#don’t worry I have plenty of more art coming your way

[ladyblackbirdart]

Forgot to post this yesterday my b

𝙄𝙛 𝙄 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪…

INKTOBER DAY 25: Abduct

For today’s prompt I instantly knew I wanted to draw Joel taking Ellie out of the Firefly hospital. So although today is a simple screen cap redraw, it holds so much meaning to me and I’m sure to many of you as well. Everyone knows how much I love Abby, but I also love Joel. The Last of Us came out when I was still in high school and I’ve loved it since then. The dynamic between Joel and Ellie was so real that it has left a lasting impression on many generations- that alone is a FEAT!

Speaking of feats… today is sadly my last official inktober. I’m feeling the burnout and I don’t want to create sloppy pieces just to say I did it. This inktober was probably one of THE most important projects I’ve ever done. I’ve been doing art my whole life and I’ve always been in awe of the artists that could do inktober. But here I am! I did it! And I am so proud. I have a few more pieces for this set I’d like to complete but I’m going to do so on my own time. Huge thank you to everyone for being here and for your support. YOU are my light in the darkness.

[ily-fictional-women]

Since Agatha is coming back for us real soon, I'd love to read more of her. I know you just posted a fic for her not so long ago, but if you have any more up your sleeve, I'd love to read it

Faithful Familiar

Summary: Villains have hearts— it’s just that their minds are set on other things. Not every “villain” is a monster. 

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!familiar!reader 

Warnings: Minor Agatha All Along spoilers (like really small I swear)

Word count: 1361

a/n: Happy Halloween everyone! What’s a better way to spend the night than with your favorite witch? So in this scenario, witch familiars can shift from their original animal form to a human form at will. So yes, it is similar to Diaval in Maleficent. (Reblogs are welcome and critiques/advice are heavily encouraged, but please no translating.)

1972

The two run panting hand in hand down the alleyway. “Okay was it necessary to do your whole power-draining thing while we’re here,” Y/n asks continuing to drag Agatha to some kind of safety. Agatha chuckles, “No it wasn’t necessary. But it was something I felt like doing. It’s not my fault they had some pets.” She grins to herself, “What were they called again?”

As Y/n tries to make a sharp right turn she’s stopped by two women geared up with a variety of potions and weapons. One of the women steps forward, “Have and we are the Daughters of Liberty! Humans sworn to protect witches in-” Agatha cackles. “Blah blah blah blah. Ladies! You deserve a vacation!”

Rolling her eyes at Agatha’s snide remark Y/n begins dragging her down the alleyway in the opposite direction. Agatha smiles at Y/n, “Oh come on! Not even a pity laugh! That was funny and you know it.”

“No time for that Agatha.” Y/n peers over her shoulder to see how far away the other women are. They’re still chasing not that far away but one is readying a lasso that has a glowing blue tint to it, binding magic Y/n thinks to herself. Y/n pushes Agatha ahead of her, “Go!” 

Agatha’s face flashes with concern for a split moment. “Just take a right then a left, there should be some stores nearby to hide out in. I’ll be right behind you don’t worry,” Y/n says assuringly. 

One of the Daughters of Liberty begins to throw down her lasso as Agatha runs farther away, managing her timing though Y/n knocks down one of the trash cans lining the alleyway. Looking above her head though the lasso begins to fall on her. Before it can cinch to her waist though she manages to create a big puff of black smoke, shifting into her crow form. 

Flying much faster than the women can run Y/n catches up to Agatha just enough to see her enter a crafting supplies store. Landing and shifting back to her human form Y/n enters the store her eyes set on Agatha. Alone in a paint supplies aisle, Y/n wraps an arm around Agatha’s waist. 

“There’s plenty of stores nearby why this one? You’re not much one for arts and crafts.” Agatha shrugs. “It was either this or a poultry deli,” she teases. Y/n rolls her eyes cracking a small smile, the moment quickly fades though, as a dagger flies right by Agatha’s head tearing through the paint canvas next to her. 

The witch and crow bolt running through the store as the Daughters of Liberty follow. The Daughters of Liberty finally catch up though one blocking each end of the knitting aisle. Agatha and Y/n stand back to back being similar situations too many times to count.

Agatha’s hands begin to whirl with purple energy, “You think you can handle the one on your end?” Y/n pulls out the feather-shaped dagger strapped to her side, “Always. Let’s put on a show though, we should have an audience within a couple of minutes.”

As Y/n lunges for the woman on her end with her blade, Agatha smiles cockily at the woman on her end. “I think I’m gonna take my time with you little thing.” Clouded with anger the woman tries to lunge at Agatha with the blue-tinted lasso but Agatha simply raises her arm with a slight elegance. 

Purple tendrils begin to wrap around the woman’s hand and arm. “Ah! Drop it!” Immediately in saying so the woman drops the lasso letting it fall to the floor. Agatha inches closer to the woman keeping her hold on her. “Now I’m curious, why be so loyal to something dead?”

The woman grits, “We live to protect witches wanted dead, even if it’s by other witches.” Agatha scoffs, “Well you sure did a poor job of that.” Using her free hand the woman grabs a knitting needle stabbing it into the arm Agatha had been using to keep a hold on her. 

As Agatha jerks her arm back at the pain the woman does not loosen her grip causing the needle to tear through Agatha’s arm leaving a long gash in it. Ripping out the needle the woman tries to go in for a second stab— unfazed Agatha simply examines the wound groaning, “Well that wasn’t very nice.” 

Using her good hand Agatha makes the woman punch herself hard enough a few times to knock her out. Turning Agatha sees Y/n finish off the other woman quickly stabbing her in the stomach with her feather-shaped blade. 

Meeting Agatha’s gaze Y/n quickly notices the cut on Agatha’s arm, she cringes at the site. “Shit, are you okay?” Straighting out her shirt Agatha sighs, “I’m fine. This is why I don’t do hand-to-hand combat though. It is so for losers.” Y/n quirks an eyebrow at the last comment making Agatha grin with amusement. “I mean that with no offense to you obviously,” she says sarcastically.

Y/n nods in mock agreement, “Sure.” 

“Mom?” Agatha turns around the question, the voice familiar. “Nicky?” She mutters to herself trying to follow the voice. “Mom?” All other noise and sound don’t reach Agatha besides this voice, and from the sound of it, it’s coming from the back exit of the craft store. 

Making it to the alley she hears the voice echo out again, “Mom?” Turing in that direction she sees a short figure with its back turned a few feet away at the the end of the alleyway. “Nicky.” She feels some sadness swell up inside her she doesn’t care how or why this happening anymore. 

Falling to her knees closing her eyes and going in for a hug she feels a tightness wrap around her, a painful tightness though. Looking down she sees the blue lasso wrapped around her, it wasn’t real. As the blue glow on the lasso fades she hears another voice. “Agatha!”

Y/n kneels in front of her cupping her face. “Hey, hey. Are you okay? The girl you knocked out released some kind of bottled spell. You were gone when I snapped out of it, then say you and-”

“I want to go back to the apartment.” Agatha’s voice was drained of emotion, her eyes prickled with tears. Y/n lifts Agatha up by her good arm her voice softer now, “Yeah, we can go back.” 

//

Settling Agatha on the couch Y/n grabs the first aid kit from the bathroom sink, sitting next to her Y/n attempts to start cleaning the wound. As the alcohol swab makes contact with the wound Agatha snatches it from Y/n snapping at her. “I can do it myself!” 

Y/n calmly lets go of the cotton swab, “You saw him, didn’t you?” Agatha stares at the wall in front of her unresponsive, which for Y/n was plenty enough of a response. Standing up Y/n puts on a long coat before kissing Agatha’s forehead gently, cupping her face once more.

“I’m gonna go out and get some food, mostly to give you space. While I’m gone please just take care of that cut. Okay?”

“Fine.”

//

Standing in front of a window display of TVs a woman stands next to Y/n. “How is she?” she asks. Y/n sighs deeply not facing the woman, “Why don’t you just ask her yourself sometime Rio?” 

“Now’s not the right time.” Rio’s face gets serious, “Seriously though. How is she?” Y/n shrugs finally facing her. “Not great this second. One of the Daughters of Liberty used an illusion spell, she hallucinated Nicky.” 

Rio conjures some flowers holding them out to her, “Just take care of her for me alright?” Taking the flowers Y/n nods, “I live to serve her. I don’t do it for just you anymore. It hasn’t been that way for decades.” 

“Good, she needs all the love she can get. Even if she is stubborn.” As Rio begins to walk away Y/n chuckles a little. 

“You leaving to go clean up her mess?”

“Always.” 

[cottondo]

hey! been scrolling your page for the last two minutes, and i think its really cool! i like the short story's you do, and i was wondering if you can do angle dust&husker x reader? husker and angle already have an established relationship in this, but maybe when a new patron for the hotel comes they take interest in them? just an ask! thank you!

Hi hi ! Im SO sorry I took FOREVER TO GET TO THIS OMG @airhead-arts

Here you go ! Also really sorry how trash it is , I’m not really proud of my writing lately 🥲❤️‍🩹

Requested ;

Angel x reader x husk

After coming across a hotel for sinners that seek redemption, you stuck a free place to live that offered food, room and board. It was nice, overall. Didn’t have to worry too much about somebody crawling inside your window, trying to kill you in your sleep. Then, there was the clientele. Most of them, super friendly! Alastor seemed a little creepy and weird, but you paid no mind to him much.

But, one of those certain ‘patrons’ living there, rent free, was Angel Dust.

Yep. The porn star.

You honestly couldn’t believe it- - but then again, anything was possible, you guessed.

You sat at the bar, which was surprising in itself, and sipped on a fruity mixture in a fancy little glass that the cute bartender poured. “New in town, kid?”

You nod, giving a slight lopsided frown. “Yeah- - well, no.” A bit dazed, your figure sits up straight out of thought. “I’ve been in hell for a few months now.”

Husk leans his arm on the counter top, and wipes out an empty glass. “So what’s gotcha so down?” He raised an eyebrow towards you, to which you glanced up from your glass and opened your mouth to respond; However, you were cut off by another voice that crept up from behind you.

Two hands trace their way up your arms, parking on your shoulders. The head leans down to your ear and smirks. “Because they haven’t said hello to me, yet.” A voice purrs in your ear. You pause, eyes widening, as you glance to your right and see a familiar face smiling at you.

Husk rolls his eyes, and stands up straight with annoyance. “Angel, leave ‘em alone. You don’t have to flirt with everyone you lay eyes on.”

Angel shrugs, still taking the liking to you anyway. “Oh, please. Y/N loves it~” He smirks down at you.

You laugh up at them, taking Angel’s hand and pulling it off from your shoulder. “I mean, I think you’re just coming on a little strong,” There’s a giggle under your tone as you catch them both stare with confusion. “But it’s fine with me.”

Angel shrugs, snapping out of the daze, and smiles. “See? Told ya!” He sneers over at Husk. “Why don’t I give you the ‘grand tour’~?” His head tilts down at you.

You were about to respond, but glance over to Husk as if looking for his approval of something.

The bartender lets out a huff, stepping around from behind the bar to situate himself beside you. “I think you’ll need a chaperone.” He mumbles with a dull look to his eyes.

You’re plenty amused, now. If you didn’t think this place was gonna be fun before, well shit - you certainly do, now.

With a laugh, your figure slides off the barstool and then glances between the two demons. You take Husk’s hand, then with your other, lock arms with Angel. “Guess I’ve got myself two tour guides.” You smirk.

Husk gives you a little smile in return, looking down at your hands, while Angel nudges you gently, “The more the merrier, doll face~”

[shootingstarwritings]

Body a Day #9: School

Being the out and proud art teacher at a high school deep into the Bible belt wasn’t easy, but Manuel ‘Manny’ Martinez did his best to make it work. Although he knew that his hometown wasn’t perfect, he simply had too many roots here to let it all go. And it wasn’t all that bad. Despite some glares from a few of the parents here and there, Manny made sure to with Pride; Pride not for himself, but for all the students that lived closeted and unsure of themselves.

Because of that, Manny tried to petition to the principal, Harrison Hayden, regarding a Gay-Straight Alliance for the students to have. “You’re quite tenacious, Mr. Martinez,” said Principal Hayden, looking quite unimpressed. “This is… what, the fifth or sixth time you’ve asked me to allow your gay club?”

Manny didn’t miss the way that Principal Hayden always used ‘Mr. Martinez.’ He called just about every other member of that by their first name. However, Manny didn’t allow that to bother him. “Well, it’s not really a ‘gay club.’ It’s more a place for students of all types to come together and—” He was cut off as Principal Hayden cleared his throat and then talked about how much the parents of the student body would protest such a club and cause a scene.

Manny tried to explain the marginalized students, but it was soon clear that Hayden wasn’t going to listen.

That night, he mentioned the whole ordeal to his partner and husband, Terry. “I have to admit,” said Manny between spoonfuls of spicy spaghetti, “This was the most PC way anyone has even told me, ‘No way faggot,’ before.”

Terry clicked his tongue. “Piece of shit, principal,” he muttered as he wound up about half his spaghetti onto his fork. “Straights just can’t comprehend the situation not only being all about them.”

