilante. The eldest boys, Dick and Jason, celebrated for days. They loved their half-sister and supported every decision you make, but they would’ve put their foot down should you have wished to don a bat suit.  

Instead of violence, you dedicated your life to education. Only the best schools with full ride scholarships—your cv was lengthy as it was profound. You spoke multiple foreign languages, held many accreditations issued from all over the globe, and excelled at virtually every extra-curricular skill you could think of.  

You were a hardworking, driven woman with a no-nonsense attitude. That much, you got from your mother. 

You dominated any boardroom you entered, and your famous e/c eyes could make or break contracts with a single look. Now that was all your father’s genes. You gave the phrase, beauty and brains, a living breathing, mascot and Bruce couldn’t be prouder.  

That unfortunately made you a target.  

You shied away from public humanitarian appearances to avoid being recognized as a Wayne. Too many similarities with Bruce would make people curious. Instead, you worked behind a smokescreen and attended the many charities and sponsorship parties as a third-party spectator to oversee your work.  

That way, you got to see your hard work being implemented into the community—far better results than your father’s monetary donations provided.  

You took pride knowing your hard work was creating a change in Gotham City. With the safeguards Bruce and the boys had in place; it would take an actual genius to put the numerous clues together to uncover your identity. You could live in relative peace while still making a difference.  

Sadly, your long forgotten surrogate mother would soon threaten life as you knew it.  

Joker prided himself in being a vigilant man. Nothing, not even the smallest of details, went unnoticed by him and when it came to his best friend Batman, J took extra care to notice every little thing.  

The level of surveillance Joker did on the dark knight bordered on obsession but in a way, he was. Joker strived to be twelve steps ahead of his arch-nemesis in order to maintain his freedom. Being shipped back to Arkham was not an option, so he took information gathering very seriously.  

Joker knew that Batman was Bruce Wayne for years. He was surprised other Gotham villains or just the local law enforcement didn’t put the clues together. It was so obvious. 

There was no point in telling the world Batman’s not so little secret, but when Joker studied the daily life of Bruce Wayne a bit further, now that was a blackmail gold mine. Having a one up on Bats just felt good and especially when Joker discovered the perfect weapon that would break the man once and for all.  

You. 

Tucked away and hidden in plain sight; Y/n Wayne, the perfect tool for Joker’s plans.  

A father’s worst nightmare, seeing their child in distress, Joker looked forward to scaring Bruce with this latest prank. All he had to do was get close enough to steal you away, but Bruce kept you protected twenty-four seven. Smart man and Joker didn’t blame his bestie for being a protective father.  

There were dangerous people out there who would dream of your demise if they knew the truth! 

No, it was much easier to track down your mother and it was mere child’s play to make her talk. Joker thoroughly enjoyed extracting as much information from the woman before her untimely demise.  

He found it was unfair that she was virtually defenseless while you had security tighter than most world leaders. It wasn’t fair in Joker’s book, so he set out to put your safeguards to the test.  

And what achievement it was to outsmart Batman at his own game.  

You should’ve known better. Dad drilled it into your brain time and time again to always be aware of your surroundings.  

There was no such thing as a coincidence. Things happened for a reason, and it was up to you to detect any signs of danger at any given time.  

The same could be said for that fateful night. You were feeling a bit overwhelmed by a journalist at a charity event. She kept asking probing questions—a few hitting too close for comfort about your identity.  

How ironic that you attended every event the rumored Wayne heiress organized and knew so much about her personal affairs. What a coincidence how reporters asked you questions like you were the boss..  

The curious woman would not leave you alone! Her mindless chitchat felt more like an interrogation by the minute. You feared your identity was compromised after one of her questions rang true, but she simply laughed it off and said that if you were indeed a Wayne, “You’d be way prettier.”  

Whatever that meant.  

Perhaps the comment hit hard since your longtime friend/rival, Lana, stole attention from the fund raiser with her scandalous outfit. The brunette reeked of new money and had an ego the size of Metropolis, demanding attention wherever she went.  

Her appearance ruined your event for helping orphaned kids and turned it into a mini Met Gala. You had every right for storming out to scream into the back alley. She never failed at ruining things!  

You were really letting your frustration be heard when a whistle nearby startled you. 

“Listen to the pipes on that one.”  

You quickly stopped screaming once you realized that you weren’t alone. A lone male was smoking in the same alley, and he locked eyes with you once he caught your attention.  

They were an unnatural green that felt familiar however, you couldn’t place where you might’ve seen them before.  

“By all means... don’t let me keep ya from your.. uhh temper tantrum.” He blew a long puff of smoke into the night air.  

At first you were in shock, but that reaction soon turned into irritation. Just who did he think he was talking to you like that? “I am not having a tantrum thank you very much a-and... you can’t smoke here!”  

He simply chuckled while taking another drag. You crossed your arms and tapped your heels on the concrete as you waited for a response. This guy was something else.  

“Hello? Did you hear me?” You added.  

“Yup.” He popped the letter p, “Loud n’ clear. Pretty sure this area is ah... employees only. Ya wouldn’t catch me smokin’ if ya weren’t out here being a brat, hm?”  

He had a point, but you still scoffed at his choice of words. You had the idea of using your title as the boss of this event to get him fired; yet he would surely talk and by morning, Gotham City would know that you’re a Wayne. That was the last thing you wanted; however, it was worth the hassle if it got rid of him.  

For now, all you could do was shake your head at this strange man breaking your employee’s no smoking rule. You personally selected all the staff for the event and your security team performed background checks on everyone to ensure your safety.  

The gentlemen sitting before you did not jog your memory.  

His presence made you uneasy and you took a step back, “Do I know you?”  

He snorted, smoke emerging from his nostrils in comical puffs. “Uh no, but I knoooo~ooow you.” 

The blood in your veins ran cold when the stranger stood up and stepped into the light. “Didn’t your dad tell ya not to talk to strangers Miss Wayne?” He said mockingly.  

You took one look at The Joker’s grotesque scars and turned to run.  

Joker grinned and let you have a running start although you didn’t get far. Your feet got caught in your dress fabric and made his job relatively easy. The two of you tumbled to the ground, Joker landing on your back, but that quickly changed with a sharp elbow to his nose.  

You didn’t stick around to see if your hit landed, you just scrambled to your feet and tried to reach for the back door when a hand grabbing your ankle disrupted your sense of balance. One second you were upright, the next, you were on the ground seeing double vision.  

Joker didn’t think you’d put up much of a fight. His research into you was limited, but he doubted that you had any of the fighting skills your father was notorious for.  

Technically he was right. You had taken up self defense training from Jason and he reported that you sucked at it.  

Despite your lack of skills and concussion, you weren’t going down without a fight. One of your nails scratched Joker’s elongated smile causing it to bleed and suddenly, he had enough of your little games.  

You were making too much noise, and his window of opportunity to kidnap you was running out. If he didn’t move you soon, his plan would be ruined. You just had to make things difficult for him.  

“Alrighty Y/n, time for a little nap. Shhhhh... shh easy now.” Joker dodged your wild punch to his face as he dug a syringe out of his pocket.  

The sight of it made you panic and fight back harder but your scream of help was drowned out by a roar of applause from inside. The auction must’ve ended with a success. Joker pierced your skin and watched the milky white substance disappear into your system.  

It was cold seeping into your veins as you still tried to fight back.  

“Aht ahttttt don’t fight it. Let it happen.” Joker crooned into your ear; not like you could hear him. Your body felt so heavy, you lost function of your limbs so suddenly it was terrifying.  

The Joker’s obnoxious laugh sounded miles away from you. When your eyelashes fluttered closed, Joker knew victory was his.  

The environment that you woke up in was dark and cold.  

Your limbs were still groggy with whatever The Joker had injected you with and after a few test stretches, you still had motion in them. Although it would do you no good. The distinctive sound of metal on metal gave away your current predicament. 

You were chained to something.  

You tried not to panic but you were unable to see anything a few inches in front of you much less see how far the chain allowed you to move. You felt something solid underneath you and concluded that it was some sort of mattress or padding. It was a small comfort while being confined in total darkness.  

Wherever you were, The Joker was to blame, and you weren’t going to let him have this much power over you. You had to find a way out before he started his sick form of entertainment.  

Every citizen of Gotham knew Joker’s M.O. You didn’t want to be tortured to death all for a laugh.  

You waited until your eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings before exploring how much freedom you truly had.  

You felt around in the darkness until your hands bumped into something solid. It was a surface with nothing that could help you escape on it, so you moved on. Minutes felt like hours as you stumbled through the dark, searching for anything useful. Just when you thought you were painting a clear picture of the room in your head, a door opened beside you.  

The blinding light was nothing compared to the searing pain of the door hitting you square in the face or that of the trauma caused by falling to the ground.  

The room was still spinning when your loudmouth got the better of you. 

“What’s your f__king problem?!” You cried out. You feared that your nose was broken, it sure felt like it with the amount of blood you felt gushing out. The Joker didn’t seem phased by the display.  

Instead, he stepped right over you and flicked on a light, blinding you in the process. “Errr let’s see... problems. MY problem.. Social injustice? Global warming…uhhh rush hour traffic?” Joker paused for dramatic effect and slowly turned to face you. You froze, feeling his emerald eyes rake over your form hungrily.  

The unnatural hue seemed to suck you in the longer you stared. “You.” Joker purred. 

“M-Me?” How were you a problem? He abducted you not the other way round! 

You had never crossed paths with the Clown Prince of Crime until tonight. The two of you couldn’t be more worlds apart. You stayed nose deep in your humanitarian work and out of any trouble whereas The Joker was trouble personified.  

The only thing that linked you to Joker was your father, yet you doubted the clown was smart enough to put all the puzzle pieces together to uncover that.  

You prayed that this was all some sort of misunderstanding but judging how The Joker was staring, your hopes began to shatter one by one.  

You instinctively shielded your body from the known threat and in doing so, your skin brushed against unknown material. The formal dress you originally wore for the evening was gone and replaced by a thin t-shirt and baggy men’s pants. The implications were not lost on you. 

You turned to glare at the madman before you. “Who changed my clothes!?” If you were able to blush, you knew you’d be redder than a tomato.  

This man obviously had no respect for women. He simply threw his head back and laughed, “The pleasure is allllllllllll mine.”  

You failed at hiding your full body shudder and even worse, you were unable to silence yourself from talking trash. “Screw you.” You regretted saying it the moment you opened your mouth.  

The room suddenly got quiet. Joker sauntered his way over to your mattress and crouched down so he could be eye level with you. He admired the fire burning within your e/c eyes for a time. Such a strong wielded fire, it was beautiful to behold. If Joker had his way, there would only be smoking embers after he had his fun. He would make sure of it.  

The Joker always had an air of drama about him, and it took center stage as he spoke to you. “Ya wanna.. know something? You should be lucK-yyyy my boys didn’t change ya. They would’ve loved to uh.. what did ya say? Screw you.” 

His choice of words held more meaning as he tried to brush a few strands of hair out of your face. You shut down that idea by chomping at his fingers the second they were within your reach.  

You refused to sit around like some damsel in destress until dad or one of the boys came to rescue you. You would fight back even if it killed you. 

To Joker, your little stunt was comical. You could rebel all you wanted; your antics would never compare to what he had in store for you.  

He simply wagged his paint-stained fingers at you like a scolding parent and insulted you further. “Mm, feisty! I like thaT. But that’s no way to behave while you’re here. No noooo. No. You are a verry special guest, Y/n!” 

Joker walked over to the table that you found earlier. You watched as he pulled out a tripod and took the time to set up a camera in your general direction. Once it was positioned to his liking, he mashed a button—and to your horror, a red light began to blink. 

“Tada! May I present.... Y/n, my lead-ing lady in this uh.. short film of mine! The title you ask? Why it’s, How to Break Batman’s Little Girl 101!”  

Joker’s words were like a sucker punch to your gut. They bounced off the thick walls of the room and echoed back in your eardrum's times a hundred. Your worst nightmare was happening right before your eyes. Not only did someone know who you were, but dad’s long kept secret was out—and his arch-nemesis of all people, knew about it.  

You were blinking a mile a minute and Joker thought your lips flailing like a fish was oh so adorable. Kissable really but he shook that odd thought away.  

He hyped up his performance so much, you weren’t sure if he was addressing you or the camera at this point.  

“Oh come now, Y/n. Don’t act so sur-prised! I knew Bats’ secret for years now. We are friends ya know.... Mmm on second thought. Ya might wanna work on the security Batsy.. I just so happened to waltz in and steal your precious.... and might I add.... beau-ti-ful daughter away easy peasy. Did I mention she’s verrrry beautiful?”  

You snapped out of your panic by Joker’s fingers grazing your cheek. Your response was instinctive by slapping his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”  

Joker wasted no time reacting to your outburst. His gentle touch turned cruel and struck your face hard enough to turn it sideways right into the wall.  

He quickly grabbed ahold of your jaw and yanked you back upright. You were forced to bear witness to his self-inflicted scars, all jagged and swollen up close. It was a permanent reminder just how insane this man truly was. Joker’s nails dug into your cheek and for a split second, you genuinely feared this man.  

His green eyes were almost electric staring into your soul. “You’re mine now and I’ll touch ya however I want. Got thaT?”  

Joker saw the insult queuing up in your brain and squeezed your face tighter in his grasp. You whined but still managed to part your lips to respond. “I’m not yours.” You growled.  

A brief staring contest ensued. Green verses your e/c.  

Joker admired your bravery; you questioned his sanity. He dressed the part of a gentleman with his three-piece suit and coattails (despite the outlandish colors) yet he was so far removed from the title. He was unpredictable in every sense of the word that you weren’t sure if you would survive a moment longer in his presence. 

You were confident that someone would come save you, Joker thought you were too naïve to understand the gravity of your situation. In any case, he would have ample time to extinguish the fire blazing in your eyes before someone started searching for you.  

He was so caught up crafting his mental plans, he didn’t notice the glint in your eye right before you bit his hand.  

It hardly phased him and for your efforts you received a rough shove towards the ground. Thankfully the mattress softened the blow however you still had the strength to glare at The Joker in disdain. 

“Let’s see how long that feisty streak of yours last hmm?” Joker chuckled under his breath and walked over to the door.  

The sudden change in brightness blinded you again but this time you caught a glimpse of a bulky man guarding the door before he and Joker disappeared from sight. 

Finally you were alone with your thoughts. The first thing you did was let out a shaky sigh and glance at the camera still recording you. The Joker didn’t turn it off and you concluded its sole purpose was to monitor you and collect material for the ransom cd your dad would receive. 

You choked back a sob just thinking about dad. He would be beside himself knowing you were abducted. Finding out that his greatest enemy took you would be a low blow—one you hoped he would overcome in order to rescue you. Dick and Jason would steer the detective in the right direction but with every hour that passed, you knew dad would slowly lose his mind. He knew firsthand what Joker was capable of. Your nose throbbed bitterly as a harsh reminder.  

There was nothing stopping the clown from killing you if he simply became bored.  

If only you took dad’s words to heart and abided by his strict security measures. You had snuck away from your detail for a bit of privacy. Now you regretted that dumb decision. You were in Joker’s clutches with no chance of escape, and it was all your fault.  

He chained you to a bedpost like some animal and now that there was light in the room, you could see it in its entirety.  

It was a mini prison right down to the bare necessities. The Joker had every intention of keeping you here, cut off from Gotham City, most likely below ground to disrupt the bat tracker embedded in you since childhood.  

You scratched at your wrist, praying that it miraculously still worked despite the odds. Surely your father, the world’s greatest detective, could locate his daughter with much less. 

It was the only reassurance you had.  

You were getting tired overthinking your predicament. There was nothing you could do at present, so with one last hesitant glance at the video recorder, you tried your best to get comfortable on the mattress and fall asleep. 

That became your routine. Time held no value anymore.  

Was it a few days? Weeks? Longer? How were you to know? You were confined to four concrete walls with no form of contact, save for the ever present blinking red light watching your every move.  

You were forced to use the horrendous facilities they called a bathroom, and meals (which were surprisingly great) were brought to your room like clockwork while you were asleep.  

You began to look forward to the tray that would magically appear on your table. It was the only connection to the outside world you had, and you didn’t take it for granted.  

There was always a special treat on your dinner plate and it never failed at putting a smile on your face regardless of being a prisoner. You tried to keep a grip on your sanity with these small bouts of happiness, but it was obvious what angle Joker was playing at.  

He was using isolation to mentally break you and it was working. 

You thought being locked away all alone would be easy, but the constant silence was unbearable and before long you began to fear when Joker would return.  

Not fearing him specifically, but of what you might do for a sliver of human interaction.  

That visit came unexpectedly. You woke up from a nap sensing a presence inside your room. Sadly, you had embraced having hallucinations during your lengthy stay here, but this one felt a little too real.  

Something didn’t feel right. “H-Hello?”  

The door was still closed with the lights dimmed and there wasn’t a tray of food dropped by, so you glanced near the bathroom area on pure instincts. Nothing was inside the room except that camera that you loathed so much. Its constant flashing light both annoyed and comforted you. At least you weren’t completely alone.  

You sighed to yourself and was about to fall back asleep when you felt something move behind you. Joker’s laugh blended in with your scream as you tried to scramble away.  

You didn’t get far given that Joker dragged you back towards him.  

The last thing you expected after waking up was a man lying in the same bed as you. It was a natural response to freak out, especially since it was The Joker pinning you to the mattress. “YOU SICK F__K! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?”  

You didn’t see the way Joker's eyes glazed over or the way his hands tightened around you before he grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Have I lost my… have I.. losT my mind?”   

You tried to pry his hands off you, but Joker was just too strong as he continued to repeat your question over and over. His manic laughter was deafening in your ear. “Have I lost my mind, Y/n? Or have you?”  

You looked up into pools of jade that glinted mockingly down at you. “What are you...?” 

Joker cut you off by directing your gaze to the camera in the room. “Did ya forget I’ve been watching you this entire time doll? Talking to yourself, your uh... hopeless words of affirmation? Oh Dad will come, he’ll come save me! Hang in there, Y/n! You’re so braaaaaave and strong!”’ 

Joker’s imitation of your voice was cringeworthy as he repeated your own words out loud. He mocked your defiant spirit and hopes of escape as if it was a joke. Strangely enough, Joker’s tone softened, and he sounded sincere with his next angle of attack.  

“You just don’t get iT. Daddy’s not coming Y/n. No one knows you’re missing, and nooo one cares either. It’s been a month now doll. If Daddy Bats really cared about his precious daughter, he would’ve rescued you by now don’tcha think?” 

Joker was just messing with you. This was another tactic of his to break you down. He was a master of manipulation and his way with words was just as dangerous as his work with knives. His sole existence was to harm others and yet with your fragile state of mind, a part of you believed him.  

You couldn’t believe that a month had passed with no one trying to find you. Was Joker telling the truth?  

It was too absurd to believe. “N-No....  no dad cares about me. He wouldn't.... he wouldn’t give up..” You whispered. You didn’t know who you were trying to convince here, you or The Joker.  

He must’ve seen the doubt starting to creep in for he pushed you a little further. “Are you sure, Y/n? He’s a uh, busy bat! Fighting crime always comes first, you know that better than anyyyyy one. He’s never had time for you...” Joker smiled, watching you blink back tears.  

He enjoyed every minute of tearing down your defenses one lie at a time.  

He leaned away and bit back a smile when you followed, seeking his contact. You were making this child’s play for him.  

“Bats always sent ya away when you were younger. Never letting you err.. blossom to your fullest. He hid you away because you were a failure to him. A mistake. He never cared about you! But guess whaT?”  

Joker waited until you looked up into his grassy green eyes. Were they always so expressive or was it your imagination that made them sparkle? It was the first source of human contact you had in who knows how long. You felt special to have The Joker staring at you the way he was.  

The air in the room was filled with static energy as you waited for Joker’s next words. You craved validation, acceptance, and attention at a time like this. The Joker had starved you for far too long in isolation.  