Manny nodded but shrugged. He wasn’t sure what to do know. There were plenty of students that had expressed interest, but Principal Hayden didn’t seem to think they were worth considering in comparison to the rest of the school. “If only there was a way to change his mind… or just changing the principal.”

“Hmm… well, there might be a way for me to pull a few strings,” said Terry. As he hummed in thought, Manny felt chills run down his spine as he saw a familiar and maniacal grin.

“Terry, no.”

“Oh, c’mon! As if you even know what I’m thinking.”

“I don’t need to be a mind-reader to know that it’s insane. Don’t you remember what happened last time? I still have nightmares.”

“Like you didn’t enjoy me giving you that boning,” said Terry. Last Thanksgiving, Terry had offered to use some kind of technological app to allow the couple to shapeshift for the long weekend. Unfortunately, due to some kind of glitch in the program, Terry and Manny ended up turning into dogs for a few days. It was only by some divine miracle that they didn’t end up as fixed or female dogs, according to Terry. “Point is!” said Terry, motioning to move on with the conversation, “This time, I’m gonna do a test run to make sure that my little app works properly. Trust!”

Without waiting for Manny’s response, Terry rose from his seat and rushed over to his study—completely forgetting that it was his turn to do the dishes. “Never marry a programmer,” sighed Manny, but he still couldn’t help but smile. That manic look in his eyes, the excitement in his voice… Manny couldn’t help but love all of it. It was pretty hot, too.

Terry spent the rest of the night in his study, only coming out as Manny, clad in just a pair of boxers, was preparing for bed. Before Terry said anything, Manny walked over to his dresser and handed him a glass of water.

“Oh, thanks!” said Terry before gulping it down. “Hey, how’d—”

“Every time you lock yourself in your study you always forget to eat and drink,” said Manny, chuckling.

Terry smiled, almost swooning. “You know me so well, honey. So, ready for the test run?”

“Test run?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be the only doing the dangerous stuff,” he said, practically bouncing from foot to foot in excitement. When Terry was that excited, Manny found himself having a hard time rejecting him. Eventually, the couple shut off the lights and cuddled together in bed. For whatever reason, Terry hadn’t elaborated, but just insisted that they go to bed like normal. “You’ll see, just watch!”

Manny lied on his side and waited. He was the smaller spoon even though he was physically larger. But after a few minutes, Terry eventually drew back. “Hmm…? Terry?” Just before Manny looked back, he felt some kind of slimy tentacle-like creature force itself into his mouth. “Hmm?! Mm—!” Mmffm!” He tried to struggle, but found his limbs felt heavy and almost completely unresponsive.

Just what was happening? What was wrong with Terry and why did this feel so right? Manny wasn’t sure what Terry had planned, but he couldn’t help but enjoy that wonderful feeling of being penetrated. It was usually him being the top while Terry would hum or just get distracted, so allowing Terry to take the lead was a nice change of pace… whatever this was.

It truly felt as though something was robbing every part of Manny. First, the control over his fingers and toes disappeared first. Then, his legs and arms became numb as a warm yet foreign feeling engulfed his writhing body. It was like soaking in a hot spring or getting a massage by an expert masseur. “Ohh… oh god, Terry, don’t stoooop…!” Manny writhed and trembled on the bed with such intensity that he was worried his brain would short-circuit.

As Terry’s essence finally became coating Manny’s brain, Manny peeled away his boxers and began to jerk himself off. “Ohhh, it feels so good!” It was like making love together for the first time. Terry’s essence filled each crevice and wrinkle, lighting up each and every single one of Manny’s pleasure centers with such intensity that Manny’s vision went white. “OHHH, FUCK!” Manny’s hips thrust high into the air, cum rocketing out of his barely-touched cock as Manny happily became a passenger in his own body.

What had occurred was nothing short of miraculous for the young couple. Panting, they lied, together in Manny’s body, on the bed that they had each called home so many times. A slight sheen of sweated coated Manny’s face and chest, but neither of them minded. No, there was something comfortable about lying in one’s own natural musk.

Eventually, using Manny’s voice, Terry said, “Y’know our plan for tomorrow, right?” Manny, somehow knew exactly what was running through Terry’s mind. No words needed to be shared, Terry was just indulging in the subtle yet pleasurable joys of using Manny’s voice as his own. They shared one heart, one mind, and one body. It was almost depressing, for both of them, to even think about separating.

“But for tonight, we can be like this,” said both Terry and Manny. They hugged themselves and enjoyed the feeling of softly humping the sheets as they peacefully slumbered.

The following day went about as expected. “I’d like to just have a quick word afterschool,” said Terry with a smile that looked uncanny on Manny’s softer face. Principal Hayden didn’t seem to notice or care and just gave him a weary, “Sure.

“But, Mr. Martinez, I really doubt that you’ll be able to change my mind,” he said.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, sir,” said Terry, and inside Manny couldn’t help but chuckle.

Terry was at the principal’s door as the final bell rang. He slipped inside without knocking, a pool of Terry’s essence already filling up Manny’s mouth. “Mr. Martinez, can’t you at least knock?!” was the last thing Principal Hayden was able to say before a dark tendril shot its way into his mouth. With the waning control over Manny’s body he had left, Terry shut the door behind him to make sure no one could hear Hayden’s struggles.

Principal Hayden’s back curled into a C and his thighs quivered as more and more of Terry’s essence invaded his body. The whites of his eyes slowly filled up with that shade of dark as his weighty figure convulsed. Any struggles and moans were muffled thanks to Terry’s entrance.

Soon, all of Terry had flown into Principal Hayden’s mouth with a wet slurp! Manny rested his palms on his knees, panting. Already Terry’s lack of presence in his body weighed heavily on his psyche. It had only been a few seconds, but Manny dearly missed him.

Luckily, if everything worked out, they would be reunited much sooner than later.

Hayden’s body came under Terry’s control much faster than Manny. “Didn’t want to play around?” Manny asked with a smirk.

‘Hayden’ smiled back. “Nah, love,” said Terry as he rolled his shoulders, trying to stretch out a crick. “This body ain’t as cute as yours. But it always feels nice to dominate a homophobic fuck.” The belt became undone, and soon Hayden’s slacks were on the floor. Leaning back, Terry raised Hayden’s legs and rested them on the chair’s armrests. His ass was in full-view, ready to be bred. “Before I approve of your club, Manny,” Terry forced Hayden to say, “I need a bit of convincing. What say you and I talk, man-to-man?”

“Of course, Principal Hayden,” said Manny, unzipping his own jeans and stroking his hardening dick.

~o~

The next day was quite the blur for Principal Hayden. Not only has he apparently approved of Mr. Marti��no, Manny’s GSA club, but he had even given statements regarding the reaction from outraged parents. “All students of all walks of life are welcome in our community,” was his thesis as he spoke to news station that had covered the story.

When had he become so passionate in such a thing? Hayden wondered that to himself as he showered for the night. Strangely enough, it felt like he was waking up from a dream as he showered. Was he disassociating the whole time while he didn’t notice? No, he still remembered doing everything he had done the past few days. It felt like only just now did he realize what he was able to do.

However, one person in Hayden’s life seemed happy with his decision. As Hayden stepped out of the shower, he saw his wife, Natasha, watching the news and looking giddy. “Hey,” she whispered as he took a seat next to her. “Do you remember my sister’s kid? Well, she came out a trans recently. Her name’s Arianna now.” Natasha leaned toward Hayden and rested her head on his shoulder. With her free hand, she rubbed his belly. “Girl keeps talking about how excited she is to attend your school next year.” Natasha kissed Hayden on the cheek. “You did well today, dear. Her and loads of other kids are real happy about what you did.”

Huh, guess I did…

~o~

Manny looked up from his book as he saw Terry saunter in while panting. “What took you so long?” he chuckled as Terry collapsed on the bed.

Voice muffled, Terry answered, “Just had to make sure the bastard didn’t throw you under the bus.” He turned to his side and faced Manny. “I had to make sure he didn’t change his mind last minute or tried to screw you over, but it’s all good now.”

“Why? Did you do something to him?”

“Nah, nothing like that. Just… he realized the lesson that every bigot’s got to at some point: someone y’know’s got a flag of their own.”

“Well said, dear. So, I’m guess you’re far too tired to go at it tonight?” In response, Terry began to snore. Sighing dreamily, Manny cuddled with his husband and pecked him on the lips. “Good night, dear. Thanks for everything.”

[hannahssimblr]

Beginning // Prev // Next

Hi Evie! 

God, I’m so sorry it’s been so long. Life is chaotic. I’m doing stuff all the time and I really haven’t had a minute. 

College is great. It’s intense. It’s so different to what I expected, although now that I’m saying it, I’m not sure what I expected at all. I’m not sure that I really thought about what it was going to be like. 

There’s art, obviously, a lot of it, and all of the time. We have drawing classes and painting classes, classes about composition, sculpture, art history and theory, and other stuff too that I can’t even recall off the top of my head. We were on a trip last week, out across the city drawing buildings and things like that, and it’s given me this new appreciation for how interesting Berlin really is. I’m learning about all of this history, and then recording it on the page by drawing it. I can’t really overstate how amazing it is to be surrounded by so many people who love art the same way that I do, and I’m thinking about you when I’m living my life like this, about how much you’re going to love it when you’re finally free from Tullamore, and you can go to art college. You’re going to have the best years of your life, so don’t worry about all that’s going on at school right now, and with Kelly and whatever. Things are going to get so much better. 

I go out a lot these days. Drinking, yes, but it’s not really like the way that we used to party and drink in Dublin at all. It’s so much more vibrant and fun, and there are all of these amazing bars and clubs with different themes. I got out with my friends like, three or four times a week, and sometimes I don’t even drink, I just dance, and that’s enough. I meet plenty of interesting people when I’m out, too. There’s always someone new to get to know. 

We did go to this club last week, though, it’s famous. Berghain. Jonas and some of the others like techno, which I’m not sure about yet, and sometimes they go there to dance. It’s open a few days a week, and you can go literally any time of the day, which is crazy. I mean, you can go in at seven in the morning if you want to, and you can get lost in there for three days. Jonas told me all these stories about the kinds of things you can do and… I don’t know if I want to repeat it. I honestly feel like you wouldn’t want to know. 

I mentioned we went, but really, they went. As in, some of our friends. Not me. Apparently, the bouncers are really strict about who goes inside. Jonas explained something about needing to have the right “vibe”, which sounds insane, but anyway. I have the wrong “vibe”, because the bouncers saw me and my friend Elias in the queue and they yelled “No!” at us from, like, a twenty metre distance, haha. It’s fine. We went to another club instead, and we had fun and met some more cool people, so I can’t complain. 

I also can’t say I’m not curious about what it’s like to get into Berghain… Maybe one day. If I do, you’ll be the first to know, and I’ll share all the crazy details when I’ve experienced it. I think the day I get in is the day I can say I’m a real Berliner. 

It’s Halloween soon, and I’ve recently learned that they don’t celebrate it here. Can you believe it? I hope you’ll be doing something fun, at least, to make up for my loss. Send me a picture of your costume if you are! I have a feeling you’ll come up with something dead creative, because you’re good with your hands. I think I remember seeing a picture of you dressed as a bee on your Facebook? Am I mixing you up with someone else? I don’t think so. It was so cool. 

Shane is coming to visit next weekend. Did he tell you that? It’s half term, or reading week, or whatever they call it now. I would have mentioned it to you before, but he’s coming with some college friends on a boys trip. I didn’t think you’d be up for coming. I think they’ve booked this dingy hostel somewhere, and I just can’t imagine it being your thing. Especially with you still being seventeen and all of that, it’s like, you wouldn’t be allowed in to any of the clubs and bars. You should come in the spring, though! That’d be fun. Maybe if you wanted to plan a trip for your 18th?

I feel like I just spewed a load of information on you there, sorry. I should have emailed you earlier, but I’ve had this project due, and when I’m not socialising I’m working on it.

Hope you’re taking care of yourself!

Jude x

[heliads]

Hi!! I’m so excited your request are open I love your work!! I would like to request Charles leclerc x reader where he finds out the girl he has a crush on is a street racer and decides to finally approach her and talk ending up in him asking her out on a date. I hope this makes sense, sorry if it doesn’t 🥲💗

'first sight' - charles leclerc

masterlist

Charles Leclerc has never found himself as thoroughly engrossed in the dynamics of street racing as he is right now. He has, of course, been vaguely aware of it before, as someone who was born in Monaco’s lap of luxury and then subsequently indoctrinated in the grand and glorious art of racing sports cars, but not like this. Never like this.

If he were in the mood to be particularly honest, Charles would admit that he’s not just interested in street racing all of a sudden because of the same need for speed that’s consumed his life and led him to Formula One. Nor is he here because he’s developed a taste past sports cars to souped up tin cans. No, he’s here because of one driver, a woman. A woman named Y/N L/N.

See, this was never Charles’ intent. He would have been able to skip this unfortunate little obsession in his life were it not for the fact that he’s best friends with Pierre, and Pierre is way too fond of his girlfriend Kika to ever say no to her. So, when Kika begged Pierre to come with her to watch a friend’s street race, Pierre decided that he simply couldn’t do it alone and forced Charles to tag along as well, because of course there’s nothing Charles likes more than third wheeling the two of them on yet another flirtatious date night.

Charles had assumed it would be another long night of alternating between wishing he was back home, worrying he should be on the simulator more often, and wondering if he should have dragged along a brother or two so he wouldn’t have to watch Pierre and Kika ogling each other for the thousandth time that night. However, all of that changed when Kika led them over to meet her friend Y/N, who was racing that evening.

Charles is no stranger to pretty people. Every race, some new slew of celebrities gets a tour of the Ferrari motorhome. Charles has seen plenty of actresses and singers pose by his car and wear his merch, but it’s never really meant anything to him. He can tell when they’re fans or if they’re just doing it for good PR. Most celebrities are just people in higher tax brackets with higher rates of avoiding their taxes. You meet one, you meet them all. No amount of perfect smiles or dazzling faces can change that.

Y/N, though, was different. She was gorgeous, and Charles immediately felt as if he might have been run over by his own car several times. One look from her and he was lost in it, tumbling over and over in his mind. She had this charming confidence that Charles could only wish to emulate, the sort of ease you get when you know you’re better than everyone and don’t need to remind people of it because you know you’ll prove it the second you get to work.

If it were not obvious by now, Charles is in love, alarmingly so. Even after Kika makes some quick introductions and Charles manages to shake Y/N’s hand and stammer out a few pleasantries about it being a nice night for a race, he’s still left wishing he could get himself together long enough to be a real human being. Y/N probably thinks he’s insane, but she’s still smiling when she leaves them, so at least he hasn’t done too terribly.

Pierre, by contrast, seems to think otherwise. Y/N is barely out of earshot when the other driver turns him, unable to hide his laughter. “Charles, man, what was that? You look like you forgot your own name.”

“I don’t need to remember mine,” Charles murmurs, watching Y/N go, “Just hers.”

Pierre rolls his eyes. “Be serious. You fall in love a hundred times a week.”

Charles sputters indignantly. “That is not true. And besides, this is different.”

Pierre can’t persuade him otherwise. The drivers on the scene that night start their engines, and Charles watches from the sidelines, captivated, as Y/N accelerates to an early win. Once the race is over, Y/N runs over to Kika, who embraces her friend with an excited hug.

“Well?” Y/N asks Charles once she’s released from Kika, “What does the Formula One driver have to say about that? Fast enough for you even without V6 engines?”

Charles does his best not to fall to pieces. “Um, yeah. It was very great.”

She flashes him a bright grin. “Perfect. See you at the next race, Leclerc.”

With that, she pushes back into the crowd, receiving congratulations and praise from her other friends. Pierre is grumbling something about not getting asked as well since Charles isn’t the only F1 driver around, but Charles just laughs, still giddy on the aftereffects of those shining eyes on his.

Pierre expects him to just bounce back from this little crush, and truth be told, Charles would appreciate it if he could, but no such luck. Even a few weeks after that first race, Charles is still hopeless over Y/N. He scans articles on street racing, memorizes the names of her competitors, and becomes an expert on her win history. She’s fast, super fast, and it looks like the easy victory Charles had seen was just a typical habit of Y/N L/N when it comes to racing.

Needless to say, he was captivated. Although Charles usually tries to keep a little pride when it comes to these sorts of things, he only made it two weeks before caving and asking Pierre if he and Kika were planning on attending any more street races. Charles wondered this for no reason, of course. Just, you know, his natural love of racecars.

Pierre sees right through it. “You want to see Y/N that badly, huh?” Pierre asks skeptically. “Jeez, man, I didn’t think you were such a simp.”

“You didn’t even know what that word meant until Kika taught it to you two days ago,” Charles says scornfully. “Now answer my question. Are you going or not?”

Eventually, and not without a fair amount of teasing, Pierre admits that they were planning to go to another race that Friday. Charles is able to convince his friend to let him tag along, but only under the condition that he would actually get up the courage to ask Y/N out instead of just staring like a lovesick puppy. Pierre’s words, not his.

This time, the race is actually legal. Y/N’s day job is a drag racer, although she tends to get bored on the weekends and shoot for a few undercover street races as well. So the fan Twitter pages say, at least. Charles definitely hasn’t been snooping around enough of those to know.

Now that he won’t get chastised by Ferrari PR for attending illegal races, Charles is free to post as much as he wishes about the race, the cars, and most importantly, the drivers. Barely half an hour has gone by before fans across the Internet are calling him out for ignoring literally every other car there to post about Y/N, but what does he care? Y/N’s probably too cool to look at those sorts of posts. Hopefully, or she’s going to think he’s insane. Again.

This time, though, when Y/N strolls by their area to say hi, she doesn’t just immediately focus on Kika. She says hi to her friend, of course, and thanks both Kika and Pierre for coming, but stops directly in front of Charles. All that separates them is the barrier of the stands. Well, that and the immutable fact that Charles is clearly crushing hard and she is clearly just having fun.

“Good to see you back, Charles,” she says.

Charles grins. He’d promised himself he’d play it cool this time, but he’s already failing at that aim. “You remembered my name?”

“I had plenty of your social media posts to remind me,” she says, one eyebrow quirked.

Pierre facepalms by his side. Charles ignores him. “I was excited,” he tells her as casually as he can. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know yet,” Y/N muses. “I suppose I’d have to get to know you better.”

“I have no problems with that,” Charles grins cheekily. “How about I take you out to dinner and you decide for yourself?”

In Charles’ peripheral vision, he can see Pierre’s look of desolation turn to slow shock, but come on now, there was no chance Charles wasn’t going to follow through and ask Y/N out. The only thing he needs now is for Y/N to say yes.

She doesn’t answer immediately, but judging by the way her cool smile brightens, it’s less because she dislikes him outright and more because she enjoys playing with him, which is perfectly fine by Charles. If he respects the game, he has to respect the players as well.

“I’ll have to wait and see how I feel after the race,” Y/N responds at last. “Maybe I’ll lose and I’ll be too devastated to go out with anyone.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I doubt that will happen, but alright.”

Y/N gives him a surprised look. “You’re willing to bet that I’ll only go out with you if I win?”

“I’m willing to bet on the excellent odds that you win every time,” Charles answers with a wink. See, Pierre? He can be smooth when he needs to be.

Y/N laughs at that, evidently pleased. “I’ll have to make sure I don’t let you down. See you after the race, Charles.”

With that, Y/N joins the throng of other drivers heading towards their cars to begin the race. Once she’s gone, Charles turns to Pierre, far more proud than he should be. “I don’t want to ever hear you complaining about my flirting again. Did I not do what I had to do?”

“You did,” Pierre grumbles, “but she still didn’t say yes, you idiot.”

Charles scoffs. “She absolutely did. She didn’t say no.”

Pierre can’t technically argue with this, so it’s up to Kika to distract them both from technicalities by asking them about one of their upcoming races, a surefire method of changing the subject. It does little to divert Charles from his own nerves, though. Suddenly, he’s gripped with an impossible terror that something will happen with Y/N’s car, or maybe she might come in second place and not first, and she wouldn’t want to go out with him after all. He shouldn’t have left it up to chance like that. He should have just gone after what he wanted in the first place.

Charles is a nervous mess the whole race. When the checkered flag waves, though, he’s finally able to relax. Y/N wins, and that means Charles has just scored himself a date with the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. 

Y/N takes her time in coming around to his section of the stands, just to mess with him. At last, though, they’re face-to-face again. Y/N is breathless and thrilled with the victory. Charles thinks he could bask in her glow forever.

���So?” He asks casually, “How about that date, then?”

Y/N grins. “I think it’ll work out. You can pick me up at seven. Does Saturday work for you?”

“Saturday is great,” Charles says a little too quickly, then tries to recover. “Wear something pretty.”

“Don’t I always?” She jokes, gesturing to her race suit.

Charles laughs with her. It’s easy. He can imagine doing it many times again. “Of course.”

Her laugh settles into a quiet smile. Even in the tumultuous uproar of a race that’s just been won, Charles can focus on her instantly. He wants this, he decides. He wants her. And, with the way she’s looking at him now, mirroring the incline of his head towards hers, Charles knows that she wants the same thing. This is just the beginning. He cannot wait to see where they go from here.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[artdcnaldson]

and when tashi punishes you in front of art for letting you get out of hand in the Olympics!au what then. you expect him to stand up for you - all the things he said about caring about you and wanting you - but he just looks away. tashi says you can leave, you can leave and art will never talk to you again because if tashi demands it he'll listen. you wont even exist to him. it'll be like he never knew you.

or.

you can take a little consequences for your actions. she likes your spirit, after all. your fire and passion. you just need a little discipline.

Exactly <3 When she practically drags you back to their house after the pregnancy test comes back negative and every bit of your pathetic lies come tumbling down around you <3 When she makes you tell Art everything, and you’re not crying pretty for him anymore, they’re ugly, humiliated tears that you got caught, that you’re having to admit that you were lying to him about a baby, that you thought you could manipulate him.

You think the tears will bring Art back to your side— that he’ll defend you and tell Tashi to stop, that you’ve had enough. They’ve worked on him plenty times before, but never with Tashi there. His jaw is set tight— you know he’s angry, that he’s livid but he’s letting Tashi handle it, handle you.

So Tashi gives you two options— face some consequences for once in your spoiled, bratty life, or you can just leave. Art would never see you again, never look at you, you’ll be nothing to him. It’s not even a choice to you— not even something you’re willing to consider. So you accept whatever consequences because you’re expecting Art to be the one doling it out.

But it’s not Art’s lap you’re bent over, it’s hers. And it’s not enough to just spank you with her hand— she’s mean about it. She uses a fucking paddle, like you’re a schoolgirl who misbehaved in class. It’s hard, and you yelp and bury your face into the duvet to muffle your cries, but Tashi just pulls your head back up, tells you to keep looking at Art. It feels like punishment enough, that he’s watching, but he’s not defending you, won’t own up to anything he said.

And he’s getting off on it— on finally seeing you brought to heel. He couldn’t do it, but Tashi can. Tashi has you babbling out apologies, with your makeup streaked, your ass stinging red, probably black and blue by the next day. But you don’t pussy out, you take it all and you’d take more, because the alternative is losing your favorite plaything, the object of your obsession.

And you think that’s it. You’re going to have trouble sitting— doing much of anything— but it doesn’t seem as bad as it could have been. But you’re simply ignored at your spot on the bed as Tashi kisses her husband. You pout the longer it goes on— as their tongues press against each other and slip into their mouths, as she pins Art to the bed and strips off both of their clothes.

That’s your punishment. Thats what you’re there for. How many times had you gotten off on Art telling you that you fucked him better? That your pussy was tighter and sweeter? That he loved you? That he’d leave her? You didn’t think he’d been lying until you had to watch, but you couldn’t look away.

So you listen to Art telling Tashi all the same things he told you, watch him fuck into Tashi’s cunt the way he’d done to you time and time again. Watch him cum, panting and moaning against her lips.

“I love you,” he pants, and she smiles, scratching at his scalp.

Your bottom lip wobbles and you feel hot tears on your lashline, and you’re worried you’ll have to just tap out and leave and give him up because it hurts.

He pulls out, and you watch his cum slip from her pussy, dripping down and onto the sheets. Tashi meets your gaze, nods expectantly. “Clean up the mess my husband made.”

You exhale a weak whine, crawl between her thighs and start licking at her, hesitantly at first. Her hand is in your hair, almost soothing as your tongue explores her— licking up the mixture of her and Art’s cum. You lose yourself in it until you’re just laving at her from her drooling entrance to her clit, all just seeking the taste of more.

“Okay, that’s enough,” She tells you, pushing your mouth off. She looks down at you indiscernibly, and you just lay against her thighs and sniffle out apologies.

[mi-nya-mi]

hiiiii i love your art and how you draw Elliott it’s so gorgeous ❤️

also i have to know since you mentioned it. your Elliott headcanons 👀

TYSM ANON 💖 😍

So as for how I see Elliott in my interpretations:

GENERAL

I personally see him being around 34, super neurodivergent (most likely undiagnosed), and having already lived life and a past stable job that wasn’t his cup of tea before realizing he’s getting up there in his years. This eventually would motivate him to take the leap of faith that’s moving to Pelican town and moving into the writers retreat. Of course you’re going to have to suspend your disbelief significantly about him making absolutely zero progress that is his novel in the year long span he’s in Pelican town, so I could only assume that either he worked on publishing shorter form stories and taking up commissions, or already started working on his novel long before the farmer arrives and is just asking for the assistance of a beta reader. Either way, while it’s hard to judge the cost of rent in Pelican Town with regards to staying in that cabin, let’s just assume that he had plenty of money saved in order to work without needing to worry about keeping the lights on.