His hand raised up and softly caressed the side of your face and you missed how his eyes lingered on your lips longer than intended.  

“I care Y/n.” He chuckled seeing you pout, “I mean iT! I’ve been so ah.. cruel to ya. I should’ve treated you better. You want me to treat ya better doll?” 

Joker leaned forward and kissed both of your cheeks. The contact made you jump and blink up at him in shock. If he couldn’t hear your heart beating wildly, then he was deaf.  

You soaked up his form of human contact like a sponge. How long had you been wasting away in this room?  

Was it really a month like Joker had said? Right as Joker was leaning down to kiss you properly, you had a moment of clarity.  

Who was to blame for you being trapped in here? Why were you here in the first place? The answer was right in front of you, buttering you up with sweet lies and fake affection. Joker was playing you like a fiddle, and you were weak enough to fall for it.  

Not anymore.  

The Joker was the enemy. He was full of lies. Dad would never abandon you so why were so inclined to believe this green haired clown? No amount of isolation, no form of torture, could break you to believe such. You couldn’t give up so easily. You were a Wayne. You were born a fighter.  

Joker’s scarred lips ghosted against yours as you shoved him away. “You are nothing but a liar.”  

You enjoyed his brief moment of shock before his eyes cooled into the hard emeralds that they were. 

And just like that the act was over. One second you were in the comfort of Joker’s arms, the next you were tossed aside like trash and his true colors were revealed.  

He towered over you like a titan as you tried to back away but there was simply nowhere to go. You were at Joker’s mercy, and he spared you none. Each kick to your body made you cry out for Joker to stop but he didn’t listen, rather he laughed and kicked harder.  

You grabbed his ankle and begged him to stop but he jerked free and stomped on your wrist in retaliation. The audible crack was background noise to your earsplitting scream— yet it was all music to Joker’s ears.  

He enjoyed the pain of others and yours was icing on the cake.  

You sounded so pretty, so helpless and filled with anguish. He wanted to hear more. He was obsessed. How far could he push you until you gave under pressure? 

Two knocks on the door stole Joker’s attention and his eyes watched as another person entered the room. Joker knew who it was. Anyone else wouldn’t dare enter while he had his fun.  

Frost took one look at you sobbing on the floor before he focused his attention back on his boss. “We got trouble.”  

Joker rolled his eyes at Frost for interrupting his fun although it was probably for the best. He didn’t want to break you just yet. Slow and steady won the race and he had all he time in the world to do so.  

He might’ve went overboard today judging by how you visibly flinched when he moved in your direction, but he knew you’d bounce back defiant as ever. You had to.   

“You’ll have to uhh, excuse me Y/n. It seems.. I’m needed elsewhere. Don’t. You. Move.” He patted your head and laughed all the way out the door.  

The heavy sound of it closing did little to silence your tears.  

The pain was nothing. You were more upset with yourself for not being stronger. Joker was destroying your fighting spirit in record time and you were powerless to stop him.  

The bruises never faded, and it made sleeping even more difficult on your worn mattress.  

Sure, Joker was considerate enough to cast your broken wrist, but it was a small gesture compared to the verbal and added physical abuse he bestowed upon you daily.  

You became Joker’s personal punching bag and there was no end in sight to your suffering.  

Each time the door opened, you were forced to endure Joker’s twisted mind games or his heavy hand. It didn’t matter that you were a woman, in his eyes you deserved every ounce of pain that he inflicted. And when he finally left you bleeding and holding back tears, your own thoughts tortured you some more. 

Did father really abandon you? How was the world’s greatest detective, renowned for his state-of-the-art technology and gadgets, unable to locate his only daughter?  

The days blended together and all the hope you originally had of being rescued, diminished.  

The Joker enjoyed his daily visits with you but he could tell that it wasn’t enough. Your body was obviously battered yet your mind remained intact.  

You still possessed a thread of hope that made you defiant to the end. You spat in Joker's face whenever he was in range, and you rolled your eyes at his half-hearted jokes about killing you.  

“Then do it.” Your snide remarks often led to more beatings that did little to fulfill Joker’s goal.  

Nothing seemed to be working to ultimately break you, so he decided to try a different angle. 

You woke up to the smell of food in the air. Your stomach growled in want, but the reset of your body hurt too much to move. You debated skipping eating all together in favor of rest however that choice was made for you.  

“Sit up.” 

His voice. The root of all of your problems. You didn’t have the strength to be bothered with him today.  

Joker waited for you to move yet when you remained lying down, he became agitated. “I won’T re-peat myself doll.” 

Your voice cracked with your response. “I can’t. It hurts.” You just wanted to be left alone, to hurt in peace but Joker controlled everything here. As if you had a choice to begin with. 

“Lemme help you.” 

Just hearing the offer gave you the strength to flip over to face him. Surely he was joking. He wanted to help you?! After all he did? Screw the consequences, you had to speak your mind. 

“Help me? You want to help me? Okay then. Go away! Far… far away and leave me alone! Or even better! Let me go!  What’s the point of keeping me here? What do you want from me?!”  

During your speech you began to cry and Joker (for the first time in his life) felt guilty. Your timeless beauty was marred by cuts and bruises that he caused, and he couldn’t justify his actions for creating them.  

Somewhere along the way Joker lost focus of the mission.  

It was all a game— to get at Batman but along the way Joker saw how strong you truly were. Anything he tossed your way, you deflected it with ease. You never faltered, never lost hope. Even now as you lay weak and hungry, your eyes set him ablaze.  

You had won, he just didn’t know at what.  

Joker didn’t know what else to do with this failed experiment of his. One thing was certain, he wasn’t letting you go. There was something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on.  

Your rant fizzled off as you stared at Joker.  

There was an odd gleam in his eyes that you were wary of. He looked lost in thought and when he snapped to, you were shocked to see a genuine smile appear on his lips.  

You feared what his thoughts could lead to.  

To mask your fear, you rolled your eyes at his lack of an answer and reached for your dinner tray. Your groan of pain made Joker wince. Were you really in that much pain?  

Without thinking, he smacked your hand away and stabbed a portion of food with the provided fork. The two of you stared at each other in silence waiting for the other to make a move.  

“I can feed myself.” You grumbled.  

Joker gave you an, ‘are you sure about that’ look and tapped the fork to your lips.  

Just thinking about moving used up too much energy and your muscles begged for you to take him up on the offer. The Joker, Gotham City’s notorious criminal, wanted to feed you dinner; who were you to deny him?  

You begrudgingly opened your mouth while looking away from his smug green eyes.  

The act was so demoralizing, but you kept your cool while chewing in silence and opening your mouth for the next morsel.  

Just to be cheeky, you closed your lips around the fork and refused to let go. Joker didn’t think it was funny but he entertained your bratty behavior nonetheless. He considered stabbing your tongue—but thought against it. There was no need to be violent.  

He was trying a different angle to this whole hostage situation he created. Your defenses were down tonight and he would be a fool not to take advantage of them.  

A quick glance to his right confirmed that the video camera was still recording. Perhaps it was time to send a message to daddy dearest and make some progress.  

You were under the impression that Joker was taking pity on you with his nice guy act. He was patient, feeding you bites of food and not shoving it down your throat like he’d done in the past when you tried starving yourself.  

He was being.. (dare you say it) nice. You should’ve known it was too good to be true.  

He finished feeding you and you thought he was moving onto the slice of cake that was on the tray. You had been eyeing it since Joker uncovered it and you licked your lips thinking about the delectable treat.  

It would have to wait. There was an ominous shift in the air that completely blindsided you.  

Joker didn’t know what came over him. He didn’t have any plans when he entered your room tonight. It was supposed to be a simple food drop—nothing more, but the moment his eyes landed on you curled up on the mattress resting so beautifully, what left of his demented mind, checked out early.  

This past month and a half was filled with harsh lessons and far too many close calls. Batman and his ban of birds did everything in their power to find you and they almost succeeded once or twice. 

Thankfully Joker was smart enough to place you inside a shipping container so you could always be mobile and out of reach. You hardly noticed the frequent moves since he coordinated them during your sleeping hours. It also ensured your meals were always hot and fresh since they could just travel to wherever Joker deemed fit to your standards.  

Everything was planned down to the smallest detail, everything except developing feelings for you.  

Now that was out of Joker’s control.  

Underneath the clown façade, Joker was still a man and you were absolutely stunning with your aristocratic beauty and educated mind.  

Your fierce personality drew him in despite you being a means to an end. You were supposed to be a form of entertainment, a toy until Joker got bored and let Batman have his daughter back but over time, Joker became attached to you in an unhealthy way. 

You were Joker’s property, his special secret hidden from the world to do with as he so pleased.  

He stopped hitting you and allowed you time to heal due to some unknown form of guilt. More and more tasty desserts were included with your meals to make up for his abusive behavior, and unbeknownst to you, Joker watched you sleep every night.  

There was something soothing watching you blissfully unaware of the monster in your bed. He could slit your throat in your sleep but he didn’t. No, that would be a waste.  

Joker found it better to sleep beside you and hold you close. He knew you would freak out if you knew all the liberties that he took while you were asleep.  

From tracing your major arteries with a knife to leaving lipstick marks all over your skin—his feelings for you were disturbing and perfectly justified in his opinion.  

Joker didn’t want the traditional lovey dovey crap most couples shared because he wasn’t normal. He wanted to own, to control, to destroy you completely and then protect the broken pieces that remained. 

There was no concept of love in Joker’s mind and there never would be. Seeing you so docile as he fed you was the breaking point. He got a taste of your submissive side and craved more.  

Why couldn’t you just give in and break already? You brought this upon yourself. You forced Joker to do this. 

He blocked out the sound of your cries and wrestled your arms down to onto the mattress. His only goal was to get you naked and when you began to struggle more, he took matters into his own hands. 

Joker grabbed the army knife from his pocket and sliced your clothes off. One motion caught your skin and you howled as the sharp metal tore it open. Joker saw red bubble to the surface and dove down to lick you clean.  

He didn’t like hearing your voice filled with pain. It distracted him from getting hard and after staring you in the eye, you quickly got the message. Keep quiet or else.  

You tried not to make a sound louder than your whimpers. You didn’t want to provoke Joker’s wrath.  

“Much better. So pretty.” Joker hummed to himself when you were laid bare beneath him although he frowned seeing tears staining your cheeks. “Shhhhhh, hey hey. Look at me... Behave and it won’t hurT.”  

He watched your lip wobble as you remained quiet. Your wrists were being held down by Joker’s hand, leaving you powerless to squirm away and he loved the power scale tipping in his favor. Good. You would always be beneath him.  

He struggled a bit to unzip his fly but managed to get his cock out without letting you go. A shame you were being bratty and didn’t prepare yourself for this. He really had to do everything around here.  

Joker spat on his hand and worked it up and down his cock, groaning to himself at the feeling. His eyes roamed over his doll and admired your beauty mid stoke. You had curves in all the right places that begged to be fondled. He wanted to touch them, but if he let go of your hands, you would act out.  

He could see the fire burning in your eyes. If he gave you an inch, you’d take a mile.  

Yet it was criminal not to mark you up the way he wanted.  

Joker sighed as he lined himself up with your pussy. You panicked and tried moving away from his tip tapping your opening with heavy slaps to no avail.  

“Are ya gonna behave doll?” 

He shifted his weight and applied more pressure on your healing broken wrist when you continued to rebel. The searing pain made you bite your lip and cease struggling altogether.  

“Now. Are you gonna be a errr.. good doll for me n’ stay realllllllly still?” Joker sang.  

Your lip curled back, ready to cuss him out, instead a loud scream took escaped your lips as Joker began to force his way inside your dry entrance.  

It burned. It ached. He was tearing you apart and you shook your head in agony as it continued without end. You didn’t think about the consequences, you bucked your hips away from the unwanted invasion.  

You knew you were in trouble the moment Joker said your name in warning. 

“What. Did. I just say doll? Dumb b___h.” 

Joker let go of your wrists to hold your hips instead. Once he found purchase, he began thrusting in and out of your pussy. His pleasure was your torment. Your silent tears spurred him on and he swatted your hands away that tried to push him off.  

Nothing would stop him after he got a taste of you. He was an idiot for not taking you sooner. 

“Haha, you’re grippin’ me soooooo tight doll. Ease up for me!” Joker groaned louder to drown out your pathetic pleas. He would not slow down; you were too perfect to stop now.  

He noticed the camera in the corner and got an idea. “Are ya enjoying yourself, doll? Why don’tcha give the ah.. a-audience a good show? Go on. Tell him how you feel.”   

You forgot all about the recorder in the room! Your sharp gasp was music to his ears. You tried to turn away, but Joker would have none of that. He grabbed your jaw and forcibly turned your face towards the lens. Your tears were a paid actor for his production.  

“Ya see that Bats? ThaT, oh f__k... t-that is the face of your failure. She’s all mine and I’m gonna take ahaha.. verrry good care of her. All mine.. d__n it..” Joker choked back a moan and licked the tears from your face as he sped up his thrusts. If he kept this up, he would cum before the fun really started. Although he shouldn’t have to be the only one getting off.  

With a smug grin, he snaked a hand down to rub messy circles on your clit.  

The response was instantaneous. You threw your head back with a mewl on your tongue. He felt the result of his adventurous touch the same time you let out an unexpected moan. “Oh? Ya like that doll?” He mocked.  

He laughed at you trying to deny deny deny but your body was speaking on your behalf.  

You tightened around him and he felt the slick begin to coat his cock. He arched an eyebrow at the sudden turn of events. You really were enjoying this. He wondered... 

He stroked your clit faster and was rewarded by another sweet moan gracing his ears. His doll made the prettiest sounds under distress. He could see the confusion dancing across your features.  

“Ohhhhhh Bats! You have a naughty.. naughty girl! Enjoying my touch after begging me to stop just minutes ago? Ah.. mmm, it's okay doll! M-Moan louder. Enjoy ittt, I know I am. Mm, you feel better the uh wetter you become.” 

Joker stopped mid thrust when you clenched down unexpectedly on him. Were you trying to crush him to death?  

He wondered if you could feel him throbbing in your pussy. Your tiny fists were beating on his clothed chest but there was no point in pretending.  

You were enjoying yourself and if he was correct to assume, you were getting close. You just needed a little push and Joker had just the thing.  

“I knew you were secretly a whore. Only dirty sluts get off on being used like a toy. Hehe. It's a-always the quiet ones f__k!” Joker chuckled to himself followed by a shuddering groan. You were very close. He had to act fast.  

Without warning he bit down hard on your shoulder. You moaned out before covering your mouth with your hand. It was too late; Joker already knew what kind of woman you were. He bit harder and rejoiced as blood bubbled up to the surface to coat his lips. Finally, he was marking you up the way you deserved.  

He sped up his thrusts, laughing at the sloppy sound of wet skin on skin in the room. His cock happily slid in and out of your pussy now that you were horny.  

You were shaking your head in denial even as your legs shivered on Joker’s shoulders. He licked the fresh bite mark clean before whispering in your ear.  

“Let go Y/n. Shatter into a thousand tiny lit-tle pieces— and when you snap them back together, I'll be righT here to ruin you all over again. And again. And again. I will always break you just the way you need. The way you deserve. So go on. Do itttt. B-Break for me.... For us.”  

Joker thought you were beautiful before, seeing you admit defeat and cum was a vision from heaven.  

Your cheeks darkened in color as your lips parted like the sea to allow carnal bliss to fall from its depths. You twitched uncontrollably in Joker’s hold, and he was more than happy to pull you in close as you fell apart on his cock.  

You rode the wave of pleasure and swept Joker along with the force. He was caught off guard by your tightening cunt and came with your name a whisper on his lips.  

No drug could ever compare to the high you gave him.  

He saw new sounds and heard colors that he couldn’t name. His breath came in short pants as he came down. Words failed him, his head was still too foggy to process the world around him.  

What could one say after an orgasm that intense? He just came inside your quivering hole, and he already wanted to do it again.   

He couldn’t find the energy to even think coherently! All he could do was flop down next to you and sort out his senses in the right categories.  

His paint-stained hands wandered aimlessly and began playing with the ends of your hair, much to your horror. While Joker floated in post-coital bliss, you fell back to your harsh reality.  

You let this monster have sex with you and even worse, you enjoyed it.  

You felt dirty, cheap, a literal failure. You allowed The Joker to touch you, to make you feel good. You came from his ministrations. God, you could feel him softening inside your used pussy. Your inner thighs felt sticky, and you shuddered realizing that The Joker came inside you. The room began to spin as you spiraled into a panic attack.  

What would dad think when he found out? What if you became pregnant with this monster’s child. You felt sick to your stomach and feeling Joker playing with your hair, as if nothing was wrong, tipped you over the edge.  

“Don’t touch me!” You wailed. Your shout made Joker come to and instinctively hold you closer to his chest. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on inside your head, but you didn’t have to be so loud. 

“Doll... I ahh uh, already touched ya.” He rubbed up and down your back despite you flinching from his touch.  

You made eye contact with the video recorder in the corner and Joker curiously followed your gaze. Oh. That would explain your sour mood. You were smart and deduced what he would do with the footage. “Listen Y/n..” 

A knock at the door interrupted Joker’s sentence. He didn’t move an inch as he granted whomever on the other side entry.  

You tried maintaining your modesty but it was a useless effort. You were bare as the day you were born in Joker’s arms and he wasn’t letting you go. 

Joker’s henchman walked in and struck a conversation with the clown, pretended as if you didn’t exist. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die you were so embarrassed.  

You didn’t notice what was going on until Joker snapped his fingers in your face. “Huh?” 

Joker rolled his eyes at your lack of awareness. He sat up straight and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I said..... take a bath while I’m gone. I uh.. took your chain off for ya.”  

He pointed at your bare ankle that was in fact free of the heavy metal. You twisted your leg, feeling the freedom granted to you.  

You wanted to thank Joker but he was already walking out the door with his henchman. And just like that, you were alone. The silence was unbearable as the full reality hit you full force.  

You didn’t fight back. Why did you give in so easily? Why did you miss the warmth of Joker body against yours? Just what was wrong with you for craving his touch?  

Screw taking a bath, you ran straight towards the toilet to empty your stomach.  

Sleep did not come to you when your mind was abuzz with doubt. 

You paced the room while biting your nails and reliving your time spent with Joker over and over. You were beyond restless thinking about your uncertain future. What would Joker do now that he got what he wanted? 

Would you be killed off and discarded like trash? Would your family be given the chance to mourn your passing? Would they even know what became of you? There were too many questions and not enough answers. One thing was for certain, you refused to sit around and wait for your fate.  

For some unknown reason Joker removed your chain. It was a sliver of hope that you planned on exploiting.  

The heavy metal door loomed in the distance. Before it served as a reminder of how trapped you were; now it was a shining beacon of hope. Either coincidental or simply a miracle, Joker also took the elusive camera with him. Nothing was stopping you from running, and nothing was holding you back.  

Joker had slashed your clothes to ribbons but the woolen blanket on the mattress was still intact for you to wrap around your body.  

It left you feeling far too exposed, but you had no other option available. Once covered, you padded over to the door and turned the handle to freedom. 

The hallway was dark and ominous before you.  

You weren’t sure if you wanted to venture into the unknown. You looked at the barren cell you were forced to inhabit and back into the dark void, weighing the odds.  

You took the first step, then another, and another until you were walking with haste—desperately searching for an exit.  

Your heart was beating loudly in your ears as you stumbled across a door with light poking out underneath the frame. It was the only lead you had so far towards an exit. You slowly pushed it open and regretted it instantly.  

The room full of men all stopped their various conversations to stare you caught like a deer in headlights in the doorway. You quite literally walked into a den of wolves.  

“Well well. Look what we have here!” One guy catcalled.  

They all leered at your body poorly wrapped up in a blanket. It was obvious your purpose here at their hideout. Free entertainment.  

The door slammed shut behind you, trapping you again, only this time in far more hostile conditions. You berated yourself for leaving the safety of your cell if this was the cost. You could barely defend yourself against Joker. There were too many men here to even consider escaping.  

You backtracked right into a broad chest and the male laughed at you already cowering in fear.  

He roughly pulled your hair while another pair of hands ripped your blanket away to knead your breasts. Whistles and laughter broke out in the room at the sight. “The Boss been keepin’ this from us!? Look! She’s freshly used too!”  

You screamed as fingers stabbed their way into your cunt and explored inside. Their hands weren't like Jokers. There was no pleasure to be gained here and unlike before, your body did not warm up to the stimuli.  

You were in pain as they groped and fondled your body and despite Joker being the origin to all your problems, you cried out his name to save you. 

Someone yanked your hair again before shattering all your hopes with a handful of words. “Ya think the boss is gonna help you? You are nuthin’ to him! Just a warm hole for him to use. And now it's our turn.” 

You closed your eyes to block out the pain. The last of your fighting spirit faded away as a lone tear rolled down your cheek. 

Frost and Joker were waking back towards your room when they heard the loud commotion coming from the common room.  

It was well in the night and nothing of note should’ve excited the men to be so rowdy. Most of them should’ve been on patrols in the first place.  

Frost merely shrugged his shoulders and followed his Boss.  

Curiosity killed the cat, but Joker was not so simple minded. He knew something was wrong. He wasn't religious by any means, but he prayed that this didn’t involve you.  

He barged into the common room ready to scold his men when his worst fears came to light.  

Joker didn’t think, he simply acted until nothing else stood in his way to get to you. Frost could handle the aftermath of his rage—you were the only constant in Joker’s mind the second he opened the door and saw you in distress.  

He left you just a few hours prior, safe and accounted for in your room. He left to prepare better accommodations to reflect your newfound status in his life. Joker took great care of his possessions, and you deserved better than being tucked away in some dingy shipping container. You didn’t belong on the floor like a cheap whore. No, you were worthy to be displayed, dressed up like the doll Joker wanted you to be. 

 Never did he imagine he would return to this. 

He fought his way to your side and fell to his knees by your side. His green eyes were wide with an unknown emotion as they took in your battered form.  

He didn’t want to touch and accidentally hurt you any further yet something about the thousand-yard stare in your eyes told him you were no longer here to feel anything at all. Joker knew how ruthless his men were, but this was barbaric.  

He didn’t regret killing them after what they done. His only remorse was not making them suffer more before death.  

Joker gathered you up in his arms and tried shaking you back into focus. “Y/n? Y/n, c'mon doll! Look at me.. s-say something!?” He pleaded.  

You mumbled something inaudible and curled up into a ball.  

Rage. Guilt and surprisingly shame. Joker’s mind was wild with this flood of new emotions.  

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have a single cell of compassion in his body, yet the sight of his newest toy utterly broken (and not of his own doing) had him feeling remorseful.  

“I... I don’T.. I...” Joker gathered his thoughts with a deep inhale.  

Frost watched the intimate scene while kicking over a body. It was a bloody mess in here; however, that had to wait.  

Frost could tell his Boss needed some assistance. “I’ll run a bath.” Frost said offhandedly.  

It would point Joker in the right direction at least rather than rocking you back and forth on the floor to no avail. The comment snapped Joker out of his musing.  

Emerald eyes roamed over your sleeping form. “Bath. Y-Yeah uh she needs a uh.. bath.” 

He nodded to himself and slowly rose to his feet to carry you out of the common room. He passed up your old room in favor of his own that had more privacy. Not like it would matter. You had yet to speak.  

This was not the outcome Joker had planned. Even after he washed you clean and tucked you into bed— he sat by your side contemplating his next move.  

You were no longer the shiny doll he wanted on his shelf. His own men had ruined you. They took away your feisty demeanor and all conscience thought from you that made this game fun.  

Joker tried to get you to speak, to react to anything, but you remained stagnant, blinking owlishly at the wall until sleep finally took you.  Nothing of the defiant Y/n that Joker had grown to like remained.  

You left him with no other alternative. He got what he wanted, and it was time to move on.  

In three more days, it would mark your two-month long disappearance. Bruce would be a liar if he said he didn’t count the days if not the minutes that you were gone.  

He blamed himself for your capture and the boys tried their hardest to steer him in the right direction and not spiral into depression. Bruce loved all his children, but you were his by blood. You held a special place in Bruce’s heart and as such, he spent every waking second trying to find you. 

No expenses were spared, and any lead (no matter how small) were investigated. Joker was smart, but Bruce was smarter. He would find you.  

Dick and Tim investigated a possible lead and discovered where you were originally being held. You still had a sweet tooth and your favorite bakery recognized your custom order being placed and tipped off Wayne Enterprises about the person who picked it up. 

Unfortunately, The Joker moved you before Batman could arrive at the location but now they knew you were still alive. It strengthened their hopes in finding you safe and sound.  

Numerous rescue attempts were thwarted in the following weeks, but they never gave up. There would be another lead, they would have another chance to save you.  

All hope was not lost. 

Their patience was rewarded the day the Batcomputer picked up a signal on your tracker. It was finally online for the first time in months. Everyone scrambled to assemble at the pinned location. Bruce was ready for a fight and mentally prepared himself to do anything necessary to get you back.  

None of the boys were prepared to arrive at the back of your office building. It seemed to be a mistake, it had to be. Was Joker sending them on a wild goose chase? Bruce scanned the area but there was only one faint heat signature detected. His nerves were on edge, already assuming the worst.  

Bruce’s heart stopped beating when he saw a body lying in the delivery drop-off/ loading area. He didn’t wait for the others to secure the area. His father instincts were in overdrive as he rushed to your side, calling out your name.  

You were unresponsive with only a tattered blanket covering your shivering form. That’s when Bruce saw the bruises painting your body and the cast still present on your wrist. He didn’t want to believe that this battered woman was his spit-fire daughter.  

You were a shell of your former self when Bruce finally roused you awake. The fire that once blazed intently within your e/c eyes was gone and it was evident what The Joker did to you.  

“Bruce, look.” Dick said as he picked up something near your feet.  

Scattered around your body was a deck of playing cards. On the joker card a note was written in red.  

You can have her back Bats; I don’t like broken dolls. 

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Angelia has been giving me a brainworm lately, so here's a little angsty... hurt/comfort-y kinda thing?

While deploying (or maybe extracting) from a mission, the airship Angelia and S/O (or maybe S/O's the pilot) are riding in is shot down and crashes, with S/O ending up losing an arm or a leg in the ensuing crash.

Upon discovering the loss of their limb, S/O tries (with... very mild success) to play it cool and lighten the mood with a joke, going: "Hey hon look... we match... hehe..."

But looking in their eyes Angelia can clearly see that they're kinda freaking out and barely keeping it together as now they have to figure out a means of getting out of their situation.

(GFL Short Fic) Angelia's S/O getting heavily injured

I imagine based on recent asks, most people have an Angelia brainworm now. I also may have gone a little overboard in the length of this and instead of an imagine you get an entire ass short fic, but whatever! It's the content GFL deserves! Word Count: 3.4k CW: Loss of a limb, blood, nothing explicit.

Angelia's vision slowly came back to her, accompanied by her ears ringing and body aching. The last thing she remembered was that her, S/O and DEFY were on their way back from a mission in the snowy mountains near the northern borders. And...

The explosion that rocked the helicopter before it came crashing down.

Immediately, Angelia tried to sit up, gritting her teeth through the stinging pain before an arm laid her back down.

Before she could throw a punch at her potential attacker, Angelia relaxed slightly at the sight of AN-94 administering first aid. Or at least what looked to be the remainders of a kit.

(AN-94) "Please remain still, ma'am. The injuries you sustained were not as severe, but we need to be safe."

It was only now Angelia realized that AN-94 had her combat mask on, missing her jacket and parts of her gear torn off, tiny embers illuminating the wreckage of the helicopter's hull surrounding them.

Which meant a skirmish was soon to follow their crash site.

(Angelia) "Where are the others?"

Angelia saw AN-94's eyes glance over to her for a brief moment. Though her expression didn't change, the T-Doll had been under her command long enough for Angelia to know that was hesitation.

And suddenly, what AN-94 said fully registered in her head.

(Angelia) "...What did you mean, not as severe? Compared to who...?!"

AN-94 stoically turned to her commanding officer, hesitating one last time before fully reporting.

(AN-94) "Thankfully, the squad is still functional, despite our damage. AK-12 has sustained the least damage, only superficial scratches, though her gear is now destroyed, leaving her with only a pistol."

The T-Doll sat Angelia up properly, with Angelia wincing in pain but keeping the grunts relatively quiet. AN-94 took the mask off her face for a moment with a click and hiss, one hand going over her knee as she knelt.

(AN-94) "Myself and RPK-16's vests are heavily damaged, but our weapons are intact. AK-15's right arm has been torn off, alongside her gear, but remains functional. Currently she is armed with a combat knife."

That just left one person. And Angelia's heartbeat slowly quickened when she asked about them.

(Angelia) "And S/O?"

(AN-94) "Condition critical, ma'am."

Critical?

Suddenly, all the pain that Angelia was feeling seemed to vanish in an instant, her voice raising in volume unintentionally at her subordinate.

(Angelia) "Take me to them, now."

AN-94 helped Angelia out of the wreckage they were inside, the hull of the helicopter somehow miraculously still intact, even if there were at least a dozen holes she could see through. Snow crunched under their boot and the winter breeze barely affected them as the flames around them roared out, leaving a smoke cloud trailing into the sky.

Laid up against a piece of metal now acting as improvised cover, Angelia found the rest of her squad standing and crouching near S/O.

And the sight of S/O made her freeze in her tracks, the white snow around them tinted red, and their face looking paler than she had ever seen.

A few more seconds of examining S/O told her why.

(AK-12) "S/O's arm was caught between shrapnel, one that would've lodged itself through my head had they not shoved me out the way."

AK-12 reported, a hint of shame in her voice as she did so, turning around to briefly salute Angelia, but not getting out of her kneel.

S/O's right arm was now missing, a red bandaged stub replacing it making Angelia teeth clench at the sight. Her heart felt like it had just gotten stabbed merely by looking at the state S/O was in.

(RPK-16) "AN-94 was treating you inside the helicopter, so we had to treat them out here. We've done what we can, but they need proper medical attention ASAP."

She could see that most of her squad's jacket laid directly underneath S/O, spread out so they could have a flat surface to keep them comfortable on, considering the circumstances.

RPK-16 kept a flame source nearby to keep S/O warm, but Angelia doubted that S/O was feeling the cold at this very moment.

(Angelia) "Why did you not treat them in an enclosed area?!-"

(AK-15) "Ma'am, our top priority is you. And..."

Uncharacteristically, AK-15's voice trailed off, hesitant as her other sisters to fully report what had happened. As she turned around from facing the trees, her hair briefly swayed and touched her own missing arm, though electric wires and metallic frames replaced where blood and bone should have been.

(AK-15) "Before S/O lost consciousness, they insisted that you were inside first before them."

Angelia clicked her tongue in irritation, knowing better than to shout at her squad for doing what was objectively correct.

However, DEFY's members meant more to her than anything else.

Even above her own life.

Angelia knelt into the snow, uncaring of the freezing cold seeping through her torn clothes. Her real hand brushed over their face, S/O unconsciously grimacing at the sensation, her emotions slowly bubbling up to the surface. Keeping them suppressed, Angelia cooly continued talking to her team.

(Angelia) "Were we able to radio for help?"

(AK-12) "We managed to contact Griffin's Commander. They apparently have an outpost not too far from here."

(Angelia) "Within walking distance?"

(AK-15) "No, ma'am. One of their Black Hawks are coming to retrieve us."

AN-94 gently picked S/O up into her arms, carrying them bridal style, but not before putting her combat mask back on, followed by the rest of DEFY.

Everyone prepped their gear, ready for a fight to break out any second as the AK-12 and RPK-16 put back on their coats, AK-15 still looking around and clenching her combat knife's hilt.

Angelia helped wrap AN-94's coat around her, eyes glancing over to S/O for a brief moment.

(Angelia) "Let's get out of here and to extraction. Sangvis are no doubt already approaching."

...

The extraction coordinates was now only a seven minutes away, putting Angelia's mind somewhat at ease. Her squad, despite the injuries, was as AN-94 said, still operating normally.

The same couldn't be said for S/O, looking worse with every second that passed. Before Angelia could have further time to lament about that, she saw their eyes slowly creep open.

(S/O) "N...Ninety-four?"

(AN-94) "Ma'am, S/O is awake!"

Angelia rushed over to S/O's side, concern briefly spilling out onto her expression as she saw S/O faintly smile at them, eyes half open.

(S/O) "Is...everyone-?"

Angelia's hand reached out for S/O's leg, brushing against it and motioning for everyone to keep walking and not waste anymore time.

(Angelia) "Alive, though we all look like shit. You worst of all."

S/O laughed at that, though immediately coughing afterwards causing them to try to look around, and quickly notice something off about themselves.

(S/O) "O-Oh...that's...not good."

Their eyes rapidly darting between their missing limb, and quickly noticing how injured the rest of DEFY was, including Angelia.

She had been walking with a limp, holding onto AN-94's rifle with her uniform all torn apart with blood and new scratches on her body.

Though, understandably, they kept looking at their arm.

(S/O) "Hah, I guess we match now at least..."

For once, Angelia's lets her expression go soft on a mission, her hand grabbing onto S/O's remaining one tightly, not crying, but damn well looking like she was about to.

(Angelia) "Hah...that's...not something I wanted you to be able to do..."

AK-12 and RPK-16 caught up to S/O increasing their pace, getting behind Angelia so they could at least see them smile, even if it was obvious it was forced. AN-94 joined in with a small chuckle of her own, that one sounding the fakest of all.

Despite that, it still put S/O somewhat at ease.

(AK-12) "Plus it's the wrong arm. Ange's got her left arm replaced, remember?"

(RPK-16) "Or did that crash mess with your eyes too?"

S/O laughed again, though this time their voice was getting even shakier as their body trembled, Angelia trying her best to remain calm for S/O's sake.

(Angelia) "H-Hey! Don't push yourself, you need to rest."

(S/O) "D-Do we even have the luxury?-"

(AK-15) "No. Picking up heat signatures behind us."

Angelia nodded at AN-94, moving to pick up S/O in her place as the rest of her squad got into position. Moving their arm over her shoulder, Angelia got to cover behind a thick tree, with AK-15 throwing her a radio before grabbing her knife again.

Angelia instinctively held S/O tight to her chest, her hand's grip threatening to crush the radio.

(Angelia) "Commander, where the hell is that evac?!"

[Commander's Voice] "Three minutes out! Should be near the field according to your current coordinates!"

Both Angelia and S/O turned their heads to the open snowy plains in front of them, littered with a tree every now and then. Meaning they'd get lit up the moment they tried walking out right now.

(AN-94) "Ma'am, S/O. Keep your heads down and prepare to run. We will cover your escape."

AN-94 switched guns with AK-12, grabbing her pistol while AK-12's eyes opened, her pink eyes scanning the environment around them as she readied her sister's rifle.

(AK-12) "Multiple Sangvis units inbound. Counting twenty-five, more than likely more."

RPK-16 flipped her bipod and steadied her machine gun on top of a fallen tree, her voice sounding more bored than concerned.

(RPK-16) "Looks like they're intent on stopping us from going home."

AK-15's eyes narrowed as she got into a fighting stance, ready to leap out as soon as she spotted her enemy.

(AN-94) "Contact."

Angelia held S/O close to her chest as she lowered her head, the sound of gunfire immediately drowning out every other noise in the area.

Flashes of light rapidly blinked across the forest, with branches and tree bark splintering from stray shots, splashes of snow and dirt shooting up into the air as DEFY engaged Sangvis T-Dolls.

AK-12 and AN-94 picked off their targets with precision shots, each bullet blowing apart armored helms into scrap metal and electronics as they hid behind cover, the trees giving them cover being thick enough to not get shot through as easily.

Though their enemy was using the cover to their advantage as well, being able to hide from RPK-16's suppressing fire. As one of the Sangvis T-Dolls appeared around in their flank, aiming its gun at Angelia, its head was quickly torn apart by a knife that cut through its electronic wires and promptly kicked into the floor by AK-15.

Angelia could see in the distance a small shape in the skies approaching their location, making her heart race faster. She helped S/O up, thankful to see them still awake but hating she had to put them so close to danger.

(S/O) "A-Ange-...!"

(Angelia) "Not a damn word, S/O! Keep your head down! Where's the enemy anti-air?!"

AK-12 ducked mere moments before a stray rocket flew over her head, soaring into the open fields and igniting the area and leaving a black scorch.

(AK-12) "Think we just found it! Ninety-Four!"

AN-94 nodded and peeked out of cover with her pistol, attempting to scan where the trail of smoke was before a hail of concentrated gunfire forced her back down.

(AN-94) "Not down yet!"

RPK-16 gunned down several of the T-Dolls with a hail of her own, but unable to find which T-Doll had fired the rocket.

(RPK-16) "Can't find them either. Fifteen?!"

Some of the Sangvis Dolls attempted to charge AK-15, quickly resulting in their death as she threw a knife through one of the cores in their chest, and then with one hand grabbing another Doll and using it as makeshift cover as bullets ripped through its armor.

(AK-15) "Negative!"

(Angelia) "Our ride is about to get shot down again if we let them go-"

(Cheery Girl's Voice) "FLASHBANG OUT! EVERYONE LOOK AWAY!"

Knowing immediately whose voice that was, Angelia dove with S/O to the ground, covering their ears and bracing for the explosion herself, eyes closed and teeth clenching.

Everyone in DEFY took cover seconds before the flashbang went off, disorienting the Sangvis T-Dolls.

As another rocket shot out towards the helicopter, a bullet quickly intercepted it, making it explode midair before more gunfire erupted from within the forest.

After a few more shots, the forest became deathly still, the only sound now being the embers catching onto the trees and snow shifting as the members of DEFY looked around for any more targets.

Angelia moved off S/O, checking to see if they were alright before helping them stand up again, her voice calling out into the trees.

(Angelia) "UMP9? Is that you?"

The twin-pig tailed brunette stuck her head around the trees, her yellow outfit sticking out sorely amongst the snowy background. And yet, no one had even seen her before they heard her.

That quickly changing as she waved her hands eagerly at Angelia.

(UMP9) "Ange! It's so good to see you all again!"

Looks like it's time for T-Doll Funfact number...9? I wanna say Nine, can someone double check that for me? : Angelia is the main backer of Squad 404, regularly deployed as Black Ops mercs for her, alongside Griffin.

(AK-12) "...Friendly contact signatures confirmed. Squad 404."

DEFY's members lowered their weapons as HK416 and UMP45 emerged from the trees the Sangvis Units were originally hiding behind. HK416 crossed her arms and stoically shrugged while UMP45's signature smirk was still across her lips as they approached.

(UMP45) "Looks like we came just in time.~"

Her voice soft and playful, though her gaze still sharp, looking around the environment herself to scan for anymore threats.

(RPK-16) "We thank you for the assist, it was looking a little dire there.

(HK416) "...Hey, is that...?"

Both 404 T-Dolls' eyes trailed over to S/O, noticing how badly injured they were before seeing the rest of the squad.

(UMP9) "W-We need to get you guys home, pronto! G11! GET YOUR BUTT UP HERE!"

In the distance, G11's head poked out of the snow, with her weapon next to pop out, only muttering something inaudible in response. Despite her usual sluggish pace, she did thankfully hasten herself upon seeing the state they were picking up Angelia and the others.

Triple checking they wouldn't get shot down again, Angelia and S/O made it onto the helicopter first, followed by DEFY, then lastly having 404 join them, their extraction taking off and flying back to a safer location.

UMP9 and HK416 were quick to apply real medical attention to S/O and Angelia, with UMP45 taking a seat next to AK-12 and G11.