BACKSTORY

We know absolutely nothing about Elliott's socioeconomic background so it’s hard to glean whether he grew up poor, middle class, or wealthy. Even with his expensive tastes he could fit in any of those categories. Whether he did develop his more gentlemanly qualities from being born with a silver spoon or just developing it in order to give off a certain impression to other people, I wouldn’t know. His lack of interest in divulging his backstory could mean that it’s the latter if it comes from shame, but I could also very much believe that he had a family that were old money and preferred Elliott to take up whatever family trade that they had or a respectable profession(trading firm, banking, business, etc.) To my point, he likely had a family given profession that they pressured him to take up that made him plenty of money, and he saved up enough money to keep him afloat before calling it quits. (And considering his expensive tastes as well as my headcanon being that he’s practically buff, I doubt he would neglect his personal health by ordering cheap foods. He would have the means to eat well.)

LIFESTYLE

On the topic of health! Listen, with Elliott mentioning his rugged physique and him basically being Stardew Fabio, it’s hard to see him as a stick. I think Elliott very much enjoyed sports in his college years such as fencing (albeit he likely wouldn’t be able to deal with fighting monsters whatsoever despite his claim), and maybe even horseback riding/polo. (That man’s a stallion! What wouldn’t be more fitting? Plus shoveling shit gets you fit.) He also likely fished prior to meeting Willy, and still would do it for fun. Much to the contrary of most fan headcanons I don’t think Elliott is much of a regular swimmer, mainly because neither seawater nor chlorine would bode well for his hair. If anything, it would be a leisurely activity as opposed to one related to fitness. The other thing that contributes to his general physical fitness is that Elliott for the most part hardly uses any electric appliances outside of necessities (such as a phone), partly due to the lack of sufficient sockets and amenities in his cabin but largely for the aesthetic. He’s very much unplugged and rarely uses social media. Because he hardly uses electric appliances, he is in charge of all the housework which includes chopping all of his firewood, handwashing, drying, and ironing all of his clothes, and occasionally crab potting his own lobster dinners if he’s lucky. This man is on top of his housework! He genuinely enjoys this meditative routine of housework he has as he mulls over thoughts on his novels.

Overall those are my general headcanons I have so far on Elliott, but if you every have specific prompts feel free to send them my way :D

[mamabearcatfanfics]

Cairo Prison - InuKag

Sometimes, I write things just for myself, as a little treat. I might write my other favourite scenes here and there. Who knows, eventually I might have enough to string together a whole plot line. But lookie here @elkonigin and @coquinespike - have a little InuKag scene from The Mummy on me. If I ever find where I've put my laptop pen, there may even be some art to go with this.

Kagome swept across the courtyard, her anger making her simmer even hotter under the midday sun. She wasn’t sure who she was more annoyed at – the squat prison Warden for the obviously lecherous looks he was giving her, or Miroku, for lying about where he got the puzzle box. She shivered a little as they passed the gallows, not wanting to think too much about what usually took place here. When the Warden paused for a moment to speak to one of the guards, she rounded on Miroku, her voice a hissing whisper.

“I can’t believe you Miroku! You said that you found that box at a dig in Thebes! And now I find out you stole it from a drunk at the local Casbah! You told me a barefaced lie!”

Miroku looked a little chastened, but then fought back with a winning smile, hooking his arm into hers as they continued across the courtyard.

“That’s a bit harsh, Kagome dear”, he said, patting her hand affectionately. “We were playing cards, a gentleman’s game. I would have won it fair and square if he hadn’t got himself into an altercation. He left it unattended in his pocket. What was I going to do, leave it behind? He probably didn’t even know what it was.”

“You. Lied. To. Me.” Kagome hissed.

“What’s a little white lie between family members, ey?” He tried a winsome smile, which faltered quickly under Kagome’s withering gaze. “I mean, you’re not the only one I lie to old mum. But at least the lies I tell you are pretty ones.”

“That makes it worse! I’m your sister Miroku! Whatever happened to us against the world, together through thick and thin!”

Miroku looked taken aback, even slightly hurt.

“I’m deeply offended. Didn’t I come straight to you with the box? I could have just sold it, but I knew it was something special. And I knew you would be smart enough to recognise that. We both know you’re the one with the brains in this family Kagome dear.” Glancing nervously around, he tugged on her arm, trying to turn her back towards the way they’d just come. “And anyway, I don’t think this is the best place for a lady, so how about we just pop back to-”

Kagome glared at him furiously as he tried to make a run for the door, wrapping her hand around his bicep tightly so he couldn’t get away.

“Stop trying to get out of this Miroku. You can’t sweet talk your way out of this one. Oh, I am absolutely livid! Not only have we lost the most important part of the map, but we have to come here, to this place. You are going to stay here with me and see this through!”

She shuddered a little self-consciously. There were quite a few leering eyes directed towards her, and not all of them were owned by prisoners safely behind bars. Miroku patted her hand again, obviously trying to soothe her, and Kagome straightened her spine.

They’d been through plenty of scrapes together, her and Miroku. They only had each other since their parents died, social outcasts amongst the English elite due to their mother’s Egyptian heritage. She’d barely got Miroku back in one piece after the war, one of his hands shattered by a bullet directly through his palm. She knew it still hurt him, even though he never complained. He’d always been devil may care, even before he was conscripted, but since his return it was like he invited trouble. She was constantly worried about him. This was a chance to find the legendary Hamunaptra together, and there was no way she was going to back down, even if she was more than a little out of her comfort zone here.

Warden Mukotsu came back, his eyes running over her lasciviously, and Kagome lifted her chin in defiance, staring back at him with spirit. She pulled her elbow away from his grasping stubby fingers as he ushered both her and Miroku over to the rusted iron bars surrounding a holding pen. The locked metal door behind it probably led to somewhere unspeakable.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Wasn’t this what she had always wanted? A chance to show that she was not only a scholar, but able to go toe to toe with all the pompous, overstuffed Egyptologists? A chance to put all her knowledge to good use? She could do this.  

Clearing her throat in an attempt to make her voice as unaffected as she needed it to be, she turned her attention away from the locked metal door to Warden Mukotsu.

“So, what is this man in prison for?” she asked, attempting an imperious tone. She hoped it wasn’t something horrible, like rape or murder.

The warden preened under her gaze, and she turned her eyes forward again, not wanting to encourage him one iota. He was giving her the creeps. Besides, there was some kind of ruckus going on behind the closed door, yelling, swearing, chains rattling. What on earth was going on back there? Miroku was looking more and more like he was going to bolt, and she pinched his arm viciously to keep him beside her, gratified when he yelped like a little girl.

The warden chuckled, his dark eyes squinting in the hot, midday sun.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting lady, but he’s not human.” He spat derisively on the ground, and Kagome grimaced, tucking the toes of her boots safely back under her long skirt. “He’s a dirty half djinn, with the ears of a jackal. His words cannot be trusted. But I did ask him.”

“And what did he say?” Kagome asked, unsure if she actually wanted the answer to that question. What on earth had Miroku gotten them into this time?

The warden leered at her, before leaving momentarily to handle a disturbance on the other side of the courtyard.

“He said, he was just looking for a good time.”

The metal door burst open with a clang. Four guards dragged a prisoner forwards, their arms and legs wrapped in chains. Despite the handicap, he seemed to be fighting them every step of the way.

His shirt and pants were ragged, his grey, hip length hair matted and oily, hanging in clumped tendrils around his face. Both her and Miroku took a step backwards at the absolute stench that surrounded him. One of the guards walloped him on the head with a truncheon, hard enough for them to hear a solid thump as it connected. Kagome winced in sympathy as it smacked one of his canine ears, blood trickling onto his scalp, and he snarled loudly, baring some very obvious fangs. Another guard beat him again, and the other two kicked him in the back of the knees, forcing him to kneel in front Miroku and Kagome. He grasped the bars in front of him as best he could with his shackled wrists, teeth still bared in anger, amber eyes full of rage.

“This is the person you took the box from?!” Kagome squeaked in surprise, shuffling backwards a tiny step. She’d never seen anyone like him before, and the scholar in her was already wanting to know more. Why did he have dogs ears and fangs? He had slitted pupils like a cat – could he see things human eyes couldn’t? Where had he come from? Did he speak English or Arabic? Or some other language she had no knowledge of?

“Shush, not so loud,” muttered Miroku from the corner of his mouth, turning his face away from the prisoner kneeling in front of them.

“Who are you?” the prisoner demanded, looking Miroku up and down, then turning his eyes almost immediately towards Kagome, as if he’d judged Miroku’s worth and found him lacking. “Who’s the wench?”

“Wench!?” Kagome sputtered, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. The sudden smirk on the prisoners face, and the accompanying glint in his inhuman amber eyes, made her want to slap him. She’d been feeling a little sorry for him after witnessing his treatment at the hands of the guards a moment before, but now she was seething.

“Ah, hello my good man,” smiled Miroku, pushing Kagome a little behind himself. “I’m just a humble local missionary, visiting the prison to save the souls of unfortunates such as yourself…” He faltered a little as he watched the prisoner ignore him, picking at his teeth with the very pointed, and probably very sharp, claw on his little finger. He dragged a reluctant Kagome forward. “And this here is my younger sister, Kagome.”

“How do you do?” said Kagome, attempting a cordial tone, then stiffening as the prisoner looked her up and down.

“Tch. Well, I guess she’s not a total loss.” He turned his head away.

“Excuse me!” said Kagome, tapping her foot at a rapid pace on the dirt, in an attempt to mitigate the burst of anger that was beginning to rise at this man’s attitude. “Excuse me, Mr…”

“Inuyasha. Just Inuyasha.”

Kagome nodded, and tried her best to smile winningly at him. “Inuyasha then.” She made the tone of her voice as warm as possible, speaking slowly and carefully, her expression coy. “You see, my brother and I found a puzzle box that we believe you might be able to help us with.”

“Bullshit.”

“I beg your pardon!?” she exclaimed. Both Miroku and Inuyasha winced at her loud and high pitched tone of indignation.

“I smell bullshit,” Inuyasha repeated gruffly. “We both know you didn’t come here to dirty your pretty little shoes in this hellhole to ask me about some box, lady. You and this stuffed shirt came here to ask me about Hamunaptra, am I right?”

Both Kagome and Miroku’s eyes widened in surprise. They both looked around nervously, hoping the guards hadn’t heard anything, and moved a little closer to the bars.

“How do you know the box has anything to do with Hamunaptra?” asked Kagome, barely able to keep the excitement out of her voice. Now they were getting somewhere!

“Because that’s where I found it.”

Miroku leaned forward, his voice a little suspicious.

“How can we believe anything someone like you would say?”

“Wait, do I know you?”

Miroku gave a nervous chuckle.

“Oh no, I don’t believe- “

Inuyasha’s nose twitched slightly, and then his eyes widened in recognition. He glowered at Miroku.

“You!”

Before Miroku could even think about taking a step backwards, Inuyasha’s fist shot forwards, catching Miroku on the chin. Even hampered as Inuyasha was by the chains, as soon as the blow connected, Miroku was laid out cold. One of the guards whacked his already bleeding ear again, hard, forcing his forehead to bounce off the metal bars in front of him.

“Hey, watch it, fucker!”

Kagome looked down at Miroku, laying prone at her feet, then delicately raised her skirt a little as she stepped over him to get closer to the bars, her eyes full of excitement.

“You were actually at Hamunaptra?” she asked, her voice full of wonder. Inuyasha stared at her in amazement.

“Don’t you care that I just decked your brother?”

She waved a placating hand at him.

“Oh, he’s had worse, I’m sure he’ll be fine in a moment. But Hamunaptra! You were actually there?!”

She watched as Inuyasha’s amazement changed into a lazy grin.

“Yeah wench, I was there.”

She was so excited that she hardly noticed what he called her.

“You were there? Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it!” Her eyes narrowed a little in suspicion, and she moved even closer. “Do you swear?”

The lazy grin grew wider, a pointed fang lowering over his cracked lower lip.

“Every damn day.”

Kagome scoffed.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

The grin was still there, then it dropped away from his face.

“I know what you meant. But I was there alright. Seti's place. The City of The Dead.”

Kagome could hardly contain her excitement.

“What did you see there?”

“A lot of sand.” He almost shuddered. “And a lot of death.”

But Kagome would not be put off now. Not when she was so close. She could see the warden coming back, and she just had to get this information. She leaned closer to him, taking off her hat to guard their conversation.

“Inuyasha,” she whispered, her tone determined. “Could you tell me how to get there?”

He looked at her, and blinked slowly, his expression nonplussed.

“The exact location,” she wheedled, eyes shining with excitement, “pretty please?”

“You really wanna know?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“You really, really wanna know?”

“Yes, yes, more than anything!” she said, almost bursting with nervous excitement.

He beckoned her closer, gesturing with one pointed finger.

“C’mere then.”

She was now almost nose to nose with him, ears straining, eyes wide, ready to commit anything he might say to memory so she could write it down as soon as a pen and paper were handy. If only she’d bought one of her notebooks with her! But before she knew it, one of Inuyasha’s hands shot out, not to punch her as he had Miroku, but grab her chin firmly. And then his chapped lips were planted firmly against hers.

Before she had a chance to register anything more than shocked astonishment at receiving her very first kiss in such a manner, the lips were dragged away.

“You wanna know so bad? Then get me the fuck outta here lady!”