(UMP45) "Heard you guys got dinged up pretty bad. Though, didn't expect it to be that bad."

She couldn't help but stare at S/O's missing arm, only having seen S/O with both a few months ago.

(S/O) "Agh! W-Would've been worse if not...for you guys...!"

(Angelia) "You really pulled our asses out of the fire. Thanks."

(HK416) "I-It's nothing, ma'am."

(UMP9) "Yeah! This one is on the house!"

(G11) "...So that means no dinner?"

S/O smiled at the comment, with Angelia pulling them near her, tightly at that once the 404 T-Dolls finished.

(Angelia) "That one is on me, G11. Same goes for you girls too-"

Angelia turned to her own squad, a dry smile forming.

(Angelia) "You made the best out of a bleak situation, and saved the two of us as well."

(AK-12) "Naturally.~"

(AN-94) "Of course, ma'am."

(RPK-16) "I think Fifteen here would have punched every one of them to death before we lost either of you-"

(AK-15) "Give it a rest, Sixteen..."

(S/O) "I think...we all could use that right now..."

...

A few hours later, S/O was taken into emergency care to get them fully stabilized while the rest of DEFY had repairs on them, Angelia wanting to be with her squad until then.

After seeing them off to a temporary dorm before getting a proper ride back home, she went to visit S/O.

The medical room they were in was far from advanced, resting on a rather traditional bed than anything that screamed "medical", but it was comfortable enough for them.

But her attention was immediately brought to the cast S/O was in, their arm bandage resting on their side. Or at least what was left.

Angelia grabbed a nearby chair and sat on the side where their arm remained, smiling sadly at them.

S/O returned one of their own, their hand silently lifting before Angelia took it out without hesitation, both their remaining hands holding each other tightly.

(Angelia) "Doing alright, S/O?"

(S/O) "Hah...warm bed, and a pretty woman next to me. Think I'm doing better than I imagined..."

Their eyes slowly traced over to their right arm, smile quickly fading.

(Angelia) "...Y'know, I lost my arm and leg doing something similar."

(S/O) "In a crash?"

(Angelia) "No just...being out in the field. Barely a time they deploy without me. Think by now losing a second piece of me would be enough to ward me off but...-"

Her eyes closed, sighing out loud. No use trying to sugarcoat it.

(Angelia) "...Basically, I'm saying that recovery is going to fucking suck."

(S/O) "Hah, I mean, I could've guessed..."

Angelia scooted closer to S/O, her grip growing tighter and voice going barely above a whisper.

(Angelia) "I should never have put you in harm's way like this..."

(S/O) "You can call me a dumbass if you want Ange, but...if it means saving you or the other girls, I'd lose my other arm in a heartbeat."

Angelia grimaced at that as her voice grew shaky, but she did not let S/O go.

(Angelia) "Okay, you're a dumbass."

(S/O) "Hm...Says the one wanting the rookie taken care of first instead of the commanding officer."

Angelia's eyes slightly widened in response before quickly regaining her cool.

(Angelia) "You heard that?"

(S/O) "Truthfully, I was drifting in and out when you asked what was going on, but I already knew what face you were making."

S/O grunted in pain as they tried to shift, going off balance as they instinctively tried to balance themselves using their right hand. Angelia caught them before they could fall, helping them sit upright.

(S/O) "I...I can't stand to see any of you all in pain."

Angelia scoffed before her eyes trailed down, blinking away tears that were threatening to form.

(Angelia) "And how do you think I feel?"

S/O tugged Angelia's hand to bring her closer, allowing them to rest their forehead against hers. The gesture made her blush slightly, but she closed her eyes and relaxed her shoulders, both of them leaning to each other.

Even though it was a small eternity before S/O pulled away and opened their eyes, it still felt too soon.

(S/O) "I promise, Ange. I'm not leaving you. Even if I have to end up looking as badass as you."

Finally, a genuine laugh came from Angelia as her metallic hand moved to cover her mouth, revealing a glimpse of the energetic young girl she used to be.

(Angelia) "Is that what you call me? I'm barely holding together as it is..."

(S/O) "Okay, how about beautiful? Charming?-"

(Angelia) "Psh, just shut up already..."

There was no venom to her words as S/O hugged her closer, the blush on her face getting brighter signaling to them how much their words affected Angelia.

Taking a deep breath, Angelia pressed a soft kiss against S/O's forehead before moving to stand.

(Angelia) "...Thank you. I should let you rest now."

(S/O) "T-Thanks...PT begins in a week for me, by the way."

(Angelia) "I'll be there. Don't worry. I'll also have the girls bring you some dinner-"

(S/O) "Aw, why can't you?"

Though they were teasing, Angelia could hear a bit of genuine disappointment in their voice.

(Angelia) "Don't be too greedy. I got a lot of paperwork to fill because of you but...I'll see if I got time."

Angelia teased back, shooting them a smile over her shoulder before opening the door, stopping before taking a step out.

(Angelia) "...I love you, S/O."

(S/O) "...I love you too, Ange."

[felassan]

Mass Effect: The Official Cocktail Book (Part 2 of 2)

[you can get the book here]

Drink, food, and other lore blurbs from this book. (The book also contains the associated real-world recipes and photography thereof. This post only contains the in-world lore segments).

this post is Part 2 of 2. Rest of post is under a cut due to length. [Link to Part 1]

If there’s a particular drink/food you’d like to see the recipe and or picture for, lmk.

SILVER COAST CASINO The Silversun Strip, with its glittering residences, combat-simulator complex, and electronic gaming arcade, is easily one of the most popular and iconic tourist destinations on the Citadel, and some might argue in the entire galaxy. The crown jewel of this exciting playground, of course, is the Silver Coast Casino, with three floors of Quasar, roulette tables, varren racing booths, and a bar that serves mild-to-wild cocktails, depending on your mood. Silver Coast is nothing if not lively, and I’ve included the following cocktails to help kick-start the excitement of your next big soirée – whether you’re attending a charity gala for galactic war refugees or breaking into Elijah Khan’s panic room, it’s hard not to get a buzz from being surrounded by dolled-up attendees drinking fashionable cocktails!

Weeping Heart

I simply love a flair for the dramatic: thieves leaving calling cards, villains monologuing, or devils bargaining. It elevates the stale and mundane, forcing you to reconsider traditional assumptions. And it doesn’t get any more traditional than the martini, but this! The Weeping Heart! How could you resist something so elemental? No doubt named for the Drell Skin Venom (page 16) typically used to whip this one up. Or perhaps because it conjures the complex emotions of a heartbroken drell recalling every detail of a love long-lost. This drink is crisp, cool, searing, and spirit-forward, with a tingly effect from the aforementioned venom. To live is to feel, let the Weeping Heart remind you.

The Mindfish

Don’t let their eminent politeness fool you. Hanar know how to party. They just don’t do it with alcohol, seeing as dehydration doesn’t exactly mix well with being mostly made of water. Their pick of poison is something called a mindfish, which has hallucinogenic skin oil that gets hanar buzzed up for the night. I should note that it would send a humanoid off on quite the weekend trip. Silver Coast Casino offers a more humanoid-friendly ode in cocktail form, The Mindfish, which can be made with alcohol, yerba matte, or a nootropic alcohol alternative like caffeine or L-theanine that supposedly boosts memory and focus in humans. This drink is typically garnished with nutmeg (not nearly enough for proper hallucinations, of course). And if you really want to party like the hanar, ditch your “face names” and give your party guests “soul names”. They tend to be more elaborate if you’ve already had a couple Mindfish to drink.

Volus Bina

An asari, quarian, and volus walk into a bar. The bartender asks, “What can I get you?” The quarian and volus motion to the asari, “Talk to her, we’re just here for the atmosphere.” A traditional Volus Bina is made with ammonia, but seeing as how that might not be the wisest thing for a non-Volus to consume, this recipe is more an homage to the original served up at Silver Coast Casino. It gets its flavor from foods with a high ammonia content – like chocolate, citrus, and almonds – that also happen to blend beautifully together. The aperol has a sort of strong and sour finish, smooth but potent, and the cocktail comes together with a chocolaty-orange flavor that is to die for (but not literally, so put down the ammonia).

Thessian Temple

The Thessian Temple is a classic drink that has withstood the tests of time and space. Instantly recognizable with its vivid blue-and-purple gradient hue, sweet and tangy lemon-lime flavor, and effervescent bubbles, it’s given to asari children (sans alcohol, of course) as a special treat – kids deserve to feel fancy, too. However, I have it on good authority that the Silver Coast Casino serves up a variation with a touch of maraschino liqueur and Blue Thessia for the grown-ups to enjoy. It’s perfect to sip on for those nights where you’d prefer to walk a straight line on your way back to the skycars.

Asari Gelatin Shots

If you’re lucky enough to attend one of the parties hosted by Silver Coast Casino owner Elijah Khan, you can be sure that Asari Gelatin Shots will be on the menu. And why not? These are perfect party fare – they go down easy and kick like a Disciple shotgun. Asari Gelatin Shots really bring me back to my Maiden days… The taste is like a strong gin and tonic with lime. They’re also very pretty to look at, with the purplish-pink color and sprinkles reminiscent of asari facial markings. Plus, the quinine in the tonic water will make them glow in the dark, so turn the lights low and get ready to embrace eternity!

Krogan Burukh

Before my commando days, I started running with a krogan merc group who were looking for a biotic. I didn’t have a lot of experience with krogan back then, and I admit they were an intimidating lot. Our first night together, the boys took me out drinking and I, wanting to seem just as tough as they were, did my best to keep up. Until they started ordering Krogan Burukh. It’s a drink you set on fire, with a warm and spicy orange flavor that. You. Set. On. Fire. It’ll pull your quads into your abdomen to see it done right. I’m not your mother, but I also don’t want to hear your house burned down, so for the love of the goddess, treat this one with respect, yeah? [note on recipe: “Garnish: Now, that just sounds like a fire hazard, doesn’t it?”]

NORMANDY CREW CONCOCTIONS As a former asari commando, I’ve certainly enjoyed my fair share of loud explosions, but I pride myself on having mastered the finer, more subtle arts of combat: espionage, assassination, and superior intel. On that last note, even someone who’s been living under a mineral deposit has heard of the great human Spectre, Commander Shepard, and the crew of the Normandy – zigzagging across the galaxy, chasing rumors of a looming existential threat. But who are they really and what makes them tick? I like to go deeper than an Emily Wong fluff piece, so I pulled a few strings to find out. You can learn a lot about someone from what they drink. Let’s just say I was not disappointed when my sources for all things aboard the Normandy were able to procure the following recipes for me to pore over. Did I also swipe a personnel file or ten? Yes, but this gives it context and color. And though the drinks are very telling, I’m not – so fix yourself a glass of these Normandy Crew Concoctions and draw your own conclusions.

Subject Zero

Yes, I’m a criminal. I’ve been a pirate and an insurgent, and my hands are far from clean. But Cerberus is on another level entirely. I’ve had run-ins with biotically enhanced “subjects” they’ve manipulated, and all of them have been pushed to the limit. Take Jack, for instance. Arguably one of the most powerful human biotics alive, existing on booze and caffeine, she’s not too fussy about how best to imbibe that combo for maximum effectiveness. The Subject Zero gets it done. I use green apple vodka and green apple energy drink to make it tasty. A toast to burning Cerberus to the ground. [note on recipe: “Garnish: None. Did you skip the “not-too-fussy” part? Are you trying to piss off Jack?”. Another note on recipe: “Glass: Highball or whatever you can find”]

Calibration Cooler

Turians may be imperialistic, inflexible, stringent, and bullheaded, but I appreciate that they rarely suffer nonsense. That’s why this recipe comes with a tip I picked up from a rather notable turian, Garrus Vakarian. If someone keeps pestering you to talk or asks you to take on some tedious chore, you can always put them off with the following magic phrase: “Can it wait a minute? I’m in the middle of some Calibration Coolers”. Maintain eye contact and repeat as often as necessary to get that nuisance off your back. Bonus: The drunker you get, the less you’ll care.

Quantum Entanglement

There’s something so romantic about the concept of quantum entanglement – that despite billions of light-years of distance, two subatomic particles can still somehow be… intimately linked to each other. If you’re looking to start something with Samantha Traynor (that’s not a fight), I hear a husky, sexy voice waxing poetic about esoteric physics will do it ten out of ten times. Even if that voice belongs to an Enhanced Defense Intelligence (EDI) operating a gynoid infiltration unit. Not here to judge, if you need a list of extranet sites involving romantic relationships between organics and synthetics, I can recommend a few that’ll really spin your hard drive. Serve up a couple of Quantum Entanglements while you’re at it. I love this recipe for the sensual play of the vanilla flavor in the vodka with the cognac and passionfruit. Perfect to sip as you ruminate on the unknowable with that special someone.

Joker’s Challenge

I’m as competitive as they come, babe, but drinking contests feel antithetical to me. I prefer my drinks celebratory (and let my sidearm handle any disputes). Not so for Jeff “Joker” Moreau and Steve Cortez. These two pilots escalated a “guns vs. brains” hypothetical into a drinking contest followed by a trip to the gun range. I do, however, appreciate the poetry of them going shot-for-shot and then… shot-for-shot. For the drinks portion of the contest, Joker’s Challenge is an homage that substitutes antiseptic mouthwash (yes, really) with crème de menthe, keeping the mint “spirit” of the original “recipe,” and I don’t think I need to explain how well that pairs with an espresso and chocolate-infused rum. This one is a party-pleaser and there’s no contesting that. [note on recipe: “Garnish: Garnishing just slows down the contest!”]

Emergency Induction Port

There are two things quarians do better than anyone else: curse (say it with me: bosh’tet!) and get drunk. There’s something indescribably charming about watching them start to slur words like “emergency induction port” until they become an unrecognizable mash of consonants and vowels. If you’ve never experienced it for yourself (hell, even if you have), then I recommend finding the nearest extranet terminal – I guarantee someone somewhere has uploaded such an interaction.

Anyway, my sources suggest this particular recipe is a favorite of a truly singular quarian, Tali’Zorah nar Rayya, especially when toasting to fallen friends. It is a simple, clean, and digestible drink that’s best enjoyed through your emergency induction port (or straw, for us non-quarians). [note on recipe: “Special Equipment: 1 emergency induction port (a straw)!”. Also, the final instruction in the recipe reads “Drink through an emergency induction port.”]

The N7 Shooter

N7 special forces, including those on the Normandy crew, are no joke. They’re some of the most elite units in the galaxy and could easily go toe-to-toe with any asari commando unit I’ve seen in action. The N7 Shooter is a drink to be had in their honor: a delicious, layered shot, both sweet and caffeinated. It evokes the distinct white-black-red color scheme you’ll find on their insignia. Seeing as November 7th is known on Earth as N7 Day, it’s the perfect excuse to whip up a batch of these with your fellow cocktail commanders to toast to current and future graduates. [note on recipe: “Garnish: None. Same as the room for error when an N7 graduate takes a shot.”]

MILKY WAY BAR SNACKS I find that after a close brawl or blue-skin-of-my-teeth escape from a job gone (almost) wrong, I need something to snack on as much as I need a good drink. And let’s be honest, no one likes a hangry drunk: they’re that much closer to sticking a knife in your gut for giving them the wrong look. And what kind of host throws a shindig with fancy drinks and nothing to eat? Even batarian mothers raise their kids with better manners than that. Plus, these recipes are fun. They’re meant to be easily shared and prepared, so you can skip the forks and (especially) knives - which makes it that much harder for some drunk, cranky krogan to shank you. Bon appétit!

EDI’s Curry Snacks

You take the behavioral blocks off a Quantum Blue Box-type AI and give it a body, the next thing you know it’s making snacks. Good thing, too, any decent watering hole needs snacks to munch on. This recipe (courtesy of Normandy’s EDI) has a little bite to it and goes especially well with ale-based cocktails. And while audio logs show shipmates Wrex, Samantha, and Kaidan are less on board with using curry powder, I’m with the fembot. Note that if you end up serving dextro nuts as well, you’ll want to be sure to put them in a separate, distinct bowl so your human guests don’t get cramps. Matriarch Aethyta likes to use red-colored ones, which gives humans that “STOP IT!” feeling.

Burgat: The Other Blue Meat

Regarding the burgat advertising campaign (we’ve all heard it: “Burgat! The other blue meat!”), I confess – I… don’t know what “other” blue meat it’s referring to. I hope it’s not asari, but I wouldn’t put anything past the batarians. Let’s end our speculation there, because burgat is tasty enough to render “other” unimportant. Zakera Cafe added Tummy-Tingling Tuchanka Sauce to their burgat skewers, and now I simply can’t have this dish without it. Either as a dip or slathered right on top of the grilled meat, this tummy-tingling topping is akin to human Thai peanut sauce.

Tastee Bites

If you’re looking for something cheesy, snacky, and crunchy to pair with your Batarian Ale Shandy (page 30), start with Tastee Bites. You can buy economy boxes of them in bulk from the Fishdog Food Factory (I’ve watched krogans go through several in one sitting), but the homemade version is a little more flavorful because you get to use real cheese instead of synthetic. Experiment with flavorful hard cheese based on your preference, and keep in mind the homemade version is even more addictive and snacky than store-bought.

Herbed Dextro Cheese

If you’ve got quarian and turian friends on your guest list, Herbed Dextro Cheese is the perfect party dip. Note that quarians don’t usually bother with herbs in their cheese, so triple-check before you trigger a toxin treatment program in someone’s enviro-suit. This dish tastes great with a variety of dippers, making it a versatile party option. Bonus: The loud crunching also drowns out awkward conversations!

Huevos Rancheros À La Vega

There’s something special about battle-tested recipes that have been handed down through generations. You could choose to follow them to a T or make adjustments to put your personal stamp on things. Or a mix of both! Alliance marine James Vega got this breakfast pleaser from his grandmother who insisted that he not adjust the ranchero sauce. Not. One. Tiny. Bit. But she didn’t say anything about the beans. So, to save time, James started using canned refried black beans instead of making them from scratch. I also picture him cracking the eggs with his biceps, but maybe that’s just me. Huevos Rancheros À La Vega – who wants some eggs?

Spicy Ramen Noodles

It’s easy to work up an appetite when you’re bouncing around the Silversun Strip. Whether you’ve spent your day gaming at the arcade, combat simulator, or roulette wheel at the Silver Coast Casino, some Spicy Ramen Noodles are the perfect dish to refuel before a night on the town. A derivation from traditional ramen, these are more akin to Dan Dan Noodles or Tantanmen, which I’ve found to be a more approachable, bar-friendly dish. I procured this recipe from the Noodle House on the strip, so you know it’s good.

Kaidan’s Steak Sandwich

We asari tend to take biotics for granted. So, I confess I was caught off guard when a tipsy young Alliance marine opened up to me about “brain camp”, a rather crude early training facility for biotics. On the anniversary of his graduation (which sounded more like a prison break), he liked to celebrate his freedom with “beef, bacon, and beer – the food of my people”. The next time I saw him, I let him know that I’d perfected this recipe and named it in his honor, a light and shareable open-faced sandwich with a delicious beer-bacon jam. And a side of Canadian whiskey, of course. [note: recipe calls for Canadian lager]

Ryuusei Roll Spéciale

I’m not one for lines, but when I tell you the wait at Ryuusei Sushi is worth it, I mean it. Serving “authentic French sushi,” their Ryuusei Roll Spéciale is a must-order. Assuming you get in, of course. Lucky for you, I’ve included a recipe for you here, but don’t let this one intimidate you: It’s upscale fusion cuisine designed for home cooks of all kinds. If anything ever happened to that place, I don’t know what I’d do… but it would be violent.

Chocolate Lava Bomb Cake

This lava cake is a misunderstood human dessert. But if you know, then you definitely know. It is not undercooked. It’s a unique combination of traditional chocolate cake and soufflé, which makes it cakey on the outside with an irresistible molten chocolaty inside. This particular Chocolate Lava Bomb Cake recipe includes a booze infusion of either Tuchanka Dry or bourbon. Alliance pilot Steve Cortez got it from his aunt, who claims the hooch gives it an almost biotic ability to Pull you in and hold you in Stasis after that first bite.

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Andromeda: Added in 2819 by Roa, Andromeda citizen and Nexus exchange volunteer Milky Way Year: 2819, addendum to the capable work of Ambree T’Sia Hello, my friend! When I was accepted to live among the aliens of the Jarevaon Imasaf (or Milky Way, as they call it) aboard their massive space station Nexus, I said isharay to my angara family and set out for adventure… but I did not know I would end up restoring and amending a book about it! Encouraged to familiarize myself with their culture, I came across the most interesting volume in the Andromeda Initiative’s archives – this one that you now hold. A truly lucky find, for how better to know someone than by ingesting their food and consuming their beverages? My thanks, dear Ambree T’Sia! But the particular (and if I’m honest, peculiar) way denizens of that galaxy have of speaking can be challenging to follow, so I took this book to a cantankerous-chemist-turned-brusque-bartender Dutch Smith and his affable co-manager Anan T’Mari at the Vortex for guidance and a good deal of translation. Dutch, with some prodding from Anan, thus began his tutelage. Each new recipe informed and expanded my endless curiosity for their home galaxy. It also gave me an idea… After Pathfinder Ryder successfully stabilized the Remnant vault on Havarl, I was eager to assist with our fledgling alliance. So, I proposed that I update this fabulous tome with recipes concocted and collected from across Andromeda, from colonists and indigenous alike, that we may further link our two galaxies in a gesture of friendship and cooperation. After all, as my wise tutor Anan tells it, what is a better way to break the ice between two species than with a good drink? - Andromeda citizen and Nexus exchange volunteer Roa of the angara

THE VORTEX I believe I endeared myself to Dutch (as much as one can) when I asked him to explain the concept of a vortex. Struggling to understand his words, I confessed to being more of a visual learner. Dutch grabbed a beer from a bar patron, silenced the mouthy one’s protestations, and began to vigorously stir said brew with a straw. “That,” he said, pointing to the mass of swirling liquid at the center of the glass. “Ah! How aptly named, our little improvised bar,” I replied, “Seeing as how it swirls together the inhabitants of the Nexus, an irresistible force drawing them in, as they twist and interact in complex and exciting ways!” He stared at me for quite some time. I began to fear I had spoken out of turn. But it was Anan who washed the glasses and mopped the floor that night while Dutch and I tended to the last stirrings of our evening’s customers. The following recipes are some of my favorites, and I take great pride in them. Seeing as how our Vortex originally began as a chemistry lab, these drinks have more of an experimental feel!

Tall Moose

Oh, Canada! This Earth nation is rich in culture, wildlife, and video game developers (I play Alliance Corsair on my omni-tool!). Its vast lands birthed frozen tundra to rival Voeld – filled with fierce, antlered creatures known as moose. To honor these fearsome beasts, Dutch created the Tall Moose, a cocktail that utilizes Canadian whiskey and something called “maple syrup,” the sweet blood of vanquished trees most often found atop panned cakes. Have one Moose, or several Mooses! Meese? Bah, sometimes I feel this confusing language was invented by purposefully spiteful vehshaanan as teroshe…

Dirty Squirrel

Have you heard of squirrels? They very much enjoy a diet of nuts! To that effect, Dutch has concocted what he calls a Dirty Squirrel, which employs a mixture of hazelnut, walnut, and almond liqueurs. The “dirty,” I have inferred, comes from the many infectious diseases these adorable rodents carry within their small furry bodies. I shall confirm with Anan on that last point…

Lucky Leprechaun

On Earth, a tiny race of wizened humanoids who live under rainbows, get drunk, start fights, make shoes (or breakfast cereal; there are variances in the telling), and, if caught, must surrender all their credits to the fortunate hunter. Truly! Angry little things that hail from a place called Ire Land. Sadly, I do not believe any came over to Andromeda on the arks. May a Lucky Leprechaun cocktail bring you equally good fortune – drinking enough of them has been known to bring on quite the jig. Who knew Pathfinder Ryder was so flexible?

Pink Marble

I have heard the humans refer to their ancestral planet of Earth as a “Blue Marble.” This term was coined from their early days of space exploration, whereupon viewing their home world, they collectively felt a sense of loneliness and fragility.  When I gaze upward on Havarl, the mighty gas giant that hangs in the sky has a pinkish hue to it. Might I suggest a refreshing ode to finding allies in a place beyond the Blue Marble – a Pink Marble. And a toast to the life, however improbable, you are fortunate to share together with friends.

Rotten Scoundrel

I quite enjoy open mic night at the Vortex. What fun it is to bear your soul so nakedly to complete strangers! Dutch, decidedly, does not, and Anan has often warned him that the deep creases from scowling so fiercely at turian poetry are becoming quite permanent. The Rotten Scoundrel is his house special these nights (to pan the “rotten, bad apples” ruining his evening) and employs the use of apple cider vinegar to achieve a crisp, tart cocktail.

KRALLA'S SONG I once beheld a glorious bar brawl instigated by some ruffians who picked a fight with the human Pathfinder Ryder and the krogan mercenary Drack at Kralla’s Song. The Pathfinder’s grit and persistence overcame – proprietor Umi Henon even stepped into the fray with a percussive clash of bottle on face! Despite choosing to name her bar after the asari demon of misfortune – and there is much misfortune in Kadara Port – Umi has shown me that even when faced with insurmountable odds, small and courageous steps toward change are better than no step at all. Her drinks reflect an adventurous spirit and grit we angara can relate to and appreciate.

Combat Juice

Nakmor Drack was one of the first krogan I ever met. He was a fearsome example of a proud warrior people. I only saw him taken down once… by Umi! Or to tell it more true, by Umi’s Combat Juice. Much like the Milky Way’s Frozen Pyjak (page 42) I discovered in Ambree T’Sia’s writing, Umi’s cocktail takes an “everything-all-at-once” approach to drink-making. In this light and to thus tell it most true: Rather than a single foe, it can be said Drack was only able to be brought low by a veritable army of alcohol!

Umi’s Experiment

Umi and I were discussing the particulars of angaran wine, after Pathfinder Ryder deemed it safe for humans and asari. “I think I may have found the perfect pairing for this,” she told me, and thus I was introduced to something the krogan call ryncol. While that beverage tastes like it would be better suited to fueling a starship, I must agree that the combination of the two is surprisingly quite pleasant, effervescent even… for angara, asari, or krogan at least. When ingested by humans, it brings about a flurry of wild, uncontrolled gesticulation they claim is “dancing” but appears more akin to a violent seizure.

Hot Spiced Tavum

In the spirit of cultural exchange, I would be most honored to introduce you to the Angaran Word of the Day: Tavum! This delightful drink is a pleasant angaran intoxicant stirred into hot water or fruit juice. For our purposes here, let us prepare a Hot Spiced Tavum, which I understand from human friends tastes like a combination of rum and bourbon. Add to that a syrup to create a most enjoyable cocktail. This drink warms one from the inside and non-angara have found it to be a more pleasurable way of staying warm than relying on Voeld’s heat lamps. Taerve uni!

Tavum & Juice

In the spirit of cultural exchange, I would be most honored to introduce you to the Angaran Word of the Day: It is still Tavum! Instead of a Hot Spiced Tavum (page 136), let us this time prepare a Tavum & Juice, whose origins were said to arise from a (now forgotten) angara pirate, who would combine fruit from the kitchens with alcohol to boost morale when times were lean. Drack, Vetra, and Peebee insist it be served with tiny little umbrellas! Whoever would need such a thing? Unless… have I been misled about the existence of leprechauns (page 128)?

Akantha Fizz

Before the kett stole Kadara Port from the angara (we took no real joy to see it stolen in turn by Sloane Kelly and her Outcast warband), I am told the trading center there would outfit adventurers who wished to camp beneath the summit. Recounting this to Umi, my prickly friend and I set about concocting a cocktail in that spirit. She introduced a bottle of asari alcohol called Akantha, whose advertisements evoke much nostalgia for herself, as well as Dr. Lexi T’Perro. This is indeed a special item, known for its warm, smoky flavor and sweet aftertaste (in lieu of Akantha, mezcal offers similar notes and can be substituted). Umi finished the Akantha Fizz with a burning herb garnish – surprising for one who prides herself on a “no frills” approach to tending bar! Though upon further reflection, she does enjoy lighting things on fire.

TARTARUS Kian Dagher’s Tartarus is a dangerous nightclub in the center of the Kadara Slums. Though I would not wish to travel there myself, it does provide a decent distraction from the brutal living conditions in the area. If you are feeling particularly reckless (or sufficiently desperate), I’ve heard there are bootleggers beyond the slums, but I felt nothing would be lost by omitting their contributions from my collections. Kian’s offerings are some of the more exotic recipes I have collected, most likely because they contain alcohol that is hard for a non-smuggler to procure on Kadara. Off-worlders will have an easier go, but I trust any Kadarans reading this are capable enough to find a way or clever enough to make the appropriate substitution where necessary.

Marljeh

We angara have a phrase to explain outlandish behavior, usually uttered with a conspiratorial wink or an exasperated sigh – depending on who is doing the outlandish behaving relative to the observer, of course. We say: “Too much marljeh!” Juggling loaded Ushior? “Too much marljeh!” Gone off to join the Roekaar? “Too much marljeh!” Living with the humans? “Too much marljeh!” (Well, I suppose this one does have a ring of truth to it!) Have I convinced you to try Marljeh yet? Good! This version can be made with or without alcohol and includes some caffeine from the matcha to create a nice flavor buffer.

Kadara Sunrise

The Kadara Sunrise! Tartarus’s most popular cocktail, Kian Dagher insists it is also the Pathfinder’s favorite drink. How interesting that such a vibrant cocktail, with its beautiful gradient of colors designed to emulate the planet’s hazy sulfur sky, is the cocktail of choice in a place as desperate and miserable as the slums. Angara sometimes boast that the humans have much to learn from us. I feel differently… What strength, what power we would have, if we shared their resilience. Oh, to possess such human certainty that one day we shall see the sun rise free from violence, free from occupation, free from the kett. When that day comes, may Tartarus’s patrons, human and angara alike, toast that victory with a round of Kadara Sunrises.

Drossix Blue

For the purposes of transparent recordkeeping, I should confess my own bias in choosing to include this recipe. I cannot shake my fascination with Vetra Nyx. This cyclone of a turian is battle-tested, but also knows how to relax when the climate is less violent. In these quieter moments, she sometimes speaks of celebrating with the angara over a bottle of Drossix Blue once the kett have been properly dealt with. Provided our physiology can tolerate it, of course. Human stomachs have been shown to burst from consumption, so I suggested a modified Drossix Blue using champaign (for the bubbles!) and blue curaçao (for the, well, blue!) as a more compatible and decidedly less murder-y beverage.

Slumwater

Humans have developed a sort of mental protection against subjects considered serious and frightening. Rather than succumbing to their suffering… they laugh at it. “Gallows humor” is as abundant in the slums as the slum water. For instance, take Slumwater! A strong drink served to rowdy customers, its taste is strong, and its look is decidedly radioactive and formulated to glow under a blacklight. Hilarious, I think! Kian insists you could take a glass and collect water from Tartarus’s vicinity and not tell the difference from its namesake cocktail. While I have learned it is acceptable to laugh at his suggestion, it is a challenge I shall nevertheless continue to decline! [note: the final instruction on the recipe reads “Shine a blacklight to see the radioactive glow.”]

ANDROMEDA BAR SNACKS Angara families are very large, especially when compared to those coming from the Milky Way. Parents, siblings, and cousins all come together to form a close-knit community whose bonds are strengthened by many things – but mostly by food! We are taught that cooking for others is a tangible expression of love and thus have a deep bench of recipes to draw from. To be able to add to the collected recipes provided by Ambree T’Sia has been an exciting gift for the angara, so I hope that sharing the following recipes gathered from across Andromeda might return the favor – and help welcome our new friends as family. These dishes are some of my favorites and are perfect to share (and pair) with a drink.

“Gingerbread” Cookies

“Gingerbread” Cookies (the debate is still on as to whether these are human or asari in origin) are all the rage on New Tuchanka! After tasting a batch, I understand why – these odd little treats are sweet at first, then a spicy little kick of heat hits your mouth and the next thing you know, only crumbs remain. Nakmor Kesh provided a recipe that she secured prior to entering cryogenic slumber. I encourage you to make some immediately. (Double the recipe if you have a clan nearby who will smell them baking.) With such exotic ingredients, this must have been very hard to come by (unless you were a very wealthy individual) in the Milky Way! [note: some of the ingredients on the ingredients list are annotated: “2 tablespoons grated fresh ginger (I believe this is a plant), 1.5 teaspoons ground cinnamon (A shelled animal of some sort?), 0.25 teaspoon ground cloves (From a hoofed mammal, like a moose), 0.25 teaspoon ground nutmeg (Not a nut; also, a plant!)”]

Varren Steak Bites

This is a savory steak bite dish with a tangy, bright green herb dipping sauce. According to the archives, varren were creatures native to the krogan homeworld of Tuchanka. They were sought after for their cunning, ferocity, and even companionship! As well as their taste… Oh, and some were raised as beasts of war. But to Drack, they were most useful for eating, and Fishdog Food Shack was renowned for their recipe (“Fishdog,” apparently, was a nickname for a subgenus of varren with metallic silver scales). I have trouble equating friends as food, but seeing as all varren meat that exists in Andromeda is cloned, I can simply enjoy them with a side of Pyjak Sauce!

Movie Night! Tarvav, Popcorn & Graxen

Movie night here is a tradition that started as a way for the crew of the survey ship Tempest to relax during their downtime. Word quickly spread throughout the Nexus and now the entire space station offers regular movie nights to help build camaraderie. And it helps aliens such as myself further familiarize ourselves with Milky Way culture, where this custom has a storied history. The only thing to make movie night more enjoyable is a large, heaping bowl of popcorn… Andromeda style. Dr. Suvi Anwar enjoys hers with a crispy angaran Tarvav and Vetra mixes in graxen. Smother the entire thing with McSorley’s Cloaca Margarine for an extra-salty treat! So many ingredients for such a simple dish. But sometimes the quest for the perfect snack is its own worthy entertainment!

Yanjem’s Sweet Dumplings

Angaran Resistance operator Buxil gave her brother Niilj two things: his code name Shavod-Gaan or “Whisper” (a playful jest at his reputation for being a bit of a loudmouth as a child) and an insatiable sweet tooth. Buxil’s desserts, especially her Sweet Dumplings, are indeed a splendid thing. Niilj likes them with aged tavum (similar to spiced rum and bourbon) for “punch,” and when I made some for Dutch and Anan, the pair found them to resemble French-Canadian grand-pères with some extra-warm spices thrown in.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR*: Writing under the pen name Ambree T'Sia, this former asari huntress has posed as a bartender to both maintain the occasional alias as well as to gather intel. With several hundred years of experience in not being poisoned, and almost as many getting mercs to talk, T'Sia has a wealth of knowledge to share. A NOTE ON THIS EDITION: This edition of T'Sia's work has been restored and updated by Nexus exchange volunteer, Roa of the angara. Roa has spent time among the Andromeda Initiative's archives and is most passionate about extending a spirit of friendship and cooperation across galaxies.

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Book blurb:

WHEN YOU NEED A SWIG OF SOMETHING STIFF TO GET YOU TO THE NEXT RELAY... Your friendly undercover bartender has got you covered. With signature cocktail recipes collected from the Afterlife Club, Chora's Den, the Silver Coast Casino, and beyond, the mixology of the Milky Way is at your fingertips - not to mention bar snacks that make use of everything from Tummy-Tingling Tuchanka Sauce to burgat ("the other blue meat"). Whether you regularly prepare your own drell skin venom mixer or are still working out the kinks with an emergency induction port, the step-by-step instructions will take your hosting game to the next level.

[you can get the book here]

[s0urw00lf]

Comfort

Bucky barnes x Reader

Here’s a short little soft!bucky fluff Drabble

Bucky needs comfort after finally accepting that steve is gone, after coming home from fighting the flag smashers with Sam.

You woke to the sound of the front door being shut, immediately knowing its Bucky from the sound of his heavy combat boots. You smiled turning over to see Bucky standing still as if he was a thief that had been caught. “Hey there handsome” you greeted, a sleepy smile making its way to your face. “Hey doll” he greeted back, sitting next to your feet, taking his shoes off. “Home for good” you asked, to which he nodded “everyone’s safe” he said, a small smile gracing his lips. But you could see he sadness in his eyes that he failed to hide from you. You frowned sitting up “what’s a matter?” You asked. Bucky let out a small laugh at the fact that he really couldn’t hide from you even when he tried. The smile quickly left his face, replaced by a frown. “Steves really gone” he whispered, voice cracking. You felt tears begin to form in your eyes, “i know” you said moving to sit on his lap facing him, placing your hands on his face, felling the short stubble of his beard. He looked up at you with saddened eyes, like an abused puppy. You wanted nothing more than to protect him from all the worlds evil. “He’d be proud of you, seeing your growth” you said with a soft smile. You knew in these moments Bucky had trouble talking about what he’s feeling, so you stood up from his lap, making your way to your bathroom and turning on the shower to a warm setting that you knew Bucky liked and grabbed a towel from the bathroom closet placing it on the sink. You retuned to the bedroom seeing Bucky sitting in the same spot.

You carefully made your way over to him, he seemed as if he was in a daydream, you knew whatever it was it couldn’t be helping his mood so you softly grabbed his hand, breaking him out of it. You pulled him up from the bed and lead him to the bathroom. “Take a shower, ill make you something to eat for when you get out, and then we can go to bed. Kay?” You asked softly. He nodded pulling you close by your hand and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead “thank you doll” he whispered. You smiled up at him before walking out to make him some food. You didnt make anything extravagant just a pasta you knew he liked. You went back to the bedroom, to the closet and picked out some underwear and sweats, since Bucky prefers not to sleep in a shirt. As you sat the clothes on the bed and went back to the kitchen to make him a plate, because you heard him shut off the water. About two minutes later he walked out of the bedroom. He sat down at the counter and you placed the plate of food in front of him. “Eat, i know you haven’t in a while” you told him. He smiled again laughing at how well you knew him. He ate his food and joined you on the couch, watching tv where you both drifted off to sleep, holding each other.

[lets-try-some-writing]

I had the most dumb yet sensible thought when it comes to your Pretender AU. Megatron discovering ways to deal with Optimus accidentally through human media. Particularly horror media like The Thing, Among Us, Bloodborne, Alien, SCP and such.

A thing that Soundwave would stumble upon by accident before realizing this could come in handy and share with it the other Decepticons. It's kinda ironic in a way. Organics having what could be the key to handling this entire mess through their entertainment based media.

Plus they probably look to YouTube for channels like Roanoke Gaming who discusses the various intricacies like mythology, biology and such on media creatures such as Xenomorphs.

Oh goodness this is FUNNY.

Previous part here.

This is kinda crack so honestly its up in the ether plot relevance wise.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The Pretenders tried to flee Cybertron as soon as they deemed the planet unsuitable. Megatron wanted to scoff when he caught wind of the Pretend Prime and his entourage fleeing the sector. He had every intention of ruling Cybertron and left more than enough soldiers behind to tend to the planet in his absence, but he simply could not allow the Pretenders to go. If they got any ground anywhere, they would spread and be back.

The Pretender Prime had long since proven to be capable of holding a grudge, and Megatron was in no mood to shove the issue under the rug until it came back to bite him. As such, he collected his inner circle, Jazz included, and boarded the Nemesis. He set course for the planet the Pretenders were headed toward with grim determination, and upon landing, he almost wanted to scream due to the sheer amount of organic everything. It reminded him of the Pretenders and he despised being on the ground.