She watched as all four guards rained blows down on his head, dragging him backwards. She heard the warden laughing maliciously behind her.

“Wait, wait, I’m not done talking to him yet! Where are they taking him?”

“To be hanged.”

“Why?” Kagome gasped, her shock at this sudden turn of events evident. She grimaced at the wide grin Warden Mukotsu gave her.

“Apparently, he had a very good time.”

Kagome hurried after Mukotsu, almost tripping over Miroku as she strove to keep with the warden.

They climbed a set of stairs to a balcony overlooking the whole courtyard, Mukotsu sitting down to watch the show, while Kagome hovered anxiously, fingers tapping nervously on the balcony railing. She watched as Inuyasha was dragged up the stairs to the gallows. Other prisoners hollered and jeered as the noose was roughly forced over his head, then cinched tightly around his throat. He made direct eye contact with her, his expression stoic. What could she do? Suddenly she had a brain wave, turning to address the warden.

“What if I offered you one hundred pounds to secure his release?”

The warden shrugged, noisily snacking on a plate of dates on a small table at his side. Juice and spittle ran down his chin as he answered.

“I would pay one hundred to see him hang,” he replied, his eyes fixed on the gallows below.

“Two hundred pounds, then,” she bargained, eyes darting back and forth between Inuyasha and the warden, who ignored her totally. He stood for a moment, bellowing down to the guards below.

“Proceed!”

“Three hundred pounds!” Kagome said desperately. She could tell Inuyasha could hear their conversation even over the dreadful noise of the screaming prisoners, his ears twitched in their direction. She looked back towards him and saw him nod at her, as if to say, keep it going. The yelling suddenly grew quiet as the hangman addressed Inuyasha.

“Any last requests, dog?” he sneered, spitting on the trapdoor near Inuyasha’s feet.

Inuyasha pretended to look thoughtful for a moment, then spat his reply.

“Yeah, I'd like ya to let me go.”

The Hangman grabbed the lever to the trapdoor with a leering grin.

“FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS!” yelled Kagome, sitting down on the seat next to the Warden, her eyes pleading, then recoiled as he set his greasy, lecherous hand high on her thigh, fingers grabbing hard enough to bruise.

“Anything additional to offer?”

Before she could think, Kagome slapped his hand in revulsion, then gasped as Warden Mukotsu angrily turned and gestured to the Hangman. The trapdoor dropped away with loud bang.

“Oh no!”

She watched, horrified as Inuyasha dropped through the hole, his body jerking as the rope pulled taut. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. His legs kicked wildly, then stopped, and for a moment, she thought all was lost. The rope spun him lazily around to face her again, and she realised he was still alive.

“Ha! His neck did not break! Good! Now we watch him strangle to death,” jeered the Mukotsu, stuffing another date into his mouth.

Angry chanting began amongst the prisoners, and the guards shouldered their guns nervously. Kagome could see Miroku climbing the steps, staggering a little, but she didn’t have time to help him right now. Not when a man’s life and finding Hamunaptra was at stake. She leaned towards the Warden.

“He knows the location to Hamunaptra”, she whispered urgently.

Warden Mukotsu’s head jerked toward her, his expression incredulous.

“You lie.”

“I would never!”

She glanced back towards the gallows. At the end of the rope, Inuyasha was making horrible choking and gagging sounds, his face a grotesquely mottled shade of red. She had to hurry!

The Warden eyed her suspiciously, wiping date juice off the corner of his mouth with a dirty sleeve.

“Are you saying this filthy godless son of a dog knows where to find The City of The Dead? Truly?”

“Yes, and if you cut him down, we will give you ten percent,” she said quickly, hoping that this would work. Inuyasha didn’t look like he had much time left.

“Fifty percent.”

She hesitated a moment, glancing back to Inuyasha, and watched his eyes widen at her incredulously at her bargaining. She quickly turned her eyes back to the Warden.

“Twenty.”

“Forty.”

Kagome hesitated again, biting her lip. Inuyasha’s eyes were looking up at her, almost bulging out of his head, like he couldn’t believe her.

“Give .... give him .... give him,” he coughed.

Under pressure, Kagome shrieked, “Twenty-five percent, and not one single farthing more!”

The Warden leered at her, then yelled down to the hangman. The sunlight bounced off the scimitar in his hands as he swung, cutting the rope, sending Inuyasha plummeting to the ground. His bound hands scrabbled in the dirt as he fought to get himself onto his knees, coughing and wheezing, taking deep breaths. His bloodshot eyes looked up towards the balcony.

Miroku finally made it up the stairs, leaning against the railing with a groan.

“So, how’d we do old mum? Did we win?” he asked, looking with some distaste at the leering grin of the Warden, then down into the courtyard at Inuyasha, who was still on his knees.

Kagome smiled broadly, and waved down at Inuyasha, who glowered at her.

“Yes Miroku, I do believe this visit was a success,” she said, excitement bubbling up. They were going to Hamunaptra!

“Jolly good show,” replied Miroku, gently fingering the darkening bruise on his chin.  

[rev-wrath]

Sorry, Need You Back

Bruce Wayne x Batdad!Reader

Summary: Your second son has died. It’s taken a toll on the whole family but you need your husband to come back and be a person again.

Info: Hurt/comfort. Male Reader. 0.7k words

Notes: First image is art that can be found here.

Nothing’s really been the same. Not since he left. This isn’t something one really could get over. But it’s been over two months and things are dicey, so you’ve got to get your priorities in order.

You slam a hand down on to the desk. “Up.” Bruce grunts, looking over at you before his gaze goes back to his work. ��Get. Up.”

“I have work to do.”

“You have a life to live. And you’re sure as hell not doing that down here. Or out there.” You jerk your head in the direction of the Batman suit.

“I’m living plenty.” Really, he’s just surviving in some odd way. Existing almost purely as Batman and hardly doing much outside of that, even including eating and sleeping. You’re not sure the last time you saw him eat something that wasn’t a granola bar, bits of fruit or part of a sandwich.

“Bruce, I know you’re hurt. I know you’re grieving. I am too. But this is not the way to do it.”

“I can’t make that mistake again.”

“It was not your fault, Bruce. If it’s your fault it’s mine too. He’s…” You hesitate, not sure if you even should use present tense anymore. But in the end Jason will always be your son. “he’s my son too. I should have paid more attention to him, never let him go, much less by himself. I should have gone with you.”

“You’re not like me.” He argues.

“I can fight too, I have. I will again.” You don’t say that you will again if you have to, just that you will. You’re smarter than that. You know how things work.

“I know, but you’re not doing it every night.”

“I’m not.” You would if you had to though. “But I know you can’t keep doing this. I feel like I’m losing you.” He’s not the same, you don’t blame him. There’s been little differences about you too. Like the way you keep Dick closer, in a way you haven’t in a long time. If someone asked him though, Dick would say this is way more than that. After all, it’s not every day you lose a son.

Bruce though? Bruce is angry and withdrawn in a way that you’ve never seen. It worries you. It’s part of the reason why you’ve been tightly holding every bit of you together. One of you has to. Bless Alfred but some things aren’t meant to fall on just him, or him at all.

“I’ve already buried one of my sons. I don’t want to have to bury my husband too.” The way Bruce is going, someone else is more likely to bury their husband than you. Still, your husband is wasting away in front of you, like he’s intent on burying himself in some way.

That must have hit him because it’s only then that he softens and looks at you. “You won’t. I won’t have another son buried, I won’t have me buried and I won’t have you buried. But that means I have to get better.” His gaze returns to his work.

“You’re not getting better. You’re destroying yourself” Grabbing his chair you spin him towards you before cupping his face. “You’re exhausted.” His eyes would look dead if not for the ever present fire in them. Dimly lit under the weight of his world. “This isn’t helping.”

“I just need to be better.” He places his hand on top of yours but doesn’t move it. Instead he curls his fingers around it. “Figure out how to maximize everything. Be more efficient. Get more eyes and ears in places.”

“Rest.” Though you say it softly the word is firm. As unmoving and unwavering as you are. Though when the silence stretches on for too long you say, “Please. You need it, and I need you.”

He exhales. “Okay.”

“Come on, get up. We’re going to sit out on the terrace, have a meal, and get some sun.”

Bruce’s hand falls into your own as you lead him upstairs. Later he will hold you and tell you how it was never your fault, that you did the best you could here, in Gotham, at home. How you continue to do the best you could and he was so very grateful for you then convince you to rest a little yourself. Perhaps Alfred would find the two of you tucked into each other in a sitting room in the evening and a little tension would leave him as you two were beginning to come back to yourselves, to each other.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hello ! how are you author-nim?? Can u do yandere emperor with dancer reader who is in reality a princess of another kingdom who ran away from her kingdom bcuz she didn't wanted to marry the old noble man who her parents choose for her for political support.......thank u!!💕❤

I'm doing well, Thanks for asking

🖤🖤🖤🖤

You let out a shaky breath as you bowed, adrenaline still dancing along your nerves despite your performance ending. And as usual the first to clap with others following in rapid succession was your employer and savior the Grand Emperor. Proud and powerful Emperor Roy was always a grand supporter of the arts. As such it wasn’t bizarre for him to have a dancer like yourself. The only thing was his specificity. Too many times had the head caretakers tried to replace you for another or even employing another. 

“What is this filth?! Where’s my dancer?!” 

Even when his highest advisor demonstrated concern, he refuted them all. You were Emperor Roy’s dancer and that was all you wanted to be. Other than sheer terror for the man you worked for you had come to greatly appreciate him for many a time had he made this the profession you loved so dearly. In your earlier days his growing favor over you left you entirely exhausted performing more than seven times a day with different choreographies each. It baffles you to this day how quickly he picked up on your fatigue, immediately summoning those he deemed responsible: your choreographer, the head maid, and your senior dancer–who at this point was practically doing nothing. The choreographer and head maid condemned you for not being ‘strong enough’ but your senior dancer, a woman who was enslaved by the last emperor stuck up for you. 

“She’s exhausted because you keep calling her, your emperorness! She’s got no time to sleep or eat, not with all the dances she’s gotta learn!” 

Despite the court’s visible disgust with her dialect and honesty the Emperor was amused. He fired the choreographer and made your senior your prime caretaker and fellow choreographer. From then on any conflicts were easily solved at simply a look the Emperor got what he wanted. 

You tried pinpointing what had him so interested. Perhaps it was lust seeing as his mistress used to sneer everytime he beckoned you. But when a companion of his openly questioned him, he denied it. Someone of his stature shouldn’t have any trouble doing so.

“No this is nothing like shallow admiration…but I wouldn’t expect a bed-hopper like you to understand.”

You’d never spoken to him. Here, you were beneath him and it’d be an insult to.  He’d spoken to you plenty though. For he was as guilty of demanding private performances as he did public ones. They were typically no different except he’d sometimes pull at your veil–a commonality for someone of your position. He’d talk cryptically speaking of fairytales–typically ones about romances with dark aspects. Your senior suggested it may have been code but for both of your safety you kept your mouths shut. 

Other than that it was perfect. 

Perfect until they came.

“O Great Emperor I beseech you! My sister Princess of my future kingdom has run away and I strongly believe that it is your territory that she hides herself in!” 

You were shrunk into the pillar you were previously waiting behind for your cue. But at the sound of familiar ironclad soldiers with that voice you immediately felt your heart drop to your stomach. In terms of decorum your sister’s entrance seemed to disrupt the court distracting them from your absence but the Emperor was not nearly so gullible. Shooting a look at your senior who swiftly made her way over to you with a worried look on her face.

“What’sa matter suga?”

“I-uh-I don’t th-think I can uh perform. I just don’t-”

“Hey hey it's okay. Guess this haught taughty got you all jazzed up. Don’t worry about it, you know he’ll understand. Now get in bed! Calm those nerves, ya hear?” 

You thank her dashing back to your room barely aware of the chaos you left in your wake. Not many knew what would happen if Emperor Roy did not have his dancer because there had never been a time where he didn’t. But the princess and the court would bear witness when your senior whispered into the monarch’s ear. 

“Your dancer got spooked by the surprise visit. They’re shaking som’thin’ fierce and may be out of commission for a while.”

His slightly peeved expression morphed into seething anger. Blind with rage he cast her out scolding her for her lack of manners for someone claiming to be a future queen. Removing her by force, the court was in disarray, some suggesting he organize a search party, others urging him to apologize and make her his bride. He ultimately ignored everyone, fuming as he completed his work for the day and secluded himself. Refusing to see anyone he was none the wiser to the actions of his mistress. 

Waiting until your senior was fast asleep she slipped into your quarters. With only a single candle to light the darkness of your windowless room she could see you shake and hear your wavering breath. You didn’t notice her until her shadow creeped behind you on the wood floors. 

“W-what do you want?”

You feared she would reach for your neck with those manicured hands and in your current state you’d be helpless to stop her. Instead she held you by your shoulders as she pushed you into the plush of her chest. Triggered once more you sobbed into her silk garments eased into shuddered breaths as she rubbed at your back. Letting her lips brush against your forehead she spoke softly, careful not to startle you further.

“Why are you so scared of the convoy?”

With stray tears you tell her about your identity as the extra princess, your father and mother finding no use for you other than to please some old noble with your hand in marriage. You gripped at her cloth as you voiced your frustration before crumbling into her arms as she rocked you.

“I-i’m not e-even the youngest! My oldest sister will become queen and my little brother isn’t even of age and they plan to let him marry for love! He’s hardly a teenager! Th-they just don’t b-bother to know me or e-even ask!? I just–”

“Shhhh.”

Soothing you through another bout of tears, you eventually calmed to let her speak. 

“You must tell him.”

“But I can-”

“You are of status so you can speak to him and he’d treat you well. Much better than any old noble.”

“B-but I don’t know-”

“You need to tell him. Or else…I will.”

“What?! No no…I will…I’ll try…maybe?”

“...”

“Fine, just give me time.”

She held you well into the night. Gently tucking you in as your breaths became stead and she could pry your fists from her silk sleeves. Shutting the door as quietly as she could, she turned to meet the skeptical eyes of your senior. Raising her head high she passed the glaring dancer as she once again entered the main halls. With steady steps she made her way to the Emperor’s chambers waving away the guards knocking twice before entering. Closing the door she kept her back facing the door as she bowed.

“I have news, your grace.”

_____________________________________________

“Wonderful performance as always! I’m pleased you could bring yourself to perform on my behalf.” 

You deeply bowed internally debating how you’d go about this. The emperor would usually begin his ramblings about now. You felt like a fish with how many times you opened and closed your mouth. Ultimately scolding yourself as the Emperor beckoned you closer to himself. Keeping your eyes away from him you felt him lift your veil. Not flinching at his cold hands wrapping around your chin and tilting your face side to side. 

“I thought I recognized that nose.”

Your eyes snapped open as his fingers lingered along your jaw. If now wasn’t a good time there’d never be one. 

“Uh y-your grace um-”

“You must be the runaway princess then?”

“Y-yes b-but please don’t turn me in I- don-no I can’t go back!”

“Oh? Why not?”

“They intend to marry me to a man thrice my age. I hardly know him anyhow.”

Finally releasing your chin he tapped a finger on his chin as he leaned back into the couch he was leaning on. 

“Then we have quite the dilemma on our hands then.”

“W-we do?”

“But of course! You want to avoid getting married to a slimy dinosaur and I-” He pulled you down to his level; making you lean on the couch so as not to fall on top of him.”-want to keep my favorite dancer.”

“Uhm if you’d like I can be a mistress of yours! I’d still dance for you!”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, no but maybe…as my wife?”

“Wife?! B-but didn’t you refuse all the other duchesses? That one empress?”

“I did. I seem to have been waiting for a perfect princess to fall into my lap. So what do you say? Be my one and only wife?”

“O-okay, uh yeah.”

[tracingpatternswrites]

Encounters in Verity | Prongsfoot

The fic I wrote for the @prongsfootproject Reverse Bang has been revealed and I'm happy to share it with you all.

Also, make sure to send some love to @fiendishfyre for their lovely art!

Title: Encounters in Verity Rating: E Artist: @fiendishfyre Word count: 15.5k Summary: When James returns to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays for his final semester at Hogwarts, he expects it to be like any other semester if perhaps a bit more emotional. What he doesn't expect is the arrival of a transfer student from Durmstrang who turns everything upside down. Sirius Black is everything that James Potter is not, so why can't James get him out of his head? It doesn't help when they get paired for potions, forced to work together despite their differences.

Read on AO3.

Snippet below the cut.

When James Fleamont Potter steps off the Hogwarts Express after the Christmas holidays, he doesn’t know that his life is about to change. It feels like any other time, except, of course, that it’s his last. It hits him, as he walks towards the carriages that will take them up to the castle.

“One last time,” Remus says as they climb into one of the wagons, proving that James is not the only one who is feeling a tad bit sentimental. “Feels weird, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” James agrees as he takes his seat, scooting over enough to make room for Peter who is following close behind. “Still can’t get my head around it, it doesn’t feel real.”

“This final term is going to be a nightmare,” Pete moans. “I practiced so much over Christmas and I still didn’t manage to transform a single one of my toads into toadstool.”

James laughs, clasping a hand on his friend’s shoulder with an amused glitter in his eyes.

“Let’s worry about that tomorrow, eh? One more night of freedom before it all kicks off.”

“Easy for you to say,” Pete grumbles. “You managed on your first try.”

Remus gives his friend a sympathetic look.

“I’ll help you tomorrow, if you want,” he offers. “Although my toadstools haven’t been nearly as good as Jamie’s.”

“Plenty of time to figure all of that out,” James says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “NEWTs are months away yet.”

“If you think you can beg off studying like you did ahead of the OWLs you’ve got another thing coming, Potter,” comes a voice from outside the carriage, and when James turns his head he sees Lily climb into their wagon, closely followed by the rest of the girls in their year. “The NEWTs are something else.”

James merely grins at her, a self-assured tilt to his smirk as he shrugs.

“Don’t worry about me, Evans. I think I’ll be just fine.”

It’s true, James isn’t worried. It’s not only because he’s cocky, as he knows people say behind his back, he isn’t. He just knows that magic comes easy to him, that he masters things far quicker than his classmates. He can’t explain it, at least not in a way that doesn’t make him sound like a lunatic.

It’s not that he believes any of the blood supremacy stuff that some of the other students are spouting. Muggleborns can be just as talented as purebloods, Lily Evans is a perfect example of just that, but he does believe his magical heritage has made it easy for him.

The conversation around him sinks into background noise, everyone sharing how they have spent their Christmases, as James allows his thoughts to wander. It feels bittersweet, the fact that his Hogwarts time is coming to an end. He feels sad leaving this world behind, but at the same time he’s buzzing for a new adventure. He still doesn’t know what he wants to do with his time after Hogwarts, only that he wants a proper adventure without anything holding him back.

He knows that his friends have a very different outlook on life after Hogwarts. Peter is worrying, of course, fretting that he won’t be able to gather enough NEWTs to land himself the Ministry job that his parents expect. For Remus it’s different, his Lycanthropy making life in the wizarding world hard, but James has already decided he’s going to do what he can to help him once they move into the real world.

James, however, dreams of bigger things. He wants to see the world, wants to travel, wants to experience new things before he gets too old. He will take over the family business at some point, probably, but not yet.

The journey back to the castle is quick, and the group bicker among themselves as they climb the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. Their dorm feels pleasantly familiar as they step through the door, everything nearly exactly as they had left it before Christmas, except– except not.

“That’s odd,” says Remus, watching the extra bed with a frown on his face. “What’s that doing here?”

“I don’t know,” James says, his curiosity immediately piqued. 

Since their first night at Hogwarts, the Gryffindor Boys’ dorm for their year has only ever hosted three beds. It was an unusual year when they were sorted into their houses. It had been a long time ago since the Gryffindor boys were so few, but the Sorting Hat works in mysterious ways and no-one had questioned it.

Now, however, there is a fourth bed there, nestled between James’ and Remus’. There is a trunk as well at the foot of the bed, some sort of crest painted on it together with the words Toujours Pur and the initials S.O.B.

“A new student?” James asks, then answers his own question almost immediately. “But who joins a school six months before we’re supposed to finish for good? That makes no sense.”

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” comments Remus as he starts unpacking, Pete humming in agreement.

James can’t let it go so easily though, he has never been one for leaving puzzles alone, but no matter how much he turns it over in his head he gets none the wiser. No-one shows up though, and eventually the three of them leave for dinner in the Great Hall.

They take a shortcut through one of the back stairs from the seventh floor corridor, emerging on the first floor, just outside McGonagall’s office. There are students everywhere, milling about and chatting, catching up after Christmas.

Peter and Remus are talking about something as they walk ahead of him, but James can’t bring himself to care. His mind is still puzzling over the mysterious trunk and extra bed in their dorm.

It takes him a moment to notice the change, but suddenly he realises how quiet it’s become around them. Usually the level of noise as all students head down for dinner is deafening, and James is fairly sure it was only moments ago, but now it’s quiet. Almost everyone has come to a halt, staring at something further down the corridor.

James cranes his neck a little, gently pushing past a gaggle of second year Ravenclaws who have stopped in the middle of the corridor. He’s almost by the stairs when he realises what it is that’s caught everyone’s attention – or rather who.

Professor McGonagall is climbing the stairs, her long robes swishing around her legs, but she’s not the one who has stunned the crowd into silence. No, it’s the boy (young man?) that is walking next to her and James feels his heart do a weird little stutter in his chest as their eyes meet.

He’s not wearing Hogwarts robes but a heavy-looking fur coat, underneath it a set of blood-red robes made out of some heavy fabric. He’s carrying something that looks like a dead cat in his arms but, James supposes, is probably something furry and uniform-related.

“Durmstrang,” Remus breathes next to him, his mouth suddenly very close to James’ ear. “Those are Durmstrang robes.”

James recognises it then, the little badge pinned to the boy’s chest, a crest that he knows vaguely from what he’s learnt about the wizarding schools in the rest of the world.

The boy looks to be roughly their age and he is tall , taller than James by at least a few inches. He’s broad-shouldered too, built like a Beater, James thinks, briefly wondering if he’s a Quidditch player.

“He’s hot ,” comes Marlene’s voice from James’ other side and he doesn’t know where she came from but he sweeps his gaze over the young man again.

He’s beautiful , James finds himself thinking and that’s bizarre because he can’t remember ever having thought that about a bloke before. Hot, sure, and sexy or even cute but never beautiful . This boy, however, is beautiful with raven black hair that’s a little on the longer side but neatly slicked back, pale skin and cheekbones that look sharp enough to cut glass.

Continue on AO3.

[taeiris]

if I’ve already sent this ask before I’m so sorry, I’ve got adhd, but how did you find your art? (I’m in my questioning phase)

hihi!!! no problem! i think i have some kind of glitch with asks bc when i go look for them it says i have 3, but when i check it, there isn’t any so im sorry if any of u have ever sent asks and i havent answered them it’s probably bc of that😭

but anyways lets get on it!

finding you art style is not smth simple at ALL. ive been drawing my entire life!!! and ive had a bunch of different styles until now, they kinda used to change every few months or so, i was always happy with them but it never really lasted??? and i always had at least one part of the process of it to dread doing, for example, coloring.

it wasn’t until recently i FINALLLYYY found a style im 100% comfortable in.

it really takes experimenting and finding what elements of creating art you love and enjoy the most. for me, i used to mostly do traditional art, just pencil or ink sketching and i would OCCASIONALLY color them. so i really used to enjoy kinda the messiness of the pencil on trad mediums and stuff? and i never rlly found a way to translate that element to digital art which is the one i enjoy the most now.

brushes are very important! it depends on the look you like. since i like that pencil feel, i use a pencil looking brush! (softy from esbenlash’s procreate brush set) and i also got a paper feel screen protector for my ipad to enhance the experience🔥

i found i mostly enjoyed doing lineart and didnt rlly look forward to coloring, i didnt find my past styles enjoyable bc they kind of felt restricting in that area? since i didnt find a way to make it more abt the lineart and less abt coloring that i liked (ofc theres plenty! i just didnt find one for me)

so tbh i think what mostly influenced the style i enjoy the most now is film, and baroque art!

i had recently seen:

Crimson Peak (2015)

The Shape of Water (2017)

and ofc

Stranger Things DUHHHHH

and i fell in love with the way the lightning was, heavy dark shadows and moody lights, and tried to match my style to it and found that it highlighted all the things i enjoy doing the most while drawing! so thats where i am now

special mention to the one movie im obsessed with currently

The Crow (1994)

also has the similar style

all that + experimenting, studying other’s art i liked and finding elements to integrate to my art, ANDDD music also played a huge part in it. so as you can see for me its about kind of combining aspects of every single piece of media i like 😭

its not gonna be the same for everyone, but its always good to have a guide so i hope this was useful for you and anyone else! im always willing answer any art questions :)

don’t worry too much about speeding up finding your style, it’ll come to you eventually, so focus on enjoying the moment and learning, take mental notes of what you like and don’t like!

sorry this is kinda long as hell… but i like rambling

[imagionationstation]

Hi! I read your TMNT 2012 separated au that you made with ellestrade and it really gave me brainworms so I wrote a small one-shot for it! The characters kinda ended up writing themselves haha.

anyways, wanted to share it with you and also make sure that you're okay with it. Not sure how you feel about other people taking inspiration from you ideas, so if you would like me to take it down, just let me know!

Thanks for sharing such fun ideas. Here's the post (I've also tagged you in it but sometimes tags are weird and don't always show. Also its on my fandom specific sideblog, but I am the same person haha)

Gotta love those brain worms! (Ironic statement from a 2012 viewpoint, actually-) HOLY CHALUPA, BRAIN WORMS IN THIS AU UNIVERSE, WAIT WAIT ACTUALLY WAIT-

*background rambles and spazzing*

Okay, I’m back.

I’m always a-okay with whatever fan things anyone wants to create with inspiration from something I made or helped make. As long as it isn’t containing some stamp that says “this I deem canon” when neither me (nor my partner) deemed it canon, no one ever has to worry with me getting upset over some story/comic/art.