Thus, while his subordinates did everything in their power to root out the Pretenders wherever they were rooted on the planet of Earth, Megatron delved into the human datanet with Soundwave at his side. Jazz joined them on occasion, and through this shared effort, they discovered possible methods to combat their foes that they never would have expected. The ideas were... a tad outlandish. But having tried just about everything else under the sun to kill their enemies, the Decepticons were willing to make an attempt to follow the potential solutions provided.

Having watched "Earnest Scared Stupid" one time, the Vehicons attempted to deal with the Pretenders through the use of milk. It was a one time effort, and the Pretenders were more dumbfounded than actually upset at the milk that was tossed all over them. Seeing as they didn't melt into goo, the Vehicons ran screaming.

Jazz made a valiant attempt to use voodoo magic a handful of times, which ended up resulting in a small storage closet being filled to the brim with collections of dolls stuffed with needles. He also tried a few banishing rituals just for the kick of it. And surprisingly, after one of his attempts which involved an offering the some demon Jazz never bothered to remember, Arcee ended up stepping into a hole and breaking her leg. Since then Jazz has occasionally repeated the ritual just to see if anything else happens.

Starscream saw several movies and decided that water might be a possible way to combat the Pretenders. Being the most reliable flier, he took to the air and decided that Arcee would be the best target. He picked her up, and making sure to wear gloves so as to not actually touch her, he threw her into the nearest body of water and waited above. Arcee for her part flailed and got out with a hiss of indignation, her plating flaring and her extra limbs extending so that she could shake off the liquid. The most Starscream got for his efforts was a dirty look, but his work was applauded when he returned to the Nemesis. Touching a Pretender was always a dangerous risk to take.

Megatron opted for a slightly more... violent solution. He had attempted chemical warfare, bombing, outright attacks, poison, and even manufactured diseases to fight back against his foes. None of his efforts so much as gave him a reasonable weakness to use against them. While young, Pretenders were easy to kill. But after that all he really had to target was their familial connections. There were no physical defects to attack or use against them. They adapted, and as much as he was loath to admit it, they were disgustingly superior when it came to most physical activities. They were resistant to just about everything too. So really there were only two options in his mind.

The Pretenders operated similarly to organics. And according to what he saw, two things that killed organics most often were freezing cold and fire. Thus, his vehicons were given flamethrowers for a time and when the opportunity arose, Optimus was thrown into the arctic for observation. The vehicons for their part managed to make the Pretenders scatter, but fire did nothing against them that it didn't do for a normal Cybertronian. The freezing on the other hand? Freezing could kill a bot, at least in a moist environment. But against the odds, as soon as Optimus found he couldn't escape on his own, the Prime dug a hole into the ground and curled up into a ball, his frame stilling. For a moment Megatron thought he might have won, but then as soon as the other Pretenders came to get him, they dragged the Prime out and back to their base. Within a week he was up and moving again.

The monsters could hibernate it seemed. And that terrified Megatron more than he cared to admit.

The Decepticons only true success came when Soundwave decided to attempt using sound to their advantage. The Pretenders were incredibly sensitive, their optics, audials, and olfactory systems all primed for hunting. Seeing "The Quiet Place", Soundwave noted the similarities between the Pretenders and the Angels and opted to make an attempt at using the same attack against their foes. To the surprise of everyone, he...

Succeeded.

When Soundwave played music on just the right frequency on the battlefield, the Pretenders began to scream. Their frames shifted, their disguises falling away and simultaneously being forced back into place. Unable to control their frames fully, they could only thrash and fight like wild animals as their senses were assaulted from all sides. It was not enough to kill them, but the weakness was swiftly acknowledged and abused.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

Another step closer to victory.

[pizzabox-box]

I needed to force myself not to write this until you posted the next DMW part lol, I love this story but I feel like it's going too fast

Blind Man's Bluff, Part Four

Theirs was the last car left in the drive-in theater. The movie was turning out extremely well, and they were on the final three scenes. Doise had thought WAR would be the most stressful scene to film, but oh boy, had Pizzascare given him anxiety. At least they were at the home stretch now.

He stared blankly at the laptop he had on the dashboard. Since Fake Peppino was out of the picture, or at least hadn't shown his face since his restaurant burned down, Doise had to put some serious thought into how this boss rush was going to play out. He sighed and looked over at Noisette. She had fallen asleep in the passenger seat about fifteen minutes before the film as it stood had ended. He knew Noise was lurking somewhere nearby, watching her like a hawk, but he hadn't felt Peddito anywhere all day. That made him nervous.

He noticed the light of the full moon dim and immediately went on edge. He barely had time to spin around before he heard a door creak open and saw a tall, skinny figure backflip onto the car. Oh boy. It was the beanpole. This might actually be trouble.

Doise shot an accusing finger at Pizzahead. "Look pal, I'm not in the mood for your games! Now get your dirty boots off my paint job before I get not so friendly with you!" The mascot giggled. "Ooh, aren't you a feisty one! It's nice to not know what to expect from someone for once. Well, you can relax now, buddy!" Doise decidedly did not relax. "What do you mean?" Pizzahead laughed and pulled out a remote control. "Well, let's see!"

Gesturing to the screen, he rewinded to the fight between the two gremlins. Doise immediately tensed up, and Pizzahead put his arm around him in a gesture of familiarity he had no right to have. "When my cameras showed me what you did to that freak's pizzeria, I admit you caught my interest! For once, I had to really do some pretty significant research to figure out what was happening." With a click of a button, the camera zoomed in on the combatants' faces as they grappled. He paused on the very frame one man got yanked backwards by a barely perceptible pink smudge, so barely present that even on film, its existence was easy to question. The dust-covered, bloody man's eyes practically glowed a vibrant red, and his expression was filled with a bewildered, abstract terror. Pizzahead whispered in the terrified Doise's ear: "You're not quite mortal, are ya?"

Doise looked into his eyes. "So now what? Are you going to tell everyone who I really am? Let me get mauled by the mob?" Pizzahead shrugged and waved one hand in a dismissive manner. "Why would I? The show's only just getting good!" He grinned wickedly and looked at Noisette, still fast asleep and dreaming sweetly. "In fact, it would be a lot more exciting if you weren't constantly chained to this doll's side, don't you think?"

Noise and Noisette twirled beautifully across the dance floor. She giggled happily as he dipped her. He danced with a passion she had never known, which was impressive given the feats they had preformed at their wedding. He stared at her with the deepest love a man could ever feel, though Noisette thought she could see a trace of sorrow in his eyes as he danced and sang.

You can dance every dance for the one who gives you the eye, let him hold you tight, you can smile every smile for the one who holds your hand in the pale moonlight, just don't forget who's taking you home, and in whose arms you're gonna be, so darling, save the last dance for me!

With that, he swooped her up and kissed her with a deep passion. As she closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, she thought she could hear the priest's voice leading the ceremony: "...in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" They came up for air, and Noise gently caressed the side of her face. "Hazel, my love, my life, I won't ever stop loving you, even after my heart stops and turns cold as stone," he told her, staring in her eyes with a love that couldn't be described, though it was tainted by heartbreak.

Noisette was suddenly filled with a sense of extreme dread. Something wasn't right. She clung close to her husband, chilled by a fear she couldn't explain. Without warning, he shoved her backwards, knocking her on her back. She sat up, incredulous - just in time to see Noise get splashed with a strange substance from overhead. It had the consistency of thin mud, and looked like blood mixed with a blue-gray plaster. Noise fell to his hands and knees, inexplicably weakened.

Noisette reached out to him - then scampered backwards as she saw the clay start wrapping itself around him, swiftly enveloping him in the otherworldly slime. He struggled against it, seemingly trying to escape, but his eyes were filled with a knowing despair. He had known this was going to happen. He stared at her mournfully.

Noisette started forward again, determined that time. "Theo!" she called, stepping forward. Noise put a hand up. "Hazel, stop. I need you to listen to me carefully," he said. She stopped. He had never sounded this serious before. "Don't get close to me. Be wary of anything I do for you. I will love you for eternity, but you can't trust me anymore. It's way too dangerous for you to be near me. And whatever happens." He almost looked like a statue now. His mouth was covered by the clay, but his scarlet eyes stared into her soul, grieving as if he was the widow rather than the deceased. His voice seemed to come from her heart.

"I'm. Not. Me."

The blue-gray figure rose to its feet and approached her, blood red cape fluttering despite the absence of wind. Blue and pink lights flashed furiously around her before fading into yellow and orange, the screaming void behind the mask seemed to be calling her name, drawing her in to her destruction -

She awoke with a scream, looking around her at the unfamiliar surroundings. A hand gently grabbed her own, and a voice attempted to soothe her. "Hey, hey, hey, what happened? Are you ok?" She turned and saw Noise in the driver's seat beside her. That's right, they were at the drive-in theater. So had it all been a dream? She sobbed her sorrows into her husband's chest as he rubbed her back. He reassured her it was all going to be ok.

Later that night, she rolled over to look at him, fast asleep in the bed beside her. She fidgeted with the new necklace he had given her, making her promise never to take it off. She felt horrible about it, but something about Noise was making her feel like something was wrong. She tried to push those thoughts aside. You mustn't think things like that! He's been so devoted to you, and anyway, it was just a dream, right?

"I'm. Not. Me."

...right?

previous part

Another part already??? 👀👀👀👀

The dream sequence was genuiely heartbreaking :( You nailed Pizzahead's character very well! Wonder what he's planning , also the necklace seems deeply suspicious .

Either way, I'm excited to see where this will go 👀 keep cooking!

Once again, thank you so much for continuing this series :D

[juuuulez]

📰 | part seven: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, father figure Negan my love, enemies to lovers/slow burn, kinda angst but not emotionally yet, graphic violence, attempted sexual assault, um this got kinda dark, also long.

summary: Once again, you are tasked with babysitting Carl, this time leaving Alexandria to find supplies. An unsuspecting attacker causes a rift in your feud.

eesh this is intense but also very succulent to write i LOVE LOVE LOVE some action!

also thank you all for 150+ followers!!! pls continue to send ideas to my inbox i’m absolutely eating it up <3

You’re really starting to get sick of this heat.

It’s sweltering, sticking your clothes to your skin, sweat patches running down your back and dampening the white tank you usually wear.

In favour of not being bitten, you wore the typical black jeans, which are doing absolutely nothing to combat against the unbearable heat.

Unfortunately enough, there isn’t any air conditioning in the Sanctuary, so you’d agreed to return once more to Alexandria with your father.

It had been a few days since your last impromptu visit, a week, actually. Though you’d previously been frazzled, irritated, you took the time to cool off and work through some pretty ugly emotions back at home.

Now, it was down to business, which meant giving strict orders to Saviours on where to check, what to take. Making sure everybody wrote things down, followed their routine.

“Woah, woah, woah! What do we have here?”

Your head snaps in the direction of Negan’s voice, who is standing at the gates, leaning against an old, beaten down car with the engine on. As you approach, the familiar outline of a sheriff’s hat comes into view through the rear window, and you almost want to turn away and forget you even saw anything.

“Now, I sure as shit hope you weren’t planning on leaving unsupervised.” Negan jousts at the teenage boy, still leaning against the passenger side.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where this is leading, and you shoot your father a tired little glare. “Can’t Dwight do it? Or, I dunno, anyone but me?” You plead, not exactly in the mood to be in a confined space with Carl once more.

For all you knew, he might swerve off the road to try and kill you.

Negan doesn’t let this slide, “Nope! You’re an excellent babysitter, doll. Best girl for the job.”

You bite your tongue against any sort of protest, still having not revealed the true extent of your last encounter with Carl. It would only cause unnecessary stress, you deducted.

At the beginning of this whole apocalypse, Negan had been cagey about letting you do just about anything. It only took a one bad incident to turn on his protective mode, and you felt like maintaining your freedom for a little longer.

“Fine.” You sigh, but instead of climbing into the passenger side, you skirt to the other end of the car. “Out, now. Leave the keys.”

Carl glares at you with an open mouth, clearly displeased about not only having his trip hijacked, but now being ordered around. “I can drive.”

“Don’t care. I’m not gonna risk you goin’ AWOL.” You tell him, unfortunately deadly serious, much to the boys’ dismay.

With an angry scoff, Carl departs from the drivers side, instead getting into the passenger chair. You sit down, leaning over to adjust the seat in order to ensure your feet would reach the peddles.

With Negan gone, having departed to keep a keen eye on the Saviours, you reach into your belt and pull a small handgun from the holster. This catches Carl’s attention, as he’s never seen you carry a gun before.

You hand it to him.

“One bullet,” You instruct, tone more serious than he’s ever heard from you. “Don’t fuck this up. It’s emergencies only. You’re lucky I don’t just let you die out there.”

He accepts it wordlessly, not wanting to push that very thin boundary.

The sweltering heat is worse in the car, harsh metal keeping the thick air inside, and you doubt it had any working cooling system.

Luckily, this proved to be less of a problem as you begin driving, the air whipping past your faces and offering a slight relief.

Carl gave you directions, but after the third instruction, you were beginning to get a little fed up.

“Why don’t you draw me a map?” You suggest, one hand on the wheel while the other brazenly fishes around in your back pocket, managing to pull out a small notepad. “Then I don’t need to listen to your voice.”

“What, like you can read?” Carl comments, a snide remark that contrasts the fact that he does take the notepad, flicking through pages in order to find an empty one.

His eyes are drawn to the little graphite sketches that adorn the pages, his thumb tempted to swipe the paper back and have a peek, but he resists.

A few moments later, and Carl hands the notepad back to you, which you hold in front of the wheel in order to get a good look. Your brows furrow, finger tapping against a strange looking blob.

“What’s this?”

Carl leans closer, brows pinched as he looks at the drawing. “A tree.” He says, as if it were obvious, despite the artwork being significantly less than professional.

“Okay?” You take your eyes off the road, giving the boy a confused, critical gaze. This only feeds into his temper, where Carl suddenly takes the notepad from your hands, drawing a few more scribbled lines on the so-called ‘leaves’ of his tree.

“So you know where to turn,” He specifies, like this would solve all of your problems, “At the end of the road. There’s a tree.”

You struggle to find your words for a moment, unsure how the simple action of drawing a map has just made this more confusing. “There are trees everywhere, dumbass. That isn’t helpful.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s a big tree,” Carl scoffs, throwing the notepad back onto the dash, opened so you can see it. “This wouldn’t be happening if you just let me drive.”

“Oh! Okay,” You turn to him, “I would have let you drive, had you not tried to shoot me. So, fairs fair, asshole. This is your fault.”

“I said I was sorry!” Carl retorts loudly, uncaring of how you’re no longer looking at the road, or about how fast the car is travelling.

You roll your eyes, “That doesn’t count. Murders don’t get let off scot-free just because they said two puny words.”

“That’s barely comparable!” He continues to push the conversation, all that pent up anger and frustration towards your adamancy against him starting to bubble up. “It’s not my fault that you’re, like, deranged or something.”

That was it.

You slam your foot on the breaks, sending the car skidding a few dangerous meters ahead. In that time, you brace yourself against the steering wheel, but Carl jolts uncomfortably against the seatbelt.

“What the fuck—”

“Get out.”

He looks at you like you’re actually insane, trying to decipher whether or not you’re being serious. But you only stare at him, glaring actually, jaw clenched in irritation.

“Get out!” You tell once more, needing Carl to get the message that you simply can’t be around him anymore. Not with all the arguing and bickering, it was getting on your last nerve, and you just needed some space to breathe.

With a huff, Carl obeys, but not without slamming the door shut. You run a hand raggedly through your hair, starting the car up once more and placing your foot on the accelerator.

“Fuck you!” Carl yells as you drive off, giving you the finger in hopes that you’ll see it in the rear view mirror. You probably didn’t, but it makes him feel a little better anyway, like he got the final word in.

But as the car disappears against the horizon, he’s left there, on the dusty road in that horrible summer heat. Sweat already sits on his nape, making his shirt uncomfortably sticky, and now he’s tasked with walking the rest of the way.

All because of your tantrum.

With the advantage, you make it to the abandoned gas station in record time. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far from where you’d ditched Carl, so you knew that he would be fine walking. You weren’t that cruel.

It’s relatively run-down, and you can only spot a few walkers mingling near the store’s back end. You keep your bat held tight, stalking through broken glass and tipped shelves to find anything of use. Whilst you don’t know what Carl had in mind for this trip, you could make a few assumptions, and managed to collect a small pile of minimal medical equipment, snacks, and even some baby food.

It was peaceful, actually.

Maybe a little too peaceful.

Slinging the bag of supplies over your shoulder, you approached the car once more, intending to drive the way back and pick Carl up along the way. He shouldn’t be too far off, at this point. You lean over, starting the ignition and popping the boot open, letting the supplies rest there.

But as you circle around, something catches your eye. A shiny glint on the ground. You poke it with your boot, only to realise that it appears to be a small razor blade.

Dread floods your system, and as you bend down to inspect the peculiar object, it hits you.

The tires, each one of them, have gone flat. Air completely let out, slashed. Unusable.

No escape.

You clench your jaw, rising to your feet once more, the metal bat still in hand. Someone was here. With what intentions, you didn’t know, but you could assume it wasn’t good.

Cautiously, you take a few steps backwards, towards the gas station. You watch the open space ahead of you, eyes steady on the treeline, inspecting for the most minute of movements that could betray the whereabouts of this potential attacker.

Except it doesn’t come from behind.

One steady thunk and your head is colliding with the concrete wall, to which the shock causes you to drop the baseball bat, one hand clasping the wall and the other digging your nails into the wrist of your attacker.

A firm hand has collected your hair, gripping onto your ponytail, fingers pressed into your scalp. You fight and squirm, but the body of a much larger man presses behind you.

With your stuff in the car, you can only imagine what he might want.

Despite this, you don’t scream, teeth clenched as you struggle to evade his grip. A harsh stomp to his foot assists your escape, where you’re able to land one solid punch square to the man’s jaw, before his leg swipes your balance out, sending you crashing to the concrete.

You almost twist onto your stomach, but the attacker is too quick, once again fisting your ponytail and slamming your face into the ground. One, two, three and you finally stop struggling as vigorously, blood and mucous caked all over your face, mixing in with chipped cement and dirt from the floor.

But the baseball bat is so, so close.

There’s one hand still in your hair, another on your back. Now waist, then stomach. Gross, burly fingers circling the button of your jeans.

A singular moment of weakness is all you need, where he’ll let his guard down, and you can leap for the bat.

Unfortunately, you know what form this weakness comes in.

You’re panting like a wild animal, trying not to squirm, carefully calculating your next move until suddenly there’s a loud pop then whistle that whirs past your ears, the sound almost making you flinch, before the weight of your attacker slumps against your body.

Crimson blood drips down onto your shoulder, coating your neck and back, the cold shock helping you regain enough consciousnesses to shuck the dead body from your smaller frame, scurrying out from underneath him.

The pavement is searing hot against your palms, you can even feel the burn through the thick material of your jeans. As you sit up on your haunches, looking around, you spot him.

Carl, crouched behind a few bushes, tentatively lowering the handgun.

One bullet.

As he begins to approach, you wipe some of the blood onto your arm, smearing the disgusting gunk further around your skin, which is still persistently dripping from your nose and mouth.

Gravel has surely made its way into the open wounds, but you do nothing about it. Not now, at least.

Carl approaches you slowly, putting the handgun back into his holster, and that genuine look of concern on his face makes you feel sick.

When he gets close enough, arms reach, you bristle and firmly shove him away, sending him stumbling a few steps backwards.

“The fuck did I say?!” You yell at him, directing all your rage and anger towards the corpse lying at your feet, back at Carl. “Emergencies only. What happens now, huh? I don’t have another bullet!”

He looks completely shell shocked by your outburst, not having accounted for such a reaction. But it doesn’t matter, as you’re still shouting, even as he stands there dumbly and watches.