I’m going to give some thoughts and I want to disclaimer.

When I discuss my thoughts on your POV of events in the AU, I will never, in any way, intend to diss or attack the story. I think the flow was excellent and Raph’s analysis of the events occurring was intriguing. I loved it! And nothing I say will be a statement otherwise.

But, since I have a distinct inability to keep my mouth shut when it comes to turtles and you asked, I have thoughts 🧐

My brain is now turning and ya’ll have to deal.

Characterization:

Donnie: Much distrust. Much sass. A strong sense of duty to defend his brethren turtles who don’t deserve it but he’s doing it anyway.

Very on point. Much approval 👌

Mikey: Could not be more perfect. I love him. Sweet soul ✨

Leo: He’s a bit less… Forceful. Cold and calculating. Than I envision.

I’d imagine that he had to learn to shut feelings down in order to survive. Fidgeting/smiling/visibly hesitating is out of the question. Staying in Shredder’s graces meant learning to play the game. His silence is what earns Raph the ability to be loud. The only times that he’s himself is when him and Raph are alone, outside of the sight of cameras, or when someone in is danger and fear/fury overwhelms all else. He seems bland to outsiders and it takes the Hamato brothers a while to see that that he’s just a scared little boi at heart that’s just trying his best in a cruel world.

He’s also set in his beliefs, so he’s going to assume that they’re being tormented mentally, if not physically. There’s no place in his mind that wonders if they were actually safer elsewhere.

I do like your POV, though. Plenty for me to play with.

Raph:

He’s ABSOLUTELY the first to question the differences between how Shredder treats them and how Splinter treats their brothers. He doesn’t jump the gun, but as devoted as he is, he’s never really liked Shredder. I love the implications that he’s been filing away concerns subconsciously and his brain keeps poking him like “HELLO?!”

He’s very deep. I can’t decide how I feel about that 🤔

Shredder would have wanted to fan that temper into something unforgiving and vile. Or course, that doesn’t mean he stops being a sensitive soul. It could… Have something to do with Shredder manipulating him into being angry when he wills it (basically all the time) and solemn and still when he doesn’t (such as during lectures, punishments, etc).

His brain registers this situation as one where he’s not meant to be loud and angry, and so he’s kinda… Shut down. Sassy, but mellow. Processing. Adapting. Letting what happens happen because he’s not meant to stop it.

It’s a reason that Leo gets so defensive when punishments come into play. It forces Raph to feel small. It make him vulnerable.

HOLY MOTHER OF MUTATIONS- I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS NEW TAKE ON THE AU @ellestrade TELL ME IF I’M ONTO SOMETHING

Anyway, commentary:

“in one of Takeō's strategy books he couldn't care less about”

It’s like Space Heroes. He claims so and YET he read, recalls, AND clearly has DEBATED the passage so I call sus vibes.

I get giddy when I think of Takeō discovering Space Heroes-

“Junkō and Kōta— or Donnie and Mikey, whatever false name they’d been given—”

My brain made connections. I don’t know if it was intended, but I always believe that they knew them by Shredder’s names through the beginning of season one, end of season one/beginning of season two they were associating them as both, and then by the time that the City is under attack, they’ve adapted to using their real names. (But the Saki brothers still keep their Foot names.)

So, now I assume this is somewhere in that middle plot.

Fun little Easter egg~

“Takeō and Akihitō were the offense, and Donnie and Mikey were the defense” “They held their own. In fact, they dominated.”

I’m in love with Raph’s simple acknowledgment of their roles in battle. It’s a very practical outline of exactly how their dynamic on the field plays out and he's so certain of his place.

On the other hand, I’m a bit uncertain about whether they’d dominate. I do believe that they are trained and can hold their own, but I don’t know about them being as impressive as Raph&Leo, simply because Splinter trained them to defend and Shredder trained them to kill. The Hamato brothers haven’t had much time to practice in the offensive, especially since that’s Leo&Raph’s job. (In non-AU canon, they are all offensive/defensive.)

I think Mikey might learn that kinda strength at the farmhouse after being taught by Leo&Raph, and Donnie will step back from that, finally finding his place not as a fighter/leader, but as a scientist.

Definitely an interesting take, tho 🤔

“Only now does he think that, perhaps, there was a reason their master made their primary weapons blunts and not blades.”

I am chewing on this line so hard. It’s so powerful.

I can’t even tell you why. It just is.

“Akihitō knows that Takeō isn’t lying. He’d already tried to take tonight's blame all on his own shoulders, spare Akihitō of the punishment. But Akihitō knows all his tricks and he won’t let his brother suffer alone. Again.”

100% behind Raph learning to butt in when Leo tries to take the fall as they get older and punishments get worse.

“Seeing the situation, the evidence glaring at him, Akihitō cannot deny that this wasn’t exactly a great sell. Takeō and him are tied to the ground, trying to convince these two strangers that they would be safe with them. That their clan would not hurt them while that same clan was just about ready to beat them to a pulp.”

I was thinking the same thing 🤣

Leo, dude, seriously. Look around. Think for a second. You are not selling your point. You are doing the opposite.

In the end, it doesn’t even matter. Sensei will always find them no matter where they run. It was better to follow than be chased.

SOMEONE NEEDS TO TEACH THESE KIDS THAT THIS IS A TOXIC RELATIONSHIP. YOU SHOULD NOT FEEL MOTIVATED TO STAY WITH DAD BECAUSE HE WILL FORCED YOU TO REMAIN OTHERWISE. BRUH. RED FLAG.

These were Foot Ninja binds made specifically to hold them. Mutant strength and all.

It makes sense that Shredder would make these. But.

But man. He made those. For them.

Takeō tries to take control of the situation again, the bossy oldest sibling coming out in him.

HA. Got him. Leo is Leo in any universe.

“His name is Mikey.” Donnie glares. “The rat is lying and he has—” “Donnie, its fine.”

Absolutely how they view things. Mikey doesn’t care what they think or do as long as no one he cares about is paying the price. Donnie feels it is a manner of principle that they accept logic and truth.

Leo talking over both of them is valid. This kid, I swear.

“Then tell your older brother to shut up about—”

LEO IS IT OFFICIAL YOU HAVE BEEN DISOWNED

“Sounds like a you-problem.” Donnie stands. “Mikey, we saved them. It's time to go.”

Donnie would die for them <3

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he recognizes it. Takeō always knows when to give support. He’s a good brother. He hopes Donnie and Mikey will know that one day too.

OH. OKAY. WELL. 🥺

THOSE FEELS CAME OUT OF NOWHERE-

He loved his big bro sm hjkhkjhkjhjkkjhkjhkjhku

If Akihitō didn’t know any better, he’d say it was longing.

Oh, don’t worry, he is dying to have other people in his life who genuinely care for him, but as long as you guys are with the enemy, you’re a threat to his baby brother and daddy and not to be trusted

And, just maybe, it could be their world too. 

Oh, so that’s what pain feels like. Glad to be reminded.

[noxemma]

Chapter 6 for my Hot Summer Art challenge fic

It's not a vacation without some relaxation. The group comes back to the house for late night movie night to relax after the case.

Tags, Rating, Word Count, AO3 link, etc. at the bottom

Beside Your Side

Fic Summary: Dean convinces Sam to look into a potential case where people are going missing from a New Jersey beach town. Of course, they have to bring Cas and Eileen along, just in case it's not a monster. Dean is excited to get the case over quickly and enjoy a well-earned vacation with the people he loves the most. Nothing ever seems to go the way Dean plans it though, and this case is no exception.

Chapter 6: Ready for Relaxation

Cas

"Cas, I-"

“Are you guys going to stay out here all night or are you going to come in and join movie night?” Sam demands, cutting off whatever Dean had been about to say.

“Dude, what is wrong with you? I know I raised you better than this,” Dean sighs in defeat leaving Cas like he's been all night, utterly confused. “Yeah, we’re coming.”

Dean holds the door and gestures for him to go in first, but he hesitates, curious as to what Dean had been about to say before Sam had interrupted.

“Don’t worry about it, like you said, we’ll have plenty of time to talk.”

Despite Dean acting normal as he and Sam make popcorn and grab beers for everyone, Cas can’t help but feel like something has changed and he doesn’t know how or why. He tries to shake it off though as everyone else appears to be enjoying the chaos.

“What’re we watchin’?” Dean shouts, mouthful of popcorn, swiping the remote off the side table.

“My vote is for Fellowship,” Eileen declares, claiming a seat on the couch before taking a sip of beer.

“Hell yeah!” Dean enthusiastically agrees before going still with mock seriousness. “Theatrical version or extended edition? Choose carefully, Eileen, this may just make for break our friendship.”

“You’d have to pry the extended edition from my cold, dead hands before you could get me to watch the theatrical version,” Eileen responds with equal solemnity.

They stare at each other, stone-faced for a few more seconds before they both burst out laughing.

“Sam, I want you to know, if you two ever break up, I’m taking Eileen’s side. She’s obviously your better half and she has the correct opinion of the theatrical version."

“Dude, that was one time! And I never said I didn’t like it or that it wasn’t the better version, but we’d been up for thirty plus hours and-“

“Excuses, excuses,” Elieen calls over Sam’s continued attempts to reason with the two of them. He finally gives in and takes his place to watch the movie.

Sam and Eileen end up nestled together on the couch, Cas sits in one of the armchairs, and Dean sits on the floor, propped up on the pillow Sam had eventually thrown down for him.

The movie starts.

Cas watches diligently, enjoying Dean’s comments and easy smiles more than the actual film, at least for the first portion of the movie. While watching parties and wizards talking hadn’t really held his attention, he finds himself watching with rapt attention as the fellowship is formed and the party begins losing members and facing dangers as they travel.

“Whaddya think so far, Cas?” Dean leans down to ask him, handing him another beer.

“I know the general premise, but I wasn’t sure if I liked it at first,” Cas starts, rolling his eyes when Dean places a hand to his ‘wounded’ heart, “but I find myself enjoying it more now it's not just a lot of walking.”

“And who’s your favorite character?” Dean asks, but he’s looking over his shoulder.

“They all have interesting nuances and flaws but I have to say that Aragorn is my favorite,” Cas says after thinking for a moment.

Eileen and Dean share look before bursting out laughing again, bringing themselves to tears.

“What? Dean, I don’t’ understand. What’s so humorous about that?” He looks to Sam for explanation, but he just shakes his head.

“I knew you were going to be an Aragorn fan,” Dean wheezes when he finally stops laughing, “nothing wrong with it. It means you’ve got good taste, Cas. He’s one of my favorites too.”

 “Hey Dean,” Sam barks, suddenly siting up on the couch. “Why is it that you always complain about my hair, but you don’t complain about Aragorn’s or Legolas’s?”

 “Well, first off because it's high fantasy not the real world, Sammy. They don’t need to really worry about a werewolf or a ghoul or something yanking them by the hair or having it get in their eyes while fighting.  Legolas I would complain about more, except that he wears it tied up in a way that kinda makes sense.”

“Ooh! Sam, I could try braiding your hair for a hunt,” Eileen joins in on the ribbing.

“No!”  Sam yelps with a hint of fear, causing Dean to go through another bout of giggling. He waits for them to regain control before challenging Dean, “And what about Aragorn? His hair is usually down.”

Dean crosses his arms defensively before shrugging in a lackluster attempt to remain unflustered. “It’s Viggo Mortensen. I’m not gonna complain about him, just like I’ll never complain about Dr. Sexy. Now can we get back to the movie; We’re missing good stuff.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chortles and Cas gets the feeling he means more than Dean getting upset for an interruption Sam caused.

They continue watching the movie. Cas with great interest as Metatron's information dump could never have quite lived up to the nuanced characters, the moving music, and the breathtaking views.

They’re about three-quarters of the way through the film when, after yawning and nodding off for at least ten minutes, Eileen and Sam excuse themselves to go to bed. Dean pauses while they say their goodnights.

“Goodnight. See you both in the morning,” Eileen murmurs, giving Cas a pat on the shoulder and waving at Dean before heading up the stairs.

“Beach day tomorrow,” Sam says stifling a yawn, excited despite his apparent exhaustion. “Still weird to think we’re actually going to be on vacation.”

“Yeah, it’s long overdue,” Dean agrees.

Sam smiles and heads for the stairs to follow Eileen. He makes it up a few before he steps back down and call softly, “Hey, do you guys mind if Eileen and I go out for breakfast? I think it might be a nice surprise for her.”

“Go for it! She deserves a nice date.”

Sam ducks his head but can’t hide the beaming smile as he continues up to their room.

“Gah, he gives me a toothache when he’s sweet like that,” Dean grins at Cas who smiles in agreement. “You wanna take their spots on the couch?”

Cas takes a moment, not sure if he should trust himself to be in such close proximity to Dean, but the way Dean’s smile falters a hair at the hesitation ultimately makes his decision. He forces himself to move from the armchair to sink into the couch next to Dean who somehow made if from the floor to the couch faster. Cas makes sure to situate himself carefully toward the outside edge of the sofa so as not to crowd Dean and Dean does the same, apparently having a similar idea to Cas.

He hits play and Cas is sucked back into Middle Earth. He’s so absorbed in the craftsmanship of the storytelling that he doesn’t realize how close he’s gotten to Dean. Somehow, they’ve both shifted until their legs and shoulders are pressed together, until Dean is able to turn his head slightly to whisper into his ear.

“So, Viggo Mortensen actually broke his foot when they were filming him kicking the helmet after thinking Merry and Pippin are dead. That’s why his scream sounds so good, they decided to keep that take for the final cut.”

Cas stares at him, once again reminded why he loves the man so much. He loves that Dean wants to share his favorite movies, wants to know which characters Cas likes, wants to whisper pointless trivia because he thinks Cas might appreciate it. He misses the next few scenes just watching Dean happily consume media he’s probably seen several times. 

I wish we could do this all the time. Sit close to each other and watch movies, go to bars and grab drinks, just enjoy each other’s company, Cas thinks, his insides turned back into gooey, molten happiness.

He sighs and leans his head back against the sofa, so content that he nods his agreement when Dean silently asks him if they should start the next one.

Not even twenty minutes in though, he finds himself yawning frequently and his eyes getting heavy and tired, despite having slept most of the day away with Dean.

I’ll be sleeping with Dean again tonight. The thought momentarily distracts him from both the movie and his weariness as the memory of Dean leaning over him breaks loose from the box he’s forced it into. He closes his eyes and tries to keep his breath even against the phantom sensation of Dean’s erection pressing into his leg. It was nothing. Just a normal reaction to sleeping practically on top of another person.

Eyes still closed, Cas vows to keep to his side of the bed tonight. To not give Dean a reason to avoid his gaze or act awkwardly; to not give himself haunting visions of the man he can’t have.

“Cas? You asleep?” Dean whispers in the silence, apparently having paused the movie at some point.

“Yes? I mean no. Sorry, I was just resting my eyes for a minute,” he responds, his body feeling too heavy to move, even with the promise of laying down again with Dean.

“We can stop if you want, finish the rest tomorrow night?”

Dean

Cas takes a long time to respond, and Dean has a moment where he thinks he might have to carry the angel to the bed. The idea is not wholly unappealing, but he’d rather Cas get into the bed of his own volition, just to reassure Dean that he actually wants to be there.

“No, I’m good, really. We can keep watching for a few more minutes.”

Dean’s skeptical but lets the angel have his way, playing the movie again. It only takes a few minutes for him to feel Cas’ head fall to his shoulder for a short while before jerking back up again. He wants to tell Cas that he can leave it there, that he’s more than welcome to rest on him, but he keeps quiet, hoping if he doesn’t bring attention to it that Cas might let himself do it again.

His patience pays off and the comfortable weight of Cas’ head is back, hair tickling his bare neck a little. He lets Cas stay like that for far longer than he should, enjoying the way the man is tucked into his side too much to do anything. Eventually, his conscience gets the better of him and he pauses the movie one final time. He rewinds twenty minutes, so Cas doesn’t feel too bad, then taps his shoulder lightly with his opposite hand until he feels the angel stir.

“Cas? Cas sweetheart, it's time for bed.” The endearment slips out so quickly that all Dean can do is suck in a breath and hope that Cas doesn’t notice.

“’s the movie over?” Cas asks groggily.

“No, but I paused it. We’ll finish it later.”

“But I like it here.” It’s the closest Dean has heard the angel get to a whine, but he doesn’t have time to find amusement in that fact because Cas is nuzzling closer, nose and lips brushing up against his skin.

“I like you here too, Cas,” Dean says bravely, taking a half-step toward telling Cas he loves him, “But take it from me, the sofa might seem comfortable right now, but you’re back will be cursing you tomorrow.”

Like what you read? You can find the whole fic here on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 6/? (hopefully 9 😂)

Chapter Word Count: ~4,100

Tags: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Case Fic, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Beach Case, Cannon when convenient, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (Dean and background characters), Non-Consensual Touching (Not between Dean and Cas), Hurt/Comfort, I promise it's not as dark as it sounds, Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, clueless Sam Winchester, Chick-Flick Moments, Cannon typical misunderstandings, Angst?, One day I'll learn how to tag, WIP, JackieDeeArt's Hot Summer Art 2024 (Supernatural), Hot Summer Art, Greek Mythology if you Squint, No Beta, Everyone is bad with words, Except Eileen who is the only emotionally stable person for miles, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Angel Grace Dysfunction, Poor Coping Mechanisms, There was only one bed

[zeke-in-devildom]

Dissonance - Chapter 26: Wrathful Hearts

The relief was almost immediate. Zeke felt his shoulders sag slightly the moment the cool Devildom night air hit him, releasing a tension even he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He could still hear the pounding music inside the club, but mercifully his body no longer felt like it vibrated through every one of his frayed nerve endings. The throbbing behind his eyes even subsided into a dull ache. 

It wasn’t a complete respite, however. Taking a deep breath of fresh air caused a twinge of pain in his chest, and before thinking about it Zeke had raised a hand to rub tenderly at the phantom wound that had not yet been sustained. How could possible futures cause him actual pain? Before coming to the Devildom his abilities had certainly caused him plenty of issues, but never like this. All his difficulties had been regulated firmly to his own mind and  the ignorance of the non-magical and mundane aspects of human society. He did not like these new developments.

There had to be a way to control this better.

“Are you alright? Does it hurt?” Satan’s concerned voice reminded him that he needed to keep his head firmly in the here and now. Zeke let his eyes flutter closed, brow furrowing as he brought his focus sharply to the present and away from distant futures that might never come. He used the warmth of the arm around his waist, holding him protectively, to anchor himself to what was real. 

“I’m okay. It’s just the stress of midterms, deadlines, and being outed. I’m exhausted.” All reasonable excuses and all true enough, but Zeke didn’t want to deal with the visions or try to explain them or how they were evolving. A part of him did consider telling Satan just to spite Barbatos and the butler’s warning to keep them to himself. The more reasonable part of him knew that there was no reason to stress or sadden the brothers with something they couldn’t actually help change or control. He would figure this out on his own.

“Excessive stress can cause many troubling symptoms in humans. If your stress has reached a level that you’re in physical pain perhaps we need to find a way to address that. As much as I hate to ask Lucifer for anything, I’m sure he could arrange for your school workload to be reduced if it is causing your physical health to deteriorate.” It was sweet, how attentive and worried Satan could get. 

“It’s fine, Satan. Midterms are over, my publisher has the final draft of my next book, and we can’t really change that everyone knows who I am now. I’m sure I’ll feel better if I just get a little rest.” He had only managed to get one halfway decent night of sleep since before midterms started, and that had only been thanks to Belphie’s intervention.

“Then I will make sure my idiotic brothers don’t bother you with their inane nonsense over the weekend.” It was adorable how very serious Satan could get, and he could appreciate the Avatar of Wrath’s sentiments. The brothers did tend to try to drag him everywhere and include him in everything all of the time. Zeke honestly appreciated that too. Satan himself had taken him to plenty of museums and art galleries since he had arrived. Still, being pulled in so many directions constantly was exhausting.

“My hero.” Zeke let a satisfied smile tug the corners of his mouth upwards as he watched the Avatar of Wrath’s cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink. 

“You’re too cheeky for a human.” Satan huffed, but his hand stayed against Zeke’s lower back as he guided the way back towards the House of Lamentation. For his part, Zeke was more than happy to walk in silence, close enough to feel the heat radiating off the demon beside him. Despite what he had said to Asmo in the club, he couldn’t help but gravitate towards Satan even if he knew it was foolish. Just getting to be this close to him would have to be enough, that was what he told himself, but deep down he knew that was a blatant lie.

He tried to distract himself by observing his surroundings. The lesser demons on the street gave a wide berth to the pair, none wanting to provoke the ire of Satan. Zeke could see the hunger radiating off many of them, they would gladly rip him to pieces in a heartbeat if he wasn’t with one of the brothers. It was a sober reminder that he was a sheep among wolves, helpless without one of his guardians. Except those guardians were also wolves. Every logical thing told him that he didn’t belong here.

Too bad the heart rarely listened to logic. All the visions of the future suggested that he would die sooner rather than later. Even if he lived to be old, it was nothing to them. Why did his gut tell him he was exactly where he was supposed to be when all the evidence was to the contrary? 

Zeke sighed and turned his attention away from the streets and up towards the Devildom sky. He could see the stars so clearly here, there was too much light pollution in the city he lived to actually see the stars in the human world. They reached the gates of the House of Lamentation. There was something particularly enchanting about the Devildom moon. It was hauntingly beautiful. He stopped walking so that he could stare up at it, feeling Satan stop beside him.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” The words left him without his consent, but he couldn’t find it in him to be upset about it either. Did Satan even know the significance of the words? Zeke could tell that the demon had fixed that intense emerald gaze on him, as he did so often when they were together, but he didn’t turn to look at him. He could imagine Levi absolutely losing it if he’d heard it. The otaku would have had a full-on nerd out, if he didn’t blue screen. That was actually an amusing thought. Except that was not something he would have ever said to Levi. Or any of the others for that matter. 

The silence stretched between them. 

“I can die happy.” Zeke felt his heart stutter as Satan’s normally smooth voice came out hushed and a little breathless. Of course Satan would know. Also leave it to Satan to give the most direct response possible. He liked that about him. Even if Zeke couldn’t read auras, he knew that the fourth born was not one to mince his words when it came to his feelings, unlike some of his other brothers. 

A warm hand brushed against his, Zeke finally turning to look at Satan as their fingers intertwined. He was surprised to see the familiar curling black horns of Satan’s demon form. Those green eyes were gleaming, full of starlight as they gazed at him with the softest, most adoring look - one he had thought only reserved for all the stray cats that the demon loved to feed. When something hard and cold curled loosely around his waist Zeke didn’t have to glance down to know that it was Satan’s armor plated tail.

“I’m only human.” They were being illogical. Satan had no good reason to care for him this much.

“I don’t care.” Zeke felt his heart flutter traitorously in his chest as Satan raised his free hand to cup his face tenderly.

“I’m not going to be here very long.” This could never last.

“All the more reason to take advantage of the time we have.” Zeke closed his eyes as he felt Satan press their foreheads together gently, careful of his horns. 

“Fuck it.” The moment he felt Satan’s lips brush against his, the entirety of the three realms faded away. The kiss was perfect. It was tender and sensual, Satan’s lips were warm and surprisingly soft, and they slotted against his like they were made to be there. 

Zeke really was only human, how could he possibly resist the temptation of a demon? Whatever the future might be, right now all he wanted was to be with Satan. Maybe that was selfish when he knew it could only end in tragedy, but he desperately wanted to be selfish this time.

The world came rushing back when the kiss finally ended, Zeke wasn’t sure if it had been a few seconds or a few minutes, but they were both breathing heavily. It was good to know the demon was as affected as he was. He enjoyed how flushed Satan’s handsome face was, and how his pupils were blown wide with desire. There was a sense of pride there, he, a lowly human, had the Avatar of Wrath wanting him.

“Make a pact with me.” The words flew from Zeke’s mouth, like the confession it felt so right that he couldn’t control his own voice. All of the brothers had offered him their pacts, all but Satan, but it was Satan’s he wanted most of all.

Rather than words, his demon responded by moving his hand from Zeke’s jaw to grasp the back of his neck and forcefully pull him back into another, deeper kiss. A low growl rumbled through Satan’s chest, which Zeke was now pressed flush against as his mouth opened, their tongues tangling together. One of his hands had found its way into blond hair, twisting the messy strands between his fingers and giving gentle tugs as he tried to pull Satan impossibly closer.

A shock of infernal magic wove around them, he could feel the now familiar tingle racing across his tongue, his piercing clacking briefly against a sharp fang as a faint coppery taste blended with the tang of demonus that lingered on Satan’s tongue. He felt taloned fingers dig just a little harder into his neck, and realized that the Avatar of Wrath was squeezing over Lucifer’s mark. His heart ached as he realized the jealousy and insecurity that Satan was feeling as Lucifer’s mark had been placed first. Zeke bit the demon’s bottom lip to distract him, which must have worked because the grip on his neck loosened immediately.

Bracing himself for the next part he wondered for only a moment where Satan’s pact mark would etch itself into his flesh. The sudden burning sensation over his heart seemed so obvious in retrospect. That was the only fitting place for the mark of Wrath to sit. He broke the kiss so that he could bury his face against the side of Satan’s neck, sagging against his beautiful demon as the infernal magic dispersed, seemingly taking most of his energy with it. Forging the pacts was always so draining.

Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close for the time being, both just basking in the afterglow of the kiss and the new pact. Zeke didn’t know exactly how long they stood there, but eventually he felt Satan pull away. He missed how warm he was, but not for long, because suddenly his feet were off the ground as Satan picked him up, cradling him like a princess from one of the demon’s cheesy romance novels. If it was anyone else he’d have been indignant about being carried, but he was feeling just tired and sappy enough to allow it. 

They ended up curled up on one of the library sofas in front of the fireplace, Zeke sprawled out on Satan’s chest while the demon quietly read aloud, holding the book with one hand and gently running the other through Zeke’s hair soothingly until they both eventually fell asleep.