“I had that under control!” You grunt, once again wiping at you nose, which runs with a mix of snot and blood.

When you garner no reaction from Carl, this frustration only continues to fester. You lean down to the ground, swiping up the baseball bat and clenching it hard in your palms.

You approach the body once more, and with one hefty swing, completely obliterate the man’s skull. Later, you would claim this was being proactive against potential walkers, but in the moment in was nothing more than revenge.

When you’ve entirely crushed the skull, you move on to the neck, spine, arms, torso. Anything. There comes a point where you’re no longer hitting to destroy any evidence of what happened, but hitting simply to feel some semblance of control. Blood spurts onto your jeans, some even reaching your tank, a darker colour that contrasts with the bright red of your own.

“Hey, hey. Cool it.” Carl is saying from behind you, and when you show no acknowledgment of his words, he reaches out to place a hand on your shoulder.

You shrug it off, but otherwise drop the bat, letting it clang harshly against the concrete, rolling a few feet away and leaving a gorey trail.

At this point, you try to clear your head, take stock of the situation. The tires are slashed, deeming the car useless. It was beginning to enter late afternoon, and though the days were hot, the nights were freezing. Not only that, but all this shouting has likely attracted whatever walkers you’d hoped to leave unsuspecting.

Finally, you spare a glance back at Carl, who’s been watching you this whole time. It looks like he’s on edge, waiting, ready for whatever you’re about to do, however irrational. A few specks of blood have made its way onto the sleeves of his flannel, where you realise how close Carl has been standing to you, even during the little outburst.

“Fine,” You mumble, answering his unspoken question. “No point heading back. Best push the car into some shade, camp out there for the night.”

Carl takes this as permission to contribute, though he still speaks to you with a level of cation. Mentally, you accept this as fear, but you know very well it’s actually concern. “I know the area pretty well. There’s a cabin not too far off, it was clean last time I checked.”

It’s reasonable, even if the idea of following Carl into the woods makes goosebumps rise on your skin. You’d rather not, especially now that he’d used the sole bullet, which you had none of on hand.

You chew on your busted bottom lip, nodding, accepting this makeshift plan. “Yeah, okay.” You sigh, almost sounding defeated, but nonetheless you pick the bat off the ground and stride back away from the gas station, not bothering to consult Carl any longer.

This was going to be a long night.

[nyx-is-missing]

SUNSET PART 2

Or a pretty bad doctor

Clarisse La Rue x Cassandra De Young (oc! Apollo's kid)

Summary: Clarisse is going to colect her dept, by treating her wounds with a very bad doctor. Or the one when Clarisse likes to taunt people.

Warnings: that time when you actually stop to think about your own life, mentions (one) of blood, confident Clarisse (she likes to taunt pretty girls, even when they are bad doctors)

(We actually get a clarisse pov today!)

Part 1 is here!

There were exactly seven demigods in the Apollo's cabin this afternoon.

An absurdly low number for a summer everyday, but considering im early, this must be common.

I've never seen camp so empty, its feels like another reality if im being honest, nobody saw when me and Clarisse walked in togheter, nor when she walked with me to the front of my cabin, and dropped the suitcases on the grass and started to walk towards her own cabin.

"Hey Clarisse! ....thank you! I wouldnt have made it withou-" she turned her head to me

"You owe me, dont forget that."

Like she would allow me to, why children of Ares got no patience? Or like, actually willingness to be sociable? They cant act like that with everybody, can they?

This was the first time i actually got space in this cabin, as well as the first time i could pick my own bed and place all my things calmly, is this how castor and pollux live everyday? Lucky them.

I mean, i love my siblings, but we are too many to such limited space.

And as much as that does leads us to somewhat funny situations, we are still too many, with too few bathrooms and mirrors.

Being like this allowed us to breathe, and think slowly, as if a person who lived his whole life in the busy city moved to a town who was mostly farm.

And that was when i started to miss the mess my siblings made when we were all togheter, when i actually had time to stop and think.

I cant even imagine the things my grandpa is saying about me, how he must be trying to poison the family against ourselves, he does that even when the smallest things dont go his way, and right now, the whole family must think of me as if i am Queen Mary I, and they are the protestants im trying to burn alive.

I didnt go to dinner that night, nor to the campfire, i wouldnt manage to eat without feeling dizzy after, and i was sure i was not in the mood for singing that night.

I just showered, put my pajamas on, grabbed a book, layed on my bed and hoped that time ran faster.

Coming to camp earlier had its benefits, at least to me, pick the bed, be aware of any new faces earlier, train more (with people who could actually be named opponents, wich just meant they had better sense of combat than a inflatable doll from a gas station) and of course, run away from insufferable family members who i had to face for nine months, to see more insfferable family members who i'll still have to face for three months.

Funny.

I just wouldnt expect to see her there too.

She always likes to spend some days of her rich girl summer life in her family's yatch, or shopping..not that i keep track of her life, i know very little, but i do know that she likes to get to camp when its already messy, people all around, shooting arrows, swimming, painting, fighting, singing and all, but this year she was here early and with a strange look on her face.

It was just..weird.

I didnt felt right.

But what surprised me the most was she asking for my help, and being in dept with me.

She didnt even looked at me in a normal day.

I think there is something to do with her family, they look at me, almost always with a ugly face, and then they keep her away from me.

So, she speaking to me was a surprise.

But to be honest, if i hadnt saw her earlier, i wouldnt even know she was here, i mean, she didnt left her cabin all...not that i kept track of that, but still, unsual, especially for a Apollo kid, they always love to be out and about under the sun.

But then, the whole afternoon? Nothing

Dinner? Nothing

Campfire? Nothing

At night when i went to practice a bit more with my sword? Nothing

She better not have run away, because she is still in dept with me, and im going to collect it right now.

It was late, but the cabin still had a small light coming from inside.

Strange, all of the cabins had their lights out, they were sleeping.

I knocked on the door, waited and knocked again, after a few seconds a sleepy Cassandra oppened the door, rubbing her eyes and taking a few seconds to realize what was happening.

Then she looked down, and saw me holding my own arm to stop the blood.

"Already?" She looked at me again, and started to tie her hair up, it always amazed me how in every situation she was her.

If people didnt knew she was a demigodess, they would probably think she never even stepped in earth ground, that she never had to share, or suffered any problems at all, her family raised her to be little miss perfect, and little miss perfect she was, even when what she was wearing looked like it came straight out of a beach party, she made it look like designer clothes, she looked expensive, always.

"You said whenever, today is whenever too" i said, walking in when she stepped aside to give me space to enter. "Wait, where are your siblings?"

"We were only in seven today, and since the camp is empty, they are probably sleeping with their friends, or boyfriend and girlfriends." She looked around, probably for a first aid kid.

"What about you? Nobody invited little miss magazine cover for a sleepover?" She grabs a kit and sits at one bed, starring at me...oh right, i sit down by her side.

"Im not in the mood for that tonight, Clarisse"

"Based of the fact you are still fully d-"

She stomped her feet on the ground

"Do you always have to be like this? Thats why my family wont let me talk to you! Im not in the mood for jokes, for sleepovers and specially for us to keep stinging each other" she oppened a little alcohol bottle, to clean the wounds i think.

"Oh they wont let you? so you wanted to? That-AH WHY?" I screamed when she just poured the alcohol straight into the cut

"Okay that didnt hurt....a lot, youre being dramatic, also, enough of that talk" she said while cleaning my cuts with a piece of cotton. "Now, we dont have nectar or ambrosia in here, and going to the infirmary is to risky..but you have small cuts, i think this will do....dontfinditweird... please"

"Why would i find it weir-" i was cut mid sentence by her giving a small kiss in my arm, and starting to bandage me right away, though i did saw some of my cuts getting better. "Im sorry, you do that since when?"

"Its..been a time, i just never used it because, you know, going around kissing random demigod's wounds would be, weird and unhygienic" she holded a finger up, and then a second, as if counting the reasons. "But hey, you are all set, and you should go, before anyone notices the lights on"

"Hey they were on before i even came in" i got up, and so did she, gathering all the used stuff and throwing them in the bin by the side of the bed.

"True, i was reading before, and fell asleep...i guess thank you... in a certain way, if you hadnt came here they would stay on the whole night and the chance of my siblings getting caught being out of the cabin was huge.." i looked around, "The song of Achilles" was it was half open on one of the beds.

"Greek myth retelling?" I ask walking towards the door, she just hums in agreement.

"A pretty good book, you should try to read it...i dont know if you like books very much but.. yeah"

"Maybe, tell me when you finish it, ill see if im in the mood for it" i open the door and put a step outside, but before i trully left i said "You are a pretty bad doctor, you know? Not even treating all the wounds, my lips are also cut" i watched her face go from confusion to realization in a second

"Clarisse! you-"

I slammed the door.

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c2. 'The urgency.'

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, eating disorders, depression.

song to listen to when reading this: The Chain, Fleetwood Mac.

abstract: this is Jude, this is a little bit of information about me since you care so much, I don't even know you… anyway yes, I really like being mysterious, what you gonna do about it, punch me in the face? I'm not even real, grow the fuck up. see ya.

Sometimes, she just fucking hated her life. She supposed it was normal like that, it happened to everyone to absolutely fucking despise their lives, no? She wakes at the same hour everyday, does her makeup. Not too much, not too little to show she was sleep deprived and got high last night. Her identity was concealed under eyeliner and blush. She looks like a doll. She likes her makeup, she's quite good at it. She plays with her hairstyles, sometimes a bun, sometimes braids, sometimes loose with a headband, depending on the mood. She walks her dog and cleans his poop. Jinx, a 5 month old Belgian Malinois she adopted when she moved. She found him at a shelter for abused puppies, he was the last one to get adopted. She decided to take him, she planned to move to the countryside soon anyways. Gaining his trust was one of her biggest accomplishments, now the dog had a bit of an attachment issue, but they were working on getting better together. She drives to work with the same 4 playlists playing in her car. Old rock, Frank Ocean, some Italian songs here and there.

She always comes in dressed in dark colours, dark red, dark blue or black. She has 10 male patients and 8 female soldiers. Some of them are combat medics, some snipers. Demolition experts. She works 'till lunch time, eats alone, sometimes skips lunch just to make her body feel something and indulge in disordered eating, then goes outside to smoke and comes back in. After the afternoon sessions, she sometimes has groups together for some group therapy. Then she usually goes home and smokes weed while she cooks her dinner, she acts like she's in MasterChef, puts on music and pours herself a glass of wine 'Quando sei qui con me' she sings to her dog, 'Questa stanza non ha più pareti, ma alberi'. Jinx doesn't even know Italian. Two times a week, she teaches ballet at a local dance school. 13 year old is not old enough to be on point shoes. It's her favourite time of the week though. She gets to finally have control of a situation, she gets some respect. 13 year olds, a fucking nightmare… She gets to tell them what to do and correct their arms, their feet, their posture and they listen! They do, and they like her, they say thank you Alba, see you next week! They learn her choreographies, they follow her lead when she explains a new variation. They even like the songs she chooses for warm up. Mostly Abba.

Alba is not her real name, but they don't know that. A gift from Laswell, when she started working for her. A sparkly new identity, English ID and nice documents that prove she's an English citizen, born in Southampton. She's not. Kept a little bit of Italian in the fake name. She hasn't been in Italy in close to five years. She went on vacation alone in Tuscany once, just to feel her country again for a second. She is not in contact with her family, last message from her sister was three years ago, it went 'I hope you're alive.' Her mother taught her violence. To be in power. To be beautiful and kind. To never ever trust someone who wouldn't give their life for you. Her mother taught her loyalty, respect. She used to never cry as a child. She loved to know stuff, to read about planets. She would kill lizards in the backyard with her little brother, who died young. She saw her first gun at 13. Now, her name is not Alba and it sure isn't Jude. Or Judy, as some patients call her. They know it's a callsign, a code name, everyone has one, especially in the task forces. Hers is Jude. 'Jude looks like an angel, but her words have thorns'. That's what Billy Lunette had to say about her. Billy had been her favourite patient for the whole of 2021. He had PTSD, he had night terrors and was in a mental hospital for schizophrenia symptoms for a while. He wouldn't take his medication, he would smoke, he was a mess. He listened to her though. She was the only one who visited him in the hospital. She showed him he could trust her and he completely lost himself in her. He would call her at 3 in the morning, drop by her office too many times per day, developed a bit of a codependency, but she was able to help him through his pain. He would do research about the treatments, the medicine, cognitive behavioural therapy. Billy was happy now. He was grateful to have had her and she was grateful that Billy had been a great patient. Big challenge. Billy was her biggest accomplishment, and proof of the fact she wasn't completely useless in the army.

She didn't work for the entirety of 2022. She had an accident with one of the patients, classified information. She survived, but man was it hard to live after that day... Spent time with her dog, visited a friend in San Francisco, taught ballet. Price and Laswell felt so guilty they continued to pay her even if she wasn't working. Why she decided to come back she really didn't know. She thinks the truth is she likes helping people, makes her feel good. She likes the crazy stories and that she had a reputation at the base, she was starting to be respected. She craved that. And it really started to bore her, the routine. Until Arash. Seeing Arash so frighted and tense was new, he was a calm and polite gentlemen. She saw an invisible string tying his story and his damned pilgrimage book to the mission she knew had failed in the Middle East. Now, it was a little bit of a stretch. So she did her little research, put her Sherlock hat on, lit a cigarette and started digging.

She had fun, until things really started clocking. He was missing his doctor appointments on purpose on specific dates, to go do what? Call someone? She couldn't steal his phone. Send letters? She tried the post office but found out nothing. The bank really did give her his statements, which was pure luck. He had set his personal security questions as his birthday and his mother's name, which she knew, because he told her. She knew everything about him, even his social security number. Arash really trusted her and she had an incredible memory for unnecessary details. Also, he left his wallet on the couch in her office countless times, it’s not that she looked, it was just there and she remembered. When she saw him stressed and fidgety she knew he was hiding something. She kept a straight face, 'Arash, we can really talk about whatever you want, you know' and he would interrupt her 'You don't understand. The urgency!', he continued to say. She really didn't want to tell Price herself, she would have preferred for Laswell to do it. She took extra time in the morning to get ready that day. She was going in a separate area she knew very little about, and nobody knew who she was. Sometimes people mistook her for someone's wife, or daughter. She chose her outfit accordingly, she wanted to seem professional. She wore a sports bra. There was nothing to look at anyways. She didn't put on lipstick, not even the nude one. She was used to being underestimated, and being looked down at. She was also used to raising her voice and presenting herself as stoic and cold. She knew perfectly how to be violence. She noticed a familiar face once she opened the door of the briefing room. A familiar face mask. The skull guy, she had seen him before. Was he the guy…

She could't get distracted. Her little mission went smoothly. She always knew Price liked her and feared her at the same time, and when it came to his little soldier boys, she really didn't care what they thought. The guy from the day of her accident even spoke to her. Poor thing. She was really amused no one told him about the reason why she didn't want to go home alone. He did really good that night, she remembers him well. He didn't try to speak too much, he sounded gentle. A gentle giant. Unfortunately for him, no one was gonna tell him about that day. When she left the room, she went straight home. She doubted someone would ever contact her again about the situation, they would handle it themselves, and probably very badly. She was driving to her ballet lesson, still thinking they all looked so confused by her words. They were probably gonna do a stupid interrogation, or rather do nothing and wait for the next mission to be a shit show. Imbecilli.

'Alright girls, one more time please!' At least she had her little ballerinas to cheer her up. She had them warm up, she usually did the warm up routine with them. She walked between the four rows of kids at the barre, delivering her corrections. Jennifer usually had stiff hands, and she was tense in her shoulders. Kyla had a beautiful turnout but she often confused her arms positions. The jetes routine, they always forgot that one. 'It's three in front and switch… guys I'm not gonna repeat myself'. She thought she sounded rude sometimes, but 13 year old American girls were a nightmare to work with. Last month, she even had to deal with poor Gemma being bullied in the changing rooms. 'I'm gonna say this just once, three in the front, switch to the back.' she liked demonstrating, felt like she was taking lessons herself. 'Ta-ra, ta-ra, ta-da. And we're gonna hold here' she lifted herself on her toes and attached her right pointed foot to her knee. She let go of the barre, holding her balance on one foot. 'Passè.' she said. The girls groaned. 'The more you complain the more I'm gonna make you stay like this girls. We're gonna do one minute.' She went to the side of the room, to play the music 'From the top.'

notes: translation of the song: 'Quando sei qui con me' when you're with me, 'Questa stanza non ha più pareti, ma alberi', this room doesn't have walls no more, it has trees.

notes: Alba means something specific!

translation: imbecilli, means imbeciles.

notes: let me know what you think !! <3

love, mare.

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[sc0tters]

Moments of Awe | Kirby Dach

summary: you and Kirby are at the same party but this time there are feelings involved.

song: Fuck Up The Friendship- Leah Kate

request: yes/no

warnings: mentions of drinking

word count: 854

authors note: every time I wrote Kirby I get on thinking about that animated character. This was crap but I spent the day writing it and this is somehow the best we could find.

Kirby watched as you let your finger tips wrap around your can of seltzer.

You had both been drinking since pres and now it was hours into the party. He knew it was wrong to think of you in the way that he was. The way his palms grew sweaty at the sight of your legs in your shorts as you danced along to the music with some of your female friends. Your laugh in between the horrible attempts to do your own versions of karaoke as you all sang along to the song that were blaring over the speakers of the club.

It should have been a crime to look at him the way you did with that piece of lime wrapped around your lips “why does he keep looking at you like that?” One of your friends asked as she titled her head in Kirby’s direction.

His eyes hadn’t left you, hadn’t left your body since Cole started talking to you forty five minutes ago. The conversation only lasted fifteen minutes or so because Kirby wasn’t counting of course. You grinned as the American had said something stupid that made you wrap your hand around his arm. It brought up thoughts and feelings that Kirby had never imagined he would feel.

You let your lips form a pout as you locked eyes with your best friend “I don’t know,” you mumbled as you felt your knees grow weak at the way his eyes almost undressed you.

Your friend smiled “go talk to him,” she mumbled as she softly placed her hand on your back to give you a soft push.

Kirby smiled as his eyes lit up when you smoothed out the ends of your shirt “hi doll,” he mumbled as he reached his arms out so that you could sit on his lap.

That was something that was common for you two. Usually at parties you were attached at the hip, both teams that Kirby had been with got the chance to see how you were attached at the hip to your childhood neighbour.

Your hand went to the nape of his neck “what’s going through your mind?” You asked as you smiled.

It was a sight that made him want to curl up into a ball and pass out “just thinking about you,” he confessed as he wrapped his hand around your thigh.

A giggle left your lips “me?” You cocked your head as you hated how kissable his lips look in that very moment “always about you,” Kirby seemed to share your thoughts as he let his fingers softly pull at your chin.

Before you had a chance to respond as your cheeks turned pink, one of the boys called Kirby because they wanted him to meet.

What irritated you was the way that Kirby placed you next to him before he sent you an apologetic look as he sighed getting pulled away from you when the boys wrapped their arm around his shoulder.

You spent the next few hours with the girls as they all swore that Kirby clearly had feelings for you “you ready to go doll?” It was tradition that Kirby would drop you off at home after a night out, part of it was because he wanted to make sure that you got back safely but the other part was him loving the fact that he was the last person you would see before you went to bed, because there was nothing you hated more than talking to strangers after dark.

Your playful mood came back as you nodded “of course,” you held your hand out for the boy to hold onto in your efforts to combat the Montreal autumn night time breeze.

The car ride back to yours was quiet as it seemed the moment from earlier on in the day was now a bust as you had both sobered up and didn’t have the atmosphere to egg you on.

Kirby’s arm never left your shoulders on the walk back up to your apartment as he watched you rest your head on his shoulder until you got to your door “you want to come in?” You offered as you spun around unaware of the fact that he was so close behind you.

If you were taller your lips would have been touching but given the height difference, Kirby instead had his lips hovering dangerously close to your forehead “always,” occasionally you’d invite him in if he didn’t have places to be in the morning, each time he’d say yes.

Despite all of the drinks that you had already had you realised you were going to need another one if you were going to keep your hands to yourself “what you thinking about doll?” Your silence made it easy for him to pick up on the fact that your mind was moving quicker than the rest of you.

Your sigh was noted “just something big that I don’t know if I should do.” You explained as your eyes moved from his to his mouth and back again.

“I think you should just go for it.”

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hey do you know the anime Jujutsu kaisen? If yes, can I request a Satoru Gojo x reader x Suguru Geto? In anime gojo and geto are known as strongest jujutsu sorcerers, but in my request they trio since the reader is included.

I love Jujutsu Kaisen, I’m still new into the series, I only just started watching the series! It’s such a good series and while I do like these two- my favorite is easily Nanami :3

-It was odd, being stuck between these two cocky assholes, but they were your assholes, and you would defend them if needed and they would always have your back.

-When you entered the school as a 3rd transfer, Gojo and Geto tried to chest up to you, thinking that you were weaker, that they could push you around, to test you.

-Shoko couldn’t help but laugh when you both easily had thrown them head over heels, sending them through a wall, putting them in their place.

-When they pulled themselves out of the rubble, instead of being mad or trying to attack you, they both started roaring with laughter- as they hadn’t been expecting it.

-You were rather unassuming looking, something that you didn’t really mind, as it made others underestimate you- you loved being underestimated. It made it more enjoyable for you when you put them in their place.

-Shoko adored you, as you were able to keep those two knuckleheads under control, for the most part, especially when the two of them would fight.

-She got used to, if they were fighting, just tossing you in and instantly they would both be hugging you, flirting with you, fighting over you rather than them fighting with each other.

-You didn’t fully agree with Geto’s views on humanity, as he would call them monkeys, deeming them worthless and talking about them as pests that needed to be exterminated.

-You had faced harsh cruelty from non-sorcerers, so you knew firsthand that not all humans were good, but you also knew that curse users were the same- not all were good.

-Much like Geto you preferred to avoid normal humans, as you were afraid of being hurt again, but you didn’t want to hurt them, or wipe them out, something that was different.

-Gojo was a little shit, as he was always used to getting everything he wanted, and when you rejected him outright, after you first threw him through the wall, he was stunned, as he had never been treated like that before.

-If you had known what a clingy pain in the ass he was going to be, you might had rethought your decision.

-However, when Geto came along with him, both vying for your affection, you had regretted accepting the school transfer, wanting to go back home as they were so annoying!

-When they agreed to share you, despite you arguing that you had never agreed to be shared, Shoko and you both had to agree that they did mellow out a bit now that they had someone to dote on them and keep them in control.

-They adored your affection, no matter how small, from just a peck on the cheek or a small hug, to them it was like you gave them the world, and they were quick to return it, showering you in their love, which sometimes was annoying, but it did grow on you and you could tell when one of them was in a bad mood, as they wouldn’t give you any affection. You knew how to quickly remedy that- by giving them a smooch which made their mood do a 180 almost instantly as they held you close, begging you for more while you fought him, telling him to knock it off.

-You were easily the three strongest students in the school, and the teamwork between you three was breathtaking, one of you would rush in to face off against an opponent and the other two would adapt and quickly follow.

-That’s what made the three of you so dangerous- your teamwork, despite the bickering out of combat, with either of them pulling you into their arms like you were their doll and the other wanted you too- trying to get you free to hug you as well.

-This affection had a dark side, not with other students, like Shoko and Nanami, as they trusted them, it was those who would try to take you away- curses, other curse users, and other sorcerers, ones they didn’t trust.

-The day you were nearly killed, being hit from behind, a hand shooting through your abdomen, Geto and Gojo were almost uncontrollable in their rage.

-It took several teachers, Nanami, Shoko, and a few other students to get them to stop- that’s when they realized how berserk they had gone, seeing you injured.

-Shoko thought this could be dangerous, seeing how defensive they were of you, as she didn’t want to risk the safety of others if you had ever been hurt again.

-You healed from your wound- you bitched and complained the whole time, but you healed, especially with your two knuckleheads waiting on you hand and foot, as they wanted you back by their sides as quickly as possible.

-You were also relentless, teasing them for getting so worked up when you got hurt, picking on them which they adored, seeing you fighting back against their own teasing.

-You were unaware of the dark looming clouds that would soon be cast over the three of you as well as all the other sorcerers. One that you never thought that you would have to face.

[institute-of-dolls]

for no reason at aaaaall, cutest attribute a doll can have/thing a doll can do?

—🧷／(≧ ᆺ ≦)＼

Sorry for the long delay:

As usual it depends amongst us and sometimes with our mood but, general we work the most often with combat dolls, but dolls in general that eagerness for tasks or to be helpful or supportive are all very adorable. Director: my favorite attribute comes a lot from combat dolls and my personal doll who's a medical research doll, the quiet devotion to their purpose and their task, and the often fanatically way they carry out their orders from their wielder are very endearing to me.

Engineer: Shes a fan of the kinda curious energy some dolls tend to have, she likes dolls who know thier place but are a bit friendlier then they probably should be for example.

Dollmaker: well this ones complicated, because his favorite things in a doll tend to come from before their a doll, there things he likes in a potential doll. He likes his dolls to make him work for it a bit, then he finds it adorable when they love being customized or updated after.

[xnchxntmxnt]

you're an angel in my eyes

song link

Character: Lucifer (Obey Me)

Warnings: (Healthy) discussion of boundaries & touch issues, reader has some issues w that, very respectful and supportive Lucifer, very much projection

Notes: i dont know what this is ngl maybe someone can relate. not proofread sorry

gn reader

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Lucifer sat on the couch next to you, handing you the glass of water you requested in one swift motion. “For you, my dear,” he said a bit teasingly, offering a playful smile. It was rare you saw him like this—happy and relaxed—but you wanted to enjoy the moment with him. 

“Thank you,” you said, taking a sip before setting it down on the coaster in front of you. “You’re in a good mood.”

He hummed in reply, instead taking the opportunity to lean in to kiss you. It was short and sweet, but conveyed the affection he had for you in that simple action. “I finished a larger project Diavolo had me on. I figured tonight should be one to celebrate.”

You didn’t get much chance to reply before he carefully kissed you again, his actions gentle, like he was afraid to break you if he held you too close. Nevertheless, he found a way to combat those feelings and began to pull you a bit closer, hands slowly finding their way to rest on your waist. 

At this, you practically jumped away from him—why, you weren’t sure. This wasn’t the first time he’d held you like that, and you’d never had an issue with it before. He noticed, though, and immediately pulled away from you to assess what was wrong. 

“(Y/N), are you—“

“I’m, uh—I’m a bit hungry, too. Sorry to make you run to the kitchen just for me to go a few minutes later. I’ll be right back, though.”

You didn’t give him a chance to reply before you scurried out the door. Unfortunately, he had no idea what he’d done wrong and desperately wanted to ask, but you didn’t seem in the mood to talk about it yet. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t worry about you,  though. 

Several minutes later (much longer than it took to run from his bedroom to the kitchen), you returned empty-handed. He wouldn’t ask where you wound up, considering you didn’t come back with the snacks you were so hungry for. 

As you walked over, he stood and took your hands in his. His touch was soft, like one may touch an infant or a porcelain doll. He very gently curled his fingertips against yours, his hands hovering over yours in case you decided to pull away again. “What’s wrong, my love?” he asked, pouting slightly. He wanted to know—to fix whatever he’d done wrong. 

You slid your hands into his, albeit a bit hesitant. “Nothing,” you replied, squeezing his hands. “Back to your project, hm? Want to tell me about it?”

“I want to ensure that you’re okay,” he said, not backing down from this. “If…if you don’t want to talk to me, I understand, but please, tell me if you’re upset with me. I never want to leave problems unsolved with you, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to run away from me when things go wrong.”

You paused for a moment, then shook your head. “It’s nothing you did, it’s okay, Lucifer.”

He slowly brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Will you tell me, what, then? You don’t have to, but I’m asking that you do.”

Leading him to the couch again, you sat awkwardly, a few inches away from him. He followed suit, keeping his hand in yours. 

“Sometimes…” you started, trying to phrase this the best you could. “Touch is a…strange thing for me. Usually, I’m completely content with whatever you choose to do, whether we’re kissing or whatever…sometimes I just get this weird feeling and it sets me off. I don’t like it, I don’t do it intentionally, and I know it’s weird, but there’s nothing I can do about it-“

He shook his head, causing you to pause. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for, my dear,” he said plainly, turning towards you further. “(Y/N), love, look at me. I love you, quirks and all. And if you’re telling me you want me to slow down a little, that’s fine. If you’d rather stay where we are and just have me check in to see if my affection is okay with you in the moment, I can do that as well.”

You thought for a moment and eventually replied, “that second one sounds nice, actually. Is that okay?”

“Of course.” He smiled, kissing your knuckles again. He knew that was okay—that was safe, so he could stay with that until he knew you were comfortable with more. Hesitantly, he asked, “can I hug you?”

When you nod, he leaned forward and carefully wrapped his arms around you, one hand cradling your head and the other holding your middle. “I will always love you,” he whispered. “Please, if something is ever wrong, tell me. And stop me if you’re ever uncomfortable with anything I do.” He pulled away just enough to look you in the eye, thumb ghosting over your cheek. “All I want in this world is you to be loved and cared for.”

You smiled at him, and he swore his heart melted in the moment. There was nothing that lifted his spirits more than seeing you happy, especially because of him. “Thanks, Lucifer,” you said, leaving a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. He’d deny it if asked, but he blushed a bit from it. You leaned into him, laying your head against his shoulder, then his chest when he wrapped his arm around you. “Tell me about this project of yours, now?”

“Persistent as ever,” he teased.

The two of you talked for a while—first about his project, then about the latest drama at the House of Lamentation. Apparently, Asmodeus was screwing around with a particularly irritating ex of his and Mammon and Levi weren’t talking because he “long-term borrowed” a Ruri-chan doll and somehow had pocket money now. 

Not very long into the night, you started yawning halfway through sentences and he could see in your eyes that you were tired. It was quite adorable, actually—he enjoyed seeing you content enough to fall asleep in his arms. Not much later, he noticed you’d nodded off. Careful not to throw your head back or wake you, he picked you up and placed you on the bed, covering you in the fluffy blankets. You looked so peaceful…

He was about to turn away and continue working on a bit of paperwork he had left over after that project when he felt a hand on his wrist. Your eyes were half open and you had a loose grip on him. “Stay,” you mumble, the sounds slurring together from sleep. “Pretty please.”

How could he deny that?

He kicked off his shoes and pulled the blanket back, finding his place behind you in his bed. At first, he wanted to reach out and pull you in, but hesitated. “Can I hold you?” he asked gently, hand hovering a bit above you. When you nodded, he smiled and curled in behind you, arm snug around your waist and face buried in your shoulder. 

Lucifer had never slept as content as he did than when he was next to you, and tonight was no different. Actually, it might have been better.

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[genshingorlsrevengeance]

AL-12, M4A1, and SPAS-12 reacting to their Pilot S/O who should be in the infirmary recovering from an injury suddenly pulling them out of a tight spot!

(GFL) AK-12, M4A1, and SPAS-12's S/O saving them

THIS IS FIREBRAND, WE'RE IN THE PIPE FIVE BY FIVE CENTRAL, THIS IS BIG SKY. STRIKE TEAM IS TOUCHING DOWN NOW. STANDING BY FOR YOUR ORDERS THIS IS PEQUOD, ARRIVING SHORTLY AT LZ

...Sorry, had to get all those references out of my system.

12 hears the unmistakable noise of Griffin's Black Hawk approaching her location.

Her glowing pink eyes glance over to the distance and indeed see extraction was coming in hotter than expected.

(AK-12) "Clear the LZ. Anti-Air threats are to be taken care of first."

The other members of DEFY comply with her orders and take down the enemies surrounding them with startling efficiency.

Their ride out of the area doesn't even get a chance to touch down before everyone quickly hops on and nail every single gunner attempting to shoot them down.

Finally escaping and getting out of the combat zone, 12 turns back on her emotional processors, her eyes closing and a smile returning once the mask goes back down onto her neck.

Seeing who the pilot was made her mood all the better.

(AK-12) "Well now. Not that we don't appreciate the lift, but you should be back in base."

S/O chuckled as the bandages on their arm slightly shifted.

(S/O) "Not without you girls. Figured I could do one last fly before I take a well earned break."

12 and RPK-16 chuckled at that, AN-94 simply nodded while AK-15 sighed.

(AK-15) "Taking influence off her, I see."

12 ignored her comment and gently caressed their injured arm.

(AK-12) "Thank you, S/O. I'll make sure we put in a good word for you.~"

She sits herself in the co-pilot seat to help out, the Black Hawk escaping into the moonlight.

(S/O's Voice) "M4! Coming in hot!"

(M4A1) "What?!"

Hearing the unmistakable noise of the Black Hawk's rotors, M4 turned to the rest of the AR team.

(M4A1) "CLEAR THE LZ!"

The four of them pin their enemies down with concentrated fire, making sure they couldn't aim at their extraction.

After getting on, they continued to open fire until they were out of immediate threat range.

Finally getting a breather, ST AR-15 and M16A1 closed the doors as M4 approached S/O, realizing their leg had makeshift bandages.

(M4A1) "What are you doing?! You could have been hurt worse than before!"

(S/O) "Thought I'd take a page out of your books and try a suicidal rescue. Commander gave me the green light, if it makes you feel any better."

M4 opened her mouth, but quickly found she had no retort. Admittedly, AR Team did have a tendency to do that.

She put a hand on their shoulder as she nodded in defeat.

(M4A1) "...Fair enough. Thank you, S/O."

S/O put a loving hand on hers before returning their attention back to the controls.

(SPAS-12) "THANK GOODNESS, RESCUE'S HERE!"

Using her shield to take the oncoming gunfire, she and the rest of her echelon backed further into cover as the Black Hawk came in, letting them all hop on.

Her shield acted as a makeshift barrier, as some of the other T-Dolls fired back, using SPAS as cover.

She had no issue, her shotgun would be ineffective at this range anyway.

Once her scanners indicated they were out of the combat zone, she breathed a sigh of relief.

(SPAS-12) "Whew, thanks for getting us ou-...S/O?!"

(S/O) "Hey, SPAS. Glad to see everyone's doin' well."

Her eyes immediately saw their head which had a bloodied bandage still on.

(SPAS-12) "You're not, the heck are you doing?!"

(S/O) "Heh, don't worry. I'm not gonna crash, autopilots helping pull the weight too."

(SPAS-12) "B-But you can't just!...You might have gotten-"

Before she could say anything else, S/O gave them a gentle smile before pulling out a bag of chips, enough for the echelon.

She pouted but took the chips and smiled back.

(SPAS-12) "We're having dinner after we get you back resting in the medbay. Got it?"

(S/O) "Deal."

[danwhobrowses]

Okay so we are doing a very rare third post about the events of Critical Role campaign 3 episode 91 so avoid if you still haven't watched it because there will be spoilers again

Right. So I'm not gonna talk more about the Reincarnate vs Stay Dead debate with FCG, I still prefer Reincarnate for reasons I put in my last post but now I'm gonna talk about the other route, if FCG stays dead, what becomes of his remains?

It is almost ironic that a PC death happened a few episodes after Matt created the Ruidian custom of making weapons from a loved one's remains, something Ashton and Fearne were quite intrigued by, so I wonder if the Hells would do the same - in a way carrying a little bit of FCG with them to continue the fight. Outside of his loot it's hard to tell what the Hells can use, if it were me I'd have each of the Hells have a bracelet from his hair at the least, but the rest would probably need to be left in the hands of tinkerers to create things that may enhance the Hells' combat; maybe a conductive whip for Imogen to use for her more lightning-based magic for instance, I can also see Ashton fixing FCG's head onto their outfit or hammer and Chetney and Laudna maybe making little FCG dolls for each of them too.

Loot-wise I had to look at the wiki to remind myself of all the stuff FCG had on them, as well as see what Otohan had but outside of the backpack and swords it wasn't quite descriptive at this point, and even then there's no guarantee it'll all be undamaged from the blast, but there were some notable things that could end up in the Hells' hands to use. I feel like we're all in agreement that if FCG doesn't come back that Ashton keeps the Coin of the Changebringer, perhaps even have it affixed to their hammer so to feel like FCG is still fighting with them. The full extent of its magical properties were not shown outside of the Yes/No question and 1 bout of Lucky per day, but on Ashton's hammer the daily reroll might end up being helpful, though they are not a fan of the gods a little FCG-aided divine buffing could go a long way. Other than that, Ashton probably should claim the two Potions of Possibility FCG had, my earlier post mentioned my belief that Otohan's backpack should go to them because Dunamancy (I didn't however mention how echoes can work as temporary meat shields for Ashton to better negate enemy attacks that'd otherwise be aimed at the party) and the logic is the same here, Matt would probably have to try and balance Ashton's Dunamancy and Titan buffs so to not take all four potions (or more, think Fearne and Orym have one too right? *checks* oh and Laudna so that's 7 potions!) at once but those seem to be key loot Ashton should keep a hold of.

Outside of combat FCG would be helpful in using Identify when the Hells came across new objects. While Chetney has Grim Psychometry to do something similar, the Goggles of Object Reading that FCG used could be taken by Imogen - which in turn may provide Laura and the fandom a means to canonize glasses on the character - along with the Staff of Dark Odyssey that she has used before.

Fearne is another who could hold the Staff, but I find it unlikely. She would probably take the rod used to plane-shift to the Fey Realm, in a way being a key to home if she needs it. I can see her taking the Ivory Branch as well, albeit temporarily until a new healer presents themselves, due to the +1 Spell attack and +1d4 Healing. She might keep the Ruidian mood ring but I feel like that wouldn't survive the blast, same with the recipes FCG collected, though it'd be nice if someone were able to carry on his memory that way; Fearne, Ashton or Orym would be likely candidates for that.

Laudna would perhaps be able to use most of the scrap remains of FCG for her constructs, perhaps a little buffing for Pate is in order plus she doesn't use Sashimi often. Chetney only really works in wood so he probably won't take the remains, stuff such as his saws and propeller could be used to empower Laudna's own creations, maybe even the fake legs too.

One weapon I think will not end in Laudna's hands however is the Grapple cannon, which could suit either Orym or Chetney. Orym is the better candidate to use it though, given the 20 Dexterity compared to Chetney's 14, additionally there is the +1 Mithril Half-Plate Armor, which could be an improvement for either.

If Orym were to get both I could see it being a trade for Chetney not getting anything, in turn granting Chetney both of Otohan's swords to use - since Orym may want nothing to do with her equipment given her role in killing their family. Otherwise I can see Chetney maybe grabbing the saws ahead of Laudna, maybe the goggles but he does already have the monocle, and any utensils he can repurpose for crafting. There is also the possibility of him getting the Aeoran Scrambling Devices that we know little about, maybe adding a little 'this wouldn't happen if it were wooden' catharsis for Chet if he used them on machines.

The only other thing that is left from FCG are the bolt thrower and the All-Minds-Burn drugs. The latter could go to anyone but Ashton, Fearne and Imogen are more likely (she still needs to plant that seed), the bolt thrower could go to Laudna, she never used Bor'dor's slingshot with the Draconic Rune that Prism added to it, or to Chetney to fire a chisel. His coat he designed like FRIDA's would probably be kept for her to be given too. Outside of that the only other specific loot we currently know from Otohan is the Fake Treshi Ring for Scrying (not its official name), which won't be of use to the Hells since the next time they get close to a major enemy they will be fighting, but perhaps it could be placed in the hands of Liliana Temult, either to keep track of her or to plant on Ludinus so the Hells can track his movements instead.